This is a rough draft of a story I’m writing, the title (as well as everything else tbh) is still a work in progress. It’s heavily inspired from fallout and wasteland. I hope you enjoy! It had been months since the last time Marcus had eaten a decent meal, even longer since he'd had clean water to drink. He has been trying to reach the town of Miami. After many days of traveling he stops at a small town off of highway 441 and begins looking for food, water, and work. He walks across town to the nearest bar and orders some steak and water. As he sits and begins eating he is approached by a stranger with a pistol strapped to his hip and a knife in his hand. “Well well well, look what just stumbled into town. Say boy, got any money on ya?” He looked to be an older man, maybe late forties or fifties, but he didn't look to be more than the usual waster looking to shake money out of a newcomer. “Well I was looking for food, drink and a place to sleep.” Marcus spat on the floor and sat back comfortably “But it looks like i’m going to have to kill and old thief that's past his prime” By the time the old thief and slammed his knife into the table, Marcus already had his gun aimed at the mans head “Listen asshole, i'm gonna give this one chance to walk away before i send your brains all over the roof” The stranger began to chuckle “I like you, boy, you're a dangerous little spitfuck.’ Marcus didn't move “Do you just want to die old man?” “No, but you look like someone who’d be interested in some work. I got a job that drifters like you love. The pays great.” “Im listening” marcus mumbled “Every few weeks or so me and my gang go out and clear the gopher tortoise burrows.” “Gopher tortoise? What the hell kind of name is that?” “It was what they were called before they mutated. Now they’re just big angry bastards. They look like the old pre-war tortoises, but bigger with razor sharp claws. They dig burrows and tunnels around here and go out to hunt in the mornings. The shells on em are bulletproof though, which makes them as valuable as they are dangerous” After a few moments of consideration Marcus lowered his gun and stood up “Alright. I'm in” - Marcus woke up around midnight, threw on his dusty brown shirt, strapped his ramshackle armor plates on, and sat down. He put his hands in his hair “Fuck you're getting old Marcus” He said quietly as we began working the pain from his knee. He got up, grabbed his rifle, an old Mosin Nagant, along with his pistol, a glock twenty three, and headed out the door. He met up with the stranger at the bar they met at earlier that day “So where are we headed?” Marcus asked “Just south of town a bit, shouldn't be anymore than a half an hour walk. The names Jeremiah by the way.” - The moon was high in the sky and the chilly night air rolled by as they arrived at the burrows “Keep quiet, don't wanna let em know we're coming. Ornery old fucks are always in the burrows at night, they only like to come out when the suns up” Said Jeremiah he two men crouched down and looked into what appeared to be a small cave “You say tortoises made this? Shit…” “They ain't just tortoises anymore boy. Now help me set these explosives” The two set a couple bombs around the entrance of the burrows and took one more in “That should do it. It won't keep them back long but it'll take time for them to build this back up. Keep that other bomb handy Marcus, we'll use it to blow a tunnel.” Marcus nodded and readied his rifle as two entered the burrow. It took only moments to find the monstrosities that had made this underground labyrinth. A few yards ahead lay a mutated tortoise the size of a small motorbike with elongated arms tipped with claws the size of bowie knives. “There's. I'll take this one, go set the bomb over by that tunnel and be ready to watch my ass, more are gonna show up the second we start the fireworks” Marcus quietly set the explosive and backed up right as the first shot rang out “Fuck yeah! Run to the entrance boy, we'll lure some out before we blow this place!” The two ran to the exit and were quickly followed by another tortoise “Kill that ugly son of a bitch!” Marcus yelled before beginning to fire shot after shot at the approaching creature. The tortoise knocked Jeremiah to the ground and poised itself for a finishing blow when another round struck it, this one penetrating its skull sending bits of brain and flesh all over the dirt “That one's gonna hurt tomorrow..” Jeremiah raggedly groaned “Come on, you're not that hurt. Let's get the shell off this thing and let's go” Marcus reached down and helped Jeremiah up and the two removed the shell from the tortoise before heading back into town for the night. - Marcus began gathering his things before heading out. He had eared one hundred and fifty dollars for his job with Jeremiah and used half of it on supplies for his journey. Right as he reached the city gate a voice stopped him “Hey, I wanted to thank you for the save last night and apologize for trying to rob you. I know I can be a bit of an asshole but I appreciate it. Take this, it’s an armor plate I made out of a chunk of those shells we sold that...fell back into my possession.” Marcus took the armor plate and replaced his with it “Fits good, thanks.” “It’s the least I can do. Don’t go and die out there” Marcus nodded and walked out the gate. - The sound of gunfire broke Marcus from his slumber and sent him diving for his gun. He grabbed it and scrambled to a nearby concrete wall trying to get his bearings. He was hunkered behind a low concrete wall right off the highway where he was camped. The gunfire was coming from the opposite side of the highway and seemed directed toward him. He quickly poked out his head to see who was firing before ducking back behind the wall “Fucking mutes” Marcus mumbled and thought of a plan The mutes where a group of horribly disfigured mutants that were made by the initial blast, or from living in dead zones, highly irradiated areas. They were usually pretty dumb and the ones that can speak are barely able to form basic sentences. Marcus quickly popped out from behind cover and fired three shots from his pistol, two of which struck an advancing mute directly in the chest, but it barely slowed it down. He made a dash for his campsite, quickly grabbing his rifle and running to some adjacent rubble. While I was running he saw his opposition, three mutes and a large crate they were carrying, there was also a dead mute and a pack dead brainless, the other main mutation that affected humans that basically transforms the victim into mindless zombies. The small battlefield behind his attackers seemed to be what had woke Marcus before they changed focus to them. Marcus quickly fired a shot at a mutes head, but his aim drifted and it struck it in the shoulder. He cursed to himself as the mute recoiled in pain “Die die die!” one mutant chanted as they all continued their slow advance “Kill! Kill him!” Marcus peeked and fired, striking the speaker in the throat, sending him onto the ground gurgling blood and dying. He took this small moment of no incoming fire to send another round into a second ones forehead. The final mute was infuriated by the loss of his brothers and charged directly at Marcus, letting out an awful, wet groan with his approach. The hulking abomination tackled Marcus, sending the two of them flying back into the rubble. The creature raised its massive arms and swung them down at Marcus’s head, a blow he narrowly avoided. He struggled to grab his pistol and quickly fired eight shots into his attackers head, killing it. Marcus groaned in pain and slowly stood up. He reloaded his guns and limped to the crate “Fucking assholes, supplies had better be worth it.” Marcus mumbled to himself as he approached the box “Hello? Is someone there?” He stopped dead in his tracks, the voice came from in the crate. Marcus slowly steadied his rifle and began approaching the crate. “Hello? Anyone?” the voice called out, it was a deep raspy voice, almost inhuman “Who's in there?” Marcus asked “Please let me out! I'll tell you everything just don't shoot me!” Against his better judgement Marcus opened the crate, inside was a seven and a half foot mute. He was a pinkish color with blue veins clearly poking out of his skin, he had a bald head and a large gash in his chest. Marcus pointed his rifle at the creature “Wait! Don't shoot! My names Sam. Those bastards locked me up for being different. But..you killed them. Am I free?” Marcus stoop there, dumbfounded. The rare mutes capable of saying select few words were known as speakers, they usually led the other mutes in small groups. But there stood a mute, plain as day speaking perfect English “How in the hell are you talking? You say they locked you up because you're different, because you can talk?” “I don't know..my changes were only physical. I was kicked out and shot at by every town I went in, so I went to the mutes. I didn't speak at first, just quietly followed, but they just kept killing everyone they came across, I got sick of it. It was senseless. I tried talking to our speaker, I had hoped there would be enough of him left to understand, but no. After I started talking he stabbed me and threw me in this crate. Now I'm here, and they're all dead.” Marcus lowered his gun. “I..I'm sorry to hear that.” Marcus turned around and began walking. “Good luck. Be safe out here.” Sam stood there, looking at his savior. “Hey, wait! I didn't get your name.” He looked back. “My names Marcus.” Sam watched as Marcus walked off into the distance “Thank you, Marcus.” - A week had passed since Marcus had encountered Sam but something about his story didn’t sit right with him. If the mutes had wanted him dead for being intelligent then why didn't they just kill him outright? Why go through the trouble of caging him and taking him somewhere else to do it? There had to be a reason, and Marcus was going to find out.


It never got easier, waiting for him. He worked long, hard days and didn’t have much time for her. She would often spend her days patiently waiting for contact from him. She knew he was a very busy man- he had recently gotten a very big promotion, a new house and other big life changes. Though she wished she was his main priority, she understood she was not yet. So, she waited. She was patient at first. She had had his undivided attention for so long. Surely, she could give him the time and space he needed to flourish in life. He, of course, was not ignoring her completely. He sent anonymous flowers and trinkets to her in the mail. Silly little things that he knew she would love. The surprises would come at her office every other Wednesday- to break up the monotony of the work week. The other women at the office would flitter around her on these days asking who the gifts were from. She would simply smile. One Wednesday morning she arrived at her office in full spirits. Today would be another day of a gift from her beloved- perhaps some daisies or a small box of chocolates from the authentic Belgian shop in town. The packages always came with the morning mail, to assure her following day would be a good one. She arrived at her desk to find… nothing. She questioned the office assistant. No one had sent her any mail yet. She brushed it off- he must have put it in the mail late, or the courier made a mistake. He never forgot about her. Ever. The office women walked by her desk inconspicuously. She knew what they were thinking. What they were looking for. But they were wrong. He hadn’t forgotten, it was just late. Hours passed. She couldn’t focus on her work. She tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. He must have been in a meeting, as he always turned his phone off during those. He had a lot of meetings. When it was time to leave for the day, she asked the office assistant once more if there had been any packages for her today. There hadn’t. She decided that he must have left it at her house. She knew he liked to keep her on her toes. She raced home, all the way wondering what he could have gotten her that would be so special as to need to be sent to her house. Jewelry, perhaps? An engagement ring? She bristled with excitement as she rounded the corner to her front step. From a cursory glance, there was no package. She told herself it was no matter- jewelry would be in a smaller box. She scanned her front step. Nothing. She searched the bushes and grass around it. Nothing there, either. Walking back down to her mailbox, she briefly wondered if someone could have stolen it. She quickly scanned over her mail as she walked into her house. Bills, notices, magazines, ads. Nothing she hadn’t gotten before. There would be no reason for him to not send her something, unless something had happened to him. Her mind immediately went to horrible places- what if he was at home sick, or in the hospital. Or worse, dead? She couldn’t bear to think about a life without him in it. Leaping up from her chair she rushed out of her house in search of him. The hospitals were of no help. Legally they couldn’t tell her anything. She understood why they couldn’t, but secretly wanted to yell at them for it. Did they not know how important he was to her? Or her to him? His work was of no help either. Their number was invalid. They must have changed it with the recent growth of their company. She made a mental note to ask him for the new one when she found him. There was only one place left for her to check. She didn’t much like to go to his house. It wasn’t a home- it wasn’t *their* home. She understood that he needed to keep it for now. It was closer to his work while her house was closer to hers. It was in a nice enough neighborhood, she supposed. The whole atmosphere was just so… judgmental feeling to her. She parked a few houses away from his, deciding she needed the exercise. There weren’t many people around. This was odd to her as she found the day to be very nice. Approaching his house, she noticed the lights were on and his car in the driveway. He was at home, at least. She glanced into the window before knocking on the door. He hadn’t yet made her a key, but she didn’t like going to his house, so it didn’t matter too much to her. A shadow moved across the windows besides the front door. A portly woman opened the door. It was awfully late for a maid to still be at his house, but he was peculiar like that. It was one of the reasons she loved him. She peered around the maid to see another woman in a chair sitting at a dining table. She noticed the seated woman had a long, ghastly scar down the side of her face. She briefly felt sorry for the woman but surmised she must have done something to deserve it. Smiling at the maid, she asked where he was. The maid appeared perplexed but called out to him. He sauntered over to the door shortly after with a smile upon his face. The smile slowly drifted to a cold stare when he saw her standing on the front step. He shut the front door. She knocked again. He yelled at her through the door, telling her that he was calling the police. Her heart ached. Had he forgotten what they had? Or was he perhaps putting on a show for his “wife”? She couldn’t imagine why he would do such a thing. She was better than his wife in so many ways. After all, his wife was ugly now. She had seen to that. She shook her head as she reached into her purse and pulled out the revolver. It never got easier, waiting for him. He worked long days and didn’t have much time for her. She wasn’t his main priority. She decided it was time she was, and knocked on the door.


Would you like to hear something odd? Something crazy? I knew you would. It wasn't exactly the best time in my life. I mean, when you live in your car and have to travel from place to place, you're not exactly in the greatest of situations. This all happened around last year. I was on one of those creepy abandoned forest roads. The kinds that are just left to be reclaimed by nature. It was so dark. The only light for a hundred miles was the ones from my car. An old, beat up Ford Probe that my folks gave me a long time ago. You know that feeling when your surroundings are so dark that you think something's going to jump out and do god-knows-what? It's amplified by a million when you're on those roads at night. I was on my way a local town so I could stay there for awhile. God, I was so tired. There wasn't a rest stop for about 50 miles. What was I gonna do, just pull over and sleep on the side of the road? Hell no. I knew I had to drive no matter what. "Just keep your chin up, Heather." I kept telling myself. Eventually I did get out of the car for a cigarette. A lot of people attribute a big change in their lives to one small event. This was mine. I lit my cigarette and started smoking. It was so cold outside. The car wasn't that much better since the heater was broken. I put it up to my mouth to take another inhale, and that's when I saw it. Lights They were coming from deeper in the woods. There was just something about those damn white lights. They danced around like fairies, and there were about five of them. I felt a pull in my body, and I tossed my cigarette aside to walk into the forest. I can't explain how I was so entranced by them, and to this day it still puzzles me. Once I got close enough, I still couldn't make out exactly what the lights were. Before I could get even an inch closer, my vision faded, and I fell unconscious. When I woke up, my body was in a rough position. Like I was dragged, or carried, or something. I felt a certain coolness in the air. It wasn't deeply cold anymore. I picked myself off the ground to see where I was. I definitely wasn't in the forest anymore. The sky was filled with grey clouds, and the land was more open. It was dotted with twisted, leafless trees, and there was fog everywhere. There was no time for shock, but I wanted to scream. Was I kidnapped? Drugged? Something worse? I tossed those thoughts aside to find civilization. There was something in the distance I began running to. A large black silhouette that looked like some sort of town. So many questions were running through my head, but I was in a foreign place, so the best thing to do wasn't just stay there and maybe get killed. I needed to find people. I only caught brief glimpses of the things in this strange valley. Skulls on the ground, rocks in the formation of crosses, and scarecrows that I hoped weren't real. I stopped to catch my breath outside of what looked like a large, walled off city. Finally, I made it. Once I approached the gates, hoping to get answers, a barrage of small bats flew at my face. My hands waved around like a crazy person in a moment of straight up freaking out. "Don't mind them. They're just not used to others." My head was pointed at the ground, and I wanted to keep it there. That voice was smooth, but also frightening at the same time. "You need not be afraid, dear. Look up." I decided not to fight myself and just look up. There was a man. He was about six feet tall and very slender. His face was pale white, and he wore a black vest and a cartoonishly tall top hat. "There. Now what's your name?" he said. "He-Heather sir." I shakily replied. "Heheathersir? What a strange name!" he joked. "I am Edgar." I let out a light chuckle. His appearance and voice freaked me out, but I was starting to feel more calm. "You must be a new arrival, yes? Come with me through the gates!" I wanted to say no, since I had no clue what he was talking about, but my nervousness kept me quiet. Damn social anxiety. He pushed his hand on the gates to make them open, and the sight I was greeted to was just... woah. The first thing I saw were the moonlit streets, and then the buildings. This place was like a gothic 19th century London! And in the center... a huge cathedral. Holy hell, this thing was BIG. All of this on a cool, windy, moonlit night. There were people walking around. They all had pale white skin and black clothing. They were all... goth. "Welcome, to the Midnight Kingdom!" Edgar exclaimed. It was so surreal. I had to keep my jaw from dropping at the sight of all this. "Ed-Edgar?" I said, still shaky. "What exactly is the Midnight whatnow?" "The Midnight Kingdom, my dear." he replied. "It's alright. New arrivals usually have many questions. This is a haven for all of those who have embraced the dark style of life. When they are cast out for their different minds, they can come here. A new life, and a place where they can truly be with their own kind." I couldn't believe it, and yet it was all so real. I was definitely no 'new arrival'. In fact, I must've stuck out like a sore thumb with my blonde hair and red blouse. We continued walking through the streets. Edgar stayed slightly in front of me with his tall cane. I could barely say anything since my brain was still processing all this new information. "Where-where exactly is this place?" I asked. "The Midnight Kingdom exists in a hidden place, far from modern civilization." Edgar replied. "It is so hidden, in fact, that no one can ever find it by accident!" Isn't irony great? He led me to some town hall-like building. I gotta say, all this gothic architecture was so stunning. Though, there may have been a bit too many gargoyle statues and bats flying around, in my opinion. Once we were inside, we walked over to a young woman who was organizing books. "This is Solanine. The mistress of planning, and the one who takes care of all events in the kingdom." Edgar said. He introduced her to me, and I couldn't take my eyes off of her. That long, belted black dress with the sequined black roses cascading down her legs. And those black bangs above her bright blue eyes... she was really something. "It's a pleasure." she said, shaking my hand. It was almost as if she knew I was entranced. Her smile was tight-lipped, but so beautiful. "Well, there's no use in delaying things. Sola! Are we ready for the community meeting?" Edgar exclaimed. "Ready as a black cat, Edgar." she replied. Edgar rang an ancient-looking bell, and within minutes the residents marched into the building. I took my seat next to Solanine, and Edgar began to speak to the room. "It was many moons ago that our home was established. You all who have embrace a life of dark nature have come here seeking refuge, and have never looked back from the place where the sun never rises. For it is in the Midnight Kingdom that we never age." "You guys are immortal?!" I whispered to Solanine. A place where only goths lived was believable to me, but immortality? Absolutely nuts. She didn't answer. I suppose it was because she was focusing on the speech, so I dropped it for the time being. Once the speech was over, everyone stood up and walked out. I decided to come up to the stage to ask Edgar about the 'never aging' thing. "Heather my dear, why are you still in those clothes?" he asked, before I could even speak. "The Midnight Kingdom is home only to those who embrace the dark aesthetic. If you do not adhere to that rule, then you must leave." He walked out before I could muster a reply. I nearly panicked. I didn't want to go back to living in my car. Sure, I wasn't goth, but I still needed a place to stay. I left the building after pacing around for god knows how long. The streets were empty. I guess it was night time. Really confusing since the sun never rises in this place. I started my search for black clothes. It sounded easy enough. Just find some clothes someone hanged up to dry, or maybe a Hot Topic or something. I was really kidding myself with this. I searched the streets, the alleyways, the trash cans, and came up with nothing. After lots of searching, I sat down by a sidewalk to think. "Having some trouble, darling?" a voice said. It was Solanine, thank goodness. "This may seem kinda weird, but I need a change of clothes." I said. "Not at all weird, my dear. That word has no meaning here." she replied, chuckling. I laughed a bit too. There was just something so calming about her that put me at ease. "I've got the perfect outfit for you at my home. Let's go there, shall we?" She led me to her house. It was a quaint little dark brick cottage near the giant cathedral. Her living room was decorated to the brim with candles, and her fireplace mantle was lined with skulls. "It's exciting when newcomers arrive. This place has been so dull lately." she said in an almost sing-songy voice. She walked into the kitchen to get something while I sat on the couch. "What do you mean by dull? I'd think it'd be more exciting to live here." I replied. "Lately most of the residents haven't been too receptive. It's like half of them are happy, and the other half doesn't care." she said. "So it's a joy division?" I jokingly asked. She giggled a bit while walking back with a bottle and two glasses in hand. She began to pour two glasses and handed one to me. "Wait, I thought you were going to give me clothes." I said. "They're drying outside, dear. Patience." she said with a tight-lipped smile while sitting on the couch with me. I took a sip of the wine to be polite. Not gonna lie, it was some pretty damn good wine. After getting through two glasses of the stuff, I gained the courage to tell the truth. "Sola, I came here by accident, and I only need the clothes so I can stay." I blurted out. "I figured as such, darling. No need to worry. Your secret is safe with me!" she said gleefully. "You're so... nice... and nice.. and so, so pretty..." I slurred, obviously drunk. My body began to fall off the couch, but Sola swooped in the hold me back up. We said nothing. She held me by the hips, and we looked into each others eyes. It felt so fast, but also so slow. Before I knew it, our lips were locked together. I woke up the next morning hung over. Morning? Night? I have no idea. Whatever happened after that kiss, I really have no memory of it. "Need a change of clothes?" Sola joked while walking into the room. "Like you wouldn't believe." I replied. We both laughed, and I put on my new outfit. It was a black tunic with white stripes and a belt in the middle, a short black skirt, and white satin gloves. I was strangely starting to feel more at home at this point. Maybe the Midnight Kingdom really was where I belonged. After all, in just one night more stuff happened than the last five years of my life, which was mostly just driving from place to place. "Solanine..." "Yes darling?" "I think I want to stay here in the Midnight Kingdom." "Oh that's splendid, dear!" she exclaimed while running over to hug me. I really felt like everything was going to be alright. "Oops, I almost forgot something. You had a question at the community meeting last night, didn't you?" she said. "Yeah, it was about your im-" "Yes darling, the immortality..." she said with an open-mouthed smile. Her smile was so dazzling. The bright red lipstick only highlighted how amazing it was. It even drew my eyes to her... fangs. "Do you like them?" she said, without giving me a chance to say anything. I couldn't. It started to all make sense now... After what felt like minutes of staring, she finally spoke again.


Couples’ Therapy I am considered to be the greatest marriage counselor on the planet; I haven’t met a couple that I wasn’t able to make peace with, especially with each other. That isn’t to say that I don’t enjoy a challenge; I can’t get too good at my trade or else I’ll get bored. But when my assistant calls my office, telling me that Zeus and Hera have made an appointment, I can’t deny the apprehension growing in my gut. I can’t help but hope that this is a joke, albeit one made in bad taste. “I booked an appointment for them just after lunch. I wouldn’t advise seeing those two on an empty stomach. I mean, Zeus and Hera, what a nightmare…” I can almost see Sadie shuddering in sympathy. “Please tell me you’re not referring to the Greek deities. As in, The King and Queen of the gods. Was it a prank call? Are they… code names?” I’m all too aware that I’m not using my therapy voice, that I’m pitchy and desperate and sweat is gathering on my brow, the back of my neck, the small of my back. Even I can’t do the impossible. Asking those two to make up was akin to asking the universe for a miracle. An entire mythology has been conceived on their tempestuous relationship. For the first time, I’m just not sure if I can manage this. As lost as I am in my own thoughts, I can barely register that Sadie is still speaking. “No joke, I’m afraid, Rita,” She says grimly. “I asked again. It’s really them.” I never imagined that it would come to this; years of hard work and schooling, all to see the most dysfunctional couple this side of Western civilization. “Good luck, you’ll need it.” \*\* After a hurried lunch down the street from the office, eaten so quickly I barely tasted it, I walk into the office and sit down at my desk, smoothing my hair back into its bun at the nape of my neck. Nerves like I haven’t felt since my first appointments were making my stomach dance; I mentally shake myself. *Get it together, Deidre. If anyone can fix those two, it’s you. You’re more famous than Dr. Phil and Oprah put together! What’s the worst that can happen?* One o’clock comes and goes, and by quarter past, there is a series of sharp knocks on the door. “Come in, please!” I call, sitting up straight. I get up and walk to the mini fridge next to the window, getting out two frosty bottles of water. I put the candy dish that sits on my desk on the small table that sat in between two chairs; I’ve found, in my line of work, that people tend to open up more when they were comfortable. Zeus and Hera make an imposing couple, powerful on any plane, whether it be Mount Olympus or my tiny office; even though this is my own domain, I am intimidated, though I would never admit it. Zeus enters the room first, in a sharply cut black and gray pinstriped suit, hand outstretched, his face jovial and friendly. But his eyes, a dark brown that they were almost black, are cold, dark tunnels; if I’d been in any situation but a professional setting, I would be running away. He is tall and muscular, with olive skin, dark curls, and the beginnings of a goatee, hiding a strong chin. He is appealing, if only from an aesthetic standpoint. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Evander,” He rumbles, and before I can shake his hand, as I intended, he kisses the top of my hand, smiling. “I’ve heard so many good things about you, I just knew that if anyone could help us with our… issues, it would be you.” Everyone knows that Zeus could put on a good front, surely no one more than his own wife. His mouth is spread in a wide, relaxed smile, as if he does this sort of thing all the time. I can’t deny that it set me on edge; there was a cold undertone to him that I immediately do not trust. Hera is sitting down already, twisting the top off of her water bottle and taking a quick swig. In her other hand, she takes a piece of candy and rolls it between her fingers. She is dressed beautifully, in a sapphire-blue dress that emphasized her ample figure, and she wears a necklace that matched her eyes, amethysts. With her long, lush red locks pulled up in a chignon, fair skin with the faintest sprinkling of freckles on her forehead and nose, her mouth painted a pale, demure pink, she and her husband cut a devastating contrast. I’ve read the myths, and I’ve always thought of Hera as an evil, wicked harpy who took out her husband’s infidelities on everyone else but him. But seeing her now, in front of my own eyes, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. Her position could not have been an enviable one. Zeus had been one of the Western world’s first scoundrels, in every sense of the word. “Thank you for fitting us in on such short notice, I apologize,” The goddess murmurs quietly, a comely flush flooding her pale cheeks. “Honestly… I just wasn’t sure what to do. Things have been going so wrong between us, for years now. And if you’re the best, surely you could help us.” She is smiling at me, but her eyes cut to her husband, and soon her lips thin in a defiant line; I can see immediately why they were on the wrong page. “I’m happy to help,” I say, smiling at them both. “It is my job, after all. Now, we’re going to begin with an honest dialogue. The rule is we don’t speak until the other person is done talking. Thus, each of you will have time to air your grievances and speak about your problems, and then we can set about beginning to fix them. Who would like to go first?” Hera looks up. “I’d like to go first, please, Doctor. If… my lord husband will permit me.” She frowns at her husband, who smirks, shrugging, as if to say, *By all means, lady wife.* “Go ahead.” I say, putting a box of tissues on the table next to her, should she need it. “I also want to note that I will not be passing judgement on either of you. That isn’t what you’re paying me for, so please feel free to express what’s really on your mind. Nothing either of you say will leave this room.” Hera, it seems, doesn’t need any more encouragement than that, because she begins to speak, her voice trembling and her eyes full of unshed tears. “My husband and I,” She begins, and I note how she doesn’t seem to have any sort of identity outside of her spouse or marriage, a red flag right off the bat, “We are the King and Queen of the Greek gods, and as I’m sure you know, I am the goddess of marriage. Of childbirth. So, you must understand how embarrassing it is for me, that my own husband often frequents the beds of mortals, goddesses, and whoever he shows attraction to. It’s not fair, not to me, our children, our whole family!” I nod quietly, not wanting to say anything else unless she’s not finished. Hera reaches for the tissue box, delicately plucking one and holding it to her streaming eyes. “I… I’m sorry.” She murmurs, eyes cast downward, tissue clenched in her fist. “I didn’t mean to get carried away.” I notice how, after this outburst, Zeus has turned away from his wife, legs crossed, hands clenched into fists in his lap, neck flushing red, with anger or embarrassment, I cannot tell. I’m good at reading people, but Zeus is clearly well-versed in hiding his emotions; I can’t get a read off of him, even while his wife pours her heart out on the floor beside him. “Is that all you wanted to say, Hera?” I ask, turning my gaze back to her, and she nods, though she is glaring at her husband with narrowed eyes. If looks could kill… “Yes, Dr. Evander. Thank you for listening,” She whispers, and I smile at her, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “Of course. All right, now it’s Zeus’s turn. Do you have anything to say to your wife?” I ask, dreading the answer. The answering silence is thick with things unsaid, the tension climbing until even I begin to squirm. He nods, running a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath, and looks at Hera. “You know, I wouldn’t have to go to other women if you were more attentive to me and my needs. Ever since that whole ugly incident with Hephaestus, you’ve been acting insufferable.” Hera blinks, more stunned than if he had slapped her. *“That incident with Hephaestus? You threw our son off of a cliff!”* Her voice climbs to a shrill, hysterical shriek, and I wince, quickly standing up and putting myself between them. “Now, let’s just calm down. I’m officially taking you two on as my clients, because unfortunately, time is up.


Taking almost undistinguished breaths, her eyes squeezed closed, eyelashes pushing hard against her cheek , laying silently at the bottom of her pond. Nestled into the mud and leaves like a blanket. The cold stinging water a comfort that no one else understands. Each time she enters the dark waters it’s like a slap, short and sharp, leaving her skin tingling , the cold never really lifting. Like a salve against her day. Her fingers creep slowly out into the dark pushing through the mud, branches and the leaves , fingertips searching for the right one, unravelling the leaves and muck. Probing slowly feeling each stem, ridge and vein of the damp leaves. Is this the one ? Is this one painful enough? Tracing along the veins of the leaf does she remember the words she told herself? Are the words enough?will they bring the cold relief ? She needed the harshest of words, the coldest she remembers to bring her peace. The memory of his cheeky little grin, his tiny fingers reaching out and touching her belly, his adorable giggle his tiny blond head snuggling into her. It’s too much she can’t do his anymore. The love hurts more than any word could, any thought could. Even in the coldest part of her world she can feel that burning heat pressed against her, his love, white hot and unforgiving in its intensity, loving her and all her darkness and fear. Her ever searching fingers find what she needs and slowly she unravels the memories. The words. They sting when she lays them across the spot on her belly where his little fingers laid and had burnt through, soon the burning subsides and all she feels is the cold relief of nothingness. Numb. She doesn’t talk about her ritual. Why? So they can tell her it’s not normal? Not healthy? Or worse that she needs medication? They don’t understand. She’s is strong enough. This is her balance. She doesn’t want any pity. She doesn’t need any help. She just needs to be alone, sometimes. She needs the cold, the dark places she goes, she needs this to balance out the immense love that she endures each day. Why didn’t they tell her it would be so hard to be loved, cherished and needed so intensely. The hugs and the laughter of her perfect little family gently tickling every last happy nerve she had. She sits , smiles and laughs, absorbing all that love, and loves them more than she believed she ever could. But it hurts. And she needs the cold. So after all the smiles and love and goodnight kisses She lays down sinking slowly to the bottom of the pond she created searching for the cold dark comfort of her misery. She needs this. She feels too much. Tomorrow she starts again. Prepares for another day of battle. A silent warrior. She sinks further down into the cold and settles in to restore her strength.


As a police officer for the New Jersey Police Department in Newark. You become accustomed to certain calls over the radio. You become desensitized to some of the horrors this city can throw at you. The world seems to be going to hell and as a police officer and I feel like I have front row seats. My son Josh was the reason I got into the police force. I wanted to make it a safer place for him. We live in a time a lot different then it was twenty years ago. Sometimes I wonder, is it us as parents that are the ones to blame for the madness that's out there. The one thing that terrifies me more than anything though, is getting the call over the radio that some kid, or whoever is shooting up a school. What kind of world are we living in today? When that is something you have to worry about. I remember last year my son was joking around with me about a kid in his class potentially being the person to shoot up his school. I remember feeling sad about it because I had to justify sending my son to a place where the thoughts and fear of being shot were all too real. As I turn up to 11th Avenue a call comes over the radio. “WE GOT A 417 OVER AT BARD HIGH SCHOOL ALL UNITS.” My heart began to beat out through my chest. That was my son's school. I get on-to the radio and asked them what they meant by 417. She tells me there is an active shooter at the school. I gasp for breath as the thoughts of my son being gunned down raced through my mind. As I turn on to Bergen St. I'm greeted by the chaos up outside the school. I ring my son's mobile but I get no answer. I ring it again pleading with the phone to pick up. As I jump out of my car. I see bodies on the lawn outside the school. Police are crouched down behind their cars. A Swat team was gearing up to burst through the front doors, as shots rang out through the air. I ring my son's phone, but still no answer. I leave the phone ring through in the hope he answers. I watch the swat team burst through the doors of the school, as I pray for the phone to answer. A voice is heard over the radio saying they had the shooter cornered in a classroom. As I'm holding the phone to my ear. My son answers. I beg him to tell me he's alright. He cries to me over the phone that he was sorry. “What do you need to be sorry over” I cry out. As he begs me for forgiveness. I hear someone in the background shouting at my son to get on the ground. Then gunshots ring out through the phone and then silence. Then another voice calls out over the radio. “THE SHOOTER IS DOWN. I REPEAT THE SHOOTER IS DOWN.” I drop the phone. I fall to my knees, as the carnage continues to unfold around me. I can't help but think about the last thing my son said to me before I left for work this morning. "I think today is the day people will finally start to listen to me, dad." I just smiled at him and left.


I was standing near the end of the path yet again, the only thing stopping me from reaching the end was standing in front of me. “What brings you here, hero?” She asked in that deceptively sweet voice of hers. Knowing that talking is worthless I charged at her. She was able to quickly dodge my attack, just as I knew she would. I had already begun to swing my sword to where I knew she would be, but the damn witch noticed this and cast a spell that sent us both flying back. We both quickly recovered, and spent the next few minutes fighting in a flurry of magic and steel, she would send a spell flying towards me and the path led me away from it. But eventually I reached a point I haven’t gotten to before, because of this my moves became sloppier, but the path is paved with mistakes. Eventually I made a big enough mistake for one of the spells to hit me and I fell to the ground, and woke up at the beginning of the path once more. I really don’t care about much anymore but one thing I still hate is the start of the path, I always wake up in the same bed, in the same house and to top it all off, I become a child again! I laid in the familiar bed for a moment contemplating my mistakes, and how I can avoid them next time. Once I decided the best way to avoid them, I added the necessary steps to the path, and like clockwork quietly got out of the bed and started to walk down the steps. I had to be quiet to avoid waking up the family in the house, if they find me tonight it will massively interfere with the path. I slowly made my way into the kitchen and grabbed my knapsack that lay on the counter and emptied out the contents of the bag. Once I did that I started to gather supplies, Food, water, knives, just the necessary stuff. After this I slowly made my way towards the back door and opened it. I breathed in the cold night air as I walked outside, closing the door behind me. In front of me lay the vast forest that I’ll be training in for about a week. (It’s the maximum amount of time the path let’s me stay there, as any longer and the family in that house will find me.) I started to follow the path once more. The years flew by as I done little but train and slay the monsters that live in the wilderness. (For training and for making enough money to buy food.) Just a few weeks ago I’ve reached the part of the path where I have to help a group of young heroes on multiple occasions. (I can’t remember why making sure they survive is apart of the path, but if I’ve learned one thing it’s not to mess with the path.) Soon in a few months I’ll be back towards the end of the path. But as of right now I have to deal with one of the few parts of the path I hate. In front of me was a girl that looked a few years younger then me. She was a part of that group of heroes and shes asking that damned question, in that annoyingly sweet voice that sounded so sad when she asked it. “Brother. Why did you leave?” I ignored her and the question and went to walk past her. But just like I knew she would, she stopped me. She claimed that she loved me, that she became a hero to try to find me and she was gonna bring me back home whether I wanted to or not. It was at this point she tried to cast a sleeping spell on me that I knew was coming. I dodged it easily and drew my sword as she drew hers. After a short fight I had managed to knock her out and continue to follow the path. I found myself entering the dark castle that marked the beginning of the end. I was able to easily slay the monsters and soldiers blocking my way to the end. I kicked down the door. The only thing stopping me from reaching the end I so craved was standing in front of me. “What brings you here, hero?” She asked in that deceptively sweet voice of hers. Knowing that talking is worthless I charged at her. She was able to quickly dodge my attack, just as I knew she would. I had already begun to swing my sword to where I knew she would be, but the damn witch noticed this and cast a spell that sent us both flying back. We both quickly recovered, and spent the next few minutes fighting in a flurry of magic and steel, she would send a spell flying towards me and the path led me away from it. I laid in the familiar bed for a moment contemplating my mistakes, and how I can avoid them. Once I decided the best way to avoid them, I added the necessary steps to the path, and like clockwork quietly got out of the bed and started to walk down the steps. I had just finished helping the heroes kill the small army of trolls and undead that was attacking the small village. They were trying to ask me who I was but I ignored them. I was walking out of the village before I was stopped by a girl with red eyes and white hair. She was about to thank me for helping them before both our red eyes met. She stood in shock for a moment, and I took the chance to get out of there as fast as possible. I really don’t care about much anymore but one thing I still hate is the start of the path, I always wake up in the same bed, in the same house and to top it all off, I become a child again! I sat around the campfire with the heroes as they discussed how to beat the Great witch of Minnar and stop her evil, The girl was staring at me spitefully but I ignored her (It wasn’t my fault I needed to follow the path and couldn’t do what she wanted.) They all give their opinion on the matter until the big blond one that hung around the girl a lot asked me. “You told us you have important information, what was it?” I muttered out the information the path allowed me to give and as soon as I said it a got up and left. At least I got a little bit further that time. She asked me why I left. I told her I needed to do something important. She asked me if she was important. I walked away. I was at the end once again. As soon as I walked in I went on the offensive. I followed the path closely. Finally the path brought me to the final step as I plunged the short sword into the witches chest. She gasped as the floor was covered in black and red blood. She fell onto the floor and not long after dissolved into black dust. I let out a small chuckle as I fell onto the floor, a small dagger sticking out of my chest, the path finished. As I lay there I heard those heroes rush in. The girl quickly ran up to me and asked if I was ok. Instead of answering I simply asked her “Do you hate me?” She let out a small sad chuckle “How could I you dummy? I’m your sister.” My sister was trying to tell me everything was going to be ok, she was right; the path is over I can rest now. Hope you all enjoy it. If you read the whole thing please criticize any flaw, Grammar wise or story wise. God bless! Edit. I went ahead and fixed some grammar issues and rewrote some small parts so it reads better.


It had been six months since his wife had left him. No explanation. No remorse. No sadness. She was just gone. One day everything had seemed fine - the next, everything had changed. She had changed. It was just now starting to really sink in. She was never coming back. He laid in the darkness of the barren bedroom in his small apartment and stared at the ceiling. The loneliness was killing him. It was so quiet here. Too quiet to sleep. “I need a smoke,” he said to his dog - to nobody in particular. He threw the blankets off carelessly and tied on his robe as his dog hopped up and waited by the sliding glass door to the back yard. Tom grabbed a cigarette and a lighter and slid open the door. As he stepped out into the biting cold his dog ran off into the darkness to do her business. He lit his cigarette and hugged himself against the chill of the night. Standing there he realized what a silly thing smoking is - here he was: outside, in the cold, at 3:25 in the morning in February, all for a stupid smoke. Dancing around in the dark and shuddering in the cold he looked up at the wall next to his sliding door at the porch light. He hadn’t really ever noticed it before. Tom slid the door open a crack and held his cigarette out in the other direction to keep the smoke from coming in. He reached inside and flipped the rocker switch to the light. Nothing. He flipped it a few more times - just to be sure, as people do - and decided now was as good a time as any to replace the bulb. “At least it’ll give me a reason to be standing out here in the middle of the night,” he thought to himself. He set his cigarette on a small table with the cherry hanging off the edge. This would only take a second. He slinked his way inside and grabbed an old bulb from a box in the garage. Soon, he was back outside in the cold, standing on a chair with a cigarette dangling from his lips as he battled the enclosure. He slipped the opaque plastic housing off the base to see that there was no bulb installed. “Well, that explains that,” he said to himself. As he began to thread the bulb into the base it suddenly flicked on, and just at the exact instant that his brain began to tell him, ‘you left the light switch flipped up’ he saw a woman, completely nude and soaked from head to toe standing inches away from the sliding glass door and his face - inside his bedroom. He jumped backward instinctively, fell, and let out a guttural shout, “OH!” as the plastic housing and cigarette both when tumbling to the ground. She just watched him from the darkness of the room. Expressionless. He sat there on the ground for what felt like an eternity, the two of them just staring at each other. Just then, the dog came running up to investigate. She looked at Tom and then, sensing another, she turned - startled - to look at the woman. Her hackles raised and a growl welled up from within her. She let out a bark and at the exact same moment, the woman let out a blood-curdling scream and slapped the sliding glass door with both hands - hard. As soon as her hands hit the glass there was a loud ‘POP!’ and the light went out. Tom’s eyes darted up to look at the light and then darted back to look at the woman - but she was gone. His heart was racing a thousand miles an hour. He felt like it might burst out of his chest. The dog just stared and growled in the darkness. The last thought he had before he fainted onto the cold concrete was of the raised hackles on his dog’s back. “She saw it, too. She saw it, too…” … Tom blinked his eyes. “Light. Morning. Blanket. I’m in my bed,” he thought to himself. He looked around his room and saw his robe hanging on the hook. He saw his lighter and pack of cigarettes sitting on the bathroom counter. “How did I get in my bed?” He remembered the cold, the light bulb, the… the woman in the dark. Naked. Water dripping on the floor in streams. Slapping the door - and that god-awful scream. The way it sounded muffled through the glass but still so piercing he could hardly stand it. It was still ringing in his ears. But it must have just been a dream. He looked at his watch. “7:30! Oh god, I’m going to be late!” As he rushed into the bathroom and started the shower he noticed his dog standing on the other side of the glass in the backyard, looking longingly at him to be let in from the cold. “I’d better leave her outside,” he thought to himself. “The smell is getting pretty strong and I don’t want her getting into the bag while I’m in the shower.” He climbed into the steaming water, letting the warmth soak the morning cold out of his bones. Twenty minutes later he put his toothbrush back in its holder, spit into the sink, and cinched up his tie. On his way out of the bedroom, he looked at the body of his dead wife wrapped in black plastic trash bags on his bed. “I miss you,” he said sadly - wishing for the thousandth time in six months that he hadn’t killed her. “I really do.” On his way toward the front door, he shot a glance to his dog at the sliding glass door - and stopped dead in his tracks. He could hardly see his dog’s face through the condensation on the glass door. The steam from the shower had frosted the glass as it met the cold outdoor air, almost completely obscuring all sight of the outside world. But the steam from the shower had also revealed two small, feminine handprints on the glass - fingers splayed in terror and desperation. Anger. And it was only then that he noticed the dark, wet spot on the carpet just inside the door.


Reluctant Werewolf Being a werewolf wasn’t my defining characteristic, though there would be people who said otherwise. I just wanted to run my coffee shop and have enough money to break even, and to be left alone. An introvert I was not, not exactly. I’m a people person, but there are only so many times that fellow werewolves and vampires could come in, pretending they were there for coffee but actually heckling me, that I could deal with. Before I was bitten, I prided myself on being able to control my temper; I was pretty much a pacifist, unless I saw someone coming to harm. Now it felt like my anger was constantly bubbling just beneath the surface of my skin, and all it took for me to lose it was a minor incident. How foolish I’d been, not believing in monsters. They were all too real, and they were annoying. I walked downstairs and began to prep everything, unlocking the doors so my employees can come inside for their shifts. I make myself a cup of strong, black coffee, still fatigued from the night before. One of the baristas, Caleb, walked inside, cheeks flushed and chapped from the brutal wind. “Morning, Leo,” He said, sitting down at a table before he clocks in. I brought him a cup of coffee, along with milk, sugar, and cream. He gave me a grateful smile in reply as I set it on the table. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” He said after taking a few sips, “But the vampires are lurking again.” “Again?” I cried, rolling my eyes so hard it felt like they were going to fall out of their sockets. “At this rate, I’ll have to get a damn protection order. This has gotten way out of hand.” Leo smirks over the rim of his mug. “I don’t even get their problem with you. It’s not like you bother them.” “As far as I know, I don’t *bother* anyone! I just work and go home!” I said, exasperated. I didn’t want the authorities involved, necessarily, but I was so tired of being heckled for no apparent reason. It wasn’t my fault I’d been bitten, after all. I’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. As if reading my thoughts, a vampire walked up to the door, all clothed in black, a scarf around his neck to protect him from the cold. “Yo, Leo! You got any coffee? I have money!” He called through the frosty glass, waving a twenty at me. His fanged teeth were bared in a smirk, bright ruby eyes glinting in the winter morning. “You and I both know you don’t want any coffee, Vlad. You want to come in here and bother me.” He widened his eyes innocently, though his shoulders shook as if he were holding in laughter. “Who, me? I’d never. And besides, who are you to turn down a paying customer?” “Fuck off. You want some coffee so bad, you can hit up a Starbucks,” I growled, and to my own horror, it came out as a low, deadly snarl with a powerful timbre. Caleb was watching the exchange, and he smirked; I wondered if he was wanting to flip Vlad the bird. Vlad just shrugged, laughing. All he wanted was to get under my skin, and he’d succeeded. “I’ll be back later, Leo. With some friends this time.” “You’re lucky I’m not calling the police! Get out of here before I rip you to shreds!” I watched his retreating back as he walked down the street. When he turned the corner, I turned the closed sign to open. \*\* My next problem came at lunch time, which was already a harried time for us, even with three employees and myself. I was no Starbucks, but I had to admit that I made some damn good coffee. Our chef, Sam, took pride in what he put in the windows under the counters, both sweet and savory: paninis, muffins, sandwiches, cakes, soup, cookies. The kid was half the reason I got so much business; everyone loved his food, including me. If I could have, I would’ve hired him as my personal chef. Caleb was in the middle of serving a tray of drinks to two sets of parents and their toddlers when the werewolves walked in. I groaned; how many variations of the word no did I have to use for them to understand? The local werewolf tribe had been trying to recruit me since I’d been bitten, and I wanted no part in it. I didn’t enjoy my disease; I didn’t use my strength and new sight to any advantage. I liked pretending I was normal, and the monsters in my town seemed determined to shatter the illusion.


When I was 16, I attended my first Rumspringa and met some local boys. I met my my ex-boyfriend of 1 year that night. He was 20 and he had great teeth. We smoked cigarettes and listened to Jimmy Eat World CD's and ultimately he was the reason I left the Amish. He rented a room in a duplex in Cleveland and we struggled, but were stupid and happy. He'd stand up tall with his fingers all stretched out and I'd go in and hug around his waist. It was one of his sweeter gestures. I should also mention that I was adopted at 2. I had been abandoned in a park near a small group of trees. The temperature was so low that the morning a homeless man found me, that the police didn't believe he just *found* me, because I hadn't frozen to death. Luckily he had an alibi at a shelter and was later treated as a hero. When they found my Mother, per a tip of a local (she took me to this park regularly and someone identified her coat) she had a psychotic episode and scratched her eyes out. Well one, she damaged the optic never of the other pretty bad, but it's still there. When they told her I was safe she lashed out and "had a complete disdain for her baby". For my safety, she was institutionalized and I was fostered until I was adopted. My biological father was married and ended up going to prison after his wife found out about his affair which resulted in me. In a fit of rage, his wife lit his suits on fire and out of his own anger, he shot her. Killed her on the front lawn of their home. My ex-boyfriend was protective and always wanted to travel. He always wanted to explore national forests, but we didn't have a car ( I didn't know how to drive and he refused to go to the DMV). He said he grew up near a big wooded area when he was little, so it reminded him of home. "One day babygirl, I'm gonna take you home." I never did meet his parents. He got really clingy and got insanely jealous. He'd never let me leave alone and he kind of instilled the same anxiety living Amish did to me. We drifted apart and I had to break up with him in a crowded grocery store because I was so worried about his freak out. I had a myspace and on my friends was a girl named Hannah who was also ex-Amish. I messaged her and she said her and two of her cousins who are ex-Amish have an apartment. She invited me to stay a week, and when I returned home after the break up all of my belongings were in the the driveway (rather, what was left of them). And he was gone never to be heard from again. I sat with my belongings and cried until my neighbor offered me her phone. My cell phone was shut off but I carried it around for the numbers. Hannah and *her* neighbor came and picked me up. It was a tiny toyota turcel that smelled sour from being smoked in. We couldn't fit my bookcase obviously so I wished it Godspeed and we left. While Hannah was great, she was very into Amish ways still. She didn't like witches, or scary stories. Her cousin wanted to get a Hasbro Ouija Board that's packaging was all faded and cracked at another tenants parking lot sale (garage sale for apartment people) but she flipped out. Aside from chewing gum too loudly or getting too drunk sometimes, she was doing her best for a 19 year-old new in this world. One day she asked me about my birth Mom. I told her I didn't know anything about it and told her the story of how I was found. "Oh yeah, you told me this the last time you were here. That's fucked. Oh shit! sorry. But you know what I mean." She hit her newport and sipped out of a plastic tumbler. I could smell it, apple flavored smirnoff and ginger ale. "Are you gonna find her? Or like, do you wanna???" "Nah" I said. "I actually don't really think about her. I just never *connected* to other people like that. You know? Even my Mom and Dad, I didn't care that they weren't affectionate. I just never needed that kind of stuff. They think my Mom like abused me or something when I was small. Plus she's in that institution and plus I get major umm, whats that called....uhhh..... well you know when you can't breath well and your heart starts pounding in places like that. " "I know what you mean." She slurred a little. Six days later I was crying in a hospital bed having been 51/50'd by my new roommates. I had only remembered standing in the grass in one of those islands in the complex parking lot. Everyone was shouting but it was muffled. I could taste something metallic. And then I woke up as an IV was being inserted in my arm. From what I was informed by a very shaken up cousin of Hannah, I passed out on the patio and when I came to, I began screaming about needing to be in the forests and proceeded to make claws with my finger nails and shove them into my eyebrows. But before I could furiously claw myself, Hannah and some boy she had over held me down but I ran out to the parking lot. It was attributed to me being high and drunk and clearly having a breakdown of some sort. I wasn't allowed to live there anymore and I was really scared and alone. My mind raced because I knew I might've inherited some awful mental illness and this was going to be my life. I was evaluated for two weeks, and without any income, or place to go I had to move back home and atone for what I had done. It was not the warmest welcoming, but upon hearing what happened I was taken in sheerly for my safety. The days that followed made me feel more connected to my birth mother than any other memory I had of her. In fact, I had none. I was two when they found me, but I didn't have any dreams, or repressed memories of her. But something in me was disturbed. A sudden fleeting thought about meeting her hit me. Maybe it was forgiveness, maybe it was closure. I just, I only found solace when I thought of visiting her. Using what knowledge I had, and the passion I had, I decided to get back on my feet. I lied and hid English clothes in a haystack. I got a job at a supermarket (I used my old apartment address) and snuck off when I could. I was confronted about it and ultimately shunned. I had made some friends at my job and a lady named Julie let me stay with her. The nightmares got worse about my birth mother and I finally broke down. Julie helped me understand I was holding on to resentment and encouraged me to try exposure therapy; i.e. meet with my birth mother, forgive her, and make peace with it all. And since Julie had an life coach certificate on her wall that she got online, I trusted her. I first called the institution and was directed to speak with the lead psychiatrist and an 'action liaison' (this person just made sure you knew that you were entering a place for deranged criminals and how to behave etc.) Although I understood I could not have any physical contact with my birth mother, I was instructed what to do had she chosen to lunge at me. I was also told not to be alarmed by their appearance, as it was for everyone's safety that the patients are shackled in medical grade cuffs. I wanted to back out, but Julie had loaned me $100 to get there and back so it wasn't like I couldn't. It started eating at me that she could die, and I'd never meet her. As challenging as it was to want to meet someone who abandoned me, my gut urged me on. I had questions and her doctor verified she had been lucid for several years "on the right combination of medications". She had acknowledged that she had a daughter in sessions, and the doctor determined that meeting could be beneficial to her making a breakthrough. OR she could go completely batshit and lucky me, I'll have the same fate too but at least I know what medications might help me. So for the sake of my health I continued on. When the orderly led her in I stared at her as she shuffled to the table. Her red hair was being replaced with silver ones. It hung down over her mangled eye sockets and hands were soft and plump. As she placed her hands on the table for the guard to lock her shackle to it I saw that her nails had been chewed down revealing pink tips to her freckled hands. "Did you know I was coming" I asked? She didn't lift her head. "No" she said. "Why? Who are you?" she asked me inquisitively. Still, refusing to show me anything but the top of her head. I valued the distance between us and for a moment I felt like I had betrayed My Mom and Dad. I betrayed growing up in green fields and fresh air, and immediately felt sick to my stomach. This was a stranger in front of me and I had no reason to be there. That was my closure. As I consciously made the decision I needed to exit, I chose to blurt out "You, you are my....I am your daughter that you, just like, left. Do you know who I am?" She let out a high picthed whine, that turned into a cry that turned into a sob. And then, then she whipped her head back glaring back at me. She glared at me with her other working eye and as viciously and furiously as she could like a banshee "YOU! YOU! YOU! YOU ARRRRE NOOOOOOT MY BABY!!!!" She shrieked and bounced in her plastic chair. She was highly agitated and spitting. I followed what the liaison said and stepped away, put my back to wall and avoided eye contact. As they restrained her pulled her from the visitation room she once more and very clearly said "I know you. I should have killed you! I left you there. I want *my* baby!" Completely overwhelmed and nauseas I left and chose to get on with my life. I figured I'd see a therapist and ask friends to let me know if my mental states seemed off. She was clearly crazy, should not have had a baby, etc. But this does not have to be my fate. Until one day I received a phone call from her doctor informing me of her death, and being I made contact with her if I had any interest in claiming her body. I passed and before he hung up he asked me about her personal effects. "Well, what did she have?" I asked "Ahhh, let's see ahhh, a Journal and some crafts and stuff we did here with 'em. Sorry if you have no interest, just best policy to ask. My apologies." "Yes. Give me the journal." I said. I didn't know what I was going to find. It was red (probably faux) leather and had remnants of stickers she must of pulled off of it. On it were scribbles, but inside was much darker. It was dated near the time I had been found. Holy shit! Was this it? Her descent into madness before my very eyes? Maybe a confession, but, did I care? Of course I had to care?! I was so engulfed in this insane backstory the universe had dropped in my lap, I *had* to look through it. I found myself getting spooked and opted to stick it into my bag and go down the road to a crowded Starbuck's so as not to freak myself out. Unfortunately no amount of people was going to save me from what I was about to see. In this journal was multiple pages of messy cursive. I saw scribblings of demons and other crazy person stuff. But in one drawing she had drawn these trees and all of these tiny demons standing around the trees. She'd written "MY BABY" over and over again. It was eerie until I reached an entry that I can not unread, "1/16/89 I don't know this baby. I don't know it. I and I know he did it. I turned my back for a second and he took her. I know he did it. And what he brought back was not her. That thing is NOT my baby. My daughter had beautiful brown eyes. This child looks like mine, but her eyes and bright blue. No one! believes me." And then two photos fell out of the next page. One was a small baby. It was me. But it was not me. The nose of this child had a mole and her eyes were big and brown, mine are a distinctive blue/grey. And she was missing a small birth mark I had on my chin. I felt uneasy, and in the middle of starbucks, while trying not to puke and cry in front of these people over the idea of having a twin out there somewhere, I turned the other photo over. It was a photo of my birth mother, at the park by the trees, holding that little girl who is wearing a beanie with MY name embroidered on it . And standing on her left is a young man, the same young man I met at Rumspringa, my ex, the exact same age standing with his arms open, grinning, fingers spread wide staring back at me as if to say "Hug me". I hurried home and hyperventilated. I was sure my mental health was suffering. Say what you want but they were the only family I had and reached out to my Mom and Dad (adopted) who were still very much Amish. I wrote that I was afraid an evil force was coming for me and that I was so sorry I left. I admitted I thought I was being punished by God and begged for them to pray for me. I got a letter 3 weeks later from my Adoptive Mother and all it said was: " You should not have any fear for you have been baptized. You are a creature of God now; not the creature we received you as. Come home.


Method, by Hana Aianhanma, February 2019, This work is licensed under a . The story is made up. As such, similarities with real events and/or persons are coincidental. If you recognise yourself in any of it, find professional help. Seriously. ***** ## **Method** ***** "The old trains used to just have a hole," The old man had drunk quite a bit, "A hole?" "I mean, they had toilets and all, but look down one and you could see the tracks." "Tracks?" "Anything that drops down through them during the ride is lost forever." "Drops down?" "Please don't use the toilets when the train has stopped at a station." Yes, definitely inebriated, "bad for the smell, see?" "I don't quite follow what that's got to do with my question." "Everything with why I hate that question," "You'd think they would be able to clean the tracks there, it's outside, you know?" I interjected, "except when the station has a roof." "Very few roofed stations in the country I lived in, back then." "Country?" "Belgium." "Had some problems moving stateside." "I can image, with the visa requirements." "Oh, not that," he waved that away, "it was the beer I brought with me..." "Taxes?" "The labels. You barbarians don't know art when you see it." He must have noticed my befuddlement, so he changed subject on me. "Used to have one, to answer it," he gulped down the remainder of the glass of whatever poison he was drinking, "What?΅ "Your question." "Used to?" "Treasure of our lives," "If you don't want to talk about it..." "No I don't." "then ..." "the wife and I had this little kid. Little one charmed me the day she was born. " I poured each of us a glass of beer. Had to make sure he wouldn't touch that poison again, after all. He looked at it suspiciously, "what's this piss?" "It's beer." "You call that beer?" I carefully inspected my glass, "yeees?" "Hah!" He took a swig, "Piss," and finished the contents, "I've tasted better stuff that people used to drink when beer was too expensive." I stared, "why drink it, if it's so bad? "Sometimes one enjoys the drink," he took my glass, "other times the alcohol," and emptied it. "Quite so," I ordered another pair, "so you had this kid." "Ah yes, the kid!" "You know people idealise having one," he looked up as he received the new glass, "it's all true," another huge swallow. "True?" "Kid was great," "But?" "Well, gotta pay with karma, isn´t it?" "There were downsides?" "Downside? Yes!" He laughed disconcertingly, "and it went all down!" He had a mad look in his eyes now. "See, I had diaper duty." "The wife shed some sweat, blood and tears when the baby arrived," now that I looked at them, they had that yellowing look, "so I had to take care of it for a while," "Tough?" "Formed a habit, I did," The new glasses arrived, he took both of them now, "See, the little'un had this charming game when we changed diapers," "They often do." "Just finished cleaning up when ..." He cackled delightedly, "out came the rest." He considered the glass, "Great way to check a babysitters dedication, that was." "So, that habit?" "Well, I wasn't going to be cleaning any more than needed, " "You had a method?" "Great one, changing diapers in the bathroom right next to the toilet." He put the glass down, "no more of this," he mumbled. "Water!" "Where was I?" "Your method?" "Ah yes. Baby who doesn't hold his poo, toilet right next." "I see..." "So, the littl'bugger could have all the fun it wanted while I held it under its armpits," he smiled triumphantly, "above the toilet." He looked happy for the first time that night, "so, why didn't you like to be asked about your children?" "You don't see?" "No" "Had to change diapers in the train one day," he looked almost sober now, "so here I was, in this old train, with my Genius Method." He eyed the beers, "not a smooth ride, those old trains. Especially when they change tracks on you." "The shaking makes you drop what you're holding.


You had traveled far, far away to a foreign port in a foreign country. It smelled of foreign spices and you could hear the sound of languages you had never heard before. You needed this, and you had gotten yourself in quite some debt in order to finally get here, the legendary bar of the name «The Three Bottles». A bar famous for only serving three unusual drinks; Blind-me-not, Olympian’s sweat, and Reset. One of the few places on earth where these magical drinks can be found. Blind-me-not is a clear shot which glitters in the light, like a five year-old girl had found it and sparkled it up. The drink looks like a shot of water with glitter poured into it. It is made with one part Vodka mixed with one part juice of a strange plant called the »Visionroot». The drink tastes like a very mediocre and completely uneventful gin, but it gives whoever drinks it perfect vision for all eternity. No matter what may happen. Olympian’s sweat is a orange juice-looking drink, and no one knows what it’s made of. It’s origin is forever unknown. However everyone who drinks it notices the smell, the faint yet still clear stench of sweat. Just like standing a few feet away from someone who have just worked out. The taste however is rather good, it tastes just like Strawberry Juice. It is definetively a drink you can get used to, if you manage to ignore the unpleasant odor. Olympian’s Sweat gives the drinker the body they had when they were 17, with all the upsides and the eventual downsides. It also gives the drinker a pimple at their nose that will forever be there, no matter what the drinker may do. The body can never be changed nor harmed by anyone, and will stuck just like it was at it’s seventeenth birthday for all eternity. The final drink is the drink known as «Reset». It is a blended mix of shaved darkroot, a spoon of honey from the Stalker Bee, and a glass of Champagne. The taste is surprizingly enough just like water, even though it looks, smells and sounds just like an ordinary glass of champagne. The drink has however a rather unusaul effect. It gives the drinker the opportunity to go back to any point of the drinker’s lifetime, and at that time murder themselves. The murder will be painless and swift. You will however have died at that time, and never experienced an of the things you in this timeline experienced, even though you keep the memories. You wil enter the afterlife, whatever it may be, and spend your days there. You will find out what happens when you die. Is it painfull? Comfortable? You will now find out. The problem is you only have enough mone for two of these drinks. What may it be? The sweaty-smelling drink? The gliittering water? The glass the looks like Champagne? What may it be, you can only choose once, the kind of money it took to get here is the kind you will never find again. Choose wisely.


The Taon people were born of the elements at the beginning of the world. Their likeness and appearance was the model for all other sentient and civilized beings that followed. When the Trees of Creation grew and gave life to this once desolate planet, the taon people were forged from dirt and wood and leaves. They were then blessed with a communion that bound them to the natural world forever, and as they evolved their bodies became more similar in appearance to the other races. They were allowed to use this power and all that nature had to offer in carrying out their divine task, to be the caretakers of the natural world, protecting it and nurturing it for all time. Their power is unlike that of any other race to ever exist, but there is one who is more worthy of mention than the rest. The one true guardian of the wilds. Elae was said to be one of the first of the Taon race and is regarded, undoubtedly, as the most powerful. Although Elae's power was quite subtle, as was her beauty. So much so that you would not become aware of it until it was absent, for it lingered in your mind long after she was gone. Her eyes were green as the deepest parts of the forest. Her skin, the tone of changing leaves kissed by the fading light of day, her hair was as dark and deep as the most ancient of soil, and she was adorned, always, by a flowing white robe embellished with all varieties of flora. Her voice was said to calm even the wildest of creatures, for not only did Elae command charm and grace, she inspired a tranquility in every living thing she encountered. She was eloquent in spirit and in speech, as liberated a being as you could ever be, and all who came into her presence desired to understand her. Elae would use her power for creation, and with it she would conjure up flowers of differing kinds for all those she knew. Learning which flower they were most fond of and gifting them to each individual accordingly. All were commonly found within the forest, but to watch her recreate their beauty from thin air was quite a spectacle, even for the Taon people. Though there was one flower that was more extraordinary than the rest. It was a lily, Elders Blessing it is now called, it does not grow naturally, nor will it ever grow again. It was born solely of her mind with her power to manifest anything she could feel. The smell of Elders Blessing was said to induce euphoria and a deep state of understanding, and to the less immune creatures and races, the allure of its colors alone was entrancing. This flower she would give to Teylid, the only person to have her heart. She would leave them outside of Teylids hut on her way into the forest some mornings before he woke, and if he saw the flower outside his door, he knew to meet her there. They would sit by the rivers and in the trees, discussing all manner of things, sad or hopeful, profound or beautiful, and often the words they spoke aloud paled to those they did not; for the comforting silence of one another's company is what they cherished most. This flower was a gesture of her gratitude to him, for when Teylid gazed upon her in wonder he saw only her uncompromising spirit, and he wished not to tame it, only to experience it. It was the embodiment of a love only she could understand. As time carried on, and the world began to change, the threat of war from the neighboring tribes sent Elae and her people into a state of unrest, for they were not an aggressive people. They sent out a group of the strongest and most capable members of the community, Teylid being one of them. He agreed without hesitation if only to ensure that he kept Elae safe in whatever way he could. From a group of several dozens that were sent out to scout the enemies advance, only 3 returned, but Teylid was not among them. Elae asked the 3 survivors what had happened to him. They said that they were ambushed, separated from one another, and in the confusion many were killed. They did not know if Teylid was among the dead, and this restored some hope in Elae's heart, no matter how false. She hurried out of the village, following the same course as the party before, in search of Teylid. After what seemed like an eternity, lost in a forest that she once knew so well, she found him. His body lay lifeless on the forest floor, pierced by several arrows. As she knelt there beside her beloved, weeping in sorrow of her loss, the enemy force discovered her and it was their intention to enslave her. Though as they drew closer, in a state of great anguish, surrounded by those who took everything from her, she invoked a terrible power. As it filled her being to capacity, it began to change her. Her skin turned to hardened bark, her hair turned to leaves and vines, and as her spirit became one with the wilderness, it's fury erupted. Thick vines and roots burst suddenly from the ground surrounding her, twisting up and wrapping around her enemies, constricting them and tearing them in half, dismembering them as they attempted to escape, to no avail, for none survived that day. After all had been slaughtered she collapsed, weakened by her wrath, her heart no longer able to beat. She fell to the ground next to Teylid and gazed upon him once more as she faded from consciousness, and as the spirit of her immense power left her body it sank into the soil, and from that soil, a tree began to grow. The roots tore into the ground, branches forming and creating a tomb around Elae and her lover as the trunk grew rapidly, stretching upward, high above the forest. Its branches reaching far out into the surrounding sky, casting a shadow upon the crowns of all the other trees, and from the remnants of her spirit at the base of that towering giant, flowers began to grow. Elders Blessing, covering the forest floor. The only place it would ever grow. The final resting place of a spirit that could never be tamed, the last truly wild thing to ever live.


Sometimes I play an odd ‘game’ when I walk up or down my stairs. I leave the light off. Perhaps ‘game’ isn’t the right word. When I was growing up, my father was obsessed with the idea of keeping the switch down (when ‘off’), and up (when ‘on’). To him, it was more important for it to be flipped ‘the correct way’, than for anyone to have light as they traversed the steps. As strange as it was to us, It was easier to accept his preference, than to argue about it. No one wanted to deal with his extreme reaction to discovering the light switch in reversed orientation. We resigned ourselves to a life of walking the stairs in the dark. To this day, I leave the light switch off in my own windowless stairwell. I guess the same OCD has rubbed off on me, or embedded itself under my skin. After all, I know how many steps I have; and that another is coming after the one I’m standing on. They all have the same ‘riser’ height and ‘tread’ width. The details are mapped in my muscle memory. The sense of sight isn’t normally necessary there. I guess I’ve come to trust what my body knows, over what most people feel is necessary to see. A few nights ago, I went to ascend my stairs and reached for the firm reassurance of the banister. The hard polished oak handrail is a familiar feeling I use to justify this little nonsensical ‘game’. Strangely, It wasn’t where I knew it to be. I fanned my hands around in the dungeon-like darkened space for it. I assumed I’d only misjudged the distance to the wall but it wasn’t there. I was way outside the range of space that it should reside in, yet I was coming up empty. Then in frustration, I blindly sought the light switch. Nothing. My feet slowly eased forward in expectation of bumping against the first step but the floor felt ‘different’ underfoot. It didn’t even feel like my floor at all. It was much harder and was possibly consisted of stone or concrete. My carpet wasn’t there! The switch and wall wasn’t present either. I had stumbled into unknown territory. My first instinct was to immediately reverse direction and reopen the stairwell door behind me but it had mysteriously evaporated too! There in the darkness I fanned around in the air wildly, seeking the tactile reassure of familiar objects that should have been within reach. Mysteriously, nothing was ‘right’. I was rapidly becoming desperate to figure out what the hell was going on. The corridor was so dark that my eyes never really adjusted. I didn’t even try to explain the complete change in my environment either. Those answers would have to come later. I was thrust into survival mode for the time being. Instead, I decided to crouch slightly and explored the foreign ground with my bare hands. Everything was completely alien to what I ‘knew’. There was a mossy vegetation covering where my thick shag carpeting should have been. As if to add even more uncertainty, there was a cool, damp chill looming in the air. I felt like I’d stumbled into some alternate realm of chaos and worried there might be dangerous vertical pits ahead. Each step was made with the same tentative lack of confidence one would expect from walking in total darkness in a strange land. Imagine inching forward nervously, expecting to feel a wall or step (but they never materialized). There were unfamiliar forest noises in the place my mind still wanted to believe was a narrow staircase. I made each step like a person who expected to be above a hole or loaded bear trap. Something unseen brushed against my leg and I let out an undignified shriek. It was terrifying. For all I knew, I was wandering in circles or lying on the floor of my home having a hallucination. My strange journey into the unknown felt so real. The boggy soil beneath my feet seemed so tactile and realistic to the touch. I began to worry I might never get back to the reality I left behind. Just then, I felt the unmistakable sensation of a significantly large furry creature brush against me again! Was it the same one from before? More importantly, was it malicious? I was still having trouble grasping the paranormal experience I found myself stumbling through. It was even harder to accept the unwelcome possibility of wild creatures roaming my home. Of course I had no way of knowing what kind of animal was following me through the darkness. I hoped it wasn’t feral or vicious. After all, it already knew I was there. It could’ve attacked me at any moment, if it wanted to. I was a ‘sitting duck’ in the surreal expanse of my mysterious staircase portal. The significant amount of unknown factors made the hairs on my arm bristle. I was in uncharted territory headed toward an uncertain fate. I sensed my unknown ‘shadow’ was in the darkness nearby. I could feel it. Tentatively I reached out to make friendly contact. I’d either make a new ‘pal’, or possibly lose a couple fingers. For the first time, the creature emitted a low, throaty growl like a agitated canine. I pulled my hand back instinctively. The growling lessened and then ceased. I tried to adopt a non threatening posture. It could see me perfectly, from what I could tell. I had a general idea where ‘it’ was from the direction of the warning it emitted. Assuming it was like a a nervous puppy, I elected to give it space and try to bribe it with a treat. I had a few pieces of hard candy in my pocket. I pulled one of them out and tore the wrapper open. The familiar smell of peppermint was in the air and I could tell it was curious. I held it at the edge of my fingers and coaxed it to take it. Nervously at first, I heard the creature sniff the candy and snatch it away, as if I wasn’t to be trusted. Immediately I heard it pulverizing the candy into dust all at once. Assuming I’d pleased my new friend, I pulled out another peppermint. Again I tore away the cellophane. I could actually feel the heat of it’s breath of my hand. The candy was a huge hit. I held out the new piece. It was taken with the gentleness of a creature that was appreciative of what it was being given. In my mind, my non verbal companion was probably a large dog or similar domesticated animal. At least parts of it were soft and furry and it can up to mid thigh. I heard it crunch hard on the second piece. I only had one more in my pocket and I didn’t want to run out of treats while still trying to completely win it over. I elected to wait a few minutes before giving away the last one. I held out my open hand again. I heard it sniff my fingers. It really wanted more candy but could see I wasn’t holding another piece yet. I was tempted to try to pet it, but didn’t want to spook the animal or risk getting bitten. Gradually it moved close enough that I felt the warmth of it’s head near my hand. Gently I brushed against it. There was a slight guttural protest but it was half hearted and reactionary. This time I was able to pet the unknown creature without any further resistance. To my immense surprise, it definitely wasn’t a dog, or a pig, or any other animal I’d ever felt in my life. It had long patches of fur and several thorny spikes on its back! I almost recoiled in horror but managed to maintain the calming rhythm of my petting. The strange creature I was stroking in the pitch blackness seemed to be enjoying the attention but I sensed it could all deteriorate in an instant with the wrong move on my part. I kept going. The spikes fortifying its back were natural defensive weapons. It had a club-like tail too that seemed to be off limits to my touch. I left that area be like the vulnerable belly of a cat. The beast’s head was enormous for an animal it’s size and I couldn’t help but notice the large fangs beside its furry muzzle. Whatever I was petting in the alternate universe of my stairwell, it was a fierce creature and had plenty of defense mechanisms. I sat down on the soggy vegetation. The creature curled up beside me as if to ensure I continued to stroke it. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the last remaining piece of candy. The crinkling wrapper caught its attention. It actually let out a little squeal of excitement. I hoped it would still be my friend once the last peppermint was gone. This time it took the candy from me before I could even get the wrapper off. I guess the plastic wasn’t that much of a hinderance to a creature with 2 inch canines and cow sized lower mandible. After it was gone, my new friend curled up beside me on the ground and went to sleep. I had to be careful to avoid the back spikes. Eventually I fell asleep too. When I awoke, I found myself lying on the second step of my stairs! I reached up in the dark and felt the switch. Instantly the stairwell was bathed in the light of my chandelier. I was alone. For the briefest of time I assumed it was either a vivid dream or a hallucination. There was no sign of my ‘peppermint pal’ but I did have some long strands of fur on my lap and some ground stains on the seat of my pants. I can’t explain what happened there in the dark but I did occur. Now whenever I wander up or down my stairs in the dark, I’m sure to have a pocketful of candy for my furry, prehistoric friend.


Above the chatter, a woman gritted her teeth and pushed, her screams partly silencing the crowd around her. On the horizon, no one seemed to notice, maybe there was another birth going on there right now, or maybe a conception. The woman near me hung on to the shoulders of the women and men around her, I could make out one of her hands squeezing another woman’s shoulder, her bright red hand clenching so tight that the skin on the shoulder was pale, she’d probably leave a bruise. I made out the smell of her birth, even through the many other unwashed people between us. She pushed again, this time shoving those around her so hard that I felt the energy ripple through the crowd. A few of the men around me sighed as the ripple of shoving hit them. A light misting rain began to fall and muffled the air. The clouds had hung low all day, and now they had finally broke. The horizon went out of sight, but I could still see the woman. Her face was pointed calmly towards the sky, the rain indistinguishable from the sweat on her face. I could see her nostrils flaring as she sucked in air. Rain always quieted people down, it softened the tensions between neighbors, and lessened the body heat constantly caused by the brushing of our bodies against one another. Other people raised their open mouths to taste the air and quench their throat. They moaned and sighed as they gulped, contrasting to the painful noises of the mother. The rain picked up and began to disturb members of the mass. People pushed and shuffled through the crowd, agitated by the weather. Was it instinctual to be so resistant and uncomfortable in the rain, does the body naturally seek shelter? The agitated began to flow together in concise paths through the mass of bodies and in turn causing more people to move, swear, and grow angry. Nobody ever liked when too many people moved, such as this uneasiness. Resolute old men were known to swear by their stature, hardly moving from their spot for years or decades. All should be done in their spot. It was safest not to move, lessen the chance of losing a family member or nice neighbor. I had moved once like those moving now to avoid the rain, and I regret it. The slamming of bodies, the pushing of strangers, the trampling. The mother had been pushed to the opposite side of the river of people. I wasn’t sure if her neighbors had carried her out of the way or if she had moved of her own accord. It made the air feel more anxious than usual, her birth and the rain. The rain got worse and the puddles grew larger. The flow of people widened and slowed. They sloughed through the mud that their trampling feet had created when mixed with rain and the usual filth. The mother wasn’t audible anymore from this distance with the angry noise of the movement and the increasing slamming of the rain. I could feel the oil running from my hair now, as it trickled around my nose. I could taste my sweat and dust, watery in the rain. I licked the roof of my mouth and blinked my eyes rapidly. It was becoming too much. So I closed my eyes, trying to forget the world. I breathed in. I breathed out. I focused on my breathing. *Breath in.* *Breath out.* *Breath in, breath out.* The rain was running all over my body. Soaking my hair and clothes. Tiny streams of it ran around my neck and down between my chest, another down the spine of my back, each vertebrae slightly tickled. I raised my head and my closed eyes fluttered and winced at the falling rain. My body jostled from the outside, but I swayed with the flow. I patted my toes in the puddles, wiggled my knees ever so slightly. I could feel the warm darkness inside the cavity of my body growing closer, richer, soon it would reach my eyes and my brain. And it did, until my head felt like balloon carrying the light weight of my body, and my eyes felt like oiled marbles, like bearings rolling idly in a wheel. I became unaware of my breathing, yet felt the rhythm of the skin on my chest sliding over my ribs. I moved my eyes under their lids. Life and light emerged in the void, colors swirled and children’s laughter echoed. Children running around in a circle holding hands. I can still feel the breeze. Then the mother screamed, her highest note. The baby had come, “The baby has come!”, “The baby has come”, “The baby is here!”, “The baby is with us. “Baby, baby baby!” I opened my eyes, though they still winced in the smashing rain. The flow of moving bodies had grown larger, yet now it began to circle around the mother. The woman and her new girl in the eye of the spiraling mass. They all chanted, “Baby!” The woman brought the girl to her chest to suck. The rain washed the babe clean in a few moments, revealing her thin black hair and brown skin.