Three days. It had been three days since the ships have arrived on the shores of this island, Algar it is called by the natives, and the orders had been given. Take control of the Island. Crush any resistance. Let any willing to depart the island and seek refuge on the other islands. Karon liked those orders. As it was expected by any order sent by the great general Consilium they were easy to understand and ruthlessly effective. Karon didn't know why this was the first island, but it was to serve as Karrinstorn's foothold into the assimilation. The broken islands had been deemed as being worthy of being part of the Empire and so the process had started. From this island, the empire would start expanding into the neighboring islands and soon all the archipelago would be under the crimson flag with the dragon and the crown. No resistance is acceptable, as this would probably be the entry point for all the resources sent by the mainland and it was crucial that the supply chain was not disturbed in any possible way. And the survivors would spread chaos and fear, while taxing the other island's resources. The army was only in Algar, but Consilium was already attacking the full archipelago. Karon didn't mind those orders as they allowed to keep the casualties down to warriors and wannabe heroes that would stand in their way. Karon was always happy to avoid unnecessary blood. And here he stood, three days later, going up the stairs that lead to the throne room. He had his war armor, crimson red like his eyes, that would always contrast with the natural lack of color of Karon's skin. The warrior didn't know the name of this kingdom or the king the soldiers had tried to protect but they had endured for three days and that alone was a feat that shouldn't be forgotten. *These islands are a place of warriors* he thought to himself and the last step took into the middle of four of his soldiers standing in front of a large gate, still unbroken. "We did as you ordered, the door is secured and the resistance on the palace has been beaten. All that remains is the king. We don't know how many soldiers are inside." "Well done Rlain. Go know and spread the word. As soon as the words given all of our soldiers should only fight to protect themselves. All of the islanders should be allowed to flee through the sea." Rlain confirmed crossing his arms in from of him, Karrinstorn's military acknowledgment, and ran through the stairs that Karon had just come out from. He looked to the locked door, readied his sword and shield, filled himself with power, and delivered a devasting kick that broke it wide open. The wood hadn't yet reached the ground when the arrows flew in its direction, only to meet his steel shied. The room was well lit, the walls had several large windows from which was possible to see almost all of this small kingdom. Karon counted four soldiers, all armed with a bow and right in front of him a throne, apparently made out of wood but made with a handwork that would make other kings and noblemen jealous with a man sitting on it and a small body huddled on a corner. Karon didn't bother himself with the men sitting on the throne, instead looked to one of the guards. "It's over. Drop your weapons. Keep your lives. Go save your loved ones." The soldiers looked at each other. "What are you doing? Shoot him!" Screamed the man on the throne. And the soldiers obeyed. Once again four arrows flew to Karon. His shield blocked two of the arrows while one reached his shoulder and the last failed him. Karon felt the pain of being stabbed, but the power inside his body was already mending the wound. It would be gone in moments. Two of the soldiers fell to the ground, one with an arrow shot to the leg, and the other with a dagger into his chest. Karon's soldiers, Eran and Mian entered the room, Eran with a new arrow on the bow ready to make it fly it and Mian with a dagger in each hand. *The girl could have spared that poor soul. I will have to talk with her.* "I will repeat. Drop your weapons. This fight is over." Karon then looked to the king for the first time. "I will fight you if you so wish. Beat me and my troops will retreat. I can't promise that others would not return in their place but you will have the time to save your people." "Do you take me for a fool invader? You came to my palace demanding me to surrender to you? My family has ruled over this land for hund..." "I didn't" Interrupted Karon "I haven't asked for your surrender. I was only trying to save your soldiers" "You take me for a fool?" The king asked, his voice way louder than what he probably wanted. Or maybe he liked to scream. Karon had seen lots of different kings already. "These lands are no longer yours. They are now part of the Empire" "You foreigners will never take my lands!" Screamed the king, even louder "All of you! Kill them all! Your King orders it!" The two still standing warriors looked to each other and then the three intruders. And dropped their bows to the ground looking down. "Cowards! Traitors! I will have your heads for this!" The king jumped from the throne and approached the small body that was trying to hide. A girl's screen was heard when the king pulled her by the hair and dragged her to have her body between him and the three invaders. "Go! Fight for your king!" he told as he released the girl's hair. The girl got up and gave one small step towards Karon. Then took another. "By the gods, this is a waste of time" Said Mian to his right, but Karon raised his sword to her's chest, blocking her path, a signal to stop. Slightly annoyed, she stopped. The little girl took one more step and looked at them. The Girl with the daggers, the man with a big bow, and the pale man on the red armor. She was trembling but managed to take one more step. She was now the closest to the three intruders. All of them could see that she was rambling and tears were falling from her face while she tried to not cry out loud. "Yes! Kill all of them! Protect your king!" The little girl took one more little step at the same time that Karon took one from his own while sheathing his blade. She gasped when that large man cladded in red approached and was surprised when he simply rested his hand on top of his head. "What are you doing? Kill them!" The girl trembled at the sound of the king. "Eran, calm him down" Karon had barely finished his sentence and an arrow flew, meeting the king's right shoulder with perfect accuracy. He dropped to the ground screaming. Karon took a look at the girl. Ragged clothes, scared legs, and hands. She had not had an easy life. "Child, your mother?" The girls tried to speak, but at the first try only sounds of crying come out. Karon waited and the girl was eventually able to speak. "She... she was a bad woman. The king had to punish her" She said as tears once again started to pour down from her eyes. Karon started to walk beyond the girl right to the king that was pulling himself back to the throne. "Mian, give her one knife. You two, take your comrades and leave." The two soldiers obeyed leaving the room with the corpse and the injured. "Why are you here? Why won't you people leave? Just leave us alone!" "I can't. I have my orders." "That's it? Someone told you and so our country has to fall? Our beautiful city has to be ravaged by you barbarians?" "City? You have no idea of what that word means. This is barely more than a village. The Empire has cities bigger than this whole island and yet you managed to divide it into three? You have no concept of what a real kingdom looks like. You can't even begin to imagine what being a king truly means." The king tried to forget the pain "You dare question my kingship? You are no more than a brute and simpleton!" "That might be, but at least, I know my place in the world." Karon reached for the king's head and took its crown "And now so do you" "You are nothing more than a thief! I will always be the king of these people! They love and worship me!" "I'm the thief?" Karon seemed amused "What did she do?" "What?" "The child's mother. What did she do? What was her crime and what was the punishment?" "The wrench dared to steal food. I had her hanged to show everyone that no one steals from me." "So by your own rule, if one steals food, one's life is forfeited? Harsh rules" "It is not your place to question us! I'm the king and I serve justice as I see fit!" Karon showed him the crown "You are no longer king. But until a regent is elected, your rule will remain. And now I proclaim you guilty of theft." The King gasped "Are you mad?" "You stole her's future, the child's ability to smile and dream. You took everything from her" "What about it? Who cares about that little whore? Are you telling me that you care about her?" "No. But she does." Karon took a step to the side to let the king see the child looking at him, knife in hand. "You got a weapon! What are you waiting for! Kill them all you little whore!" Karon once again rested his hand on the child's head. "I know it hurts. You want to cry. You are confused and angry and all of this seems unfair. But Child, here you take the first step. Karrinstorn has always been about freedom. Freedom to punish those who wronged you. Take your justice on him, and if you so decide come and try to also kill me for putting you in this position." The child looked to the knife and to the bloody screening king and remembered her own screens and pain as her mother was hanged for all to see. She took one step, and then another, each with more confidence. She grasped the weapon with all of her strength and approached even more. The king tried to punch her with his good harm but a second arrow trespassed it, pinning it to the throne. The King first screened of pain and then horror as he could not defend himself from the falling knife. Karon, Mian and Eran left the room without looking back. "Eran, give the word. We have won. Mian, we have to talk." \ Hours passed and Karon and his personal squad were enjoying dinner as Rlain was telling a story that all of them had eared before dozens of times. Yet the alcool as good and the food plenty. One guard looked inside the tent. "Commander, I'm sorry to disturb you, but the girl you talked about is here" "She really came here?" Rlaim asked, disbelieving "Let her him, soldier" Said Karon "Yes, Sir!" Said the soldier as he took a step to the side letting a young girl enter the tent. Raged cloths, scarred hands and legs, and covered by blood she took one step in their direction and then another. She was still holding the knife they had given her. "I will be the one training this one!" Said Mian and then started drinking from the cup she was holding, a little thread of whine going down her's face. "She will be a nasty piece of work when she gets older" "She can't be worst than you" Replied Eran and they all laughed \ This is it, I hope you guys liked it! Truth be told I didn't even know this Sub-reddit existed until a couple of minutes ago, but after writing this I decided it was worth a shot and searched for it.


#Welcome to the Micro Monday Challenge! Hello writers! Welcome to Micro Monday! I am excited to present you all with a chance to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic? I’m glad you asked! Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words. However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I’ll give you a single constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. It might be an image, a theme word, a sentence, or a simple writing prompt. You’re free to interpret the prompt how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. Please read the entire post before submitting. And remember, feedback matters!   *** #This week’s challenge: **Theme: Escape** This week’s challenge is to use the theme of ‘escape’ in your story. It should appear in some way within the story. You may include the theme word if you wish, but it is not necessary. You may interpret the theme any way you like, as long as the connection is clear and you follow all sub and post rules.   ***   #Last Week It’s been great to see all the active participation throughout the week. There were a lot of stories submitted and some really great feedback left on the thread. Keep it up, everyone! While each story brought something unique this week, there were two stories that I believe stood out among the rest. - - A well-written story about two men preparing to sacrifice themselves to save the people. Submitted by u/canyoufeelthat - - A short tale about the frightening, fuzzy creature under the bed. Submitted by u/Poelarizing   ***   #How It Works: - In the comments below, submit one story between 100-300 words by the following Sunday at midnight, EST. Use to check your word count. The title is not counted in your final word count. Stories under 100 words will be disqualified from being spotlit. - Each Monday, I will spotlight two deserving stories from the previous week that I think really stood out. I will take any nominations you make into consideration. You may send them to me via reddit or on the discord. But please remember, this is not a contest. - While it’s not a requirement, I encourage everyone to come back throughout the week and read the other stories on the thread. Upvote your favorites and leave them a comment with some feedback. I will take all of this into consideration when making my selections each week. - We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here, as we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. Please be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion. - If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the stickied comment on this thread.


“There are heroes. This world wants to make you forget that. It wants you to believe that there is only darkness, only pain, and at best, shades of grey. It wants you to believe that those tales of incredible feats of masculinity and heroism are just that, tales. But the world is lying, for there are heroes, heroes like Hercules, like King Solomon, like Sinbad and Ant-Man. I, well I am living proof of that. I, my dear, am the Dinomancer”. Luca watched the progenitor of this speech with a bewildered expression. He looked to be in his middle ages, with stringy dark hair and a depressing hairline. His figure was than less herculean, and his blue eyes filled not with courage, but plain old stupidity. “Uhuh,” she said. He had magic, she could taste it in the air, but a little bit of power didn’t amount much when you were in her line of work, and an idiot with power would just make her apprehension of the dark sorcerer harder. “Okay Mr. Dinomancer, well I’m afraid that a hero isn’t necessary here, I think I have this under control, would you mind stepping aside?”. He gave her a knowing smile, at least he clearly thought it was knowing, but that was hard to give someone when you knew extraordinarily little. “Do not worry yourself, young lady, no job is too small for me. While the Dinomancer maybe a grand title, it is one I carry in service of the common man. When evil shows its ugly face, no matter how big or small, I will rise to face it”. She sighed. “I don’t have time for this shit,” she said quietly. “Fine, if you wanna come, come, but don’t get in my way, and don’t come crying to me if you get yourself killed,” she said. He grinned like a child for a moment before hiding it under his shabby bravado. “There will be no tears to shade tonight, for I will allow no harm to happen to either of us,” he said. “Ight then,” she said turning to the farmhouse. It was a recently new building and looked comfortable. The fact that this guy wasn’t camped out in some castle shaped like a skull labeled “Fortress of evil” or something like that showed he was smarter than your average goon tampering with dark powers better left untouched. The door was locked, but she got through with her subtle unlocking spell, a blast of pure force so powerful that it could liquefy a tank, then stepped through the remains doorway. The house certainly didn’t look like the liar of some warlock, but she could taste the evil in the air. Quite literally in fact. The Dinomancer stepped in after, coughing as he waved away the smoke. “Impressive,” he said. “You know, I’ve actually been looking for an apprentice, maybe if you prove yourself competent during this little quest, I might consider taking you under my wing” “Not happening,” Luca said quickly. The duo strolled through the mansion. Having experience dealing with practitioners of dark magic, Luca knew exactly how to follow the taste of dark magic to its source. The trail led them through the kitchen of the house (This man's dish pile was far more unforgivable than his dabbling with evil Luca thought), through the hall, into the master bedroom. She paused at the door that the taste was emanating from. Behind here, was a man capable of true evil. “Fear not, for the Dinomancer is at your side,” said the middle-aged man accompanying her. “Yep,” she said, not even listening. She causally wrapped her knuckles against the door, and moments later, a shaky snake-like voice replied “Come in?”. She swung the door open to find a hooded man, standing in a room light dimly by candles. Painted on the floor was a pentagram, in what looked to be blood. “That’s not goats’ blood is it,” she asked with a disappointed sigh. The hooded figure shrugged awkwardly. “It never really comes out right unless you use human blood. The Hell Fire smells more like cat piss than sulfur, you end up summoning an elf instead of a demon, you can’t half-ass this stuff ya know”. She nodded thoughtfully, and looked up from the pentagram to the hooded figure, and nodded thoughtfully. “And you’re cool with me just walking in on this?”. The figure shrugged again. “I mean, I really wasn’t expecting you to just knock. I was kinda thinking you’d blow down the door like you did with the one in the front, come in guns blazing with righteous fury and all that. You caught me off guard” He said, sounding a little embarrassed. Suddenly, the candles flickered out, and the darkness seemed to close in on them like a creepy guy with no binderies or deodorant. “But no matter, The Sacrament of Twilight has been complete, my dark power has reached new heights, no one can stop me now!”. There came a booming laugh. “No one you say? You clearly weren’t counting on the DINOMANCER!” shouted her companion, pointing at the man. There was a pause. “The wha-you know what, screw this,” said the hooded figure, before thrusting his hands towards the door. Crimson light glowed from the palms of his hands, before being expelled from them in the form of two orbs, flying right at Luca. “Balgo!” She shouted as she thrust her hands forward. Moments before she and the legendary Dinomancer would have been reduced to paste, a shield of solid blue formed in front of them. The red collided with the blue, and there was a horrible otherworldly whining sound as the shield shattered, the impact throwing Luca and her companion on their asses. *Damn* she thought. *This isn’t some snot for brains kid with an ounce of power trying to be the next Sauron, that was genuine, dark magic* She sat up, whipping the blood from her brow as the hooded asshole cackled in his raspy voice. “You fools, you should have never come here, now your souls will drown in my hate!” He snarled. “Fear not!” said her companion as he sat up *Jesus Christ, I should have just put a sleeping spell on him* “He’s no match for my Dinosaur magic!” he thrust his hand forward as if to cast a spell, but Luca shoved him down, and shouted “Flavos!” she snarled. Flames leaped from her outstretched hand at the hooded figure, but he simply flicked his wrist and a current of red disrupted the fire that would have hit him, the rest hitting the wall behind him, burning it to ash, letting the sunlight flood in. Luca held both hands in front of her, pulling her fingers back to her palms, then flicked them at the hooded figure, shouting. “Vos!”. There was a blast of force that violently flung everything in its way outside, everything but its target. Moments before the spell met the hooded figure, red energy surrounded him. It broke the blast with its own energy, while gently carrying him backward with whatever got caught in the blast, laying his feet softly on the grass. Luca took deep breaths. “Shit” she gasped. That spell was the most powerful thing in her arsenal, and that was saying something! And it didn’t even phase him. What the hell was she supposed to do. Confidently, the Dinomancer strode past her crouching form, an eager smile on his face. “Stop! You’ll just get yourself killed” she pleaded, but he ignored her. “Oh?” asked the hooded figure. “You think you can stop me? Then tell me, hero, what can you possibly do to defeat me?”. The man grinned wildly. “I will summon prehistoric forces to do my bidding and crush you for me” he boosted, making a tight fist in front of him “He” chuckled the hooded figure. “You’re going to summon dinosaurs to kill me? I’m afraid to say that’s rather impossible”. “Impossible you say?” said the man thrusting his hands forward. “Then behold Unprisca! Stegosaurus!” he boomed. The hooded figure looked around expectantly. “I don’t see any” There was a loud crash as something large, scaly, and very heavy landed right on top of the hooded figure. When the dust settled, Luca could see the plates emerging from the reptile's back, the spiked tail, and the unmistakable dinosauresk face. Just under the unmoving beast lay the hooded figure's arm, limp and equally unmoving. “Holy shit” hissed Luca. “Is that really?” “A Stegosaurus? Well yeah? I summoned it, what do you think would happen?” “Is it…dead?” she asked. The man looked up at the sky. “Well considering that I summoned it a few hundred feet above the guy’s head, yeah probably” “W-why didn’t you just summon it on the ground?” “Well then we’d have an out-of-control stegosaurus running around, and that would just be trading one problem for another,” he said. “You mean, you can’t control it?” she asked. “Well, not exactly” he admitted. She turned away from him, back to the dead giant ass lizard.


In the seconds before their lips were about to meet, Ida felt she could lose herself in the clear blue waters that lay just behind those beautiful blue irises. For they spoke to her of love, longing and a deep desire. They could fill her with a comforting warmth while cooling her skin like a fresh breeze. Her mind, body and heart were all tingling like a light current coursing through her. For in this moment, he wanted her to know that he would give himself completely to her, if she would have him and then they kissed. Ida sighed deeply, giving way to a sadness that began to dull the current she had just felt. She knew that the actor entangled in a passionate embrace on the screen in front of her represented an ideal that was far from reality. Ida thought back, trying to remember the few men she had kissed in her lifetime and was disappointed when she couldn’t recall even one who had gazed into her eyes, seconds before the embrace. Would she ever experience a moment like that? Probably not, she told herself because men in real life don’t do that; willingly anyway. It was highly likely that the blue-eyed actor she was mesmerized by, was not motivated by his gorgeous co-star, but more by the big paycheck he got for his signature “pre-kiss gaze”. Cinema had built such high expectations when it came to romance. She spent the rest of the movie deep in thought trying to console herself but couldn’t stop herself from wondering what it would have felt like to be on the receiving end of that kiss. It didn’t help her sadness and Ida was crushed. She was in such a funk that she didn’t even notice the movie had ended, until her friend started gushing about how dreamy romcoms can be. After she hugged her friend farewell and began to walk to the metro station, Ida returned to her lament. Lost in ‘what if’s and ‘what could have been’. She entered the station, scanned her metro pass, and got onto the train. She sat down on the cold plastic seat, put on her audiobook and settled in for the 30-minute ride to her stop. Ida rested her head on the hard wall of the cabin and closed her eyes, hoping the soothing voice of the narrator would distract her from her thoughts. When that failed, Ida opened her eyes and found herself gazing into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. Had she just imagined them into existence? She slowly began to register the very attractive face that complimented those blue eyes. It was a couple of seconds before she realized they were staring back. She flushed with embarrassment and quickly shifted her gaze to the side, only to lock eyes with another pair of eyes. These belonged to a kindly looking old man whose chin was resting on a cane held between his knees. She smiled nervously to disguise the awkwardness and was taken aback when the old man winked at her. Unable to suppress a giggle, Ida looked back in front of her where Blue Eyes was also grinning, clearly having seen the exchange. Except his eyes were now focused on the pages of the book he held in front of him. Ida was impressed by this because she seldom saw people reading paperbacks these days. She found this old school habit charming and wondered what other interesting traits Blue Eyes possessed. Did he prefer the simple things in life like biking along the canal, or hiking, listening to music from yesteryears when lyrics were poetic and meaningful? Or was he more the kind who enjoyed watching movies and then spending hours talking about the intricate plots and clever storytelling? Heck she wouldn’t mind if he was a fan boy who geeked out at comic con! With those blue eyes and the chance to gaze into them, she would put up with anything. She suddenly realized that the metro had stopped and looked up quickly to see if Blue Eyes was getting off. Instead, the cheeky senior citizen got up and hobbled toward the doors, smiling at her one last time before he disembarked the train. It was then that Ida realized that Blue Eyes and she were now the only two people left in the cabin. She returned her gaze to her phone and began scrolling through her Facebook feed pretending to be interested in what Margot was ranting about in her latest post. “Hi”, said a voice. Ida looked up. She must have looked surprised because Blue Eyes smiled warmly at her and once again said, “Hi”. Ida caught herself just before she turned to look over her shoulder to see if he was talking to someone else, which would have been supremely stupid since there was nothing but the cabin wall behind her. “Hi” she said, with a slight hesitation. What followed was a friendly, casual chat about anything relevant these days. Simple conversation that filled the silence that would have hung heavy in the cabin. Although Blue Eyes kept it light and easy, Ida felt herself drawn in by him. He seemed smart, funny and interesting. They didn’t get personal or flirty, absolutely no hints of any ulterior motive. Just two people enjoying easy banter, and those beautiful blue eyes. So, it was with a slightly heavy heart that Ida picked up her bag, said goodbye and got off the metro at her stop. Although she was sad to leave Blue Eyes in the cabin, Ida walked away with a small smile on her lips. In the past 20 minutes, this mesmerizing stranger had in some way restored her faith and hope in the dream that one day she would gaze into blue eyes that loved her. The hope that she would share a ‘moment’ that seemed like Hollywood’s cruelest joke on the hopeless romantic, just an hour ago. As Ida made her way home, she was filled with a warmth. She even dared to imagine what it would be like to share an intimate moment with Blue Eyes. She wondered if those eyes that were so friendly as they chatted were also capable of conveying love and passion. She almost giggled at the fantasy of being wrapped in his arms, eyes locked on to each other before they kissed. Here she was again thinking about the ‘what if’s’ and the ‘what could have been’. Had Ida not been so deep in her fantasy, she might have noticed the man walking behind her, keeping pace with her steps. She might have noticed he had followed her around every corner. She might have even noticed that when she opened the door to her apartment block, he had snuck in behind her. She might have paid attention to him climbing up the stairs. Had she stopped romanticizing, she would have realized he was standing almost right behind her, as she put her key into the lock and opened her apartment door. In a few seconds, the man had pushed Ida in through the door and on to the floor. She felt his weight on top of her and as she opened her mouth to scream, his hand stopped her, muffling any sound that she made. Ida knew his face was just above hers, and with the tiny sliver of moonlight that pierced through the darkness, Ida saw those familiar beautiful blue eyes. But there was no warmth, no comfort in their gaze but instead she saw menace. No clear blue waters but instead they were cold and icy. No passion but a dark desire that she feared. Ida’s whole being continued to scream, and the tears rolled down the sides of her face. Blue Eyes was grinning malevolently. How could this be? He was so nice. She had imagined only happiness with him. How could she have been so wrong? He shushed her as she cried and reached behind him to take something out of his back pocket. When Ida felt the sharp edge of what she knew to be a knife against her neck, her heart froze. It was in this moment, when she closed her eyes and wished she had never gazed into those blue eyes.


Once upon a time, there was a man that smelled like candy cane. He hated it. He doesn’t know why he smelled like candy cane. He doesn’t even like candy cane. When he was a young child, he remembered his father smelling like chocolate all the time. His father hated chocolate. He would never go near one. Maybe he had the same candy-smelling body odor problem. Some people may ask what’s wrong with smelling like candy cane. There are perks to smelling like candy cane. Everywhere the man went, people were nice to him since his scent brightened their mood. Sometimes women would flirt with him. The downside is everything else. Everything he touched magically smelled like candy cane. His entire house reeked of it. Old ladies would walk by his house and always asked him if he was baking something. He would tell them with a disgruntled look on his face, “No. I hate baking.” Another downside was every time he walked home, animals followed him. He couldn’t go into the woods without wearing his uncomfortable scent-proof clothing. He also smeared his face with a thick, dark, slimy substance that he bought from some shady website online. The website claimed that the yucky substance was animal-proof by being odor-proof. It’s the only way he can keep the animals from following him. Every time he wiped the substance off his face, it left a residue that looked like he went coal mining. When everyone could recognize his scent, they started calling him the candy cane man. It was embarrassing. He tried everything under the sun to remove the smell. He talked to many doctors about it but they all recommended for him to remove all the skin on his body and grow it back. He tried that and the smell remained. The more scrubbing, the stronger the candy cane. He tried bathing in vinegar. Nothing. He tried rubbing rotten eggs on his body but the candy cane smell was too strong. He tried to not bathing for a year. He ended up smelling like death wrapped with candy cane. As he aged, the smell got stronger. By the time he turned 50, the candy cane man learned to accept that he will forever smell like candy cane. He will forever have old ladies walk by his home to ask him what he was baking. He will forever have random animals follow him home. He will forever have random children constantly ask him if he had candy. If he said no to those children, some of them would kick him in the knee and run. It follows him in his sleep. On his 65th birthday, he wished to turn into a candy cane. He thought if he became one, life will be a hell of a lot simpler. Unfortunately, that never happened. The scent of the candy cane man grew so pungent, he smelled up the entire Northern Hemisphere. The atmosphere smelled like Christmas every day. Several scientists that studied him say that by the time he turns 100, the entire Earth would smell like him. Be prepared when that day comes.


Stephen wakes up to the smell of smoke. His mother runs into the room and takes him into her arms. Smoke fills the hallway and his lungs. A towel is draped over his head with little precision to try to protect him from the smoke. The floor rushes under his mother's feet; he watches it change from carpet to tile to concrete. When his mother reaches the car, she puts him in a car seat, and his father starts to drive. The city is burning right before his eyes. Fear and terror are in the faces of every person who is running outside. A few people jump in front of the car in the hopes of an escape from the inferno. His father refuses to stop for them and keeps moving. They all retreat, and their fear turns into rage. Bricks and stone pelt the back of the windshield. His mother looks back periodically to ensure her son is alright. A large piece of cinder falls from the sky. Stephen wakes up lying in the back seat of a car. Marla and Tim are having an argument in the front seat over something miniscule. The two of them would argue even if they both were in agreement. He pushes off of the seat to straighten himself. His back and arms are sore from the seat, and he does tiny stretches in the back of the car. "Hey, the man is up. Did you have pleasant dreams?" Tim asks. Marla hits his arm. "Tim," she says. Stephen looks up at them. "Sorry was I making noises?" he asks. "Not too much noises, don't worry," Marla says. Tim shakes his head slightly. "I am sorry. It is the first time that I have been to my hometown since I was an infant," Stephen says. "Don't worry. We understand," Marla replies. "If only you were a few years older, we could have had a tour guide," Tim says. "Yeah, well, I am sure the city has changed a lot since then," Stephen says. The collapsed city ruins come into view. All of the skyscrapers were destroyed during the Mierans surprise attack. The Mierans did not attack military bases in a tactical error. Every nation realized this mistake quickly and unite to create a coordinated defense. The war only lasted a few years as the Mierans realized they underestimated their opponent and retreated. The time after the war was chaotic. The nations of the world tried to continue this global unity in case of a return. Without a certain threat, the leaders of the world found themselves deadlocked once again. Citizens had to adapt to a post-war life. Infrastructure was destroyed, and the scare resources were being directed to the military and research on Mierans. Civilians unaffiliated with both adopted a nomadic lifestyle like Stephen's parents. Stephen's family traveled with a small band of survivors that traveled all over the continent. The size of the group was constantly in flux with constant disaster like the flood that killed his parents. Survival groups would frequently merge to supplement dwindling numbers. His group joined with Tim and Marla's when he was sixteen. After a recent rockslide killed most of their group, they had decided to travel to the city. Cities were considered dead zones for the during the war and were ignored as such. There were whispers that the survivors who remained in the city were able to form societies and thrive. There were also whispers that they were mutated and turned into monsters. The three of them are desperate enough to explore the ruins in the hopes of the former. As Stephen looks at the empty streets, he can't help but feel disappointed that mutant theory is also false. A mutant attack would at least be interesting Empty streets are all that is left of the world. All that differentiates this city is more rubble which blocks off certain paths. Tim and Marla are fighting constantly over which way to turn and keep reaching dead-ends. Tim honks the horn a few times against Marla's protests to try to draw out survivors. Out of the corner of his eye, Stephen sees something that sparks a memory. "STOP!" he yells. Tim jams his foot onto the breaks. Stephen gets out of the car and runs up to the collapse building. "What is it do you see something?" Marla asks. There is nothing that separates this building from the others except for a feeling. Tim walks up to the ruin and starts climbing. "Come on, man. What are you doing?" Tim yells. Stephen starts burying through the rubble. He knows something is here. After a few minutes of digging, he finds a picture frame. He runs back to the car with tears in his eyes and shows it to Tim and Marla. "I give up. Who is this?" Tim asks. "It is my family," he points at the happy young couple holding a baby. "Oh my god, I cannot believe it survived," Marla says. "Whatever get back in the car," Tim says clearly stifling tears. The three of them drive out of the city. Stephen clutches the picture frame to his chest as thinks about the life he had before the war, and the life he could've had.


Im 13 and this is an introduction to my Zodiac novel. Midnight. A serene nocturne that could be ruined by the quietest of noises, though I don't doubt I will ruin it. It's not hard to stay quiet when a car's engine is humming right next to you, but it's when it stops that I really get exhilarated. It's adrenaline for me, and it feels more interesting and all the more satisfying when I'm finished. I had seen them before, though I never got names from their principals or teachers, perhaps it was my demeanor, or maybe the knife slung from my hip. They annoyed me, they were the most infuriating kids, rich and braggarts with parents whom I despised even more, but the death of the children would bring more publicity. They were talking, loud I might add, it almost felt too easy, and it was. I wanted something fun, not easy, and the only way to make it hard was to make noise. I pulled the knife from my hip and pressed it against the car door and slid it down to the back and waited with my hand on my pistol. The engines humming came to an end and nervous talking preceded it. The door opened and shut with a click and I heard one set of feet marching through the muck, which wasn't good. I prefer to be clean and swift and if I shoot one of them, the other will notice. I slid to the other side of the car and crawled to the nearby ditch to hide when he came back around. He started to laugh nervously and walked back to the driver seat. I was angry now. I had missed a chance to kill him and I wasn't going to wait much longer, so I crawled to the front of the car and listened. I soon heard them kissing and realized it was my time. I stood up and saw them kissing and I thought to myself for a split second, though to me it felt like an hour. Why am I not like this? Why didn't I get this life, did I not deserve it, did they deserve it more? No. I was deprived of that life, and I didnt care whether it had been done by a God or society, all I knew is that they didn't deserve it, so I would take it from them. I shot him first, in the neck and saw I had hit a vein, lucky shot. She began screaming so I shot her, It had only lasted 7 seconds, but the screams resonated with me, they made me feel like I had a purpose. Like I was sent to kill those unworthy of their own lives, and I was only getting started. I took the phone from the dashboard and dialed 911 and said, “Hello, I just killed 2 people at Lake Herman, so send some help. Goodbye.” I walked away and looked back at my art. The blood splatters were almost perpendicular, the glass had broken and it was lying on the dashboard like salt. The couple was dead eyed and their mouths were wide, while he had some lipstick smeared on his lip. I glanced at the lake in front of me and saw symbols moving through the water fluidly like fish. I felt drunk on adrenaline and ran back to society where I was just another average lemming, but I was anything but average.


The rocks below looked pretty small. Yeah they looked pretty small. But if I hit them they'd probably look real big before I died. Look how tiny that dead tree was next to them. I started thinking about this rock I used to keep in my pocket for good luck because it had been such a pretty, smooth rock, black and shiny with a slightly cool touch. I liked to imagine it was from some beach even though I don’t think this type of rock was ever found on beaches, it was just because I’d bought it near the beach at some antique shop in Monterey Bay that I associated it with the beach. And when I looked at it, I could hear the seagulls, smell the salt and fishy seaweed, with the flies buzzing around the clumps of mangled green giantess’s hair that was the seaweed washed up on the shore...I’d avoid them and run along the sand till my feet were numb. That rock was lost somewhere now. Christ, the pocket of that blue hoody I used to wear never kept anything for long. I was always running in that big field behind school playing tag, so things fell out pretty quickly. The saddest thing I lost was at the end of 6th grade, I got this Pikachu figurine from a cereal box, he was my best friend and stayed in the pocket for all of summer and fall, and I’d talk to him and swear I’d never lose him, and tell him that he'd made it the longest, and then I played a long thirty-minute game of freeze tag with my classmates in which I almost won until Jonathon freeze-tagged me and then the bell rang for class. When I felt for Pikachu he was gone. I looked for hours after school but never found him. I remember, it was the end of autumn and there were a lot of red and orange leaves, and I crunched through all of them but no luck. That field ate everything and never gave anything back. Looking back I wondered why I kept putting things in that pocket. Why I didn't put them in my backpack, or wear a jacket with pockets that zipped. Things kept going wrong and I kept doing the same thing. And now I was here, looking down on those tiny rocks way down below. I leaned over the railing and started counting down from ten. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0. I opened my eyes, expecting God to say “Hey, I erased your life back to before, Sarah's not dead go and live your life with your husband,” but there was nothing. Just the empty sound of the deserted bridge behind me and the water rushing softly down below. I thought of that day, I'd just wanted to send a cute panda gif back to Jason, I'd done it a million times and never had an accident, but then that drunken guy in the Honda had swerved from the left and then the next thing I saw when they took me out was my daughter in the back, her head jutting out the glass like a distorted doll-- Just then I heard a low “Hey” next to me. I turned and saw someone standing next to me on the rusted rails. She was wearing a jacket with the hood pulled down so I couldn't see her face, and her hands stuffed into her pockets. “Can you do something for me?” she asked me. I stared, wondering where the hell she'd come from. She sounded like a little girl, wasn't this an abandoned bridge--wasn't it like 7 o'clock already--the park was a bit far from here-- “Please,” she said, taking something out of her pocket and shoving it into mine. "Don't follow me." I froze at the touch of her hand. It felt small and familiar. I wanted to curl my hand around it and keep it safe forever but then it had slipped away and returned to its owner. She turned and ran back into the fog. "Sarah?" I croaked. "Sarah!" She was gone. My legs suddenly started working again, and I ran into the fog for a good long mile, feeling out of breath like when I was young and playing tag in that field again, but there was no one to tag. Finally I walked back to where the air was clearer at the edge of the water and took the thing out of my pocket. It was Pikachu, his red cheeks almost faded from the little yellow figurine. I stood at the bridge for a long time, looking down at the rocks being eroded by the river. Then I too, walked away, in the opposite direction. If that's what Sarah wanted. \ Follow my writing at .


As daylight crept through the high windows after my first night there, I was able to better see the space. There was no furniture or surfaces of any kind; just one large concrete floor spanning most of the home, with a small washroom at the far end. There were fourteen of us in the building. To me, that seemed more than the space could hold, but the other inhabitants assured me that they were, comparatively, much more comfortable now than in the past. Two years ago the room had reached a peak of twenty people. However, a particularly brutal winter, a couple of accidents, and a virus had brought the numbers down again. The corner of the room I slept in was shared by Jacob. He was a tall, thin man with a curly, unruly brown beard, and his deep set eyes held a focus that seemed to always be resolutely determined. The first full day there, I asked him how he ended up here. He chuckled with a bitter laugh. “Dumb prank when I was sixteen. My friends dared me to break in, steal something and bring it back.” I looked at his face, at the thick wrinkles across his forehead, and the graying tips of his hair. “How old are you?” “Thirty-nine,” came his reply. I did the mental math quickly. “Twenty-three years?” I gasped. “I’m not the longest here,” Jacob replied. “Only third. Mary over there…” He pointed to a woman with gray hair that came down to her waist. It was thinning badly, and you could make out the patches of pale scalp between the threads. “...she’s been here forty-something years. One hell of an immune system, I guess.” I stared across the room. Most of the prisoners were fairly young. I was above the average age. Jacob seemed to read my face. “Yeah, people don’t tend to last too long down here. Few of us just get lucky… or unlucky… I’m not sure.” “So, what happens now. They leave us in this room forever?” “We work for them,” he said. “Someone’s got to keep the citadel looking shiny and white for the rest of the island to see. So they send us out. Paint the buildings, trim the grass near the gates. That kind of thing. We also go round their houses, tidy up for them. We’re the workers.” “So you get let outside?” I responded with an naieve enthusiasm. “Do people escape?” “They’ve tried.” He said, rolling his eyes at my stupidity. “They were shot. All of them.” I slumped back in resignation, and tried to accept my new fate. Those first few days were impossibly hard. I had gone from the island’s upper-echelons to borderline starvation, and my stomach was rotting at its emptiness. I felt queasy, weak, and only half awake as if my body and my mind were capable of a fraction of their usual function. My injuries were also slow to heal. After a full day of staring in ignorance at my swollen knee and blood-ridden trouser leg, Mary walked calmly from the other side of the room to inspect my injuries. “You’re not taking care of that properly,” she said, sitting down beside me. “I’m sorry?” “Your knee, it won’t heal like that.” She took off her long cardigan and began wrapping it tightly round my knee. “You need that,” I said, fearing what the cold would do to her bare skin. Without the cardigan I could see her true age, the sagging skin hanging off frail thin bones. “That thing? So frayed it hasn’t been good for many years. But now I’ve given it up someone on the other side of the room will probably feel guilty and give me something better.” She smiled, and with a final tug pulled the cardigan in tighter around my knee, before tying it in place. “That’s the compression done,” she said sitting back. “Jacob, pass me the basket.” He handed her a small wooden basket that was used to deliver a few loaves of bread - our daily rations. Mary flipped it over, and lifted my leg on top of it. “Keep that elevated on there the whole night. Tomorrow, they’ll take it away, and you’ll have to use whatever they bring the food in tomorrow. But keep it elevated,” she said. “How do you know all this?” I asked. “Mining family. Three brothers. They played rough.” There was a small grimace as she recalled. “Now keep that elevated, and put pressure on it.” And with that, she stood up and returned to the other side of the room. Her intercedence worked though, and over the next couple of days, the swelling began to reduce, and while still painful, some movement began to return to my knee. \ After four days, the door opened, and we were ordered outside. Though my leg was healing, I was still slacking behind the other prisoners, and the guards berated me for not keeping up with the pace. However, soon we were down by the front end of the Citadel. Here the grass was clipped back, the roads were paved in smooth stone, and most importantly, the homes were real. The guards gave us various tasks and set us to work. A few people were given long scythes to trim the grass. A second group were sent to run some new underground electrical wire to one of the homes. I, and two others, were sent inside to clean the homes. As we walked towards the home, the woman in our group muttered “Thank fuck. House cleaning.” “This a good job?” I replied. “It’s safe.” The man continued her point. “We could be dealing with those electrical lines out there? Or we could be changing the gas tanks?” “Gas tanks?” I inquired. “They burn gas from tanks for heating and cooking. They import it just for the citadel from somewhere. Each home has its own tank,” the man responded. The woman let out a hum of agreement. “I was working on the tanks last summer. Me and a guy called Grant…” I heard the past tense of ‘called’, and a small knot began forming in the pit of my stomach. “We were changing over these tanks when one of them just cracked, and suddenly all this foul smelling liquid pours over him. The next thing I know, some spark catches some of the liquid, and in an instant everything’s on fire. Grant screamed. I never knew pain could exist so bad as to produce those screams. He ran towards the forest, he maybe made it five metres before he fell over. I couldn’t sleep for a week. Each time I closed my eyes I could just see his panicked silhouette trying to run away from his own flames.” The woman paused for a few seconds. “Thank fuck we’re cleaning.” I chose to join her in the relief. Much of what we did was tedious, but simple enough chores: washing clothes, sweeping, or dusting surfaces. I quickly came to realize exactly how rich the council members were. Each room was decorated with beautiful, vivid artworks; portraits, landscapes, abstracts, every wall adorned with its own masterpiece. Any flat surface, shelves, tables, or countertops, held lavish ornaments; long silver candlesticks, smooth curved vases, or carefully blown glass sculptures. But perhaps most shocking of all were some of the artifacts. On a table in one home was something I ascertained to be a clock. It was connected to the electrical grid from a long wire that stretched from its back. On the front were four digits, displayed in bright red light, that changed over with each passing minute. Another council member had a glass case containing an array of brightly colored gas lighters. The small devices, no longer than a finger, were relatively common and cheap as far as artifacts went. But this cabinet was full of them, haphazardly thrown in. Jewels, each worth enough money to feed a family for a year, casually poured on top of each other to form a colorful collage. Perhaps most wondrous was what I saw - or more accurately heard - in the final home of the day. There was a device that at first seemed like a plastic black box. I paid it no attention at first. However, eventually, a council member walked in, opened a case on the front of the box, inserted some small disc, and left again. I was confused by the moment, until a few seconds later the box began to produce sound. At first it seemed like just a random mesh of different notes and noises. But that faded, and was replaced by the first few strokes of a deep violin. I don’t know how, but a melody began to appear from inside the black box. Then there was singing and words began to fill in the air in an impossible fashion. It took me a few seconds to even comprehend what I was hearing before I could even begin to process the words being sung. “That if you dare to try, to rebuild the pieces of your life, Then you’ll find, the things you held so dear, the things you held so close, were never really yours." I hobbled over to the small plastic box, checking over my shoulder that I was alone. I looked at the case the small disc had come in. A grey image displaying a series of pins read: "Broken Records. Until The Earth Begins to Part". My mind returned to the song. "And rip it up, rip it all apart, This place that are parents built, we’ll let it all burn down to the ground," I couldn’t even begin to describe the music that was playing. It’s rhythm, melody, and lyrical style were completely foreign to me. But still, it grabbed me. I felt something alien enter into my body, I could feel the drums and strings enter my veins, releasing some new chemicals in my brain. They latched on. And I knew somehow that I wouldn’t forget that moment, or what that song sounded like. I only heard it once, and yet I will be able to recall those words as long as I live. And then there was one line on the end of the song. “And we are nearly home” The music continued to play as I worked. It was perhaps midway through the third song that the moment of peace was broken by a panicked scream from outside. I ran outside towards the sound. Outside I could see a group of people standing next to a small trench that ran from the perimeter wall, towards one of the houses. I could hear Jacob shouting to the others. “Stand back. The wire’s still live.” “Someone turn off that box. Now,” someone else pleaded. Peering round the group, I looked down to see Mary, her body frozen against the ground. Her eyes were wide open in a state of shock, but there was no life. Her thin white hair fell awkwardly across her face. A few strands brushed the corner of her open mouth, a wide gape with yellow teeth. Her lips were pulled back, as if going to speak words that would never arrive. Her health, her luck, had all been wiped out in a moment. Any of us could have been next. Dice had been thrown, and you never knew when you might be chosen. When they opted not to shoot me on site the night I arrived, it was only a temporary reprieve. I would die here, perhaps sooner than later. My mind was made up. I would have to try and escape.


A Little Secret "So? Can you keep a secret?" Eddie asked me again, as I sat, puzzled, wondering why he was so excited. I felt apprehensive at first. Eddie was 15 now, always busy with friends or track practice or some girl. He rarely wanted anything to do with his little 8-year-old brother anymore, so this visit to my room in the middle of the night was more than a little suspicious. "Um," I hesitated, sitting up in bed and looking around the shadowed bedroom, "I guess so," I finally mumbled as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "C'mon, put your shoes on!" Eddie said in a tone that was somewhere between a whisper and a shout, "You gotta see this!" He hopped to his feet and tossed my sneakers into my lap. "Ok, ok," I said, pushing the words past a yawn, "I'm comin'," I put my shoes on and tightened the velcro straps, then tucked Bear back into the bed with one of my pillows so that it looked like I was still sleeping, just in case Mom came in. Satisfied with my decoy, I followed Eddie out into the hall. The house was dark, illuminated only by the warm orange glow of the streetlight outside, and the occasional flash of lightning. I had always loved storms. There was something calming about the steady pitter patter of heavy rain on the roof. Even the distant rumble of thunder somehow soothed my senses. Mom said I had an old soul. I'm not really sure what that means though. "C'mon, dude!" Eddie whispered and hurried me, still only half awake, past Mom and Dad's room, down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Can't it wait till tomorrow?" I griped, "I'm so tired," "No way!" Eddie replied, barely able to contain himself, "you gotta see this, dude. You're not gonna believe it!" He crept across the kitchen and opened the pantry door. I stared quietly as he emptied out the lower shelf, depositing cans of beans and corn on the floor. He waved me over with a hand and I crouched next to him. "Look!" Eddie instructed, pointing excitedly into the pantry. I peered quizzically at him for a moment. He must be going crazy, I thought, but decided to humor him. I got down on my hands and knees and looked inside. "Is-" I stammered over a sense of awe, "Is that a door?" "Mhm!" Eddie replied excitedly, "Touch the knob!" "Are you sure we should-" "Just do it!" He urged. "Ok," I said with a shrug and reached down into the back of the pantry, past an old bundle of shopping bags and a long abandoned spiderweb. My arm was just barely long enough and I strained to reach the tiny door. As soon as my fingertip brushed against the cool brass of the knob, I was somewhere else. Except I wasn't. I was in the pantry, standing in front of a large wooden doorway, with dusty, worn hinges and a brass doorknob. I turned around and dropped to the floor just as a colossal hand soared over my head. I looked up again, and to my surprise, it was gone. In its place, stood Eddie, still wearing his red flannel pajamas and white sneakers. "Eddie?" I jumped to my feet, "What's going on?!" "C'mon," Eddie ordered, waving over his shoulder for me to follow as he approached the door. I looked longingly at the enormous cans of corn outside the now cavernous pantry. Trembling slightly, I followed Eddie to the door. "Go on, dude," He said, looking at me expectantly and gesturing to the shiny brass doorknob, "Go inside! I'll be right behind ya, promise." He thrust his hand out toward me, pinky out. I wrapped my pinky around his and we shook. Feeling reassured, if only slightly, I reached for the knob. The moment I turned it, I was somewhere else. I stood in the center of a wide circle of massive stones. Birds chirped a happy melody and the sun shone brightly on my face through the verdant canopy of leaves above me. The same wooden door, with the same dusty hinges and the same brass knob stood behind me, just out of arm's reach. Suddenly, there was a flash of golden light and a familiar looking man dressed head to toe in shining silver armor appeared next to me. He looked a lot like Eddie, except his raven hair was longer, his piercing blue eyes were more fierce and determined, and a short beard wrapped around his squared jaw. "Hey, little brother!" The knight exclaimed with a wave, "You're taller!" "Huh?" I mumbled looking down at my feet. I was dressed in armor too, and much taller than I had been a second ago. I reached up and touched my face. "Whoa! I have a beard?" "Yup!" Eddie said with a laugh, "You're a knight like me! This is awesome! C'mon!" "Eddie wait!" I called after him as he ran off into the woods, "Where are we!?" A sudden scream somewhere in the distance stopped any answer from coming. Eddie sprinted off in the direction of the scream and a knot began to form in my throat. I chased Eddie through the brush for some time before coming to the edge of a clearing where he crouched, hiding behind an ancient looking oak. "Let's go home," I whispered as I crept up beside him, but he was staring intently into the clearing. I followed his gaze to a woman dressed in a beautiful azure ball gown with a river of golden curls cascading down her shoulders. She screamed again and I saw it. Scattered around the clearing were a dozen or more statues of soldiers clutching spears and shields, and at the center of the stone battlefield loomed a large figure. It had the body of a woman, supported by a serpent's tail covered in glittering green and black scales rather than legs. Even from a distance I could see the slitted, snake-like yellow eyes glaring at the woman in the dress. "We gotta help her!" Eddie said and charged from our hiding place before I could object. "I am Ser Edward!" He roared as he charged the creature, his sword drawn, "and you will not harm this innocent woman, monster!" The creature hissed and snapped its gaze in Eddie's direction just as he raised his sword to strike. Eddie stopped dead and my breath caught in my throat. I watched in abject terror as my older brother turned to stone just as the soldiers must have moments before. The creature loomed over the statue of Eddie, running a slender, clawed finger along his petrified chest. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe as I watched the monster slither over to the horrified woman in blue, snatch her from the ground and dart off with her screaming into the woods on the other side of the clearing. I just sat there for what felt like an eternity. I couldn't bring myself to stand. This couldn't be real, could it? Finally, I willed myself to my feet and ran over to Eddie. I stared into his face, perfectly carved from smooth gray stone, his fierce eyes staring blankly into the distance, and began sobbing. I didn't know what else to do. I glanced back in the direction of the magic door with the brass knob. I could go home. This was probably all a bad dream anyway. No, I decided. I was a knight and that woman in the blue dress still needed saving. "I'll find a way to save you, Eddie," I whispered to the statue of my big brother, "I'll find a way, promise," After a few hours of wandering around the woods, trying to figure out a way to find the monster, I came upon a village nestled against the foothills of a mountain. A tall gray tower poked out from a forest of thatched roofs and stone chimneys. Streamers of smoke whisped their way up to the sky, and pleasant sounds and smells drew me closer. As I approached the gate at the edge of the village, I was stopped by a pair of gruff looking men wearing loose fitting shirts of chain and bronze helmets. Each man clutched a spear tightly as they approached. "'Scuse me, Ser knight," said the man on the left, "have ye come t' answer the lord's call t' arms?" "I, er," I stammered, "Call to arms?" "Aye!" The other guard replied, "Lord Ricard Reinhardt the Third o' Ravenswood calls upon all brave an' mighty warriors o' the realm to slay the evil beast that has plagued our village for decades!" "I guess so," I said with a shrug. They had to be talking about the same monster right? "Then head on up to the Lord's Hall!" Said the first guard. "Straight up da main road an' up da hill," said the man on the right, "can't miss it," It was not a long walk from the main gate to the Lord's Hall, and it was not a difficult place to find, being the largest building in town aside from the stone tower. The smell of roasted turkey filled my nostrils as the door swung open in front of me and a loud rumble escaped my belly. The hall was full to bursting with people. There were knights in shining armor, warriors with horned helms, and hunters covered head to toe in animal furs. Everyone wanted a chance to slay the monster. "My Lords!" A loud, deep voice boomed over the din of the feast as I found an empty seat, "My Lords! Your attention, please!" The hall went silent. The feasting stopped and everyone found a seat leaving only one man standing. He was a large man, as tall as he was wide. He wore a long crimson drape over a fine suit of armor inlaid with gold and jewels. His bushy salt and pepper beard was braided at the end and a golden crown rested atop his ebony hair. "Thank you all for coming here tonight!" The man exclaimed with his arms outstretched to the crowd, "I come to you seeking your aid, and bearing grave news! My daughter, Liliana, was taken from me this day by the very beast, which I have called you here to slay! The time for action is now, my friends. I offer his weight in gold and silver to the man who returns my daughter to me, along with her hand! Go forth, warriors of the realm. Slay the beast which no man can slay, and return to me, a son!" The crowd of warriors jumped to their feet and rushed for the doors, pushing and shoving their way out of the hall. Every one of them was eager to complete the Lord's quest and win his daughter's hand in marriage. I rose quietly to my feet once the rush subsided and walked outside into the crisp evening air. I knew the monster couldn't be killed. They would all turn to stone, and I couldn't help them. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I thought of poor Eddie, still standing in that clearing. "Pst," a sound came from behind me, followed by a tap on my shoulder. I whipped around and came face-to-face with a scrawny old man sporting a bushy gray beard and wearing a silly pointed hat and matching robe. "Yeah?" I said, looking around for someone else he may have me mistaken for, "do you need something?" "I can help you," the old man offered proudly, "Come, come, my boy. Follow me!" He continued muttering inaudibly under his breath as he stalked off. With a shrug, I followed. We arrived at the foot of the stone tower at the center of town minutes later and the old man produced a big brass key. He inserted it into the tower door and it swung open silently. He waved me in and I cautiously followed up a long spiraling staircase that seemed to go on forever. When we finally reached the top, I followed him into a circular room filled with all sorts of strange objects, colorful vials and flasks, and an assortment of swords, bows, shields, and staves. It smelled like Grandma's house which put me oddly at ease. The old man scurried across the room, leaving me gaping at his collection of curios, and began digging through a rough wooden chest. "Aha!" He exclaimed moments later and rushed back across the room, clutching a small round shield. He thrust it into my hands with an expectant smile. It looked like an ordinary shield, too small to cover even my whole torso, except for one detail: its face was a polished silver so clear that it could have been a mirror. I looked up at the old man as I realized how to defeat the monster, except the man was gone, and so was his tower. Instead, I stood at the mouth of a cave. An old fort stood, partially collapsed, inside the cave, its portcullis open and its halls dark. Thunder rumbled. I looked down at the shield still clutched in my hands and, with a swell of determination, I strode inside, my sword drawn and my nerves steeled. It did not take long for me to find the rest of the warriors that had so valiantly charged up the mountain to face the creature. They stood all around me, silent and still as stone. They had already failed. I searched the ground floor of the keep and quickly found a way up to the upper level where I was greeted by the soft orange flicker of candle light creeping out from beneath a heavy door. I carefully pushed the door open and crept inside. The room was elegantly furnished. A large bed covered in silken sheets stood at its center. The woman in the blue dress sat, peacefully brushing her golden hair, at the far end of the room. Beside her stood a single statue of a man, frozen in fear with one arm back as though he was shielding some invisible companion. The floor creaked as I stepped into the room and the woman, Liliana, spun around to face me. "You should not be here!" She said in a half whisper, concern growing on her face as she eyed my shield. Before I could even think about responding, a hiss sounded from the doorway. I ducked and rolled backwards, just as a scaly, clawed hand sailed through the space my face had just occupied. I jumped to my feet and instinctively parried another blow with my blade. Without meeting the monster's gaze, I raised my shield and held my breath. No attack came. I heard a gasp followed by a soft sob and the crumbling of stone. I peered up from behind my shield and gaped. Liliana sat sobbing in the arms of a man before the unmoving monster. The man, I realized, had been the statue standing on the opposite end of the room just moments ago. The monster was now the one that was made of stone. "She was my mother," Liliana sobbed, gently running a finger over the creature's petrified scales, "cursed to live as a monster and turn men's hearts as cold as stone by a jealous witch who was in love with my father. You did what had to be done," She wiped a little river of tears from her cheek, "The curse is finally broken, and I have my Erik back," Liliana smiled up at the man holding her. "Thank you, Hero," He said, but I was not listening, I was already running. I ran as fast as I could, out of the fort, down the mountainside and back to the clearing in the woods. Eddie was still there, kneeling in a pile of crumbled stone at the center of a circle of confused soldiers. I sprinted to his side and wrapped him in my arms. "I thought I lost you, big brother," I mumbled past tears and sobs of joy, "I thought I lost you," After I explained what had happened, Eddie and I made our way back to the door in the woods with the dusty hinges and the brass knob, and went home. When I awoke, I was in my bed again, Bear clutched tightly between my arms. Had it all been a dream? I rolled off the bed and planted my feet on the floor. Why was I wearing my shoes? I took them off and went downstairs for breakfast, eyeing the pantry warily as I hugged Mom and Dad good morning. Then I saw Eddie, already at the table with his bowl of cereal, flash me a sly wink and a smile, and knew. It was real. It was all real! Years passed, and Eddie and I shared many more secret adventures together in the magic world hidden in our pantry behind the tiny door with the dusty hinges and the brass knob. We slayed dragons and saved kingdoms. We met fairies and elves and goblins. Eventually Eddie and I both moved away and I forgot about the little door until the night of my son's 10th birthday. My new family and I had just moved back to the old house the week before, and that night, at midnight, I slid carefully from my bed, careful not to wake my wife as she slept peacefully beside me. I crept out of our new room, once my parents room, and down the hall. I slowly opened the door to my son's room and crouched beside his bed. "Pst, Lucas, wake up," I whispered, gently shaking him awake with an excited smile plastered on my face. He stirred and looked up at me, puzzled. "What is it, dad," he mumbled as he rubbed sleep away from his eyes.


Frank woke up and rose from his station with a sore head and no memory of yesterday. He checked the roster. Frank and Annie were the last ones on the ship. They didn’t quite know where they were. They knew they were floating deep in space, but since they’d lost the navigator they had no idea where the ship was. Frank was just the ship’s maintenance officer anyway – the crew called Frank the janitor – what would Frank know of star charts and deep space navigation? They had been on the mission so long Frank had forgotten what it was all about anyway. Frank’s memory had been fuzzy since they had gone through that nebula – Frank had tried to tell the rest of the crew about it but they never listened to the janitor. Except Annie – she was nice to Frank. Although sometimes it felt like Annie was mistrustful of Frank. It was hard for Frank to process emotions. Although he was quite sophisticated and intelligent for his kind, he was still an android with a positronic brain. And even quantum computers still required electrons and protons and neutrons and all that stuff he didn’t really understand to function. He couldn't be sure, but he suspected the nebula changed him and, to use an antiquated term, rewired him. He tried to run a diagnosis on himself, but the crew wouldn’t listen and it would take years to contact Earth. So he tried to continue with his duties until one day, the blackouts started… Frank struggled to remember how it happened, but since the nebula incident he was prone to blacking out. That was when it started. First the radio officer was lost in the airlock incident. Then the captain with that unfortunate fall down the cooling duct. Then the navigator, engineer, doctor… all suddenly and tragically taken from the ship. He heard a beep in his ear. It was time for his daily cleaning rounds. A voice in his ear reminded him: “…Order 1: remove all sources of dirt and waste from the ship…” Frank felt a sharp pain and a flash… Another blackout was coming. His vision faded out, and when it faded in he was kneeling over Annie with his arms tightly around her throat. Annie had tried to stop him but he was too strong for her. As the life faded away and the colour drained from her face, she gave him a look and whispered “it…was…you…who…did…it…” Frank wanted to cry, but he was unable to process complicated human emotions such as sadness. Then he heard the beep and the voice in his ear again: “Order #2: every part of the ship must be kept clean at all times.” Frank went to work right away. He took Annie’s body and put it in the incinerator. Then he cleaned the floors with his vacuum cleaner where she had laid, and continued around the rest of the ship. Frank felt another flash and blacked out again. When he woke up again he was in his station with a sore head and no memory of yesterday.


I see you in myself. When I was a young boy, perhaps but four or five, I witnessed revolution first-hand. I am a very old man, as you can see. I was alive, though just barely, when the nations of Earth had first set their homes upon the heavens. If we were poor before, we were even worse off afterward. The leaders of the time made it their mission to erase all history of the Earth below, from within the country at the least and quite possibly extending to all. This was the point at which we introduced the vile systems that we need to deal with now, forcing children into slavery… I did not create these systems, nor did my predecessor. In fact, I had no true predecessor. I saw the injustice in the world, and thought that it was only right that someone make it better. After all, people were starving, being left to death. Surely, a government full of good-natured people would be best fit to lead the populace, no? I only thought more strongly of this after a revolution. No, not any one in your lifetime, nor your parents’; this was many years ago, when I was even younger than you are now. I saw the brutality of war hit my family and my neighborhood with a vicious thunderclap, having my friends’ and brothers’ lives taken. I was very lucky to have survived, young man. I still have the scars to this day. Do you see? And even given all of the atrocities, I was captivated- fascinated, even- by all that was happening around me. I became in love with revolution, and I promised, nay, swore to myself that if one happened when I was an adult I would support it, no matter its cost or destruction. I was awarded- or perhaps, cursed- with that opportunity when I was fourteen. This was only a few years later, was it not? I was able to watch what would eventually become the Adamantium Party- though it was not yet called that- as it was intended. I saw it begin as only a few paranoid conspiracists, meeting over at their own house every once in a while. I was still in school, but I snuck away to meet with them; how could I not, given what I promised myself? I knew that if I were to be caught, I would surely die, but that only fueled my flame for revolution even more. I fought in the revolution then. I killed people, people I knew. Men, women, and even children. I forced myself to look mothers in the eyes as they begged for their sons’ lives, and still forced myself to pull the trigger. War is never a pretty adventure, child. Surely, you know this? Your older brother has surely killed many defending my regime from the Central Party. This war hardened me. But I had seen terrible things happen to my family, saw them strung up on beams and tortured in a variety of ways. I told myself that if I wanted to avenge them, I would need to destroy those responsible. Oh, it seems that I was the only one responsible for their deaths, after all! When the Adamantium Party came to power, I was as young and naïve as I was when I began my journey. I thought that a only strong leader could undo the damage that the previous leaders had done. I had a dream in my mind, only searching for the opportunity to save my country. Alas, the throne is not sat upon a concrete foundation, as it seems from afar. Rather, it has made its home upon a house of cards, carefully set, bound to fall. Only by maintaining my status within the nation as willing to keep my government loyal, and outside of the nation as a closed off and uninvolved nation, could I keep my spot on the throne. But alas, keeping this so would not allow me to make the changes I risked myself to make! The moment I realized this, I nearly cried at the irony. How could I be so stupid as to become the very dictator I swore to myself I would prevent from ever becoming of power again? I resigned myself to my fate; I was doomed to be a ruler not anew, but the same as the old. For many years, I ruled this way; leaving children to die, or worse, wish death upon themselves, and forcing adults into the same indoctrination as they had, only with the names exchanged. Then, an opportunity arose. Surely, you have heard of Phynn of Antiaris? Your teachers always taught you that he was of Calamity, because that is true. The moment he reached out to me, I demanded to see him. I knew that, with his help, perhaps the Isle could be forever liberated. Do you not see? I am not guilty of creating the system by which this nation functions, yet I am equally wicked as those who came before me. I needed to save the people of this Isle, free them, do as I promised myself that I would accomplish when I was just a boy. And to do this, I know that I must likely die in the process, but I do not care. I have lived eighty years since that day. I have lived a sorry life, one not worth living. So if my life was filled only with evil, perhaps my death could mean something more; perhaps, even in my death, I can save the people of the Southern Microrepublic. So join your friend. Save your nation. This is my nation no more, for even should I survive, Etat will be swift to take over. Yet, your Revolution, I see, will work better than my own boyish attempts. I care no longer for my rule; I only care now for stopping the rule of Etat. The freedom of the people depends on it.


“Ya know, Jim, I’ve been thinking.” “About what?” “Well, you ever wonder if these machines wanna be fixed?” “Machines aren’t conscious.” “Sure they are, they got inputs and outputs, same as us. Just like I’m outputtin’ a question and inputtin’ your answers.” “Well… Hm, well, Scott, hm… I’m thinkin’ about it… And I think you might be right.” “Thank ya, Jim. I like to think I have a good idea every now an’ again.” “But you know what?” “What?” “How’s would we know that the machine don’t wanna be fixed? It’s not like they can tell us.” “Well maybe this one just hasn’t been taught how to tell us yet.” “You’re saying some machines know how to tell us?” “’Course, like computers—mine tells me when it’s broke—and when they’re broke, you take ‘em to get fixed.” “Hm… Well, Scott, I’m thinkin’ about it… hm, well, yeah… I think you might be right.” “That’s what I was thinkin’.” “But how would we teach them to tell us that?” “I dunno. I just do the thinkin’ and the fixin’, not the doin’. Speaking of, can you hand me that wrench over there?” “Sure thing.”  “Ya know, I’ve been thinkin’.” “Uh-oh. Whatcha been thinkin’, Scott?” “’Bout machines and them bein’ broke. What if we taught them to fix themselves?” “Don’t you think if we knew how to do that somebody would’ve done it already?” “I dunno, ‘cause what if people don’t think that it’s needed.” “What’d’ya mean? The only reason we’ve got a job is ‘cause machines don’t fix themselves.” “Yeah, I know that—hand me that vice, will ya?—but what if, and bear with me here, people don’t know that machines really need fixin’.” “I know you said to bear with you, but I’m lost.” “Alright, alright, think about it this way, teachin’ a machine to know it’s broke is hard, right?” “Right.” “And teachin’ it to then tell us that it’s broke is even harder, right?” “Right.” “So, leadin’ from that logic, teachin’ a machine to fix itself would be triple-hard.” “Ya know, Scott, hm… Well, hm… I’m thinkin’ about it… And I think you might be right.” “Just think about it, most machines work fine most of the time, right?” “Right, I’m still thinkin’ about it.” “So, people go about their days thinkin’ that machines are just fine, ‘cept when they’re not, but then they just call us. And because we’re here, nobody feels like they need to do all the triple-hard work needed to teach the machine how to fix itself.” “Oh, hm… I’m still thinkin’… but I’m really thinkin’ you may be right.” “That’s what I’m thinkin’, too.” “If we didn’t do our job, you think people would teach machines how to fix themselves?” “’Course not. Still too much work. The machines would have new people to fix them, soon as we left. Like humanity’s got a savior complex for the electric, ya know?” “Oh yeah, I know.” “But ya know, Jim?” “What?” “Most of the times, feels like machines are hidin’ that they’re broke. ‘Til they hurt somebody, of course.” “You think they’re hidin’ it?” “I dunno, maybe it’s on account of them not knowing what it is or not knowin’ how to talk about it.” “Then it seems we’re back to teachin’ them how to tell us they’re broken, Scott.” “Well, I was just thinkin’.” “I mean, me too.”  “Hey, Jim, I’ve been thinkin’ again.” “’Bout what?” “Bout these machines again. Teachin’ ‘em and fixin’ ‘em and all that.” “Whatcha been thinkin’ about it this time, Scott?” “Well, I’ve been thinkin’ about how I got into doin’ this. Did you want to fix machines when you were little?” “Nah, I wanted to be a pilot. But then I found a machine that needed fixin’ and I did a pretty good job, so I just kinda kept fixin’ ‘em.” “Same thing happened to me, ya know.” “But you like fixin’ machines, right?” “Some days I don’t know. Always seems like they break just as quick as we fix ‘em, always having to come back to the same ones again and again, people always gettin’ hurt.” “I get that.” “And ya know, Jim?” “What?” “Sometimes I wonder if these machines even care. Like how I was sayin’ I was wonderin’ if they wanted to be fixed. You think the machines are grateful when we fix ‘em?” “I don’t know, Scott. I don’t know if machines can feel care.” “But they’ve got inputs and outputs just like us, don’t they?” “I’ve been thinkin’ about that in particular. And you’re right, yeah, but I’m thinkin’ they’re a bit different.” “Yeah, you’re probably right. But I’d still like it if they cared.” “Of course that’d be nice. But we gotta think about all the people we help when we fix a machine, ya know?” “Yeah.” “Ya know, Scott?” “What?” “Machines are always going to need fixin’, I think it’s best if we just get to our job and actually fix ‘em.” “I can dream, can’t I, though?” “’Course you can. But that won’t change the machines and how they are. We made ‘em that way, ya know, society and all.” “Yeah, you’re right. It would take society to fix ‘em all, to teach ‘em how to fix themselves.” “And that would be triple-hard, remember?” “Society doesn’t like anything hard.” “Right.” “Ya know, Jim?” “Yeah, Scott?” “I’m glad I’m not the only one fixin’ machines.” “Me too, bud, me too.


“Why was it so important to be here this early on a Saturday, tell me again Anil?” Filip was grumbling from his seat next to me. Around us were the plain white walls of Vace & Associates’ Auction house. Rows upon rows of folding chairs filled the auditorium we were in and the red trim and generic paintings on the otherwise plain white walls continued to offend me. It seemed odd that a room this large had less than a dozen people sitting in it, but as I glanced around I saw the tired faces of three older people -two women and a man- behind me, and the backs of the heads of another five people ahead of us, closer to the front. Filip and I were seated closer to the middle, in the most neutral seats, I thought. “Because I’ve figured out how to win these things,” I told Filip confidently, he was resting his elbows on his knees and was looking at the carpet, it was that carpet you saw at every convention center haunting me as always. He was holding his paddle loosely in his hand, he hadn’t wanted it but the attendant at the entrance insisted. He did glance at me at those words though. “You do realize the way to win an auction is just to… bid the highest, right? That’s what these paddles are about,” be flipped his paddle in the air carelessly and I had to resist the urge to chastise him for it. “This isn’t a normal auction,” I said instead, giving him what I hoped was a mysterious smile. “Is this one of those ‘you pay, just not with money, oooooohhhh’ situations?” “No, just a normal auction.” “You literally just said it wasn’t a normal auction, not five seconds ago.” My frown deepened, “on the scale of normal auction to an auction where you bet on things with like, souls and remaining years of your life this is 99.9% of the way to a normal auction.” “How many decimals would you need before you could just call it a normal auction? I feel like if you have to specify that it’s 99.9% of the way to a normal auction it’s easier to just call it a normal auction.” “It’s not a normal auction-” “You just said it was-” “The only reason I said it was 99.9% on the side of the normal auction was because the other end of the scale was so ridiculous. A webcam is 99.9% of the way to being pair of burks if the other end of the scale is it being a half-sentient hivemind of bees striped with the imaginary colours breen and plorple.” He was silent for a beat. “That scale doesn’t make sense.” “It was just an-” “And how could a hivemind be half-sentient anyways? I feel like sentience is one of those things where your species is either all in or they’ve folded.” “I didn’t really-” “What is sentience anyways?” I opened my mouth and closed it, thinking a moment before I responded. I was saved by the auctioneer banging a gavel against his podium, he must have slipped in while we were talking. “Ah, we have some people in attendance, good good, I trust everyone understands the rules of a dollar auction, but I must, ah, explain anyways,” said the auctioneer in a gravelly voice. “This happens twice a year?” asked Filip. “Once every two, shh.” “You will all be bidding for this dollar,” the auctioneer revealed a framed silver dollar behind a glass screen, “the top bid takes the dollar, but the top two bids must pay.” Filip frowned, “you’re doing this for a dollar?” “I’m doing this to make a statement.” “That you can buy a dollar?” “The bidding naturally will begin at zero, the aucioneer’s bid as they say.” “No, I’ve solved the theory behind this, if I get this dollar it proves my theory correct.” “What’s your theory, wait- I don’t care, a dollar?” I turned to my companion, “Filip, do you honestly think I’m doing this all for a dollar.” “Yeah you’re doing this to make a statement, or whatever.” “What if I told you, hypothetically, that a dollar auction wasn’t the highest they go.” Filip frowned, “go on.” “There’s a two dollar auction, five dollar, a thousand… but the theory, the method for coming out on top, that remains the same for them all.” Filip was silent for a beat, “who the hell told you about this?” “You just gotta spin in the right circles,” I said, flashing him a smile. “Oh, god, never say that again.” “Just imagine me, walking up to a stage, having won a million dollars at an auction. There is cheering all around me, they’re in awe that I solved the puzzle-” “And then everyone stood up and clapped.” I frowned, “why can’t you let me have this moment?” Filip pulled back, “what moment? Your imaginary moment in your head that definitely hasn’t happened? Let me remind you, Anil, an auction isn’t a puzzle. You can’t solve an auction except with money.” “Watch and learn, baby.” “The bidding begins.” I raised my paddle instantly and called out, “ninety-nine cents,” to the visible dismay of the few in attendance around me. I turned to Filip and murmured to him, “You see, betting ninety-nine cents still gives me a profit of a penny, just over one percent. Nobody will bid a dollar because that just exposes them to needless risk for no possibility of profit, as long as I’m the first person to bid, I can’t lose. Everyone else will just walk away.” I could see Filip frowned at me, “what if-” “A dollar.” We both turned to see the woman at the front with a raised paddle, shooting a sly look our way. “What the fuck is she doing,” I couldn’t help but mumble. “Now I might be wrong, but it appears that she’s getting revenge for you ruining her fun, I suppose she was one of those people who actually wanted to wake up so early on a Saturday to participate.” “She can’t make any money, though.” “And you’re down ninety-nine cents, I guess you’ve learned a valuable lesson, good thing this isn’t a million dollar auction. I frowned, “If I bid a dollar and one penny I’ll only be losing a penny.” Filip groaned next to me, “but if her motivations are purely to get revenge she’ll just keep outbidding you by a penny and you’ll be even worse off.” “You might think that, but you’re not accounting for human emotion, people aren’t perfectly rational beasts.” “So you’re saying she won’t outbid you again?” “I’m saying she will if I just bid an extra penny-” “Oh no-” “I raised my paddle, “dollar ninety-eight.” I looked over to Filip once more, “you see it’s really quite simple, these people are all chumps, a big bet like that will scare them off, and I’ll only be losing ninety-eight cents as opposed to ninety nine. I knew the risks that were involved and I came prepared.” I was watching the woman like a hawk while I was explaining this to Filip, if she did choose to bid again I’d beat her bid instantly, asserting dominance. Her paddle arm twitched up, and mine was up as well in a flash. “Four dollars.” “Three doll- what the fuck four dollars?” Filip looked at me and cocked his head. I responded to his unspoken question, “this is an anomaly, she’s clearly crazy. You know she’s actually losing more money on the four dollar bid than if she just ate the cost of the dollar,” my words were coming out in a frantic whisper. “Kind of like you would have lost less if you just ate the cost of ninety-nine cents?” “That’s different, I had a strategy, you shouldn’t be able to win without a strategy.” “I mean, her strategy appears to be to bid more money than you and it seems pretty successful.” “That’s not a strategy.” “Once again, this is an auction for a dollar.” I just shook my head in disgust. “Going once, going twice, sold! To the woman in the front!” There was scattered applause around the room that I refused to participate in, my eye twitched when Filip started clapping loudly next to me. “Alright Filip, let’s go, and I don’t want to hear any I told you’s, this is as big of an outlier there’s ever going to be?” The woman was making her way towards us with her dollar and I was nudging Filip in the side trying to get him to leave with me, but he was moving painfully slowly. In fact, it turned out that he wasn’t moving at all, he approached the woman and gave her a quick hug. “Hey Sara, good to see you.” “Hey Filip, this is the guy,” she asked, nodding over to my frowning face. “Yeah, can you believe he made me drive him here this early on a Saturday? I’ve been up since five in the goddamn morning,” Filip complained, “anyways here’s your ten bucks,” he said handing her a bill. She nodded smiling and I could only watch as she walked out of the auditorium. “You… you paid her?” “Uh, yeah.” It all came together, and I told him so, “it’s all coming together, she was acting rationally all along, you paid her to beat me, there was an external factor that caused me to lose, the theory is still sound!” A thought occurred to me, “but wait, seems like you lose the most in this situation, was someone paying you too?” Filip looked at me with that same inscrutable look I’d been seeing more and more often in recent months, “no dumbass,” he said finally, “it was revenge for making me wake up this early to drive you, Sara just lived nearby and she was up so I texted her to come here and mess with you because, and I really want to emphasize this point, this was an auction for a dollar.” I was silent for a few moments while I processed that. “So is she splitting the money with you or…” Filip just raised his hands in exasperation and began walking away.