MIMI HYNES. There was something incredibly special about that name, particularly to Radnor Cliff – one of today’s many aspiring authors. He felt forgettable before he encountered her, especially since none of his books had ever taken off. Maybe it was owing to the fact he hadn’t settled on a single idea from day dot. He jumped from genre to genre, never writing anything entirely committal. He desperately needed a break from it all. The letters were wearing off his computer keyboard from prolonged and often frenetic overuse. “Damn it,” he said to himself, shaking his head in frustrated disbelief. He looked at the assemblage of words before him. They said so much in terms of word count and so little in terms of content. They say there is a story stored inside everyone, but he couldn’t seem to locate his. He needed a coffee break, and maybe, he thought, a break from writing. He had had sixteen politely worded declines from publishers that week alone. “I’m going to the library,” he declared to his ten-year-old dozy dog Jasper. Jasper didn’t answer but his ears flicked, so Radnor knew he had heard him. Either way, he looked unbothered by whether he came or went. Radnor walked to the library at the end of his street. For its proximity to his home, he thought how, with a sense of shame, he hadn’t once made use of it. Even though it took two minutes to walk there, Radnor had forgotten to read. He’d been so busy writing – churning out stories like they were books on a conveyor belt, not stopping to see what he needed: a reason to write. Good reading would reinspire him, he decided. He just needed to change things up for a while. He didn’t know what he wanted to read, but he hoped he would find something of interest there. He wasn’t wrong; he just didn’t find it right away. It didn’t fall into his hands from the heavens, the way fateful things are supposed to do. He was, however, greeted by a library assistant when he made his entrance. “Welcome to Grove Library, are you registered with us?” “I don’t believe I am,” he said. “First things first – let’s get you your library card and then we can start the important business of finding you something to read.” Radnor followed the librarian, whose name he had read on her name badge: Samantha. She was glamorous and attractive, but he wasn’t in the right place to consider such things. Instead, he let her create his membership and whenever she asked for his name, he said, “Rad – it’s short for Radnor.” Barely anyone shortened his name, but he thought it sounded less stiff. “That’s a cool name - Radnor. I’m sure it was a bit of a mouthful when you were younger.” Radnor nodded in weary agreement. “It’s like everything else – you get used to it,” he said. Samantha gathered books from different shelves she knew so well she could have done it without so much as a torch at midnight. The stack of books was generous. “How many are we allowed to borrow at once?” he asked. “Ten.” “Ten?! How do people carry them home?” “They probably park at the door,” said Samantha. “If you want to read, you’ll find a way to do it,” she added. They worked their way through the pile, right to the very bottom. “Oh, have you heard of this author?” she asked, holding up a book in a plastic sleeve for Radnor to read the blurb. Radnor seemed to lighten up as soon as she handed it to him. It was by someone called Mimi and it was an apocalyptic tale, but it was also so much more than that. It was engrossing as soon as he opened it. He had to know what happened in this new world. He had to take it home. The strange thing about Mimi’s books was the fact that they had pretty-in-pink covers and main characters dressed like meringues in tutus and similar: the last thing Radnor would have thought to pick up. Her protagonists were always frivolous and didn’t fit with the plot at all. End of the world stories with silly, frilly main characters sounded like a recipe for disaster, but somehow, it just worked. Radnor felt compelled to keep reading. At home, with Jasper sleeping at the foot of his bed, he turned page after page after page, losing sleep over each book until it was finished and added to his “to be reread” list. He knew very little about the author, but he was fascinated by the workings of her mind. He wanted to have that hold over his own readers. It was like she had cast a spell over the reader that lasted from start to finish, and then they had to go in search of another one of her books. Radnor didn’t want to read anything else. All the other books he had borrowed from the library were left, unopened – neglected for Mimi’s latest release. She was prolific too – a book came every few months, the plotlines getting more and more bizarre, the characters getting more and more farcical. His favourite, he decided, was the story of Delilah Dolly: a housecleaner with feather duster she carried everywhere she went. She’d started scouring the kitchen on the point of an alien invasion, seemingly nonplussed by it. He couldn’t believe how well the contrasting elements went together. It ran against everything he’d been taught to do as a writer. Radnor had been educated to be a writer, but he knew his compositions didn’t come close to Mimi’s; she just had that natural talent for it that so few storytellers have. The kind of talent that makes every reader in the room disappear into the world in their book and forget about the real one. Whenever Radnor had finished the last of Mimi’s books, he felt a certain devastation, like he’d just lost a close friend. He knew he would have to wait for the next release to read or reread the others he could get his hands on it. In that moment, he realised, he wanted to write. He sat in his study, his laptop in front of him, a spectacular view outside his window: the early morning sunrise spread out before him. He put his fingers onto the keys of his keyboard and started to clatter away. He put the unlikeliest person into the strangest situation, and as he was writing it, he realised, it just worked. He added in as many surprising features as he could. It added layers of interest to the story, and he realised how one dimensional his writing had been before. He sat for hours on end, writing so fast his fingers could barely keep up with his ideas. He couldn’t wait to write the next part, to see what happened: the surest sign the reader wouldn’t be able to put the book down either. He didn’t know who Mimi Hynes was – he had seen an author photo, but those never really told you as much as the author’s books did. Radnor promised himself he would get his book published, and whenever he did, he would make a point to find out who she was. He would track down Mimi to thank her - in person - for her brilliant and bizarre books.


It has been two weeks ever since i found out about the whispers, And it has been one year and a half ever since my love left this life. I didn’t even get to say goodbye, my love died and left me all alone. It felt as if my heart was crushed into a million pieces. After that i was just a walking body, no soul, no human-like. It’s like half my soul just vanished. I had no desire to do anything, until i heard these whispers calling for me. It was his voice, calling my name. It was a friday night and i was in my bedroom reading a book that i know I’ll never finish. It was so quiet i could hear my own heartbeat, I didn’t think there was any heartbeat left after my true love died. While i was reading i heard something outside my window, i left my book on my bed and went to check what it was. I opened the window and it turns out it was just the sound of the winds, as i had thought. I left the window open because it was summer and the weather was burning hot. I went back to continue on my reading and i could still hear this strange sound. Kind of like bees buzzing, a swarm of them. I went back again and shut the window. I stood frozen in the middle of the room, shocked by this continuing sound. I listened carefully, the sound was getting louder and louder. I thought i was losing my mind, I decided to go back to bed, maybe i have a headache and I’m hallucinating. Maybe the heat of the summer made me ill. I grabbed my book and accidentally shut it and I forgot what page i was it, and the sound is getting even louder. I grabbed my pillow and pushed it on my ears, hoping this sound would stop. The sound was getting louder than before, much more it’s causing my ears to hurt. I grabbed my pillow and threw it in the middle of the room and shouted: “STOP” And this time I definitely thought i had lost my mind. The pillow was frozen mid-air. It’s like a ghost was holding it and it was floating but not even moving. Completely frozen. I didn’t know what to do, i just got up and swiped my hand above and below it, what kind of sorcery is this? I thought so much about this, I grabbed the pillow and said “m-move” and the pillow fell into the ground and i was so shocked. At that moment I wanted to test if what i did was true, I went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. I threw it in the same spot and said “Stop” The water came out of the glass and it was as if someone had threw it in a really really frozen weather, but we are in summer. My mind was blown away. Has my longing for my love really drive me this crazy? I’ve always heard about people losing their minds and going crazy but i had never even thought of this happening to me, no I’m not crazy. Maybe I really do have hallucinations, I decided it was time to sleep, but how can one sleep after going through this thing. I don’t even know what it was, do i stop things from moving? Do i control things? Am I stopping time? I go to bed without even changing my clothes. And i try to sleep, insomnia is killing me tonight. After hours and hours of moving around and tossing and turning, i had finally fell asleep. I didn’t even notice i had school next morning, when my alarm waked me up at 6 AM. I remembered i had school, i got up and I forgot what had happened yesterday, i guess I thought it was a dream. I took a shower and dressed up, done my hair and grabbed my bag and went downstairs. I quickly grabbed an apple and headed to the door. I always leave much early, even before school starts. That is because when Joe and I were together, our first date was walking around the bridge which is half an hour away from home but was close to school. In that bridge he had made me a promise that he will never leave me, we met there almost every single day. There was no one but me on that bridge, everytime i go there my tears just keep falling. I stand there like a statue, like I’m frozen. And call out his name: “Joe, why did you leave me? You promised me...” This time was different, this time i heard someone calling me, i turned around but there was no one there. I suddenly remembered last night, it wasn’t a dream and I definitely wasn’t hallucinating. I focused again and the sound sounded more clearer here. It was joe’s voice calling me:”Emma, what are you doing over there? Come down” His voice said softly with a laugh. I remember this, it was when we went hiking once and I climbed a tree to get a better view of the place. But what is this? Why am I hearing this? I couldn’t help it and just used my hands and put them on my ears and yelled. I said stop again, and this time I wasn’t meaning for anything to stop, I didn’t mean for the water to stop moving or the trees to stay still. Or the birds to freeze while flying. I said with a crying voice:”Why is this happening to me? JOE!!!” i saw a spark behind me and turned instantly, it was like a portal. Like the ones i has seen in movies, “this can’t be real” I thought to myself. I came closer and I could hear his voice again in a distance. “I promise you, I’ll never let you go” I could hear joe talking. “What if you do let me go? Find yourself another girl?” I said I came closer and closer to the portal, I raised my hand and slowly touched it. I found myself at the bridge again, but this time i could see Joe and myself. Talking and laughing. I miss this so much, i miss him. I started walking towards us, i can hear him again. I can see him again, my love. I smiled and tears kept on rolling down my face. I thought to myself that this is the only way i could keep on seeing him. I could sit hear for hours and hours and just watch him talk and laugh and be the guy that i loved like no other. When this memory finished and we both went home, the portal showed up again. I walked to it and found myself at the bridge but at present time. What i was shocked about more than walking into a portal is that i was standing in the middle of the road with cars honking and going so fast. I quickly jumped to the side and realized that it was night!!! And the road was filled with cars that could have killed me. I opened my bag and picked up my phone and found 11 missed phone calls and like a billion messages. I quickly ran home, that would have took me half an hour but it only took me 15 minutes because i was worried about what my parents would say. When I started to see my house from a distance I could also see red and blue lights. THEY CALLED THE COPS!!! I instantly went to the door and opened it and my mom and dad and two police officers came up to see me. “Where the hell were you Emma???” Mom said with a worried but angry voice. “We were worried about you” my dad said more calmly. “I’m so sorry officers and thank you so much, we apologize for this” my dad said to the police officers. “Oh no don’t, it’s our job. Next time kid don’t skip school, alright?” The police officer said to me. I nodded with a slight smile and they headed outside. When they were gone my parents started yelling and I couldn’t even understand a word they were saying. While they are yelling and making no sense what so ever, i could hear joe’s voice again. Even though it’s very chaotic i could still focus on his voice, i have to go see him. I looked at my parents and said: “I’m fine, i was at Mary’s place, we have a project together and we lost track of time.” I haven’t talked to Mary in so long, but she was the first person to pop in my head so i just said her name. “You could have called and said you’re going to her place” my dad said. My mom on the other hand said: “what about school Emma?? You didn’t go to school, where were you really?” “Mom! I told you, we asked for permission to leave school and work on the project, I’m so tired can i go to my room now?” I lied and I’m pretty sure my mother didn’t believe a single word coming out of my mouth, but she just went to the living room and I hurried upstairs to my bedroom. When i opened the door i could see the portal again, at the wall in my room. I closed the door instantly and put my bag on my bed, i could hear us talking again. But this time it’s not on the bridge, this time it’s the first day we ever saw each other or actually the first time i saw him. I was a freshman and he was a junior, my name is Emma and his name was Joe. Our love was like no other, every second I thought about him, every moment of my life. I thank my brain for making these portals that I don’t know what exactly they are. My longing for him created portals for me to see him again, but maybe this is something bigger than this. I stepped into the portal without looking behind, there i was walking into school feeling so nervous. And there he was, walking behind me with his hood and earphones on, not caring about the world. I have never seen such an attractive face in my whole life and in that moment the most embarrassing thing happened to me, my nose started bleeding, how ironic!! I was so shocked by both Joe’s presence and my nose bleed because i have never had any nose bleeds so why now!! This sudden blood made me so shocked that i dropped my phone and books that i was holding, Joe suddenly stopped and removed his earphones. He started gathering the books and he didn’t even look at my face, when he was about give them to me he looked at me and was terrified, he saw all the blood on my face. “WOAH!! Are you okay?” He said to me with a really worried voice. “Oh I don’t know, i never had any nose bleeds!” I said. “Are you new here? I can show you the nurse’s office.” Joe said. And he didn’t take his eyes of my face, that made my cheeks the same color as the blood from my nose. I took my books and picked up my phone and followed him to the nurse’s office. First day at a new school and the first place i go to is the nurse’s office, i used to think that I wasn’t very lucky, but i got to meet the love of my life on this special day. The nurse told me that it was because of the heat and dryness, nothing serious. But Joe didn’t leave me, he stayed there the whole time. After resting for about half an hour i headed to class and joe was beside me showing me the way. I looked at joe and laughed. Joe looked at me and said: “what?”

With half a smile. “Not so pretty to see me like this for the first time” i said with a laugh. And what shocked me even more was joe’s response : “actually I wasn’t going to say this but i think you’re the most beautiful thing i have ever laid eyes on!” I was so shy by his comment and didn’t say anything. At that moment i arrived at my class and said bye to Joe, that’s when the portal showed up again! I stepped through it into my bedroom again, and again i had spent so many hours there that it’s morning now. I didn’t get any sleep and i have to go to school because I skipped school yesterday, this thing is getting out of hand! I looked at my phone to check the time and it was 7:15 AM I don’t have much time till class, so i took a quick shower and dressed up real quick and grabbed my bag and headed downstairs, i was so tired and so hungry. I had just noticed that i only ate an apple yesterday morning, nothing else!! This time i had to eat something before i go, what if the portal showed up again. I found my mom in the kitchen talking with my dad, actually whispering not talking. When they heard my footsteps they stopped talking. They called me and said that they are very worried about me, I’ve been skipping school and my mom noticed that I didn’t eat at the house, and I’ve been very secretive. I just told them that i ate at my friend’s house and they don’t have to worry and I’ve been working so much on this project,that doesn’t really exist. I’ve made so many lies and if my parents ask mary and she denies that I’ve been at her place, I’m going to be in trouble. My parents are even more worried because when Joe passed away, I didn’t do anything for days, didn’t eat, didn’t sleep and didn’t even talk. At that time they sent me to a therapist who told them that this will pass by time. But it didn’t!. I had made my way to school and nothing unusual happened today, I thought the portal would show up again but it didn’t. I finished school and headed home, feeling so sad because I didn’t get to go to the portal today, I didn’t get to hear joe or see him. I tried to act normal i front of my family but on the inside i was dying. I couldn’t help it anymore and just said i was tired and wanted to sleep, and I really was sleepy and tired. Not sleep in two days can make a person go crazy. I went to my bedroom and I actually fell asleep right away, that’s when i woke up by his voice again. Joe’s voice, I don’t want this to end but i also can’t stay like this all the time, when i go through the portal i just leave all my life behind. I haven’t talked to anyone but my mom and dad. I opened my eyes and the portal was at the wall again, “what would happen if I don’t go through it?”

I thought to myself. I kept on thinking and I actually had a brilliant idea, i had stopped time before, maybe i could do it again! I quickly got up and stared into the portal and said: “STOP”

I didn’t know if it worked because i could still hear his voice, so i went to the window and looked outside, and it did work!! I saw a woman and her child crossing the street but frozen in the middle of it. The odd thing is that that didn’t seem to affect the portal. Maybe I could stay in the portal all this time and then come out of it and unfrozen time again and just carry on with my daily life. I stepped into the portal and this time it was our first date, it was at a carnival. Joe and i were holding hands and walking into the carnival and i looked genuinely happy back then, we played some games and ate cotton candy and popcorn. Joe pointed at a lady who’s in costume and her whole face and body are covered and blood and said: “she looks like someone!” And just burst out laughing. “Ha Ha very funny!!” I said with an annoyed voice but also burst out laughing with him. I was afraid to ride rollercoasters and Joe made me do it with him, i used to regret doing that but looking at it now, I’m so happy i made those memories with him. After hours of walking around and playing games, Joe took me to see the stars. And we had our first kiss there!  I was looking at this memory and sobbing. That’s when the portal showed again, and I’m back into my bedroom yet again. My trick did work, everything is still frozen, i said: “move” and looked out the window, the woman and her child continued walking and life carried on, but my heart didn’t. I felt so empty, I thought these memories would heal me but they destroyed me even more. Seeing those memories made me miss him even more. I can’t carry on with this, that morning i went to school and acted normal, talked to a few of my old friends that I haven’t talked to in months. And while i was walking in the isle i could hear girls talking about me: “I wonder how she can handle it, it’s his anniversary in a few days” and another girl who seems to be a new student responded :”who’s anniversary?” “Her boyfriend, he died almost two years ago, drowning accident.” The girl responded to her. I felt a sudden pain my chest and hurried to the bathroom, I couldn’t breathe. Hearing others talk about him hurts even more. That’s when he showed up in front of me, not in a portal and not a dream. He showed up with his own body and soul and was looking directly at me. “Emma, it’s all in your head.” Said Joe. It was later known that Emma had lost her mind after Joe passed away, imagining things and hallucinating. She saw the only open window for her was to be with her beloved Joe, she didn’t want anything else in the whole wide world. Sometimes you meet your other half and you literally can’t live without him, but Emma was finally with him.


A shadow of a figure was running in the dark. All around were tall trees, and only a small fraction of the moon’s rays got through the canopy. The ground was a black void with no difference between the dirt and the tree roots.

A pack of wolves howled in the distance. With every gust of wind, the tree branches and leaves banged and rustled like a toddler playing with pots and pans. Under all of that was a low mumble, rhythmic like a drum cadence but ghostly in origin. The figure trips. "Eli?" The scene quakes. “Eli!” The moon disappeared. “Elijah!” Blinding fluorescent light replaced the woods.

13-year-olds Eli and Tyler were sitting in the mall food court, eating dinner across from each other.

Eli's heart was pounding in his ears, and his hands trembled. Tyler put her hands on his. "Eli, what did you see?" Eli repeatedly blinked back at her as the fog lifted from his head. "I don't really know." "Come on, " she said, slinging on a side bag as she raised from her chair, "you can think about it on our way home. I don't want to miss the bus." Without a word, Eli cleaned up their table and carried the tray away. As soon as his hand was free, he reached for her hand. They walked away from the tables with Tyler locking her arm from Eli’s swinging. Not too many people were left in the mall. There were a few stragglers around the pop-up stands, but most were lacing their arms through jacket sleeves by the exits. However, two men - a twig-like one with close to the head African curls and a log-like one with slicked hair mostly to one side - didn't fit in either group. They stood off the side, away from everyone else, surveilling, looking for something. Their cookies and cream vibe didn’t make Tyler divert their path. She was right until they stepped in their way. “Excuse us. Tyler Woodlock and Elijah Krieger?” the twig one asked through a British accent. Tyler pulled Eli closer. “No. Sorry,” she answered, starting to walk around them with her and Eli’s fingers turning red. “Government agents,” the other man stopped them, flipping open his budget case, “Miss Woodlock.” The brit slid closer as Tyler gave out a nervous laugh. She pulled it together with a devious smirk. “Alright, agents,” she stepped closer, “but one thing first.” “Yes,” the man said, putting his budget back. Tyler gave the brit - the fitter one - a stiff kick in the shin. With him on the floor and his partner stunned, she yelled, “Run Eli,” giving Eli a push start. Eli sprinted off, getting a head start as Tyler toppled over a supply case. He headed for the loading docks, a path Tyler forced him to memorize for an emergency like this. As ordered, he ran without looking back. He nearly ran off the truck port in his mindset. He jumped down. Falling on his hands, he looked like a frog. He couldn’t find the strength to stand, but he walked - half crawled - to the rear of the building.

Collapsing against the brick, he took his chance to look back. She wasn’t there. He stayed twisted around the corner, waiting for Tyler.

All of a sudden, bright light beamed onto him. Drawing Eli’s attention, the voice called out. “Stay there!” they boomed like a drill sergeant. He clambered to his feet and did the total opposite as the voice commanded. A stampede of boots followed Eli as he jotted into the wooded area on the other side of the loading lane. The fall night grew darker as he was chased farther in the woods. With every gust of wind, the tree branches and leaves banged and rustled. Their movement shifted and blocked the moon as if in a game of peekaboo. This and the uneven ground made Eli bobble like a pinball. The voice rang out again. "Get him! Don't let him get away."

It allured him to look back. A light show of flashlights was going on behind. Even with all the light, however, the people remained shadows. A gopher tunnel tripped Eli up a bit. As he looked up, a pair of amber eyes low to the ground, stared at him from a few yards away. The progression of howls following the encounter made Eli run fast.

He couldn’t hear the boots anymore. He would turn his head a few degrees before forcing it straight. The last one sent him flying into the ground. Tyler peered over a row of bushes. Eli laid on the ground, with only his chest moving up and down. As soon as she raised from her position, two men came into view. One went to Eli’s side, and the other pulled out a radio. “Asset found. About four clicks due east of the loading dock.” The radio guy looked around the perimeter as the second man searched Eli’s pocket. Tyler fished around in her bag. In the dark, the inside of her bag was a void. She felt cold metal as more men appeared. The one left Eli’s side. “The cards aren’t here, sir.” Eli let out a moan as he began to stir. “Bring him. We’ll find out soon enough where they are.” He turned and started the procession away.

Radio and Pocket man gave each other a glance before Pockets threw Eli over his shoulder. The remaining men followed. Tyler took her hand out of her back. She fell to her knees, with her hands on her face. As the first tears started falling, she wiped them away with her fists clenched. She ran back to the mall, heading towards the parking lot. Her head bubbled back and forth, looking at the cars and people. Losing her structure, she fell back on her knees. She started crying again right before her ears perked up. Snapping her head around, she saw the two agents from inside. “We lost, Ma’am,” she heard the agent who threw his badge in her face, “they were ready to run.” A grin grew across her face. She spined back, with her attention being grabbed by the rear of the car she fell in front of. The license read CA EXEMPT 387690. She had seen enough of those when the police raided their Romani dwellings. The odds of that being their car, she didn't know. Not did she know the odds of them automatically unlocking it far enough away that she could climb into the trunk before they were close enough to see. The two agents and their unknown guest arrived at their motel on the outskirts of town almost an hour after Eli was taken. The building wasn't too big: just two rows with eight or so doors each. Behind each were a single room and a bath.

The agents went first. Tyler waited until she couldn’t hear them anymore before pushing out the back row cushion. Sitting on the floor of the car, she watched as they entered a room, with the number six on the door. She opened the door carefully so she wouldn’t hit the next car. In the same manner, she closed it without a sound. She strategically stepped as she reached back into her bag. After peering into the room’s window, she saw the two agents with their backs to the door. There seemed to be nothing but a wall in front of them, but that didn’t bother Tyler. She walked right in and pulled her hand out of her bag before slamming the door shut.

The agents jumped if shots had been fired. They found that they weren’t too far off. Dropping their phone, they were face to face with a gun barrel.

“Hello, again, Miss. Woodlock,” one agent said, through his British accent, as they snuck for their weapons. “Don’t patronize me,” she said, cocking her gun. “Do you think you can pull yours before I shoot the both of you? I’ve already proved I have grace under pressure.” They both bring their hands forward. “What do you want?” the other one asked. “Well, Agent Vincent Petrov, I’m thinking about a trade.” Flaunting his arrogant British accent, he asked, “What would you have that we would~.” Cutting him off, Tyler pulled out a deck of tarot cards. “Really. I might be a child, but I’m not an idiot.” “That still doesn’t answer my question,” Vincent said. “I want Eli back.” “Excuse me.” “Even if I believe for a second, you’re not with the men who took him. You bring him back to me, and you get these no-so-meaningless cards, and we all live happily ever after.” The agents gave each a glance. “Let me make this easier. You do this, or I shoot you and go on my merry way.” Eli was groggy, teetering between awake and asleep, for the car ride. Though, no one could tell through the blindfold. Nor from his position in the trunk.

They had tried his wrists and ankles to stop the little fight he had in him. No kicking. No hitting. No running. More helpless than he was without Tyler. He was asleep when the car stopped but was jarred awake when one of the men yanked him out. Being bobbled around, his face was red, and breathed deeply, trying to keep dinner in. The only relief came when he was dropped to the floor. After the bang of the door, Eli was left to wait once more in the dark. He pulled at his ropes, only stopping when the burning turned into papercut sensations.

No closer to freedom, he crumbled. Stopped straining. Stopped fighting. Stopped holding it together.

Back at the motel, Tyler sat crisscrossed on the first bed from the door, yanking her locket back and forth on its chain. She stared at the agents that sat on the other side of the room. She tried to hear what they were saying, but they put the same effort into the opposite. “What are we going to do, Miles?” Vincent asked. “Play the game.” “Easier said than done.” “We know when, where, and a fair idea of by who.” “The who is what scares me.” “I would be more scared of the lass if we don’t.” “I agree with Agent Walker,” a woman, dressed in a white skirt suit with her dark hair in a spiral braid, said just inside the room. “Ms. Isles?” Vincent jumped out of his seat. Tyler did the same. She stared at the woman, jotting a glance at the door then back. No one heard the door open or closed.

“Hello, Miss. Woodlock,” Ms. Isles said, raising her hand. “Hi,” Tyler said, more like a question than snipe, without shaking her hand. “Well, do you want the good news or the bad news?” “Good would be best,” Vincent toddled. Isles looked at Tyler. “Find the boy. Bring him back. Finish your original mission,” she said through a smile.

She began to walk away. She already had her hand on the doorknob before any of them stopped her.

“What about the bad news?!” Miles shouted. “Work with her, Walker, work with her,” she said, leaving before and without argument. Eli had no idea how long he was asleep for but when he opened his eyes he was met with a blinding light. He stretched out to find his legs and arms unbound. Panicked and joyed, he shuddered and jostled. He missed the hand on the wrist. A shadow eclipsed the bright light. “Do you mind not moving?” The voice sounded familiar.

With the light masked, Eli could start to see the room. First, the man kneeling in front of him: greying hair, flannel button-up shirt, and placid blue eyes. Then small red spots on the grey cement floor. And last, white bandage roll, some on his right wrist and the man wrapping more onto his left. “I think you’ve bled enough on my floor for today,” the man said, finishing his work.

“Your floor?” “Don’t be put off by the casual dress, I’m the boss here, and that’s why I can offer you this: You answer all my questions and you can go home to your gypsy family, to your sweet wife Tyler without any more harm.” “What do you want to know?” Eli asked as he sat up. “Why don’t we start with something simple. Why did you run away from me at the loading docks?” said the man who blared a flashlight in Eli’s eyes earlier that night. Vincent sat at the small two-person table, glaring at a street map and a calculator.

“How is it going, Vince?” Miles asked, leaning over Vincent's shoulder.  “Not great. Knowing that they took Elijah 75 minutes ago and assuming they stayed within 5 miles per hour of the speed limit, they can be anywhere within and around 50 miles away from the mall.” “That’s a big area.” “You don’t know the half of it.” “Miss. Woodlock~.” “Tyler!” she yelled at him. “My name's Tyler.” “Tyler,” he put his hands up halfway, “can you give us anything? Car model? Direction? Anything?”

“I was a little busy trying not to get caught myself. Trying to find you fools.” “If we try to search all of this,” Vincent pulled Miles closer and lowered his voice, “we won’t get to him in time.” “Don’t talk like that!” Tyler yelled, with a little cry behind it. “You start talking like that and things will end that way.” She fell back onto the bed, with her hands on her face. Miles glared down at Vincent, with his arms crossed. He kept that position as he walked over to the bed. Sitting next to her, he put his arm around her with an air bubble between them. “Thanks,” she said, whipping her hands out from her face. “It’s getting late, why don’t you rest for a bit. We don’t want our sharpshooter’s eyes heavy.” “I’ve been one for the last ten years, but,” she paused, bringing up her watch on her right wrist. “Watch!” she continued, jumped off the bed. “What?!” Miles followed her towards Vincent. “Watch,” she started searching her bag, “I got Eli a watch for our first anniversary. He never takes it off.” She presented the watch’s instructions. “And it has GPS.” “Anniversary?” they asked During their time together, the man asked Eli an array of questions. Most about trivial personal things to get Eli relaxed and uncoil from his balled-up position.

It was working too. He was as relaxed as if he was home. His eyes glassed over, as the questions droned on.

The room faded away, a dark place appeared. A spotlight shines on the center. A glint of metal moved in from the bottom. A gun; revolver. A white hand. A flannel sleeve.

The hand snapped the bullet holder back into the gun. It aimed. Destroying the image, the shot fired caused Eli to scream and hold his ear. His ears were still ringing, when the man tried to calm him down. Eli saw what he expected was on his own face, on the man’s. The man removed Eli’s hands. His mouth moved but Eli couldn’t hear it. He yanked himself away “Why are you asking me all these questions? What do you want?” The man had a blank face. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. After straightening his shirt, he said, “You have something that belongs to me.” “I don’t have anything!” Eli shuddered. “Not now but…,” he exhaled heavily through his nose, “Tyler gave you something. A set of Tarot cards.” “I don’t know where they are?” he stuttered. “Well, it's the last question you have to answer, so give it a good thought.” “They could be anywhere. In the woods where you chased. Back in the mall where the other two did. With~,” he said, trying to put the brakes in his mouth. “You know where they are!” “No! No, I don’t.” “Yes, you do,” he pulled a gun from his back waistband, “Tell me.” Eli’s mouth opened, but the only crashing noises came. The sound made both of them jot their attention towards the door. The man gritted his teeth: the other two. Staring down at his gun, he weighed it in his hand before bringing it down on Eli’s head.

Eli fell to the floor again. The last thing he saw before the backs of his eyelids was the man’s black shoes walking out the door. The black gave away to whisps at first merging into cacti and sand. They whirled by through the view from a car window. Tyler sat on the opposite side, smiling back. In the front seat sat Miles and Vincent. The whole picture felt loving and had a dream-like glow.

It faded into a face-full of fabric. Before he could freak out like his earlier ones, a hand touched his shoulder. “You’re alright now, you’re safe,” Tyler cooed. In a quick movement, Eli raised to hug her, nearly bringing them to the floor. Regaining her structure, she hugged back. In their embrace, Eli missed Miles and Vincent standing off to the side, smiling down at them.


"Yeah I'll be fine. Thank you for tonight, text me when you get home okay?" I said as he kissed my forehead.

He smiled sweetly and nodded. I started walking back to my hotel as he open his car and drive off. Before entering the building I turn around with an uneasy feeling. I could feel a pair of eyes behind me. I look both ways but nothing, only darkness and a faint sound of cars driving. 'Maybe i'm just paranoid' I thought as I enter the building.

The receptionist welcomed me and gave me my room's key since I left mine in the room.

After greeting the people I pass and having small chit chats I walked towards the elevator and pressed 7. As the number above turned 7 I grabbed my keys and went inside. I'm in a five-star hotel and the owner is a close friend of mine so that's way the whole seventh floor is mine. I took off my shoes and placed my bag in the couch. The walls are painted in s light shade of grey with picture frames from all around the world. The living room looks simple yet classy. Grey, white, black and a hint of gold is seen. There are two guest rooms, a mini game room, a huge kitchen, a bathroom, a mini bar and of course the living room and my room. This room was my friend's gift since I helped her with her depression. Even though I said no she still insisted on giving me this room. I walked towards the biggest room here which is my bedroom and unlocked it. The bed can fit at least five people but it's not that important. There is a walk in closet , a mini library, a bathroom, a mini eighty-seven inches Tv and other things I'm lazy to mention. "Finally a break from everything." I mumble as I relax my body in the hot tub. I turned on the tv in front of me and took a sip from my wine. The bathroom inside my room has a mini tv that's like sixty-eight inches. It's been two weeks since my fiancée died and everything went downhill. A lot of people paid their visit and his family was the most affected. He was an only child and he was such an angel. He would take his mom shopping or play golf with his dad.

We we're both highschool students when we met. Ever since that day we became the "School's Couple". Technically we are both famous in campus that's why people kept pushing us to be together.

He was the mvp of their basketball team while being top 1 in their class. I'm famous for being a good dancer winning competition around other schools and being number one in my class. My dream was to be a well-known dancer because ever since I was a child I fell in love with music. I told him that after college I was planning on going to Korea and become an Kpop idol. I may not be a pure korean but my Mom is half and I can speak korean quite fluently. Our first date as I remember, we went to a convenience store and bought snacks and then we went to the beach and had a nice walk while staring at the sunset. We danced and talked till the sky went blue and the stars shines beautifully.

It was simply amazing. It may seem simple but it was somehow magical for the both of us but sadly before the wedding day, he died. He left his family, friends and me. People loved and idolized him. He was like a gift sent from above.

He proposed to me when I were twenty years old. Both our families we're there and all of our friends. A lot of people was watching since he proposed in public. The props and the way he asked for my hand seems like it was straight from a movie. Of course I said yes. *knock* *knock* I went back to reality when I heard knocking from the door. "It's eleven pm who could it be?" I asked no one in particular. "I'm coming just a minute!" I shout. I dried myself and grab my night-gown. The knocking seem to quiet down as I walk near the door.

I opened the door to show nothing. There was no one.

"Hmm? Was I imagining it?" I mumble. Before going back inside I saw a note below. I picked it up and it said- >The receptionist wants to talk to you> 'In the middle of the night?' I thought. I just shrug it off as I took my jacket and went downstairs. I walked towards the front desk to see no one. "Uhmm? Hello?" I asked.

Nothing but pure silence was heard.

A sound suddenly destroyed the silence. It was coming from outside. I walked towards it but to my dismay it was still pitch black and the only light is from the lamp in the other side of the road. I was about to walk inside when I saw a guy standing beside the lamp.

"Good evening mister! Are you perhaps waiting for someone?" I asked politely.

He just stared at me. "Why?" I heard him whisper. I looked at him confused and was about to ask him what's wrong when he suddenly smiled at me.

"No... N-no! Nooo!" I shout. There he stood.

A guy with a bloody shirt. The same shirt he was wearing the night before the wedding. "Was it worth it?" He asked and suddenly he was in front of me. He grabbed my neck and pushed me against the wall. "Y-you're a-alive?" There he stood my fiancée who I thought died. "Was your dream worth more than me?" He asked. "P-please l-let me go..." I begged but his smile just grew wider. I felt as if it was just yesterday. The scream, the blood, the beg for mercy. I could still feel the cold metal in my hand and the blood that stained my shirt. He looked at me as his smile grew wider.

"Did you love me?" He whispered. As tears fell from my eyes I nodded. I wanted to speak but I couldn't breath properly anymore. My vision is getting blurry as I feel my head spinning. "I guess..." There in front of me was my fiancée, the guy I killed before our wedding day because he destroyed the dream that I took years to reach. I felt a metal stab my stomach as I close my eyes. I gasp for air as I quickly stood up. I'm in my room. I looked at my reflection to see tear stain. 'It was all just a dream' I thought. I walked towards the window and saw a guy staring at me. He was smiling. "No-" "Till death do us apart." He said looking up at me and vansihed in thin air. And with that two armed robbers enterd my room and stab me to my death. -sorry for the errors I made this an hour or two before twelve and i'm really tired so I couldn't re check it-


The moment my mother, Mara, gave birth to me, the Wisewoman held me and gave me my Proclamation. The matronly female did this with every infant. It's tradition in our tribe. "This child is special;" the Wisewoman said. "When calamity comes from the outside, she will be salvation for our people." My mother wanted to ask what that meant but she was too tired and shocked. So the Wisewoman left for her next appointment. That was fifteen years ago. I'm almost old enough to have a family of my own. Yet I'm still the most unremarkable girl in our village. I'm not pretty like Kerada, the chief's daughter. I'm not good at making thatching for our hut's roof. I don't have visions. I don't know what I'm good for. Certainly not saving people. If I'm lucky maybe I'll learn how to talk to chickens or something. "Samri;" my mother calls. "Get up and help me get water for the crops." I groan and sit up, scrubbing my eyes as I wake up in the pre-dawn. Today is another day on our island. How will it be any different? I'll help mother and father with chores on our farm. If I'm lucky I'll be able to go hunt in the afternoon...if I don't have to sell any produce at market. I hate market; I always run in to Fellurn or Tinia. They're both in the Wisewoman's class with me and they both hate me. Fellurn always ties my hair in knots while I'm not looking and Tinia loves to point out my flaws. "Samri;" Tinia often says. "Your chest is so flat and your arms are so scrawny. You'll never get a good man!" Ugh! I don't even care what that nasty cow thinks of my arms! Pushing these thoughts from my head, I join my mother. We talk a little as we walk with our vases to the well. "How was your sleep last night?" Mother asks me. "Okay, I guess;" I lie to her not mentioning that I'd had nightmares about weird creatures all night. "Just okay?" she prods. "You don't feel any different do you?" I shrug indifferntly. "Nope;" I say. "Just another day." The sun is starting to rise over the jungles. Shore bird calls begin to mix with the last cries of nocturnal beasts. My mother ties her vase to the rope and lowers it down into the generations old cistern. I was abou to grab another rope and follow suit when a voice breaks the silence. "Mara!" the Wisewoman calls out. "Is that you? I must speak to you and your daughter!" My mother and I turn towards her. "What's the matter?" Mother asks. The Wisewoman grabs me by both arms and stares wide eye into my face. "Do you remember your Proclomation, child?" She asks me. It's not polite to sass someone who is elderly. "I remember what my mother said." I tell her. "But I don't know why that matters." She nods approvingly.  "The prophecy is going to be fulfilled."  She said.  "Today a great wind, rain and lightning will darken our skies!"  A storm, it's the hottest part of the year of course storms would come ashore.  "We've always had bad weather;" I say. "Nothing unusual--" "This will bring worse!" The Wisewoman says. "I have seen visions of shining beings riding in a giant log made of many logs.  These beings look like men but they are demons.  Their log will be brought to us by the winds from the storm! They will tell us they want peacefull trade but they will kill, steal, ravish and bring disease!  You, Samri, are the only one who can save us from these monsters!"   I felt cold in spite of the warm air surrounding me. "How can I stop such terrible things?" I say. "I am not a warrior."  The Wisewoman's face softened and she spoke with kind urgency. "Samri;" she says. "Remember the stories I taught you and the other children.  Not all peril is fended off with strength." No sooner had she finished this lecture than the sky became almost black.  Wind began to blow. "It's begining" the Wisewoman says. "Get home quickly and prepare yourselves!"  She hobbled as fast as her legs and staff would carry her. My mother and I grabbed our vessels and hurried to our hut. We made sure our livestock was safe in their shelter and then huddled with my father in our hut. Outside the rain smashed against the palm leaves of our roof and wind tore at the chords holding our door curtain in place. I prayed the torches did not extinguish.  Darkness with only lightning bolts often reminded me of the legends of our island's thunder spirits.  They were supposed to be merciless beings of light, fire and shadow.  Anyone unwise enough to go outside during a storm was often savaged by the thunder spirits. I must have dosed off.  The next time I opened my eyes, it was late afternoon.  The storm and clouds had given way to the amber light of dusk.  I checked to see if my parents were still alive. "Are you two allright?" I asked. Mother and father both nodded. "I'm going outside to see if anyone needs help." I told them. "Stay here, I'll be back before sundown." There was some damage to the village. A few other families were taking note of their remaining assests and repairs to be made.  Remembering what the Wisewoman had told me, I headed to the beach. Amazingly, there was what looked like a giant tree made up of dead trees laying almost on its side in the sand.  Around it, four or five two legged creatures with metal arms, bellies and feet milled around the wreckage.  I looked at the new arrivals. What was with their legs? They looked like they were made of poofy fabric. I stood still mesmerized by the unusual scene.  One of them noticed me!  My legs refused to run even though I was terrified.  It got the attention of the other creatures.  They moved at a slow deliberate pace. "Parblo, les Spenchagese?"  The one in the front of the group gabbled at me.  I had no idea what that meant. "Parblo, les Spenchagese?"  The creature said again.  I tried to back away but stumbled over a piece of driftwood. Seeing me fall, the thing stopped and put its hands to its head...and PULLED.  I screamed and looked away.  A metal hand tapped my shoulder.  I looked back.  A bearded face stared back at me!  It was the face of a man but he didn't look like anyone I'd seen.  His hair was black but curly and his nose was narrow and beaky like a sea eagle and his skin had no color.  The man thing offered his hand to me.  I took it and he pulled me to my feet. "Thank you;" I said. "My name is Samri."  The strange person stared at me like he hadn't understood. I gestured to myself. "Samri;" I repeated.  Body language finally conveyed my meaning.  He brought his hand to his chest with a clunk. "J'Mi anobrelle es Paulo;" he said. "Paulo."  I nodded to let him knew I'd heard. Paulo looked around for a stick.  He picked one up and drew in the sand with it.  A box with a squigly line and a dot next to it.  I looked at him in confusion. He tapped his ears and neck, then gestured to me and raised an eyebrow.  I realized that I was wearing my shell necklace and golden hoops.  Maybe he wanted to know where I got them? Smiling I waved for them to follow me.  I led them to the market place.  I kept a carefull eye on my new aquaintances.  They had all removed their head carapieces. What men were like crabs? I had no clue but so far they hadn't hurt me. Most of them gawked at the women and jewelry.  What I obseved worried me.  They might not be like my people but some emotions are universal.  On their faces I recognized lust and greed. I'd seen that before on Fellurns face when he looked at the chief's daughter at great feasts. Despite my concerns, I had no idea what to do.  I ran into cheif Palani. "What are these?" He asked. "Are they men or crustacians?"  I stammered.  Before I could answer the one called Paulo approached Palani.  "Bon Tardes."  He babbled. "J'Mi anobrelle es Paulo. Yt son garconbre es mi Marshalles."  Palani looked to me for help.  "They don't speak our language;" I told him. "They seem to want to get some gold or jewelry; at least thats what I think their crude gestures and pictograms mean." Cheif Palani processed this. "I need your help;" he said. "I'm going to act like I'm trading my ring for your necklace. Maybe we can make them understand."  I took off my sea shells and handed them to the chief.  He removed his ring and handed it to me.  We bowed and then handed eachother back our items. We looked to see if Paulo had gotten the idea. "Ah!" He said and reached into a leather pouch. He pulled out some sort of coins. He pointed to my necklace and offered me the metal discs. Reluctantly, I took off my necklace and handed it to Paulo.  He handed me the coins and offered me his hand.  I stared at it.  What was this? Paulo noticed my hesetancy and demonstated with one of his companions.   The two of them clasped hands  and moved their arms up and down. It must be their way of negotiating friendly interaction.  After Paulo turned back to me, I mimicked their actions. Later that night, Cheif Palani asked me to find a place for our odd new aquaintances to stay the night.  We had almost reached an empty hut when the Wisewoman saw us.  "What are you doing?!" She screamed. "These are the demons I warned you about!  They cannot stay!" Before I could react, the Wisewoman had raised her staff and began to charge. Faster than I thought possible Paulo drew a metal blade and plunged it into her heart.  She fell to the ground bleeding.  I knealt by her to see if there was anything I could do. The light had already faded from the older woman's eyes.  My face was hot with anger. I glared at Paulo and the look I saw on his face was terrifying.  His eyes were like obsidian, sharp, cold and unfeeling.  He didn't seem to care that he'd slaughtered another human. Paulo still had his weapon drawn.  I knew I had to keep calm, otherwise he'd probably kill me too.  I led them into the hut and left hurriedly. At my own home I found my father still awake.  "The demons came;" I told him. "They already killed the Wisewoman.  I need your help to drive them out."  My father gaped in horror.  "How can we?" He said. "They must be very powerful."  I thought and an idea sparked aglow like a firefly. "You know the thunder spirits?" I said.  "Maybe they should greet these fiends."  My father sighed. "We can't contoll them." He said. "There's no hope--" "Yes there is!" I insisted. "These demons have never seen the thunder spirits.  We could make costumes and scare them!"  Still not convinced my father helped me stitch together some animal skins and we doused them in water.  After we put on our disguise, he made bright torches and grabbed two conch shells.  He handed one torch and chonch to me. "Lead the way, my little cocunut;" he said. When we found ourselves close to Paulo's hut, we held the torches as close to ourselves as we dared.  First my father then I blew on our shells.  The noise woke the sleeping demons up. Paulo stared at both of us, his eyes wide with fear. He shouted something to his compainions. Father and I advanced waving our torches and blowing our conches. Soon Paulo and his men were running into the jungle like piglets that have just seen a jaguar.  Once we could no longer see the demons, my father and I shrugged out of our costumes.  We shared a laugh and went home. None of the strange people from the wreck were seen ever again.  Now I understand the Wisewoman's Proclamation.  I saved my village from evil, I only wish the old woman had seen it.


Six years back (eighteen-year-old me)

I took a sip of water and put the glass at the counter next to me. My mom and dad sat exactly forty-five degrees from my couch and gazing at me for the past half an hour. It almost beats the symmetry of a random frame from a Wes movie. I had a pen in my hand and two papers stretched out in front of me. Nothing complicated, it was simple, all that I had to do was to sign in one of those. One paper which my parents brought from the highly-rated business management college and another one which I bought for ten rupees from a journalism college, apparently the admission form for journalism was not free. Now, it was all on me. I asked myself the most asked question in anybody’s life:

This or that?

My family was one of those families which live in a three-floored apartment, we basically own a mansion. My grandfather was the founder of Ganesh R paper company, to be precise, one of the top thirty businessmen in India. And now, I was stuck in between picking my career: To study MBA and take care of our business or to pursue journalism, which was my personal choice. I held the pen and lifted my head from those forms, my parents haven’t even for a second moved their eyes away from me. I saw the door next to the counter opened and there came my grandfather.

“Hey, Aanya, didn’t sleep yet?” he asked.

Yes, I'm a girl , in case if you haven't figured it out. Those words hit my mind hard. I have heard those same exact words from him before, it wasn’t a DeJa'Vu.

Yes, I remember it.

Sixteen years back (Eight-year-old me)

It was almost midnight; I spotted a thick enveloped magazine with my grandfather’s face on one corner of the book rack. I took and read it aloud to my grandfather who was still awake

“ How to succeed in startups? Retired but not tired. The seventy-year-old greybeard hasn’t lost his zeal yet. Thirty-eight years ago, a man changed the way paper company’s work and registered his own auteur to it. Ganesh proved that even a paper company owner will end up being a billionaire.”

“It’s me I guess” he chuckled; his cheek wrinkled.

As I said before, my grandfather was one of the richest persons in the state, probably the country. In a weird kind of way, I slightly hate him. Because of that old man, I was forced to take care of the business as I was the only child. Well, in fact, my grandpa didn’t force me, it was my parents. I slightly hate my parents. Eight-year-old me wouldn't have any idea what those terms mean.

“Aanya, didn’t you sleep yet, it’s time to sleep.” he waved his hand:

come . I waved back:

wait.

I flipped the magazine and randomly opened a page, to my surprise I saw an image of a person with goggles leaning against the ladder of a swimming pool. And the article read:

Wanna see the next Michael Phelps! A rising star battles on his way in the water.

I climbed over the bed, “Grandpa, he was a swimmer, I guess” I said. But apparently, he was already asleep. I didn’t know exactly at what part he slept. The whole page about the swimmer was edited and designed way better than my grandpa’s.

Well, how can I compare a businessman like my grandpa with a swimmer?

On the verge of sleep, I glimpsed over the layouts.

Wait, what?

At one corner of the page, I noticed something written, it was a bit blurry, it read: “Already gone already”. Having no idea about those words I closed the magazine; got up; placed back it on the book rack.

Is it wrong to read other’s diaries?

I asked myself when I saw my grandpa’s diary at the other corner of the rack. I was sleeping in the same room for the past eight years but haven’t ever once noted that.

Who cares?  I took the diary and went past next door.

***

14th June 1954,

Some moments are hard to describe, today I had one of those. I got graduated. The moment when my professor handed me the certificate was one of the memorable instances of my life. I am going to be a businessman!

***

To be honest, I randomly opened a page, I didn’t expect it to be the graduation day. But man! My grandpa got his spirit right at that age.

***

15th June 1954,

Some moments are hard to describe, today I had one of those. I can’t continue my classes. This morning, my professor came to my house and congratulated me in front of my parents and encouraged me to become a businessman, which is great by the way. But I can’t continue my swimming classes. Apparently, one can pursue just one career path, it seems so.

***

Okay, now I get it.

***

16th June 1954,

Today is the best day of my life, usually, I will say this often, but I haven’t really been this happy for a while, indeed. I got the greatest advice that anyone could dream of. My professor saw me crying in the class and articulated to me some advice about success and happiness, what are those, how do they differ, can one be successful and happy at the same time. And gave the answers to some other unsolved questions.

I’m standing right in front of two doors, one leads to my business life and the other door leads to my fictional life which is filled with wilderness, swimming, and a ton of other stuff I had in my mind. I had to choose which door I should open.

I decided to open the first door. Evidently, success and happiness are two different terms that can collide with each other when we choose the best path. At the end of the day, all that I want is to be successful, I want people to know me, I want to be triumphant. So, I chose the first door which leads the business life.

***

That was the exact moment I’m stuck with now. I had to choose between two doors just like him but it wasn’t as easy like he described.

That’s a pretty good origin story, I said to myself, flipped the dairy once again, and opened a page. It was twenty years later, from 1954 to 1974, I flipped it fast, I guessed.

***

4th May 1974,

This evening I received the honorary award from the governor. Well, I'm happy.

***

5th May 1974,

It is a pretty good day. I wished to make a trip to the western ghats but I couldn't. Well, the job can take precedence over anything.

***

6th May 1974,

I went to the neighbouring city for making a contract. I had a good time there.

***

7th May 1974,

Finally, I went to a movie with my son. The premise is different, it is about some kind of machine which is used to travel backward and forwards in time. The hero gets that machine from a person from the future and goes through some adventures. It’s not bad, my son enjoyed it, that’s all I want.

A question pops up now, as I write this. What will I do if I get that machine?

***

What? That’s it.

I turned to the next page.

***

8th May 1974,

It was a good day, not great, but good.

***

I couldn’t believe he didn’t write what he would have done with that time machine. All that I wanted at that moment was that. I peeked over all the other pages but nothing related to time machines were mentioned.

I came back to the room. He was still in his deep slumber.

And I went to sleep.

Eight-year-old me wouldn’t have any idea how important those moments were.

Present (Twenty-four-year-old me):

I’m standing in front of a huge crowd with a gooseneck mic in my hand, I pull it towards me. I’m at the self-publishing academy getting ready to publish my book.

And I begin my speech, “Hey, hello. As you people know I’m Aanya, author of the book ‘The alternative life of my grandpa’.” People begin cheering for me, “Everyone knew my grandpa as a highly successful businessman but there is another untold exciting side of him, I just wanted to tell that to you people by this book. There won’t be any other day better than my grandpa’s birthday to publish this book.”

Yes, I wrote a novel about the unlived life of my grandpa which he wished to live. Two years back when my grandpa was alive, I held my courage and went to him and asked the reason what he meant in that diary and what does that ‘Already gone already’ mean. At first, he hesitated to reply, but eventually, he did. And the reply was beyond my imagination. Right at that moment, I decided to write a book about that magical realistic unlived life.

It’s been one year since my grandpa died, and now I’m addressing the audience about the book, who would have thought these things would happen?

I continue my speech.

“When I went to my grandpa and asked ‘What he would have done with that time machine?’ he said something beyond my expectation and that’s what made me write this book.”

The whole crowd’s attention is on me.

“He imagined himself using that time machine and reliving his life. I asked him, ‘Where were you now? What were you doing?’

“My grandpa replied, ‘I may be eighty-five this year and I think I lived a pretty good life. I have seen really neat things like kayaking all over the country... A moose family on a river in Varanasi. Big white pelicans landing just six feet over my kayak on a lake in Kerala or coming round a bend of a cliff and finding hundreds and hundreds of swallow nests on a wall of the cliff... And the swallows flying all around, reflecting in the water so it looks like I’m flying with the swallows... And little babies are hatching out. Eggshells are falling out of the nest and landing on the water right next to me, these little white shells... Walking across the Sadhan valley and spending a valuable part of my life with the nomads. And it was just so awesome, Aanya! I felt I had done enough. My life was complete.I enjoyed every bit and pieces of that ride. I felt that if I were to die right then, it would be OK. How many people can say that?’”

“That’s how he wanted to live his life,” I say.

The crowd applauds.

“Just enjoy the ride. Thank you,” I wave my hand towards the audience and walk down the stage handing the mic to another author next to me.

I saunter through the first row of the audience which is full of press people; see my spot among that row; sit in the chair which has my name on it; begin asking questions to other authors about their books.

Yes, I’m a journalist now. Probably, I opened the right door.


I gently caressed the calluses in my right hand, lost in thought. The sun at its zenith, like a golden stain in a stark blue sky, scorched my tanned skin, while rivers of sweat ran down my body from head to toe, leaving me sticky and salty and stinky, and then I looked at the hoe standing before me, and then at the field beyond—to be weeded—until I laid eyes on my father, with his weathered but strong hands tightly gripping the wooden handle of his hoe and deliberately swinging and striking the soil below, sweat beads on his wrinkled face, clothes clinging to skin. Our eyes met under the blazing sun. "Tired already?" he asked with a wan smile, a missing tooth sticking out. I smiled back and shook my head. "Not really. Just thinking..." Grinning, he said, "Think less, work more." He started swinging his hoe again, full of purpose and determination. I followed. Working on the field. Taking care of crops and livestock. That had been my life for as long as I could remember. As the eldest son, I was always helping my old man after school or during holidays and vacations. Always working my arse under the sun. Always. That's the life my father knew, and my grandpa before him. That's the life that provided us food and shelter. That's how my parents raised my brothers and me. We lived within humble means, yet lacked for nothing. I was grateful, as I should be. But this year, things felt different. I was seventeen and that was my senior year of high school. After graduating, I'd be able to fully help my father on our small farm. And in a few years, when he retired, I would be him. I should be grateful, and I was. It was a simple but honest life in the countryside. A life of green fields, of mooing cows, barking dogs, and singing birds, of pure air and starry nights. I knew that if I worked hard and perhaps changed things a bit, or maybe took a little more risk, I could improve things and help my siblings have a different path... Not that this path was bad. But they were very smart kids. They could do better. They could live easier lives, whatever that means. Soon, they would still have to wake up at five in the morning, like I did, then take the bus to the nearest town, attending classes for a few years. But one day after all of that, they could go to college. They could have good jobs. They could get away from the beautiful, bright, burning sun and the green fields of joy and hardship. That day, lost in thought while working on the fields, even though I knew that I should be grateful, I envied them for the briefest of moments. I envied them like I envied my friends from school every time they talked about the future—about moving to another city and going to college, about leaving and exploring uncharted waters like explorers from the past. I envied them when my teachers asked me about my future. And I hated that feeling growing inside me—that inner turmoil weighing on my shoulders and obscuring my thoughts. At night, awake, I dreamed. Lying in my bed in the small room I shared with my young sister and brother, I used to think about how nice it would be to move out... on going to college, meeting new people and making new friends, or just lifting a pen instead of a hoe, or working on a field of chairs, full of people and fresh air around despite the scorching sun outside, or even being kissed by the sun and embraced by its warmth, but on a beach with friends and beers and bliss, or perhaps falling in love and having softer hands to gently touch and appreciate the skin of the one I would love. But I should be grateful; I would think before falling asleep. After all, I am not that smart, and college was but a dream for someone like me. Then, the next day, I'd wake up with the chickens, get ready, and go to school once again. A couple months later, orientation day arrived, and I found myself sitting across from the counsellor. "Have you given it some thought after our last talk?" asked Mary from behind her desk. "As I said before, after graduation, I'll help my parents on the farm," I said, looking at her perfectly organized desk. She sighed, and when I looked at her, I think I saw pity in her eyes. "Noah, you may not have the greatest of scores, but you are smart and certainly hardworking. I truly believe you have good chances of getting into college if you apply to the entrance exams," she said, repeating what she had told me before. I looked down at my calloused hands, and as on other occasions, I thought about my aging dad working alone on the fields, or worse, on my brother—only ten springs so far—working alongside him in my place under the sun. I shook my head. "I told you. I can't abandon my dad like that. He expects me to keep running the farm after him..." "Have you talked with your parents about this?" I hadn't. But I knew there was no need to talk. I saw it in their eyes, especially his. The expectations. "Look, I like it there, ok? And even if I didn't, it is not like we have the money to pay for college. If I work hard enough, perhaps I can help send my siblings to college one day. I can live with that." She sighed, looked at the ceiling, then back at me. "If you study hard enough, you can then send them to college," she said firmly. "And you know quite well that there are many options out there where you don't have to pay for college. You can even earn subsidies when you're enrolled in one. We've been through this before." Why? Why is she so stubborn? I thought. Why does she keep trying to imbue hope in me? Why does she not let go? Because of her, I keep daydreaming, losing focus on what matters. "I'll give it some thought," I lied, preparing to get up. "Wait," she said, raising a hand, her eyes pleading. "Talk with them... with him. If deep down you have even the slightest of desires of going to college, of moving and experiencing new things besides this," she said, opening her arms wide as if embracing the whole small town we lived in, "that is all that I ask. Talk with him." I looked deep into her eyes, trying to understand. "Why?" I finally asked. "Why do you even care?" "Because I see potential in you, Noah," she replied casually. "And it is a shame when potential is wasted. I know you can have a good life here, but I also know you can have a much better life out there." I gave her a mocking smile, but she did not seem to care. "I don't know what potential you see... you said it yourself; my grades are not bad, but they are certainly far from great." She smiled back. "College life is much more than grades alone—but I won't get into details because you should see it for yourself. Now, regarding potential... potential is not always related to talent or intelligence. It is also about purpose, determination, and hard work. It is about giving your all," she said, almost passionately, while adjusting herself in the chair. Weirdly, I was reminded of my parents after what she said. "It's been a couple of years now since you started your routine of waking up early in the morning, getting here for classes, then getting back home and helping your parents," she continued, "doing jobs that most students here will never have to. I doubt you have much time—or energy—to study at home, although knowing you, I don't doubt you try. Again, I see potential in you." She laced her fingers together, while holding a thoughtful expression. "If you truly love that farm, you can easily choose—or try—an area that would allow you to combine both passions. And if money becomes a hindrance, you can always find a part-time job—it will certainly be easy for you... you are hardworking after all, right?" She looked me—and my silence—with those wise eyes of hers for a little longer. "Don't let this potential go to waste. Talk with them before drawing conclusions... and even so, you should follow your dreams. You shouldn't have to live a life you don't really want." I left soon after that, her words still lingering in my mind all day long, making me dream and hope but also fear. A few weeks later, my father and I were preparing another plot of land for new crops. The sun had been concealed all day behind massive clouds in several hues of grey. It was quite pleasant—except, of course, for the extremely hard work of getting the soil ready. And as usual, I was distracted again. "What is it?" he asked, frowning. "Just... thinking," I said, lifting the hoe and then hitting hard the soil. "What is it with all this thinking you doing lately?" he asked curiously. "No big deal dad..." I shrugged. "Son," he called to me. I looked at him. "You know I'm not good at this," he said, gesturing awkwardly. "I'm not very... sensitive, as your mom usually says. But, you know, we've noticed that you've been kind of off lately. And by that I mean for most of the year." He looked pensively at the sky, wiped some sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, then looked at me again. "If there is anything bothering you, let me know. We'll try to help as best as we can." He smirked next, then added, "Maybe it's a girlfriend thing and you want to keep it quite..." I laughed. "I wish." I wanted to talk to him about what was bothering me, but we never really talked about this kind of thing. We mostly talked about work and sports. But then I looked into his face, then at the soil under my feet, at the hoe and the calluses in my hands, and felt the breeze on my face. "What would you say if I said I want to go to college?" I saw his eyes get brighter as I asked, followed by a wan smile. "It would be great son... I mean, my son going to the university ... It would be like a dream." But then he lowered his head slightly, his expression changing, becoming serious and thoughtful. I thought I knew what he was thinking, but I was wrong. "How much would that cost?" he asked in a low voice, as if afraid of hearing the answer. I smiled. "Well, if things went well, it wouldn't cost anything at all. I mean, there would be living expenses, but I don't think it would be that much... nothing that a part-time job couldn't solve." My dad lifted his chin, and that gleam in his eyes came back to life. "You know we are not rich," he said plainly, "but we'd be happy to make whatever sacrifices necessary to allow you to pursue that dream, my son. Be sure of that. And wait until your mother hears of it," he laughed, then started babbling about his son going to college. I asked about the farm, but he scolded me for it, asking if I thought he was dead or incapacitated. I was grateful, deeply. I must say that as we worked and talked that day, I felt both relieved and terrified. Relieved that I could follow my dreams without feeling guilty about it. Terrified because I did not want to fail with that smile. A few months later, Miss Mary called my house on a sunny Saturday during lunch. The result of the entrance exam had been announced. I left the dining table, walking slowly and tensely towards the phone. My mom looked as tense as I did. At the table, my father remained silent, as if listening to the wind. My siblings, probably playing somewhere in the house, completely carefree. I distractedly caressed the calluses on my hand as I walked. Outside, the sun shone brightly, like a majestic spot in the stark blue sky. Warm rays of sunlight illuminated the house and bathed my tanned skin, now sweaty with anxiety. When I finally took the phone from my mom, I took a deep breath, then exhaled before greeting my teacher. I looked out the window at the green field beyond, full of crops and hardships and joy as she told me the result. My watery eyes met my mother's, then my father's. I smiled.


“Don’t forget to wear your mask,” Melissa says over the phone to Don. “I know. See you soon.” “Okay.” Thirty-five minutes later Don pulls up in an UBER in front of a brown cottage. It’s well kept. An extravagant vine encasing its sides up to the wood roof. The wide bright green grass is cut perfectly around its landscape. Its door is colored forest green. After he steps out of the car, he sees Melissa standing at the entrance. The weather is warm, sunny, a little breezy. The car service pulls away. He walks up to Melissa. They smile at each other. “Beautiful out here.” He says. “Maybe we can take a walk to the lake nearby.” “Sure. We have the weekend.” They kiss on the mouth as he enters the cottage. She locks the door behind them. “Any bears in here?” “Ha, ha. I’ll take that.” She takes his jacket and hangs it up in the nearby closet. “You can put your sneakers over here.” He does so. “Anything to drink?” She asked. “Sure. Nice fireplace.” “Thank you.” “This place is awesome. How long you and Mark had this?” “You mean how long have I had this?” “He hasn’t seen it? She shakes her head. “Not until he and I get married.” “Which is…” “End of August.” “Right.” “He’s looking forward to you being there.” “Cool. So, what do you have to drink?” “Come in the kitchen.” He follows her. “So how long did it take you to build this?” “You’re full of jokes today, uh?” She pours him a glass of orange juice. He just smiles, revealing his dimples. “My grandmother left it to me.” She hands him the glass of juice. “Thanks. It must be good being the only grandchild.” “Not bad.” She grins. She puts the carton of juice back in the refrigerator. He drinks while looking at her nicely shape body in her fitted jeans. She turns to him. “I’ve been here for the past couple of days. Jogging, cleaning, reading, enjoying nature. I needed the peace and quiet, you know. I have time to spare since Mark is in Las Vegas for like two weeks.” “Good for us.” She smiles, “Yes, good for us.” She walks up to him and kisses him on his wet lips. “You know, I always thought if I was younger maybe you would have dated me in high school.” “Age had nothing to do with it.” She says.  “We’re only a year apart. And I must say, you were the only cool guy I’d date in your class. I see you still have the class ring.” “You know it, Class of ’99.” He holds it up.  He continues, “You know, Mark wasn’t a good athlete, an okay looking guy…’ “And?” “You still fell for him.” “He was cute and charming.” He grunts. “He still is.” She says. “But…’ “No but…’ “Then why am I here?” “Because you’re cute and charming.” She smiles and they kiss again. He puts the glass of juice down on the table, wraps his arms around her thin waist. “I’m much more than that.” “Really?” “Yeah.” “Show me.” “Right here?” “No, follow me.” She takes his hand and they walk into her bedroom. “Hey Don, isn’t that Melissa’s boyfriend over there?” Don looks over his shoulder, sitting at the bar with his friend Jax. “Yeah that’s him.” “You look better than him, man. I don’t know why she dates him. It looks like a truck ran over his face.” Jax laughs, but he sees Don doesn’t crack a smile. “What’s up with you?” “Melissa introduced us last week at a party she invited me to.” “Did you tell him that you wanted to bang his girlfriend?” “No…no I didn’t. He actually turned out to be a nice guy.” “What?” Don waves the bartender over to him. “See that tall guy with the light blue shirt on over there? Tell him next round of drinks is on me.” Bartender nods. “Are you serious?” Jax looks at him with disbelief. “It’s my money, what do you care?” Some time later Mark walks over with a couple of his football buddies to the bar where Don now sits by himself. “Why didn’t you come over to our table?” Mark asked. “Didn’t want to intrude.” “No worries, man. Thanks again for the drinks.” “It’s nothing.” “Want to come with us?” “Where?” “To a club. Melissa and some of her friends are going to be there.” “Um…I guess, sure.” “Cool. You can ride with me. Come on.” “Alright.” In the club Max dances with one of Melissa’s female friends. As he dances with her, he catches Melissa looking at him as she dances with Mark. He looks away and then back at her again, she still watches him and grins. They all get drunk except Mark. He drinks a lot but still doesn’t get drunk. Everyone envies him for that. The moonlight lights up the starry sky. Melissa lays under the sheet, tired. Don walks in the bedroom with a bowl of ice cream. Melissa looks at him and laughs. “What’s so funny?” “That robe looks small on you.” “It’s the first thing I grabbed in the closet.” “What you bring?” “Ice cream.” She groans. “You don’t want any?” He sits by her. “I meant to throw the rest out.” “Why?” “Trying to stay in shape.” “A little bit won’t hurt.” He feeds some to her. “Mmm.” “Good, right?” She nods. “That’s it. You have the rest.” She says. “Yeah, let me get fat by myself.” “You’re nowhere near fat.”  He eats. He looks at her as she lays on the fluffy pillow, her long wavy brown hair spreads out around her head. Her pale skin is exquisite in the moonlight.  She looks up at him. “I’m happy you’re here Don.” “Me too. But tomorrow evening will be a different story.” “Don’t remind me. Let’s just stay in the present.” He smiles at her. “You want to watch a movie tonight?” She asked. “Movie? There’s no TV.” “Um, it’s 2020, cell phone, duh.” “Right.” “Wait, you still have a TV?” “Yeah. It still works, so it stays.” “Man needs his big screen.” She gets up out of the bed, naked. She continues. “So, what do you say, movie or TV show?” He’s infatuated by her look. “Um…not sure.” “Well, make up your mind.” She walks to the clothes dresser and takes out a clean pair of underwear. “Where you going?” “Taking a shower.” Just when she reaches the bathroom door, which is there in the bedroom, he calls her. “Melissa.” She stops and turns. “Yes.” “This might be hard to stop.” “What, what are you talking about?” “You know, this…you and me.” “Don, you’re not…c’mon, this is not…it never was that.” “It was never what?” “Well, you make it sound like you might be catching feelings.” “Of course, I have feelings for you. Don’t you?” “I mean like, you know, deep feelings. Like falling in love kind of feelings.” He puts the empty bowl on the nightstand and looks at her. “Forget I mentioned it.” “No, wait I thought we were clear on – “ “We are, I was just talking silly. After your shower we’ll watch something tonight.” “You’re good?” “Yes.” “Okay, cool. Won’t be long.” She goes into the bathroom, closes the door behind her. Don looks at the moving curtains. He hears the shower turn on. He gets off the bed and walks to the open window and closes it. He pulls the curtain slightly back to look out to what is mostly darkness. He sees small lights slowly blinking off and on in midair. Lightning bugs. ‘Just enjoy the moment Don.’ He thinks to himself. ‘ What a jerk I must be. To be with my friend’s woman. What is wrong with me? She is beautiful. I couldn’t have her then, but I do now. And all we have is now.’


She played the notes again. This time with her eyes closed. Her right pinky extended, it hovers, then lightly taps the black F#. After a moment’s pause, her left thumb signals the rest of her slender fingers to cascade down on the keys. They rapidly unleash like gorgeously falling raindrops, one after the next. The piano radiates out the emotions she held in, as she strikes the keys harder and harder, faster and faster. Notes swirl and fall like a storm. She pauses a moment after the song has finished and takes a breath. Her wrists linger and float over the black and white ivories. She was about to begin again when her phone pings. “Are you almost here?” Reads a message from her mother. Amelia stands up from the piano and walks up the wooden stairs to her old bedroom. The bright lilac paint and cheerful photos covering the walls make it feel more foreign than ever. She examines herself in a full-length mirror. Her straight black, no-nonsense hair is sharply clipped at her jawline, the edges giving a slight curl. A furious pink has invaded and surrounded her deep brown eyes. The lids had been swollen for days. She barely recognizes herself. She smooths her hands over her dress. “Is this too racy to wear to your father’s funeral?” she wonders aloud to herself. It was the only black dress she packed, but now she was second-guessing the way it clings to her curves. She noticed the way her body had softened after the divorce, giving her more ample hills all around. She wasn’t unhappy about her more voluptuous figure, but today was not the day to show it off. Amelia felt foolish but it was too late to change. Grey cat hair sticks to her thighs like a magnet, no matter how many times her palms brush it away. She smacks her forehead gently. Her dad had hated cats. Now she looks like a wannabe jezebel covered in cat hair. I am absolutely ridiculous , she thought. Amelia doesn’t want to go. She wants to keep playing the song she played for him at her recital when she was thirteen. Before she quit piano forever because she got boobs and Jason from the basketball team wanted to spend Saturdays with her.

Thinking back, she was embarrassed that she had been so cheap with her time. Jason hadn’t been worthy of it; she knew then as she did now. Her Dad would make casual mention of it, as fathers do. And Amelia would ignore it, as young girls do. Now, she felt as ashamed of giving up on piano as she was of the feline coat smothering accidentally sexy dress. I have been—and continue to be—ridiculous. She tapped her foot anxiously because knew she could miss the speeches if she didn’t leave immediately. Amelia finally had to face reality and so she walked out the door. It was a sunny day, which pissed her off. It felt like the weather wasn’t taking his death seriously. It was mocking her as if it were just any other day. Wasn’t it supposed to be gloomy and raining in honor of him and the grief that has collectively overcome the world? It is just another day for most of the world , she considered with another sting. The wake was at the local funeral home where she had been many times before. She felt numb knowing it was her turn to stand at the front to give out hug after hug, handshake after handshake, and repeat, “Thank you for coming.” She stood in her place alongside her grandfather, mother, and older sister, which all felt a bit monarchical. It was like being in a trance, with a song she didn’t like echoing over and over. A sly, but comforting smile broke her daze as Amelia made eye contact with her father’s friend, David. He was devastatingly handsome, even now in his sixties she thought. Speckled charcoal and ash hair matched bristle along his jaw. Amelia had an innocent crush on him when she was younger. He was one of the fun adults. A family friend that took time to listen to what she and her sister had to say and would crack jokes that she didn’t have to pretend to laugh at. She watched him in line as she was robotically hugging, handshaking, and thanking. As David approached, he didn’t offer the usual, “So sorry for your loss,” but instead he gently turned his head and in a heartfelt way said, “This sucks.” He opened both arms for a hug and Amelia all but collapsed into them. She was as surprised as he was, but she didn’t hold back. His embrace was strong, and his fresh-cut grass smell made her feel safe. Tears poured down her cheeks as she tried to breathe through sobs. He stroked her hair gently and gave a soothing “It’s okay,” after a few moments. As she felt herself becoming a spectacle, they pulled apart. He kindly pretended not to notice the smear of tears and snot left on his shirt as he moved on to offer condolences to the rest of the family. Amelia’s eyes lingered on David as he moved through the crowd. She wanted him to come back and to hold her. She hadn’t seen him in almost a decade, probably not since her wedding. So much had changed since then. But his broad chest was the only place she had felt comfort in the three days since her father had hit the ground after his stroke. Her sister, Kate, nudged her as she realized the calling hours were coming to an end and the priest had begun the closing prayer. She hadn’t been a practicing Catholic in years and felt out of place as they did the archaic singsong prayer, “And he will be with you for-ever and ev-errrrr,” the priest chanted in a monk-like, monotone voice. Suddenly the group moved in unison and began walking in a circle. Amelia was caught in the middle of this whirlpool of Catholicism and wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. She clasped her hands and angled her head downward, imitating everyone else. She moved her feet in slow motion with the crowd, feeling like a barracuda hiding amongst a beautiful, well-rehearsed, school of fish. No one else seemed to notice her awkwardness besides David, who gave her a warm smirk from afar. Finally, the wake ended, and friends and family headed to Hal’s Place, as was the usual custom in the town. Hal’s was a dive bar that brought solace served via burgers, fried fish, and a few other greasy but delectable dishes. Metal back chairs sat around wobbly tables and tour posters featuring bands like The Who and Led Zeppelin adorned the walls. It was homey and offered a comforting familiarity that came from having the same bartender crack your beer cap off in an identical motion for half a century. Her father’s brother, the jovial Uncle Sammy, ordered a round of Budweiser in her dad’s honor. After a few toasts and favorite memories were shared, Amelia found herself standing at the bar next to David. He lightly clinked the bottom of their bottles together. “Hang in there, ‘Melia,” he said as they sipped their beer. She gave a half-hearted nod and drank another mouthful. She didn’t know what else to say but knew she didn’t want him to walk away. “Let’s go outside,” she suggested boldly. She led the way through the narrow tables as they went out the side door to the alleyway. He stood stiffly as she leaned with one shoulder pressed into the brick. Acutely aware that this was the first time she’d ever been alone with David, she found herself wishing that one of them smoked so they had something to do. However, she was too relieved to be away from the crowd to overthink it. She looked at him in anticipation. As the elder of the two, she expected him to say something to make it better. He made a serious face she wasn’t used to, creasing his forehead in four parallel lines as he looked up. “So… I lost my Dad when I was twenty-five. Heart attack. It was hard then, and it’s hard even now. But it gets a little easier to function every day,” he started. Amelia didn’t give any indication that she heard him. But she shifted her eyes from his to a place just over his shoulder, where it seemed like she was settling them in to listen. He took this as a sign to go on: “I think part of what’s so hard when a family member dies is simply knowing that there is one less person out there in the world who loves you. It can already be such a lonely place, and it’s like a big piece of that love—the best unconditional love—has been taken away...” David could see water forming in her eyes and was starting to regret sharing. He wasn’t great at this type of sentimental talk, but he was trying for her. “But their love is not gone. Not at all. It’s been immortalized,” he said with ripples forming around his mouth, as he gave an isn’t-that-cool? smile. She felt as if he was sharing a proven theory that had taken years to test and come up with. Maybe he was. “That love still exists, it’s just being sent from a different place... All your times together; your moments, big and small. All the things he taught you… they live on forever in the universe and who you are. You bring them with you every day... Every time you come to Hal’s and order a mediocre fish sandwich.” He added trying to make the conversation feel lighter. Amelia put her hand on his shoulder and brought her lips close to his. Instead of meeting her mouth, he gently turned his cheek and maneuvered her head into his shoulder for a hug. She was humiliated and angry, but only for a moment. Amelia started to laugh at how ridiculous she felt, covering her eyes with one hand, but after a moment it turned into a cry. He held her in the least scandalous way he could manage and let her weep. After a few minutes, David gave her a pat on her back, and she slowed her sobs and wiped her face. “Listen, your dad was amazing and so are you. You’ve got a bright future ahead. I can feel it. You’ve just been through a rough time lately,” he paused, letting the silence fill in everything unsaid. “But it’s going to get better,” he finished with one corner of his mouth turned up. Others had said this before, but Amelia decided to believe his words. She gave a nod and muttered, “Sorry about before.” “Don’t think twice about it,” he objected with a wink. He placed his hand on Amelia’s back to usher her back in. Inside Hal’s, they rejoined the rest of the merry mourners who were now singing collectively.

Next week, there would probably be another grief-stricken group here, piping out different songs and toasting with another lager, but that made their time no less sincere. Her mom caught her eye and pulled her into the group next to her sister. If her mother could find a way to smile, so could Amelia. Even if it was just for the night. She joined in feebly at first but soon sang as loud as anyone. Through bleary eyes and broken hearts, her father’s friends and family wrapped their arms tightly around each other and belted out his favorite songs. It was one of her dad’s favorite performances she ever gave.