Everyone had told her that San Francisco was one of the greatest cities in the world: The temperature was always perfect—not too hot, not too cold; it was a haven for the LGBTQ+ community; it was full of big tech and big dreams. So she moved across the country, sight unseen, to this land of moderate weather and equality and prosperity, because her boyfriend had gotten a job at Google with a six-figure salary, and you couldn’t refuse a job at Google when you were from nowhere. She should have Googled more about how everyone hated the Google (and Apple, and Facebook, and other tech company) buses before going to the land of Bitcoin. She had to Google “what the fuck is Bitcoin.” She had to Google “how do you use a city bus.” She had to Google “what are the best non-tech jobs in the Bay Area.” She had to Google “how do you get rid of rat mites.” She had to Google “what to do in an earthquake.” She had to Google “how do you deal with depression.” “How’s San Fran?” her friends who stayed in nowhere texted her. “Nobody in San Francisco calls it ‘San Fran,’” she replied. That was something the Googlers had told her in person, and she’d confirmed with a google. Google wasn’t even in San Francisco. It was in Mountain View. But all the Googlers lived in the city and commuted there via wifi-enabled company charter buses. One day, two months after the move, with still no job lined up, she stared out the window of her boyfriend’s studio apartment on Castro Street in posh Noe Valley. One of the later morning charter buses from Apple was stuck on the steep hill. It had bottomed out where the extreme incline flattened at the cross street, Elizabeth. A whole scene was unfolding right before her: The techies, stranded. The public bus using the same route, unable to pass. The passengers on the public bus, angry at the privileged tech workers, spewing vitriol as they hoofed it up Castro. She sided with the people riding the public bus. The power of Castro Street was immense, and it often left her in awe: It was so steep, and at the top, she loved looking out over The Castro neighborhood, with all its rainbow flags, and at downtown, with its towering buildings, the ugly eyesore of Salesforce Tower with its capitalistic projector on the top floors displaying everything from basketball games to the Eye of Sauron. She lived toward the bottom of the hill, and walking up it was a workout. But she still preferred that to getting on the bus. She was still figuring out how the buses worked. And the last time she’d gotten on the bus, a homeless person kept banging on the windows, scaring the other passengers. When the driver told him to knock it off, the man threatened to light the bus on fire. She got off even though it hadn’t made it to her stop. “I’ve got two interviews this week,” she told her boyfriend that night over a pizza he’d ordered for dinner. They were sitting on their futon — her one contribution to this fully furnished apartment — watching the latest episode of My Hero Academia . Her boyfriend paused the anime. “That’s awesome, babe,” he replied. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe then I can actually pay for part of the rent. Not half, though. I won’t make anywhere near what you make.” “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “But this place is two thousand dollars a month! It has rats, and it’s two thousand a month!” She didn’t want to have this conversation again, and yet she couldn’t grasp that their rent for a place with no bedrooms and a Murphy bed cost more than her parent’s three-bedroom house in nowhere. “The landlord is working on the rats,” he assured her. “The exterminator got rid of the mites. It’s okay now.” She hugged a futon pillow and nodded. “Can we get back to the show now?” “Yeah,” she said, and took a bite of her slice of pizza. This extra large barbeque chicken pizza cost $40. In nowhere, it cost $20. Getting to her first interview in The Presidio, the very northern part of the city that was once a military base, took nearly an hour — much of it spent looking at Google Maps, trying to make sure she was on the right bus, headed in the right direction. Getting to this remote office required riding three different bus lines. When she got to the building, she hid in the bathroom working up the courage to go into the office. In the office, she was interviewed by a blond-haired man wearing a black t-shirt and chains and piercings. She wore a grey suit and a purplish-blue blouse. “You met our acquisitions guy in New York, right? That’s how you heard about this position? A lot of the people here, they’re ex-New York people,” the gothic man said. “Yes, I took a course on publishing and heard him talk about this startup. It sounded really cool. I love the idea of a digital archive of old magazines,” she said. What she meant was, this was one of only a handful of publishing companies she’d learned about in San Francisco, and she didn’t know what else she was qualified for. “You get to read a lot of great pieces this way. I’ve learned a lot. It’s really cool. So, do you know XML?” She did not know XML. “Well, that’s okay. It’s pretty easy. You can pick it up quick. We’ve got pretty good documentation in Google Docs. Let me show you around the office,” he said. There was a pool table. There was a PlayStation with VR capabilities. There was a kitchen area full of snacks. There were no cubicles. Everyone was wearing t-shirts and hoodies and jeans and sneakers. Many had brightly dyed hair or streaks of hair. Everyone had a Mac. She’d interned for a startup before, in nowhere. She’d gotten a glimpse of this life through that. And yet: She was wearing a grey suit with a purplish-blue blouse. She’d never used hair dye before. She had a Windows laptop. Her favorite PlayStation games were from the PS2. “Do y’all have Beat Saber ?” she asked. “This is the most critical question. I’ve been wanting to try that game.” “Absolutely. Do you want to play right now? If you can beat me, you automatically have the job!” her interviewer joked. As they put on the equipment, he added, “Fair warning, I’m in a band, so I’m pretty musically inclined.” She did not beat him at Beat Saber , but was assured she’d impressed the team anyway. They’d get back to her on whether she was hired. This editor position would pay $12 an hour. The next day, she had an interview at a traditional publishing house headquartered downtown, just off of Market Street. From Noe Valley, she hopped on the bus at the stop just outside her apartment, and got off after going up and then down the Castro Street hill. In an attempt to get to know the city better, she decided to take the F streetcar line above ground, even though the trolleys were much slower. Then she could see all the stores she might want to shop at, the restaurants she could dine at, the people she could meet.

When she got on the trolley, she noted it was one of the restored cars from Italy. It took her past a bookstore, a bar that doubled as an arcade, a Super Duper Burgers, a Peet’s Coffee. She didn’t eat beef or drink coffee, but she had picked up enough from the Googlers and Google to know that she was supposed to care about these establishments, that they were quintessential to San Francisco. The office was in one of the rougher patches of the South of Market area — was that human poop she spotted on the sidewalk along the way? — but she got there early, with 10 minutes to spare. She spent that time alternatively scrolling Twitter and taking peeks around the office. It wasn’t like the startup one. This one was cluttered with papers. There were no games. There was a coffee machine and not much else. This was a space where things got done, and she felt a little more at home here. “So, why are you interested in this position?” the interviewer asked. She was a sharp Asian lady wearing a bright blue dress. “My boyfriend bought me some of your books as a present once. I really liked this educational slant on geeky things. I think you’re doing a lot of good for the world. Your books really helped me understand more difficult mathematical concepts.” “That’s amazing. That’s exactly what we’re hoping for. I’m glad our books were helpful. Now, let’s see if you can help us . Here are some sample pages that need editing. Note any edits right on the pages. You’ll have a half hour.” Twenty-five minutes in, with two pages left and a deep fear that she was missing all the spliced commas and incorrect equation answers, she knew she wasn’t going to get this job that paid $28,000 a year. The competition in publishing, in the Bay Area, had beat her. She left the office and let a deep sigh escape her as she stood waiting for the light with tons of other people — tech bros, queers, vegans, hipsters, wannabe DJs. She watched a Tesla almost hit a pedestrian. The pedestrian kicked the Tesla as it passed. The light changed. She entered the crosswalk. In the middle of the crosswalk, a man in a business suit turned around and spit on an old homeless woman who’d be asking him for money or food. His head turn, the spit, it was all so full of vitriol. The lady recoiled. Other pedestrians threatened to call the cops on the man. He walked away. She wanted to hurt this man for his dehumanizing actions. She wanted him to pay for his insult with a black eye, a police report. But she didn’t punch him, didn’t kick him, didn’t do anything at all except seeth the whole subway ride home. Then she played too many hours of Final Fantasy XII until her boyfriend came home and she could tell him all about the sights and the smells, her awful interview, this awful stranger on the street. There were no new jobs to apply to the next day, or the day after that. She thought that maybe she should learn to code. She kept playing Final Fantasy XII until she couldn’t take it anymore.

A walk around the neighborhood. That sounded nice. Not 24th street, though. She couldn’t bear to pass all those quaint Noe Valley shops she shouldn’t go into since she didn’t have any money. Not the bakery. Not the bookstore. None of the ice cream places. No. The temptations were so great here. She didn’t want to go to The Castro, either, and see the rainbow sidewalks and the sex toys and the nail salon called “Hand Job.” No. What she wanted was to enjoy Karl the Fog rolling in in the afternoon over Twin Peaks. On the walk, she googled why the fog was named Karl. She googled who is behind the @KarltheFog Twitter account. She looks at the best tweets from the account (“Sorry for the sudden tears but I had a breakthrough in therapy where I realized I spend more time making others happy instead of making myself happy and I need to focus more on me first”). The walk up toward Twin Peaks and the radio tower on top of it was even steeper than Castro Street. She wondered how all the cars parked along the road didn’t slide down, didn’t roll over on their sides back into the valley. It was these things that left her in awe of the city, these literal heights, these spectacular views. She missed the weather in nowhere — the leaves changing, the snow falling, the thunderstorms — but the hills and the fog made up for it here. She could see Karl spilling over the peaks now.

She made it to the top of Elizabeth Street, where Market Street turned into Portola Drive, where the neighborhoods of Noe Valley, Diamond Heights, and Twin Peaks combined. She stood in the middle of the pedestrian bridge that crossed Market and turned to look back the way she’d come, turned to see downtown in the distance and the sprawl of the million dollar houses, the big-time small businesses, all beside it. She was the only one on the bridge, the cars passing by below her. This was one of her favorite views, this space between the high of Twin Peaks and the low of Noe, the middle place few people bothered to go or knew to want. It didn’t take too long for the fog to finally descend around her, blanketing her in grey. The cars below looked like smoke bellowed around them. She could hardly see to the end of the pedestrian bridge. Downtown was no longer visible to her. There was no longer a peak to look up to or a hill to look down from. There was only this bridge, suspended above the sliver of road she could still see, and the cars on the road that were more cautious now. The girl from nowhere breathed in the chill and let herself fade into the fog.


The events that are about to occur today have been years in the making. Today is the last day that you will torture me. You have tortured me with the vilest of weapons that exist. Not a whip, nor a knife, what you used was far worse. Maybe it would have been better if you had kicked or punched me. Thrown me in a basement and starved me, if you had taken a knife and cut me, the pain would have been bad, however the wound would have healed. But you did none of these things, instead of inflicting bodily harm you used a far worse weapon against me. Your vile tongue spewed hatred and disease every single day for years. I will never forget the first day I laid my eyes on you. What a dreadful awful day! It was third period on the second day of 7 th grade. I was the average awkward teenager, and my life was about to get much worse. Being in middle school was a whole different world then elementary school. I was surrounded by unfamiliar faces and was awkward in my own skin. You walked through the door late and made quite an entrance. You didn’t so much as walk but strode into class. Disrupting it as you did, however, your face showed you couldn’t have cared less. You weren’t scared of anyone or anything, at least not in our classroom. The memory of your fiery red hair trailing behind you still remains almost 15 years later. You were taller than most of us, and far thinner. The monster of adolescence you had somehow tamed. Your skin was beautiful, without any signs of acne like the rest of us. You weren’t the prettiest girl in the world but there was something about you that set you apart. You held a sense of self-confidence that is unnatural to teenagers. It was as if you knew deep in your soul that you were better then everyone else. You believed it and would make us all believe even if it killed us. You walked in, looked around at, and frowned when the teacher called your name. “Sherilyn, please take a seat at one of the open desks.” Mrs. Farrow said. The look you gave Mrs. Farrow made me shiver. Judging by your look it was more likely Mrs. Farrow called you an evil witch and asked you to remove your black cat from the classroom, when in reality all she had done was request that you choose a seat. That first day I felt sorry for you. I didn’t understand why you had such a callous expression on your face, nor did I know who placed the chip on your shoulder. It would take me years to discover the answer. As middle school progressed so did the look of distain you carried on your features. The contempt spread from your face to your entire being. You were hateful to everyone outside of your little circle of friends. I don’t believe that I ever initiated conversation with you in all of our school years together. But you certainly spoke to me, perhaps its more accurate to say you spoke at me. “Who told you that you could wear that? You spit the words out with such venom I had never witnessed before. “What do you mean? I stammered. “You can’t wear those tights; they look terrible on you. I remember staring down meekly at the plaid tights I convinced my mom to buy me. It had taken me 3 weeks of begging her and doing extra chores, but she finally relented. I paired them with black shorts and low kitten heels appropriate for school. I thought I looked mature and smiled at myself in the mirror that morning before leaving for school. I realized too late that the tights resembled the kind of fashion you liked and that meant I wasn’t allowed to wear them, since I wasn’t part of your group. Tears rolled down my cheeks that night as I hid the tights in my dresser drawer hoping my mom wouldn’t ask me about them again. In high school you continued your verbal assault on me and everyone else. You called us fat and ugly even though we were not. You laughed at us if we danced with a boy at one of our homecoming dances even when you didn’t like him yourself. You tripped us as we ran up the stairs, cackling in our faces as we pushed back tears. I distanced myself as much as I could from you. In high school it was easier since our school had so many students. It also helped that you started to pick on those in younger grades as we got closer to graduating. Do you know that the freshman you tormented for two years before she finally killed herself? You used to tell her she was disgusting and reminded her how pathetic she was. Do you remember screaming at her almost daily before class started? “You are one ugly, fat bitch Kate” Chuckles and snickers enveloped the crowd. It’s sad how many people laughed at their peer, when in reality they were laughing only because you weren’t attacking them. “Who would ever want to date you?” “Shut up Sherilyn, you’re such a bitch” Kate shot back. “Don’t you say me name. Get my name out of your disgusting mouth.” My heart sunk in my chest. I didn’t know Kate well. She was a freshman when you and I were Juniors. She seemed really nice and funny. Yes, she was overweight and a homely girl but so what? Why? Was what I always wondered. Kate wasn’t a threat to you. She wasn’t in your league in either appearance or popularity. Why did you attack her? I remember trying to figure it out as I walked to my classroom feeling terrible. I force myself to stop thinking about the past as I move slowly towards you apartment. I can’t let my emotions get in the way of my plan. Being subjected to your wrath got underneath my skin and became a permanent fixture in my body. This is what happens when someone is tormented for years by such an evil entity as you. I wonder if once this is completed and I’ve changed you if the permanent residence you’ve taken up in my mind will somehow dissipate. I think that it will. I imagine that it will work in an equivalent way as water erodes rock. By washing away, the sediment slowly. I’m almost at your apartment and I have to confess that I’m giddy with excitement. Oh, I should have done this years ago. It pains me that I lost track of you after high school. However, at the time I thanked God for not having to be around you every weekday. It was so nice to be free of your witchy voice and evil eyes that bore through me. I actually hadn’t thought of you for a long time until that fateful day at the beach. I laid on my beach towel enjoying the sun on my skin as I though about how refreshing a cold glass of iced tea sounded. Oh, how I wish I never thought of than damned tea. If I hadn’t, I could have lived the rest of my life not remembering you. I grabbed my wallet, told my husband to watch the kids and walked to the beverage sand. It was after I paid for the tea that the familiar sound of your voice pulled me back to high school within seconds of hearing it. “Cover up Millie, you can see your fat thighs.” Anxiety washed over me, and I froze, the straw between my lips. I slowly turned and there you were. You looked exactly as I remembered you. Long red hair, poker strait, tall and thin. But this time your words were directed at the most innocent of people. A small little girl, perhaps 8 or 9 stood tugging at her bathing suite trying to cover up. She looked just like you, her red hair just as strait as yours. She was skinny, almost unnaturally skinny, and here you were, telling your own daughter that she was fat. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks as I was suddenly standing in the halls of high school again. For the next 6 months I was obsessed. Searching social media in a frenzy and learning all I could about you. I even went so far as to hire a private detective to find out anything I could. Once the PI told me you now went by Sherilyn Gaws instead of Sherilyn Nessle it was easy to find out everything I needed. I found out you were married for a brief time and had a daughter. Facebook confirmed my suspicions that it was the same little girl I saw you chastise at the beach. You went through a divorce out of state and then moved back to the town where we grew up. You own a small vegan bakery and pride yourself on producing organic vegan baked goods. Which I must say taste as disgusting as they sound. You live in a two-story condominium which I have visited frequently at night. You don’t have any security at the condo and luckily for me it is free standing, so I don’t need to worry about a pesky neighbor hearing me when I break in to change you. You have a cat, and thankfully no dog or other pets. You do not have a boyfriend as far as I know, and you barely have people over besides your book club members on the first Saturday of the month. Your daughter spends 2 weeks out of the summer with her father in Georgia and she just left two days ago. I’ve spent hours thinking about what I could do to get you to change, to try to make you understand how much you hurt people and how much you were hurting your own daughter. The more I found out about you the more the hatred grew and that’s when I realized that you wouldn’t change unless you suffered some drastic fate. The private investigator used surveillance allowing us to listen to conversations at your bakery. You are nice to every single paying customer that comes in. Yet the moment you are alone with an employee or your daughter the mask you wear comes off. “Millie, you do not need another cookie. You look like a little pig. You might be skinny now but just you wait; it doesn’t last forever.” “Robert, why are there two racks of brownies? Are you an idiot? I specifically told you we needed three. Is there something wrong with your brain that you cannot remember the simple tasks of your job?” The yelling goes on and on. I’ve listened to hours of your cruel antics, realizing you had to be stopped and that I was the only one that could stop you. I thought about killing you, and even fantasized about how I would do it. Unfortunately killing you is too hard to cover up. The private investigator is a problem I can’t overcome, he would turn me in as a person of interest to the police and I can’t have that. This has plagued me and after over a year of thinking through every possibility I won’t kill you, but I will disfigure you. Maybe then you will understand what it feels like to have others look at you and speak about you with disgust. A smile comes to my lips as I think of the jar of gasoline that I have stuffed into my backpack. You deserve this, plain and simple. Your daughter deserves a mother who isn’t concerned with appearance only. Yes, this is an extreme way to teach a lesson but it’s the only way to get through to something like you. As I walk to the condominium, I can hear you talking. Your windows are open and although its late you are still up. That’s ok, I know you have an early day tomorrow morning, Tuesdays are aways early for you. All I have to do is wait patiently until you go to bed. You leave your windows open and rarely remember to lock your back door after letting your cat out. You have made this quite easy, it’s almost as if you know that the universe has to even out the playing field. It’s been 45 mins that I’ve waited next to your back door. Just as your turning out the lights and walking to the back door in order to let the cat out I hear your phone ring. “What?” you sigh into the phone. Something is off, your voice doesn’t have the normal distain that I’m used to hearing. I continue to listen. “I know that she has problems, ok I know that I’m the problem. I, I can’t do this anymore.” Your voice cracks. “She is almost the age I was when it happened and I’m starting to unravel.” What is this all about? I think as I step closer to your open window. I need to hear everything you are saying. “When Mom left, she told me I was the reason. She told me that if it wasn’t for me being born and changing her body into a disgusting mess Dad would have still loved her and he would never have cheated. She told me I was the reason she became old and ugly. It was her baby who broke her and aged her beyond repair. If it weren’t for me, she would still be with her husband as happy as can be.” You start to cry, and I suddenly feel that I shouldn’t be listening to this. Even though I followed you and listened to your conversations for months, this somehow is too much. But I can’t pull myself away even as I’m getting angry at myself. This isn’t fair, just because you have a bad mother doesn’t allow you to be such a bad person yourself. “She kept me in that awful room, do you remember? She lined it with mirrors and all I could do was look at how terribly ugly I was. All day I thought how I ruined everything for my parents. When Dad and I finally moved it didn’t get better. I lost my mom, even though she wasn’t a good one she was the only one I had. Every time she sent me a letter, I silently hoped that she would say that she missed me, but every letter I received she asked if I had gotten any prettier, or any thinner. When she called, she would scream at me instead of asking me about my life.” Your sobs were uncontrollable at this point, and I couldn’t make out anything else as your words became blurred by tears. I turn and start back in the direction of my car, trying to digest all that I’ve just overheard. I can’t believe this. The hatred I had for you is not the same, its mixed with sadness. I see a picture of your life and realize its different then I thought. It’s softer and its filled with a profound sense of loss. I toss my bookbag with the gasoline in a nearby dumpster before climbing into my car. As I drive home, exhaustion hits me. The time and effort I’ve invested in hating you has taken its toll. I think of my own children, and shudder when I think about the horrendous crime I almost committed. I think about you and your daughter. I hope the two of you can build a better life and think that perhaps all these years you’ve been living in your own hell that I can’t even imagine. I hope that hell can be transformed. It seems you’ve made a relationship with your daughter that’s far more painful than any punishment I could have inflicted. As I drive in the dark of night, I think about my own family at home asleep. I realize now more than ever how lucky I am to have be surrounded by people who loved me both now and when I grew up. I climb out of my car and walk to my own house; I feel a little lighter and for the first time in a long time I feel hopeful.


People have existential crises all the time. I had mine only a few months ago. After careful research, I figured out many ways to deal with it and tried most of them. I learned that some people go to a psychologist, others spend money on expensive clothing and designer accessories, a few dedicate more time to themselves, many keep a journal, and a handful quit their jobs to find their passion. I decided to take a more radical approach, a leap of faith. I switched my monotonous and meaningless existence for a life-changing journey. Furthermore, I packed my whole life in seven suitcases and moved from America to Europe. The decision was made arbitrarily. Either continue living an unfulfilling life or, take control and start all over. Although it felt like jumping from a trampoline into a pool where you couldn’t see the bottom, I was already too invested and could only move forward.

When I look back, I cannot pinpoint the time when and how it all started. My mind is a bit fuzzy, but I mostly see snapshots of my life showing me evidence of pure malfunctions. One winter night as I was walking home from the gym, I looked at the sky and saw a gorgeous full moon about to be covered by clouds. It was me! Everything clicked at the time. I could not hide any longer behind a routine. I could not pretend anymore that I was happy. Everything became clear, I needed to break away and shine. Planning began and I had no backups, no Plan B or even a Plan C. There was only one plan, and it needed to work. I took it a step further by deciding not to leave anything in storage because this was a one-way journey with no turning back. In a matter of weeks, I got rid of everything I own. During many sleepless nights, I wonder how many people had packed everything and gone to a country they had never been to before. There were many more times when I questioned myself if I was making a smart decision. Nevertheless, departure day arrived, and I remembered the moment I was on my way to the airport and realized I didn't have any keys with me. I no longer had a key for my car because I sold it. My work keys were also gone because I resigned and had to return them. To top it off, the keychain for my place was empty because I did not have one anymore. Not even a key to a locker at my gym! It felt like I was in limbo. A terrifying feeling that I belonged nowhere and had nothing came over me. My flight was leaving in four hours and with a bag of fear on my shoulders, I embarked on a journey of dreams toward my destiny. Buildings, houses, and freeways were becoming smaller and smaller. The bike path on the beach that I traveled so many times was disappearing between the clouds. Seeing the city for the last time from the plane felt like a big relief. Likewise, I must admit that leaving so much behind was liberating. I had no doubts that I was not going to miss the people that drained my energy or the many worthless material things that accumulated throughout the years. It was an incredible feeling. It felt like taking a heavyweight of bricks off my shoulders. However, not knowing what was ahead was equally exciting and scary at the same time. In my loneliest moments, I prayed for a different lifestyle. I begged for a change and for the opportunity to start again. Yet, I was never prepared for everything that I was going to learn and experience. When the plane landed it was past midnight. The taxi driver did not speak much English, but he was so helpful and welcoming with just his attitude. Somehow, he managed to accommodate all my suitcases in his car. On my way to the hotel, I could only see traffic lights and illuminated buildings. When I arrived at the hotel, I was exhausted but incredibly grateful and thrilled. The room was perfect, and the view of the mountains was exhilarating. It would be my new home for the next 3 weeks while I find an apartment. I felt humble, blessed, and extremely grateful. I was eager to start seeing the city the following morning. I encountered a lively and energizing atmosphere. People rode their bikes and scooters throughout the square. Tons of cars packing the streets and as many people walking around. After getting a local phone number, I started my search for a place to live. My first meal was delicious and affordable; chicken kabobs, salad, softy springy bread, and a variety of sauces that could not figure out what they were except that they were delicious. When I was moving in, I was lucky to find people who were willing to help. I remembered the old man who helped me unload my suitcases from the taxi and placed them at the front door without accepting a tip. Even today I still see him around and we greet each other. In reflecting on my journey, I gained more than I bargained for. Locals are so proud of their roots, their culture, their traditions, and their country. Moreover, it is admirable to see how this society has arisen from the ashes of communism barely 30+ years ago to become so strong and rooted. They had built modern sky risers, cute coffee shops, beautiful shopping malls, schools, and superb restaurants that highly contrast with their traditional architecture. Tall mountains, enormous lakes, multiple parks, and blue oceans were witnesses of a society that does not give up and seeks to strengthen its infrastructure. I discovered a society that valued reading, a good quality of life, and strong family ties. Simple everyday things are not taken for granted. This is a country that I like to call raw and innocent because its natural resources are not polluted by long zip lines in the mountains or fast jet skis on the coast for tourists. Coffee is king and family evening strolls are sacred. The square is the heart of town and people of all ages gather there to hang out. Additionally, their dairy products are the best I have ever tried. Similarly, fruits and vegetables are the freshest and come from the farm to your table.

Of course, not everything around me is delightful. Streets and sidewalks are made of uneven cobblestones that could make you twist your ankle in a second. Outdoor cafes and restaurants are surrounded by a cloud of persistent smoke. Payment of utilities is done in person like my grandparents used to do it. Instant gratification is not the norm and postal service is almost nonexistent. Air conditioning and ice-cold drinks are rare luxuries. Nothing wrong with any of that! Although locals keep their livers healthy as alcohol is not overly consumed, unfortunately, their lungs are filled with smoke and nicotine. But a pink handheld fan is my best friend to hide from the strong sun, blow the smoke away, and capture fresh air. When I look back, I see a bitter, impatient, and desperate person willing to risk everything. Moreover, I see a brave person convinced that this move was more than an incredible journey. It has been a transformation, a rebirth. Arriving in a developing country immediately made me appreciate life and be thankful every day. It has changed my perspective on life and has rearranged my priorities. Sitting on my balcony feeling the morning breeze, admiring the view of the city, reading a book, and drinking iced coffee is now a glorious moment in time. I do not miss my car and much less driving in traffic. I walk and take public transportation. I embrace other religions while respecting our differences. In this learning path, I became a sponge trying to absorb a new language and traditions. Moreover, I learned to listen more than speak.

I am happy with fewer material things around me. Downsizing has also been part of this new chapter. Who needs a toaster, a bread maker, a food processor, an air fryer, a slow cooker, an immersion blender, a rice cooker, a pressure cooker, a mixer, and a blender to make a delicious meal? Nobody! Do I need three pairs of tennis shoes for the gym? Negative. Less is more. The other day a passed a group of tourists, and I felt so happy that I did not have to go back like them. I was fortunate enough to be able to stay and continue writing new chapters to my story. Every day I take a step forward as I continue to adapt and attempt to blend into a new culture. Learning the language continues to be challenging but an open heart and a smile have taken me far.

I cannot wait to spend the holidays in my new place. How would the city be decorated? What types of events take place in December? I do not know how or when this journey ends, but I do not need to know. After only four months, it is still going strong. Dreams are now part of a beautiful reality that I would not change for anything in the world. I came to understand that although people are the same everywhere, culture and upbringing make all the difference. My dream turned into my destiny, and my destiny is my journey. My cup is only halfway full, but I make sure to add new experiences each day while keeping an open mind for the unexpected.


The twinkling lights strung from the trees made the patio a magical experience. Light music from the acoustic trio filtered up to them. Mark and Sandy’s favorite restaurant, they always came for their anniversary and often throughout the year. While waiting for the hostess to escort them, Mark discreetly placed his hand on Sandy’s bottom. She swatted it away with a laugh. “Mark!” “I couldn’t help it. It begged me.” She flashed her smile. “Did I tell you how great you look in that dress?” “Yes. Thank you, again. Your hand confirmed it… Thought of you when shopping.” Arriving at the podium, the hostess did a double take. “Hello! Glad to see you back. You look well this evening.” “Yes. Reservation for two. Mark Stella.” “I’m Zelda, but you know that.” She looked on the computer screen and nodded. “One moment…” Sandy smiled. “Our anniversary.” “Glad to see you again. Must have liked our food to return again so soon.” “So soon?” “Well, yes. Since you were here last night.” Mark and Sandy looked at each other and laughed. “No, we weren’t.” The hostess shrugged. “Okay… I remember you.” Mark blinked. “We weren't here.” “No matter. That was another time. I hope you’re feeling better tonight?” Mark said, “No, really. We were out of town last night. Not here.” “No problem… I remember you very well... How long have you been married?” Sandy said, “Seventeen years. Why do you think we were here last night?” “I remember you. Not that I could forget… Seventeen! You look happy.” She sounded surprised. Mark couldn’t let go. “It wasn’t us.” “It was. But no worries. It’s a new day.” Mark and Sandy exchanged looks. He said, “This couple from last night… Were they well behaved?” Zelda suppressed a chuckle. “Oh, how should I…? Well, not in the best of moods. You’re in much better spirits tonight.” Sandy said, “But we weren't here.” “Don’t be embarrassed. It can happen to anyone. Hunger can get the best of us. You made quite a scene.” She smiled without warmth or humor. “We have an alibi. We have witnesses.” “Fine. Whatever… No one’s going to sue… I must say, if it wasn't you, you have a couple of dead ringers going to the same restaurants.” Mark gaped at her. She said, “Follow me please.” Zelda led them to a table and offered them menus. “Here we are.” Sandy leaned in. “Not too close to the music, please.” The hostess pointed. “There, see? I knew it was you…” Nonplussed, Sandy looked at Mark, who took the menus. “This will be fine.” “Have a better time tonight. And congratulations!” Mark held Sandy’s chair for her. “Did she skip as she walked away?” “I saw that too.” “Who eats at the same place two nights running? 'Hey Babe, let's eat some place different. You know, where we ate last night.'” Sandy relaxed into her chair. “Ahh, here we are... Our favorite place, with my favorite husband.” They laughed. He said, “We’ll enjoy ourselves. But I won’t predict when we’ll return. Leave that to the ‘Psychic Hotline…’” “You need your aura fluffed?” He mimed trying to screw his head on tighter. Leaning in, he said, “This is because of you, you know. You’re the unforgettable one – the one of a kind. Central casting could plop anyone in my chair, unnoticed. But everyone looks at you.” She glanced around. “Are we being watched?” “Tell me where you went last night, when you excused yourself to the powder room.” “You think I came here? Miles away? With someone else? To make a scene?” “You were gone a long time. Even for you.” She rolled her eyes and they laughed.

Sandy said, “We couldn’t win… The more we protested, the more convinced she was.” “Let it go. Did you hear her? Each day, she’s a completely new person. How does she find her car keys? 'Couldn't be my phone bill. I just arrived.'” “It's so weird. I can imagine one person having a double. Like a twin, I guess. But what are the odds of an identical couple wandering around?” “It's insane. Forget it.” Sandy looked into the distance. “Remember that time we came for lunch? The creek was running and little kids wading… That was so fun…” Mark smiled at the memory. A man approached. “Excuse me, Mark? Sorry to interrupt. I was leaving when I saw you. I saw you here last night, but couldn’t get to you… Too busy with 'agent' stuff, I guess…” “Oh, hi. Tim, right?” They shook hands. “Jim. Hi. I've been trying to reach you.” “Yeah. Wasn't here last night, though.” “I could swear it was you.” “Have you met my wife, Sandy?” Sandy smiled up at him. Jim said, “Hi… Glad to meet you… Your hair was a little different though.” Mark said, “Call me… Wednesday morning. We'll have lunch.” “Of course. Wanted to touch base. I'll call.” Jim stepped back. Mark nodded and he left. “Sheesh. Can't enjoy dinner without someone glomming onto...” “Hello, he lied...” Sandy smiled. “What are you are talking about? The guy’s a minor idiot.” “That's harsh.” “A stunt double who thinks he can act. Jumping off a roof doesn't mean Shakespeare’s calling.” “That is a big leap.” “He's bounced off too many cars.” “Funny, he noticed my hair was different.” “…From your evil twin's?” “No. I get my hair done and you never notice. He noticed and he’s never seen me before.” “I love your hair.” “Thank you…” “No, really.” Sandy smiled. “I get it.” The waiter approached with a shallow bow. “Hello again, I'm Dwayne, your server tonight. Can I get you started with a beverage?” “Two mai tais please, on the double.” “Two double mai tais…” “No… quickly…” Mark waved him off. Dwayne bowed as he backed away. Mark said, “I don't get how actors do it, always changing roles. Today I'm this person, tomorrow that. Must be crazy making.” “Everyone wears masks, Mark. You did it with Jim.” “I guess... I told you about that time someone was watching me?” “That’s so eerie…” “I looked around this cavernous restaurant and this guy’s looking right at me. Most people would look away, but he kept staring. Very rude.” “What happened?” “Furious, I stood up to confront him.” “No…” “When he stood too, I thought, 'what’s this?' Then I realized he was me.” Sandy laughed. “I was eye-balling myself in this gigantic, wall sized mirror. The room looked twice its size… So I sat back down and ate.” “Should have given him a black eye. How dare he?” “Yeah… Should see the other guy… You've heard of celebrity look alike services? Actors who resemble famous people get hired to populate parties. Get the buzz going.” “What a way to make a living. Paid to pretend you’re someone else.” Mark looked around for the waiter. “I want to do a variation on that with look-alikes from the FBI’s ten most wanted list.” “Don't quit your day job, Mark.” “That would get people talking.  'Guess who Jennifer had at her party last night - Charlie Manson!' “Haven't seen him in years!” “People always claim I take after some actor or another. What do you think…? Tom Cruise? Cary Grant…?” Sandy pondered the question. “Mark, you are, unmistakably, my one-of-a-kind. Who cares what crazy Zelda says?” “People don't see each other. They have cartoon images in their heads.” “Stalked by Elmer Fudd.” Dwayne arrived, set their drinks down and readied his order pad. The place was filling up. “May I tell you our specials tonight?” Mark said, “No.” “We have some very good specials. They’re different from last night's…” Mark did a slow burn. Touching his hand, Sandy said, “Mark…” Dwayne picked up on the tension. “What's wrong?” Mark was direct. “Whatever you think you know about us, Dwayne, I don't care.” “I really just…” “We’re here for a nice meal. If you take care of us, we’ll take care of you. Deal?” Unsure of what had happened, Dwayne said, “Of course.” Sandy said, “I'll have the filet, medium rare, please.” “The same.” “Copycat.” “I always wish I'd ordered what you have.” “So daring. Try something new.” “You’re always right, Sandy. Why fight it?” They smiled. Dwayne said, “Anything else? An appetizer?” “That's it.” “Very well.” Dwayne took their menus and exited. Mark raised his glass. “A toast to you Sandy, my lovely wife. May we always be so happy.” She smiled. “Let's keep doing this another fifty years! Give or take...” They touched glasses and drank. Mark leaned in. “So, the truth, Sandy. It's time you confessed your secret twin.” “I cannot lie. I always wished for someone to blame. But alas, I’m an only child.” “That’s sad. Imagine all we could do with our siblings... Play Bridge. Pickle ball doubles…” “Or scandalize the restaurant staff. Pretend we don't know each other...” Mark sipped. “I actually do have a twin. Separated at birth, I never knew him.” Sandy laughed. “You’re so silly.” “I hope he's okay. I only remember… he was short.” They laughed. Sandy stole the cherry from Mark’s drink and played with it seductively. Adopting a Russian accent, she hissed, “Your secret has been exposed Mr. Stella. Though, by day, a powerful talent agent, by night, you’re a secret agent!” “Oh my God! My cover is blown!” “Hah! I too am a double agent. I locked your wife in the ladies room and am now here, in perfect disguise, to kidnap you back to my lair.” “I’m such a fool! Your disguise is perfect… but for one telling, detail.” She looked doubtful. “Impossible!” “Sandy has a very cute mole on her right breast. Only I would know.” “Silly boy. I thought of everything.” “Prove it.” Exposing her cleavage, Sandy leaned across the table. Mark stared. When he reached out she playfully hit his hand with her napkin. “Look! Don't touch! You cad!” “Insatiable curiosity, my dear.” Sandy dropped her spy persona. In mock outrage, she scolded. “I can't believe you’d brazenly stare at another woman's cleavage!” “Gotta love that mole.” They laughed. She said, “Isn't ‘mole’ a code word for a spy?” Breathless, a woman approached the table. “I'm sorry, I can't help myself. I am such a fan! I loved you in ‘Yes to Me Yesterday.’  This had happened before. Sandy smiled. “I wasn't in that.” “But you were. I can see you...” “I wish, but no, I wasn't.” The woman thought Sandy was lying but hated missing an opportunity. “Okay. Whatever. Could I take your picture? Is it too much of a bother?” Sandy stood and said, “How about if I take yours?” A little disappointed, the woman handed Sandy her phone. She snapped a shot and passed it back. “Sorry to be so foolish. Can't tell you how much this means...” “Don't worry about it.” The woman left. Sandy sat down. “For years, she'll be telling friends she met ‘whatsername.’” Mark looked at his wife with love. “Do you miss it? “What? Acting? Of course. But what can I do? Not too many options.” “You took a break. Could always dive back in. Especially with Timothy getting more independent.” Sandy sipped her drink. “I'm afraid that ship has sailed.” “You have the talent. You look great. Why not?” “Oh... you know...” “You're the one who doesn't believe in age, San. Knock it off.” “Oh, thanks for reminding me. Tim has his driver's license test coming up. Can you be there for him?” “My God. Already? He can barely tie his shoes and he's getting behind the wheel? When?” “A week, Tuesday, I think. I'll let you know.” Dwayne arrived with their dinner. “Careful, hot plates. Anything else?” “It looks perfect.” Sandy smiled. “Thank you.” Dwayne nodded and left. Sandy noticed Mark looking at her food. “I know. You think my steak is bigger.” “Of course it is. Look at it. Your point?” “Want to trade?” “I'm not that hungry tonight. Go for it.” Zelda passed their table and Sandy called to her. “Oh, hi. Can I show you something?” “Hi. Oh, the filet looks great. What's up?” “I know you don't care, but I wanted to share pictures of where we were last night, on Facebook. See the date and location?” “Oh, that's not necessary. I have that app for changing the time stamp too. No big deal. Already forgot about it.” Zelda turned away. The trio announced a brief intermission. Sandy set her fork down. “You know, Mark, if you found something good for me... But I don't want to embarrass myself...” “Sandy… Of course. I'm always looking… thinking of you. Of what would be good for you.” “Hate to look desperate.” “A little secret? Actors love acting. Not desperation… More a state of being.” She smiled in recognition. He said, “But you won't believe what's out there. Zombies and vampires and super-hero sequels. It's embarrassing.” “I guess.” He rubbed his thumb against his fingers. “Don't know who goes to this stuff but it's an avalanche.” Mark signaled Dwayne for another mai tai. He continued, “There’s a few things I’m looking at for you.” “Like what?” “An honest drama. Something light. The comedies are dreck. You’re hilarious, but now it's all sex comedies with adolescents. Embarrassing…” “But...” “…Cartoon crap and CGI. Or slasher flicks. Some good TV with genuine feeling.” “Thanks Mark. That means a lot.” “The best dramas have identity at their core. Now, it's Zombies staggering around with goat guts hanging from their mouths. Disgusting and stupid.” “I'm eating Mark.” “Right. Sorry. You've heard me go on about this.” “I have.” Dwayne arrived with Mark’s second mai tai. Sandy plucked the cherry from it before he could drink. “I can always count on that sexy vision of you with that olive in your mouth seared into my brain. I'll never forget you.” Sandy held it up. “This is a cherry, Mark.” “I know... What did I say? A cherry! Of course it's a cherry! Who would put an olive into a mai tai? The barbarian!” “I don't like olives.” “Of course. It's darker than a Maraschino so I mistook it. Is it good?” “Best I've ever had.” He took her hand. “You’re so gorgeous. Couldn't live without you.” “Thanks, Mark. How I feel about you.” “But I'm not gorgeous.” “You are to me.” They grinned. The musical trio returned to their places and began to play. “You know your last show? That was a tough role.” “Very.” “Hard on everyone. Your hair was dark. Felt I didn’t know you. You weren't yourself. It took a toll.” “I didn't know. It was so draining. It was like three different parts at once. Incredible pressure.” “Wasn’t the character mentally ill?” “Schizophrenic.” He nodded. “Yeah… Wow. I missed you.” “Missed you too.” “Missed me? Where was I?” “Here. But I was in New Orleans, on location. Remember?” “Right!” “It was called 'Two Rivers.’” “And... There was only one river.” “Yes.” “Yeah, I'm talking about when you were prepping. I couldn't get close to you.” “I was working, Mark.” “I know Babe. But it was hard…” Zelda approached, “Hi guys. You won’t believe this, but remember that couple I thought was you?” Sandy sighed. “Yeah?” “They just showed up. Sorry I was such a dope. You’re right. You aren't them.” “Of course.” “I knew it.” Mark and Sandy high-fived. Zelda said, “I want to apologize, and give you the heads up… I swear they look - exactly - like - you. Oh my God! It's like a fun house mirror. Can you believe it?” Sandy tapped the table. “No.” Mark looked around. “Where are they?” “I’ll seat them in a minute. But don't freak out when you see yourselves walk onto the patio, okay? I don't need four lunatics here, on the loose.” “Scout's honor…” Mark whispered, “And that’s just the staff…” Sandy waved her hand to shush him. “I'll get them now, so sit tight. Okay?” She exited, and returned moments later, leading a well-dressed couple to a nearby table. They looked nothing like Mark and Sandy. Zelda turned to Mark and Sandy and mugged. They looked at their ‘doubles,’ and back to each other, in wonder. He said, “In what universe could anyone mistake us for Arnold Swarzenegger and Hillary Clinton?” Sandy said, “I almost feel like I know them. Should we introduce ourselves? Wish them a calm, relaxed evening?” “I’ll pass. Don’t want to chance mingling pixie dust and disrupt the time/space continuum.” Sandy laughed. “Right. What you said. Me too.” “Happy Anniversary…” They clinked glasses and drank.


"Tell us a story, baba," the children asked, hungry for another tale woven to lull them to sleep "The one with the rose and the beast." "No, it is too girly, tell us a story about the pirates." Their grandpa smiled benevolently over them, his smile reached his eyes, lighting his dim grey eyes, he said, "Fine, I'll tell you a story, but it is a real one, of the times when we could talk to the plants and animals, the gods and the spirits." "Pfft! it is impossible." said the elder ones, turning their noses up and looking scornfully at young ones, who still believed that Santa Claus came down their chimney covered in soot, to give them presents. "Ah, but it is true, you see, you can still hear them whispering when it is the hour of peace and calm, at night when the horns aren't honking and only the bird's chirp can be heard, lulling their little ones to sleep or the nocturnal ones, hunting for prey." "If you listen closely, you will hear them speak, of the times when they were young, recounting the adventures they had experienced." "What sort of adventures, babu?" they asked, hanging on his every word. "Like, when the Winter Lord tried to take over the world," he said in a hushed tone. The Winter Lord?" "Yes, him, who rules at the time of Winter." "Mom, tell me a story, the one about the pirates." "Fine, dear, I'll tell you a story, but not the pirates this time." "Aww, why not?" "Because I am going to tell you a new story this time, about a boy and a prophecy." "Ooh, what prophecy?" "A prophecy about a boy born on the Eve of July." "Just like me!" The mother smiled, ruefully, the boy thought. "Yes dear, just like you." "His mother had a dream, the night before he was born.....it was a message from God's angels." "Woah, what did they say?" "He is The Savior, he will bring joy and warmth back into the world when the time comes. Keep him safe. At all costs, they said, even if it meant she should die. "But why mother?" "Because he was the saviour, dearie." his mother told him tiredly, exhausted from a long day of keeping enemies at bay. "Then what happened?" "His mother protected him, just as she was told to. She never let him out of her sight, even in school, she would come disguised as a maid and keep an eye on her son. She loved him a lot. He was her precious gem. But he was also The Savior." "Then what happened, Ma?" "There was a boy in the same school, he dreamt. Dreams are dangerous, son. They keep changing, for better or for the worse. He dreamt and his dreams became nightmares. He dreamt and his dreams to him, were deliciously red apples, but to the world were poison, a poison that spread, slowly but surely, and destructed everything along the way." "What did he dream of?" "He dreamt of power, he dreamt of riches, he dreamt of luxuries, and he fell. He fell hard, yet God sympathized with him and helped him up again and made him the Lord of Winter, to inspire faith in him. He faltered, and he fell, but always had got help, until he fell too hard. He fell so hard, that the ground swallowed him, and his fate became his only. No one could help him now, he was his fate now and his fate was him." "He hated The Saviour, for he knew what was written in The Book, and he knew his forthcoming doom. Yet, he continued to fall and felt joy in it, and the adrenaline propelled him forwards. He decided he was happier falling, than rising and so he fell deeper and faster. But his happiness was shallow, like a dirty pond, which from above looks deep, but when you put your hand inside, it gets stuck in the mud. But he did not know and lusted for more power than he already had. He, he aspired to be a King, a King of the World, of a World which heard and saw darkness and spoke darkness. "And then?" "The Lords of Spring and Summer feared, for The Lord of Autumn had joined Lord Winter, and their army was the biggest the universe had ever seen and Lord Winter trained, and he grew, he grew powerful and he knew everything. But, even the most powerful have flaws, and his flaw was arrogance. He had barely completed his First Year of Training when he felt he was ready for war. So, he gathered his armies and marched, conquering lands. But then, The Saviour came along, and he, he knew nothing yet he knew everything, for he hadn't seen the light of day, since Lord Winter came into existence. "Then how did he know everything?" "He knew everything because of his mother, she was an Oracle, she had told him everything she had foreseen, yet she didn't tell him it was about him. "Why?"

"Because she was destined not to tell, and she hadn't foreseen the battle between The Savior and Lord Winter. She was about to, but she died before she could." "How did she die?" "Protecting The Savior" "Do you know, what happened after? "No dearie, no one knows." "Then how will the story get finished?" "The story, Jeremy, is for you to finish." "The story, Jeremy, is for you to finish" "His mother died soon after, just like she had prophesized and in the meanwhile, war was going on. He did not know, and wandered the streets, open to friend and foe alike." "A battle had been going on, unbeknownst to him." "Both sides were eager to win and kept fighting desperately. They retired as soon as the sun sank. But, the forces of evil were at work that night, the forces of The Lord of Winter. He sent some men from his army and they stabbed all the warriors to their death in their sleep. It was a dishonourable act, yes, thus he was cursed. He was cursed with the ability to read minds, as soon as he came before The Savior and it was his doom." "How so? Isn't reading minds a superpower?" "It can be, and it cannot be, depends whether you can harness it and he couldn't and he went mad. Jeremy by now knew everything about the battle, learning facts from the vegetable sellers, who were always ready for gossip, yet he was clueless about who was The Savior. There had been a call for the world's young and brave men, and he set out to war, in hopes of fighting for Lord Summer and Spring and when he faced the enemy at the battlefront, the curse of Lord Winter started working. He knew everything, he knew the Lord of Summer and Spring's plans and defeated them easily and they had to retreat for the day. The Lords sat around a table and discussed their plans, and they fought, they were disunited in action, united in a goal. They loathed their lieges and betrayed them to the other side, so the Lords gathered, and decided to put an end to it. They came up with a plan. A plan is the base of war and strategy, without it, you are lost. They knew The Savior had come, but they knew not who it was. But they had come up with a plan now, and Jeremy volunteered to execute it. Thus, the prophecy started working. Jeremy slipped inside Lord Winter's tent and told him he could help him defeat his enemies. In the evening, when everyone was resting, Jeremy took him to a small room, in the enemies camp, where he proclaimed their weapons were kept.

But in the room, he found nothing, yet he sensed several presences, each planning his doom, he heard them whispering, a thousand voices, ununited in nature, united to kill him. He was desperate to live, as he tried to source them, to destroy them and under this pressure, his hand withered away. His feet withered away. Yet he noticed not, for his senses stopped working, his brain froze, and his heart stopped. Yet, he lunged for the door, to kill all the lords who triumphed over their victory. Jeremy felt pity, yet he had no choice, for if Lord Winter had become the King, the World would have withered away, instead. Thus, the Lord died. Afterwards, thousands of soldiers and lords poured in from the door, cheering, while the other side surrendered their arms. The war was over. "Then what happened?" "People went back to what they used to do before, sometimes stopping to remember the ones they had lost in the war, telling and re-telling of the time when Lord Winter tried taking over the world. About the brave Jeremy. "Do you know Jeremy, baba?" "Jeremy? He is I."


Finally, it's the last week of September grandma and I look forward to apple picking every year on September 22nd I look forward to apple picking just to spend time with Grandma.my grandma is already 70 years old but you wouldn't know that just by looking at her she looks and acts at least 60 year's old. So every year grandma rides her blue 1930 Packard just to pick me up at the same time 10 a.m. I jump right into the front seat and hug my grandma because I'm so happy just to see her so energetic and happy every year my grandma and I put on her old tunes Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers "Why Do Fools Fall In Love" and we be singing and laughing and we are talking just where we left off last year without missing a beat. My grandma always stops at this corner store just before we make it to the apple orchard and she always gets the same taffy candy that we have been getting for years. since I was a kid of 8 years old. Even if I see this Taffy at any time of the year I wouldn't buy it because that's just special between me and my grandma and when we finally arrive at the apple orchard it's fun to see Grandma at work. Grandma instantly becomes an Apple professional her first words when she finished parking is the "Harvest is in" that's my grandma's professional skills kicking in grandma always brings her baskets from home, not because of rental fees but because hers is bigger and could hold almost double the number of apples the bags and basket the farmers would give us... Almost always my grandma and I would take a hayride. But one year we couldn't because grandma had really bad allergies and it was best to stay away from the hay that's what grandma said so we did. Hayrides are a rather beautiful sight all the tall trees and apples hanging low. We always start grabbing them apples even before we start apple picking this is most fun because grandma always looks at that apples and throw them away saying blemished, blemished it took me a while to understand what grandma was doing because I didn't want to disturb Grandma while she was working. when I have finally asked Grandma and she realized that I didn't know much about picking the right Apple. Grandma said you have to have the right apples for the perfect cider and the perfect apple pie, and if you want good apple sauce follow me I'll show you how to pick the best apples. First Grandma walked up to the apple tree and grabs the first apples she discovers. Then she slowly pulls the apple close to her nose as if to sniff in the scent of the apple. And then she makes a sound"mmm" seems to me this is the sound of satisfaction then Grandma slowly turns the stem on the top of the Apple when the stem breaks her she says very well, then she starts turning the Apple looking for blemishes and if the apples have little blemishes she adds them to her basket. well, it seems to have little blemishes on mostly all of the grandma apples That's. Because she said those are the sweetest ones. The ones with the little flaws are the best for sauce and cider. When I and my grandma go picking we cover a lot of ground it seems like we were picking and throwing and smelling for hours. And talking and laughing and making jokes with Grandma  Grandma and I always have the best times after we finished picking apples we would take the apples back to the car and go right back to the Apple patch just because there is a bakery stand there and we could grab some apple cider and two donuts. we would grab a seat near the bakery no one ever complains about us even though there are no regular chairs for people to sit down we usually find something to sit on and enjoy our snack. And we always take our time just talking and snacking. Just like we lived there or like we were there every day I believe this is Grandma's way of getting her rest but I don't say anything mainly because I'm tired too so as long as grandma wants to sit we sit. And after we snack and recuperate we start heading towards the petting zoo this is one of my most favorite thing to do after apple picking. Grandma and I have been coming here so long we make jokes about some of the animals how they are Aging and we get sad when we see that some of the animals are replaced. But we always enjoy ourselves. The rabbits in the mini horses are my favorite rabbits are so cute but grandma says don't be fooled by their cuteness I really don't know what that means and still never figured it out. Because I never heard of rabbits harming anybody but I do use that lesson grandma told me in my everyday life. About being fooled by the cuteness towards humans and other animals that may hurt you because you let your guard down because they're just so cute. Anyway grandma and I always hold our noses when we walk towards the cattle and then we look at each other and laugh for some reason it's a very hard laugh once it dies down we look at each other again and start all over again. Grandma and I have a great connection. Grandma always has rubber gloves in her purse so that we can safely pet the animals or feed the critters. That's what grandma always called the animals after a full day at the Apple orchard Grandma and I start heading home Grandma turns her tunes back on we listen to Frankie Vallie" big girls don't cry"  going back home and I would do most of the singing because I can tell now that Grandma is tired and she just wants to keep it excited for me. But to tell you the truth I would like to just take a little nap but once grandma put that music on the singing kicks in. just like the smell of those apples the smell always seems to kick in halfway home. I began to smell fruity green apples. But grandma says they smell like waxy fruit raspberry and I guess we all have our opinion and Grandma's opinion to me is different I don't agree because how do you smell wax with fresh fruits right off the tree weird. Grandma plans to stick to her opinion so I just never bring it up. And before we return home I began to beg grandma to stay and she always says no. but I always beg and beg just because I know she's tired and she would never admit to it so I make it seems that I need her there with me until my Grandma breaks down and says okay. And I always take her to her room this room is always ready just for my grandma. She has her bathroom so that she could have privacy and get her rest. And like every year I wake up to have pancakes and maple bacon. I don't need any syrup because Grandma makes the Apple spread with little bits of apples that are so sweet and delicious and it leaves me no room for syrup best time of the year ever I love my tradition with my grandma and I plan to do it with my grandma until we can't do it anymore and I  also plan to do it with my grandkids.


I've never liked staying in the house. It makes me feel crowded....but now I feel like that wherever I go.

It has been a year since the pandemic but I still feel unsafe and dirty.

I still have to go to work though. During the pandemic, they shut everything down despite their efforts to try and keep people safe they were still going out not wearing a mask, " Did they not care that they could die as well? guess not '' Today  I'm going to go to the park this is going to be my first day out since quarantine and mask requirements were lifted. The sun was shining on my face and the birds were singing. It was a beautiful day.

“Hey wait a minute, why is she looking at me? Is something on my face, did I do something wrong?”

The lady approached me and said: “ young man why are you still wearing that?” Huh oh, she must be referring to the doctor mask covering 80% of my face. She started staring at me intensely “you know it's safe you don't have to put up with those ratchet things anymore.

She was probably right but I know that it still exists and it's not gone,

 “I just feel safe with this on” I gave her a nod and walked away. As I made my way

downtown I heard the terrifying sound of coughing. He  was walking on the opposite side of the street he was coughing and hacking and he wasn't even covering his mouth …Disgusting.

I really can't see how anyone can go back to how things where millions had died and those who did survive lost the ones they loved all because Betty didn't want to wear a mask around George, I will never understand it just because it's gone doesn't mean it doesn't exist. “Hey Robert,”

I turned around to see my boss. He was mask-less of course but he looked happy

“Hello Mr.Smith.” I gave a weak wave but Mr.smith was always a kind person who liked to show his affection... What

I'm

saying

is

He

tried

to

come

in

for

a

hug . I was hesitant and took a step back. “S-sorry I just…” smith also took a step back “No, No It's fine I get some people still aren't the same after the pandemic.”

I couldn't speak I was choked up I wanted to say something like: “Haha just kidding gimme a hug” but instead I ran away from him like a little kid

I felt stupid, embarrassed, and weak

I couldn't even give someone a fucking hug how

pathetic  I just can't shake the feeling that the pandemic isn't over there are so many possibilities like Another wave could hit us, The virus has evolved again, There's a new sickness that's spreading like a

wildfire , they ran out of vaccines and the stuff needed to make the vaccines. Thoughts like that make me worry makes it hard for me to move on and continue life, when I got back to the apartment I saw my next-door neighbor lucy she looked like she was heading out for an evening dinner I built up the courage and walked over “H-hey lucy how are you?” The mask must have muffled my voice because after she looked up after locking her door she gave me a confused look “Oh hi Robert, were you just going to stand there and not say hello?” She looked even more confused when she saw how much distance was between us. I  was standing exactly 6 feet away from Lucy.

“Well that's rude, you think I have the virus don't you?” She said that in an offensive tone while folding her arms. Maybe  this was a little excessive so I walked a little closer,

Lucy then put her hand up saying “Stop!” I stopped with one foot up in the air she said: “Robert you don't have to come closer if you don't have to I was just kidding” She was smiling at me

She's always been so kind and caring to me

I will never forget she was the one who brought food to me during the pandemic while I hid like a

coward behind locked doors  and yet she still brings me food every day because I'm still

scared  to leave my

safe

haven . “Well, it was nice seeing you today you usually don't come out much.” “Yeah i-i wanted to go for a walk and stretch my legs.'' she started applauding “That's wonderful glad that you're finally acting normal”. “ Huh?” did she just say acting “normal”

 “I don't mean to be offensive, it's just that no one is wearing their mask anymore so why are you??” Lucy then said goodbye and headed downstairs but she left me with something. As I sat down on my bed I started to

ache. Was I  hurt? Not physically, why was my heart hurting? Because her words

struck  me deep enough to

penetrate  my

heart, maybe  Lucy's right, maybe I should start acting normal. The next day I woke up with a new motive to being normal. I wanted to try to be my old self again like before the pandemic even happened. The next day I lied to myself and got up feeling even more traumatized by Lucy's words. I didn't leave the apartment that day. I stayed in bed and slept. The only time I got up was to use the bathroom and warm up some ramen. I don't know why but I felt tired that day after eating lunch. I Laid down to take a nap then I heard a voice; “: Hey Robert, where have you been.”

Where ever I was it was wet and cold

“who are you??”

No one responded and I was willing to walk out further into the darkness

“ROBERT!!!!!”

I heard a distorted voice yell my name

“ROBERT, ROBERT, ROBERT, ROBERTTTTTTT!”

They continued to yell out to me but the yelling had now turned into screaming

“Ughh damn my ears are bleeding”

i fell to the ground covering my leaking ears.

“Why won't you.?” the screaming had stopped “huh?” The voice seemed to be getting closer “Why won’t you?” a body had emerged from the darkness to my surprise it was lucy or just a figure of her “Why won't you?” she repeated “ why won't i what?” she seemed to get even more upset “why won't you?” i had gotten annoyed “ Why haven't i WHAT?” I yelled at her. She then appeared directly in front of me as if she teleported “Why WON'T YOU TAKE the MASK OF~?” I had woken up in a sweat “it was just a dream.” The next event that took place left me speechless *DIng* “I guess i have a new message” as I picked up the phone it was a message from lucy. Lucy: “hey rob I'm having a little celebration tonight i was wondering if you would like to come to help you get back to your old life LoL, it's only going to be 10 people if that helps”

Lucy: “And no mask Kay 😷” It took me a while to warm up to the idea of being around so many people, but i felt like this i owe to lucy for helping me all those times so i finally built up the courage to go to her party it was around 6 pm when i had arrived, i could tell i was still not up to the idea because as soon as i stepped out the car my legs turned to Jell-O

Well there's no turning back now i sighed as i took another weak step forward

Things were already weird but it got even worse i walked into the building to see way more than 10 people

Did lucy lie to me? she said it would be a small group

Then all their eyes Met mine.

Why was everyone staring into my soul?

I found my way to the punch table when i was met with a female voice whispering “Why won't you take the mask off?” i was paralyzed surely i was just still nervous i turned to see lucy hovering behind me “W-well i just…” Lucy then Busted out into laughter “ I'm just kidding you're such a snowflake.” Trying not to feel insulted I gave a weak laugh and forced smile.

wait she can't even see me smiling

“ugh such a dumbass” lucy stopped smiling she looked worried “are you feeling alright you don't have to stay if you don't wanna it's cool enough that you made it.”

Great

now she thinks I'm weak “ Ha no I'm fine i just have to use the bathroom”

As I left Lucy at the punch table I went to the bathroom and I began to feel nauseous my stomach was in knots and my heart was beating harder than ever before.

What's wrong I feel so sick “ maybe Lucy was right maybe I should leave”  I felt like everything is closing around me, as if the walls are closing in, and they were at the door knocking and banging telling me to take my mask off.

Then that's when i saw lucy standing above me "Lucy i think I'm going to have to leave."

God, i hate that I'm like this.

Lucy then bend down her face was bright red she looked drunk "H-Hey lucy are you al-" My sentence was cut short when lucy had pulled down my mask

What the hell is she doing i-i don't know what to do

i could feel my heart was pounding out of my chest. Lucy looked up at me "I missed seeing this face" A soon as i opened my mouth to speak lucy leaned in with a kiss.

So this is what I've been missing out on wearing this stupid mask.

Lucy then sat back giving me a drunk smile saying "There do you feel better" As i was about to respond until i was interrupted by lucy throwing up all over me.

Oh, no-no-no what if she had covid could I get it by her throw-up? or just from kissing her?

The next thing i knew my eyes were twitching and i had blacked out. When i woke up i was in a hospital bed i remember the nurse telling me that they had found me on the bathroom floor passed out, i wonder if lucy is okay. then that's when i heard it the tv was on the news and the headline read "It still exist covid isn't gone" i couldn't believe my eyes

News: I have received a report that a girl at a resident hospital has been discovered to have a new type of COvid and is said to be patient zero I started to panic i couldn't breathe

it was still out there hiding, living, thriving i was right to not move on with life. News; "This goes to show us, ladies and gentlemen, that covid is still existing be safe and start wearing your mask."


Susan preferred to complete her daily errands just after sunrise, before the hustle and bustle of the day begins. The coffee maker had just finished dripping as she padded quietly downstairs, just enough for one cup as usual. Her favorite mug and spoon had been laid out the night before, waiting for her two pumps of hazelnut flavoring and a splash of milk. Susan thrived on routines.

That morning began the same as all others: her gentle alarm humming it’s normal tune at 6 am on the dot, a quick shower, and down stairs to listen to the news and drink her cup of coffee. She’ll be out the door by 7 am sharp and not a minute later. Today she thought she might take her coffee and listen to her radio outside on her porch to watch the summer sun rise over the horizon.

The ocean was calmer than usual this morning, almost completely still. There was no breeze, which made the air feel thick and heavy, even at this time of morning. Susan settled herself under her porch fan and brought her solar radio up to the top of the small table beside her rocking chair. As she fiddled with the antenna, she noticed the butterfly bush at the foot of her stairs rustle. “Good morning, Cat,” she called. She turned the dial and was met with a loud flash of angry high pitched static. Cat hissed. “Hush,” she admonished, “I’m trying to catch the signal.” It was unusual that a windless day was making the signal so difficult to catch, and Susan did not like the tenseness that was building in her shoulders because of it.

“Ah, there we go,” she muttered and brought Cat up to her lap as voices came through the radio detailing the day’s weather, tides, and fish catches. “I would like to get some more shrimp for this week, don’t you think?” She said as she was stroking Cat’s back. He purred in agreement. As the news cycle made its way back around to the beginning, Susan gently took Cat off her lap and began to turn the radio off as the signal cracked and all of a sudden a voice came through screaming “THEY’RE COMING. THEY’RE COMING. THEY’RE COMING.” Startled, Susan knocked her cup of coffee over, the mug shattering as it hit the ground. She felt her shoulders lock as her spine sent tingles down her arms. She wrung her hands to soothe herself. “Nothing I can’t fix! I’ll just go clean it up,” she said to herself.

A neighbor walked by with his dog and waved, and as Susan looked up, she noticed he was mouthing something she couldn’t quite make out. She shook her head and went inside to grab a towel and clean up her mess before she left for the day.

Back inside, Susan was wiping her hands on a dish towel by the sink and practicing her deep breathing to help loosen her shoulders from earlier today. “It didn’t mean anything, probably just someone in their basement messing around.” She told herself. A loud bang on the window shook her out of her trance and she whipped around to look out of the window over her kitchen sink, noticing the streaks of bright red blood streaking her window.

She grabbed her car keys and purse and went outside. She has tasks to complete, afterall. “This will not stop me,” she uttered as she locked her door. Cautiously she walked around to the side of her house where her kitchen window is and saw the bird, its neck broken from the force of hitting the window. She made a mental note to pick up a shovel on her outing today so she could dispose of it.

“They’re coming, I had one do that to my window yesterday,” her neighbor said behind her. Susan turned around slowly, her hands in tight fists at her sides in order to hide her fear.

“Do you have a shovel I can borrow, Mitch? I’d like to dispose of it before Cat finds it,” Susan asked, ignoring what he said entirely. Nothing will stop my day, she told herself. She unclentched her fists slowly and wiped them on her shorts.

“They’re coming,” Mitch responded, “Susan, they’re COMING.” His eyes widened and Susan stepped back, nearly stepping on the bird’s carcass.

“I-I-I have to go, before the vacationers clear out the shelves,” Susan stuttered. She pushed her way around Mitch and got into her car. “Of course the vacationers are coming, Mitch, it’s the beach.” she said as she got into the car. “Idiot.” Her hands were shaking as she turned the key in the ignition. She backed out of the driveway and gripped the steering wheel tightly. She turned the radio on and found NPR’s Newsbreak and smiled.

“Reports indicate that winds have ceased in other major cities including Washington DC, Spokane, Chicago and New York, increasing temperatures across the United States.” the radio said.

“Well it’s the middle of summer, not totally unexpected for there to be a heat wave,” Susan said back to the radio. She rolled her eyes and continued listening.

“Speaking with locals here in Washington, many are reporting finding bird carcasses scattered around their properties and on the sidewalks. Their necks are broken from force.” The leather of the steering wheel shifted and squeaked under the tightening grip of Susan’s hands. She shook her head, “Coincidence,” she uttered.

As she pulled in to the grocery store, she motioned to turn the radio off just as the signal broke and through the screaming static she heard “THEY”RE COMING.” She pulled her hand back as if she had been shocked, she turned off the car and pushed the button turning off the radio. She grabbed a cart and headed inside, wiping the sweat from her brow that had formed almost immediately after stepping out of her car.

Susan was relieved to hear the usual easy listening tunes playing overhead in the grocery store, and she made her way through the aisles to complete her weekly shop. As she made her way to the deli counter, she noticed that the employees were huddled around the radio and didn’t notice her immediately. She cleared her throat and said “Hello!” to get their attention.

“Good morning, Susan,” called Ron, as he stepped away from the radio huddle and put on gloves. “Have you been listening to this stuff? Birds all over the place.. No wind.. Weird stuff, huh?”

“Hi, Ron. You know I don’t listen to anything but the local weather reports,” she said, hoping her nerves weren’t coming through. “Can I have a pound of turkey please?”

“Sure, you got it.” Ron said, turning back to the meat shaver. “How’s this?” he asks, holding up a piece of turkey.

“Perfect, thanks.” Susan smiled.

“Yeah, Jan and I counted this morning we had 3 birds dead around our house, can you believe that?” Ron said, making conversation. Susan swallowed and chewed the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to talk about this, even though she too has a bird she has to get rid of back at her house. “I guess it means you’re just an expert glass cleaner, haha,” Susan answered. Change the subject, Susan . “Hey, do you know if you have shovels here?” She asks.

“Oh yeah, over by the charcoal and outside needs.” Ron answers, handing her her pack of turkey. As Susan reached over the counter to take the pack, he whispers “They’re coming, Susan.” Susan grabbed her turkey and walked backwards.

“No one but the renters are coming, Ron.” Susan said, gritting her teeth. She pushed her cart away quickly.

“They’re coming!” she heard him call out after her. Susan walked immediately to the outdoor needs aisle and picked up a shovel and lighter fluid.

“Got a bird problem too, huh?” a woman said next to her. Susan didn’t recognize her immediately. Must be from the other island, she thought to herself. The woman picked up a shovel. “They say that’s the first sign, you know. The wildlife always knows.” Don’t engage, Susan. Don’t do it. Susan smiled, “hmm.” she responded. “Excuse me,” Susan said, as she tried to navigate her cart around the woman. The woman grabbed the cart to stop her, and Susan tried to pull away to free it from her grasp.

“They’re COMING, Susan! They’re coming!” the woman screamed. Susan finally pulled the shopping cart free, and ran down the aisle as the woman screamed after her, “You’ve been warned!”

Susan turned into the next aisle and slowed down, and started her deep breathing practice again. Her hands were white and the tingling spread from her fingertips to her ears. “I have to finish, I have to go to the fish camp, I have to go home.” she repeated. As she continued to walk, she felt herself calming down. She gathered the final items she needed and made her way to the checkout counter. She started putting her items on the belt, hoping no one would feel the need to speak to her anymore. The teenager working the cash register didn’t bother to take out his headphones, much to Susan’s delight. She put the cart back in the vestibule and grabbed her items and walked quickly back to her car.

She placed the shovel in the trunk of her car and put the bags of food in the passenger seat. As she made her way around to the driver side, she noticed a note underneath the windshield wiper, and as she looked at the other cars surrounding hers, they, too, had notes. She grabbed it, knowing what it would say before she looked. “They’re coming,” it read. Susan crumpled it immediately and left it on the ground. She got in her car and peeled out of the parking space, speeding towards the fish camp.

She reflexively turned the radio on, only to be met with screaming static. She adjusted the frequencies but found the same on the AM stations and the FM stations. “Fine,” she said. “No radio anymore, that’s fine.” she assured herself. She felt the tingling sensation again, but this time it was behind her eyes. She clamped her eyes shut to calm herself.

As she pulled into the fish camp, she noticed only one other car in the parking lot. “Perfect,” she said. “Early enough for the first catch.” She walked in, and the chimes on the door alerted the fishmonger to her presence. He was listening to the radio.

“Ugh, I had to turn mine off–just static!” Susan reported, she hoped calmly. “What does the catch look like today, Bill?” she asked. He hadn’t turned around yet. She heard muttering, and the sound of the cleaver coming down onto the chopping block. Susan winced. She could never be a butcher of any kind.

“Bill? Fresh shrimp today?” Susan called again. She stood up on tip toes and craned her neck to see what he was preparing.

It was a bird. “Damn things won’t stop flying into the windows.” she heard him say. “Gotta get rid of them before they come.”

“Bill. Bill, no one’s coming. BILL.” Susan yelled as the cleaver came down once more. He turned around, wiping the knife on his apron which was already splattered with various fluids.

“Bring your birds here, I’ll get rid of ‘em.” He said, plainly. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were bloodshot, he was rubbing his face, not realizing he was wiping bird mess on his cheek. Susan closed her eyes and shook her head, she was not going to bring anything here thank you. She exhaled and smiled, “Thanks, but I think I'll just take a pound of shrimp.” she pointed to the shrimp sitting on ice behind the glass counter. Bill seemed to snap out of it, dropping the cleaver on the counter. He washed his hands, Thank God, Susan thought.

He collected the shrimp and put them in a bag for her. The exchange was silent, until Susan was walking toward the door to leave and they both jumped as two more birds plowed into the glass door.

“THEY’RE COMING!” Bill yelled. Susan looked back and shook her head as her had searched for the bar to push the door open. She stepped out, and made sure to avoid the bodies that had just fallen beside the door. She looked up and noticed the sky had changed. When she left this morning it was a clear, blue sky. No clouds, no breeze.

The air was still thick and heavy, but the sky had changed to a dark gray, but not because of clouds. It was as if the sun had been blocked by a larger object.

“Storm’s coming, surely,” she said to herself. Putting the shrimp in the cooler in the back of her car, she reassured herself that she was done with her errands and could finally go home. Cat was waiting for her, after all. And she needed to dispose of the bird from earlier this morning before Cat found it.

She turned on to her street and noticed everyone was outside, looking at the skies. Just park the car, get your things and go inside. Don’t worry about everyone else. She pulled into her driveway and shut her car off. She got out and collected the bag in the front passenger seat first, slamming the door shut. “Sorry,” she winced, to no one in particular. Nobody turned around. She made her way to the trunk and got the shovel and lighter fluid and took the shrimp out of the cooler. She closed the trunk door, slightly less aggressively this time and made her way up the stairs.

There were 4 more birds, this time on her front porch. She noticed Cat pacing back and forth from behind her glass door. A wave of nausea traveled up to her throat. She swallowed and turned around to see if anyone was watching. She fumbled for her house keys and turned the lock. “Cat,” she crouched to pet him. He arched his back to get away and tried to scratch her. She pulled her hand back in surprise. “Okay, fine. You can’t eat the birds, though. You’ll get sick.” Susan said as she stood up straight. She placed the shrimp and other food in her refrigerator and grabbed her gardening gloves and a trash bag. With the shovel in hand, she headed back outside to dispose of the carcasses.

“Once I clean up the yard, we can get back to our book,” she said to herself. “Just get this done, and you’re all set.” She took a deep breath and pushed her front door open. She made sure to pull it closed behind her, she didn’t want the cat to sneak out this time. She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths to help keep the nausea at bay as she picked up the birds. Using the shovel, she placed them into the garbage bag quickly. Having picked up the birds on the porch, she walked down the stairs and headed around the side of the house. The sky had gotten darker, like night, even though it was only 9 am.

“It’s going to be a rough one, it seems.” she said to herself, about the impending storm.

She reached the side of the house where she saw the first bird earlier this morning, and Susan crouched down to get a better look at it. As she began to pick it up with the shovel, she felt someone behind her.

“Mitch, I found a shovel at the store, I’ve got it handled.” she said, sighing. She shoved the bird into her trash bag and tied it off. She stood up and turned around, nearly running into the man that was behind her.

“Mitch, what are you doing?” she put her hands on his chest to push him back, but he wouldn’t move. “Mitch. Please move, I want to go inside now.”

“It’s them, Susan. They’ve been throwing the birds. They’re already here.” Susan walked backwards to create space, dropping the bag by accident. “Sometimes birds get confused, it happens,” she said, quickly. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or Mitch. It wasn’t working. Mitch grabbed her hand and tried to pull her to the street, where the others were. She tried to free herself from his grasp but she couldn’t.

“Let GO.” she said, her voice cracking. “I just want to go inside, please let me go.” Mitch pulled her, as if being pulled by an invisible string that connected him to the street. She pulled her arm the other way, trying to break away. She noticed Cat had pushed the door open and was pacing the porch back and forth. “It’s okay, Cat!” she called behind her, “I’ll be right back!” she reached the street as Mitch placed her next to him. He had let go of her hand, and she rubbed her wrists to lessen the redness. She began to turn around and run back to her house, but was immediately dragged back by multiple people.

“It’s no use- they’ve come for us.” the neighbors said.

“Who? WHO?” Susan screamed. “There is no one here. We’re alone here, there’s a storm coming and I want to go inside.” “Oh Susan, don’t you see? We’re not alone.” As Mitch turned his body to face the sky, Susan screamed as she saw a beam of light land on the main road in front of them.

They had come. They were here. The residents of Oceanside were not alone.