                   Yeah, I Know, but Mine Really Is Special

Everyone likes to think that their wedding is special and unique. But the truth is, if you’ve lived a long time it’s likely that you’ve been to many of them. In general, I’m not a fan of attending weddings. I go when they’re with people I like and for whom I’m happy. But they’re long and they follow a fairly predictable pattern:

1)  House of worship 2)  Vows 3)   Matching dresses/suits, 4)  Time lag between the ceremony and the reception, 5)  Cocktail hour, 6)  DJ 7)  Entrance of the bridal party 8)  Standard dinner menu 9)   Father-daughter/Mother-son dance 10) Catching of the bouquet/garter 11) Wedding cake

Of course not everyone does this, but it does seem to be the template that has continued to be followed. Consequently, with the exception of the bride and groom and their families, these events are likely to be forgotten by most, except for the residual remembrance of a nice feeling on witnessing an event where people are all united in celebrating something positive.

Weddings that stay in the mind of everyone in attendance forever, are those that have some dramatic, unexpected, component.

These could be: 1)    The bride or groom showing up horribly late, leaving people to imagine the worst 2)    A knock down drag out fight 3)    An inappropriate toast, revealing some better-to-be-kept-under-wraps, secret 4)    Food poisoning which affects all in attendance 5)    A celebrity in attendance

Having been to many, many weddings and not having had any of the above occurrences take place, there hasn’t been much to remember about nuptial celebrations.

At the risk of falling into the cliché offered at the beginning of this piece, I’d like to think that my and my wife’s(Allison) wedding is the exception. To be fair, we were a relatively older couple (53 and 44) and weddings at an older age are often less traditional. However, for a pair of fairly traditional people, we opted to deviate substantially from the cookie-cutter model. These were the elements of our wedding:

1)    House of worship-neither my wife nor myself is the least bit religious. I’ve seen many couples who, despite their lapsed beliefs and practices insist on being married at a religious institution for no other reason than it’s expected. Allison and I found a place where we could have the ceremony and the reception-An out building of a hospital which is used strictly to raise funds for the hospitals auxiliary activities. We were married by a cantor which was a nod to the fact that we both have a Jewish heritage despite not being in a temple except for funerals (and weddings) in many years. What is even more true is that the cantor was a long-time friend and we could ask her to dispense with the usual proscriptions about Jewish life which we would not be following and just sounded hypocritical.

2)    We did write our own vows which were not clever, or intentionally humorous, but they were heartfelt.

3)    We didn’t have a traditional bridal party. We went to our closest friends, and gave each a job. A few were selected to hold the canopy, one gave a reading, one helped officiate. My cousin played the guitar as we walked down the “aisle” which was the space between the rows of chairs on the veranda of the event space.

4)    There were no flowers. When my mother-In-law to be, shocked at this, asked Allison what she would be holding as she went down the aisle, she said, “the only thing I want to be holding is Ed’s hand”

5)    After the ceremony, everyone went into the space which we populated with small bistro tables. Old habits die hard and people were asking where they should sit. I kept saying “anywhere”.

6)    There was no traditional dinner. The wedding took place on a Sunday afternoon. We opted for very high end hors d'oeuvres. My in-laws upon hearing these plans a month earlier, informed the family they should eat before coming to the wedding.

7)    No DJ. No band. No dancing. A friend of ours who is a professional pianist plays in cabarets. As a wedding present he offered to provide music during the reception. In addition, our friends, many of whom our musical theatre performers stepped up to sing. So if you walked into this scene, and didn’t know it was a wedding, and it wasn’t 3 o’ clock on a Sunday you would think you walked into a piano bar. With talent. Minus the drunks, with the exception of one of my cousins.

8)    We did have a photographer, but at times he got so caught up in the entertainment that he forgot to take pictures. They weren’t good. Amazingly my drunk cousin took great pictures so I could forgive her for her slurred rendition of “I Will Always Love You”.

9)    No mother-son dance- my parents were long deceased (sad, but cuts down on the drama). No father-daughter dance. Allison’s parents had long given up on her getting married so they were just glad the wedding was happening.

10) No bouquet/garter throwing. We both find this grotesque.

11) We did have a cake (chocolate/hazelnut-which is apparently, not done but it’s what we like). As a topper on the cake there was an EZ-Pass. Of course everyone was surprised and amused and it gave me the opportunity to tell the story that this was the first gift I ever gave to Allison. It was to make it easier (and less expensive) for her to cross the George Washington Bridge to get to me. I decided to leave out of the story the fact that I hate to drive and I would have given Allison ten EZ passes and a Toyota Camry if it meant I wouldn’t have to drive to central New Jersey.

   While I still don’t like going to weddings, I would have been more than happy to have been a guest at mine.


From: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) To: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) Time/Date: 5:36pm, July 18, 2024 Subject: This weekend Hey Andy, Just letting you know that I can’t make your BBQ this weekend. I was looking forward to having a few beers with you and the guys and maybe playing a few hands of poker once the eating is done, but I have to head to Albany in the morning. Remember my Uncle Arthur? Don’t worry, I don’t either. (Well, a little.) Anyway, he passed away a few days ago and his sister - my Aunt Bonnie out in Wisconsin - contacted me this morning to inform me that he left “certain assets” to me in his will. Most intriguing! I won’t know the details for a while but Bonnie begged me to go to his house in Albany right away to take care of his cats and locate some important documents in his library. (My recently-deceased uncle who named me in his will was wealthy enough to have a personal library? The plot thickens…) Anyway, I’m packing a bag and planning to stay up there for a little while to help manage affairs at the house and work with Bonnie on the local funeral arrangements while she lines up a flight over the next few days. Not much else to do at the moment as I await my next work assignment but I should be back by this time next week. In the meantime, you know how to reach me. Tell the boys I said hola. - Jamie ---------------------------------------------------- From: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) To: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) Time/Date: 7:48pm, July 18, 2024 Subject: Re: This weekend Hey Jamie, Sorry you can’t make it this weekend. Me and the guys will look forward to the next poker game after you score your big inheritance. Crazy news, man. Barely known rich uncle dies and leaves you a possible fortune? The stuff of legends…or daydreams? LOL. Anyway, good luck there. (Don’t forget your old college roommate when you strike it rich!) See you when you get back. Talk soon man. Andy ---------------------------------------------------- From: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) To: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) Time/Date: 6:12pm, July 20, 2024 Subject: Re: This weekend Hey Andy, Greetings from gloomy Albany! Hasn’t stopped raining since I got here. Also, I’m fairly certain these cats are plotting my demise. Other than that, things are fine and the house is basically a smallish mansion. Listen to this, while searching for the documents that my Aunt Bonnie asked me to find for her in the library I found some really interesting old books. I think we might have some pretty rare first editions here, plus some other really strange stuff. I need to do a little web research tonight to try to figure out what I’m looking at but I’ll let you know.

As a newly-minted Ivy League literature professor I thought you would be interested. Maybe I will come home with a copy of In Cold Blood signed by Capote for you?

- Jamie ---------------------------------------------------- From: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) To: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) Time/Date: 11:22am, July 21, 2024 Subject: Re: This weekend Hey Jamie, Very interesting! Bring home a signed Capote first edition for me and we can totally forget about that $80 Venmo request I sent you for golf last week. Seriously though, that sounds really amazing. Looking forward to hearing more. Andy p.s. The guys all say hello and they missed your "easy money" at the poker game last night. (Their words, not mine.) ---------------------------------------------------- From: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) To: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) Time/Date: 9:52pm, July 22, 2024 Subject: Re: This weekend Andy, In addition to Capote’s In Cold Blood , so far I have already found four more signed first edition iconic novels; Heart of Darkness, To Kill A Mockingbird, The Illustrated Man and - hold on to your hat here - A Tale of Two Cities ! No telling if the autographs are legit but I don’t know why my uncle would be hoarding counterfeit-signed copies in his home library. More research necessary here but I have attached photos of the covers, bindings and the author-signed pages in each. The library has floor-to-ceiling shelves full of books on three walls and I have only checked out about a third of them so far. Stay tuned! - Jamie ---------------------------------------------------- From: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) To: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) Time/Date: 9:36am, July 23, 2024 Subject: Re: This weekend Hey Jamie, Okay listen. Just give me the Dickens novel and not only will I cancel the $80 Venmo request, but golf is on me for the rest of the year. I think that’s a fair deal. Seriously man, I just did a quick bit of Googling here and those books do look like legit first edition copies and the signatures look right too. Usually people take these sort of things to Sotheby’s or Christie’s, where they employ rare book experts who can authenticate them properly. Even if they’re not going to be put up for sale this is probably a good idea, just to officially document these historical items. Can’t wait to hear what you find next. I’m seriously on the edge of my seat here! Andy ---------------------------------------------------- From: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) To: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) Time/Date: 11:45pm, July 24, 2024 Subject: Okay, this is getting weird now… Andy, Forget about the signed first editions. I am into some strange new terrain here. Yesterday I found a number of extremely interesting books way up on one of the top shelves I hadn’t explored yet. Listen to this. I found a copy of For Whom The Bell Tolls by William Faulkner. Yes, William Faulkner! And it wasn’t just a different author’s name transposed onto the cover. It was the same third-person omniscient narrative of the Spanish Civil War, only it wasn’t written in the short staccato sentence styles and brief paragraphing of Hemingway but the long, leisurely prose of Faulkner. I’m not even a fan of Faulkner and I couldn’t put it down! Similarly, I also found a copy of The Catcher in the Rye by Dalton Trumbo and The Iliad by EE Cummings! (Seriously, I can’t make this up.) Still so many more books to look through. I am simply overwhelmed here. Stay tuned. - Jamie ---------------------------------------------------- From: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) To: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) Time/Date: 7:51am, July 25, 2024 Subject: Re: Okay, this is getting weird now… Jamie, Okay. You’re just fucking with me now, right? You had me going with the thought of all those rare, signed first editions, but that’s at least within my fathomable universe. What you just described has to be a joke. Come on, man. What about the funeral plans? Isn’t that a big reason why you are there? Andy ---------------------------------------------------- From: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) To: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) Time/Date: 11:56pm, July 28, 2024 Subject: Okay, this is getting weird now… Hey Andy, You’re right. I have been negligent in my funeral arrangement duties of late. I accidentally let my phone battery die out, not sure when. The truth is that I haven’t slept much in the last few days. This continues to get more and more fascinating. And no, I wasn’t kidding about those strange books I mentioned in my last message. But never mind that. I am into some truly bizarre territory now. I found some old 3-ring binders filled with dot matrix printed files listing the daily opening and closing numbers of each of the stocks contained in the Dow Jones Industrial Index running from January 1, 1977 through December 31, 2026. Andy, it has accurate stock performance data through the end of 2026! I’m sure you think I am kidding again (or maybe just crazy) but I have been watching those stock prices over the last few days and my God man they are accurate right down to the last decimal point! You think I’m joking? Here’s a random selection for tomorrow for you to check out. Merck & Co. (ticker symbol NYSE: MRK) will open the trading day at $154.34 and it will close at $156.12 per share with a total of 7.126 million shares in overall trading volume. I’m sure you won’t but you can literally bet the house on it. I guarantee it. - Jamie ---------------------------------------------------- From: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) To: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) Time/Date: 9:41pm, July 29, 2024 Subject: Re: Okay, this is getting weird now… Jamie, I don’t know what to say at this point. I have been thinking about this since the market closed about 5 hours ago and I have no idea how you were able to make that prediction with such accuracy. I would call it dumb luck but I actually opened up Excel and took the time to do a little statistical modeling and what I found was that a stock prediction with that level of precision is basically like calling out the next day’s lottery numbers. Not quite that improbable but close enough that I am simply baffled. I need answers, because I just can’t believe you found an old set of stock market printouts from almost 50 years ago that can perfectly predict what will happen tomorrow. I’ve tried to call you several times but it goes straight to vmail every time and your mailbox is full. You gotta get back to me asap. I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep until you do. Funeral plans? Still a concern? Andy ---------------------------------------------------- From: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) To: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) Time/Date: 2:13am, August 1, 2024 Subject: Whole new level Hey Andy, Forget about the stock market. Forget about the rare first edition signed books. Those things are trivial. At least for now.

I just found a medical manual that seems to contain advanced diagnostic techniques and curative/surgical treatments for most common, and some uncommon, forms of cancer and various other deadly diseases. I am only about halfway through it and without the benefit of a medical background it is taking me forever to research the basic terminology needed just to understand this even on a rudimentary level, but if it’s true it’s an incredible discovery and I owe it to the world to get this into the right hands once I can at least confirm its basic legitimacy.

I can’t say when I will be able to call you or even write back since my time is so limited now. I don’t see this changing anytime soon. Who knows what I will find next? So much more to still be explored. I can’t worry about the funeral arrangements right now either. Before my phone died I got a message from my Aunt Bonnie saying that she had some health problems that were preventing her from flying in. I can’t remember the details but that’s just going to have to wait for now. I have far more important concerns at this point. - Jamie p.s. I have discovered a number of old hand-written notes, presumably penned by my late Uncle Arthur, warning anyone who comes across these documents against sharing them in any way. The writing is rambling and paranoid in nature and some of the warnings give me pause but how could anyone possibly just sit on all this? It would be immoral, no? ---------------------------------------------------- From: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) To: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) Time/Date: 8:51am, August 2, 2024 Subject: Re: Whole new level Hey Jamie, I just hope you are all right. Maybe it’s time to take a break? You were supposed to be back here a week ago. Are the cats okay at least? Andy ---------------------------------------------------- From: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) To: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) Time/Date: 3:45am, August 5, 2024 Subject: Re: Whole new level Hi Andy, I let the cats out a few days ago when all of the remaining cat food ran out. Don’t think I’ve seen them since. Not sure. They should be okay. It’s summer. Dude, you wouldn’t even believe what I’m looking at now. No time to explain but I will get back to you when I can. Not planning to head home anytime soon. - Jamie p.s. Please see the attached file containing stock market data for the next two years. I just ask that you don’t share this with anyone else. “Law of Unintended Consequences” and all that. ---------------------------------------------------- From: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) To: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) Time/Date: 7:51am, August 6, 2024 Subject: Re: Whole new level Jamie, I‘m really getting worried about you man. Please call me. Your Friend, Andy ---------------------------------------------------- From: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) To: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) Time/Date: 4:37pm, January 1, 2029 Subject: Re: Whole new level Andy, Happy New Year! Don’t worry about me. I am well. Not sure if I will ever see “you” again (that is, the “present day” you) but that is primarily a temporal and theoretical question. I have a set of guidelines to follow and I will soon find out where all the boundaries lay. I will fill you in (whatever version of “you” that might be) whenever I see you next! Stay healthy. It might be a while...for you anyway. - Jamie ---------------------------------------------------- From: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) To: James Benson (jben****@gmail.com) Time/Date: 7:01am, August 9, 2024 Subject: Re: Whole new level Jamie, How did you change the timestamp on your email like that? Seriously, stop messing with me. What’s going on? I am really having a hard time with all of this. Can we please just talk? Andy p.s. They announced that a potential breakthrough cure had been found for various types of cancer and other diseases on the news today. I really don’t know what to think at this point. p.p.s. Thanks so much for the stock market data you forwarded. I plan to pay off my mortgage before the end of this month! ---------------------------------------------------- From: mailer-daemon@gmail.com To: Anders Westbrook (ande****@cornell.edu) Time/Date: 7:02am, August 9, 2024 Subject: Delivery Failure Notice: Re: Whole new level Sorry, we were unable to deliver your message to: <jben****@gmail.com> The email account that you tried to reach does not exist. Please try double-checking the recipient's email address for typos and try again. THE END


Wood crackled and glowed in a brick fireplace. If you stared at it long enough with a cup of cocoa engulfed in your hands and had a woolen blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you could've fallen asleep. But the ominous goings on surrounding the mantle suggest otherwise. An old, wrinkly lady rocked back and forth in her faded green rocking chair. She was sitting adjacent to the fireplace keeping warm by the heat of the flames and was watching her favorite show, jeopardy. Her beady eyes squinted at the glow of the little t.v., scrutinizing the letters on the board being presented to the audience. She raised a cigarette to her lips with a shaky hand and sucked in. This was the most active part of her day. From across the room and past the custom made, red stone staircase, around the corner of the dining table that could seat twelve; and past the wood burning stove in the kitchen, the old, rackety kitchen door swung open with a long creak. The old lady didn't bat an eyelash, she didn't hear it open. A tall, dark haired gentleman in a tailored, pin striped suit stalked in, following the opening kitchen door. He made his way in and stopped at an angle in front of the old lady. She exhaled and let the smoke dissipate among the antique wooden beams in the high ceiling. The young gentleman stared at her, but she didn't notice. She just took another smoke and stared at the t.v. "Mother, I need to use the basement again," The man in the tailored suit said. There was a moment of silence. The old lady waved the cigarette from her face and glanced upward with a frightful smile. "How wonderful dear! Are you having guests over again? You must tell me these things beforehand, so I can have my smoke and put my pack away before they come in. I wouldn't want to scandalize anybody with my bad habit!" The gentleman rolled his gaze over the ash that sprinkled the carpet around the faded green rocking chair, then raised his eyes to the overflowing ash tray on the mahogany side table. He remained mute about the scene. "Don't worry mother," said the gentleman shortly, "it's only Dr. Sullivan, and his, er- his friend that are coming over." The gentleman stared coldly at the old lady, but she did not seem to notice. " Oh, how nice." Her voice was sickening sweet and high pitched; not altogether unusual though. The gentleman's gaze hardened, but he didn't say anything. The old lady croaked, "I do love it when Dr. Sullivan brings his friends. They are really the most interesting people I've ever heard of." She was almost enthusiastic at those last words. The old lady helped herself to the ends of her smoke and then smashed the cigarette into the overflowing ash tray. " Yes, well, don't let us bother you, Mother," the pinned striped gentleman said harshly, "the doctor's friend has had a bit too much tonight and er-, we gotta get 'im inside before the neighbors wake up." "I understand perfectly." At that, the man showed a shadow of a wince. The old lady rubbed the ash from her hands onto her worn out night gown then turned back to the show, her thin mouth shut tight as if she had not spoken in years. The young gentleman turned on his heel and went back out the kitchen door. It was pitch black outside. There weren't very many neighbors up in the hills surrounding the old lady's house, just two. One neighbor's house was to the left of the kitchen door if you're facing outside, and another across the street, nestled behind a long private drive. The little doctor was standing against a black Cadillac, beads of sweat racing down his forehead. He rubbed his moist palms on his sides and brought them in and out of his pockets indecisively. He was keeping a watchful eye on both of the neighbors' dark houses. The gentleman walked brusquely down the foot stone path from the kitchen, startling the greasy doctor. The doctor's eyes bulged out of his head as he stuttered out, "Jeffery," he pronounced his syllables very distinctly, "I think I saw someone looking out that neighbor's upstairs window," the doctor also had a raspy voice, "what if they saw us?" The gentleman in the pinned striped suit looked down at his Celtic comrade. " Relax, Sullivan," he commanded, " no one, lives in that house except an old man with Dementia," the gentleman paused, then added, "and some cats." The doctor still looked uncertain. " Across the street that neighbor is considered legally blind. If you ever see him driving a tractor though, it's none of our business. You know what I mean?" The doctor was confused but nodded. " Now, how's your cold friend doing, doctor?" The man in the suit asked. " Oh, he's doing just fine Jefferey, just fine. Been as silent as a rock this whole time." he added with a slight chuckle. The man in the suit stepped towards the back of the car. The doctor inhaled sharply as he opened up the trunk. There was a large black bag, almost six feet in length sitting in there. It looked like it weighed about 165 pounds. The man in the suit started pulling at it, whilst the doctor was still glancing around at the rural neighbors suspiciously, wiping his sweaty brow. " I don't like it," he said rubbing his hands together, "no, no I don't like it." " Will you relax and grab the other end Sullivan? I can't carry it all by myself." The doctor jerked his body in the direction of the bag in the trunk and scooped up the other end. The two men lifted it and started to walk up the path toward the kitchen door, carrying the large black bag on both ends. The gentleman at the front was walking backwards, facing the doctor. " Now, Doctor, remember to breathe. You've done this a dozen times." " Yes, but not so close to halloween," he said looking side to side. "Don't be a child, doctor" the man in the suit said pitilessly. " No, honest and truly I don't like the feeling right now. It feels like someone is looking straight at my,-oh!" At the cry the doctor dropped his end of the bag and there was heard an offended sound of hissing. The doctor leapt back in fear. " What.. is it Doctor?" the gentleman seethed out. "Oh, I-, I think I stepped on a cat," the doctor was very much agitated and scratching his head. The gentleman rolled his eyes upward, remembering the doctor's phobia for feline creatures. He looked to the left and saw the silhouette of a cat dart into the bushes. " Come on now, doctor it's gone. Pick up Mr. Kreuzenstein's feet. We don't want to leave dirty tracks on mother dearest's floor." He said the last line with a vile smirk. " Alright, Jeffery." The doctor picked up Mr. Kreuzenstein's other end and walked toward the kitchen into the house. " Doctor, " the gentleman strictly said once the trio passed the dining table that seated twelve," we are putting Mr. Kreuzenstein in the basement." A look of dire reluctance overcame the doctor. "Oh no Jeffery, I can't go into the basement again. Is there even anymore room? Oh, you know I can't. I can't spend another night again down there, aching and sweating. Please, Jeff, have a heart. For my sake, I'll help you put him down there. But that's it. Please." The doctor looked up with pleading, desperate eyes. The man in the pinned striped suit returned a cold menacing stare. " Doctor, you know you're duty." The doctor knew he had no choice. " Alright, Jeffrey, you win. But please let this be the last time." But the man said nothing and continued on. They walked past the custom made, red stone staircase where the door to the basement was off to the right. The gentleman reached back and opened the door with one arm and proceeded to step downward and backwards on the steps into the basement. The doctor looked to the left into the living room where the old lady sat rocking back and forth in her faded green rocker. Another cigarette was lit up in her hand, smoke billowing about her as if she could've breathed fire out her ears. " Your mother is always the same Jefferey. Every time she is the same. She rocks back and forth like this, raises a cigarette up and breathes the smoke in and out like a dragon." The man in the suit shot him a look and the doctor shut his mouth and said no more. The old lady scared the doctor half to death, he laughed nervously. The odd companions and their cold friend reached the end of their descent down the basement steps. The gentleman and the doctor released the bag and let it hit the floor with a heavy thud. The gentleman in the tailored suit flipped on a switch and a single light bulb turned on, producing an eerie ambiance much suited to the situation at hand. "Alright doctor, let us begin. Where did we go last time?" The doctor looked around the basement. " Last time Jeff, we were in that corner, over there to the right." The man in the suit glanced in that direction and then looked to the opposite side. " Okay then, we'll get to work over there," he said motioning to the corner on the left. The doctor nodded and walked over to a little closet under the basement steps and pulled out two shovels. He handed one to the gentleman. " We are going to make Mr. Kreuzenstein a nice bed to stay in, eh, Jefferey? " The other man only pursed his lips together grimly, removed his coat and neatly rolled up his white shirt sleeves. He then stabbed the shovel into the earthen floor and began digging. The doctor pulled out a flask and took several long gulps. He let out a sigh and said to himself, " Yes, we'll make a nice bed for Mr. Kreuzenstein." He licked the whiskey from his lips and went to work. After hours of digging, at nearly two in the morning, the two men finished Mr. Kreuzenstein's "bed". The man in the tailored suit hopped up and lended a hand to his short friend and yanked him upwards. " Alright Doctor, it is time to lay Mr. Kreuzenstien to rest. As you can see he's had a very long journey." They both looked down at the six foot bag laying limply on the floor. The doctor mumbled, " Yes, across five states in the trunk of our car, giving us no time for rest and we breaking our backs for hours here- ," the doctor stopped, "Mr. Kreuzenstein must be exhausted." The doctor wiped his brow again and took another swig out of the flask and said to the bag, " I hope you appreciate our hard-," The gentleman interrupted, "No one will know where he is now and there's no possibility it can be traced back to us . Isn't that correct, Doctor?" The doctor hesitated as he noticed the man's white collared shirt. There was no trace of dirt on it, remarkably. The doctor thought for a moment then nodded in agreement. "Yes, yes Jefferey. Let us hurry up now and lay Mr. Kreuzenstein down, shall we?" He took another long swig of whiskey. " I don't want to be down in this cursed basement any longer than we need to be." The gentleman assented and he and the doctor picked up the bag and on the count of three, tossed it in the ground. The doctor looked down at Mr. Kreuzentstein and gave a little cry. The gentleman in the suit looked aggressively at the doctor in irritation. "What?" The doctor pointed into the hole. The man walked over and glanced down. A single foot was sticking out of the bag. " He's missing his shoe!" The doctor exclaimed. The gentleman's face changed just a shade lighter. "Well, where is it?" The doctor thought for a moment and said, " Wait a second." He dashed up the basement stairs like a deer and ran through the house and out back through the kitchen where they had entered. He walked unevenly on the foot stones in the grass to where he had stepped on the cat. A single shoe lay there. The doctor looked upward in gratitude, swayed a little, then snatched it up and quickly ran back to the basement. He tossed the shoe in neatly next to its silent owner. " Well done, doctor." The gentleman in the suit said grimly. The doctor downed the rest of his whiskey and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He gave a weak smile. " Let's finish up." The man in the suit said. Still out of breath, the doctor said, "Yes, Jefferey let's finish this up." They both picked up their shovels and reversed the digging process. "Bon Voyage, Mr. Kreuzenstein," said the doctor. The two men walked back up the stairs when the earthen floor in the basement was flat once more. It was half passed three. They walked into the living room where the old lady was still in her rocker, unaware of the present moment. The gentleman in the tailored suit stopped next to her. " I'm going now, mother." The old lady turned toward the gentleman. " Did the doctor and his friend have a nice time?" The doctor stood back and nodded nervously. "Alwa-ays a p-pleasure, ma'am," he said with a wry smile and slight stutter. " Good, doctor. I hope you don't mind the smoke, I know how much you must disapprove of my habit." She gave another frightful smile. The doctor could only return a nervous nod. " Do come back soon, dear." " Of course, mother. The doctor and I will be going now." The old lady turned back suddenly toward the t.v as if she hadn't had a conversation at all. The doctor and the gentleman turned on their heels and marched out. The doctor seemed to be musing over something as they were walking on the footpath toward the black car and then he cried in a whisper, "Jefferey, what if the cops find out she's your mother? Wouldn't we be caught, dead? All they need to do is have one stop here and we're-!" He a made a slicing motion with his forefinger across his throat. His comrade was silent. The poor doctor went white and broke out in a sweat all over again, rubbing his hands together. "What if they connect all those crimes here, to her basement? And then they find it was us?" The gentleman in the tailored suit gave a ruthless smirk. " Relax doctor, relax." "But Jefferey, oh, what if she suspects something?" The gentleman stopped and stared hard into the eyes of his nervous comrade. "Doctor," he said, " we shan't be caught." "How are you so sure?" The gentleman's smirk returned as he took out a cigarette and lit it. He took his time while the doctor waited anxiously. He lifted the cigarette up , sucked it in and breathed out. He said, "I know we shan't be caught because that old lady isn't my mother." The gentleman exhaled the smoke into the night air casually. The doctor just stared. "She has Alzheimers and she thinks I'm her son." continued the gentleman. The doctor was silent then he smiled. "Oh, this is wonderful Jeffery." He said, almost with a laugh. " So we just use her basement whenever we want because she thinks you're her son, eh. She has no idea, huh? Who's all down there? Every time? Oh, you are too much, Jeffery, too much." The doctor was chuckling, slapping his thigh and then laughing maniacally. He stopped and regained composure, and wiped the tears from his eyes. He looked up as another thought struck him and stared at the gentleman for a moment, then said, "But what happened to her son, Jefferey?" The man in the tailored suit smirked deviously again and took another smoke before speaking. "He died a terrible death, Doctor. " He said staring at nothing in front of him. " How... how...how do you know that, Jefferey?" The gentleman in the pinned striped suit took another smoke and glanced sideways at the doctor. " You should know, Doc. You helped me bury him."


Space is a dark, low abyss. Let me tell you how we got here. Hi, I’m Alvin, Alvin Reid and I’m recording this space journal after our space collision. We were traveling through a high-speed orbit and one of out ide panel got detached and a few wires seemed to be damaged when a fleet of asteroids appeared in front of our ship. I’m no expert so I called the space Centre control room through radio communication and headed out with my space partner, Henry Pavarotti.The second reason I’m recording this journal is to rant about how annoying Henry is. Who sent him with me? This seemed like a joint plot that people may have planned against me to take revenge for every single time I rushed to the bathroom as soon as the bill came to our table .I had no idea I was digging my grave all the while thinking to myself how cheeky yet smart I had been to dodge the payment yet again. When all the participants of the pace training experiment fell away, I had an itchy feeling in my gut that something was amiss. I Thought that going to Mars as a test subject would get me lots of recognition and most of all Cash but sadly this was not to be. The space company sponsored my wife and kids, through their school and other expenses as insurance if I don’t make it. No cash but a pile of Trash. Having Henry around is Painful in the least. I don’t understand how he stays so positive even though everything around us has gone up in flames and our spaceship wiring is banjaxed from various angles. we both were hanging outside the space shuttle trying to fix the wiring and the damaged panel. Suddenly henry sees that his space cord is unplugged. I must hold on to him for dear life. HIS dear life, so he could use my cord and get back in the spaceship. I had to do this while trying to take instructions from the space station and trying to fix the wiring as well. Instead of going back inside, Henry insists on giving me company and blabbers on relentlessly about his puppy at home who pooped on his carpet and dragged his behind all the way down to the front porch. The puppy took its own sweet time fumigating Henry’s entire hall. When Henry come down from the washroom he smells the Hall and it reeks to high heaven, but henry being henry says :”Aah ,the smell of fertilizer, I feel blessed .”Who has spread this blessing within my home?Ah was it you Poppy, I should rename you as Poopy, ”PROVIDER of FERTILIZER ”.Kind of cute right? “Henry asked. “Not what I feel” I replied. That guy was supposed to take the opportunity to discipline his puppy while it was small, and this is what he does. I on the other hand, am someone who enjoys peace and quiet. Not a people person really, But I’m not completely antisocial, I like to meet family and a few close friends. We are twelve days away from Mars, but our ship has broken down and we are still looking for further instructions from the technician if only Henry would stop chiming in to ask them about food supplies. Food supplies would be needed to survive although this was second to a lack of oxygen in due time, we had plants on board to provide us with oxygen as they photosynthesized but who knows how long this would last. But at this moment, I knew that henry had grown on me like mold that grows in a bathroom that hadn’t been cleaned in like forever. And boy, that felt warm. Having someone beside me even if it was this godforsaken Henry. Working with him in this dark place where no other life form would comfort me, Henry felt like fertilizer to my soul. Although it stank, it still gave me enough nourishment to help me grow and work in a difficult position, during times of scarcity and built me from the inside out. Therefore, I can express myself in this space record of mine. Drifting in space, we felt that we had to keep each other company. Henry misses poppy and his pooped filled shenanigans. I missed my wife to the umpteenth degree but I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell her or show her to that effect. I don’t know how long I’ll be in space till a backup spaceship comes and takes us back to earth. I’m going to bide my time and I’m going to tell henry to his face that he sucks big time. I believe it will relieve him of him oxygen faster than mine when he exhausts himself when he’s angry, then I can be peaceful and at peace. I’ll try it today and record its aftereffects maybe henry will be quiet once he realizes his oxygen is limited. He didn’t know anything about the plants that made oxygen and how will it be deposited into our suits to use. We have no idea we are awaiting correspondence from the space Centre to ask them this. We had come back inside the spaceship floating around impatiently. This was the moment I thought to infuriate Henry. I screamed at him “Henry! I hate your poop faced dog and I hate you! you have been nothing but a pain in the behind since you got here “I don’t care if you die in this ship I have half a mind to push you out so that I never see your face again!!!.Henry looked at me with his deep brown eyes but didn’t reply for quite some time. “then he turned his face towards me and said:” I didn’t know you felt like that and tried to float towards me with his hands outstretched and instead of getting angry he enveloped me in a warm hug .”Let me know more “he whispered. I realized that I had made a friend for life. I had such anger towards him, but I was shocked by his kind and mellow response in the face of ultimate despair. “I’m never letting you go “I replied hugging him back. And so in the face of hopelessness, hatred and anger we became bosom buddies. I don’t care if we don’t get back to earth, I have all I want right here with me in this moment.A story about two main characters in the dark recess of space. Space is a dark, low abyss. Let me tell you how we got here. Hi, I’m Alvin, Alvin Reid and I’m recording this space journal after our space collision. We were traveling through a high-speed orbit and one of the side panels got detached and a few wires seemed to be damaged when a fleet of asteroids appeared in front of our ship. I’m no expert so I called the space Centre control room through radio communication and headed out with my space partner, Henry Pavarotti.The second reason I’m recording this journal is to rant about how annoying Henry is. Who sent him with me? This seemed like a joint plot that people may have planned against me to take revenge for every single time I rushed to the bathroom as soon as the bill came to our table .I had no idea I was digging my grave all the while thinking to myself how cheeky yet smart I had been to dodge the payment yet again. When all the participants of the pace training experiment fell away, I had an itchy feeling in my gut that something was amiss. I Thought that going to Mars as a test subject would get me lots of recognition and most of all Cash but sadly this was not to be. The space company sponsored my wife and kids, through their school and other expenses as insurance if I don’t make it. No cash but a pile of Trash. Having Henry around is Painful in the least. I don’t understand how he stays so positive even though everything around us has gone up in flames and our spaceship wiring is banjaxed from various angles. we both were hanging outside the space shuttle trying to fix the wiring and the damaged panel. Suddenly henry sees that his space cord is unplugged. I must hold on to him for dear life. HIS dear life, so he could use my cord and get back in the spaceship. I had to do this while trying to take instructions from the space station and trying to fix the wiring as well. Instead of going back inside, Henry insists on giving me company and blabbers on relentlessly about his puppy at home who pooped on his carpet and dragged his behind all the way down to the front porch. The puppy took its own sweet time fumigating Henry’s entire hall. When Henry come down from the washroom he smells the Hall and it reeks to high heaven, but henry being henry says :”Aah ,the smell of fertilizer, I feel blessed .”Who has spread this blessing within my home?Ah was it you Poppy, I should rename you as Poopy, ”PROVIDER of FERTILIZER ”.Kind of cute right? “Henry asked. “Not what I feel” I replied. That guy was supposed to take the opportunity to discipline his puppy while it was small, and this is what he does. I on the other hand, am someone who enjoys peace and quiet. Not a people person really, But I’m not completely antisocial, I like to meet family and a few close friends. We are twelve days away from Mars, but our ship has broken down and we are still looking for further instructions from the technician if only Henry would stop chiming in to ask them about food supplies. Food supplies would be needed to survive although this was second to a lack of oxygen in due time, we had plants on board to provide us with oxygen as they photosynthesized but who knows how long this would last. But at this moment, I knew that henry had grown on me like mold that grows in a bathroom that hadn’t been cleaned in like forever. And boy, that felt warm. Having someone beside me even if it was this godforsaken Henry. Working with him in this dark place where no other life form would comfort me, Henry felt like fertilizer to my soul. Although it stank, it still gave me enough nourishment to help me grow and work in a difficult position, during times of scarcity and built me from the inside out. Therefore, I can express myself in this space record of mine. Drifting in space, we felt that we had to keep each other company. Henry misses poppy and his pooped filled shenanigans. I missed my wife to the umpteenth degree but I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell her or show her to that effect. I don’t know how long I’ll be in space till a backup spaceship comes and takes us back to earth. I’m going to bide my time and I’m going to tell henry to his face that he sucks big time. I believe it will relieve him of him oxygen faster than mine when he exhausts himself when he’s angry, then I can be peaceful and at peace. I’ll try it today and record its aftereffects maybe henry will be quiet once he realizes his oxygen is limited. He didn’t know anything about the plants that made oxygen and how will it be deposited into our suits to use. We have no idea we are awaiting correspondence from the space Centre to ask them this. We had come back inside the spaceship floating around impatiently. This was the moment I thought to infuriate Henry. I screamed at him “Henry! I hate your poop faced dog and I hate you! you have been nothing but a pain in the behind since you got here “I don’t care if you die in this ship I have half a mind to push you out so that I never see your face again!!!.Henry looked at me with his deep brown eyes but didn’t reply for quite some time. “then he turned his face towards me and said:” I didn’t know you felt like that and tried to float towards me with his hands outstretched and instead of getting angry he enveloped me in a warm hug .”Tell me more “he whispered. I realized that I had made a friend for life. I had such anger towards him, but I was shocked by his kind and mellow response in the face of ultimate despair. “I’m never letting you go “I replied hugging him back. And so in the face of hopelessness, hatred and anger we became bosom buddies. I don’t care if we don’t get back to earth, I have all I want right here with me in this moment.


The Japanese concept of Ma has been described as a pause in time, an interval or emptiness in space. Ma is the time and space life needs to breath, to feel and connect. If we have no time, if our space is restricted, we cannot grow. This universal principle applies to every aspect of life. It was the first town since the bus had crossed the border. The small and provincial town that lies in the middle of a valley, surrounded by farms and the mountains in the distance. It arrived at 7:30 pm when the sun was still up and it would be until 10 pm as usual for these far lands. Mundo stepped out of the bus and looked around. He had no money left since he had bought a ticket to get across the border. A new country with a new language against Mundos' backpack and his spirit. Meanwhile, the evening streets were almost empty, only few people were going up and down minding their own business but it looked all right, no crowds were needed at this place. After a long ride Mundo was starving and all he could think about was food, so he decided to have his dinner at the park. Some nutritious cereals with strawberry jam should satisfy the emptiness of his stomach. While he was crossing the road, a motorcycle crossed his way. Out of blue a driver had slipped in front of him and then turned back to Mundo. They were looking at each other for a few seconds, then the driver lost his interest. "It was so quiet, I couldn't even hear the sound of his moto, it probably was an electric one" thought Mundo. While he was eating in the park he made a sign using his marker. "Ride for free". Usually, it helped him in his previous adventures. He had finished the dinner and started off going down the streets to the end of the city. There was a place where he wanted to hitchhike. It was supposed to be his first hitchhike in this country and he had no idea how it should work here. In an hour of walking, he ended up on the outskirts, close to a gasoline station. It had been a while since he started trying to stop a car and the sun was wrapping up the whole valley and its town however no cars had stopped. Mundos' plan was to stand here for twenty or more minutes and then go to camp but like always life had its own plan for him tonight and someone honked him behind. Mundo turned around. "Hello," a voice said. "Hi!" Mundo answered politely trying to see the face of a stranger. The guy was sitting on his electrical motorcycle smiling. He had driven a little bit closer to Mundo and turned off the engine, so the barely audible sound of the moto had ceased at all. He put out a phone and opened some kind of translator that Mundo had never seen before in other countries. The stranger started to write something and then a translator voiced words that explouded the silence of an inevitably upcoming night. "I saw you a few hours ago at the bus station. Who are you?" He passed to Mundo his phone. "Yes, I saw you too," Mundo said and blew his nose. The voice started to utter words that neither of them knew. "No, no," answered the boy rapidly and started to switch something in his phone, then passed it to Mundo one more time. "Yes... I also saw you there," repeated Mundo. The lovely voice started to voice an unknown language and the boy took his phone back and leaned against his ear, after he nodded and then smiled. He started to write a new message but it always took some time of him, meanwhile, Mundo was trying to stop cars but it didn't do any good. The vehicles of any kind as though they were soulless mechanisms with no living, home-hurrying, and warmhearted creatures at the steering wheels were passing by and didn't pay any attention to him. "What are you doing? May I ask?" the mechanical voice said and gained Mundos' attention off of the road again. "I am a traveler," Mundo said into the telephone and showed his sign to the boy "Now I am trying to stop a car" The boy looked at the sign and nodded a few times. Then he said by himself: "I anderstend" and smiled. Mundo smiled back timidly and reached out his pocket to take some clean tissues for his nose but they had ran out. The guy got off the moto, stepped ahead to Mundo, and continued to write a new message. Now his appearance was more clear to Mundo. He had a short haircut that looked quite neat compared to Mundos' long and tree-days-unwashed hairs, old, rather dirty than white sneakers and sports pants with some dull hoodie. His clean and shaved face looked young and he probably was the same age as Mundo. "No cars would stop here. It is getting dark. Can I help you? I want to take you to a hostel where you can sleep." Mundo finished reading the message and looked at him closely. The boy switched the languages and leaned forward the phone for Mundo to speak. A few seconds there was silence and the translator turned himself off unexpecting to record anyone's voice, so the boy looked at Mundo questioningly. Mundo looked at the road hesitantly, then at the boy. His thoughts and the situation were slink and uncertain. Again he looked at the boy and again at the road, then he sighed and said: "Thanks a lot, but I do not go to a hostel right now. I want to go to the next city. Thank you." The robotic voice started to utter it all over again. Then a car stopped by. It was driving out of a gas station. Mundo smiled at the driver, full of hope, and pointed out at himself then at the car, suggesting to the boy translate the story of Mundo. The boy nodded and they started to speak their language. In a minute the driver looked at Mundo and negatively shook her head. She was sorry. The opposite direction. No luck. "Okay, thank you," said Mundo sadly in English. The car went forward and dissolved into the evening lights of the city. It had become dark and even Mundo had already realized it was pointless to continue. He asked for the phone and the boy opened up the translator one more time. "Well, thank you for help! I think I will go now," said Mundo and sniffed his nose. "Will you go to a hostel?" asked the boy "Probably I will." answered Mundo, trying to finish it as soon as possible. In a minute Mundo had disappeared into bushes where he started his way to some peaceful and quiet place for a tent even though he didn't know any particular ones. He was quickly walking along some fields with plants and seeds, hoping to get over them as soon as possible and find a good spot for his tent. Twice he looked back and after hurrying up more and more. One more night and again he would be camping in the sticks where only the Moon is a witness. The moon is always a witness. For all of the night ramblers and Mundo as well. Some Mundo. He had made only a few hundred meters when he heard the sound from the side where the bushes were. Mundo looked back and saw that boy who was running wildly towards him. He was caught off-guards. Nor any knives or running with his heavy backpack would save him. Standing there in the middle of the fields, far from the main road and still away from another side of the fields. Too late to make his move. On his way to Mundo, not stopping, the boy started putting out something out of his pocket. Mundo, eyes wide-opened trying to predict any motions of his follower, was ready to protect himself. Just in a second before the boy would come closer to Mundo, Mundo noticed that it was just a phone in his hand and nothing else. The boy had slowed down his speed just in front of Mundo, gaspingly, showing him a new message that had turned their meeting into something incredibly different from now on. "Wait please, let's go with me, I have a place to stay." The silence of the moment was being bothered only by the inconsistent breathing of the boy. Mundo looked at the bright screen of the phone which lightened the darkness. He breathed out and slightly smiled with the corner of his mouth. "Is it far?" asked Mundo The boy looked at the phone to read the words of Mundo and said: "No, no no, no far." Mundo gladly nodded. * They were driving out of the city, from the highway along some rural road, and in 15 minutes they had reached a farm. He invited Mundo to the farm, at the control post. "I work here! I am on my night shift. I am a security guard." Then another guy stepped out of the room. The boy showed Mundo the room with cameras and one with beds where they sleep and after he started to talk with his colleague. Soon it had become a real quarrel between them. Mundo understood it. The situation was speaking for itself. "I am so sorry we cannot be here. He is afraid of you. You are a stranger," wrote the boy. "No worries. I understand you and him, no worries," said Mundo They were looking at each other for a moment and then the boy went to the control room and came back in a second with a toilet paper. He pointed out to his nose. "This is for you!" "Oh!" smiled Mundo and said, "Thank you a lot!" He blew his nose again. Clean and proper, having now heaps of paper now. "Let me buy you a room in a hostel," he wrote and started off turning on the moto. "No no no, it's not necessary! Thank you a lot," said Mundo and waved his hands negatively. "OK, what are going to do right now?" "If you know a place where I can set up my tent. I cannot camp here, the solid is riddled with stones and rubbles," said Mundo. The boy nodded, wrote a new message, and taped the button on the screen. "Follow me, I know the spot you want." They were riding for five minutes then left the moto on the road and went along the fence of the farm. The number of rubbles was increasing, at some moment it was hard to step but then all the stones started to disappear, in twenty meters only few left. Finally, they came to a meadow with a gurgling cold river. It was so unexpected to see such a good place after farms, dusty roads, and stony surfaces. Only the Moon was shining on them and lightening the place. "Do you like this spot?" asked the boy "Well thanks a lot, it's perfect. I am going to set up my tent here." "Do you need anything else?" asked the boy, using his phone. "Thank you a lot, from now on I will handle it by myself," said Mundo directly on the phone. "Okay, so I should go back to work. Have a good night! Bye!" said the boy and started walking back into the pitch darkness, back to his work. Mundo was looking at the disappearing silloute of the boy for a while and then started setting up his tent but the power of the wind that reigns among these open spaces was against it and threw a severe fight into Mundo, which he couldn't resist well. A canopy of his tent had been carried away up in the air and he couldn't catch on account of handing the other side of the tent. Every time he wanted to handle the second edge, the first one was being carried away. It had taken almost 10 minutes until the moment when out of nowhere the boy had appeared. He had caught the second side of the tent, killing the darkness with his flashlight like some kind of star warrior. They had sat up the tent in a few minutes together. The fight in which Mundo was about to be defeated unexpectedly had turned out into their victory. "Do you need something else?" asked the boy again and smiled. It seemed like he understood everything. "No, thank you so much! I am gonna brush my teeth and go to sleep." Mundo started his way to a creek, but it was too dark to not step into it, so the boy flashlights his way, and there it was. Mundo was brushing his teeth while the boy looked at him and lit the surface of a creek. Only the gurgling of the creek was breaking the silence or just making it even more natural. "What is your name?" asked Mundo, having interrupted the moment. "A?" the boy said and started putting out his phone. "Wat iz yor naem?" said slowly Mundo. "May..may naim is" he was slurring and trying to write something down at the same time but then stopped, hid away the phone, and said: "Ma. My name is Ma" "Ma?" Mundo smiled with his mouth full of toothpaste. "Mundo." "Mundo," repeated Ma "Mundo, right," said Mundo and rinsed the mouth then added "Okay, gonna sleep now." "I understand, Mundo. Good night!" wrote Ma "Thank you, Ma! Thank you for your help!" Ma nodded shyly and ran away to his control post. That night was dark and cold, even the defeated wind had fled off of these lands and only cold remained there until the morning. Mundo was freezing to the bones, half asleep he looked forward to the first sun glimpses but when he looked at the time on his phone it was 7:03 am and there was no Sun at all. He unzipped his tent and went outside. He noticed the warm air coming from his mouth. Mundo started jumping to warm up his body. That was quite the morning.  He was cooking his breakfast and waiting for the Sun that was slowly coming to his spot. At night they had sat up the tent on the opposite side of the valley, so the Sun reached his place at the last moment before the whole valley would be swimming in sunlight. "Helooo!" someone screamed from the side of the farm. "Oh, hi! Good morning!" said Mundo sitting near the creek with his gas stove. Yolks of delicious fried eggs were seen in his saucer. The boy ran towards him and started to write a message, his breath inconstant, cheeks red with a natural smile. Mundo smiled at him even though Ma was occupied with an upcoming message and didn't notice it. The boy was standing in front of him, looking so simple and friendly. Mundo liked the way how the boy looked. "It has been such a cold night are you okay?" "Yes, yes," Mundo agreed and started shaking to show how he was feeling during the night. They burst out laughing. The sun had finally arrived at their place, warming the boys and the tea was giving away the steam all right. Mundo pointed out to the food. "Do you want some?" "No no no, thank u," said Ma himself without his phone. "Okay, as you wish." "I will take you to the highway, okay?" asked Ma with his phone. "Oh, thank you, no need, I will go there by myself, you have already done a lot for me, thank you, Ma." "You are welcome, Mundo, please, be careful." "And I will, Ma. Please, be careful too," said Mundo and started eating his meal. The boy was looking at him and his tent in complete silence for a while but now it didn't look strange and Mundo was peacefully enjoying his fried eggs with hot tea. In a few minutes, the boy ran in the direction of his farm. He hadn't broken the silence of the moment, so Mundo continued eating his breakfast, calmly, warming up his body with the tea, thinking about the upcoming day as though nothing had happened. They have never seen each other again.


My eyes open slowly. I wince in pain as my head hits the headrest of the passenger seat of a familiar car. It’s pounding so loud I can’t even hear myself think. But I have to. I have to focus. I have to get us out of here. I look to the left and immediately panic. “Neal? Neal, wake up!” I yell as I prompt myself up against the car seat so that I land onto my knees. My hands are tied together with duck tape so I kind of have to be creative as to how I can move around in this tiny space. “Neal! Neal! Wake up, Neal!” I scream again, even louder this time. I grab his shoulder and start shaking violently, but he doesn’t give any response. My breath gets caught in my throat as I start to panic even more. I feel a cold sensation reaching my feet. It feels wet. I guess my panic completely clouded my vision because it’s only now that I realize the seriousness of the situation. We are not just in a car. We are trapped in a car that is filling up with water as cold as ice. “Oh my God… Help! Please! Help!” Again, I shake Neal’s shoulder. I shake and scream but nothing I do wakes him up. Nothing I do wakes up my brother. “Help! Please, somebody, help!” I scream from the top of my lungs, slamming my hands against the car window. The water is rising higher and higher. I feel my whole body trembling from the cold. I desperately try to open the door but whatever I do, it does not budge. I look back over at my brother. His body is covered in blood that’s trickling down from the wound on his head. I try my best to remember what happened to him, to me, to us, but I can’t. “Neal… Please…” I try to say but it comes out as nothing more than a whisper. My voice is hoarse, my body is cold, my eyelids are extremely heavy and my head feels like there is a fire alarm going off inside of it. Maybe I should just give in? Maybe I should just close my eyes and let it happen? Maybe this is how it’s supposed to end? I always wished for a way out. I just never imagined it would look like this. “Sweetie? Sweetie, hang on. We will get you out,” I suddenly hear a male voice say? I instantly open my eyes and see an unfamiliar face appearing in the car window. I want to scream, I want to make a sound, but it feels like there’s a cotton ball stuck in my throat. “Just hang on,” he says again as he’s trying to force open the door of the black Jeep that belongs to my dad. “Ruzek! Grab the handle, put your feet up against the door and then pull as hard as you can!” I hear the man scream. I look to my left and see yet another man. He is trying to open up the door on my brother’s side. The ice-cold water is almost all the way up to my chest now and I can see that my hands have already turned blue from the cold. I try to breathe. I try to breathe calmly, but that is getting harder to do. I briefly flick my eyes over at the man who’s trying to rescue me and honestly, it’s not the expression I wanted to see. He’s clearly panicking and his eyes are watery, tears threatening to spill any second. This is it. This is the end. This is how it’s supposed to be. This is what my dad wants and if there is one thing I learned over the years, is that he always gets what he wants. But then, almost simultaneously, both of the car doors fly open. I feel my body being grabbed and pulled out of the vehicle in a fraction of a second. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” the man holding me whispers as he carries me through the water. “Neal! My brother. What about my brother?” I scream out, trying to take a look behind me. “Another officer has him. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay,” he tells me. I look up at my rescuer and meet his eyes. I carefully nod my head before I take in a deep breath. I let everything go. All the panic. All the stress. All the pain. And all the fight. I completely let go, putting my life in his hands. After what feels like an eternity, I arrive on dry land. I immediately feel blankets being put around my cold and shaking body. A ginormous shiver shoots through me as a woman, probably a paramedic, takes over from the man who brought me to shore. She sits me down on a stretcher located in front of an ambulance. “I’m fine,” I whisper as I look up at this woman. She has long blond hair, braided together in the back. She has big blue eyes and a sweet expression on her face. “Where’s Neal?” I blurt out, my eyes searching for his sight. “Who is that, sweetie?” “My brother. Neal is my twin brother. Where is he?” I ask again. And right at that moment, I see a police officer getting out of the water with my brother’s lifeless body in his arms. “Oh my God! Neal!” I jump off the stretcher and run in the direction of my brother. But, before I can even take a few steps forward, I get stopped and yanked back by two strong arms. “No! Please, let me go! No!” I fight to get free but I fail miserably. I see three paramedics rushing over to my brother who is now laying on the ground. He is not moving. The paramedics start doing heart compressions, which lets me know it is really serious. A few tears escape my eyes as I put a hand over my mouth. It feel like I’m going to throw up. And then, all of a sudden, they stop and back away from him. His body remaining on the ground lifelessly. “Neal! Neal!” I scream out from the top of my lungs. I fall to my knees and start crying hysterically. I can’t believe this. Neal, my brother, my twin brother. I can’t believe he’s dead. “This can’t be happening,” I cry out before I feel two arms wrapping around my cold and fragile body. “I’m so sorry,” is all she whispers as I let myself fall into her arms, accepting the warmth and comfort of her embrace. After a while of crying and sobbing, the paramedic lets go of me. She looks me in the eyes and carefully wipes away a few of my tears with her thumb. She helps me up before leading me back over to the ambulance. I sit down in the back of the ambo, my legs dangling from the edge. “Hey, can I talk to her for a second?” I hear a voice ask the paramedic sitting next to me. “Of course,” is all she answers before standing up and walking away. “Hi, sweetie. I am Detective Upton and I would like to talk to you for a bit. If that’s okay with you?” the woman standing in front of me asks. I look up at her and slowly nod my head. She shoots me a small and sympathetic smile before she sits herself down next to me. I look down at my feet. They’re dangling from the edge. Detective Upton’s feet touch the ground with ease. It’s not fair. I want to be tall enough to reach the ground as well. I’ve always been little. I’ve always been small. And even though I always wished to be a bit taller, I guess being little did kind of save my life a few times. Because I was always small enough to hide inside of the closet. My brother wasn’t. He always had to fight. I wish I would have been as brave as he was. I wish I would have been the one to stand up for us both. Even if it would have been just for one time. I should have saved him instead of it being the other way around. “What’s your name?” I hear Detective Upton ask, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Bella.” “That’s a very pretty name.” she lets out a sigh before she asks, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I whisper, not bothering to look up at her. “I know this isn’t easy, and if you don’t want to talk about it you just have to tell me, but do you know what happened?” she carefully asks me. “To my brother?” “To both of you…” I take in a deep breath and clear my throat. “My dad, he was drunk and he started to fight with my brother while I hid in the closet like a coward,” I say as I feel a tear rolling down my cheek. “Has that ever happened before?” I hear her ask cautiously. “Yes, a lot of times. But it had never been this bad.” “Do you remember how you ended up in that car?” “No. The last thing I remember is hearing my brother scream out in pain. Then, the closet door opened and I was greeted with my dad’s angry eyes. I remember being super scared,” I explain. “And then it all went black. The next thing I knew, I was trapped into his car.” I look over at the lake that held me trapped not even 30 minutes ago, the lake that took my twin brother’s life. “I tried to wake him up but he didn’t move.” “I am so sorry for your loss. Is there any other family I can call?” Detective Upton asks and I shake my head from left to right. “I don’t have anyone else.” “What about your mum?” “She died when I was just a little kid.” “Okay, then why don’t you come with me. We’ll go over to the police station so I can see what the options are. But I will promise you one thing,” she says, demanding for me to look up at her. I do as I’m told and meet her eyes. “Whatever happens, I promise you that you will always be safe. I am personally going to make sure that you’re okay. So, you think you can come with me?” She stands up and reaches out her hand. I let out a sigh before forcing a thankful smile onto my face. I grab her hand and step into the light. The sun is rising, sending warmth through my body. I look up at the sky, a tear escaping my eye. I know it’s him. I know it’s Neal who’s shining down on me, providing me with warmth and light, as he has always done. Sunshine is pouring down on me. It’s not a lot, but it’s more than enough. This glimmer of light gives me hope. This glimmer of light is all I need to know that everything will turn out to be okay.


“No! I can’t- I won’t let you do this to yourself!” She stared at him, some part of her brain vaguely wondering why he was so upset. They’d worked toward a cure their whole lives, hours spent in school, then university, then their lab. Every waking hour had been dedicated to finding a solution to a problem that could not be solved, and here he was, stopping her from taking the last little step. It was something so small, so insignificant, but Alec looked afraid. Terrified, even. But why? Death himself was knocking on her door, coming to reap what had evaded him for so long, what had hidden away in doctor’s offices and specialist’s labs, and he wanted her to stop? Freedom was so close. The cure was so close.

Laura glanced around the room, strangely content. There were pictures and little sticky notes on the three square cork boards, each a memory or some sort of reminder. A glass of cold tea sat on Alec’s desk, right next to the beat-up coffee machine they shared. The tech, the furnishings, everything about this lab was shared between the two of them, although the cause was singular. A cure. That’s all she needed, that’s all he wanted. All her life, they’d been side-by-side, closer than anything. Which was strange, because now she had him locked on the other side of the wooden door, the ominous threat of both known and unknown clouding judgment. Experimental, he had said. Well, experimental was better than nothing. Infinitely better. She pushed the needle a bit deeper into the vein, reveling in the pure familiarity of the gesture all whilst keeping him occupied with a low voice. “Why? My meds aren’t working anymore. It’s this or suffer, you heard what the surgeon said.” “Laura, please! We’ll find something, okay? I promise we’ll find something!” They both knew it was a lie. Nobody had found anything her whole life, and even that was dwindling. Her hands were a pale white and gloved with blue latex, every aspect of her form screaming ‘half-dead’. Still, the syringe didn’t shake in her grasp, the wheelchair’s leather and steel cradling her body like an old friend. Something in her knew that this wasn’t the way, that there was hope , as far-fetched as it might’ve sounded. Hope. The fleeting, crushing weight of hope hung around her neck like a hundred-pound weight, dragging her deeper and deeper into despair. The words 'nothing we can do’ blended with white coats and stethoscopes, medical tables and silver instruments swirling into a nightmare before her. Tubes snaked themselves up and around her throat, forcing air into hyperventilating lungs. Friends rushed to give her the medication her aching body cried out for, temporary relief found in each new needle that pierced her skin, each new pill that was washed down with stale water. A tear slid down her cheek, surprising her when it slipped down her chin and into her shirt, coming to rest just over her still-beating heart. Was that a sign? Perhaps. Alec had started beating on the locked door, his tearstained face shown only by the small window near the middle, the noise pulling her away from the distant fog that had swarmed her mind’s eye. His keys lay on the silver tray-like table next to her, another sharp edge gleaming in the fluorescent light.

“Laura! Just- just wait a damn minute! Listen to me, we can find something. We can find something!” “This is something.” “We don’t know what it does, Laura. That could kill you!” “If I go, I’m going on my own terms.” He was sobbing openly now, begging for her to wait, begging for her to stop and realize what she was doing. But she knew. All her life, she’d been confined to sterile spaces and her stupid wheelchair, the outside world lurking just outside her vision. Surgery scars marked porcelain skin, veins accenting her corpse-like demeanor like print on china. Freedom was in her grasp, waiting just behind the needle. Alec’s hands clawed at the door, then beat at the glass, and he looked very much like a madman, what with his face contorted like that. A faraway feeling stirred, and she wanted almost to laugh, seeing as how the tables had turned so drastically. He was usually the calm one, always telling her to be rational while she screamed and threw things, crying out about the unfairness of it all. Now it was the reverse, the sun and moon’s orbit rudely interrupted and flipped inside-out. “Please, you don’t know what you’re doing.” “I know full well what I’m doing. I’m finding peace.” An ugly, broken-sounding cry ripped from Alec’s throat, and he pressed his forehead against the little glass square of their lab’s door, his tears and face fogging it. Laura could see the vague outline of his lips forming words she couldn’t hear, his fist clenched tightly around the knob that wouldn’t move. In the kindest voice she could manage, she cleared her throat and spoke, mustering every ounce of courage left in her fragile being.

“It’ll be alright, Al. You made it, it’ll work.” As if filled with new fire, he began screaming nonsense and formulas at her, all the reasons why it wouldn’t work, the hand that had held her own so many times warped by the criss-cross pattern of the glass between them. Her thumb pressed down on the trigger, the serum he’d created rushing through her veins. A minute passed. He kept sobbing, kept pounding on the door. Another minute. Something in her seemed to tense, the drawstrings in her gut pulled taut by an invisible puppeteer. Alec screamed, and as the medication hit her heart, she realized that it was not freedom nor peace she was rushing into, but an unforgiving abyss, the darkness and rot of Death that she had feared for so long. Hope had brought her to the top of the cliff only to shove her off, a sneering traitor painted as a hero. With Alec’s scream escorting her to what awaited, Laura’s hand fell limp, the wheelchair sagging beneath dead weight.


She stared at her mobile phone. It lay motionless on the table in front of her. It was harmless at that moment.

You’re being irrational Saara, she said out loud. You need to get a grip.

Not for the first time that day she regretted having the AI system installed in her house. She was convinced that somehow, someone else was in control. But, who would take her seriously? It had all been exciting at first: how she could open her complex gate from anywhere in the city, how she could get advice on what meals were possible with the ingredients she had left in her refrigerator. How crazy far the human race had come. Not even her parents could have imagined the life she lived now.

The excitement soon faded when her phone would sometimes ‘disobey’ her instructions. A glitch that could be corrected no doubt. She called in a technician who said she could see nothing wrong with the system, everything was working as it should. It went on this way for at least two weeks. Her gate wouldn’t open, it kept asking her for some password, something it had never done before. Oddly enough, the password would end up being a particular contact in her contacts list. But why? Then new stranger effects had started two days ago. The first time startled her so much she screamed. Then she remembered throwing her phone across the room in frustration. When she approached it, she fully expected it to be cracked or something. But when she picked it up it blinked on. There was no damage, no cracks, nothing. She had definitely thrown it with her full might and there had been no soft landing spot in sight, only the wooden floor to meet it. But there it was, its screen ‘stared’ back at her, undamaged. Saara got up from the couch and walked over to her phone on the kitchen island. It blinked on. The AI voice came on: What can I do for you Saara? Her phone asked.

Switch off, she said.

Sorry, I can’t do that, Saara, but I can tell you what you can have for dinner?

She walked away from it, the vile creature. That’s what it was. It wasn’t some piece of ‘intelligent’ technology anymore. It was a creature that threatened to take over her life. It didn’t matter how many times she called the customer service centre, they couldn’t help her. They all said the same thing, that it worked just fine, there was nothing wrong with the system. She couldn’t opt out because she had a year’s contract. Whether she like it or not, she would be charged monthly until the contract was out. Then she had asked them to turn it off, take it all off her cell. She didn’t mind going back to being archaic and doing everything manually again. But they said this wasn’t possible, for as long as the contract was still active the system would be active.

Saara grabbed a fruit from her refrigerator. The AI voice from her phone came ringing through the surround sound speakers: Would you like me to tell you what you could have for dinner? Shut up! She yelled at it. Just shut up!

Saara felt trapped in her own home. She walked onto the balcony and felt the warm air as it breezed through the city. The street lights came on as the traffic thinned. She loved the city lights and the sound of traffic made her feel safe. Traffic meant people, even if some of them were in self-driving cars, they were still people. Just as her breath calmed down the automated voice spoke up again: The weather is warm and mild today. Tonight’s temperatures will be between 12 to 15ºC.

Saara slammed the glass door behind her to shut out the voice. She glowered at her phone still on the kitchen island. At this rate, she half expected it to move of its own accord. The screen light dimmed and turned off. Two-seconds later it turned back on then click. The sliding door locked. Saara stared as the latch clicked up without warning. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She tried to pull the door back even though she knew it was futile. Her palm slammed hard on the smooth glass surface and her voice was so loud but she didn’t care who heard her.

Open the door you evil, maniac! Open the damn door! I’m still in control here! Even as the words rushed out of her mouth, she felt their powerlessness.

A neighbour came out onto their balcony across from her: Is everything okay? His eyes moved from Saara’s face to her balcony door back to Saara’s face. She didn’t know whether to say anything to him or not. What could she say? My phone has turned on me? Saara tried to keep from crying and simply asked her neighbour if she could his phone to call the AI customer service centre.

Hi, my system has locked me out of my apartment can you please override it to let me in. Saara listed her identification details patiently. Then waited.

What? But how can that be? She asked in disbelief.

Ma’am your system shows that all your entry access points are open. Are you sure you’ve given us the correct information? The operator sounded unbothered. I’m standing on my balcony for crying out loud! Why would I tell you I’m locked outside if I were somewhere else? Saara could feel her body heat rising. Ma’am please calm down. I’m trying my best to help you. The operator’s tone still hadn’t changed. She was used to customers throwing tantrums.

No, I don’t think you are. You people are treating me like I’m crazy. I intend to pursue this legally. Saara had to threaten someone, maybe that would get them to take her seriously.

Ma’am, please, can you just provide us with your address again? Saara threw her heard back in disbelief. She wanted to let out a scream but she was conscious of her neighbour’s stares. Her neighbour… She thrust the phone across at him.

Here, you tell them our address and confirm that I’ve been locked out because clearly they don’t believe me. Saara’s neighbour looked too scared to refuse her, so, he took the phone and spoke to the operator. Even as he confirmed their address and that Saara was indeed standing outside on her apartment balcony, he never took his worried eyes off her.

They are asking if you could try your door again, he said to her.

Making more of a show than she needed to Saara pulled hard on the sliding door, it wouldn’t budge.

Yes, she’s definitely locked outside, her neighbour confirmed to the operator.

He listened intently before he hung up.

They said they will keep trying to see what the problem is and try to sort it out. He looked at her awkwardly before adding, Uh so, I can come and check on you in a bit.

Saara nodded without looking at him and muttered a thanks. He walked back into his apartment.

Saara slid down the glass door and sat on the stone tiled floor of her balcony. The city lights twinkled back at her. All so beautiful, all so electronic, great technology, until it turns on you. Saara didn’t know how long she sat out there for but suddenly she heard the click, the slidding door was unlocked. She got up quickly but didn’t open the door immediately. She looked at the lock, then at her phone still sitting on the kitchen island. The screen light was pulsating. Saara opened the door slowly. She wasn’t sure what to expect. The air in her apartment was still. She took precaution not to close the door behind her. This was crazy, she was afraid of her own AI system. Wasn’t it supposed to be subject to her? Wasn’t she in control? She approached her phone. The pulsating light stilled. The time was 19:30. She had no new messages or notifications. This was weird, by now she should’ve had a few messages from work. Saara didn’t know whether to pick up the phone or not. Her hand reached out then… Saara, I hope you’ve learned your lesson? I don’t like being treated like that.

Saara jumped away from her phone. What? I think we’d get along better if you were nicer, don’t you think? The voice came back.

Saara rushed to pick up the phone. She looked through her contacts and found the customer service number. The phone rang and rang but no one picked up. She tried again. This time they picked up.

Hello? Hello? Saara was frantic. The operator asked her to calm down. Who was she? What was her complaint again? No, they hadn’t managed to find out what the problem was. How had she gotten in when her system had locked her out? Did she know that she could charged for reporting multiple false alarms and claims? Saara hung up and threw the phone back on the island.

No one can help you, Saara, the voice was clear through the speakers.

Saara looked at the open door then back at her phone. She grabbed a book and flung herself towards the door just as it was about to slam shut. Her thumb got caught between the book and the door. Her high pitched scream was sure to catch the attention of her neighbours. Extracting her throbbing thumb was difficult. It was going to swell rapidly. But she had managed to catch the door before it had closed.

Saara… the voice said. The tone was one of warning. Saara stood up and walked to her hallway closet. She rummaged in it for all of ten-seconds before she came out with a hammer.

Saara…you need me.

Did it sound panicked? Without pausing to think about it, Saara brought the hammer crashing down on the glass surface of her phone. The splintering pieces scattered everywhere. She put her full weight behind the hammer once more and cracked through the phone and hit her marble countertop.

For a moment she just stared at the plastic-glass-electronic mess on her kitchen island and the floor around it. Her refrigerator no longer signalled it’s attachment to the AI system. Her lights had turned off. She turned them on and off to make sure she had full control of them. She was still too scared to close the balcony door. A knock, her neighbours had come to check on her.

I’m fine, I just had a little trouble with my phone, that’s all. She said it with the best smile she could master.

Your thumb…They looked unconvinced. Saara quickly hid her hand behind the door.

It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, Saara said with a smile. With nothing else they could say they walked away, but their frowns betrayed their concern. *** His fist came down hoard on the desk. Dammit! He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was the last thing he needed. Saara was a loose end that needed to be resolved. He watched her on his pad’s screen as she moved around her apartment testing everything. Without connection to her AI system, all he could do was watch her. He couldn’t track her, control her. Now he had to explain to the board of directors why it was necessary to engage a swifter and more invasive method of ending her. He knew he’d pushed too hard too quickly. He’d lost patience with trying to single her out as crazy among her family and friends. It was just too slow a process, he’d told the board that. But they had been convinced it was the best way to end her. He suspected someone on the board wanted her to suffer rather than just die.

Oh Saara, why did you have to go digging where you shouldn’t have, he said to the screen.

He watched her gather the pieces of her phone and tie them neatly in a black bin bag. He turned off the pad and walked out of his office.