First and foremost, I just need to assert what was right and what was wrong. I think, before you can apologize for things you’ve done, you need to really isolate and evaluate exactly what you did wrong, and it’s very rare that you, uh, you know, haven’t done anything right in the midst of all you did wrong. So, I would like to assert that, yes, I made mistakes. I made many mistakes. I hurt people. Well, not people, but, you know, living things. I hurt living things and I hurt them by damaging their property and terrorizing them, and for that, I am very sorry, and I stand here, humbly, in front of you today, with my tail between my legs--literally--to say that I do apologize for the wrong I’ve done. Not for the right I’ve done, obviously, because I don’t need to apologize for what I’ve done right, and I have done some things right, but I don’t need to apologize for those things. Just the wrong things. Uh, but, uh, yeah, the, yeah, the, um-- The straw. I apologize for the straw. Why you would build a house out of straw in the first place is a mystery to me, but--That’s not my, uh--That’s not the point. The point is, one of you wanted to build a house of straw, and I destroyed that house. I blew it down. Not that it takes much to blow down something made out of straw. A strong wind could have blown it down. A gust. A breeze. You built the house fairly close to the ocean, so I expect there would have been a lot of sea wind coming off the coast, and that leads me to think your house wasn’t long for this world anyway, but sure, yes, I was the one who blew it down, and I have to own that, and so I do. I own it. I own it and I apologize for it. I blew down the house and I was going to eat you, but you ran away. I don’t think I should have to apologize for wanting to eat you, because that’s, you know, my nature , but I get how my nature and your existence don’t jive, and I believe we should all be able to live together peacefully in this world, but I would like to remind you that eating, you know, kale , isn’t really an option for me, and, uh, you know, attempted murder isn’t murder. It’s different. That’s why they have a different sentence for it when you get convicted of it in court. When you do get convicted. Which isn’t often, because it’s so hard to prove. I mean, it’s almost impossible to prove someone’s intent, but, sure, I did attempt something, and for that, I am sorry, because that’s wrong and so is blowing down a flimsy house that was going to come down at any moment anyway because somebody didn’t want to take the time to build their home properly with decent materials. So. I’m sorry for all that. Um. In regards to the sticks , I would like to say that I maintain sticks are only slightly harder to blow down than straw, but there was, yes, an intent there, to blow the house down. And to eat the owner of the house. And to maybe use the sticks to start a fire that I would then roast the owner of the house over while lathering said owner in barbecue sauce. Yes, all of that is true , and none of it is right , and I apologize for all of it. I will say that because I couldn’t catch the owner of the house, nothing happened other than destruction of a fire hazard, but nevertheless, there was destruction. There was trauma. There was hurt. And I have to understand that and make space for it moving forward. That I brought about and manifested hurt in the lives of swine. A fire could have hurt many more people. Not a nice fire that you can control while you cook your dinner, but a real fire that could start at any moment if some pig decided to light a candle in the middle of his twig dwelling, but it’s not about what might have happened, it’s about what did happen, and what happened was I blew the house down. I huffed. I puffed. I got a little winded. I huffed and puffed some more. Down went the house. I own that. I didn’t eat the pig because he ran away, because somehow pigs are terrible at building houses, but they are fantastic at running away from wolves, so that’s fine, he ran, I chased. And, uh, then… Then I hit a wall. A brick wall. We all have to hit that brick wall, don’t we? Finally found a house I couldn’t blow down. But you know what I could blow down? Myself. And that’s what I did. I stood there and with all the breath in my furry body, I blew, and blew, and blew. But I could not blow that house down. And as I sat there, on the grass, the dew still fresh from morning, knowing that breakfast, lunch, and dinner was staring out a window from a brick house, mocking me, taunting me, and jeering at me, I knew I needed to take a good, hard look at my life and make some changes. That’s why I’m here today--not at the end of my journey towards being a better creature, but somewhere in the middle. I’m asking for forgiveness. For the straw. For the sticks. Not for the brick, because that house was built well and I believe it got sold the following year for double what it cost to erect, and so, good on that pig, because he must have gotten the architecture gene his siblings didn’t. Me, I’m just going around to different wolf packs, talking to the pups about making good decisions. Mostly I just tell them to stick to chickens. You tell them the sky is falling, and the next thing you know, they’re walking right into your cave. No houses you need to gather up your breath support for and no riddles like with goats or grandmothers that give you indigestion. Just good, old-fashioned deception. So you see, I’ve learned. I’ve come a long, long way.


 "But Luca, I don't wanna go" pleaded Rosaline, Luca then handed Rosaline her black bomber jacket and opened the door, "It'll be fun, I promise" Luca persuaded as the two walked out the front door and into the french quarters of New Orleans.

"How do I know that you're gonna keep that promise?"

Rosaline questioned as she crossed her arms, "If it isn't fun or something really bad happens, you can move back to Oregon" Luca said over the smooth saxophone music playing in the distance, "Hmph, okay" Rosailine muttered.

The two then walked through the beautiful city until they reached the narrow dirt pathway to the cemetery, Luca then grabbed Rosaline's hand, "What, are you scared?" Teased rosaline, "No, I thought you might be," Luca said as she blushed slightly.

They then reached the old graveyard, and the two heard very faint piano music playing.

Luca then began to pull rosaline towards where the music was coming from.

"Um luca…" rosaline muttered, luca stopped dead in her tracks and looked to rosaline with a smirk "What," queried luca, "Maybe we shouldn't be running through a dark graveyard." Rosailine murmured.

With a gust of wind all of the lamppost flames ignited, revealing a ghostly man playing a black and gold piano, a second ghost then appeared this time it was an African american woman who had large gold beads weaved into her dreadlocks. The woman then snapped her fingers and an entire flock of ghosts and skeletons appeared. There was a skeleton playing a saxophone, a ghost playing a trumpet, and a slightly smaller skeleton playing a guitar,there were also many other ghosts and skeletons which were all either dancing or talking with other spiritual beings. Luca then reached out her hand for rosaline, rosaline smiled and grabbed hold. Luca then spun rosaline towards her and they both smiled, the two then began to dance among the spirits under the stars. After about 5 minutes of the two dancing a they stopped when the tall female ghost with gold beads in her dreadlocks came up to them and stated" you two are very good dancers," Luca and rosaline smiled,

"Thank you" replied luca then a

slightly shorter Male ghost walked over to them,

"Do yall wanna go see the world we ghosts come from" the ghost asked with a thick southern accent, luca then looked to rosaline for confirmation, rosaline nodded and luca smiled, "Sure," she exclaimed. They and the two ghosts were then whisked away in a poof of black fog.The four then reappeared in a forest of trees which looked petrified but had normal leaves, there were also many glowing flowers in hues of blue, purple, and pink. "Woah," stated Luca as she walked with Rosaline, who was in awe, and the other two ghosts walked towards a river, and when they got to the river Luca and rosaline learned that it glows too. Rosaline gently placed her hand in the water, it was very cold, but very nice in the warm tropical climate of the odd forest, like how nice it is to be wrapped in cold silk on a hot summer day.rosaline

then sped up to catch up with the group which was already across the small wooden bridge. "What exactly is this place," questioned rosaline, The female ghost pondered the question and then replied

" some people from your world call it hell" "What!" Luca Interrupted" but this place is awesome," she murmured as she picked a purple apple off a nearby tree and took a bite,  "Luca!" Rosiline shouted" what if that's poisonous!"

The female ghost then sighed "it's not poisonous" she said as she looked to luca" but you're luck that the lies aren't true or else you'd be stuck here" "Sounds lit"

luca replied rosaline then shot luca a confused look and luca shot one back and rosaline couldn't help but give that blissful smile that could stop anyone in their tracks. The four the came to a wall of hanging vines and moss the tallest ghost parted the vines and everyone walked under, they entered into a clearing which in the center stood a massive weeping willow tree which had a lovely wooden house close next to it which had a balcony which wrapped around the stump of the magnificent tree, in the clearing there were easily thousands of fireflies of all colors fluttering around in the night, rosaline shuffled towards luca as she looked up to the night sky, "Look at the sky," she stated softly, and luca did, the night sky was the most magical thing that they had ever seen. There were billions, if not trillions of stars and there were nebulas of all colors that were trickled throughout the sky. Luca then looked to the tallest ghost and exclaimed " you still haven told us where this place is", the tallest ghost then proclaimed "some call it hell, few call it heaven,

some believe that its limbo or purgatory, but it's actually none of those things"

"So do those things not exist?" Interrupted luca "Hell, heaven ,limbo and purgatory do all exist don't get me wrong, they're just not here" explained the tall ghost

"Where the heck are we then" luca exclaimed mildly frustrated

"W-well" stuttered the tall ghost, Luca the crossed her arms, "we're in the underworld," the short ghost blurted out, the tall ghost then looked slightly flustered and said trying to keep her cool, " we are In a place that your people call the underworld but it's actually called ένα χαμένο μέρος, or 'a lost place' "

" why is it called that?" Rosaline questioned nonchalantly whilst Luca was about 20 feet away pacing back and forth trying to process what she was just told. The female ghost then took a deep breath and began to explain

" it's called that because it is a place that good people spirits and creatures can go to hide, or a place that they run to, it's a place where outcasts and misfits can go to be safe, it's a safe haven for all good humans and creatures, and it just happens that more spirits have things to run from than humans," "Interesting," Rosaline said quietly as she began to wander towards luca. Rosaline placed her hand on Lucas shoulder to comfort her,

"What's wrong" asked rosaline

"My parents would kill me if they knew that I'm here" luca muttered with her face in her hands "Well then I guess it's not a particularly bad thing that they're across the world considering themselves childless." Rosaline reassured, Luca snickered. Luca then sat down with her knees to her chest, rosaline sat down besides her, luca sighed " it's hard to get out of the mindset that I have to still do everything worrying what my parents will think or do,"

"I know" mumbled rosaline as she wrapped her arm around luca " but the day you moved in with me I swore to keep you safe from them and their extremely irrational viewpoints," "I know," Luca said sorrowfully as she rested her head on Rosaline's shoulder. "Are y'all gonna come inside or what?" Questioned the short ghost while holding open the door. Rosaline then smiled and took Luca's hand and they swiftly walked towards the beautiful wooden house. Luca,Rosaline and the short ghost then entered the house which had a low lying ceiling, and was dimly lit by oil lamps. There was a fireplace on one side of the room and on the other end of the room there was a spiral staircase that had vines hanging off the railings.the walls looked to be made of the wood from the trees of the odd forest, there were also many exotic looking plants,some in pots, some climbing trellises on the walls.straight on from the door there was a fancy wooden table that had four chairs,and at the table sat the tall ghost and the short ghost sitting next to each other. Luca and Rosaline then stepped over to the other two chairs and sat down. "What are your names?" Questioned luca "Im beatrice and thats nick" stated that tall ghost gesturing to the short ghost

"Why are we here" asked rosaline "Cuz yall wanted to come" blurted nick

"You guys went into a cemetery in Louisiana on halloween, and you guys seemed scared so we thought you needed help," said beatrice, "We thought yall were running from the danged old' satanists" interrupted Nick with his southern accent more prevalent than ever. "My parents were satanists" sighed Luca sorrowfully "that's why i ran, they tried to kill me". Beatrice then looked to luca with a concerned look, "What are their names?" Beatrice asked concerned "Bianca and andrew howsahue" muttered luca "Do you still have the same last name as them?" Questioned beatrice "N-no" stuttered luca" i managed to change it as soon as i moved out when i was 15" "Good" responded beatrice" last names can hold a lot of power sometimes,"

"Can we please go explore some more, this place is really cool" begged rosaline

"Sure" replied beatrice as she stood from her seat, nick then vanished "Wha-why…" luca murmured as she pointed to where nick was sitting "He had something else to go do" interrupted beatrice, luca and rosaline then stood up and headed towards the door, luca held it open for rosaline and beatrice. Beatrice then pulled a golden pocket watch out of her pocket and looked at it, " it's about to get quite cold here," beatrice stated as she made three large furry cloaks materialize in her arms, she handed one to luca which was black with white fur, she then handed the other to rosaline which was white with white fur, and beatrice then began to put on her cloak which was red with white fur. Rosaline then slid on the cloak over her bomber jacket. Luca and Rosaline then followed Beatrice onto a cobblestone road. "Are all the roads like this" rosaline asked in awe, "No," replied Beatrice,"once we get into a city they turn into either onyx or obsidian bricks."

Rosaline's jaw dropped,

"Why are there so many lies about this place? Why do people call it hell!?" Queried rosaline, "Probably jealously" muttered luca as she placed her hands into the pockets of her cloak, "You're exactly right" exclaimed beatrice

"Powerful people can change the truth and after awhile the lies seemingly become the truth, because nobody knows better and not enough people ask enough questions," Luca and Rosaline then began pondering what Beatrice had said when the three then arrived at the entrance of a cave. They walked through a narrow entryway which then opened up to a larger part of the cave which had a pathway of onyx bricks. Rosaline noted the slight change in pathway and pulled her cloak tighter around her, for it had seemingly gotten colder. Beatrice then came to a halt and reached into her pocket and pulled out 6 strange silver coins and handed 3 to luca and the other 3 to rosaline,

"What are these for?" Asked luca

"Run through the wall and you'll see" exclaimed beatrice" rosaline first," Rosaline's eyes widened as Beatrice pulled her gently by her arm and Rosaline managed to step through the wall,Luca then held her breath and stepped through as well, and Beatrice then walked through behind them. The three were then in a very large cavern which was quite well lit by many lanterns which were suspended from the roof of the cave by ropes, there were many stone Buildings which seemed to make up a small city, there were also small stalls where there seemed to be merchants. Luca and Rosaline then realized that they were on a cliff which overlooked the small underground village, the two then swiftly began to follow Beatrice down an onyx staircase which led down to the mystical city.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, luca and rosaline parted and headed towards the market stalls and beatrice and stepped into one of the stone buildings. the market stalls were dawned with gently coloured cloth tapestries. Rosaline walked over to a stall that had very magnificent jewelry, And rosaline had decided to buy a pair of onyx earrings which were each about the size of a pea. Luca was walking around observing the people of the underground village, she passed a woman which had a snake that was at least 14 feet long wrapped around her and Luca felt that she was somewhat safer now. Luca then stumbled across a merchant who didn't have a stall but only a small table with rings on it, luca then decided to buy a ruby and onyx ring which had Celtic knots engraved into the silver, it only cost 2 of the 3 odd silver coins,so luca decided to save the third one. Rosaline then walked over to Luca whom she had not let out of her sight almost the entire time. Beatrice then approached them with a quickness, "Are you guys ready to go?" She asked frantically, "No" responded luca and rosaline, "Well the sun is about to come up, and you guys have to be back by then, but you can come back any night." Exclaimed Beatrice

"Well okay" responded luca And with a swift snap of Beatrice's finger's everything began to fade into darkness. Rosaline then woke up next to Luca in the graveyard, "Luca, luca wake up" she said as she shook lucas shoulder, luca then shot up, Neither of them were wearing the cloaks that beatrice gave them but they still had the jewelry that they had bought, luca reached into her pocket and pulled out the strange silver coin which now had a chain connected to it, luca handed the coin necklace to rosaline, and rosaline slipped it on over her head. " Look," mentioned Luca as she looked towards the sunrise. Rosaline and Luca then sat for some time and watched the sun rise. Luca then stumbled to her feet, dusted herself off and offered rosaline a hand up, rosaline took it as luca looked to her and said softly "Let's go home", Rosaline nodded and held Luca's hand as they walked home with the sunset behind them as two ravens sat atop a weeping willow tree ensuring that they had returned safely.


The dial-tone captured the sound of my heartbeat flatlining. I dialed Evelyn’s number. The zipping and clicking noises of the rotary dial resuscitated it. I released my finger from the last number, then slammed the receiver down. Now my heart was racing. I didn’t know what to say.

I had obsessive thoughts of how to say goodbye. That’s it. I am going to her house. I rushed down stairs, and grabbed my jacket. As I opened the front door, my mother walked out of the kitchen. She said, “Jonathan where are you going?” Where was I going, “I am going to Rob’s house to watch the football game.”

“It is only 11 am. Why would you go over there so early?” Asked my mother. “We are going to throw the ball around first.” “Have fun dear.” As the door closed behind me, my mother added “Wait a second. Rob’s mother left her glass baking pan here last week. She brought a casserole in it. If I forget to give it to her, it will be here forever. Give me a second.” She walked back into the kitchen. My mother continued talking through the clattering noise of pulling pans out of the cupboard, “Your father will be back soon. He could drive you to Rob’s house.” “I will just take my bike,” trying to shout over the noise. “Why would you ride your bike and carry a glass pan? Wait, your father will be back any minute.” It would be better if Dad drove me over to Rob’s. If I rode my bike to Evelyn’s, she might remember how we use to ride to the park and eat ice cream.

“Here is the pan, and your father just pulled in. Run to the car and tell him. Once he is in the house, he will be upset that I am sending him back out.”

I opened the front door as my dad got out the car. Then I heard, “Hey Jon,” I turned around to see Steve walking out of his house. He waved to me and asked, “Can you help move my bedroom downstairs? My parents are letting me have the basement.” “Sure” “Could you do it this evening?” I looked at my watch, “Say around 7 o’clock when I get home. I am going to watch the game with Rob. Do you want to join us? “ “No and thanks. I appreciate it” Steve turned around and went back into his house. My father was about to walk through the front door when I said, “Dad can you take me over to Rob’s, I am going to watch the game.” I showed him the pan, “Mom wants me to return this to his mother.” Dad looked up at the sky then nodded his head down. “Ok get in the car. Let’s go before I argue with your mother. Then she will make me feel guilty when I want to watch the game.” We pulled out of the driveway. “So what are your plans for the summer, did you think about getting a job? Working downtown at the hardware store would be great. I could even use your discount to buy a new lawnmower.” “I was thinking of working at the bookstore.” “The bookstore. You can already get free books at the library. Son one day you will have a house. There are valuable lessons to be learned working at the hardware store.” “I will think about it Dad,” as I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Whenever Dad lectured me in the car I imagined my feet were still dangling off the seat.

“Great, I will give Bob at the hardware store a call, and let him know you are interested. Have fun watching the game.” “Bye Dad,” I rushed out of the car and rang the doorbell to Rob’s house. No one answered. Of course they are not home. They are still at church. Now what am I going to do. I can’t leave the pan here. Rob’s mother will call my mine asking why her pan is on the front step. I decided to walk to Evelyn’s house. I was in the middle of the neighbor’s driveway. Then I heard a loud engine idling and a Vroom Vroom Vroooooom. I dashed out of the way. A car was backing out. The breaks squealed. The car stopped suddenly before it reached the road. “What the hell are you doing Dave? You didn’t even see me” I shouted trying to be heard over his car’s engine. I was seconds away from throwing the pan at his car.

“Relax. I saw you,” said Dave. “No, you didn’t even look.” “You’re in still in one piece. Hey what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’ll be seeing you. I’m late.” As Dave drove away Rob and his parents arrived. Rob’s mother rolled down the window. “Are you ok what happened?” “Dave backed out of the driveway really fast. He was not even looking,” I said. She looked at Rob’s father. “You need to have a talk with Dave’s father. That boy just got his license and he is already a menace on the roads. He is going to hit somebody.” “Sure thing, now can we go inside,” replied Rob’s father. We walked into to the house. Once we were sitting around the kitchen table Rob’s father asked me. “Where will you be working this summer Jonathan?” “My father wants to me to work at the hardware store,” I replied. “Rob will be working for his uncle painting houses this summer. You could work with him,” said Rob’s father. The thought of working for Evelyn’s father was the last job that I wanted. I shifted my eyes back and forth around the room. I focused on anything other than what Rob’s father had to say. At that moment the phone rang. Rob’s mother picked up the phone from the wall. She walked back to the counter with the telephone cord unraveling as she stretched it halfway across the kitchen. She said, “Hello Jacque” and nodded a few times. Then responded with ”of course I have a baking pan, it was just returned to me. I will send it right over”. Rob’s mother hung up the phone and looked at his father with her hand on her hips. “Jacque dropped and shattered her casserole pan. She needs one for dinner tonight. Could you drop it off?” Rob looked at me with a grin on his face. He said, “We would be happy to drop it off at Evelyn’s house.” “Oh thank you dear,” said his mother. Rob picked up the pan and handed it to me. If his eyes could laugh they would have been cackling uncontrollably. We walked toward Evelyn’s house. Rob said “Evelyn will be gone all summer. You and this town are going to be the furthest thing from her mind.”

“I know, she will be back by the end of the summer though,” I thought about what I had just said. That was my response. That was the best I could come up with. I had nothing better to say other than she would be forced to come back.

We arrived at Evelyn’s house. Her father was packing the car with luggage. I felt my heart beating faster. She really was going away for the whole summer. Even though I looked calm, I was gasping for air.

“Hey Uncle William we are here to drop off the pan that Aunt Jacque asked for,” said Rob. “Do me a favor and take it into the house,” Rob took the pan away from me, and ran into the house. “So you are taking Evelyn to camp today?” I said while crossing my arms. “We are leaving around 3 o’clock to drop her off. She will be there the whole summer. It’s a camp for the performing arts or something. There is lot of singing and dancing I’m told. You probably already know this though.” Evelyn’s father said.

“Yeah she kind of mentioned it to me,” I was staring across the street. A boy was riding a tricycle on the sidewalk. I was thinking that I had the same bike. I looked back at her father and asked, “Will you visit her at all?” “No, she doesn’t want us coming up. You know how easy you kids get embarrassed.” “Yeah.”

Rob walked out. He looked at me and said, “Let’s go back to my house.” “Oh wait I was going to say goodbye too Evelyn.” Her father said, “She went to the mall 10 minutes ago with her friends. They are buying new bathing suits for the summer. ” “I wanted to see her in that,” I said not believing what came out of my mouth. “I meant that I wanted to see her in, in the house before that. Before she left to go to the mall that is,” Rob smirked as I failed at correcting myself. Her father hesitated for a second before he responded “She should be back later. I can not keep up with everybody and their stories.” We said goodbye to her father and walked back to Rob’s house. He asked “What are your plans now? How are you going to say goodbye.” I scratched my elbow and replied, “I have no idea. Who knows when she is coming back home. Her father said they were leaving around 3 o’clock. That leaves me a few hours. What excuse would I have to say goodbye?” Rob’s eyes veered toward me. He stopped walking and said “Maybe to actually say goodbye,” as he knocked on my forehead. “Sooner or later you are going to have to tell her how you feel.” “I know I know. I just don’t know how all this happened. I don’t know when I started feeling like this toward her.” “It will probably pass. At some point you will get over it. Let’s throw the ball around before the game starts.”

We looked for the football in Rob’s yard but could not find it. I thought that we would find it in Dave’s yard. I remember seeing a football after Dave almost ran me over. We walked into Dave's yard and found Rob's football. We went back Rob’s yard and threw the football to each other. Then we ran offensive plays from our favorite team. Rob pretended to be the quarterback. He threw the winning touchdown to me for the last play of the game.

At that moment his mother called us in for lunch. We walked into the kitchen. My mouth was dry and we were hot from running around. She gave us both a glass of lemonade. Rob and I sat at the kitchen table where we discussed the game we were going to watch. Rob’s mother cooked hamburgers. We ate them while watching the game. His mother picked up the phone to make a call. I heard the zipping and clicking noises from the rotary wheel. My heart rate increased. After I heard the 7th number, I looked at the clock. It was almost 3:00. I rose from the kitchen table. I told Rob and his mother that I had to leave. I walked briskly out of the kitchen and left the house. When I reached the sidewalk I began to run toward Evelyn’s house. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what I was going to say. I just left.

I was a block from Evelyn’s house and I saw Mr. Cooper walking his dog. He waved to me. I slowed down. I bent over to catch my breath and then I hear “Honk Honnnnnk Heyyyyyyy Johnny!”, Then Mr. Cooper’s St. Bernard jumped on me. I was on my back with a large dog on my chest. I lifted my head off the sidewalk, and I saw the rear bumper of Dave’s car driving away. He was still honking his horn. The dog was licking my face. “I’m sorry he was just startled by the car horn. Tubbs sit boy heel,“ as Mr. Cooper snapped his finger multiple times. Tubbs finished licking my face and moved off me. “Your dad called and said you were interested in applying for a position down at the store. Now I wouldn’t normally consider someone your age, but in your case I would make an exception.” I stood on my feet trying to wipe my face. I smelled like a kennel. “Thanks Mr. Cooper, but I am trying to see a friend, before she leaves, for the summer, “ I said with my eyes wide opened.

“Ohhh, of course,” he waved toward me. “Go on. I was young once.” Not the, I was young once line. “I will come down to the store tomorrow, to finish our conversation sir,” and I continued running down the sidewalk.

I arrived at Evelyn’s driveway. I could see that she was trying to pull something out of the car her father packed earlier. “Hello, Evelyn I just wanted to say,” she stood up and turned around to face me with a bright smile. “I just wanted to say…” I was then interrupted by a familiar voice coming out of the car.

“Hey babe I told you I could pull your bag out from this side.” Steve stood up from the other side of the car. He said, “Hey Jonathan how’s it going?” At that moment my heart was tethered to a lead weight that was pulling my soul into an abysmal darkness. Babe. He called her Babe. The darkness was now consuming my vision. I could have fallen into that abyss and would have never known if the ground had broken my fall. “Steve, how’s it going?” I said in a monotone voice trying to stay on my feet.

“I was just helping Evelyn before she left. Going to miss her this summer. I will go up to the camp to visit her. Do you want to come?” Evelyn looked at me with a smile. I said, “No, I will be busy working all summer.” “Jon, I’m going home now do you want a ride?” “Sure that will be great,” I said with all the conviction of wanting to sing Kumbaya in the cafeteria naked with the lunch lady in front of the whole school. Steve walked around the car. Evelyn had a different smile for him. Their eyes were locked on each others. She raised her arms around his shoulders. He put his hands on her hips. They kissed. Then he said. “I’ll miss you.” “Not if I miss you first,” she replied. I could not imagine a worst taste in my mouth than what was physically evoked from watching them. Steve walked across the street to his car. I followed. He turned around one more time to wave goodbye. She blew him a kiss. We got into the car and he drove us home. On the way he said “First we are going to have take my bed apart. I think we can move my desk downstairs without dismantling it. The books can be…” Each word after that was like a bomb going off in my head. At this point I realized I never said goodbye.


Day 12 It’s been several days now since I was separated from Paul and Mary. I still can’t shake the chill in my boots from the rain of that night. I’m just grateful I still have Pachu to keep me company. Despite my isolation I’ve found great comfort in the beauty of this land. The flora and fauna appear untouched, their beautiful hues of blues, purples, yellows, and colors that I couldn’t dream of describing. The animals here are mostly docile and roam in abundance. I have fear of hunting them for not wanting to disrupt this glorious ecosystem. I wince with each cut I must make through the vines to proceed. We are the first ones here, yet I do not truly know what I hope to gain from this journey. New findings to document and bring back? Establishing a home here to enjoy this land's splendid views? Or perhaps the reason I am here is simply to escape, and reflect inwards on the makings of myself. Regardless, I know that this will be a fruitful journey. I do hope I am able to find Paul and Mary again, I’ve lost their tracks, but they can’t have gotten too far. Perhaps Pachu will have better luck tracking them than I. Day 25 Pachu has been extraordinary at helping me acquire food, granted her jaunts to do so can be quite extended at times. She tends to bring back a bird and some fruit when she does. Somehow she always seems to locate these delicious berries of varying colors. Their blues and pinks would make me think they were poisonous if I had less trust in Pachu. I’ll never forget the day Paul, Mary, and I came across her. We found her quite quickly after moving from the beach into the jungle. She seemed utterly careless too or presence, welcoming us if anything, perhaps due to her lack of interactions with humankind. Her beautiful print resembling that of a jaguar, but with beautiful swirls of red interlaced blended with the flowers in which she prowled. Upon close inspection I realized her face appeared closer to that of a panther. She followed us for some time before approaching camp with offerings of food, and even guidance at times, leading us to water when our skins had run low. She comes and goes as she pleases, but seems to have had no better luck locating Paul and Mary than I. Or perhaps she has abandoned them entirely in favor of my company? Day 37 Pachu led me to a river which we followed South for sometime when we were set upon river serpents! Their green coils wrapped endlessly around as their brass fangs lunged at me. Pachu fled to a safe distance, but they restrained me, locking me in place as they unleashed a deluge of water from their mouths. Their spit was as cold as ice and chilled me to the bone. I was able to kick one in the side, causing a kink in its armor, slowing the seemingly endless flow of water, but it quickly corrected and tightened its grip. After thoroughly drenching me, they dropped me from their grasp, leaving me to fall helpless to the ground. Luckily Pachu returned from the shadows and dragged me away by my collar as I lie there in a strange state of delirium. I slowly made my recovery as Pachu fetched me more of those peculiar berries. She has been bringing them back regularly now with the other meals she is able to procure for me. Day 52 The undergrowth has begun to grow thicker. I think I am being stalked by a beast of some sort. Ever since my encounter with the serpents the animals have seemed decidedly more aggressive and dangerous. These fears prompted me to continue my trek through the night in the hope of reaching safer lands once more further in the untouched heart of the jungle. As I proceeded through the night I heard branches snapping behind me with every step I took. Their gradual approach began to frighten me to my core and out of a sense of survival I began sprinting despite my poor vision in the night. I expectedly tripped and found myself entangled in vines. As I began to free myself of them I felt them tighten around me. Amidst the bramble were vipers which had begun to restrain me. They pulled my arms tight around my back, forcing me to my knees. I struggled and screamed in vain when eventually one of them pierced my neck, sinking its venom deep into my veins. I awoke in a small field. I know not what happened while I was unconscious. Perhaps Pachu saved me. Regardless, I hope to avoid them again if at all possible. Day 97 What was once an amazing opportunity has seemingly turned into dreadful slog. Pachu’s visits seem more out of a sense of obligation rather than friendship. The chirping of the birds has begun to grate on my nerves. I long for the comradery of true friendship. I miss being able to converse with anything other than my own consciousness. The loneliness is maddening. I miss Paul and Mary. I miss home. I miss civilization. Whatever purpose brought me here has clearly been lost and in its place I feel a void. My hope for connection and beauty is slipping. I can feel my thoughts slipping away from me. I have abandoned my search for anything meaningful in exchange for trying to find a way out, but I fear I am far too lost to ever reach shore. It’s as though the jungle itself is conspiring against me, aching to keep me trapped within. Day 132 The most peculiar thing occurred today. Pachu spoke. Her voice was comforting, yet oddly familiar. I had tried to refuse the berries she brought me, but she insisted. “Mr. Carrow, these are for your own good. They help you. Trust me, you’ll feel better. You always feel better after these”. I tried to respond, but found my will wanting and gave in to her request. My memory begins to fade from that point on, but I remember her saying “I’ll see bring supper tonight Mr. Carrow. Tonight we were able to get you beef stew! Until then, sleep well Mr. Carrow. I hope you get better soon”. Whatever berries she has been feeding me have clearly been altering my senses. I need to get a better hold of myself or I will never get out of here. Day 158 I fear Pachu is working against me, striving to keep lost in this jungle. Having lost all faith in her, I decided to set a trap. When she next brought my berries I graciously took them from her before hitting her across the head with my other hand. The punch did little damage, but was enough for me to sprint past her into an opening ahead. More animals attempted to assault me, I jumped and dashed as fast as I could over them. I narrowly made it past a set of vipers when I tripped upon a boulder, stumbling head first into a cave. I recovered my senses as fast as I could. I was surprised to find books in the cave. Neatly stacked and organized, fitting into the cave walls as perfectly as they would have on a shelf. One in particular stood out. A note book title “Mr. Carrow”. I flipped its pages open. “Day 37: Attempted cold water pressure therapy. No improvement in symptoms. Will attempt again in one week. Other possible treatments: shock therapy, hypnosis, cranium pressure relief. Will continue to monitor symptoms”. This could not be about me. How could it? I continued to page through the journal, each page mimicking my own accounts, but with feverishly insane tales of my treatment. The vipers caught up with me. Their vice-like grip bound me, as their venom turned my vision black before my memories of the event end. Day 207 I am trapped in this jungle. My memory fades in and out. I do not know where I am or how I truly got here. The animals frighten me. I must keep up hope. Hope is the only thing that will allow me to persevere. My hope to escape. My hope to converse once more. My hope to see Paul and Mary. I hope they did not befall a similar fate. I hope they are home safe with their families. I envision them sharing tea with family over a lovely winter feast. I must keep alert. I must keep challenging myself. I am all that I have in this maze. If I fail to keep moving, I will lose myself in its endless tangles.


[content warning for transphobia and language] My mom was waiting for me at the front door when I got home from school that day. Based on her stormy expression and the report card crumpled in her fist, I could already guess which lecture she was gearing up for, so I swerved and went through the garage door instead.

“Chelsea!” she shouted after me, hurrying down the front steps so she could keep bothering me, “Get your ass back here. We need to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t,” I said, booking it as fast as I could towards the stairs. “And stop calling me that .” “This is getting out of hand. At this rate, you won’t get into college, and I will not let you end up like your uncle!” At the top of the stairs, I turned to look at her. She was standing four steps below me, one hand on the banister, and there was genuine anger in her eyes.

I leaned down, getting in her face a little. “What makes you think you have any say in how I turn out, huh? It didn’t work before, did it?” Her expression twisted, rage blooming on her face, but before she could say anything, I retreated into my room and slammed the door shut behind me. I could hear her yelling outside, but I did my best to tune her out. I’d gotten the last word, after all.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I finally let the weight of the day catch up to me. It hit me in stages–first through a headache that pounded at my temples, then a heaviness in my limbs that nearly sent me to my knees, and finally a deep and pervasive exhaustion. I let my backpack fall off my shoulder and crash to the ground before moving to the battered vanity in the corner. A message was already waiting for me in the mirror. Green letters, the “l”s curled at the ends.

Hello .

I picked up a “red” Expo marker from the cup full of pens on the desk and uncapped it.

Hey , I wrote back.

How was your day? asked the mirror. The “y” is curled too. Nathan has always had really curly handwriting–it was the first thing I knew about him, that he wrote in an elegant, sloping script. Founding Father-esque, one might’ve even said.

Honestly really bad. I got my chem test back and you were right I should've studied more I’m sorry to hear that, Noah .

Just that was enough to make me tear up. Something about Nathan’s calm words and steady presence eased the tension in my shoulders. And calling me Noah–he didn’t have to do that, didn’t have to include it in his message to get his point across, but it was like he was reminding me that he believed me. I briefly closed my eyes, letting the moisture gather in my eyes without shame. Nathan understood me. Nathan was here for me.

I was just trying to figure out which part of the truly terrible day to start with (the things Jason and his friends said at lunch? The comments I found on my Instagram page this morning? The way my old best friend, the person who was supposed to stand by me when no one else did, had looked at me from across the hall?) when I heard a knock on my door. Three knocks–the even rhythm and gentle force told me that it was my dad. I knew in my gut that this was a confrontation I wouldn't be able to avoid, so I quickly scribbled out g2g before swiping my palm across the mirror’s surface, smudging the words beyond recognition.

“Yeah?” I called, capping my “red” Expo marker. Stop lying, Expo. It’s pink.

I watched through the reflection as my dad opened the door and stepped inside, half shutting it behind him as he glanced around the room.

“Hey there, kiddo,” he said, his eyes catching on the mirror behind me. When I glanced back, the green letters were still there, sitting somewhere behind the glass, though I knew he couldn’t see them. I had spent enough time trying to convince him with no results.

“What do you want, Dad?” I said, not bothering to keep the tiredness from seeping into my voice.

Dad sighed, tapping his fingers against his arms as he crossed them. It was an anxious tick, one I recognized as him wanting to be done with this conversation.

“Why is your mirror pink?” he finally asked, ignoring my question.

I shrugged. “I’ve been making notes on it.” “We need to have a talk as a family.” Ah, there it was. Damning words, ones that foretold a very difficult next half hour.

Pushing myself to my feet, I tried to fold my emotions away into some corner of my body where the real world couldn't touch. I didn’t want to be vulnerable for the impending altercation, didn’t want any part of me exposed. I began to move past him to the stairs, but he grabbed my elbow before I could. “Try to be civil towards your mother,” he said.

I scowled. “I’ll be civil if she is.”

When I got to the kitchen, my mother and sister were already waiting, sitting in their respective seats. Mom’s face was stony, and her eyes latched onto me as soon as I entered. My sister, Lila, was focused on her phone, which she poked at with taloned hands.

“Nice of you to join us,” Lila said dryly. I sneered at her. What an ass.

Dad shot her a look before putting a hand on my waist, guiding me towards my chair. Sitting down in his own seat, he leaned forward, threading his fingers together and meeting each of our eyes in turn.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that we are long overdue for a talk. We’ve been kind of disconnected as a family lately.” Lila and I looked at him with twin unamused expressions, but Mom nodded eagerly.

“Yes,” she said. “You’ve both been insufferable lately, and it’s high time that we put an end to this. Lila, why the hell did we get another call from Mrs. Mohror today about your outfit?”

Lila made a face, clicking the button to turn her phone off and slamming it down on the table with a decisive thud . “Um, because she’s a prude? It’s literally just a crop top, you can’t even see anything!” She gestured wildly at me. “And why are you getting on my case? At least I’m dressing like a girl and not some kind of–” she spluttered, searching for words, “– hoodlum !” Easily distracted, Mom spun on me instead. “That’s its own problem! Chelsea, what is with you? You’re so beautiful, why do you insist on dressing like a boy?” “Now girls,” Dad said, apparently newly aware of what he’d started. “Let’s not–” “For the last time, stop calling me that !” I snarled, feeling blood rise hotly to my face. “If nothing else, at least–” “Girls–” “YOU ARE NOT A BOY,” Mom thundered, and the kitchen sunk into silence. Across the room, I could hear the dishwasher gurgling. Outside, the neighbor’s lawn mower hummed to life. I stared at my mother with fire curdling in my chest, anger turning my hands to fists and humiliation making my throat tight.

Mom put her head in her hands and let out a theatrically anguished sob. “ What happened to this family ? I have one kid who dresses like a slut and another who’s convinced she’s a man. You two are throwing away everything I’ve worked for. What did I do wrong?”

Lila rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air before tossing herself back into her chair. “Here we go again. Why do you always have to make everything about you?” In this, we were in agreement.

Mom’s head snapped up, and her eyes latched onto Lila. I used the brief interlude to get up and leave the room even as Dad called for me to stop. I had tried to be civil. I hadn’t even said anything. Now I was done.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I thundered back up to my room, slamming the door shut behind me. In a strange moment of déjà vu, I could once again hear my mother yelling outside, but this time, it was accompanied by my sister’s shrill voice and my father’s panicked rambling as he tried to calm everybody down.

Crossing the room, I collapsed onto the bench in front of the vanity. It felt like gravity was trying to drag me to the floor, and it was pulling at everything–my hair, teeth, bones. I picked up my “red” Expo marker again and ignored the sensation of sinking.

I’m back , I wrote, then paused with the tip poised over the glass. What do I even say to accurately describe what just happened?

Nathan responded first.

I’m glad to hear that , the mirror said. Are you alright? Not really I There was a long pause while I tried to find the words, long enough that a ? started to appear. I watched it form, saw how it started with a delicate curl and ended with a confident strike.

You first , I wrote instead, crossing out what I had already written. How was your day? Tell me something good that hapened Another long pause. I could feel him weighing whether he should push me for more details or not. He apparently decided to leave me be, because a second later, more words started to rise to the mirror’s surface. Alright , he began. I had a good day at work today. We were finally able to get the Huntington project approved, so we’ll be able to start the implementation phase within the next month. There was a bit of a rough patch during the cost analysis meeting, though. It seems like the board members might be the most challenging part of this project after all .

I read with rapt attention, trying to absorb every word as if it were my own. Nathan had always been a bit cagey with the details, but from what I could understand, he had the kind of job that people like me dreamed of. Creativity, ingenuity, artistry–he never used those words, but I could tell from the way he talked how much he relied on them and how much he loved it in turn. The challenge of a problem unsolved, the brilliant people he was surrounded with, the satisfaction that blazed through him after a job well done–he loved it, and I was insanely jealous. I wanted that for myself, wanted it with every fiber of my being. Every atom in my body was pulled towards it with magnetic force, and I craved it desperately. However, as much as I hated to admit it (and I really, really hated it), Mom was right; I probably wouldn’t get into a good college, especially not one that would let me do what Nathan did. So I did my best to commit each word to memory and tried to be satisfied with just that instead. (Nathan, true to form, was extremely supportive of me to an almost insane degree. Even though he refused to tell me what his job was , he encouraged me to keep trying despite my struggles in school, and though I appreciated his faith in me, it hurt every time, like little bee stings in my chest.) Nathan’s writing had slowed to a halt. He waited a respectful beat before cutting straight to the chase.

Now tell me what happened.

I had run out of time to stall. My own crooked writing joined Nathan’s curly lines, red scribbles under green script, and I told him everything. I told him about the cruel things Jason had whispered in my ear this morning and the hatred I found on my Instagram. I talked about the ice in my ex-best friend's eyes and the heavy 52 on my chemistry exam. As I kept going, I found that it got easier, that the words picked up momentum and got sloppier. The stress of the day, which had been a building, burning pressure, was finally starting to slough off of me and into the ink in the marker again, though it wasn’t completely gone. There was still the threat of being interrupted again for Family Feud: Round 2. Still, putting everything into words balanced something inside me, and knowing the words weren’t going straight into the void, that they were being read and consumed and understood, made me feel like this might someday be just another bad day instead of the end of the world.

Nathan stayed the entire time and observed with minimal interruption, only stopping me to ask the occasional question. By the time I was done telling him about the school day, I had covered my mirror in writing three times over. Each time I erased it, more pink clung to the glass, and I managed to gather a decent amount of it onto my hands as well.

Then dad wanted me to come downstairs so we could talk as a “family.” it got bad really quickly. Mom just cant keep her mouth shut. I sighed, leaning back again for a moment to stretch my back before continuing. Sometimes I think they're right that its all in my head. I was so sure that I knew who I was and that this is who I’m suposed to be. But maybe I am too young to know and I’m just wrong. I just hope that I haven’t screwed everything up for good.

Here, I hesitated. There was something else I wanted to tell Nathan, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to put it into words; doing so would solidify my cowardice. It would prove my mother right. I wrote it out anyway. Why couldn’t I have just not said anything? It wouldve been so much easier if I had stayed quiet. I think I made a mistake. There it was: the ugly truth. If I hadn’t said anything, my father and sister would still meet my eyes when talking to me. If I had stayed quiet, I might not be having so much social trouble at school. If I had remained her silent, obedient daughter, my mom and I would still be like we were. All of these losses were the direct results of my own dumb decisions. I had been so caught up in finally finding the words to describe myself that I didn’t think about what they would say to the people around me. Regret curled around my throat and squeezed.

NO. Through blurry eyes, I watched as Nathan underlined the word. Once, twice. Three times. Noah, this is not your fault. You are not to blame for the way your family has reacted. I understand your doubt–I’ve been there, believe me, but you living your life the way you want to isn’t some slight against the world. It’s you trying to be the most honest version of yourself.

Tears were freely dripping down my face at that point. I tried to wipe them away without smearing pink all over my face, but I don’t think I managed. Closing my eyes, I sat back and let out a long breath, repeating Nathan’s words in my head. Not my fault. Not my fault. He wasn’t done yet, though.

And who knows. Maybe someday you’ll change your mind and figure out that this isn’t who you are, but that’s not wrong either. People are allowed to change–that’s just growth. You don’t have to know exactly who you are today.

Please don’t doubt yourself, Noah. I know this is hard. It’s unimaginably difficult, and you’ve been through a lot, but you’ve done such a great job and come so far. I am so proud of you.

This is what I needed, someone to tell me that I wasn’t crazy and that it isn’t wrong to want to be understood. A person who understood the hurt without being dismissive and could see the effort it took to stay composed. Once again, I clung to the words and tried to bury them in my chest, far down enough that they would never shake free. I spent a long moment collecting myself, stilled my trembling hands, then leaned forward and wrote, Thank you. For everything . Kind words. A steady presence. Green letters that curled at the ends.

Of course.

————————————— Hours later, I sigh and put down my green Expo marker. My wife looks up at me from where she’s sprawled across the bed on the far side of the room. “Noah, are you done yet? I think I want tacos tonight for dinner. The beef ones, not the chicken ones.” I laugh a little. “Yeah, sorry about the wait. The kid had a bad day." She stands and crosses the room, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and putting her head on top of mine as she reads what I’ve written on the mirror. I look at her in the reflection, watch her eyes as they flicker back and forth. She is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. “You’re really good at saying the right thing,” she says when she’s done. I hum noncommittally. “Not really, but I try.” The truth is that the younger version of myself is not always the easiest to talk to. It can be hard to reach him under the layers of hurt and rage and guilt and cling to him, and sometimes the idea of reliving all the old memories makes me want to walk away, even though I never would. These conversations are so important to me—when talking to Nathan, it was like I was finally tethered after an eternity spent floating, and I would never give that up.

My wife smiles at me.

“Trust me. You did great.”


In less than a week, I’ll be turning 29. For some strange reason, this age feels scary. I’ve never been an age-conscious person, after all, it’s only a number they say. But, for whatever reason, this impending birthday sends chills down my spine. Thoughts of accomplishments, maturity, responsibility, meaning, and usefulness flood my head. Most people in my society are oblivious to my self-lashing, I’m doing rather well in their eyes. I stay in my own place, almost 700km from home, I work in a multi-national where I interact with pretty awesome people from all over the world and I’m valued where I am; my boss sometimes acts as the department would crumble to dust without me. I even clinched staff of the year for two years in a roll. But yet there is this gnawing feeling of despondency that eats me up from within, that soft but forceful thought that pulls on me every night, telling me ‘ you’re less than all you can be ’. It's true I am surviving but the desire to truly live grows more and more every day. I got recommended for this job by a relative and I was hired, this was never my dream job. And while it has taught me so so much, padded my pockets really nicely, it’s still not my dream job. Every now and then Lady Purpose hunts me in my dreams and reminds me that the enemy of the best is not the worst, but the good. I’m good where I am, but that seems to be the quicksand holding me back from my best. I’ll be 29 in a bit and like a mountain the thoughts of Lady Purpose stands before me, unrelenting and unmoving, demanding I face it or be crushed by it. Then one night, while I contemplated the path to take in the darkness of my one-room mansion, she came to me again, and she whispered to me “ give yourself a birthday gift: quit your job”. The words wrapped themselves around me like the rings around a planet, following me everywhere I went. I thought it’d be crazy to give up a perfectly acceptable job and step into the murky waters of the unknown, especially with the crazy inflation rate and the downhill economy. I explained to myself why a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. I reasoned how my family would consider me demented and would never support the idea. I assured myself that with my current performance here in my job it wouldn’t take long to get a major promotion to that envious managerial role. I talked to myself and reasoned with me but it got nowhere within me, Lady Purposes’ words had already taken root and I could feel it budding already. This would be so much easier if I could see the future, scratch that, this would be so much easier if I could see multiple futures. That way I’d see if I would survive even a year without my job, that way I’d know if I’d ever get to the managerial position that is beginning to seem as bait to tie me here. But alas, today, and right now is all I have to see and know, and yet I’m expected to make decisions that will affect the rest of my days. Maybe I’m lazy, I've found a comfort zone and I’m just doubling in to make sure I stay there, or maybe I’m just a wide-eyed child imagining fantastical castles in some far away Treasure Island, ignoring the reality of life. I recently found a nice girl I wouldn’t mind settling down with, she’s brighter than the sunshine and sweeter than honey-soaked pancakes. And for some unimaginable reason, she seems to fancy me quite a bit too. I already began making plans in my mind where and when I would pop the question, and imagining all the planets were aligned in my favor and she actually said Yes! Another adventure of my life would begin. But then a stable job would probably go a long way in the relationship, at least we would know what to expect. I don’t want to be the broke bum who lost the girl because he couldn’t pay for dinner. Following this outbound plan is risky, but this burning idea still haunts me. I can only hope that she sees wisdom and hope in this path because many times I who hold the lamp still can’t see the light. Whatever the case I’m in the valley of decision, a choice I must make, and a choice I have made. I’ve chosen to embrace the possibility of the tomorrow I seek rather than hunker down in the comforts of today. What if I fail? Then let me fail going forward. Torture to me will be defined as the 60 years old me wondering what could have happened if I ever followed my dreams. It’s a few days to my birthday, my mind is clear, though the questions still hover about, my decision is firm. I’ve ordered the birthday cakes, it’s going to be quite a scene in the office; by morning we blow out the candles, by evening we bring out the resignation letter. My boss will be shocked, my colleagues will shiver, the company will ponder but I may just finally begin my wonder. The secret plan is known by no one but me and Lady Purpose, I expect she’s happy about my decision. I’m still not 100% sure but I do have peace with it. In any case, my sleep though shorter has been sweeter; I’m losing my job but finally finding my life, wherever this rabbit hole leads we will see. So wish me luck as I quit my job and find my work, wish me luck as I leave the ground and walk on water, wish me luck as I end the paragraph and begin the book, wish me luck as I venture down the rabbit hole. I may fail in many things but I will never fail in being me, I may lose many battles, but I will not lose the war within, many things may be said of me but it will never be that I did not follow my dreams.


 Tea Time in Boston

“Just another day in Boston.” David said himself.”  The same people walking by, same old stores and taverns.  Nothing ever changed.  He let out a sigh as he watched the soldiers patrol the streets.

He stood outside his house for a moment and watched a bit longer.

He was greeted by his wife as soon as he entered. “What’s wrong dear? You look sad.” “Anna, I hate the way it looks out there. People every where look so miserable.  Come to the new world they said. So we came not knowing we would be ruled by an empire thousand of miles away.” Anna gave her husband a hug. “Don’t worry dear something will happen that will make things better.” David released her from the embrace. “Anna do you know something I don’t know?” “No dear of course not. Now come into the dining room, dinner is waiting for you. Xxxxxxxxxxx “Lieutenant Smith, welcome. The usual?” Nick the barman asked.

Charles nodded and sat at his table.

His ale was served by a barmaid. She set it on the table in front of him then walked away.

Charles took one sip of his drink.

Nick noticed the look on Charles’ face. He walked over to the table. “What’s on your mind?  You look tired

Charles looked up at Nick. “I am tired.  Tired of patrolling the same streets with the look of hate on the peoples faces.

Nick patted Charles on the shoulder.  “Change will come some day. Things will get better.” “Nick, do you know something? If you do, best you tell me.” Nick shook his head. “Nothing at all.”  He walked back behind the bar.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx David rushed into the house all excited. “Anna,” he called out a bit breathless.

Hearing her husband, Anna stopped what she was doing and left the kitchen. “What is it dear?” She asked and walked up to him.

“Men.”

“Men?  What men?”  Anna asked David raised his hand and pointed his index finger upwards.

Anna waited patiently for her husband to catch his breath

“Some men in disguise boarded a ship and threw an entire cargo of tea into the harbor.” David answered, his breath now under control.

Anna gasped. “What?  When? Where?  Are you sure?” “Yes, yes, it’s all over town. Everyone are excited. Apparently it has started a conflict. There are whispers of war may be possible.” Anna stood in silence for a moment. “Over tea?  Does t seem there should be war over tea.” David moved closer to his wife. He held her shoulders. “Not just tea, but taxes and not having a say in legislation. We, they, you,  me, everyone want freedom from the empire. The tea was just the last straw. “ Anna smiled. “At last the change has come.” David didn’t pay attention to what she had said. He let go of her shoulders, brought her into his arms and hugged her.

xxxxxxxxxx The Lieutenant entered  the tavern  followed by his soldiers.   “Everyone stay where you are.  Nick come out behind the bar. “ Nick did as he was told and stood in front of Charles. “What’s going on.” “There was looting aboard one of our ships,” Charles replied. “I’ve been charged with finding the person or people who did it.” Amazed Nick stared at Charles. “Certainly you don’t suspect me?” Charles gave Nick a cold stare. “I suspect everyone,” he said then gave his attention to the rest of the people.

“Anyone here involved or knows who was, best to step forward now!” Nick stood his ground and remained in front of Charles. No one else moved.

Angry, Charles ordered his soldiers to search every one. No weapons were found.

“Satisfied?” Nick asked  Charles.

Charles raised his hand to slap Nick, but stopped. Instead he ordered his men out of the tavern.  Not saying a word he followed them out.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx David and Anna just outside the general store. They heard the town cryer coming their way and wanted to know what he was saying.

“Here ye, here ye, all abled men fetch a weapon and prepare to fight. A war has begun against the empire.” “We have to go home so I can get my gun,” David said to his wife.” Anna grabbed his arm  “No, David,  please don’t get involved. Please don’t leave me.” “I have to Anna. Every man counts.  I have to do my part,” The two went back to the house. All the way there Anna pleaded with him not to go.

David ignored her pleads. Back in the house, David got his gun, gave Anna a kiss goodbye then left.

Anna stood in the doorway weeping. Xxxxxxxxxx No longer a soldier a haggard Charles had taken on the task of informing those left behind that their loved one would not be returning.

His last stop was at Annal’s. He knocked on the door and waited for a response.

A woman who had lost the luster of youth answered the door.

Charles couldn’t help but to notice hollowed eyes and worn clothes. “Are you Anna?” The woman nodded. “Yes,  I am Anna and I know why you are here, but please don’t tell me my husband is dead.

Charles frowned. “I am sorry, but that is why I am here. However you should take comfort in knowing he did not die in vain. The last in the soldiers are leaving back to the Empire.

“Yes, I know and perhaps I’m being selfish but I want my husband back.” Charles sighed  “I understand. I lost friends in the war. I realize that’s not the same as losing your husband.  But still it can hurt.” Anna suddenly realized they were still standing outside. “My apologies here we are outside. Please come in and sit down They sat on the settee. “It just accursed to me, I don’t know your name.”  Charles smiled. “I am Charles Smith. You probably remember me as Major Smith by the time the war ended. I lead the surrender.” Anna quickly stood and backed away. “Y o u, we’re with the Empire,” she pointed a finger at him. You’re the enemy,” she cried out.

Charles stood. “No, no longer. I turned in my commission and left the military. I am a common citizen of the colonies. “ Anna stared at him in disbelief. “Oh, really is that so,” she said and placed her Hands on her hips.

Charles let out a breath of air. “I just made major when I felt I couldn’t go on. The anguished look on the faces of so many people on both sides was tearing me a part. The people of this colony deserved to have their own country. So I resigned my commission and decided to help those left behind.” Anna softened and let her arms slide down to her sides. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” Charles smiled and nodded. “Of course not. How could you know.” Anna pointed with her hand at the settee. She was about to suggest they sit again when they heard a loud noise. They walked outside and looked up as a ship flew by.

Charles looked at Anna. “That’s the last ship carrying soldiers back home.  The Empire surrendered a few weeks ago,”  Charles explained. A look of relief crossed Anna’s face. “Finally, the change I was hoping for. Mars is free again.” .


(Contains flashback episodes and violent memories from war) October 1999   Here comes someone. Wonder who it is? Probably wants something. No one ever comes by unless they want something.     I don’t know that car. Who is that? Oh, okay. That’s Steven, my sister’s grandson. Who’s that with him? Don’t know that guy.

  Hello, Steven. What brings you way up here? Who’s your friend?

Hello, Barry. Nice to meet you too. What’s that? You’re a journalist? You mean a reporter, right? That’s what I thought.     Have a seat right here on the porch. This is the kind of day porches were made for. Can I get you fellas something to drink? No? Let me know if you want something.     So let me see. I’m about to turn one hundred years old, Steven, and you show up with a reporter. An interview? Want to know how it feels to be a hundred?     That, and you want to interview me as I am one of the very few World War One veterans still alive. How many did you say? That sounds about right. Five of us American doughboys left.     And then there were five.    I met Frank Buckles and Harry Patch at a Legion convention a couple years ago. And a Canadian too, John Babcock was his name. A couple from England are still with us, including a lady vet, and two in France, I think. And a couple guys from the other side, from Germany and Austria. That sure isn’t very many, now is it?     No, I don’t really know any of our guys. They weren’t in my outfit. One guy is in bad shape, last I heard, won’t make it much longer. I think the American Legion is keeping track of us, how many are left.   We started the Legion. Veterans of the Great War. That’s what they called it, the Great War. Nothing great about it that I remember, except when it was all over. The Armistice. November 11, 1918.     I heard that we’re losing over a thousand World War Two vets each day. Dying off quick, aren’t they? And us, just a few left. We’re all bumping a hundred years old too. How much longer can we last?     So you want to know what World War One was like. Lord sakes, son, how do I even start? It was terrible, I can tell you that. The most God-awful thing I ever saw in my life. People who didn’t know each other, from different parts of the world, all trying to kill each other.     All I knew was that men were needed to go over to France and stop who they called the Kaiser and his Evil Huns. Inhuman monsters from Germany. That’s what they told us. The recruitment posters all showed them to look like gorillas, like monsters. Big and hairy and terrible. They said they ate children. That they tortured women. The devil’s own army, so they told us.     Well sir, they had to be stopped. So we joined up. July of 1917 it was, me and my older brother Charlie and a bunch of other fellas from town joined the Army. American Expedition Forces was the fancy name, but it was the Army.     They sent us off to Camp Something-or-other to learn how to march and shoot and dressed us all up in uniforms. Then they marched us off to the train that took us to a ship in New York. I never saw New York before. I saw a little of it as we sailed away, to France. The ship was full of us doughboys, and we all wondered if we’d ever see those tall New York City buildings again. Charlie said we would. He was always like that, looking at the bright side.     Guys got seasick. The trip over wasn’t so great. Bad weather and rough seas. But they got us there. To France. We all wanted to see the sights. Gay Paree, those pretty girls we all heard about, try some of that fancy champagne, the Eiffel Tower.     No dice. They sent us right out to fight at the front. The Hun was out there and needed to be stopped no matter what.     They hauled us in trains, and then trucks. Then they marched us in. March-march-march. I thought we’d never get there. But we did. And what I saw sent shivers right up my spine.     Bare land. No trees, no grass, no nothing. Barb wire on poles. Trenches. Our guys, all in trenches and holes. Peeking over the top at more trenches, way on the other side. That’s where the Germans were, in those trenches over there. That’s who we had to stop.     Some captain was there, and told us we had to make a run for it to get to our trenches. When he blew his whistle, we were to run as fast as we could to get there, and jump right in, because the Germans would be shooting at us.     I thought this guy must be out of his mind. Run out into the open and let them shoot at us? Like some crazy game of hide and seek. Tag, you’re it, with a bullet in you.     So he blew that whistle and we ran and jumped into the closest trench, not knowing how deep it was or anything.     I didn’t jump in. I stopped at the edge and looked first, then slid down the side. Good thing, as there were three guys there I would’ve landed on if I just jumped right in. And I slid right into a foot of mud. It must’ve rained and the water had no place to go. It was a mess.     Other guys did jump right in. One poor guy already there wound up with a broken arm from someone jumping in and landing on him.     There were twenty-one of us who ran first for the trench. Reinforcements, they called us. Nineteen made it, two were shot. One died right away, the other one was dragged off somewhere. I don’t know how he made out.     We were there but a few minutes and already one guy was killed. Lucky shot, right in the chest. Maybe lucky isn’t the right word.     Another whistle sounded and the guys there climbed up on blocks and shelves and shot back at the Germans. They kept shooting until the whistle sounded again. Then they all stepped down and found a place to sit, safely out of sight from the other side.     My God, is this what we had to do? Wait till the enemy is in sight and then shoot them?     Yes sir, that was it. Wait for one to stick his head up and pick him off. And that’s what they were doing on their side too, waiting for one of us to stick his head up.     Then it became a game of hurry up and wait. Long boring hours went by, and then all hell broke loose and we’d all start shooting at the same time. I don’t know if we hit anybody. The officers had binoculars. We just had rifles.     Later that day it started to rain. Before we knew it, another foot of water was in the trench. What a mess. And then the officers told us that we were going to charge the Germans. Over the top and across no man’s land and ambush them while they were hunkering down from the storm.     Did you know the term “over the top” came from that? Over the top of the trench. And then on to glory and victory. Or some such damn fool nonsense.     We got ready to charge, and when the whistle blew, over the top we went. If it was up to me, with the storm and all, I’d have gone across there nice and quiet and surprise them. But no, the whole company was whooping and hollering like some wild Indian attack.  		Right away the Germans returned fire. And the second man I saw shot and killed in France that day was my brother Charlie. Right next to me, he went down with a bullet in his neck.     I was scared out of my mind and screaming mad at the same time. I wanted to kill the man who killed my brother. With bullets flying all around me, I jumped the barb wire and ran right up to their trench and jumped in. I didn’t care who I landed on. I shot two men right away and used my bayonet on another. The other guys were right behind me and we cleaned out that trench, and good. Except for a few who ran away, we killed them all.     We killed them all.     Our guys were all laughing and singing and slapping each other on the back.     Me, I looked at the dead bodies of those Germans. Not one of them looked like a gorilla. They were men, and boys, just like we were.     I know Mother would be devastated when she heard about Charlie getting killed. Would the mothers of these Germans feel the same way when they found out about their sons dying? I’m sure they would.     I started to cry. What have I done? I killed a man. Several men. The Bible says Thou Shalt Not Kill . I broke a Commandment. What will happen to me now? Will God strike me dead next because of what I had done?   The guys were celebrating. We won that battle! They congratulated me on my first kill. They told me there would be plenty more, if we planned on winning this thing.     I walked away from them and when I got far enough away, I threw up.     Then I heard a different whistle signal, the one they made sure we knew when they taught us bout poison gas. I quickly put on my gas mask and watched as a yellow cloud of poison fog swept over us. We didn’t win completely, the Germans were still fighting back.     One of our men didn’t get his gas mask on fast enough. He was lying in the mud gasping for air and spitting out some awful things from his mouth. He choked to death, right there in front of us.     I never got to know his name.   The wet muddy trench we were standing in also served as a latrine. There was nowhere else to do your business except right there. That muddy water was a sewer. That was the final insult to those Germans, lying dead in that filthy water.     So that was my first day fighting in France. Do you want to hear more? *     I figured you fellas would need a drink after that. I always keep a good supply of fire water for just such a time.     So, Steven, that was what happened to your Uncle Charles. We called him Charlie. Everybody did. He was two years older than me, born in 1898. Seems that Father left Mother with something to remember him by before he went off to fight in the Philippines during the Spanish-American War. I was born not quite two years later, something that Father gave Mother as a welcome home gift. They would never describe it in that way, people were such prudes back then, but that’s how it happened. My sisters Helen and Lillian, your grandmother, came along later, in 1905 and 1909.     Our family was a scrappy bunch. We fought every time, from the Civil War on. My grandfather lost his brother, Philip, at Second Bull Run. My father lost his brother, my Uncle Albert, somewhere in the Philippines. His body was never brought home. I lost my brother in France.     Your Aunt Belle and I had two sons. They both fought in World War Two, just a generation after my war. Your Uncle Claude made it home, minus his right arm. His brother, your Uncle  Jimmy, also made it home, but died a few years later from the malaria he caught somewhere in the Pacific. My nephew Freddie, from my wife’s side, was all of a month away from graduating high school. He quit school to enlist in the Navy. He was killed when his ammunition ship blew up somewhere near New Guinea. So many boys right from town were lost.     Your Aunt Helen, my sister, lost her son, your Uncle Raymond, at the Chosin Reservoir in Korea. His brother, your Uncle Douglas, was a prisoner of war for three years in Korea. He came home, but has never been right since.     And it hit your generation too, Steven. You served in Vietnam. You came home, but your cousins Tommy and Bruce didn’t.     And it goes on, doesn’t it? Your nephew Allen was almost blown to bits in Desert Storm. He’ll never walk again, will he? Stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Your cousin Eddie, who was killed in Lebanon. You’re what, forty-nine? Fifty now? What about your kids? Your grandkids? Your son is old enough to join the Army. Will he be next?     Even that terrible Spanish flu epidemic in 1919 was caused by the war. Men returning from France brought the bug home with them and it spread everywhere. I guess we won the war, but not by much.     So who is next, Steven? Haven’t we had enough of this? When does it end? Barry, do you have an answer for that? When does it end?     Okay, I’m sorry. I went on a tear there. Let me have a drink.  *     There. Much better. Those folks in Scotland sure do know how to make some fine whisky.     Okay, Barry. More questions for me?     Do I believe in God? Interesting question. Do I? After what I’ve seen, and what has happened to our family over the years, I don’t think so. Would a loving God allow all of this? No, I’d say that God means nothing to me.     They took my uncles, my brother, my son, my nephews away from me. My loving wife, Belle, incredible woman that she was, was taken away from me too. Cancer. She was only fifty years old. That was half a century ago that I buried her! I’ve been alone for fifty years without her. We were married for thirty years, and she’s been gone for fifty.     And you want to know if I believe in God.     All I know is that, right now, I’m still healthy and still have my wits about me, but how long will that last? I won’t pray for a longer life. I haven’t prayed since that first terrible day in France in 1917.     I think I’m done talking for now, fellas. I have to lie down. My head is pounding from this.     Sorry.     Steven, don’t be a stranger, you hear? Come on up and make sure I’m still kicking. Always great to see you. Bring Barry along and we can do some more damage to my stash of fire water. Say hi to everyone, tell them I’m still here. *     There they go. Nice to have a little company. It gets lonely up here sometimes. Oh, they call me an old hermit. I’m not, I go to town once a week or more for groceries and supplies, have a drink at the Legion. I like it here. Not much traffic, no noise. They’d like it too if they came by once in a while.     Maybe it’s too late for that. I think my time is over. I still have these terrible memories after eighty years. I can’t shake them. Shell shock, battle fatigue, post-traumatic stress disorder, whatever the hell they call it these days.     Well, I told my story about what it was like over there. I never much talked about it. None of us did. War stories? Not from us. Too many bad memories.     I saw the fields of poppies and crosses in the cemeteries over there. Nothing grows on that poisoned land except poppies.     No man’s land.     So many buried there. So many poppies.   Okay, George, you old coot, let’s pour yourself this last bit of Scotch. There we go. Let’s make a toast. To those who went before us, and to us five American doughboys who are still left. We won’t be around for much longer. Let’s just hope that someone remembers us.     This Scotch is so good. Only the best fire water, right? But now it’s gone, just like everything else.     My trusty old .45 caliber Colt, model 1911A. Military issue. Great old weapon, still works well. Shot a few critters over the years with this. They sure knew how to build them back then. Just like the guys I served with over in France. My guys.     One last check. Everything is paid off. Taxes, insurance, everything. Only things due are the electric and telephone bills. They can chase somebody else for them. Haven’t they got enough out of me over the years?     One last swallow. Here’s to you, the five Americans who are still left, including me. May they remember us for our service to our country. In the Great War. The war to end all wars. Yeah. Right.     Hand salute. Two.

Bang .     And then there were four. * * Author’s note: This fictional story was back-dated to 1999, when there were five American Veterans remaining. At the time of this writing, the very last of the Veterans of World War One, of every country, both friend and foe, have passed. There are none left.     The last American veteran, Frank W. Buckles, was honored in several ceremonies before he died, including being feted at the White House by President George W. Bush in March 2008.     As they had lost the war, there were no certified records of surviving German veterans. It is presumed all had passed by 2012.