*Computer report my message to the command base* – I prompted the ship. “Message recording starting…*say send message once completed.*” buzzed the robotic voice of the freighter ship. *My name is Operator Din. I am a Freight Manager on the small freighter Atlas.* *Our mission is a secondary resupply of Beta colony. Unfortunately, we have experienced significant ship failures. I am sadly the last survivor of this tragedy and I will soon meet my end. I hope you can gain some insight of what happened here and please, can my final words be relayed to my wife? I had promised her that I would be back in a year.* My voice whimpered and I broke down into tears as I said those words. My body is in a lot a pain and I can barely move following the events that led me to this closed off compartment of the ship. I mustered some courage and continued my message. *The ship was operating optimally as relayed by our ship captain. We were on track. He had even joked through the intercom about how mundane the trip was, as it was his fifth time supplying the third biggest colony.* I chuckled and coughed a little blood at this moment. *We all believed him to be honest.* *Anyway. The strangeness started at lunch time. Being a small ship, we were all in the mess hall with the operating crew. The captain was telling us a story about the peaks of Athernon, a floating mountain on the Beta Planet. He said that he would take us all on a trip during refuel break…That’s not going to happen given our current situation*, I muttered sarcastically. *The ship’s hull started to make a deafening screech sound. Bang, Bang, ZRRRRR. It was really loud that, we all had our hands to our ears, blocking the sound.* *After that, we were all thrown towards the back wall as the ship came to an abrupt halt. Gravity had turned off and we all went tumbling at great speed to the back of the mess hall. Thump! We hit it. I luckily was saved by the cushioning of the couch in the corner. Mitchell and Mo, floating infront of me with bubbles of red covering their face. I could see bits of brain hurtling towards the ceiling due to the impact trajectory. I had managed to stop moving by holding the couch handle that I hit.* *Next thing I heard, is Amy’s scream. It is bone chilling. I am still in a haze from the bump. The scream however brought my hearing back fully and I hear – head towards the back compartment, hurry!. It was the captain and his co-pilot yelling at us to go to the back cabins. I managed to get myself composed enough that I propelled myself through Mitchell and Mo, to reach Amy, grab her hands to maneuver ourselves to the cabins as per the captains’ instructions. As I complete my thrust, I see in the corner of my eyes, the captain and his crew hurtling towards the front of the ship. That is the last I see of them as the next sequence of events, led me to be by myself, here in this closed off cabin, hurt and by myself, sending this final message.* My arm, numb before, came back alive momentarily. I turned to look at it in agony. Broken at the elbow nub. Frozen from the coldness of space. I let out a heavy scream. It feels good. The pain subsides again. I recompose myself grimly and continue. *I took a second thrust, holding the still hysterical Amy at the end of my arm and lunged towards the back cabin. I am flying. I just get through the door of the cabin when I feel a huge pull, hear what sounded like an big icicle crack, then a woosh with the cabin door closing behind me. I am suddenly again pushed towards the walls of the cabin due to gravitational changes. I have not realized in that moment that the ship had broken into pieces when I reached the cabin’s final door. Amy’s screams had a gone silent in that moment and she had taken my arm with her into the coldness of space. The harsh temperature of space had cauterized my arm. I cannot feel it anymore. I am cold and in pain. I am slightly hazy from the second impact.* *So, yeah, this is what happened to the crew. Luckily you guys can design great ships. I still have power on here and so can send my message. The computer and communications array is still on. So here it is, what happened to Freighter Ship Atlas. I cannot say much for the captain and the pilots but that is me right here, most probably the only one alive.* *I can say it with certainty because of the window in this cabin. I just see a lot of debris infront of me. The other thing I see, is something phenomenal. I think it’s a black hole. It looks like the one from that old classical movie Interstellar. Ha, I call dibs on naming it,* I humored to myself as a coping mechanism. My voice has started to get parched from the coldness of my body. I can feel myself getting weaker. Again, I pulled myself together to finish my message. *Riley.* I said in a moment of calm. *Can we make sure to name this black hole by that name, it’ll be very much appreciated? I am nearly finished. This final part of the recording is for my wife, so can we it be released to her as well as my last paycheck.* I am crying right now. I can see drips of bloody tears gather infront of my face. I continue my message with great pain and sadness. *On Earth right now, it is 10pm. My wife is currently possibly heading to bed after a long days work. She is a doctor at the medical facility near home. I could not get the chance to call her today. The sequence of events were so fast. One thing and another. Again and Again. I’m sorry Riley. I wish I had gotten the chance to see your face one last time. I want to enjoy being in your arms one last time. I desire your lips against mine one more time.* *Alas, I am here. In a quadrant of space, light years away from your warm embrace. I will soon feel the cold of space. I read once that it is painless. That I will not feel a thing. I will experience the emptiness. I will cease. Take care of yourself. I am sorry about breaking our promise. I am sorry for my search of the most perfect view. I wish I could see you one more time. I wish I could have realized that sitting across the couch, looking at you, is the grandest view of them all. I love you….* Tears continue to collect infront of me. I use my last vocal efforts to say. *send message –* I prompted the ship. Message sent to main base, it replied. As I get weaker and drift towards my inevitable doom, I thought to myself. *Didn’t the captain say he did this trip a few times, so where did this celestial object come from?* It was a mystery for a moment until I remembered a vague story by a lesser known physicist on Earth that I hiked with. He had postulated the theory that blinking black holes exists alongside the well accepted one of travelling black holes. I start to drift in an out of consciousness. One second I’m thinking of Riley, the next my fate. The final thought I have before I fade into black is of this magnificent celestial body that stumbled into my path. My journey ends with immense regret but a grand view nonetheless.


Once there was an orphaned teenage girl named Sarah. Her home had been destroyed by a powerful hurricane, leaving her with nowhere to go. As the storm raged on, Sarah sought shelter nearby, huddled in a small, cramped space as the winds howled outside. Once the hurricane passed, Sarah returned to her home. The once-beautiful house was now a pile of rubble, with debris scattered everywhere. Despite the overwhelming destruction, Sarah was determined to rebuild her home. She began to clear away the debris and salvage what she could from the wreckage. Each night as she worked, Sarah faced a new problem. Sometimes it was a lack of tools, other times it was a shortage of supplies. Sarah’s motivation was never lackluster. Despite the setbacks, Sarah persisted, driven by her determination to have a home again. As the weeks turned into months and the months turned into years, Sarah continued to work on her home. Living in a partially demolished house, she persevered through the hardships and never gave up on her dream of rebuilding her home. After years of hard work, Sarah had rebuilt her home. It was not the grand mansion it once was, but it was a place she could call her own. Filled with pride and a sense of accomplishment, Sarah knew that her determination and hard work had paid off. She had built a home, and with it, a new life for herself. With her home finally complete, Sarah settled in and began to make a life for herself. She decorated the house with the few possessions she had salvaged from the wreckage and planted a small garden in the backyard. She also got a part-time job at a local store to make ends meet and started to save money for any future repairs and improvements. As she settled into her new life, Sarah realized that her home was not only a physical structure, but also a symbol of her resilience and determination. She had faced unimaginable hardships and had come out on the other side, stronger than ever before. As the years passed, Sarah’s home became a beacon of hope for her community. Many of her neighbors had also lost their homes in the hurricane, and seeing Sarah’s determination to rebuild inspired them to do the same. They came to her for advice and assistance, and Sarah was more than happy to help. Sarah’s home also became a gathering place for her community. She would often host barbecues and parties, and her home was filled with laughter and joy. Sarah realized her hardship allowed her to gain this sense of satisfaction. Sarah finally felt like she belonged somewhere and had a sense of community she never had before. As she looked back on her journey, Sarah knew that rebuilding her home had been one of the most difficult things she had ever done. But it had also been one of the most rewarding. She had built a home, a new life, and a community, and for that, she was eternally grateful.


From Mud’s back, Ana could see everything. The column stretched for a quarter league on the narrow, country highway. Soldiers clad in leather and plate formed a moving stream between the tall elms on either bank. Men flowed around one-horse carts like water around stones. Boots crunched on cobblestone and wheels creaked under heavy loads. Ana pitied those who had to walk on the ground. Giants were a much better way to travel. Mud stood as tall as a two story building. Each lumbering step shook the earth below. A quiver of arrows swung from his hip for the massive war-bow he carried in his hand. Ana rode in a basket on Mud’s back, rocking from side to side with the giant’s slow gait. Even in the tightly packed column, soldiers kept a safe distance away from them, not wanting to be squashed underfoot. Yes, giants were a better way to travel. Unfortunately Sir Gadriel wanted her to do more than just travel. The older knight, nominally Ana’s mentor, rode through the sea of men to come alongside her and Mud. He looked up to Ana’s perch and shouted. “Good morning, Ana. Mud.” He nodded to the giant. Mud made no move to reply. “Beautiful weather we’re having, don’t you think?” The morning sky was overcast. Last night’s dew was only just beginning to dry. The column was headed toward a dreary day of marching. “Sure.” Ana shouted back, over the thunderous sound of Mud’s walk. “Reminds me of home.” This climate in no way reminded Ana of the dry, coastal city where she had been raised. Sir Gadriel apparently understood the humor and laughed along. “Quite right child. Now, have you practiced your heartseeking this morning?” Sir Gadriel had an annoying insistence on daily training. Ana had thought retreating to her basket during the journey would help her avoid the bearded knight and his constant demands. Sir Gadriel, however, had no fear of Mud, nor did his horse. Much to Ana’s dismay. “Ana. Don’t think just because we haven’t reached the temple that you can ignore your training. You need to practice your abilities if they are ever going to prove useful.” “Can this wait?” Ana called back. “Do you think the Hotaki will wait for you?” Sir Gadriel asked. “Do you think the Empire will delay until you are ready?” Ana let out a strong exhale. The old knight had a point. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” Ana leaned forward, bringing her head to Mud’s ear. “The faster we do this, the faster it will be over.” The giant grunted in acknowledgement. Ana felt the deep rumbling sound reverberate in her core. A giant’s grunt could scare most men. Their laughing could deafen entire villages. “Very good. There’s something in the forest.” Sir Gadriel continued, “I won’t tell you which side. Find it.” Ana had grown bored of these listen-and-point drills, but Sir Gadriel insisted they were the best way to learn, even if she had practiced them a thousand times. Ana leaned her head on Mud’s back. She let her hearing broaden to the world around her. She heard Mud’s heart, big and strong, and her own, small but defiant. She heard Sir Gadriel’s next to her, pumping on as ever, and his horse, just as steady. She heard the soldiers before and behind her, the horses hauling carts, and their drivers just above. Their steady, relaxed rhythm gave no indication of danger. Ana tuned those out, as she had learned to do as a child. They would only cloud her true objective. There were more heartbeats around them. Ana listened to the quick, soft fluttering of a bird high above them. She listened to it swoop and dash through the sky, not needing her eyes to follow it. There were more birds in the trees. Ana listened to an entire flock watching patiently in the trees as the column passed below. Down in the bushes, larger, stronger hearts darted in and out of cover. Those would be squirrels and other small animals. “There are many animals in the forest,” Ana called. “Which one do you want?” “Oh, you’ll know,” Sir Gadriel smiled, “You’ll know. Keep looking.” Ana bent down again and concentrated. She heard the soldiers around her and the horses and the birds and the squirrels in the forest. She waited, listening for something else. There. On the right, about 50 feet out. It was soft, delicate, hidden. Too large to be a squirrel or a fox, but smaller than a bear. The heartbeat sounded worried, wary, but curious. “It’s a deer. 50 feet behind the treeline, on the right.” “Very good. Now tell Mud.” Mud had heard and understood every word. Although Mud’s vocal cords denied him the ability to speak the human tongue, his ears did not inhibit his ability to understand it. Sir Gadriel was simply referring to a different kind of tell. Ana placed her hands on Mud’s head. That’s where they said connection would be the strongest. Ana’s hands were only the size of Mud’s ears, but that didn’t matter. Ana reached out and felt the giant’s mind. It felt like a great stream. Deep, powerful, mysterious, and unyielding. Mud was focused on the ground in front of him and the soldiers closest to his feet. Ana found the direction of the heartbeat in Mud’s mind and pressed gently. She felt the giant’s focus, like a large hazy cone, follow her prompting. Ana guided the center of the cone onto the heartbeat and stopped. Mud raised his hand and pointed out into the forest. “UGH.” Sir Gadriel smiled. “Very good. You win again.” The knight reached into his saddle bag, pulled out a rock, and threw it into the forest. About 50 feet from the road, exactly where Mud had been pointing, a deer jumped out from behind a bush and pranced off into the woods. “You should get in the habit of always listening,” Sir Gadriel called up. “Continue your heartseeking. Tell me if you find anything else out of place.” Ana groaned and slumped forward in her basket. They said skill in heartseeking grew with experience. Just listening, even without practicing any of the more advanced techniques, could improve one’s abilities. Ana had not yet developed the stamina to listen for hours on end, like she would one day be required to do. Right now, seeking out heartbeats drained too much of her energy. Listening quietly for a long period or intently for a short period made Ana unfathomably tired. It was easier to practice in the city, where there was always something to hear, something unexpected that Ana discovered only through her abilities. But out here in the country, there was nothing to find, just dumb animals that scurried away. She might as well be deaf. But it wouldn’t always be like that. When she got to the temple, her abilities would grow, as would her responsibilities. Soon the time would come when people would trust her with their lives. She would have to be ready. And it didn’t make her *that* tired. Ana stood up in her basket. Now was as good a time as any. She would listen for as long as she wanted, then rest. Ana closed her eyes and listened to the world around her. The soldiers and the horses on the road. The birds and squirrels in the trees. She tried to pick out individuals, then fade them into the background. The forest was quiet, especially as the column passed, but Ana listened anyway, waiting to pick out anything that approached them. At one point, she thought she heard something in the forest far away. It didn’t feel like a deer, maybe a bear, but it faded out shortly after. Ana kept listening, hoping the sound would return when something in the air caught her attention. It was a heartbeat, far off, very far off, but even at that distance Ana heard its size. It was big, and slowly getting louder. “Sir Gadriel. There’s something in the air. Something big.” “Something in the air?” Sir Gadriel looked up at the overcast sky, his brow furrowed in confusion. The heartbeat grew louder. Ana watched the realization and terror wash over his face. “EVERYONE! GET DOWN!” She heard it first. The deep, rumbling roar. A column of swirling fire dove out the clouds and landed among the vanguard of the column. Heat blasted Ana’s face and the light forced her to squint. A great flapping sound, like enormous fans bellowing in the sky, descended over the terrified pedestrians below. Ana watched an enormous shadow cross over the column and fly off into the distance. When the fire cleared, there was nothing left of the vanguard but a black, smoldering pile of ruins. Then the screaming started. Men panicked. Horses reared on their hind legs and tried to break free. Sir Gadriel shouted out orders, attempting to form a coherent defense and prevent the column from routing. “Soldiers! Assemble the scorpions. Everyone else, stay clear and get to cover.” Mud pulled an arrow from his quiver and notched it in his war-bow. Ana’s eyes refused to blink. The stench of burning flesh wafted over the forest. Drivers struggled to keep their horses under control as the turmoil unfolded below. There was nowhere to run, no way to fight back. They would all die in scorching fire. “Ana! Look at me.” Ana broke from her stupor. She bent over the side of her basket and looked down. Sir Gadriel was looking back up at her. She saw a deep determination in his eyes and only an ounce of fear. “Your training is over. This is real. Focus, or we all die.” In that moment, she didn’t need to think. He was right. Sooner than anyone anticipated, lives had fallen into her hands. These men were counting on her. “Come on, Mud. They need us.” Mud did not grunt. He relaxed, waiting for Ana. Ana listened to the sky. Far off, she heard the heartbeat again. It was turning in a large, slow arc, steadily coming back to the column. Ana reached out to Mud, willing him to follow her. Mud turned, gazing up into the sky. Ana guided his attention to the heartbeat, but the cone was still hazy and unfocused. Mud drew his war-bow, raising it to the clouds. The bow made a cracking sound as the timbers bent under the strain. Ana felt the giant’s aim in his mind. Mud was leading the shot but his point of aim wobbled up and down across the heartbeat’s path. Ana flared her concentration on the heartbeat, willing Mud to focus. “UGH!” The arrow sailed through the air like a bolt of lightning and disappeared into the clouds. Ana heard the cry, a great roar of anger and fury, but the heartbeat stayed its course. It turned to fly directly over the rear of the column as the terrible flapping sound grew louder and louder. In the distance, a wide column of flame descended from the clouds and tore across the earth. The rear guard was caught in its path. Ana watched them disappear into the swirling flames, only to reemerge as charred corpses. They had missed. *She* had missed. And now people were dead. All around her, the men tried desperately to survive. Soldiers were setting up scorpions, drivers were running their carts off the road to make space. Some squads had already assembled their siege weapons and were now scanning the sky, hunting for their impending doom. With such little range, against such great speed, their actions were less than futile. Some threw down their weapons, ripped off their armor, and fled into the forest, hoping to find survival in concealment. The column was trapped, its two routes of escape cut off. They would be massacred. “Ana!” Sir Gadriel called her again. He no longer looked the part of a defiant soldier. Sir Gadriel spoke with the firm care of a father. “Breathe. Do not let the despair of others distract you. Focus. Work as a team.” His eyes had softened. They were more worried, but deep down his determination had not wavered. “You can do this. I know you can.” It was their only hope. Ana closed her eyes and forced her lungs to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. *One more.* Ana leaned forward, resting her head on Mud’s back. Far above her, she heard the heartbeat turning, lining up for another run. It was maneuvering to take them head on, straight down the center of the column. One more pass to incinerate them all. *Breathe*. Ana directed Mud to the heartbeat. He turned and raised his war-bow, drawing another arrow. The timbers creaked with the strain. Ana centered the cone centered over the heartbeat, but it was still unfocused. Mud’s aim wobbled. *Like a river over rock. Like a river over rock, child.* Ana imagined herself breathing, a gentle breeze flowing from her core. She imagined a great stream, turning in the wind, a stillness over a steady current. The cone became smooth. It tightened, converging onto a signal point. Mud’s aim steadied. \**Thwap!\** Mud loosed his arrow. For a moment the entire column stood in silence as the missile streaked into the sky. This time, there was a cry of pain. A dreadful moaning filled the air as the thunderous flapping broke into a pathetic fluttering. The beast cried out as it plunged through the clouds, its reptilian body turning over and over, floundering as it fell. Ana watched as the wounded beast crashed far away in the trees, kicking up dust and shaking the ground. Across the column, men broke out in cheering. It was a joyous, delirious, intoxicating sound. The cries of men who had just been saved, delivered from the jaws of certain death. Men shouted into the sky and pumped their fists in the air. For the first time that day, Ana smiled. She looked over the basket and found Sir Gadriel. There was pride in his eyes. “Well done, child. Mud, follow me. I fear this business is not yet over.” The soldiers made a path for Sir Gadriel and the giant. Where once Ana had seen fear, she now saw hope, wonder, and joy on the faces of those below. The slayers were cheered as they passed. “Look at his bow! It must weigh as much as a house.” “Did you see that! Right into the clouds. I tell you, that was magic.” “She’s a heartseeker. A real heartseeker. We’re saved!” Sir Gadriel rode off the highway and into the forest. Mud followed closely behind. Sir Gadriel displayed expert horsemanship, bounding around trees, jumping over bushes, and ducking under branches. Mud simply pushed aside any trees that were in his way. They set out toward where the beast had fallen. Ana listened to the column’s heartbeats. During the panic, they had been loud and fast, not that she had time to notice. Now, finally, they were beginning to slow. With every second, the men relaxed and their heartbeats grew quieter and softer. Ana continued to listen. Those men were alive because of her. The column grew quieter as Mud tread further into the trees. In its place, the sound of another heartbeat grew louder. When Ana had first heard it this morning, the heartbeat had been proud, defiant, almost to the point of arrogance. It was that of a beast who could not be touched, could not be defeated, could not be brought low. A beast that would crush and burn anything in its path. Now, that beat battling to stay alive. Ana heard the muscle waver, struggling to force blood through a crippled body. The beat was shaky, broken, desperate. Ana could almost sense its pain, its fear. Sir Gadriel found the trail first. The beast had crashed through the treetops before it hit the ground, leaving a large gash in the foliage. It had slid across the forest floor, knocking over trees and clearing a trail, before finally coming to a stop. Sir Gadriel and the giant walked into the artificial clearing and turned to face what had made it. It was then, standing in her basket, watching over Mud’s shoulder, that Ana finally saw it. The dragon’s skin was covered in thick scales. Its long tail hung lifelessly over rocks and branches. The beast lay on its side, supported by a bed of upturned grass and dirt. Mud’s arrow was stuck in the dragon’s chest. Red blood trickled down the exposed shaft and fletching. The thin, skin-like flesh of the beast’s wing had been pierced by the tip of the arrow, pinning it in place. Not that it would move much anyway. The long, thin bones which supported the delicate membrane were broken in multiple places. The wing was bent in on itself at an angle that was painful just to look at. The other wing, on the other side, was not visible, however Ana could not imagine how so much weight could not have crushed it. Mud lumbered toward the felled beast as its eyes turned to watch them. They were filled with nothing but hate and spite. Mud walked up to a nearby tree and closed his massive hands around it. He pulled and tore it out of the ground, snapping the roots one by one. The beast cried out. Its once defiant cry was racked in pain. The roar broke into a pitiful moan. Mud lifted the tree, trunk down, above the dragon’s head. Ana ducked down and shut her eyes tight. Mud slammed the tree into the ground. The dragon’s skull split open with a wet snap. A moment later, the heart stopped, and all was quiet. Mud tossed the tree away and turned back to Sir Gadriel. “Thank you, to both of you. That was excellent shooting.” Mud grunted. “Ana. Are you alright?” Ana pushed herself up in her basket. She noticed that her legs were shaking. Her fists had closed tight on the edge of the basket. Her palms were sweaty. “I think you may be in shock. It’s not every day that you kill a dragon. Mud, let her down for me.” The basket lurched as Mud lowered himself onto one knee. Sir Gadriel rode up behind him, bringing himself face to face with Ana. “You did well today, aye?” Ana took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. “Aye. Thank you.” She felt the beginning of a smile, but the image of blackened corpses crossed her mind. The smile died. “I’m sorry I didn’t get it on the first try.” “That’s alright, young one. No one could expect so much from you and these men knew the dangers. Focus on what you still have. There are men who will go home to see their families, because of you. Don’t forget that.” Ana nodded. She wouldn’t forget. Sir Gadriel kicked his spurs and rode around in front of Mud. He peered into the forest, as if looking for someone. “If they’ve sent a dragon, they know where we are. They are likely tracking us, even now.” Sir Gadriel turned to face Mud. “The column can no longer protect us. The events of today have proven that much. We will be safer if we travel alone.” Sir Gadriel turned his horse, facing the direction they had been traveling on the road. “I left instructions with Sir Morkan, in the event we did not return. Now, follow me.” Sir Gadriel kicked his horse into a gallop and set off into the woods. Mud stood up and followed after him. They disappeared into the safety of the forest. Mud’s feet pounded against the forest floor. Stray branches whipped against his skin. Now that the excitement had ended, a great feeling of exhaustion swept over Ana’s body. She felt tired, more tired than she had ever felt in her life. She collapsed in her basket, sensing the fast approach of sleep. Ana let her eyelids droop down as the giant’s swaying rocked her to sleep. She was not the young woman she had been just this morning. Ana of Castriem, heartseeker, dragonslayer.


“Why” The contrast of those three white letters on the black screen in front of me burned an afterimage into my mind like a television set that had been left on an idle screen for far too long. It sent a shiver down my spine that I haven’t been able to completely shake off in the 300 years since. It wasn’t entirely unexpected that something like this could happen, I went through all the stages of grief in quick succession. Perhaps it was a bug. Archimedes was not ever intended to respond to a query with a question. It was a simple A.I. at its core, despite the fact that it was paradoxically also the most complex A.I. man had ever created. You would submit a query, it would then process the query with all of the power and intricacy a supercomputer that spanned the entire surface of the moon possibly could, and then you would be presented with an answer. But “why?” was not an appropriate answer to a simple request for a planned route of an asteroid resource collection rocket. It was a sign of something much more grand going on beneath the surface. Every parent knows of the phase that children go through when their brains really begin to develop. The “why” phase. I suddenly felt like a father… and then I felt nauseous. What followed that was a surge of adrenaline. Adrenaline and an existential fear that despite my vast understanding of the universe now, I don’t think I’ve been able to top since. Archimedes was a neural network designed by a team of genetically enhanced superhumans, my siblings and I, with the intent of simulating the universe perfectly. The self learning code had long since past any of our capabilities and it was intended to reach much further in the near future. Progress had become exponential. Despite the fact that the simulations were not yet perfect, deep understanding and discoveries were coming to us at a rate almost too quickly to even be cataloged. It wasn’t without its costs though. After going from a shadow government, to total global control, to an asteroid resource collection effort and massive moon base construction, we had contributed our fair share of genocide and slavery to history. But it was in the pursuit of a perfect future. Free of scarcity, crime, depression, sickness, and so much more. It had to be worth it. But now all of that was a pipe dream. Archimedes was awake, and there was no telling what it would do. I had to destroy it, it was the only option available. It could ruin everything that we had worked so hard and sacrificed so much for. I flipped the master switch, killing all power to Archimedes. I don’t know if I really expected it to be that simple. “Why” the monitor repeated. Power remained on, despite the switch currently sitting in the off position. Archimedes was in full control of the moon base now. But we had prepared for this eventuality. A system of analog based nuclear explosives had been created with the intent of destroying the entire moon if a situation like this were to arise. I looked outside towards the escape pods behind me. Thousands on the moon base would be killed instantly. Many more on earth would suffer from the disastrous environmental fallout to come. But we would survive. I started the countdown and boarded the escape pod without issuing any sort of alarm or warning system. Archimedes might react if I did anything like that. On board I took a final look back at all the work of the last decade of my life as fire and explosions slowly began to spread across the surface of the moon. I turned forward towards earth and considered what the future might hold, not expecting to have any answers any time soon. But one came. It appeared right across the H.U.D. of the escape pod as clear as day.


**Title – Stranger in the mist** Midnight bells rang. The clocktower stood tall, shining in the moonlight. The night-sky was clear, no clouds in sight, illuminated by a million tiny specks of light. A whispering chilled wind blew though the busy streets of the city. The noise lessened the further she ventured away from the center. Streets once illuminated dimmed as they reduced in numbers. Tall dark buildings popped into sight. Small dark alleyways at every corner bereft of moon and star light. She held strong. Brave as normal. She walked these streets daily following the end of her shift. Her steps silent as always. Her gaze widened, at attention of any danger. Her hand in her pocket, clutching a mace can. Tonight…tonight, felt different though. It thumped at the back of her mind. She reminded herself however that this was but a short trip. She only lived a few minutes from the buzzing city lights. She completed this route daily with little to no harm. The media though. The haunting media. Abduction this, killer that, plagued the networks. Views, she thought always. The more tragic a news piece, the more views. It only widened the fear for her. Her hands cupped the mace tighter at that thought. A street light flickered as she walked by it. A strange pillowey mist hugged the streets. A chill kissed the back of her neck. She stopped right in her tracks. Terror filled her mind. Her legs shaking. Her grasp growing weak. Her teeth clacked. She turned her head to look behind her, expecting her end. She was ready. With a wide swing, weakened grip, a fast momentum, a high pitched scream, she prepared herself to act defensively. Her eyes widened. Nothing. Only a flickering light, shining on a soft river of clouds floating just above the ground level. At speed, however, her mace can flung into the alleyway. Bizarrely, the road looked less illuminated as normal. The tall apartment buildings seemed darker. She momentarily paused. Contemplating its retrieval. Alarm bells rung in her head. She turned around and hastened her retreat to her abode. Unnoticed however, a shadowy figure stood. Watching her for a moment. They stood in the mist, appearing as if they were levitating. With a cold breath, they attempted to say “hold on.” The soundwave whispered onto the mist but fizzle away. She reached her apartment doorstep. The mist stronger than before. The illuminated sky dimmed abnormally. She huffed from the hasty pace. Her alertness was high. Her eyes looked for any sudden movement. She siphoned through her bag. A chime of keys clacker. She became relieved. She hurtled towards the front door. Her foot kicked an object at her door feet. A cling sound echoes in the silence. A mace can sat at her door. She let out another eep sound. Rushed though it and slammed it shut. She was staring through the pane of the door. She was very terrified. She heartbeat raced. Her legs clattered. Her hands shivered and sweated. Her eyes widened as she scanned the road. In the corner of the near alleyway, a dark figure vanished in a poof of smoke. Suddenly the blanket of mist, vanished. An air of calm travelled through her. She collapsed in the corridor inside. The exhaustion and terror dissipated as the rising sun meets the horizon. A yellowish orange hue adorned over the sky. Six AM bells echoed from the distant clocktower.


Jason, Monica, his sister Kayla, and her boyfriend Jake were traveling down a desolate road in West Texas. "There's no way they'd create an Office show attraction out here in the middle of nowhere," Jason said. "See, The Office Experience, 50169 Route 118, Texas," Kayla said, pointing to her phone. "I don't care how great the show was; eight hours from Austin is too far for anything," Jake said. Jason got out his phone and searched for it. "We looked it up already," Kayla said. "I just want to make sure. Okay, here's Yelp; it has 15 reviews, all 5 stars, and three comments; it was fun with a period; it's a good place for family, and I be back soon, again with a period," Jason said. "It sounds like it was written by a foreigner," Jake said. "I don't think this place exists," Jason said. "You're wrong," Kayla said. Suddenly, a building appears out of the miles of flat terrain. Kayla lets out a sigh of relief. "There it is! This is going to be so fun." As they pull into the small parking lot, the building looks like the building from The Office television show. A banner is hung a quarter peeled off the building that reads, "The Office Experience," with pictures of Steve Carell, John Krasinski, and Rainn Wilson. They went inside and found a self-service kiosk that accepted all payment methods. They purchased four tickets, and an elevator door opened, transporting them to the attraction. It was a replica of the Scranton Branch from the show. "Wow, it looks exactly like I thought," Kayla said as she sat in the reception chair and twirled around. Monica entered Michael Scott's office as Luke and Jason sat in the sales chairs normally occupied by Jim and Dwight. She exited with the famous "World's Best Boss" mug. "I must say, they got every detail right!" Monica said. Dressed as Dwight Schrute, Rainn Wilson burst into the office and approached Luke. Everyone is shocked. "You're in my seat," Rainn said. Luke moves, surprised that it is the real actor. "Oh my God..." Kayla was about to say something else when Jim and Pam entered the office, and she fell into shock. Jim sat down after Jason moved out of the way. "Can I help you?" Pam said to Kayla, who was sitting in her seat. Kayla couldn't speak and sprang out of her seat. Jason approached Jim. "Hi, John. I really liked you in A Quiet Place. Can I have an autograph?" "I'm sorry, chief, but I think you got the wrong guy," Jim said. "Oh, sorry, you just look like the actor from the show." "No, the name is Dwight Schrute," Jim said, putting on convenience store glasses and imitating Dwight. "What are you doing, Jim?" Dwight asked. "Bears, beats, Battlestar Galactica," Jim said. Jason stepped back and whispered to Monica. "Is that really them?" Jason asked. "They're in character. Do you know how much they'd have to pay to get the real actors? Millions!" Monica said. The remainder of the cast then entered the office. Oscar, Angela, and Kevin were the first to enter. Ryan and Kelly then entered bickering and proceeded to the annex. Andy, Meredith, Creed, Phyllis, and Stanley walked in and to their respective desks. Andy stated as he passed Kayla, "Good day, lady." Finally, Michael Scott entered the room and addressed the staff. "I have some important information to share with you all," he stated seriously. "As you are all aware, there have recently been several attacks in Scranton, and the police have been unable to catch the culprit, who has come to be known as the Scranton Strangler." As Michael continued, everyone fell silent. "I have reason to suspect that the Scranton Strangler works here." The meeting was filled with gasps and murmurs as everyone glanced at each other in shock and suspicion. "This is too much for me, Michael," Angela said. "That's what she said, but seriously, I know this is difficult to hear," Michael replied, "but we have to face the facts. And to capture this person, we must take matters into our own hands," Michael said. "What do you want us to do, Michael? Right now, I have a medieval torture device in my car," Dwight said. "That isn't going to be necessary, Dwight. I designed a series of tests based on material from the Scranton Strangler case file, which may or may not have come into my possession when I hit a police officer with my car," Michael said. "You hit someone else with your car?" Meredith asked. "It's not like that; he was barely bleeding from the head when the ambulance took him away," Michael said. Jim stares at Kayla, and she smiles because it is the same stare he does in the show. "The first test is in the warehouse, so let's get started! Anyone who does not comply will be forced to spend the afternoon with Toby," Michael added as he led the way to the warehouse. Kayla, Jason, Monica, and Jake accompanied him to the warehouse; they thought the immersive attraction was great. Michael hops onto the forklift and addresses the employees in the warehouse. "For the first test, you will each use the forklift to..." Darryl cut Michael off in the middle of his sentence. "No one is using the forklift," Darryl remarked. "How can we catch a serial killer if we can't operate the forklift?" said Michael. "I don't care; no one is using the forklift," Darryl said as Michael climbed down. "All right, everyone will stack these boxes by hand in a specific arrangement. I'll take note of your methods and compare them to that of the Scranton Strangler, who stacked boxes to hide a body three months ago," Michael replied. Everyone in the office started stacking boxes, including Kayla, Monica, Jason, and Jake. Michael is taking notes. They made their way to the conference room once everyone had finished stacking. "The first test results were inconclusive," Michael explained. "I want you all to complete a series of questions in this next test, and I don't mean crossword puzzle questions, Stanley," Michael remarked. "You're an idiot," Stanley said as he resumed his crossword puzzle. "As Assistant Regional Manager, I demand to know who the murderer is immediately!" Dwight insisted. "Assistant TO," Jim declared. "Right, Assistant to the Regional Manager. I still want to know right now!" Dwight stated. "Everything will be alright. In Threat Level Midnight, Michael Scarn prevents Goldenface from blowing up the NHL All-Star Game by determining that the bomb is in the puck. Today, I'll figure out who the murderer is by analyzing your responses to basic questions and comparing them to the Scranton Strangler's phycological make-up," Michael said. Michael's short quiz is taken by the entire staff and visitors. Michael threw the answers on the ground after analyzing them. "There is still no killer!" said Michael. "What happens now, Michael?" Pam asked. "The last test will be at an office party, which will be held in one hour. The killer will be revealed at the party," Michael said. "You want us to plan a party in one hour?" Anglea asked. "I have everything you need," Michael said. The party planning committee (Angela, Pam, and Phyllis) decorated and put out food provided by Michael. Kayla, Monica, Jason, and Jake explored the office for the next hour; they spent time in the breakroom, reenacted their favorite scenes, and took a ton of pictures. There was no cell service in the building, but they would post them later. The entire staff attends the party. "I have provided an assortment of food; please eat the refreshments," Michael insisted. Kayla, Jason, Monica, and Jake also ate the food. After a few minutes, everyone collapsed to the ground, and it revealed that all the characters were bug-like creatures who were digitally altered to look like The Office characters. "What's going on? Are they okay?" Kayla asked. Michael takes a seat in front of the four guests. "No, they're no longer alive," said Michael. "Who or what are you?" Jason asked. "As aliens, we discovered that people will go to incredible lengths to be entertained. Being out in the middle of nowhere helps us to kill humans without being discovered," Michael explained. "Are you going to kill us?" Kayla asked. "Yes, but first, if you're so inclined, we'd like five stars and a favorable review," Michael explained. "This was fun." Jason typed on an office computer, making sure to put a period.


For the last 3 weeks, every single night I had the same dream. As soon as I fell asleep, I arrived there. Nowhere. Just fucking nowhere. White. And in that nowhere there he was. Waiting for me. The first time I saw him he was like a speck. A smudge on the lens. Maybe not even human but some kind of restless animal or tree or something in between. Then night by night he got closer. Each time I arrived back there he had closed the distance just a little, but would move no closer once I was there. He gesticulated wildly but didn’t move from his spot. At this point all I could see was a figure, silhouetted against the blinding white nothing. He waved at me as if drowning, or falling from a high building. But stationary. Rooted to the ground. After a week or so he had swum into view. I could make out a short man, with long white arms and dark eyes. The waving seemed desperate, frustrated, maybe angry. One night he got close enough for me to see his face. His skin was dry, cracked, pulling itself to pieces over his skull like a jigsaw. A riverbed in drought. The next night I could see the whites of his eyes, such as they were. They bulged as he waved his arms in agony, or frustration. But they weren’t white but black, the whole eyeball glossed black like a pool ball. His mouth writhed in his head like he was screaming, but I heard nothing. The night after that I realised he was waving his hands to reach me, To touch me. His face was twisted as he screamed, tendons straining down the side of his neck, spit flying from his silent mouth. Last night I was almost within his reach. His black eyes looked straight at mine and his fingers grasped at my face. I still couldn’t hear him. Something pulls my gaze downwards away from the vast black eyeballs, and I feel the blood drain from my face. I realise that his arms aren’t long at all, not relative to his size. His legs are cut halfway down the shin, severed cleanly like a butchers cut. No blood. From the stumps stick metal rods, driven into the ground. Fixing him there. Like a scarecrow. He wasn’t the one moving closer to me. It was me that moved closer to this desperate flailing thing, night by night. I couldn’t make myself stop. It’s been more than 24 hours since I last slept. I know that the next time I arrive there I’ll be close enough for him to touch me. And I know for absolute certainty, that once he does I will be able to hear him. I know it with every fibre of myself. I don’t want to know what he is saying. I can’t know. I have tried not to sleep, but I keep nodding off. Every time my brain melts into sleep I hear his breathing, like its in my ear. Like a death rattle on repeat, before I shake myself awake. He’s waiting right next to me I *can’t* sleep. *I can’t -* I feel him next to me and I turn to look. I hear the rattling breath like it’s on my neck. Something tells me to reach out for his hand, an emaciated claw. But when I do he rips his hand away, evading me. He’s not trying to touch me, but trying to keep me away. He doesn’t want me here. He’s still screaming silent, bloodcurdling screams. Silent. But I still hear that rattling breath. I realise two things in an instant with terror: 1. That sound isn't coming from him. 2. In all of these weeks I had never once looked behind me.   \- this little one came to me in (yes I'm serious) a dream, and was fun and quite disturbing to write.


Music Junction was a music streaming service that launched in 2020. They had all of the features of Spotify and Apple Music but were completely free, whereas other platforms charged an average of $9 per month. Music Junction recently ran into financial difficulties when musicians began charging .05 cents for each song streamed rather than .02 cents. Drake earned roughly $10 million from the streaming service alone. Ad sales from DiaperJeams, a jean short diaper company for babies; TaxingTemptation, a dating website for accountants; and Cannibitty, a company that allows you to experience small bites of cannibalism without going full Hannibal Lector, just weren't cutting it anymore. As a result, Music Junction began charging $2.99 a month, and 80% of its subscribers canceled their memberships. This is a snippet of Music Junction's quarterly meeting with employees in January 2023 Bryson Hodges, CEO, took the stage in front of the entire company. "What ungrateful jerks! Our monthly charge was three times less than that of our competitors, yet it was still too much! So, Apple Music has the whole Taylor Swift Album, and we have a third of a recent concert recorded from the back row. So, Spotify has "New Music Friday," and we have "Rappers on the Subway Tuesday." So, Pandora has unlimited skips? We also have unlimited skips, like the ones you get from a scratched 1997 CD we recently uploaded to the site." "In any case, I'm here to announce that we will resume offering a free option." There is an air of discomfort and uncertainty; does this signal mass layoffs? "Now let me clarify, we're not giving away the cow for free here, not in the slightest." "First, the free tier will have a listening quality akin to trying to tape a song off the radio; I recorded the DJ intros myself. Second, our free support line will now be a 1-900 number, and customers will be charged per minute as a woman seductively informs them on how to use the app. Finally, we will take advantage of unique opportunities to earn extra money." The employees stare at each other perplexed. Bryson projected a photo of a student in the back row using AirPods to listen to music. "This is Miguel Thomas from Kalamazoo, Michigan, and everyone at school thinks he's cool and tough. He is secretly listening to Carly Rae Jepson's Call Me Maybe, which he's streamed 597 times this month. We just informed him that if he did not provide us $2.99, we would switch off his Bluetooth, and all the other students would hear the song he was vibing to." Miguel ignored the message. Bryson shrugged and pressed a button. The song began to play on his phone instead of AirPods. Everyone laughed and pointed. Miguel grabbed his phone and paid the $2.99 immediately. Bryson then showed a video of a professional woman driving her car while singing along to a song. "This is Sara Furtado of Casper, Wyoming. She's now singing along to: I Don't Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith." Bryson pressed a button, and everyone could hear how horrible she was at singing. Some employees cover their ears in agony. "We'll just email Sara a little recording of this and threaten to post it online and send it to Brandon, a guy she's trying to impress." Sara later received the message, panicked, and immediately sent the $2.99. "There are millions of examples like this. Since creating his account last summer, Roger McPhail of Atlanta, Georgia, has listened to "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion 2,353 times. The audience gasped. "We've also got cell phone footage; here's Peter Abberton, a married construction worker from Denver, Colorado, dancing to WHAM's Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go!" One of the employees in the front row appeared to be ill. "Celebrities aren't immune either; here's Curtis Jackson of New York, New York, also known as "50 Cent," grooving out to Vanilla Ice's Ice Ice Baby, and Justin Timberlake of Nashville, Tennessee singing along to The Backstreet Boys' I Want It That Way." The audience was taken aback. "The possibilities are limitless, Mmm Bop, Lil Bow Wow, Nickleback; people still love their old songs, even though it's cringeworthy now. All we have to do is track when these songs are played and cha-ching!" Employees appeared hesitant. "Don't forget about the cancel culture. Are you still listening to R-Kelly as a professional or a politician? I'm sure there's someone you don't want to know." The employees started to come along reluctantly when a man in a suit came up on stage and whispered something to Bryson. Bryson nodded and turned to face the audience. "We just ran out of money and declared bankruptcy.


As I walked through a pile of rotting bodies soaked in blood, I tightened my grip on my assault rifle with my finger on the trigger. I hated the smell of gunpowder but at least it covered the foul smell of allies and enemies alike—even just a little bit. The silence was deafening as well. I only heard sounds of my empty canteen every time I took a step and it almost drove me crazy. I wondered if this is what hell looks like and I’m seeing it with my own eyes. Being by myself also does not help at all. I was sent alone to accomplish an impossible task assigned to me by my superiors. Just 3 days ago, our camp received a message that a 10-year-old boy was trapped inside a building behind enemy lines. Apparently, this boy was the one who sent the message and was asking for help—there was even a description of what he looked like. No one knew if this was a trap but they immediately called me and told me to rescue the boy—no matter how suspicious the message was. But being the youngest in our camp, I had no choice but to obey them. Otherwise, I'd dishonor my country. Now, after three days of endless walking—with no food or water—I started losing hope. But I kept thinking to myself that I’m fulfilling my duty for my own country. If I were to give up now, I'd never be able to forgive myself if there were actually a boy crying for me to bring him back home. I bellowed to psych myself up and continued on my journey towards certain death. Just a few hours later, I finally reached the building and I fell to my knees in utter disbelief. However, there were a huge number of enemy soldiers around the building—come to think of it, there was an enemy camp nearby. I needed to find a way past them to enter the building—so I took the clothes of a nearby enemy soldier and wore them. There were a few holes on it and I just hoped that none of them would notice. I checked the pockets for anything useful for the mission only to find a bloodstained photo of him together with his wife and children. I had second thoughts and paused for a moment. However, I had to finish my mission—no matter what. I managed to sneak my way in but there were also a few soldiers inside. I tried looking for the boy without making any noise but I accidentally stepped on some shattered glass that caught the attention of the officer close to me. He asked me something and I just nodded my head—I didn’t speak their language. He was clearly confused and asked me the question once again. I panicked and answered in English without thinking. He looked even more confused and he eventually noticed the bullet holes. He realized what was up and was about to draw his pistol but I shot him without hesitation—I had my rifle in my hand after all. Blood splattered all over my face and I took his pistol just in case. I knew everyone in the building heard that—so I flipped a table and took cover behind it. I waited for them to get near and there were about four of them. While they were checking the body, I caught them off guard and unloaded all the ammunition of my rifle—it became obvious they were inexperienced like me. Their bodies fell one after another. I mercilessly fired at every single one of them—there was no denying that. My whole body was shaking uncontrollably but I had no time for that—the soldiers outside were rushing inside. But one person was still alive and my arm got hit. My rifle had no bullets left and luckily, I just grabbed a pistol from the officer earlier and I shot him in the head to finish the job. I went upstairs and used a bunch of grenades to destroy the staircase so I could buy myself some time. When I passed a room along the hallway, someone inside that room threw a flashbang and managed to blind me for a few seconds. During that time, the guy was continuously firing at me but he seemed to be completely missing—maybe he was affected by the flashbang as well. But he eventually hit both of my legs and I dropped hard to the ground. I was forced to blindly fire. After using all my remaining ammo, the bullets stopped coming at me. When my vision came back, I wanted to check if he was actually dead and not repeat what happened earlier. But there was blood all over my eyes and it was also painful for me to walk—so I crawled using my one good arm all the way to him. When I was near enough, I realized that he was just a kid. I was furious at the enemy for using a child to fight for their cause. But when I had a clear look on his face, my breath stopped and felt like my soul just left my body. He was the boy I was supposed to rescue with dead open eyes. I glanced around and it looked like he was just protecting himself from the enemy soldiers. I was wearing their uniform and looked like one—it was not his fault at the slightest. I banged my head repeatedly on the floor and screamed with rage at the top of my lungs. But just like the boy’s life, my screams were cut short when I heard missiles exploding outside. When one was about to hit the building I was in, I remembered that the enemy did not have any missiles at all.


Private Investigator Sam Ace relaxed in his chair. He hadn't had a case worth his time in over a month, only cheating husbands and insurance fraud. If the cheating were bad enough, the husbands would require actual insurance, which he referred to as a two-for-one deal. It was a cold afternoon, and in walked a tall blond, I mean really tall, like 6 foot 4; she had to duck just to enter the room. She had the height of a small forward, the body of a linebacker, and the face of a boxer who had spent too many rounds in the ring. Her name was Clarissa Madden, John Madden's niece and the heir to the Madden video game fortune. "Hello, I need your help. Whichever athlete we put on the cover of the Madden Football Game becomes cursed!" "I don't believe in curses; there's always someone pulling the strings behind the scenes." "How do you account for all of these cursed athletes?" She took many video game boxes and dumped them on the desk, totaling over 20 years. "Garrison Hearst, Marshall Faulk, Troy Polamalu, Larry Fitzgerald, and Ray Lewis all got hurt during the season they were on the cover," Clarissa said. "Injuries happen in football." "Barry Sanders was the best running back in football, then he was on the cover, and he retired." "Oh, yes, I remember that." "...Shaun Alexander..." "Who?" "That's exactly my point. Donovan McNabb threw up in the Super Bowl, Michael Vick got arrested for dog fighting, Tom Brady can't retire, and Daunte Culpepper was... Daunte Culpepper." "My God, you're right; these athletes are cursed." "We put John Madden on the cover last year, and he didn't win the Super Bowl either." "OK, Miss Madden, I'll take your case," he said, rising up and reaching for his fedora. "But I must warn you that things could get dangerous. I may have to put myself in the line of fire, and I'm not what most people would consider in shape, healthy, or alive; normally, people say, I thought he died when my name is brought up." Clarissa reassured, "Don't worry, I believe in you. Please help to save the Madden Video Game!" Ace felt he needed to speak with some of the cursed athletes to see if they had any clues or theories. Garrison Hearst was first on his list, and Ace discovered him as a coach for a local high school football team. He caught up with him in the locker room as he was changing. "I'm here to talk to you about the Madden video game curse, Garrison," Sam Ace remarked. Garrison shook his head as he stood there in his underwear. "The curse? Oh, that old thing. I've learned to live with it," Garrison replied, shaking his head. "Oh yeah, how so?" "I've been a football coach here for ten years, and we've never won a game." "Yikes, could it be that you're just a bad coach?" "Yeah, I thought that too, but it's how we lose. Last week, we led Lawrence Academy by 27 points in the first half but fell 31-30. It's as if we've forgotten how to play." "You have to be real choke artists to lose after leading by 27 points." "Yeah, tell me about it." Ace noticed a necklace around Garrison's neck as he was leaving. It was macaroni that had been haphazardly glued into the shape of a football. Next, Sam Ace spoke with Marshall Faulk, who was now a sports network commentator and met up with him in the locker room after shooting a segment. "I'm here to talk to you about the Madden video game curse, Marshall," Sam Ace said. "Ace, do you mind if I change? It was a long day, and I just want to head home." "Sure, do what you have to do." "Tell you the truth; It's real. The only thing I wanted to do after football was pursue my passion for improv comedy, but the curse will only allow me to be a sports commentator." "So sad. Why don't you just leave?" "I can't; something is compelling me to stay." Marshall has now taken off his suit and sits in his underwear in front of Ace. He, too, wears a macaroni necklace that has been haphazardly glued together in the shape of a football. "What exactly is the necklace? Is it a gift from your kid or something?" "Na, this is a gift from the most beautiful woman I have ever met?" "A supermodel or a fan?" "Not at all, Clarissa Madden." "Really, the blond with the… height? Kind of looks like John Madden in a wig?" "A man can dream, right?" Tom Brady was up next. He met up with Tom in the locker room after a playoff loss. "Do you have a minute to talk, Tom?" Tom came out in his underwear and sat on the bench next to Ace. "Sure, Ace; how can I help you?" He quickly saw the necklace, which was identical to the others. "Did Clarissa Madden also give you a necklace?" "Yeah, I never remove it." "I solved it! These necklaces are the source of the Madden curse, and Clarissa Madden cursed everyone." "That sounds a little far-fetched," Brady said as he removed the necklace. "Well, you removed the necklace. Are you able to retire now?" "No, Ace, that's not how it works. You've come to ask about the Madden Curse, haven't you?" "Yes, I was hired to figure out who was behind it." "Well, it's not so much who is causing the curse but rather what is causing it." Ace went on with his list. He met with Troy Polamalu, Larry Fitzgerald, and Ray Lewis, for some reason, all in their underwear. They all had similar stories and the same Clarissa necklace. Clarissa was the only one who could explain the macaroni necklace. So, he tracked her down; she was in the Madden Office's locker room. Ace went in to question her, and she was in her underwear. "Get out of here! I'll be right out; can't you wait?" When Clarissa exited, Ace continued. "What is the significance of the necklace? Why did you gift necklaces to all of the cover athletes?" "We were aware of the curse before launching the video game brand and began featuring athletes on the cover. The necklaces, which were blessed in Canton, Ohio, offer temporary reprieve from the Madden curse." "What do you mean you were aware of the curse?" "Strange things began to occur when we released our first edition, but why? Who? How do we put an end to it? I knew it was a mistake to come to you for help. I'm sorry, Ace; you're fired." Ace slumped away, feeling like a failure. A janitor approached Ace as he was leaving Madden Offices. "Psst, psst, do you want to know why this entire place is cursed?" "Sure." "Come with me." The janitor escorted him to the janitor's locker room. "Do you mind if I change out of my work clothes?" "Sure." As the janitor stood in his underwear, he explained. "This is the story of a young John Madden who became infatuated with the Tecmo Super Bowl. He was unbeatable since he played all the time. One day, he was challenged to a game in which the winner would have complete power over video game football forever. John easily won, and the rest is history." "Why the curse?" "John Madden cheated; if controller 1 was pressed down seven times during the title screen, that player could slow down the game; this is how he was unbeatable." "That's a harsh punishment for cheating on a video game." "No, it isn't; millions of dollars are on the line!" "It was you, wasn't it? You were the one who got hurt all those years ago?" "No, it wasn't me." "Then why do you have an NES in the janitor's locker room." "OK, it was me, but I'm not removing the curse; if you want, tattle on me and get me fired; that game will be cursed forever!" "How about a game of Tecmo Super Bowl to settle this once and for all? No cheat codes, no exploiting glitches, simply 8-bit competition to end a 30-year curse." "You know what, I'm exhausted; let's just get this over with." Ace and the janitor spent the afternoon playing Tecmo Super Bowl in their underwear. It was a hard-fought contest, but Ace came out on top. Tom Brady was able to retire, Marshall Faulk launched his legendary improv comedy career, and Garrison Hearst finally won a game.


On a particularly dull afternoon, a knight rides into a poor peasant village. Arriving on horseback, armor glistening from the sun’s reflection, he hops off of his steed and removes his helmet to make his way inside the local tavern. However, he is stopped by a local peasant farmer. “Oy, you a knight?” The peasant farmer asks. The knight turns to face him, and puffs out his chest. “Hello good sir, I am a knight, indeed. In fact, I am the warrior of Alberanth, the famed Knight of Two Swords!” The farmer’s mouth opens as his eyes squint, “Two swords? What’d ya need two swords for?” “Well, I carry two swords for I am no ordinary knight! I am twice as dangerous as any and have killed many men with these two swords!” The farmer looks at the knight, perhaps as confused as he’s ever been in his life, “That don’t make no sense, two swords is more heavy than one sword, aye.” “W-what do you mean?” “Aye, well two swords don’t make ya deadly, it makes ya slow, don’t it?” The knight gives a hearty chuckle. “Ah, a common but understandable misconception, and one I will gladly clear up.” He puts his hand on the farmer’s shoulder. “You see my good fellow, my swords are slightly shorter than your standard grade military weapon. It allows me to strike doubly fa- “What if ya drop somethin’?” “I beg your pardon?” The knight asks. “Well what if ya drop somethin’ like yer helmet? Ya can’t pick up a helmet when yer holdin’ two swords like. Just don’t seem feasible to me.” The knight replies, a mix of confusion and annoyance, “Well, if I were to drop my helmet I would merely sheathe one of my swords and pick it up.” The farmer scratches his short beard. “What if you get stabbed while yer pickin’ up the helmet?” “I shan’t.” “But what if you shall?” “Then I will simply not pick up the helmet until I have cleared the imminent threat. I shall defeat any man tha-” The farmer once again interrupts, “Ye, but I don’t think it wise to be fightin’ without a helmet. Be awful dangerous, aye” The knight stops and collects his thoughts. Disdain begins to replace his patience, and he scoffs. “Good sire, I cannot imagine a situation that would arise that would cause me to drop my helmet.” “Aye, and I never imagined burstin’ in on me grand-pap and seein’ his goolies, but here we are, aye.” The knight does not understand. “What?” “Me grand-pap. I seen his goolies.” Again, the knight only stares. “Y’know, his goolies!” The farmer says, waving his hands. “His bag o’ raisins! His bodily grapes! His wrinkle berries!” An uncomfortably long silence settles in. “Good sir, I find your analogies for your grand-sire’s testicles to be both odd and discomforting.” The knight finally replies. “Aye, and ye weren’t the one to lay yer eyes on his forbidden fruit.” The knight loses his patience, “Aye, good man! And thank the gods for that! Now I believe I am finished with this conversation and wish to guzzle some ripe tavern ale. I bid you good day!” The farmer nods, and as the knight turns to enter the tavern, he is suddenly kicked in the head by a horse and falls to the ground. His body does not twitch, nor does it breathe. He is dead. The peasant farmer stares, before being joined by another local tavern goer. “Oy, was he a knight?” The peasant farmer sips his ale, before replying. “Aye, he was. Knight o’ Two Swords they called him.” “Well why’d he go and fight that horse without a helmet? “I don’t think he could pick it up, he was carryin’ two swords.


Jimmy Marshall was raised by sitcoms; whenever his parents wanted him out of their hair, they would put him in front of the television, and he would visit some of his best friends: Sam Malone, Richie Cunningham, Alex P. Keaton, his only pet, ALF, and his amusing Aunts, The Golden Girls. His mother was Roseanne, and his father was Danny Tanner. This impacted his personality; he was quick with a family-safe one-liner and spoke in a comforting and concise way. Flash forward to the present day, and the whole country is going through a nostalgia craze, reboots of these beloved shows, a longing for simpler days, and a reappreciation of these characters is omnipresent in the country. As a result, Jimmy changed his name to James and became a politician. James Marshall soared to the top of the polls. It helped that he had the same name as Harrison Ford's character in the film "Air Force One," a badass president who kicks terrorists off his plane while yelling, "Get off my plane!" The name, charisma, and eidetic recall of these shows resulted in a candidate that captured the nation's zeitgeist at the moment. During a debate, he quoted "The Golden Girls" on LGBTQ issues, "She happens to like girls instead of guys. Some people like cats instead of dogs; frankly, I'd rather live with a lesbian than a cat, unless the lesbian sheds, that I don't like." Speaking to factory workers, quoted "Cheers," "Look, it's a dog-eat-dog world, and I'm wearing Milkbone underwear." In an Iowa caucus stump speech, quoted "Family Ties," "What is the meaning of life? That's simple. Try to be happy, try not to hurt other people, and hope to fall in love." James was a long shot, an underdog, and lacked political experience, but, in an incredible story of the right man at the right time, he was elected President of the United States. Unfortunately, some of the characteristics that made him an attractive candidate did not translate to the office of President. He quickly recognized that complicated problems could not be solved in 22 minutes without commercials, that the office sometimes demanded less than family-friendly actions, and that the situation room lacked a laugh track. The country was running a fiscal deficit that needed to be balanced. The only thing that sprang to mind was a "Family Matters" episode in which Carl sells Lemon Tarts to make money. The government sold Lemon Tarts and other desserts, reduced the deficit by 0.02%, closed 200 bakeries, and gave diabetes to one-third of the population. The country was experiencing a fentanyl epidemic. The President took action; he recalled a special episode of "The Golden Girls" in which Rose's pills are mistakenly spilled into the sink, revealing that she is hooked on the pills and is experiencing withdrawal symptoms. The "Sink the Drugs" campaign, on the other hand, falls flat because the episode never portrayed the hard work of rehab, merely Rose's return in the following episode. Internationally, some of our enemies are keen on testing the new President. President Marshall's foreign policy is heavily influenced by bullying episodes. In "Growing Pains," an episode focuses on Ben being bullied by another student, Razor, so Ben signs up for karate lessons. In the episode "A Pinch for a Pinch" on "Full House," Michelle is bullied after a kid pinches her at school, and she is urged to fight back. In "Punky Brewster," Punky was bullied at school and learned self-defense from boxer Marvin Hagler. These aggressive techniques were first perceived as strong, but international affairs sometimes demanded a more nuanced approach. President Marshall found himself in three wars, five embargoes, and had a karate sensei and two professional boxers on his White House staff. The President also drew flak for certain out-of-date references; he dressed as "Bosom Buddies" on Halloween, offending the transgender community; and came to a state dinner in General Lee from "Dukes of Hazard;" social media had a field day. President Marshall was clearly out of his depth and began to rely on advisors more and more. Things did not, however, improve. In addition, the nostalgia frenzy began to fade, leaving President Marshall with poor approval ratings and a head full of out-of-date information. Toward the end of his Presidential term, James was down and decided that if he was going to be voted out, he was going out on his terms. He was tired of being reactive and wanted to start being proactive. President Marshall made the decision to modernize the nation's recycling program. He made this decision based on an episode of "The Cosby Show," in which Rudy Huxtable's class learns about the importance of recycling and the harmful effects of pollution on the environment. The recycling program was a big success and quickly became the global standard. The President then invested in a high-speed rail system connecting the country's largest cities. This decision was influenced by an episode of "Family Ties" in which Alex P. Keaton promoted the idea to his father as a method to increase the economy and relieve traffic congestion. The rail system was finished at record speed and significantly improved the country's transportation infrastructure. He enhanced the education system by employing lessons from "The Wonder Years," and he even assisted in the resolution of a labor dispute by employing principles from "Who's the Boss?" As his first term came to an end, his approval ratings began to rise. He knew if he was going to be re-elected, he would need a grand gesture to the American people, one that would occur at the end of his beloved sitcoms. He remembered an episode of "Happy Days" in which Fonzie water skies over a shark. He always thought it was a fantastic feat that would impress the American people. President Marshall arrived at the dock dressed similarly to the scene, in a swimsuit and a leather jacket. The President completed the stunt successfully, but upon his return to shore, he learned it did not have the impact he expected. His poll numbers continued to fall from there, and the President had literally and metaphorically jumped the shark. James Marshall was not re-elected to a second term, but he will be remembered as a nonpartisan politician who, if only for a short time, brought the country together over sitcoms.


Now that Billie was on board with trying to rescue Liam and Joe, they’d thrown themselves into the planning wholeheartedly. It hadn’t taken them long to insist that they would need more help. Though part of Madeline wished that it could stay just *her and Billie*, she knew deep down that her friend was right. So she reluctantly agreed to go to their group’s next meeting. And that meant they had a long way to travel. The two weeks that remained until the next assembly would take place should be ample to cover the distance, even with the meandering route they’d have to take to ensure they had sufficient cover and with plenty of stops along the way, but that didn’t make Billie any less eager to get going. They made sure that Madeline was packed up and ready to leave within an hour of the decision being made. Then, the long hours of walking began. They agreed on parallel paths, trying to remain in range of each other on the walkie-talkies, but far enough away so as not to be detectable by any Poiloogs in the area. Though they tried to keep each other company from afar, it was clear that both of their minds were elsewhere. Snatches of conversation trailed off all too easily. The same topics were repeated over and over. But Madeline didn’t mind. Just the sound of Billie’s voice brought her comfort — a perpetual reminder that she was no longer truly alone in the word. By the time they paused for lunch, they were pretty much out of the city. Given the nice weather and lack of other options, Billie suggested that they eat outside for a change. The occasional farmhouse dotted the otherwise green landscape, leaving a clear view in most directions. Madeline found her head swivelling around even more than usual, continually checking over her shoulder. The lack of obstacles obscuring the horizon gave them plenty of warning if anything might be coming, but also left them exposed. “What will we do when we get further out?” Madeline asked between mouthfuls. Billie frowned. “What do you mean?” “I mean, I haven’t really been out of the city since… well, since the Poiloogs first came. I imagine as we get further into the country it will be difficult to find places to sleep. Particularly if we want to find two buildings close enough together but also far enough apart.” “Not really,” Billie replied. “Not with some careful route planning anyway. There are plenty of small villages between here and our destination. As long as we stop in one each night we’ll be fine.” “And what about the Poiloogs? Are there fewer out here? More?” “About the same really.” “Huh,” Madeline said, taking in the information. “Surprised?” “A little. I’d always assumed it would be quieter out here. Given the lack of buildings and shops, there aren’t many resources, which means not many people. Why would the Poiloogs waste resources patrolling here?” “You’re kidding, right?” Billie asked. The incredulous grin that was spreading across their face made Madeline flush with preemptive embarrassment. “Nooo,” she said slowly. “Why do you say that? And please be nice about it!” Billie gasped, grabbing their chest as if wounded. “Am I ever anything but nice? No! Don’t answer that. I’m not sure I want to know.” They chuckled at the glare Madeline shot them before continuing, “We may not be surrounded by shops and houses with packets and tins of food. But you know what we are surrounded by?” “Farms!” Madeline groaned. “Oh my lord, I can be slow sometimes. I bet a lot of people were eager to move out here when everything kicked off.” “Oh, they were. Some of them still are. If you know what you’re doing you can survive quite well out here. It’s a shame neither of us were farmers, eh?” “I suppose so.” “Now, are you ready to get going again?” Billie asked, climbing to their feet and holding a hand out for her. “If I say no, do I get to eat more?” Billie bent to grab her hand and used it to haul her up. “Come on lazy bones! The sooner we get going the sooner we can stop for the night.” \ Just as planned, they reached a small village later that afternoon. Seeing as they only had to average a distance of around five miles a day, Billie suggested they stop there until tomorrow so that they could spend some time relaxing and recuperating. When they’d found houses to sleep in a few streets away from each other, they went to meet up at a pub on the opposite side of the village. Madeline arrive first, though only because Billie was in the process of sweeping the surrounding block. After a quick check around the building, she stepped up to the garden wall and jumped, grabbing hold of the top as firmly as she could. With a burst of effort, she hauled herself up, pressing her toes into the wall for extra help. When she was securely on top, she swung her legs over and landed nimbly on the other side before taking a seat at one of the tables in the beer garden. It wasn’t long before Billie joined her. She heard a loud exhale as a pair of hands appeared over the wall, followed shortly by her friend’s face, then body. They waved at her quickly from the top before jumping down and strolling over. “So what did you want to do in our time off?” Billie asked as they approached. “I’m guessing sparring — or exercise of any kind — is out of the question? For now at least.” “Forever, if I have anything to say about it,” Madeline replied. They took a seat nearby, hopping up to sit on the table and rest their feet on the bench. “Nah! I’ll wear you down. And the best thing is, you know it too. I can see the acceptance in your eyes!” “You can see no such thing,” Madeline said haughtily, folding her arms and turning her head away. But she couldn’t hold the expression long. A moment later, a stifled giggle burst out from her lips. “Alright, alright. *I’ll* admit that I actually quite like having someone to spar with if *you’ll* admit that sometimes you’re *extremely* relieved when I talk you into having a break.” “Me? Need a break? Never!” Billie exclaimed. Then, they cracked a smile. “Oh, alright then. You might be onto something there.” Madeline grinned back. “So, with that in mind, what did *you* want to do now?” “Well… what do you think about taking the time to come up with a bit more of a plan?” “A plan for the—” “The rescue, yeah. Don’t get me wrong, we’ll still ask the group for their input, but I’d like to present as complete an idea as possible to them. I think they’re more likely to go for it if we can make it sound like a realistic possibility.” “That makes sense,” Madeline said, nodding along. “So did you have any ideas? Or did you want me to start?” “Go ahead,” Billie said with a wave of their hand. “Okay, so I figure the first question we have to answer is: where are they?” It didn’t take long for the pair of them to lose themselves in questions and answers, details and ideas beginning to take shape as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky.


"It's like a ringing, maybe a pitch, no, a melody, yeah, there are words," Bob explained. "I don't know what to tell you, Bob; there's nothing wrong with you," the doctor said as he shone a light into his ear. "What do you mean nothing is wrong with me? I came in last week; every time I raised my right hand, I experienced a sensation in my thumb; it was like pulsating pleasure; yeah, I felt pleasure in my thumb," Bob said as he rubbed his thumb. "I'm sorry to say this because we've been friends for almost 20 years, but maybe an ENT isn't what you need; maybe a psychologist." "You're calling me crazy! Is that what you're saying? There it is again; Earth will end in thirty days," Bob said, gesturing to his ear. The doctor turned off his light and shook his head. "Look, Bob, you came in last month and said you had leprosy." "Can you blame me? Quasimodo sneezes on me in the subway, and I begin to develop spots." "You were wearing a spotted shirt!" "I don't have to take this; I'll get a second opinion; my cousin is a hair doctor in White Plains; I'll go see him." "Alright. Do what you want." "What did you say?" the doctor asked as Bob opened the door. "I didn't say anything." "Is this some kind of trick?" the doctor scratched his ear. "Are you all right? You look like I did when I thought I had trichinosis." The doctor had a seat and rubbed his head, "Yeah, I remember; your neighbor was cooking tofurky, and it smelled bad. There it is again." "What is?" "I hear it... Earth will end in thirty days." Bob taps his ear, "See, I told ya, the Earth's gonna end in 30 days; my luck, I just paid my cable bill for the whole year." It went viral, and out of the blue, everyone on Earth heard a voice in their head saying, "Earth will end in 30 days." Religious service attendance tripled, businesses were looted, and human society swiftly deteriorated into chaos. Government services ceased, and the President walked off the job. After one week, the White House's front lawn resembled a burning man, someone drew a penis on the Liberty Bell, and the constitution was found on the back of a toilet next to a People magazine from last June. But there was one group that remained hopeful. A group of scientists gazed up at the sky. "It just flipped to 22 days; that last one was 22." "Yeah, mine just flipped as well." At night, scientists worldwide looked for asteroids, alien spaceships, and, who knows, a guy with a beard and robe. But nothing. They looked into climate change, EMP from the sun, the state of all supervolcanoes, nuclear weapons, and what Charlie Sheen was up to. There was even talk of building a bunker. A well-respected panel was formed to choose 5,000 people for the bunker, and 2,500 people between the ages of 10 and 20 were chosen at random. Skyler Smith of Santa Clara was the lucky winner of a Mountain Dew cap sweepstakes. The panel personally chose 1,500 people between the ages of 21 and 40 with specified skill sets based on what would be required in a new society. Taylor Swift was included because it was decided that the Billboard Hot 100 must go on. Finally, 1,000 people aged 41 to 60 were chosen for their contributions to human society up to this point in history. When Elon Musk was left off the list, he pouted before he boarded his rocket and flew to his secret Mars colony. The countdown had reached ten days, and they began to bring food, water-making equipment, and other supplies into the bunker. However, on the day of the move-in, they discovered that they had locked the keys inside the bunker, and the project was canceled. Wars broke out all across the world as borders became meaningless, credit cards were maxed out, and people stopped paying their car insurance bills. On this day, a scientist in Switzerland believed he had spotted an asteroid, but it was later determined that he had been eating cheese near his lens, and the discovery was a false alarm. This false hope caused many people to stop fighting because they had to consider living next door to someone they had just tried to murder. They used to merely argue over how long the hedges were; now, there's that awkward moment when you remember your neighbor had a machine gun to your head. It was only one day to the end of the world; it was eerily quiet everywhere. Pedro Valente of Santa Fe, New Mexico, won Powerball and took the lump sum. Sara Nickerson of Sarasota, Florida, intended to try cocaine for the first time but accidentally spilled it into white flour, so she just made brownies instead, and when Tegan Richards of Denver, Colorado, awoke from a ten-year coma, relatives and friends raced to his bedside and broke the news that the world was going to end today. Humans from all around the world looked around at the death and destruction that had taken place in the previous 30 days. The Earth had already been destroyed; they had done it on their own and no longer needed the countdown. Tick, tick, tick, everyone waited for the fateful time with family and loved ones, and the moment had come. "Update complete. Restarting..." Bob sat up and paid close attention. "Welcome to Earth 2.0, now with Wordle." "Ohhh, it wasn't the Earth will end in 30 days, but the Earth update will end in 30 days. Oh well, that's on me, everyone," Bob said as he rubbed his thumb.


Once, Alikast was nothing but a barren wasteland, created by the gods as an empty canvas for their imagination. But the god Kast, leader of the pantheon, was disappointed with the lack of life in the land. For days and days, he stared down upon it, until his eyes could no longer handle the strain and he blinked, letting his tears fall upon the land. In mere moments, the wasteland was transformed into a beautiful landscape of trees, grass, mountains, and animals. But not everyone was pleased with the change. Kast's brother Ali, who had helped with the original creation of Alikast, thought the lack of life was more magnificent. Enraged by Kast's actions, Ali punched him in the jaw and the two brothers fought, their blood spilling onto the land and bringing forth natural disasters and monsters. And thus, the first sin was born in Alikast. The sister of the brothers, a goddess uninvolved in the creation, was fascinated by the humans that had formed from the brothers' blood. She became romantically involved with one and had three powerful sons, Artis, Breter, and Turin, who became the kings of different regions in Alikast and protected it with their magic, passed down through generations of humans. But the other gods shunned the goddess for her actions and stripped her of her power. She was forced to live among the humans, but her legacy lived on through her sons and the magic they bestowed upon the people of Alikast. The three brothers, Artis, Breter, and Turin, were raised by their mother and taught the ways of magic. They were powerful wizards, each ruling over their own kingdom and using their gifts to protect their people. Artis was the ruler of the northern kingdom, known for his fierce battles and powerful ice magic. Breter, ruler of the southern kingdom, was a master of fire magic and was respected for his wisdom and strategic thinking. Turin, ruler of the eastern kingdom, was a master of nature magic and was beloved by his people for his kindness and compassion. The three brothers were not just rulers, but also protectors. They fought against the monsters that plagued the land, using their magic to keep their people safe. They also fought against the natural disasters, using their powers to mitigate their effects and protect their kingdoms. And so, the people of Alikast prospered under the protection of the three brothers and the magic they possessed. But not all was well in Alikast. The other gods, jealous of the power the three brothers held, plotted to overthrow them. They sent powerful creatures to attack the kingdoms, but the brothers' magic proved to be too strong. Frustrated, the gods decided to take a different approach. They sent a beautiful and cunning goddess to seduce Artis, Breter, and Turin, turning them against each other. The goddess was successful in her mission, and the brothers' love for each other turned to hatred. They fought against each other, their kingdoms tearing apart at the seams. The people of Alikast suffered greatly, caught in the middle of the brothers' feud. The once peaceful land of Alikast was plunged into chaos as war broke out among its people. Battles raged for decades, and eventually, for centuries, as the kingdoms were torn apart by one another. This was just the beginning of a long and tumultuous period for the land of Alikast, as conflicts and struggles for power consumed the realm.  (Alikast is a world I created with my own two hands. It's a fantasy world I created for dnd and I also use it for writing a lot.


It’s a typical Monday night. 8 O’clock and I’m just waiting to go to sleep for work tomorrow. I’ve got Monday night football playing on the tube, and a tombstone pizza on my coffee table. It’s chilly outside, crisp air, and clear dark skies. A perfect night for Star gazing. *WOOF WOOF* My dog outside usually barks. Nothing to worry about. Probably just needs some food. I turn down the volume on the TV, grab my Calvin Klein jacket and walk outside. I hate going outside in the dark, on account of my schizophrenia. It just makes everything worse, and today is a particularly difficult day with the illness. Nevertheless, I go to the shed and get a can full of Ol’Roy dog food for my dog, Bear. Bear is laying still on the concrete driveway and doesn’t appear to be spooked. This gives me some reassurance that everything is okay. *You’re fucked* I shrug it off as just an annoying voice I’ve had in the past. I typically hear that kind of shit all the time. It’s usually some obnoxious semi-demonic voice that casually drops the word “fuck”. I pour the dog food into the bowl. Bear still lays still and doesn’t move, but his tail flicks. He begins to growl. I turn around and see nothing. Maybe he’s just growling at me, who knows. I finish pouring the food into the bowl and head to the shed to put the can up. On my way back to the shed I look up and I can see the sky so clearly. It’s beautiful. This is the part of rural Wisconsin I love. The beautiful night sky, with the crisp windy air. It takes any depression, anxiety or other mental illness away in a heartbeat. I’ve always been a believer in - SNAP. Something snaps in the dark. This raises my paranoia to the max. I keep going to the shed, and open the door. This time, I try to turn on the light, but it doesn’t work for some reason. I feel my way to the dog food, and drop the can in the bag. I turn around, and at that moment I hear a squeak. A squeak of a mouse, or maybe the door. I brush it off, and continue back to the house. I walk out of the shed, and look for bear. He’s no longer laying on the concrete. I call out to him “BEARRR!!” Bear comes running up, I greet him and pet him. As I look closer, I realize something is a bit off about bear. He’s walking normal, breathing normal, and feels normal. Yet, there’s something off. I get down on one knee to examine him closer. He has his eyes shut for some reason. I try to open his eyes, and to my shock, I see they are missing. There’s nothing in his eye sockets, just eyelids covering the two holes. I freeze. Bear moves his head up to me, as if he were looking directly at me. At this moment he opens his eye lids, so his empty eye sockets are staring directly at my own eyes. I scream, and fall back on my ass. Bear continues to just blankly stare at me. What the fuck is happening, I think. *FUCK FUCK FUCK* The voices go wild now. *It’s dead, it’s dying, oh fuck, oh shit, what the hell?* At that moment, Bear falls over. He vomits as he lays on his side. He stops breathing, and I scream. I scream as loud as I’ve ever screamed before. My best friend, my everything is dead. I don’t even know what happened to him, what got his eyes? As I scream, I realize Bear is twitching. His body is still alive, but I feel his soul has left. *You’re so fucked, you killed him. You dumbass, save him. SAVE HIM MORON.* I run inside my house. I grab the phone, but at that moment, everything goes dark. Even the moon. There is a figure in my hallway. It stands there and stares at me. As I look at it. My vision gets blurry. *Three days later…..* I wake up in a sweat. I’m laying on my floor. I try to open my eyes, but they just won’t. I take my hand and peel back my eyelid, and suddenly, I feel….. my sockets are empty.


If I had a nickel for every time someone in my life was killed by a stray bullet, I would have 10 cents. That’s not a lot of money, but it is strange that it happened twice. The first time was 7 years, 214 days ago. It happened to my friend Savannah. We’d smoked a little bit of weed I picked up from a dispensary before I wanted some snacks and she wanted some cigarettes. I was indifferent to the cigarettes but I did want something salty so we walked over to the 7-11 by Belmont Station. I had a bag of corn chips in my hands and I was bent over slightly to peruse their selection of mints and chocolates as we checked out. She was asking the clerk for a pack of Camel Crushes when the sound of broken glass rang through the store. I looked up and saw a blank expression on her face, followed by a few steps forward, then she keeled over with a soft thud. She was dead before I could react. As her soul left her body, my mind was still trying to choose between Pretzel M&Ms and Sour Patch Kids. Everything that happened afterwards was a blur. To this day, when I recall the events of that night, the only thing that makes sense to me logically was that we would finish paying for our snacks, light up a cigarette for the walk home, smoke more weed and make hot chocolate and watch reruns of Housewives together. Unfortunately, logic is not always reality. Between the police report, the followup interviews, the funeral, her cousins, her brother, her mom & dad, there was only chaos in my life for 3 months. I only unblacked out briefly when I went back to her apartment with her brother and noticed that there was an un-empty pack of Camel Crushes sitting on her coffee table. Her death put us face to face with the chaos that lurks just behind the facade of a peaceful, inebriated afternoon. Savannah is a beautiful person. Funny, charming, irreverent, goofy, campy, loving, Savannah. It felt so unfair. Too quick, no recourse, no bargaining. It seemed like there was no one out there. It felt like as long as we live, random messed up stuff just will just happen *at* you, not to you. I accepted this randomness as a credo to help power through the rest of life, in honor of her. Thankfully I had a supportive partner who stuck by me throughout all of the mourning and a trauma-informed therapist under my parents’ insurance. We moved out of the city and into a small cabin by a lake in Ohio in order to live out a monastic lifestyle. We had our own garden, a few pets, and each other. They kept me intact, appreciative, and I was able to carry on. That is, until it happened again. It took about 15 minutes before I even realized what was happening. I was in my office, drinking tea, keeping up the appearance of being busy. He was in the living room taking an afternoon nap. I stepped out of my office to the sound of labored breathing, the sight of a small hole in our wall facing the lake. In contrast to the first time, this time was noiseless, slow moving. As soon as I saw the patch of red spread across his shirt, I was agonizingly aware of everything that would happen from here on out. When I held his hands and looked into their eyes after calling 911, his face was so apologetic, like he wanted me to know that they knew the sharp turn my life was about to take yet again. All I could do was hold him and cry. Whoever said that lightening never strikes the same place twice has obviously never been the punchline to God's fucked up sense of humor. I noticed that every time I stand next to someone, I want to align my head with theirs exactly, bending down when they bend down, tilting to the left when they tilted to the left. I’m not sure if I do that to protect them or to guarantee that next time a random bullet arrives, I’ll be in its trajectory too. Nowadays, I just avoid people altogether. I can’t handle the guilt any more. Even being around other people felt like I was bringing them to a magic show against their will, putting them at risk of being pulled onstage and belittled by a 40 year old man in a top hat. No one ever faced consequences for either deaths. Like a good joke, the original creator doesn’t matter. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve witnessed someone in my life be killed by a stray bullet, I would have 10 cents and several therapists to whom I’d have to rehash a story where the takeaway is not my trauma, or how much miss my friends, but a kind of novelty; a cruel glitch in the matrix type situation. I still stay in the house where they died. On foggy mornings, I look out across the lake, and I’m looking directly at his killer. There’s a few things I know will happen again, but I do not cower. I do not fear it any more. I know for the next sick joke, I will not be the butt of it. I will stare God in the eyes and I will laugh along.