The golden rays of sun touches my face as it risen. I am currently drinking my coffee here in my room's balcony while watching the sun rise. I close my eyes and heave a sigh as I felt the warm breeze. The sunrise symbolizes a new day. A new day for me to start all over again. My dream is to become a model in a magazine since I was five years old. I don't know but I really love fame and everyone's attention. I love having everyone's attention, but sadly my family deprived it to me. It was like I am not existing in their life. That they don't care that I am breathing. They always ignore me and never did ask me if I'm ok. For years, I learned to be ok with that. All I want in my life now is to be the most famous model in the whole world. And maybe this is my time to shine.

I smiled when I received a message from the owner of the B Magazine, the most popular magazine business in the world. It says that I am accepted to their company and I need to be there today.

I Immediately fix myself with a wide smile on my face. I tied my long straight black hair into a high ponytail. I wore a stylish pastel pink sweet-heart top off-shoulder dress that perfectly shaped my curves and exposing my neck and collar bone. When I got satisfied at my look, I spray my purfume all over my body.

It took me a few minutes to arrive at my destination. The moment I took a step on their tiled floor I can't stop but to smile so wide because of so much happiness. I will finally reach my dreams.

The secretary guided me to the CEO's office. When I enter the room, Miss Bella, the CEO welcomed me with a tight hug.

"Welcome to my company Venus." she formally said.

"Thank you for accepting me in your company madame." I answered politely.

"Oh silly! A beautiful and sexy girl like you is what I need in my company. Now, let's go to the studio, you should meet the other models." she said and guided me to the studio.

My eyes sparkled when I saw the whole studio room. This is my dream! To be one of the models and to pose in front of the camera while everyone's admiring and praising me.

"Venus, this is Faye and Sam. I want you three to be comfortable at each other. I chose the three of you to be partners." Miss bella said. I smile and offer my hand to faye and sam to shakehands.

Both of them were beautiful too. Faye has a childish attitude but she's friendly and I got more comfortable with her. While sam, she's serious and not so talkative unlike faye. As I observed, sam was the sexiest among us.

The team took a few photos of us together. There's a sports theme, business attire, long gown, casual attire and a swimwear. I have a great day with them.

A few days past and Miss Bella conducted an audition for the three of us. It says that whoever wins the audition, she will be having a solo shoot in a magazine. I got a little nervous about that because I really wanted to win that audition. Having a solo shoot is a big deal. You will be much more popular than having a partner in a magazine.

I work so hard for it. I woke up early every morning to exercise and took a balance diet. I always took my skincare every night and sleep early to avoid having a dark circles.

The audition came and every one of us, even the team and miss bella were busy. The audition is like a beauty pageant but there's no question and answer or talent shows. We only need to walk in a stage a few times with a different clothes and the one who wears it and pose beautifuly and elegantly will be the chosen one.

I walk sexily to the stage wearing a black bikini. I raised my chin while smiling and confidently turned around and pose in front of the camera.

I exhale so loud when I finished. The next one will be sam. I can't help but to admire her perfectly shaped body wearing a red bikini which made her white skin lighter. She pose and pose confidently in front of everyone. I don't know but I felt sad seeing her be praised by everyone instead of me.

The audition is finally over. My heart broke into pieces when the judges chose sam as the winner. I can't stop my tears from falling so I decided to go in the backstage where no one is there.

I cried and cried until I felt a warm hand slowly tapping my back. I raise my head to see who is it and I saw faye, smiling at me.

"It's ok venus. There's more to come for us to shine." she said which make me felt relieved.

Months have passed and sam is the talk of the town. No, talk of the world. She became the most popular model in the world. While me, some know me but most of them doesn't.

Faye became my partner for a months now. But because of her personality, she's better known than me. I took a deep breath as I watch sam having another photoshoot. I sadly walk to the dressing room and sit infront of my bureau.

"If only she's not here." I unconsciously said while facing the mirror. My heart skips a beat when I saw faye looking at me. She then sat beside me while adding some make up on her face.

"Are you ok?" she ask.

I nodded and averted my eyes from her. Did she hear what I said? Gosh! What would she think of me?! Will she think that I can kill sam for me to have the honor? The fame?!

"I'm leaving now. Bye!" faye said and finally left me here. I sigh and rest my back in my chair.

I lazily look at the door when I saw sam enter the room. She sat infront of her bureau and fix her make up. I sigh again and closed my eyes.

I immediately opened my eyes when I smell a smoke. I stand up and saw a smoke all over the room. I saw sam trying to open the door but it was locked.

"Where does the smoke came from?" I asked while coughing. I tried to walk but I felt so weak and sleepy.

"I don't know!" sam answered while coughing. A few seconds have past, she suddenly fell to the floor.

I tried to approach her but my knees got weak which made me kneel. I was trying to cover my nose but then I finally fell to the floor and everything went black.

I woke up with my head spinning and in pain. I touch my head but I felt a liquid there so I immediately looked at my hand. My body frozed when I saw a blood there. I looked at my other hand and I saw a knife full of blood.

My eyes got bigger when I saw sam covered by her own blood. I cried seeing a stabs in her chest down to her tummy. I tried to touch her but stopped when a police took me and tied my hand.

Miss Bella slap me so hard which made me cry. I know I'm not the one who killed sam but they accused me for killing her. Even I wished for her to disappear I know I can't do that! "Are you so obsessed to be on a top that you're able to kill someone?!" miss bella shout at me while crying.

I want to defend myself. I want to say that I didn't do that. But I can't open my mouth. And I don't think they will believe me.

The police push me which made me walk. My tears won't stop and my knees are shaking in fear. I didn't kill her! But... Who will? As we step outside the building, the crowd were shouting so loud to curse me. Some are trying to throw a stone to me. The police open the car's door for me to enter but before I enter, I saw a woman in the crowd.

My body frozed when I saw faye creepily smiling at me. I cried when I saw her secretly wipes her hand full of blood. Is it her?! Did she killed sam?!

I saw her took her phone and type something. My phone rang so I immediately took it from my pocket. It was an unknown number but I'm sure it's from faye.

"Be careful what you wished for." It was her. She killed sam! She heard what I said in our room. But why? Why did she do that?!

The crowd is still cursing at me and throwing a stone even when I am inside the car now. My phone beep again and I saw a message from faye.

"Now I will be on a top. Thank you my dear friend."

I was trying to save her phone number so I can used this as an evidence but then a virus came in my phone which made my phone died. It was hacked! She hacked my phone!

What should I do now?! How can I defend myself if I don't have an evidence?! I didn't wished for this to happen.

Even when I'm in jail, the crowd was still cursing me and some wants to kill me. The news spread so fast and I became the talk of the world.

I did not know that this way I could achieve my dream. Now, I have everyone's attention.

I became famous for something I never actually did.


He pushed her gently against the wall and kissed her.  Sunshine streamed in the window; an orange butterfly danced along its frame.  Her mind was filled with his heady sandalwood scent and her skin tingled where he held her arms. Enya sighed, first contented by the kiss, then frustrated at being dragged back to the world by a lorry beeping outside.  She picked herself up from where she had half-slumped against the wall and sat back down at her desk.  He stroked her hair. --- On the other side of the country, a flame-coloured butterfly pulled itself out of an unfortunately misplaced cocoon.  It flitted across a dark basement room, briefly taking a break on a leather jacket slung across the back of a chair, before fluttering upwards in a vague attempt to get back outside where it belonged. --- She told him all about her shadowed past, so carefully hidden from so many, on the bus into town.  He listened carefully, as of course he always did.  He occasionally offered intelligent insights into her drug-addled father or her disappearing, reappearing mother.  With these, he was always scintillatingly correct.  It was as if he knew her life inside out; better than she did,  She felt quite talked out by the time she arrived at her appointment, reluctantly kissing him goodbye. The chill of the office made her shudder, after the warmth of the air outside and him.  The faux-cosy, carefully placed, scatter cushions made her long for institutional coldness; at least that would have been honest. "How much time would you say you spend on the fantasies, these days?" asked the therapist, the perfect cool stereotype of her profession. Fantasies.  What a deplorable word.  It made her little world sound tawdry, cheap, perverted.  She preferred daydreams - and wasn't that what this Expert had called it a few months ago, anyway?  Maladaptive daydreaming. "An hour?" Enya said, not to pin herself down to any particular answer. "An hour a day?  Week?  Month?" (He rolled his eyes when she told him, later.) "Are you sleeping any more?" quizzed Ms Profession. "I can't be bothered." she replied. --- Samir sighed. "What's up, mate?" "Just not with it today.  I feel kind of drained.  The heat, maybe."  He tried to open a window; it just rattled. "Nah.  That is called a hangover." They both laughed, but it was true that he was a little paler than usual. He didn't sleep that night.  He felt weak, somehow too tired to pass out.  It was too hot, that was for sure.  Thank god the window of his bedroom did open.  A strangely pretty moth took advantage of this, flying straight through his dark room and into the hall, on a foolhardy mission to reach the moon of its light. --- She held his hand in bed.  It was too warm for proper snuggling up; she almost missed the weather of April or May at night.  He squeezed.  She squeezed back.  Much better than the tedium of her dreams. She lay awake all night, firstly just rejoicing in his presence, then horrified by the intrusion of a moth.  She hated moths.  Christ alone knew how it had got in.  There must be a space somewhere.  Disgusting. Naturally, he awoke at her first hiss of distress.  He kissed her cheek when he returned to bed after chasing it out the window.  He would never kill something, unlike her. --- Samir was getting sicker.  Everyone said he'd lost weight, but where was he burning the calories?  He barely got out of bed.  They insisted he see several doctors, but they all came to the same conclusion: Nothing Physically Wrong.  Stress, maybe.  He was sure he hadn't been stressed before all this started.  And always so hot, like some flame was tearing away just beneath his skin. When was the last time he'd been well?  Maybe three months ago.  They'd been out.  He'd met a girl, liked her actually, but never got round to getting in touch.  What would the point be now? One scorched night he dreamt of her.  They were back in the bar they'd met in, laughing and chatting.  He woke in fits and starts.  Sometimes she was in front of him, smiling; glowing.  Sometimes he was alone in his dark room. Enya.  In his fever, he loved her. --- Enya was never alone.  He was always with her.  Sometimes they stayed up all night, talking.  They argued only one or twice, little things.  Every day he seemed more beautiful to her; radiant, alight.  His scent filled her home.  He massaged her shoulders at the end of the day. They walked in the park; they lay in bed and ate ice cream.  She stopped going to see the psychiatrist.  Why pay someone to tell you things you didn't want to know?  He told her it was the right decision. --- The funeral was on a Tuesday.  He was cremated, and his loved ones scattered his ashes in a river, though he'd been the furtherest thing from religious.  It seemed the right thing to do.  His parents had passed away themselves; there was no-one to consult. --- "FRIENDS MOURN MYSTERIOUS DEATH OF YOUNG MAN" screeched the news notification on her phone.  It was from a national tabloid she never read, but for some reason she pressed it. The 32-year-old had hardly been ill in his life, until suddenly, inexplicably, unbelievably beginning to fade away around four months ago.  The article was punctuated with disbelieving social media comments from friends and admirers.  She felt sorry for them; what would happen to her if Samir left?  She shuddered. She recovered from this unpleasant vision and kept scrolling and skimming until confronted with...Samir.  She was startled to find his face staring out at her; she looked over at him, then back at his likeness in the photo, then back.  It was the same handsome face, the same thick hair, the same slighly too-pointy nose, just to stop him being too perfect.  Yes, it was. "Samir." "Hmmm?" You're dead." she suggested tentatively. He smiled.  "Only to them."


The rusty metal chair grinds noisily against the damp concrete as I take a much-needed seat. The outdoor patio of my favorite café is busy and bustling right now as it’s lunch hour. I drop my belongings onto the glass table before reaching into my oversized hoodie pocket, pulling out a pair of earphones, and sticking them into my ears. The lofi-beat begins to play as the anxiety in my chest begins to dull. The world is muted by more sound. Beside me, a woman types frantically into her computer. Her face is stern, and her attire makes me believe she’s having a lunch break despite not actually taking a break. Across the street, a group of men work on a streetlight. One drinks out of a metal thermos casually whilst another leans against the wall, watching the other two men work. A car horn can be heard above my music, drawing my eyes towards an angry man yelling at a young girl who was nearly hit by the rushing taxi driver. The world around me is vivid and alive. Yet, I am not. In this strange world where I know no one, everybody moves. There’s no sleeping, no stopping, just movement. People don‘t have time for one another, and they’ve grown accustomed to living that way.

Once again, however, I sit here alone. I feel like I’m in an impenetrable bubble that no one attempts to pop. The closest I’ve been to a real conversation was with the barista over what type of coffee I wanted. Even then, the interaction was meaningless. Her day kept moving- as did mine. In this world, there are billions of little worlds. Every person I’ve passed today has a life I’ll never know of, just as they will never know of mine. They are the center of their own universe, and I am the center of mine.

But I sit here just the same, waiting for one of their worlds to merge with mine. I turn down the volume of my music to listen to the world around me. Cars drive by busily, honking at one another occasionally. A man chatters loudly on his phone about a meeting behind me. At another table, a group of teen girls laugh and chatter about some event they won’t remember 10 years from now. People pass me by. Each from their own walks of life. A homeless man rides by on a bicycle. A businessman carries a shiny black suitcase. A woman in a bright red jacket laughs with a woman who looks like she’d rather be anywhere but next to her loud friend. A young boy watches the ground as he hugs his laptop closely to his chest. Pigeons line the powerlines and streetlights. Taxis blend together in one hue of yellow. The world moves. Yet, I sit here motionless. A cold wind blows from the North, reminding me of the upcoming winter. The world is to be cold and grey once again, and I’m afraid that with the snow piles and thick coats, the world will become even more reclusive to me. Leaning back into my seat, I begin to admire the measly maple tree resting near the side of the street. Its leaves have been painted an array of oranges and reds to match the Autumn scene before me. It blows gently in the wind, causing stray leaves to float gently to the ground. The tree stands solitarily in this concrete jungle. It’s the only sign of actual vegetation for blocks. It reminds me of me in a way. It’s the center of its own universe. It lives for itself, and though it’s alone and feels lonely, it can comfort itself. When the weight of this world gets heavy, that tree just releases its problems into the wind. I wish I could do that. I wish I had the ability to easily let go. The clouds overhead all look the same. Endless masses of ashy grey, hinting, but never expelling a drop of rain. A quiet contentment washes over me in that moment, looking up at that dark, yet bright sky overhead. It was the first time in this noisy city, that I felt a bit peace. “Is this seat taken?” Asks a woman loudly enough for me to hear her over my music. My contentment is disrupted as I shake my head. “Thank you,” she mumbles quietly before taking the seat across from me. I sit up awkwardly, wondering if I should leave before she speaks again. “My name is Lacy by the way,” she says as she sets her belonging onto the table. Her eyes never meet mine, and she tries to hide the frantic note in her voice as she introduces herself to me. “I’m Peter,” I say, holding out a hand. She smiles and firmly shakes it before pulling open a laptop. Just as quickly as our friendly interaction began, it ended. She went back into her own universe, and I went back into my own. If I had any more courage, I’d ask her for her number. Maybe we could become friends. She seems nice, I doubt she’d reject me. But, the more I look at her, the more I see. She already has a life, and I will add no value to her world. As she types frantically at her laptop and writes notes in her leather journal, she doesn’t need me. As I sit here, taking sips of my nearly cold coffee, I don’t need her either. I’ve realized that people are only asteroids. We pass by one another’s worlds, watching each other carefully. We wonder if we should interact. We wonder if we should meet. We wonder if we should step into each other’s lives. But we quickly decide that most things are more appealing at a distance, and we become too afraid to merge worlds. Maybe this is for the best. When an asteroid and a planet collide, both gets hurt- if not destroyed. So maybe, being a lonely asteroid in this void of space is a good thing. Maybe it’s why we feel lonely. All we want is that planet, yet, we float away, never to see the place we once loved ever again. But in the end, we realize it’s for the best. I gulp nervously as I glance up at Lacy. She wears a casual sweater with a button up underneath it. Her hair is in a bun and she continues to type frantically. “What are you writing?” I ask, wondering if I’m being too invasive. She glances up, wide eyed, “A thesis for this English assignment I’m doing.” “Ah, good luck,” I say with an awkward nod. She smiles, “thank you.” She goes back to typing, and I go back to watching the world. Minutes pass before she sighs deeply and shuts her laptop. “How old are you?” She asks, startling me. “21, you?” “20. Where are you from?” “A world I wish I could go back to. You?” “Same.” She responds, shaking her head. “I thought this world would be for me. I don’t think it is.” “Me neither” I respond, watching her eyes glaze over with the same emotion I’ve felt for the past year. “Do… do you ever feel like in this place, you’re completely alone? Like you have no one to talk to but you’re constantly surrounded by people to talk to?” She asks. “I know exactly how that feels,” I respond as she nods enthusiastically, looking just as relieved as me that there’s someone out there who understands. “I feel so confined. I know I’m free, and I know I can go anywhere and do anything, but I feel so trapped. This place borders me in like a caged tiger and all I want is to be anywhere but here. I know nobody and nobody knows me. Being who I am, I thought I’d like that but… It’s incredibly lonely you know?” “It’s like you’re part of a world that isn’t yours.” I say, sitting up. “Exactly! And then-“ before she could say anything else, her phone rings. She lifts a finger, telling me one minute. I nod and lean back into my seat as she answers with a bright greeting. Her face falls suddenly, and I watch with curiosity as the brightness in her eyes becomes a darkness. She hangs up quickly, grabs her belongings and stands up. “I’m sorry, I got to go, but it was lovely meeting you. Goodbye,” she says as panic crosses every feature on her body. “Goodbye Lacy,” I say as she weakly attempts to smile one last time. Then, as swiftly as the asteroid entered my solar system, it was too distracted by the stars beyond me to collide with my world. She left, and about thirty minutes later, as did I. The tree however, stood there. Watching the world with a contentedness I could only dream of in this city that never sleeps.


She thought she would never know love. Her young mind was complex and full of countless possibilities of her finding the one that gave her butterflies in her stomach. She moved from man to man as if it was a sales store with a 70% discount. Then, there was him. The moment  that she laid eyes on him, her heart felt heavy, a feeling she wasn't familiar with. She loved him before she even knew him. Little did she know how much pain and anguish that he was about to cause her. As a young child, she never experienced much affection or happiness. As they grew closer, her love for him grew bigger than she thought the heart can handle. This was only the beginning of the end. Throughout the confusing entanglement, she began to believe that love meant misery and pain. It was comforting to her in a way that was unexplainable. She embraced it like it was all she had- and she truly thought that it was. He fed on her insecurities but he was never full. He sucked the energy out of her as she grew closer and closer to giving up. Yet, it was never the end. There were three times where she would try to distance herself from him. Everyone around her tried to save her from years of sobbing late at night.  She would always take him back the second he fed his lies to her, his sweet but empty " I love you's" and " I'm sorry's". The poor girl wanted so desperately to escape this cycle - however, this carried on for years. She allowed him to take over her mind and body. She began to deprive herself of the nutrients she needed in order to feel beautiful to him. She sliced her wrist for every time his words and actions pierced through her heart like a thick needle. Even though she had no hope that she would ever move on from this, by the day she grew more and more disgusted of him and his ways. Her patience ran outwaiting for this person to love her back. Finally, she woke up one morning and gave up. The final strike was the realization that she wanted to grow with someone; she wanted to be fulfilled and full of life, instead of being deprived of the love she knew that was needed. But on his side, he never knew love either. He grew up with emptiness and pain, just like her. The both of them had much more in common than either of them knew. His mother never tucked him in at night- hell, she barely made it home before he fell asleep. His father was his best friend until one day, that was taken away from him. As a growing boy, he needed his dad. He needed support, someone to keep him on the right path. At 13, his father was deported and he was left with his mother. The boy craved attention as mom left every night to meet with one of her temporary distractions, as she downed bottles of liquor to feed her emptiness. Since he was never taught true love, he dumped his frustrations and pain on every woman he came across. Eventually, this wasn't enough to comfort him, so perfectly packed blunts and bottles of Bacardi became his new best friend. He destroyed the hearts of multiple young girls because he was fearful that he would be the only one around him that had their heart shattered into a billion pieces. Then, he met her. As they grew closer, his love for her grew- just as hers did for him; but years of built up sadness and sorrow took control of every thought and action towards her. The boy knew he was breaking her, but since he was convinced that he was already broken beyond repair, he pushed his love to the back of his heart and disguised it in the form of lies and carelessness. One day, she says goodbye for good. He feels every bit of emotion for her that he tried so hard to cover up, but he could never confess that. To him, love was for the weak. So instead, he continued to break himself apart. Both chose to move on in life, on different paths and with different intentions. She graduated high school, found a wonderful man who showed her every drop of affection that the boy hid. They got married and both had careers that were successful and enjoyable for them. He, on the other hand, had let his emptiness take over. He poured a cup for every time that he thought of her being with another man until it was not enough. So he began to dabble into other drugs, trying to forget. There was no hope or faith left inside of his bitter heart. After she ended it, he began to get with women ONLY if there was a huge psychical resemblance to her. But these women could never love him the way that she did. They would never wait on him as long as she waited. None of them could ever be her, they could only be an illusion of the one he loved. She was the only woman to carry a thousand pound weight on his heart. He grew older and older, and  nothing changed. The man landed a job at a construction site where he was fired two days later for being drunk on the job. Every now and then she would think of him and wonder what path he chose, what road he went down... Both of them grew old. The old man laid on the hospital bed feeling nothing but regret and guilt. If only she would come back to him ONE more time, he thought. Then maybe he could finally come to terms with the fact that love isn't for weak ones, it's made for the strongest of people. Tears formed at the crease of his eyes and poured down his tired, wrinkled face- eventually falling asleep. When he awoke, sitting in the corner was a woman around the same age as him. She had strands of grey hair in the way of her hazel eyes. She looked weak and frail, like she was about to break at any moment. It was her. She smiled, but he knew she was still the same girl she was before. Empty without him. She finally finds the courage to speak and in her soft, nurturing voice that he always had a soft spot for, she says," I forgive you, again." This was truly the end to their long life as he passed away the morning after. She sat by the hospital bed as she heard the flatline from the monitor. She gave him a kiss on the head, whispering softly, " You missed out because you were never ready to experience the genuine type of love, my dear."


The cat was splayed out in a sunbeam that sliced through the curtains like a golden ray, a delicate tabby with fur as silky as autumn leaves. The drapes danced in silent delight as the cool fall breeze played with their edges. The cat's eyes sprang wide, exposing curiously sparkling emerald pools. The heat from the sun caressed its whiskers, and a satisfied purr rumbled in its throat. The feline stretched its paws wide, its claws unsheathing and sinking into the soft carpet, scratching at the surface in a rhythmic symphony of tiny scratches. With a lovely curve in its back, it flicked its tail lazily in the sunshine. The cat brought life into the room with every stretch and yawn, as if she were awakening the soul of the season itself. She rose gracefully, her gaze catching the falling leaves outside the window. Enthralled by the quivering leaves, the cat stumbled onto a covert disco in the world beyond. It leaped quickly to the window sill, anxious to welcome autumn's beauty and leave behind the warmth of its sunny slumber in favor of the refreshing embrace of a chilly fall breeze. The cat's last trip to the veterinarian was still fresh in its thoughts as it stared out at the bustling backyard scene. It brought back memories of the tense vehicle ride, strange odors, and the sterile, clinical environment of the vet clinic. The sound of other apprehensive pets barking, meowing, and chirping filled the air, adding to the cat's discomfort. The cat still felt the waiting area and its assortment of pet carriers, each holding a nervous pet. It found itself sitting in a sterile, frigid examination room, its body trembling on the icy surface of the examination table. Its tension increased whenever the ventilation system hummed. The bright overhead lights flickered, casting unsettling shadows upon the walls. Then the stranger in a white coat arrived and scrutinized the cat, inspecting its teeth, eyes, and ears. The cat twitched uncomfortably as it remembered the vet's gloved hands on its body, making the cat feel exposed and defenseless. Its skin pricked sharply the instant the veterinarian gave it a shot, leaving a lingering soreness behind. The kitty’s discomfort at the veterinarian's office was so traumatizing that it could remember its meows, quiet and sorrowful, and the reassuring but unsure touches from mother's hand. The whole experience had left the cat feeling uneasy and vulnerable, and the cat was thankful to be back home, where things were cozier, warmer, and familiar. It directed its attention back to the squirrels outside. The feline, not entirely understanding the ethereal nature of its life, growled in its stomach and questioned, "Where's mommy?" in a ghostly voice tinged with bewilderment. Unaware that it was no longer a part of the living world, it had returned home. The usual sounds and smells were warped, the place felt different, and there was a persistent, unsettling feeling that something was wrong. The cat looked for its human's consoling presence as it silently floated through the rooms, its paws melting through solid objects. It was perplexed by the tear-stained tissues and the faint echoes of sobbing that were left behind, and it couldn't understand why the house felt so empty. It moved through the rooms in a spectral shape, flickering here and there in the air like a phantom of itself. It went to the living room, where it frequently found comfort in its owner's lap, but the place was empty now. The cat missed the warm company, the comforting strokes, and the familiar voice. It meowed plaintively, not realizing that its voice was nothing more than a phantom whisper that the living were oblivious to. As the cat carried on its ethereal adventure, its confusion increased. In pursuit of answers, it went from room to room without realizing it had already crossed over to the other side. The ghostly cat was lonely, for its connection to the living world was dwindling, and the possibility that it might never find its beloved owner again loomed sadly in its fading consciousness. The cat eventually located the woman, sitting in a comfortable chair, her gentle figure lit by a soft table lamp nearby. The tabby leaped to the arm of the chair to be close to her Mommy. The woman clung to a well-used blanket, the material soaked from the tears cascading down her cheeks, her eyes glittering with loss. Her unkempt hair was pushed back allowing the light to reveal a portion of her sad face with grief inscribed in every wrinkle and line. The phantom cat saw a faint shimmering form before it as it extended its fluffy paw toward Mommy's face. With a kind and astute expression in its eyes, a different ghostly feline murmured, "My friend, it's time. It's time to move on to the next house and leave this one." The cat turned to face the phantom guest, its ghostly body trembling with indecision. "But I can't leave; I don't want to go," the cat meowed. “My favorite blanket is being held by my mother. I can't stand to leave her in this state while she's weeping." The woman embraced the blanket, and the tabby attempted to push aside the tears falling down the woman’s cheeks. The other spectral feline nodded, compassion visible in its transparent eyes. "I understand that seeing the people we care about in such agony is difficult and unpleasant. However, we must remember that this is only our temporary home and that we will soon embark on a new adventure beyond. We no longer serve the same purpose in this world; thus, we are unable to console them." With a head bowed the sorrowful cat expressed its conflicted feelings of wanting to stay with its human and having to move on. "I just wish I could let her know I'm still here, and that I love her," the feline meowed in a soft voice. "You can, in your way," the sage ghostly cat answered. From wherever you are, send her your warmth and affection. Even though she can't see you, she will sense it. My friend, it's time to say goodbye and go on. On the other side, you won't be alone, and you'll eventually meet up with your human again." The cat looked at its weeping owner and the cherished blanket in her arms for the final time, heartbroken. The feline realized it was time to let go of its worldly attachments and let go. It bid a final, tender goodbye with a flicker of energy and followed the spectral cat into the unknown, leaving behind a world of suffering and starting a new journey somewhere.


Xalix was disappointed to find out that Sal was shocked at the results. They had won the election and Xalix was expecting a parting mood, instead, he met a stunned Vice president-elect, who showed no sign of happiness. “Have you not heard the results?” Xalix asked. Sal was certain they were not going to win the election. He had decided to be Xalix’s vice since he was Xalix's only friend. He thought it would be unfriendly for him to reject his friend’s request of being his vice. Xalix was a shy and quiet lad who barely knew anyone apart from Sal. He often spent most of his leisure time at the library, not necessarily to read, but to avoid noise. His roommates saw him as a weird boy and wondered how Sal even managed to be a close friend of Xalix. Xalix had made known to his neighbourhood friend Sal, when they went to high school, his intention of becoming the Students’ Representative Council president. Sal was certain Xalix will change his mind if he found out that it was a battle of popularity. “You do not talk to people to even be known, but you are dreaming of becoming a president,” Sal debated. “Famous? Who said you must be famous to win the election?” Xalix rebated. The longest debate, every day, these two friends tried to convince each other. To Sal, the election was a competition for the well-known, and Xalix stood no chance of winning. “Except you and I, who else are you certain that he or she will vote for you?” Sal questioned Xalix. “Everybody” Xalix replied. Sal laughed and said smiling, “Look Xalix, life is not a cartoon, just like their characters, their stories are also not real. Stop watching them.” Confused, Xalix went to the library that day contemplating if should change his mind. That had been his thought the whole day, and Sal's strong rebates kept echoing in his head. It was in this state of dilemma, Xalix stumbled over a library book and collapsed an entire lane of bookshelves. It would not have been so worse had the shelves fell backwards, but they fell forward emptying the books in them. All eyes were fixed on Xalix until the librarian shouted that the library had closed, then each started packing to leave. “Who’s job?” the librarian questioned Xalix, “You or I? Looking at the librarian's rage, Xalix avoided replying. He slowly bent over to lift up a shelf and arrange the books, but the librarian instructed him to leave. It had become news across campus. All knew the library had been closed for the day because a young man had collapsed an entire lane of bookshelves. Xalix returned to his room expecting to be mocked, but to his relief, nobody actually knew who had brought down the bookshelves. The next day, he revealed to Sal that he had caused the library to close down yesterday, but nobody knew, so he should also keep it a secret. “You are obviously going to be revealed and publically shammed today and you think this is a secret?” Sal asked. “How?” Xalix asked back. “Really! You went to the library and caused a disaster, and you think you will go free? Obviously no.” “Alright, but how will the principal know my name? He does not even know who did that,” Xalix boldly defended himself. “You write your name on the library attendees' book when you go to the library, and obviously, being the last person, the librarian is going to give your name to the principal,” Sal elaborated. “As a presidential aspirant, you should be able to analyze such petty stuff,” Sal added. Sal’s prophecy came to pass, and everyone in the school knew Xalix was the guy who caused the disaster at the library. His name had even been converted into a verb; ‘to xalix', which at Spintex High School, meant, to bring down. Later that day, Xalix made known to Sal how his words had caused all that was happening. “I thought you would encourage me to stand as the Students’ Representative Council president, and even run with me since I knew nobody, but you used your words ‘to xalix’ my hopes,” Xalix told Sal softly and left him, Sal pondered over what Xalix said and quickly ran to Xalix to apologize. “You were right Sal, you did not want me to be defeated,” Xalix replied to Sal’s apology. “I am no more going to run as the Students’ Representative Council president,” Xalix added. Sal kept quiet for a few seconds and replied to his friend saying, “If you say I was right, then pursue the Students’ Representative Council president dream. I said it was a battle of the well-known, and now, you are popular, so go for it.” Sal looked with teary eyes into Xalix’s wet cheeks and hugged him saying, “I will be your vice, if we win, we win together, and if we lose, we lose together.” Sal’s classmates kept telling him that he was wasting his time following someone who barely talked to anyone, and that he either quits or runs as the Students’ Representative Council president if that is what he really wanted. Sal’s classmates kept showing their displeasure with Sal being Xalix’s vice. “Yes, it is undebatable that Xalix is popular in this school, but do you think, that his popularity is for a good reason?” Sal’s classmates kept advising him. These daily comments made Sal pessimistic and hence was shocked at the hearing of the election results. After Sal had explained why he was shocked at the results, Xalix hugged his vice and said, ”Your words made me stumble on the library book that day and changed the course of my life for the better. But, it did not change my behaviour, I was still a quiet boy. But you, being very friendly to all, including people like me, did the talking aspect. So we did not win only for my popularity, but majorly for your friendliness. Like you said when we were in the first year, if we win, we win together, rejoice, Sal, for we have won together.”


Growing up, Gracie was my best friend. She still is, only much much better. She was the only one who ever understood what I was going through. Sure, I had other friends at school, but they didn’t truly know me. Only Gracie knew me. They say that a dog is a man's best friend, but in this case she is my best friend. Every day after school I would walk home through the dull countryside. to find Gracie sitting on the front porch waiting for me to play with her. I never understood how she got out, or the fact that she never ran away. I always locked the door before I left, but Gracie was there day after day. No matter, she could always sense the mood I was in or the day that I’d had. It felt as though she could read my mind and understand my emotions. Maybe that’s why I never questioned it. I was afraid to lose my one true companion.

One time when I was eight, I was riding my cute little bike with Gracie, and out of nowhere a big blue truck came racing down the deserted street right at us. I was so terrified that I could hardly move. I tried to scream, but it got caught in my throat. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the sidewalk, perfectly safe, with Gracie by my side. I was in such shock that I thought it was a dream. I couldn’t believe my eyes, so I didn’t. I later found out that my really real dream was, in fact, real. Now here is where the adventure begins. It was the summer of eighth grade, I was so excited to start highschool! My family decided to take a random road trip. For some reason I wasn’t allowed to know where we were going, just that we were going somewhere. I was happy to do something for the summer, so I was okay not knowing the destination. Gracie came with us, of course. She and I had a blast playing together, napping together, and even eating together. I don’t know why, but it struck me as odd that my favorite breed was an Australian Shepherd, and that’s what she happened to be. I mean we got her when I was just a baby, so they couldn’t have known. I looked at an old photo of us together. It was the strangest thing, in the photo she was a border collie. It’s not much of a difference, but she’s definitely a different dog. But that’s impossible, she has the same personality, and the same connection with me. I asked my parents about it, and they exchanged worried glances. My dad took the photo, inspected it, and then handed it back saying that she looked the same to him. How peculiar, I wondered. But I knew better than to say something. When we arrived at the destination, I knew something was up. It was a huge mansion on a remote beach. We hadn’t passed a soul the last hundred miles or so. My parents were both just office workers. They weren't rich. But I guess in all honesty, I didn’t know what they’re job was. We went inside and my parents immediately locked all the doors and windows. They went through the entire house, checking every room, closet, and potential hiding spots. They opened things that appeared unable to open, and protruded a key from inside a bar of soap. When they determined it was safe, they turned to me and began to explain. My parents were both spies working for the CIA! I could not believe it. How? Why? What were we doing there? These questions were answered shortly. Then came the ultimate shock; Gracie was not a dog, she was a Kearot. A Kearot was an animal of sorts that could shapeshift into anything. The government put her under my parents guardianship, but now they needed her help. A missile was coming to destroy a large part of the United States. Gracie was supposed to turn into anything that would stop it. The key was to a shuttle that Gracie could take if she so chooses. I didn’t want to know anymore, so I went to bed without supper. I cried, knowing what her fate was. Impressed that she is so brave, I embraced her and wept. We slept together that night. In the morning I woke up to a beautiful girl, about fifteen, making breakfast. I knew it was her, I knew she was human, only so that I could hug her a last goodbye. I helped her finish up, and told her that I loved her. Breakfast was quiet. I don’t remember what happened after that. I think that I passed out from all the crying. When I woke up, my parents were smiling. They told me that Gracie stopped the missile, and came out without a scratch. I was so relieved and ecstatic! They told me to look outside, and I saw the most majestic horse I'd ever seen stood tall and fierce, yet somehow inviting. My Gracie was the best thing to ever happen to me. After this, my life got crazy. I went through very extensive training, and became a spy alongside my parents. Gracie and I went on countless missions. My favorite was the Bahamas! The best part was always having a big sister to talk to, or something anyways. Her favorite form was human. We said that she was a cousin who moved in with us so that we could go to school together. It became weird to ride her or swim with a “dolphin”. She soon stopped shifting unless we were on missions. We grew up, and never left each other's sides. Now we save the world for a living, and look good doing it. Gracie is my best friend, and I never would have known if the missile was never a threat. I wonder if Gracie knew. But I’ll leave that thought up to you.


Today was the day I looked so forward to. After weeks and weeks of hot, dry weather and smoky, acrid air due to the wildfires around me, fall had finally arrived. That meant picking apples, one of my favorite pastimes, and making apple cider out of them. This wasn’t any kind of apple cider. See, I make two kinds: one for the kids and one for the adults that contains slightly more alcohol content than a typical bottle of wine. On this particular day, the previous day’s rain cleared the sky. In its place were scattered gray clouds that dotted the deep blue sky, with some sunshine mixed in. A cold north wind reminded us that winter was around the corner. I called my girlfriend Kim to see if she was up to picking apples. She said yes. I picked her up and we drove an hour to Jensen’s Apple Farm as they were hosting apple picking. We bundled up for the occasion: Kim was dressed in blue jeans, boots, hooded coat, scarf, and gloves; I was dressed in blue jeans, boots, a red long sleeve polo shirt, light coat, a beanie to cover my bald head, and gloves. We left town and drove for a half hour north on the interstate. We exit the interstate and make a right turn on some road that even the most expert linguist would have a hard time pronouncing; all I remember is that it started with Z. I asked Kim, “How do you pronounce the name of this road we’re on?” Kim looked at me like I was from another planet. “How would I know? You’re the English teacher!” She was good at putting me in my place if I pushed her too far. Thinking about it, I did push her buttons too much, causing her brain to go “TILT”, like one would see when playing a pinball machine and pushing it past its limits. Anyhow, the road kept going. At first it was a gentle climb, and not too winding. We went from valley to foothills within 10 miles of exiting. Then we endured another 20 minutes of steep, winding road, sometimes with a 9% upgrade. The old truck took it beautifully, like a champ. Finally, we make the left turn onto Burroughs Road. The farm was within sight; it was a half mile away down a fairly flat gravel road and set in a small valley. The farm itself was about a quarter mile off Burroughs. The farm is at roughly 3,500 feet above sea level, and the apples they grow are some of the sweetest apples I have ever tasted. We arrive, baskets in tow. (They have a two-basket limit policy.) We checked in with a tall, gracious and sweet elderly lady, who introduced herself as Eleanor Jensen, the matriarch of the Jensen family. I introduced us as Jon and Kim. She weighed our buckets and noted the weight of each bucket. She then weighed a cart that she assigned to us. She gave us a ticket to return to her once we were finished picking. Kim and I ventured into the orchard. The sights of the golden leaves, combined with the red and green apples and the dark brown soil made for a lovely fall postcard. Add in the clouds and sunshine and the surrounding greenery of the hills and it was perfect. The cold wind whipping in from the north made our faces as red as the apples grown in the orchard. With that cold wind, an occasional waft of smoke from the Jensen's fireplace could be noticed. We looked around, searching for the best apples. I studied each tree intently. I picked one that was about the size of a softball and motioned for Kim to come over. She had already picked a few apples; none were as big as mine. Mine was an outlier, as the apples she picked were closer to the average size of these kinds of apples, called Burroughs apples. We decided to go together from that point, as it was her first time picking apples and I was more experienced. She would ask me what I thought and I would give thumbs-up or thumbs-down. She picked the thumbs-up apples. We went through several rows of apple trees before both of our buckets were full. By then, I noticed Kim was starting to shiver due to the cold wind knifing through her clothes.

We sauntered back to the table, dragging our cart carrying two apple-laden buckets to where Eleanor was sitting. She smiled and made small talk with us as she weighed each bucket. For a woman who barely weighed over a buck and was in her early seventies, she was very physically strong. She lifted the heavy buckets onto the scale with ease. We ended up picking slightly more than 40 pounds of apples, and ended up paying a little more than 25 dollars in total. Before we left, she offered us free apple cider, to which we gladly accepted. We conversed with Eleanor as we partook of her excellent apple cider. “Eleanor, this apple cider is excellent!” I said. “It’s very smooth, clean, and has a hint of cinnamon.” Kim interjected, “Yes, this is excellent, Eleanor. It’s perfect on a day like today! I love these kinds of days: cold, somewhat cloudy, and enjoying a hot drink!” As we continued to converse, a tall, husky man emerged from the back. He introduced himself as Eleanor’s son Mark. “Mom, I’m going to help Juan set up the kids’ area now. They should be starting to arrive pretty soon.” Kim asked, “A kids area?” Eleanor replied, “Every year at the first weekend of apple season, we invite the kids of the community and surrounding communities for a tour of the farm and a play area for them, apple-themed, of course! For the older kids (12-16 years old), we break them up into teams of two for an apple picking contest. The contest should start in an hour or so. We would love to have you stay and watch.” Kim and I ended up staying and observing the kids having fun in their play area. We also watched the apple picking contest, which was won by two 14-year-old boys, Abraham and Martin, who were invited by their friend John. The overriding lesson that I learned from the apple orchard is: apples are like people in a small sense. In order to pick good apples, you have to know their characteristics: is it mature; is the fruit good to taste, is it good when under the fire of cooking, and so forth. People are similar. When selecting friends, you find and keep the good ones and toss the rotten ones, much like apples. Kim and I talked about that principle on the way back from the apple orchard, and she agreed. And for the life of me, I STILL cannot pronounce that road that we exited off the interstate to get there! All I know is that it starts with the letter Z!!


“No, it’s Ji-wi-an,” Jillian repeated herself to the beady-eyed woman sitting behind the glass at the county clerk’s office. “That’s what I said, Ma’am,” the woman gazed up at Jillian, revealing her irritation, “Jiwian Wester.” Jillian heard two little girls behind her giggle, clearly eavesdropping on her conversation. She turned around to see what-must-be their mother, grinning at her, not stopping her daughters from ogling at Jillian. She felt like a circus act. Jillian felt her eyes well-up in tears. “Ji-wi-an Wester. Not Jiwian Wester!” She started to feel her quivery voice raise and began to panic that the woman behind the glass would judge her more than she already was. This was exactly why Jillian was here at the clerk’s office to change her name. She couldn’t deal with the embarrassment of not being able to pronounce it anymore. She couldn’t deal with the arguments that came each time she introduced herself to someone new. She felt a cauldron of rage in her begin to boil and took a deep breath. “Have you ever heard of the name Jiwian before? Why would my name by Jiwian?” Jillian elevated her pitch as she grabbed her license out of her purse and pressed it up to the glass, “See? Jiwian Wester!” The woman’s eyes scanned Jillian’s license and a smirk slowly drew on her face. “Jillian Lester, your number fifty-seven. Have a seat and wook for your number to come up on the screen.” Jillian was caught off guard by the woman’s clear insertion of wook instead of look. How can people be so cruel? she thought to herself. She closed her eyes and felt the boiling inside her begin to bubble up. Flushed and sweaty, she took the license from the glass and placed it back in her purse. She drew a deep breath to gather herself together before finding an empty seat in the middle of the crowded room. As she sat down, she felt her phone vibrate and grabbed it out of her purse. She had just received a new rating: Jillian Lester received a one-star review from Janice Dawson. Janice Dawson? Jillian thought to herself, who could that be? She squinted and looked up at the name tag of the woman sitting behind the glass who was now helping an elderly man with thick, black glasses. She could scarcely make out the small writing on her black and yellow nametag: Janice D . Janice glanced up at Jillian and looked away quickly, her face turning red, clearly caught. Jillian had been given a lot of one-star reviews in the past. But the nerve of Janice to rate her poorly while Jillian was still sitting in front of her? That was a whole new level of low. Jillian opened her Ratebook App and found Janice Dawson’s profile. She knew the rules: you were not supposed to give someone a low rating just because they gave you a low rating. In other words, no spite-rating allowed. But this was not a spite-rating. Janice was rude. Jillian’s fingers hovered over the stars under Janice’s profile picture, debating if she should give her one or two stars. Normally, Jillian didn’t give any rating below a three. But after being mocked and given this one-star review, Jillian needed vengeance. She pushed the one-star button before she could second guess herself and closed her eyes, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down her temple. Tentatively, she opened her right eye and then her left one, staring directly at Janice behind the glass as she picked up her phone, looked down at it, and then up at Jillian. Jillian smirked at her and then looked back down at her phone in frustration. Janice’s rating had moved Jillian’s overall Ratebook score to two/five stars. Almost every single low score Jillian had received was because she had gotten into an argument because she could not pronounce her name correctly. People always asked Jillian how her parents could have given her a name with so many L’s. And she always responded with how could her parents have known when they named her that she wouldn’t have been able to pronounce her L’s? They had named her what they named her. And now she was a twenty-four-year-old with a speech impediment and a bad rating. Jillian looked up at the screen above her, “Number thirty-three,” she mumbled to herself, dreading the long wait time in the cramped room. The elderly man with the thick glasses who had been speaking to Janice turned and sat down next to Jillian, giving her a friendly smile. Jillian forced a smile back and looked back at her phone, scrolling through her recent ratings. “Ratebook, huh?” the man asked pointing down at her phone. Jillian looked up at the man in surprise and a little irritation that he was snooping in her business. “Uh huh,” she said and quickly glanced back down at her phone, hoping he was not going to chat with her. She didn’t need another bad rating today. “Back in my day, people didn’t give ratings to one another,” he told her as he took his glasses off and cleaned the lenses off with the bottom of his shirt. Jillian raised her eyes up towards him. She had heard this speech all before from her grandparents. How individuals didn’t used to rate one another. People could curse one another out, say a rude comment, butt in line, and no one could do anything to damage their reputation. “When I was growing up, phones were for calling, taking photos, and using the internet. I don’t know how you kids do it now-and-days. You can’t get away with anything, can you?” he asked her, giving her a little wink. Jillian perked up and smiled at his friendliness. “Your tewing me about it,” she agreed, showing him her phone. “Wook. Two out of five stars. You can’t get much worse than that. Even some murderers have better ratings than me.” The man put his glasses back on and looked down at Jillian’s phone, squinting. “Only two stars for a pretty, young woman like yourself?” he asked her, looking her over in curiosity, “That can’t be right.” “When you have a speech impediment and can’t pronounce your own name, it causes a wot of mishaps,” Jillian explained. “Lambdacism,” the doctor had told her parents when she had been diagnosed with the condition at the age of ten. “It should go away with age and speech therapy.” But it had not, in fact, gone away with age and speech therapy. Not at all. Eyebrows raised, the man frowned at Jillian, clearly hearing her impediment for the first time. “What’s your name dear?” he asked her with a look of genuine concern on his face. Jillian reached into her purse and took out her license to show him. He took the card from her and then chuckled to himself after reading it. “God really does have a sense of humor, doesn’t he, Jillian?” he asked as he handed the license back to her. “He sure does,” she agreed as she put the license back into her purse and held up her phone again. “Every time I meet someone new, I have to try to expwain my name. And nine out of ten times, it ends up in me getting a bad review.” The man shook his head in dismay. “What this world is coming to. My mother would roll over in her grave.” “So that’s why I’m here today. I’m changing my name,” Jillian announced to him, feeling proud of her bravery. She hadn’t even told her parents yet that she was changing her name. She was sure they wouldn’t like it that she was banishing the Lester name from the family forever, her being their only child. The man’s eyes lit up and he looked at Jillian in surprise. “Changing your name? To what?” he asked. “Emma Webb,” Jillian said matter-of-factly. “Do you know how many names have wetters I can’t pronounce? A wot. Emma Webb is perfect,” she repeated the name again. How sweet it was to be able to say her new name correctly without messing it up. “Emma Webb is a beautiful name,” the man said, frowning at Jillian as he noticed a tear creeping out of her eye. He pointed down towards her phone. “What happens to Jillian Lester’s rating once you become Emma Webb?” Jillian glanced down at her phone, digesting his question. “Well, I’d have to open up a new account I guess,” she said shrugging her shoulders. “So, Emma Webb gets a fresh start then on Ratebook, huh?” he asked her. Jillian grinned, in realization. “Yea, I guess she does,” she responded. “And you are changing your name today?” he asked, pointing up to the number forty-five that flashed up on the screen. “That’s the pwan,” she said, nodding her head. “So, Jillian could do anything she wanted right now…get any rating…and it wouldn’t matter? Because Emma is starting fresh?” Jillian’s eyes lit up. “Yes…” she said slowly, looking around the room. “What are you going to have for your last meal?” he asked her, grinning ear to ear. Jillian’s heart was racing in an excitement she hadn’t ever felt before. All her life she had to follow the rules. Make people happy in fear of getting a bad review. But she was about to get a blank slate. She was about to clear her record. She looked over at the man, needing someone’s approval first. “Do it,” he urged, smiling at her. Jillian stood up and walked towards Janice’s desk, butting in front of the lady speaking to her. “Hey,” the lady exclaimed, eyeing up Jillian in judgement. “Hey yoursef!” Jillian said. She directed her eyes towards Janice and pointed her finger towards the glass. “The next time you rate someone badwy for having a speech impediment, maybe you should think about how it is going to affect them! How dare you give me a one-star rating for not being abwe to say my name! And how dare you mock me!” Janice’s eyes widened in surprised as Jillian turned and walked back to her seat before stopping towards the mother of the two girls who had been giggling at her. “And you! You are supposed to be raising those wittwe girws to be kind humans, and you wet them gawk and waugh at me. What kind of mother are you?” Jillian pointed her finger at the woman as she grabbed her little girls and pulled them close to her. Jillian turned to the room of people, now all staring at her in astonishment. “Each and every one of you! You just rate and rate peopwe aw day without thinking about how it is going to make them feew! Wew, wet me tew you, it feews pretty terribwe!” Jillian began to cry as she walked back over to her seat next to the old man, feeling tears stream down her face. She felt the man’s hand pat her back as she cried into her hands. It reminded her of when her grandpa used to put his arm around her back when she was little. “Shh, get it all out,” he whispered to her as she cried. “They all deserved it.” The chatter in the room began to pick back up and Jillian felt her phone buzzing in her purse. Ratebook. Her two-star rating was going down quickly after that performance. But for the first time in her life, she didn’t care. “I think you’re up,” the old man took his hand off her back and pointed towards the screen. Jillian’s eyes rose to the number ahead of her: fifty-seven. She widened her eyes and stood up, grabbing her purse from the ground. She turned towards the man before she walked towards the door. “I didn’t get your name,” she said. “Matthew Schneider,” he said, “But don’t bother rating me. I don’t use it. No need for it at my age.” Jillian nodded, understanding that once you retired and owned a house, there wasn’t much need for Ratebook anymore. Once you got to a certain age, it didn’t matter what people thought of you. Must be nice , she thought. “But don’t worry, Emma Webb,” he continued, “when I see you walk back out of that door, I am going to be the first person to give you a five-star review.” He gave her a wink and she felt her face flush. “Thank you, Matthew,” Jillian said before she walked towards the clerk’s office to become Emma Webb. “See you on the other side.”


Finally, it's summer vacation. You don't know how long I've been waiting for this day to come. Two months of fun and sun. Tomorrow me Aaliyah and my two best friends Clara and Reagan are going on an adventure of a life time. A once in a life time trip. We are going cross country from New York to California by train. I'm so excited to go. I've been talking about going on this trip since forever and now the day is finally here. Right now, I'm preparing my bags for the trip. I'm only taking one duffel bag and my camera. I'm going to document this trip with pictures. Me, Clara and Reagan chose to go by train instead of by car so we can see more of the country. I spend the rest of the day packing and reminiscing about summer vacations I took with my family and friends. I go downstairs to the family room and go directly to the photo albums I made. I take one of the albums out. This one is from three summers ago. I remember this one. This was probably the best summer vacation I took that is not with family. This trip I took with Clara and Reagan. We went to Europe, Italy to be exact. This was the first trip I went on without my parents. I loved every minute of it. Me, Clara and Reagan went to Rome, Florence and Venice, of course I document the trip using my trusted camera. I put the photo album back and I take out another. This one is from ten years ago when I was ten. This is the first road trip I took with my parents. This trip was the craziest trip I ever took. My mom was horrified when my dad came home and told us he rented an RV and we were going on a road trip to California. I was excited. My first time in an RV and my first road trip. This was also the time when I got my first camera. I took many pictures that day. That road trip began my love for photography. I put the photo album back. I look around at all the pictures I have taken through out the years, so many trips with family and friends all of them close to my heart. "Aaliyah." I turn around and see my mother. "Hi mom." "What's wrong?" "I'm looking at all the pictures I took of us throughout our many trips." "Are you nervous about tomorrow?" "No. This is another trip in a line of many trips I went on." "Then what's wrong?" "I don't know." "Clara and Reagan are leaving after this trip." "I know. my two best friends are starting new lives." "So are you." "I'm going to miss them a lot." "I know, but they will always be your best friends." I hug my mother. 'Thanks mom." This trip is not only about me, Clara and Reagan having fun, but also for us to create lasting memories. I'm going to have fun with the two most important people in my life besides my parents. I already planned so many things we are going to be doing and of course my trusted camera is going to document everything. There is a knock on the door. I go to answer. Clara and Reagan are at my door step with their luggage. "Hey chica." Reagan has always been the craziest of the group. "What are you guys doing here?" "Your house is closer to the train station." "Very funny Clara." "Are you going to invite us in?" "Come on in." I love these girls. They make everyday fun and they make my life fun. This trip is going to be one I won't ever forget. "I know you girlfriend. You have this trip planned out." "Of course I do and don't worry it's not going to be boring." Reagan gives me a wink and I burst out laughing. I don't know what I'm going to do without these two girls. Every special moment we share together will be in my heart. "Aaliyah this trip will bring us even more closer together. We will be sisters forever." "I know Clara. We will have the time of our life." I give Clara a hug. I go and show Clara and Reagan what we will doing and seeing on our cross country trip. The first thing we are going to do is get up early, eat breakfast, go to grand central station, get on board the trip. We are going coast to coast. New York to California, San Francisco to be exact. This is going to be exciting. Clara and Reagan nod. Once on board the train we will see the Great Lakes, pass through the Great Plains, through the Rocky Mountains, deserts, salt flats, and finally the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I will be taking pictures of everything we see. "This is going to be great." "It so is." I'm glad my girls are loving this trip. It took me two weeks to plan all this. After our long trip we will reach our destination San Francisco. "You guys really like the way I planned the trip?" "Of course we do. This maybe our last trip we take together." "I want this trip to be special for all of us." "It will be Aaliyah. Now we need to get our beauty sleep." "Okay." I recheck my bags to see if I have everything. I have enough clothes, shoes and other unmentioned items. I have my tooth brush, hair brush, and deodorant. I have my camera and journal. I'm relieved I have everything. Time to good a good night sleep. My alarm rings at 5 am. I get up and wake up Clara and Reagan. "Ladies wake up." "Five more minutes." "Reagan! get up now!" "I'm up." "Good." I go take a quick shower. I'm out in five minutes. Clara is next followed by Reagan. I get dress in record time. I wait for Clara and Reagan to get dress. "You guys ready." They both say yes. I see my parents are waiting for me, Clara and Reagan. They are taking us to grand central station. "You got everything?" "I do mom." Clara and Reagan are coming down the stairs. We all pile into my parents car. We don't say anything to each other during the ride. We get to grand central station in 15 minutes. We get out of the car and say our goodbyes to my parents. My mother starts to cry. "We will be fine mom." "I know you will. Take care of each other." "We will." I hug my father. He kisses me on my cheek and tells me to have a good time. I begin to walk inside. I turn around one last time and wave goodbye to my parents. They wave back. Me and my two best friends are ready for our once in a life time trip.


“We’re running out of time, Leave it!” I yell as Liam runs back to grab something. “I need to grab it, Grace!” Liam yells back as he retrieve’s his weapon. It was home-made, created from the spare parts of a broom, a butter knife, and some rubber bands. But then again, everything had to be home-made in a apocalypse. I run back and pull his wrist just as he touches the spear. We run with all our mite back to the bunker. “What did Noah say again?” Liam askes, “Did he say left turn on queens or right?” “Left” I answer turning the conner, we duck behind some trash cans. “Oh o-“he starts when I put my hand over his mouth. I can hear footsteps passing by, followed by some moaning “they’ll hear you!” I whisper as the take my hand off. “Okay!” he whispers back. Once they leave, we get up again and start to run once more. No talking this time, we know the rest of the way back. As we approach the hidden door and Still holding his wrist, I knock on the door. “Password!” someone says though the bunker door. “Emily there is no password, open up.” I say back. “not ‘til you say the password!” Emily shouts again. “Emily, there are nearly 16 zombies behind us…” I say looking back as the zombies slowly but surely we’re coming us behind us “And it’s going to be your fault if we’re eaten.” “Sheesh, I was just joking” Emily says as she opens the door. I let go of Liam’s wrist as we climb down the ladder into the bunker. “Did you get it?” Noah asks me as I set down my things on the table. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” I reply as a throw a small engine to Noah. “I took extra care of it” I say to him. “I’ll make sure to tell Monica” he says back. Monica was our tech wiz- one of the best for all I know. Everyone here has a job; Monica’s the tech, Noah’s navigation, Liam is defense, I’m a hunter, and Emily’s the messenger. One of the reasons Emily is our messenger is because she’s the youngest. Only 9. You usually get a job when your 12 but Emily begged so much that we decided to give her messenger. “Anymore assignments?” I say to Noah once he comes back into the room. “No, grace” he replies. “You sure?”  “yeah” he shoots back. “Not even a small one?” I squeak.  He sighs “there is one-“ “I’ll do it” I say almost immediately. He sighs again  “Monica needs more gears, and bunker 808 has spares” telling me, “we’ll send Emily to message them. Once we get an ‘OK’ you can go.” I eagerly run to the ladder and clime up with Emily tagging behind. “Did you hear the plan” I ask “When don’t I?” she asks me. She’s right. Even when she’s not part of a plan she knows. Emily sprints down the road and slides down the corner, out of sight. Five minutes pass, then ten, then twenty. I wonder what is taking her so long. I start to walk forward and continue down where Emily should be. “Emily!” I Whisper loudly, “Emily! Emi-“ I suddenly see someone standing on a small hill, donning a cloak, scarf, and goggles. I can tell they don’t want their identity revealed. “Uh, hello” I say slowly walking Towards them. They do the same but in the opposite direction, every second speeding by faster. She begins to a run. Instantly, so do I. “come back!” I yell, chasing after her. We run into an area with lots of hills. This mystery person slides down one of the hills and out of sight. I try to follow but can’t see her anymore. I look around for anything at all to tell me where she went. As I’m looking though the grass I feel something hard. No, not a thing, a metal plate covered with grass. I feel around a little more and find there’s a handle.  Pulling the handle, I jump down into an underground type of tunnel. I suddenly see the mysterious person again and start to chase them.  “Hello.” a voice calls out.  “Hello?” I say back. Suddenly someone appears from the shaddows. “I’m amber, sorry about my sister. Willow’s not really a people person!” amber says. The girl that I was chasing appears behind amber. This time with out the goggles. “What is this place?” I ask, looking around the tunnel. “Our transportation lot” amber reply’s, followed by willow shushing her. “We have no reason to trust her!” willow snaps. “she’s not one of us!” “Correct, but she does have the skill for it,” Willow opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by her sisters shushing.  “well, I’ve got to go,” I say to both of them, “My friends must be waiting for me” I walk away in silence as I hear them talking quietly in the echoes. “I just can’t wait until we take out all the zombies.” “Shush keep your voice down” My feet stop, and I stand frozen by this statement. All? Like forever? As in life will finally be back to normal? The thought made her smile, but only a little. But the happiness didn’t last long, impossible she thought. There’s no way she argued in her head, hope versus reality back and forth with one another. But what if there is? That’s the question that keep Grace up all night. But what if there is? There isn’t a way... but what if there was? Grace decided she wasn’t going to sleep tonight by the time she returned to the bunker. Walking into the lounge area shortly after her weird encounter. She was stuck in thought so deep she failed to notice Emily walk in. “You all right?” Emily asked using her best whisper voice. “What?” I replied half-asleep. “you’ve been gone on so many missions, and-“ a sigh escapes” “No it’s nothing, I’m fine.” I said to her. She must be deciding if she believes me or not because we sit in silence for a little longer. “Emily?” I say. “Yeah?” “Can I ask you a question?.” She nods her head up and down as if giving me permission. “What if you had the choice to... Well, I mean, what if you had the choice to make stuff normal again? Like, all of it? Back to the way it was…before.” I take a deep breath thinking back to normal. “I’m not trying to get emotional or anything but, I miss my parents.”  “I-I-I never knew my parents” she replied trying to hold back tears. Now I feel bad. I forgot that to Emily, this was the normal. I leanedin and hugged her. Emily’s like the little sister I never had. The decision was final. I am going to find a way to help stop this all. Not because of me, but for Emily. “I’m going out to scavenge” I say already climbing up the ladder to leave. “Already?” Liam looks at me, “it’s not even daylight.” “I know,” I said opening the door and shrugging, “less zombies” Before the doors is all the way open, I could already smell the fog rolling in. It was a little harder to navigate but I managed to find my way to the hills. When I dropped down the shoot, I could hear their voices, at least slightly. Most of the words are muffled until I get within earshot. One of the voices I recognized as amber. “Amber?” “oh, you made it!” amber replies to me, somehow knowing I’d come back. “You might be wondering who this is!” Gesturing towards the third figure. “This is my new friend Rebecca!” “I came here to trade not to make friends” Rebecca clarified. I must have interrupted some sort of deal. It’s been a long time since anyone has needed money, most of our things are made from pieces of broken things, or traded with other roamers.  “Alright, here you go!” Amber said giving Rebecca a bag of parts.  “Now- about your trade?” Willow said firmly. Rebecca hands Willow a hyper coil.  “How did you get that?” I asked. “I have my ways” and with that she walked off as if to end our conversation at that.  “So, what’s the coil for?” I ask amber. “It’s used in the Magnetic trap we made,” Amber said. And like she read my mind she said, “to trap the zombies. I’ll explain later” “we have all the parts for a trap, but” amber started. “We don’t have any idea how to get it working and functional” Willow pointed out. “I can help with that” a voice says behind us all. We turned around and saw Monica with the rest of our crew in tow behind her. “how did you find me?” I ask, shocked.  “Emily told us”  “I never told you what I was doing!”  “I always know the plan, even when I’m not part of it” Emily replied with a grin.  “Alright, is everyone ready to hear the plan.” Willow said rather than asking as she begins to explain.  “…igniting activation on ploy” Monica says into a headset. “English please.” Willow said sarcastically.  Monica sighed. “Turning on tra.p” she states instead, “it should hold for about 20 minutes” I wait impatiently for my part of the plan. Emily will first check the area, meanwhile Amber and Willow will fight off the surrounding zombies, while Liam sets down the barrier, and I, once I get the okay, will pull the plug on the battery to turn off the Satellite (kill code as amber call’s it). Any moment now. “Hello? Anyone?” I say into the headset. All I get is Static. “G…gr...ac…c…e” I hear.  “Hello?” I repeat. “G...ra...ce!” I sit there confused. Suddenly it comes back, “grace behind you!” I hear Emily almost scream into the headset. I turn around just in time to kick a zombie square in the head knocking him out. As I run to Emily, “Thanks.” We’re so close, I can feel it. But right when I thought everything would turn out I hear Willow stammering into the headsets, “We need to retreat, now!” “But we’re so close!” I almost whine my argument. “No, too many zombies!” We can’t retreat now; we are so close! Then for the second time today, my mind made itself up. “Go one, I’m going in” “No- Grace-“I hear as I drop my headset to the ground and take off. As I run to the satellite the zombies start coming at me left and right. Luckily none hit. I look for the Satellite, the thing that started it all. Though, I’m going to be the one who finishes it.


“You don’t have to come with us, you know?” Jack started, not having realised that Rowan was looking at him. “Nah, it’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine? It’s fine.” “D’aww, what’s this?” Alice said, leaning over Jack’s shoulder. “Is my little brother embarrassed?” That much was clear to anyone walking past them on the street. Jack’s cheeks were redder than the traffic lights, and despite the cool autumn air he had a thin trail of sweat down the side of his face. At being called out though he clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders, shoving his sister off. As the siblings started squabbling, the gaudy lights of the shop came into view, and now Rowan was as bright red as Jack. But Jack didn’t realise; he was too busy desperately trying to keep his eyes away from the displays in the windows. Trying and failing. He wasn’t sure which woman he was more uncomfortable with being there while he gawped at half-naked models; his life-long best friend or his sister. Both Jack and Rowan paused on the threshold, but Alice marched straight in. It was only when she tried to point a piece out to Rowan that she realised the others hadn’t followed her. Rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up in the air she stormed back out. “Look, neither of you have to come if you don’t want to,” she said. “We can just go and grab coffees if you want. This is about you Rowan, but if you’re not ready, there’s no pressure.” “No. I do want to. It’s just…” That phrase, ‘ it’s just ’, had become so much a part of Rowan’s life, and Jack was sick of it. She spent so much of her time hiding and worrying about what other people thought, and while there was nothing Jack could do to counter those fears directly, there was a way to help her here. Squeezing his hands into fists in his pockets, Jack sauntered into the lingerie shop, doing his best to act for all the world like he belonged there. It lasted until he came to the first display. The brightly coloured, armless mannequin was wearing… something that sparkled in the spotlights, and was all lace and shiny gems. Jack realised he was staring at the mannequin’s chest, and quickly tried to find something else to look at. But everywhere he looked there was another mannequin, or a poster with a real-life model, and Jack couldn’t work out which was worse. The model was an actual person, and it was rude to stare… but was it weirder if he couldn’t take his eyes off some sculpted plastic? “You don’t have to be so embarrassed, little brother,” Alice said as she jabbed him in the ribs. “I’m not.” But there was no point denying that now. Jack was even redder, and his hands were out of his pockets and twisting nervously. It wouldn’t be so bad, it wouldn’t be at all bad, if he was with anyone else. Except maybe his mum. He wasn’t a teenager any more for pity’s sake; he had some degree of control over his urges. But Alice was family, and Rowan was as good as family, and all he could think about when he saw all these bras and panties was either of them wearing them. It made him nauseous and, in the case of Rowan, very confused. It could only have been ten years or so ago that they’d been scavenging terrible porn mags from the side of the road or off of the older boys at school, and now… Now he was trying to spot the difference between those magazines and the world he’d just walked into. ‘Class’ was about the only thing that Jack could think of. “You can wait outside you know?” Rowan whispered in his ear. “It’s fine.” He’d need a clean shirt after this, but it was better than abandoning his friend. Though they’d known each other their whole lives, Jack knew that Rowan was still nervous around his family. Leaving her alone with his sister to go underwear shopping would be a new level of cruel, and Jack had promised to himself that he’d do everything he could to help Rowan. Besides, if he was here and being obviously ‘male’, that should draw some of the attention away from Rowan. He’d go through any awkwardness if it meant, just for once, that she was comfortable. Jack looked around again, dropping his gaze quickly when a couple of middle-aged woman across the shop stared back. The whole place was crazy, and he’d never seen anything like it. He’d thought it would be just like any other shop; hangers and displays, with prices on tags and a row of check-outs. And changing rooms, given sizes were a weird concept to women’s fashion, apparently. But this place… It felt more like a destination, the sort of place you’d go out to go to, and to be seen at, rather than just a place you’d pop into on the way past. There were chest of drawers and sofas, and the fact that it felt more like someone’s (very extravagant) bedroom did nothing to help his nervousness. He could imagine an old-fashioned finishing school mistress appearing suddenly and running everyone in the place through… stuff. His mind went blank about what actually happened at a finishing school. The fear that he’d get caught up in though was very real. And there was the smell as well, a thick clawing flowering smell that coated everything. Since when did shops have smells? The scent got up his nose, and he felt it clinging to his clothing. He was also pretty sure that spotlights weren’t usually such a feature of shops, at least not when they weren’t focusing on the items for sale. Here they seemed to be picking out half the walkways as well, as though the whole place was a cat-walk, with mirrors instead of cameras. Everywhere he turned someone was watching him, and it was him in another damned mirror. How long did they spend decorating this place? Wouldn’t the time have been better spent working on the products? And if they spent so long planning this place, why did they never find any colours other than pink? Trying to think about something else he glanced across at Rowan. She was also staring around the place, and staring at the models as well, but it wasn’t with fear or lust. Her eyes were wide and her mouth open, and there was the faintest hint of a tear in her eye. She finally feels like she belongs , Jack thought. It was enough to put the thoughts of his own whining out of his head. She’d had years of not fitting in; he could cope with ten minutes or so. “So,” he said, unconsciously lowering his voice an octave or so, “what happens now? What- what the hell is that for?” Not believing his eyes he picked up the offending garment and held it up for clarification. “That is an underwired, padded, sculpting lift bra. It’s for holding your tits. Please tell me you’ve at least worked that bit out, little brother?” Alice teased. “Hey, I’ve had girlfriends!” The women across the shop were giving them all looks now, and Jack spotted the tell-tale whispering as they looked at Rowan. “But why are there so many options? Don’t you just need, like… cups, and straps?” “Well, yes. But there’s a lot more to it than that. Now hush, the women are talking.” Clapping her hands together Alice turned to Rowan. “So, how far have you got? Do you know your size yet?” As she always did whenever anyone started talking about this stuff, Rowan curled her shoulders in and clasped her hands in front of her, covering her chest as much as she could. “I think so. I mean, I watched a video online about how to measure yourself, and then grabbed some bras from the local supermarket–” “Oh no, really, hun? You don’t want to do that, they’re terrible, trust me. Did no one warn you off them?” “My mum still doesn’t like to talk about it too much…” “Sod her then. Okay, first things first we’ll get you measured. Let’s go and find a member of staff.” Jack had seen the look of sheer terror on Rowan’s face, but Alice wasn’t stopping long enough for her to object. The older woman dragged her away, taking her elbow in her grip and hustling her across, discussing options and styles as they went. For a moment Jack just watched them, proud of his sister for being so supportive and natural about the whole thing. Then he realised he was still holding the bra, and there were more women getting nearer now. After a brief second of trying to fold it, during which he almost tied the damn thing in knots, Jack gave up and left it on top of the display before dashing after the others. “Ah, thought we’d lost you to your day-dreaming,” Alice said when he caught up. “Grab a seat there, we shouldn’t be too long.” And before Jack could say anything the pair of them disappeared behind a thick, velvet curtain. Jack spent a moment wondering if he should go in and check on Rowan. Knowing Alice however, she probably already had her shirt off. While he was busy hovering about a shop assistant slipped past him, and Jack realised he was right in the way. With no other options he threw himself into the chair. It was huge, with ridiculous wings that blocked out his peripheral vision. The thought that he could be jumped by half-naked mannequins or imaginary finishing school teachers meant he couldn’t settle, although now he was in the ‘appointed waiting seat’ he was getting less weird looks. Just as long as they don’t think I’m dating either of them . Whatever the measuring process involved, it did not, as Jack had assumed, take only ten minutes so. Somewhere after the first hour he stopped keeping track of the time, and he was busy sending up silent prayers that at least this place – strange as it was in all other aspects – at least had Wi-Fi, when Alice came out of the mystical depths of the dressing rooms. “Hey, Alice, what’s up? Is Rowan okay?” “What?” Alice skidded to a halt beside him. “Oh, she’s loving it. It makes such a difference wearing something that fits properly.” “I’ll take your word for it.” “We’re just having a few style problems, what with her shape and all. Nothing major though, should be done in a bit.” Alice headed off again, leaving Jack sat there thinking about Rowan’s shape. Of course he’d noticed, but he never felt sure if he should comment or not. Most women got offended if you commented on their breasts, but if he was remarking that Rowan’s were ‘growing in’ as it were, and that she was starting to look more female, would she take offence? I mean , he thought, going over this old ground again, that’s the whole point of the hormones isn’t it? But however uncertain he was with everything, Jack knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Oliver had been his best friend, and becoming Rowan hadn’t changed that. Another twenty minutes later and Rowan herself finally emerged from the changing rooms. “All good?” Jack said, jumping up with the same nervous excitement he’d had when he went to the doctor’s appointments with Rowan. “Great!” Rowan was carrying a whole bundle of clothes and grinning madly, but Jack could see the smudges at the edges of her eyeliner. There had been some tears, and once again Jack wished that the day would hurry up and arrive when Rowan didn’t have to cry about who she was. “Did you leave anything left for anyone else to buy?” Jack teased. One of his first promises to Rowan was that he’d still tease her just the same, just like he had for the two decades before. “A few bits. Let me just pay for these, then we’ll grab some coffee.” Desperate as he was to leave, to feel sunlight on his face again and breathe fresh air (as well as not be surrounded by endless mirrors and half-naked women), Jack did his best to act casual as he hung next to Rowan, waiting for her to pay. “Is your boyfriend paying for it?” the cashier asked Rowan with a sly smile. “Oh, we’re not a couple,” Rowan replied. They got it a lot, and Rowan was just about getting used to saying it without it coming out so hurriedly that it sounded like they were in denial. “Nah, I’m just a mate. Thought I’d come along and see what all the fuss was about,” Jack said. Biggest mistake of my life , he groaned internally, but he kept up the smile. “Oooh, clothes shopping with your female friends? Very modern of you,” the cashier said. There hadn’t been a single look at Rowan’s strong jaw-line, or her thicker brow-ridge. Instead Jack was the butt of the life-style comments? My work here is done , Jack thought with a smug sigh. The three of them left the shop, and Jack had to fight back the urge to fall to his knees outside. He knew it was stupid, but he suddenly wanted to do something very masculine, like go fishing, or boxing, or fiddle with a car engine. Except he knew that was all rubbish. Gender expectations had been the first thing to go when Rowan appeared on the scene. Still with his head to the sky, basking in the sunlight and fresh air, Jack peeked across at Rowan. From what he’d overheard she’d left wearing one of the bras, and Jack was curious. Alice had made it sound like magic, like putting on a ‘good’ bra – whatever that meant – could change your life. What surprised him most was the fact that it seemed to have worked. Whether it was just from being pampered and treated as a woman for so long, or because the bra was actually doing it magic, but Rowan was standing taller and straighter. There was also a giddy glow to her face, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her so at ease. Today was definitely worth all the favours he’d called in with Alice, and all the looks and whispering he’d gotten in the shop. That said… “Hey, ladies? Is there any chance we could go get that coffee? I really need a drink right now. The world still looks pink…”