Vicky was still there. That was the kicker. That was the cause of a perpetual limbo that wore a different outfit every time John blinked. So many thoughts. And they whirled around and around in his head leaving a trail of sticky candy floss in the stead of a coherent mind. It hurt. But he loved her. He loved her and that was all that mattered. John had never stopped loving Vicky. He didn’t know how. He knew all about love. After all, he’d been practicing it since he was born. He’d read about it too. There were many stories about love. And then there was The Bible. That book was bursting with love. Love was powerful and it was eternal. It was here well before John and Vicky turned up in this existence and it would be here long after their lives winked out. Love was too big for John to get his head around, but still he tried. He tried until it hurt. Vicky continued to live under the same roof as John, but in his heart of hearts, he knew she wasn’t the same Vicky he’d met all those years ago. Not the same as she’d been for the entirety of their relationship, right up until this last year.

Something had happened. And then some things had happened. John wasn’t sure what those things were, but as he looked upon this changed version of Vicky, he could see the faint outlines of happenings that must be responsible for the alterations he now had to live with. This was the sort of thing that crept up on a person, and as John cast his mind back, he couldn’t pin point the moment everything moved away from where he was comfortable, spiralling away from the place where it all worked. It were as though a burglar had snuck into their home and moved things around. This was the worst of thefts. Someone had crept into John’s life and taken the meaning away. At first he struggled to remember a time that wasn’t like this dreadful reality that had become the norm. He’d had to apply a force of will to rediscover the times that had been fun, the moments of smiles and of laughter and of intimacy. He wondered whether he’d been different then too. Clawing at the problem and asking himself whether it was him. The answer was that it had to be. His old self would not countenance the way things were now. This was an alien place and held no attraction for the person he had once been. How had he got here? He could not remember ever choosing this as his destination. But then it wasn’t his destination. He’d been led here and there was a constant movement towards the unknowable. There was further to go. He knew not where they were headed, only that he was progressively further away from where he needed to be. He’d left the safety of a well-worn life and now he was in a miserable dark cloud with no visibility and nothing to help him make sense of the journey. At one point he was following Vicky. Still was. Now though, he understood that wherever she was going, he could not be, however well he followed. That was a part of the trap. The promise of something that could never come true. It was all a lie. Madness was seeping into his mind and it was the madness of isolation and loneliness. He looked upon Vicky and experienced an increasing yearning. He wanted what he could not have. The feeling of want masked the pain and the anger of frustration. There was grief here. The distance between them had solidified and he knew that were he to reach out to her, the vision before him would crumble to dust. The trick was to take what he was given and ask no more. He could not bear to be deprived of the sight of her, even as he understood that there was precious little left beyond that. This was bad taxidermy. His lover’s skin wrapped around a poorly constructed frame that was empty. He felt the emptiness more and more and now it was calling to him. Calling to his own emptiness. Seductively suggesting that they should enjoin and become more than the dangling part of him that had awakened and now wanted to take over. Vicky was there, and yet she was not. John suspected that there was someone else. There had to be. But then there could not be. There was nothing of Vicky that would attract another. Yet here John was, holding onto ephemeral meaning for dear life. Keeping a hold of the version of Vicky that was, but had died some while back. Still he willed the resurrection of the woman he’d loved. Searching ceaselessly for signs of her soul. Listless and dull, he pored over the artifacts in the house and found them devoid of reason. All he found were sad and feeble excuses. At times, he looked around for tell-tale signs that Vicky was cheating. She was, but not in the obvious, carnal way that so often sounds the death knell of a relationship. The quick fix of a new embrace that destroys more than it can ever create. An escape to a fleeting moment of pleasure that dissolves only to leave in its place guilt and anger. So much guilt and anger. Was it worth it? Whatever Vicky had chosen in the stead of John, he wondered at it’s worth. He could feel the heat of her anger, more so when she stared at him. The unfairness of that baleful gaze was scalpel sharp. It cut deep and John whined his pain into the depths of himself;

I did nothing wrong!

This was true, he did not cause this. This was not his choice. All the same, he was Vicky’s excuse. She blamed him so she could withdraw further from him and the life she once led. John knew that he could let go of Vicky if only he knew she was going to be OK. None of this was OK. She was broken and he didn’t know how it had come to this. There was an inevitability to it though. He recalled the early stages of their relationship. Lying together, having made love. Vicky’s head on his chest. Her gentle weeping as she talked and talked about a childhood that never occurred. Her survival of a warzone between parents more childish than she was. Her ejection into a world she’d had no preparation for. Failed relationships that never stood a chance of being relationships. Her anger turning in on itself. Her self-esteem running for the hills at the sight of the car crash her existence had become. In the past year, she had returned to the places that so hurt and appalled her. John saw familiar patterns emerge. Never patterns they shared. Ghosts from a life that Vicky had buried. A necessary sacrifice for their love. Now she was that person again, only she was not. That person had been desperate to live, but now the light of life was dangerously diminished. A flickering and failing light that no longer held any warmth. John speaks, he cannot help himself. He knows that words have power. If only he can find the right spell. There is a way of unlocking the prison door for the both of them. He does not pretend that it will be the final act. What will follow will not be easy. He uses this pragmatism as proof that he is not in denial. Lying to himself comes easily. The words John utters are meaningless. He witnesses their death in Vicky’s cold, angry eyes. He would plead for her to listen to him, if only this once, but he somehow knows that will only make matters worse. Instead he awaits her angry words. Her bitter reaction to him and everything he stands for. He has not changed. She loved him and his values once. Now she sees no value in him at all. He looks into her eyes and asks himself whether he is a mirror of her. Is he now as empty as she is? Is she doing to him that which was done to her? There is a chill in their nights together. Either one of them could say they share the same bed, but nothing is shared there. She turns her back on him and he lays staring at her for hours. Unsure whether she sleeps. Fearing the chill of her icy contempt. Never sensing her relaxing into the escape to another, gentler state. When sleep takes him, he knows he dreams. Seldom has he recollected the dreamlands he has visited. But now he awakes with disturbing fragments of something that might be a dream, but feels more real than what has become of his life. There are dark shapes. They close in on him. He tries to push them away. Tries to escape. But he cannot. They surround him and he is lost. Sometimes he dreams that Vicky is leaning over him. She’s stroking him and whispering something. He is emboldened by her touch and would willingly give to her everything he is in that moment. He remembers that feeling and it terrifies him. He is increasingly horrified at the loss he is experiencing. A loss that goes well beyond Vicky. He’s losing his mind. He’s losing himself. Losing any referent point to the reality that once provided him with a safe haven. Their home is now awash with poison. He breaths it in and he senses it oozing in through his pores. He cannot bring himself to blame Vicky. He’s seen how hateful her blame of him is and he will not counter it. He needs to keep trying. His head hurts all the time now and his energy levels are so low he struggles to open his laptop to do any work. The artificial light of the screen hypnotises him and he scarcely remembers his working day. Things needs to come to a head, but he cannot think beyond that limp and lacklustre imperative. It’s too late, but he’s too tired to acknowledge that. He should have left while he could. He stayed for Vicky. But there was no Vicky to stay for. Now there’s not much of him left. What is left is hidden and he can’t remember where he left it for safe keeping. That night they play out the same sad ritual. He has no inclination to think of an alternative. It is not sleep that finds him. He is unconscious, but he does not rest. He awakes in the witching hour. Three a.m. once had a significance for him. But now all he knows is that it is bad. The time is bad and there is something else bad besides that. Something in the house. Turning towards Vicky he is greeted with an empty space and for a sickening moment he wonders when she left him. How deep his denial has burrowed. Then he hears a noise from downstairs. He slips out of bed wishing this to be a dream, but he is out of luck on that score. He knows what he will find. Has known all along. The details don’t matter. All there is, is betrayal, and now it won’t be denied. The sounds that meet his ears as he nears the foot of the stairs are confirmation of that betrayal. This is the language of betrayal that he is hearing loud and clear. These are sounds that were only meant for him, but now they are offered cheaply to another. His heart stops and the breath freezes within him, and for a dizzying moment he thinks this is it. This is where it ends. However, the release of death is not a mercy afforded him. He must go on and confront the truth of it. After all his searching for a solution to the terrible conundrum of his failing life, he no longer wants to be presented with the answer. The door to the living room is open. He steps through the doorway. The curtains are open and the moon is full. The eerie light illuminating the two lovers locked in a strange tableau. Vicky pulls the figure closer to her, urging him on. She is looking straight at John and her face wears a triumphant mask. She wants him to see. This is where he finally loses her. Not that he had a chance of ever having her again. He never stood a chance. The intervening years. The time they spent together was real enough, but it was never going to last. Vicky was always

his. John knows that he stands in the presence of Vicky’s ex. A man who treated her so very badly and yet she struggled to leave him. Admitted that she was addicted to him. Never gave details. John didn’t want the details. Loved the woman she was now. That was the sense that he made of her past. He didn’t want any other truth than the one that he could make work. Only this was never passed. It may have lain dormant, but Vicky was marked out. She was always his. These are the patterns John saw emerging. This is the shocking loss he has been experiencing little by little and bit by bit. “Do it!” Vicky hisses at the man in her embrace. He lunges and Vicky cries out. John stands frozen as he hears the man sucking at Vicky’s neck. The two of them moving together. Vicky’s moans as she pulls him closer and urges him on. All the while she is staring at John. Goading him. And there is a treacherous threat there, even before her eyes swirl and fill with the darkness that now consumes her soul. John does not remember the interim period. He knows it is not sudden. He has an awareness that he was lost for a while. Now she is stood before him and of her ex there is no sign. She slips her arms around him. Whispers in his ear, “you’re mine now.” He shudders, his body forsaking him and responding to her. His mind trying to whisper a warning. All he hears is a random saying,

you have to be careful what you wish for.

He wanted to hear her say these words to him for an age, he wanted to be hers as fully as it is possible to be with another, but now these words mean something else. He tries to draw out the potential outcomes of his altered state of being. As he does he realises that each and every outcome is another description of death.

He was losing Vicky. He knew that much. Death can take many guises. There are so many ways to kill someone. Take love from them and they have nothing left. A life without love is a sordid and painful existence.

As John allows himself to be lowered to the sofa and gives himself over to the pleasure of Vicky’s insistent touch, he sighs as her mouth finds his neck. He could have walked away once, but that door is firmly closed to him now. He doubts he’ll end up like her. He’s built differently. He couldn’t take a life. Never could he do that. He hopes he’ll never do that. Instead, he sees himself deteriorating further. Becoming a grey, dried out husk. He strokes her back as she feeds. This is not so bad. Not so bad at all. A languid thought of one last alternative passes him by. He should not sacrifice himself to this evil. He should not incubate it and ready it for the world beyond this trap. He hasn’t the wherewithal to end Vicky, but he could end his own life. He should end it before it is too late, depriving her of his sacrifice and the validation of her evil transformation. He sighs as she moves against him, “I love you,” he whispers to her deaf ears. Then he gives himself over to her, losing himself in the moment. Losing himself in the darkness that closes in with each hungry pulse against his neck.


I’m zooming down the freeway, in the middle of a snowstorm, already late for my sister’s New Year’s Eve party. We are ten miles away when I hit an ice patch, with my left tire while realizing I'm drifting to the left in the first place. We slide off the road, flipping into a small ditch. When the car is steady, I look over to Maya in the passenger seat in panic. Questions and outright statements go through my mind. Are you hurt? Can you call the police? Is your phone charged? I’m scared. Panting, Maya is looking at me in terror while she says, “My ph-ph-one is almost d-d-dead.” No, no, no, I just wanted to go see my friends, and sister for New Year’s Eve, and now this. I try to reach for my phone but with the car’s current position it is not within reach. I look at my watch and read 11:00 p.m. and mumble out the words, “Can you call the police? Are you hurt?”

While dialing the phone Maya comments, “I’m fine, and calling the police. How are you feeling?” Relief washes over me and the panic starts to die down. “I don’t think I’m hurt, and can you put the phone on speaker,” Maya does as I say, and after a few rings the phone is picked up. “911 what’s your emergency?” “Hi this is Maya Smith I’m calling from my car which has just flipped. The driver and I seem to be fine, just uncomfortable.” “Hello Maya, do you know where you are exactly?” We tell the lady on the phone and she says that the closest officer is an hour away. “An hour?” I say under my breath when she tells us the news. “It can’t be.” “Due to the storm and the lack of officers in the area, the time range is from 45-60 minutes,” the lady over the phone states calmly as if trying to soothe my rising fear. Maya, stepping back into the conversation says, “Thank you for your help,” and hangs up after we have gathered all the information needed. An hour, what are we going to do with an hour on our hands; hopefully this officer hurries his butt up and gets us out of this car and out of the cold. The cold air from outside starts to seep in. I look over to Maya with her hair in beautiful twists making her look like a queen in and of itself but her gold tight dress and lengthy sweater seals the deal and I start to giggle to myself. She glances at me with her questioning face and cries out, “Are we gonna talk or are you just gonna look at me with that face for the next hour?” we both laugh at that and finally start to talk about work and food, we can’t seem to drop the idea of our huger.

“Can we drop the fake talk? I think Tyler is going to propose soon and I don’t think I have ever been more sure in my life. I love him beyond words, but we’re young and I still have so many things to do in life. Is now the right time?” Maya blurts out. “Okay Maya, you love him, and I know there is still so much to do but the only thing that the ring will change is that he’ll be there beside you, no matter what. Marriage isn’t gonna hold you back but let you have all your great discoveries and memories together. Girl, I can see it in your eyes that you want him, you’re scared of the future, and you don’t know what you want. You do what your heart tells you to do. Besides if your life is too busy, you can always say yes, but have a later wedding, in like 2 years or something.” Silence rang through the car I knew Maya was just processing my killer speech. After what could’ve been ten minutes, “Yes” Maya whispers “What?” I ask. “Yes!” now she says it louder. “Yess, yes, yes, yes,” now she’s screaming, “I’M GETTING MARRIED,” she’s shaking me now and we are both screaming so loud. “Well at least if I’m asked I know my answer!”

“This deserves a celebration, you’re not married but just in case someone asks you anytime soon,” I scream in her face “Wait, can’t we play music on my phone until it dies?” Maya answers just as loud as my proposition.

Soon after it’s settled and blast music on her phone for a solid 10 minutes, until we see flashing lights stop behind us.

The officer helps both of us out of the car and checks for broken bones that we would have surely noticed by now; trying to understand our situation. We warm up in the car and I charge my newly found but dead phone. Once things are sorted and we are on our way to my sister’s, my phone has regained charge and oh my, I have 150 messages and 20 missed calls. Something must have been important; I’m not that popular. I call my sister. With in a few rings the familiar voice of my sister answers “Oh. My. Gosh. Where are you? This was so important it better be good. I was worried and Tyler is freaking out.” I interrupt her with, “I’m fine. Maya and I slid on an ice patch and the car flipped. We had to wait for the police, and now we are in the car heading to your house.” Screams come from her side of the phone ad says, “Okay, okay I have to go and celebrate New Year’s call you back I promise. Turn on the radio and don’t tell Maya that Tyler was gonna propose, I can’t believe you didn’t know. I’m glad you two are OK!” My breath hitches and I’m stunned into silence as my sister hangs up the phone and a signal word escapes me, “No.”

After Maya is not staring at me, trying to crack me so I spill the importance of the night, I ask the officer to turn on the radio. He is totally cool and everyone in the car is counting down the last 10 seconds of 2019. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.


The sun hung high in the warm, optimistic xanthous sky, casting a relentless glare over the sprawling suburbs of Southern California. It was mid-July, and the National Weather Service issued a heat wave warning that sent ripples of concern throughout the community. The temperature was expected to soar well above 105 degrees Fahrenheit for today alone, making it the hottest day of the year, prompting residents to take special preparations against the sweltering heat. In a cozy neighborhood lined with many palm trees and blooming red and pink bogainvillia, Jack and Cheryl Morgan were preparing for what they hoped would be a refreshing escape from the heavy oppressive heat. Their spacious backyard pool glistened and sparkled under the sun, an inviting oasis amidst the parched dry yellow colored grassy landscape. Jack had always been an avid swimmer, while Cheryl enjoyed lounging lazily by the water with a good book. Together, they had transformed their backyard into a life saving sanctuary where they could totally unwind during those scorching sizzling summer days. As they set up their pool area, Jack quickly filled a cooler with ice-cold drinks- lemonade for Cheryl and ice tea for himself. "We need to stay very hydrated, " he reminded her as he tossed in some fresh fruit slices for added flavor. Digger, their playful 3 year old golden retriever, bounded around them excitedly, his tail wagged furiously as he anticipated splashes and fun. Digger was not just any dog, he was part of their close family - a loyal companion who thrived on attention and playtime. As Jack adjusted the lounge chairs and Cheryl spread out the large towels on the wooden deck, Digger took it upon himself to entertain them. He dove into the sparkling blue pool with unrestrained joy, sending waves crashing against the sides as he paddled around like a seasoned swimmer. "Look at him go!" Cheryl laughed as she watched Digger swim back to the edge of the pool, his golden fur glistened like spun gold in the sunlight. "He loves this weather more than we do!" Jack chuckled in agreement but couldn't shake off the sense of unease and fear about the heat wave warning. "We should keep a close eye on him," he said thoughtfully. "Dogs can get overheated easily too." Cheryl nodded, her brow slightly furrowed as she considered Digger's well being amidst their plans for relaxation. They decided to take turns keeping watch over him while enjoying their time by the pool. As noon approached, so did the intensity of the heat wave. The air felt extremely thick and heavy; even sitting by the pool became uncomfortable after prolonged exposure to direct sunlight. Jack suggested they take 20 minute breaks indoors now and then to cool off before returning to their aquatic paradise. "Let's set up some shade," Cheryl proposed after noticing how quickly they were both beginning to feel fatigued outside from the  long exposure in the heat. They draped a large blue striped umbrella over their lounge chairs and placed a few strategically positioned beach towels around Digger's favorite spot by the pool's edge so he wouldn't burn his paws or skin. With everything set up for comfort, they settled down on their chairs with iced cold drinks in hand while Digger flopped down onto his green fluffy towel beneath one of the umbrellas. Just as they began to totally relax into their afternoon routine - sipping drinks slowly while watching Digger snooze by the pool- the sky darkened very ominously. A sudden gusto of wind swept through the backyard, rustling the dried brown leaves and sending chills down their spines despite the oppressive heat. "What's happening,?" Jack asked Incredulously as he squinted at the dark clouds rolling in from afar. Cheryl checked her phone for any updates and weather alerts. "It looks like there might be thunderstorms sooner or later today," she replied nervously. "Thunderstorms in this heat" Jack shook his head skeptically but knew before than to underestimate California's unpredictable summer weather patterns. Suddenly, a loud thunder rumbled overhead- a deep growl that echoed across their neighborhood - and within moments, rain began to pour down in heavy sheets. Digger lept up from his nap at once, barking excitedly at what seemed like an unexpected invitation to play. "Digger! No" Cheryl called out just as he dashed toward the rain - soaked grass beyond their patio area. Running in crasy circles. Realizing that staying outside was no longer safe or comfortable due to both rain and potential nearby lightening strikes, Jack quickly ushered Digger back inside while Cheryl gathered towels and secured loose items around their yard that could be projectiles in strong winds. Once inside, they dried Digger with an old blanket before settling down together on their gray livingroom couch - Digger nestled comfortably between them on his blanket with his head resting in Jack's lap. "I guess our relaxing pool day turned into a stormy day," Jack said with a wry smile as he stroked Diggers soft fur soothingly. Cheryl laughed lightly but remained concerned about how quickly things had changed: "At least we're all safe inside," As thunder continued rumbling outside like nature's own percussion section playing an ominous symphony against windows fogged with humidity, they found solace in each other's company - and knowing that despite Mother Nature's whims that day, they still had each other - and Digger - to keep spirits high even when temperatures dropped unexpectedly due to the storms rolling through the California skies. The storm eventually passed after several hours however chaotic it may have been initially - it brought them closer together as they shared stories about past summers spent outdoors under sunny skies, or rainy ones spent huddled together indoors playing board games, or watching movies instead. Reflecting on how unpredictable life can be - much like Californias weather - they realized it didn't matter wether it was hot or cold outside; what trully mattered was making memories together regardless of circumstances - with laughter echoing through every moment shared alongside beloved companions like Digger who made every day brighter simply by being there beside them through thick and thin.


Princess Aoi sighed as she stared out the window of her office, daydreaming of taking a walk in the palace gardens and ignoring the heavy piles of documents in front of her. “Is something the matter, Your Highness?” The palace tutor Giles Christophe looked up from his papers with concern. “There’s so much to do, Giles,” she whispered. “I fear I’ll spend most my life reading and signing documents, giving attention to nothing but parchment.” She sat up in her chair and grabbed the next document from her unfinished pile. Giles set down the papers he was reading and strode over to her desk, taking the document she held. “Giles?” “It's time for your dance lessons anyhow, princess.” Giles laid the papers back on the unfinished pile. “Duke Howard should be in the dance hall waiting for you. I’ll have Nico prepare your favorite tea when you return.” Princess Aoi smiled, slowly rose from her desk and walked toward the office's large doors. Giles noticed her reluctance to leave her work, walking over and carefully opening them for her. “And don’t forget to smile for Louis. Everyone knows you have the most beautiful smile, Your Highness.” An embarrassed smirk showed on the princess’s face and she walked off towards the dance hall. ---- “You are distracted,” Duke Louis Howard remarked as the princess missed yet another step of the dance they’d practiced for weeks. “I’m sorry.” She looked down at her shoes. They stopped moving only minutes into their lesson and the orchestra in the corner followed suit. “I was thinking about all the paperwork left on my desk in the office.” “I see.” Louis turned to look out one of the tall windows of the hall. “Perhaps you would prefer we continue our lesson another day? You may find it easier to concentrate once some of those documents are in order.” “Hopefully, but I feel that every day I receive twice the amount I finished the day before.” Louis stared at her small stature another moment before speaking again. “Why don’t we stop for today, and we can continue tomorrow at the time your dance lessons normally occur?” “But I have my equestrian lessons with Alyn at this time on days we don’t meet.” “I’ll speak with Giles,” Louis said quickly. “Plan on tomorrow evening after your dinner. That should be plenty time to finish your work.” She showed a happy smile to Louis. “Okay. Thank you, Louis.” The princess curtsied and walked quickly towards her office. As she walked up one of the staircases, she noticed a small group of men standing near the top, talking enthusiastically. They were bureaucrats who visited the palace often to talk politics and argue about trading contracts with other countries. Among the older men was Leo Crawford, her teacher and the youngest of the men. He saw princess Aoi’s smiling face and bowed as she approached. “A pleasure to see your smiling face today, Your Highness.” The other men stood flustered for a moment but quickly followed Leo’s lead, bowing deeply, and greeting the contrastingly small princess. “And what might be the conversation today, Leo?” “Nothing interesting, I can assure you, princess.” Leo and princess Aoi giggled at the protests from the other men. “It is of upmost importance, Leo,” one man declared. “Yes, Your Highness, we are speaking of our neighbor country, Stein.” The men all nodded. “That country has been silent for years, and now King Byron Wagner decides he not only wants to start trading contracts with us, but also requests to visit the palace? The audacity of that man,” said another. “Yes, well you can only expect so much from a king who took the crown at sixteen,” a kinder-looking bureaucrat said. “His father had such a reign of terror and he’s been trying to defuse the effects ever since, you know. This could be a very good thing for Stein’s citizens.” The bureaucrat Lloyd Grandier had traveled the world and was clearly more knowledgeable about Stein than the others. He leaned towards the princess, speaking no quieter than before. “Don’t worry about these judgmental men, Your Highness. I’m sure King Byron will be quite the gentleman in your presence.” Lloyd gave her a quick wink and a teasing smile. Princess Aoi chuckled, gave the men a cute grin and curtsied. “Continue with your conversation, please. I must be heading back to the office now; Giles is waiting for me.” She gave a polite wave to Leo and Lloyd as she hurried off, letting the men’s loud words fade in the distance behind her. ---- Back in the office, she worked hard at her unfinished pile with Giles until dinnertime. “Looks like we finished everything just in time today, princess,” Giles said with a wide smile. “Let us go. The kitchen has prepared a nice meal for you, tonight.” The princess happily stood and walked past the tall windows toward the doors, staring at the setting sun. “You know Giles, I am glad to be the princess. I do love serving this country and my citizens, and I’m happy that I was chosen to be princess.” She turned to Giles with a nostalgic smile. “But sometimes I wish I could go back to being just a citizen again.” Giles stopped walking and stood looking at her as she waited by the door, still staring out the windows. “I wonder…” “What is it, Giles?” She turned to face him. Giles smirked. “I wonder if you smiled as much back then as you do now.” The comment caught her off guard. She thought about nothing else all through dinner and as her personal attendant Nico Meier escorted her back to her chambers. “You’ve been awful quiet tonight, princess,” Nico remarked as he closed the drapes over her windows. “Your usual smile is gone, too. Did something happen today?” Princess Aoi forced a smile for Nico and assured him she was only tired. Nico was unconvinced but wished her goodnight and left without protest. She laid down in bed, still pondering Giles’ words from before.

I wonder if you smiled as much back then as you do now.  Truthfully, she didn’t. She had lost her family early on in life, and other than the pupils she used to tutor, she didn’t have many friends. Drifting off into sleep, she recalled the day she was chosen to be the next princess. In her country, when the King or Queen has no heir to the throne, women ages 19-21 are called to the palace from all over the country. The palace tutor chooses one girl out of the hundreds to be princess, and she then must choose from a small list of eligible men who will be prince consort, her eventual husband and future King. Princess Aoi was still overwhelmed by the prince consort decision, having to choose between Duke Louis Howard, bureaucrat Leo Crawford, captain of the royal guard Alyn Crawford, royal painter and bureaucrat Robert Branche, and now King Byron Wagner of their neighboring country Stein. Princess Aoi lay in bed tossing and turning, thinking of all that had transpired since the day Giles had chosen her when a bright light from her window distracted her. Curious, she stood from her bed and followed the light onto her balcony where she found a glowing gold orb. Suddenly, its glow grew brighter until she couldn’t stand it anymore and shut her eyes as it enveloped her completely. When she opened them again, she was standing face-to-face with a gorgeous man with glowing dark skin, silver hair, and golden eyes. “Hmm, quite unusual,” the man spoke in a low, comforting voice. “I haven’t been sent a princess in a long time.” “Where am I,” Princess Aoi asked, feeling smaller than usual in the glowing man’s presence. “Why, didn’t you call for me, little one? You said it yourself: you wish to go back to being a mere peasant citizen again. I am here to grant that wish.” Princess Aoi prepared herself to protest the man’s words but stopped to think about his offer seriously. “I could really go back?” Her voice was quiet and soft, talking more to herself than the otherworldly being. “Yes. However, I must preface this with how the process will work.” The man approached and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “I’ve done this many times and found that I receive less complaints if I give people a trail period.” “Trial period?” “If you still wish to return to being the princess after 24 hours of experiencing life as a citizen again, with some minor changes to account for the time you became princess, I will reverse your wish, and everything will be as it should be. If you find that you prefer the life you experienced in these next 24 hours, I will let you remain there.” Aoi stared at his mesmerizing eyes, seriously contemplating the man’s words. “Alright, but what price must I pay for this that you claim to provide?” “Smart girl.” The man stood up straight, towering over her and tracing his finger along her jaw. “I suppose in your case, I shall take your beautiful smile.” “My smile? That’s all?” “Do not underestimate your smile, little one.” He placed a single finger on her lips. “It has much more power than you give credit for.” The man slowly turned and started walking away from her, gesturing for Princess Aoi to follow him. “You will be unable to smile for the 24 hour trial period, and if you choose to remain, I will keep your smile so long as you live.” Walking behind him through what she saw as blank nothingness, Princess Aoi touched her lips. “I won’t be able to smile?” She lowered her hand slowly and looked up at the man. “But that seems such a small price to pay. Surely you’ve taken more from others before me?” “I take from you creatures what others deem most important about you. For you, it was either your smile or your kindness. Life would be much too miserable without the latter, wouldn’t you agree?” Princess Aoi looked down at her feet and felt a sense of gratefulness as she considered a life without the ability to be kind to others compared to a life without the ability to smile. “How will I find you if I wish to return to my life at the palace as the princess?” “I will be around. If you find you are in need to call your journey short or you are in danger of losing your life before the 24 hours are through, use this.” The man snapped his fingers and a small orb similar to the one from earlier appeared before Aoi and fell into her hands. “How do I use it?” Aoi’s words echoed into the dark as she looked up from her hands to see that the man was no longer in front of her. Glancing at her surroundings, she found herself in one of the many forests of her country. Looking down, she saw she was wearing worn and tattered clothes, much worse than anything she’d worn in her life. She noticed a distinct lack of shoes on her feet, too. With a sigh, she began walking through the dark wooded area in the direction of distant lights. Aoi walked for what seemed like hours, cold and hungry until she finally came upon the city outside the palace.

She walked through the dim streets feeling anxious. Dark silhouettes formed in the distance in front of her. Feeling scared, she turned around only to find another figure behind her. Aoi quickly walked down an alleyway connected to the street, still looking behind her. The figures followed down the alley, and Aoi attempted to start running only to find it led to a dead end.

Oh no . She spun to face the four men that stood leering in front of her. “Looks like we found a cute one, boys.” The men walked closer, towering over her. “How much you think she’s worth, boss?” One of the men reached for Aoi’s arm and she immediately twisted away, looking around for anything she could defend herself with. A small light seemed to shine at the end of the alley. “Won’t know until we bring her back with us, now will we?” The largest man forcefully grabbed at her shoulder. “Come on, little girl, show us a smile.” “Leave me alone,” Aoi yelled as she shoved the man away. The light at the end of the alley grew brighter. “Who’s back there?” The sound of clanging metal and hooves emerged, and lanterns came closer.

That’s the night watch!

Despite the pain she felt stab her lips, Aoi ran past the distracted men and towards the guards. Captain Alyn Crawford dismounted his horse and drew his sword at the shady men. Aoi hid behind Alyn. “State your business being out so late,” Alyn demanded. The men seemed to cower at his presence, silent. “Fine. Either leave to your homes immediately or face arrest.” Clearly outnumbered, the men ran away past the guards. Relief passed over Aoi until she saw Alyn staring down at her sternly. “And you. What are you doing out at night? You should be home.” Aoi took a few steps back.

I forgot; he doesn’t know who I am. The palace is the only “home” I can think of . “I don’t…” Aoi looked around the small space where they stood. She couldn’t find the words to explain. Alyn looked at his accompanying guards, seeming to understand. “Continue on tonight’s route, men. I’ll see to it she gets home safely.” The other guards left the alley as Alyn commanded. Aoi turned to face him, feeling a sharp pain at her mouth again. “Thank you, sir, but I don’t know how to get home from here,” she said quietly. Alyn paused. “Are you homeless?” Aoi looked at the ground shamefully. He was correct. She began to cry silently. Alyn grabbed the reins of his horse and walked over to her. “Your hand, please.” She complied and Alyn helped her onto his horse. Heading out of the alley, Alyn led farther into the city towards an inn. Once inside, they were greeted by a man behind the counter. “Wait here a moment,” he said as he sat her down on a small sofa and walked away to speak with the man. Aoi took this time to look at her surroundings. It was quite a fancy inn. Expensive décor lined the walls, and the carpet fabric was clearly top of the line. The sofa she sat on felt the same as the sofa Aoi had in her bedroom at the palace. The sconces were similar to those in the palace halls, too. She felt almost out of place in the elegant room, and she noticed another dull pain at her lips and arm. Alyn soon returned holding a key. “Follow me.” He led her to a room upstairs and unlocked the door, leading her inside. “You’ll stay here for the night. Don’t worry about paying the innkeeper, that’s all taken care of. From now on, don’t wander the streets alone. It’s dangerous.” Aoi nodded. He sighed deeply. “Look, if you can’t find somewhere to stay tomorrow, come back here. I’ll speak with the innkeeper.” She looked down at her bare feet, holding her arm that would soon be bruised where the men had grabbed her. “Do you need to see a doctor?” “Why are you helping me? You don’t know me.” Her soft voice surprised him. He spoke confidently with a smile. “I’m captain of the royal guard. It’s my duty to protect citizens of my country.” He stepped closer to Aoi, reaching for her chin and lifting her gaze. “There’s no need to look so sad now. Would you do me the honor of seeing your smile before I go?” His voice was gentile and sincere. Aoi’s mouth began to curve upwards instinctively, but a sharp, unbearable pain like a thousand knives stabbed at her lips again and made her flinch. “Are you alright?” “I’m fine. It’s just a toothache.” She answered frantically, hiding her mouth and holding back tears. Alyn stood quiet for a moment. “Alright. I’ll take my leave now. Sleep well, miss.” Alyn closed the door behind him and walked slowly down the hallway. Once she couldn’t hear his footsteps, Aoi fell to her knees and began sobbing. It had only been hours since she encountered the glowing man, and she managed to almost get kidnapped, disturb Alyn during his shift, and inconvenience a poor innkeeper. All that in a matter of hours, yet what made her truly miserable was after all he’d done to help her, Aoi couldn’t give Alyn a smile or return safe to her home.            All through the rest of the night and hours into the daytime, Aoi didn’t leave the inn’s bed. Falling in and out of sleep and drifting between feeling hopeless and alone, she cried. “My, my, what have we here?” A familiar glow lit up the room. Aoi looked up, drying the tears from her eyes. “It seems I may have gone too far.” Aoi jumped up and ran to hug the glowing man. “Please, take me back! I want to go back now,” she sobbed into the man’s chest. He patted Aoi’s head comfortingly. “You hardly experienced the day, little one. What makes you tremble so?” “I don’t have my friends. I don’t have family to go home to. The people I love are so far out of my reach and they hardly know I exist. This is torture!” She cried harder. “My heart feels more pain than my lips did when I tried to smile for Alyn. I couldn’t take it. I can’t handle this, please just let me go back to the way things should be. I’ll do anything!” “Anything?” The bemused man smiled and lifted her chin to look at his face. “To return to the way things should be, you will do anything?” “Yes,” she said, drying her tears. “Smile for me.” Aoi looked, confused, remembering the pain when she attempted to smile for Alyn. But she was determined to see the people whom she considered her family again. Thinking of them, a beautiful smile came naturally to her lips. The man placed a hand on her cheek. “Never lose that smile, princess. You underestimate the power it holds.” He disappeared before the princess’s eyes and she looked around to find herself in the palace gardens, the sky just as dark as when the glowing orb appeared before. “Princess!” Princess Aoi turned to the sound of Nico’s voice, finding him running toward her with Giles and Alyn close behind. “What are you doing,” Alyn asked sternly. “I told you, never leave your room without a guard! It’s dangerous to walk alone, don’t you understand?” Then Giles noticed her tears. “Princess? Are you alright?” The men grew concerned. Princess Aoi pulled them into an embrace, smiling brighter than ever. “I’ve never been happier.”


I stepped into the freezing cold. I loved the feeling of fresh snow falling from the sky, turning your cheeks and nose red as you strained to look past the bushels of snow swirling and falling from the sky. I was so happy. Everything always seemed to go my way. “Daydreaming again Kara?” My friend Remi grinned. “One day, you’ll get your head stuck in the clouds. Or the dome, I guess.”

Remi agreed with me on everything. We’ve been best friends since I fell off the swings in first grade, when the Earth fell and everyone had to move to this base on the moon. I don't really remember my time on Earth, but from what I heard it had been dying for a long time and then it just...became uninhabitable. “Just thinking.” I reply. “Let’s get to school before class starts.” We race to the school, the wind whipping our hair. We stop at the courtyard, out of breath and tired, but with grins on our pink cheeks.

“I won.” I say, gasping for air. “No way.” Remi pants.

“Yes, way. Come on let’s go inside.” When we get to our seats, no one is there yet. I take out my book and read for a few quiet minutes before a stampede of other students crash through the door, catching up on all the things their friends missed over the weekend. I roll my eyes and catch Remi doing the same next to me. We burst into laughter.

“Ok, Ok, quiet down class. Let’s get started.” Mr. Bun walked into the classroom, wearing something different than he usually does. Most days, he just has a boring dark suit and tie, but today he wore armor, complete with a helmet and sword. Remi and I almost burst into another round of laughter. “Today we will be learning about battles and how they were….” Mr. Bun’s voice drowned out as a flood of random things rampaged through my head and a massive headache was brought on. I braced myself as one main memory stood out. A man in a breastplate and helmet, soldiers standing alongside him, shouting commands and shooting targets. Sweat dripped down my 5 year old face in the blistering heat and a small dog stood at attention by my side as the man in armor shouted something unintelligible. I snapped out of my weird hallucination. This was the 5th time this had happened this week. It felt like I was seeing memories of myself. Except… I had never done any of those things before.

“Everything ok, Ms. Starlin?” Mr. Bun asked. I looked up. Great. Now everyone in the class was staring at me.

“Ummmm, yeah.” I replied, my face burning with embarrassment.

“I hoped you’d like this fun day I have planned. It seems more your style.” “Umm, yeah, it seems fun.” I glanced around me and everyone was smiling at me, like they were...happy for me. That was weird. Or was it? Did that usually happen? I frowned. Everything always seems to go my way.... Suddenly, everything blurred together and blurs I fall to the ground and clutch my head as a barrage of memories, but not memories keeps flooding through my head, though all of them slip through my mind like silk, none of them staying in my mind. Then I slipped into the inky darkness of sleep. I woke up with Remi standing above me with my parents. All three of them smiled with relief as they saw my eyes open and my parents wrapped their arms around me.

“What happened?” I ask, my throat dry and raspy. “You passed out in school.”My mom says. “We took you to the hospital a few days ago, but eventually they let us take you back home so you could be more comfortable.” “A few days!” I shout, surprised by how much I slept. “Yeah. But now we can go out and play, since you are better now.” Remi says, a grin appearing on her face.

“But wait? Shouldn’t I rest first?” “Unless you want to.” Remi replies. A frown appearing on her face

“I mean, I don’t want to, but shouldn’t I?” I say. “Why would you need to? You can do whatever you want.” Remi says. As I thought back on it, I could always do what I wanted. Was that wrong? It was. But why? My head rebelled in pain again as different things pushed against each other, like my brain was going to war with itself. I got up, no one helping me. I didn’t want help, but shouldn't they have tried anyway? Or should they? It felt as though 2 realities were coming together in my mind, 2 realities that were totally different, but also the same. I stumbled across the living room, gathering my bearings. I glanced at the living room table, doing a double take as it seemed to blink in and out of existence. Then more memories came coming back to me as I started to piece things together. When the Earth collapsed, nobody went to the moon, we were in a... I couldn't latch on to that piece of information, but now I guessed I was in a VR world. Then, a new memory surfaced from the depths of my mind. A way out. The world around me started to crumble around me, glitching in and out as I regained more and more of my memories. There was a code word to get out, what was it? I ran as I thought, ignoring Remi's calls for me that kept getting cut short because she kept blinking in and out of existence. I stopped at the park, searching my memory for the word but It was like trying to find a needle in a pile of other identical needles. There were too many memories. This was too crazy. I glanced at my favorite tree. Something was engraved in it. I traced my fingers over the words and remembered why my instincts told me to go here. I softly whispered,

"Remi." I woke up again in a room awash with blue light. A woman stood in front of me, frowning slightly as my eyes fluttered open.

“This was not supposed to happen.” She said, turning around, probably to document something. “I know.” I said. “You said I wouldn’t wake up. That I would be happy all the time in there.” “I know what I said.” The lady sniped back. “But you did something we did not expect.” I frowned. “What?” She turned back towards me.

“You remembered.”


Waves of hot and cold fought for dominance of Erika’s skin. Her suit worked tirelessly to protect her from the harsh temperatures, but a little still trickled in. The little fan connected to a chilled tank whirred loudly in protest, but the hardest part was yet to come.

  It was only hours ago that Erika and her husband had left their home. Now, they were heading toward a shuttle that would take her to the first experimental space station. The thought sent butterflies through her stomach.

  “Ready?” Russell asked. He flung his own suit’s backpack over his shoulders. Erika took one last look around the crashed vehicle they’d entered the desert in. It hadn’t been long before disaster struck. The engine had overheated, sending the driver into a frenzy. The vehicle had rolled at least a mile before landing. Erika sighed at the small mound of sand that now housed several casualties.

  She grabbed Russell’s hand and the two set out into the night.

___   It wasn’t until a few days in that they first encountered what the news had deemed “Zombies.”   There was a hoard gathered around an unmoving object. Erika couldn’t make out what it was, but knowing that they tended to go after humans she came to her own conclusion. Russell turned around and put his index finger to his helmet with one hand and reached for the small knife in his boot with the other.

  Erika nodded and followed as Russell started to move to the left. The zombies moaned and groaned, stumbling around their prey. Though the sky was dark, the moonlight was enough to illuminate everything as if it were day. She could clearly see the sagging, deformed flesh of the zombies' bodies. Their skin was yellow tinted with dark spots that gave it the appearance of burnt string cheese..

  The pair managed to quietly slip down the dune and make their way around the hoard. Erika placed her hands on the sides of her helmet. Their sickening moans rang through her ear canals, settling in the pit of her stomach.

  It was an hour, or a few minutes, but they finally lost sight of the hoard. Russell slid the knife back into his boot. The sky was turning a bright pink, danger disguised with pretty colors.

  Russell's fingers laced through hers, sending a warmth through her arm and into her chest.

Soon, she thought. We’ll be safe and we’ll be together. All she had left was hope.

___   Outside of the cave was like a mirage. Wavy lines blurred the horizon with sand dunes as far as the eye could see. Erika’s eyes squinted as she observed the outside world. The small rock formation was a nice break in the shade. Their suits’ whirring slowed in the shadows, getting a break from the open air. Even still, it was dangerously hot.

  “I’m glad you said we should travel at night,” Russell said, sitting with his back against the cliff. Erika was glad she’d thought to travel at night, too. The thought of being out in the sun made her shudder.

  “Russ, do you think we’ll make it?” she asked, her voice trembling as she sat down next to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her.

  “I think we can make it,” he deducted. “We’re prepared. We have water, defenses, food. The cooling tanks will last at least another week.”   “Yeah, but do you feel like we’ll make it?”

  Silence filled the air, but different than the last time. This one felt like an impassable void had been ripped between them, even though they couldn’t physically be any closer. Erika could feel the sense of dread radiating off of her husband. It was like the heat waves bouncing off of the Earth. Deadly in its own way.

  She turned her eyes to the sky. Millions of billions of bright lights flooded the sky, each one a night light guiding someone home. She knew that bright white was creeping up from behind as the sun made its morning preparations.

  “What a waste of a night sky,” Erika muttered. “Do you remember,” a cheeky grin etched onto her face. “That one night that we went down to the parking lot of our apartment building and just danced under the stars?”

  “Of course,” Russell responded. He chuckled, a sweet sound that hadn’t been sung in too long. “It was the night I knew I wanted to marry you.”

  “The stars looked as bright as they do tonight.”   “It was a blackout, of course they did.”

  Erika sighed, “Do you think, when we get to space, we’ll be able to dance with no gravity?” She laughed, imagining what it would be like to dance on air. Russell didn’t join her, and the dreadful silence crept back between them.

  “You can sleep first,” Russell said. “I’ll watch out.”

  And just like that, the discussion was over.

___   They started just before sundown. The land was flatter farther into the desert, closer to how it was where they started.. A paper map in hand, he navigated through the sea of sand, avoiding zombies whenever possible.

  The zombies had become the least of their worries, with food and water topping them. However, it would be a problem if one managed to rip open one of their suits. Erika shuddered. Thoughts of her skin boiling in the intense temperatures made her stomach do loops, but they didn’t seem to want to go away.

  However, they were still at least three days away from the shuttle. Russell had reassured her that the shuttle wasn’t leaving until after they’d get there, but things always changed. With the way the world was, it seemed like they wouldn’t hesitate to send off their first test group.

  “They need a few days to train people,” Russell had said. “Not everyone is as familiar with space travel as us.” Every time he said that, Erika felt something poke into the back of her mind.

  Suddenly, Erika stepped her foot down but it fell a lot more than she’d anticipated. The rest of her body propelled forward, throwing her onto her hands. She whipped her head around to see what she stepped in to find that her feet were completely buried in sand that pulsated every second.

  “Erika!” Russell exclaimed, trying to keep his voice down. He was already almost knee deep. The two made eye contact with each other before hastily tossing their backpacks to the side. The tanks were connected to their suits, so they couldn’t toss them to be lighter. Erika watched as her backpack landed on what was obviously solid sand before turning her attention to her sinking feet.

  Quicksand wasn’t deadly if dealt with correctly, but even still she felt panic rising within her. Slowly, but surely, she directed Russell on how to step up with his feet. She did her best to roll over onto her back and make it so that she could be upright.

  It felt like hours. Maybe it was. The task was brutal, made worse by her instincts screaming at her to go as fast as possible. Finally, they made it over to solid sand again. Out of breath, the two shared an embrace.

  Erika went to grab her backpack and put it back on. When she looked back at Russell, he still didn’t have his backpack, and his face had gone a pale shade of it’s normal hue.

  “Honey,” Erika began, keeping her tone as calm as possible. “Where’s your backpack?” Russell didn’t answer, but turned his head back towards the quicksand pit, illuminated now in the moon’s pale glow.

  Erika felt a tremor through her body. There was at least another week’s worth of food provisions in that backpack, but worse, the map was now lost. If they used her food they could make it through the three days, but what if they got lost? There had only been one map and Russell had taken it off the body of their driver.

  Erika’s hands were shaking. Her throat felt as if she had swallowed a mouthful of sand. There was nothing left but hope. Hope they were going in the right direction. Hope that the food would last. Hope that their suits wouldn’t malfunction.

  Hope that they would make it out alive. ___   So far, the food had been lasting, but the zombies seemed to be more aggressive as the temperatures increased. The stars had served as a decent map, but they weren’t a guarantee. With each passing day, the void of silence grew greater between them. They went almost whole days without speaking. It worked to preserve water, but Erika could feel the distance.

  Russell walked several feet ahead of her, his eyes darting around.. Always watching. Erika didn’t even try to keep up with him anymore. Whenever they hit a sand dune, they’d redirect to the main path.

  One time, they reached so far up a dune that they couldn’t see the path anymore. That was when Russell had said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can get you there.”

  Erika scoffed, “That’s silly. We’re doing fine, and it’s not like they’ll leave, right?”

  “If our truck didn’t make it they’ll assume we’re dead,” he shot back. She tried to keep herself composed, but her own doubts clung to her like a child to its mother’s leg.

  “We’ve done everything right,” Erika said. “Maybe they’ll even send out a search party for the truck. They have our identifications. They gave us the tickets!”

  Russell went silent.

  “They do know what we look like, right? They know who we are.” Erika was struck with a sudden realization that hurt worse than the heat and the hills. “How did you really get these tickets?” she demanded.   Russell then reluctantly told her a story different than the one he’d told her originally. That he’d lied about getting them in a raffle, but stole them from a coworker.

  “He left them lying around in the locker room after we were training in our suits,” Russell explained, his voice quiet. “He has a wife, but I know he hasn’t been a good husband to her. He’s not even that great of a guy at work! You know. You saw what he was like at the Christmas party.”

  “So I know him?”

  “He didn’t deserve it!” Russell exclaimed, gesturing with his hands. “Of all of the people on Earth he did not deserve to go.”

  “But what right did you have to choose that, Russell?!” Erika screamed, she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. “What makes us deserve it more than anyone else?”

  Silence.   Erika sighed. “It’s not like it matters that much, right?” Her voice had returned to normal. “It’s just a test after all.””

  Russell didn’t respond. A sob escaped from Erika’s mouth as all of the stress she felt boiled over, worsened because she knew. She knew that this couldn’t be just a test run. The way everyone rushed the process along- Ugh! That’s why they packed up and left the very day after Russell had supposedly “won” the tickets!

  As each piece of the puzzle came together Erika sobbed harder and harder.. She didn’t care how many zombies heard her. She didn’t care how dehydrated the taste of her tears would make her.

  There was an absent presence inside of her soul that made it hard to stand up and keep walking. Hope had been lost.

___   They’d lost time during the fight, but not too much. Erika’s feet dragged deep gashes into the sand, the weight of the only task pushing her forward.

  “We should get there within a few days,” Russell said, his voice warm. His eyes drooped, with exhaustion or a looming sadness Erika couldn’t tell. She didn’t care anymore. The man she knew would never hurt a soul to get ahead. Why did he do it?

  The sun began to peek it’s head above the horizon, bringing greater heat with it. Erika welcomed the pain as long as it kept her distracted. Soon, they would need to take shelter. Her eyelids grew heavier as they marched on.

  A large mass suddenly stopped Erika in her tracks. She stumbled backward to find that Russell had stopped moving, and was standing cold and frozen. The road dipped down into a valley, one that was cluttered with zombies packed together like sardines. They could make it around, just like all of the other hoards. Just... Bigger.

  Inch by inch, the pair made their way to the left, staying as far away as they could. Minutes felt like hours as the sun climbed higher and higher into the sky. Beads of sweat beat down Erika’s forehead, though her suit sounded like it was a dying cat as it worked to keep her cool.

  A quarter around.

  Halfway around.

  Three quarters around.

  Inches from a straight shot away from the zombies. Then, it happened.

  One tank, or both, let out a sound so loud that the moon could hear it. In an instant, Russell snatched her hand and dragged her after him. Erika didn’t dare look back out of fear for what she would find. Even after days of walking they could outrun the stumbling gait of a zombie. At least, that’s what Erika told herself.

  It was impossible to know who stumbled first, but one of them tripped. Russell snatched the knife from his boot and pushed Erika ahead of them. Erika couldn’t hear the moans behind her anymore, but they kept running.

  Erika turned her head to look back at Russell as they made their way up a dune. She got to see the horror in his face as she tripped and rolled all the way down the hill. When she finally stopped, her head ached, and she could hear a hissing noise from her back. That was the least of her worries as a moan sounded out to her right. Her heart stopped and in an instant she was tangled up on the ground with a zombie.

  Her body writhed as she struggled against the slender figure. It stared at her with pupils so dilated they were barely visible. Its mouth hung open as it let out a snarl, flinging saliva onto her helmet. With a mighty heave, she flung the zombie off of her just in time for Russell to finish it off.

  The relief was short lived as another zombie came up behind Russell. He sliced and kicked at it, but it seemed like it was stronger than the others. Erika managed to get up on her feet, but her head spun as soon as she stood up straight. Her vision blurred and her stomach heaved. She could barely make out Russell struggling against the zombie.

  She stumbled towards him, moving slower than the zombies. Her heart plummeted when she watched the zombie push Russell over, throwing itself on top of him. Panic vibrated through Erika’s body. She mustered all the strength she had left and launched herself at the zombie. They rolled off away from Russell, Erika managing to stay on top, holding down the writhing, disgusting being.

  Erika caught a glint of something in the sand. Russell’s knife. Without hesitation, she grabbed for the knife, digging her knee deep into the zombie’s hip. She raised her arm, knife in hand and, her heart thumping loudly in her chest, did what she had to do to survive.

___   Erika threw herself off of the body as soon as it stopped moving. Out of breath, she scurried across the sand to Russell. His chest moved in quick breaths as he lay motionless in the sand. Her heart sank. He stared straight ahead, not showing that he’d even seen her. Beads of sweat ran down his face as he panted.

  Erika looked down at the suit despite already knowing what she’d find. Three large gashes had been torn through the front of the fabric, even going through his undershirt. His skin was flushed and turning pinker by the second. She could feel his body beginning to shiver as she clutched to him.

  She struggled to reach her water tank. If she could maybe douse him in water it would help. When she unhooked the tank, her stomach sank at how light it felt. In the side were several little holes, likely from her fall down the dune.

  “No, no, no,” she chanted over and over. Her hands were placed on the sides of her husband’s helmet, staring deep into his eyes, silently begging him to pull off a miracle. Tears flooded down her cheeks, dripping onto the inside of her helmet.

  The man she loved would be dead in minutes. No, worse than dead. Turned. And there was nothing she could do about it. As she sat there, watching in shiver in the sand, she saw one last thing.

  “I love you,” he mouthed, but it was the next word that struck her hardest. “Go.”

___   Erika arrived at the space center, panting and almost depleted of the resources she got from her husband. Her pain was quenched by her determination only to survive. She gave her ticket, and her fake name. They let her in without question..

  As the sun came up, Erika stared out the circular window at the desert she’d traversed. All the miles she’d walked. The blood, sweat, and tears. The losses greater than she could have imagined when she started.

  She wanted to stay on that dune where her heart had broken once, but she really wanted to stay where it was broken the second time. It was those words echoing in her mind.

  “I love you,” she whispered into the nothing, the sound drowned out by the firing up of the shuttle’s engines. The shuttled propelled into space, leaving Earth behind, a shriveled up version of her former self.


CW: Gore, death, mutilation, depictions of assault, violence The Governor's hands shake with delight as he scribbles onto the slab of paper the plans for the new Church. His little piece of charcoal barely suffices for the massive plans shaping in that pinhead of his. He stays up until the break of dawn, a streak of sunlight floods into the musty wooden room. Daylight dancing across the finished architectural plans. The Governor clasps his hands together, a shy smile forming across his small face, "At last, the people of my town can praise our fine Heavenly Father." He scratches his stubble, then rolls the paper delicately. Wouldn't want to destroy his precious markings. As his feet find the mud that lingers outside of his luxurious home, he notices a strong metallic icky smell that makes him shudder. "What in God's name is that?" He turns his head left, then right, then left again where he notices a faint red painted onto the tall grayish grasses. He sighs bitterly, then begins to follow the red into the large field of tall grasses. As he walks, despising the stench, he notices he steps onto something mushy, like the mud outside his home. He looks down, and yelps. A dead cat, with its insides on the outside, lays before him. A footprint shown in the middle of its diaphragm. He looks ahead, trying to ignore the vivid image of the dead cat. He notices a group of girls dancing around in the forest. His eyebrows knit together in distress, whatever could this be? He approaches the girls, and says, "What the hell is going on here?" They look at him with black eyes and merely reply, "Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour." 1 Peter 5:8-9 . The Governor groans and throws his hands up in the air, recognizing each of the girls easily. Polly Shepard, Maisie Williams, and their ringleader, Talia Smith. The citizens of the Church always looked down on these girls and their families, they were at the bottom of the social status of course, who could bear to be associated with them? But The Governor always had a dreadful feeling around these girls, his stomach twisted and spun, his heart pumped blood at a notorious rate. He rubbed his temples delicately, then stared at each of the black-eyed girls, "If you three spawns of Satan are practicing the devil's teachings, then you'll all be hung. Thou shall not practice that of the devil on my premises." "Governor, you worry we are practicing the wishes of the devil ?!" Polly rolls her eyes mischievously, then adjusts the bonnet atop her head, "How could that be?" "We are well-minded Church-followers, sir, hast the people of our town rotted your brain, Governor?" Peeps Maisie, she wraps a strand of golden hair around her slim finger, the Governor's heart rate palpitates, not because he is frightened, but because of the beauty of this young girl. Maisie must feel the Governor's clear attraction towards her because she immediately stares at the mud before them. "Governor, you shouldn't be fearful." Talia waves her hands in front of her in defense, "Don't be frightened." A devilish smile lingers on Talia's face before the Governor turns his body and faces back towards the village. He hears the little giggles of the girls, and he turns his head slightly to face them, but finds nothing. They are gone. The Governor clears her throat, and begins to preoccupy his mind with the architectural plans. *** "What the hell?" Peter scoffs, he rubs his eyes meticulously, then stares at his younger sister Maisie with shifty brown eyes. "Peter don't be frightened" She reaches out to her older brother, but he flinches. "You're a devil! Satan's incarnate you...y-you..." He trails off shaking his head, the feeling of the warm stinging blood dripping down his back envelopes him into his own fever dream. Maisie traces the mysterious symbol with the tip of her finger. Peter feels goosebumps rise as he acknowledges his sister's cold fingertips etching his back. "I did not commit this terrible act, 'fore I do not practice the teachings of the devil, dear brother." Maisie retorts, her sweet voice gives Peter a toothache. "Where the hell did it come from then?!" Peter seethes sarcastically, the back of his hand meets Maisie's face, she finds herself on the ground. "Brother, I do not know of your sins, but perhaps the devil is taking you away because of your acts." Maisie rubs her hand against the wood below them, then looks up at her brother with blue eyes, "You mustn't be afraid." Peter scowls then stands in front of his reflection, and turns his head to the left to stare at his own bare back, a bright, glowing pentacle stares right back at him. *** "Yes and Doctor Joseph was so scared he near threw up into the well." "I heard that Peter is now the Devil's host." "Best watch out for those troublesome Willams and all those other rats." The hens cluck as the ladies run their mouths. Talia grips her basket tighter as she overhears the town gossip. As she plucks eggs and rests them into her wicker basket, she hears approaching footsteps behind her, and notices she is cornered in the hen house. She turns around and is met with Henry and Charles, the righteous boys. "I heard you and your little Satan worshippers are carving into our mates." Henry says, jabbing his oily finger into Talia's chest. Charles takes a bite out of a yellow apple, chews it up in his mouth, this spits it out at Talia. She flinches, letting the chum fly past her. "I do not practice the teachings of the devil, for I only worship one God." She points her finger upwards, the boys begin to whoop with laughter. "She says she isn't a devil worshipper? How amusing." Charles scoffs, Talia can smell the sweetness of the apple. Henry grabs her arm abruptly, Talia becomes panicked. He licks her arm slowly, his dark eyes cut through Talia, the saliva resonates upon her bare arm. Charles grabs her by the waist and whispers in her ear, "Begone, devil." *** Polly hears the screams loudly in her head, bouncing back and forth and around, playing double-dutch in her brain. She drops the basket of yellow apples, and begins to run out of the sour-smelling orchard. "Polly where are you going?!" Her father yells after her, but she is being pulled towards something. When she stands in front of the hen house, she notices Maisie beside her, their black eyes study the hen house, then they enter it. Henry has his hands holding Talia's face as Charles holds her arms behind her back. They arrived just in time before Henry and Charles could proceed in their terrible crimes. "Look, the other devils have come to play." Charles sneers. Those were his last words. *** "They're devil's! All of them!" Cries the Governor, the cold lifeless hands of the righteous boys clutched in his, "Everything is changing!" He stares at the peculiar pentacle deeply carved into the boys. Their eyes are missing from their sockets, blood slithers from the eye's beholder's onto the pointy grass. The mob had clustered the girls into their circle of hate. Shouting insults and the Priest reciting samples from the Bible over the wave of noise, "Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." James 4:7. Each of the girls study the mob insightfully, black eyes intertwine with their natural God-given eyes, the devil has forever taken them. The Governor begins to quiet them down, urging them to listen to what he has to say, "These girls have been nothing but trouble!" He nods to the obeying crowd, and nods to the Priest. The Priest then reads directly from his hefty Bible, "But if it is by the finger of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you." Luke 11:20. *** The rope rubs against Talia's neck, she distributes weight between one leg to another, the hollow wooden boards under her squeak with delight. The Gallows had been waiting for them. "Because of the use of Satanism and disrespect to our Heavenly Father, and the murders of the righteous boys, Polly Shepard, Maisie Williams, and..." The Governor's voice cracks, "Talia Smith have been sentenced to...d-death!" There is no hesitation as the boards under them are removed, and the snapping noise vibrates the Earth below them. The sound made the people feel satisfied, yet an acrid scent punched their noses and an acidic feeling remained in their stomachs. The three girl's families whooped with glee, except for Polly's father, he looked upset, but still a shimmer of glee swirled in his eyes. They had received the perfect gift, their wretched daughters had been removed from their beloved town, no more witchcraft or devil-worshipping. What a delectable gift. What a tasty treat. A meaningful ending. A match drawn in the darkness. At last, The Governor's town was free of darkness, that was his gift. Building the Church was now the only thing on his mind. That night, the bodies of three young girls swung with the cold breeze. *** Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. Ephesians 6:11


The spell was more complicated than I had anticipated, requiring ingredients that weren’t exactly standard fare in our spell kits. I had to gather them all under the cloak of night, sneaking through the shadows of the campus, hoping no one would ask too many questions. First, there was the lock of hair from a true artist—this one I “borrowed” from the head of a particularly talented upperclassman who had a habit of brushing his hair in the common room. Next, a drop of ink from a quill that had written a masterpiece. For that, I made a visit to the restricted section of the library, where the dusty old tomes sat untouched for centuries, and carefully siphoned a single drop from the oldest one I could find. Then, the feather of a raven, symbolizing the link between life and death, creativity and destruction. That one had been the easiest to find, plucked from a bird that frequented the woods just outside the school. Finally, the hardest of all—one tear of frustration, spilled during a moment of creative block. That one, of course, was my own contribution, shed during one of my many late nights spent staring at a blank canvas. I laid the items carefully within the salt circle, each one placed at the point of a pentagram I’d drawn with ground moonstone. The spellbook was open to the summoning page, its ancient words practically vibrating with power. As I began to chant, I could feel the energy in the room shift. The air thickened, humming with potential as I recited the incantation: "From the depths of creation’s core, I call upon the muse of yore. With ink and feather, tear and hair, Manifest before me here and there. Inspire my hand, inflame my mind, Bring forth the vision, unbind." The final word echoed in the room as the candle snuffed out, leaving only the soft glow of the circle. When he appeared, he was more than just a muse. He was a living, breathing embodiment of temptation. My breath caught as he stepped out of the circle, his dark eyes locking onto mine. He moved with a predator’s grace, and as he drew near, I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “You have no idea what you’ve called forth, do you?” His voice was a low rumble, sending a shiver down my spine. “I... I need inspiration,” I managed to say, though my voice sounded small in the charged air between us. “Inspiration?” he repeated, a smirk playing on his lips. He reached out, trailing his fingers through my hair, his touch light but electric. “Is that all you desire, Lyla?” My heart pounded in my chest as he leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “What if I could give you more than that?” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. “What if I could make you feel things you’ve never felt before?” I swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. His hand slid down to my neck, fingers tracing the line of my throat, sending tingles through my entire body. “Let me in,” he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. “Let me show you what true inspiration feels like.” I should have been terrified, but instead, I found myself leaning into his touch, craving more of the warmth he radiated. “What do I have to do?” I asked, my voice barely more than a breathless whisper. “Just let go,” he replied, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below my ear. “Let me guide you.” My head spun as his other hand found its way to the small of my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. His touch was intoxicating, his presence overwhelming, and I felt my knees go weak. “Close your eyes,” he instructed, his voice a dark melody. I obeyed, and the world around me dissolved into nothing but sensation. His hands, now tracing down my arms, left trails of fire in their wake. I could feel his breath on my neck, hot and tantalizing, as he whispered words of encouragement that sent shivers through my entire being. “Feel the energy, Lyla,” he murmured, his voice like silk against my ear. “Feel the magic within you, begging to be released. You’re holding back... let it out. Let me see all of you.” My breath hitched as he pressed his body against mine, his heat seeping into my skin. I could feel his lips barely brushing against my neck, each touch a promise of something more. “You have so much potential, so much power,” he continued, his voice a dark whisper. “But you have to be willing to give in to it. To give in to me.” Something inside me snapped, a floodgate opening that I hadn’t even realized was there. My hand gripped the brush tightly as I began to paint, my movements fueled by a fire I had never felt before. The muse’s presence was overwhelming, his touch, his voice, every breath he took sending waves of desire through me. I lost myself in the rhythm, in the way he moved with me, guiding my hand as I painted with a fervor I had never known. Each stroke was a release, each line a surrender to the passion he was pulling from me. When I finally opened my eyes, panting and trembling, the canvas was filled with a vibrant swirl of colors and emotions. I had poured my very soul into the painting, and it was alive with magic. The muse stepped back, a satisfied smile on his lips as he looked at me. “You did well, Lyla,” he said, his voice laced with approval. “You’ve unlocked something inside you, something powerful.” I could only nod, still catching my breath, my body thrumming with the aftershocks of the experience. He leaned in one last time, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Remember, whenever you need me... just call.” And with that, he was gone, leaving behind only the lingering warmth of his touch and the memory of his voice echoing in my mind.


My heart had been freshly broken. I reeked of instability and pain, not an ideal combination. My 16 year old self longed for something to latch onto, not yet knowing the comfort of being alone. His name was Case. A funny name, he told me his dad named him after a case of beer. Could have been one of his many lies, or one of his many stories. There was always a fine line between the two. I met him at a local fast food restaurant, thanks to one of my friends' matchmaking efforts. He was wearing a thick puffy jacket, despite it being quite a warm spring. He held himself in a way that made you intrigued. You could tell just by looking, darkness swam behind those crystal blue eyes.

He was my ultimate downfall, but I didn’t know that when we sat on the dock that day, smoking a joint that his dad had rolled for us. I watched the waves as he told me about his childhood. About stealing a car when he was 14, or being sent to jail for hitting his mom. He always reassured me it was a misunderstanding, it was all just a big misunderstanding. And I believed him. His words were like a taste of tequila, I gulped them down wanting more. I depended on his words. I became an addict to them. Because over time, his actions began to speak differently. But his words, oh his words were so beautiful. He twisted them and screamed them and choked me with them. They were all I ever wanted. His beautiful chaos blinded me. I was a drunk for his torture. And the more I hung onto him, the more I let go of the life around me.

I watched him turn his back on me as I was handcuffed and put into the back of a police cruiser. And I swore to myself in that moment I’ve never loved anything more.

I stayed with him after that. My relationship with my parents had crumbled, but I was happy, because he needed me, and I was in need of being needed. His dad kept my loneliness at bay. The house was empty except for him and I most days. We swapped stories about our lives and our passions and mistakes. He was the father figure I was craving. But an addict isn’t someone a 16 year old should want as a father figure. I realized that just a few short days after staying with them. It all started with a simple pair of volleyball shorts. My belongings at this time were far and few, including a pair of tennis shoes, two pairs of shorts and one shirt. I was pulled aside by Case’s dad. He told me my shorts were distracting, he said I needed to change. I didn’t argue, though at the time I was puzzled as to what I had done wrong. I left the next day. It all happened very fast. Living with someone like his dad was unpredictable, one day he was fine, but the next he was on a path of destruction. The day I left happened to be one of those days. His father's girlfriend claimed I was trying to seduce him. My own boyfriend's father. She said the time I was spending with him and the clothes I chose to wear made me a dirty whore. In a rampage they told me I had brought demons into the house, they told me they couldn’t sleep ever since I came to stay, along with other terrible, degrading jabs. I was shocked, but once again I didn’t fight it. I still had Case. My beautiful addiction.

The next day his father hit him in the back of the head with an acoustic guitar. And our trail of fire commenced. I snuck him into my house for weeks. I cut off all my friends. My mind had only one thought; him. After Cases’ dad gave up his parental rights, Case was sent to foster care.

I chose to leave my family behind and live in an apartment with two friends. I couldn’t bear to be alone so I enclosed myself with people I thought were good for me. But no matter how much good you think you’re doing for yourself, if all the closest people in your life have vanished, leaving with words of warning, you aren’t doing good for yourself.

I wrote to him every day. My heart yearned for him every single day. I cried for him every night, wondering what he was thinking, if he was thinking of me.

Turns out I had just been one of the many girls he was preying on. But I didn’t know that. Maybe that would have stopped me from driving up to the foster care he was at in the middle of the night. Maybe if I knew that I wouldn’t have taken him home with me. Maybe if I knew that I was the victim of a fucked up, malicious, manipulative liar, I wouldn’t have lied to the police when they came knocking at my door. My heart belonged to him, and I couldn’t risk falling apart again. So I destroyed my entire life to keep him in mine. But they found us. They tracked us with dogs through the woods. I burned for his love, I willingly ran with him, doing anything to protect him, my heart. But they took us away. They took him away from me. After that

I cut my hair, I left every memory of him on the floor with all the blonde tendrils. Because I finally found out who he was. I found the messages, telling other girls I was just some girl he talked to a few times. Leaving out the months I spent crying myself to sleep, holding his shirt because he was my world, my addiction. He didn't mention the times when we had to pack bags before we went to sleep because we weren’t sure we were going to have a place to stay the next day. He forgot about his dad taking money from me to get high.

No.

I was just a girl he talked to a few times.


Ryan looks up at the stars in the night sky.A strong chilling breeze is blowing from the right side.He is sitting on a rock enjoying the night sky and the mountains covered with darkness.The fire in front of  the army camp is hardly visible from here.This place is exceptionally quiet and fully covered with snow. "Comrade Ryan, are you there?" Ryan's train of  thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice.Ryan looks back, a giant figure comes out of the dark.Fellow soldier, Ayush Sharma approaches towards him."Why are you sitting here alone in the darkness?Are you sad?" Ryan sighs "My mother is admitted to a hospital in a serious condition.My elder brother called me in the evening.I don’t think she will survive.The doctor is not very optimistic. I wish I could go back to home,to my mother." Ayush sits beside him and puts an arm on his back.In a deep voice he tries to console him, "I can understand your conflict.But you are sacrificing everything for a noble cause.You may not attend your biological mother at this moment,but you can protect your another MOTHER here.That will make your mother proud." -"Is the news confirmed?" -"Yes,I had a chat with Lieutenant,the news is confirmed.We might get into action in the next week." Ryan looks up at the stars again.From his childhood whenever he is sad he quietly looks at the stars.He thinks about his mother, his elder brother, Sumita,his wife and Kush,his 10 years old son whom he has seen only twice since his birth. He wonders if Kush could recognize him if one day Ryan turns up at house.He recalls how happy his mother was when he joined the army.He could see the admiration and pride in his parents' eyes when he came from training.The first time he came home after joining was his father's funeral.The next time he came to attend his marriage and he had to leave Sumita the very next day. Sumita is very supportive for the few times they met and have brought up Kush of her own. He has always wished to serve his country from a early age but at this moment he realizes that he wants to spend some time with his family too and to show them that he cares for them as well. -“Don’t worry, your mother will be fine.Let’s focus on the task we have in our hand . Major General Anand Tripathi will reveal the full plan tomorrow.Let’s go to the camp now.You need rest.” Ryan comes down of the rock,almost jumping from his spot.Both of them walks silently towards the camp leaving behind the silence and snow although the night stars keep following Ryan.The fire has been put off and the chilling wind has picked up speed.Ryan is reluctant to have dinner but Ayush insists him.After dinner both of them have a chat with Captain Satraj Singh about their preparation.Afrer the conversation Ryan goes to bed,picks up a story book and starts reading. But his mind is scattered and hardly can concentrate upon the book. The next morning they have their usual training and exercises. Ryan feels more fresh and enthusiastic in the morning. At around 11 am Major General Tripathi asks them to gather together for the planning and instructions. -“As many of you might know we have a information that some terrorists are planning to invade the local village and attack on us. According to our source there may be a group of fifty people.We need to be careful and precise with our planning and striking.” For the next 1 hour he revealed the entire planning of the mission. They are supposed to go there the day after tomorrow and ambush themselves. The next two days passes in a blink of eye in all the preparation and arrangement. Lieutenant boosts the troops in the evening. Next morning they all wake up very early in the morning.After breakfast, as they are about to start their journey a call arrives for Ryan from his elder brother breaking down in tears. Ryan just cannot cry,he becomes speechless.For the first time in his life he curses his job and wishes to leave everything and go to his mother for one last time. Her face keeps appearing in front of his eyes.Then he recalls what Ayush have said, he have to protect his MOTHER .Ryan tries hard to focus on his mission but his mind keeps going back to the house where his mother is asleep on the bed peacefully for the last time.All the memories keeps rushing in. The troops seek full co-operation from the villagers and urges them to have faith in the troops.The village is evacuated soon.Ryan with his fellow soldiers are positioned in a particular direction. A dense fog, which they saw approaching on the way, covers everything.After few minutes sudden gunshots from a close range followed by scream of Ayush shakes up everyone.Ryan looks to his right side and finds Ayush lying on the ground with a bullet right into his left shoulder. -“Ayush,Ayush are you okay?” he rushes to Ayush and almost falls on his body. -“I---will---be---fine.You---should-------start--------moving-----now…” he completes his sentence with utmost difficulty,almost whispering last few words.His heart is beating at a very fast pace.Captain Satraj orders the troops, “We have to move forward now.If we keep waiting here in the fog,we will get shot.Ryan, you stay at the shelter with Ayush.” Ryan nods.The team vanishes into the fog.The visibility has become less than 50 meters now.After few mintues he could hear rapid gunshots and occasional scream of the victims.Suddenly he reckons the approach of a group of people nearby with faint noise of footsteps.He holds his rifle and becomes alert.He drags Ayush to a corner of the room. Now, Ryan is sure it must be terrorists,somehow sneaked through.THIS IS THE MOMENT TO MAKE BOTH MOTHERS PROUD.As soon as they enter the room the rifle roars and a body falls on the ground,screaming. The others run away leaving behind something at a distance.Ryan approaches to see it. The object is nothing but a grenade and it blasts, BOOM!The last thing Ryan remembers the explosion and tremendous amount of heat and then it all becomes black.The troops comes rushing to shelter only to find his body scattered into pieces. Ryan feels very light like a thin air as he keeps moving until a soft hand taps on his shoulder.He turns back and finds his mother with a broad smile in her face. -“I’m very proud of you my son.” She holds his chin.Tears rolling down her wrinkled check. -“I wanted to go home and see you but I could not leave my national duty.” -“I know.Now look down and tell me what you can see.” as she embraces Ryan. Ryan looks down.He can see his own house and a huge crowd in front of his house. A coffin covered with the national flag is placed in the middle.Sumita and Kush wailing in a distance with his elder brother.Finally Ryan could reach home being embraced by both of his M o T h E rs.