It was hard to sleep. The constant buzzing, occasionally drowned out by a helicopter overhead. The helicopters were still patrolling then, surely a positive sign?         Saul sat against the wall, lit by light coming in from the open kitchen and hall doors where nobody had bothered to turn the lights off. Everyone else was at least keeping up the pretence of sleep. He watched over the top of his knees, pulled up until they touched his nose. More buzzing outside, every now and then a thud against the window. No sign for hours of those vacant eyed men and women infected with the blood lust. But then, the curtains were drawn.         There was more screaming, coming from somewhere towards the town centre, but it died as quickly as it started. Saul shivered. “This is the way the world ends,” he said into denim. A murmur came from an armchair across the room. “Not with a bang but a buzz.”

        Saul looked at the pile of blanket the voice had emanated from and whispered its name. No reply. “How long do you think we’ll have to stay in here?” asked Charlie.         Nobody replied. Saul scratched his head as if to indicate thinking about it.         “What if we can never go outside again?” she added.         There was a grunt from across the room. Nothing that could be realistically called a word. “There’s food in the kitchen,” said Gordon. “It should last a little while?”         “How little?” someone said, a voice in the corner.         Gordon looked around. There were too many people in the house now. He didn’t want to say it, but it was true. “It’s getting late,” he said. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”         “Thank you,” said Charlie.         “You’re very welcome,” said Gordon. “Stay safe.”         “You too.” The one who called himself Renegade, who was at least good enough to admit this was not his real name, even if he would not say what that was, stood up, holding still a smeared cricket bat. He refused to put it down. He held it swinging loosely by his side and took a step towards the window. And another. Saul started up to stop him. He didn’t want the curtains touched. But Renegade paused I the middle of the room and stood there, looking around. The people sitting or lying across the place looked almost like his victims. It was creepy. Sinister maybe.         Renegade had come out of nowhere off the high street, swinging that bat and roaring. His eyes had been wide and fevered and the group had thought for a moment they’d have to fight him off.         As he stood there in the middle of the room, he felt his muscles twitching. He wanted to scream and to hit something. Contradictions made him angry. They made him want to do something. He felt that he should be alone. Moving fast and moving free. No responsibilities. That was who he was. Wild and independent. Equipped to survive. It made sense. But he couldn’t take a step. The door was so far away. And the uncertainty beyond it… he would never admit, even to himself, that it terrified him.

        Saul watched this guy in the middle of the room, tall and muscular. He thought maybe he should say something to him, but what to say? Why was it his job? He was exhausted. He didn’t know where Kelly was. Perhaps at her house. Perhaps in his apartment, wondering where he was. Maybe she had escaped to, to wherever was better. Or maybe she was stumbling in though the night making that ungodly gurgling/buzzing hybrid sound. Stung and lost. But he mustn’t think that. He balled up his fists. He hadn’t prayed since he’d slept at his grandmother’s house as a child and she’d knelt beside him before bed. Charlie couldn’t sleep. She knew that, but she tried anyway. She doubted she’d ever sleep again. The things she’d seen. She always told herself she’d seen it all, but this was something else altogether. She pulled the blanket over her head and closed her eyes. She felt like it was all translucent; her eyelids, her blanket, the walls beyond. She could see those things buzzing and swarming outside. They waited in the bushes and in the trees and in all the little spaces and their tails dripped with a poison that defied imagination. Around them gathered their… what? Their slaves? There was a better word for it, she was sure of that. Minions. Maybe minions. They stood around, amongst their buzzing masters, chewing on the air, waiting for her to step outside.

        Tomorrow was her day off. She had laundry to do. She, been planning to bake some bread. She had a backlog of Netflix shows to get through too. She’d been baking a lot these past few months. She was starting to get good at it. And what did all this mean for her now. She just wanted to go home and sleep.

They’d come to that house from various directions. The squat, solid block of grey concrete with its tiny windows had rung out like a beacon as they’d been running. A swarm had come upon them and Gordon and Simone had come from the front door with water guns full of petrol, pumping it over their heads for cover as they’d run past them and in. They’d been shouting something that Saul couldn’t recall. He thought inviting them in to safety. But maybe not. Maybe they’d even been telling them to go away. He didn’t know and it didn’t matter.         He’d always heard that adversity brought people together. It brought out the best in them. He didn’t know what this was, but it didn’t feel like the best of anything.         He didn’t want to sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the events replaying, projecting on his eyelids. He saw people screaming and falling. Cars abandoned in the street or speeding across the pavement, spilling people as they went. He saw, looking into his own closed off world of darkness, those empty eyes of the stung walking towards him. Empty, yet somehow screaming. Upstairs, in the bedroom, Gordon and Simone spoke quietly. They had locked the door behind them and then barricaded it. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust these people downstairs, but something was happening and they didn’t know what.         “We did the right thing,” said Simone, leaning towards Gordon’s ear, as if fearful somebody was listening from under the bed. “Didn’t we.”         “They would have died out there,” he said, and leaned himself towards her, to put his arm around her. “We saved them.”         “So we did the right thing.”         “I think so,” he said.         “I hope so,” she added.         Gordon kissed his wife.         While he had been talking to the people downstairs earlier, explaining how they’d sealed off the house, giving out spare blankets, Simone had snuck into the kitchen and taken out bottles of water and tins of food. She’d brought the knives and their water guns – Phil and Danny’s actually, please God, let them be safe with their parents, locked away somewhere, maybe with people like them, who offered help to strangers – she’d brought all of the things they needed up to the bedroom. It was better to be safe than sorry.         “What do you think will happen?” asked Simone.         “We’ll see in the morning,” Gordon told her. “Maybe the TV will be on again then.”         “I hope so,” she said. “Somebody should be telling us what to do.” Saul woke to silence and darkness. Silence. He breathed deeply and lifted himself unsteadily to his feet. Why was it so dark?         He walked carefully to the window, trying to figure out where was safe each time he wanted to put his foot down. What was person, what was blanket, cushion, sleeping bag.         He pulled the curtains apart a crack.         Darkness.         Swirling darkness         It twisted and danced in front of him. He rubbed his eyes, pulled the curtains wider, put his hands against the window and looked, his head tipping from side to side, moving with the wisps and trails.         It took him a while to realize that this was smoke.         It took a while longer to realize what that meant.         “Fire,” he said quietly.         “Fire,” he repeated more loudly.         “Fire!” he shouted when still nobody had stirred, kicking at the nearest body shape on the floor, which groaned and swore. “Fire!” he repeated. The mood turned quickly from moaning at being woken to panic. Bodies scrambled to collect up their belongings, to dress themselves in whatever protective clothing they had cobbled together during the previous day. Renegade was on his feet. He had those swimming goggles and the surgical mask pulled over his face. He held the cricket bat up on his shoulder, both hands gripping the handle, ready to swing, as if he planned to smash the window. Instead though, he just looked out. “That’s a lot of smoke,” he said.         “It is.”         “Where’s it coming from?”         “I don’t know,” Saul told him.         “Are we safe in here?”         “Your guess is as good as mine.”         “I don’t want to go outside,” said the short fat man with the hat, who hadn’t told anyone his name. He’d fallen asleep laid out across the sofa, in the most comfortable spot in the room, almost as soon as they’d gotten in.         “We might have to,” said Saul.         “Who are you to decide that?” asked the short fat man.         “You don’t have to do what I say,” Saul told him. “You do what you want.”         “I’m coming with you,” said Charlie. Saul had saved her once, pulling her into an open car and slamming the door shut behind her. They’d been crashing against the windows, and the keys weren’t in the car. It was just luck that they’d been parked on a slope and when he took the handbrake off they’d rolled far and fast enough to get away from that swarm. The impact when they’d hit the traffic lights had spun her head and she’d crunched her teeth together painfully, but if that was all she’d come away with, she’d take it. Saul led the way.         They went out into the hall in a line. Saul knew he had to move forwards, because there was nowhere to retreat with the bodies behind him.         He got to the front door and put his ear against it. He didn’t expect to learn anything, but he was hoping that any extra time would help him to think.         Gordon and Simone had come down and stood at the bottom of the stairs, wrapped up tightly, with not a single bit of flesh exposed. They each had a back pack and their water pistols and held umbrellas in their other hands. They weren’t sure what was going to happen. Maybe they’d stay were they were. They wanted to see though.         Charlie opened the door a crack, and he stepped forwards, holding a thin, light blanket in front of him. Behind him, everyone was silent, waiting. He strained his ears. There was no buzzing.

“Where’s the fire?” someone asked behind him.         “I don’t know,” he said.         He couldn’t hear any buzzing. None at all. He wafted the blanket a little. The smoke dissipated. Something was moving, but he struggled to make it out. He was ready to run, whether back into the house or forwards into whatever was there. Every muscle in him tensed and strained.         Then he saw them. Men and women, dressed in big yellow bodysuits with plastic windows on their bucket helmets. They waved planks of wood, drawing smoke trails in the sky, bringing it around and down like whips. Why would they wear yellow? He wondered. They looked like giant wasps themselves. He almost started to laugh, and as he did so, he inhaled smoke. He coughed and bent over.         Charlie was behind him, her hand on his back. He straightened and waved his hand to brush the smoke aside and when he had made a space, he looked up at the early morning sun. It shone so brightly despite it all. There it was. The fire.


Weave all day. Weave all night. Weave every instant of your existence. That’s what the Spider Queen expected of her offspring. The dusty attic, filled with hoarded artifacts from multiple generations of homeowners, was already covered in cobwebs from ceiling to floor, but it was never enough. While the Queen was always eager to teach her children the technical intricacies of preying on flies, weaving transcended the mundane function of hunting for food. It was an art form, the supreme expression of spider skill. “Master the ancient craft of our kind,” repeated the Queen, “and you will learn to survive. Don’t, and you will forever be the weak link of this family. For the time being, we are blessed with peace from the human world. Should they come disturb us however, you must be prepared.” Aria simply assumed that’s what her life would be like. She would do like all the other spiders and weave away in the safety of the attic, where no one ever came. Indeed, not a soul had stepped in the gloomy room below the roof in years, and the arachnids were therefore free to wander it as if it was theirs to rule. They had some company, of course. The wooden planks covering the walls had played host to termites for a while now, and there were occasionally red ants crawling on the floor. Aria’s main companions, however, were boxes. Dozens and dozens of boxes were stacked right on top of each other into tall columns, to the point where they formed a giant metropolis for Aria to explore. She loved climbing the sides of the cardboard and venturing into the depths of the cubic structures, discovering new items with each new compartment. One box contained jewels and trinkets, almost overflowing with bedazzled necklaces and bracelets. Another contained old-fashioned stained-glass lamps, which Aria used to stare at her reflection. The most fascinating box of all, however, was one into which she fell by mistake. As she weaved a web along a longitudinal beam supporting the roof, her silk inexplicably broke, and she soon found herself crawling on a pile of papers bound together. It was a book, although she did not understand it at the time. The object was quite puzzling to her. There were many images on the cover, pictures of worlds she could not even conceive: trees, mountains, streets, even outer space. These all escaped her understanding, as to her, the world was the attic, and the attic was the world. She had to know more, to know what secrets were inside the pages. After carefully weaving her silk around the cover page, she pulled with Herculean strength at a spider scale. The silk broke. She started again, and again, and again, until the first page finally revealed itself. There were more images, this time with strange symbols beneath. The symbols were letters, and they formed words. After reading them many times, she successfully learned to associate the words with the pictures, page after page. After reaching the last page, Aria had built a strong sense of vocabulary. She now needed to put these words into sentences. Fortunately, the box contained three other stacks of books for her to learn. An illustrated children’s fairy tale collection lay on top of the pile to her left. Over the course of multiple days, she read through it and understood narratives. She then moved on to the top books on the other two piles, young adult novels that took more time but were definitely worth the effort. Every time the Queen’s attention faltered, Aria jumped on the opportunity to visit the box and read some more. Soon, the books had all been read, and she craved more, so much more. What if there was another box somewhere with volumes waiting to be read? Aria searched, but in vain. She fell into a deep lethargic state, barely able to weave anymore, longing for the stimulation that had now been denied from her. Fortunately, the day came. Vibrations were felt along the floor of the attic. All the spiders went into hiding, although Aria was not sure why. She picked the book box as her spot and waited. A trap door opened, and a woman with glorious red hair came in, sneezing from the clouds of displaced dust. “We really need to clean up this place once in a while,” the woman declared. She looked into every box, perhaps searching, just like Aria, for reading material. They both found it in the same place: the redhead picked up the spider’s favorite cardboard cube and appeared satisfied by its contents. “This will be perfect for the book drive! There you go.” Seconds later, Aria and the box were being carried away. To where, she did not know. *** After many hours of being transported left and right, the box finally settled. Aria deemed it safe to carefully venture outside. The surprise was immense: she found herself on a library counter, staring at endless rows of books lined up on hundreds of metallic shelves, more than she could ever read in her lifetime. Was this a sanctuary of knowledge, a safe haven far away from the dusty attic where she had been condemned to weave forever? Words could not express how exhilarating her presence in the library felt. No more hiding from the Queen. No more longing for something she couldn’t have. It was all right here. The sound made by her minuscule eight legs as she tapped along towards the edge of the counter seemed to echo against the walls; the sacred space was so peaceful that the slightest of noises could cause a disturbance. The young spider immediately crawled along the walls towards the shelves, reading at a breathless pace the countless titles on the volumes’ bindings. Moby Dick. A Farewell to Arms. To Kill a Mockingbird. The possibilities were infinite, and she did not know where to start. The answer was obvious. In the middle of the room was a gargantuan golden book resting on a shiny lectern, bathed in the sunset light filtering through the stained-glass windows. Whatever the opus was, it must have been very special. She instinctively flung herself with her silk towards the lectern and reveled in the multicolored rays of sunshine. This single moment was the greatest of her life, the one that heightened all of her senses to new peaks. Then the unexpected happened. Just as Aria was about to discover the contents of the golden book, the Librarian spotted her and smashed her with a copy of Don Quixote. Aria spent no more than five minutes in the library before her untimely demise, yet these five minutes were more wondrous than the two years she had spent in the attic, and certainly more exhilarating than the years of desperate yearning she would have spent there had fortune not decided to let her out. The destination was fateful, but the journey had been worth it. Her thread of life could not have been weaved any other way.


Chunk was walking along the shore with his head down, looking for lost things that he might be able to sell. But he wasn’t having any luck. Chunk found a cracked tin cup, a busted flip flop, and a waterlogged fashion magazine. The page was open to an advertisement for Miami Beach. It pictured a girl standing on a coastline with sand like sugar, and sapphire blue water. He was staring at the page when Zippy came along.

“Hey, Chunk. How’s it going?” “Terrible. I haven’t had a job in weeks and nobody will give me any food.” “Don’t worry,” said Zippy. “I know where we can get some free hot dogs.” “Let’s go!”

So Chunk followed Zippy through the woods to Monsanto Farms. The fields were surrounded by tall, chain link fence topped with barb wire. Atop one post was a camera. On the other side of the fence, the rows of hot dog trees stretched out long, lush and green beneath the blue sky.

They walked for some time. The sun was hot, and there was no shade. “How much farther is it?” said Chunk.

“Quit ‘yer bellyaching,” said Zippy. “It’s just up yonder.” Before long, they came to a hole in the fence and crawled through.

“Alright, let’s start digging,” said Zippy. “Digging?” said Chunk. “I thought we came here to eat.”

“I ain’t risking my neck for a few lousy hot dogs! Now, come on. Pick a tree and start digging before the guards arrive.” “Guards?” said Chunk.

“Yeah!” said Zippy. “You do not want to be here when they show up.”

The boys each picked a hot dog tree and started digging. In the distance, a siren began to wail. “Here they come!” said Zippy, dragging his hot dog tree over to the fence with his dirty hands. "Hurry!" Chunk began to yank at his hot dog tree in a panic. When it ripped from the ground, Chunk tumbled backwards onto the dirt. “I hate this!” he shouted, then scrambled to his feet and dragged his hot dog tree towards the hole in the fence.

The boys slipped into the woods before the guards arrived, carrying the hot dog trees over their shoulders.

“You know...which way...?” said Chunk. “Sure,” said Zippy. “I know these woods like the back of my hand. Come on!”

Chunk followed Zippy down a narrow path through a dense section of forest. Behind them, Chunk heard a popping sound over the rustling leaves of the hot dog tree.

“Holy crap,” said Chunk. “They’re shooting at us!” “Hurry up!” said Zippy, picking up speed. “It’s just around the bend.” Soon the gunfire subsided.

If Chunk thought he was hungry before, now he was plum famished. “I can’t take another step.” “This here’s good enough,” said Zippy.

“Let’s eat,” said Chunk, inspecting the tiny hot dogs on the tree he risked his life to steal.

“Naw, naw,” said Zippy. “You can’t eat ‘em dum-dum. They ain’t ripe yet.” “But you said…free hot dogs…those men…shot at us…” Chunk was so hungry and exasperated he couldn’t even talk.

“We gotta hide the trees and come back later when they’re full grown,” said Zippy.

“I’m going to kill you,” said Chunk.

“Come on,” said Zippy, and then he climbed a tree and planted his hot dog tree on a branch. “These things are genetically modified to survive in any environment.” Chunk couldn’t climb. He was so famished he could barely stand up, so he dug a hole where he sat and planted his hot dog tree. As he dug he daydreamed about beach buffets, immaculate white sand beaches, and blue water.

As they walked through the woods, Zippy was talking out loud about what he would do with his crop of hot dogs. “I’m gonna make me a sign, paint a big ‘ol hot dog with ketchup and mustard, and I’m gonna sell ‘em on the roadside for a quarter apiece. What about you Chunk? What’re you gonna do with your hot dogs?”

“I’m going to sit down on the shore and eat every last one of them.” “All of them? Shoot, I guess you really are hungry!” A week later Zippy and Chunk went back to check on their trees. Zippy’s tree was dead, but Chunk’s tree was as tall as a house, with thick branches full of plump, savory hot dogs. “I’ll climb up and collect the hot dogs,” Zippy said, and he shimmied up the tree, leaving Chunk alone on the ground.

“Throw me down a couple,” Chunk said. But, what with all the walking and climbing, Zippy realized that he was very hungry and began to eat. “What are you doing up there?”

Before he knew it, Zippy had eaten all of the plump hot dogs himself.

Feeling full and content, Zippy stretched out on a branch and took a nap. Chunk was so hungry and angry—hangry!—he decided to teach Zippy a lesson. So he gathered some sharp sticks, and stuck them into the ground beneath the tree. Then he shouted: “Hey, Zippy! The cops are coming! 5-O! 5-O! Let’s get out of here!”

Zippy was so startled that he fell from the tree onto the sharp sticks and was killed. Then Chunk cut Zippy into pieces, salted them, and dried them in the sun. The next day he made a sign and walked up and down the beach. He sold his jerky to a group of kids who were friends of Zippy, and made a good profit.

As he was leaving the beach, Chunk called out, “Stupid punks! You just ate your friend, Zippy! How’s he taste?” Chunk tried to run, but Zippy’s friends caught him and dragged him to a nearby shack.

“Let’s cut off his arms and legs with this saw,” said one of them. Chunk laughed and said, “That’s a great idea! I’ve tried so many ways to lose weight, you’d be doing me a favor.”

Then one of them said, “Let’s throw him into the ocean.” Chunk couldn’t swim, so he cried and begged them to let him go, but the gang carried him to the end of the pier. One of them said, “Guess where you’re going, fat boy.” Thirty feet below, the dark green water churned. Chunk couldn’t see the bottom, just fish and candy wrappers and dead jellyfish bobbing in the rolling waves.

“If you let me go, I’ll give you a hot dog tree,” said Chunk.

“Hot dogs?” said a boy. “You know what they put in those things?” And with that, the gang threw Chunk over the side of the fishing pier. Ker-Plunk! Chunk made a huge splash before sinking to the bottom of the ocean. The gang was lined up, peering down from the railing, seeing only foamy yellow bubbles, and then none.

They figured he was dead, and were about to leave, but then someone said, “Hey, look!” Below, a large, white object began to emerge from the green water. It was Chunk. But that wasn’t all—as his body rose to the surface, they could see that he was straddled on the back of a dolphin.

“Whoa!”

Zippy’s friends were surprised and delighted by this, and begged Chunk to teach them how to speak to dolphins.

Chunk called out, “I told him that I was a lost manatee!" and as he was riding away, "See ‘ya later, losers!” The dolphin carried Chunk far away, all the way down to Miami Beach, where he would go on to live a long and fruitful life.


  It all of a sudden started to rain. The weather called for thunderstorms all week but the downpour was so unexpected. By day 3 it seemed as if a month of rain had already fallen. Very bizarre for a July. But we weren’t worried. It kept the 2 of us inside. We were already working from home for the last year since the pandemic started but this time it was something about the storm that kept us in concentration mode. We’d spend most of our days in front of  our computers aligned with our huge bay window that overlooked the trees and beautiful forest in our backyard... miles away from the busy city life that we left behind when we got married 10 years ago.   In front of the window we sat at our table across from each other, coffee, snacks and laptops being a divider and when our work day was finished we’d have a meal, alternating who would prep and cook, then clean. That’s how we’ve been for year's. We’ve become accustomed to being in The same room in silence.  We’d Then use the evening to convene and talk about our day as if we weren’t together for most of it.   It wasn’t until day 4 of the heavy rain that we became privy to what was actually going on beyond the walls of our home.

  The city around us was beginning to flood. If it wasn’t for her randomly taking a break that Thursday afternoon and turning on the news that we discovered that in fact it was almost 2 months of rain that had fallen in three and a half days and most of the city was becoming submerged under water. The media stated it as a “possible human extinction event” but we brushed it off slightly. Not that we were non believers, just more skeptics of the news. Something we rarely watched for factual information, but more of an outlet for entertainment. But then on Friday something happened. The rain suddenly stopped and it was Unusually hot. We cranked the AC but to no avail. It seemed as if the ground outside looked like it was almost melting. That an egg had no chance and would turn to char almost instantaneously.

 I had to check it out for myself. I went to step outside cautiously but was met with the singe of the sun burning the hair on my knuckles as I stuck my arm out to test. I quickly shut the door and surveyed the damage. My hand was almost burnt. I could see the hair on my arms almost scorched off and a blister began to form on my hand. I ran into the kitchen for some aloe and met her looking at me with tears in her eyes. She was standing watching the tv in our kitchen with her hands over her mouth. The news reporter looked just as frantic. I held her close, ignoring my pain and listened intently as they explained that there had been a major heat wave around the world. The earths core was heating up by the day that it was almost melting within itself. According to scientists, the world was imploding and we only had days to go. With No chances of survival, we as humans would just merely dissolve in the heat. That’s if we did not die from the floods, the hurricanes  and the earthquake that would happen sometime before or after. The sky had opened up in major cities and turned a vibrant red. We ran to the bay window over looking our work station and gasped. It was as if the sun had turned into hot lava. A big molten rock about to fall from the sky. I looked over at her and at that moment we knew; this was the end. Perhaps now we were glad we never had children. How would we explain it to them? The news said days but we were surrounded by trees and shrubbery, if they became ignited that would be it for us. But there would be no where to go.

 As night fell it seemed to give relief. The sun went down in a fiery ball as we watched it from our window.

 The moon, however, gave us a kind of peace. Some comfort that things may be ok. We finally opened the door and sat on the porch to watch the stars for what may be the last time. It was still extremely hot so we stripped down to our bare and tolerated the heat.

 Saturday morning everything came to a head. The sun was now expelling huge pellets that it was actually raining fire. The cable seemed to have been burnt out. Phone lines down. There was no one we wanted to call anyway. Both our parents were deceased for years. That was a good thing.

 We watched from the window and saw billows of smoke arising beyond the trees, people were out there being obliterated. Not being able to run for cover. The terror and chaos must be dire on the other side of the trees. I felt a sense of guilt, though I knew what was coming, I found solace in the reality that id die a happy man, in our quaint, almost cottage like home, with her.   We sat in front of the window all day and watched the crimson and bright yellow sparks fly like little bugs around our house.  We didn’t panic. We were never the type to.  Why we were so calm was beyond me, maybe because we've always been people to welcome the inevitable, or we were both consoled by the fact that we've always just had each other. Being only children and moving away to a house so secluded that you had to drive 20 minutes from the main road will do that to anyone. Not to mention, the isolation, because you know, pandemic. We've already felt like we've been the only two people on earth for over a year.

 That evening I sat with my back against the window and watched her intensely. She seemed no more worried than me. I hugged her tightly as we danced to the sweet serenade of Coltrane playing from my phone. I smelled her hair. And kissed her slowly. She embraced me and smiled. We made love for the last time. We got up before sunrise Sunday morning and the smoke was so heavy that it enveloped the sky and earth around us. I watched from the window with my arms behind my back and sighed. “Babe breakfast is ready!” I turned to our table where she had a whole set up. We sat across from each other and ate quietly, eggs, bacon toast pancakes, almost everything in our pantry,  prepared on the gas stove. At that moment I was glad I decided to not argue on the gas or electric. She was In charge of all decor of our place. We smiled and laughed at each other between bite full, eating happily in front of our bay window as the world around us literally burned, loving each other’s company as always, something that would never change, not even during the end of the world.


Sue Ellen sat at her desk sipping her Earl Grey and eating her usual lunch of low-fat turkey and a hastily prepared salad. The more she thought about it, the more she began to believe what her recent ex-boyfriend, Brian had said. She was boring, and her need for order and routine was getting in the way of her life. She had eaten this lunch every workday for the past two months with no problems, but today it tasted bland and unappealing.

Just like her .

The thought snuck into her head greasily, leaving an unpleasant feeling.

Being recently single after being in a relationship with Brian for over three years was something of a shock to Sue Ellen. She was not forty years old yet, but somehow, she felt too old to date. She felt like old produce left in the fridge, wilted and unsaleable. Brian had certainly perpetuated these feelings by having an affair, and honestly, there were so many little things that she should have noticed but didn’t. Or maybe she just hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. Tap. Tap. Tap. She works through lunch because she has nothing better to do. Watching her coworkers, the sea of square placeholders in a beige room, they have all grouped up for lunch, small friend groups chatting about everyday things.

Her cubicle had nothing of note in it. No personal items, no photos, maybe just a hint of her smell. She suddenly remembered she needed to run by the department store after work. Tonight was the dinner reception for the wedding her old friend, Tammie Lynn had invited her to.

“You remember my kin on my momma’s side, right?” Sue Ellen had nodded.

The two had been out to lunch ‘catching up’, but mostly Sue Ellen had felt like a burden, unloading all her problems on her old friend. The ‘kin’ in question was the blue-collar side of the family. Specifically, the cousin that gave Tammie Lynn the reputation for being a hillbilly in elementary school. Her cousin Clint had come in with a pet possum once, and Tammie Lynn was the only one who would talk to him after that. Of course, Sue Ellen came along for the ride.

“Well, Clint's finally tying the knot! The bride’s a real sweet girl. A nice Jewish girl he met when he moved to the city. You wanna be my plus one?” Tammie Lynn had asked outright.

She never did mince words, and Sue Ellen could read the hopeful glint in her old friend’s eye, a hint of mischief even. “Sure. It’s not like I have anything else going on.” Tammie Lynn’s blue eyes sparkled with delight as she gave Sue Ellen one of her characteristic bear hugs. The girl was rail thin but somehow strong as an ox.

So here she was, going to a hillbilly wedding. She knew that Tammie Lynn’s mom’s side of the family were the hillbilly ones. It would be fun, though. They were good people and had always made her feel so welcome, even if they didn’t have anything, they still shared it with her whenever she had come over. She hadn’t seemed very excited at first, but the more she thought about it, the more she appreciated her friend inviting her out, particularly with people she felt safe around, though it would be a sight. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to drink or not. Did she want to be a part of it or just be a spectator? Sharing a drink with someone was like sharing a meal with Sue Ellen. She spent most of her Friday afternoon workday shopping online to see if any styles would suit the occasion. Tammie Lynn had mentioned bright colors and... denim. Boots? Probably. She would have to dust her old pair off and dig up her denim jacket. They were broken in and comfortable, so at least she wouldn’t be stuck chilly and wearing high heels all night. “This isn’t going to be so bad.” She could feel herself getting psyched up. Pausing her endless cycle of routines for a couple of days. Everything would be fine.

The department store she had chosen was near her workplace, so she walked for some fresh air. A small cafe nearby smelled like roasted garlic and red wine, but she put her hunger behind her, knowing that the reception was only two hours away. The department store was almost empty, with only a few patrons within on a Friday evening. The smell of perfume from the counter gave the place a floral note, and she figured she could get a tester of something to make herself smell a bit better after she picked out the dress.

She found the cut and color she had seen online. It fit beautifully, and it was very comfortable. Maybe she would have a drink after all. She grabbed a tester of perfume. It smelled of lilies, but the name was just BURST, and for some reason, the impression was that of a poorly ventilated funeral home with a bum freezer. She put that one back for another with a fresher smell. More like chamomile and bergamot. Her hand twisted the glass to face the name. It was just called Dolly and had a flower on the spray cover. As someone who worked in sales, she was confused by the branding on both perfumes.

“When did things become so literal?” This one reminded her of that Dolly Parton song, wildflowers, however. “Fine by me”.

There was no time for a shower by the time she got home. Quickly, she freshened up her makeup and hair and gave herself a dollop of Dolly. The boots fit like a dream, and she found a fifty-dollar bill in her old jean jacket. She hadn’t worn it since before...before Brian.

“Thanks, old me,” She thought, as she drove through the city, to the outskirts of town, until the neon lights and pavement became warehouses and well-lit industrial barn buildings. She wondered for a fleeting moment, if it wasn’t her fault for Brian. This outfit that swallowed her in comfort and practicality would have disappeared from her closet, and been replaced with something 'acceptable'. He would see her in a pair of boots and give her a look that made her feel unwelcome in her own space.

Finally, she found it. It was a barn-style building, with lots of tables and dancing space. The interior was painted a tasteful grey with green accents. A bar on the right side of the room was artfully built with reclaimed wood. A stocky bearded bartender waved her inside. Her first glance around the room was intense, to say the least. Old Jewish men in kippot cavorted genially with old-timers in tight denim and tucked-in button-down flannels. There was a small buffet with finger foods and charcuterie. Finally, she heard Tammie Lynn’s voice above the tumult. She waved an arm toward Sue Ellen, who was with the bride and groom’s family. Tammie Lynn scooped up Sue Ellen in her thin arms, directing her to a chair.

“Ya’ll, this is my oldest friend, Sue Ellen. Mamaw, you ‘member her, don’t ya?

A familiar elderly woman with perfectly permed hair carefully pinned on her head nodded and gave Sue Ellen a shaking hand. “Hello, honey. How you been doing? I heard about that awful situation with that boyfriend of yours. Don’t you worry honey, there’s plenty of decent men to go around here, Tammie Lynn’ll show ya around.” Sue Ellen was so shocked that the old woman and her husband were still around, they must have been over ninety. It took her a moment to feel embarrassed that everyone knew her situation. But looking around the table, she saw nothing but friendly faces standing up to hug her. She introduced herself to the Blums. Their daughter the bride, Ava was a delightful girl, standing next to her, beaming with pride--no longer the possum pet owner. Now he was her groom. Tammie Lynn’s cousin, Clint had turned into a tall and handsome man. “Good for you two! Congrats!” Sue Ellen exclaimed after she got warmed up to the room. There was surprisingly no jealousy or malice in her voice, or her secret heart. Sue Ellen saw at first glance that she was everything he wanted her to be, and Sue Ellen knew that Ava never went home with Clint feeling like she didn’t belong. That’s nice. “ You could have that too, now.” Sue Ellen’s secret heart whispered.

Dinner was being served, so she took her seat waiting for their table to be called to the buffet line. Sue Ellen realized that Tammie Lynn was sitting across from her, but she had neglected to introduce herself to those on either side. She made to do so before Tammie Lynn cut in: “Oh where are my manners?! Eric, this is Sue Ellen, and to your right, is Bubbe Blum.” She raised her voice a little, reaching a gentle hand across the table to the woman almost as old as Mamaw and Papaw Walker. “Bubbe? This is my oldest friend, Sue Ellen. The old woman raised her eyes to Sue Ellen, giving her a gentle pat on the hand. “Nice to meet you, young lady. You’ll be taking care of me tonight, right? Don’t let these old-timers sweep me off my feet, alright?” Sue Ellen couldn’t help it. As she shook the woman’s hand she saw the faded and cursed tattoo on her arm. But despite it, the woman bubbled with spunk. I think they would say ‘Hutzpah’.

“Yes ma’am, I’ve known these guys for a while, they aren’t getting anything over on me!”

The old woman pats her hand again, and finally, Sue Ellen remembers Eric there. He smiled sweetly at his Bubbe, his brown eyes the color of honey. She met eyes with Tammie Lynn, who gave her that mischievous smile. Sue Ellen shook her head slightly; her friend was clearly trying to set her up. He seemed nice and all, but she wasn’t ready for anything. But she saw how Tammie Lynn was looking at him. Why is she trying to set me up with him if she clearly likes him?

After their meal, Sue Ellen drags Tammie Lynn alone to the bar. “Thanks again for inviting me! I’ve forgotten how your family makes you feel so welcome. Also, what’s the deal with you and that Eric fellow?” Sue Ellen bought them a round from the bartender, who was more her type if she was being honest. He had a burly physique and a nice smile.

“Oh well, you know. You have a city lifestyle so I thought you might get on with him well. He is handsome. I think he’s some kind of professor or somethin’ I don’t remember. But he seemed yer caliber.” Her eyes squinted like she was hurt by this admission.

“But don’t you like him? Why aren’t you, his caliber? You’re loving and down to earth. Go get what you want, girl.” Sue Ellen could feel her old twang coming back. That part of herself that Brian had tried to kill.

“Does he make you feel like you aren’t good enough?” Tammie Lynn shook her head.

“I guess I just don’t know him well, is all.” Tammie Lynn looked back at the table where Eric was now drinking scotch with some of the Walker cousins and the groom. He listened intently to a raucous story but met eyes with Tammie Lynn, and Sue Ellen could see it. He thought Tammie Lynn was something pretty special.

“Well, what should we do, Tammie Lynn? What’s the plan?” Sue Ellen elbowed her to get her attention away from him.

“Well, I don’t know! He’s out of my league.”

Sue Ellen grabbed another round of drinks, though she didn’t even think she wanted to drink earlier that evening. It was her turn to usher Tammie Lynn forward toward the cousins. They all spent the rest of the evening together, and eventually, it was time to head home.

Tammie Lynn and Eric got to talk amongst themselves for a while. Sue Ellen entertained the cousins and had to take a cab home.

The wedding was an early one the next afternoon. Since the families were of two faiths, the wedding was held outdoors. The wedding color scheme was blue and yellow, it was a lovely spring morning in the backyard of the Walker residence, only an hour out of the city. The Chuppah was a beautifully built pergola that the Walker family made for her. He said it symbolized the effort that went into blending a family. The veiling and the walk to the Chuppah were wonderful to watch as each family gave away their children. Of course, Tammie Lynn cried the whole time and kept stuffing tissues in her purse. She had always been a little sappy compared to Sue Ellen who rarely cried. She noticed Eric seated a little behind them on the bride’s side of the aisle. He glanced at Tammie Lynn often, smiling at the woman’s blubbering. Somehow being with Tammie Lynn was cathartic and cleansing. Washing away the stink of her old self. Even if she wasn’t the one crying.

Eventually, the ceremony came to an end, it was a little long because both faiths were addressed, and there was a Rabbi and a Preacher in attendance. Lots of praying, and singing, some speeches. Lunch was barbeque, potluck-style. Very Walker. Everyone sat on picnic tables, and a huge dancing area was set up in the center. The bride and groom had their first dance, but then the party opened up. Sue Ellen wasn’t always a dancer, but it was a fun bunch. She found herself dancing with just about everyone at some point. Some of the old-timers brought out instruments, from both families. Somehow, they made it work, either taking turns or playing popular songs. The sun shone down on them, as the two families swirled in a bouncing continuum.

For a moment, Sue Ellen was free. She was wearing red polka dots today, a dress she had pushed far back into her closet, almost in hiding. It was thin and airy, and she felt radiant. She chose boots again, though she put on the nice cream-colored ones with the white tassels. By the end, they were grass-stained and sweaty. She separated herself from the group for a moment, it was about three o’clock and she had been dancing for hours. She kicked off her boots and found a cool patch of grass beneath the shade of an old hickory tree. She nodded off, the cool breeze on her flushed cheeks. The sky was brilliantly blue, and her toes felt soothed beneath the thick grass. A gentle clicking sound roused her, who knows how long she slept there. Looking up, it was Bubbe, she had pulled a lawn chair out to sit with her beneath the tree.

“Hey, Bubbe Blum. You, okay?” Sue Ellen sat up on her elbows. Her body felt loose and relaxed. The older woman in her fine yellow fascinator hat, her hair looked like a bouquet as she sat above Sue Ellen, the shade framing her body in a silhouette.

“Just watching my grandson fall in love with your friend. I would have thought you would go for him. And here I knew I would find you feeling sorry for yourself, but you look just like the picture of splendor.” She looks down at Sue Ellen with a fond expression.

“Being here with you all reminded me of better times and a better version of myself. Are you sad that it wasn’t me?" She paused, thinking. "I don’t think it should be me. I’m not ready for that yet. Hell, only yesterday I thought I was worthless and boring. Now I don’t even know what to think.” She trailed off, lost in thought as she watched the party wind down. “A day can make a big difference, can’t it?” Bubbe got a faraway look, but then she patted Sue Ellen’s arm and stood to leave.

“You’re going to be alright, kid.”

Sue Ellen beamed because she knew it to be true.


Pamela approached her mother, Sandra, sipping her morning coffee. “I’m thinking of moving out, Mom.” Her mother set the steaming cup onto the saucer. “None too soon. You’re what, twenty-five?” Her mother’s reaction didn’t surprise Pamela. She’d heard such murmurings her whole life. Sandra never forgave the pangs Pamela’s birth gave her. Everything she said to Pamela came wrapped in the burden of her unpaid debt. “Who you moving in with?” “Uhm… actually, Carl asked me to live with him.” “Ohhh no. Seen how that plays out. He gets a live-in maid ‘til you fall preggers. Then you’re stuck looking for new digs with a kid in tow.” “It’s not like that.” “What you say now… You pop a kid out, who’s gonna watch him? Not Cindy. Not me.” “I know, mom. I’m watching Dexter now.” Pamela’s sister’s four-year-old, Dexter, sprawled on the living room floor, drawing. Crayons were strewn everywhere. He looked up. “What’s preggers?” Pamela blinked. “Oh, that’s grown-up talk for P.G… parental guidance. Parents decide if a movie is too scary for kids.” He stared as if she were speaking a foreign language and returned to his picture. Sandra continued. “Guys don’t want kids. Don’t care about marriage. Just want to mess around… shack up... What you have is a situationship.” Pamela didn’t take the bait. She poured a coffee. Sandra tried another tack. “Should go back to school. Get a profession. And a good man. Gonna be a bar maid forever?” “We talked about that, mom. Beauty school didn’t…” “Become a teacher. Steady work watching other people’s kids. You’re great with Dex. Good money. Time off.” Pamela nodded. Sandra continued. “Need a backup plan… Funny about Carl. Wedding photographer, right?” “A good one. Busy all the time.” “So, weddings are how he makes his living. But he won’t commit to a marriage. What a romantic…” Pamela felt her blood pressure spiking. “It’s not the time, mom. He’s booked for months.” “Uh-huh. People find a way to do what they want.” She looked around. “What’s that sound…? Never mind… just a ticking clock...” “Mom… right now, we enjoy our time together. We both have Mondays and Tuesdays off, have fun.” Sandra snorted. “Fun… He’s not interested in a waitress. Need two good incomes, to make do anymore.” Dexter held up his drawing. “Look, Pam!” Welcoming a diversion, Pamela took the drawing. There were two female figures, each wearing red, triangular dresses. Both were smiling. One figure dominated, being either very tall, or very close. She held hands with a little boy. The second figure stood beyond a lake near a sailboat. Pamela pointed to the large figure. “Tell me about your drawing. Is that Cindy? Your mother?” Dexter reacted to her cluelessness. “No, that’s you, Pam. Mommy’s getting on the boat.” “Oh… Want to read a book before I go to work?” ~ Pamela called Carl while driving to work. He picked up. “Hey, babe. Great timing. Just came out of the darkroom. Some amazing shots this weekend.” “I told my mom.” “And?” “She wants me out. But not with you.” “I thought she liked me.” “It’s not that. It’s the situation. We have no plan.” “We’re planning to live together…” “She’s old fashioned, Carl.” The silence felt interminable. “Didn’t say, but think she wants…” “Grandkids?” “Stability… like I said, a plan… It’s complicated.” “So, what do you want?” She looked at the phone in disbelief. “What do you say, we take our time? You know…?” Carl stifled a chuckle. “Time… Whatever you say… All the time in the world.” “I better go. Just got to work.” “Yeah, got proofs to check. Talk later.” Pamela pulled into the lot and killed the engine. She practiced ‘calm breathing’ for several minutes before punching in. Pamela didn’t work in a dive, but at Trevor’s, an upscale watering hole, downtown. The backlit bar highlighted the best liquors, appealing to the suit and tie crowd. Lawyers and executives met there for night caps and debriefing after meetings. Alcoves provided privacy for quiet conversation. Its leather upholstery and designer chandeliers made everyone feel at home. Considering Trevor’s reputation, some regulars hardly fit expectations. Pamela had known Chas for years. Even in this low-lite environment, Chas looked out of place. His goatee begged for a trim. He came in most nights, in jeans and a t-shirt. She doubted he owned a tie. Scruffy hair escaped from under his slouch hat. She saw him once in a borrowed leather jacket.

Her mother would describe Chas as ‘bohemian.’ But never a poor mouth, he always tipped. Pamela thought he worked in the arts. On occasion, he spoke to the suits like one of the guys. But most times, he retreated to a corner table, nursed a bourbon or two and drifted out before closing. He had a playful manner with Pamela. He flirted but she couldn’t take him seriously. Royce though, always looked like he belonged. He dressed well and smiled easily. When he arrived, Pamela always felt like an extra in a movie and he was the star. But Royce brought no drama with him. Only a sense of ease, a springy step, things controlled and going as they should. Royce often brought clients with him. He provided them anything within the confines of his limitless expense account. When not with clients, he’d sit at the bar and pass time talking with Pamela, or Austin, the bartender. Friendly and always real, she never felt talked down to. But it never went further. Was he married? Single? Pamela couldn’t read him. He came to drink, not to hit on her. But why not? She always made him laugh. When with clients, he always sat at one of her tables and tipped generously. Could such a confident guy actually be shy? It made no sense. Chas settled into his favorite corner and waved her over. “Hey, Pam. The usual… Jack Daniels and a water chaser, please.” She signaled to Austin. He nodded. She retrieved the drink and placed it on Chas’ table. He smiled up at her. “Marry me, Pam.” Surprised, she stifled a laugh. “So, I can serve you Jack at home?” “Well, yeah. JD. And other stuff.” “Chas, how would getting hitched change what we have here?” He wasn’t expecting push back. “We get along so well. Why not enjoy it twenty-four-seven?” “I get it. And if I ever needed you for something, I’d find you here?” Chas looked disappointed. “No, really. Let’s go out.” “Where will you take me? The parking lot? Your car’s back seat? You still live at home?” “I have a place. It’s nice.” He sounded defensive. “I wasn’t expecting this, Chas. You shouldn’t joke about such things.” “Pam… I wasn’t joking.” “Then you need to work on presentation. I’m in the middle of my shift.” She turned away and greeted a couple who had just entered. They sat and she took their order. From behind the bar, Austin grinned at Pam and nodded toward Chas. “You handled that well.” “Thanks. Came out of the blue. I mean, really?” “Think you can do better. Meeting guys in bars, even a nice bar, is not a formula for…” “But I met Carl here.” Austin’s look said it all. He set her customer’s drinks on her tray. She left to serve them. Pamela returned and nodded. “Point taken… So, tell me, if not bars, where do you meet women?” “At work.” She laughed. “But you work here.” “Maybe that’s why I’m single.” “You want to be? You’re a nice guy.” He smiled. “You want to get together?” Pamela rolled her eyes. “Wow! I’m on a streak. We could put the nursery in that alcove.” They laughed. Having known each other for years, Pamela and Austin had an easy rapport. But always a work friendship that worked, neither wanted to jeopardize that. At least she didn’t. The sound of laughter preceded Royce’s entrance with three clients. He greeted Pamela and signaled for a bottle of champagne. She knew the label. The laughter continued while they settled at a table. She brought glasses and opened the bottle. Pamela poured a sip for Royce’s approval. When he nodded, she filled each glass and placed the bottle into a chill bucket. Raising his glass for a toast, Royce nodded to Pamela indicating they needed nothing else.

She retreated to her neutral territory near the bar. There, she could survey the room and respond to any customer’s needs. And there she dwelled on the fact that no one seemed to need her. Was it about marriage? Her mother’s rant latched onto her and wouldn’t let go. She decided marriage wasn’t it. Or only it. ‘But why are guys so lame? Don’t they ever want more from life than imitation Formica? Shiny and shallow. Doesn’t anyone but me get lonely?’ She watched her ‘suitors’ with wonder. Content to sleepwalk through life, they spent their time pouring drinks, making deals, or nursing another Jack Daniels. Then there was Carl. Clueless Carl. His thrill was spending hours in a darkroom, alone. Hoo boy and hot damn! Got a live one! She thought, ‘There has to be someone out there I can connect with. One person who sees me. With whom I can share myself. Be the real me.’ She felt she could check ‘none of the above’ on her list of suitable mates. ‘I want to be wanted… Stop fishing in the shallow end of the dating pool.’ Pamela finished her shift without further incident. She came home to a dark house. Locking up, she went straight to bed and lay sleepless until dawn. She had decided marriage was not the issue, yet that word hovered over her all night. It had always been the ideal. With what do you replace it? How? When? ‘Is there an answer to that? Hello? Anyone?’ She must have dozed. Birds singing outside her bright window brought hazy focus. She murmured, “Someone… coffee… please… coffee…” Would those be her last words? Pulling herself from bed, she crawled into her robe and groped her way to the bathroom. Somewhat refreshed, she found her way to the kitchen. Cartoon melodies flowed from the TV in the living room The word that had assaulted her mind for hours would not leave her alone. Marriage. Reaching for the coffee pot, Pamela said, “Doesn’t anyone want to marry me?” Dexter ran in from his cartoon show. He said, “I do…”


Thousands of people are chanting his name, and their candles’ lights wave in the darkness of the stadium. The joy and excitement that lived in his dance and voice disappeared when he left the stage and hid behind the curtains. Sweat drips all over his body and he starts shivering from the cold. It takes twenty or so minutes before the voices die down. When he turns to see it again, the stadium looks empty. Someone covers his neck with a towel: -"You did well. Your car is waiting for you.” The driver, whom he called Tiger for his raspy voice, looks at his boss from the front mirror and chuckles. The night city is bright, and the cool air coming from the half-rolled window pats his face. When the traffic light stops them at one of the intersections, they see a group of young people sitting and laughing at the outside table in the restaurant. Their relaxed posture, smiles on their faces, they seem happy, but something in his heart squeezes in pain, as he witnesses this. Somehow, it feels like he is missing a lot. However, his head was too foggy to register what was missing. When they stop at the entrance of the hotel, the mob is visible. Some put tents and sat on grass. They did not see the car, and the experienced driver stopped several meters away, took the bags, and entered the hotel through the backdoor. The entire third floor was rented. He took a shower, ordered some food but did not touch it, walked around the room aimlessly, and then stuck his head out the door-no one was in the hallway. He wondered if he should knock at one of the doors where his team stayed but decided against it. It was one of the nights when sleep did not come easily despite tiredness. There were no magazines or newspapers in the room. His team must have taken them away, knowing that he would get upset if he saw what tabloids were writing. However, they did not take his phone, and he knew the world thought he was an egoistic arrogant superstar who did not care about his family. This is what his cousin said on Emmy’s show last night. He called his cousin and confronted him. -"What did you expect? This was the only way to make money, since you betrayed us. Remember that we are unemployed. Did you want us to die from hunger? We have families to feed." -"If you want money, earn money with dignity.” After several hours, the silence became unbearable, and he opened the window to listen to his fans’ voices. None of them saw him. –"I would do anything to be in his place–a young girl was saying passionately–he must feel like the happiest person in the world, I mean, look at him, he’s got everything, right"? Little did they know that the object of their admiration was hearing them at that moment. He would do anything to switch his place with them and would be able to walk unrecognizable in a park. or to talk to someone. The next day, Diana, his manager, brought him a moustache and a hat so that he could spend some time with his mother, whom Tiger picked up from the airport. The moustache itched his skin, and Diana whispered to his ears. -"Stop touching it or it will fall out.” The small park right in front of the Kempinski hotel had a ferris wheel, benches, and playground. His mother’s face had more wrinkles now, and when they climbed inside the cabin, they did not know what to say, and the cab went up halfway before they spoke. The closest person’s aura now felt strange, and he could almost smell the eerie feeling. It felt too familiar, like that feeling, two years ago, when he parted ways with his childhood friends. He left home earlier because she loved her new husband more and he wanted to win her back. He would not take a bus to save money on food, and he did not see the sun for many days and was locked in the studio. He made it and sent his first paycheck back home and then received a letter which said “that was it? Send more, son, he wants a new car.” He kept on going, working, and performing and thought it would change everything. So many people knew about him, yet no one knew him. What he heard from his mother in the ferris wheel cab changed everything. He jumped off the cab and walked off the place quickly. When he walked down the alley alone, he felt that he was at the point Nemo-so far from everyone. He worked for his success but was forced to disguise and hide like a runaway. After several more steps, it became unbearable, and he ripped off the moustache and the sharp pain stabbed the skin. The child who was going his way stared at him. He then began pointing at him and screaming him. His mother hissed at her son and looked at him for sorry. Her eyes widened in disbelief and the words were cut halfway, as his hat was now also off, revealing familiar curls. People recognized him and ran towards him. The hands reached him, tearing his shirt, and the buttons fell on the ground. His arms burned from the scratches, and someone snatched his necklace. He gave autographs, signing on the bodies of those who did not have paper on them, and then kneeled down to get away. Among the feet, he saw Tiger rushing towards them. Then, his strong arms lifted him up, and Tiger dragged his boss, like a father does a naughty kid to stop the tantrum. They drove quickly until the people running behind disappeared from view. -“What were you thinking?! This was the first time he had yelled at his boss. The boss, though, did not reply anything and something in his hunched shoulders or his eyes fixed on the grey gymnasium’s building that they pulled off by must have looked off as Tiger’s face softened. Some time had passed before the singer spoke. -“I put my blood, sweat, and tears into becoming the star I am today,” -Tiger turned his head to look at his boss carefully-he looked completely heartbroken, -and for what? Lately, he questioned it more and more. He thought that success would solve his problems, but they did not go away, and he was not even closer to happiness. Surrounded by awards, fans, and money, he still felt like an abandoned child. They talked less and less with his childhood friends; their lifestyles were too different, they grew up, and it was harder to connect now, and he also sensed they felt inferior next to him until they stopped talking at all. His mother said they were just jealous, but he thought it was his fault-he chased success so desperately and did not spend time with them. Tiger had a kind and sensitive soul, but he could not sympathize with his boss. Tiger wasn’t there to dry his tears and never walked in his shoes. He did not know his relatives, and his family saw him as means to get cash. It was not a problem, and he would send thousands of dollars every time they asked. But they made it a bad habit, his brothers and uncles left their jobs. They would divorce their wives and demand that they pay for lawsuits and child support. Every time he talked to his mother on the phone, she did not ask him how he was, but she wanted to know why he forgot where he came from and became greedy. When they met six months since his tour had started, he realized that she had not come to see him. She would try to convince him to provide for his relatives. Her husband and brothers had to have brainwashed her. He was happy when performing, but off stage he could not silence the thoughts that he was being used. All of this Tiger did not know. He understood it and it only hurt him more. Each person he was surrounded by was there because they were paid to do so. To do make-up, drive, manage, translate, and work in the production team. And none of them knew him. Even to his managers, he was only a star to whom they felt they needed to cater. He understood this well. He also learned not to share his thoughts with anyone to prevent him from selling stories about him. For this reason, he did not say anything more. With great effort, he put on a fake smile and tried to shrug it off as a joke. -"Did you really fall for it? –he said smiling, –that must mean I am a great actor, I was just practicing, I thought to test out some things for my next video shoot. Now please drive me back to the hotel". Tiger sighed with relief as he started the engine. This was the boss he knew. In his world, the fussy superstar who had everything he wanted would never understand the struggles that normal people go through. To him, his boss was another eccentric celebrity.


The Twist in the Tale November 24 th 1971 was just like any other Wednesday at the Portland Oregon Airport. Not particularly busy on domestic flights, so Dan Cooper had little wait time in buying his one way ticket to Seattle Washington. Dan Cooper was never planning to return. His identity documents were later proven to be fake. Security is a tad tighter today.  In 1971 he did not have to concern himself with CCTV cameras. Even so he had timed his arrival to the last minute before the announcement to board his flight.  A busy period for staff, he had correctly calculated they would be too busy to take much notice of individual passengers. All the Airport staff on duty that day, and Flight crew , were later to describe Cooper as a well-dressed clean shaven man wearing sunglasses, his appearance suggesting his age was around the mid 40’s. His suit colour varied with many of the descriptions. This non-descript appearance is no doubt the reason the Flight attendant did not see anything suspicious when he sat next to her during the take off. This was to change very quickly when Cooper handed her a note and told her to read it.  No further verbal conversation took place. The note indicated he had a bomb in his briefcase which he showed to the Attendant. It also stated he would blow up the plane unless he received $200,000 and several parachutes when they landed in Seattle. The Pilot radioed the demands to the Air Traffic Control Tower. All Cooper’s demands were met, the money and the parachutes were loaded onto the plane. All the other passengers were allowed to leave as were the Flight Attendants. The flight crew remained on the plane. Cooper’s instructions to the pilot were to fly under 10,000 feet and set a course to Mexico City. The wing flaps were to be set at 15degrees a sure indication Cooper was familiar with the aircraft. Further proof came when he told the pilot to unlock the door to the rear stairway. This particular type of aircraft was the only commercial plane that has a rear stairway you could jump from. During the night flight the plane had a distinct jump in height indicating considerable weight had been jettisoned and in a flash Cooper had gone. No more instructions were heard and on landing in Reno Nevada it was obvious Cooper, the parachutes and the money had all disappeared. The investigating team, reporters from all over the USA and a public, eager to be part of this brilliantly executed crime, had gathered on the tarmac to greet the arrival of the aircraft. This brazen hijack became a case for the FBI. The tools they had to work with involved an evaluation of who Dan Cooper may be. A typo by a journalist in the early stages of reporting the crime is the impetus for Dan becoming DB. This has stuck throughout the 52 years since the crime. Comparing DB with a French fictional detective hero by the same name focused the FBI for some time. One theory advanced was that DB did the crime just to prove it could be done. Support for this theory is that none of the numbered banknotes have ever surfaced with the exception of $5,800 being washed up on the banks of the Columbia River in 1980. Perhaps Dan has a peculiar sense of humour and it took his fancy to stir up the mystery after a nine year hiatus. This points us in a direction that actually supports rather than decries the ‘just because he could’ scenario.  Being familiar with aircraft, or at the very least with the type of aircraft he had absconded from, is undeniable. Flying lower than 10,000 feet stymied the use of radar to track a plane in flight in 1971. Insinuating he would be using several parachutes for the money and obviously for himself also indicated Cooper’s was familiar with their usage. One theory was advanced which sent the FBI checking through US Army Paratrooper’s personnel files. It proved to be nothing more than speculation. It proved fruitless. Search after search along the flight pattern between Seattle and towards Mexico City failed to find any trace of the money, or DB Cooper’s body until nine years later in 1980. $5,800 of the numbered bank notes are washed up onto the bank of the Columbia River. This waterway would have been flown over by Cooper’s plane on his flight, so authorities had divers search the area. Unsuccessfully. Quite often the most obvious solution to a crime is the answer. Even Blind Freddy would have realised the banknotes would be marked, so someone with the smarts of DB Cooper would have foreseen this and taken action to prevent it, that is unless he had no plans to actually spend the money. Jumping out of the aircraft at night with no real sense of where he was or where he could land does not make sense. However his smoke and mirror tricks worked, setting the scene first by being seen with a parachute on his back then jettisoning the extra parachutes to enforce the fact he had jumped. The plane reacted to a much lighter load. The rear stairs were down. Another visual fact which, together with the parachutes and money missing, combine to further enforce the belief DB Cooper had jumped.  In a flash he was gone into the night in their minds. However, they got it wrong, he did not jump. No. DB Cooper was still on the plane, not quite in plain sight, but close. He had calculated that the plane would be overrun with officials and reporters from the time it came to a stop. Another person appearing from the toilet cubicle would not raise questions and he became one of the throng who had pushed and shoved their way onto the plane. The dapper DB Cooper was now dressed in a suit of a different colour, the same suit inside out indicating he had thought of every detail. Due to the bulging pockets of banknotes he also looked a far more portly figure. He slowly made his way off the aircraft to the arrivals lounge, and caught a transfer to the Overseas Terminal. Paris awaits.  What was the worst that could happen?  If he got caught he would plead diminished responsibility, it was a joke. He was prepared to serve a short sentence if, and it is a big if, France would grant extradition of a comic book hero. Anyway the statute of limitations on hijacking expires after 12 years. DB had obviously decided it would be more interesting to leave the crime as one of the great mysteries. His briefcase contained $5800 and the fake bomb when he threw it out of the plane. He left the case undone, hoping the notes would extend the mystery. That certainly worked.


I have just had the most interesting week of my life. Not many people can say they’ve spent the week hiding from someone who wants to kill them, can they? I thought schools were meant to be safe places, and principals were meant to be people you could trust. Wrong.

I haven’t made it to eight and a half years old without some survival instincts. For example, I can climb over the balcony of our first-floor council flat, and down to the ground, using only the drainpipe. That has come in handy when Dad tells me to go to my room and never come out again. I also have supersonic hearing. I can make my breathing quiet, and I can hear a pin drop at the opposite end of the flat. That has come in handy when I’ve needed to know if Dad is snoring, so that I can climb down the drainpipe without him noticing.

On Monday afternoon, when my Auntie Elle was called to the principal’s office, I needed my supersonic hearing. I was told to wait outside, so I knew it was serious. Usually when I’m in trouble, I have to go in and listen to all of the ‘you should have done this’s,’ and ‘you shouldn’t have done that’s’ and ‘if you do it again THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES.’ This time, I sat outside while Auntie Elle went in, looking like she was the one in trouble. She is a bit afraid of Principal Grobin because she’s her boss. Auntie Elle is a Year One teacher at my school. I wish she was my teacher. She wouldn’t grass on me for things like my Year Three teacher does. She’d help me with the cover up, and then give me the lecture at home.

I sat as still as could be in the soft chairs outside Principal Grobin’s office. I made my breathing so slow and quiet that I might have been a boy with the lungs of a mouse. Mouse Lung Boy. ‘… as you can understand Elle, this can’t go on. Sam has had plenty of warnings about his language…’ Ah, flip, I thought. She’s on about the cussing again. I can’t flippin’ help it. My dad cusses all the time. He always says I learned to cuss before I learned to talk, and he’s probably right. I used ‘flip’ just now so as not to cause offence, but the thing is, I never try to cause offence. It just happens. It just rolls off my tongue, as they say. I don’t know why they say that. It’s a weird thing to say. No one sticks their tongue out so the words can just roll off when they talk, do they?

The latest cussing incident had been because my dad had forgotten to give me money to buy lunch at the canteen. When I realised at lunch time, all I said was, ‘For God’s sake, Old Man, what the ‘flip’ am I meant to have for lunch now?’ Of course, my teacher was right behind me. My supersonic hearing let me down that time. I didn’t hear her lanyard jingling over the growling of my stomach, I suppose. Anyway, she turned purple in the face and a vein popped out in her forehead, and the next thing I knew she was saying she’d have to have a word to Principal Grobin, because I’d had enough warnings, blah, blah, blah. I went to see Auntie Elle, and when I told her what had happened, she gave me half of her sandwich, and a good talking to. But that wasn’t the end of it.

‘There has to be consequences for Sam’s behaviour,’ said Principal Grobin. ‘Of course, but things aren’t easy for Sam at home. I’m sure he means to change his ways…’ Nice try Auntie Elle, but as Principal Grobin said last time, I can’t keep using that excuse.

‘He can’t keep using that excuse, Elle. He has already been suspended several times. If this continues, it will leave me with no other choice…’ The lady from the front of the office walked past right at that moment on her way to the photocopier, and in hindsight, I might have missed a crucial piece of information. What does hindsight mean, anyway? The sight of someone’s hind? Isn’t a hind a butt? Allow me to rephrase. As I looked at the butt of the past, disappearing into the distance, I realised I might have missed a crucial piece of information.

The next thing I heard from Principal Grobin’s mouth was, ‘expulsion.’ ‘I understand,’ said Auntie Elle grimly. When I saw her face, it told the story. It was the face you’d see on someone coming out of a hospital room when the doctor had just said, ‘I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do.’ Well, I knew exactly what that meant, and there was no way I was going to let that happen to me. I couldn’t believe Auntie Elle just stood there and agreed to my expulsion. Some Auntie she is. I used to think she was great. When I was little, she used to buy me presents all the time, and played games with me, even army ones. Then she went to Australia for a couple of years, and I only saw her on the computer, or on Dad’s phone. She was still nice then. Always, ‘I can’t wait to see you, Sammy,’ and, ‘Wait until I come home, we will do all of the things.’ Lies. All of it. When Auntie Elle came back to England, all she did was make rule, after rule, after rule. Now I have to go to bed at 8pm, eat vegetables, go to school every day even if I don’t feel like it, and if I even so much as think about using my sling shot to fire rocks through the neighbours’ windows, she’s on to me like a flash. It’s like she reads my mind. She says all teachers can do it, and I believe her.

So that’s when the fight for my survival began. I’d heard about expulsions. That’s what those crawling insect sprays do to cockroaches. I wasn’t going to just roll over, belly up and wave my legs in the air. No way. If Mrs Grobin wanted me dead, I was going to go down fighting.

I knew I was wasting my breath going to Dad. He’d never believe me, for one. And for another, Dad has a pretty hard time just looking after himself. He wasn’t going to be able to help me to fend for my life. No, it was all down to me.

That Monday afternoon, I sat down in front of the television with a bowl of crisps and turned on the latest series of ‘Man Vs Wild’, while Auntie Elle went to Dad’s bedroom to tell him the news. Auntie Elle says I shouldn’t be watching Bear Grylls. She says it’s rated PG, and if I don’t have a grown up with me, I might see something I don’t understand, and it might traumatise me, so I usually only watch it when she’s not at our place. But this time, I thought she was going to be so busy for the next three hours telling Dad about all the stuff I’d done wrong that I might as well sneak a few episodes in. I couldn’t delay. I needed an upgrade of my survival skills, and fast. Pity that Bear never faced an old lady with a black bob, a big nose, a moustache and round spectacles. That would have helped me out with Principal Grobin.

I don’t know if it was three hours later that Auntie Elle came out of Dad’s room, but I quickly turned off Bear Grylls, and put on a cartoon. She didn’t even look though. She was wiping her eyes, and she rushed off through the front door as I heard Dad shout after her, ‘Flippin’ bossy teachers and their flippin’ rules. Lucky that bloke didn’t marry you or he’d have been nagged to death by now.’

Dad came out shortly afterwards, carrying his walking cane. He’s only thirty, but he needs to walk with a cane, because he hurt his back. ‘Sammy, what’s this I hear about you cussing at school, boy?’ he said to me.

What a hypocrite. I think that means someone who gets up you for something they do themself all the time. Dad has said it before about Auntie Elle. She told him to stop drinking beers once and he said, ‘What a flippin’ hypocrite.’ Auntie Elle loves to drink beers, but I have to say, she doesn’t drink so much that she falls asleep in a chair, like Dad does.

‘Sorry Dad, it slipped out because you forgot my money for the canteen.’ ‘Did I?’ asked Dad. He looked a bit guilty, but then he put on his strict face and his gruff voice and said, ‘It’s got to stop, boy. You’re upsetting Elle, and when Elle’s upset, she upsets me.’ Then he went back to bed. The next day at school, I put my plan into action. They used to say kids should be seen and not heard. Well, I was going to be neither seen, nor heard. The first thing I had to do was throw Auntie Elle off the scent. So, I made sure I put on my neatest uniform, and I slicked my hair back with hair gel, to make me look like a really good boy. I even wore the approved school socks with my shoes. I never do that. Auntie Elle was happy when she came to pick me up. She gave me a big smile, and a squeezy hug, and said, ‘I know it will be okay, Sammy. You just need to think before you speak, my love.’ She smelt so nice, like a bunch of flowers, and I was glad that she was smiling again. I suppose she is kind, even though she’s got too many rules.

As soon as we got through the school gates, and Auntie Elle gave me a kiss and went to her classroom, I went for the boys’ toilets to change. I pulled out my camouflage pants and t-shirt and put them on. I tied a bandana around my head and drew two stripes on each of my cheeks with camouflage paint. It wasn’t so much for disguise, as to help me get into the right frame of mind. If I was going to survive, I needed to think like a warrior, and to think like a warrior, I needed to feel like a warrior.

I made my way through the school grounds, keeping behind poles, and rubbish bins, until I made it to the sports shed. That was going to be my home for the rest of my school life. Or at least until Principal Grobin forgot about me and moved on to a new prey. I knew it would be unlocked. Mr Peters, the PE teacher, was always early. He always took out the equipment he needed for the day, and then took off to Auntie Elle’s classroom to chat her up before school. Then, he didn’t come back to the shed until he had to pack up in the afternoon.   That’s what made the sports shed the perfect hiding spot. When the coast was clear, I snuck in, and went to the far back corner. From my backpack I pulled a bath towel and laid it down on the concrete floor of the shed. There I stayed, all day, until just before the home time bell, when I snuck back into the toilets, changed back into my uniform, cleaned my face, and met Auntie Elle at her classroom to go home.

As the week wore on, it got cold in that shed. I had a hoodie, and cargo pants, but it wasn’t enough. On Thursday, when the other students were in class, I slipped out and gathered the materials I needed for a fire, but despite having plenty of fuel, it wouldn’t light. I’d have to re-watch that episode. Bear made it look easy. It wasn’t.

By Thursday, I knew that Auntie Elle was on to me. She’d started to ask questions like, ‘What did you learn today, Sammy?’ and ‘Strange, I haven’t seen you in the playground when I’ve been on duty. Where have you been playing?’ I managed to answer those questions with carefully thought out lies, but at second break, disaster struck. From my spot in the corner, I saw Mr Peters come in. He was looking for footballs. He must have forgotten to get them out in the morning. The balls were in the opposite corner to where I was, and I thought I’d gotten away without being noticed, but as he turned to leave, with the bag of balls over his shoulder, he glanced my way. I noticed him freeze, and I saw a slight raise of his eyebrows, then he left. He'd seen me for sure. This was bad. Not in the least because Mr Peters was in Auntie Elle’s pockets. Mr Peters fancied Auntie Elle, but he wasn’t having much luck. Auntie Elle wanted to marry a man she’d left behind in Australia. I don’t think she really wanted to come home. I think she came home because she was worried about Dad. When Mr Peters left, I knew I had to follow him. I snuck out after him and, sure enough, he went straight for Auntie Elle’s classroom, and slipped through the door. The dirty, rotten snitch. I always thought Mr Peters was a cool teacher. Now I knew he was just like the others. Luckily for me, he left the door partially open. He didn’t know about my supersonic hearing. I made my way as close as I could and listened from just outside.

‘…in the back of the shed.’ ‘Are you sure it was Sam?’ ‘Yes, Elle. He was in disguise, but it was him.’ ‘The cheeky git. I wondered why I hadn’t heard from his teacher yet this week.’ She sighed. She didn’t sound angry. She sounded kind of… tired. ‘How long does he think he’ll be able to keep this up for?’ How long would she keep it up if her life was at stake? I peeked inside, and Mr Peters had his arm around her shoulders. That wasn’t on. I took my sling shot out of my pocket and picked up a pretzel that someone must’ve dropped from their lunch. I took aim and fired. It hit Mr Peters in the back of the head. I only stayed long enough to hear him say, ‘What the-,’ and then I fled back to my corner of the shed. There was only one thing for it. If Mr Peters was going to go to Principal Grobin and grass on me, I was going to need a new hiding spot, and another layer of defense. As quick as a flash, I packed up my towel, and gathered the other items I would need- a volleyball net and some skipping ropes. I wasn’t looking forward to settling in at my new accommodation, but there was no other option. It would have to be the cleaner’s storage room, next to the boys’ toilets.

By Friday morning, I was all set. The volleyball net was suspended above me, and all it would take was a slight tug on a skipping rope and it would come down on any predator who attempted expulsion on me. I must have made a misstep somewhere though- not covered my tracks properly, because it wasn’t even first break before I heard the urgent clip-clop of Principal Grobin’s high heels on the concrete path outside, and Auntie Elle’s voice pleading with her for mercy.

‘I’m sure there’s some misunderstanding,’ she was saying. ‘Perhaps he just… got confused… things aren’t easy for him at home you see.’ ‘QUIET,’ said Principal Grobin. You can bet I was quiet, and so was Auntie Elle.

She prowled inside the cleaner’s room. I was hidden out of sight behind the carpet cleaners. As she edged closer, I bided my time, my heart leaping out of my chest, and then- Well, you should have heard the language that came out of Principal Grobin’s mouth when I pulled on that skipping rope, and the volleyball net fell straight on top of her, entrapping her. My own father would have been shocked and appalled.

She didn’t say ‘flip’. She said the real ‘f’ word, and a few others I’d never even heard before, but expect I might use in the future. And they say you don’t learn anything useful in school.

Once the commotion had died down, the thing that really surprised me was Auntie Elle. ‘I’m sure that if some understanding can be shown for language that might slip out from Sammy from time to time, then my brother will show some understanding towards this situation when Sammy tells him about it this afternoon, and he will withhold his complaint,’ she said. I could tell she was scared. She was wringing her hands behind her back as she said it. But it worked. Remember I mentioned hindsight? It turns out that by ‘expulsion’, Principal Grobin didn’t mean she wanted me dead. She just meant she’d kick me out of the school. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have put up so much of a fight. I could’ve had freedom, if only I’d just gone to class and let a few more cuss words roll off my tongue. But instead, I ended up with a detention, and I’ve made a solemn vow to Auntie Elle that I’ll change my ways this time. And I will try because Auntie Elle is good as gold.


The Ugly Duckling The days of my past are shady at best. The thought of my dad travelling to earth to find the ideal host for carrying a baby makes me shiver.  I wish I could have gotten to know her, my dad in his sleep has revealed many features of her which is why I sneak into his room at night and lay under the bed waiting for him to sleep. My world is small, and almost all of the humaliens live in big space ships to raise their children and teach them the ways of alien life on planet zero. The aliens on this planet have huts, made of stone, and over the thousands of years were able to create a space station. The space station has a huge warehouse full of different minerals stolen from earth. They have tanks full of fresh water, soil  also taken from earth. Another warehouse has animals needed to sustain life such as pigs, goats, chickens, cows, plants, bees. The biggest warehouse made of metal has hundreds of old tossed out computers, and technologies. Outside the wind turbines power the warehouses.

The warehouse with the hundreds of computers have discovered that mixing certain minerals and melted rock from our world make the spaceships for the humaliens. These spaceships can travel 2 x’s the speed of light, have fire resistant panels to travel to earth easily going through the ozone layer.

These things I remember as a child, the mechanics, the planting of vegetables, and working on the lights that simulate the sun. Our world has no sun, it is always dark unless you are in the warehouses or spaceship. Our humaliens (part human part alien) are very pale skinned, has gaunt eyes, very frail, and are very light sensitive.

My mom-a blur of visions and memory used to read to me before bed, chase me around the spaceship, and cook amazing meals in the spaceship. I have seen these behaviours when travelling to earth to get supplies. I wish I could stay on earth and learn the ways of humans. At 16 years old the boys must look for mates on earth that can host a baby. It is the law that the hosts can only stay for four years and be brought back to earth. Time would only lapse for the humans for a day or two at the most on earth, and the women would not remember being captured or giving birth on planet zero.

I remember her smell, which reminded me of the lavender that I plant for the butterflies and bees, I often find myself laying in the fields imagining her. She had long red hair, freckles on her face, and a smile that light up a dark room. I remember her voice and her reading my favourite stories. One of my favourites was the ugly duckling. It was my favourite because on earth that is the way I feel, with my very pale skin, sunken eyes, and only three fingers on my right hand.

When I sneak into my dads room at night I can hear him talking to her and reaching for her. He talks about her green eyes so bright, and asks her to dance with him. It makes me cry because she has been gone for so long and she would never remember us. I will be turning 16 soon, and do not want to fall in love with someone for only four years. I don’t want to see my child cry and call for their mom for years. How could I pick someone  to say goodbye. My heart feels like it is twisted and making me sick when I think about it. I want to ask my dad why he didn’t leave the ship on earth  and hide for the rest of his life just to be with his family. I wonder if he thought about it, and if he did what would happen if someone did hide and then only be found years later? He is so sad, he tries to smile when we talk and eat our mostly  freeze dried meals. He often looks down at his food, to only push it away.

My departure is coming soon, and try to imagine my life on earth, with a beautiful girl, walking, swimming, riding one of those bicycle things, dancing and so much more. Some of the other boys my age are excited and can’t wait to depart to earth to find their mate.

The ship drops us off in different places around the earth to walk amongst the humans to search for our mates. After the ship fills with water and harvest their minerals, they go to the place where they dropped you off and pick us up with a young girl. Our humalien minds are far more advanced than humans, we can read human minds and manipulate them into anything we want or need. It is almost like hypnotism but our minds can target anything living within less than a second, and if we brush by anyone we can search their minds and retain a-lot of information. Many times travelling to earth we are dropped off at universities, space station tours, labs, pharmacy’s ext.

Tomorrow is my day to be dropped off to find a suitable mate, I am ready to say goodbye to my world forever and join the humans. I will miss my friends and father but I can not love someone to only say goodbye.

The boys on the ship are excited, and I pretend to listen but my plan is to be dropped off, find a bus, and travel to a small town never to be found again. It will be easy to get a job, find an apparent and live a humble life. Mind manipulation can get me anything I want, but once I have money I will be able to actually live the life of humans. I hope. A year later has passed since my drop off and I have a job, now a house, and a bicycle It is very hard to blend in with the humans because I am different. People shy away from me, they are polite but get away from me as soon as they can.

I find myself walking by the lake that is close to the community that I live.It is so beautiful, the wind, the sun, the birds, the clean air. The humans take this planet for granted and I really don’t know why. I plan to stay here for the rest of my life, even though it will be shorter than my life up at planet zero because the gravity is much more dense here and plays havoc on my system. One day on my walk around the lake I saw a beautiful older woman who had red hair and green eyes and she was reading to her granddaughter the ugly duckling. I pretended that I was skipping stones, but I was listening to her. I wondered if she could be my mother. I glanced at her and her smile was so beautiful. I could feel a connection and sat on the bench that was close to the bench she was on.

Every Saturday I went to the bench to see if she was there with her granddaughter, I wanted to get to know her better. I really wanted to brush up against her to see if I could search her brain of any recollection of her being up in space. But, I dare not. The days turned into weeks, and I still had a hard time fitting in. However, my co-workers were starting to warm up to me and trust me, but the girl I work with has no interest. I refuse to use my abilities for mind manipulation but I hope to find someone soon before I get to old to have a child of my own.


“Speak now…”            “What?”            “It’s just something I say when I go to the shows. ‘Speak now or forever just hold your…’”            She was just staring at me after that, but I knew that I got to her.            We had just had dinner at Alfreddy’s when I told her about the show, so it was a good meal…for a little while. She said that she didn’t even like the music, but I didn’t believe her. I mean, how could I believe that someone could not like music like that? How could anyone say that and mean it? She wanted to see a show, but she never said that she loved the music I played in the car. All the way to the band-shell and she just sat there, staring straight ahead at the strip of road that slowly grew crowded with traffic. It was an anniversary date (six months now; pretty good, I thought), and I promised her dinner and…a show (not a movie this time; pretty smart). So, I told her first and said, “Should I pick you up at 8?” She didn’t say anything first. And then, “Fine.” And then she just hung up like that. Really, she just left me hanging on the phone. Well, at least we had dinner first. She could not complain about her favourite restaurant (always told me she liked it). And there wasn’t anything new to see at the movies. So…I made sure that we were going to do something special that night. And I was really excited about things. She didn’t ask for the ticket, but I think she liked the seats (middle section, ten rows back). She had a beautiful outfit on, one I hadn’t seen before (I think). In the car, I found a radio station that played one of the musicians we were about to see. It was the bassist playing with an earlier quartet – very dull to hear it now; much better with the line he had tonight – and I explained that he was one of the people she would hear. She did not say a thing. It got quiet again. What to do, what to do… Well, I asked her again if she was excited (anniversary and all that). She said she really didn’t care about the music, didn’t she? Did not believe it at all.

We got to the parking lot and I found the tickets in the glove compartment, along with the flowers I knew she loved – roses; white and red – and then said, “Happy anniversary, baby!” At least we kissed for a bit and I knew that no one was around to bust us, even if she did push me away and opened the door for herself (chivalry is a dead animal, I guessed). We were there a few minutes before it all went down. I could see that they were still setting things up on stage for the group (one guy had the cable running from some speakers into a mixing board behind us – were they recording this one? Never found out).  She was so quiet when the lights went down. Couldn’t believe they were here. First time in our town. I almost jumped up and then had to repeat myself one more time: “Speak now, or…” Still, not a single word out of her… It was truly one of their best performances. Glorious, hotness and coolness, and then gloriosity (she hates it when I say things like that out loud, so I kept it to myself)! I am only thinking about that now because of what happened later. Never thought they’d play like that. Not like the records at all. There was a note hit by them that I had never felt before. It was really like the band got possessed by the demon that said they had to play for their lives. I just could not believe it. When I looked back, I could see the same guy with the cable looking just as lost as I was and drifting off into some dream in his head that they all just gave him…and me. Pure gloriousness, there. And my girl? She wasn’t saying anything. Like the rest of us, she was quiet. And I guess she didn’t know that he was gonna hit that note. I did. Didn’t say anything to let her know. And then, silent, like all the rest of us. Not a word. Like I said, at least we had dinner first because she said she had to use the bathroom as soon as the show was done (restroom, she said). We all filed out after the two hours that passed like it was church or something. Better than church, I think. At least you felt moved. Took her purse with her. That was strange to me because she was always asking me to hold it when we went out and she would only take out the things she needed. But this time… No big deal there. But she was down there for a while, so I went down to see what was going on. Could not find her by the doors of the restrooms, but there was nowhere else for her to go if she was down there. She said that she didn’t like that music. Total BS…and she proved it. Why was she talking to the bassist we just heard? I mean, the stage door was on the other side of the bathrooms and she was just there, right by the door to the parking lot talking to him and smiling and then looking at their bus. Why didn’t she tell me that she wanted to get on their bus for an autograph? I would have understood. Could have followed them if I got a heads up… I almost called out to her, but she was smiling, so…gloriously and her dress and everything was so nice (her lipstick was redone after our kiss and she had added something gold to her hair-do). And then she stepped outside. I was right by the doors and wondered and wondered about it all. A real anniversary and a real discovery. Some people really don’t know themselves at all; can’t even see what’s right in front of them. She really did like their music. Just had to give her a chance to prove it.