Log #2 As I stepped down the ladder, I was dreading being in this place for days, or, if I'm unlucky, months. When I reached the bottom, I looked around. I saw an oven, a fridge, and a few other necessities. Kitchen. There were two hallways off the kitchen. I walked down the one closest to me. There were a few numbered doors. These must be the bedrooms. I walked back to the kitchen and down the other hall, there were a few open rooms, I only peeked in them. One had a foosball table, a pool table, and a few more. This must be the game room. I looked at the room across from it. It had a door. I opened it and there was a bathroom, only a toilet. There must be bathrooms in the bedrooms. I walked to the other two doors. There was a few shelves with books in one. Library. The other one had a fireplace, a T.V., a few couches, and everyone else that was in there. They all looked at me when I came in. I saw my friend (I forgot to tell you, his name is Fin.), and a few others. I assumed they were friends and family of his. I said hi and sat down, and we immediately started talking. About the nukes, the stock of food we had, etc… There was an older woman, her name was Mag, a little girl and boy, Rachel and James. A woman about my age, Dawn, Fin, and me. After we introduced ourselves, we talked about what we were going to do. Fin said this place has a recycled air system in every room. Not only enough water to last 5 people 5 years, but also a water recycle system. He also said we have a large sum of canned goods, a few herb farms (Cilantro, Cayenne, etc. .) And a freezer room full of meats, vegetables, fruits, and more. Not only a generator, but a backup generator, and a backup generator for the backup generator (The one I brought.) I told you he was at a good place in life. We then picked our rooms, packed up the goods I brought, and I settled my ferret in. By then it was about 6 PM. So we started on dinner. I made myself some spaghetti-O's, then settled down in my room. Each room had 2 outlets and one T.V. Before I went to bed at about 9, I went and talked to Fin. About why I felt bad that I didn't bring anyone else. About why I just wanted to sit and think for hours, which is what me and him did. We were there talking until about 3 AM. Then I went back to my room and slept till about 8. I woke up to a familiar smell, someone was making bacon. I went to the kitchen and saw Fin making some bacon. A lot of it. Enough for everyone. When he saw me he smiled and we started talking. Soon everyone came out. We all talked and ate breakfast. And for the first time in years, I felt like I had a family. I was stuck with these people for a long time. Better make friendships. After breakfast we all sat down and watched some T.V. It was an amazing time. The kids were playing, we were watching some T.V. and talking. I was happy. Finally with people I actually liked. Then There was another rumble. All of the lights cut out. Shit.


Log #3 Fear That's what I felt when the power cut off. Since there was no natural light, it was pitch black. I had seen backup lights in the halls. Why weren't they on? I turned my phone flashlight on and looked around. Some others did the same. I asked Fin why there weren't on. He said the backup generator had to be started. I said I'd go and Fin came with me. He showed me the generator room and told me to start the backup generator. It had a pull motor. I thought how long it would be until I was back up there, mowing the lawn. I tried to pull it and it made a thud. I looked at Fin and he shrugged. I tried a few more times with no luck. I thought of the worst and looked in the gas chamber, it was empty. I asked him where more gas was. He thought for a second then looked at me with dread in his eyes. I realized what that meant. They were up there. I then tried the backup and even the backup to the backup. No gas. I asked him where the gas would be up there. He looked at me, confused, then said his shed. I walked out of the generator room and looked at the latch. Then at him. Dammit, someone had to go up there. I told him I'd be right back, and started up the ladder. He yelled at me and told me I couldn't go. We then argued for a minute and he said the least I could do would be to wear a protective suit. I asked him where it was and he showed me to his room. In his closet there was a cheap, white suit. Kind of like a hazmat suit. I then put it on and went to the hatch again. I started up and he wished me luck. I thought about what I thought when I first came in here. I wonder when I'll see the sun again. I guess I'll see it now. As I put my hand on the hatch, I gulped. Do I really want to do this. Do I have to do this. I do. My hands turned the hatch. I put my hands on the hatch and pushed. It was bright at first, then it slowly got darker. It took me a minute to realize that the sky was completely covered by clouds. These weren't normal clouds though. They were ash clouds. I looked around and saw his shed. I wondered if the whole world was under a nuclear winter. I opened the shed and saw it was cluttered and full of stuff. I sorted around and, in the corner, there was two canisters. I smiled and grabbed them, and stopped. They were too light. They were empty. I tried to think about where the nearest gas station was and realized that we were in the middle of nowhere. I stepped out of the shed, and looked at my surroundings truly. All I could see was dark skies, craters, and fires. And if I want to live, I'm going to have to travel in this.


I never should have gone to her. If I had known then what I know now I wouldn’t have. This is my story and let it be a warning. Remember to be careful what you wish for. I learned the hard way. I fled from that place three years ago and finally stopped running when I hit a backwoods town in southern Louisiana. I had been there for a week when the story of a forty-three-year-old woman who had gone missing from the same town that I had just left came across the news. As soon as I saw the picture of my sweet momma, my heart clenched and the world fell out from beneath my feet. According to the news report her husband, my stepfather, had come home to a wife distraught over her baby girl running away. He had tried to console her, but she attacked him and fled. The news report was wrong though. I knew what had really happened. That sick bastard had made good on his promise. Now I am going to make good on mine. The night I left I swore on everything I held dear that I would make that monster pay for everything he took from us. My innocence, my momma’s light and now her life as well. That’s how I ended up outside of her shack. Nobody knew her name nor how long she had been there. Some said she created this town and others said this sad little town created her. Whispers floated around that she could grant your deepest wishes. She could make the one you love to return the feelings. She could make a barren womb bring life. She could take your demons away. I wish I could claim innocence. Say that nobody told me there would be a price, that I was ignorant, but that would be a lie. As I stood at her door trying to gather the courage to knock I heard a voice behind me. “I see your pain, my child. Your grief is louder than any knock on my door.” Her honeyed creole voice washed over me tinged with razor wire. I turned, expecting an old stooped woman, but came face to face with a girl no older than myself. Dark dreadlocks encircled her head like a crown with pieces falling over her chocolate shoulders. She was petite with a heart-shaped face and would have been considered beautiful, if not for those eyes. I felt myself falling into those eyes that echoed the abyss. Black and bottomless, they threatened to drown me under their power. I could feel myself slipping into a place no human could survive. “You are right to be afraid child.” Her voice jerked me back to reality. As I blinked the abyss disappeared replaced by honey brown eyes. Normal human eyes. I opened my mouth to explain why I had come but she held up her hand, stopping me. “I know why you have come. I can see the scars that monster has left upon you.” The sheer amount of sadness in her eyes told me, in that moment, that she was not talking about the physical ones. I wondered what she had gone through to hold so much sadness. “I will help you but it comes at a price.” I reached into my pocket scrambling for the last of the money I had left. “Will this be enough? I know it’s-” Her laugh cut me off making me feel as if claws were whispering down my back. “I have no use for such earthly items. No, child, my price is much steeper.” Walking past me she opened the door to her shack glancing back at me. “Are you willing to pay the price?” I hesitated at that moment, something telling me to turn back. I could walk away and never look back. My heart leaped in my throat as she started to close the door and I knew if I didn't decide now I would never find her again. Desperately I rushed towards the door. “Wait! I’ll do it! I will pay anything.” I held my breath, secretly praying it was too late. She raised one of her eyebrows. “Anything you say?” I nodded stepping toward her to grasp the door. Her gaze roamed over me as she seemed to consider my words. “Very well then. Follow me.” I followed her through the open door stepping into the one room shack. I looked around taking in the small area. The far corner held a single cot and rocking chair with what looked like animal hides draped over them. To my left was a fireplace with a deep black pot boiling over the flames. I walked further in having to duck to avoid dried herbs, feathers, and what I prayed were animal bones. She gestured for me to sit at the small table to my right. I sat as she took a seat across from me placing small vials on the table in front of her along with a mortar and pestle. I watched as she began to mix herbs and liquids I couldn’t even begin to guess. As she mixed she started to chant in a strange language. Immediately the atmosphere in the room began to change becoming suffocating and heavy thickening as she continued. I started choking from lack of oxygen, black dots filling my vision. Just as I thought I would pass out the chanting stopped. I gulped in air as if it were my first meal in years. As my vision cleared I found her staring at me. “The only thing left now is a drop of your blood to seal the spell and contract. You still have a chance to walk away, my child.” I swallowed and shook my head holding out my hand. I had already come this far. “Not even going to ask the price?” Again I shook my head. “Whatever it is I will pay it. He deserves to rot for what he has done.” Tears fell from my eyes as I thought of my sweet mommas face. She didn’t deserve her fate, but he sure as hell deserves to suffer. I grimaced as I felt the needle prick my finger and watched as the droplet fell in the mixture. “By blood, it is sealed and by blood, it shall be paid.” Her voice had changed to that of a thousand and I watched as her eyes once again became the abyss. “The price shall be five souls of those who have committed the same, if not greater, sin as that of your stepfather. You shall take one life each year for the next five, but no more than one in the year. They shall be reaped every Samhain. If you do not fulfill this your soul and that of your mothers shall be forfeited and will replace these souls.” My heart thundered as my vision went black. I awoke in my own bed the next morning, the only evidence of what I had done lying on my nightstand. A silver dagger with a bone handle and a gold chain with a vial of black liquid sat there. Two days later my stepfather appeared on the news. He had been beaten to death when he was caught attempting to rape a fourteen-year-old girl. It was then I knew without a shadow of a doubt that what had happened was real…... That was five years ago and tonight I finally made my last payment. It has been a long five years. I can still hear their screams in my nightmares just as I heard this one scream as he begs for his life, apologizing for what he did to Michael and Caleb and Noah. I feel tears running down my face as I see those sweet boys twisted and bloody in his basement. His pathetic pleas fall on deaf ears just as those boys tortured screams must have fallen on his. I have paid in full and I will be giving her a bonus. One more tortured soul for that of an angel. Please, Lord, forgive me…..and if you can’t, tell my sweet momma I love her and I will accept my judgment as I stand before you. Goodbye….


Log #4 The nearest gas station was in town. And Fin lives about 15 miles out of town. I walked back up to his house. And saw my car was there. I thought I was lucky it hadn't gotten stolen. I walked up to it and hopped in. Looked in my glove box for my keys. They were there, luckily. I tried to start it but was surprised to hear a grinding noise. I looked at my gas gauge. Empty. Then I smelled it. Gas. A leak? It must be. I looked and saw an exposed wire. A few. And they were sparking. In a car filled with gas. I immediately jumped out. I walked around and saw Fins car. I hopped in, and didn't smell gas. I looked in his glove box and, luckily, his keys were in there. I turned his car on and saw his gas gauge. He had barely any. But hopefully enough. I turned his keys and put the car in reverse. I had never driven a manual before. But I thought I better learn fast. I remember my aunt drove one. And I hoped I had what I knew to drive it. I backed up, out of the driveway, and started down the freeway. I drove for awhile, then got bored. So I turned up the radio. I felt like I was in one of those apocalyptic movies. I drove for awhile and then saw the sign for my town. I was so happy. Never had I been so happy to be in my town. I pulled over to the Shell gas station and walked inside. Ransacked. As expected. Although, a few things were left. And I grabbed a few Pringles cans and sodas. I decided to grab some things for myself and my ferret. I then got behind the counter and put 20 on 4. I was happy that I worked there for those few months. As I filled up the car, I thought about how far away the nearest life was. And then I filled up the canisters. I started up the car and drove back. I went into the shelter and filled up the generators. Then started them up. The lights came back on. And I went looking for people. The first thing I saw was the kids. I asked where everyone else was. They said they were around here somewhere. I went to the freezer and took stock of what we lost. We lost a few meats and some vegetables. I went to my room and fed my ferret. Then sat down and watched some T.V. I assumed the others were in their rooms. I drifted off to sleep to the sound of jeopardy. When I woke up, I walked into the kitchen. And I heard the sound of rain on the vault door. It has to be acid rain. All of the radiation in the air would have to do that. I looked at the fridge to make breakfast and saw a note. Hey kids, sorry we left. We were just going to find some gas. And look for [me]. I realized where they had gone. Out there. Into the acid rain.


“Marla Mead?” The receptionist’s voice snapped Marla out of her reverie. Hastily Marla stammered out a, “Yes, yes, that’s me,” and instantly flushed – *christ, who else would it be, I’m the only one here* \- “Follow me, please,” the receptionist said, before disappearing through the doorway at the far wall, the one with the sign above it whose inviting yellow lettering read, “*HINDSIGHT 20/20: Live Your Perfect Vision!*” Marla jumped to her feet, quickly gathering up her heavy winter coat and tote bag into a bundled mess in her arms, then hurried through the closing door. She jumped when it slammed shut behind her, the echo belying the stooped and narrow hallway before her. As she caught up with the receptionist, her mind searched anxiously for possible small talk to fill the air with something besides the rustling of scrubs fabric, or her own heels, whose rubber soles had long worn down to their metal bones. But her heart was pounding too powerfully with the prospect of possibility to think of even a single thing to say, too preoccupied with wondering what new life would unfold for her when she left here. She had no idea the specifics of how they did it, or how long it would take, but what did that matter, when- They had reached another door. The receptionist was turning the knob and pushing it open. An examination room lay beyond the threshold, humbly decorated with a plain desk along one wall, a black leather chair along another, and a beige exam table acting as the slanted centerpiece. “Sit there, please,” the receptionist said. She was nodding towards the exam table. Marla clumsily placed her coat and bag in a precarious pile on the black chair, then walked over and climbed up on to the exam table. She winced at the loud crinkling of the paper lining the seat beneath her, but the receptionist barely seemed to notice, merely placing Marla’s chart in the slot on the door, then closing it with a click and leaving Marla in a sudden swoop of silence. Marla’s eyes scanned the walls that were empty of paintings or windows; the only thing to hang in this room was ringing silence. She absently locked her hands, lined with swollen joints and veins, on her thin lap. Her feet dangled from the edge, revealing a run in her stockings peeking out near her Achilles tendon, above the faded scuffs of once-supple leather shoes. As if someone might notice, she crossed her ankles, hiding the run from sight. The door opened. Marla lifted her head to see the kind eyes and beaming smile of a doctor who seemed to radiate like a sun as he entered the room. Instantly, she felt awash with warmth from his rays; that no matter what happened from this moment on, she would be safe. “Marla,” he said, his voice a rich deep baritone that made her feel further dipped in butterscotch, “You must be Marla.” “Y-yes,” Marla managed, nearly speechless in her awe; he was taking her hands into his, as if they were long-lost friends finally reunited. “I’m Doctor Morton,” he said, and turned slightly towards a young, slender blonde nurse whose smiling dimples were contagious in their brightness. “And this is Anka. She’s training today, if that’s all right.” Marla shrugged in a dazed and happy helplessness, “Sure, of course.” “Great,” said Dr. Morton, pulling over the stool that was tucked beneath the desk to sit. He opened the chart he had grabbed from the slot on the outside of the door and looked at it for a moment, then folded it over and clicked a pen. “So, my dear Marla,” he said, “Tell me, what brings you here today?” Marla hesitated, “Well, I heard about this place – I don’t even remember how, actually - about how this place can…help people, reverse what’s gone wrong in their life.” Dr. Morton’s eyes were steadfastly on her, his head at a wonderfully attentive tilt, “Yes, in a matter of speaking. While I do not know the specifics of what you were told, what we can do here, Marla, is send people back to a time in their life. A pivotal moment, a crossroads, and give them, for lack of a better word, a do-over. Now, the science is not a perfect one, and of course, no future is predetermined once we send you back. And once you go back, you are back for good. There is no finding me again, there is no third chance at the life you want. Are you willing to accept that?” Marla swallowed hard, and nodded, “Y-yes, yes, I am.” Dr. Morton, looking quite serious now, nodded again, this time at Anka, who pulled out a clipboard from a drawer at the desk. “This,” Dr. Morton, “Is a small disclaimer, fancy-language of what I just told you. Once you sign that, we can begin.” Marla smiled weakly as Anka handed her the clipboard and pen with an encouraging but solemn bow of the head. Marla haphazardly signed her name at the bottom, then handed it back. “Excellent,” said Dr. Morton, pulling his chair in closer. “Now, what I want you to tell me, if you can, your crossroads moment.” “I was 21,” said Marla, “And…I had given up.” “I, um, I was in a very intense arts program, in college,” Marla continued, “Opera performance. And…I wasn't doing well. I had had cancer during my freshman year. The technique they taught was totally incompatible with my voice. I had a horrible, toxic romantic relationship that lasted nearly my entire time at school. I was falling fast into an eating disorder from years of body dysmorphia. I had acid reflux that was so bad I had to have a stomach surgery to fix it, another month-long healing process during my junior year. But all of that, I could have risen above. Even constantly being told and shown that I had no right to even attempt my hand at singing, at trying to do what I felt I would die if I didn’t…even that, I could live with.” Marla paused. She closed her eyes and choked out, “The worst part was…they were right.” “It was as if they knew from the beginning, and I was hiding it under a thin veneer of denial the whole time: that my vocal cords were weak, prone to injury. I couldn’t sing for more than 20, 30 minutes a day, without becoming tired. After graduating, it was more of the same, no matter how careful I was. Oh, when I stopped singing, I told people it was…a lack of love for performing that made me give it up. That I was happier doing other things. But in truth, the truth I could never admit? I was naturally predisposed to physically fail at the thing I had dreamed of doing since I was a child.” Dr. Morton said softly, “You know, as much as I wish it for you – doing this won’t change that.” Marla, vision blurry from tears, replied, “No, I know. But to be able to live a life where I don’t feel bad about shortcomings I was dealt, where I'm not haunted by this shameful secret I could never admit to the world, not without my heart breaking all over again…I want that. A life…without that.” Dr. Morton stood up and came to her side, “Well, we'll make sure you get it.” He smoothed down her hair kindly, then said, “I’m going to lower this table down now, all right? And Anka here is going to give you something to make you sleep. A vial of fluid, that allows us more ease in transitioning you to the place you want to be.” Marla watched as Anka approached her, hand holding a thin glass tube of clear, unassuming liquid. “Whenever you’re ready, Marla,” the doctor said. Marla stared at them both, then downed it in a single shot. It burned slightly, but finished on a sweet note. “Good luck, Marla,” Dr. Morton said, his voice growing faint. His smiling face was the last thing she saw before her world sank into blackness. \* “She’s there now, Doctor?” Anka said quietly. They were watching through the glass, standing in a room darkened by the passing of time. Dr. Morton nodded, “Yes. Permanently. We make it so the simulation plays out until the patient expires. Which, given that we are mining their bodies for…*resources*, doesn't take long.” Past the pane lay Marla Mead, in a room shared by dozens of others. All of them were asleep, strapped to hospital beds and riddled with tubes, faces white and smiles frozen, closed eyes seeing all they could ever wish to see – forever.


Lifetime “Are you sure? You don’t seem very sure.” “Yeah. I’m sure.” “A few questions, then. How old are you?” “Twenty-five.” The young man squinted. “Twenty-five? You don’t look a day under fifty. May I see your identification?” The man took out a small, coin-shaped metal device with a red button on one side and a yellow button on the other. “I really look that old?” I glanced at his clean white suit and his gold link watch. “Ah, no wonder. You live above us, don’t ya? You one of them highlanders?” The man did not respond. “No wonder you look so young. I thought you knew that everyone down here looked forty years older than we actually were. You’re part of the problem - you get that, right?” He ignored me and handed me the coin device from under the glass pane. I placed my thumb on the yellow button and pushed. A sharp needle pierced my finger which siphoned a drop of blood into the device. The man took the coin and placed it into behind the counter to analyze my identification. “It’s the chemicals in the air. That’s why we look so old. You highlanders dump all your waste and trash down here. Most people on the surface don’t even make it to 90 while, at our expense, you all live forever. My dad expired at 51 from lung cancer. My mom was 60. Heart failure. I’m luckier, I’ll expire at the age of 79.” I looked at the highlander. “When do you expire? 500 years from now? 600?” “Would you like to transfer or sell?” the highlander asked, disregarding my complaints. I looked down at the “sell” section of the conversion rate paper the highlander gave me. One year for 100,000 dollars. My mouth dropped in amazement. In comparison, I made 120 dollars a year, which even I thought was a decent amount of money. Then I glanced under the “purchase” section, which was crossed out by red marks. “Why can’t I purchase? That’s why I came here.” “Ah, you didn’t know? You can’t purchase years in lowland machines, and you can’t sell in highland machines.” The man smirked mockingly. “It’s how we control supply. Time flows in one direction: upward.” “You highland folks are really something else, aren’t you? Just because you live all the way up in the clouds, you think you’re better than us folk down at the surface. You look down on us. You’re all so clean, so well kept, so young! You want to know how my sister died? A brick. One day, when I was playing outside with my sister, some highlander dropped a brick all the way down from the clouds. Bullseye. The brick smashed straight into her skull, 500 miles an hour. I couldn’t hear the punk, but I knew he was laughing from way up there. Cause’ that’s just how you folk are.” “I’m really sorry for your loss,” the highlander gave an exaggerated frown. “Transfer or sell?” “Both. Transfer and sell.” “Transfer rates are 5,000 each year.” “That’s fine.” “To whom would you like to transfer?” “My daughter, Eden.” I looked down at my daughter as I held her hand. She looked up at me, confused about the whole situation. “How many do you want to extract?” “All of them.” “We can’t take all of them - that’d be assisted suicide, obviously illegal. However, we could do your whole life minus a year. And, by your expiratory date, that is...” He did some calculations in his head, looking at a screen. “Fifty-three years.” “That’s fine.” “Identification for your daughter, please.” Like before, the highlander handed me the coin under the glass pane. I pushed the yellow side up against Eden’s finger and she gasped with a loud cry. I handed the device back to the man then he analyzed Eden’s identification. “Her expiratory date is in June? That’s in three months.” “Yeah. Doctor said surgery wouldn’t work for her disease. Transferring my time to her is her last and only chance.” A genuine look of sympathy flashed over the highlander’s face, before quickly returning to its usual smug attitude. “Alright, then. Finalize your details on this sheet and we can start the procedure momentarily. Remember to sign.” The man handed me another coin and a paper for my information. Years to be transferred: 25. Years to be sold: 28. With twenty five years to live and two million and a half dollars, she’d be able to pay for a trip up there, to the clouds. I’d rather have her live a short life up there than fifty three years down here. In the bottom right corner of the sheet was a box for my signature. I pressed down hard on the red side of the coin device with my thumb, which coated my finger with just the right amount of blood. I signed my thumbprint in the box and handed everything back. The clerk brought us to the operating room and laid us on our backs. He wrapped metal shackles around my arms and legs, constraining them to the table. “For your safety,” He said bluntly. He stuck me and Eden with various metal wires sprawling across the room. “Shouldn’t we be sedated for this?” “We’re all out,” he shrugged. “No worries, though. Your daughter won’t feel a thing.” The clerk’s face lit up as if he had came up with a brilliant idea. Smirking down at me, the clerk hastily positioned a mirror directly above me. I looked up at the mirror and I saw my own face staring back at me in terror. Before I could resist, he flicked the machine on. A sharp and constant pain coursed through my body. I tried to scream, but there was no sound. I saw my skin gradually become a rough leather and creases begin to race through my body. My hair grew rapidly, clumping up in one great knot. The giant ball of hair began to whiten and then finally fall off. As I rotted, I looked over to my daughter eyes shut through the comforting hum of the machine. I watched my daughter as my time continued to fade away. My transformation was finally complete. With much effort, I seated myself up. A sharp pain pierced my abdomen. “As you know,” the clerk informed, “You’re dying of kidney disease. You’ll expire in exactly 365 days.” The man continued. “If you’d like, I can pull up you and your daughter’s new expiratory dates.” He rechecked our identification. I had 53 less years to live and Eden had 25 more. “And my money?” I asked. “Subtracting the transfer cost, you receive,” he checked a paper. “2,675,000 dollars for 28 years. We already transferred it into your balance. Check your identification to see it.” I immediately bought an upgrade for Eden’s elevation score and transferred the rest of the money into her balance. Two million dollars for access all the way up to the clouds. I shook my head in disappointment. I had successfully turned my daughter into the very thing I had loathed for my entire life - I had successfully turned my daughter into a highlander. Was I a hypocrite? Was I wrong to blame them as a group? If my daughter could be a highlander, doesn’t that prove at least some of them may be good? Despite what he had done, I thanked the clerk on my way out. I don’t know why I did it. The dimly lit street lights were fireflies, flickering and buzzing as I slowly walked down the narrow tunnel of apartments. I looked up at the sky and saw nothing but the eternal darkness. When I was a boy, my father always told me stories about the sky. He told me there used to be a Sun - a giant, bright light in the sky that was so bright it hurt your eyes if you looked at it for too long. He told me the highlanders took the Sun away so they could have it all to themselves. I smiled. I smiled because I knew that the darker it was down here, the brighter the Sun would shine up there. The brighter the Sun would shine on my daughter. I continued on my way to an elevator which would carry my daughter up to the highlands. I was stopped by a guard upon arrival. “Stop. Let me see some identification.” I took the coin and brought it up to Eden’s finger. “No. Your identification.” “Only she is going up.” “Minors need to be accompanied by a legal adult - new rule. Too many kids up there with no parents clogging up their orphanages. The state won’t take kids without parents anymore. You should have came a week ago. Sorry.” “Fine, I’ll just give it to someone who’s going up.” The man shook his head. “You really think any highlander gives a damn about her? We hate the highlanders, and the highlanders hate us. That’s the way it is and that’s the way it always will be. A month ago, a woman came to us with the same idea as you. She asked every single highlander that crossed to take her child to an orphanage up there. And they wouldn’t even go out of their way to drop her off. If they’re too occupied to simply bring a child to an orphanage, what makes you think someone’s gonna take your child and feed it? Shelter it? Look, I hate the rule as much as you do, but I have to enforce it.” “Please,” I begged. “You hate them, right? It’s what you said. We’re on the same side! Just put her in the elevator and send her up. Please!” “What you just asked me to do is to break a law, punishable by life harvest. And I am not into repeating myself or the idea of having my life sucked away so some foul highlander can buy it from me. Now, I’m tired of talking, so I will have to ask you to either show some identification or get lost.” The guard grabbed his rifle. The other guards stared at me, all gripping their weapons. I reached into my coat pocket where I brought my pistol. I had nothing to lose, I was going to die in a year, anyway. I clenched my fist around the grip. And there was no way I was dying from kidney failure, that’s for sure. No one was going to stop my daughter from getting up there. Not society, not some new rule, and definitely not a few security guards trying to keep her down here. As fast as my feeble hands allowed, I pulled the pistol out and aimed it directly at the guard’s head. My arms shook. Ten guards stood up and trained their rifles at me. Lasers dotted my forehead. “Let her through!” I yelled desperately. “Let my daughter through or I’ll shoot you all!” The guard smiled. “Look old man, I get it. You want your daughter to have the best possible life. We all want our family to have perfect lives, trust me. I sympathize with you. That’s why I’m not having my men here spray bits and pieces of you all the way to the clouds. But, if you don’t drop your gun and place your hands behind your head, I’ll have no choice but to order them to do just that. And with her caretaker dead, I’ll have no choice but to take your daughter, plug her up, and transfer her life to me and my men.” “Stop,” a voice said from behind. “You lowlanders always have something to fight about, don’t you? It’s honestly tiring. I’m just trying to go home when I see you delinquents waving your guns everywhere like monkeys playing with sticks.” I looked behind. It was the man in the clean white suit and the shiny gold watch. The clerk. He looked at me and said, “I’ll take care of your daughter.” “Get out of the way, boy! You’re in the middle of crossfire!” The security guard yelled at the clerk. “No,” The clerk walked up to me, put my gun back in my pocket and grabbed the stroller. “You get out of my way. I’m going up to the highlands, and you’re blocking the path to the elevator. Now check me and this girl’s identification, or I’ll have your ID number for wasting my valuable time. Then, the state will find you and make you look like this old man over here.” He nodded towards me. The guard reluctantly checked their identifications and opened the door to the elevator. The clerk nodded towards me in approval as the elevator closed and ascended into the void. The guards trained their weapons on me once again, but they were nothing but blurs. Their shouts and orders became muffled, as if they were screaming underwater. As I stared above at the elevator, I could only focus on one thing. I thought about Eden’s new life with the Sun and clean air. Her new life without dim street lamps and without falling bricks. With her new opportunities, she could attain success - something impossible to achieve in this world. I thought about my parents who told me that the only thing they wanted was for me to be happy. They had accomplished their goal, and I had fulfilled my purpose. Looking up at the elevator as it rose above the clouds, I pulled the gun out of my pocket, placed the barrel to my head, closed my eyes, and pulled the trigger.


*One man learns the deep always takes back what its owed...* Written by: Adam Dodd  Frank Piedmont held the flat of his hand over his eyes and looked out to the sun dappled lake. Its surface was as calm as the radio had forecast but his concerns lie deeper. He checked the pressure on the tanks, adjusted his straps, and then double-checked the pressure again. They were on a schedule, but he’d rather run late than not at all. That didn’t mean he was eager to plunge into the thirty seven degree waters. The S.S. Lightfoot idled along Lake Erie’s Long Point; coordinates typically afforded a wide berth. The jagged, rocky coast flared in and out of the lake like a row of busted teeth. There was no more dangerous passage found across the entire body of water for sailors and sightseers alike. It was for this same reason that they dropped anchor. Frank’s partner Waylon joined him on the side of the boat. “We should be over it just about now.” It was Waylon’s lead that had guided them. He picked it up second hand but it boasted a decent haul if it bore out so Frank was game. This wasn’t their first plunder and he appreciated that Waylon always had a nose for these things. He nodded and waved him off. “If the ship is down there: usual deal; sixty-forty.” “What? Nuh-uh. Fifty-fifty. I found it. I got us out here.” He knew better than to argue just before a dive. He ran a finger over his moustache and smiled. “Sure, Waylon, sure. We’ll talk about it later.” “Need I remind you, this is a research expedition?” Dr. Benton demanded from across the deck. The graduate professor was the one who chartered the boat but she knew better than to press either man. Amanda Benton PhD would become a household name for the maritime discoveries soon to set her apart from her peers. To do that, she would have to reach them first. That meant bending a few rules and breaking others she didn’t want to give thought to. She was still building rapport with the world of plundering. Until then, she feared she was all but along for the ride. “There’s a reason they call them the Great Takes, Miss Benton.” “It’s *Doctor* Benton,” she corrected. “We’re supposed to be here charting historical sites, not bobbing for trinkets.” Frank gave her a wry salute while pulling the goggles over his head. “Do you have any idea just how many wrecks at the bottom of this lake, let alone Long Point? We’re just going for a quick dip. Promise not to take anything anyone will miss.” “It doesn’t matter who notices, it’s still wrong.” She worked up the nerve to say what really gave her trouble. “There’s never been a tide the lake’s failed to take back.” Frank winked in spite of her disapproval. She was far from the first to think that they cracked it, that they had a real angle to work on the lake. It was big business if you knew what you were doing. The day traders and drug runners that typically chartered Waylon and Frank had no more clue than this pushy academic, he surmised. That she was right all the same didn’t help. “I’ll bring you back up china plate.” Before she could continue their argument, he kicked his feet up and let the weight of his oxygen tanks pull him over the side of the boat. His flipper broke the surface of the water and then he was gone from the Lightfoot’s sight. # “It doesn’t matter who notices, it’s still wrong.” She worked up the nerve to say what really gave her trouble. “There’s never been a tide the lake’s failed to take back.” No matter times he had done this, it was always the insulation that registered first; the silent inevitability every motion took on. He worked his way deeper, aiming away from the light. Frank knew if his partner had it right, the wreck wouldn’t be far. The wake shouldn’t have been an issue but after plunger several feet he couldn’t swim out of the clouded waters that began to surround him. Something had upset the lakebed, and recently. The deeper he went the worse it became. Frank clicked on his flashlight. Nothing but churning brown and green clouds surrounded him. Bits of wood and stone pelted him and clattered against the side of his oxygen tanks. He pushed further, knowing if he reached bottom at least he could orientate from there. Broken masts ring out like dinner bells to plunderers. Even still, he nearly missed it through all the murk. That this one hadn’t snapped from whatever storm befell it only piqued Frank’s interest. It wasn’t the late-1800’s schooner they had gone in search of. This was one smaller. It was still too far to make out, but most of the ship appeared intact. He kicked his flippers towards the wreck but got turned around in a sudden current which blew him head over heel. It only took a moment, but by the time he regained his momentum the ship was gone. He would have spent more time searching had he the chance but all sunlight had gone. His flashlight was no use to dark waters surrounding him. Only after things began raining down on him could he tell which way was up. He didn’t understand what it was but knew to swim against it all the same. Somehow everything made even less sense when he reached the surface. A storm had broken from out of nowhere and the Lightfoot was missing. In its place a much larger ship rocked uneasily atop the volatile lake. Frank struggled to reach the side of the ship as choppy waves shoved at him in all direction. It took all his energy just to stay afloat. As frank paddled closer, he could hear the peels of thunder and groaning ship lumber were peppered with the frantic screams of the men on deck. They weren’t expecting the summer swell either. A length of wet roped whipped against his face. He grabbed hold and pulled himself aboard before the lake would have him. The scene on deck fared no better than the chaos below. Crewmen crashed into one another like toys in a child’s tantrum. Water had already begun filling the ship. A body, trampled no doubt, lie face down in a rising pool. Frank’s mouth formed the words, “What is this? What’s happened?” but nothing could be heard over the din breaking around them. One of the shipmate collided into him. His pupils fluttered in broken panic, searching for anything to make sense, finally settling for Frank. “We’re sinking. God save us, I think we’re sinking!” Before Frank could offer commentary, a sudden swell bucked the ship on its side before slamming it back. The turbulence took the other man off his feet and flung him overboard as Frank watched, helpless to the devastation. In his shock he was brought to the ground, falling against part of the ship that had broken free. The cables and straps to his scuba tanks were tangled in the debris, pinning him down. A plate of iron would have caved in the side of his skull had one of the crew not pulled him free from his gear at the last moment. Frank clung to his wrist before he could run off, demanding, “Where are we?” It was only now that the seaman took in the stranger’s odd costume and realized he was not one of them. “What do you mean where are we? We’re in the shit! Where else?” Frank struggled to make sense of his situation. “No, I mean, this isn’t my boat. I’m not supposed to be here.” The two men looked on in mute horror as another wave crested over the ship, washing away the bow with it. “Well, wherever you’re supposed to be, mind giving what’s left of the Mediera a lift?” “*The Mediera?”* Frank knew the ship well enough. He would one day swim through its sunken hull, searching without success for anything viable enough to sell to private collectors. The ship pitched forward and everyone braced for a wave’s momentum to throw them back, but this was different. This time they were going under. Frank reached for a splintered side of the ship but it came loose in his grip and he found himself overboard again. He choked down more and more lake water and realized he was drowning. He fought it at first, but without his scuba gear, lost in pandemonium of the Mediera, he was out of time. It was in his last gasp for air that he realized he wasn’t alone. The ship that had first taken him off course was waiting at the bottom. He was closer this time. Without the typical pelt of algae, wherever the ship came from the loss was recent. He strained to read the name on the side of the boat as his world grew black but it was too late for Frank Piedmont.  “Just in time, yes?” A man in a drab blue uniform smirked as he kneeled over Frank. He shook his head in disbelief. “We thought we lost you there for a minute.” It took Frank a moment to register he was breathing air. Lying on his back, he took in his surroundings. He was aboard a different ship again. This time it was an immense steamer, overcrowded with passengers. Whatever storm had devastated the world around him moments prior had cleared, only to be replaced with a thick fog which lingered over their passage. “What? Where, where am I?” “The Atlantic, barely. We saw you face down out there and roped you in. How the hell you got that far out on your own is beyond me. You got a boat out there, fella?” He considered it. “I- I was on the Mediera, but I don’t know how. It sank. So long ago.” The crewman thought it over, “*Med-i-era*? Never heard of it.” Frank knew he was right to doubt him. “It was an old ship,” he muttered. “It sank a long time ago. Somehow, I don’t know how, but somehow I was onboard.” The crewman shot him an uncomfortable glance. “*Old*? Mister, you must have been in the drink longer than I thought. You’re not making much sense.” More of the steamer’s passengers were leaving their cabins, curious about the new attraction. Frank finally noticed the others. Their clothing, the shabby waistcoats and high-hiked knicker bottoms, it was all so *old*. So was the ship, for that matter. A steamer? They hadn’t used them since— “Where did you say I am?” “The Atlantic.” The man repeated. Frank realized he wasn’t talking about the ocean. “Like, thee Atlantic ? As in the H.S. Atlantic? As in one of the worst steamship wrecks of all time, that Atlantic?” “This is the H.S. Atlantic, but I don’t know what you’re on about. We’ve never sank. Clearly.” “What year is it?” Frank demanded. “It’s 1852, isn’t it? When did it happen, when did it go down. August? August 30? It’s August 30th 1852, isn’t?” The crewman did not know what dark math Frank was calculating but he didn’t care for the sum of its parts. He nodded wearily. “Listen, you need to get the Captain. You need to warn him.” “Just calm down, mister. You must be sick or something.” “No!” He persisted. “You need to listen. You’re going to run into the Ogdensburg. It’s going to be a disaster. Hundreds will die.” The crewmember laughed uneasily, aware a crowd was growing. “Hate to argue, but it’s been smooth sailing all day long. There’s really nothing to worry—” “Enough of this,” Frank pushed himself up, using the other man to brace as he found his knees. The others stood like stacked corkboard, dully taking in the show as he pushed his way through. “I don’t have time to argue. I need to speak with the captain, now.” In answer, the ship lurched forward as a calamitous boom erupted from the fog ahead. The passengers, crew, and Frank Piedmont fell to the deck. The tearing followed in a deafening punch of snapped timber and iron. A dark monolith cut through the shroud of fog encasing the H.S. Atlantic. The Ogdensburg had struck. The man Frank had been arguing with shot a frightened look of suspicion back. It wouldn’t be immediate, but they both knew it was inevitable. Lake Erie began pouring in through the gash left behind from the larger ship’s collision. Passengers would spend the better part of the next hour baling water to little effect. Frank watched as the first lifeboat capsized as they attempted to launch. He knew after the captain would give himself a concussion, a disorganized crew would escape with the remaining two lifeboats, leaving over two hundred passengers to their fates. The rest was history. # The tearing followed in a deafening punch of snapped timber and iron. A dark monolith cut through the shroud of fog encasing the H.S. Atlantic. The Ogdensburg had struck. Over a hundred years in the future, Frank Piedmont would pass off a gnarled piece of rotted ship hull to a woefully credulous buyer. To sweeten the swindle, he would retell the tale of the H.S. Atlantic’s sinking and the passengers’ futile attempts at survival. That point in time would still have its moment, but in this one, Frank Piedmont was dying. The Niagara was next. He tried warning them of Long Point’s hunger but they would prove just as foolhardy as the Rebecca Foster, and the S.S. Idaho after that. All of the entrees long digested by history. Regardless of whichever doomed ship he would wash upon, the fears which Dr. Benton had first given voice to were never far behind. *“Lake’s never failed to take back a tide yet.”* He was falling again, slowly sinking from the latest disaster until he reached the bottom of the lake. It was calm this time, expectant. The ship had returned; the same one that had first led him astray. This time it was closer than ever before. Frank reached out and took hold of a railing along the bow. He pulled himself closer to see he was not alone. A water-logged crew bobbed listlessly within its cabin. He pushed them aside. Bloated corpses became perfunctory for a seasoned plunderer. Instead, it was the name along the side of the boat which froze him in undiscovered horror. The lake poured into him, filling his lungs as he gasped, “The Lightfoot?” “Orillia, Ontario’s native son,” Waylon answered back. Frank’s eyes were forced shut from the brilliance of the mid-afternoon sun as it shone off the lake’s surface like polished tin. When he dared them open he saw the familiar deck of the Lightfoot underneath him. His partner reached for the scuba tank now slung across his back. “Why don’t we try that again with your tanks hooked up this time, yeah?” “What? What happened?” Frank finally choked the words up. “Your tanks, the lines came loose,” Waylon answered. “I’m sorry, man. That was on me. That’s why we pulled you up before we even got started.” Frank let the latest reality wash over him. “Get started? How long was I under for?” Waylon shared an uncertain exchange with Dr. Benton as she looked on from the cabin’s doorway. “You okay, Frank? You were only in there for, what, thirty seconds?” He blinked, incomprehensive at first, then in amusement. “Thirty seconds? You’re saying—and, and this whole time? I’m here? I’m really here?” Frank laughed at the thought of trying to explain the series of tragedies he found himself a helpless passenger to. He rapped his knuckles against the wooden boards on the deck, amazed at just how real those other lives had seemed, how intimate those wrecks felt. He inhaled until his lungs burned full from the moist lake air, thinking the chance would never come again. The explosion that followed was so loud Frank thought he had been struck with something. The force knocked his knees out from under him. He sat up in time to catch sight of Waylon engulfed in fire. His partner staggered mindless toward the edge of the deck as flames dripped from his limbs. A shrieking curtain of reds and oranges, he tried tipping his body over the side of the boat but the damage was done. The waters hissed and steamed as the blackened corpse tumbled in. Frank had told Waylon that the electric winch had been shorting out, but they agreed to wait out replacing it until they really needed to. An errant electrical spark caught the compressed oxygen in the leaking scuba tank and it tore through the Lightfoot like a bomb had gone off. What part of the bow that hadn’t been shorn off was on fire. Gnarled scuba tank shrapnel spread across the ship. Dr. Benton pulled a piece of the jagged metal from her thigh and deep red began pouring free. Still deafened from the blast, Frank took in the carnage besetting him and he understood. It was too much for the small boat. He could already feel that familiar pull, that inevitable gravity all doomed ships knew too well. He was here for the Lightfoot just as he was for the Mediera, the Atlantic and all other ships which met their ends in the waters of Lake Erie. There was never a tide that failed to return. 📷 “And that’s why you never disturb the ships that come to rest at the bottom of Lake Erie.” The children’s nervous chatter and questions were gone before the story had ended. They bunched together, eager for all the macabre details that adolescence cherished. The summer squall would pass just as swiftly as it had sprung, but the cruise attendant’s tale was a welcome distraction for them. This was far from the first time she had spun the local legend for children who were as welcome as extra luggage to parents unable to find sitters. One of the kids worked up the nerve to ask. “So what happened to those people on the boat?” “Some say they’re still out there,” the cruise attendant recited from memory, “forced to live through all the horrors they once capitalized on. But none of you have to worry about any of that because now you all know better because you’ve heard of the curse of the Lightf—” She was cut off by a commotion coming from the deck. Someone was screaming just audible over the rising winds, “Mandy, quick! Get out here!” She motioned for the children to stay in their cabin. “I’ll just be a second.” The rain stung her face raw the moment she stepped onto the deck. Thunder erupted from the depths of green clouds which blistered throughout the sky. The storm had kicked up since her story began. They must be passing through the eye of the small cell, she thought. She tried gaining sight of the attraction but the others were crowded against the railing looking out the waters just beside the S.S. Good Times IX. # “Some say they’re still out there,” the cruise attendant recited from memory, “forced to live through all the horrors they once capitalized on. “What do we got?” she shouted. “It’s a rescue,” one of the clerks announced. He had forgotten of the storm and was just excited to find reprieve from the gift shop’s key chains and beer-coozies. The cruise attendant looked out to the army of frothing white caps closing in on them. “Where? I don’t see any other ships.” “That’s just it.” They were helping him over the side of the railing as the other man answered. “He was out there all on his own.” She brought a towel over to the bedraggled man but he flinched back once he saw her. “It’s okay,” she promised. “We got you. Not sure how, but you survived. It’s some kind of miracle.” Frank Piedmont took sight of the latest crew and shook his head, knowing better as the thunder clapped louder, closer this time.


"Where are we now?" I asked. I scanned over the long, spindly trunks that hung down from the clouds of treetops. There was no sun, but the sky was blue and the ground was as lit as day. "Here," he said impatiently. "And where is here?" "Where we are." I rolled my eyes. Fine, then. We are here and that's where we are. "Now you're getting it!" he smiled across his four rows of teeth. "Oh, mind yourself," he said, slapping my chest with his cane. I stopped: just out of the way of a centipede thicker than myself and longer than a train. It skittered along, barely giving me a passing glance. Its body kept coming and going and coming and going, pouring down the road like a legged river. "We're gonna be here a while," he said with a gravelly chortle. He wound his rubber-like arms around his body two, three, four times before placing them firmly on his hips. He turned his head with an audible creak and stared at me, closing his lips but keeping his smile. I coughed, forcing my gaze away from his. He didn't move. I kicked some dust from below my feet. His stare dug into my flesh. A passing tree trunk way above us swiped through the air. It rained flecks of dirt onto my face as I watched it. He was still staring at me, as if he was waiting for me to do something. I glanced towards the back of the centipede. The end of the centipede was in sight. "That was awfully boring," his eyes shifted mechanically up and down my body. He finally turned his view away from me and to the sky. He leaned way back in an exaggeratedly exhausted showboat. "We're already at the end and it feels the same as when it began!" I eyed him in clueless silence. The centipede washed out of our way. Its rump wiggled like the tail of a happy dog. Or of a hunting cat. He spun his right forearm around his elbow like the hand of a manic clock, gestured forwards after a good few spins, and touched his forehead to the ground. "Shall we continue?" he asked the dirt. I took a step forward. Crossed the centipede's road. Walked a little bit away. He was still behind me, head pressed into the dirt. I crossed my arms at him and sighed. "We shall," I gave him. He rolled down his neck and over his back, landing, on his feet, by my side. "Wonderful!" he smiled. He marched forward, bouncing off of each step and swinging his arms wildly at the shoulder. I trailed behind him, watching the tail of his coat drag a trench through the dirt. Tiny bugs wiggled out of the bed of the trench and pulled on the sides, burying themselves again. Some of them chittered angrily as they did so. "Your coat seems to be disturbing the bugs in the dirt," I told him. He gave me a patronizing laugh. "That's what it's for," he said over his shoulder. I considered asking what that meant, but instead, I shrugged it off and kept walking, careful not to step on the line he was drawing. "You won't hurt them," he told me. "They're too far down." I hummed him a response; just enough to show that I heard him. I still avoided his wake. Suddenly, he stopped walking. He stood rigid and even sprang back and forth a bit, as if his heels were staked into the ground. I flinched and slid to a stop. Without moving the rest of his body, he tilted his head back and looked at me upside-down. His mouths kept smiling, but they shaped into a frown from my perspective. "You aren't losing your curiosity, are you?" The playfulness in his voice was gone; he sounded more like a normal person than ever before, but coming from him, 'normal' was chilling. I tried to speak but my words got caught in my throat. I swallowed and shook my head. "Good," he said, retracting his neck and facing forward again. "Your curiosity is your only lifeline, you know. I wouldn't want something to happen to you." He stood still for a moment longer, as if for dramatic effect, then took a huge step forward and continued his bouncy march. My body was colder and stiffer after that, but I kept pace. We walked in silence for a little while. A thin tree trunk swung lazily by, mere inches above the ground. Our world was getting darker as the leafy clouds filled more and more of the sky, dangling ever-larger trunks over the world below. "Where are we going?" I finally managed to ask. "There," he said. "And where is there?" I pursued - as if I didn't know what he was going to say. "Where we're going." He looked over his shoulder again. "Come on, you know that by now! We're going there and that's where we'll be!" At least he was jolly again. "You-hoo!" something screeched. We both froze in place. Its voice was nails on a chalkboard, a fork over a plate, teeth against wood. "You-hoo!" it screeched again. I started turning to the sound. Two long arms clasped against my temples, holding me in place. "Don't look at it," he hissed. "Keep walking." His face was inches from mine. I was lost in a sea of yellow sclerae. We took careful steps, me moving forwards and him moving backwards. He didn't release my head. "You-hoo!" He took faster steps. I was forced to follow. "Please-oh!" The screech started morphing into a pained moan. My back tingled. I felt the stare of something sinister burn through me. I tried to turn around and look behind me. It was pure instinct. I couldn't control myself. But he held my head forward. "What wins?" he yelled into my face, his crossed sets of teeth ejecting acidic saliva. "Your morbid curiosity, or your desire for safety?" "Hey-ah!" The moan turned to anger. "Hey-ah!" It was getting louder. Closer. It took an immense amount of willpower to control my head, even with his vice grip restraining me. His pinpoint pupils shook all around, examining every last pore of my face. "Gotcha!" Something sunk into my back. I screamed. He relinquished my head as I craned it around. A maniacal cackle drowned my ears. My body filled with a burning warmth. My vision went blank. *(This is only part one but I'd like to post this and request some feedback before taking it much further. I want to be a writer and I have lots of things I want to publish, but those are novels and books and I need to practice first; this short story is my first 'real' attempt at creating something meaningful.


The world knows me not but I have come now to reveal myself. I am the harbinger of perfection. I have been chosen to announce HER coming. The world has changed since it was decided that I would be the one to guide her back. But the mechanics are the same, and I will abide. No, I *must* abide. We humans are but children caught in a tumultuous flood. We are swirling in an everlasting pool of chaos with neither handhold to grasp for momentarily relief nor precedent for the salvation of understanding. If we ponder any facet of existence long enough we shall see that there is no truth, no logic, no reality to anything at all. Our understanding is built by what is immediately presented to us and the moment is all we may live by. My moment has, and forever will be, red. In the beginning there was only I. I stayed close to the trees for dangerous creatures lurked in the dark. In the trees I was safe from harm. I could avoid their sharp claws and teeth. I could take refuge from the night. In the day I was free. The things that would hunt for me would flow back into their hiding places as the tide does when the moon has set and the sun rises. I was always alone. Pawing at the soft damp earth for hard bitter roots. Picking through ferns in search of berries bursting with juice. The world held many dangers, but it also provided in proportion to necessity. Looking back it is apparent that this was a time of simplicity in comparison to the modern world today. I was living based upon the singular purpose of survival. Any happiness or unhappiness I felt was purely visceral. If I found sustenance I would leap and whoop loudly in ecstasy, and if I went hungry I would moan and sob as pangs of starvation wracked my body without mercy. I was content in this way of life for I knew naught of any other. Until she revealed herself to me. She came as a vision during the deepest hour of darkness. There was no moon to light the trees and I was resting up in the shelter of the forest’s canopy. Though my eyes were closed I saw a glowing silver light dance before me. I had only seen the moon shine in my dreams with such beauty and I was dazzled by it. I opened my eyes and the light was gone. The night was impenetrably dark. When I closed my eyes once more the light was gone. For many days I thought of the light. It had been but a flicker amidst the darkness but it enticed within me a curiosity and longing that I had not known before. I had felt want many times when searching for sustenance, but this was a different want. It was a want based not in need but in something unknown. In the coming days as I foraged and slept I was no longer blithely living as I had. My thoughts were consumed for want of the light. Oh how beautiful it had been. How I longed for it. And it came again soon. As the first time it came when I was resting in the branches of the trees. Once more I saw it with my eyes closed. It came so softly that I did not perceive it at first. It revealed itself so gently that I had been unaware of it until it became so bright it could not be ignored. There it hovered in the bottomless darkness behind my closed eyes. I kept my eyes closed this time for fear that it would vanish once more. I watched as it glowed brightly and I was filled with sensations of wonder and contentment. I felt as if I had eaten my fill for the entirety of my life, that I had slept until I no longer needed sleep, that everything that may do me harm had vanished into nothingness for all time. I stayed there staring with eyes closed into its warmth and felt embraced and at peace. Until it began to move away. In panic I open my eyes, and quickly closed them again for fear that it would vanish once more. I saw that it was still moving away. I could not let it leave me. It was the only thing that had ever made me feel this way. I could not lose it again. So I followed it. It seemed to lead me down, and with eyes shut tight, I climbed down with it. I was adept at climbing the trees as I had lived among them my entire life. I had climbed up and down many times in utter darkness so I was familiar with moving without sight. As I touched down to the soft grass of the forest’s floor I felt no trepidation although I was unprotected in the night. I only felt excitement as I pursued the light. There was only the soft sounds of my footsteps through the forest. I did feel a kind of nervousness because the forest was usually filled with the sound of chirping insects and moving creatures at night. It was unusual for there to be complete silence. But I did not heed my trepidation as I followed the light. It was constantly moving, weaving its way through the endless darkness behind my closed eyes. I do not know how long I followed the light but I knew I had ventured further than I had ever dared to before. The ground beneath me felt different. The earth was packed harder and I stumbled a few times in this unfamiliar terrain. The light led me further and further into strange territory and I felt greatly displaced and disoriented as I kept my eyes tightly closed and followed it. The air began to feel different, almost wet. My footsteps reverberated with a strange echo I had never heard before. I continued on in this way for a long while until the light stopped suddenly. I became aware of a strange sound close by. It sounded wet and squelching. The light suddenly blinked out and I opened my eyes. I could not comprehend what I was seeing at first because my eyes were blurred from being shut for so long. As my eyes adjusted I realized I was not in complete darkness. There was a glow emanating from behind me and illuminating what was directly in front of me. My vision was filled with a singular sight. All I saw was red. I took a step back and almost stumbled. I realized that I was staring at a wall and I saw that the red ended in smeared edges at the periphery of my vision. It smelled just like the creatures of the night when they tore one another open and I knew I was in a dangerous place. My breathing quickened but I stayed quiet for I knew to become one with the darkness when there were hunters nearby. I slowly turned around. I was not prepared for the horror that lay before me. The light I had followed hung overhead. It was smaller and duller than the vision I had followed but it glowed with the same soothing shine that I had seen. However, what it shone upon was far from soothing. Dismembered bodies lay everywhere. I do not know how many poor souls were there in that place, but it seemed countless. Stacks of torn apart torsos, a large pile of arms and legs. And then there were the heads. The heads were lined up against the opposite wall in a neat line along its bottom. Their eyes had been torn out of their sockets and placed neatly on top of the heads with their cords still attached. They resembled the antennae of insects I had seen crawling along the ground or on the bark of trees. The line stretched out a far way on both sides and I knew it was too many to count. They were in varying states of decay but some looked as if they had been set there that day. And in the center of the carnage and directly underneath the light was the hunter. She was enormous. Even sitting on the floor she was twice as large as I was. Her brow was heavier set than mine and her hairy knuckles bulged from her hands. Her bottom lip jutted out as she picked at an oozing pile of entrails before her. She lifted up an intestine and her huge flat nose twitched as she sniffed at it. She let out a sharp guffaw and sank her teeth into it. I saw that she had three rows of razor sharp teeth. I sank down slowly into the corner where the wall met the floor onto my hands and feet. I was adept at crawling around on just my toes and fingertips and I could move noiselessly like this. I opened my mouth and breathed slowly to minimize any noise. I began to slink away in the direction I felt I had walked. I crawled and crawled my fingertips sinking into the coagulated blood that coated the floor. Past viscera and carnage I saw bodies pinned down by heavy stones. Some looked more whole than others. I did not look closely at them but maneuvered my way slowly past them. As I reached the edge of the bodies I saw a faint light ahead of me and I realized that it was the entrance to this place. I had never been in a cave before but I realized that this opening was my way out. I made a more direct line towards it. There was a body lying face-up. Its arms and legs had been torn off and its insides were spilling out. It looked incredibly fresh and I had to keep myself from retching as I stepped over it. My arm brushed its face as I squeezed between it and the wall and its eyes suddenly sprang open. I reeled back in shock as I realized this poor man was still alive. Then he started screaming. Blood and vomit gurgled in his howls and even under the heavy stone his torso twitched and bucked enough to displace it. It rolled off of him with a loud crash and he began writhing wildly. As he writhed his entrails spilled out further and blood spouted out from him. My head immediately turned back towards the hunter and I was full of fear and despair. The hunter was staring right at me with the intestine hanging out of her mouth. I jumped to my feet and sprinted towards the opening. I did not look back as I heard the intestine drop. A hunter roars after a successful hunt and its cries will pierce the night along with the scent of viscera. But, they are quiet before they make their kills. I did not hear her give chase but I knew she was coming. I burst out of the cave and into the night. I saw that the strange terrain I had felt was the hard earth of a clearing that led to the cave. There was only a short distance to a line of trees. I immediately ran towards them. Hunters had no hope of keeping up with me once I reached the trees. They could not climb because of their lumbering size. I was lightweight and could leap from branch to branch and escape them easily. If I could only make it to the trees I would be safe. I ran with all my might under the light of the moon that was barely showing itself from behind a layer of clouds. My chest roared in agony and my breath came ragged and frantic. My feet slammed against the hard earth and my arms swung wildly. My heart pounded and the wind rushed in my ears. The trees were close. They were right in front of me. I was so close I could touch them. I was going to make it. I HAD to make it. I felt relief and victory as I came to the nearest tree. I was almost there. Then she caught ahold of me. I actually did make it. I had leapt up and set a foot and a hand on the trunk of the nearest tree and I would have clambered up with ease in less than a second if she hadn’t been right behind me. The hunter had moved much much much faster and quieter than I had. I had hoped she was still in the cave. That is why the hunters ruled the forest’s floor in the night. I had no chance. She yanked me off the tree by my leg and swung me around. The world blurred and broke into a million pieces as she pirouetted and shattered me against the tree’s trunk. I knew I was dead as I felt my insides crack and burst and I saw blood immediately gush out of newly formed holes in me. I could not cry out for all the air inside me was gone and I hung limply in her grip as she held me up in the full brightness of the moon’s light that had come out from behind the clouds. The moon gazed down upon us with neither tender mercy nor vindictive cruelty. It simply watched as the hunter fulfilled her natural tendencies unto her prey. She seized one of my arms in her giant hand and, with a grunt, tore it from my body with ease. Like plucking a leaf from a tree. That’s when I screamed. But my scream was only momentary as I gurgled and coughed up blood and vomit spewed out of my mouth. She dropped me and I lay there a broken, bleeding, and dying heap as I watched her lift my arm up to her gaping maw and take a large bite from it. As she chewed she guffawed and inhaled heavily, then she let out a loud bellow to announce her victory to the forest. The leaves in the trees around us shook and I heard their rustling all around. Then everything was quiet and there was only the sound of us. My dying breaths coming out labored and ragged intermingled with my choking on vomit and blood, and her quiet grunts and slowly deliberate and wet chewing. Occasionally she would let out a quiet satisfied moan and I could hear her teeth scrape against the bone. I could not move my head and turn away so I watched as she ate my arm. My vision turned red and I blinked several times as blood spilled from my broken skull into my eyes. Everything was blurred and the corners of my vision were darkening. I knew when she was finished with my arm she would tear another piece from me. She would keep going until she was satisfied and then she would take me into the cave and weigh me down with a heavy rock. I was full of despair and was wishing to die quickly so I would not be like the screaming torso that had alerted her to my presence. Blood was leaking out from my face and I could see a pool forming on the earth in front of me. That’s when my blood came alive. It seemed to rise up as it gathered itself and formed itself into a perfect sphere about the size of one of the hunter’s fists. Two thin tendril-like appendages shot out from either side of the sphere and they ended with an extremity that looked like a fingerless hand equipped with a flat thumb. It seemed as if its extremities were good for mobility and gripping but not for actual grabbing. The sphere stayed still for a brief moment then twitched and began moving its appendages wildly as it scrabbled quickly towards the hunter. She did not notice as it climbed onto her foot and up her leg. She took another bite from my arm as it moved its way up her torso. Then she saw it. She immediately dropped my arm and roared and swatted wildly at the blood creature. It evaded her swipes and climbed up past her flapping breasts, up her throbbing neck, and onto her face. She began bellowing as it latched onto her right eye and she clawed wildly at it to no avail. It used one of its appendages and as easily as she had torn my arm off it plucked her eye out of its socket. Her bellows became higher pitched and agonized. The blood creature shoved itself against the gaping socket and let the eye fall. The eye swung from her face with its cord attached and the hunter started slapping her face in a crazed and frenzied attempt to squash the blood creature. It took no heed as it pressed itself into the socket and slowly oozed in. I watched it disappear completely into her head. She fell to her knees directly in front of me and stopped struggling. Her arms dropped limply to her sides and her mouth hung open. Her face bulged and was full of pulsating veins as a teardrop of thick blood leaked down her cheek from the empty eye socket. It grew into a torrent. Blood gushed out of her eye suddenly like a forceful flood spraying into the night air and onto my already bloody face. I watched as it increased in pressure and her other eye popped out and blood spewed from both sockets. The blood kept coming and coming and her face cracked from the forehead down to the chin. A red line quickly seeped blood and then her face split completely open and intestines and entrails spilled out from her face. She fell back and began flailing in throes of anguished death as her insides continued to pour out from her face. It seemed her entire insides spilled out and lay as a heap on where her face used to be. When they finally stopped coming out she was still. Everything was quiet as the hunter and her steaming piles of organs lay there. Then SHE came. The perfect one. The hunter’s torso cracked and split open and, like an exquisite bird hatches, she rose up from the hunter’s desecration. She was as tall as the hunter but infinitely more elegant. Where the hunter had been knotted callouses and thick bones she was dainty curves and toned muscles. Her skin glowed with the same beauty as the light I had seen behind my closed eyes. The light of the moon I had seen in my dreams. The light of hope and comfort and safety. And I knew her name was Puricite. She turned to me and knelt down next to me and even through the filter of blood’s red I saw her face full of compassion and mercy. She cradled my broken body in her hands and lifted me up with ease. She rocked me as a mother rocks her child and I felt I was in the uppermost branches of the tallest tree riding a rustling wind of pure night. My breathing became less labored and I felt a hot searing sensation where my arm had been torn off. My insides creaked as my bones and organs stitched themselves back together. She gently placed me back down and I stood up. I saw that my arm was returned. It is by her grace that I am alive and have continued to live. Whenever I am dying she will cradle me and return me to a state of health. I have lived and served her for eons because of her ability to heal me. It is only the blood in my eyes that has never gone away. And the world was, is, and always will be red. She took me by the hand and led me through the forest. There were no hunters that approached us for the death cries of a hunter cause all the creatures of the forest to flee in fear. For what may slay a hunter is something unknown and a far greater danger than anything else. She led me a far way. To a place I did not know. The night faded away into bright day as we walked and walked until we reached the edge of the forest. We looked out from its edge and she gestured for me to look and I saw many more people like me moving in the light of the sun. I saw hunters too. The ones like me and the hunters were together. There were many of them. They had cut down trees and had shaped them into shelters. They were moving piles of food into an open flame and moving the food into containers. They were hanging furs and sitting together. There were children of both people and hunters frolicking and squealing in joy. As I stared in wonder and incomprehension I felt her grip my arm strongly. I whimpered in pain and turned to her and I saw her staring into my face. Her eyes were open far wider than any creature’s I had seen before. Her mouth was open in a smile that stretched to both sides of her face and I could see the seemingly endless rows of razor-sharp teeth that filled her mouth. She gripped my arm tighter and tighter and I looked down and saw that her nails had dug into my flesh. As pinpricks of blood began to leak out her beautiful glowing silver skin took on a darker crimson hue that matched my blood.


"Dipé!" The army stood up in unison. "Dilo ni movimentae!" The deafening sound of thousands of soldiers set in motion shook the earth beneath their feet. The small garrison destined to defend the hill looked with horror as their enemy, who outnumbered them by a wide margin, left their camp and prepared to fight once more. Both factions had met in past occasions, and the hill was always successfully defended. This time, however, was different. As problems at home called, only a reduced number of troops led by their captain, Justanantiam, were left behind, under the promise that more reinforcements would arrive soon. Throughout the morning and part of the afternoon, the battle raged. When their enemy charged against them, the garrison backed down to take cover behind the rocks, where it was easier for them to seek defense. But despite the strategies employed, the numerical advantage of the invading army had begun to take more and more lives from the defending garrison, and after several hours of fighting without ceded land, both captains called for an honorable ceasefire. "We will be annihilated before the reinforcements arrive." said an injured soldier to his captain, Justanantiam, who had already been contemplating that possibility. Justanantiam then came up with an idea; he grew up in the area and knew it perfectly, so it wouldn't suppose him a problem to sneak into the camp of his enemy, Teatacus, at night. He did so, but as soon as he appeared, the guards apprehended him and he was brought before their leader himself. Both characters couldn't be more disparate; Teatacus easily doubled Justanantiam in size and his presence was intimidating to say the least. "You are very daring to come here alone" The giant boomed. "I went out to stretch my legs and got lost" Justanantiam replied, with a dim, sarcastic smile. Teatacus knew that his rival had come looking for any possible weakness that could be used against him. But he was confident in his strength and subsequent victory the following day. So he skipped the interrogation and instead, invited Justanantiam for a walk under the stars. The captain didn't miss the opportunity to chatter about his colossal army, about how he had never been defeated in a melee combat in his life, how his rivals saw him with deep respect and fear. Teatacus spoke and spoke, blind to the fact that his rival was no longer walking beside him. "Teatacus, look ahead!" Justanantiam exclaimed from behind. Teatacus stopped immediately and saw an enormous spider emerge before him. Fortunately, the creature did not detect the captains, and returned again to its previous hunting position, hidden in the tall grass. Teatacus turned slowly toward Justanantiam, having closely experienced death for the first time in his life. "That spider was underground" said Teatacus, convinced that it would have been impossible not to have seen it had it not. "No, captain" Justanantiam refuted incredulous. "It was just in front of you." The captains undertook the return to their respective camps. Before leaving, Teatacus suggested his rival to withdraw from the battlefield and that if he did so, he and his garrison would be spared. To which Justanantiam responded only by cocking an antenna. But Teatacus did not intend to have mercy on any soldier, not after suffering the humiliation of being saved by his own enemy. He went to sleep and ordered his men to wake him up early in the morning. The next day, the powerful army marched up the hill, with Teatacus leading, ready to end the battle quickly. "The land is fertile, it will be a worthy acquisition." The captain thought to himself. On the other side, the garrison troops were just beginning to assemble, in complete silence, haunted by the high and low battle cries that the rival army used to demoralize them. Justanantiam positioned himself at the head of his troops contemplating his colossal rival, and he knew exactly who would stand victorious. Both sides collided violently. Teatacus was in the element he liked the most, painting the soil with the entrails of his enemies. At one point, Justanantiam calls for a withdrawal, and his troops descend the hill in disarray. "I didn't expect more from you, Justanantiam!" The mighty captain roared as he ordered his men to charge against their enemy, who was fleeing downhill, into the tall grass. Teatacus felt, rather than saw, the stake going through his torax. When he looked back to check the wound, he saw his own soldiers, also impaled. Once again, Teatacus had failed to see the danger before him. He could not see the stakes positioned under the tall grass. Nor could he see the rest of the garrison, who waited patiently for the false withdrawal to strike a surprise attack on those who avoided the stakes. And of course, he also couldn't see how the previous night, Justanantiam discovered an important flaw about his enemy. Teatacus collapsed on the ground, feeling his life passing. Before he died, he saw Justanantiam approaching him in the midst of the battle. "In your infinite arrogance, you failed to see the spider." Justanantiam said, extracting the stake from his rival's shivering body. "Even when it was right in front of you.


Man has always feared the dark. In the most ancient times we huddled around fires to hold back the dark. To hold back what the dark concealed. The light, the heat, the fire; it provided protection from the wolves and cold out there trying to kill us. Man used that energy to conquer a world; and then again to leave that world and slowly, ever so slowly, conquer a galaxy. It took billions of years, but man pushed back the dark. But it is not possible to overcome the basic nature of the universe. Heat dissipates, order devolves. Even stars must concede to entropy. Generations of stars died their explosive deaths, seeding space with the material for the next generation. Man escaped those worlds and moved on. But eventually, there wasn't enough density of matter for new stars to ignite. Man stepped in and brought the ingredients together, but even that only bought time. And time was the only thing the dark had. Finally the last generation of stars was dying. An entire galactic empire very slowly unraveled over uncounted eons. All the planets which had been hospitable to life were destroyed by novas or were left frozen by their stars collapse. Planets were abandoned by those with the ability, the rest perished. Generations lived and died in vast fleets, living off massive stockpiles of energy and food. Over the eons even these resources were depleted. The fleets grew cold and died, derelict graveyards floating un-powered in deep space. In a final desperate hope for warmth some small colonies were set up on brown dwarfs. They brought all the food and power available with them; leaving behind the cold dead hulks, suckling on the lingering warmth of aborted stars. After a few thousand more generations all their equipment and tools began to run down and wear out. Man receded to a simplistic life devoid of any appreciable technology other than hyperspace communications. Food and light and connection were all that mattered, and only what they had brought with them was available. They carefully planned and conserved the stabilized rations and chemical lamps they had inherited from their forefathers. But even those vast stores gradually reached an end. They managed their own decline, each generation bearing fewer and fewer children trying to make sure there would be enough resources for one more generation. There was no celebration in the final colony when the last messages went unanswered. They knew they were the last vestige of humanity, and in a few brief generations they too would succumb. The final couple knew they should end it, but could not resist the warmth and comfort they provided for each other and inadvertently had one last baby. At the end, the lonely man sat in a room deep inside a brown dwarf with piles of stabilized rations all around him. As the green glow from his last chemical light burned out, a complete darkness such as no human had ever experienced enveloped him utterly. And he knew fear, not because anything was out there to kill him, but because he knew nothing was.


All sorts of feelings It was late, almost midnight, and I was walking by the docks. My parents probably thought that I was at some party, like a normal 16-year-old guy would on a Friday night, but I never got invited to one of those, not in my old school and not in my new school. I just don’t hang out with a lot of people; most other guys think I’m too nerdy and girls think I’m ugly. Now it doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. I honestly enjoy spending time alone, taking walks along the dark water, breathing the coolish night air, away from school, stress and anxiety. I thought this would be a calm, regular night, but then I saw her. Or, at first I couldn't see if it was a he or she, it was really dark, the only light came from a few faint streetlights. I just saw the silhouette of a person standing on the, now abandoned, bridge for pedestrians, just above the big rocks right before the water started. It looked like the person was about to jump. I pulled out my hands from my jean jacket pockets and started walking faster. As I got closer I saw from behind that it was a girl. She had long, dark hair, average height and wore a black, hooded jacket and a dark skirt or dress - I wasn’t sure. Even if I had no idea who it was, I couldn’t just let her take her life. “Hey, what are you doing? You can’t just jump!” I shouted with a hoarse voice. “Leave me alone, you don’t know me!” It felt like I had heard her voice before, but I couldn’t place it. “Please don’t do this! You probably haven’t thought this through!” In fact didn’t know what to say, but now it felt like my responsibility to prevent her from killing herself. “Just let me do this, I literally don’t want to live anymore”, she replied angrily. Now I heard who it was. I was shocked. It was Lucy. My old classmate. I had no idea that she was suicidal, or even depressed. Well, she was never the happiest girl in school, but she never seemed to be really sad either. I called her name. She finally turned around. “Thomas?” “Yeah, remember me? From 11th grade?” “Yes...” “Then come down”, I begged. “We can talk!” “Look, you’re really not helping”, she said, but I could see that she kind of wanted to come down to me. She still didn’t move, so I decided to go up to her instead. The spiral staircase to the bridge was made of some sort of metal, so both she and I heard every step I took. When I came to the top I looked down. This pedestrians’ bridge went at least 15 feet (4.5 m) above the ground, so Lucy would definitely hurt herself and probably die if she jumped from there on the sharp stones. Why did she want to do that? Now I could see her clearly. She looked like she had done when we went to school together, her brown hair was a little longer and darker, and she looked older, even if it was less than a year since I saw her the last time. Her blue eyes were shiny and the makeup around them had smudged a bit. My heart somehow felt lighter when I looked at her. She was beautiful. “Um, hi…”, I said eventually, “Are you like, okay?” “Do I look okay?” she asked, “Do I fucking look okay? Do you think a person on their way to jump off a bridge like this is okay? What is wrong with you?” Yeah, what is wrong with me? Why did I say that? I don’t know. I started to think of how to apologize, but then I saw a tear running down her cheek. All at once, this hard-nosed girl seemed a lot more helpless. Hardly without thinking, I stepped forward and gave her a hug. Maybe physical comfort is better when you’re not good with words? As soon as I hugged her she burst into tears, but at least she hugged me back, so I guess it helped in some way. It felt a little strange. Feelings I didn’t know I still had started to come up. “Oh my God, what am I doing up here?”, Lucy sobbed. “‘You want to go down?” I asked carefully. She let go of the hug and nodded. I still felt a vibrating feeling from it. I took her arm and led her slowly down the stairs. I didn’t want to say anything to make her cry again, so I kept quiet when we started walking along the water. After she had calmed down a bit, Lucy asked me: “Do you still play the piano?” I was surprised that she remembered. “Yes, I do”, I replied. “Cool.” It was probably just small talk. Or, I thought so before Lucy cleared her throat and said: “I always thought you played beautiful. I know your friends mocked you when you played at the Christmas concerts, but I genuinely liked it. Once I was outside the music room and when I heard you practice I just stood outside a while and listened.” “Wow, thanks!” I said and looked down on my trainers. “I had no idea.” “Um”, I started, “How’s your new school? Where do you go?” The both of us switched to new schools after Secondary school. “I go to S:t Jacob’s and, well, the school itself is pretty nice, but I the people - not really.” Lucy looked away. “I never thought you felt this bad.” I had to ask eventually. “Well, it’s got worse this year. Before I was just sad a lot, I never seriously thought about taking my life, but now…” She took a break. I waited. She took a deep breath. “So ever since summer break last year, I’ve just felt empty, yet had so many feelings. I barely recognise myself when I look in the mirror, this body just doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Lately I’ve just felt like I’m drowning and my only choices are to keep swimming or to take ‘the lifeboat’, and it’s getting harder and harder to swim and there just isn’t another way out than..., you now.” Wow. Lucy and I took a turn and found a park bench among some trees where we sat down quietly. The bench was cold. We sat a little less than a foot apart. I remember when we were 14 or something and once sat next to each other like this in school, for a group project I think. I remembered the tension between us, how I could hear my heart beating and had all sorts of strange feelings inside of me. When we sat on this bench, it was like the group project all over again. Why did she make me feel like this? Lucy interrupted my thoughts by saying: “Also, in like 10th-11th grade I had things to live for. People liked talking to me, my parents cared about me, I did well in school. Now I’m just an ugly girl with no real friends and no social competence left, I never talk to my dad anymore and my mom only talks about her own life and her new boyfriend, everything in school is stressing the hell out of me and I just basically hate my life. If you wouldn't have been there when I stood on the bridge, I would probably be dead by now.” My heart started beating faster. First now I realised that I had literally saved someone’s life. Her life. When I was three, my mum saved my life when I almost drowned in the sea. Lucy’s mum didn't seem to care when her daughter drowned in her depression. She probably didn't even know about it. “Have you talked to your parents about this?” “No... They’d never understand, nor care. My dad doesn’t even live here in England anymore. And my mum, yeah you know.” “You should call her”, I said. “Tell her everything’s okay.” She hesitated, looked at me and reluctantly took up her phone. I noticed on the lock screen that the time was way past midnight. I hoped her mum would still answer. Five signals. Then I heard a “Hello?” on the other side of the line. “Hi, mum”, Lucy said. “I, I just wanted to let you now that I'm not feeling well. Or, I’ve actually felt horrible for the last couple of months, but I never wanted to be a burden. Tonight I tried to do something horrible, but a - friend, stopped me from doing it, so I’m safe now.” I couldn't really hear what her mother said, but soon I heard crying. “I love you too!” Lucy cried. “I'm so sorry. Yes, he sits next to me now. Yes, I will. I think so. Okay, I'll see you at home! Bye! ” Something like that. Lucy looked at me. More of her makeup had smudged by now and she looked really matt. To me, she was still the prettiest star in the night. She asked: “You can walk me home, right?” “Of course!” “Mum is driving home from her boyfriend's as soon as she can. She's going to call in sick for work tomorrow and cancel all her weekend plans, just to be with me. It's perhaps a little exaggerated, but it will definitely make me feel better. Yeah, I'll be fine. Also, she wants to thank you and I want to thank you too.” “Well, it was a matter of life or death, what was I supposed to do? And Lucy, your mother loves you, she is supposed to give you much attention after all this! Come!” As we started walking Lucy grabbed my hand. Her was cold, but holding it made me warm inside. I didn't know if it meant something that she wanted to hold hands, or if she just needed that comfort right now. I thought about how she complimented my piano playing. Maybe she liked me. I definitely liked her. I wished we could keep in touch after this night. “Should we maybe exchange mobile numbers before we say goodbye? I'm here if you want to talk some more.” “Yes, I'd really like that”, she replied. “You know, you're like my only friend right now!” The both of us smiled. Lucy didn't commit suicide and hopefully she would soon recover from her depression and be happy again. Even though I felt a huge compassion for her, it made me happy to be around her, and knowing that I saved her life made me feel a lot better than I had felt when I started my walk that night.