Brian fumbled with the pull-string on the bag he was carrying. He couldn't maintain his grasp on the silk cords as they kept falling from his trembling fingers. The problem only worsening as he stumbled blindly in the dark, the trees overhead blotting out any light from the stars above. The only illumination coming from the crescent moon overhead. It peaked sheepishly between branches, casting threatening shadows on the ground that appeared like webs for some sickening, oversized spider. Brian let out a sob that he tried to mask. "Don't get all teary-eyed now," called a voice behind him, "you had your chance back at that burger joint and you fucked up." The frigid air around them rippled in the silence that followed. Fall had definitely come and the chill in the air was harsh against the face, even though no wind was blowing. Brian felt the barrel of the man's rifle press into the small of his back. He gasped in shock, he didn't realize the man had closed the distance so quickly. Almost as if the gunman had glided over the rocks and roots that jutted out from the ground. Any progress he had made on opening the bag was undone as he clutched the bag to his chest. "I don't even see the point," he said, "it's all coming to an end, right? Why waste the time on you?" "Then why are you here?" Brian croaked. "Just let me go..?" His voice faltering on the last syllable, as they continued forward, the leaves crackling under their feet. The man laughed dryly, "After what you did to me back there?" Brian heard him touch his face, right where he took a broken piece of glass and slashed him, "I don't think so. I don't know why they came for you so late, but you're done now." Brian pried at the knot in the cord of the bag. The thing inside jostled back and forth, alive, with the feverish dream to get out. It pounded against Brians palm as he held it. "There really is no stopping it, is there?" The man asked, as if they had been making small talk for the last thirty minutes they had been walking, as if there wasn't a gun pointed into his captives back. "Can't put Pandora back in the box?" Brian didn't answer. "I used to be a teacher." The man continued. Brian looked up from the knot that was starting to come loose and tilted his head to the side. He could hear him grasp the rifle tighter. His hands moving back and forth, wringing it like it was a damp washcloth. "So was I." "Yeah and people like you fucked it up for everyone, didn't you? Any sense of normalcy, its all gone." Brian neglected to answer the accusation. The knot came undone and his heart skipped a beat. He pinched the top close between his fingers. Confidence in turning the situation in his favor was restored. The thing inside was now practically throwing itself in a panic, begging to be let out. "I'm glad actually," Brian responded, placing the bag in the opening of his coat, still clenching it shut, "so many lies across so many centuries. Heaven and Hell are fake. Its always been us, we set the price too high for our salvation. Everyones deaths weren't for-" The bullet from the rifle cut through Brians knee and he fell forward with a scream, landing face first against a trunk from a fallen tree. The bag pumping against his own heart, Brian unsure which was which. Before he could turn, the hot barrel of the rifle was placed against the back of his neck. "Go ahead. Justify why my wife and boys are dead." the man said, barely in a whisper. The seconds that followed felt like minutes while Brian whimpered on the ground, wishing to clutch his knee but unable to move. The rifle dug deeper, "TELL ME WHY!" The man shouted. "Fuck you!" Brian yelled back, dirt and leaves sticking to his face. "I hope they fucking died slowly and you had to watch their souls leave their body while the archangels tore the vessels apart!" The burning muzzle left his neck. Brian reached his hand back inside his coat and grabbed the bag as it bounced maniacally, the smell of the fresh blood exciting it no doubt. He grimaced as he turned over, holding the bag steady and out of sight. His already rapid breathing increasing as he looked at his mangled knee, covered in blood that oozed through his jeans. The dirt that clung to it made it look infected. Perhaps he already was. The man with the gun had reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out another bullet. It glinted in the light shining through the trees. He loaded it into the chamber and raised the stock to his shoulder, glaring down the iron sights. "Wait!" Brian yelled, and yanked his arm out of his coat, holding the squirming bag. "Its opened! Shoot me and I drop it. Shoot me and you're dead." The man lowered his rifle, fear replaced the rage that had stained his face before. The cut across his left cheek was smeared with dried blood. "No," the man said, "we just killed it. I saw it die." "Lower your weapon and go back the way you came and I won't release it." The man didn't hesitate, he immediately bent down and placed the gun on the leaf-strewn ground, raising his arms as he did so. "Good, now turn around and start walking," Brian commanded breathlessly. Wordless, the man turned on the spot and began darting through the trees, the way they just came back towards his pickup truck. Brian tried to pull himself up by one hand on the log, wincing as he came to lean on the roots sticking horizontally into the open air. One hand clutching the toppled tree, the other hand still holding the bag. He glanced down at his leg, hanging almost lifeless as the patch of blood spread down towards his shoe. That was enough of a head start, Brian thought. And with that he dropped the bag. The explosion of unearthly noises that ripped through the night air was such that the man tripped over a fallen tree branch. The leaves of the trees around him swayed as if moved by a sudden gust of wind. Not bothering to turn and see, he picked himself up and continued running. He knew he must have been a hundred feet away by that point but the screech echoed in his ear as if it was right behind him. He pelted towards his truck. His footsteps thundering on the earth below him. The straps of his leather jacket belted against his forearms almost in tune with his stride. "Derek." Between the fight at the restaurant earlier in the night, watching his partners be slaughtered before him, and the dreaded walk out in the wilderness, nothing had scared the man more than hearing his dead wife whisper his name in his ear. He collided with a tree, knocking the breath out of him. Derek lay on the forest floor grabbing at his chest as he tried to reclaim his oxygen. His breathing coming in gasps. This was it and he knew it. Any chance of outrunning the demon was laughable in the first place. He sat up. His wife, in all her beauty, stood twenty feet away. Her short, brown hair pinned up, just like the day he met her at the university they attended. She looked him up and down, in an almost flirtatious way and took a step forward. The right side of her body phased through a tree. "Derek, its time we were together again," she said in almost trance, sing-song voice. How he missed the sound of it. She continued moving forward, ethereal in her movement over the uneven ground. She stopped ten feet away when Derek spoke. "Just... just do it," he whispered. The world was ending, his family was gone, how much more can a person fight. Dereks wife straightened her stance, her eyes dimmed into blackness as the outline of her body shifted, almost like it was static. The living corpse dropped and the creature controlling it stood in its wake. As black as oil with no discernable features, the demon only stood out because it was far darker than the night around it. A second passed and suddenly it was on top of Derek who had no time to scream. The shock of the moment suspended as it reached into his head, drawing no blood and pulled out something that pulsed different colors, on every possible part of the spectrum. The demon devoured the soul it held. As it entered the blackness that held it, the lights flickered and shut off. For a moment, the ghost of Derek flashed across the area where the demons face once held his deceased wifes. Derek's shell lay on the ground, vacant and unknowing. As good as dead, the demon picked it up and slit his throat to drink from. Drained, it was tossed to the side where it fell out of sight over the nearby brush. A fly caught in the webs of a spider. Killed, emptied, and disposed of.


“Thank you for choosing to participate in our study, Mr. Frangere.” Her voice was familiar. She must have been the one that called me earlier in the week. She’d called asking if I wanted to be in some study, a pharmaceutical drug test. The pay was good; $250 per day for two days minimum of testing. I wouldn’t have to stay overnight, and I’d get breakfast, lunch, and dinner for free. I really didn’t need the money, but why not? I have the time to spare. “It's not a problem. So what will we be testing?” She ignored the question and peered at her clipboard from behind the desk. She was wearing a completely white outfit; dress, stockings, heels, and a lab coat to complete it. After she finished shuffling through the papers, she held out the clipboard and a pen. “I need you to fill out these forms, and then we can get started.” I took her offering, and proceeded to sign my life away. The forms consisted of basic information; a medical history form, a liability form, and several pages about the test, which I was told to read and sign. They didn't tell me much about what was going to happen or what I would be taking, just about all of the possible dangers and side effects that could occur from the medication. I skimmed through those without giving it a second thought. “All done, Miss... what was your name?” She took the clipboard and checked to make sure I’d completed it correctly. “If you could just follow me Mr. Frangere, we can get started.” The building that I entered wasn't what one would have expected to house a drug testing facility. From the outside, anyone would assume that the building was just a warehouse, and that would be the end of it. However, inside the building was much different. The room I was in wasn't that big, and was completely white. From the floor to the ceiling tiles, the walls to the doors, even the furniture, everything was white. I felt as though I could have been in the early stages of a horror movie, but I shook the feeling. The only color that I could see around me, besides my own clothing, were several small plants that had been strategically placed around the room in an attempt to negate the lifeless feeling. When I entered the main door into the lobby, I was greeted by an admission desk, which was where the woman was seated . On the wall behind the desk there were two doors, one on each side, along with a door on each wall to the left and right of where I stood. They weren't marked in any way which made the building feel like a maze. The people that work here must know where each door leads, because the woman suddenly stood and proceeded to the one that was to the left of her. I began to follow, as per her request. As we passed through the door, we entered what appeared to be a very long hallway, which continued the color scheme from the previous room. This hallway also included many unmarked doors, and more long hallways, enhancing the maze-like feeling. *How could anyone stand to work in a place like this?* I thought to myself as I followed her down several different corridors until finally we stopped in front of a specific, unmarked door. I tried to remember how to get back to the lobby, but lost track after the third or fourth turn. “Here we are Mr. Frangere, this will be your room for the next fifteen hours. Inside, you will find a set of clothes we would like you to wear, a lavatory, and breakfast. Please put all jewelry and belongings in your pockets now, and enjoy your meal. Someone will return to you shortly.” She sounded like a machine at this point, reciting pre-programmed lines quickly and poignantly. She opened the door, and I proceeded into the room, hearing the door close behind me. She was suddenly gone, and I was alone, in my entirely white room which I would remain in for the next fifteen hours. The room wasn't very big. It consisted of a desk and chair, a bed, and a door which led to the bathroom. I changed quickly and ate my breakfast, which was an enjoyable meal of eggs, bacon, ham, sausage, orange juice, and black coffee. However, while I ate, I noticed several cameras which I assumed were supposed to be hidden, but they didn't do a very good job at that. After twenty minutes passed, I heard a knock at the door. It then opened, and a different woman entered my room. She didn't say a word, but she grabbed my personal belongings and meal tray. “Excuse me, when will...” She also ignored me, and was gone before I could finish my question. *What the hell did I sign myself up for?* *This had better be worth it.* Another ten minutes passed before I was graced by a third person. This one had a tray in their hands which carried a small condiment cup and a clear, plastic cup filled with water. He placed the tray on the desk before speaking. “How was your meal, Mr. Frangere? Are you nice and full? Ready to begin testing?” This one seemed a little more friendly than the other two. “I suppose I'm as ready as I'll ever be.” “Great.” He slid the tray over to me. “In front of you, you will see a small, white pill with the numbers '3702' engraved into it.” *Of course it's white, what else is new?* “You will also see a cup of water, which you can use to assist in the ingestion of the pill. You are required to finish the contents of the cup.” The man's friendliness disappeared, and the mechanical personality was in charge. “After you take the pill, we do ask that you lay down in your bed until you hear this tone.” Suddenly, a ringing sound pierced through the room. *What the? Where did that come from?* I hadn't seen any speakers in the room, so the sound completely took me by surprise. “After you hear the tone, you are free to do whatever you choose within the room. You may leave in fifteen hours, which will make the time 12:00 a.m.” With that, the man was out the door. *So take the pill and lay down. That seems easy enough.* I took the small pill in one hand, and the cup of water in the other, and did what I was told. The pill must have had a powder-coating over it, because I had a foul taste in my mouth after I took it. I stood from the chair and used the bathroom before I laid in my bed. I wasn't sure how long it was going to take before that ringing sound played again, so I figured I'd take advantage of the chance I had. Afterward, I got in to the bed that was provided for me which wasn't nearly as comfortable as it looked. It felt as if the entire bed had been chiseled out of stone, pillow and all. I got myself as comfortable as I could, and stared at the ceiling. *Well, I guess I could close my eyes while I wait for, whatever this is, to kick in. Hopefully this will be quick.* Everything around me went dark as my eyelids closed. What felt like minutes passed, and I was shocked by the sound of the tone. *Already? I'm not feeling anything yet. Is it over?* However, something was different. The walls of the room no longer looked white, but almost a light pink color. *That's probably just from closing my eyes. They said I could do anything, so I guess I’ll sleep until they bring me lunch.* I closed my eyes again, and submersed into a deep sleep. *Adrian. Adrian, you need to wake up.* I was abruptly awakened by someone saying my name, but I didn't open my eyes right away. “Is it lunch time already? I could go for a good burger.” There was nothing but silence. *Adrian, you need to get out of here.* The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't figure out whose it was. I finally sat up and opened my eyes, only to be startled at what I saw. The walls, which were originally white, then looked pink, were a dark shade of purple, and had a translucent liquid running down them which was glowing a baby blue color. The floor had turned a tint of red, similar to roses just after they had bloomed, and each door in the room was radiating neon green, with the color fading lighter and darker. “What the fuck dude,” I laid back down, trying to collect my thoughts. But what I saw on the ceiling is what put me over the edge. It looked like someone had painted a universe on it, however, this was much more than a painting. The swirling mass of clouds and stars were spinning, the universe was alive, and I was moving closer to it. My body wasn't physically moving as far as I could tell, but I was approaching the center of the large mass, and I was doing it quickly. Stars began to fly around me, glowing specks disappearing and reappearing everywhere that I looked, and for a second I could swear that I felt some type of wind on me. It was then that I decided this test was over. “I'm going to the bathroom, puking up this pill you gave me, and going home.” I yelled this loud enough so if there weren’t microphones in the room, someone outside of the door could hear me. I had a hard time standing, but finally managed after becoming acclimated to the rosy red-colored floor. My movement wasn't how it normally was, I had a hard time lifting my legs, and I couldn't stand up straight. I couldn't tell if I felt hot or cold, but half of my body had goosebumps and the other half didn't. I shuffled to the bathroom door but I didn’t want to touch it. The glowing green was completely unnatural, but I had to get rid of this pill. I managed to turn the knob and get the door open. As I walked through the door, everything went black again. *Adrian. You need to get the fuck out of here, Adrian.* I awakened yet again, to find myself still laying in bed where I had been after I took the pill. I hastily sat up and peered around the room. Everything looked exactly as it was when I laid down; white, and entirely blank. “Shit, it was just a dream. What kind of drug did they give me?” As I looked around, I noticed someone had entered my room while I was asleep, because there was another tray atop my desk. It was my lunch, and it consisted of a cheeseburger, a large amount of french fries, and a chocolate milkshake to wash it down. “Wow, this place delivers.” I threw my legs off the bed and stood up, giving myself a sudden head rush. The room began to darken, and I could see the familiar little stars floating around that always visit me when I stand too quickly. *Adrian, why haven't you left yet? You need to leave, Adrian.* There was that voice again. I keep hearing it, but I have no clue where it's coming from. I looked around to make sure I was alone in the room, and sat down at the desk. “Whoever keeps talking to me, you need to cut it out. You're really starting to piss me off. Unless that's the point of the test, then you're doing a fantastic job at it!” I waited for a response, but I heard nothing. I was becoming agitated, and turned back towards the tray filled with food. My perspective changed yet again. The burger on my tray was still a burger, but it also had eyes, and a mouth slowly began to appear on it. The french fries began to melt, and the milkshake was boiling over its glass. “What are you still doing here, Adrian?” The burger started talking to me. *Why is this burger talking to me? What’s happening to me?* I wasn't sure what to make of it, and I felt trapped and scared in this small room, so I did the only thing I could do. “What are you talking about? You're a burger, how can you talk?” “You need to leave. This place will kill you dead, Adrian.” I started getting worried at this point, not specifically at the fact that a burger just told me I was going to die, but the fact that the burger said anything at all. “What do you mean this place will kill me? And how are you talking?” *You need to listen to the burger, Adrian.* The voice was much louder now, as if the person who owned it was directly behind me. I jumped out of my chair and spun around, only to find that I was still alone in the room. I turned back to my plate, but the food that was there looked as it normally would. The burger no longer had eyes, and the fries and milkshake looked as edible as they did when I first saw them. I decided not to eat my food, partially because I felt guilty eating something that was talking to me a moment ago, and told me I was going to die. I walked towards the bathroom instead to rinse my face with some water, hoping to shake whatever it was that I was feeling. The drug must have kicked in at this point, because there was no way this feeling was natural. *You're going to miss your chance, Adrian.* I opened the lavatory bathroom, only to find that it was no longer a lavatory. Instead, a long corridor stretched out in front of me. This corridor wasn't like the other hallways I had seen though. The walls were a very dark gray, and every ten feet a candlestick could be found hanging on the wall on both sides. I could only see within the first fifty feet though, after that it was completely dark. I closed the door and reopened it, but the hallway remained unchanged. “I think it's time for me to leave.” I turned toward the door that lead out of the room, and rushed over to it. When I opened it, the familiar hallway I had seen before entering the room gave me a good feeling. *You're too late, Adrian.* Before I had the chance to step out of the doorway, the hall melted right before my eyes. The walls, the other doors, the ceiling, all looked like they were dripping blood, as if they were alive. *There's only one way to go now.* I looked to where the lavatory should have been, down the dark corridor, and back to the melting one. Before I could realize what I was doing, I went in to a full sprint down the gloomy hallway into the black. However, every time I would get close to the shadows, more candles on the wall would suddenly light up. I continued to run, and checked behind to see if I could see back to my room. There was nothing but darkness. *You need to run faster Adrian, or they're going to get you.* I still wasn't sure where the voice was coming from, but it somehow knew more than I did. “Who's going to get me?” I screamed as I continued running in to the abyss. “What do they want with me?” *They're going to kill you, and no one will ever know.* “Who is? Who's going to kill me? Answer me, damnit!” *They're going to kill you.* Without warning, I was encased in a giant light. I was no longer standing in the hallway, and I came to a complete stop. I was surrounded by shadows, but for some reason I felt comfort standing in the light. I knew in here, the shadows couldn't get me, but they were still trying. I could feel them moving around me. *It's too late. Only you could have saved yourself, Adrian.* The voice rang incredibly loud, to point where I had to put my hands over my ears. As I did, I could feel something warm running through my fingers and down my arms. I pulled my hands away from the sides of my head and put them in front of me. They appeared to be covered in blood, and I could feel the same warmth begin to drip down my face. “What's happening to me? Why is this happening to me?!” *You never should have came here, Adrian. You never should have came.* “Tell me what's happening! Tell me who you are! Why is this happening?” I couldn't help but be scared now. I don't think anyone would have been able to hold their composure while this was happening. I was invited here as part of a study, was told I was being paid for it, and all I had to do was take an experimental pharmaceutical drug. No one said anything about anyone dying while they were here, so why suddenly me? The light started to close itself around me, my cage shrinking smaller by the second. “Please don't kill me, I didn't do anything. I'll give you whatever you want, just don't kill me!” Tears started to fuse with the blood that was still running down my face. I couldn't figure out exactly where the blood was coming from. There weren't any cuts on my face or head, but I continued to bleed. Another spotlight lit up the floor about ten feet in front of me, hoarding off the shadows just as my beam of light was doing. I waited to see if someone would appear in the light, but no one did. After what seemed like hours, a figure began to shine. The light reflected off of their skin, so I couldn't tell who it was at first. As my eyes began to refocus, I noticed something oddly familiar about this person. They were wearing the same clothes I was wearing when I first arrived to the mysterious warehouse, and they fit them perfectly. They were also the same height, and their hair was the exact same length as mine. *Hello, Adrian.* The voice was finally recognizable. It was my own. The person that was standing ten feet away from me, was myself. But how could I be in two places at once? Was the figure I was staring at the exact same person as me? “Who are you? Why do you look like me? What the fuck is going on here?” *You don't know who I am, Adrian?* I was no longer just crying or weeping, at this point I was sobbing. I couldn't control myself any longer. I was terrified, alone, and I had no clue what was going on. And according to the doppelganger I'm standing face-to-face with, someone, or something, is trying to kill me. “If I knew who you were, do you really think I'd be asking you?” *You do know who I am, Adrian.* “Stop avoiding my questions and give me answers!” I was becoming furious, and my worries of what would happen to me began to dissipate. *I've been with you throughout your entire life, Adrian. I've been there to tell you the difference between what's right and what's wrong.* A million thoughts were racing through my head after I heard that statement. I was recollecting all of the people I had met in my life, thinking that the drug I had taken had put me in a deep sleep and I was personifying someone I knew through the image of myself. *You're not sleeping, Adrian.* I was snapped out of my thoughts and brought back to the moment. “Well you have to be in my head, or you wouldn't have known what I was thinking. None of this must be real.” I started to walk out of the light barrier surrounding me, but an unexpected force stopped me. *I can't let you do that, Adrian.* “Then answer my questions. What's in the shadow?” *The shadow is what you make of it. It could be anything you want it to be, even your fears.* That’s when it hit me. No matter who I was thinking of, no one that ever entered into my life knew of my fear of the dark. That was a secret I was prepared to take to my grave. “You must be some part of me.” *That is true.* “Were you the one that was talking to me the entire time?” *Yes, I was.* “You were trying to help me escape before any of this ever happened. Except for one problem, it wasn't until after I had taken the drug that I began to hear you.” *You could always hear me, Adrian. However, you were not aware of the apparent danger that laid ahead of you due to your choices. Tell me who I am, and I will answer your questions.* I remembered everything that I had done that day, and sequenced my thoughts in order. I played the entire day over in my head at least two or three times, every conversation I had, and everything I had told myself. That was it. Everything I told myself. Or everything myself was trying to tell me. That was the point where it all made sense. “You're my self-conscience.” Both lights suddenly vanished. I shut my eyes and prepared myself for what was going to attack me from the shadows, but I felt nothing. The warmth that was rushing down my face and my arms had ceased. I stopped crying, and I no longer felt afraid. *Open your eyes, Adrian.* We were both back in my room. We must have teleported or something, because there is no way we could have gotten back to the room after the distance it felt like I had ran. Everything appeared to be as I had left it, except for two components. The reason why I could tell this was my room, was because the food was still left on the desk. However, there was now a clipboard sitting adjacent to the tray. Also, there was a body in my bed. At some point while I was asleep in my drug-induced haze, they must have switched me to another room and put another subject in here. *You need to look at the person in the bed.* “Don't you think that's a little creepy? You are my conscience, you know.” Something didn't feel right about this situation though, so I took his, or my, advice and walked to the bed. As I did, my look-alike walked to the desk and grabbed the clipboard before joining my side. As I looked down, I had this feeling that I should have been upset, crying, screaming. But I felt nothing. I felt nothing but solitude. I wasn't happy or sad, angry or passive, I felt nothing. I stared down upon the person that inhabited my bed, and I was content. My conscience handed me the clipboard, and I read the contents of it out loud. “Theodore Frangere, male. Height, 5 foot 10 inches. Weight, 165 pounds. Test subject number 205, experimental group A. Time of death... 10:00 a.m.” My eyes switched from the clipboard to my pale, lifeless face. I had accepted the invitation to participate in this study just for some extra cash. I didn't need it, and I had no reason to be here. But I chose to do it, and I paid the consequences for doing so. “So what do I do now?” We looked at each other for what seemed like a lifetime. I was still having trouble getting past the fact that I kept thinking I was looking in a mirror, and I shouldn't be expecting an answer. *You can do as you desire. You are no longer attached to this world. You are finally free.


# Three good years During my travels amongst the stars, I came across an idyllic planet called Lyos. It was a bountiful world orbiting a yellow star occupied by intelligent human-like creatures who seemed to live lives of plenty and luxury. This entire ecosystem existed without any predation, the various populations of vegan animals always had just enough to balance their populations and not spiral out of control. The human-like people, these Lyosians, due to their advanced tools and intellect would get by on a mere hour of foraging a day, and spend the rest of their time engrossed in leisure and academic pursuits. These Lyosians would learn extremely fast. They would skim through a massive text book and have all of its contents absorbed within an hour, without fault. As I learnt their language, I would test them on this knowledge, it did not matter if I asked for page 100, third sentence, or the whole of page 567, they would know it by heart, and also understand it. It made all my years of agonisingly slow study seem infuriating to me, and left me to wonder how these people hadn’t conquered the stars already. Whenever I raised questions of the stars, the only one at the time who took any interest at all was a beautiful young lady called Resada. She would listen to stories of my travels for hours upon end, and not just that, she would question aspects of how and why things happened as they did in a way that would reshape my entire perspective of events. Tales where I thought myself the perfect, valiant hero, I now know where I could have done better. Agonising failures of mine with added perspective could be re-shaped as small victories, that perhaps even benefitted some. I recall one story, I spoke of losing a crew-mate to a venom on a distant forest world. I searched high and low for the cure, but to my despair he was too delirious to help me identify the cause. I had to fall to trial and error with anti-venoms, but none worked. From her sly smile, Resada just quipped “well it’s party time for the worms at least”. I chucked, I could call that callous, but I knew it was a joke, and honestly it was just what I needed, and she always knew what I needed. I often felt quite one sided in all this as I wasn’t sure I helped her nearly as much as she helped me. I listened to her stories of this place as well, and we were inseparable, doing everything together, and soon it progressed into a romantic relationship. However one pivotal fact slipped my attention for the first few months of this. This society I was starting to learn resided upon one unfathomable, and - to me - tragic fact. Each Lysonian only lived three good years. It was this reason why they had not reached the stars. It was this reason that felt a thorn in what seemed otherwise a perfect people, dedicated to learning, astute and intelligent to the extreme. I lived out the rest of Resada’s life with her, as she grew old and grey, wrinkled, desperate for some last time with this strong, insightful woman, knowing that each precious day we treasured together was worth ten of mine to her. She passed away peacefully, with no heir of her own. Having chosen me for a partner, we biologically could not have had children, yet she was never bitter about this fact. Her sisters had children of their own, at least some of her genes would pass on, and she had the first window into other worlds, a window no other Lyosian had ever had before. On Resada’s deathbed she left me with one perplexing statement, I chalked it down as a fever dream at the time: “Power is a heavy burden, do not mistake authority for altruism”. I didn’t know how that referred to anything at the time, but it was to become prophetic. I spent the next few decades on this planet, acting as a bridge between generations, composing the stories of the people of this world, including my dear Resada, and passing them on both in song, prose and spoken stories. I became quite the novelty, I could speak clearly of someone’s great-great grandmother, while these people were wizards to me in their ability to learn from a book, I was a wizard to them for magically re-telling stories of their families generations ago. I was the “endless one”, the “window to our ancestors” and soon looked up to by all. Whenever anyone had a problem with their lives, I always had some anecdote or story to make things better. I knew these people better than they’d ever have the chance to know themselves. I never again took a mate amongst them, not only was I still mourning for Resada, but truth be told, while these people were both physically and mentally adult in a mere year, a part of my mind still found their relative age too disturbing to contemplate getting too close to one again. Besides, I loved attention, that much was becoming apparent. I was getting that in spades being this elder-teacher and I loved it. I drank of it and devoured it, whenever I had a mere hours alone I would get the craving and find myself trekking to a public area to tell another story, desperate for more adulation. Generations passed, and my stories had taken hold enough to shape their society. No longer were their eyes only on their eden, but the myth of me had them seeking to lengthen their lives, and look to the stars. But their birth rate per year did not change - even a mere doubling of lifespan to six years led to rampant growth. Where one Lyosian would have previously only had time to sire one, maybe three children, it became common-place for families to reach six or more. Soon this Lyosian Eden was no longer plentiful enough. Foraging took longer and longer. Some turned to destructive ways to farm, others sought a way off this planet, and when their efforts took too long, and the environment around them faltered, some even took my ship and fled. So here I am, stuck amongst my folly. Power is a heavy burden indeed. I thought I was helping these people, using my position to spread stories of wonder, linking the generations like never before and helping these people reach new heights. After all, isn’t humanity shaped by its culture? Culture that is passed down, they may have been wizards of the written word, but when a people only live three years, so much is still lost. I thought I could be that link. Their very extended lives was also something I craved, I had it and thought they needed it too. Resada was right though, it wasn’t altruism, it was me, selfishly disrupting an ecosystem for my own gratification, trying to make them more like me, when her dissections of my stories always told me how I am not the perfect article either. Their culture was different but in its own way it was perfect, I just couldn’t see that I was leading them to repeat the failures of early Earth. I sit here now, elderly, but with still a few more generations to go of them before I pass. Can I reverse what I did? Can I restore their balance? Would I be better off to just link away with my books and hope they forget? Either option is grim. ((Just want to clarify that Resada was always a full-grown adult in this story, she may have technically been like 1 year 3 months old when they met, but..


Mr. Hendrick was driving home from work alone at night in his old silver Corolla. Hanging on the rear-view mirror was a bottle of liquid perfume that he shakes once in a while to get the scent running. Sarah put it there because she said that his car reeks of cigarettes. He always plays “Pink Swimsuit Lady” by The Headlooms on his way home, a song he often heard when he was a kid. The road home was dark as there were no streetlights. The only source of it was from his headlight. While swaying to his favourite song, in the beam of his headlight, he saw a girl who looked to be in her teen years waving frantically on the side of the dark road, signaling Mr. Hendrick towards her. From his perspective this is oddly suspicious. *A girl? At night? In the dark?* He thought. But her face was in a panic. He couldn’t ignore her if he wanted to. What if it is a matter of life and death? “What’s wrong?” He asked when he stopped near her. “My fr- friend,” she gasped for air. “He’s injured. Can you please help me?” “Where is he?” He asked, turning down his music volume. “He’s in there,” the girl pointed over her shoulder. It was the woods. She was pointing in the woods. “In the woods? What are you kids doing in the woods at nigh-” He stopped. “Alright. I’ll call an ambulance.” “No please!” She shrieked. “We need to get him to the hospital now! Waiting for the ambulance would take forever! Please help me!” “Alright- alright, I’ll help,” he surrendered. He got out of his car with the engine running. “Hurry, lead the way.” He followed her in the woods. He could hear his car whirring getting farther and farther until it fades. “How far?” He asked. “Not far, just ahead.” “Oka-” He was hit by a blunt object on the back of his head and fell on the ground not completely losing consciousness. “Ah! What the fu\*k?” He grunted and another blow from the object rendered him unconscious. He felt his body being dragged. He felt them tying his hands above his head on a pole. His eyes were heavy, no matter how hard he tried he could not open them. He heard people talking but their voices are muffled, the side effects of being hit on the head. “Are you kidding me?!” a boy’s voice said. “He’s the only one we got! It’s a slow night,” the girl replied. The one he encountered before. “That’s Sarah’s dad. How am I gonna look at her face after this,” the boy said. “The good thing is you don’t have to ask for his permission when you want to marry her,” she said. “A- Alan? Is that you?” Mr. Hendrick said. Gathering all the strength he has to open his eyes. He saw two people talking in front of a small bonfire. He recognised the boy’s voice. It was Alan. Sarah’s boyfriend. “Hey Mr. Hendrick. Sorry but this is a huge misunderstanding,” Alan replied. “Wh- what are you doing in the woods?” Mr. Hendrick asked. “Where are my clothes?” He realised that he was bound naked on the pole, except for his underwear. “Sorry for the misunderstanding Mr. Hendrick. I’ll untie you,” Alan replied. “No you won’t,” the girl said, pointing a dagger towards Alan. Alan raised both of his hands and backed away from Mr. Hendrick. “What are you doing, girl. I came here to help you,” Mr. Hendrick said wearily. “Sorry it had to be you, but you’re a father and we need that right now,” she replied. “You needed a father?” he said, unimpressed. “Do you tie all your daddies like this?” His wits coming back to him slowly as his mind got clearer. “No,” Alan interrupted. “We need your… heart…” “My what?!” Mr. Hendrick exclaimed. “Well, you’re a father and we need that. See, the ritual said that we need a virgin’s blood, a mother’s liver, and a father’s heart.” “Why are you explaining this to him?” the girl asked frustratingly. “He deserves to know.” “He doesn’t need to know this. He’s gonna die anyway.” “Why don’t we talk about this?” Mr. Hendrick interjected. “Nope. The longer you talk to him the more attached you’re gonna be. I’m gonna end this now.” The girl sprinted towards the quarter naked man led by the dagger in her hand but was pushed aside by Alan. “What are you doing?!” The girl screamed. “We already got the virgin’s blood and mother’s liver. This is the last one!” “Oh god, the two missing persons cases. You two were behind it?” Mr. Hendrick gasped. “Poor little Anna Karin and Mrs. Durden!” Alan and the girl kept their mouths shut and stared at the ground. “I want to be famous,” the girl said meekly. “What?” Mr. Hendrick asked. “I’m doing this because I want to be famous!” “You want to get famous for being a murderer?” Mr. Hendrick asked in confusion, cocking his head. “No, the ritual we’re doing is going to grant us wishes. And that is my wish.” “Oh god. What about you Alan? What’s your wish?” “I… I want to be rich,” he replied. “So I could take care of Sarah.” Mr. Hendrick looked at the little murderer in awe. “That’s kinda sweet. But you know what’s not sweet? Killing Sarah’s father.” Mr. Hendrick said. “Come on, let me go, Alan.” “I don’t know, I’m scared now. What if I let you go and you rat me out to the police? I don’t want that.” “I won’t do that, I promise. Just untie me and give me back my clothes and get me the hell away from her. If people see me in underwear with an underage girl, people are gonna talk,” he pleaded. “I’m twenty,” the girl said. Mr. Hendrick just looked at her. Not replying to that statement. He turned his head looking at Alan. Alan was in deep thought. Wondering whether he should let him go or get his heart. In Alan’s head right now, he’s making a mind map of pros and cons of letting Mr. Hendrick free. He would get Sarah all for his own if Mr. Hendrick was out of the picture. But he will feel guilty for the rest of his life. He would get his wish and become rich and maybe that’ll soothe his guilt a bit if he spends some of his fortune on Sarah. His mind is set. He’s gonna kill Mr. Hendrick. “Give me the knife.” The girl handed the dagger gladly, smiling an evil smile. Alan walked closer towards Mr. Hendrick. “Wait. Alan. Please. I’m begging you. Please. Who’s gonna take care of Sarah when I’m gone?!” Mr. Hendrick panicked. “I will,” Alan replied. Mr. Hendrick screamed in pain as Alan struck the dagger in his chest. He then proceeded to carved around the heart, snapping the rib cage protecting it. Mr. Hendrick was in excruciating pain. Alan was surprised that he had not passed out. Until he does. In front of them were the blood of a virgin, a liver from a mother, and a heart from a father. They both held hands while chanting gibberish. “Hey, where did you say you got this ritual from?” Alan asked the girl in the middle of a chant. “Wikipedia.


I would never say I believed in the paranormal or anything that was written in the book, but rumours of that place got me curious. Of course, curiosity was not why I went, I was hired. I needed the money for school, so why not? On a street light in my neighbourhood, a paper was asking if anyone could watch the house on 34th street. Now 34th street was nicknamed ‘Passing Way’, because of the stories people being left out there trying to find their way home after being attacked, and ending up as meal for the wolves and coyotes in the area. After that they haunt the only house on the street called ‘Inferno’. People have said they been attacked by wolves when they entered the house and that they see people they loved in looking through the windows of the house. Now most of these are from people not all there, drinkers, and people experimenting; if you catch my drift. It was a two floored farm house, wooden. The last person to live there was 1980’s, they were said to have died in the asylum downtown. Now you’re probably thinking why has no one gotten rid of it? No one wanted blood on their hands, or lose their own soul in the process. Oh, yes like I mentioned before, people believe if you die on the property, heaven won’t be able to calm your soul. Instantly the thought your thinking is why would it need to be watched, if it is abandoned? I don’t know, but as I said I need the cash. But even so, if I don’t believe in the rumors, does not mean I don’t believe in killers and kidnappers. I’m going to meet the person tomorrow to find out more. Don’t want to end up on the news  I’m sitting in Tim’s eating a chocolate dip donut, an old favorite. A 40 something year old guy walks in, cleaned up very nicely. Wearing a full suit, not common in this town. I never seen him around, which is odd. It is a small town. I pull out the poster and place it on the table, just to make it obvious I was the one he was looking for. It had to be him; it was 9:47 at night. An odd time to be walking into a Tim’s, unless you were on a night shift but still odd. He walked over, “Are you Archie?”. I’m the only one in here. “Yes, and you are?”. “Ken”. He pulled up the chair across from me, he was defiantly not from around here or at least doesn’t like to look like it. His hair gelled to be solid as a rock, after shave over a baby smooth face and a faded scar that ran down his cheek. “Sorry about being late, working over time tonight”. “No problem”, not going to argue, he’s paying me. “I don’t live around here, I have a cottage but that’s it. The problem is I own the house, but no one wants it”, I wonder why? “So, you want me to go over and clean the house?”. “No, I need someone to stay there so that everyone knows it’s not dangerous”, guess that makes sense. “Okay, when do you want this done?”, I do have to go back to school soon. “This weekend, I’ll pay for both days. 500 is what I was thinking”, not bad. “That would be great”, I give a grin. He reached out for a shake and being the person I am, I shake. His hands were rougher than I thought they would be. He walks out, leaving in his sports car. Saturday rolled around and I packed my bag. Nothing special; clothes, flashlight, snacks, books and a blanket. I borrowed my parent’s car that I don’t usually drive; I usually get a ride from Dale back to school. I pay for gas and he drives me back. To get to my house usually takes forever because he likes to stop at every gas station to go to the washroom. From my house, it takes about 30 minutes to get to inferno, it’s 8. After Sunrise. I pull out my phone and call Ken. “Hello”, Ken said nervous, like he was thinking it was someone else “Hello, it’s Archie”. “Oh hey…”. “I’m at the house”. “Good, the keys are in the flower pot next to the window”. “Okay thank you. I was-”. “Yeah, see you later”, he hung up first cutting me off. I stepped out of my car and took my bag. The front yard had dead grass and a dead tree. The drive way was made of pebbles, rough. The steps creaked with every step. Creak, Creak, Creak. The timeworn mat said “Welcome Home”, how inviting. I take the keys from the flower pot and unlock the door. The door was heavy like a garage door, used to make sure Cardon monoxide doesn’t enter your house. The silent killer. I knew a kid, rough upbringing, ran away. Now his family were at one-point hunters, so I don’t know if that lead him to think he could survive out there. He did well unit it hit below 20. Stole an old rusted burner used outside to boil sap. When he was found days later by the cops, he was killed by monoxide poisoning in his small closed in shed he found. Welp, didn’t mean to drop the mood like that, but it just came up. Walking into the so-called haunted house, I was scared that some angry kid or old guy would pop out and nail me in the head, maybe eat me. Not too much on me; not saying I’m thin as a stick, I’m average. More like I feel it would be slimy, and is there really any way to cook it here, they ain’t no Gordan Ramsey. The first room I enter is a little closet like area for shoes and coats. Warning sign, there are high heels and running shoes in the closest. Both new and old. But around here people staple them to trees until there is more shoe then tree left. So, people leaving shoes here doesn’t surprise me. I keep my stuff on me, don’t want to lose anything. I stroll through the door way to see the living room; there is a light area under the table, guess someone took the rug. Pawned it for money I bet, again not surprising in this town. No pictures on the wall, a worn-out couch looking thing with claw marks on it. Smells like a pool in here. The chimney has ash and charcoal in it. I go over and look in, it’s blocked. Don’t feel like dying so if I get to cold, I’ll just go to the car and lie about it to the guy. I see no cameras out here. I move over to the window, a blur leaves as fast as it came. Must been a rat, nothing to be afraid of. I drop my bag on the floor, there’s one more room on the floor. I try to open the mystery door, locked. Well, no harm in finding out what’s in there. I slam my body into the door and thankfully because of the age, the door gives in. The kitchen was the mysterious prize I won for the cost of a sore shoulder. Nothing looks like it would start, but I’ll try the sink. Nope doesn’t work. The table is covered in cleaning supplies, used and waiting to be used. Maybe people do live here. I they pop out I’ll just call Sal, a friend that before she became a cop was riding back with me and Dale to school. Looking out the window, the sun is going down. Better get ready. I walk back in the living room and throw out my blanket on the coach. I ain’t sleeping tonight, but I want to be conformable. I do still have like 12 hours to go, so now it’s time to play Dora and explore the upstairs. The stairs held and I made it up. Way to go team. An old empty hall was the reward for not falling into the stairs. Door one or two? Ones has claw marks in the front, the other is already opened a bit. I choose open. I kick open the door and with a quick peek see that no ones in there taking a nap. It was a master bed room. It’s weird that the bed looks like someone has slept in here not to long ago. Well am not taking my chances by touching it, could catch something. Don’t know if someone or someone’s come here to entrain themselves. Other than the bed there is nothing in here, actually that’s a lie. Dust from probably dead bodies that are in here. I stop in place, I hear growling. I slowly step closer to the door; I just need to see if anything’s there. Just a peak. Holy shit! There’s a wolf out there. Fuck! The floor creaked, it is coming this way. I ain’t too much of a fighter, never liked hurting things. I once had a cat claw the hell out of my leg and didn’t get it off until Dale ripped him off. Was his fault anyways, he said it was his mother’s cat, super friendly. Bull, at least I didn’t have to pay for gas that week. The beast, comes into view and I start to question my beliefs. The wolf though small is a skeleton with glowing purple eyes. The hair is a transparent dark shadow that floats around it. Who would think that in the last moment of my life I would change everything I believed in? Holy if my sister saw me now. She would be like “I told you so”. She would even say it if I was a second away from death and at my funeral she would be like, “I told them, but no couldn’t believe me”. If I get out of this, I still won’t let her know she was right. The creature runs and pounces at me. I put my hands up to cover my face. It takes me down.  I’m lying on the ground; the thing is just lying on my chest. Now that it’s on me, I can tell it’s not as big as I thought. It’s about the size of my torso, it’s a pup. Okay time to grow a pair and open my eyes. It’s staring at me; I place my hand on the top of its head. It jumps off, I crawl backwards. It starts chirping like it’s laughing at me, and falls on to it’s back. Never thought I would feel embarrassed by a ghost. The more it laughed; more it sounded human. I got up; it looks like am okay. The wolf is gone, it’s a little girl. I will just expect now that weird things are going to happen from now on. “Hello?”, I don’t really know how to begin talking to this…. kid. “You should have seen your face!”, she getting quite the kick out of this. “Who are you?”, got to start somewhere. She stood up and calmed down. “I’m Nina”, never heard that name before. “I’m Archie. I’m just here for tonight, then am out”, thinking that she would give me a pass on this sleepover at her house. “I usually scare people off, bad things happen here”, the kid looked uncomfortable. “Well I- “, I cut myself off when I hear glass breaking out side. I run to the window to see my car window broken and the hood up. Fuck, am going to be killed when I get home. “Is somebody out here with us, kid?”. “I don’t know”. I walked to the other door, I might hide in here. “What’s this room?”. “Mine”, she was quiet. “Can I go in?”, I want to make sure no other ghost are coming to greet me. She nodded, but it was clear she wouldn’t come with me. I push open the door to see a pink room, warn out by time. I walk in, the kid stayed outside. The room was bear, expect for a bed that was concealed by curtains. I walk over and pull the lace curtains to the side. “Holy shit”, there’s a body. The kid’s. Wearing the dress, she wearing now. The body melted in to the bed, moldy green and her eyes eaten away from the insects that have gotten to her. “It only took a second”, the kid mumbled. I turn towards her, “Daddy was so angry, I don’t even know why”. “Kid, I’m so sorry. If – “, the door down stairs opens. “Daddy’s home”, she runs behind me. “Daddy?”, who the hell is that? “You have to leave. He…He’s going to kill you, like the others”, better get payed double. “How do you know it’s him? Not some homeless guy?”, she looked at her body. “It’s always him. Every time when they leave the house, he killed them and drag their body’s back here.”, that doesn’t help. I walk out into the hall, “What are you doing?”. “If am about to killed, a cop better be here to get the guy and collect my body”. I quietly walk down the stairs, the kid disappears. No one’s down stairs, the kitchen doors open. I pull my bag over and take out my phone. I text Sal and if I remember correctly, she’s on duty. Welp hope that sent, “Hello Archie, how are you?”. I know that voice, I turn to see Ken standing there, outside of the kitchen door. He was in hunting clothes, something I would not expect to see him wear. “Good, just checking the time. What are you doing here?”. “Oh, just wanted to make sure you were okay”, he moves closer. A soft voice from behind me appears, “That’s daddy”. I tried to keep myself together, maybe he didn’t think I knew something was up. “That’s nice of you, I was actually about to go to the car to get somethings”, I shot a smile at him. I start to walk to the front door when I hear him at full sprint behind me. Well, let’s hope the old man got weak with age. I turn just in time to watch the knife he was hiding go into my shoulder. I kick him in groin, don’t think he was using it anyways. He then paid me back by kicking my feet from under me and dragged me further away from the door. “Nina!”, I shout. Ken stopped, “How do you know that name?!”. Oh, that hit a nerve, “That’s right. I know”, about to die anyways, want to act a little confident. He started to stomp on me, till a loud bang from the door opening stopped him. “Hands Up! Police!”, thank god for that. Ken throws another knife in that direction and ran for the kitchen. My savior, Sal, came up to me, “Archie, are you okay?”, not really. “I’m fine, go before he gets away”. She runs off, I get up and look at my wound. Pretty deep, worst thing I got before was when I stepped on a Lego and it got stuck in my foot. I can hear them run out of the back door and through the front window I can see Sal pointing her gun at Ken. That’s a relief, “I will shoot you if you keep coming closer to me”, Sal yells. Oh Fuck, if Ken gets shot and dies, he going to be stuck with the kid. I run out the door,” Don’t shoot him!”. She gazed at me, “What the hell are you doing?”. “Sorry, I was just didn’t want you to kill the guy”. She shoots a look that said to me ‘Are you an idiot?’. Ken had his hands behind his head, he seemed pretty calm for a guy who would be charged with murder or at least attempt. I walked over to Sal, “Thanks for coming, I’ll have to get a ride with you. I’ll head back in and get my stuff”, I start to walk back in. Then I hear a body hit the ground, I turn to see Sal lying down. Following me seeing her, I get a nice slap across face. Ken hands wrapped around my neck, the world goes dark. They don’t show this point of view on CSI. But hey death was not my end; this was after all was the house on 34th street. I awoke to the sound of Sal yelling, “Hey bud, leave her alone”. I walk away from my meat suit that was now face down in the dirt. He stumbled to the side of Sal, “What the fuck is going on!?”. He was scared, am sure his other victims felt that before. I took a step, “Have you not heard the story of Passing Way”. Standing over him , I nailed the him to the ground, “Archie? Are you…Are you still there?”. Sal said this nervously, I node my head to assure her that I was not going to make her another victim of the house. I got off and she handcuffed him to the door of her car. “Archie, am so sorry”. “It’s fine, not like you could bring me back”, her head shot up and she ran to my body. “What are you doing?”, she takes a deep breath in and locked lips with my body. “Are you trying CPR? It’s been to long. I…..”. “There’s a chance”, it was Nina. ”Kid I…. We’ll see”, the world was going dark again. I start to get nervous, what if am being pulled to hell? I guess that will be my last thought. I start to cough and find Sal staring at me. “Thanks”, I manage to spout between my coughing. “Well, better you coming home in my car then in a bag in the back of the meat wagon”, I giggle. “I’ll get your boss in the car, when you’re ready we’ll go”, she walks away. Nina appeared, “Hey kid, your father won’t be back”. “Thank you”, she was crying. “I did nothin kid. Be dead if you didn’t warn me. Hope this gives you peace”, she smiled. “ Bye Archie”, the kid disappeared. I walk over to the car and take a seat. I guess some of the story was true about this place, hope the kid found peace. I’ll have some explaining to do when we get back to town.


There was once a girl who loved the hills. She would stand barefooted on their peaks, letting the grass whip around her feet and the birds chirp inquisitively from the trees. Sometimes she would slide down their gentle slopes and rest in the shade produced by the blanket of leaves that blocked out the sun but not the sky. Other times she would climb the trees and pick an apple, each morsel of food giving her just a little more time before she had to return home. It wasn't her home, despite bearing that name. But each night, she was dragged back by the chains of blood and the weight of guilt. Her parents did not yell or scream or hit, but they stared. They stared at each other with fury in their eyes and hate in their hearts. The manufactured silence hung heavy in the house, and whenever the girl choked on it, her parents would turn to glare at her too. It was said that emotions made magic, and the girl dared not think what heavy magic was woven into her house, forged by hate and sorrow. And so, every morning the girl ran. She ran into her tiny legs could carry her no further, and then she stood on the peaks of the hills where the silence was did not force her to her knees, depriving her of any breath of happiness. In fact, the silence in the hills wasn't really silence at all. Instead, one could hear the chirping of the birds, the whistling of the wind, and the skittering of the squirrels. If one listened, that is. And the girl always listened. But as night fell and the girl's stomach started to rumble, the chains would once again force her back to her house, her family, her sadness. But her heart would stay in the hills, and when she closed her eyes at night she saw the twinkling stars instead of the run-down ceiling. When she breathed, she would taste the sweet air of the night instead of the stale silence she was actually breathing in. But only when she was alone. When she was with her parents, their glares would push her deeper and deeper into her chair, her heart yearning to be free from this place of sorrow. What the girl had heard was true: emotions did indeed weave magic. But what she did not understand was that the grief, the hate, and the anger that made up her life was not powerful. No, those emotions are far too common for that. They put tiny stitches in the tapestry of life, not quite making a difference. But longing? Longing is a very powerful type of magic indeed. It doesn't weave stitches into the present or the past, but it can change the future. And the future becomes the present before one can even blink an eye. And so, as the girl dat in the house at night and ran to the hills during the day, the magic woven by her yearning dissolved the chains of blood and did away with the guilt weighing her down. And with each day, the urge to stay in the hills got stronger. At first it was just a few minutes, lingering before she was inevitably drawn back to her house. Then, she started staying out for hours, laying on her back and watching the stars. Sometimes, she stayed out all night. As time went on, those nights became more and more frequent. One is always bound to something, and with the dissolution of one confine comes another. But not all confines are bad. Some are of your own choosing.


# Stueber Stueber - The Invisbility Cloak Experiment Kurzmann and Hanzel dragged the cloak over the rickety old car, although crumples could be perceived, the light was clearly being bent around the car as it vanished from sight. A few more adjustments and it was perfect. “Eureka! We did it! One hundred percent light masking,” said Kurzmann. Kurzmann was a strange amalgamation, he basically resembled Einstein in every way, however he was about thirty years too young to resemble the prime-time Einstein everyone thinks of, and his south west asian skin type further threw off his dreams of being basically Einstein. His colleagues would often tell him Einstein was revered for his work, but Kurzmann felt if he emulated the look, perhaps his work would soon reach similar heights. “If we can replicate this and upscale production, just think what we could achieve!” Hanzel nodded while checking off something or other on his clipboard. He was a rather plain man who exuded an aura of absolute, stoic focus. It was easy to tell that the cogs of his mind were turning rapidly, yet he was one of few words. “Next stage?” he postulated out loud. “You heard the man Stueber! Commence field testing!” The invisible car started up, the engine noise certainly wasn’t masked, that is something they would have to work on. The car moved but there was absolutely no sight of it from the outside, despite not being close fitting the cloak seemed to be doing miraculous work. All was going well until the first junction, a car turned the corner and collided with the invisible car, only instead of there being a monumental crash, this previously visible car disappeared! The two visible scientists’ jaws hit the floor and their eyes widened in unison. “That wasn’t supposed to happen!” Yelled Kurzmann. He ran over to where the collision occurred and called out for Stueber. The car’s engine was promptly turned off and the sheet shifted as Stueber opened the door and stepped out from under it. Stueber was a flamboyant looking man. Long black hair streaked with grey and a neat beard adorned his face. He looked like he would be perfectly at home at a photo shoot or hosting an interior design show on television. “Blimey that wasn’t what I expected,” said Stueber. Hanzel was already surveying the area. He poked all around at the sheet with his clipboard, mentally marking out the limits of it’s exterior. Despite a full circle of the car there appeared to be no signs of the missing collided car, he looked at Kurzmann with a shrug. “Stueber! This was your invention,” started Kurzmann, clearly trying to distance himself from a perceived failure.”It’s supposed to bend light, not reality!” “Calm your tits mate,” said Stueber. He himself poked at the point where the car had vanished. “Look, it’s not vanishing me when I touch it, it’s gotta be an effect that’s linked to relative velocities, right?” Hanzel finally interjected “Is anyone at all concerned that we may have in fact killed a person?” Stueber had already paced back quite a distance, he then proceeded to run at the car. “Stueber!” Kurzmann yelled in the background with a reprimanding tone as Stueber leapt towards the car at a full sprint. \*\*\* There was no collision, no crash, Stueber emerged alone, the car was gone, as were his colleagues. He looked up as he saw them emerging from the building. It was the car with the invisibility sheet all over again, only this time it was slightly visible. If it was only seen out of the corner of your eye you might miss it, but looking directly at it, it was clear \*something\* was there this time. Again, the car approached the turning, Stueber this time yelled out “Watch out for that car!” The collision still happened, but this time it was an actual crash, two cars colliding, albeit not at high speed. Stueber ran over, “You alright in there mates?” he said to both vehicles. By now Kurzmann and Hanzel had approached. “Wait, if you’re here, who is in the vehicle?” said Hanzel perplexedly. Out stepped Stueber from the vehicle. For clarity's sake, this one shall now be known as Car Stueber. “Alright mate,” said Stueber to Stueber in unison. Neither seemed particularly surprised at the fact they were staring at their dimensional duplicate, it was as if this was a regular day at the lab. Even Kurzmann was speechless this time, his and Hanzel’s eyes traced from one Stueber to the other for a good half a minute. Finally Hanzel broke the exchange and walked off to the second car, presumably to discuss insurance. Kurzmann finally spoke up: “What the hell have you two done?” Stueber explained how the first experiment had gone, and how he got here. Kurzmann nodded along at the tale, once done, he paced back and forth, postulating. “So.. it would seem that your cloak was more effective, and that must be why yours had this effect and not ours… but how can we possibly reverse the effect? Do we have to invert the light? Why did it even happen in the first place? This makes no sense.” Kurzmann stopped his pacing and looked towards the two Stuebers for their, even if limited, insights. Kurzman’s eyes widened and his brow furrowed “Would you two bloody well stop kissing!” A murmuring of agreement was heard, but they continued. “Stop kissing yourself god damnit!” Finally they stopped. Hanzel had returned just now. Neither Stueber showed any remorse at the matter, they looked quite pleased. Under Kurzmann’s incredulous glare Stueber finally felt pressured to say something: “Ah come on mate, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it? Besides, I just wanted to know if I was a good kisser.” Stueber smirked and looked to Car Stueber with a knowing smirk “It turns out I am.” Car Stueber spoke up: “Did hear what ya said though, maybe we just fix the shield using this handsome man’s help and send him through again, if it’s a two-way mirror it might just send him back to where he was.” Hanzel spoke up dryly: “And if it doesn’t, some other reality will have two Stuebers and we will only have one.” “See! Perfect,” said Stueber. “If it doesn’t work then we try something new, I’m sure whatever reality I end up in will still have you fine gents in it to get the job done.” This gentle massaging of his ego was enough for Kurzmann to nod his approval of the plan. Modifications were in due course made, and Stueber commenced his run again. \*\*\* Another tumble, and Stueber found himself in similar surroundings to his last jump. He glanced to his side, and cursed out loud. Stueber glanced at Stueber, presumably himself from earlier. Stueber sighed out loud, and then yelled his warning again about the incoming car. Soon the three Stuebers would be reunited as before, and their colleagues would arrive. “Right, let’s get this up to speed. Firstly, I’m Stueber, you’re Car Stueber, you’re Past Stueber. Secondly, because I know you two lads are thinking about it, we already kissed when I was Past Stueber, and you are a fucking great kisser.” Both alternate Stuebers smiled, nodded their heads and said “Nice…” “So right, the sheet seems to be some kinda reality shifting, time travelling shizmabob. This reality aint mine or Past Stuebers, I know this because Car Stueber’s sheet is shite. Also this is clearly taking me back in time because I’m now here twice. But I’ve got a plan, oi, Hanzel, give me your clipboard and pen please mate. “ Hanzel pulled his clipboard closer to himself and looked at Stueber as if he had just asked for his kidney. He glanced between the Stuebers and finally concluded that this situation was absurd enough to momentarily give up his beloved clipboard. “‘I’ll want it back - and only use blank sheets please”. “Won’t matter mate, at least if all goes to plan.” Stueber set about writing a note, and crafting the A4 piece of paper into a paper aeroplane. Then he set about fixing the sheet. Once done, he had Car Stueber drive the car at high speed, before he threw the paper aeroplane at the sheet. Kurzmann, who had been quite the muted version of himself due to the absurdity of the whole thing and Stueber’s surprising assertiveness finally spoke up. “So what did you do?” “Well I figure these realities are linked - I also figure the faster something goes through, the earlier it’ll arrive. Figurin’ that because I went ever so slightly faster the second time and got here a couple o’ seconds earlier. If I stop Car Stueber from finishing the sheet, stop the link, we all fade away to not ever happening.” Car Stueber and Past Stueber spoke up “But.. then the Remaining Stueber will never know..” “Oh.. he’ll know.. He’ll know.” Said Stueber with a smirk. \*\*\* It was the night before, Past Car Stueber was doing the finishing touches to his cloak design, when a paper aeroplane nicked at his ear. He opened it and the message read: *Dear Past Car Stueber.* *Please do not complete the invisibility cloak, it opens a pan dimensional time rift and causes all sorta trouble.* *P.S got to meet another Stueber, can confirm you are a damn fine kisser.* *Keep on being awesome* *Yours Sincerely.* *Stueber.* \*\*\* “How do we know it worked?” Said redundant timeline Kurzmann, “do we just fade away?” Stueber shrugged. \*Poof\* It turned out that was the sound of a timeline vanishing, who would have known.


#Welcome to Serial Sunday! To those brand new to the feature and those returning for round two, welcome! This is the perfect time for you to join in on the fun, as we re-launch ‘Serial Saturday’ to better suit all of our readers and writers out there. We’ve heard your feedback, and our hope is to make this feature useful to writers of all genres, backgrounds, and skill levels. To our returning Serial Saturday participants, we hope you’ve had a wonderful break and are ready to dive back in. As we’ve made a few changes, please remember to read the entire post before submitting!   ***   #This week's theme is Secrets! As we get into the larger theme of “hidden” for the month of February, we’re going to begin with secrets. What unexpected truths lie beneath the surface? What secrets have your characters been keeping? This doesn’t have to be the big reveal of your story. They can be small secrets if that better suits your story. Maybe something has been digging at your character’s soul for a long time and it’s really weighing on them. How does it affect their behavior? Would the revelation of these things destroy their lives or their world? The interpretation is completely up to you. /   ***   #Theme Schedule: We recognize that writing a serial can take a bit of planning. Each week we will be releasing the following 2 weeks’ themes here in the Schedule section of the post. * February 7- Secrets (this week) * February 14- Illusion * February 28- Surprise   ***   #How It Works: In the comments below, submit a story that is between 500 - 850 words in your own original universe, inspired by this week’s theme. (Using the theme word is welcome but not necessary.) This can be the beginning of a brand new serial or an installment in your in-progress serial. You have until 7pm EST the following Saturday to submit your story.   ***   #The Rules: * All top-level comments must be a story. Use the stickied comment for off-topic discussion and questions you may have. * Your story must be written for this post. You may do outlining and planning ahead of time, but we encourage you to wait until the post is released to begin writing for the current week. Pre-written content or content written for another prompt/post will not be allowed. * Your story should be 500-850 words. Use to check your word count. * While the name has changed to “Serial Sunday”, the deadline is still 7pm the following Saturday. Stories submitted after the deadline will not be eligible for rankings and will not be read during campfire. * Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). You **must** use the same serial name for each installment of your serial. If not, our bot won’t recognize your serial installments. * Submissions are limited to one serial submission from each author per week. * Each author must leave a comment on at least 2 other stories during the course of the week. That comment should include at least one detail about what the author has done well. Failing to meet the 2 comment requirement will disqualify you from weekly rankings. You have until the following Sunday at 12pm EST to fulfill your feedback requirements. * While content rules are more relaxed here at r/ShortStories, we’re going to roll with the loose guidelines of "vaguely family friendly" being the rule of thumb for now. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, feel free to modmail!   ***   #Reminders: * Make sure your post on this thread also includes links to your previous installments, if you have a currently in-progress serial. Those links must be direct links to the previous installment on the preceding Serial Saturday/Sunday posts or to your own subreddit or profile. But an in-progress serial is not required to start. You may jump in at any time. * Saturdays we will be hosting a Serial Campfire on the discord main voice lounge. Join us to read your story aloud, hear other stories, and share your own thoughts on serial writing! We start at 7pm EST. You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Don’t worry about being late, just join! * You can nominate your favorite stories each week. Send me a message on discord, reddit, or through modmail and let me know by 12pm EST the following Sunday. You do not have to attend the campfires to make nominations. * Authors who successfully finish a serial with at least 8 installments will be featured with a modpost recognizing their completion and a flair banner on the subreddit. Authors are eligible for this highlight post only if they have followed the 2 feedback comments per thread rule (and all other post rules).


A funnel of chopped salt water spilled uncompromisingly down his throat as the realization of what he had just done grasped hold over his body. The cold which enveloped him paled in comparison to the pain of his legs, ribs, hands and feet - deep and pulsing from the outside in, and back through again. When he was young, he had been afraid to jump off of the diving board and now had plunged half a football field into the stark bay below. There he had met a fate which shocked him more alive and wanting for life than he had felt for the past decade. Arms thrashing with the primal motor twitching broken legs like a broken egg beater, he clung to nothing more than the promise of something better replacing the need to feel feel something else within him. He glanced up from his agony and there it was. Not but a quarter of a mile away a sailboat tacked and started toward him. He began to hear shouts from the boat grow in volume - hope had a sound. Yet, despair had a sight as a dull grey fin appeared flowing seamlessly larger and larger in the same trajectory toward him. The shark - for that he was sure of now, moved sinuously; a greyhound in the water compared to the lumbering mastiff of a boat which gasped for speed. He looked up and the welcoming international orange of the golden gate beckoned him back to safety and life. For even emptiness was better than this. For within emptiness there were options; he just hadn’t seen them; he just hadn’t felt them until this very moment. John swam like a motherfucker - he didn’t have a chance in hell but he didn’t care. For cares were for people with time of which John had none. The fin moved toward him as a hand on a clock moves. Closer and closer toward darkness. He had been swimming away his entire life. John that is. From what he wasn’t sure. This shark of life which had chased him; maybe that was it he figured. With resolve, John turned and gritted himself. That thing giving chase surged and bared itself. The ragged and gaping mouth revealing itself to be a soft bottle nose replacing the mirage in his mind. The porpoise glided to his side to buoy him. John’s life might be saved after all as the thing chasing him his entire life revealed itself. This thing which had stalked and hunted him. This thing wanted to save John all along. All John had to do was stop -stop and see it. This thing which would carry him through. John floated to the other side. John was pulled rag doll style from the water by the livid hands of the sailboat’s crew; some crooned, some cussed and others just stared, yet all were in disbelief with the enormity of the situation which had dropped into the placid Sunday afternoon which their lives typically were. John belched and groaned on the foredeck of the Kevlar sailed 50-footer presenting a stark contrast to the bleach clean atmosphere which the captain was trying desperately to reinstate. The captain shouted to the others, “Nothing to see here! This happens quite often. He’ll be OK! The Coast Guard is on their way!” John now felt that he had been safer with the porpoise; safer in the water which had seemed to float and accept him for who he was swapped by a reality now awash in yacht shoes, murmurs and shame. He felt abandoned like a homeless man on the corner for the authorities to pack up and put elsewhere lest he disturb the sanctity of the sterilized sight. Was it not for one, John would have been tempted to drag himself back off of the deck and into the water as her hands cupped the back of his head and she asked, “Where did you come from?” John looked up toward the bridge and intonated that he had come from up there- he had a collapsed lung and it was too difficult to speak at this point and she followed his eyes to the sky responding gently, “You fell from heaven?” This sent John gurgling and gasping wet and pain, his best attempt at a laugh at this point, as she covered him in her coat and yelled for more blankets which the captain begrudgingly handed her. She detly stuffed John’s screaming body in the warmth of the blankets and once the task was through she paused for a moment and smirked, “By the way, I’d like to be the first to welcome you to the good ship 'Second Chance.


A tense conversation with an armed man where I lost five hundred dollars. I rolled my car window down. The man's thin lips opened with his scripted, opening robotic speech. I assumed the role. “I'm officer blank.” I was half listening. More so skimming for important information. “I pulled you over because, blank. You are being recorded, blank.” I must’ve looked like a deer in the headlights or maybe dead eyed. I shook my head. I had smart ass comments to all these lifeless statements. Smart for me anyway. I was listening intermintly. I had all the soon to be requested plastic and paper in my hands. I was guilty. My fate sealed. No way out. I waited. Behind him the gawkers gawked. Rubberneckers failed to keep their cars straight. A single horn. No deaths yet. My only hope. The lights flashed & blinded. “You know why I stopped you?” Sterile. A statement rather than a question. Spoken down at me while he wore sunglasses as dark as an open manhole cover wearing a hat that no one would wear if it weren't a requirement. “Yes.” Attempting to play robot too. “License and registration please.” I handed it to him. “So I stopped you because you were going nearly double the posted speed limit. Why did you feel the need to do that? Are you going to an emergency?” Tell the truth I thought. What emergency? You know what you were doing. Tell the truth. There's no getting away from this, maybe lie and talk your way out of it. You're quick enough right? How bad can it get? Try it? You're definitely not getting your license back might as well double down and take a chance. Or tell the truth. Silence and then I firmly said “Sorry, no emergency. I just wanted to go for a drive and got carried away.” Damn. Without a change of tone. “ok. You know there’s a lot of deers on this road? In your little car and at the speed you were going you could have easily been seriously injured or worse. I’ll be right back.” I could’ve gone the death wish route, maybe I still can. It's kinda true. So was my kinda truth. I did leave my job in a hurry. I don’t like how my life is ending up. I’m not ok. What normal person would drive twice the speed limit on an interstate. I wouldn’t have minded it. Sure might’ve been dramatic but it would seem like a genuine accident. I wouldn’t have minded if it did happen. I know the risk. Unfortunately sober. I stewed in the silence knowing the truth. The officer returned. “Ok so I've knocked the fine down a bit. You can pay online or through mail and there's other options there as well. Do you have any questions?” “No thanks. You” I spit out. “Ok. Drive safe.” He walked away. I never turned my car off. I switched the car into sport mode, lowered the emergency brake, and slowly let the car move forward. I looked into the rear view mirror for traffic and the cop. I resumed the music that was never paused, only lowered. I then adjusted it to the proper volume for a late night drive. I accelerated. Foot about half way down. Fast but not as fast as I could. I still have a nerve. It was quick. Nothing dramatic. He didn’t follow. I hit the cruise control at the speed limit and exhaled. I made my way to an exit and hit a traffic light. As I waited I looked at the ticket. Bold letters said: **Speeding in excess of a posted speed limit of 65 miles an hour by 20 miles an hour or more. 5 Points and a 500 dollar fine.** Well, could’ve been worse.


The lines that formed in front of the Food Assistance Center were full of pitiful, haggard faces, their heads covered with hoodies and cerebral helmets even though the city was always warm. Transhumans, at least the ones who lived on the streets, were vilified as “scumbags” and “gangbangers” for their procurement of cheaper, less-stable implants. “Do they really think those helmets are going to give them any advantage?” Tyrius nodded at them, leaning back on the alley wall. “Not like they can compete with a neural enhancement.” Clerents wanted to tell his friend that any kind of affordable mental enhancement was better than nothing, especially when the system was trying to keep them down by creating all kinds of new laws that prevented the poor from getting any leg up in the community. Instead Clerents decided to side with Tyrius, “Yeah, why do normies always reject trans upgrades? Some of these kids would be able to get out of this crappy neighborhood if they could get hamstring implants or iris optics.” “Yeah,” Tyrius made a sour face and looked down for a moment. Clerents couldn’t decide if he was hungry or angry, or both. “Let’s go find another place. Jocunda got any food stamps?” “Nah.” said Tyrius. “She has three kids. She can barely keep them fed.” It had become almost instinctual to see a discarded can on the ground and wonder if there were any morsels inside. But thanks to the recent layoffs there were too many cans and loose trash on the street to keep track of which ones they had checked. Clerents was conditioned to think of empty food containers as a food source. He was conditioned to dream of pastimes, on Earth when poverty and division weren’t so widespread, or had it? He couldn’t remember. Maybe things had always been the same. And maybe things would never change. But it didn’t matter. They had to focus on food before they passed out. A man stepped out of the entrance of the Assistance Center, dressed better than the people waiting in line. “Over there.” Clerents nodded toward the man and ducked back into the alley. The man was walking fast, holding something under his arm. Tyrius saw the normie and almost licked his lips. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” “He’s got some digital food tokens on him. Maybe that’s a distributer device he’s carrying.” Tyrius already put his hood up and activated his tracking optics, his eyes turning red. “We’ll follow him to a quiet place. Jump him there.” Clerents hesitated and thought about what his father would think if he knew his only son was considering attacking a Sector worker. How he would feel, being locked up for unauthorized implants, to know that Clerents would also be locked up, feeling alone, abandoned by society, and wrongfully charged with implants that were easily acquired by the rich. But it wasn’t entirely his fault for wanting food. Clerents had to do something if he wanted to survive. And that’s why he trailed slowly behind Tyrius, who had started following the worker. The curvature of the Ringhorn space station made it difficult to follow the man without being seen but the two had visual distorting clothes and skin that allowed them to walk the squalid streets in shimmering camouflage. The worker was approaching 7th Street, where the transport tubes would take him back to uptown in Sector A. “We take him now.” Tyrius whispered. Clerents forgot he was invisible and nodded. He followed the shimmering, opaque shape in front of him, his friend, and watched as the worker was pulled into the alley between two buildings. The worker was tossed, by an invisible hand, into a pile of cans and ration containers. He reacted by throwing a rectangular device at his attackers. “Who…?” shouted the worker. “Relax, old man.” said Tyrius, still camo’d. “Sign over some of those food stamps and there won’t be any trouble.” Clerents paced back and forth, looking over his shoulder. There was no one else around. He remembered one of the lines from his favorite rap song, “I try, I try to hide my pride. I keep it inside and stay on my stride. Cuz if I don’t, I might be denied my right to daylight. It’s none of my business, I ain’t no witness.” He rolled the words of Outsider-N-SD around his head, dwelling on what the rapper meant. Even though he was popular Outsider never really made it out of the gutters of Sector D. Clerents considered that maybe this was how it was supposed to be. That he was meant to be a criminal, that he was meant to starve, and suffer, and never afford good implants, and never be safe from crime or the involvement of it. That was indeed, none of his business. He decided that he wasn’t going to be anything other than what he was born into. The thought made him want to rage. As Tyrius was shouting over the worker Clerents activated his hamstring implant through his iris interface and stomped the man in his chest. The worker coughed up saliva and threw up his hands. He was clearly woozy with his eyes rolling back. “Stop. I thought all of you were supposed to be arrested.” “What did you say?” asked Tyrius. “N-noth…” The worker’s head slumped back. He was struggling to stay alert. “The Transhuman Rights Act. You didn’t know? Anyone with implants that wasn’t sanctioned by Securoco is a criminal. Your criminals, whoever you are.” “Not like they didn’t already label us criminals. They decided we were criminals before we even had implants, before the Ringhorn was even built. The line was drawn a long time ago.” Clerents could hear the anger in his own voice but he wasn’t sorry. The worker, who seemed to have come out of his stupor and was about to stand, smiled a response, “You’re not the only one with implants, except mine are legal and called the police a few minutes ago.” A shockwave went through Clerents’ body and his skin sporadically started to reappear. He gritted his teeth as the electricity of police stun guns pulsed and drove him to his knees, rendering him unconscious. He awoke later in the back of a padded transport, happy to see his friend sitting next to him. But then the realization started setting in, that he was in serious trouble, and likely so were the others that were staring at him, all familiar faces. They were all from his block, they were all men. Generally, they were good men. Clerents saw Jay and nodded in recognition. Jay had never done a bad deed in his life but he did have muscle implants, cheap ones, to help with food supply trucks that donated to the food banks. He loved the community but Clerents assumed that wasn’t good enough for the rich and powerful, for the ones who made the laws. The door to the padded wagon opened in the light of the street. Voices of shouting men and women could be heard in a deafening roar. Clerents saw the crowds of lined men and women being prodded through metal barricades. The hundreds of illegal transhumans were being led into a warehouse where they were presumably being booked. Their final destination would be prison and he knew he would be among them. At least he wouldn’t be alone. He saw the worn expressions and saw what the automated security bots couldn’t, that they were tired, sickly and weak, their thin frames and empty eyes were no threat. “So, this is it, huh? They divide us so they can round us up and put us in cages.” said Tyrius as they were led from the transports by bipedal bots. But it wasn’t about division, was it? Clerents remembered Outsider, his lyrics and voice were imbued with the power of cheap vocal mods and neural enhancements. The people in charge, the lawmakers and the rich, could never achieve such talent or art without going through hard times, without suffering. They weren’t hateful, they were jealous. They wanted to have a monopoly on making money and now they finally found a way to do it, by seeding out the poor from the rich and removing them completely from society. Tyrius’ expression went cold like it had in the alley while looking at the food stamp lines. He was going through a similar revelation and probably realized that it was helpless. He also saw what they were doing and how they did in the name of progress and law and order. But really, they were doing it for the same reason they do everything, why everyone does anything, for money and for the fear that others might make more of it. Clerents and the others joined the line leading to the warehouses, their shoulders and necks down. What were they supposed to do? Fight? Run? This wasn’t their fight to win. The fight would need to come from within the rich and powerful. Only a change in their minds could affect change in the weak and powerless, in their struggles and segregation. Their entire perception of what was right and wrong had to change. Clerents watched his feet as they stepped forward and slowly started to give into despair. This was how it was supposed to be. The powerful needed to retain the status quo. For order. For peace. Forever and ever. Into the future, dictated from the past. As much as humans evolve, they will always stay the same.


(WP) A Special Meal No one knew better than the Demon Queen that every creature and being alive had a price; the only trick was finding it. Different people were moved by different things. Instead of killing her nemesis, perhaps it would be more fun to toy with him in a completely different way. There were only a privileged few who knew of the existence of her only daughter; surely the hero would not harm her child. She was certain if she did this correctly, she would not have to worry about that obnoxious do-gooder any longer. Her mind made up; she summoned her daughter to the throne room. “Yes, Mother, what is it?” Ah, her only child: at nearly eighteen, she was more woman than girl now, with creamy skin, eyes the color of amethysts, and a spill of lilac curls cascading down her back. The Demon Queen told her daughter what she needed from her, and the young woman scowled slightly. “Must I, Mother? I... I don’t think that this is a good idea.” Her response brought the queen up short; this was perhaps the first time that her daughter hadn’t gone along with one of her schemes. If it weren’t such an inconvenience, she would have been proud. “Whatever do you mean, child?” She asked at last, eyebrows arched in surprise. “I don’t want to be a bargaining chip in one of your plans, Mother. I have other purposes, you know. Other choices.” Her voice was surly, and her face turned stormy, the sure sign of an impending tantrum. “I’m not asking you to marry the man,” Her mother replied, in a tone that told her daughter not to push it further. But alas, she did not heed it. “Only to keep him company and... throw him off of my scent, as it were.” “What if I don’t want to?” Violet asked, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t I get a say in this, Mama?” The Queen stared at her half-human daughter; her child had not called her that in years. It took her back to her younger years, in which she hadn’t been an evil monarch, but rather just a mother caring for her child. For an instant, a single, fleeting moment, she considered acquiescing. What was one day, one scheme? Perhaps she was going about this in the totally wrong way. Violet’s father had passed away when she was just six months old. Yes, she would do something else. “Of course, you do, my flower. Go, I’ll do this a different way.” \*\* When the hero entered the castle, he certainly hadn’t expected to be greeted by a set table, candles, flowers, or The Demon Queen herself, sitting at the head. Though he couldn’t see her very well in the near-black, he realized that she was wearing a long gown with a puffy tulle skirt. “I realized that I was going about this in an indelicate manner,” She said at last. “Please, sit. I can promise you, nothing is poisoned. I mean you no harm. I just want to talk.