The dimly lit sky brushed with faint pink streaks was nature’s sign for the kids to go home if their mothers or elder sisters haven’t made their siren’s call yet while ensuring that the steamed rice for dinner won’t be burned or mushy. It was the first day of the summer school holiday and the kids played the whole day like it was their last and couldn’t be bothered about the time.

‘Let’s play one last game before dinner time,’ said the skinny boy, panting from non-stop back and forth run. His cheeks flushed red from the heat of his body. The white towel placed by his mother on his back to absorb his sweat is now damp and warm.

‘Tin-tin, you are the ‘ it’

this time!’

‘Me again?’ Tin-tin asked in dissent as she rolled her eyes, arms akimbo.

‘Yeah! You lost in the last game!’ answered Jun, the skinny boy. ‘Hurry up, it’s getting dark.’

Tin-tin clicked her tongue and shrieked, ‘okay fine!’ She walked while making stomping noise, faced a tree, covered her eyes with both her palms, and started chanting the Hide and Seek song that prompted the other players to start hiding.

Tagu-taguan (Hide and seek)

Maliwanag ang buwan (The moon is bright)

Wala sa likod (Not behind)

Wala sa harap (Not infront)

Pagbilang kong sampu (When I count to ten)

Nakatago na kayo (You should be hidden already)

Isa, dalawa, tatlo, apat, lima, (One, two, three, four, five)

Anim, pito, walo, siyam, sampu. (Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.)

‘Game?’ Tin-tin screamed to the top of her lungs.

‘Wait not yet,’ shouted Blessie before she giggled. Her plump cheeks bounced as she ran towards a Narra tree about five meters away from where Tin-tin was standing. She held her rubber slippers on both hands and wore it as if it was meant for her palms rather than her soles and hid behind the whorled trunk of the Narra Tree. She saw an opening in between the twisted trunk and peeped to see if Tin-Tin started her hunt.

‘Game?’ Tin-tin screamed once again. This time, she was answered by a silence which means all the other five players have already found their hiding places.

Tin-tin removed her palms from her face, opened her eyes, and turned around. To her alarm, everything was pitch dark. She looked around and couldn’t see anything or anyone except shadows of trees that seemed even taller than before.

‘Blessie? Jun? Where are you?’ she called out with the loudest voice that the juvenile lungs inside her tiny body can produce. ‘Joshua? Inday? Kulot?’ she called everyone but she was, once again, answered by silence only this time in chorus with the crickets.

She walked slowly towards a path she couldn’t even see. Her steps, gentle so as not to trip on any protruding roots of ancient trees or rocks or twigs. She kept calling her friends but none responded. It’s the end of the game.

Something trickled her forehead. Her small body shivered. The moon in its brilliant fullness showed up as the thick clouds blanketing the sky moved. The chocolate-colored mud soil dried by the summer heat looked silver under the moonlight, it’s cracks made the road look like a never-ending jigsaw puzzle.

Slowly, she tilted her head up and saw the roots of an ancient banyan tree looming over her. ‘ Balete ’ she uttered in a soft, trembling voice, almost a whisper, as all the hairs in her arms, legs, and back stood up and chill ran down her spine.

Her grandpa would always tell her folk tales every night after dinner. Outside their hollow block-walled house enclosed with rusty iron roof, they would sit on a bench made of bamboo along with moths and mosquitoes.

‘Unworldly creatures love to hang around

balete

trees,’ he would start. ‘Legend says, a

kapre  lives there, so better not cross a

balete  at night.’ K apre  in Philippine folklore is a tree giant, described as a tall, dark, hairy creature with blood-shot eyes that sits on the branch of a tree while smoking. Sometimes they would also roam around. They can be felt through their slow steps that make the Earth tremble and followed by a smoky smell.

And if that’s not enough to scare a nine-year-old child, his grandpa would still add, ‘d wende -

dwarfs also dwell underneath the roots of the tree. These sensitive tiny creatures are too small for humans to see and they get furious if we accidentally step on them so you better say,

tabi-tabi po  to let them know that you are passing by. They like children. They play tricks on them and sometimes take them to the underworld.’

Her eyes would wander around, checking if she would see any

kapre  or

dwende  under the trees rooted a few meters away from where they were seated.

‘Why are you looking around?

Takot ka , are you scared?’ Her grandfather would ask and gently pinch her nose.

‘ Lolo , are you scared of them?’ she looked at him curiously as she caught whiffs of smoke from his cigarette combined with the menthol flavor that comes from that candy in a green wrapper he takes while smoking.

‘Of course not! I punched a

kapre  in the face once. He ran away and disappeared.’ His gap-toothed smile confused Tin-tin.

‘Eh!’ Tin-tin would protest in disbelief. ‘Are you telling the truth?’ He would just answer in giggles then move the menthol candy from his left cheek to the right before taking in another puff.

That night, alone in the dark, under a

balete  tree, she wished nothing but for her grandpa to be with her and punch whatever unworldly creature that would show up.

Crippled by her fear of all creatures lurking in her mind, she stood still under the tree and looked up, hoping she wouldn’t see a smoking

kapre . But instead of a dark furry giant, she saw something glowing, like tiny bulbs switching on and off, on and off, moving towards her.

‘Fireflies,’ she said in a voice, more amused than scared. She held her right-hand high, trying to reach them. The luminescent bugs magically swirled around her head, down to her waist. To her disbelief, her tiny body levitated, slowly, higher and higher until she was above the trees and sky-high. The moon so round in its fullness looked so close, she thought she could almost touch it.

She then slowly descended and once her dust-covered feet touched the Earth, the fireflies flew and swirled around a banana blossom, a purple-skinned flower, shaped like a tear that hangs at the end of the banana cluster. Bedazzled, Tin-tin touched the blossom and its tip slowly opened. A small diamond-like stone fell on her hand.

The fireflies disappeared and it was dark all over again. Large puffy clouds dominated the sky once again vanishing the moon into oblivion.

She looked at the stone on her hand wondering what it was. She held it close to her nose but she couldn’t figure out its scent. Instead, she perceived a burning smell. She looked around to see if there’s fire but there were only rows of banana trees. The smoky smell reminded her of the

kapre  once again and a chill ran down her spine. The faint smoky, minty scent grew stronger and stronger until it suffocated Tin-tin. She felt dizzy and the next thing she knew, she was lying on her sleeping mat, safe at home, away from unworldly creatures. She got up and walked out of the room and saw her father, rubbing the back of her crying mother.

‘ Nay , I’m hungry,’ her faint voice almost cracked.

Isabel, her mother, wiped her tears and went to the kitchen. She took rice from the cauldron to a red plastic plate. On the table covered with plastic flower-printed mantle was a bowl of green beans sautéed in soy sauce with ground pork. Tin-tin devoured the food laid in front of her and asked for another serving. Once done with her meal, she immediately asked for her grandfather as it was storytime.

‘Where’s

lolo ?’ she asked her mother and was answered by long silence followed by sobs.

Earlier that day, while Tin-tin was busy playing hide and seek, her grandfather collapsed due to heart failure and was rushed to the hospital by an owner-type jeepney owned by Jun’s father, the only vehicle available in their small village. It took them an hour to reach the nearest hospital and the patient didn’t make it alive.

Before Isabel and her husband left in a hurry, she asked Blessie’s mom to look after Tin-tin while they were away. When Blessie arrived home at half-past six, panting, she informed her mom that Tin-tin disappeared. They rushed to the

Barangay  Chairman’s office and informed them of the missing child. The whole neighborhood searched for her. Tin-tin was found unconscious under a banana tree. A huge brown Mariposa with white spots on its wings sat on her head as if guarding her, flew away as soon as the whole village with their brightly lit torches arrived.

Tin-tin shared her account of what happened that night and left the whole village in awe. Everyone was on the look for that diamond-like stone. The elders said it was a talisman given by the universe to chosen people. This amulet is said to protect the owner from harm, escape death several times over and live a very long life until the person is ready to hand it over to a worthy successor.

Years later, Tin-tin and her family moved to the city but they still visit the village from time to time.

Thirty years later, she went back to the village to attend the 9th birthday party of Blessie’s daughter. It was a hot and sticky summer day. Children’s laughter and shrieks filled the air as they kept running back and forth while the men of the village busied themselves by roasting a baby pig, stuck on a bamboo stick, its skin turning deep brown against the heat of fiery charcoal while drinking shots of local gin. The women prepared the buffet table laying several oval Tupperwares containing sweet spaghetti,

pancit bihon, chop suey,  fried chicken, and

puto ; the traditional menu for a birthday party.

Tin-tin noticed a plump boy who sat on a knee-high plastic chair, watching other kids play.

‘Why don’t you join them?’ she asked.

‘They don’t want me to play with them. They said I run too slow because I’m fat,’ the little boy shrugged.

Tin-tin quietly nodded as she has nothing to say about the poor child’s situation.

‘Are you new here?’ asked the plump boy, whose name Tin-tin later found out was the same as her grandfather, Fernando, son of a couple she wasn’t acquainted with. They probably moved to the village after Tin-tin and her family left.

‘Yup,’ she said, naughtily grinning. Fernando’s eyes glimmered as he excitedly told her the legend of the old war veteran, a survivor of the Philippine-Japanese War, who scared a

kapre

away and passed on his

anting-anting  to her granddaughter.

‘They said he survived the war because his

anting-anting  let him dodge bullets and escape death,’ the boy animatedly added.

Tin-tin who has enthralled with the new legend she just heard, just smiled and nodded once again.

Later in the afternoon, she bid goodbye to her childhood friend Blessie and headed towards the other side of the village where the terminal for buses routed to the city is. She walked on a concrete road that once was a chocolate-colored mud soil that hardens and cracks during summer, like an endless jigsaw puzzle. She heard heavy footsteps behind her. She stopped and looked back. The plump boy was following her.

‘Can I walk with you?’ he asked. ‘I live on the other side of the village. I think my mom forgot to pick me up.’ The chubby-cheeked boy pouted.

Tin-tin smiled, up-turned her right palm, and extended it towards the boy, prompting him to hold her hand. They walked and passed by the primitive

balete  tree, where she saw dancing fireflies once, thinking if that rare occurrence was real or just a dream or a product of her wild imagination. As she looked at the enchanted tree, she caught a whiff of smoke with a hint of mint. A big brown

Mariposa  swirled around the two and landed on Fernando’s head.

‘Lolo,’  she whispered and smiled. The big brown butterfly with white spots on its wings flew and landed on her nose, sat on it for a few seconds then flapped its wings and flew far, above and beyond the peak of the

balete

tree.

She thought of her grandfather’s legend and wondered if it was true. As a kid, she always wondered if her  lolo’s

story about scaring a

kapre

was true but she guessed she could never find out any more.

It’s been thirty years since the diamond-like stone fell from the banana blossom to her hand. And whether this talisman could let her escape death and live a long life, she is yet to find out.


Sybella Ramsey had lived in the small town of Medlow Grove for her entire life. It was also where her mother was born. Beverly knew Colin back in high school and they had been good friends for a while. But it wasn't until one New Year's Party, when they kissed, that the two of them realised there was more to it. Six years after they got married, Beverly gave birth to twins, but only one survived. They called her Sybella. She was a bright and cheery child, and as she grew up, became a favourite of many long term residents. Sybella would think nothing of dropping in on the neighbours, just to make sure they were doing okay. A few of the elderly had carers. So did a young lady whose home was across the street. It was usually just the extra company they were after, since their own relatives seemed to have forgotten them. Over the years, Sybella had formed a tight knit circle of friends, whom she loved and trusted completely. She and her best friend Charise often shared babysitting duties for most of the local kids. #### At nineteen, she felt she was ready to move out. By some strange twist of fate, she ran into a guy at the grocery store, who once called the house next door to hers home. His name was Shane Ellis. He was twenty five, of average height and well built, with suntanned skin, dark blonde hair and greyish blue eyes. He was also openly bisexual and worked as a dance instructor. He had soft spot for Sybella, always thought of her as the kid sister he never had. She had grown into an attractive young woman. Her waist length auburn hair, had been cut so it fell to just past her shoulders. The black rimmed glasses she used to wear, had been replaced with contacts that better showcased her golden brown eyes. Even in the simple t-shirt and sweatpants she had on, he could tell her body was slim yet curvy. When he heard she was looking for somewhere to rent, he knew exactly what to say. Without a moment's hesitation, they agreed to be roommates. A couple of weeks later, Sybella scored her first full time job at the second hand bookstore. Shane introduced her to his group of people, including the guy he currently had a crush on. She encouraged him to go ahead and find out if the feeling was mutal. Shane had been attractive before, but now he was even hotter. How could anyone resist? She was somewhat relieved that her own school girl crush on him had faded long ago, otherwise it could have gotten rather awkward, with them now sharing an apartment. Everything was going so well, she should have figured that it was too good to last... #### Sybella was due to have her usual checkup, blood and urine test. But then she was called in to see Doctor Chadwick immediately. She regretted going there alone, the moment she saw his face. "I'm sorry but you are at stage three, which means you will be in for a hell of a fight. The only thing we can do, which may help, is give you transfusions. In fact it wouldn't hurt for you to have one after this appointment." Sybella left the doctors' office in a daze, thinking about her diagnosis. She had a serious form of blood cancer, that in many cases, wound up being fatal. But there was a slight possibility that it could all be turned around. Walking towards the busy road in the middle of town, not even glancing up, she heard shouts and a horn blaring. She barely manage to throw herself aside. An unfamiliar black car stopped dead in its tracks and the driver got out. Sybella saw that the lady was a complete stranger. She was beautiful; tall and thin, with black hair that had silver streaks, intense blue eyes and very fair skin. It was difficult to tell her age. She wore a dark trench coat over a red jumper and jeans, with high heeled leather boots. Her jewellery was subtle but expensive. She didn't look like the kind of person who would move to a place like this. But Sybella reasoned that it was no business of hers. The lady smiled as she helped the girl to her feet. Her hands were ice cold. Sybella let go and took a step back. The lady was still looking at her. "Are you okay?" She nodded. "I'm sorry, it was totally my fault." "Good thing I saw you cross the street, my car almost knocked you over. You looked deep in thought. Some unexpected news perhaps?" 'Something like that." What was this woman, a mind reader? Another smile, one that seemed to say, I know things you don't. It was freaky and yet at the same time kind of intriguing. "What's your name?" "Sybella Ramsey." "I'm Lilith Odell." "I don't know why you chose Medlow Grove to settle in, but welcome anyway." "Thank you my dear. I needed somewhere that was quiet and out of the way, so I wouldn't be bothered. This town seemed like a good option." "You're not wrong there. Would you like some help with your bags?" "I appreciate the offer, but no I can take care of it. You run along home now." "Okay, see you around Mrs Odell." "I am a widow and I actually prefer the use of my first name." "I'll keep that in mind." #### Lilith didn't set out to make friends, but people were drawn to her all the same. She dabbled in various activities within the community. Her reflexes were sharp and there was nothing wrong with her eyesight or hearing. She walked everywhere. Sometimes she would be a guest speaker for history classes in high school. She had a knack for bringing the past back to life, in a way that made you think she had really been there. Lilith's main hobby seemed to be reading. The bookstore was a spot she visited frequently. She always had a kind word or two for the employees, Sybella included. Of course a beautiful and single woman, definitely fired the imaginations of a few local bachelors. But none of them even got past the front door. She let the men down as gently as she could and they didn't hate her for it. The women shared their gossip as they often do, but they had no real issues with Lilith either. She invited everyone to attend her housewarming party and plenty of people showed up. Lilith was a charming hostess, but still kept her distance. Her flawless complexion and graceful movements were much talked about. It gave the impression that she was not middle aged at all. She confessed to being a former ballet dancer and that she had never liked to be out in the sun for too long. The dining table was full of food platters, yet Lilith didn't touch a thing. She merely sipped on what appeared to be red wine and watched from the sidelines. That evening, Sybella saw Lilith glance at her, like a mother showing affection and concern for her child. Could she also know? Sybella and her roommate were here together, since niether of them had dates. His crush unfortuntately rejected him. She wasn't interested in finding a boyfriend at the moment. There wouldn't be much point. Shane had been so supportive when she told him what was happening to her. He drove her himself to the clinic for her blood transfusions. So far, they weren't having a positive effect. She still felt very run down and achy. She was also getting thinner and sometimes found it hard to eat. Doctor Chadwick tried to be reassuring but his eyes gave him away. Very few besides her closest loved ones, were aware of Sybella's deteriorating condition and they weren't about to reveal it to anyone. Beverly and Colin were devastated when they learnt the truth, but were careful to put on brave faces in public. #### The following night, Sybella was unable to get comfortable in her bed. She had too much going on in her head, to relax and slip into dreamland. Perhaps a walk would ease her mind. She had been doing this for a little while now, more so since she realised that her time was running out. She ran a hand through her hair and tied it up. Then she grabbed a jumper and put on her sneakers, tucking her keys into her pj pants pocket. Quietly, Sybella left the apartment. She took the elevator rather than the stairs. Something had been bothering her, an incident that she probably wasn't meant to witness. She wondered if Lilith was awake. Her lights were on. So, the girl breathed in deeply a few times, and knocked. The door flew open. Lilith was in her dressing gown and slipper, but she looked wide awake. "Sybella? It's two  o'clock. Why are you not in bed and sleeping?" "Sorry, I haven't slept much lately. I often go for evening strolls, which helps every now and then. I noticed that unlike the others in this town, you keep odd hours. I wanted to talk to you." Lilith sighed. "I'll get you a warm drink. Come into the lounge." They sat in comfortable armchairs. "Before you say a word, yes I can tell that you're really sick. Leukaemia I'll bet. These past few months you have gotten much worse. You are as pale as I am and you have lost weight. I doubt you will last the year." Hearing it said out loud so bluntly, brought Sybella to tears. Lilith handed her a box of tissues. "I tried not to give up, but it's no use. I am dying and I am terrified." "Of course you are and still so young." "It's not fair. " "No it isn't. How are your parents coping?" "Scared of losing me. But there isn't anything else doctors have left to try." Lilith stood up from her chair and began pacing back and forth. She had a very serious expression on her face, as if she were struggling with a decision of some kind. She moved closer to Sybella. Her eyes had grown much darker. "I have a suspicion that you know of my true nature and that is the reason you have shown up on my doorstep at this hour. You saw me with that homeless guy and what I was doing to him; drinking his blood. Perhaps I have not been as careful as I should." "I think you could easily blend in anywhere, no problem. You wanted me to know the truth, and like me enough to offer a choice. I read fiction about the supernatural all the time, so I am open minded about the idea of creatures like you really existing." "To make a fledging vampire is not something I have ever taken lightly. I wont force the change." "I get it." "Once you start down this path, there is no going back. I can teach you all you need to know, about being a vampire and how to coexist with humans. I warn you, it will not be a walk in the park, just because you are suddenly immortal. The hardest part, is going to be your thirst for blood. A lot of attacks on humans have occurred during those first few months. We are strong and fast. Our senses are heightened. We are able to heal almost any wounds. We have hypnotic and telepathic abilities, which you will need, to keep your transformation a secret. Normal food has no nutritional benefits, but it wont make you sick to eat it. No, changing into a bat is not possible. Nor is turning into mist and fitting through a keyhole. Garlic and silver have no effect. A stake to the heart will only render a vampire unconcious. Fire is a dangerous weapon, but you will survive. The sun wont burn you to ashes, it is just a bit uncomfortable. Wild animals, both predators and prey, avoid us, as well they should. But domesticated ones like cats and dogs like us just fine. I've wandered this earth for eight hundred and fifty years. In all that time, I have turned only around fifteen humans into my proteges. With the permission of the vampire who made me, of course. I have told Luther about you and he approves. It has been almost a century since the last change. Most of my companions are like my children, or siblings. However, there were two that became more romantic in nature, but those relationships never lasted. Not with me anyway. I heard that when they met each other for the first time, they fell in love and have been a couple ever since. Funny how things work out." "Indeed." Sybella couldn't believe her luck. She knew what the next step would be and was willing to take the risk. "I have made my decision. I really don't want to die. This is my second chance that I have been hoping for. So, I hereby give my consent for you to change me into a vampire." Lilith crouched down next to Sybella and swept her hair aside, exposing her neck. "As you wish my young friend. Here's to the beginning of your new life." THE END


I'd always wanted a baby for as long as I could remember. I loved the idea of taking care of and loving a beautiful creature that I made. It’s been that way since I was a kid. Just the constant longing and excitement knowing that one day, my turn would be here. Then the moment came when I met Nick, or so I thought. In high school, I was a popular cheerleader. The stereotype if you will. Everything was perfect and he made that even better.. He was also a bit of a stereotype a famous basketball player with his head in the clouds. We were oblivious, but we were in love. He was my first everything. So when I told him that we had a happy accident, I expected a better reaction. “I’m pregnant.” For Nick, hearing those words was a nightmare. But in my ears, they were a dream. The Nick I once knew, left that day and never returned.  He expressed to me that he didn’t want any part in the child’s life and that he was too young. He broke up with me that day and while I was heartbroken, I was excited because I was going to be a mother. Despite being sixteen. I was more than happy to meet them. But by the time I reached a month, you were gone. I had a miscarriage. And boy, did it break my heart. After hearing of the miscarriage, Nick contacted me asking to get back together but I never answered. I was angry at his happiness. But mostly just depressed to the point where I didn’t bother to answer the phone. I also knew I never wanted to speak to him again. It took me some time, but I finally started to move on and focus on school. Five years later, I was a junior in college and focused on school. I’d thrown myself into my studies and avoided most people on campus. I was twenty-one now and I was thinking about my future. One day, my roommate Kate suggested I go to this party that was being talked about around campus. After declining her so many times I figured why not? So I accepted. When we arrived, it was all kinds of chaos in every which corner. But it was college so I wasn't surprised. I drank a bit, talked to a few people, but mostly just kept to myself. I stood in a corner swaying back and forth enjoying the music and my own company. It wasn’t until I looked up that I noticed a guy was watching me from across the room. John. I returned his stare and he smiled. I smiled back. After what seemed like forever he nodded towards the stairs and walked up, gesturing for me to follow him. And I did. I was never the kind of girl to have one-night stands but I figured it wasn’t a big deal. And so I did. We met a couple more times after the first encounter and not too long after we began dating. I felt he could be the one. After a couple of weeks of dating, I got pregnant again. I was elated. John was so caring and expressed his happiness as well. I felt so lucky to have this amazing person by my side. And as days went on, he stayed there until I got bad news again. My baby was gone. Another damn miscarriage. I was devasted. It was as though it hurt twice as much the second time, but John stayed. He helped me through the pain. Even when my two became a three and four became a five. I was sad but he was there. He’d always tell me it’ll happen when it’s time and I held onto that because I believed him. “ Just have some faith.” After graduation, John proposed and eight months later, we were married and I was so happy. I could start again. I could get my baby. So we tried and tried and tried and tried. But to no avail, nothing. No baby. About two years into the marriage, I was depressed. I felt sorry for John because he had to be there dealing with this ‘Debby downer’. But he never blamed me. Because of the depression, I spent my time working from home as a freelance writer. I’d stay in bed and write all day and just wait for John to come home. John was a dentist. After a few months, I was able to start pulling myself out of bed and I’d explore the house that had been a blur for a while to me. One day I remember going to the bathroom to check the medicine cabinet for my daily meds and that’s when I saw it- the abortion pills.  I stood there for what felt like an eternity staring at the bottle. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’d just collapsed right there and cried. How could the one person I’ve trusted deceive me so? How could he stay with me time after time gaslighting me and not feel a thing? How could I be married to this stranger? I pulled myself together and waited by the front door, ready to confront him. And not too long after, he came. I just held the bottle in my hand and showed him it. He began rambling on telling me how he wasn’t ready and had been using these pills on me since the first pregnancy. He’d been crushing them and slipping them into my drinks and I had never noticed. How could I be so stupid? So naive. “Please don’t leave me. I love you.” He sat in front of me holding onto my hand asking for a second chance and I couldn’t help but be disgusted and baffled. As if, a second chance would ever be on the table. I honestly think he’s crazy cause there couldn’t possibly be a single sane person that forgives 5 pregnancy losses. “John. I want a divorce. You’ve lost my trust, my companionship, and my love. I will never forgive you for this. I don’t ever want to see you again.” Those were the last words I’d ever said to him and after leaving that day it was the last time I’d seen him. Five years later, I was living in New York following my career now as an author. I was living alone in my flat but I was okay. I had gone to the doctor multiple times, after the whole John situation because my body wasn’t doing good. I got the news that having a baby was slim to none because of how many losses I’d had. But I was determined. I went to an Artificial Insemination doctor over a dozen times trying to get my baby but still, nothing. Two more years pass and still nothing. I was thirty-one with no baby. And I couldn’t be any sadder. I’d have friends tell me to just adopt countless times and I’d always shut them down. I’ve dreamed of being pregnant and making that special connection with my child. I longed for it but it didn’t for me. At this point, I’d given up hope and just began living my life. Until one day, when it changed. I might’ve been depressed that I couldn’t have kids, but it didn’t stop me from being happy for my best friend when she was pregnant with hers. Jessie had been there for me since Nick happened. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. Jessie had two kids, April and Ruby. The cutest things you could ever ask for. They were the closest to kids I’d ever had and I thank Jessie for letting me be in their lives. One day, Jessie and I had been talking when all of sudden, I had this nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach. Then instantly, I threw up. “Are you okay? Maybe it was something you ate?” “Yeah, maybe. All I had was some of your leftovers though, I thought you made that yesterday.” “Yeah, I did. I don’t know what it could be. Unless...” “Unless what? Oh no. There’s no way.” “It’s a possibility. Have you met anyone recently?”  “God no.” “Hmm, have you been back to the AI doctor at all?”’ “No. Oh, wait yes, I went there about 4 or 5 weeks ago. I just wanted to try one more time. But I haven’t thought about it I figured nothing would happen.” “4 or 5 weeks? Have you had any cravings? Or missed a cycle? Mood swings?” “ Yes. Come to think about it I’ve been craving pickles and peanut butter randomly, crying at the smallest of things, and when I missed the cycle I figured it was because I have a midlife crisis every 2 to 4 days.” “You’re pregnant!” “I’m Pregnant!” “Just to be sure let’s go see your doctor.” “Okay.” I remember my heart felt like it was beating out of my chest the day I went to see my doctor. My head was telling me not to expect anything but in my heart, I knew this time would be different. And my heart was right. My doctor called you the miracle baby. And that is exactly what are. You left me so many times because you knew it wasn’t your time to come. You knew I wasn’t ready and so you chose the right time for the both of us. A time when I wasn’t obsessive or depressed. Just living. I’m so happy that finally, I’ve held you in my arms. You’re so beautiful. You are everything I want and more. I’m honored to be your Mommy. I can’t wait for you to hear our story. My beautiful girl. Lucky.


FALL The fall had arrived. There stood in one of the corners of Greentwig, Clementine ready to bid adieu to her once green and corpulent children. Her wailing wafted through the forest just as gently as Jerry who collapsed all brown and baked the other night enmeshed with the brown soil. The wailing reached the ever excited being of the jungle tiny Eve. She ran to her mother who was bathing in the sun, trunk sucking and curling upwards to pour water on her old, battered Asiatic elephant skin. Eve leaped with a thud on the puddle nearby “Mother do you hear someone crying, because I do, it’s one aching sound”. Lily looked at her naïve, one year old daughter with eyes soaked with fear, “ yes I do it’s Clementine, she must have lost one of her many kids” she said looking about with wide eyes, “ hers is the saddest life any being could be subjected to on this planet of ours; raising hundred many kids every year only to see them die ,dead and baked during fall” , sighed Lily while climbing up to the land. Eve thought while being clueless about the concept and the reason behind losing a loved one. She couldn’t imagine being detached from her dear parents and her brother George. “What’s fall?” enquired Eve. Lily pretended to have unheard the words wrapped in inquisition and moved on and asked Eve to follow on. Back at home Eve met her father trying to teach George about “them” who come all geared up in khaki mostly, sometimes colorful apparels never missing out the shade of blood while leaving, “now listen George I want you to grow up all brave and astute, ever ready to escape while also protecting your little sister once you grow up like me, for I won’t always be around to ensure a safety net over you guys”. Eve listened intently and asked “papa who are these people you are talking about and what do they have against us?” John looked at her all flushed by the innocence she emanated and said “ they are these beings who walk on two legs and talk a different language than ours, they venture into Greentwig once or twice every year to snatch away kids like you from their mother”. Eve at once knew it’s the fall he is talking about but didn’t question further for she had already framed the next plan of action in her head. She slipped away when her parents were busy talking about Mrs Whiskers, the beaver best known for her cakes in every corner of Greentwig. Eve was the kind of explorer who wouldn’t let things as trivial as her birthday take up space in her head which was tomorrow. Presently she had her goal right before her, chasing the wailing in the air to reach Clementine. She wanted to meet her and talk to her about fall for she cared for her family and knew George to be a laggard who wouldn’t move an inch to save them from their enemy. She ran as fast as she could, giving no fig to the panting and the mud slinging at her due to her tiny yet heavy footfalls. She could feel the wailing getting closer and closer to her and finally she stood before the source of the heavy, sadness drenched crying. A huge tree touching the amiable azure, with a wide network of branches, left with a few dried up leaves clung to her, all on the verge of giving in. Eve raised her head with sheer difficulty for her tiny structure stood way below Clementine’s tear stained face. She finally shouted out “Hello Miss Clementine, I am sorry for your loss, could you please take out some minutes from your mourning for my inquisitions?”. This was followed by a sudden silence; air relieved for some time from soaking gigantic tears, the birds could be heard chirping at last. Though the silence had a weird harrowing effect around the area; the grass below, the birds around, the insects around were all completely immersed in a sea of wailing since many days, the sudden dryness felt to be something out of the daily routine. Clementine bowed her head, squinted for a while and finally saw tiny Eve below. Eve continued “I am here to know about fall and how is one supposed to tackle it, I see you have clearly lost the battle against it but it would still be great to know how it looks like and what sort of weapons it wields to take away your kids. I love my family and would do anything to save them”, a leaf fell from one of Clementine’s branches as she was speaking, now the tree left with just two. It took poor Clementine some time to wrap her head around all the happenings – a baby elephant scared of fall, fall wielding weapons, fall being a threat to an elephant family and finally tony her last third kid leaving her. She then sighed and told Eve “fall is no foe for you mobile beings, it is us the immovable, branched beings that it comes for every year, you clearly are mistaken kid”. Eve then told what her father had talked about in the morning hearing which Clementine broke into a fit of laughter; her laughter was as earth jolting as her crying. She laughed and laughed till her trunk started to pain. Eve stood baffled just like the air processing Clementine’s mood swings as she lost her last second leaf. Clementine at last spoke “listen kiddo the fall you and your family needs to be scared of is far more ferocious and heartless than the fall I am subjected to every year. They are called humans, they walk on two legs and wield weapons of all sorts, axe for us trees and a blasting stick like thing for you animals, the stick blasts with a bolt and sends the animals into immobility, all blood clad. Humans are the fall you are in search of” and suddenly they heard two gunshots in the air, “that’s the kind of bolting sound you need to be scared of”. She stood erect and heighted as she was, peered through the forest to see Eve’s parents dead, her father without his tusks and her mother lying in a blood of pool as little George ran into the forest away from the fall of animal world. She looked upon a clueless Eve and said if only I could swap places with your mother to sacrifice my existence for my dear children, tears rolling down her face as she said this. Her last leaf wafted down gently in front of Eve, kissing the ground all dried up.


Friday - Dear Diary, My parents always say, “Integrity is doing the right thing when no one is looking.” Today we went to the mall. In the parking lot, there was a man asking for money; he claimed to be blind. I’d tugged on my mother’s sleeve and asked to spare a dollar for Secret Santa gifts. My family is very rich. I don’t need ten dollars — I dropped it in the man’s tin can instead. My mother saw me do it, she said I was very kind. The blind man said nothing, but he just looked up at me with those big, ladylike sunglasses and smiled a bit. He looked over my shoulder. I don’t think he saw me.

We went inside the mall. This took a while because we parked on the lower level. My parents always park on the lowest possible level so they can give the people that need it the higher levels. Inside, I told my mother the man did not say thank you like they always tell me is right. She explained that a blind man would have said thank you but he did not know I was there. She said that since I’m the sweetest little girl ever she is sure he would have been very grateful. I think my parents are very wise.

I think I did the right thing. I hope I have integrity, because my parents say it’s a good thing.

Saturday - Dear Diary,

My parents always say, “No one gets what they don’t work for.” Today I had a basketball game. We lost, and the girls we played were very mean. They teased us about winning even when we said good things to them. We have a rematch next Saturday. I told my mother I wanted to win.

She said my father was in the hospital today but she would take me to the park. My father might be dying, she says. The park has a basketball court with a hoop. My mother says I can practice there. I asked why she immediately suggested practicing when I told her I really wanted to beat the other team. She said that if I did not get better,

I would not help my team. Then she said that if I worked I would get better and then I might win. I would love to be the reason we win.

I think I am going to work for it. I hope we win next Saturday. I told you my parents were wise. Tuesday - Dear Diary, My parents always say, “If you listen to us, you might learn something.” Today my mother was very rude. I think it’s because my father may not be able to be saved. I don’t know, because my mother won’t talk about it. She keeps telling me to do chores. Today when I said I was just going to go to my room and do the chores later, she snapped at me. I get it, though, because if I lost someone I really loved I would snap sometimes too. I still love her, a lot. I don’t know about grownups. When I asked her why she was being a teeny bit rude, she said she was not trying to be rude or give me a hard time, but she was just scared. I would not make my daughter cry if I was scared. I am scared now; I hope she comforts me.

I think I will learn something if I keep listening. I know I’m going to keep loving her.

May Monday - Dear Diary,

My parents always say, “We don’t care what you do — just behave.”

It’s been awhile, I’m sorry. My father passed away a long time ago, and I found out about two months after I suspected it. Today was my tenth birthday. I’ve changed since I was nine, so has my mother. Just because today was my first double-digit day, she thinks I am her slave. I do way too many chores, and she is increasingly horrible to me. Sometimes I hear her on the phone with someone I don’t recognize. She says things like, “Where did I go?” and “I get it — things suck around here, too.” She says other words, too, but she used to tell me they were ugly and never said them. I remember the days she seemed to care.

I have to go now. I think she’s hassling me about another chore, and she’s on a call, too. I’d better ask her if she’s trying to marry another man, because if she is, I might need to have a talk with her.

I think I’m not behaving. I’d better start.

Thursday - Dear Diary,

My parents always say, “The best memory you can ever have are the ones you make with your family.”

Today my mother went on another date. She’s been trying really hard, I see. While she was out I walked to my friend’s house. I haven’t had a friend in a while, and I felt like I needed the comfort. She was very supportive, just like my mother used to be. She told me that if I just prayed every night and believed that I would be alright, everything would be. That changed. She turned on the news. I think my mother had a heart attack on her date. She is in the hospital. My best friend’s mother is taking care of me now.

At dinner, I asked my friend’s mother why my life was progressively getting worse. She seemed secretive. I understand. I don’t think their family’s life is going very well, either. I feel bad for them. My friend says she feels bad for me. I’m done being a kid. I think it’s time for me to grow up a little bit.

I hope I’ve made enough family memories, because I don’t think I’m making new ones soon. Sunday - Dear Diary,

My parents used to say, “When we die, you make sure your brother’s alright.”

I write that they used to say that because I don’t have a brother anymore. I don’t think I’m bound to have a mother for much longer, either. My mother’s been having heart attacks, and a few panic attacks as well. She’s in the hospital, and my friend and her mother are both taking care of me well. They probably feel really bad for me. I feel horrible ever hating my mother. I said I would keep loving her and I wrote horrible things.

I remember when I used to have a father, a mother, and a brother. Now two are gone and one is about to pass and leave me to rot. My friend’s mother Miss Tylie is treating me very nicely, and I feel comfortable here. She never makes me do any chores. I feel insane writing this. I better go help around the house freely before my ink smears from tear stains.

I think I took good care of my brother. Maybe it isn’t time for me to grow up yet. Saturday - Dear Diary,

My mother used to say, “Praying helps God see to the soul.” I am stuck writing, “used to say.” Miss Tylie was talking to my friend Abby for a little bit today, and at the end I heard her tell Abby not to tell me about the conversation. She did anyway. My mother has a few days left to live. I had asked Miss Tylie if we could go down and visit her. She said yes, tomorrow. I have been crying everyday after school. I am not sure if any of my classmates know of my struggle, but I can’t forget it. All of my friends think I’m strange so I have no friends anymore, except Abby. Abby always tells me the truth. I can’t lose her.

I hope my mother was right telling me to pray, because I’ve been doing it a lot. Sunday - Dear Diary,

My brother used to say, “You’re just like Mom.” He didn’t mean it as a good thing. Today we visited my mother. I am not sure she remembered me. I think the doctor knew I was very excited to see her, so she told me my mother, due to her struggles, had amnesia, so I could not talk to her well without mishaps here and there.

The doctor came and shooed us out after a while so we didn’t stress her out. On the way out, I think Miss Tylie told me that would be the last time I get to hear my mother’s voice. I vaguely remember she told me that, because I was crying so hard I don’t think my ears were working right. I remember, though, the last thing my mother said to me. And I don’t think I’ll forget it soon: “Make yourself comfortable. Get a home. And James, take care of your sister.” He thought I was my brother. My brother who has been dead for six years. My brother. James.

I had asked, “Do you know who I am?” She opened her mouth to speak but the doctor and the nurse smiled and called us out.

I guess I am like my mother. Monday - Dear Diary,

My mother used to say, “The deaf man can always hear if he asks to hear.”

I think that’s the same for blind men. Like the one I saw a thousand years ago. Miss Tylie says she’s making an executive decision. I am not sure what that means, but I know it means she’s keeping me or sending me to the orphanage. My mother didn’t write a will, Miss Tylie says. Abby says that means legally they can keep me! I would love to live there.

Since Abby and Miss Tylie are moving away, I get to come with them and live in a new place and go to a new school! I’ll probably have more friends, too. I feel like I’m starting a new life without any family here. I guess I’ve started a new family. Sometimes I regret ever hating my mother. I miss her now, especially because the last thing I had to say to her was, “Do you know who I am?”

I suppose it is a lesson for everybody, though. Because who wants to waste their ten dollars on a man who wasn’t really blind?


Fuzzy Image By: Joseph A. Monachino George’s grandfather’s house has comfortable surroundings. George has just moved in after his grandfather, Bill, passed away one month earlier. He feels that when he gets married and has kids, this is the perfect place to live and raise kids. He goes to the bedroom to lie back on the bed to read a book. What is this he sees in the corner of the bedroom? It is a roll of undeveloped film. He wonders what could be on the 12 pictures of the roll of film. So, he brings it to the camera shop to have it developed. -- After he develops the pictures, he observes one closely. The image is fuzzy. Therefore, he has it enlarged. He sees, more clearly, that there is an object on the floor of the room. He knows it’s the recreation room because there is a hockey stick placed on the wall beside the object. Upon closer observation, he discovers that it is the finger of a hand. George rushes down to the corner of the rec room to where the finger is laying. He gasps! He can’t just leave it lying there. So, he grabs a pair of tweezers and a sandwich bag. He carefully puts the finger in the sandwich bag without touching it. He walks over to the rec room closet. He grabs the shoe box, off the top shelf of the closet, which already has a couple of items, and places the bag inside it. The shoebox is put in the corner of the shelf of the closet out of view where nobody can see it. -- The next day, he is sitting back in his reclining chair reading the newspaper. The front-page news story points out that a recent murder victim was found; and that his index finger was missing from his hand. George panics because the finger he found in his rec room might be that of the murder victim. George realizes something. If he leaves the finger in the shoe box in the closet of the rec room, investigators might search his house and find it there. Then, he would get arrested and sent to jail for murder. He engages in quick thinking.

It is early in the day. Therefore, he has time to get the finger out of his house. So, he rushes to his closet, grabs the shoebox, and takes the plastic bag out of it. He meticulously puts it in the carrying case pouch. He then gets out of his house and gets into his car to drive to the forest located down the road from his house.

When he arrives there, he finds a discreet area that he can dig up a little hole. He takes the finger out of the sandwich bag with tweezers, and places it in the hole and covers it up with sand. Afterwards, he gets into his car and drives home. -- The police authorities begin their search for an index finger belonging to the murder victim’s hand. They target the forest down the road from George’s house.

It is one hour into the search when they find the missing finger. The police authorities meticulously place the finger into a sanitized container. They bring it to the police lab for DNA analysis. When the lab technicians run tests to analyze the DNA from the finger, they compare it to the DNA of the murder victim. Low and behold, they discover it matches the DNA of the murder victim. The police authority investigators analyze all the evidence they gathered up to this point in their investigation. They conclude that the murder victim was not killed in the forest. The evidence indicates that it was a home on the same street as the forest. Further analysis reveals that the home of the crime scene is George’s. George has the T.V. tuned on the news channel, All That Matters. The first news story is about the murder victim who is missing a finger. George panics. He worries that the murder will be traced back to his grandfather’s house, where he now lives. And that is exactly what happens. The murder took place 1 month prior to when George moved into his grandfather’s house. George is shocked to know his grandfather may have murdered the victim of the finger he found. The newscaster further says that police authorities are on their way to the home where murder took place to arrest the homeowner who most likely committed the murder. George has sweat running down his neck and face. Since his grandfather is no longer alive, he assumes he will be arrested because he is the prime murder suspect. Now, George must think quickly. He is in a race with time. He figures he has to fly out of the country, so he won’t be arrested. He packs his most valuable possessions. He jumps into his car and drives swiftly to the airport. Earlier, his google search indicated that Aruba is a destination country where he can’t be extradited. When the police authorities arrive to his home to arrest him, he is nowhere to be found. They suspect that he is gone to the airport because they see that his passport storage tray, on his desk, does not have his passport. They get into their cars and head to the airport. At the airport, George has gone through the custom check point and boarded the plane to Aruba. It is now in flight and headed there. George is delighted. He can live on the beautiful island of Aruba for the rest of his life. That is because he can’t be arrested and extradited to Canada because there is no extradition treaty between the 2 countries. George must be sure of something. He opened his laptop. He went to the list that he made prior to leaving his house. He made sure he took with him the most essential items he needed to successfully live in Aruba. He looked at all the items. He realized he took all that was essential. So, he had no worries. Mission accomplished! Now, all he has to hope for was that the plane lands at the Aruba airport without incident. He is safe and secure in knowing that authorities won't be able to arrest him because Aruba has no extradition treaty with Canada. He can sleep peadcefully tonight.


"What do you mean a spaceship is headed for us?" he said, trembling with fear. "It's all over the news," she told him, "Where have you been David?" "I drank last night, I just woke up," he explained, she always did this, she judged him, it was in her eyes, disgust. "I hate that you do that," she scowled, but she was holding back, "you drink until you pass out and then you wake up and you do it again." "Yes and I will keep doing it until the day I die," he explained. "Just like dad," she said, and this was a deep cut, she knew what she was doing, she mentioned dad all the time. He turned and walked away to hide the tears, opening the door to the bar. The inside walls were a dark brown and pictures and paintings lined them, booths along the walls, and tables scattered throughout but those weren't David's destination. David walked straight to the back to the bar, where he would sit. Bottles all along the wall behind the bar, he imagined drinking everything behind the bar, walking back there and chugging it all. Surely he would die then. The door opened behind him, as he strolled towards the barstool he always sat in, she was following him. She wasn't supposed to follow him, she never had before. "It's the end of the world, and still your just going to sink into that seat just like every other day?" she asked him, reprimanding him. "What do you think I should do Sam, do you think I should join the military and help them take down the aliens?" "Well no that's not-" "Sir," David shouted to the back, the bar had just opened, and just like always he had woken up just in time, "two shots of whisky please." "You know I don't drink," she reminded him, and he just laughed. The bartender came around the corner scowling. "You're the first one here every day David," he said as he grabbed the glasses and poured the shots, "the only one ever here this early." "It's one," he explained, taking one shot and then the other in quick succession, "and that means its time to drink." "Most people don't start until five," Sam explained, trying to get his attention. She needed to leave, how could he get her to? "Look I won't be here all day," he explained, "I just need it to function. If you leave and go do whatever you were trying to get me to help with, I'll join you soon." "I met this guy at a bar last night," she explained, as he held up his hand for a refill, the bartender sighed and filled both of the shot glasses, "he has a spaceship, he said we are going to be eaten if we stay here, we gotta go David." "I'm not leaving, this is our home," he explained, "and I'm not going to be in anyone's debt." He gulped down both shots at once. "I'm not going to leave you here to die," she said, trying to pull him, she was too weak and he was too large, he wasn't muscular, it was the alcohol. "You don't get it," he said, angry now at her persistence, he almost forgot he was looking at her, it was sometimes like he was talking to himself, "I'm already dead." She began to sob, her makeup dripping from her brown eyes, she wiped the black hair out of her face. She was pretty, just like he was, though without the chubby cheeks and perpetually red skin, but she was an ugly crier. He had to get her to stop and he had to get her to leave. He was trying to get numb and she was killing his buzz, though he didn't feel one yet, prompting him to gesture to the bartender again. When the bartender filled his glass, she began to cry even more. It was a passionate, deep cry, as if she was grieving. He had to explain it to her, he had to calm her down. "I don't care that the world is ending," he said, "but I can tell you do." He would agree to go with her if only to calm her down, who knew if he would actually get on a spaceship. She was stressed, clearly in shock and he was just making it worse, so he continued, "When are we leaving?" She stopped crying suddenly, and sniffled, "Tomorrow, hopefully before they get here." "Cutting it close?" he asked, not actually caring, his only thought was the hope that he could get drunk in space. "His name is Renauro, he came here to save those that he could before the planet is demolished," she explained, "meet at this address, tomorrow at noon." She handed him a sheet of paper and then struggled to her feet, wiping her tears away. "I'll be there Sam," he told her, "I promise." He instantly wanted to take it back, he promised her? Why had he done that? He knew that his routine dictated that he had an appointment here at this bar at one tomorrow, so what had he done? "You better be or I'll drag you there, kicking and screaming," she said, punching him in the arm, hard, "that was for making me cry you idiot." Then she finally left. He watched her leave and when she was gone he turned to the bartender. "Another round," he said, "Why is this place open if what she says is true?" "I mean they all say there are aliens coming," he explained, pouring another round into the glasses, "but even if it was true, which it's definitely not. Just a hoax by the government to scare us and lower our vibration. If it was true, I still got bills to pay." David downed the shots, finally he was beginning to feel something. How much did he have to drink now to become buzzed? Or was it just the effect Sam had on him? Then the door opened again, he turned, angry that Sam had returned, he did promise her and he shouldn't have even done that. What more did he have to do to get rid of her? Then he noticed that it wasn't Sam at all, but a man dressed in a strange uniform of some kind, with a long red coat that drooped to his knees. Cut so that it swooped back behind him, making it appear like he had a tail. The man didn't wear normal pants, but red capris to match the coat. Everything was embroidered with intricate black weavings that appeared like veins stitched throughout the coat and trousers, and the man wore no shoes. The man approached the bar, the bartender stared at him stunned, as if he was culture shocked. David didn't move, this man looked like an alien, even if his dark hair and blue eyes, his sharp nose and curved mouth looked like a humans, there was an air about him. "I'll have whatever is the strongest," he said and then gestured for David, "and another round for my good sir." "What kind of accent is that?" he asked, it sounded like a butchered American accent, like he was from some country no one had ever hear of and was pretending to be from here. "What do you mean?" the newcomer asked, as the bartender poured them their drinks. "You're not from around here," the bartender said, nodding to the man, as he took a sip from the shot that was poured for him, vodka. "It's obvious?" he asked, looking puzzled, "I practiced it for weeks on my way here." "You're one of them," the bartender said, as he stepped back, his eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open, hitting the bottles, and knocking them to the floor. Normally he would be upset at the inventory lost, but instead he ran. Through the door to the back, and out of the back door as well. David smiled, dreams do come true. David walked behind the bar, and grabbed a bottle of whisky, taking off the cap, and taking a swig of it, "I've been thinking for years of ways to get one of them to leave the bar unattended," he said, laughing in joy, "who knew all it would take was an alien?" David was afraid too, but getting numb was all he cared about, he chugged the whisky. Fear could wait. "My name is," the man paused, taking another sip from his shot glass, what a strange sight, "well you can call me," he paused again to think this time, "Joseph." "Okay," he said, this man was so strange, he could call him Joseph? "Well you can call me David," he said with a laugh and a swig from the bottle. "Hello David," he said, "I was searching for you." He nearly jumped but instead decided to slump to the ground. Great just another person searching for him, come to kill his buzz too he assumed. "What do you want?" he asked angrily. "That's simple," he said, "I've come to offer you a favor." "I don't need anyone doing any favors for me," David slumped even further down, finishing the bottle with a chug, "If it's about leaving, I already got a ride." "No no," he said, raising his hand, standing up to get a better look at David on the ground, "this isn't about leaving, I can stop the invasion and you can stay here as long as you like." David laughed, standing up, not just to face the man but to procure another bottle, "And what do I have to do with this?" "Well you see," he said with a smile, "you're my weapon." "What do you mean?" "Alcohol is rot, death and poison," he explained, ripping the new bottle from David's hands, he nearly jumped over the bar and hit Joseph but then he remembered where the man was from, "and with the right tools blood alcohol content can prove to be quite useful as weapons." "Do I have to do anything that requires anything other than drinking?" he asked, he had to know what he was required to do. "Actually," he said with a smile, "no you don't." "What?" David was confused, as the man handed the bottle back to him, having opened it for him, and he took a sip. "In fact, I need you to drink far more than you normally do," he explained, "I have a machine that will turn your blood into a poisonous gas, that we can use to kill the aliens." "Okay," he said, chugging the bottle, finishing it in one tip of the bottle, "I'm the man for the job." With that Joseph stood up and began walking to the door. He turned around and added, "I'll see you tomorrow at noon." David was alone, and his task was simple. He had to drink more than he ever had before and he had to do it to save the world. He imagined Sam's face when he tells her that his drinking saved the world. He locked the bar, people would definitely come to drink, it was the end of the world after all. He had to make sure they knew it was closed. Alone with his best friends, the bottles behind the bar, David blacked out. Something hit him hard in the ribs, he groaned. His head was pounding and his face was wet with his drool. He didn't want to open his eyes, he just wanted to stay laying on the bar but the hard object hit him again in the ribs. He opened his eyes to see the alien standing over him, cane in hand, ready to hit him with it again. "Enough he said," his throat was so dry, he hated waking up, every day was the same, headache, dry mouth and nausea. It hurt to talk and so he said nothing else. "It is done," the man explained, "I came at noon to collect your blood." "What do you mean it's done?" he asked, "Did the aliens come?" "They did," he said, solemnly, "and now they're dead." "I saved the world?" "Well I did, you were just the weapon," the man said with a smile. "Well let's celebrate," David said, his drinking had saved the world, he was ecstatic, he climbed off the bar and grabbed a bottle and two glasses. He poured them both a shot of vodka as he laughed in joy. There was a reason other than becoming numb that he drank last night and finally, for the first time in his life he felt fulfilled. "Oh no," Joseph said, upset over something, sorrowful, as if something had gone terribly wrong, "Did I leave that part out?" "Leave what part out of where?" he asked. What was he talking about? David took a sip and his body instantly rejected it, puking it back up all over the bar, and all over Joseph, "What is going on?" He was furious, that had never happened before, there was something seriously wrong. What did he do to him? "I was meant to tell you," Joseph explained, "the machine interacts with your blood, it doesn't just extract it, it transforms it." "What are you saying?" "It makes it so that your body rejects alcohol," he explained, David refused this, taking it as a challenge and took another sip, forcing it down, through the gagging he was doing. "See," he said, holding up the bottle, he could feel his eye, he had popped a blood vessel to force it down, "I can still drink." He would not let this craziness steal his only peace away from him. "I'm afraid," Joseph said sorrowfully, "even if you do manage to keep it down, your body won't metabolize it. You'll never be able to get drunk again." David cried, just as his sister had earlier. He was grieving, his pain grew, and his stomach forced the alcohol out of him, he projectile vomited, and his pain only grew. He could never drink again, he'd never be drunk again, he would never be numb again. He had lost his best friend and the grief threatened to overwhelm him. Then a hand was placed on his shoulder and anger overwhelmed him. He had killed it, his best friend, the numbness, he was a monster and David would have his revenge. He turned around, ready to beat on the man who had stolen everything from him, but only found Sam there, waiting for him, "Did you hear the news?" she said with a smile, "the aliens are all dead, we were saved by some hero. So I guess that means you can live your life here," she gestured to the bar, "like you wanted." This broke him and he fell into Sam's arms, feeling the pain he had been avoiding for so long.


The Truth Hurts. As her husband Jacob opened the door for her, Rosalina climbed into their convertible. Leaving the hospital was frightening; the atypical rumbling noise from the car which barely started sounded like thunder hitting the couple. With no parking spaces near the entrance, the couple found parking spaces on the top deck. Out of order elevators forced the couple to run down/back up so they arrived for their appointment promptly. Traffic was significantly different in New Bark City compared with the traffic of Tree Town. Fatigue took over her otherwise optimistic tone.

“How do people breath in this city? I can't believe we arrived on time or alive for that matter. I wonder how many traffic crashes and breathing problems result from living here? I'm glad we don't-” “Darling, please be quiet. I love you. However, I don't know my way around this city and must focus on getting us home...and the car repaired. The GPS isn't working!” Fears of being unable to arrive home given the state of the car and his lack of geographical knowledge made his tone sound unkind. He rarely spoke unkindly to his wife. Guilt caused him pain similar to the pain his wife was feeling.

His wife's temporary silence was a blessing. She would have kept rambling. They left home with the top of the convertible down, until the warmth of the sun slowly turned into a dark fog. Hurriedly closing the roof prevented being dipped into blackness. Traffic was minimal and the drivers generally careful in Tree Town. People could walk/ride a bike without fear. In New Bark City, walking/cycling would result in death if the pollution did not take their lives first. Tapping her feet against the floor of the car reminded Rosalina's husband of a child constantly asking 'are we there yet.' The noise was equally as distracting as her chatter. Over an hour would pass before they returned. Jacob was focused on the driving dilemma. Cars were pressed against each other, discouraging him. With speaking forbidden, Rosalina's thoughts occupied her. They were darker than the polluted air. Rosalina racing from Hospital deck 20 to 15 and back was a nightmare run through Hell. All she could hope for was reaching Heaven once her time on Earth ended.

Dr. Johnson spent more time than Hospital policy permitted per patient with this couple. Explaining precisely and answering every question often helped his patients recover he believed. Dr. Johnson's kindness had gotten him into minor trouble on multiple occasions. His 'track record' of success did not effect the Hospital's policies. Literally drug away from their first appointment, Dr. Johnson gave both Rosalina and Jacob his card. About halfway home, Rosalina woke up from a slumber and took out the card. She felt a texture on the back.

“Honey, did you notice he wrote his personal number on the back of the card? Do you think he does that for every patient? Did you give your patients your home number,” inquired Rosalina. She spoke softly, fearing her husband's wrath if her questions interrupted him.

Beholding the black fading away into a clear sky, Jacob realized they were almost home. Confidence restored, he was relieved she was awake and capable of speaking clearly. “Darling, I did not look at Dr. Johnson's card with such detail. He probably writes on the back of all his cards. We saw how much time he takes with each patient, it would not surprise me if he was too busy for all of their questions while working. I never gave my patients my personal phone number! I often got into trouble for spending too much time with a single patient however.”

Turning at the next intersection, the sign 'Entering Tree Town! Enjoy your stay!' was a comforting sight. If they broke down now, the repair shop was within walking distance. The owner often would send an employee or himself down, performing minor repairs on location.

Jacob intended upon pulling over at the shop and walking home with his wife. However, Jacob realized she was too ill to walk. Furthermore, Rosalina's breathing was slower and took more energy away from her. Under normal circumstances, the couple could have walked home. Crossing a wooden bridge from the entrance sign to their home on Lush Island took approximately 30 minutes. Brightly colored shops and other minor attractions lined the main street. The outer area contained many people living in modernized houses/apartments. As perfect as life seemed in Tree Town, they lacked a major hospital. Space for a major hospital was the problem, not the financial burden the city might face. A simple doctor's office existed, however, the medical personal had only basic training. The current building could not handle large quantities of people like typical hospitals. On the bright side, convenient 'house calls,' were provided because the office employed many physicians. Dr. Jacob Houghman was a geneticist and worked part-time for the office. The next day, Jacob picked up the phone and called his current supervisor at Humanity Research Facility. Their primary research involved treatments/cures for genetically inherited diseases. Unlike a doctor's office/hospital, Jacob could use the knowledge he spent the majority of his youth learning for practical benefits. The phone lines were so busy he took three attempts before finally receiving an answer. “Good morning ma'am, may I please speak with Dr. Myra Jones,” Jacob politely inquired. He could have asked for her husband, Dr. Michael Jones. Their personalities were similar enough; firm, practical yet kind. However, Jacob felt he would obtain the cooperation from another woman who could potentially sympathize with him. Placed on hold for over 30 minutes, the small specialized branch was quite busy. Receiving results from an ongoing study of 'Ripping Disease' likely caused the unusually long delays. Waiting gave Jacob time for remembering precisely how miserable Rosalina felt all throughout the night. With her condition growing worse and local limitations, he briefly considered taking her back to the hospital (the closest hospital from home). Finally, his call was answered. “Hello? Good morning Dr. Houghman. How are you and your wife?” Dr. Myra had no idea a small talk question would lead into a larger discussion. “Unfortunately, she is not well. The New Bark City Hospital diagnosed Rosalina with the 'Ripping Disease.' She is having difficulty adjusting with her new medications and I'm worried about her breathing. I am afraid of leaving her alone...May I please take the week off? Requesting such a long time off on short notice is atypical behavior for me. I have all my vacation or sick days too.”

Hearing the phone drop, possibly break as it hit the floor, briefly startled him more than his wife's heaving in the background. Maintaining his composure was miraculous. Perhaps Jacob's previous experiences as a physician taught him how maintaining professional behavior, regardless of the patient's problems, was deeply important. Too much compassion will rip your soul into pieces, much like the Ripping Disease will 'rip apart' its' victim. Uncertain if he should wait, Dr. Myra quickly grabbed the phone off the ground before Dr. Houghman could end the call. “I'm sorry for the brief interruption. I shouldn't be shocked. I've simply never met someone outside lab testing suffering from the Ripping Disease...unless you count myself. Now her slightly pained expression at the wedding makes sense; Rosalina's nerves were not entirely the cause,” trailing off into a slightly random conversation Dr. Myra returned, presenting her professional appearance, “Yes Dr. Houghman, you make take the week off with my consent. Any who question such choices will report to me personally.”

Relived, Jacob began hanging up, yet Dr. Myra was not yet finished. Switching gears between 'professional' and 'sympathetic' was second nature for a geneticist practicing for decades. She and her husband were both elderly, while Jacob and Rosalina were not quite middle-aged. His gamble of asking her versus her husband paid off; his request may not have been granted by Dr. Michael.

“Jacob, I'm truly sorry about your wife. I warn you, take great caution with your behavior around her. Your exceptional professionalism will not fulfill her desires; she can read your research on the Ripping Disease if she merely sought her husband's professional insight. I would advise against sharing your work with her.” Dr. Myra had a point; Jacob performed and published the majority of research, with frightening and discouraging results.

“Speaking from personal experience, when I was diagnosed my husband went with the 'knowledge is power' approach. I became paranoid for years. Love and help her. She will eventually thrive under your care. Show her you are a person with feelings, not a mindless robot.”

Trying to lighten the mood and knowing Rosalina was a Doctor of Technological Engineering,

“I wouldn't be surprised if she built a robot once her condition is stable. Technology is improving, don't give up! Decades may pass, but all the research efforts will be rewarded...Blame my husband for my next words; he would kill me if I didn't ask her about participating in an upcoming trial. Worry not, your employment will be unaffected regardless of your choice.” Becoming a professional once more, Dr. Myra suggested,

“Perhaps you should consider renting a one-room apartment near the New Bark City Hospital. Life can be unpredictable and time may not be on your side. Over an hour at best might be her last hour. Given the manner you described Rosalina's condition, she needs her husband not a permanent 'in care' patient home. A few minutes delay could change her situation. Please inform me of her choice regarding the trial. Good bye Dr. Houghman. Say hello and we wish you well.” Finally hanging up, Jacob noticed Rosalina was missing and hurriedly searched the house. Given her poor breathing, blurry her vision and mobility difficulties were so extreme the previous night/that morning, anything could have happened. He found her in his office, sitting at his desk reading. Jacob was conflicted about how he should feel. Rosalina's improved condition delighted him. Reading the novel of medical paperwork obtained the day prior distressed him. Considering Dr. Myra's advice, he grabbed the paperwork from his wife before she could continue reading. “OUCH! You might have broken my wrist! What made you become a monster? Why won't you let me read the documentation first? It's MY life on the line, I should have a say shouldn't I?” Rosalina's voice was mixed with an unusual amount of panic and frustration, which she rarely showed her husband. She felt the same guilt her reaction matching her husband's guilt from the day prior. Rosalina wondered if personality changes were caused by Ripping Disease?

Attempting to disguise his own frustration, Jacob addressed his wife, “Darling, I apologize for your wrist, harming you was not my intention.” Her eyes rolled and her expression was not showing signs of forgiveness as he gently took her wrist. Thankfully, he had not sprained or broken her wrist.

His suspicions were correct. Heightened perception of anything touching her body was yet another symptom. His weak grip made her feel overly sore. Soon, touching the smooth surface of bedroom sheets would cause her as much pain as ripping her arm off. The pages of the books she preferred over 'safe' TV entertainment would be knives cutting into her hands. Leaving the room briefly, he brought back a chair and sat near his wife. Dr. Myra's voice played in his head reminding him about loving his wife, not behaving as a 'professional.' Knowing a brawl would soon begin, Jacob braced himself as he said, “Darling, as much as I understand your points, as both a doctor and more importantly, a loving husband, sometimes disagreements will occur and not end in your favor. Under no circumstance will I allow you to read the medical documentation before I have. If I must lock this file, in a safe I will! For now, I trust you. I assure you this is for the best.” They both realized he should have reworded his statement; unfortunately, you can't edit speech. A small child could have assumed as much in Jacob's opinion. Married for a year, they intended upon preparing for a child. Modifying their home and lifestyle choices would take longer than the 9 months of carrying a child.

Always impatient, 'NOW is always the best time (day or night) for completing a task' was Rosalina's philosophy. Why she immediately desired information was simple enough; preparing for the future. Naturally, the 'a happy wife is a happy life' saying was considered fact by Rosalina. Why should she 'loose' this battle when she had 'won' the majority of their marital disputes? Presumably dead for centuries, whoever coined such a ridiculous phrase would have been murdered by Jacob. Rosalina was rarely foolish and reckless. She could tell when retreating from battle was safer versus fighting a death-match. She accepted she 'lost' the medical documentation battle. Heavy breathing and fatigue, caused by the argument instead of her medical condition, only allowed her to say, “Before we set our lovely island home ablaze, you win. Let's table matter before WWIII starts? I love you, even if I will not always be capable of showing you my heart. How about forgiving each other instead?” Nearly passing out from the shock of her 'surrendering,' he forgave her instantly. Jacob was horrified when hearing 'showing you my heart.' Literally 'showing her heart' via a heart transplant may be one of the many operations she would undergo throughout her life. Given his specialty, at least he would not be asked for his help in any transplant surgery. If something went wrong, he would not be at fault he consoled himself.

However, he was specifically asked if Rosalina would be interested in participating in the upcoming clinical trial. Discussions of potential benefits/problems occurred before she reluctantly agreed. Testing featured women in Rosalina's age range (late 20's-mid 30s).

Although he did not discover its' existence, Dr. Jacob Houghman was currently the lead researcher regarding the Ripping Disease. Passed genetically and only through women, one hypothesis stated the problem existed longer than the medical community realized. The alarming amount of similarly unusual medical conditions throughout the 21st Century resulted in numerous studies which uncovered the truth. Previously, victims were 'treated,' unsuccessfully for several other problems.

Her husband would not be involved with this study because his wife was a participant. His presence may influence her actions, altering the results. One month away from his frustrating work temporarily warmed his heart; living without his wife made him miserable.

Confidentiality clauses prevented knowledge of the exact procedures. Rosalina would privately tell husband about the previous month. Missing him deeply, she ran into his welcoming arms. Hugging resulted in bandages wrapped around her like a mummy becoming caught on his sleeves, revealing scars. A pain medication prescription did not indicate hopeful results. Upon publication, Jacob would instantly read the paper.

Both Doctor Jones felt their friend/co-worker was owed the truth before the research was published. The couple was desperately trying for a child. They did not want Rosalina and Jacob wasting their time. Instead, they should pursue alternatives. Inviting them over, avoiding being heard at work, the elderly doctors somberly reported, “Children and post-menopausal women initially displayed more symptoms, hence your wife was part of the first research study featuring women her age. Problems/treatments of 'young adults' were never addressed because of the emphasis on the other demographics-” forgetting Rosalina was not a medical doctor, they halted their long winded explanation filled with medical jargon and simplified their words. There was little point in dancing around the issue, therefore, Dr. Myra stated the truth, “Findings show a heartbreaking result; women with Ripping Disease are also infertile. All the tests of 10,000 women throughout the USA showed no improvement with any medications or other treatments.” Dumbstruck, Rosalina and Jacob both cried an ocean of tears. Both Doctor Jones gave them hugs and many encouraging words. The Jones couple had little luck finding an adoption agency who would permit an 'unstable couple' to adopt. Perhaps in the 21st Century and once Rosalina was stable, they could consider searching for an open-minded agency. When her condition would improve significantly was only known to Rosalina's body.

The hopeful couple feared they would never experience providing parental love. What if views had not changed since Dr. Myra's attempts? Dr. Michael's 'at least you can have as much sex without worry' joke did not help. Dr. Myra's jabbing him in the ribs for his stupidity did place a small smile on the young couple's faces.

“Perhaps you ought build a 'robot' Dr. Rosalina, Technological Engineering PhD? Use your education! Why not experiment? You might enhance your own lives and other too.” Dr. Myra was trying to lighten the mood as she drove the couple home. They were drenched in darkness. They would need more than medical interventions could provide so they could see the light in life. Intrigued by the thought of creating an 'android,' (not a 'robot'), the perfect child from a certain point of view, the gears inside Rosalina's head began turning. Soon, she prayed, actual gears would be turning within the body of an (almost human) android. The experiment could be a useful distraction from her suffering. Gazing upon his wife's striking green eyes, now brighter than decorative lights with her beautiful face expressing hope at last calmed the nervous wreck Jacob became. The light in his deep blue eyes and easygoing expression returned. They saw the truth and a potential light at the end of a distant tunnel. Nobody believed Rosalina would actually take such a joke seriously...Not just yet.


I met Maryanne when the sun was still no more’n a shy, coppery flush in the distance. The Texas highway barrelled out before me like a cat stretching its limbs halfway through a midday snooze. “To the hospital,” said Maryanne. I turned up the air conditioner before putting the car in drive. “Y’all got an emergency?” “Just visiting an old friend.” I glanced at her. She had looked harmless enough. Even so: “Y’all oughta know I have ways of defending myself, should the need arise.” “Lucky you. You try to rough me up, I ain’t got anything to fight you with.” “Reckon you don’t got much to worry about, in that case.” Maryanne had red hair tied into a rough braid. Her features were angular and freckly, and she had keen blue eyes. “How old are you?” I asked. “Nobody needs to know. What’s your name? I done told you mine already.” I hesitated, although I wasn’t sure why. “They call me Justine.” I half-expected her to make a comment about how I’d evaded the question, but she only replied, “Where you headed, then?” “Dunno.” I hadn’t meant to sound terse, but I heard myself - and it came off as kind of bitchy. “Sorry, I just - I asked your age on account of I ain’t eighteen myself and I was wondering if you might be up the same shit river as me.” “Could be.” She stared out the window, gaze trained on the rolling fields that had always reminded me of worms as a child: don’t know the noggin from the ass. “Who you run away from?” My hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Oh, you know.” “Ma and pa?” “Well, they just - I mean, why provide them the time of day when they could give a damn whether their daughter lives or dies? Probably rather have me dead, if I’m being honest. In fact - ” I paused. “Well, they weren’t exactly above trying.” Maryanne considered. “Yeah, it might be that you done got yourself in as salty a pickle as I did. My folks, they don’t want no daughter of theirs kickin’ Jesus straight in the mouth. Done said that’s exactly what I did, takin’ a good girl to prom. Daughter of the mayor, she was. You know how them small towns are; everybody knows everyone else and if the mayor’s daughter turns out queer, it’s gotta be someone else’s fault. Ruinin’ our whole county’s reputation, they said. So I’ve gone off to find me a different county.” She flashed a smile. “What you say are the odds of snatchin’ me up another sweet peach who just happens to be town royalty?” I looked at her more closely. That smile wasn’t none too bright; I could see the stars in her eyes were cloudy with pollution. “Don’t reckon I could say,” I offered. She sat back. “So you, then, Justine - is that why you run away?” “Something like that.” “A girl?” A milk truck sped by. I waited for its rumbling to fade before I answered. “Yeah. Pretty thing she was, too.” “Prom, or something else?” I remembered Louellen’s bare shoulder against mine in the lake, cool and hot at the same time. I remembered Daddy kicking her in the face with them boots, and then teachin’ me - while she watched - exactly what it took to make a lustful sinner into a good girl. “Somethin’ else, I reckon,” I told Maryanne. There was silence for a while, and then she spoke up again. “I’m sixteen, in the interest of transparency. Seventeen in two weeks’ time.” Something about her finally telling the truth relaxed me. “I still got six months before my seventeenth.” “And y’all have yourself a car?” “Friend let me borrow it.” I could tell she knew that wasn’t true, but she let it slide. “So,” I asked, “Who you goin’ to see in the hospital?” “Like I said, old friend.” “What happened?” “Got sick, is all. Figured I might as well head on over to say my goodbyes so long’s I’m on the road.” I nodded. “I’m sorry.” “It’s all right. We all gotta go sometime. Maybe sooner’s better for some of us. She don’t pay death no mind; we always figured one of us’d go before age twenty.” “Still probably best not to, wouldn’t y’all say?” “Depends, don’t it?” “I guess.” I drove without speaking for a good five minutes or so. When I glanced over at her, I saw she was dozing off, and I marveled at the level of trust it must take to give into sleep when you’re out on route 130 with a stranger before the sun is all the way up. “What you gonna do after?” I asked finally. She blinked, all bleary-eyed like. “Huh?” “You gonna find somewhere to stay or y’all just gonna cross your fingers that everyone’s as nice as I am?” “Aw, hell, I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.” “Don’t want nobody hurtin’ you, is all. Figure you can drive out to LA with me, so long as you chip in for Doritos and coffee now and again. Me, I like to be alone, and that’s dangerous because sometimes I trick myself into thinkin’ it’s better to be alone all the time.” “Ain’t it?” “Naw. I start driving myself crazy. I get lonely, and then I hate myself for bein’ lonely, and then I hate myself for not having friends, and then I hate myself all the more for needin’ friends in the first place.” “I don’t need friends,” said Maryanne, “But I’ll travel with you a ways, if you wanna wait while I says goodbye to my friend.” “Sure thing.” Something came over me then, a warmth I can only describe as relief. See, that there meant I’d been lonely already, and hadn’t even realized it. Maryanne glanced at me, and when our eyes met we both smiled: she had been lonely too, or at least secretly afraid of the loneliness that had to come whether she believed in it or not. Some two hours later, I escorted Maryanne up to room 4019 in Saint Genevieve’s. Maryanne seemed nervous all of a sudden: I saw her sweat, though she hadn’t been damp at all in the Texas heat; and when she took my hand to enter her friend’s room, I didn’t argue none. There was one bed in the room. No light, smelling of antiseptic and a garish dime-store bouquet. The girl on the bed looked up at me, teeth shattered, both eyes blackened from a lusty fist. Don’t think she recognized me, but I sure as hell knew who she was, and Lordy knows why I wasn’t even one bit surprised. “Howdy, Louellen,” I said. “I done come to say my goodbyes.”