Jolting claps of flame, thunder on the brain. Sinewed synapses writhing, electric tentacles in the dark. Pulsing jellyfish to a tube worm’s feather, a consuming mycelium on a decaying carcass. That sudden realisation of the mess you’re in, you know the sort. A twisting, wrenching, churning sinkhole inside that could swallow life itself. You can’t leave here, you know that. Act natural. Are you sitting upright? Do you look your best today? I hope no one’s watching. Judging you for not having a significant other, a house, a car. Because that’s what you want, and it’s what they all have. Stop biting your nails, it’s weird. Everyone watches you indulge your compulsions, and they think you’re disgusting. That’s why you stay perfectly still when Emily looks over, so you can’t do anything wrong. She smiled at you, once. You couldn’t sleep for days. The back of her head, a cascading chocolate ponytail under the white office light. Her soft neck and the intoxicating perfume that calls to you from across the room, a taunting pheromone you can’t stop drawing in. You’re obsessed with her, she’s all you think about. The only good thing about working in this gruelling office is the woman who doesn’t even know that you exist. Fantasies of what could be culminate daydreams, and you almost muster the courage to go talk to her. All that empty gumption and false bravado is swiftly silenced by Chris. Emily always laughs at his jokes. The blushes and giggles, and the way she always plays with her hair when he speaks. He’s smooth, gift of the gab, but he’s also fat. He doesn’t look after himself whatsoever. He took your promotion, and now you’re the accountant that amends his financial documents. You’re the nit-picking monkey who’s been slogging away in this whitewash hell for three years, and he's coming up to his first. The boss, Andrew, is a stuck-up tosser. He assured you’d get a pay rise on multiple occasions, but you heard nothing. You hate him. Detest him. What’s stopping you from ki- “David, what’re you doing?” “Sir, I-” He stammers, frantically jerking the mouse around his dirty desk and minimizing the personal document. “Did you finish analysing the asset turnover ratio?” The boss questions, leaning over and trying to read the spreadsheet on the monitor. “I was looking at the um, the short-term and the cash flow. I think, well, the current account-” “David, I asked you to do that two hours ago. What have you been doing this whole time?” Andrew questions loudly, and the office falls deadly quiet. “It was taking longer than I thought it would.” “That’s not good enough, what’s that document there.” “Where?” “It’s minimized down there, is that work?” “Um, no. That’s nothing. Not work.” “Open it up, show me.” “Sir, I don’t want to.” “Do I look like your schoolteacher? My name’s Andrew. Open the document.” David reluctantly shifts the mouse down to the taskbar and returns the piece to its maximised state. He feels the blood rush to his face and his stomach melting as Andrew silently reads the whole thing. “If only your accounting was as good as your poetry.” David dissociates in his chair and starts counting the individual pixels on the monitor screen. “We can’t have harassment in the workplace. Your feelings for Emily, Chris and I need to be kept to yourself in the future, alright? Not in your personal diary.” “What did he say about me?” Chris demands. “Well, he started writing poetry and then it turned into a deviant little rant. I don’t want to offend you, but he wrote about you being fat.” Chris chuckles for a while before returning to his work. Emily doesn’t move a muscle. She’ll pretend like she didn’t hear but David knows how intelligent she is, how switched on she can be. “And David, this is why you’ll never get a pay rise, because there will always be someone better than you.” “Yes, sir.” “Andrew.” “Sorry.” “You’d better stay later and crack on with some admin for Chris’s files. Treat it as an apology for being rude to him.” “Okay.” “Oh, and David, you couldn’t kill me.” He puts a hand down on David’s sloped shoulder. “You can’t even walk to the printer without pissing yourself.” Andrew grins as Chris erupts into laughter again, and he returns to his own office. David remains frozen for the remainder of the day. He skips lunch, doesn’t drink, and steadily completes his work. As colleagues leave one by one, he finally feels at ease. No more eyes, no one to look at him. He opens his inbox to find mail from twenty-six minutes ago. A folder sent from none other than ‘chrismanagerial@balanceconsult.com’ along with a subject containing the description ‘Fat Administration :)’. Documents upon documents that he must have been sitting on for days like a rotten hen, now casually dropped into David’s inbox for him to deal with tonight. Robert, in marketing, just finished working on some new flyers for the company. He’s a softly spoken and kind man, a few years younger than David. He lets out a sigh, switches off his computer and hauls a rucksack over his shoulder. “Alright mate?” He startles David who was entranced by the monitor. “Yeah, I’m alright, Rob. Yourself?” “Knackered, it’s been a long one.” He moans, turning to leave. “Me and the boys are going down the Oval for a few pints and some pool at seven. You’re more than welcome to come.” “Thanks, but I think I’ll be heading home after this.” David brushes him off. “You don’t have to play; I’ll buy the first round and you can come have a laugh with us. Colin’s there, you’ll like him, he’s a scream.” “I’ll think about it.” David smiles, leaving it in the air so Robert would stop asking. The PVC door at reception slams shut, leaving David the last desk-jockey alive in this soulless prison. There’s a certain peace with being alone. It’s not a positive thing but equally not a negative either. David’s comfort lies deeper than the surface of his skin, for his imagination can run wild when the fear takes control. He opens the embarrassing document once again, ruby red as he reads. Fingers start prodding the keyboard as he constructs more phrases for his feelings, more analogies for his thoughts. This method of mental digestion soothes his sickly stomach. He types until he feels his bladder. Shooting pains ricochet through his quadriceps and knees as he gets up for the first time since eight o’ clock this the morning. Waddles past the printer, he glosses over the patch of carpet he wet himself upon last month. It’s all dried now, but he still pictures the stinking, straw-coloured puddle that was once discharged from his pathetic body. Down the corridor near the kitchen, David pushes the toilet door with his unkempt hands. The keratin talons on his fingers bend against the wood. Staring at the ground to avoid eye contact in the long mirrors, he navigates to the furthest cubicle. The one he routinely eats his lunch in. Dropping the toilet seat down and perching on the bowl, shooting pains fly through his legs once again. While urinating, he clamps his eyes shut for a few seconds, and everything goes quiet. SQUEAK The unmistakable sound of the gent’s door shatters the silence. David hastily lifts his legs from foot view, his eyes wide with shock. Waiting for a moment, holding breath deep in his chest. No footsteps followed; the door is too heavy to be a draft. Mere moments feel like years before David cautiously worms his way to his feet. A sensation he knows all too well trickles down his spine, and the feeling of being watched lurches over. Animalistic tingles of flight or fight spark the urge to turn, let curiosity execute the decision. By slowly panning his eyeballs to the right, he can finally see it in his peripheral vision. Up above, in the next cubicle, someone is looking over at him. A mass of sorts unmoving. David’s heart pumps wildly, though his body turns cold. The swallowing, squeezing contractions of his oesophagus echo loudly in contrast to the nothingness around him. He meditatively inhales in preparation to stare back, face the individual observing him. Just as he spins to the right, the mass sinks below. David opens the door and walks round to the neighbouring cubicle. Upon inspection of the interior, he finds nothing. “Yeah, really funny.” He stammers mildly at the door. After the interruption and forgetting to flush, he returns to his designated cubicle and fumbles with the flush lever. Walking back out into the vastness of the room, it’s now there in the corner. Facing the wall, the dark mass stands stationary by the sink. At first, David rubs his eyes. What he is seeing, he cannot physically perceive. Like a lash stuck to the cornea, or unidentifiable remains of an insect plastered a windscreen, David’s eyeballs struggle to communicate the information to his brain quick enough. Whoever, or whatever this being is, shouldn’t be there. Not in this world. He begins walking backward at a speed slower than a tortoise, holding his gaze upon the man-shaped optical abrasion before him. Tensing what little muscle he owned, he prepares for the moment that the thing flies toward him. Though it never happens. He backs out of the door, making sure to gently release the squealing hinge. Once it was fully shut, he ran for his life. Snatching and clutching all his belongings, he takes to the PVC door. Agoraphobia is usually blinding, but David had never been more relieved to be outside. The bus stop is nearby, and he doesn’t have to wait long for the 103. It’s late, everyone is eating tea with their families now. The bus is almost empty, there’s no one except an old man sitting near the back. David barely squats on the lip of a seat in the middle of the bus, making sure to keep his hands to himself in prevention of touching any nasty germs that may be present. Fixating on the red ‘stop’ sign on the yellow handrail, he waits until the bus driver peels away. The journey back round his town was a quick one, and the view from the window was startling. Every stop along the high street yielded more of those embossed black phantoms. Their piercing existence carved into David retina, his fearful focus glides back to the comfort of the red button once again. One by one, in his peripherals, empty seats begin filling up with shadow men. He opens his bag and tears a page from an accountancy book. Scribbles and scrawls as the black pen crawls, steadily he writes about things in his sight. Those beings of haze maintain their gaze. Darker than coal, penetrating his soul. Everything around David suddenly dissipates. The bus driver has parked up and is walking to the rear of the vehicle. There, he places his hand on the old man’s shoulders, waking him up from his doze. “Sorry to wake you, Stuart. This is your stop.” The old man’s eyes slowly pry open, revealing sunken holes in his visage. “Can I not stay on for another round, Michael?” Stuart’s fragile capillaries make up a small, bruised hand that gently wraps around the driver’s. “It’s my last round, I’ve got to get home to the kids, mate.” Stuart closes his eyes again, loosening his grip on Michael. “I think it’s my last round too.” He crackles, a singular tear rolling down his wrinkled cheek. “Michael, I’m starting to think that I’m really lonely.” “I’m sorry.” The driver mumbles, unsure of what to say. “Although,” Stuart smiles. “There’s only so much riding and old geezer can do in one day.” “Can I drop you home?” Michael asks softly. “It’s alright, I don’t mind walking, and you’ve got your tea to eat.” The driver helps Stuart to his feet as he shuffles down the walkway. As he reaches David, he stops for just a moment and looks toward him. “I don’t think you ever really get over it. You only learn to live with it.” Stuart solemnly states. “It’s Friday night, son. Shouldn’t you be with your friends?” “Come on, Stuart.” Michael impatiently guides him to the door. The frail man poodles along the street, holding his plastic bag of things. “When there’s no getting over that rainbow.” He sings heartily outside. “When my smallest of dreams won’t come true.” The driver apologises for the delay and continues his journey. David looks onward for a while before quickly punching the red button. “Getting off?” Michael questions. “Yes, I’m going to go to the Oval.” The driver goes to speak then hesitates. He checks his watch instead. “I’ll drop you nearby.” “Thank you.” David breaks a small smile. Outside the Oval was busy. It may not have been for other people, but for David, it was a lot. He slowly drops from the door of the bus, and they shut behind him. The impending doom washes over once again, his sickness twists around inside. He stares at the ground whilst walking, avoiding eye contact with the patriots outside. Soon enough, those patches scratch into view once again. “LOOK AT ME.” A shadow hisses and screeches repeatedly. “LISTEN.” Another screams from across the way. “I AM THE WORD IN YOUR EAR.” He pushes past and gets inside. Immediately, he is overwhelmed by the sounds of clinking pint glasses, scraping chairs, fruit machines, music, pool, chatter, laughter, singing, shouting, it’s all too much. He becomes entirely overwhelmed. “David!” A voice calls. “Nice to see you, man.” Robert is leant against the pool table; his friends bat their eyes. “Oh, God.” David utters. The expression he wears is that of an animal in headlights. He turns back out the door and into the quiet street. The masses move in close, reaching out to hold him. They’re clearer now. The faces of Andrew, Chris, and his own parents, all dance around as they shriek. “Stop it, just stop it.” David blubbers, swaying his arms around to waft them away. They dissipate and reform like black mist, covering his eyes and face. He falls to the floor and folds up into a ball. He cries like he never has before. “David, what’s going on?” A familiar voice asks. “I saw something I shouldn’t have, and now it’s coming to get me.” He chokes back tears. “Let’s get you up on your feet mate, ‘cause your making a scene here.” David is helped up and held by a couple of men. They walk him over to the bench and set him down, sitting down next to him themselves. “Right. What’s going on, fella?” “I can’t do this anymore.” He sobs. “The world is caving in on me, I’m being crushed.” An arm falls over his shoulders, and one of the men lean in. It’s Chris. “The world is fine, Dave.” He assures. “You’re the only one crushing you.” “I can’t do anything right, I’m useless.” “Did you finish the admin files earlier?” He questions. “Y-yeah.” He sniffs. “Well, there you go. I wouldn’t call that useless.” “But that’s monkey’s work. Child’s play compared to what you do.” “Dave, my job is easy. What you do, however, keeps the company together. You work harder than anyone does in that office, so don’t think bad of yourself. You’re the glue, my friend.” He pats David’s back. “Sorry for calling you fat.” “I could do with losing a little weight,” Chris chuckles. “No one is out to get you, and you can’t let Dave hold you back.” “We’re all in the same boat.” Robert adds. “It does get hard sometimes, no matter who you are. Just remember that you do have friends, people who care about you. I know things have been hard since the passing of your parents, but we’re always going to be here.” “We both know you want to leave this place sometimes, Dave.” Chris looks out onto the road. “But if you weren’t here, our lives wouldn’t be the same anymore. You’d be leaving us in a world without you.” “There may be no getting over it,” Robert continues. “But there’s always learning to live with it.” “Thank you, both. I think you’ve just saved me.”


Aurelie’s long black hair hung down her back, the twisted braids being slowly undone by fat raindrops that fell. It seemed as if they were all hitting her at once. She was grateful she’d chosen the oversized jacket and combat boots to wear, though that was more for fashion than practicality. She regretted not choosing something with a hood. That would require her to check the weather ahead of time, though, and she rarely did that.

She rushed down the gray city streets, people rushing past her in each direction. No matter how fast she moved, there was always someone moving faster. Always someone who was more desperate to get wherever they were going. Aurelie’s thoughts grew darker as the rain became more of a deluge, each gush carrying trash and debris past her in streams.

In another two blocks she would reach the coffee shop, where her date awaited. Another Saturday, another hopeful date she’d matched with on the newest dating app. The marketing promised it would be better for women, because the women initiated contact first. The good part was, this meant she got less unwanted pictures of certain body parts in her DMs. Not zero, though. Just less.

As she waited in the crowd to cross another street, the grumbles of complaints circled around. The atmosphere of the dim weather was heightened by a thrum of discontented protest, thrown back at the storm by city dwellers. The general attitude of misery annoyed her. Even her own misery felt like a chafing friction in her spirit.

I’ve got to lighten this terrible mood, even if just for myself, she thought. She determined not to enter this date with a dour face. The mob of people rushed forward to cross the street. Aurelie hung toward the back of the group, taking more time, but still moving forward. Another group crossed the street toward her, heads buried under umbrellas. Minds inside their phones.

This would make a cool shot, she thought. Aurelie glanced behind her and swiped her phone into portrait mode with pure muscle memory. Checking that her red lip stain was still strong, she put on a smile and took the photo.

“You’re not even happy!” a gruff voice yelled, as a man bumped into her shoulder.

Aurelie jerked to the side, removing her body from the shocking contact, and raised an arm reflexively. She looked around, but the stranger was already gone. There was only a writhing mass of long overcoats and black umbrellas. No one else seemed to hear him. Her mouth gaped open, and she turned quickly, dragging her own feet forward, heart racing. She had no desire to get into an argument with a stranger, especially with anyone who would so easily fling their own negativity around like a weapon.

“What the– Wha…? Huh–” she stuttered as she flowed with the crowd, and replayed the event in her head. Her mind failed to grasp the strange encounter. In all her years traveling the city alone, she was familiar with rude strangers, though most people ignored each other, preferring to mind their own business. Sure, some people shouldered past you too hard, or slid into the seat on the train right before you. But that was a natural part of living in a large city.

She had never been yelled at, though. And for what? Taking a selfie? The words continued to ring in her mind for the rest of her walk.

You’re not even happy.

Aurelie blinked her eyes against the onslaught of rain and tucked her phone back into her oversized jacket pocket.

You’re not even happy. The ting of a bell rang as she entered the bustling coffee shop.

You’re not even happy. Her date droned on about his high powered job, where he was very important and made a lot of money. He asked her no questions. Her coffee got cold because she forgot to drink it. She felt dazed.

You’re not even happy.

A painful hour went by and she said polite goodbyes. She dodged his questions about whether they’d see each other again, and wandered back down the bleak gray streets. Rats piled up on top of each other around light poles, flushed out of their burrows by the weather. She thought of her life and the choices she had made. Combat boots sloshed in puddles, but she didn't feel the rain anymore.

Am I happy? She wondered, entering her apartment and locking the door behind her. She leaned back against the door and looked around at the sparse space. She had renewed her lease for the third year, but hadn’t even hung up pictures on the walls. Hadn’t she said she promised herself she would decorate this year?

Bed. Nightstand. TV. Desk. Desk chair. Bookshelf. Closet. Kitchen. Bathroom.

You’re not even happy.

Her computer screen blinked to life, and she saw her screensaver flash. A majestic castle, nestled in the Scottish countryside, next to pristine blue waters. A trip to Scotland had always been on her bucket list. She scheduled vacation time last week, but then rescheduled it to work overtime on a new project at work. She thought it would impress her new boss, but it backfired. He had taken all the credit for her ideas and then left her out of the final presentation with the executives.

You’re not even happy.

Aurelie threw her rain soaked jacket over her desk chair and sank onto her bed, throwing an arm over her eyes. She knew it was true. She wasn’t happy. How had she not realized it? Somewhere along the way, she’d traded her intentional pursuit of joy for… for what? For swiping right on guys she knows she’s not going to like? For an apartment in a neighborhood she hated, to be closer to the job that was sucking the life out of her? For microwave dinners and another weekend Netflix binge? Her brow wrinkled as she tried to remember when things had gotten off track in her life. In college, Aurelie was confident that she would be in publishing by now. She took the entry level job at a financial company, because she needed stability. It was supposed to be temporary. Just temporary. That was seven years ago.

You’re not even happy.

The gruff voice grated on her brain. She sat up, walking over to her computer desk. With a swipe of the mouse, the dreamy scenery went away, replaced by an email from her friend, Morgan, dated two weeks earlier.

Sweet Aura Lee, Aura Me, Aura Mine, Look what I found! They created a new role at my friend’s publishing company. I think you’d be perfect. I put the link below. It’s your dream!! Go for it! Put me as a reference! I’ll put in a good word.  Love, Morgs PS- I’m bringing the snacks to girls night next week, since you bought last time! See you then! Love youuuuuuuuu.

PPS- is it "PPS" or "PSS"? I always forget. It's like Post Script Script or something, right? Whatever, you better apply for this job! Byeeeeee!

She smiled as she read Morgan’s words. Morgan typed like she talked, in excited proclamations. Every statement, whether written or verbal, came out with a lilt of hope at the end. Aurelie's grin faded as she remembered canceling girls' night. She’d been too tired from work to go through with it. She hadn’t rescheduled. YOU’RE NOT EVEN HAPPY! The voice was like a roar of white noise in her mind now, and she felt her heart seize with panic.

“I’m not…,” she muttered, an ache rising in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut. She felt a quaking begin in her shoulders, and stood up, pacing to try and give her anxiety somewhere to go. It flowed out of her eyes anyway, and hot tears fell.

“I’M NOT EVEN HAPPY!” She roared at no one in particular. Her gaze darted around the apartment, and an irrational laugh bubbled up out of her.

“I– I’m – Of course… I’m not even happy!” she muttered, the only noise in the apartment was her loud, painful gasps of breath.

Her fit continued, starting with laughter and melting into fitful sobs. She flopped back onto her bed, arms and frizzy braids flailing around her.

“I’m not even happy,” she whispered, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Tears hit her ears and created wet stains on her comforter. With another deep breath, her mental fog began to lift. She felt a clarity that she wasn’t sure she had ever felt before.

She sat up, wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeves, and marched back over to her desk. A calm determination started to replace her panic.

I may not be happy right now, she thought, but I can change that.

She clicked the link.

______________________ Earlier that day Arjun hated the rain. But he prepared, donning his long coat and bringing his umbrella. What he was not prepared for, was his friend’s mind boggling stupidity. “Dude, she wants to get back together,” Julian whined in his ear.

Arjun rolled his eyes, pulling the phone away from his ear as he waited to cross the street. He impatiently tapped his foot, and lamented forgetting to charge his Airpods last night.

“I know, I know, I hear your silence,” Julian continued, “But she apologized, man. She said it was just a one time thing and it didn’t mean anything. I should believe her, right? Forgive her? That seems like the right thing to do.”

“Julian, please, we can’t do this again. We’ve already discussed it three times this week. Look, you know I’ll support you in what you want to do, but I just don’t feel like I’m being a good friend if I don’t tell you the truth.”

“Yeah, but, like she’s really, really sorry about this time. Man I don’t know…” Julian trailed off, sounding unconvincing, even to himself.

“Don’t you remember how things were? Even before she cheated? You were–” “No, man, I think she’s really changed,” Julian rebutted. “In two weeks? Wow! Call the pastor, it’s a Christmas miracle,” Arjun’s sarcasm dripped out. He looked around at the huddled crowd, bombarded with rain. Some people didn’t even have umbrellas.

Check your weather app, people, he silently chided. “Arjun, man, that’s not funny. Look, you know I appreciate your advice on this kind of stuff–” “You say that, but you don’t seem to want to take my advice. I want you to have the kind of relationship that is simple and joyful. I mean, let's just review the facts. She threw away three years of your relationship together on an old fling from high school because he wears flannel and owns a tree farm in her hometown. How cliche is that? I don’t want you to live in a hallmark nightmare, Julian, I want you to live a real life!” Arjun shot back.

He felt his temper growing. He remembered how devastated Julian had been when his ex broke the news to him that she had cheated on him.

“No I think it's like a-- a bakery or something,” Julian said contemptuously, “And it doesn’t matter. They’re not together now, she told me how it happened and I think she was just–” Julian kept talking but Arjun could hardly hear him over the swell of his own anger. He felt protective of his friend, but also knew that he needed to let his friend make his own mistakes. The push and pull of the two sides of him warred, pushing his tension higher.

The traffic light flickered from green, to yellow, to red. The sea of pedestrians surged with the change of the light, a river of coats and bags propelled forward. The echo of footsteps on the pavement pulsed in his ears, like currents of urgency wearing down the concrete paths ahead. The roaring waves in his ears grew louder. Julian still droned on about how much he missed whats-her-name and the truth finally came out of Arjun’s mouth, in the middle of a city crosswalk.

“You’re not even happy!” he shouted, sidestepping the giant rat that ran by his foot. He felt his shoulder bump into something, and saw a flash of red lips. That was louder than he’d meant to say it. He was met with silence on the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry Julian,” Arjun kept moving, the throng’s urgent hum forcing him to move forward. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. I just care about you, man, but you gotta ask yourself… I mean seriously, ask yourself. Were you really happy with her?” Another beat of silence. Arjun let the question stew. He realized, belatedly, that he’d bumped into someone and not even apologized. He glanced around, but saw no one looking his way. He kept moving.

“I guess– I – I don’t know, I guess I haven’t really stopped to think about it like that, man,” Julian acknowledged.

“If you haven’t stopped to consider whether or not you're actually happy with your life, maybe it’s because you know... like you know, deep down, that you’re not really satisfied. Not really living life at its fullest,” Arjun said, letting gentleness take his voice to his broken hearted friend.

“Alright, you’ve got a point. I hear you. Anyway, wanna come over and watch the game tonight? I, uh–” Julian stuttered. Arjun knew that this was his stoic friend’s way of agreeing with him. Julian was asking him to spend time together, so he could avoid calling his ex.

“For sure, man. I’ll bring the wings. Text me what you want and I’ll swing by the store on my way. See you later.”

Arjun kept walking down the street, still irritated. His irritation was redirected at himself, right now. He’d forgotten his laptop at work, and was now having to go by the office on a Saturday to pick it up. He stepped into his building, the sound of his shoes clicking on tiles echoed in the empty lobby. He took the elevator up to the 15th floor, unlocked his office, Wild Oaks Publishing , and stepped inside.

            Ping .

The sound was loud in the silent office. He knew he shouldn’t, but he sat down in his desk chair to glance at his emails, feeling the urgent pull that the ping had conditioned in him. He had been interviewing candidates for the new position for a week but so far, no one was impressing him. His email informed him that someone else had applied to the position. Looks like he had another applicant to interview this week.


With the Suitcase in your hand, you head to the station. The textured handle feels slippery in your hand, no doubt due to the amount of sweat you are profusely letting out. You glance nervously about. You cannot shake the feeling that you are constantly being watched, and every turn you take, every stop, every gesture, is taken notice of. Yet when you do glance around and glance behind, you see the normal bustle of Sparrow City. Nothing to be worried about. You sigh, as you continue walking towards the station. Your heavy suitcase leans against your right knee, and your arm is already sore. You check your watch, and see it is 3:20, 10 minutes away from the next train. You speed up, and your thoughts return from the made-up person watching you to the business at hand. You walk the stairs to the station, and as you do, you tell God, for either the fiftieth or the thousandth time, that this is the last time you will be doing this type of stuff. No more, this is the last one. I just need a bit more… you think to God. You buy your ticket, using just your left hand with the Suitcase weighing down your right hand, something that would have annoyed you any other day had it been any other suitcase. However, a beating heart, as well as a dropping stomach, is what you feel as you take your ticket. You walk and stop at station 10, right in front of the bench. No point standing right behind the yellow line. Accidents could happen. You stare blankly ahead, and grip the handle of the case tighter. Just a few

more minutes, and The Suitcase would be out of your hands and out of your life. You stand and wait, and run what was going to happen in your head once more. You were going to step unto the train, and make your way to the window seat towards the middle of the train. You were to keep your eyes on the window, until someone took the seat next to you. After verifying that each person had truly found the right person, you were to hand over the case. You would be given another suitcase, this one for you to keep.

You think back to previous events that have led to you starting to take these kinds of jobs. I hope this is worth it. I’m going to stop after this job, you promise God once again. You could not have resisted the pull of money. When you had first been contacted, you were shocked by the amount you would be paid. The task had been a bit disturbing in exchange, but you told yourself that it wasn’t your problem. After that, you soon took another job offered by the Boss. You then think of her, of how after this was done, you were finally going to try and make up to her. You remember the days when she fought with you, wishing you would stop taking these jobs. “It’s wrong and you know it! You need to stop before something happens and you finally regret it!” Deep down, you know that what you’re doing may be wrong, but… I’m just the deliverer, you say to yourself. I’m not the one who is getting what’s inside all these cases, not the one who decides what to do with them . A high-pitched sound fills the station as the train shows up in the corner of your view. You turn towards it, and take a step forward towards it, though you know that it will be a few more seconds until it pulls up in front of you. You let out the breath you have been holding, anxious and also relieved that you would be free of this trouble soon. The blur of silver becomes clear as the train slows and stops. You step forward as the doors slide open. Before your foot hits the ground, though, you feel a yank, and your stomach drops, your right hand suddenly grasping the air. You look back, and you see a black sleeve and glove and the Suitcase blend into the crowd. You spin around and start towards where you saw it, pushing aside people. Oh, God, please help me. You know how important the Suitcase is. You dash after the person. You have to catch up. You have to, or you’ll be in more trouble than you’ve been in before. You run after the running figure ahead, his trail made easier to follow by the people being pushed apart to the left and right, and yet it was the same crowd that made it hard to chase. You make it out of station, and look to the left and right. A cloud passed in front of the sun, throwing the city scene from one of beauty into a darker and more depressed landscape, the people from happy and excited to rushed and downcast. You spot a running figure, Suitcase in hand, make a right at the intersection ahead. You chase after him, your heart racing, and wishing your shoes were better suited for running. As you turn the alley, you think of the consequence that would come upon you should you fail to retrieve the Suitcase. Boss’ll have my skin. There’s no way out of this if I don’t get it back. Your run and turn at another intersection, the captor fifty meters ahead. God, I’m sorry. I should’ve stopped doing this business last time. If You help me get this back, I promise I won’t do this stuff anymore. You watch the figure turn down a street, and you inwardly groan. You know this city enough to know that the area the figure went to is a more residential one with more turns and smaller blocks, and that to be able to see the figure turn into different streets meant you’ll have to be a lot closer to him. You speed up more, feeling your lungs give a tighter squeeze around you. You turn another corner, and another.

Your heart seems to stop. You feel like crying. Especially now that you are at a loss. He’s gone. You slow down at the intersection ahead, and look around, with no idea which of the 3 ways he may have gone. For all you know, he may as well be in one of the identical residential homes that line the streets in this particular area. You put your hands on your knees, breathing heavily, and you are filled with nervousness and terror. You keep turning your head, and decide to turn right. You run, and run, and run. You turn, you run, you look, all the while screaming inside your head, and pleading with God to help you. You slow down. You start to accept that you searching for the Suitcase isn’t leading anywhere. You suddenly feel light headed. From the run, or from shock, you aren’t sure. However, you keep walking. You absentmindedly walk, until, after a couple blocks, lucid thoughts start coming back into your head. You step onto the sidewalk and start your way towards the cross on a steeple, high above the residential houses. God, I’m sorry. You step unto the road to make way for a couple coming your way on the sidewalk. I knew better than to work in stuff like this. It was just so… well, I know better now. You laugh. “I’m going to die,” you say out loud. You laugh again. “I’m going to die!” You tilt your head back, and yell “I’m going to die!” You tilt your head down, and realize that your eyes are burning from tears. You sniffle, and blink and let the tears roll down. I’m sorry, God. I truly am. With the time I have left, I’ll try to put my life in order. You pull out your phone, and dial a number. Bringing it to your ear, you slow your breathing, and regain your composure. You hear the 4th ring of the phone get cut off, and a voice answers the phone. You apologize, you ask for another chance, and in the call that follows, you put this part of your life back in order between you and her. You say the 3 important words to her that you so strongly agree with. You also send the message you have had the guts to write long before, but had never decided to send. With a couple of taps, you send it to the police. You arrive in front of the brick building, and walk up the stairs and into the church. You sit on a pew, and start to pray. With the few hours you have left, for undoubtedly you will be caught-- and not by the authorities-- you pray to God, and ask for forgiveness... and you feel your burden taken from you.


The sea was quite. Last night bad-tempered storm was like a lie. A sheet of cloth that has a red whale was hovering in the blue sky. Black leather boots stabbed the fence of the ship. Arms stretched and the eye sneaked to the hole of golden telescope. On the other side of the telescope, the shell shaped island was visible. It is a beautiful. Green and violet color mixed to form a unique scene of nature, the smell of perfumed Lavender, the murmur of grass and trees. "At last, we are here boys." Eyes glowed with fire stared at the peaceful island.

The center of shell island, "Anything Market" A sharp shining metal fell on thick wood and cut it to fine edge two pieces. "This is great Louie. Thank you. If I go all around the island I won't find a fine blacksmith like you." The man handed the black stained hand three gold coins. "This is too much, Mr. Douglas!" hesitated and uncertain low voice." The last one is for you boy, you did me a great job here. Take it. You deserve it Louie" an ear-to-ear smile drawn on the exhausted pale face. "Thank you" Louie's lavender eyes said.

A giant hand snatched the three gold coin from Louie's dirty hand. "Hey!" Louie shouted. "This is my money, I believe" a plus sized, muscular with a big green bread man stood still in front of the tiny and skinny Louie "But I earned that money," Louie protested. The man sent a terrifying gaze to Louie who stepped back and gulped his saliva. The man's lip went up and showed his front broken teeth

"That is right. You don't take any money from anyone, kid. I feed you and you repay me that is your job" he then left the workshop and Louie stood their sending a hatred digger to the man's back. Louie expelled heavy air from his lungs, and sat down on sidewalk next to a "Limon bar". He stared at the people. Gorgeous suits, fluffy shawls, sparkling jewelry, "hey let's go there and have fun", "Daddy I want some chocolate bars", kiss on cheeks, laughs and beautiful day for everyone. Louie stared at his dirty hand. At the threads coming out from his trousers, slots were here and there in his jacket that was too much for 16 years boy, he was glad he didn't have a mirror to look at his face. He lowered his head and took those heavy airs back to his lungs again. No parents, no house and no money. A lone poor dog.

"You looking for StarTear you said?" Loud voice came from the bar.

StarTear, the name itself was treasure. The drop shaped violet diamond. It gives the wealth to the one who own it. Louie jumped and looked inside the bar.

Bloody wavy hair. She was giving her back to his vision and there were three more other people around her. Two women and one man. One of the women had sliver hair tied in ponytail and hooked nose. The other one was a girl maybe around his age. Short blonde hair and rounded face but oh, her blue eyes were dangerous for the hearts of men. The man was tall, black hair and had brawny arms. He had fine face that for sure girls could kill for that face.

However, it seemed to be that the leader of the pack is the red head women. She was still talking to the bar tender who seemed to be entertaining himself by having a talk with her. "Look miss, I don't know where is the treasure you are looking for," the bar tender passed a glass to her, "Many pirates had come here in past, and believe me they didn't left anything. They searched every inch on the island. Nothing. Nothing came out." He refilled the glass of the man, "In my guess the rumors of the StarTear hidden in this island is just a lie. Nobody found the actual map." He said. The red head nodded.

"Why is this the Crimson Rouge?" oversized body, black filthy long hair, one-eyed man approached the pack. Louie felt a lump in his throat; he never forgot that ugly face. Logan, the beast. He touched his throat and old image popped in his shivering mind. Logan had his blade on Louie's throat two years ago. After he sharpened Logan's sword, he said "Let me see if it is really cut" and he gripped him, pressed his sword blade on his throat. Louie shook his head.

Logan showed his rotten teeth. "SO Rouge you still looking for that ridiculous StarTear treasure?" he giggled and that wasn't sound pleasant at all, as two rusty metal snagged each other. Rouge turned back. Blood stained eyes, white silkily skin and her lips was red as she soaked some blood. Louie stepped forward until his face adhered to the glass of the window.

"How adorable of you Logan. Checking on me. I am touched" Rouge hand over chest, and the blonde girl, giggled.

"Do not you have business to do else where Logan?" the man crossed his arm and stood in front of Logan. He was tiny compared to Logan, but for some reason Louie saw him big in his eyes. "Move Royse! I am talking to Rouge!" Logan roared. "And I don't want to talk to you Logan" Rouge crossed her legs and lighted a cigar, "See Logan, if we begin to turn over tables and make bang, our unpleasant friends will rush, eh? You know them royal coast guards." She puffed giant grey smoke, "let's be friends here. I have my own business and you have your own, okay?" she smiled. Louie unconsciously smiled with her. Logan pointed at Rouge "I am watching you" and he left them.  Louie slid to his spot. He was smiling. His heart was dancing for what, he did not know. He looked up then bounced making cat hiss. Royse was looking at him. Louie stepped back until his back hit the window, gasped for air "I…I …" searching in the dictionary for a quick reply.

"Come inside. Captain wants to see you," Royse said. Louie's eyes turned into two dots.

 She pulled that cigar in pleasure. "You were watching us Kid" a smoke covered Louie's face; he coughed and looked around him. The others where just starring at him with poker faces. Louie rubbed his hands, looked again to the pack faces and yet poker faces. " I am Jenny" the blonde girl reached her hand, maybe she was a pirate but she was taking good care of herself. Louie pulled back his hand inside his pocket. "Do not worry. Here" she said and spit on her hand. "I have a dirty hand now, peace shake". Rouge blasted in laugh, "Did you see that Royse, She is filthy one I told ya" she hit Royse shoulder who seemed not bothering about it. "We are not going to eat you kid" Royse leaned forward to Louie, "we just need a little help" he scanned Rouge who was pulling another smoke, Royse sighted. "You should tell him by yourself Rouge." He crossed his arm.

"Okay …" Rouge put out the cigar then straighten herself up "May you give us a hand young man?" Jenny blasted in laugh this time "Cap you are like those weirdo high class ladies. You need a dead bird's feature and you would be perfect." She was amused; Royse put his hand over his mouth trying not to make a laugh. "Ya shut your mouth Jenny," Rouge pointed at Jenny. Jenny bowed to Rouge "Yes your highness" she said with a throaty voice, Rouge dropped her jaws "You little RAT!" she shouted and stood up from her chair, a chase begin between the two. Louie did not how to act, yell for help or just sit and listen to their unexpected act.  Royse put his hand on his head and sighted "Here is the thing Kid. We want you to show us some places on the island. You know we cannot lurking around with no host. We are pirates". In Shell Island, pirates can visit bars outside the main city, but they cannot go inside the city without any escort. And by the mean of escort, a person who would take responsibility if something goes wrong.

"You want me be your HOST?" said Louie "Yeah, of course with benefits" Royse waved his hand"100gold. That is sound fair to me" he smiled. Louie entered thinking mode. "Make it 300" Louie glared at Royse, he laugh nose "You are trying to negotiate with pirates. Do you know who we are?".

 The name of Rouge was known, who dose not know about Bloody Rouge, the captain of the Crimson Whale ship. She and her crew were among the deadly pirates. Louie washed that fact from his head as if he was cleaning a dirt from a dish. He wanted the Gold, no time for shaking legs and cold sweat, if he wanted to get rid from his greedy boss, he must take risk, even that mean he gave a hand to pirates, and maybe get himself killed.

"300 and I am not stepping back" he tried to hold his guts but it was as if holding into a straw in stormy day, at least for him. Royse showed his white teeth. "I liked that Kid" he turned to cat and mouse. "Hey Captain, the kid said he wants 300 gold. What do you say?" Rouge stopped.  "DEAL!"

 The central memorial park:

The central memorial park was a huge circle with a fountain in the middle.

"Wow, it is huge," said Rouge looking around the spacious park.

"Yeah, like your butt Cap " sound of slap, "OUCH!" Jenny put her hand behind her head "I was praising you" she commented.

"That is not what my brain processed it RAT" Rouge yelled, "Your brain is stinky" Jenny replied. Rouge took a silent moment, seemed to be thinking of something "What is stinky?" she asked, Jenny rolled her eyes

"like the Rotten fish you found under your bed" "You calling my head a rotten!" Rouge fist settled on fire.

"Are you sure she is your Captain?" Louie looked at Royse, he scratched the back of his head "Unfortunately, I'm positive she is"

"Just let us done with this Captain," the hooknose woman said in a bossy voice. "We will. Do not be so hasty Silvia" Rouge hit another slap on the back of Jenny's head.

"Now, where is left?" said Rouge. Louie tilted his head "That way?" he replied pointing to the left road.

"Then let us go there" she strode a head to the left direction. West side,

It was as your flesh nose attacked by sharp needles and stuck in there for long time. Rotten banana piles, piece of sandwich left in the lunch box for over than month this was the smell of the sewerage. And the bubbles came from the under water puffing violet small smokes. They were here for more than three hours.

"Are you sure it is here, Rouge? "Royse was covering his nose with his bandana. "Stop complaining, house keeper!" Jenny yelled from somewhere in sewerage and giggled.

"Exactly! Keep digging!" Rouge yelled.

 "You mean keep diving " Royse puffed heavy air from his lungs.

"This is not going anywhere" Silvia kicked the water which splashed to Jenny, "Hey! This is my new pants!" she shouted. "Are you sure about this Rouge?" Silvia said ignoring Jenny. "Keep digging, you fools! Or I will cut your HEADS off!" Rouge was irritated. For first time, in her voice and moves there were not any squandering and idiocy, her moves was fast, eyes looked carefully at every inch of the filthy sewerage, any item she gets checked three times before threw it. She was in madness.

"Why she is so irritated?" Louie approached to Jenny.

"Captain's legacy" Jenny hissed. "Legacy? What the StarTear? A blot of blue stroked Louie. "Yeah, Captain's predecessors were merchants. They brought it here and hide it…somewhere in this garbage" Jenny looked around.

"So is that how she got the map?" Louie asked. "Her father gave it to her," Royse said, "She is a different one in her rich family. When she made her choice to be pirate, they dismembered her, but her father gave her StarTear map to her before he dies." Royse explained.  "He gave her the legacy of Carmine merchant." "Carmine merchants? ." said Louie. "They were bashed from the island long time." He widened his eyes.

"Yeah, but they built another empire in another place," Royse replied. "That lunatic left all that heaven for this" Jenny motioned to the sewerage, Rouge sneezed. Louie stared at Rouge's back. She was determined. She had every thing but chose to be a pirate. Everything in her was in fire, even her heart. Louie clenched his fist. Hot, heart begun to play rhythm and blood was dancing. Did Louie felt of this before? No, he just wanted to be freed from that ugly blacksmith and never thought about getting in his real steel.

Rouge tossed an item, a grip held her arm and she glared at Louie. "What?" she asked in irritated voice. "Could you show me the map?" Louie's eyes glowed, Rouge reached her gaze closed to him "NO" she spelled the two litters in heavy and slow motion. "Just one peak. Maybe you missed something" Louie dipped his fingers to her arm. "You have a death wish Kid" she put her hand to the handle of her gun. "Just show the kid, Captain. He knows the island" Royse said, Rouge glared at him, a volcano ready to explode, " He has a point Cap" Jenny put her finger in hole of her nose, "damn, I did not clean my hands yet " she threw up.

Rouge looked on Louie. He was not going to let that hand off her arm and he was welling to die to see the map.

"Here!" Rouge handed the map. Quickly Louie opened the map. " SEE! Right there. This is the park and the arrow is on the left see!" Rouge pointed on the red arrow marked with star.

"You reading it upside down," Louie flipped the map. Every one glared at Rouge with narrow eyes, she looked up and whistled. "This is indicating to the right. So to the East "he said

"Alright! Let us head to there then" Rouge strode, "The most terrifying place in Shell Island" Louie said in slow, Rouge paused and every one stood still in their places.

East cave "I will stay here. Watch your backs," said Silvia.

"Okay, Let's go" Rouge waved to Jenny and Louie.  The darkness of the cave was dipping on their bones. "Say Cap, why you send Royse back to the ship?" Jenny asked. "To bring the kid his money, Rat," she yelled.

After some time passed, Jenny screamed. Louie and Rogue turned in terror, "Gosh, it is human skull. Look! Cool!" Jenny showed them the skull she had on her hand. They said nothing just narrowed their eyes.

"Look! A light! Over there!" Jenny pointed at the corner of the cave.

"WE MADE IT" Rouge rushed to the light and Jenny followed her," Wait!" Louie screamed, but they did not listen. He rushed behind them.

When they turned the corner, Rouge paused and the two bumped behind each other, "WHAT THE HELL. Cap why did you stop?" Jenny rubbed her nose as well as Louie did. They looked over Rouge. They froze.

Flesh pinkish long rope like figure, dome size head and two yellow eyes.  "AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" the three screamed. "AAAAAAAAAH" the giant Octopus screamed like a ten years old girl.

"Kill it Cap " Jenny yelled. Rouge pulled her gun. "Wait! Wait!" the octopus waved its tentacles in the air. "It talks" Louie shouted, "You are DEAD" Rouge screamed and fired her gun. It missed. "Not again! Your stinky aiming!" Jenny yelled.

 "Wait for god sake " the octopus screamed while it covered its face," you are Carmines' right?" it was shivering.

Rouge, Jenny and Louie popped a Question marks, " YEAH" replied Rouge.

"Oh! Finally someone came!" the octopus puffed relieved air. "Here take your treasure and leave me alone for god sake. And tell the others not to come here anymore. I'm done with all guarding thing" he pulled a chest from under his big belly and handed it to Rouge.

Rouge opened it quickly," What is this?" she yelled and pulled a piece of rolled old paper. "It is another map, Lady." The octopus replied.

"Where is my StarTear?" she yelled.  "YOU GET YOUR ASS FROM HERE!" the full volume voice that came from the octopus, forced the three to flee from that spot. When they got outside. They heard a familiar voice. "Well, well, Rouge we meet again" Logan said smiling . "What?" Rouge looked at him while trying to catch her breath.

"Silvia you double crossed us!" Jenny yelled and tried to jump on her but Louie gripped her waist.

"Hand it over, Rouge," said Silvia with confident and evil smile. "You Fool, Silvia." Rouge laughed

Louie dropped his jaw when he witnessed the whole pack of Crimson Whale pirates were surrounding them and Logan's pirates. "You send Royse for back up!" Silvia yelled. Logan kicked the ground "damn you Rouge" "Royse, I've an idea. Take them inside the cave! "Rouge pointed with her thumb to the cave. "Eye Eye captain "Royse answered and ordered the pirates to lead them inside the cave.

"HERE your money Kid" Rouge handed Louie a heavy bag. Louie stared at the bag "Could we change the deal, I want to join you" fixed his gaze at Rouge surprised face.

"Well, welcome aboard kid" she smiled and her Crimson hair waved with the wind.


This is supposed to be sometime around the nineteen-fifties, but some things may not be historically accurate and I am still getting better at writing. I did my very best though, and hope you enjoy: The Fight Against the New Highway . It was a dark, dreary day and a bitter-cold wind blew with swerling gusts. A fog rolled in from the East, settling over the subdued city of Miaret. There was an eerie silence over the city. Although the city didn’t usually get such harsh weather, the silence was normal—it had been for a long time. Jasmine started apathetically out the window, fogging the glass. A chill ran down her spine, with the early morning cold. She liked the quietness of the city. Nothing much happened, but that was the way she liked it. “Jasmine, get your face away from that widow,” Jasmin’s mother, Grace, said coming into the room.

Jasmine whipped around, startled. “I need you to run an errand for me,” Grace said. “What is it?” Jasmine said in a soft voice. “I only have a small amount of flour left and I need more. Could you please go get some for me?” Grace asked, handing her some money. Saying nothing, Jasmine took the money and went and got on her grey overcoat. She also got some thick socks and boots, and a colorful shawl to keep her warm.

As Jasmine went through the door, Grace called behind her, “Please be home before ten o’clock!” When Jasmine took a step outside, she saw that it had begun to snow. The light snowflakes fluttered to the ground, making a thin white sheet on the ground. Jasmine shivered and pulled the shawl tighter around her. She realized that she had forgotten her gloves, and her fingers were beginning to numb as she made her way to town.

When she arrived at the store, she heard shouting and commotion coming from downtown. The town wasn’t as quiet as Jasmine thought. Forgetting the flour for a moment, she headed toward the noise. When the source of the noise was insight Jasmine wasn't sure what it was. It seemed to be a protest of some sort. Shouting people were densely gathered around a podium in front of City Hall. Some people seemed angry. People were crying out things like, “We don’t need civilization and new technology to come through our city!” and others saying, “Our city needs to advance! We can’t stay like this! Other towns will be getting more sophisticated!” Someone approached the platform and leaned into the microphone, preparing to make a statement.

“Our town is just fine the way it is. We don’t need advancement—not in this way. While some advancement is good, some can also be bad. A highway is too noisy! We do not need the roar of automobiles roaring through our city! Vote No on building a new highway! Some of the crowd cheered. “A new highway?!” thought Jasmine. Another person stepped up to the podium to make a statement, “Our town is a fine one. We are thriving well… Yet there are other towns that are pulling ahead with advancement. We won’t let this happen! We must not be left in the dust!” The crowd cheered, while others booed. “We need to move on! We need to take action! We need to change! Vote Yes for building a new highway through our city!” There was a map displayed, showing what section the highway would be running through. “That’s right by our house!” Jasmine realized, panicked. She liked Miaret the way it was. She didn’t want it to change. Jasmine had gotten lost in time, as the clock gonged ten o'clock and suddenly, Jasmine remembered about the flour and rushed to get it, then hurried home, almost running. Jasmine burst through the door, her cheeks flushed. “Jasmine, where have you been?!” exclaimed Grace. “I thought I asked you to be back by ten.” “You did, but I got side tracked,” Jasmine answered, panting. “There is something going on at City Hall.” “Whatever could distract you at City Hall?” Grace wondered. “People are protesting about putting a new highway through Miaret, and they want to put it right by our house!” Jasmine exclaimed. “Whatever for?” asked Grace, bewildered. “I don’t know. Some people thought that we needed advancement and other people wanted to keep the town like normal.” replied Jazmine. “Well I won’t have it!” said Grace, now in an uproar. Jasmine agreed with Grace. She didn’t want a noisy highway running through the town. “I’m going tomorrow to go to City Hall and fight this myself.” Grace said. Jasmine’s stomach growled, and she remembered she forgot breakfast. She got a small snack and the day went on, not much happening. The next day, when Jasmine woke up, sunlight was streaming through the window, but it was freezing cold outside, with a few inches of snow on the ground. Despite the cold weather, though, Grace was determined to go to City Hall. She was very upset about everything. Jasmine begged Grace to let her come with her, but Grace said that she would just get in the way. Jasmine continued to beg Grace, until she gave in and let her come along. When they arrived at City Hall, again, there was a protest going on. There was a sign that said “Free Mic”, meaning that anyone could speak. Jasmine and Grace listened to other people talk and Grace got more information about the plan for the highway, and finally, she confidently neared the podium. Grace began her speech self-assured, pausing at moments, thinking of moving words.

“I have lived in Miaret all my life. I have seen it change throughout the years—some for the better, some far the worse. But in the end, the city always made the best of it. Sometimes it was a new business, or a new maor. Even though I was just a child, I went to the meetings and knew everything that was going on. I had an opinion, although I didn’t express it at the time, although I didn’t express it at the time, but now I am saying something and I ask you to listen. There are some things that to this day I wish the city never decided on. These things can affect the city for the rest of its existence. Please, do not let this happen. Although highways aren't necessarily bad, I don’t think one is right for this town. I have a nar-by neighbor that has a young baby, only five months old. She does not want her young one to grow up to the sound of cars and the sight of a busy road just outside their home. Think of what this might do to our children.” She continued for a long time, and once she had finished her speech, the crowd was quiet, dwelling on what they had heard. “May I talk too?” asked Jasmine, as Grace stepped down from the platform. “I don’t think a young girl like you should make a statement,” said Grace. “Please,” Jasmine pleaded, “Why not?” “Well, I guess a few words won’t hurt,” Grace gave in with a sigh. Jasmine made her short speech, inspiring many who listened. Even though she was only a child and her statement was brief, Jasmine believed it made an impact. “Jasmine, it’s time to go!” Grace called out through the crowd. “Do we have to?” Jasmine called back. “We’ve already said what we have to say, and I have voted. There is nothing else to do. We will come back tomorrow to see what they decide on,” Grace replied, now near Jasmine. “Can’t we stay and see what happened,” implored Jasmine. “It will not change the outcome, and we need to get home,” responded Grace. That night, Jasmine thought about the day, Grace’s speech and her own. She hoped they made a difference. She tried not to think about what might happen if they did put a highway near their house, but soon, she drifted off to sleep.

The next day, Grace went to town, but this time Jasmine couldn’t come along, because she had too many things to get done and too much to do at home. Later, that afternoon, when Grace returned, she was pleased to announce that they weren’t going to build a highway after all, and right then, as Jasmine heard her mother say it, was sure that their speeches had made a difference.


The rain thundered outside, echoing loudly off of the tin roof. A steady dripping sound came from the hole in the ceiling, the drops pinging as they hit the bucket. I bundled myself tighter inside my blankets, my flashlight brightening up the blank pages of a book.

I had been staring at it for two hours and flipped through every page, but there wasn’t a single word inside.

The rain picked up, hammering twice as hard against the battered windows. But as quickly as it had picked up, the rain had died down.

I stood up and stretched my sore legs. Running blindly through the rain hadn’t been part of the plan. He knew I couldn’t run to save my life.

I turned out my flashlight since I wasn’t staring at the blank book anymore. I took a step towards the window as something collided with it.

Just rain , I hoped. They didn’t know where I was. Then again, the fact that I couldn’t see anything when I was running didn’t mean that they couldn’t.

Again, there was a thud as something hit the window. I couldn’t mistake it this time. There was something or someone out there. Timidly, I approached the window.

Nothing. Just the hazy outlines of treetops and raindrops falling to the ground far below. Suddenly a face appeared, grinning wildly.

I screamed and stumbled backwards, flailing my arms madly in some pathetic attempt of protecting myself from the person in the window.

Once I pulled myself together, I hastily threw the blank book under the pile of blankets, hiding it from sight. “Oh, it’s you,” I grumbled, wanting to smack myself in the face. Griffon pulled open the window and clambered inside, dripping wet and laughing. “I know I make the girls go crazy, but you shoulda seen yourself!” he said, cracking up all over again as he imitated my freak out.

I chucked a towel at his face. “Dry off. You’re getting the place wet.”

“No, ‘Oh Griffon, I missed you so much’ or ‘I’m so happy you’re alive!’” Griffon teased.

I sighed. “Well, I’m glad you weren’t caught, but next time you come do you think you could try using the door? It’s what a normal person would do,” I added, crossing my arms. “Oh but Marah, we know I’m everything but normal!” he said, levitating a few inches off the ground to prove his point. “It’s Amarah, and does everything have to be a joke with you? I got the stupid book for you. What’s so important about it anyways? It’s totally blank,” I pointed out, fishing the book out of the stack of blankets. “Well then Uh-marah,” he said, emphasizing the start of my name, “The day I stop joking is when I’m dead-,” “Which is going to be sooner than you’d like if we don’t take this seriously,” I finished, finally wiping that stupid grin off his face. “Also, you said the book is blank? This might be a problem,” he said, pausing to think. “Yup, not a single word,” I said, opening it to show him the blank pages. “Ahh! Close it! Close it!,” he exclaimed, shutting his eyes. “What? Are you afraid of a little reading?” I teased.

“It’s part of the Cursed Pages ! You should know by now that Perpetuals like me can’t see cursed objects! Or else we become mortals!” he exclaimed, still terrified to open his eyes. “Oh! Sorry!” I said, immediately shutting the book again and shoving it back under the blankets. “It’s safe to look now.” Gingerly, Griffon peeled his eyes open. He let his levitating body dip back down to the floor. “Geez woman, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to kill me!”

“Jokes aside, what’s so important about this book if we can’t even read it?”

“It belongs to Pliith, but was stolen. I had to get it back. Problem is, Pliith is currently in suspended enlightenment.” he said frowning, looking to me for an answer. I stared back, waiting for him to continue. “What? I don’t know what suspended enlightenment is.”

Now Griffon looked like the one who wanted to smack himself in the face. “Suspended enlightenment is… complicated. It’s something only Perpetuals can do. It’s kinda like sleeping, but you can only be woken up by a spell from our own cursed object,” he explained.

“Then why do it in the first place?”

“It’s a safe haven for Perpetuals, and when we come out, we can gain power. Pliith went in to hide from them. Now they’re onto me, but I don’t think they suspect you,” Griffon said, giving me an encouraging smile. “Yeah, about that…”

“They didn’t see you, did they? Were you followed? We need to move.” “Chill out, it’s gonna be fine. Right now, we should try and figure out how to read this so we can get it back to Pliith and get ourselves out of this mess. This is the last time I’m making a deal with you.” I declared.

“Er- fine. What have you tried on it? I can’t look at it, so this will be all you.” “I’ve only flipped through every page, twice, and tested for invisible ink.”

“And that’s supposed to help us, how?” “Right, magic. What do I need to do to read the book?” I looked up expectantly.

“Let’s see. I think we need to try Pliith’s chant. Stand on one leg, your arms need to be in a ‘T’ pose. The whole time you need to be saying ‘kish winkle jaquwey’.” “Okay then,” I agreed. Hesitantly, I lifted my arms up into a ‘T’, and raised one of my legs. “Um… kish winkle jaquwey kish winkle jaquwey kish winkle-” I stopped when I looked at Griffon to see if I was doing it right. Griffon looked ready to explode trying so hard to not laugh. “That was hilarious! I should’ve told you to hop too!”

I gave him the death stare. “What do I actually do, because I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not spend the rest of eternity stuck in this tree house with you trying to read a blank book.”

“Fair enough. There actually is a chant that I need to perform, but first, you’ve got to spit on it so you can read me the chant.”

“What? You’re kidding.” “For once, I’m not. Say ‘I desire that Pliith be free’ then spit on the book.” “Sure, what do I actually have to do?” “I swear that’s it!” he said, sounded offended. I glared at him, but did what he said. Eventually the book would wield words. With Griffon’s crazy chants or without.

“I desire that Pliith be free,” I declared, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Griffon closed his eyes as I opened the book, and spit in one of its ancient pages.

The effect was instantaneous. Five words appeared on the page in jet black, scribbled ink. As soon as I read them however, they caught on fire setting the book ablaze. “Ahhh! What do I do!” I shouted, the whole book now a flaming mess.

I frantically ran around the tiny room looking for something to quench the flames. All that came to mind was the pouring rain outside. When nothing else came to mind, I pried open the window and thrust the book outside into the heavy drizzle outside. “What’s going on? What happened?” Griffon asked, opening his eyes.. “It caught on fire!” I exclaimed, exasperated. I pulled the book back into the room, charred and soggy. Griffon looked thoughtful. “Probably should have warned you that would happen… oh well.” “You knew it would catch on fire!?” I shouted, sounding more and more incredulous. “It was a possibility but-” “But what?” “Nothing, you saw what it said, right?” he asked, concern creeping into his normally teasing voice. I racked my brains to remember what the ink had spelled before it caught fire. I tried turning to the page where the words had been, but as I expected, the page was entirely black, the edges burnt away.

“I think it said ‘water, stone, frostbite, moonshine, heartshine’” I recited, scouring my brain for any recollection of other words. “Marah-” “Amarah,” I interjected. “Uh-marah, are you sure?” He asked for clarification. “Yup. I don’t know what else it could have said.” “Okay then, it’s a recipe.” “What do you mean?”

“Kinda like a potion. We have to gather all the ingredients, put them together and then we can recall Pliith back,”

I blew out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “You make it sound easy,” I remarked. He grinned. “I make everything look easy.” I rolled my eyes.

“We don’t happen to have any frostbite lying around, do we?” he asked, looking hopefully in my direction. “This is your place, you’d know better than I would,” I pointed out, glancing around at the nearly empty room. The only furniture present was a couch buried under the pile of blankets that had been my hiding spot for the book. There were two square windows, positioned opposite of each other, and trapdoor in the floor that opened up to a ladder that took you to the base of the tree. A tree house. “We’ve got water, stone, moonshine probably means we have to expose it to the moon, heartshine and frostbite might be more difficult, but I’m sure we can manage,” Griffon noted, though he was mostly talking to himself. “I guess we’re off to the Arctic circle to get some frostbite from Diamanda.” “How are we going to get there?” I asked, not able to think of a quick way to get to the arctic. “Teleporting,” Griffon replied like this was common knowledge. “Grab my hands,and hold on tight. I don’t know what happens to mortals if they get lost in teleportation, but let's try not to find out.” “Thanks for those reassuring words,” I said sarcastically. I picked up the sodden book, and tightly held onto Griffon’s hands. Griffon closed his eyes and muttered a few incomprehensible words. Suddenly I felt like I had been tossed into a washing machine on a spin cycle. The world tumbled around me with a dizzying effect, but as soon as it had started, it stopped.

I stood in a frozen, icy tundra with nothing but snow whipping past me. Griffon was already walking away. I jogged up to him.

“Took you long enough. I thought you were gonna puke on me!” he exclaimed. “Yeah, remind me to never teleport again.” Griffon’s hair looked white in the flurry of snow. He grabbed my hand and went barreling into a snowbank in front of us. He winked at me right before he dove into the frigid powder. With no time to argue, or even scream at him, he had yanked me through the wall of snow and into an open, icy cavern. After many near-death experiences with Perpetuals, I don’t even know why I’m surprised by these things anymore. The inside wasn’t just a cavern. It seemed to be crudely sculpted into a kind of foyer-like room. “Excuse me? This palace was sculpted to perfection!” a high pitched, feminine voice screeched, echoing through the ice cavern. Griffon rolled his eyes and shouted back, “Diamanda! We come in peace. We only-”

“What to rob me of my frostbite? Well I can tell you, the only way you’re getting it is if I personally shove it up your-” “We get it!” Griffon exclaimed. “But, can we at least try to negotiate something?” Diamanda sniffed in indignation. “What are you planning to cheat me out of this time? I can already see you scheming. And you keep saying ‘we’. What poor mortal have you dragged into this mess? I sense another mind, who?”

Griffon looked alarmed.

“I didn’t know you could read Perpetual's minds, I thought it was just mortals,” Griffon casually pointed out. “Enhanced enlightenment will do that,” Diamanda’s voice declared.

“You never said she could read minds!” I whispered.

“She can,” Diamanda said as she entered the icy foyer. Her stark white hair was frozen in tight icy curls, her pouty lips were a bruise blue and she had a long, pale face. “Ice to see you again Diamanda,” Griffon teased. She frowned at this. “Who’s this with you? Of course I already know, but I’d rather have an introduction,” “Irrelevant, she’s just-” Griffon didn’t seem to know where he was going. “Amarah is more important to you than you’re letting on,” Diamanda said in a sing-song voice.

Griffon looked like he was trying his absolute hardest to not lose his cool “Get out of his head!” I shouted at the ice witch. However, my head was still spinning with what Diamanda had meant. “How sweet!” she said, squealing. “Wait! Griffon! Don’t!” she shrieked, before collapsing on the ground. I turned back to Griffon. He seemed to be glitching in and out of sight. “Griffon!” I whispered. “Griffon! What’s happening! Are you alright?”

“Yup! Got the frostbite, now let's scram.”

Griffon said, smirking and holding up a glowing snowflake the size of a grape. Then he frowned. “It’s not her I’m worried about though. They’re here.” “Wait! What even happened? How’d you get the frostbite?” I asked, my thoughts jumbled from the quickest encounter I’d ever had with a hostile Perpetual. “It’s been a while since we’ve worked together. Since then, I now have super-speed. What about you?” he asked, grabbing my hands. “Real quick though, we should go somewhere else,” he added, before he threw me back into the spin cycle that was the world around me.

When I regained my balance, I inspected my surroundings. It looked like we were in the middle of a wheat field, muddy puddles of clouded water covering the ground.. Off in the distance there seemed to be a run-down barn, but other than that, it was wheat as far as the eye could see. The sun was dipping below the horizon, turning the clouds cotton candy shades of pink. “You were wondering what happened?” Griffon asked. “Yes! We can’t just storm into a Perpetual’s home and then leave right after they collapse for no apparent reason!” “Fair point. Diamanda kept her frostbite on a necklace. She would be temporarily weakened without it. With my epic skills, I stole it from her, and we escaped. I couldn’t tell you the plan because then I’d be thinking of it, then Diamanda would know the plan, so I had to do something irrational and without thought.” “Isn’t that what you would normally do?” I teased. “No…” he said, looking away. We both laughed. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy my adventures with Griffon, even when most of them are life-or-death scenarios. “Now we just need heartshine,” I said after a while. “Easy. It’s just a confession of the soul. So all you have to do is pour your heart out to me,” he said slyly. Then, mocking my voice he added, “Oh Griffon! I’ve always loved you!” “Oh shut up. We need to get working,”

I stated. “The moon is out, the sun is down, let’s get this over with.” In one of the puddles of water in direct moonlight, we placed a stone and the frostbite.

“Confession time!” Griffon said, doing sarcastic jazz hands. “I guess I’ll start-” I didn’t want to ruin anything between us by a stupid confession. I didn’t even know what I’d confess.

“Is it really necessary to wake up Pliith?” I asked gingerly. “Yes! What are you hiding from me, I wonder,” Griffon said smirking. “Fine! You go first.” “Amarah, ever since I met you on our first adventure, I knew you were a special mortal.” I wanted to roll my eyes, but for once he sounded serious about what he was saying. “Marah, you mean a lot to me, more than I can put into words,” My face felt like it was flaming. I had absolutely no clue what to say to that. “I-uh- wow. Griffon-” “Alright! Enough of the lovey-dovey stuff!” a voice demanded, and it wasn’t Griffon’s. “Pliith has returned!” Standing in the wheat was a glowing man, maybe ten feet tall.

“Thank you Griffon for bringing me back. You have done well. Take your girlfriend here somewhere else. If she’s mortal, they won’t be able to find her. Griffon however, you’ll be on the run for some time. You better get moving. I sense an unfriendly presence nearby.” Griffon looked awestruck. I’m pretty sure Pliith was really big in the world of Perpetuals. “Okay, I’ll uh, do that,” Griffon stammered.

Before we left, I handed the soggy, charred book back to Pliith.

“What in the blazes did you do to it?” he roared. “Just what Griffon said,” I mumbled, looking down. “Hey! Don’t put all the blame on me!” Griffon exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender.

“Relax, I’m kidding. I’m surprised the book is still intact. Thank you,” “No problem. We’ll go now,” Pliith nodded, giving Griffon a thumbs-up. He grasped onto my hands as we teleported back to my small town on the outskirts of the forest we had been hiding in at the start. Griffon looked elated. “We did it! Quick recap of our awesomeness: We stole a book back from some people who are now hunting us down as we speak, set that book on fire to get a magical recipe, took frostbite from the ice queen herself, and summoned the coolest Perpetual back to Earth! Thanks Marah,” he said, waving to me as he walked off into the forest. “And don’t worry about me! Those Perpetual hunters couldn’t find me if I glowed neon green!” “I don’t doubt it,” I smiled and waved goodbye, my heart pounding inside me for more reasons than one. I walked down the sidewalk, pulling my house keys out of my pocket and slipping them into the keyhole. It was good to be home.


It had been twenty-four years since she'd last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. She was 12 years when she visited the place and now as an adult of 36 years ,she was visiting it.However,the place looked exactly the same. The place always had a special thing in her heart as she used to visit that park with her family and friends ,play there with them and enjoy with them every evening .She was having a nostalgia because memories are like that only .The best comparison of memories has to be with a 'box of sweets' because you go for one but end up with many .Aren't the special ? But what makes them special. The answer has to lie in their weird character. Isn't it weird that when you think of a good memory,you cry and when you think of a bad memory ,you smile over the fact that how you used to cry over that .She was also feeling the same as she remembered ho she used to enjoy here and cry when she used to fall. The park was just an ordinary park for her but now ,standing in the middle of the park ,she realised that it was not ordinary but special. What is the meaning of special . Does anything has to be a costly affair to be special. Well,in this materialistic world ,may be but deep down,we all know that special comes from something else .Special things are the moments which you have cherished ,the time you have spent with you dear and near ones or the journey that made you you,but for her, at that moment ,that park was the most special thing .She was crying and laughing and when you do that ,it means you are living a moment of present or sometimes of your past but that crying and laughing is indeed special... She went in every corner of the park and it was very relaxing for her .It seemed like every corner was talking to her .Every non -living thing was becoming living. She looked all around and started thinking that why she visited this place after such a long time .The answer lies in the concept of desires...What are desires ??To be successful or to be the best . Well,it differs from person to person but one thing is common that desires do make you selfish and when Gautam Buddha said that there is no end to desires,he was right. So ,for the materialistic things and her desires ,she went away leaving her hometown and this park as it is . When she was leaving,she felt bad but the desires to achieve more in life consoled her .Her parents wanted to achieve more and thus ,they went away and took her also from her hometown and ,then ,there was no looking back . Desires are like that only,you get struck in a web to achieve more and more and then ,there is no looking back .So,what made her come back here .It was the deal of her house in her hometown as her parents were dead and she had to sell this house to someone ,so ,she came here .She already knew that it would be an emotional moment for her but it was more than that ,it was her connection with her childhood. What is so special about childhood?The answer would be' everything'.When they say that childhood is like a holy scripture,they are right because it is full of purity and piousness .One can never forget it and the relations that one has made in it even with the non-living things and that was why she was feeling so connected .It was a routine for her to come here,she used to talk with the tree ,tell them everything going in her life as they were never judgmental and she knew that. Coming back in the present from her nostalgia,she thought and regretted that why she didnt come here earlier. and is it so important to be successful The answer is yes!!it is . Every person in this world has to have a goal to strive but is it essential to leave your roots for it . No!!we can maintain a balance too but humans forget this while running behind their goals and the result is that they achieve their goals but something is left in their heart ... A void.. Suddenly,she was interrupted by someone .That was th house broker ,he told her that he has come up with a very good deal for the house and then,he asked that you must be thinking that how the park has changed so much . On hearing that,she was astonished because she was seeing the whole park as it was earlier .Then ,suddenly, she looked around and realised that he was actually right ,the place was all changed because there was less trees now,obviously the world is going for industrialisation at the cost of environment .There were less swings now and less people .She then realised that she was looking at the park with' her own view' ,a view that relied and was built on her memories .She then told the broker that she will not sell the house and she told him that from now onwards,she will come here on a periodic basis because some things are not meant for trade,they are just near to you and so was that house and the park in front of that house have become her to now. She realised the importance of these things .The broker went away and she was happy and contented after so long. She again realised that in the park,everything was again the same as it was twenty-four years ago .Thus , a realisation came to her that we humans shoud  see a particular thing with 'our own view' ,the view of others doesn't matter at all ,she realised that memories are special and the ongoing development and the craving for success can become very high but it can't take away your memories ,they will be yours till your last breath and the realisation that there has to be a balance and humans should start doing that because contentment comes from being attached to your roots .She knew that she could not visit the place for so long but the realisations were worth .'Her own view' was hers only ,free fro any external pressures and  for her,"that was all that mattered"


Police Detective Montes made his way over to the older gentleman in the back of the populate bar, sitting at a booth with a dim bulb.

Montes carefully approached the down-trotted fellow.

“Is this seat taken?” Montes sternly asked as he sat down anyways, not waiting for an answer, but simply asked to act “polite” “What do you want,” said the older man, with a grizzly deep voice. The bass in his voice made it almost inaudible to understand what he said.

“I’m just here to get some wisdom. I work with the NYPD…” Montes trailed off as the cocking of the hammer on a handgun clicked loud enough to be heard by the detective. From his analysis, it likely was below the table. “I don’t want to talk to any dirty pig, especially in my drinking hole,” he blurted out, in a low-stern tone.

“I am not here to arrest you. We have you on the deactivated suspect list. I am here because I need information about how the ‘life’ was”. “Are you turning?” “No, oh God no, I’m still a cop…” said Montes as he quickly scrambled to find a way to lighten the mood, “... a pig. Still a pig.” The stern face began to give way to a smirk of amusement, as the older man re-positioned himself, placing the pistol in his lap. “Now you are seeing from my perspective” chuckled the man. Grinning himself, Montes slowly began to relax as he could detect the tension in the booth dissipate. Feeling a chance to engage more in conversation, Montes asked, “So why do they call you Sunny?”

Sadden by that name, Sunny shuttered slightly, looking down into his half drunk glass of Whiskey. The rugged looking man seemed to be staring at this glass for a minute in pure silence. Only the ambiance of the bar music and patrons filled the space. Suddenly, Sunny knocked back the rest of the Whiskey. He did not wince, looked over to his left, and nodded at the bar tender. She acknowledged the subtle nod. The woman turned around, taking the Johnny Walker off the shelf, and pouring a full glass of the liquor into a water stained glass. She came out from the bar, strolled over and replaced the empty glass of Sunny’s with the newly poured one. Again, a slight nod of acknowledgement from Sunny is all that was said between the two.

The loud booming voice thundered the booth as Sunny spoke. “They called me Sunny, because of how bright the muzzle flash was from my gun.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” agreed Montes eagerly, finally having Sunny loosen his jaw.

Almost with a new found excitement, Sunny leaned in, placing his pistol carefully on the table. “This is the beaut’ here. I modified the muzzle to allow for more of the flash to show. I had to make my mark more intimidating than the others. You know, no one takes orders and gives respect to some soft Nancy, but if I can back what I am saying, then people are more inclined to listen. ” Montes quickly pulled out his notepad, and began to furiously write down the wisdom Sunny freely bestowed. In a startled gesture, Sunny grumbled, “What the hell do you think you are doing.” Noticing the NYPD Detective had not heard him, Sunny swiped the notepad from the detective, quickly skimming through the page.

Increasingly growing upset with every note read, Sunny threw the notepad to another nearby booth.

In a disgruntled tone, Montes commented, “what did you do that for?” “YOU ARE GOING UNDERCOVER! Why would you waste your life and morality for that!” “It's part of my assignment, and honestly, I am a little excited. I get to see the ‘life’ from the inside, while doing some good for the city as well, putting bad guys behind bars.” “Listen, there is no such thing as good or bad in the ‘life’. There is no choice either. If you are asked to do something, it is yes, not no. No gets you killed. No is what makes your tongue become a necktie that you wear to your own funeral. No is what makes them cut your balls off, and hang them on your mother’s door knob. NO MAKES SUNNY COME TO YOUR....” exclaimed Sunny, as he cut himself off.

A sudden onset of silence between the bar’s patrons occurred as everyone witnessed Sunny leaned over the table, pistol pointed at Montes. Sunny snapped back from his flashback. He quickly took note of what had happened, and where his gun was pointed. He slowly sat back down in the booth, putting his pistol back into his jacket.

Montes sat there in shock, with the starry eyed excitement he walked in with, completely gone at the monster that was known as Sunny Valdez came out. He saw a man in that moment completely become hell incarnate. The destruction and desolation at his hand’s screamed from his eyes. Drinking half of the fresh glass of Johnny Walker, Sunny closed his eyes, breathed slowly, and seemed to relax again. His fiery eyes seemed to subside to the medicine of the drink. Everyone seemed to go back to their own conversations as the apparent violence to ensue was stifled by Mr. Walker’s concoction. In a sense of relief from the fiery flare of a flashback, Sunny asked, “Kid, let me tell you something. Do you have someone you love? You have a girl?” “Yes, we have been together for five years.” “You married her yet?” “No, not yet.” “Can you live your life without her?” “No,” Montes muddled. “Do you have kids?” “Two kids.” “This is what you ‘ought to do. Go marry your girl, love her. Go hug your kids, tell them you love them, and don’t let go. Go back to your precinct, and turn down the assignment. Walk the beat, work cases, stay at the desk, I don’t care, but do not, I say, do not work undercover in the life. It's not worth it, life is too short for trading your family for the excitement of your curiosity.” Sunny said. He pushed himself up from the booth, downing the other half of whiskey on his way up. Sunny pulled out a hundred dollar bill from his jacket, and placed it under the glass for the bartender. He turned to glance at the state of the detective. Seeing the discouraged looking Montes making eye contact back in terror of what was said. This made Sunny feel compelled to ease the burden of Montes.  Sunny let out a sigh, and began to utter his parting wisdom to Montes. “I went undercover thirty years ago. I lost everything I loved, and took everything people loved. I started on the right side, but the life, for whatever reason, turns everything wicked, no matter the intentions.

There are some things you can learn to let go and forget, and other things that I don’t even think God can forgive.”

With a reassuring hand on Montes’ shoulder, Sunny continued, “I don’t want that for anyone, not even my worst enemy. Please kid, choose wisely, and learn from my mistakes.”