      “It can’t be…”            “Oh my God! ”            “What are you doing here?”            “What are YOU doing here?”            “It’s good to see you.”            “You’re looking good.”            “Thank you… it’s been, what—”            “Two years.”            “I can’t even… fathom that.”            “Well, fathom it.”            “… I hope you don’t mind, I already ordered.”            “Oh, that’s okay—”            “Daniel, I’m kidding.”            “You looked so serious!”            “Of course I waited for you. What do I look like?”            “Yourself?”            “Good one.”            “Have you been here before?”            “No. Have you?—Or, never mind…”            “I haven’t been anywhere around here in two years.”            “Yes, that is true.”            “Too true, too true.”            “Oof, is that the line?”            “I think so… Out the door? I thought this was a coffee shop.”            “It’s actually a secret Eminem concert.”            “Eminem?! Is that the first person you could think of?”            “No comment.”            “You’ve changed.”            “Shut up, I hate when people say that.”            “That you’ve changed?”            “They make it sound like change is a bad thing.”            “I mean, sometimes it can be a bad thing, can’t it? I know everyone likes to say otherwise, but I know that when my dog died, it was definitely a negative life change.”            “Wow, point taken.”            “Do you think all change is good in some way?”            “Why are you asking me this right now?”            “Don’t know.”            “Anyway, I can’t answer—I’m trying to figure out what to order.”            “You can read that?? It’s all shapes from here.”            “You can’t read that? It’s only like twelve feet away!”            “You’re proving my point.”            “… This is so weird.”            “What is?”            “Being together. But at the same time, I don’t feel like it’s been that long since we last saw each other.”            “Well, two years isn’t that long in the grand scheme of life.”            “I think I’m gonna get a matcha.”            “Since when do you drink matcha?”            “Since I started working at a coffee shop at school.”            “Ahh, so that’s how the caffeine addiction started…”            “I know, I bet it’s written all over my face.”            “What’re you studying again?”            “Social psychology.”            “Mmm. Freud is such a… funny dude.”            “I mean, yeah, but he is a foundational figure in psychology—”            “Blah blah blah…”            “Rude.”            “It’s a joke.”            “What are you going to get?”            “I don’t know, I probably shouldn’t have coffee. Maybe a tea?”            “What kind of tea?”            “Green… tea?”            “Why do you sound so suspicious when you say it?”            “Oh—you don’t want to know.”            “At least the line’s moving.”            “Well, anyway, social psychology sounds like you.”            “I’d hope so.”            “I remember in high school you were into serial killers and stuff like that. Y’know, Jon Benet.”            “Jon Benet’s not a serial killer.”            “You know what I mean.”            “You’re international business, right?”            “Yes.”            “Whatever that means…”            “Or, I was— I actually deferred. I’m gonna take a gap year.”            “Really?”            “Yeah, just decided.”            “Wow. Big decision.”            “It just felt like the right thing to do. I wanna focus on myself. Figure out what I want to do.”            “Still don’t know?”            “Does anyone?”            “Okay, that’s a valid point.”            “You know I think I want to go to Costa Rica.”            “Costa Rica? Where did that come from?”            “I don’t know. My aunt went there when she was young. Said it changed her life.”            “This is your aunt you live with now?”            “The very same.”            “I mean, I’m sure it’s amazing there…”            “Where do you want to travel?”            “I don’t know really.”            “You have to know. Everyone daydreams about where they’ll go one day.”            “Not me.”            “You’re joking.”            “Fine. Scotland.”            “ Scotland ???”            “What’s wrong with Scotland? Costa Rica is just as random as Scotland!”            “I mean, Costa Rica makes more sense—”

           “No it doesn’t, you’re biased!”            “I mean, for me it makes more sense. I’ll go—take my camera, fly solo—”            “What are you saying, that I wouldn’t belong in Scotland?”            “Hey, I’m sorry. You belong in Scotland.”            “Thank you.”            “I’m thinking of going at the end of this year. Supposed to be good weather.”            “Hmm…”            “What’s that look?”            “What look?”            “That one.”            “That’s not a look, that’s just my face. I’m thinking.”            “Don’t judge me, okay?”            “I’m not judging you! Have I ever judged you?”            “I don’t know, have you?”            “Daniel, please.”            “So, are you gonna be a fancy psychologist or something when you graduate?”            “I’d have to go to grad school for that, so probably not.”            “I feel like that’d be right up your alley.”            “Really? I don’t.”            “I don’t know—you’ve just always been really smart. Like, academic. I’ve always thought you’ll do something big and important.”            “Eesh, I don’t know about that.”            “I don’t know why you doubt yourself.”            “Can I change the subject?”            “It’s a free country.”            “Can I ask about your last relationship?”            “Well…”            “It’s just you were so vague and mysterious over text. I’m kind of dying to know.”            “God, you’re always in my business!”            “I know, I’m horrible!”            “It was only for a few months. We broke up just before I came down to visit. It was okay, amicable, it just got complicated because she graduated—”            “She was a senior?”            “…yes?”            “Okay, go on.”            “Why are you so surprised?”            “I said go on!”            “I attract mature, interesting women.”            “Yuck. Go. On.”            “There’s not much else. That’s it, actually.”            “Boring.”            “You asked.”            “Well, thanks for bringing me up to date.”            “What about you?”            “What about me?”            “Have you let any man into the impenetrable Frances-Fortress?”            “I don’t like the way you worded that.”            “Sorry. But have you?”            “What does it matter?”            “You’re blushing!”            “I’m not!”            “You totally have.”            “I totally haven’t.”            “Really?”            “Don’t make it weird.”            “It’s by choice, then. Sending them on their way…”            “I don’t know what makes you say that…”            “Do I have to spell it out?”            “Look—we’re almost up. Do you know what you want?”            “… No, I’ll have to ask what teas they have.”            “It says they have green pomegranate, sencha, or peach green.”            “Ooh! Peach green.”            “I’d have picked the pomegranate.”            “Typical.”            “No, I’m getting a matcha.”            “That’s right—I stand corrected. You’re so unpredictable.”            “Are you being sarcastic?”            “When have I ever been sarcastic?”            “You’re being so sarcastic right now.”            “Is it that obvious?”            “Is everyone in Canada this sarcastic?”            “No, they’re all just terribly, terribly nice.”            “It sounds absolutely awful.”            “I know, you should come visit me next time.”


Halloween night in the town of Castle Falls is always one of the biggest events of the year, and this year should not disappoint. As darkness fills the night, children dressed as their favorite princess, witch or wizard, superhero, and ghastly ghoul begin infiltrating the neighborhood in search of the next door to knock and scream out “Trick or Treat!!!” for the delight of the next holder of candy and treats.

The people of Castle Falls are a festive bunch and they take pride in celebrating their holidays, and it is not uncommon for neighbors to compete for each year in who has the most elaborate decorated yard or home. Halloween is among the top each year! “Here we are at the home of Jasper Jenkins, last year’s winner of the best-decorated yard,” Melissa Green of Channel 8 said holding her microphone in hand speaking to the people of Castle Falls in a live broadcast. “As you know Jasper won with his creative scene of skeletons and zombie rising from their underground crypts in the front yard,” she added. “What can we expect this year Jasper, are you going to retain your title,” she asked holding the mic to Jasper’s face.

“Well, I hope to have great things in store this year, so we’ll see,” answered Jasper. “Well, there you have it, Castle Falls, we’ll have to wait until later to see who will hold this year’s crown. Until then, this is Melissa Green with your news for you, Channel 8,” she said smiling at the camera. She then directed her cameraman to grab some video of the activities going on around them. Unseen by anyone were two figures hovering high above hidden in the darkness of the night sky. Two witches, Lenora and Matilda, are sitting on broomsticks hovering and talking.

“Where is Grace,” said Lenora hastily to Matilda.

Matilda, gazing down and smiling at all the children, teenagers, and adults moving from door to door, replied with a shrug of her shoulders, “I don’t know, you know she’s never on time.” Just then with a woosh overhead came Grace swooping in on her broom laughing and cackling loudly as she circled her two friends so close it made Lenora lose her balance forcing her steady herself firmly.

“Heedeehoo ladies,” cackled Grace. “Are ye ready for a bit ‘o fun tonight?” “Oh, you silly wart! Why are you always such a whacky git,” said Lenora. “Lennie, are you sure you’re sitting on that thing, or is it stuck up your butt again,” asked Grace laughing. “C’mon ladies… it’s Hall’ween night! This is our night, our grand night, and we’re gunna give this town an experience they’ll ne’er forget,” Grace said excitedly! Grace stopped circling her friends and came to rest and hovering next to Lenora smiling at her she gave her a little nudge on her shoulder and a wink of the eye. Lenora acted like she didn’t notice and looking out into the sky. “Lennie,” Grace said playfully. Lenora still staring out deep into space, gave a quick glance toward Grace from her peripheral.

“You silly git,” said Lenora, also while breaking a slight grin. The three looked down over the town giggling and pointing at the townspeople. “So where are we anyway,” asked Grace. Matilda with eyebrows raised and a confused looked on her face said, “Falling Castle… no, Castle Rock… no, Rock of the Castle….” “Castle Falls you silly goof,” said Lenora. “Yeah, that’s what I said,” nodding Matilda. Grace and Lenora rolled their eyes and shaking their head at each other. Matilda was not always the sharpest knife in the drawer at times. “OK, so what we gunna do,” asked Grace with a menacing tone. “I wanna make a huge furry tarantula come out of the house there,” said Matilda pointing excitedly at the gray two-story house. Grace and Lenora looking at the house, and then at each other shrugged their shoulders and replied to Matilda simultaneously, “Ok.”

“Yeah, go ‘fer it,” said Grace. Matilda reaching into her tattered black cloak, she pulled out a crooked wood wand. She begins to mumble a spell and waving her wand, “In this night may you be a fright, don’t be mean, but may you make ‘em scream!” And with a flick of her wand, a bright flash shot out towards the house. The witches leaned forward on the edge of the broomsticks tilting down in the sky, with their eyes wide open and huge grins on their faces, the waited in anticipation. “Mom, mom… look what I got” shouted a 10-year-old green Incredible Hulk as he opened up his trick-or-treat bag. His mother looking inside and sharing in his excitement. Just then they both felt the ground rumble and shake making a deep grumbling noise. The boy Hulk grabbed his mom around the waist. “What was that,” he said with a shaky voice. Mom, with her arms wrapped around her son’s shoulders, shook her head, “I don’t know Jake.” The two, along with everyone else in the immediate area who also felt the rumbling and shaking stood still looking around and waiting to see if it happened again. Everyone was thinking the same thing, “earthquake, here, in Castle Falls.”

Suddenly, the ground shook stronger! And a loud crashing noise of wood and shattering glass erupted from the gray two-story home that Jake had just run from the front door, and he and his mom stood on the sidewalk knelt down and she covered herself over him.

Just then a yell from a tiny princess a few yards down as four long, large fuzzy tarantula legs sprouted out of the top of the house… followed by two large spider fangs, shiny eyes, a fat plump body, and followed by four long, furry back legs as a tarantula perched on the half-destroyed house. Random screams rang out throughout the neighborhood in Castle Falls, and kids and parents ran away, some fainted where they stood, and some were frozen in place with their mouths gaped open and scream-less. “Ha… ha… ha! Good one Matilda,” shouted Grace. “Ok, Lennie, your turn!” Lenora sat on her broomstick, with a pondering look as she thought for a moment. “Oh, c’mon Lennie, give ‘em someth’n good you slow twit,” cackled Grace.  Ok, ok… I’ve got it. Quit rushing me. You got somewhere to be ‘ye old bat,” Lenora shot back. Grace shrugged her shoulder and scrunched her face and shamefully replied, “Well, no.” Lenora, with wand in hand began to say a mumbled spell that Grace and Matilda couldn’t quite hear. And with a large circular swoosh and three flicks of her wand, three flashes shot out of her wand and soared into the sky above Castle Falls. Matilda and Grace sat and stared at Lenora as she sat perched on her broom as if nothing was about to happen. She gazed over at the other two witches and as if surprised she said, “What?” as shrugged her shoulder and put her hands up. “Welllllll… What did you do,” said Grace. Grinning deceptively, “You’ll see.” Grace and Matilda with eyes wide open looking at Lenora, and then turned quickly to the town of Castle Falls in excited wonder. Just then, a loud swoosh shot over the three witches heads with a strong wind that followed, almost knocking Grace off her broom. Three large black figures soared over the homes and townspeople. “OH MY GOD,” shouted a dad pointing overhead.

“BATS!!!!!” And he quickly dove behind a row of evergreen shrubs, leaving his wife and kids to fend for themselves. Three black bats swooped down dive-bombing over the heads of the kids and parents scattering in even more directions trying to find cover and hiding places.

Some found refuge as homeowners let some come into their homes. Others lammed their doors shut and locked them quickly as they ran to their basements or other hiding places. Some flicking their lights off as if that would help. High above, the three witches laughed out loud. Matilda was laughing so hard she was laying on her back on her broomstick nearly rolling off one side. With tears in her eyes from laughter, Grace looked over at Lenora and laughed even harder. “Oh my… oh my Lennie… did you see them! They ran like little chickens, ducking and hiding… ohhhhhh my!” Grace cackled out loud. The three continued to gaze at their creations, a large tarantula crawling from house to house, and the bats swooping down and then back up high into the sky only to swoop back down nipping at the townspeople with their fangs. Channel 8’s cameraman was hunkered down in his news van with one of his back doors partially opened as he broadcasted the horror live on TV.

“Are you getting this,” shouted Melissa Green! The cameraman could only nod as he looked on in amazement. Melissa Green, still outside of Jasper Jenkins's home, ran up to his front door and banged loudly.

No answer. She banged and kicked his door even louder. Jasper ran to the door, looked out, and saw her standing at the door.

He quickly opened it, “Quick, quick, get inside,” he cried out. “Jasper, turn whatever this is off! You’re scaring everyone to death,” she yelled at him. “It’s…it…it’s not me doing th, th, this,” he stuttered and shaking in horror. Melissa Green looked back at this once joyful neighborhood and looked on in total shock. She quickly ran back to her news van. She climbed into the driver’s seat, turned it on, revved the engine and threw it into gear, and floored it tossing her cameraman out of the back door and dropping to the ground. The camera still rolling. “Ok, Grace, you’re up,” said Lenora. Rubbing her old, frail, warted hands together, she looked at both of her friends, “Just you wait and see this,” she said with one eye squinted. Perched on her broomstick, Grace flung open her dark cloak and displayed her old wand, and recited her spell. “The night is young, and the time is right for you to enter the fight. Of bones and steel, it’s time to make ‘em squeal, so from the ground below, rise up to fight ‘yer foe.” A flick of the wand and flash of light shot out and into the ground. “Ohhh…. Ohhh… I can’t wait to see,” giggled Matilda clapping her hands together. The ground began to shake and rumble, and the townspeople stopped where they stood and tried to find firm footing as the ground shook. They grabbed on to fences, and mailboxes, lampposts, and the nearest car to keep from falling over. Below their feet, the ground began to crumble and open as bony skeleton hands dug out from the ground. Quickly skeletons and zombie-like creatures began to rise up from the ground and battle each other. The skeletons and zombies began to attack one another, punching with bony and decaying fists. One zombie kicked a skeleton only to have his foot crumble and fall off its leg. A skeleton punched a nearby zombie and the bony fist pushed into the zombie’s gooey flesh and found it stuck in the zombie’s chest.

A dad nearby dry-heaved into a bush as he watched. A mom picked up her young daughter and ran off to their home to escape. A small army of zombies and skeletons fought each other for the next hour throughout the neighborhood as they destroyed car windows, mailboxes, and stomped on plastic jack-o-lanterns scattering the candy all about. With a flick of Matilda’s wand, her tarantula attacked and ate a zombie. Lenora laughed out loud! Lenora flicked her wand and one of the large bats swooped down and gobbled up a skeleton. “Hey!” shouted Grace. “That’s not funny,” she said with a pouty face. “Oh, come on, it’s getting late,” said Lenora. “I think we’ve scared these people long enough,” she added. “What, you’ve got somewhere to be,” retorted Grace. “Well, actually, I have a date,” replied Lenora. “Whaaaaaa… wit who,” cried Grace. “Ohhh, it’s no one, just an old wizard I met,” she said. “Are you blushing, old wart fang,” said Grace. “Now… mind your business. It’s none of your old swamp wart’s business,” Lenora shot back. “I bet it’s that old crusty wizard Horatio,” said Matilda. “Horatio! That old swamp crust,” cried out Grace laughing and cackling! Lenora now red in the face from either anger or blushing, it was hard to tell, shot an evil eye at the two other witches. “You’re just jealous,” she said as the witches slowly started to fly away. “Jealous! HA!,” cried out Grace. “You can have that old goat crud. Him with old raspy gargle voice, and his wart crust. Why if he ‘wer the last swamp wart in ‘da bog, I’d rather kiss a newt’s butt,” claimed Grace. Lenora was silent. “What, I like Horatio,” said Matilda flying behind them. “He’s always nice to me,” she added. “Agh… and he always smells like old grims blood brew,” Grace added. As the witches flew off, the town of Castle Falls was in chaos with a tarantula eating zombies and skeletons, and large bats swooping down and picking off skeletons and zombies one by one. Most of the townspeople had fled indoors to their homes, garages, and basements for shelter.

The channel 8 cameraman still laid in the road unconscious, the camera still broadcasting live. Many of Castle Falls watched on their TV’s, heads tilted to one side of the angled image from the camera. Matilda slowed down and looked back at Castle Falls, she giggled a bit.

Raised her wand, mumbled a spell, and flicked her wand three times. Three flashes shot from her wand and scattered out above the town like a large firework when it explodes high in the sky.

One by one the creatures they had conjured up began to fade away like the smoke on a freshly extinguished candle into the night air. The broken windows, homes, and cars slowly melted back together again in their original condition.

The town of Castle Falls was silent and calm once more as if nothing had ever happened… but a Halloween they’d sure not to forget anytime soon.


Now before I say anything else, I just need to establish that I am not mad . I have every reason to be mad, but I’m not. I’m not mad. I’ve never been less mad than I am right now even though I have every reason to be madder than I’ve ever been in my life. To the best of my recollection, you were not working here when I came in on Sunday. I’m sure I would remember somebody with as many piercings as you, especially with you being such a young lady and all. I’m sure I would have made some sort of comment about how you don’t have a wedding ring on your finger, and that’s probably due to all those cartoons you’ve chosen to imprint upon yourself. No, no, when I came in here on Sunday, there was a rather old man working behind the counter. I told him I was looking for a rug, because my mother-in-law is coming to town, and whenever she comes over, she expects me to put out all the gifts she’s gotten me over the years. Eighteen years of marriage, and she expects to see everything she’s ever bought as though my home is some sort of Daphne Rubite museum. That’s her name. Daphne Rubite. She tells me it’s Latin, but who knows? The woman lies about everything. Why should her name be any different? Anyway, she got me a rug for Christmas last year, and it was so hideous, that I kept it outside in the shed, but when I sent my husband, Griff, to go fetch it so we could display the awful thing, he said it appeared somebody had broken into the shed and stolen it. Do you believe that? Somebody actually wanted that disgusting rug so much they committed a crime in order to have it. Not that there’s much in that shed worth anything, but even the bags of dirt would have been a better choice. My word. I came in here on Sunday because I was looking for a rug that appeared similar to the ugly rug that was stolen, but despite this (allegedly) being an antique store, you do not sell rugs here. I believe I filed a formal complaint in that little suggestion box you have at the front, but I haven’t heard any response yet. We can circle back to that later. When I expressed my disappointment to the old man working here at the counter, he offered to give me a discount on what he described as “a rather interesting mirror.” He went into the back of the store and came back with the item. I found it to be a bit too ornate for my taste. It was imitation gold, and the glass had several scratches on it. I told the old man that a discount would not suffice for a damaged object, but that I would accept it as a gift from the store since I found it so unprofessional of him not to offer unattractive rugs. He took a moment, looked at the mirror, and then agreed to give it to me gratis. The old man did not put up much of a fight, and I suppose I should have taken that as a sign that something was amiss. When I got the mirror home, I had absolutely no desire to ever look at it again. The only reason I took it was because I never turn down a deal, and there is no better deal than free. I decided to deposit it in my daughter’s room. Reva is fifteen, and as such, she believes she has impeccable taste when, in fact, she has no taste whatsoever. She was quite stunned when I showed her the mirror. It’s unusual for me to give her gifts, even on her birthday, when I usually donate money to a charity in her name. She took to the mirror immediately, and Griff did his best to hang it in her room without putting holes in every wall. Finally, he managed to erect it by her closet, and then we all went about our day in preparation for the arrival of Queen Daphne. Almost immediately, things began to go wrong. I noticed that suddenly all the photographs around the house had been altered. I had no idea how it was happening, but the heads of everyone in the photos were gone. Simply gone. I thought it might be some sort of prank, but neither my husband nor my daughter are all that funny. When I mentioned the occurrence at dinner that night, Reva confessed to me that she believed her mirror was haunted. Not just haunted, mind you, but haunted by the ghost of Marie Antoinette. I would have chalked the whole thing up to a teenager’s imagination, but my daughter is the least imaginative person you’ve ever met in your life. Deciding to investigate myself, I marched straight up to her room and planted myself in front of that mirror. Sure enough, after only a moment or two, there she was. Reine de France, herself. She had her head, but there was a minor scar around her neck, and she was holding the most adorable little dog. My French is spotty since I haven’t spoken it since college when I spent a semester abroad in Paris smoking cigarettes and ordering hamburgers at French cafes. I managed to work out that the mirror given to me was once owned by Marie’s great-great granddaughter, and she had taken up residence in it since she found Heaven to be rather dull. She was the one who changed all the photos, and she said she planned on committing even more mischief for as long as she was in my house unless I donated her to a museum where she belonged. Well, if that stuck-up monarch thought I was going to relinquish my own property simply to avoid a little poltergeist-ing, she was sadly mistaken. I told Marie that she was now a guest in my home and would act accordingly, or I would see to it that her mirror was placed in the shed where some petty thieves might abscond with it the same way they had with the revolting rug my mother-in-law had purchased for me. I was so invested in intimidating a dead Frenchwoman that I didn’t even hear the front door open. Daphne had entered our house (without knocking, shocker) and came right upstairs to greet Reva, because her granddaughter is the only person she actually cares to see. She arrived just in time to hear me relay to Marie the story of the stolen rug, and she was none too pleased. I turned to see her standing in the doorway holding the most vile candelabra I’ve ever laid my eyes on. “Well,” she huffed, “Would you care to throw this in the shed as well?” Truth be told, that’s exactly what I wanted to do with it. * * * * * * * Over the next few days, I couldn’t tell you who irritated me more--my mother-in-law or the ghost of Marie Antoinette. While Daphne did her standard passive aggressive commentary on everything from my fashion choices (“A woman your age wearing skirts? How brave!”) to how I raise my child (“Would one birthday gift a year really be that bad?”), Marie preferred to be a bit more whimsical in her torment. The house was constantly filled with smoke for no reason at all. It wasn’t until I located the source of the smoke that I realized our oven was on high and there was a cake burning inside of it. It might be true that she never actually uttered the phrase about letting servants have their pastry, but that’s no reason to waste perfectly good food. I have no idea how she even put the cakes together in the first place since we normally order take-out and keep absolutely nothing in our pantries--another tidbit Daphne likes to use against me when she visits. “No sugar,” she’ll squawk, “What kind of a household has no sugar?” A skinny household . That’s what I feel like saying, but I never do. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought the two of them were conspiring against me in my own home. Daphne blamed Marie when all my skincare products were suddenly smeared all over the bathroom walls, but I can’t believe anyone that rich would willfully waste La Mer. Marie was definitely responsible for what was going on with Reva, however. My daughter suddenly began acting out. She was shouting about bourgeoisie and escargot and something about a pot de chambre. It took me a day or so, but then I understood that Marie was trying to possess the girl in order to have an even more effective way of terrorizing everyone in the household. Griff was no help at all during all of this, by the way. He loves the History Channel, so, for him, this was all wildly entertaining. It wasn’t until Reva began taking five baths a day and demanding that I feed her bon bon’s that I decided enough was enough. My plan was to take the mirror out to the shed and smash it into a thousand pieces, but I remember seeing an old horror film where destroying the haunted item caused the specter to permanently embed itself in the home. The last thing I needed was my daughter walking around like royalty until leaving for whatever community college we’d be sending her off to. I waited until earlier today when Daphne and Reva were sitting on the couch with a cheese plate watching Les Miserables, and then I tore up to Reva’s room and grabbed the mirror. I had to be careful coming down the stairs with it, but luckily for me, they were engrossed in the scene where the revolutionaries were being slaughtered. “Brilliant,” I heard Marie exclaim in French, “I just love a good comedy!” Somehow, all by myself, I managed to get this ghastly mirror into my car and drive it all the way back here. Now, I would like to return it. I would like an apology. I would like three free items from this store--all of which I will be choosing. I would also like an assurance that the old man who gave me the mirror is fired. Hmm? What do you mean you don’t have any old man working here? He was very distinct-looking. He had bifocals, salt and pepper hair, and his left ear was a bit lower than his right. Surely, you must know him? The owner? All right, fine, so he’s the owner. I still want him fired. What’s that? When? Ten years ago? And how? A car accident? My, my, my. Well. That’s what I get for not asking for a receipt.


Etim, aren't you joining us? Tom asked almost unmindedly, "No!" Etim answered without adding any more words. "Maybe he isn't feeling really well or he hasn't eaten since morning" Tom thought to himself before taking his eyes off him. Etim was in a weekly meeting with his friends. The group was about fundraising and financial support to her members. In the group, if you are a registered member and you had any event or ceremony, you will inform the group officially with a bottle of wine, and all the members will contribute a particular amount of money to you. But even without a member having a ceremony, the group do meet on Thursdays to discuss new ideas and the way forward for the group. Apart from the contribution they make for a member who has a ceremony, all members of the group do contribute a fixed amount of money every week to help fund the group's purse. Such money is used for charity or if need arises, to help a member who is desperately in need of money. Mr Tom was inviting Etim to join them in their table where they were drinking some strong alcoholic beverages and most of them were even smoking cigarettes. Though Etim's refusal to join them wasn't taken personally by anyone, it was a bit Surprising that he could boldly say no to alcohol. The following week, they conveyed again for their usual weekly meeting. A whole lot of issues were being addressed and Etim even came up with an idea, "My opinion is that we should always celebrate and enjoy ourselves every once in a while, what I mean is that we should set out specific times that we could drink, eat and reignite our love for each other. We can even colour it up by sharing gift items among ourselves" Etim said after he lifted up his hand. "Wow, that's a nice idea" exclaimed Mr Tom, the chairman of the group after listening to Etim. Thanks so much Mr Etim for that great idea and we will definitely start to implement it as soon as possible. "The Great Minds Association (TGMA)" was a great organization to be in. Their detailed planning and contributions goes a long way in uplifting the members. The love shared among the members could be discribed as a pure and genuine love because they seemed to trust and believe in each other so much. The took each other's challenges and experiences as their own. But they never seemed to include God in anything they did. They could not even pray before or after any meeting. Why? The reason being that the founder of the group Mr. Tom didn't want the group to turn to a religious one and moreover, the purpose of the group was to accommodate people of different and diverse religions, so he didn't intend to bring any religious differences Etim had taken a personal decision to stop drinking alcohol. The reason for this decision was best known to him alone. After this decision, he had attended several meetings with TGMA but none of his fellow members seemed to really notice that he hasn't been indulging in alcohol all those while. Then on one fateful meeting day, Mr Tom called Mr Etim aside and both of them were sitting on the table alone and discussing. In front of them was a bottle of branded whiskey and two small glasses. Mr Tom poured the drink it the glasses, carried one and also expected Etim to carry the other one but to his greatest surprise, Etim didn't even touch the glass the whole time they were discussing. Amazed at what he saw, he winked and said playfully, "Don't Tell me that you don't drink alcohol anymore! "Yes I stopped indulging 2 months ago, and don't tell me you just notice it now" Mr Etim said smile. " Yes, I just notice it now for the very first time" Mr. Tom said and gave him a pat on the back. " I wouldn't ask you the reason for this decision because I do know that Change is the only constant thing in life, no one could believe that you Etim of all people can really stop drinking alcohol" Mr Tom exclaimed playfully. "Yea I have changed and I haven't regretted about it" Mr Etim said as they both walked away laughing. Eventually, all the other members of the group and even Mr Etim close friends and family members got to know about his change of attitude. Etim that everyone knows, was a man that loves drinking. He could even go extra miles to make sure that he has a good alcoholic beverage inside his fridge. His motto was "Instead of me to lack alcohol, let me lack food" Mr Etim was married with 3 children. After several failed attempts to convince her husband to stop drinking alcohol, Mrs Etim finally gave him his way and resorted to praying to God that he should change him for her. On some occasion, he will come back to the house drunk, looking so scattered and lousy. On such occasions, his wife will help him to the bathroom, give him a warm bath and make sure he sleeps before doing any other things. The aftermath of such days were always advise heaped on upon advice from his wife. When his wife noticed about his change of attitude, she was so excited but resented that she should give it time to really prove whether her husband has truly changed. Three months passed and Mr Etim remained faithful to his decision. This got his wife really excited and she thanked God so passionately because she believed that it was God that changed her husband. Even Kingsley, thier eldest child was also excited for his dad's change of attitude. He had always looked at his dad as the perfect example of a man he wants to become if not for this particular bad habit. Mr Etim was a very renowned man. Very honest, respectful, and he was best known for his integrity. He didn't joke with his words. On one of their meetings in TGMA, one of his colleague even joked that he was only taking a break and will eventually start drinking again in the nearest future. Mr Tom would always test him by serving him alcoholic beverages once he visits him on his office. "You have truly change o" was always his remark when Etim refuses to drink. Etim's wife decided to test him one Sunday evening. She cooked his favorite dish, pounded yam and put a lot of meats. After everything, she invited him to the dining table and disclosed the suprise to him. They ate and ate until they were full and just when Mr Etim wanted to carry water and drink, his wife exclaimed, " A chill glass of alcoholic beverage will go a long way in digesting such a sumptuous meal! "But you know that I stopped drinking anything alcoholic sometimes ago. Why are you now saying that? Or are you trying to tempt me?? "No no no! How can I tempt you? I was only joking and I wanted to see your reaction" Mrs Etim replied playfully. The both laughed and continue eating It was at this juncture that Mrs Etim was truly convinced that her husband has truly changed. In amazement, she exclaimed " Change is the only constant thing in life and people should not always be judged by their past because someone can definitely change without announcing it on the radio".


Inspired by the great inventors of the Victorian era and the dapper classic style of dress, Nickolas modeled his life after that period in history. From the way, he decorated his quaint room, to the hats he wore, and to his pursuit of scientific invention. From a young age, he read about all of the greats of that era and enjoyed the period drama movies and television shows that depicted the lifestyle of the time. When he was old enough to start wearing suits that he picked out from the local consignment shop, he would dress up for school every day. Getting strange looks from his colleagues who were in sportswear and jeans with t-shirts. While getting praise from his teachers not only for his fashion choices but also for his natural curiosity in all subjects. As he got older he did unfortunately find himself lonesome most of the time. Only making friends at the library or in other considered nerdy settings.

It was not until college that he found his stride. Obtaining a great scholarship to a prestigious private school in the countryside of Britain. Not only was the campus beautiful, clad with old-style buildings, but it was also full of fellow students who shared his love of math and science. Nickolas, who did not like his name shortened to Nick ever went off to college with high hopes of becoming a scientist. His grandfather Aaron was an inspiration to him all of his life and before he left London, he gave Nickolas a golden and intricate pocket watch. A family heirloom that Nickolas had adored since he was shown the object as a child. Something he from that day forward carried in his pocket to bring out whenever he was curious as to what the time was.

Originally Nickolas thought he should become a chemist in order to become a chemical researcher and eventually come up with pharmaceutical concoctions. He was inspired by the apothecaries of the past and took a few exciting laboratory courses. Piquing his interest as he excelled in the courses. Towards the end of the first semester, his class for the final exam had to come up with their own individual experiments. Something that involved the use of a fume hood and that demonstrated the techniques he had learned. Unsure of what to do at first, he studied up on chemical reactions, making sure to understand not only the math of the chemical reactions but to make sure to get the measurements of the chemicals correct. On the day of the exam, he watched some of the other students do experiments. One had an impressive demonstration of colorful flames dancing off of the Bunson burner. Then it was his turn to walk up to the fume hood, that had recently been upgraded from the haggard-looking ancient one to more high tech and easy to use a fume hood. Nickolas had run through the steps so many times as he had sat at his desk in his dorm and during all of the hours he had spent at the library. Out of what must have been nerves, he botched the most critical step, leading to the bubbling over of his chemicals instead of the contained reaction he was aiming for. Something he could not bounce back from, and he received a failing grade for that final exam. Since he had excelled throughout the rest of the term he still passed but just barely.

Distraught, he spent the holiday reconsidering his course of action for college. When he came home to see his family in London he relented to his grandfather about what had happened. Aaron was not disappointed in Nickolas and encouraged him to keep trying. For everyone messes up at times but that is how Nickolas had to learn. After Christmas, just days before the New Year and before he had to return to college, he sat in his room thinking about his future. Still bound to his admiration of the Victorian era, he tried to think of other professions he could attempt to get into. The great inventors of that time were people that influenced his decision. Although he was not going to completely give up on Chemistry, he decided to make it his minor while he changed his major to Engineering. With the hopes to come up with his own innovative designs one day.

Upon returning to university, he went right to his counselor to change his major and to receive advice on how to navigate the course progression. Mrs. Weaver told him that he should join the Engineering club because they too could help him achieve his goals while providing him with friendship. Thinking this was a great idea, he went to the first meeting of the semester and was pleasantly surprised. The leaders of the club engaged the small group of students in some get-to-know-you introduction activities. When it was Nickolas’ turn to go he told them that he was an admirer of the Victorian era and one of the students said they could tell from his clothing. Some people snickered but that student told him that she thought his outfit made him look sharp. To Nickolas this was a great feeling, to be acknowledged by someone around his own age liking his choice of fashion. He then noticed that Doris was also dressed in a classic dress, complete with a lovely old-style blue necklace. She was so beautiful to him, with her red hair up in a bun and her slender frame in such a flowy dress. He was smitten right from that moment, he forgot to thank her for the compliment. The club meeting went on, informing the students of the schedule moving forward and the events that were going to take place throughout the term. Excited to see Doris again at the next meeting, which was every Tuesday evening, he said goodbye to her at the end of the function. Blushing as he did so and as she shyly said goodbye as well.

At the next meeting, after he had begun his difficult classes in Engineering, the group discussed how the hard courses were going. In addition, the leaders of the group told the newcomers how to better study for the first exams that were coming up all too quickly. During the discussion, Nickolas could not help but steal glances at Doris who was sitting across the small isle from him. Once she caught him looking and he quickly shifted his gaze to the person speaking in front of the small room. Then at the end once again, Nickolas went up to Doris before she left to strike up a conversation and to tell her to have a great evening. Doris decided to be brave and ask him if he wanted to grab coffee sometime and to study. Awkwardly, Nickolas said he would love to.

Come the Friday that they met up at the campus coffee shop, they went over the outline of the exam prep sheet. Then Doris noticed that Nickolas had a pocket watch coming out of his pocket. She asked him to show her it and he did so, explaining that it was an heirloom. Doris thought it was just nifty and told him how she adored the Victorian era and how the pocket watch reminded her of that. Nickolas could not hold back a large grin and he went into how it was his favorite time period as well. While they dove into a mess of books and study sheets, they also relented about their interest in the era. With the fashion, history, and the seemingly archaic inventions. At the end of the study session and after they both had finished their delicious coffee, Nickolas got up the guts to ask Doris on a date. Nothing too involved, just a chance to have a nice conversation and a dinner. Doris told him that she was more than happy to do so but that she needed to take things slow to really know if this was to be a friendship or to be something else.

They were both in the first class of the day on Monday together. She sat on the other side of the room usually and in the front. While Nickolas preferred to be somewhere in the middle. The exam was handed out in their introductory Engineering class. They had both studied so sufficiently, that when the test scores came out a few days later they had both excelled. A topic that was brought up on the date they went to that Saturday.

Looking in the mirror before his date, Nickolas adjusted his shirt and tie. Thinking he may be overdressed but he remembered that Doris had commented on his outfit before and how she thought it made him look smart. So, he went with his authentic style and went to her dorm hall to pick her up. They were going to a nice Italian restaurant in the downtown area of the small town they were in. The food smelled so good upon entering the place that Doris told him that she was excited to try the food. When they sat down, Nickolas made sure to tell her that he really liked her outfit and that it made her look fancy. She was flattered and returned the compliment. They had a great meal matching the enticing smell coming from the kitchen. He took her back to the dorm after they had finished a great plate of Tiramisu. Knowing that she wanted to take things slow, he leaned in for a kiss on her cheek but she pulled him in for a full kiss. He was pleasantly surprised, and Doris told him that she had never felt this way before about any guy. From there on a budding romantic relationship continued, where they assisted each other with course work but also made college a little less lonely.

After college was over, they planned a wedding that was themed after the Victorian era. A wedding that their families enjoyed and that the couple dreamed about leading up to the special day. They spent their honeymoon visiting castles and famous spots that were known to be Victorian age historic places. All the while discussing their future plans in Engineering and coming up with ideas for great inventions. With the hopes of making the world a better place with their creations.


The rumors that spread throughout court are always fascinating. Unless they’re about you. This is what Sabine had to learn the hard way. It was bound to happen. She avoided any rumors being spread about her for nineteen years. Not a single person has passed through the Court of Aelharst and not had a rumor about them ignite. Still, she had hoped whatever they came up with about her was foolish. An unimportant piece of chit-chat that would die out in less than a day. Turns out, that was the last thing they were going to do. At first, she was confused. Most people avoided her gaze once she entered the Great Hall. Normally, many of the other noble families come up to greet her and her family. Perhaps her parents did something to annoy someone else? No, that wasn’t it. Once she separated from her parents, many made their way to greet them. It wasn’t until her best friend, Mizuki, made her way to her that she knew something was wrong. Worry was written all over her face. “I’m surprised you actually showed up tonight.” Sabine frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?” “Maybe because everyone thinks you slept with the prince?” “What?” Mizuki scanned her face. “Oh my stars. You really didn’t know, did you?” “I had no idea about this until just now. Would you care to fill me in?” “Of course. Basically, everyone thinks you and Prince Elias had a… romantic escapade. I’ve been trying to quell the story, but it has proved quite difficult.” “And when do they think this happened?” Sabine cannot recall a single instance where she had interacted with the prince recently, much less been alone with him. “Two nights ago, after supper. Remember how you went up to your room early? Well, he left at around the same time.” “Of course that’s all it took. I didn’t even know he had departed early. Do you at least know who started such a baseless rumor?” Mizuki snatched a drink from a server and took a sip. “No idea. I first heard it from Lady Ratterfield, who heard it from Lady Aaron.” “I see. Well, would you be willing to help me find out who did it?” “Absolutely. I’m not your best friend for nothing.” She winked. “I’ll talk to Lady Crawford, you talk with Lady Bardot.” “Thank you.” Ladies Eirene Crawford and Cecily Bardot are the closest friends of Suzana Aaron. Why anyone would share their secrets with them is a mystery. Anything told to either of them will be known by the entire court in less than a day. Sabine looked around, trying to spot her target. Cecily was in a corner speaking with her husband. Even though they’re both the same age, she was betrothed the moment she turned eighteen. Making sure to not appear suspicious, Sabine slowly moved towards them. “Hello, Sir and Lady Bardot.” Cecily turned towards her. “Lady Lancaster! Hello. How are you?” “I am well, thank you. What about you?” “I am fantastic, thanks for asking.” Sabine eyed Sir Bardot, wishing he wasn’t there. Cecily seemed to notice. “David, my dear, would you go fetch me a drink?” “Of course, my love.” He kissed her cheek and walked away from them. “So, Lady Lancaster, have you been up to anything interesting?” “I don’t know, you tell me.” “Well, Lady Owens told me all about your involvement with the youngest prince. I must say, I wasn’t expecting that from you.” “Ah, that. Lady Owens needs to find better sources, I’m afraid. I did not have an affair with the prince.” “You need not deny it. Some might be jealous of you, but not me. I am content with my husband.” “I am not denying out of modesty, Cecily. I really did not go to bed with him.” She hummed. “Unfortunate. The prince ought to be betrothed soon, and I was hoping it would be you. Seems I was incorrect.” That took Sabine by surprise. She knew that the time for Prince Elias to be betrothed was approaching, but she was not expecting anyone to consider her a possibility. Most assumed that he would marry outside the court for political reasons. “In any case, I am sorry to disappoint.” “Do not worry about it. I simply wish the prince would see he has perfectly suitable candidates here.” “Yes, well, royals tend to not make a lot of sense.” Cecily smiled. “That, indeed. It was nice talking with you, Lady Lancaster.” “I’ll see you around.” Sabine spotted Mizuki at the far end of the Great Hall, still in conversation with Lady Crawford. She decided that her next move would be to find Lady Owens. It was quite odd for her to spread such a rumor around, as she is considered to be one of the more trustworthy members of court. A quick scan of the room showed that she was not in attendance today. Not completely out of the ordinary, seeing as her health has been deteriorating. She tried to think of who are closest to her. Lady Owens is significantly older than her, around forty years her senior, so Sabine does not really know many of the people she interacts with.

Her mother was around the same age as Lady Owens, so she tried to think about who she gets along with. They both spend a lot of time together, so it’s not a stretch to assume they have similar circles. The problem was that, in all honesty, Sabine did not pay much attention to what her mother did. In the time she was thinking, Mizuki’s conversation with Lady Crawford had apparently come to an end. Sabine made her way over to where she was. Mizuki did not bother with any small talk. “She told me she heard it from Lady Owens.” “Lady Bardot said the same thing. I tried looking for her, but she’s not here.” “Hmm. The closest person to her that I can think of, aside from your mother,

is Lady Rossi.” The last thing Sabine wanted to do was talk to her. She did not get along with the Rossi family in the slightest. Their son was one of the most insufferable people in all of Aelharst. His mother was no better. Mizuki must have sensed her discomfort. “I will go talk to her for you. It would look weird if you went to her asking about this, since the rumor is about you.” She let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding. “Thank you, Mizuki. Or should I say, Lady Saito.” “Shut up, Sabine.” There was nothing for her to do but wait. Not many people wanted to approach her. The few that did always asked questions about the prince. Time and time again, she denied that anything had happened. Most seemed to not believe her. She decided to stand in a corner, drinking champagne. Mizuki should be done talking with Lady Rossi any second now. She was not in the mood to keep hearing questions about the prince, especially when she had no answers. After what felt like forever, but was probably ten minutes, Mizuki found her. Whatever she had learned, it was clearly not good. She almost looked as if she was going to be sick. “Is everything okay?” Sabine said. “I would say yes, but I would be lying to you.” “What did you learn?” Mizuki hesitated. Clearly she did not want to share whatever she had learned. “Please tell me, Mizuki. You agreed to help.” “Fine. Just don’t take out your anger on me, okay?” “You’re scaring me.” “Good,” she paused, “because I found out that the one that started the rumor was your own mother.” Sabine was convinced she heard wrong. There was no way. Lady Rossi had to be lying, right? Her own mother would not create such a rumor about her. It simply wasn’t possible. She did not realize she was shaking until Mizuki put a hand on her shoulder. “Sabine, deep breaths.” She mirrored Mizuki’s breathing until she felt some sort of calm. There was no way to feel actually relaxed with this information, but she tried her hardest. “Are you going to confront her?” “Of course I am. I need to know why.” “That’s completely fair. If you need any support, let me know.” “Thank you.” Subtlety is of utmost importance in court. She waited until her parents were not talking with any of the other noble families. If anyone overheard their conversation, even more rumors would begin. That was the last thing Sabine wanted. “Mother, may I speak to you in private?” “Of course. Let’s go up to our rooms, shall we?” She attempted to put her hand on Sabine’s back, but she put distance between them. Affection from her was the last thing she wanted. The clacking of their heels filled the hallway. Sabine refused to look at her mother. Their rooms are not that far from the Great Hall, yet the walk felt like it took an eternity.

Once the door to their room closed, she wasted no time. “Why did you tell everyone that I had an affair with Prince Elias?” “You left me with no choice.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “This court is ruthless, Sabine. It’s better to have this spread around now so that no more rumors about you arise.” “This is ridiculous.” “It is not. If I hadn’t planted this, someone else would have come up with something worse.” “Worse than this? Really? Could you not have come up with something a bit more innocent at least?” “This is nothing in comparison to what others have gone through in this court. You of all people should know that.” Sabine knew that to be true, the own gossip surrounding her mother being horrendous. When her first husband passed away after less than a year of marriage, it was said that she had poisoned him. Even though the autopsy said otherwise, her mother brandished the title of murderer for years to come. It was only once Sabine was born that she was able to change her reputation. Still, it did not make what her mother did to her any better. “Just because you went through worse, mother, does not mean this was okay.” “You will thank me one day, my child. Trust me.” “I do not know how you expect me to trust you after this.” Sabine didn’t wait for a response. She stormed out of the room. The only place she could think of to go was the gardens. At least it would probably be deserted and she could cry in peace. She did not consider that there could be someone lurking in the shadows, ready to start another rumor. After all, the Court of Aelharst never sleeps.


Every little boy we pass is him. It’s the reason I didn’t want to come. This trip was your idea and I couldn’t tell you why I hated it, so here we are. Seagulls squawk in the distance. I love that sound and you know it. My therapist says that seeing him still alive is part of the process. It’s difficult to accept. The flashes in the corner of my eye stop my heart with their insistence that — it’s him, this time it really is!— I want to enjoy their sweet faces the way I did before, when happy children made me smile, even if they weren’t mine. But jealousy is a mean thing to control. Before us looms the dike. It’s steep and tall enough to blot out half the sky. A layer of grass covers the slopes and a stone staircase cuts through the middle. The flat expanse fills my vision, running off dizzily to the right and left. My horizon shifts impossibly and I’m walking up a wall, into an Escher painting. In one month, he’ll be dead two years. I’m trying to live without him, I promise you. Though I’ve stopped saying it out loud; my track record on that promise is terrible. You don’t believe me, anyway. A swallow dives into view, swooping low to catch bugs. Its white belly flares. I can't remember the last time I saw one. They remind me of summer holidays at sea with him, before. I point out the bird to you. You nod and keep climbing, silent. You haven’t spoken since we parked the car and I wish you'd say something. The bird disappears over the rim. One swallow does not a summer make. Your reason for bringing us here has me anxious. The longer you don’t speak, the darker my thoughts spiral. Divorce flashes through my mind. The sun is oppressive on the leeward side of the dike. We’re both panting when we reach the narrow asphalt at the top. My sunscreen itches and pools in lines around my eyes. We're not at the ocean, though it sounds and smells like it. Our view over the saltwater canal is gorgeous. Across hammered silver, we can see the opposite shore. Apartment buildings form a gap-toothed smile and rows of clean-cut poplars alternate with wind turbines that look like blown-out dandelions. It hurts my heart to imagine a wish so large. Though the dandelions aren’t mine, I close my eyes and try. — Love me anyway— Looking down the way we came is unsettling. The parking lot is lower than the shore and the two images won’t connect. For balance, I grab hold of the sign at the top of the stairs. It’s a map of the beach with warnings in Dutch, German, and English. “Enter at own risk,” and “Careful, the bottom may be sticky.” The phrases sound better in Dutch. The beach borders a wide canal that snakes inland from the North Sea. Over centuries, the water has deposited alluvial clay with the viscosity of quicksand. The tide is out and the muddy clay lays exposed in gray, glutinous ripples. On the wind, a smell of damp earth, metal, and decay. I knew there'd be a lot children here and I wasn't wrong. The summer holidays have started and families are everywhere. So many have children below five, it's like they're doing it on purpose. You’re looking out over the water. The blue lenses of your sunglasses catch the sky in miniature. Cumulus clouds, like flecks of seafoam, run away towards the horizon of your eyes. Windows to another world. Am I in that world? Your profile hasn’t changed much since we met, only the beard is new. After eleven years, I still can’t read your expressions. I don’t know what you’re feeling, but I know what you want: another baby. Is this your last-ditch effort to persuade me? Do you think happy memories from before will change my mind? What happens when I say no again? “Beach or road?” You catch me off guard. I thought we came for the water. “Where are we going?” You point to the right. In the distance, a veranda extends across the sand, a canal-side restaurant. The road would be quicker and easier. It’s paved and not covered in gelatinous mud. But I haven’t been to the beach since he was alive and suddenly my feet are aching. “Beach,” and I leave the path. I remove my shoes at the bottom of the steps. Despite the noonday heat, you keep yours on. Blocks of concrete, heaped in piles and evenly spaced, form wave breakers on the sand. A teenager is washing caked clay from her feet in a puddle at the base of one. She scrubs at her shins and spreads gray streaks to her underarms. I see you, long ago, teaching him to catch crabs in such puddles. They get stuck between the rocks when the tide recedes, easy pickings with a piece of bacon, a clothespin, and a string. He was scared to touch them after getting pinched, but he enjoyed studying the ones you caught. You gently placed the crabs in a bucket for him, careful not to crowd them. At sunset, we returned them to the ocean and watched them scuttle. There aren't any children hunting crabs today. I'd like to be a crab in your bucket. Gently lifted and gently placed. Handled by your hands, touched. And at the end of the day, your calloused palms a cradle in the sunset. A crying baby draws my attention. To the left, a young mother picks up an infant to swaddle in a sling across her body. As soon as the small head disappears behind the cloth, the crying stops. You want that again, but I can’t give it to you. IcantIcantIcant. — Stop asking— The salt air crystallizes in my lungs. Can you love me without a child? Concentrating on the exercises my therapist has taught me, I count to five—inhale—count to ten—exhale. I canceled therapy for this trip. Another reason I didn’t want to come. Another thing I won’t tell you. I go every Tuesday. You don't mind, but you also don't understand. You tried therapy and found it lacking. To me, it’s sacred time, the only hour a week when I’m allowed to not feel guilty. You’re a few steps ahead, the baby didn’t trip you up. Did you even notice? Do you care at all that these people have what was stolen from us? Aren’t you angry? You’ve never expressed your emotions in words and I’m terrible at reading your face. You tell me how you feel with actions. What does this one mean, this trip? The wind pulls your linen shirt tight across your back, outlining broad shoulders. It’s been months since I ran my hands across them. My palms tingle and I curl my fingers up. The only way we touch now is with our feet under the blankets, out of sight. I press mine against your calves and you leave them there. Connected, but invisible. Near the shoreline, a young girl fights to free herself from the clay. Her legs are coated in gray sludge to below her bony knees. Though we stay far from the water, my feet and your shoes get the same coating. Our footsteps make sucking slurps and you nearly lose a shoe. See, you can’t leave me. Even the earth wants you to stay. We pass a patch of ground dotted with the hidey-holes of razor clams. They’re buried at semi-regular intervals, small perforations dotting the beach like stars, every hole accompanied by a mollusk-sized pile of mud. I’m tempted to search for patterns, like constellations in the night sky. Except this firmament changes with the tide, wiping clean the horoscopes—a fresh future twice daily. How many futures do we get? A broken Venus shell pokes my sole and I pick it up. The inside is baby-cheek pink and soft. With a sideways swoop, I skip it on the ripples of the sand, a shooting star that burns out in three bounces. — Stay with me— You pick up another and do the same. It bounces one farther than mine. Watching the white shell flash from your fingers, hearing the rhythmic plopping as it skips, I’m reminded of the days before. You played piano then, practicing eight hours a week. Often, he’d sit in your lap. You filled our world with music. Sometimes, he’d put his hands on yours and you’d fill the world together. I want to pick up my star and redo it. — Give us back the music— In the shadow of the restaurant’s veranda, a father is letting up a parafoil. It snaps and flaps before ballooning in the wind. His son—maybe eight years old—watches with interest and waits his turn. You capture the pair in your glasses, a snapshot of one of your potential futures. I know how you used your shooting star. — You’ll have that, with me or without— I jab a fist below my ribs, pushing hard enough to hurt. You see what I'm doing and it forces me to stop. The fist drops heavy to my side, full of emptiness. Shards of sea glass fill my belly. Today, I lose you to the children I won’t have. With effort, I unclench my hand and mind. Moving on is living now—another lesson from my therapist. You’re still here. Until sunset, we’re crabs in the same bucket. At the end of the beach, a mat of cobblestones leads up the dike and to the restaurant. We get lucky and there's a table free on the terrace, with a view over the water. On the horizon, a loaded barge bobs out to sea. You open your mouth for the second time since arriving. “Coke, please.” I order a beer, plus fries for us both. While you wait for the food and I wait for you to speak, we watch a flat-bottom sailboat cut the waves. It has red sails, a warning sign nobody needs; we both know we’re sinking. The waiter brings our order. Between us on the table stands a plastic succulent. The fries come in a basket, the mayonnaise in a folded banana leaf. We don’t clink our drinks. A couple enters the terrace with a dog and I flinch. I can't help it. You snap my attention away by rapping your knuckles on the coke bottle. "How's the beer?" Despite it all, you remain the man I fell in love with. "Decent. Want to try?" A shake of the head. "The fries are nice," I add. How long have we been this stiff? Finally, you speak. "I have a proposal and I want you to really think about it. Don't just say no." And there it is. I need you to stop asking, but you can't. This is where we hit our wall. You want another child and I don't. I can’t give you that future and you can’t let it go. "I won't have another baby." I look at you as I say it. I want to enjoy your beautiful face while I can. I'm not ready for goodbye, but once again it isn't up to me. You shake your head, sunlight flashing off your glasses. This is the moment it ends. All I’ll be left with is a therapist and one hour a week. I inhale deeply, taste the ocean. I wish you’d look at me, but your attention is on the coke. Your fingers are steepled on either side of the bottle. We both have clay under our fingernails. I pick at mine and watch your lips. “I want us to move to Sweden.” You’ve turned a new, impossible corner on the Escher painting of my life. “Did you say us?” You look up, confused. Before you can analyze what I’ve said and change your mind, I replace the question with a “Why?” “It was our plan. You remember—” Of course I do. But that was before and before no longer exists. I don’t have to say it for you to hear it. You take off your glasses. Your eyes are unbearable, gray like the mud. “We can’t stay like this. It isn’t healthy. We’re frozen in grief, stuck. I need to live again. Chase some of our dreams. Mine haven’t changed. I want that house in the forest, a life in nature. I think it would be good for us.” I see us among the trees. A shadow falls between us. I push a palm against my eyes, smell the mud under my nails. A dark unknown opens below me. I need something to hold on to or I’ll drown. “When?” “As fast as we can get our things together.” “No.” It slips out, another promise broken. I’d meant to think it over, but one thought screams through the good intentions; I'd have to give up my therapist and he’s all I’ll have left when you leave. Your voice holds disappointment, but not surprise. “You promised to think.” The floor creaks as you lean back—underneath our blanket, you pull away. Whatever we have left is foundering, icy water rising up my legs. I’m ashamed to say the words, but I have to. You can’t leave without me, I have to make you understand. “My therapy.” “Is that all?” “Yes.” No. Maybe. You cross your arms. My lies are making things worse. You want to live our dreams, but what dreams? Mine is in a coffin. How do I dream my way out of that? But then, so is yours. You buried him with me, were there through every agonizing moment. Yet, you’re still trying. Even when I tell you no over and over, and crush your heart with my empty womb. I study you. The beard almost hides how sunken your cheeks are. Is that why you stopped shaving? There are bags below your eyes and your normal olive hue has a sickly undertone. You look almost as tired as you did right after. You aren’t doing well. I knew that, but now I see it too. The reckless self-regard I’ve been practicing in therapy has leaked from its allotted single hour. I’ve been so consumed with saving myself, that I lost sight of you. “Alright.” Your surprise is big enough that even I can read it. “Let’s move. Something has to change, maybe this is it.” You stare. “On one condition.” There’s sad relief in your eyes. This is what you expected. Firmly, you say, “I won’t give up on another child.” “I know.” You drop your hands in your lap—palms up and fingers lightly curled, like you’re waiting for me to land in them. “You have to get a grand piano.” Your hands close. “I haven’t played in two years. We’re not getting a grand.” “A grand or no deal.” “You’re serious?” “If we’re going to follow our old dreams, I want to do it right. We move to Sweden, you get a grand, I write again. If we’re going to try, no excuses.” It’s your turn to study me. I reach across the table to take your glasses. I fidget with them, making the lenses flare. “What about a baby? You always said you wanted two.” Why do you have to keep asking? Can’t you just give up? But, if you did, we wouldn’t be sitting here with clay on our feet. In your sunglasses, I see myself. I wink in and out of frame. In one future I get the answer right, in another there is only empty sky. It hurts to swallow. I can’t make more promises I might break, but I have to give you something. I angle the glasses and watch my lips. “Maybe.” It’s more movement than sound. It isn’t anything, but it’s enough for you. For the first time since it-hurts-to-remember-when, you take my hand in public. Our intertwined fingers lie in the middle of the table, reflected in your blue lenses. The sight reminds me of before and, because you’re here with me, it doesn’t hurt as much. I rub my thumb across your palm. It’s rougher than it was. A trade. My dreams for yours. We shared the nightmare, maybe we can share the waking. Is this moving on? With my free hand, I wipe at a tear. It clears the sunscreen on my cheek and I feel less guilty. You don’t express your emotions in words. In all the years we’ve been together, you’ve never said it. Not when we moved in together. Not when I told you I was ready for a child. Not when he was born and certainly not when he died. But today the razor clams align, my lucky stars, and you say it. So low the wind almost steals the moment. “I love you.” It’ll mean giving up my therapist. It’ll mean a thousand scary things. But if you’re there with me, maybe I can do it. Carefully, I smile at you and, carefully, you smile back. We’ve upended our bucket. Outside the restaurant, I take your hand again. You say nothing and give me a squeeze. We walk, hand in hand, back home across the paved road, leaving the sticky clay behind. A flight of swallows passes overhead. Four or five of them wax and wane above the dike, showing us their shining crescent moons. "Look," you say, and lift our joined hands to point them out. — The start of summer—


It all started when the world seemed at peace. I guess we all got too comfortable; because what happened next nobody expected. I live on the most southern border of Detroit; a city riddled with crime. You got to be tough to grow up in Detroit. We all carried around switchblades in our pockets. My older brother Apollo steals for a living. We grew up poor on the streets after our parents died. I was little and they took me to the central park. We came home and I ran to the street corner. Suddenly I was cornered by a man who put a gun against my temple. I felt metal against my skin, cold and hard. I took one last look at my surroundings before everything went black. I shivered as I prepared for the worst. I had heard that death by gunshot was quick, but I wasn't ready to die. Not yet; I took one last breath and waited. Nothing happened. Am I dead? I heard a scream and ripped off the blindfold and saw my Mom dead. The man had his gun to my Dad who jerked his head slightly; indicating me to leave. The man pulled the trigger and I stayed in place trying to scream; to say anything. I finally dragged my legs and ran away until I collapsed. Chapter 1 I woke up later in a small plain room that I had never seen before. There was a small wooden shelf next to the bed I laid on. In the corner, there was a small bucket. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Next to me laid a small china cup so thin it looked as though you could break it by staring at it. There was an unmoving black inky liquid inside. I smelled it and gagged. Just then I heard footsteps. I hid under the blanket as a sweet voice burst throughout the whole room. “I know you’re awake deary. You can come out!” I shuddered but knew I was busted. I slowly took the blanket off from the corners and slowly raised my gaze. I didn’t know what I had expected but it sure wasn’t a sweet old lady with graying hair. I checked to make sure she didn’t have any weapons on her. She looked safe. I slowly lifted my eyebrows. Something seemed off about her. I looked into her soulful chocolate eyes and couldn’t set that feeling aside. But something in her dimpled face made me want to trust her. I guess it might just be the fact that I grew up in a harsh place, but something about this house, this lady; didn’t seem right. I swallow and give in. She cant be a criminal. I walk around the house. It is ordinary looking. Everywhere I look is wood. She has no accessories or trinkets lying around the house. There is a trapdoor, a locked vault, and an attic that I noticed when walking around but don’t let on. I feel like I’m being watched in this creepy house. There are portraits of people lining the plain walls. The halls were thin and bare and they lead into a small corridor with a domed glass roof. There were weird walls in the observatory that looked like they pull away. Was it really just my imagination or is she hiding something? I suddenly hear a creak behind me and jump. It’s only the old lady. She looks at me with weird eyes. Her eyelids were drooped and you could only see the whites of her eyes. She walks with a cane that thumps beside her. She is wearing a black shawl over a black blouse. Her voice is much deeper than before as she speaks. “Come down for dinner now! You are not allowed to be in here. Only your bedroom, the kitchen, and the living room! Now child!” I run down before she can come. There is something strange about this lady. I need to find out more. I sit down at the table and notice something gold sticking out. I can’t do anything with the women around, but make note of it. I make note of every time she leaves and when she comes back. I am confined to my three bland rooms, and there is no entertainment. There are some books, but those are big dusty volumes of biographies and fantasies that take place in outlandish worlds with fairies and pixies. There are books written in Greek and Latin. Then I see a big book with a dusty cover. It is so covered I cant see the cover. I brush off the dust with my hand and read the cover. It reads How to Get Away with Murder. Chapter 2: Girl I shudder as I stare. I can’t look away from the big, bolded words in front of me. I hear a door slam and jump away. This woman is crazy! I know I have to run away but I don’t know-how. The next few days I oblige to everything the woman says. I stay in my room. I don’t do anything that might make me a target in this weird house. I know that something is happening when she comes into my room and says she will allow me to come to the market with her.

Chapter 3: Lady I could tell as soon as I graciously let her into my humble abode that she was suspicious. I could tell as she glared at me and would not talk. I knew she found out something as she was snooping around my house. After I let her in! I started to show my true self as I knew I couldn’t hide anymore. I tried to be nice but I could tell she knew and didn’t like me. I wanted her to feel safe. I was going to kill her at first, but I couldn’t. She was too much like me. I knew she grew up horribly and when I saw her passed out with tear-stained cheeks I knew I had to do something. I admit I’m not the sanest person and have made a living off of theft and murder, but I have to. I grew up with three siblings and no parents. I got thrown into jail at fourteen and tortured into insanity by the inmates. I learned the secret to life was to not care, and that human lives matter, but they are plentiful and many. It is easier to not care, and not get hurt. I took the girl in because she and I were orphaned. And maybe I could get her to turn her ways.

Chapter 4 So I let the girl come to the small central town with me. I brought her to a small gas station with boarded windows. I looked for security cameras. There were goodies and drinks for snacks. I took the girl aside and told her to rob the store. She obviously got nervous. “I cant do that!” she exclaimed. “Why not?” I asked. “It’s quite simple.” “No! That is my brother’s job!” “Here; tell me what he’s like?” I asked sympathetically. “Well;” she exclaims “He is small and skinny. We grew up together on the streets and he raised me. Then one day, he left me and never came back! I haven’t seen him in years!” I look at this girl. She had to grow up without her parents, or her brother. I looked at her face as she pretended to be strong. She had to be, growing up in Detroit, on the streets, with no family. I took her hands and showed her how to steal. She was a natural. We then stole fifty-dollars and went out to eat. The kid seemed to trust me more after that. And it was kind of nice having someone like me around. Chapter 5: Girl I started to trust her after I told her about my brother. We went to a restaurant and she let me order anything I wanted. Half-way through dinner, she left to use the restroom. I sat in the booth and waited as she came running out. We left suddenly without paying. There was some hacking behind us on the way out, but I didn’t pay any attention. That was my first mistake. I didn’t pay attention to anything but the lady. She seemed eager to get out of there as if she knew something I didn’t. We raced back to the house. For the rest of the day, I sat in my room. At dinner, I tried to get out but my door was jammed. I tried wiggling the doorknob but it wouldn’t budge. The woman came and started to tell me that I would be locked in my room. I tried to go to sleep early, but my imagination kept me up. I finally fell asleep, and when I woke up there were bars on my window, and pancakes sitting on a plate on the floor. I ate breakfast and tried the windows. The bars were so thick and impenetrable that no one could have broken through them. I roared and beat my fists on the walls and door all day but to no avail. My fists were bloodied but by the end of the day, nothing worked. For the next three days, I was left in my room with nothing to do. Finally, after a week I got toys and a television. What I saw changed my life. There was an outbreak of some disease that was going around. It caused people to forget their morals and become savages. The world was turning barbaric as people fought with each other, stole, and beat each other to death. The television screen flashed to a bloodied mess with mass murderers and chaos taking over. She shut off the television and shuddered to think about what had happened to humanity. She would get food every day, and plenty of toys for her to occupy herself. After a month of this treatment, she started getting restless wandering around her room. I whined one-day thinking if I complained enough she would allow me to leave. I watched as two months in it was so bad and the human population was down. People hid and murdered each other. It was like a big game of hiding and seek where if you got found you either fight or die. I was glad to be locked in my room I just wish I had gotten a little more freedom.

Chapter 6: Lady I felt really bad for the girl. I hated locking her in her room, and when I heard her whine I wanted to let her out and tell her its okay. I am not as cruel as people think. I wanted the girl to be safe and not know how horrible I am, and how this started. I try to give the girl toys and trinkets so she won’t get bored, but I can’t expose her to the outside world. She would probably die, and it would be my fault. I don’t want the blood on my hands. I have barely run out of food but have put off getting more. I run down to my basement under a trapdoor and go to my holding cell. I have hidden extra food underneath the floor in my bunker. In my basement, there is a bunker, food storage, and holding cell similar to the one I was in when I was fourteen. I remember those days and I remember that when I found the little girl she was scared and crying, with a big gash and bruises all over her body. I took her in and healed her; putting her on medication. I was going to kill her or keep her for work, but I couldn’t do it. Human lives are valuable and I have always hated my job, but if I don’t kill: Ill be on the streets for good.

Chapter 7:Girl I was sick of waiting in my room. The old lady would come to visit me once in a while. I would get three meals a day, although the portions have gotten smaller. I licked my lips as I thought of a big home-cooked meal. I knew I wasn’t getting out of here anytime soon so I thought about my childhood home. I started crying, and once I started I couldn’t stop. I threw my pillow against the wall. I shivered uncontrollably as I spat all over. The woman ran in and sat down. I choked and sputtered, trying to make out words, or anything. However, nothing came out. Finally, my shaking stopped and my head stopped pounding. “I killed them!” I yell. “I killed them!” “No sweetie! You’re fine, you’re good.” she comforted. “Shh…” I calmed down slightly as I rolled back and forth shaking a little to comfort myself. She held out a soft brown blanket and I held it close to my body as I hugged it. I slowly started feeling better. “I don’t want to be stuck in here anymore!” “I know sweetie, it won’t be long now.” If only that were true.

Chapter 8 After three months of being stuck in my room, I began to get bored. The lady gathered books and I would spend all day reading. I did that for months. I wanted to go out, to live a little. I was so bored cramped up in the little wooden room and my muscles tightened up daily. I spent the next few days talking to myself and making up stories. After about five months I started talking to myself and thinking about things. My thoughts started getting scattered and messy. My thoughts turned psychotic and I felt like the dusty leather book on the shelf. For the next two weeks, the lady still hadn’t come. It felt like an eternity but eventually, October passed by followed by a crisp November, and I still wasn’t allowed to leave my room. The news showed chaos and bloodshed as the “plague of attack” continued. People referred to it as the plague of the century or the “plague.” The old lady was nice, but I was so bored. I started talking to my bedpost and imagining it talking back. Finally, December rolled around with the bare minimum of food. I was so bored I started mumbling and pretending I was a model on a red carpet, with cheering adoring fans surrounding me. After a year and two weeks, I was let out of my room and I went to the trapdoor. I walked in and there was a swift breeze as a bunch of airborne drugs came blowing out of a cracked airpipe. I felt my body shiver as if being taken over. My face swelled as my eyelids drooped. I felt different, stronger. I felt my pulse rippling through my veins and I knew something was up. I had watched the news for a year. So, I went to find the lady.

---------Pitch Black------------


Snake Bite Everything began seventeen long and painful years ago in the year 2536. A young boy named Tenshi Demonkira was born on March 5th at 10:46 am in the capital of Japan. He was born a regular child and was a happy one at that. Though that quickly changed after he aged three years when his life and everyone around him would change. One year before this child was born, scientists had developed a serum that could alter a human's genes to that similar to any animal. They were beginning to test said serum on kids that were three to five years of age, and all of the results were promising up to that point. Sadly, when Tenshi turned three, he was selected as a participant for this serum. He would be the first human to be injected with the newest serum, which would change his genes to that similar to a snake. Though, something went very wrong after injecting the child, and it affected him drastically. He grew scales on the left side of his face, and his eyes changed from a brown color to a pure and blaring yellow with slit pupils. His hair had changed from brown to an albino white. His tongue was now split, at the end like a snake. He had green and yellow scales littering his arms and all over his body. Within the first month, he had grown a tail that was covered in green and yellow scales. After the end of his first two months, he became cold-blooded and couldn't keep himself warm. None of this was in comparison to what the real issue was. This child now had venomous teeth and scales, and if he bit someone or someone touched his scales they would be paralyzed. Harrowingly, if any living thing smaller than a teenager touched him, they would be killed from the poison. The scientists feared the child and threw him out on the streets of Japan. For the next fourteen years, the young boy lived in streets and alleyways doing whatever he could to survive. He had caused a lot of trouble in that time, such as stealing and robbing places for food and clothes. He knew it was wrong, but he had to do what he needed to survive. Currently, the now-teenage boy sat in the back of an alley hiding in the shadows. He often sat in the shadows away from people, so he would not be found. He knew better than to walk out of the shadows of the alley unless it was night. If he ever did leave the alleyway during the daytime, or he would surely be caught and taken to prison. Time passed, and after hours of waiting it was finally dark outside. His stomach grumbled in hunger as he had not eaten that day, he sighed and stood up with a stumble from exhaustion and hunger. He walked towards a closed store with his snake-like tail swishing behind him lightly. He pushed the white hair out of his face showing the scales that covered the left side of his face. The scales on his face, arms, and legs were now glistening under the moonlight. Tenshi looked up at the closed store in front of him, and he sighed and hung his head. He swished his tail around, and the glass door shattered. The alarms rang throughout the building and the street as he walked inside the store. He quickly grabbed whatever food and drinks he could find before quickly running back to the alley. He heard the familiar sirens of police cars as he hid in the back of the alleyway once more. He opened up some of the food and immediately began eating because, truthfully, he only ate once or twice a week. After he finished the food, he curled himself into a ball to stay as warm as he could. Half an hour later, he was finally able to welcome sleep, and his breathing evened out. The next day he awoke in a clean and white room as he laid in a bed. He looked around for a moment and figured that he was in a hospital room. He was very confused because he had not slept in a bed in over fourteen years. A nurse walked into the room and saw that he was no longer asleep, "Good morning, sir. How are you feeling today?" the nurse asked with a warm and friendly smile. "I-I'm terrible," he said, sighing to himself, forgetting that he spoke in lies. "Not sorry, I totally do not speak in lies," he said with a sad smile. The nurse's eyes widened, and he nodded as he understood what Tenshi meant. The nurse then wrote down how Tenshi was feeling on his clipboard also adding the fact that he spoke in lies. The nurse walked over to Tenshi and shook an IV bag filled with parenteral nutrition fluid. Tenshi was shocked when he saw this, and he looked at the IV bag and traced the IV line to where it was, connected to him. He finally found the pick line in his neck, "Why do I not have a pick line?" he asked the nurse as he was anxious. The nurse looked at Tenshi with a raised eyebrow, "You mean why do you have a pick line, right? If so, then it is because you are very malnourished." the nurse said, continuing to have a bright and happy smile on his face. Tenshi was shocked but nodded even though he was upset about it. He had no say in what happened to him because he was under the age of eighteen. The nurse lightly bowed his head as he walked out of the hospital room. The nurse did so because it was thought dishonorable not to bow your head when leaving a room. Tenshi sighed to himself in anxiety and worry because he had no idea of who found him or how he got there. Tenshi was beginning to nod off from exhaustion, but before he fell asleep, he heard something. He heard a creaking sound coming from the door, and he heard footsteps. He shot up in the bed, and he looked around to see if anyone was in the room. He saw a police officer sitting in a chair by the door, "How can I not help you, sir?" Tenshi asked, hanging his head. "Not sorry... I do not speak in lies," Tenshi said, sighing to himself and banging his head on his hand. The officer made an 'Oh' face, and he understood what Tenshi meant. The police officer nodded, "Look, kid. We know that you stole food and drinks from a lot of different stores. Legally we can't send you to jail, and you, are considered too mentally unstable to go to a Juvenile Detention Center. The only thing we can do is send you back to your parents or put you in the foster system." The officer said, with a sigh, he wrote details about Tenshi in a notepad. Tenshi's mouth was ajar as he sat in shock at what he heard. He knew it was illogical, but he ripped out all of the tubes and IV lines out of him. He got up and noticed he was still in his original clothes, which he appreciated. The police officer tried to stop him as he ran out of the hospital, pushing and shoving people out of the way as he ran. When he got out of the large hospital he was stopped by a police cruiser. He soon noticed he was surrounded by police officers and was commanded to stop. He didn't listen and ran into the nearest alleyway where he saw something he thought he would never have to witness, hear, or see again. He chose the wrong path but even though it was wrong he had no plans of stopping.


TV sets are turned on. Sunday “Breaking News. This is Aspen Woods reporting for HVVM Channel, your channel. Although this year’s drought has been increased by the global climate change, authorities found the cause for this year’s wildfire in California: experts concluded it was detonated by a match… Believe it or not, after many laborious hours of investigation, specialists from the California Fire Department claimed to follow a firing track, as they called it, to an area by the roadside, where they found the remains of a match, probably from a smoker who drove through the area…” Monday “Breaking News. This is Aspen Woods reporting for HVVM Channel, your channel. A woman was found dead in her luxurious apartment in Beverly Hills, LA. The LA Police Department believes she was murdered by her girlfriend who ran away from the crime scene. Police officers found the crime weapon, a wooden baseball bat, full of the girlfriend’s fingerprints and blood. They suspect the victim had changed her life insurance beneficiary, from her mother’s into her girlfriend’s information...” Tuesday “Breaking News. This is Aspen Woods reporting for HVVM Channel, your channel. At this round wooden table, you can see, the 3 top arms-producing companies’ CEOs just signed the contract to produce any type of weapons our armed forces may require, from a simple gun to mass destruction weapons…” Wednesday “Breaking News. This is Aspen Woods reporting for HVVM Channel, your channel. Neighbors of Sun Valley’s friendly community are shocked by the accident a retired language teacher suffered. Witnesses said this beloved teacher fell from a wooden ladder while he was repairing the roof of his house; unfortunately, the educator broke his neck. Thus, when the ambulance EMTs and firefighters arrived, nothing could be done. Neighbors explained the retired teacher was known as a model citizen who was always helping everyone in this community and his good deeds won over their hearts…” Thursday “Breaking News. This is Aspen Woods reporting for HVVM Channel, your channel. As you can see, the ambulance EMTs are taking the body of mister Eladio Miller who drastically ended his own life. Police officers asseverated the incident was a suicide due to the fact they found an extremely emotional suicide note inside an old wooden chest box on his studio desk. The note explained all the hard times Mr. Miller had lived and suffered recently. A real series of unfortunate events! He lost everything that matters in a person’s life: his mother, who died of cancer; his wife, who was killed in a traffic accident by a drunk driver while she was jogging; both incidents affected, deeply, Mr. Miller’s ability to work, so he was fired, and, having no incomes to pay the mortgage, he also lost his house (a written notice to vacate was given to him). And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back!” Friday “Breaking News. This is Aspen Woods reporting for HVVM Channel, your channel. Four children were found inside of what appears to be a wooden cage. A neighbor, who wishes to keep his identity a secret, called 911 to report the case that took place in the backyard of a quiet old house in Playa del Rey. The youngsters seemed to be malnourished. Authorities also suspect the kids were being mistreated since they found some bruising from blows to the body and head. Now, detectives are trying to clarify the reasons why these children were captive; and, if there is a criminal organization involved…” Saturday “Breaking News. This is Aspen Woods reporting for HVVM Channel, your channel. A mother and her baby were living in a wooden box in O’Melveny Park. This young woman was a single mother who left home because her parents wanted her to give her child up for adoption. The young mother explained she belongs to a wealthy and influential family; however, she was determined to have and raise her healthy baby. For the last week, the single mother was eating ‘whatever was around’, as she said, to be ‘strong enough’ to feed her baby. The woman and the child were found by…” Somewhere in a tropical country a couple of months ago. “Breaking News. Indigenous people, Green Peace activists, and many other Mother Nature lovers are protesting in our Capital City against what they consider to be the biggest crime ever. The demonstrators claim the Government is allowing multinational companies to cut down all trees in protected areas. The last indiscriminate tree-cutting took place in an indigenous reservation. The same large section of the reservation was destroyed 30 years ago by a foreign company; those enemies of the planet only left a giant tree standing on that occasion. Consequently, the ancient tree became a symbol for the tribe and the rest of the indigenous citizens, activists, and country. New trees were born in the devastated area and, after 30 years, the secondary forest recovered its majestic appearance. Nevertheless, certain humans never quit doing bad deeds, and they have become experts on evil. Once again, all these new trees of this secondary forest were cut down, including the Giant Tree. Moreover, all the wood was exported to build matches, baseball bats, tables, ladders, chests, construction materials, and boxes, among others. The demonstrators cannot believe that the natural bond was broken. Their message is clear and direct: trees were made by the Creator, Pachamama, or the Great Spirit, to provide a home for insects, birds, reptiles, and mammals; a place to breed new life; a refuge to humans, especially indigenous people; food; oxygen for all creatures to breathe; beauty for your eyes; a natural barrier to reduce the amount of stormwater runoff or flooding; a playground for kids, some income from tourist activities, a reduction of the cooling costs if trees are well placed; a windbreak; an increment of the value of a well-landscaped home, an extra beauty to your community; a traffic calming effect as tree-lined streets, a natural screen to unwanted views or noise; a complement to architecture; a patient’s health recovery (just by watching a tree through the hospital windows); a living memorial of loved ones… and the final argument: the fact that trees are living beings and they have the natural right to exist…” TV sets are turned off.