This weekend was so exciting.

My Grandpa moved in with us.

My Mama and Daddy say he is sick.  He doesn’t look sick to me.  I don’t see any bandaids. He isn’t throwing up.  He isn’t running a fever. My Mama said he needed for us to take care of him so he came to stay.  Whatever the reason I’m just happy to see him.  He seemed sad so I ran and jumped up on his lap.  He gave me snuggles and I gave him the tightest hug I could.

Grandpa helps to do dishes as a chore and clean up his room in the basesment.  I like that he has to do chores like me and my brother.  Mama and Daddy say that everyone has to help out around the house unless they can’t.

My Grandpa sits on the floor with me while I play with my blocks.  He helps me build a tower.  He reads stories to me too but, he doesn’t do the voices the way my Mama does.

My Grandpa hangs out with my brother a lot.  Mama says they are two peas in a pod.  The two of them enjoy watching a mystery show on the tv and every time an episode ends they both look at each other with a need to know more like a hungry tiger looking for it’s next meal.  They both say, “One more?” After Grandpa lives with us for a while our house feels different.  Everyone seems worried.  Mama and Daddy are too busy to play with me.  My brother seems different too.  I want our house to feel normal again.  I like when Grandpa came to visit instead of live with us.

Grandpa has started to stay in his room more often and he doesn’t do his chore of the dishes anymore.  He doesn’t even make his bed either but it seems silly to make it if you aren’t getting out of it very often.

When he does go outside he likes to sit in the sun on a lawn chair, while my brother and I play on our playground.  Sometimes he seems happy, other times he seems sad and sometimes he even seems mad.  I don’t understand what is happening but I just want Grandpa back to being silly and having fun.

Grandpa was going to the doctor all of the time but now my Mama and Daddy say Grandpa has to have nurses come and see him at home.  He is too sick to go to the doctor anymore.  He still doesn’t look sick.  He just sleeps A LOT.  He stares off into space and sometimes it seems like he is a statue. The nurses come and help Grandpa a lot.  Grandpa has become grumpy.  I think he needs a snack and a hug.  So we watch a movie with a big bowl of popcorn.  I catch him crying when the movie ends.  I don’t know why he would cry it had a happy ending.  Olaf came back to life from the waterfall.  We were watching Frozen 2 it’s one of my favorites.

I came home from school today and my parents tell my brother and I that Grandpa has to move.  He is moving to a placed called Hospice.  I’m not sure where it is but the nurses will stay with him to help him feel the best he can.

I feel an ache in my heart. “I will miss him.”  I say to my Mama and Daddy.

My brother says nothing but just seems sad.  I don’t understand what’s happening but my heart says I don’t like it.  I don’t think anyone else does either. Mama and Daddy hug me and say we can visit him everyday.  We go and visit but it feels different than having Grandpa at home.  The only happy part is Grandpa has a drawer of candy that he lets me dig in and get a piece and, the nurses give my brother and I a cup of ice cream.

One afternoon though Grandpa started to gasp for air.  It was very scary.  His face told me it was scary for him too.  My Mama had my brother take me to the hallway and watch cartoons but I still wondered why my Grandpa made that noise.

Grandpa has stopped talking now.  He just sleeps all of the time.

My family is sad.  They are crying.  My Mama has tears on her cheeks.  They say Grandpa has died.  I think that means he won’t wake up.  Maybe he is dreaming about his Mama.  He told me he wanted to see her.  I hope he dreams of her. My Mama says in a few days we will have a party to celebrate Grandpa’s life.

We go to a special place.  My Grandpa is laying very still in a box! He doesn’t wake up to give me a hug.  My cousins and whole family are there.  We tell stories about Grandpa. They are funny but he does not wake up to laugh with us. It feels like a long time has passed since I’ve seen Grandpa.  I asked my parents if we were going to see him at hospice.  They said, “No buddy because he died.” I’m starting to understand it means dying is more than just not waking up.  It means I won’t see his face. I won’t feel his hugs. I won’t hear him laugh.  I don’t like this feeling. Mama says we can go get ice cream and tell Grandpa stories to not miss him so much.  My Grandpa loved ice cream and ate it almost every day when he lived with us.

We also hung a picture of Grandpa and I in my room and now it feels like he isn’t so far away.

After a very long time we go to see what Mama calls Grandpa’s grave.  We put flowers on it.  They are blue ones and I picked them out for him.  I don’t want to leave him all alone but Mama says it is time to go.  I start to feel my eyes water.  Mama turns and sees my face and then she hugs me and tells me she misses Grandpa too.  She starts to tell me a story to make me happy again.  She always tries to make me happy.  It helps for a minute but the sadness is still there. As we drive away I tell her, “I wish the time of Grandpa would come back.”

“Me too,” she says “me too.” I see her wipe tears off of her face and I know I’m not the only one feeling sad.


"I want to throw a mud pie at Valentine's Day!" "Yes, that's me talking. I won't reveal my name. Just think of me as the "Little Red-Haired Girl" that Charlie Brown stares at from across the school yard. He drives me crazy with his wishy-washy personality. Why doesn't he just come over and say "Hi" to me? He is always looking down at the ground. He is gloomy and I absolutely refuse to send him a Valentine's Day card EVER! I won't give my name because I am adored by the ever dreamy-eyed, sickly-sweet Charlie Brown. I will have none of that because boys are "yucky" and especially Charlie Brown is "sickly-sweet". I am a true Anti-Valentine Heart! I am also a cartoonish kind of girl, so call me "Anti-Sweet". Anything but sickly sweet please! I am starting my own Anti-Valentine Conversation Heart Stand at school to protest this Valentine's Day nonsense. Conversation hearts are small heart-shaped candies in pastel colors that have silly messages on them. They taste as sickly sweet as they sound. I want to make my own version. Instead of sweet, why not sour? Just like I am feeling. Sour and green with envy. Let's throw a mud pie on all that sweet milk toast type of fluff and start saying what we really are thinking about Valentine's Day? First of all, I will need a staff to help me carry out a successful Anti-Valentine's Day Conversation Heart. We will have a "think tank" to come up with some real doozies! My "staff" consists of Schroeder, Pig Pen, Sally, Violet, Linus, Peppermint Patty, Marcie, Lucy and Franklin. The first meeting is this afternoon. We will meet at the bleachers after school I figure we have at least an hour to coordinate our objective: to make shocking Anti-Valentine's Day Conversation Hearts. We can also decide on a price. My staff files into the gym. "Okay "think tank" give me some ideas!" Pig Pen: My heart will say, "Eat dirt" Sally: How about, "You are ugly" Violet: I like, "You stink" Schroeder: My heart will say, "Never you" Linus, giggling: "Put a bag over your face" Peppermint Patty: I will simply say, "You are my Anti Valentine" Marcie: "I hate you" Lucy: "Sour puss" Franklin: "Mama's Boy" "Great ideas. Can you describe what flavors you want the hearts to be? Keep in mind that we want to put people off, so use your imagination and be so Anti-Sweet and as ghoulish as you want! Have fun with it!" Pig Pen: "How about Brussels Sprouts? My Mom always makes me clean my plate. Yuck!" Sally: "Sour" Violet: "Hot Sauce" Schroeder: "Liver" Linus: "Farts?" Everyone laughed at Linus, but they all rejected that one. "Linus, that is too far out. We will get someone really sick if we attempt that one." "Okay, okay. How about "Pickle?" "Much better." Peppermint Patty: "Bologna" Lucy: "Fireballs" Marcie: "Tomato" Franklin: "Goulash?" "Let's nix the goulash, Franklin." Franklin: "Okay, how about corn on the cob?" Little Red-Haired Girl: "Not bad." Okay, we have a good idea of the messages and the flavors. Now where can we sell our Anti-Valentine's Day Conversation Hearts. We can sell them in front of the school. We can ask for permission but leave out the part where it is an Anti-Valentine's Day Conversation Hearts. What they don't know won't hurt them. I am sure they will find out soon enough. Kids have a way of ratting us out fast. "Let's all put our money together and go to the art supply store and buy some poster board and markers so we can advertise our mutual contempt for Valentine's Day Sickly Sweet Message. We now have our own stand. We can call it "Anti-Valentine's Day Conversations!" That will be a surprise, especially when they taste our concoctions!" The whole group laughs. "We must keep this to ourselves for now. It will spoil the surprise for those sickly sweet lovers of Valentine's Day. "Oh how I want to throw a mud pie at those dreamy-eyed fools!" Sally: "Calm down, you are overreacting. It's just a day, like any other day. You are letting this Hallmark holiday get to you just like Charlie Brown. Besides, Charlie Brown is my brother!", Sally remarks. Little Red-Haired Girl: "Okay, I'll try to remain calm." ------------------------------------- A few weeks later Little Red-Hair Girl: We set up a few tables and put up our Anti-Valentine's Day posters all over the school. We kept quiet. We didn't even tell our parents or siblings! We arranged our Anti-Valentine's Day Conversation Hearts by Color and degree of remarks. The price of the hearts are ten for a dollar. Don't want to make it too much or it might just backfire on us. "Don't give out samples because it will destroy our message for Anti-Valentines Day. Just sell, sell, sell. Got it?" "Got it?" Marcie and Lucy sold ten bags of hearts. Linus sold one bag. Pig Pen and Schroeder sold the most, ten bags. Violet sold two bags. Peppermint Patty sold four bags. About a half hour later, there was one really weird looking kid waiting in line and approaching the Anti-Valentine table. He seems almost like a comic book character. Charlie Brown: "I love Valentine's Day so very much. I am sickly-sweet about this day. It comes in the middle of winter and Valentine's Day brightens my hope for a new love life. Maybe, just maybe, the Little Red-Haired Girl will say "Hi" to me." Little Red-Haired Girl: "Oh brother, Charlie Brown, will you go away! Charlie Brown: "Not until I try one of these delicious new Valentine's Day Conversation Hearts. It must be delicious because the line is so very long. I will close my eyes and pick the one my finger lands on." Charlie Brown's finger lands on the heart that says, "Put a bag over your face." Charlie Brown: "I demand my money back!" Little Red-Haired Girl: "Sorry, no returns and no refunds. Didn't you read our sign? "Happy Anti-Valentine's Day, you sickly sweet fool!", said a mysterious sweet and sour kind of voice that seemed rather familiar to Charlie Brown. The staff was amused and have been watching this exchange for about ten minutes and wanted to see how it would all unfold." The voice behind the remark is a girl, rather cartoonish looking, almost like a comic strip character, she has red hair, which she was always fussing with and a smart mouth. She thinks highly of herself and she definitely hates Valentine's Day. She gets annoyed with her customer, Charlie Brown for being so sickly sweet and laughs at him when he reads his candy heart message but the worst part was when he remarked about the taste of the heart. "I know that voice.", Charlie Brown remarked "This heart is pickle flavor!", Charlie Brown yells. Charlie Brown: "I'm going to sue you all for your Anti-Valentine's Day Conversation Heart disappointment. I know that voice! It's you Little Red-Hair Girl. I don't even know your real name. You know I have watched you from the other side of the school yard all year. You never say "Hi" to me. Nothing! My eyes are open now and I will put a bag over my face and walk away." The Little Red-Haired Girl: "I don't want to tell you my name. Why should I?" Charlie Brown: "You are busted. I am going to the Principal's Office NOW!" Little Red-Haired Girl: "No!, Don't do that, Charlie Brown! I will cry and ruin my makeup and the texture of my naturally curly red hair! The Principal doesn't care what we do here at our Anti-Valentine stand because because he is a pickle puss!" Charlie Brown starts to laugh. He reaches over and takes a bag of Anti-Valentine hearts and swallows the whole bag. He puts his hand over his mouth and dashes to the restroom where he gets sick. I think we need to shut down our Anti-Valentine's Day stand now before we get into any real trouble. Charlie Brown is sick in the bathroom and who knows who else got sick. We don't need any more collateral damages. We can't afford a lawyer. It was fun while it lasted but Valentine's Day is over. Little Red-Haired Girl: "Happy Anti-Valentine's Day, we had fun throwing a mud pie in the eye of you sickly sweet Valentines!"


The drizzle sprinkles across the edge of your umbrella like the graininess of a record player.

The early morning light feels like waking up in a queen sized bed and reaching out, only to find vacant sheets. On the way to the train station, you watch your feet to keep them out of puddles despite the rain boots you adorn. The little pools were to remain undisturbed. They are mirrors that reflect the sky and your passing silhouette, framed by the other passengers arriving to wait. You scan your prepaid train card on the little gate as you make your way through the shiny metal turnstile. There are many people crowded around the seating and vending machines. You claim one of the bucket seats as your own and arrange yourself comfortably. It should be a little while before your train arrives. You become an observer. There are people standing in line with the yellow markings on the ground indicating where the doors will open. Someone sitting next to you is reading a book. You try and see what has their attention, but it's just white pages with unfamiliar black markings that run up and down the pages. The stranger doesn’t notice you and flips the page backward from what you’re used to. You’re startled out of your investigation by the shrill giggles of some high school girls over by the vending machine. They become very animated, but you have no idea what they could be saying, as you do not speak their language. Everyone around you is wearing muted clothing. Their faces are blurred out, just the presence of hands and shiny shoes. Your trance is broken every few minutes by the sound of the train approaching, doors opening, sudden mechanical rotation of bodies passing in and out, then silence before the murmur of waiting resumes. You know the name of the place you are heading towards, and have repeated it over and over in your head in preparation to take this trip. The anxiety of getting lost in this place tends to make you over-prepared. You even took a screenshot of the name of the location in its traditional symbols in case you are forced into asking for assistance from one of the faceless figures around you. The cadence of the language here is something you decided months ago that you were not confident enough to attempt. In comes another train with more sound, pressure, and passengers. The soft, almost robotic, feminine voice that announces the trains eventually catches your attention with the word you were waiting for. You gather yourself and join the line of strangers.

Your heart skips a beat as the doors open. Remember to stand aside and allow movement out before flowing back in. A wave on the shoreline. It is always an odd sensation when boarding the train. Suddenly, personal space becomes an unspoken impermanence. Strangers with different lives and destinations come close enough to touch in the swaying motion of the train car. You are met by yourself in the window’s reflection surrounded by faceless figures. It is now time to put in your earbuds and close your eyes to regain some inner isolation. Every time the train stops, you keep count in your head. The motion slows and the doors open. Pressure changes as bodies move in and out around you. Only a few more stops until it is your turn to flow out with the rest of them. Your eyes open when it is time and you feel weighed down by the strange lull of the train that has a few of the passengers slumped in their seats. You shake it off and press out the door.

You blink as you emerge from the station. The ground is damp here, but the sun warms your face. You mutter learned apologies as you bump into bodies. It feels strange because you notice that is the first thing you have said out loud all day. Your mouth feels as foreign as the phrases you memorize. A wisp of something sweet entices your attention to the small food stand to the right of you. The warmth of the smell causes you to salivate. The faceless man in the stand greets you in a native phrase. You bob your head politely and point to the picture menu in the window, holding up a number of fingers for how many of each. You exchange coins on a tray placed between you for warm bags that you take to the side to examine. The bag holds a small assortment of little fried fish-shaped pastries. You can’t help but open the bag for a direct sniff of the sweetness. The custard ones always remind you of the mornings you used to have brunch with friends back home, like pancakes and laughter. Chocolate is always the messiest, and it brings back memories of your mother scolding you for getting dessert all over you as a child. The other pastries are what you have learned is red bean paste. They are a new contrast to the places and faces you are used to; they smell like new experiences and taste like a foreign language on your tongue.

Folding the paper bag again, you head towards your destination. You occasionally check your location on your phone to make sure you’re headed in the right direction, but as you get closer, that is no longer necessary. The smell of roasting coffee beans guides you the rest of the way. The cafe is notated with a simple symbol above the door. All the tables outside are filled. You have the passing thought to turn back, but the smell of caffeine is enough to draw you inside. You follow the pattern you took before; point and order, one finger held up, money exchanged on the interception tray, and food delivered. You find a two person table in the corner and sit with your back to the wall. Your treat is something you have never tried before, but it looked interesting enough. It is a delicate ice cream swirl topped with thin almond slivers that look so perfect they could have been individually placed for your enjoyment. To the side is a small silver container of steaming espresso. You see your face reflected in it, stretched and distorted. You take the delicate spoon and dip it into the espresso to taste. It is darkly rich and bitter. It burns your eager tongue a bit. You taste that the ice cream is sweet, making your eyes sting. It tastes like home and companionship. The girls seated at the table only a foot away from you make excited exclamations. They are sitting across from each other, wearing matching hair pins and have matching shirts. They take pictures of their desserts just like yours and enjoy them together. They make happy sounds, and you leave them to it. You glance at the empty chair in front of you as you pour the espresso over the ice cream. The first spoonful is warm, but not scalding. The sweetness is mellowed out by the freshly roasted espresso, accented by the intermittent crunches of the almond slivers. You close your eyes. Your exhale is a resignation. The loneliness is palpable. It is more than a state of being. It is as heavy as morning fog, a denseness that surrounds you and muffles ambient noises. It lingers between the busy passengers of life, almost at a standstill between the flowing pathways we take. It is a friend in passing, someone you think of while enjoying a parfait alone in a foreign cafe.


I am a fan of physics, math and science fiction. I have seen multiple scripts imagined by the sci-fi greats. I know the symbology of physics and mathematics. I even know some of the ancient scripts including a smattering of Egyptian hieroglyphics and the symbology of petroglyphs and such. About ten years ago, divers discovered what became known as the “porpoise school” off the coast of Cuba. A year after the discovery, National Geographic had a multi-page glorious color presentation of the find. A series of structures that were a cross between Mayan and Santa Fe-style construction had the world agog. That was all amazing enough. Then, a few months after the article was published, a fool-hardy diver came upon a way into one of the structures and found murals of script on the walls. She photographed it all and submitted it. Another NG publication six months later.  More agog across the planet. I perused my hard copy of that month’s publication. Page after page of their usual glossy and beautiful photography depicting flowing script. Porpoise script as it came to be called. I carefully cut out those pages and laid them out in various sequences. I played with them for days, organizing and reorganizing them until they made sense to me. It finally hit me that there was a distinct pattern to the script, and I played with that for a couple of weeks until I figured out it was a massive love letter to a female named Xastra.

Some amorous chap detailed their budding relationship, the pleasure of their love-making positions, his hopes for their future and the rest of that romantic/erotic stuff every literate young lover tries to express. I emailed NG , they confirmed my rationale and translation with God only knows how many experts, published my work, and gave me my fifteen minutes of fame. End of story. Well, of that story. Which brings us to this comfortable, stark, isolated, climate-controlled room somewhere in some desert. I know it is desert country because when they walked me from the Humvee to the building, it was hot, hot, hot and dry. Two guys came to my apartment in Show Low about 0530 yesterday morning, politely introduced themselves as under the orders of the Governor and gently side-stepped me into my apartment. They presented their credentials in well-worn leather wallets and introduced themselves as Agent Cartwright and Agent Kurt. As Agent Cartwright explained, the Governor’s office had need of my professional expertise for an extended period. Being a bachelor, I did not have familial obligations, but I did have contracts with the community college and the Apache Nation to teach Sociology and a few other classes. When I expressed my concerns, Agent Kurt told me that the Governor’s office had already arranged for substitute teachers to cover my classes in both places and to ensure that my contract was officially and unbiasedly terminated as a benefit to the State of Arizona. Between the two of them, I learned that I was being encouraged to accept a temporary assignment as a Special Government Employee for an undetermined amount of time. It was a confidential assignment and may or may not allow publication of any findings in future publications. So, if I understood them correctly, I was going for a ride to somewhere unknown to me for a period of time to be determined by some government bureaucrat and no one I knew would know where I was or when I would be back. They both shrugged and Agent Cartwright said, “That pretty much sums it up.” How encouraging. So, here I am being punished for my hard-earned fifteen minutes of fame. It is supposed to be an honor to be selected to assist in top secret excitement. I just wanted to go home and live my unexciting life. I got a bucket of money for the dolphin letter and I was comfortable. I did not want more; I had plenty. I got here last night. The clock on the wall says it is lunchtime and, magically, my door got knocked upon. When I opened it, there stood Agent Cartwright. “Let me buy you lunch at the cafeteria,” he said. Great, now he thinks he is a comedian. At lunch he explained we had a briefing at 1400 hours that should take us up to suppertime. A four-hour meeting? Is that all after this secrecy, traveling and incarceration? “Incarceration?” Agent Cartwright queried. “No, no, my friend. We are keeping you protected. Well, and, of course, using your demonstrated expertise.” “From what?” “The fringe culture that crawls out whenever there is a challenge to their own ignorance and sense of righteousness. They want you gone so their rights to hate social differences will not be challenged. You have the possibility of furthering the knowledge of humanity like you did with the dolphin language. Remember the hate mail from the trolls back then?” Well, yeah, there was some nasty stuff that made me spend some of the NG money on lawyers and restraining orders back then. Cartwright continued, “That expansion of our knowledge base was fundamentally grounded on a past terrestrial civilization. We may have something totally different now. “No, I cannot discuss it further. Dr. Annavarapu will explain all we know to you at our briefing. Be patient.” You try to be patient after hearing that kind of speech. I paced and churned inside for the next hour. I was seated at the foot of the conference table in the meeting room fifteen minutes early so I could look directly at the speaker. I did not want that weird neck crick one gets when looking sideways for hours in a meeting. Dr. Annavarapu turned out to be Dr. Lita Annavarapu. She was one of the scientists who reviewed my dolphin work back then. I was told that she was very skeptical about my conclusions for a long time. For all I know, she may still be. Fourteen more people came in and sat opposite each other at the table. Agents Cartwright and Kurt sat in opposite corners in the back of the rectangular room flanking the only entrance. When Kurt closed the door, there was no outside influence to affect us in the room. Dr. Annavarapu’s, “Thanks to all of you for being here,” brought bitter-sounding titters from several members of our cabal. “I know the circumstances under which some of you are here and I greatly appreciate your patience and compliance with what is happening.” At that point, she stepped to a podium to her left so everyone could see the screen behind her. She started her computer presentation onscreen.

“Two weeks ago, when our astronauts returned from their trip to the moon, we found this in one of their satchels. None of the four astronauts who were on the moon recognized it, have any idea how it got into the satchel and, most interesting of all, how it got into the satchel that never left the landing module.

“As you can see in this view, it appears to be paper made from bark much like the canvas used by Papuan artists. It was rolled up and secured with a type of twine made of the same bark material. “Agent Kurt, would you please pass out the folders up here.” Agent Kurt proceeded to the front of the room and picked up folders from a table in the corner opposite the podium.  He handed each participant a nondescript manila file folder about a quarter of an inch thick. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the first evidence of a written extraterrestrial language. You each have the same xeroxed copy of the found documents in the same order in which they were found. The originals are being kept in a vacuum container and will be available to view tomorrow.” The muttering reached a crescendo as we each opened our file folder and set our eyes on the material inside.

I did not understand it. I could not read it nor decipher it. Whatever I needed to interpret it, I did not have. It could have been Sanskrit except I have seen Sanskrit, and this was not like anything I saw before. This was like looking at something alive on paper. A two-dimensional representation of fourth-dimensional thought. Impossible. More impossible. In seconds, the script resolved itself into English. Two-dimensional English in my three-dimensional world. Dumbfounded, I looked up and around the room. Everyone was looking at their files and at each other’s files and muttering about how impossible this was. A stunning example of an AI-generated hoax. A cryptic waste of time for a roomful of professionals who had important things to do other than fall prey to some sick trick. One of my tablemates spoke up, “Dr. Annavarapu, what is the meaning of this? This is nothing more than scribbling on a page. No, on multiple pages. Why?” “Kind sir, I am not one who plays practical jokes, nor do I condone them. I assure you, this is exactly what was found in the exact manner I explained. Please set aside your doubts about that.

“May I suggest that we adjourn and that you take your folders with you to study at your leisure and to discuss with each other? We will meet in the morning at 0900 in this room. At that time, we will proceed to the safe room where the original is stored so that you may see those pages and compare them to the documents in your folders.

“Thank you.” As we trundled off to our respective areas at 1500 hours instead of the expected 1800, I could not believe that no one brought up the English version appearing. Could it be that no one else saw it? About an hour later, I was in my room transcribing the text into my ever-present pocket spiral notebook. The knock on my door startled me. I closed my notebook, stuck it in my back pocket and opened the door. Both Agents Cartwright and Kurt were there.

“Sir, Dr. Annavarapu would like to talk with you right away. Please bring your file and your notes.” I gathered up my file and we headed down the hall. We turned down a hall new to me. Agent Cartwright led the way and Kurt followed. That seemed a bit strange, but it did not occur to me to question it. We walked up to what looked to me like a bank vault door. “This is our safe room,” Agent Cartwright explained as he put his eye up to a scanner. There was no click as the door swung open on silent hinges. I was impressed. “Dr. Annavarapu is waiting for us, Sir. Please proceed into the room.” I stepped over the foot-wide threshold into a 20’ X 20’ room. It had that black cushiony floor your see in the free-weight section of gyms, indirect lighting emanating from a trough along the ceiling, a light table, and the alien document laid out on that table. Dr. Annavarapu looked up from the document as I approached. She started without preamble, “Sir, you did brilliant work on the dolphin language. I know of at least one hundred linguists and cryptographers from around the world who struggled with that material for months before National Geographic published it. They made no progress.  You, an amateur, translated it seemingly overnight. “No, no,” she stopped me. “I know the story and I accept it. Your technique fascinated me and many others. That’s why you are here. “Let’s cut to the chase. You interpreted this document in seconds today. I saw the look on your face and, frankly, the look of recognition, understanding and fear was interesting.” “Dr. Annavarapu….” Her raised hand stopped me. “Please call me Lita when we are alone, Sir.” “We’re not alone. The agents are here,” I replied. “No, they’re not. They stayed outside when you crossed the threshold. Note the door is closed and we are alone.” I had not noticed either occurrence. I told you that door was silent. “Dr. Annavarapu, Lita, you’re right. I did translate the document.” I pulled my notebook out of my pocket, opened it to the first page of the translation and started to read it to her. “Dear brother, we are coming for you. Do not despair. These other creatures breathing the same air as you won’t hurt you anymore. We see kindness in some and will spare them. Soon.” She went pale, her knees buckled, and she barely missed the edge of the table with her chin. “So, you see, Lita, you truly are not alone.”


Earth 2156. “W-Who are you?” said the lady, whose sudden appearance had frightened me seconds prior. In my surprise, I had unconsciously jolted backwards while suppressing the urge to scream as loud as my lungs allowed me to. She seemed more terrified than shocked, almost petrified by an indescribable horror that laid before her eyes.

Past the initial shock, I racked my brain to formulate some words but my voice couldn’t come out. It just wouldn’t. The woman finally broke the tension with her query. I uttered that I was an Earthling, to which her expression shifted from fear to bewilderment. “A what?” was her response. I reiterated my answer and added that I came from sector 4-Q. At that, she looked a little bit relieved. “So you are a Quartz ? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with them ?” I nodded and fumbled to explain that I had left the Central Den in hope that the neighboring area could provide me with the supplies I lacked. I paused, not knowing how to respond to her last question. She seemed to process the information. I wondered if my response satisfied her. It did. “I’m a hu- I mean an Emerald from 2-E. You can call me Viridian. Nice to make your acquaintance…uhmm….” “It’s Q-9856” Again, she appeared confused. “Is that your name?” she asked dubiously. I nervously confirmed that it was indeed my codename; I was a little taken aback by her reaction. Had she never heard a codename before and why did she have a name like that, without any numbers? Why was she in this sector anyway? It’s not like hers was next door. “Oh, I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I’m not familiar with the culture of lower Clusters… .” I could only guess that my annoyed expression had betrayed me. That was to be expected from someone who had been spoiled their entire life. Who were we kidding? I simply shrugged and asked her what had brought her here. “I was in charge of an exchange program between the Sapphires and the Emeralds . Then, I took a liking to this place and decided to settle here as a liaison agent between the two Clusters .” Frankly, I expected her to tell me the reason why she was still here on Earth but we must have felt the same way; unprepared to answer that. Still, it partly explained what she was doing in sector 3-S. “Are you…alone? Is there anyone else with you?” I could tell that she was looking for an affirmative answer but I could only provide her with a negative one. She appeared disappointed but she wasn’t the only one. I initially had hope of finding other Earthlings like me. I desperately tried to contact those who had remained with a transmitter I had found but I quickly gave up. Within the first six months of their departure, I realized that I was the only one walking the Earth. The only Earthling to be precise. It was to be expected. I had been foolish to believe that anyone else would want to stay behind on a dying planet. Foolish enough to think that life would be better after they left. Still, the Clustering no longer existed….because there was no one else to Cluster. I felt miserable, lonely and pitiful. But I was free. And there she was, standing before me. I could barely contain my relief. It was simply surreal. “Why didn’t you go?” The sentence had slipped from my mind to my lips so naturally that I instantly brought my hands to my mouth. Before I could formulate any kind of apology, Viridian stopped me. “I always thought that I would die on this planet, that I would never see the end of the Red Coral project and that…..mankind would eventually perish.” She took a deep breath and continued. “I could barely believe it when the Diamonds announced its completion. Deep down, I knew I wouldn’t be happy there, that I wouldn’t find what I wanted there, that I…..” “…..wouldn’t have a place there?” As soon as I said that, I felt a wave of embarrassment take over me. “I-I didn’t want to interrupt you.” She stared at me before giggling. “I guess you are right. Deep down, I knew my place was here. Others called me eccentric and even suicidal…but I see I’m not alone in my unorthodoxy.” I smiled at her comment. “I was also alienated for not following the prophesied ideologies too. But being the stubborn Quartz that I am, I stayed true to my conviction. I just couldn’t stand the Clustering anymore.” I had so much questions but I later found out that the Emerald did too. Viridian declared that I should stay with her since we were most likely the last two remaining “humans” -to say it in her terms- on Earth. She showed me around the facility once ruled by Sapphires and helped me get settled in one of the hundreds of unoccupied rooms. Our encounter had been quite serendipitous; I had left the Den after depleting most of the meagre supplies they had provided me with. It took me almost two months to cross the border between the two Clusters . The arid environment and the scorching sun proved to be major obstacles for someone so unaccustomed to being outside for long periods of time. Being on the surface, I realized that the few historical and astronomical classes I was allowed to attend had accurately portrayed the damage cosmic rays had done to Earth. I was immensely thankful for the protective gear that had been gifted to me as a parting present. The land was barren of any signs of life; only dry land expanding on all sides. There were a few eroded antennas sticking up from the ground though. The wind was practically nonexistent and the rain….  Well, the red rain seemed, unsurprisingly, odd to me since I had never seen rain before. So did the normal one, actually. But I would only collect the latter; the water I had had all my life had never been red, you see. A few days after I entered sector 3-S, I came across the underground facility of Viridian. My remaining sustenance was getting dangerously low and I was beginning to fear that my end might come sooner than I had anticipated. Finding it had been a stroke of luck, but meeting Viridian was a miracle. After a week, I became familiar with the intricate underground structure which could only be compared to a maze. Despite the obvious degradation due to lack of proper maintenance, the lavish and elegance attributed to Sapphires inexplicably emanated from the hidden infrastructure; the walls were adorned with beautiful detailed carvings of the Earthlings and their tragic history. An overly glorified one, if I might add. Viridian was eager to know more about my culture and this eagerness went both ways. I was also curious about the strange terms she would use nonchalantly during our conversations but I didn’t want to appear too ignorant. It would hurt my pride. “What do you mean by that? You were not allowed outside during the Clustering ?” Her tone clearly suggested indignation and frustration. “Well, yes. Lower Clusters such as Quartzes and Amethysts were not permitted to be outside. Only the upper ones like yourself could. We were kept alive as labor for the other Clusters due to our commonness so there was no need to educate us beyond a certain level.” I tried to keep my tone as steady as I could but saying those words woke the rage of being so unfairly treated by the upper Clusters . “This is beyond disgusting!” exclaimed Viridian, “How could we have been so blind! Q-9856, I promise you I had no idea this was how the lower ones were treated. Why would they do such a thing?” I couldn’t have cared less about the truthfulness of her words or so I told myself…. But seeing her so sincerely sorry for my fate made me realize that, perhaps, I did care. I thought to myself on how lucky I was not to be alone on a dying planet with an unsympathetic Earthling. I told her that even if she knew, it wouldn’t have changed anything since; she couldn’t blame herself for something beyond her. “It’s only the past now for me. That’s why I chose to be here and not on the Red Planet . I simply hope that those I knew are faring better there. That’s all.” Viridian reluctantly agreed but I could still see the pity in her eyes. The Sapphires had left quite the food and water supply; Viridian estimated that these would last for roughly for two years if we were careful. It was more than enough. Earth wouldn’t be around by then. It was a dying planet after all. From time to time, I would subtly enquire Viridian about her weird vocabulary; she explained that “human” was simply another word for Earthling . One that was used long ago, well before the Clustering and the “Fifth World War”. I didn’t ask what the latter meant because, you know, my pride…. She also briefly stated one time that “mankind” meant the two of us. I could only suppose that that was what “humans” called themselves as a whole. The others had opted to be known as Red Corals . They didn’t matter anyway. One morning, Viridian came to me bouncing around saying she had a bright idea. “Since the Clustering has been abolished, don’t you think that you should have a new name?” I looked at her surprised; I had never considered my name odd since all Quartzes had similar ones albeit the different numbers. However, she seemed in such a happy mood that I just couldn’t refuse her. I gave in and told her she could chose whichever she found that would fit me. She proudly announced that she had one already ready and I realized she had given the matter some serious thought. “Cyan it is!!” she exclaimed. “It’s pretty. But what does it mean? And how does it fit me, Viridian?” “It was a tradition in my Cluster to be named after colors so I don’t really know if it has any meaning to it, just like mine. I only know some that have been passed from generations to generations. And for why it fits you, well, it’s simple and sounds elegant! I get the feeling that it will suit you!!” I laughed at her comparison. “Nobody has ever called me simple or elegant but I’ll accept the compliment gladly. Thank you for this beautiful name.” “You are welcomed, Cyan” she replied and proceeded to wink at me. I mimicked her and we both ended up laughing. Those little moments made us forget our impending deaths, if only temporarily; the deafening countdown echoing all around would cease for an instant. We were happy; nothing more, nothing less. Viridian and I would sometime discuss the fate of those who had abandoned Earth; did they find the promised liberty and rapture that had been prophesied on the Red Planet , if those we knew were still being oppressed and if we had forsaken our place there. We knew it was pointless to torture ourselves that way but we just couldn’t shake away those doubts. Those same doubts that would pester me at nights, during my journey, as I would laid under a sky illuminated by billions of lights. The gaseous beings scattered in space had been an endless source of fascination for me, given that I led the life of a mole due to the Clustering. A glance at their majestic sight was enough for me to question my insignificant existence. I had shared those feelings with Viridian but she showed no such admiration for the galaxy; sure, the night sky and stars were splendid…but they were just lights. With time, I came to the realization that this lovely Emerald had many sides to her; her optimistic, joyful, eccentric and pragmatic sides made her who she was. She had turned her back to all the privileges that the Clustering offered her and, quite possibly, her life. But she smiled and laughed. She cherished what her choice to stay had given her. I found myself envious of her for that. We lived, laughed and cried together; each day passing by brought us closer to the inevitable doom. We never left the facility and when the time had come, we hugged each other as the Earth was torn in billions of pieces. Yet, my doubts never left me. Had I been born an Emerald or even an Amber , would my perspective on things have been different? If I had not been born a lowly Quartz , would I have been on Mars with them ?

Would I? Would I have been happier?


 It is said that there are 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. They look different for everyone, and many become stuck on one stage for long periods of time, or for others, it becomes an endless cycle that you have no control over. A never-ending cycle that consumes you and leaves you feeling nothing and empty all over again once it is completed.

   I woke up once again at exactly 3:40 a.m. with a shiver of fear running through my body as I tried to gasp for a breath of air, but I couldn't move a single part of my body, just my eyes. I could see him standing in the corner of the room in front of the fogged-up window staring at me with his empty and frozen eyes, but I couldn't scream for help, I never can for what seems an eternity. I lay there staring into his dead blue eyes that bore through my soul while he continued to smile at me and laugh when I tried to scream. And just when I think it's over, he's right above me screaming so loud I feel like my head is about to explode.

   "JAYLIN! Don't leave me behind, I am begging you." His voice filled with anger and fear makes my body become full of terror, the same terror I felt that night in the woods.

   I begin to feel myself come out of my sleep paralysis, and a feeling of relief replaces my fear. And once I am able to control my own body again, I begin to cry uncontrollably to the point I feel I will never be able to stop again, terrified of looking towards the fogged-up window.

   I slowly lift my head, pleading that he won't be there anymore, and He's gone, my brother is gone.

   "He's gone," I repeat to myself continuously as I gaze at the pitch-black sky filled with stars through the window where he had just stood a few moments ago.

   The thought of closing my eyes horrified me, so I stared at the fan spinning on the ceiling as tears streamed down my face, waiting for the sun to come in through the windows. Although I was awake, I still could not shake the suffocating feeling of someone watching me.

   The continuous loud sound of the ceiling fan's blades spinning made me gradually remember that night. I could still feel my bare feet running through the woods as blood trickled slowly down my face, and I gasped for enough air to make it towards the lights of the cars in the road up ahead. I remember I kept thinking to myself, how is this happening? How did we get here from a simple car ride?

   My mother, my twin brother, and I had lived in a lower-middle-class neighborhood our entire lives because my single mother worked restlessly in energy devouring jobs to make enough money to pay for our rent. Ever since we were children, my brother, Alex, and I had become comfortable with being alone because of the endless hours our mother worked. In the days leading up to the accident, my brother had mentioned to me that he had an unsettling feeling of being watched all day. Still, I just ignored him, thinking he was just stressed because of our financial problems since our mother had lost one of her jobs during the summer, and she never let us help her out with money no matter the circumstances.

   Throughout the summer before our second year of high school, Alex became so paranoid that he would not leave his room all day. When he did, he acted as if someone were always behind us, but I just never paid attention to it until the night a week before we would enter school again.

   I went to sleep late because I stayed up watching T.V, but I never realized at what time I drifted to sleep. I woke up in the passenger seat of our mother's car with my brother driving with bloodshot eyes that made me feel like I was just in a horrible dream. Am I really in a dream? I repeated to myself multiple times as my body remained stiff in the same position because my senses became widened, and I wasn't expecting to be greeted by my brother because I never am in my dreams but is this a dream?

   I finally gave in and decided I would simply look over at the time on the radio screen, and it was exactly 3:40 a.m.

   "Alex?" I glanced over at him nervously as my skin crawled as the fright in my body began to rise, but he only looked through me towards the window, staring blankly at the woods we were passing without speaking a word.

   I began to look around at our surroundings, and it seemed as if we were in the middle of nowhere with no other cars behind us, and suddenly, we came to a stop.

   "Alex, what's going on? Where are we?" I stared at him anxiously as my voice broke because I feared he wouldn't answer me.

   "Stay in the car. He's watching us, and I have to get rid of him." His voice sounded so lifeless and empty that it seemed as if I was just having a bad dream, but I wasn't.

   He slammed the car door before letting me speak a word and went to the trunk of the car, but all I could think of was that he did not leave the keys for me in the ignition. I decided to get out of the car and ask him for them even though every single sense I had was telling me not to.

   As I slowly stepped out of the car, a wave of cold air hit my face and my bare feet. I took my hair down from the ponytail it was in, hoping it would give my neck some warmth. I was still in my pajamas I had fallen asleep in, and once my feet hit the concrete road, I realized I wasn't wearing any shoes. Everything was dark, and I could not find my phone anywhere to use as my source of light.

   "Alex, can I have the keys?" I asked him as I looked down at my feet to make sure I did not step on anything, but when I did not receive an answer, I looked up and I was all alone. My brother was gone. Where could he have gone?

   "JAYLIN!!" I continuously heard my name being yelled from the woods by a voice I could not recognize, but the fear in my body paralyzed me. I hoped that a car would show up on the road, but one never did.

   "JAYLIN!!" Once again, my name but this time it was my brother's voice, and without a thought, I ran towards the scream, into the woods afraid that he was being hurt.

   The screams stopped suddenly, making me stop along with an uneasy feeling that made me become alert. I tried to convince myself it was the adrenaline flooding my system, pumping and beating as if it were trying to escape my body because it made my heart feel as if it were about to explode, and my eyes were wide with fear of the darkness. My body wants to run toward the car's safety, so I turn to the direction I had come from and try to run towards the road, but instead, I remain where I am.

   Every sense in my body alerted me of danger more and more each second that I stood there until I felt the gaze of a predator upon my back, making every hair in my body stand up, but I knew it was not a coyote or a bear. No, it was a different predator, a human.

   The adrenaline in my body rises so high I become nauseous and sweat begins to trickle down my forehead. At some point, I'll have to move and face the person behind me, so I begin to slowly turn around.

   Once I turn around, my eyes locked with his bloodshot and cloudy eyes, a stare that seems to reach into my soul and sends shivers down my back. The emptiness in his eyes destroyed any trace of hope I had desperately held on to. His eyes were the eyes that prepared people for their death. I looked at him, his face covered with blood and a kitchen knife in his left hand.

   "Alex?" My voice seemed to crack as the fear in my body rose. He stared at me as if he did not know who I was as if we were strangers. I searched for one trace of life in his eyes, but there was none.

   He smiled. He smiled at me, but his eyes were empty.

   "It's gone. I'm free." He whispered through his grin as he looked down at his blood-covered hands. I could see him begin to lift the knife on his left hand slowly while his smile grew bigger. He slowly began to lift his head towards my direction, and without a single thought, without hesitation, I began to run towards the road.

   Facing forward, I began to sprint, my feet flying over stones and leaves on the forest floor between the trees. The cold air bites into my lungs as I gasped for air, enough air to make it towards the road. I can feel him behind me, his heavy breathing. With each step, pain shoots through my entire body as my bare feet desperately attempt to pull my tired body forward. My heart beats frantically, the sound filling my ears, adrenaline fills my veins as if it were blood and the cold air begins to make my eyes water, making my vision blurry. The woods seem endless, even though I've only been running for a few minutes. Branches of trees continuously hit my face making blood trickle down from my forehead.

   I knew I could not hide or fight, but I did not feel like I could go much longer. I felt more human, more mortal than I had ever before.

   Just before my legs were about to give up, the sight of light beams in the distance on the concrete road gave me a tiny trace of hope.

   "JAYLIN! Don't leave me behind." I could hear his raspy voice filled with anger and fear all at once, the voice of a stranger I had once known. I could not look back because I knew I would not be able to leave him if I did.

   The feeling of concrete beneath my bare feet made me lunge forward towards the truck light beams. My hand desperately reached towards the passenger side's silver metal handle with the hope that the truck would be unlocked.

   "Help me, please. Please!" I screamed in the driver's face as he slowly came to a stop as I pulled the door open.

   He did not respond, but his facial expressions of concern and terror of what he saw behind me made me jump into the truck without hesitation as he sped off. I was rushed to the hospital by the man who had saved me from the endless woods. My mother and the police kept questioning me about what happened, but I couldn't open my mouth. I could not speak a single word.

   When I was home the next day, we were informed by the police that my brother had been found murdered in the woods by multiple stab wounds, and they estimated he had been murdered around 3:50 a.m., but that didn't make sense. I saw him with my own two eyes. He was the one chasing me for over 10 minutes. How could that be possible?

   Now all I can do is wait with my unsettling feeling of being watched, hoping that I won't be next.


She was falling asleep. Again. These graveyard shifts pulling overtime were brutal. Sofie was beginning to question if earning that extra pay was worth it when her eyelids were drooping on the freeway as she headed home to her too-tiny, one-bedroom apartment. She really wanted to save for a decent down payment on a house, but at what cost? Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, the hospital was short on ER nurses. To help keep any nurse working longer hours, they’d converted a larger room into sleeping quarters, with a few bunk beds, and provided a shower for them to access. Tomorrow, she’d bring an overnight bag. After all, she was single with no pets, and no roommate to worry about her—she should just spend the night every now and then at the hospital.

“Did you see the one wheeling the teenager with the concussion in? You know, the brunette?” A hushed voice filtered through her hazy mind in the darkened room. “Which one? So many are brunettes. It’s Friday and we get a lot of teenagers. You need to be more specific.” A second voice. Aware now that she was no longer alone in the nurses’ room. There were two unknown men with her. Sofie felt safe at work and knew she could hold her own, but what were these guys doing here ? She knew the male nurses who worked the ER and these voices didn’t match any of them. She had been asleep on a top bunk, tucked furthest from the door. She tried to limit her movement to avoid alerting these strangers to her presence. At least she could take solace in the fact they weren’t talking about her . She was a redhead. Had the matching freckles, and fiery personality to go with it. She knew she wasn’t a classic beauty and that was perfectly fine with her.

Subtly, she tapped her phone to check the time. She had another hour before her alarm would vibrate and she needed to grab a bite from the cafeteria to start her next shift. Sofie had already showered before she climbed up for a catnap of six hours.

“The one with the tat on her arm. Did you see her?” “Oh, you mean Linda. Yeah, I saw her. Why?” “She was the one I was in here with last night. I can introduce you to a lot of the ladies if you’d like since you’re new here.” Sofie could hear some rustling around. The way this conversation was going, she was glad she didn’t recognize the voices. Their conversation was just disgusting.

The other man answered. “Nah, I’m good. I may be new to the ER, but I’ll get to know everyone eventually.” Point for the new guy. Sofie heard a heavy scraping on the floor and a proud declaration of, “Found it. My ID badge fell behind this bed. If you change your mind, Doc, I can give you the lowdown on who’s willing to take some of your stress away, if you catch my drift. Well, I know a few anyway.” Who was this guy? A doctor? A nurse? A technician? Sofie didn’t recognize either voice, but then they’d been in hushed tones and those were harder to decipher.

She caught the first part of the doctor’s response on their way out of the room. “Let’s get back to work, I have another hour on my shift. Then I can head home to…” and they were gone. The door closed behind them and she was once again alone.

She lay with her thoughts while one more hour of slumbering bliss eluded her. This doctor had more respect for women than the other. Were people really getting together in that way?

At work ? Sofie didn’t exactly grow up under a rock, but she was naïve in the respect she felt people should keep work and personal activities separate. Or at least not intermingle the two at work . She sat up and dangled her legs off the top bunk and hopped off. She did a few stretches and made herself presentable. She’d slept in clean, pale green scrub pants and a tank top. All she needed was her top to look the part of the devoted ER nurse, and she’d scarf down her cafeteria breakfast. At least there was a Starbucks on-site, providing her decent coffee to start the day.

Owen was exhausted. It was all he could do to drag himself into his new apartment after his shift, which of course extended another hour to finish up with a car accident victim who’d come in. This apartment was closer to his new job but he was quickly learning he hated moving. As he surveyed the contents of his living room, he began to wonder why he had so much “stuff”. Boxes still filled two corners of his small living room, with a few more in the kitchen. He left his take-out in the kitchen and headed straight for a shower, then he’d eat in front of whatever documentary caught his interest on Netflix. Tomorrow was his day off. He’d deal with more unpacking then. Oh. My. God. Sofie was dead tired. She had her backpack slung over her shoulder, and two bags of groceries in her hands as she struggled with her key to unlock her door. “Need any help?” She turned toward the unfamiliar voice. Before her stood a very good-looking, fit man. Tall, black hair, and the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. More verdant than her own. Everything she was physically attracted to in a man. And he was smiling at her.

        “Thanks, but I got it. Before I hand over my keys to a stranger, I’ll manage on my own.” She didn’t want to come off rude, but she was tired and just wanted to relax, and in all likelihood, fall asleep in front of her TV.         “I just moved into the apartment next door. My name is Owen. Now, we’re not strangers. I’m just a neighbor coming in from taking my trash out. Dare I ask again, need help?”

        “Of course! I heard you moving around, shuffling boxes here and there a couple of weeks ago.” She handed him her keys. “I warn you though, I’ve not spent a lot of time at home so no judgment on the state of my place.”         Owen just laughed. “No problem. My own place still has the aforementioned boxes. How I accumulated so much, I’ll never know,” he chuckled then unlocked her door and pushed it open for her. She headed inside and invited him in, if only to her kitchen where she deposited her groceries.

        “Obviously I just got home and can’t offer too much beyond what’s in these two bags. I did however buy some juice and a pack of blueberry muffins. Could I offer you any of those?” She headed to the other side of the kitchen’s bar, overlooking what passed as her living room, and let her backpack fall to the floor with a decisive thud.         “Thanks, but no. I’ll take a rain check though.” He winked at her.

Winked at her!  “This is a rare day off for me and I need to get my ass in gear to finally get rid of my boxes. Or at least unpack a few more. I almost found my plates so I could actually cook. But trust me, I’d love to procrastinate and spend time sharing a muffin with you.” Disappointment poured over her with his impending departure, which was ridiculous since she just met the man. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from his though. He had a certain allure that made her want to know him more. Sofie couldn’t even remember the last time she was this drawn to a man. If ever.         “Well, okay then. I guess I’ll see you around. Thanks again for your help.” She walked him to her door and closed it behind him. She leaned back against the door after she locked it and released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Owen. It fits him. It occurred to her she didn’t tell him her name and he hadn’t asked for it.

Well. So much for that. She put the remaining groceries away and headed for her shower. The hot water would wash away the horror she’d seen in the ER that afternoon. The sick children, the injured, the drug overdoses. She was assigned to a car accident victim who was near death, but Dr. Carson had acted fast and saved him. Was this Dr. Carson the ‘new doctor’ she’d heard talking before her shift yesterday? She’d never met the man since they were never assigned the same shift. Or maybe they were and she just never paid attention. Unlike the first voice she’d heard talking, she wasn’t at work to find a bedmate. She was there to help comfort and save people.

She shrugged it off, made a PBJ, and settled in on her couch. Within an hour, her paper plate was on her coffee table with her crumbs and crumpled napkin. Sofie was asleep with her damp hair still piled up atop her head.

Owen made it a point to unpack his kitchen first. After meeting his neighbor, he was compelled to cook her dinner. She looked exhausted and if her green scrubs were any indication of the work she did, she was in the medical field in some capacity. He knew that mental exhaustion. Every mannerism, along with her apartment, told him she was single. Like him.         She intrigued him and he was calling himself tens kinds of stupid for not asking her name. She smelled like roses and anesthetic. He’d smelled that scent before, but couldn’t place where. He’d never met her before today, but she was familiar. Racking his brain, thinking of her pretty green eyes—eyes that drew him in—her sprinkling of freckles across her face, and her messy ponytail—a clear indication of a busy day—he got to work prepping a decent dinner for them both. Owen wanted—no, needed to get to know her better. Owen was sitting next to her on the couch, arm around her. She’d nestled against his protective male form, taking comfort with him after another long shift. He’d leaned his head down to kiss her, gently at first. Gradually, their hands had found each other, hungry for each other’s touch, and their kiss became more possessive, heated. The knock on the door woke her from a dream she wasn’t ready to wake from. She refused to open her eyes, not ready to lose this personal indulgence of her sexy neighbor’s image. Pure torture, she knew, but it’d been so long since she’d been with anyone. Another knock. More insistent this time. “I’m coming, keep your pants on!” She called. Who would visit her? Her brother had the code to enter the building and all deliveries were left downstairs.         She threw open the door to find the very co-star of her dream before her. Had she manifested him? “Owen! I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything okay?”         He held up two plates of food. The aroma of the chicken charged her senses, alerting her stomach real food was on the way. “Right as rain. And don’t worry, I kept my pants on.” He gave her a crooked smile.

She groaned and motioned him to come in. “I see you found your plates.” “I did. Made it a point to cook you dinner since you looked exhausted and had a slim selection of food here.” This man was from heaven, no doubt. “I am, was. I caught a nap on the couch.” She looked down and realized she was in her pajamas. He caught this move and reassured her. “Don’t worry, you’re cute in your pajamas.” She felt her face flush at the compliment. “Oh, well, then let’s eat. I haven’t had a decent meal in a while. I’m Sofie by the way.” They settled on her couch and ate together.

They fell into an immediate rapport just talking and getting to know one another. She liked him. A lot. The more they talked, the more she was falling for him. At twenty-nine, that’s not such a bad thing. And he was clearly enjoying her company. After all, he came back with sustenance for her. What man did that ?

“Did you get a lot done with unpacking?” She wiped away the last juices from the chicken. She decided he was far superior with cooking talents than she was. He could bring her food anytime. “This was amazing by the way!” “I did. Knocked out all my kitchen boxes. I’m glad you liked it. Cooking relaxes me. When I saw you so tired, obviously from work, I knew instantly I wanted to cook for you. Your food supply here was…let’s say lacking.” He was smiling at her again with his perfect smile. At that moment she wanted to kiss him. She’d never felt that urge to just kiss a man she’d just met. Until Owen. “Do you work tomorrow?” “Yes, ten-hour shift,” she replied. He stood up and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be right back.” Did he really just give her a kiss? On her forehead ? She’d wanted a kiss on her mouth. She wanted to taste the chicken on his tongue. As she was lost in her own thoughts, he came back holding an insulated container. “I packed you lunch for tomorrow.” “You…what? You barely know me.” She was confused. No man was ever this sweet. “Correction. I barely knew you. I know you a lot more now.” He took the liberty of heading to her kitchen and putting her lunch in the fridge. “Keep the container. Return it when you want another lunch.” He winked at her again. She had questions. She wanted answers. “Owen, why are you doing all this? Why did you kiss me…on my forehead?” He sat next to her on her couch. He put his arm around her as he had in her dream. Would they start kissing like they had in her dream? “Easy answers to both. I’m doing this because I see a beautiful woman, tired, and in need of good nutrition. She’s an absolutely lovely person, who I’d like to get to know more. That answer your questions?” “Some. Why my forehead?” “Because we just met, and I was testing your reaction to me.” He arched an eyebrow. “Why?” Sofie leaned in closer to him, and whispered, “because I wanted you to kiss me, but not on my forehead.” He leaned his forehead to hers. She breathed him in. Sofie placed her hands on his chest; he felt solid. As if sensing her need, Owen tipped her chin up and placed a soft kiss on her waiting lips. It shot a new sensation down to her toes. Need. She barely knew the man, but she needed him.

“Did you want a kiss like that?” His voice was low, husky. And familiar. “What did you just say?” She pulled back.

Owen looked alarmed. “What did I do wrong? I thought...” She shook her head, trying to make sense of who this man was. “Are you a doctor at Washington Memorial? In the ER?”

He was hesitant to answer. “Yes…how did you know that? I’ve only been there a few weeks. Were you a patient?” She noted the exact time realization dawned on him. The scrubs. “You’re a nurse there, aren’t you?” “Yes. ER, pulling extra shifts. You must be the new doctor. Dr. Carson. You saved that man from the car accident yesterday.” “I’m glad he made it.” “I was his primary nurse. You’re a hero.” She needed to know more about him before she allowed herself to fall for him. Okay. Reality check. Before she allowed herself to fall harder for the man than she already had. “Shortly before you saved him, you were in the nurses’ sleeping room.” Owen didn’t deny it. “Dave brought me. How did you know I was there?” “I heard you two talking. Dave?” “X-Ray tech.” Owen was searching her face, looking for answers. “Wait, were you in the room?” She was never one to play games. “Between shifts, pulling extra graveyard. I was top bunk, back corner. I need to know…” Sofie was already dreaming of the man but she had to know.

“You need to know if I’d ever bring a nightly tryst there?” He took her hands in his and kissed them both when she nodded. “No. Dave is an ass who only sees women as a hobby.” Owen moved closer to her. “I, however, actually respect women and would never ‘hook-up’ for a one-night stand. Besides, I’m partial to redheads with freckles, now.” He smiled at her and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Have you ever… never mind. It’s not my business. I just met you.” “Never. Silly me, I just thought people sleep in those beds between shifts.” She was smiling again, and even started to laugh. He claimed her mouth, slowly, and she was enjoying every moment of it. In his bedroom voice, he said, “Good. We may have something yet, but true to both of us, let’s keep our personal activities between us. My shift starts at six in the morning. Yours?” “I’m back on at eight. You think we may have something here?” She had to know if he felt it too.

Owen deepened his kiss. “Absolutely.” He reluctantly broke the kiss, stood up, and cleared the dishes from the tiny living room. He filled the whole space, both in her apartment and her heart. “I’ll head back. We both need our rest. Let’s try to meet for a picnic lunch.” He gave her his number so they could coordinate their schedules. “And Sofie, I’m not a one-night-stand guy.” He kissed her one more time and closed the door behind him. Tomorrow’s shift definitely held promise and a new beginning.


Elodie's house was filled with shadows. A city of intricate spider webs gleamed in the darkness like a necklace strung with tiny pearls. The creak of every floorboard whispered ¨ abandoned¨ with each step. there was a hole in the ceiling with mismatched buckets clustered underneath, a lonely raindrop drip-drip-dripping into one. Mia’s mother assured her this was just an example of Elodie's senility, something made on urge- a final gasp of air inflamed by broken memories and the fear of being forgotten. She can remember the last time she was at Elodie's house by herself, a week before her thirteenth birthday. She lied on a mattress, underneath the newly cut out ceiling hole, wrapped in a blanket Elodie made- one riddled with blues and greens and inky blackness, the softest thing she had ever felt. It was a clear night, and the stars burned into the night sky the way they only could in the countryside. Mia felt so close to them. Elodie would have hated the way she looked in the coffin. Her curls were were lush and sleek. She had on more makeup then Mia had ever seen her. She was perfected there: vague and generic and pretty and dead. She looked as if she could be anyone's grandmother. But she wasn't- she was Elodie! ¨ I made the hole so I could see the stars ¨ Elodie, the Elodie that was always outside, writing poetry and making raspberry tea, and the Elodie that never wanted you to call her grandma, only Elodie. The only adult Mia truly considered her friend.

After the funeral, Mia sat in a long row of people, listening to a man read the will in a painfully monotone voice. The sky was getting darker, and the air was growing colder, and she sat in a long row of family members in ill-fitting suits and dresses she dug out of her closet- each as black as obsidian. She sat sandwiched between her great uncle- a lofty man with silver hair and a real-life monocle, and her cousin, a 19- year woman old with short red hair and a constellation of freckles, who had shot up in height since the last time Mia had seen her years ago. Everyone sat around picnic tables littered on the edge of a field that seemed to go on forever, hearing the cars speed by as the man mentioned every last bit of Elodie’s property. ¨ And Finally, for Elodie Mathew’s home, who she grants to her granddaughter Mia. She is allowed to use it for what purposes she feel are fit, as long as it is well cared for. That concludes the will reading. There were a few beats of silence, then the redhead woman shot Mia an astonished grin. ¨ You’re so lucky ! ¨ She gushed. Who would want a small, derelict old house in the countryside with a hole in the roof and scarce furniture? Mia stared up at the stars drowsily, feeling dazed. She did. A lone silver streak drifted across the night sky. Mia smiled up at her newfound cousin. ¨ Yes, I am.¨

I can’t believe the stars have chosen me. 1 month later

The smell of fast food grew almost sickly, sealed in the car is it sped across the highway. The sky was as black as a chalkboard.

Mia looked sideways at her mom, who stared ahead at the road blazing with the taillights of cars. Everything in the labyrinth of highway was dreamless and godless and starless- black sky and artificial lights blazing forever, a scene viewed from the inside of a car throwing itself down the highway, far above the speed limit as was the way of Mia’s mom. Both of them knew her mom was avoiding the topic of Elodie’s house, and both knew Mia desperately wanted to go. Mia looked back at her mother, whose face was twisted into a frown. ¨ So..when can I go to Elodie’s house?¨ She offered, twisting a string of her hair. Her mom stared ahead. ¨ Mia, I already told you we can go in summer when I get time off.¨ Mia’s mom was a third grade teacher. Mia frowned. ¨ I can drive there myself. ¨ The sixteen- year old objected. Mia’s mom tipped her head back and laughed. It was difficult to tell if it was bitter or if she actually found her funny. Finally, she said: ¨ Mia, you got your license two weeks ago. Forget going on this highway and countless others. Not going to happen. ¨ Elodie turned to look at the window, streaks of color speeding past. ¨ At least I know what a speed limit is. ¨ She muttered. ¨ Didn’t you fail your driving test fourteen times?¨

Her mom’s head turned from the wheel to glare at Elodie as she fumbled for the window lowering button. ¨ Excuse me, young lady, that isn’t- ¨

Elodie lunged for the wheel, saving them as a tipsy car skidded ahead of them, centimeters away.

Elodie kept her hand on the steering wheel, her mom looking at her blankly. Finally, her mom’s hands returned to the wheel.

¨ Oh, wasn’t it 12 times?¨

Her mom stared at the road ahead with hollow eyes. ¨ Uh-huh.¨

And now here she was, standing in a small, scarce house in the middle of nowhere. Mia wasn’t sure what she had expected to feel. Comforted?

Instead, she just felt hollow. She was a ghost, drifting across the floors of a house just as dead as she was, the only sign of her human-ness the familiar creaking of the floorboards under her feet. In some ways, nothing had changed since the last time she had been there. The clock still kept a quiet, steady beat. Pearly Spiderwebs grew intricate cities suspended on the ceiling, although Elodie never seemed to mind those. The house still smelled faintly of raspberry tea. And- she noticed once she entered the living room- a raindrop still fell into a bucket from the ceiling, into a faded blue bucket that was now overflowing. But everything was different, because Elodie wasn’t there. She would never be there again. Mia felt her eyes get hot, but she had promised herself she wouldn’t. It took a narrowly avoided car accident to bring her here, after all.

That night After lugging a spare mattress out of one of Elodie’s closets, carefully moving the family of buckets to the sides of the room, and lying down underneath the ceiling hole, Elodie couldn't fall asleep. The last time she was here, Elodie was right behind her, on the couch. The clock was ticking back than, too, and the house smelled the same. But Elodie wasn’t here. Mia tried not to cry, but hot tears leaked out of her eyes. She stared up at the starless, tar-colored sky through the hole in the ceiling, feeling hopeless. The hole in the ceiling looked just like she felt. Gaping. An open wound. Tears kept falling. Why couldn’t she see Elodie just one more time? They could read poetry in the field where she had attended her funeral and- and drink tea, and everything would be okay. The thought only made her cry harder. For hours, Mia tossed and turned on the mattress, Elodie’s absence making it impossible for her to fall into blissful sleep. This continued into she reached the other side of the night. With bleary, hot eyes, she stared up at the clock  and saw the hands reach 3 a.m. She stared blankly at it, unable to move or wipe her tears or do anything other than stare up at the ceiling, eyes glazed. Then something began to happen. Streaks of light began to dance in the corners of the room. Slowly, the angelic beams moved closer and closer to her. They danced like fairies, engulfing her in pure light, wrapping her in blissful comfort.

Mia knew exactly who the light was. It was Elodie. She felt herself being lifted up, up, until she drifted up out of the hole cut through the ceiling and landed softly on the roof. She gazed up at the sky and noticed something-

It was filled with stars.


“That’s it! This is the last time I’m smoking that stuff!” screamed Mikayla as she burst into her dorm room. In front of her lay three sets of blank white, terrified faces. The bloodshot in their eyes was as red as the exit sign behind Mikayla in the hallway. The three girls dressed in mismatched sweats and baggy t-shirts from Universities they have never visited before and likely will never go to, sat there guiltily on various chairs and bunks as Mikayla exclaimed. “I can’t even throw these pizza boxes away without feeling like I have the eyes of every soul on campus staring at me while I walk out back to the dumpster”, Mikayla expressed. Once the girls realized it was their responsible friend who was coming through the door with such force and not an overly suspicious resident assistant with an army of campus safety officers they were able to breathe again. “Well maybe if you didn’t look like a bum dumpster diving in the back of the dorm at 1:00am, maybe people wouldn’t be so alarmed by your presence”, chimed Mikayla’s roommate and close friend Gracie in her regular sarcastic tone. Gracie grew up in a privileged family in an upper-middle-class suburbia with no concept of struggles. Regardless, she acts like she’s been through it all because she has two older brothers who would constantly tease her and call her Bracie since she required 6 years of consistent trips to the orthodontist to correct her teeth. Mikayla rolled her bloodshot eyes as she was already used to Gracie’s comments. For the past year, she has been dealing with them on an unrelenting basis as the two have been practically inseparable since they met in their first year of college. “Anyway, do you guys want to watch something?” asked Mikayla trying to ignore her paranoia. “We’re watching You ”, said the three girls collectively in excitement which seemed almost scripted. “Whoa whoa now, I did not like that! Did you not see how freaked out I was just two seconds ago?”, Mikayla asked with a look of slight fear that had some truth behind it.

“We’re talking about the Netflix show you tweaker, we decided as a group while you were gone, just take a deep breath no one’s watching you”, said Mikayla’s friend Sammie. “Yeah, you’re not pretty enough” snarked Gracie. Mikayla rolled her eyes yet again and brushed it off. She knew Gracie well enough at this point to know she was kidding and that she just likes knowing she can snap back quickly if she needs to have someone’s back. She was a good friend, loyal and trustworthy, but wow she could be a lot to handle. “Sammie, did you three plan that little trick, or did some evil stars align tonight to not let me fall asleep?” Mikayla questioned. She always went to Sammie when she needed a straight answer from her friends. Sammie was a naturally smart girl who almost seemed like a television character in the way she was always dependable using logic and experience to get through life. Her first-year roommate left the school after only 6 weeks and was able to quickly hit it off with Mikayla and join the group with ease.

“No I wish!”, she shouted. “I don’t think any of us are thinking straight enough to come up with anything like that. Maybe it’s a sign that you are being watched”, she said as she fluttered her fingers in front of her face, clearly trying to get Mikayla riled up.

“Did you see that?” Erin cried with fear as she pulled the blinds on the window and pointed outward. Mikayla’s heart basically stopped at that moment, this was all too much for her to take in at this point. She sat down pushing her face into her hands pleading to make all these feelings go away. “Got yaaa”, Erin said toyingly. She was the friend in the group who everyone loves, but the term ditzy is a vast understatement. The type where the room can turn in synchronicity with the collective thought of “there’s no way that girl just asked that” after asking something she felt was a valid question. “We’re just teasing you, Mikayla, it’s all jokes, you know that. Now everyone shut up so we can watch this” commanded Gracie.

The girls sat and watched, but did not make it very far into the show. Erin fell asleep within minutes, followed by Gracie who made it maybe 20 minutes, and finally Sammie shortly after. Mikayla paused the show to go to the bathroom and turned at each one of her friends now realizing they were going to have to restart the show another time as they were all sound asleep.

As Mikayla stepped into the hallway she was briefly stunned by the seemingly bright lights which would feel normal had she not crawled out of the pitch-black cave her friends were asleep in. Having lived in this room for two months she obviously was aware of the communal bathroom location being to the left down the hall, however, given she was still under the influence she mistakenly went right out of her room. The building was a large square with rooms on both sides of the hall and a courtyard in the center where ecology students would test soils, beautiful flowers, and other various plants; students of other disciplines would sit and study with weather permitting. The stairs to the emergency exit were located at the end of the hall in the direction she was walking, the same stairs that she took to throw away the pizza boxes. “ Thump, thump, thump ”, Mikayla heard from the stairwell. She immediately averted her attention to the beige, metal door to the stairs. Specifically, the small square window with metal wiring laced through it as if that serves as some sort of security blanket. She caught what she thought was a shadow against the dusty white wall on the other side of the stairs. “What am I doing?” she asked herself as she snapped back into focus and realized she was walking in the wrong direction. Now much more cognitively aware of her surroundings after her brief scare. “I really need to stop smoking that stuff”, she told herself knowing she actually meant it this time.

She turned around and headed in the correct direction towards the bathroom, listening more carefully now to her environment, but heard nothing. Before leaving the bathroom she splashed water onto her face and had never felt more refreshed. She caught a glimpse of her bloodshot red eyes as she dragged her fingers from her forehead down her cheeks just below her jawline.

“Why do you always tweak so much?” she questioned herself. She knew the answer to this. Sober or not she was always questioning what was going on around her, worrying for no reason, and always going to the worst-case scenario. She thinks it’s in part due to her parents growing up always worrying about how to pay the bills even though in her eyes she was always able to get or do whatever she dreamed. This was hard for her to understand, their constant worry, everything always seemed fine to her. If anything she viewed herself as being more skeptical of others than having paranoia.

Just then she heard the creak of the bathroom door open and for the third time in the last hour her heart skipped a beat and she struggled to take in air. “Are you okay?” asked the girl who just came through the door realizing how shaken up Mikayla was.

“Ye-yeah, sorry you just startled me”, Mikayla managed to get out before heading toward the door realizing how long she had just been staring into herself through the bathroom mirror. She didn’t know the girl's name but had seen her around the floor plenty and knew she was not a threat. She turned the corner and started towards her dorm room, but through the film of her dry eyes, she saw something. She quickly rubbed her eyes, putting all of her focus into the small square window to the stairwell which seems to be stretched miles down the hall. At that moment she felt like she did just seconds ago in the bathroom. That someone was staring into her. Terrified, knowing that her dorm room was in the direction of the figure staring at her through the glass, she turned and bolted back toward the bathroom. Behind her, she could hear fumbling of the door knob followed by the asymmetric thumping of footsteps growing louder, almost as though they were displaying a poor attempt at galloping. She breached the bathroom door like a SWAT team and quickly shut it behind her as she slid her back down the door, her hands falling into her knees. “Alright now are you okay?’ the girl asked as she was standing at the sink washing her hands. At that moment the girl had the same expression of fear as Mikayla did a minute prior when she first entered the bathroom. Before Mikayla could gather the composure to answer she was jolted forward by the force of the door. This brought her to her hands and knees, but her feet still blocked the door. Again, a push at the door, this time with less force, and Mikayla was able to keep it closed. The girl at the sink was able to catch sight of the intruder through the mirror. “What are you doing? Open the door!” the girl exclaimed. Skeptical of the command, as always, Mikayla felt fear for her life but at that moment realized she had no other choice but to move out of the way. To her, this may be the end, but still, she removed herself as the human barricade just before the door swung open for the third attempt.

Mikayla’s fear dissipated as she saw a girl in black jeans and a gray cropped t-shirt dive headfirst into a bathroom stall. Mikayla heard the splash into the toilet water and was thankful the girl was able to make it through all the obstacles Mikayla threw at her.

“You need help”, the first girl said to Mikayla as she strutted out of the bathroom. Mikayla, now sitting on the bathroom floor with her arms looped around her knees, thought about what she just heard. The whole situation was ironic. Telling her she needed help just to leave a room that contained two different girls obviously struggling in their own ways. In this moment she realized that she wasn’t just tweaking, being skeptical, or distrusting all along. We are all constantly being watched by those around us, perfect strangers see us at our best and worst moments. They pass judgment, as it is the normal human thing to do, but it takes a special connection to break down those walls. She thought back to her friends sleeping in her room. Gracie, Sammie, and Erin are all different in their own ways, but all there for each other at a moment's notice. She wondered if they would be friends had they met under different circumstances. If their first impression of each other was at their worst moments, would things be the same? The fact is we’re constantly being watched and analyzed, expected to be our best when we all know that's an impossible standard to meet. We think we’re better than others going through pain and struggles and envy those who seem to have it all. There’s nothing human about being at the top of your game every second of every day. If you are, you’re only experiencing half of what life has to offer. Just then Mikayla came back to Earth and snapped out of her trance. Recognizing the situation she stood up off the floor and walked towards the occupied stall, door wide open. “How can I help you?”, Mikayla asked. “C-can you- p-please text my roommate?”, she struggled to get out between the dry heaves. Mikayla grabbed the girl's phone out of her back pocket and held the face ID over the girl's face above the cloudy toilet water and found the most recent text conversation with the contact name Roomieee with a heart emoji next to it and alerted the girl’s friend of her location. Mikayla sat there with her until the girl’s roommate came and took over. Mikayla walked back to her dorm room, more aware of her surroundings now than earlier in the night. She saw no face looking back at her in the stairwell window, and heard no suspicious sounds. Just the silence of the night and the occasional dry heave from the bathroom behind her. She opened the door to her friends still asleep and laid down in her bed. “Yeah, I’m done smoking that stuff.”, she whispered to herself before closing her eyes for the night.