/////First Submission, howdy y'all!///// “Miranda, this is control, how are we looking?” Miranda was chewing on her lip, her brow furrowed in concentration as she focused on steadying her trembling hands. “I’m fine control, just… just being extra cautious.” “Roger, take your time captain.” She rolled her eyes, but out here there was no one to see it. Take your time, captain. No worries, captain. The whole world is watching, captain. She bit her tongue though, in no small part because she knew every word would be recorded and memorialized for all time. She took a glance at the heads-up display projected on her helmet’s visor - Aside from slightly elevated heart rate and blood pressure readings, everything was green. She let out part of the breath she was holding, then focused in on her hands again. She was still holding the long, braided polymer cable that connected her to her only lifeline. She looked back over her shoulder at the Herald, which she’d landed about sixty yards away. She could see that the cord - and all of the anchor points she’d placed along her path so far - were secure. The small landing pod was scarcely big enough for the measuring equipment it carried, let alone the sole occupant expected to travel down to the surface with it. But beyond it, hovering silent in the void of space, was the vast bulk of the Ascendant, the pride of the United Planetary Navy’s research fleet. Sleek lines and polished white bulkheads reassured her that she was far from alone out here, despite how it felt inside her tiny space suit. She returned to her work, retrieving another alloy stake from the toolbox she’d brought with her. She clipped her tether into the loop of the stake and then set it against the rocky surface of the asteroid beneath her feet. After ensuring that her mag-boots were set to maximum strength she swung the heavy tungsten hammer she carried. The impact drove the stake in easily, while nearly lifting her from the surface. Thankfully, her boots held. She gave the stake a firm tug and, when it refused to budge, bent to retrieve her tools and instruments. “Control this is Miranda. Stake six embedded, proceeding to target.” “Roger, good copy.” Minutes ticked by in silence as she worked her way painstakingly across the harsh, rocky surface. Yard by yard, stake by stake, she made her way to what her team had dubbed ‘the entrance.’ Finally, she’d made it. A short distance before her stretched a perfectly circular void in the rock. She looked at the lip of the hole as she drew nearer and was in awe of the razor sharp, impossibly precise edge. Her in-suit sensors did a quick scan of the opening and confirmed what she already knew. The circle was perfect, variance was 0.00% along the entire shape. No mortal instrument could have crafted such perfection, she’d seen laser drills less precise. She activated her mapping software and a wire diagram projected itself over the hole, measuring it’s diameter and depth in an instant. It was 31.4 feet across and… that couldn't be right. Her diagnostics weren’t giving her a stable depth reading. The number simply kept growing until it blanked out. eRR. She rebooted the program. eRR. “Uh, control, I’m getting some odd readings here.” “We’re tracking, captain, running shipboard diagnostics on your suit. Standby” Standby. Miranda quirked an eyebrow, what else was she going to do, pack it in? She was by herself on a rock floating in outer space. Of course she was going to stand by. “Suit is reading green across the board, you’re good to proceed.” She took a deep, unsteady breath. “Roger, good copy control.” Miranda closed the last few feet and was greeted at last with the reason they’d come all this way. The hole emitted a pale blue light that washed over her as she leaned out over the edge. Not so far as to risk falling, but enough to get a good look. Instantly her suit’s communications suite spiked. Every band, every channel, every signal that humanity had learned to listen for jumped clear off the charts. Tiny alert lights and warning indicators populated her heads-up display, prompting her to take a few steps back. They quieted instantly. This was it then. The Source. Fifty-four years ago, before the United Planetary Navy was even a pipe dream, humanity had suddenly and loudly been informed that they weren’t alone. At 7:31 PM GMT, on April 12th of 2066, every communications satellite, television set, and computer on Earth had been bombarded with… everything. The signal had been strong enough to blot out every form of communication on the planet, and had lasted exactly six minutes. Within days, world governments had convened a series of special meetings, and within weeks the signal had been traced here. To this otherwise unremarkable piece of interstellar space. All the world's instruments were trained on this spot and the scientific community was baffled to find this, a completely stationary asteroid, alone in space billions of miles away from anything else. It shouldn’t exist, it couldn’t exist. And yet it did. What’s more, the signal remained. It no longer drowned out the earth but it shone, a steady beacon to those who were listening. The Source galvanized mankind, revealing to all the world that the issues which had for so long divided them were petty, trivial compared to the knowledge that something was out there. Work was done in decades that would have taken individual nations centuries to accomplish, progress and innovation flourished as never before. All leading to this moment. “Miranda, do you read us?” She blinked, her eyes dry, unsure just how long she’d been standing, staring off into space. “Sorry, yes, I read you control.” “Thank God, we thought something had gone wrong,” the voice said, clearly relieved. “What happened? We lost all comms with you.” “The signal flood projecting from the entrance is too powerful for my suit, it overloaded everything, please advise.” Silence. “Control?” “Standby, captain.” God how she hated that phrase. Miranda waited as patiently as she could as seconds turned to minutes. “Captain?” “Yes, control, I’m here.” “Captain, this is Admiral Colin Reeves, UPN Commander.” Miranda’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her flippant response, this was one of the most important men in the world, he’d designed most of the equipment she wore. “Y-Yes sir!” “I’m talking to you now not as a superior officer, but as a fellow human being. We don’t know how this ends, we don’t know what happens in that hole. No one can rightly ask you to go down there, knowing you’ll be totally isolated. We can pull you back, consider other options. No one would fault you for-” “I’m good, sir.” She surprised even herself. She hoped her voice was steady and cleared her throat to speak again. “Sir, I’m ready. I’m here. I’ll do it.” “Then Godspeed captain, we’re all behind you.” Miranda heard a faint beeping and noted mentally that her heart rate was in the yellow, 130 beats per minute. She silenced the alert and closed her eyes, focusing solely on her breathing. After a few moments she opened her eyes again and stepped to the very edge of the entrance. She hammered one last stake into the ground, clipped on her tether, and then leaned forward over the opening. With her mag boots on max, she could walk down the edge of the tunnel with relative ease, so she took a tentative step down into the unknown. She held tight to her tether with one hand as she made her way down the tunnel. She felt the familiar tug of gravity as she approached the light below. That wasn’t possible either, this tiny asteroid should have had such a negligible gravity field that she shouldn’t have felt a thing. She grew closer, and it grew stronger. As she approached, she could see a thin membrane, like the surface of a massive bubble. It was the source of the light and, theoretically, the signal stream as well. She could see herself reflected in the shimmering surface as she got closer. She looked at her HUD, everything was still normal. No temperature spikes, no unusual radiation, just the mass of communications signals and the strong gravimetric anomaly. She was a foot away now, maybe less, and the gravity was strong enough that she felt as though she were suspended from the sky, hanging out over the pool of light and mystery. A moment of fear passed through her heart, chilling her briefly. But how could she give up now? She took a breath, closed her eyes, and fell forward into the unknown.


#Welcome to the Micro Monday Challenge! Hello writers! Welcome to Micro Monday! I am excited to present you all with a chance to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic? I’m glad you asked! Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I’ll give you a single constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. It might be an image, a theme word, a sentence, or a simple writing prompt. You’re free to interpret the prompt how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. **Please read the entire post before submitting.** Remember, feedback matters! And don’t forget to upvote your favorites and nominate them via message here on reddit or a DM on discord!   *** #This week’s challenge: **Sentence: The door hadn’t been there yesterday.** This week’s challenge is to use the above sentence in your story, in some way. You may add onto it, but the original sentence should stay intact.   ***   #How It Works: - **Submit one story between 100-300 words** in the comments below, by the following Sunday at midnight, EST. No poetry. One story per author. - **Use to check your word count.** The title is not counted in your final word count. Stories under 100 words or over 300 will be disqualified from campfire readings and spotlights. - **No pre-written content allowed.** Submitted stories should be written for this post exclusively. - **Come back throughout the week, upvote your favorites and leave them a comment with some feedback.** While it’s not a requirement, I encourage everyone to read the other stories on the thread and leave feedback. I will take all of this into consideration when making my selections each week. **Do not downvote other stories on the thread.** Vote manipulation is against Reddit rules and you will be reported. - **Please be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here, as we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. - If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the *stickied comment* on this thread or through modmail. *Top-level comments are reserved for story submissions.* - And most of all, be creative and have fun! #Campfire and Nominations - On Mondays at 12pm EST, I hold a Campfire on the discord server. We read all the stories from that week’s thread and provide verbal feedback for those authors that are present. Come join us to read your own story and listen to the others! You can come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. You don’t even have to write to join in. Don’t worry about being late, just join! Everyone is welcome. - You can nominate your favorite stories each week, by sending me a message on reddit or discord. You have until 2pm EST on Monday (about an hour after Campfire is over). You do *not* have to write to submit nominations!   ***   #Spotlights: Two Weeks Ago I sure had my work cut out for me, catching up on two weeks worth of stories! You guys consistently surprise me with your unique interpretations of the theme and your creativity. Fantastic job over the last two weeks. And a double thank you to everyone who joined in for our Campfire today. I couldn’t have done it without you. ###Crowd Favorite - - Submitted by u/jimiflan ###Bay’s Spotlights - - Submitted by u/katherine_c - - Submitted by u/ravenight #Spotlights: Last Week ###Crowd Favorite - - Submitted by u/Leebeewilly ###Bay’s Spotlights - - Submitted by u/Thetallerestpaul - - Submitted by u/Dunyazatde   *** ###Subreddit News - We’ve recently updated our subreddit rules. Please take a moment to or take a look at our sidebar. - Try your hand at serial writing with - Have you ever wanted to write a story with another writer? Check out our brand new weekly feature on r/WritingPrompts - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


Amy sits on a park bench across the street from The Sisterhood of the Perpetually Hungry, a diet organization that her sister joined over six months ago. Amy is suspicious as she observes individuals come and go with some sort of prescription. The issue is that her sister, Kerri, joined the organization and then subsequently devoted her entire life to them. Kerri had separated entirely from her life, disowning her family, blowing off her friends, and spending long periods of time working for the Sisterhood. Amy had a sneaking suspicion that the Sisterhood of the Perpetually Hungry was a cult. Amy spotted Kerri walking down the street a few weeks ago; when Amy approached her, Kerri brushed her off, calling her a "sabotager." To the organization's credit, Kerri looks great; she's shed about 50 pounds, is healthy, and even appears younger! But Amy can't get her mind off the feeling that something isn't quite right with that organization. In her research, she discovered other stories similar to her sister's: of people who wanted to lose weight but ended up disowning everyone in their lives and now work for the diet organization. Amy devised a plan and spent the last few weeks bingeing on cheesecake, burgers, and pizza, gaining over ten pounds in the process. She was going to The Sisterhood of the Perpetually Hungry to gather the dirt she needed to persuade her sister to leave. Amy walks into the building; encounters the sound of soothing music, and is met by a young, skinny, supermodel-looking woman. "Welcome to The Sisterhood of the Perpetually Hungry; how may we assist you today?" The receptionist says. "I'd want to join your weight loss program," Amy adds, looking around for Kerri, who isn't there. "Of course, we provide a free evaluation of your mental, physical, and metaphysical health. I'll have one of our sisters bring you back for a closer look," she says as two more supermodel women accompany Amy into the back. Amy waits in one of the most luxurious exam rooms she's ever seen. Another supermodel appears, this time a doctor. Amy was subjected to a battery of examinations, including a physical examination, a psychiatric evaluation, and, for some reason, an algebra exam. They give her a complimentary bottle of their supplements at the end of the examination; this is the prescription she'd seen folks leave the facility with the other day. As she walks back to her apartment, she mulls about whether she should take the supplements. All she could think about was Kerri; if she wanted to find out what was going on, she needed to join the cult. Amy took the prescription as directed, and the pills tasted just like her favorite foods. Amy began to lose weight, eliminate wrinkles and other symptoms of aging, and develop abs, which was surprising given that she hadn't exercised since the Clinton administration. Amy remained determined, and the moment had come to gather some dirt on this group. She needed to refill her prescription, so she had to return to the office. This time, to refill her prescription, she had to participate in a group discussion with other organization members. They used no names, like Alcoholics Anonymous, members had to resign themselves to a higher authority; in this case, The Sisterhood of the Perpetually Hungry was that higher power. Finally, Amy saw a hint that this was indeed a cult, and her suspicions became confirmed. Amy feigned she needed to use the restroom before darting out into the on-site dormitories, where she knew her sister might be. She kicks down the doors one by one. Every room has a supermodel, but none of them are Kerri. An alarm can be heard as Amy goes on a rampage, but she isn't getting anywhere. Amy resorts to her final option and pulls out a gun as security closes in. "I need to see my sister, Kerri, right now!" Amy insists. Three supermodel physicians appear and attempt to calm her down. "Of course, we'll get your sister Kerri right away," one of the supermodel doctors offers. "...and, give me some more of those pills, they made my underarm fat disappear, and they were delicious," Amy states. "I'll get you some right away," offers another supermodel doctor. Amy needed to validate her concerns; she knew this was a cult and that brainwashing took place. "Hey you, Brooklyn Decker's twin sister doctor," Amy remarked to the last remaining supermodel doctor, "show me to where you keep the files." "Of course, follow me," the supermodel doctor replies as she walks Amy to the main office. Amy sifts through their files, looking for the proof she needs to persuade her sister to leave this place for good. Unfortunately for Amy, the only thing she discovered was that The Sisterhood of the Perpetually Hungry was a highly benevolent organization. They created a fitness schedule for orphans, gave celluloid cream to veterans, and sent exercise equipment to Africa for overweight elephants. Amy had about finished going through every file in the office and had discovered nothing when her sister Kerri arrived. "Amy, what are you doing?" Kerri asks as she walks into the now-trashed office. "This is a cult, and you must escape. I know that evil is going on here," Amy tries to convince. "What are you talking about? It's just a weight-loss clinic; everyone here is polite, friendly, and looks like they belong on the cover of a swimsuit magazine," Kerri elaborates. "I miss you, Kerri; why did you abandon me?" Amy inquires. "Every time I came over to your place, you just offered me junk food, sugary drinks, or sweets. I couldn't be around you anymore; you are what does Sisterhood of the Perpetually Hungry call a sabotager," Kerri explains. "But I miss you; I'm always unhappy because you're not here," Amy explains. "Why don't you join us? You can join my team; we stand outside TGI Fridays, Applebee's, and Denny's and hand out cards to people who ordered too much," Kerri explains. "Do they really want me?" Amy inquires. "Without a doubt. Not to mention that if you work here, you get free prescription refills. We're going to all have six-pack abs!" Kerri exclaims with zeal. Amy and her sister hug as the supermodels around them applaud the touching moment. Two supermodels are hidden behind one-way glass, opposite the main office mirror. "Look at that, another soldier in our army," exclaims one supermodel. "Yes, it's only a matter of time before we take over the world. Hail Satan," the other supermodel says.


I scroll through pictures I’ve backed up from my phone. I have thousands, but in every lineup there are pictures of my boys throughout my myriad of randomness. Every grouping they grow subtly, nearly invisibly to the normal eye. But I see it. I see the time between. I’m gone so much. They say parents never see their children actually grow, age, get bigger and smarter because they are with them nearly every day of their growing lives. I see my two boys grow every time I see them. They are three and five, almost four and six and I have been away from them for the majority of their lives. I watch them grow from a distance. I am more lucky than my father who did not have video chat and the technology of worldwide instant communication that we have today, but that’s a tiny grace in the life of an absent father. I get to see them age through pictures or a phone screen. Every time I interact with them is a joyous heartbreak. Every time I delve through my photo vault I am reminded of how much I love and miss them, how much of their lives I miss and memories of theirs I will never be a part of. Their first steps and words, a loving story passed to me by my best friend and love, my wife. They’ve hit the age where memory sticks, and I’m terrified of their memories without me. I hope they are happy, I know they are given so much love… but do they truly feel my love from a distance and through a screen? I remember my life growing up without my father present, and that put a huge gap in my heart that took me most of my life to figure out and fix who I am because of it. Am I doing that to my boys? Will they carry this hole for the majority of their lives? Will they perceive my absence as a loving sacrifice or will they see me as the father who was never there for their scrapes and problems? Another photo, another memory of a time I was there and the painful stab of reality that I am yet again viewing these from a distance. I try to pass on wisdom from afar. I try to bribe their love with boxes and mailed gifts from around the globe. One day I will be there, but they will be too old to sit on my lap, to cuddle with me the way a toddler can. That warm pure innocent embrace without specific memory. They are passing the sweet innocence of childhood into their cognitive years and I am never there to directly shape and sculpt their personalities. I try to lie to myself and believe that I do this for them, I do this to provide for them and give them a life of opportunity, meals that aren’t ramen and broth soup. College funds to give them the option of an education if they so choose that route. Money doesn’t buy happiness but it does provide for an easier start and an easier life. I try to believe that I am not there in order to provide that opportunity most children don’t have. I hope everyday that I’m not making excuses for my own mind, but I know the truth and know that there is a part of life that cannot be replaced with the provisions of an absent father. I think of them every day, I miss them every day, and I’m torn on the reciprocal. I want them to miss me, but I don’t want them to feel the pain of missing me. I want them to be amazing people and shape society for the better, but understand that in doing so, they will have been able to build that strong foundation without me. They will be great men, and I fear that I will not have been a part of that foundation.


"They say that a monster lives here," Pawel said between heavy breaths as we loaded the last bale of hay onto the back of his father's wagon, "Did you know that?" "I've heard the story," I said, peering at him quizzically and wiping the sweat from my face. The sun beat down hard on us that day and both of our shoulders were glowing red, "What about it?" "Do you think it's true?" He hopped up onto the back of the wagon and I joined him. My feet ached. I looked down at the battered boots on my feet, the soles coming apart, and made a mental note to visit the cobbler next time I went into town, if I ever got the chance again. "I don't know," I replied, looking at him and shielding my eyes from the sun with one hand. The wagon began to bounce up the dirt path. "And if it is? What then?" "I don't know," He said, peering off in the general direction of the woods with a small shrug, "If there is a beast, maybe it's been protecting us, you know?" "Protecting us? What do you mean, Pawel?" "I mean," he paused for a second as if processing what he would say, "Have you seen any Nazis around here?" "Plenty of them in to-" I started to say but Pawel cut me off with a hand up. "Not in town, Jakub," He said, "Here. They say that a monster lives here, in Skowronka. Maybe the Nazis are scared, eh?" "I doubt it," I mumbled. The village was just a collection of farms with a small market at its center. The SS was not interested in us. They had bigger fish to fry, so to speak. Pawel and I did not talk about the beast the rest of the ride, focusing instead on our various aches and pains, and how his father, who's farm we both worked on was a drunk and an asshole. We parted ways after unloading the hay in the barn and feeding the horses. As I began my walk home from Pawel's farm, I noticed my big toe poking out through the top of my shoe and decided to take a trip into town the next day. I felt confident enough in my German and had a fake story all lined up in case a patrol stopped me. I would be Herman Franz, the German, instead of Jakub Wilkowitz, the Jew. I would be a loyal German man, just on my way to buy some new shoes, nothing more. The road into town from Skowronka was little more than a narrow dirt track, just wide enough for two horses and a cart. No one in the village owned an automobile. I woke up early that morning, had a hard, dry piece of bread with water for breakfast, and started my trek. I had walked nearly ten kilometers before I saw them. Two men in long, gray coats and wearing bright red arm bands emblazoned with swastikas stood leaning against a shiny black car smoking cigarettes. They laughed and spoke loudly in German to one another. As I approached I made out some of their conversation. "Filthy Jew," this, and "Less than dogs," that. I bit back my anger and gave them as wide of a berth as I dared, without looking suspicious. I went past with my eyes fixed on my tattered boots. I could feel their eyes burrowing into me. "HALT!" One of the Gestapo officers shouted just as I passed and my back was to them. I heard the click of a gun cocking. I stopped dead in my tracks and swallowed the fear that had bunched itself up in my throat like a dry rag. "TURN AROUND!" "What can I do for you gentlemen?" I answered in my cleanest German as I turned and put my hands up in surrender, "Is there something wrong?" "What is your name?" Inquired one of the men. He was a perfect Nazi. Tall and lean, his clean-shaven jaw chiseled and his eyes as blue as the sky. The other, a shorter man with black hair and equally black eyes carried a luger casually in his right hand. "Franz," I said with as much confidence as I could muster, "Herman Franz, sir," I kept my eyes down. The man's shoes were black leather and shined to a pristine mirror finish. "Ah! Good!" The Nazi officer smiled, "a fellow German. Tell me, Mr. Franz, what brings you to a backwater shithole like this, hm?" The shorter man laughed. Rage bubbled up in my gut again but I pushed in back down, hoping that I did not look flushed, "Just trying to spread the glory of the fatherland, sir. We common folk must do our part as well," There was a long, tense silence as the officer mulled over what I had said. Finally he took a step toward me and took my stubbled, dirty chin in his immaculate gloved hand. He lifted my face to his and narrowed his perfect blue eyes as they met my common brown ones. "I can tell a liar by the fear in his eyes," he hissed quietly, "And I can smell a Jew from here to Berlin. You wouldn't… lie to me, would you, Mr. Franz?" "O-of course not, sir," I stammered, "Never," The German squinted and stared for a long moment before letting go of my chin and stepping back. "Good," He grinned a satisfied, toothy grin, "Tell me one more thing then, would you?" "Of course," I eyed the other man, still holding the loaded luger a few steps away, "Anything to aid Deutschland, sir," "They say that a monster lives here," the Gestapo officer said, catching me completely off guard. He gestured with both hands to the woods surrounding the wheat fields around us. "Tell me, is it true? Is there some great and terrible beast in these woods that my men should fear?" "N-no, sir," I managed to say trying to puzzle out whether he had heard Pawel and me talking the day before somehow, "Just silly local legends," His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. His lip curled into a slight frown. A tense silence hung in the air around us. Finally, after an eternity, his chuckle broke it. "Of course not!" He laughed, "Only a stupid Jew whoreson would believe such nonsense! Be on your way Mr. Franz, and keep your eyes open for goblins and fairies, hm?" He laughed again and turned to the other man as he waved me away. Both walked back to their vehicle laughing. I breathed a deep sigh of relief as soon as I felt they were out of earshot and hurried on my way to town. The cobbler was closed when I arrived on the outskirts of town. So was the baker, the tailor, the printer and the barrel maker. The entire town was closed, in fact, and I could see German soldiers marching through the streets even from a distance. People were huddled in the plaza, some holding their families close, others, lined up on their knees. There was no fighting, no rebellion or revolt, only quiet defeat and submission. The fighting was in Warsaw, where some still clung to hope that the Red Army would save them, or that the Royal Air Force would destroy the German occupation forces. They would no doubt be on their knees soon as well though. It was already afternoon when I arrived on the hill overlooking the little town, with the sun beginning to set, but I turned and ran before anyone saw me approach. I ran back to my village as fast as I could, cutting through woods and wheat fields rather than using the road. When I got there, it was already dark, but the light of the fires illuminated the little market at the center of the village of Skowronka. There, in the light of the flames, I saw my friends, my neighbor, Ewa, the butcher Igor and his young son, my best friend Pawel next to his drunken father. They were all on their knees as their homes burned around them, a line of men in gray clutching machine guns at their backs and the same perfect Aryan Gestapo officer pacing in front of them. I just stood there and gaped as tears filled the corners of my eyes. "No…" I whispered, "Please. No…" Before I knew what was happening, there was a gun at my back and I was being shoved into the lineup of villagers. Tears streamed down my face as I was pushed to my knees next to Pawel. His face was bruised and one of his eyes swollen shut. The Gestapo officer was shouting over the flames but I did not hear him. He yelled and gestured and delivered his glorious message as though he were Adolf Hitler himself. But I did not hear it. Instead, my mind went to my mother's voice, recorded in some deep dark recess of my memory. They say that a monster lives here, she had said, placing a gentle hand over my heart, a terrible beast that only you can control. Only you can let it loose. Only you can set it free. And so, I did. I dug down into my self and grabbed a hold of the monster within as I had remembered doing only a few times before in some distant past. I felt the skin fall away from my flesh, replaced with coarse black fur. I felt my limbs grow and elongate. My teeth became fangs. My hands, claws. I could hear further, see clearer, and smell… everything; the sweat and fear of the villagers, the acrid smoke, the shit and piss in the German soldiers' pants. I heard the gunshots, felt the bullets biting into my flesh only to be spat back out and the tiny wounds sealed almost instantly. I felt flesh tear between my claws. I smelled the stench of terror as they ran from me. I felt the Gestapo officer's perfect Aryan neck snap like a twig as I tore his throat out with my own teeth. I smelled the blood. The blood. No Nazi patrol ever visited the village of Skowronka in the Polish countryside ever again. They say that that place is haunted. They say that it is cursed. They say, that a monster lives there...


It was a bright, dry Saturday morning in the town of Conistone. Too hot to fight the burning sun by hiding indoors, so it was only natural that my family decided to visit the nearby beach. So, we hopped in the car and off we went, driving carelessly on the bumpy roads. As we were driving, I began to think about all the things I left behind, I had plenty to do at home, the oven needed to be fixed since it was broken, a part of the wooden fence has shattered and needs replacing, but I still went, ignoring everything and being slightly stressed out. When we got there little Timmy jumped out of the car with joy, undressing as he ran, his mother went after him and told him to wait for us, the slower ones. When I was in the water I tried to relax, but after remembering the 35.000 dollars debt I was in, my heart sank. I thought that if I went into deeper waters I would start to enjoy this trip, so I went ahead, the water went from my torso to my elbows. I waved back at Timmy, he was already building a glorious sandcastle, but when I rotated my body again my feet stumbled and I fell off a rock into the water, so deep, my foot didn't touch the ground for almost two seconds. I don't know how to swim, I never learned even though I live near a beach and had plenty of opportunities, I should have panicked, but I wanted to try something. Because I never swam I also never opened my eyes underwater. So when I touched the ground, I got on my knees. I was thinking about how it will be painful to open my eyes, but after something like ten to twenty seconds I finally mustered up the courage and opened them. They stung, but only for a little bit, and then it felt incredibly natural. When I opened my eyes I saw the most gorgeous, breathtaking shade of sapphire blue I have ever seen. I stood there on my knees, as if I was praying, and just admired it. Then, out of nowhere a violet line stroke my vision, it was almost like the aurora borealis, it looked like too much pain has fallen on the canvas and it is now dripping. Then appeared more colors like a bright yellow, green, and shy stain of red. I realized that after so much time looking I was probably already drowning, I didn't feel any air in my chest and I couldn't breathe, but that didn't seem to bother me so much. I felt a weird sense of peace, I have never seen such a beautiful sight in my existence and the only thing I wanted to do was stare at it. I didn't think about anything, I didn't care about anything above the water. After a while I forgot my name, I forgot who I was. In the following seconds after that I forgot that I was there, I forgot that I was existing, the only things that existed were the colors. It was a blissful state. Then, out of nowhere my world got invaded, destroyed in a couple of seconds. A hand, I don't know whos, jerked me by the arm and pulled me up, back where I was standing before. As I was being pulled up the colors were rapidly eaten by a dark blue void. I felt outraged, angry that someone would destroy such a thing. When my head reached above the water I felt even more outraged as I began to cough water. After a while I heard: "Are you ok?", and then came the question, who am I? At that moment all my life came flooding back to me. I responded, between coughs, with a quiet "yes". After reason came back to me I realized that I may have died right there, if I wasn't saved. I felt really thankful for that. My savior helped me back to shore. After resting a bit I went to help Timmy with the sandcastle. I stopped caring, even if just for a while, of all my problems and started enjoying myself, if it hadn't been for the colors I may have never been able to do such a thing.


I ran away from the country. Failing school while selling drugs probably had something to do with it. Primal instincts told me to run away as far as possible. The farthest option was to join the Korean army, so it was the only option. My last week in the states can be summed up as eventful and predictable. There was one last fling with an ex from highschool, drinks shared at the local wing joint with childhood friends, and many tears shed by my parents and sister. I didn’t deserve their love, but it was probably the first time in my life I truly understood that. There’s something weird about traveling across the hemisphere for the first time as a young adult. Naps taken between the flight are accompanied by the same blue ocean until they’re not. Eventually land is visible beneath the clouds and the agitation from sitting on a plane is washed away by the excitement of reaching the east. When I served as a soldier for the Korean army, I lived on an American military post thirty minutes away from the dividing line between North and South Korea. The 4th floor of the barracks I called home oversaw the on-post playground and pizza shop/casino. Working twelve hour shifts for the military police station, I often slept throughout the day and woke up when the sun was about to drop. Trying to sleep while kids were playing and the sun was up was hard at first, but exhaustion from long graveyard shifts proved to be enough to power through. One day the whole barracks were shaking furiously, bombs were going off, and I woke up knowing we were being nuked. Kim Jong-Un kept threatening us about doing it for weeks, but it kind of surprised me to see him actually press the buttons. There is a weird calmness felt understanding that everybody around me would die, that I was about to open my door to death and destruction. Laughter came out as I realized I couldn’t even tell my parents or sister goodbye. I shifted around my closet to put on war gear, and reached for my cigarettes after strapping my boots up. If I’m going to die, I’m dying with a joe in my mouth while stealing one last look at the sky. The sound of bombs going off outside reminded me of my childhood, when I tried to wonder what it’d be like for the people in the twin towers. Would this be more chaotic if people around me were fearing for their lives, if there was a chance to survive? None of that mattered though. Life is too short, and this cigarette gave my one last moment to look forward to. After packing the cigarettes, I stepped outside. There were explosions seen and heard from every direction. All sorts of colors painted the sky. It was the Fourth of July. I looked to my right to find my coworker with a cigarette looking up. “Did you think we were being nuked too?” “Yup.” I forget who asked and who responded. Doesn’t matter. Sharing smokes in that moment not only felt great, but right. An immediate annoyance of waking up to fireworks followed, not to mention the war gear. Work was in a few hours, this was complete and utter bullshit. “Going back to sleep.” “Yup.” I miss the army, and I fucking hated it.


#Chaper I - Part I: Loretta Jones   *** ***   *Knock. Knock. Knock.* My coffee mug landed in a heap of shattered porcelain on the floor of the beach cottage. Anna would’ve killed me. “Sorry, honey,” I muttered, rolling my eyes at my own lunacy. The front lock jiggled. Through the curtain, I saw a small, weathered woman standing on the porch. Her clothing was dark, but not so dark that it hid the smudges of dirt in various places. “Please. Open the door!” She glanced behind her several times and removed her sunglasses. There was something incredibly familiar about her, and yet, I’d never met her. I opened the door, letting a draft of warm, salty air encompass me. “Jeff. I know you won’t believe this…” I squinted and shook my head. “Do I know you?” “Please, don’t freak out. It’s *me*.” Her gaze met mine and I almost collapsed right there. Those eyes. I knew those eyes. *** “I don’t understand.” I threw my arms in the air as I studied the stranger in my living room. “Honey...look, I know it sounds so crazy. And to be honest, you never were very open-minded.” Her eyebrows lifted and she pursed her lips together. She appeared to be amused by her comment. “Well if ‘open-minded’ means believing in,” my fingers drew circles in the air, “whatever this is, you’re right.” I placed my hands on my head as I paced back and forth “No. NO. My wife is *dead.* Has been for two weeks.” Anger stirred within me, my face like coal in the fire. Nausea hung at the back of my throat. “I was there, god dammit! We had a fucking funeral!” I ran the events over in my mind. The accident. The grief. Even this pathetic trip to our beach house, all alone. The woman sighed and studied me with those familiar blue eyes. “You’re right. I was dead. But then…” “No. I’m not gonna fall for whatever the hell…” I motioned to the strange woman, “this is. I don’t know how you knew my wife. And right now, I don’t really care.” The woman stared in silence, with her mouth parted just slightly. She exhaled, and looked at me the way one might look at a child. “I don’t have a lot of time--” “What kinda person would do this? What’s the goal here, lady? What do you want from me?” “Jeff, I don’t want anything. I just thought you ought to know. And I wanted to say goodbye. Properly.” “Stop acting like you know me! You don’t get to come in here and stomp all over my wife’s memory. You know what?” I stormed over to the front door, and opened it. “Get the hell outta my house.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she placed a hand over her mouth. She shook her head. “Don’t, please. I’m not trying to pull anything. It’s me.” The woman sighed and met me at the door. She pushed it closed. “How can I show you? What do you need me to do to prove to you I am Anna?” She glanced at her watch. “I…” Her words were so familiar. The inflections she used at the end of her sentences. The way she paused, waiting for me to take in their meaning. Anna had always done that. “Do you realize how bizarre this whole thing sounds?” “I do.” I walked down the hall and into the kitchen. I heard her footsteps behind me as she followed. As I reached the bar, I turned and saw her stopped, staring at the photos along the wall. She ran her fingers along their edges, hands trembling. She seemed nervous as she fixed her gaze on the last photo. “Do you remember the day this photo was taken?” she said, a hint of a grin on her face. “Of course I do.” “That place...was so beautiful. My favorite part of the whole day was under the waterfall. You whispered that you’d love me longer than the sun would be yellow, and then you took me right there.” She shook her as she scurried into the kitchen and stopped in front of the window. Only Anna would have known that. But this was all so much. I didn’t know what to make of any of it. “So, assuming I believe all of this, who are you… *now*?” “Well, that’s a little tricky. I’m not even sure I fully understand, myself. I just wanted the chance to say goodbye... sugar bear.” She grinned, extending an arm. “I know everything happened so fast.” A shiver trickled down my spine. Those words didn’t feel right. None of this felt right. I shook my head. “This is a lot to take in...” “I gotta admit, this body is quite the upgrade.” A hint of a smirk bloomed. But as if an alarm had sounded, her attention quickly fell to the watch on her wrist. She bit her bottom lip, scraping it with her teeth. Anna had also done that, for as long as I could remember. “I can’t...I don’t… Is that supposed to be a joke?” I blinked a couple times and breathed deeply. “Please, don’t look at me like that. I’m still Anna, in here." She placed a hand on her chest and inched closer. “I’m as much me as I ever was.” I met her gaze. She looked like a stranger, from the chestnut brown hair to the pudge around her waist all the way to the beat-up boots on her feet. But she didn’t feel like one. It was something about those eyes, the way she walked, and the softness in her words. “I prayed, you know, for God to take me instead.” I leaned against the counter, feeling my knees buckle. “But this… this is something different.” She nodded and shuffled to the window, peeking in between the slats. There was something uncomfortable about her impatience. Our silence was broken by sirens wailing in the distance, steadily getting louder and closer. I raised my eyebrows. This wasn’t the kind of place that was home to the sound of sirens. Especially not a group of them. “What the hell is going on? What are you looking for?” She peeked out the window again, cursing under her breath. Anna turned to me. “I spent too much time here. You remember that gun your father gave you? I’m gonna need it.” My eyes widened. “Gun? Why would you need a--” The sound of the sirens was overwhelming. Red and blue lights flashed through the windows. I looked back and forth between her and the window. My lips parted, but no words came out. “Forget it, there’s no time.” She rushed to the back door, one hand on the knob. “Sugar bear, I wish I could stay and explain more. I love you.” “Where are you going?! Why are all these police outside, Anna?” “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come back here. I shoulda stayed dead.” “No. I’m...I’m glad. I mean...I’m happy to see you. But what’s with the police?” “They think I’m Loretta Jones. And people around here see everything.” She tapped her foot impatiently. “*The* Loretta Jones?*” A realization washed over me. She bore a striking resemblance to the fugitive. Anna was halfway out the door. I was stunned; how could any of this be real? But there was no time left to ponder. I fetched a large metal box from the side closet. My hands were trembling as panic and adrenaline surged through my body. I knew exactly what I had to do. “Anna, wait!”   *** ***   - Chapter I - Part II coming soon! And yes, I am mostly pantsing this entire thing. (I'm sure I'll grow to regret all my decisions.) - This story originally began on . - Feedback and critiques welcome.


Placing a small headband littered with a few small blue flowers in my hair, I look at myself in the mirror and wish I had chosen a different hair style. This one makes me look too much like the one person I never want to be. I shrug to myself, knowing there is not much time now before I have to leave, so there is no fixing my hair to a different style. Hopefully, dressing myself with a smile is all I need to not be seen as him. Turning to the door, I make my way down to my car and drive over to my Grandma’s house. I have known her as Mawmaw my entire life, but I have to always explain to people what Mawmaw even means, so I always introduce her as Grandma at first. Now that I have everyone on the same page, let’s get back to the story I wanted to share. I am on her doorstep, oh I forget how I got here so quickly. I must have spaced out on that drive thinking about what I need to get done at her house. I glance at my reflection in the rear view mirror, noticing the smile does help. From the car, I hear Mawmaw’s dog yapping. She has the ugliest mini-chihuahua called Betsy. Betsy hates everyone, even Mawmaw honestly, but they are two peas in a pod. I knock slightly, causing Betsy to crank up the yipping. I stare at the fecal brown door wondering if Mawmaw is in the back of the house or basement, so I knock again. I hear some shuffling, it might be a few more moments but I know she heard me now. Betsy calms down a bit so Mawmaw must have also threatened her with her cane. I continue to stare at the door with it’s grumpy looking mat that says ,” STAY AWAY!!!”. At least it doesn’t have anything that reminds me I look like the worst human in the world. Taking my thoughts back to the door and house, I realize the whole front of this house matches Mawmaw perfectly, cantankerous and unwelcoming. Finally reaching the door, Mawmaw throws it open with a humph. She yells back at Betsy to shut up, though I don’t understand why since that dog never bothers to obey. Betsy has come racing, yipping to the door and Mawmaw whips her cane in the teensy terror’s way and she skids back narrowly avoiding the stick of doom. At this point, I think Betsy has seen the error of her ways and yips quietly from a distance while glaring at me with those black, buggy, alien-like eyes. I think she used to be cute, but it must have been fleeting. My attention going back to Mawmaw, I see the same glare. “Well! Are you coming in or letting my heat out!? I am missing my program cause you are here”, she says shortly, already turning back into her hallway and shuffling down to the living room. “Shut that door and lock the locks”, she calls back to me. Slipping off my black ankle boots, I place them in the shoe rest. Betsy eyeing me the entire time. She knows I bring her bribes. I pull some of the kibbles from my pocket and give them to her as I walk past. I follow Mawmaw to her favorite room of the house aside from the basement, where she teases she has buried the bodies of those who annoy her most. The family thinks it is a joke she tells, but I am sometimes not sure that it is a complete lie. She finished marching, as well as an 82 year old woman who walks with a cane can march over to her seat in the living room. I see she has gained a few dozen more magazines and newspapers. Looking at the covers I notice they are her usual fare of absurd and magical stories that aren’t usually true, but she loves them. She sits down, wiggling her rump into the perfect spot on her chair, grabs her aghan, props her cane against the armrest of the chair, and leans back with a satisfied sigh. You would think she has just finished a hard day’s work in the garden, not walked the 20 feet to and from the door. “Clear yourself a seat girl, and don’t you dare move Betsy’s bed”, She says to me sharply while unmuting her program. Standing there for a few seconds more I find a place I can clear off to sit, it is just a wooden chair off to the right of her. Before clearing myself a spot and settling in, I do what I always do when I first arrive. “Mawmaw, do you need anything before I get comfortable? I think a cup of tea sounds delightful, what about you?” I knew this would upset her, for some reason she doesn't like me in the kitchen. “You stay out of my kitchen!” She snaps at me, this time looking away from her TV show to make sure I am thoroughly afraid of her. I am not. “Don’t be sensitive Mawmaw, I was only offering a warm beverage”, I placate. “It isn’t helpful, you go in there and put things away in all the wrong places thinking you know better and…..” Interrupting her, “ That is because your idea of putting stuff away is to leave it all on the counter Mawmaw.” She almost screams to me “That is so I can reach it!” “Ok ok, I forget you are old and short, you don’t need to get short with me about it” winking at her I hope she gets the joke. She is about to say something back at me in return, but lets out a few humphs and sighs instead. She mutters under her breath, shakes her head at me, then looks back to her tv program. I relinquish my fight at this time to make her tea, and make sure she has enough groceries. She is either going along with the ruse or hasn’t picked up on my true motive of annoying her with the dishes. When I am “rummaging and ruining” her kitchen, I’m actually taking down a grocery list for her. Yes, she still goes out shopping for her groceries herself, but I began to notice she didn’t have a lot in her cupboards. Since she isn’t the tidiest of people, I have found her bank statements and noticed she doesn’t have a lot budgeted towards food. To help her, I go out and buy her the more expensive delicacies that she is unable to afford or maybe just won’t spoil herself with. Truthfully, I am not sure if she just forgets that she didn’t buy them or we have a silent agreement to not speak of it. Looking around the room, I realize how messy it is. She hasn’t been in the mood for cleaning it seems. I move the old magazines from the chair, placing them gently on the table that already seems to be holding more than its fair share of books and papers, and is that a banana skin? I will deal with that later. Sitting down, I look over at Mawmaw to see if she noticed me assessing my cleaning priorities, she is still staring at her program. Betsy now comes in, she stayed away to let me be the sole target for the scolding, and sits on her bed. Her bed are the other two cushions on the couch next to Mawmaw. The couch only has three sections and the dog takes up the majority of it. Betsy is 3 pounds. It is ridiculous that Mawmaw lets her, but that dog seems to be the only thing that keeps making Mawmaw happy, if you can call how she is happy. We watch some daytime television, Mawmaw makes rude comments to everyone on the show, but she seems to enjoy this daily ritual of hers. I do my best to come and see her two to three times a week. Most of the family hate Mawmaw because she is quite cantankerous and can come across as uncaring and ungrateful. She is rude, gruff, and can be generally unpleasant but she hasn’t been nasty to me. She has always been the one to fully support me in all my crazy ways. I don’t mind her for her ways either. She is in her own way a good soul. Unlike the person I see in my reflection. I wish I looked a bit more like MawMaw did at my age, then I wouldn’t hate myself so much. She is a much better person than the son she created. Like I previously mentioned, I’ve seen her budget. Maybe she could afford herself some better treats for her meals, but she gives most of her meager pension to orphans and charities. I was surprised to see this, but she has done a lot of research in her charities and really cared about where she was placing her money. She would rather go without her favorite meal, salmon with asparagus and rice pilaf, than not pay towards some kid in Africa to have a decent meal. That’s where I step in and make sure she has her salmon for her rice pilaf. I admire her, she is a strong fighter. She didn’t have to take care of me when I was a kid and my parents were nowhere to be found, but she did the right thing and made me a bedroom and got me into the right schools. She always provided my meals, a good education, and unwavering support. She was, is, and will always be rough around that edges but this is a woman who did the best she could for me. She isn’t a nurturer, but she loved me through her actions. She also never asked me to be anything but me, not many of my friends growing up had that same freedom. Mawmaw is a grump and likes her space. She may appear annoyed or inconvenienced about my visits, but I know she appreciates them. It makes me happy when she tells me about the meals she found in her fridge, or the “Thank you” text I get a few days later after I cleaned some of the parts of her house. I helped her with her garden a lot last year and then the canning. That was a feat I am not looking forward to helping her with again, but it keeps her so happy and healthy that I will have to help. My favorite thing to do is to put her dishes in the wrong spot, just to irritate her. Please don’t tell her that though. After watching about a half hour's worth of the daytime program where the host of the show brings on celebrities to mock them or shock them, I finally get up and start heading to the kitchen. “Just where do you think you are walking off to young lady?” she calls to me without peeling her eyes from the tv. “It is time for tea”, I quip. “Don’t touch those dishes” “I make no promises” I reply as I move her cane away from her “You trickster! If you even dare think of touching those dishes I will bag up all of Betsy’s poop and hide it in your car the next time you come over!” Already in the kitchen, I grin and examine the kitchen. I have to clean it, she hasn’t touched it since earlier this week. Debating my options, I go ahead and start cleaning the kitchen. Next week I will just have to deal with dog poop in the car. I know I will because this won’t be the first time she has done this. She is the person that does not make empty threats. Treating her well makes me feel less like the person I see most prominently in the mirror that reflects the side of me I wish I didn’t have to see. She may have created him, but he clearly didn’t see the love and care she does give. My reflection will eventually not bring me shame or sadness, but that is a story for another day.


It all began on the dirt paths outside of home. Mai had been running for gods-know how long. Her body hadn’t yet started to break down, but it was a matter of time until it began; she was but mortal, with mortal trappings and limitations. The young noble’s skirts swirled and flowed around her legs as she ran at top speed through the forest. Her lungs burned and screamed at her to stop, take a break, just for a drink of water, but Mai couldn’t afford that. A sharp reminder in the form of a thrown knife soared over her shoulder, leaving a gash in her cheek. It buried itself in a tree trunk; as Mai ran past, she snatched the hilt with a snort of disdain. *Sloppy. They were getting sloppy…and tired. Couldn’t they have just hired a decent catspaw and get this over with?* Finally, her heart couldn’t take it. It stole the breath from her lungs, forcing the young void genasi to a stop. She sat a moment, chest heaving. Water had never tasted so sweet, and Mai drank from her waterskin with the fervor of a desert traveler on the road for weeks. And that’s when she saw him. A human boy, the same age as her. Maybe her age, maybe a bit older; it was hard to tell with humans, sometimes. A little rough around the edges; dark hair scruffy from days on the road, dirt soaked into his clothes. Though the longsword at his hilt gave her pause - it was *nice*, the kind that could be found in the armory at home, it was far more likely the child of a smith than another child of nobility. Why would nobility wear dirt so proudly, smile so brazenly? There was something about that face, though. It needled the back of her brain, fuzzy with TV static. Perhaps she had run across him in Chūkū no mura during her last excursion in town, or during one of her father’s many court parties. There was just something so familiar about him… A pair of curious green eyes met her gaze, which had lingered just a tad too long for common courtesy. The void genasi immediately broke it off, getting to her feet and turning away. Before she could speak, a second dagger identical to the one in her hand in her hand pinned her to the tree by her forearm, just outside the boy’s view. Mai bit her tongue. No way was she giving them the satisfaction of a cry of pain. She would go down like a lady. The boy melted away into the shadows. Good. He’d left. She would hate to involve a stranger in her family business. With her company gone, the catspaw revealed himself: some other human in black garb, face hidden beneath a swath of cloth. At his hilt was an array of daggers like the ones in her hand and arm. Even though his face was hidden, Mai could swear she saw the catspaw smirk. “So, do I at least get the pleasure of knowing which of my wonderful siblings sent you?” No response. The catspaw simply drew nearer. Despite her better efforts, Mai felt her breath grow shallower. Was this what fear felt like? Anyone normal would be scared, with their death drawing ever closer. But she wasn’t just anyone. As they came to a stop not but five feet away, Mai turned her head up, violet eyes narrowed to slits. “No? Did they take your tongue as well as your agency when they adopted you into whatever Fates-forsaken place you work for? You speak when spoken to!” Silence. “Fine, keep your secrets. I’m sure my father will find the information some other way.” Those words gave the catspaw visible pause. The Daimyo of Death. Though there was plenty of time for the inheritance to settle, it was well known that Mai was a favorite for the spot despite her…wilder inclinations. It was also well known what exactly would come to pass to those who would harm even a hair upon her head, should the word reach the Daimyo’s ears. “Perhaps we could work something out. What did they pay you? I have gold, platinum, jewels. We could go separate ways, you with a heavier purse, and me to vanish and never be heard from again. And this little scene? Never happened.” He seemed to truly think it over. Mai felt her heart flutter, hope warming her soul. Perhaps…? Reality hit in the form the cold steel of a second dagger in her other arm. For a moment, all Mai could see was the blade embedded in her flesh. Then the pain hit, and she couldn’t hold back a yelp as she was forced flush against the trunk of the tree. Again, beneath that mask, Mai could swear the catspaw was smirking. “I’ve heard tales about this dress. Handmade, just for you. Some worthless concubine’s daughter, in clothes this nice.” He tilted his head. “That silk’s worth a pretty penny, you know. Maybe if you let take it off you, I’ll have a bit of mercy.” Terror surged through the young genasi as the catspaw stepped forward, but she kept her face neutral. She was going to die here. No, not just die…but she couldn’t think about that now. Blood rushed to her head, heartbeat thudding in her ears. She had to find a way out of this. She *had* to. Mai spit at his feet. “Go to the Hells, you piece of-“ And that’s when the boy reappeared. Longsword now drawn, he descended from a nearby tree and cleaved a hand clean off her sibling’s hiree. Letting out his own roar of pain, the man stumbled back as the human boy from before positioned himself in front of Mai. For all of a moment, Mai could see him grown up, clad in plate and a knight’s helmet. Her protector. Then she blinked the dust from her eyes, and once again a young boy remained. For just the briefest of moments, Mai let that hope work its way back into her chest. “Who are you? What do you want with her?” The boy stood his ground. He’d obviously been trained. For a moment, Mai forgot her circumstances and admired his form from her position against the tree. Perhaps she might be fine after all. “Just to bring her back to her father. This one’s a runaway. Surely you wouldn’t get between a father and his daughter?” “And would her father approve of the daggers in her arms? Or the removing of her skirts?” The catspaw’s eyes went wide. He looked from the boy to Mai and back to the boy. A tense silence ensued; again, Mai could hear her heart thundering in her ears. Then the hiree shook his head, grabbed his hand from where it rested on the ground, and walked off into the woods without another word. After a couple minutes, the crunch of leaves beneath his boots faded into the forest’s natural ambience. When the boy turned back around, Mai did her best to fight back tears and wear a smile. It wasn’t long before her composure cracked; she broke down, tears streaming down her purple cheeks. The boy seemed to panic a bit at the sudden change in demeanor, but quickly got to work removing the daggers from her arms. Almost immediately Mai’s legs gave out, the stranger catching her in a quick embrace before she could hit the ground. “It’s alright, miss. I’ve got you.” Mai let herself be comforted for a moment. Not two miles from here, the person who would typically do this job would be growing cold soon. Surely her father would have come across the body, found her missing. More than any catspaw, Mai feared her father’s wrath once he discovered that she had fled the scene, though the dead body of the second catspaw alongside her mother’s might alleviate her punishment a bit. “…do you have a name I could use, perchance?” Mai blinked, quickly becoming aware of the muscled chest she was nestled against. Immediately she shoved the boy away, face burning a more reddish purple than usual. With a quick wave of her hand, the void genasi cleaned up her clothes and recomposed herself. “My name is none of your business. Now, I know a favor when a favor is due; if you could come with me, I think I know something which might suit your tastes.” Chūkū no mura wasn’t too far off; she could probably get there within the hour, if she hurried. The young noble began to walk through the forest again, with purpose. The boy followed behind after a moment. Now that they were standing side by side, Mai could see he easily had a couple inches on her; she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. His dirt-soaked clothes were as well made as the longsword, which now rested at his hip once more. Who in the world was this kid? “I’m Wolfgang, by the way.” The name hit that same wall in the back of her head, rested on the tip of her tongue. Familiar, so very familiar. But from where? “You can call me Hu-san.” “Husan? Alright.” “No, Hu-san. Like with the honorific.” “Ho-no-rific? That’s a big word, Husan. Big words for kids like you and me.” Mai was about to rip into him when she heard the rumblings of laughter from within Wolfgang. He was just fucking with her. With a roll of her eyes, Mai returned her attention to the road ahead. “So…where are you taking me, Hu-san?” “To the best ramen shop I know. My father knows the person who runs it. I might be able to get a message home from there.” “And what’s a ramen?” Horrified, Mai whirled around. “Do you even know what a dumpling is?” “Like spaetzle?” “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.” “Like spaetzle. Got it.” ——— The Underwater Blossom was just as delicious as Mai remembered. Though he enjoyed the ramen as she did, Wolfgang took a special shine to the gyoza, quickly collecting a small pile of side dishes beside him. It was almost impressive how many he managed to eat at once, though his use of chopsticks could stand to be a little better. When she had a moment, Mai excused herself to “the bathroom” and disappeared into the back room. It was a place she’d spent many hours of her life, waiting as her father and the establishment owner talked business. Dai Akibara was a lovely man of many talents: cooking, running a business, but most of all: networking. Mai had no idea how much blood was shed to make sure this restaurant was still standing, and she didn’t really want to know. “Little Hu, as I live and breathe. I can’t help but notice you come accompanied by an unfamiliar face. Does your father know you’re here?” “I need you to take a message for me.” Akibara didn’t question it, simply grabbing a piece of parchment from his desk. When a Hu made an order, he listened. “Whenever you’re ready, dear.” “I’m fine and well. I just wandered into the woods. Stopped to smell the blossoms. I will be home soon, don’t worry too much. You can reach me the usual way if you need something.” Akibara scribbled each word down on the parchment in his neat Hokutan script. “And will that be all, little Hu?” She hesitated. “…tell him I’m sorry about Mom.” Akibara’s face contorted with confusion, but he wrote it down in his typical chicken scratch. “Anything else?” “That should be good. Another order of the gyoza, for the road. My companion did me a great service and I wish to repay him for his efforts.” “Does that have anything to do with those slashes in your sleeves?” She waved a hand over her sleeves, the silk suddenly continuous once more. “What slashes?” Akibara let out a sigh. “Amai.” Mai stiffened at the use of her given name. “Be careful. You’re always welcome here.” So it wasn’t a lecture. The muscles Mai hadn’t even realized had tensed up relaxed. “I will be, Uncle Aki. Just make sure Papa gets that note, okay?” “Alright, Little Hu. Now head out there. The gyoza should be there by the time you take your seat again.” With a brief hug, he sent her off. True to his word, Wolfgang was surrounded by a dozen extra plates when she sat down, piled high with dumplings of all kinds. Claiming a couple for herself, Mai began to pack her remaining dumplings into her mess kit for later. After performing the dance of payment - Mai offering her gold, Akibara refusing, and Mai insisting - Mai headed outside and back to the mouth of the forest. Wolfgang followed. “So, I suppose this is where we split ways. I can give you some of the dumplings if you’d like.” “Thank you, Hu-san. They were delicious, truly.” Wolfgang paused a moment. “Do you need to be home right this minute?” Mai thought about it for a moment. “Not really.” She blinked, almost surprised by her immediate response. “You want to see what’s on the other side of that mountain?” The young boy pointed off into the distance, where the crest of Hana no yama peeked through the trees. Tales told of a dragon who lived at the mountain’s peak and would grant a wish to any brave enough to ascend to his lair. They exchanged a glance. Then Mai shrugged. “You know what? Sure. And it’s Mai, by the way.” “Alright, Mai. Let’s get going, then.” And so they did.


Toro gazed upon the icy lake that lay before him. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. Its waves appeared from seemingly nowhere, each rising and crashing down without any semblance of order. It stretched out far beyond any sensical measure of space, reaching out to touch the surrounding forest and weave through the ancient stones of the valley. Toro understood that this was not a lake, and yet, that is exactly how the elders had described it to him. To him he saw an enigma of a supernatural element, something that defied rationality. This marked Toro with an unmistakable sense of discomfort and a burning desire to return back through the forest and up the mountain to where he could find familiarity and the reality he knew. But despite the permanence of this feeling, he repressed it and hardened his exterior with metaphorical armour, however transparent. Toro was a boy of instinct. He never understood why this made him so different to the other children, he only knew this made him stronger. A guiding light existed within him, something that lit a path ahead that he could only dare to follow. Since when he could remember he allowed this light to take control and make his decisions. He found comfort in listening to its assertiveness. It was right. It was true. The unnerving task that Toro had been set by his elders was clear; to strip himself of his clothes, follow an abandoned stone pathway through a heavily wooded forest before finally coming to a lake some three kilometres in. The commands seemed strange to a young boy, but considering his surreal circumstances, Toro thought it best to heed the elders’ advice diligently - for otherwise he feared putting his training in peril. He especially did not understand how his clothes had any bearing on the task, but his internal thoughts deemed them unfit for further questioning. Observing the lake, Toro’s brain struggled to compute and properly receive what his eyes met, this almost induced a state of psychosis. The lake that lay before him could not possibly be real. Could it? Through the extreme cold and sheer immensity of such a body of water, Toro’s senses cried out in pain at the warning signs elicited by the water. He could only stand there in disorder. As crisis management, he looked internally. He searched for the light within but instead found a void, empty of purpose or answers. Toro - through some surge of pain - knew he needed to compel a certain aspect of his body to edge closer to the bank alongside the water. A chilling wind bit away at his exposed body, heightening his sense of vulnerability, but it was this feeling he thought better than to dwell upon. It was his training now he knew needed to prove itself. At this moment, he took a few steps forward. Careful not to physically contact the lake, Toro’s feet were now firmly planted right on the edge of the water. Chilling daggers swirled in the water, making it obvious what was now required from this point. His life felt in grave danger, yet the stars above aligned themselves in perfect formation. He closed his eyes and tried to picture strength, but instead his mind reflected images bearing fear and uncertainty. What was taking place? Where was the eternal light he usually found within? He realised this could not possibly matter now. None of it could. He was here at this moment. Something about this seemed likely destiny. With no further deliberation - Toro spread his arms like an eagle and plunged into the deep abyss. Vanquished from this earth, he began to soar. A dark ice summoned his Being and Toro finally observed the guiding light he had always followed. He thought about its meaning and about his past and future. Did the light belong to him? Or did he belong to the light? Whatever the case, it did not matter now. The two were separate Beings, but yet they had never been more at One. This was his abstraction, Toro thought. This could only be his destiny.


"Anna, I know you consider me a friend, but there's no time like the present, so here it goes. I've loved you since I first saw you; you're beautiful, funny, and one of the smartest demons I've ever met. Do you think we could be more than just friends?" Aiden, the demon said as he was sucked away from his conversation and transported to the summoning bureau. "Are you serious?" Aiden was enraged. A summoning bureau demon clerk has a case file for Aiden to review. "It appears that we have three teens who were curious by something they read on the internet and were successful in summoning a demon. You were chosen for summoning duties in a random lottery," said the demon clerk. "They encourage you to vote, and then you start getting summoned all the time," Aiden says angrily to the clerk. "I'm sorry, that's how it works," the clerk said as she pressed a button, sending Aiden to the human realm. He enters the bedroom, surrounded by candles and pentagrams, with three emo teenage girls. The summoning of a demon is extremely unpleasant for the demon, and Aiden howls in agony. The three emo teenagers screamed and left the room in terror. Once a demon enters the human realm, they have to stay there for 24 hours, meaning that Aiden will not get an answer to his question until the end of that time. Demons have regular lives, just as humans; they have relationships, go to the laundromat, and even attend school. The school curriculum consists primarily of horror films and other propaganda depicting humans negatively; there is little doubt that history, tradition, and experience contribute to demons' negative views against humans, and vice versa. Aiden quickly becomes invisible, as he has been taught in school. This is his third summons in two months, and he's fed up and ready to take it out on some humans. To make matters worse, Aiden glances around the room and notices a bottle of holy water, a crucifix, and a Bible. "Wonderful, an exorcism," Aiden thought to himself. An exorcism is one of the worst summonses a demon can receive; it's torment. Aiden sees the emo teen's younger sister and instantly takes control of her body. He employs some of the school-taught tactics, such as rotating her head 360 degrees, gushing puke, and, of course, turning crucifixes upside down. He's been on enough summonings to know what's going to happen next: the family will freak out, they'll call the priest, and then they'll make with the holy water, the Latin, the power of Christ compels you, blah, blah, blah. Aiden liked frightening this family, but his thoughts are with Anna; he loves her. As Aiden predicted, the priest arrived a few hours later, and the exorcism began, over 18 hours of suffering for a demon. His time ran out, and he was forced to return to the demon realm. As soon as he got back, he dashed to Anna to hear her response. Anna was surprised to see him when he arrives. "Has it really been 24 hours, Aiden?" she asked. "Yes, my love, I couldn't wait to see you again," Aiden said. "Oh, that's nice," Anna said, playing it nonchalantly. "So, do you have nothing to say about my admission?" Aiden asked. "About that," Anna continued, "we're such good friends; I wouldn't want to mess things up with a romance," Aiden was devastated. The love of his life has friend-zoned him. Aiden plunged into profound despair after being rejected by Anna; he didn't care about anything. Aiden was surrounded by pizza boxes, empty beer bottles, and the stench of his own filth a few weeks later. He was abruptly summoned back to the summoning bureau, where the same clerk was sitting behind the desk. "Okay, we have a religious zealot who believes a demon will aid him in smiting people who have wronged him. I guess he's in for a surprise," the clerk said, trying to make light of the situation. Aiden aggressively ignores her. "Whatever, just push the button." Despite the agony, Aiden couldn't muster enough strength to roar, only a wince. He didn't care, and he was going to make it known that he didn't care. "Finally, I will no longer be overlooked, not with the might of a demon on my side," the religious zealot declares, surrounded by torches and pentagrams. Aiden calmly walks right past the zealot and out the door. "Hey, where are you going? Aren't you going to assist me in exacting vengeance on those who have treated me unfairly?" The zealot said, perplexed. Aiden keeps walking, so depressed and enraged that he doesn't care if he's visible. He wanders the human realm's streets, alone and dejected. This summoning occurs in New York City; therefore, a demon that was visible to humans was no big deal; just another eccentric on the subway. In fact, Aiden sat next to a human on the L train, and it didn't phase them in the slightest. "How's it going, buddy?" The human asked. Aiden chose to ignore him. "Hey, I get it, but I told my shrink I would talk to 10 new people this week, and I've already started with you, so what do you say? My name's Arthur." "Aiden," he said. "So, tell me, what's bugging you?" Arthur asked. "I don't want to talk about it," an enraged Aiden said. "Look, no matter what happened, things get better. For example, take me, my wife cheated on me, left me, took my children, and now I pay HER alimony. If you only take one piece of advice from me, it's this: don't skimp on the lawyer," Arthur stated. "Yeah, I've had no luck with love either; it's not worth it," Aiden said. "Oh, a fresh wound, you sound exactly like me six months ago. Let me guess: you're depressed, you don't want to do your job, and you're always angry," Arthur said. "You get it; there's no point in putting yourself out there; all you get in the end is hurt," Aiden said. "I'm not sure about that. People will tell you that there are other fish in the sea, but that's nonsense. However, the only way to get out of your funk is to have some fun. If the right one comes along, the right one comes along; there's no pressure; you simply have to let it happen," Arthur said. Aiden commented, "You sound like a damn fortune cookie." "Heck, I got tonight off; why don't you be my wingman? We'll meet some people, drink some cocktails, and forget about our exes," Arthur said. "I don't think so; all I want is to be alone," Aiden responded. "Come on, what else you got going on? Chicks like the bulked-up bad-boy type, I need you, man," Arthur stated. "All right," Aiden said, "I'll have one drink." That night, Arthur and Aiden went to a bar and met some delightful people; they sang karaoke, played bar trivia, and Aiden even got so drunk that he did a coyote ugly dance on the bar; much to the horror and fright of most of the patrons. The bottom line is that Arthur helped him forget about Anna while also demonstrating to him that not all humans are as evil as demons are taught in school. Aiden's summons had expired by the morning, and he was returned to the summoning bureau, where the same clerk sat behind the counter. Aiden remembered how he had treated her the previous two times he had been there. "Hey, it's you. I apologize for the past couple of summons; I was in a bad mood at the time, and it wasn't ideal timing. I should not have taken my frustrations out on you," Aiden said. "No problem, I get that all the time; no one enjoys summoning duty; at least you apologized," the clerk said. "My name is Aiden. You're always pleasant in this difficult job; I just wanted to express my appreciation," Aiden said. "My name is Jackie. I get off in a half-hour; maybe you could tell me more about how you appreciate me while you buy me a drink." Aiden smiles.


#Welcome to the Micro Monday Challenge! *Please be sure to read the entire post. There are a couple new additions.* Hello writers! Welcome to Micro Monday! I am excited to present you all with a chance to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic? I’m glad you asked! Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I’ll give you a single constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. It might be an image, a theme word, a sentence, or a simple writing prompt. You’re free to interpret the prompt how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. **Please read the entire post before submitting.** Remember, feedback matters! And don’t forget to upvote your favorites and nominate them via message here on reddit or a DM on discord!   *** #This week’s challenge: **** **Bonus Points: Use of a circular narrative (ending the same way it begins).** This week’s challenge is to use the above image as *inspiration* for your story. You may interpret the image any way you like, as long as the **connection is clear** and you follow all sub and post rules. You do not have to use the entire image. You can use any part you like (i.e. the colors, the subject, the setting, etc.). The bonus points constraint is *not* required. Good words to all!   *** #Feedback on the Micro Monday feature Please take a moment this week and fill out . Let me know what you like, what you don’t, and what could be improved. Bonus points this week for those writers who fill it out! (You must include your reddit username to receive points.) Thanks in advance!   *** #How It Works: - **Submit one story between 100-300 words** in the comments below, by the following Sunday at midnight, EST. No poetry. One story per author. - **Use to check your word count.** The title is not counted in your final word count. Stories under 100 words or over 300 will be disqualified from campfire readings and spotlights. - **No pre-written content allowed.** Submitted stories should be written for this post exclusively. - **Come back throughout the week, upvote your favorites and leave them a comment with some feedback.** While it’s not a requirement, I encourage everyone to read the other stories on the thread and leave feedback. I will take all of this into consideration when making my selections each week. **Do not downvote other stories on the thread.** Vote manipulation is against Reddit rules and you will be reported. - **Please be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here, as we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. - If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the *stickied comment* on this thread or through modmail. *Top-level comments are reserved for story submissions.* - And most of all, be creative and have fun!   *** #Campfire and Nominations - On Mondays at 12pm EST, I hold a Campfire on the discord server. We read all the stories from that week’s thread and provide verbal feedback for those authors that are present. Come join us to read your own story and listen to the others! You can come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. You don’t even have to write to join in. Don’t worry about being late, just join! Everyone is welcome. - You can nominate your favorite stories each week, by sending me a message on reddit or discord. You have until 2pm EST on Monday (about an hour after Campfire is over). You do *not* have to write to submit nominations!   *** #Spotlights The stories were all so very good this week! I loved the variety this week, so many interpretations on the mysteriously appearing door. We’re going to try something a little different. There will be three spots, one category. (Use of the constraint, upvotes, feedback, and nominations all count for points. And occasionally bonus points!) - - Submitted by u/katherine_c - - Submitted by u/jimiflan - - Submitted by u/rudexvirus - - Submitted by u/Cody_Fox23   *** ###Subreddit News - We’ve recently updated our subreddit rules. Please take a moment to or take a look at our sidebar. - Try your hand at serial writing with - Have you ever wanted to write a story with another writer? Check out our brand new weekly feature on r/WritingPrompts - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


Two hundred and eighty-six feet above the forest floor, Tavaaris dangled from a rope. The leather of his harness creaked gently as it held him, and the Old Steel used to fashion the hardpoints had never been known to fail. All that being said, Tavaaris hated heights. He continued to mutter prayers to his forebears as he tried to muster the resolve to continue up the corpse he was scaling, anxiously rubbing one of the many charms between thumb and forefinger he had tied to himself. Tavaaris’ world was a new one. His people had come forth from ancient crypts, facing a sky ablaze and frozen lakes, corpse-strewn forests and shattered mountains. The wisewomen had claimed that as Tavaaris’ people had been born, so too had the planet, though the world’s birth was a difficult one, wreathed in flame and death. His people hid below while the heavens wailed and gnashed. Very few survived this period, or so he was told. But that was long ago. The world now enjoyed skies of purest white, and the air smelled sweet, although no sound made it this far up - save the furious beat of his heart in his chest, as he tried to calm his frayed nerves. He inhaled, focused on the silence, and closed his eyes a moment, letting go of the charm and steeling himself. Staying here wasted valuable time, so he gripped the rope and resumed his ascent. His village regularly sent out explorers and treasure-seekers to map the world and bring back valuable objects - Like the Old Steel of his harness - which is how he found himself this far up in the air in the first place. It’s known that many objects of interest can be found in places strange and common, but the truly spectacular finds always came from the world-corpse; ancient, rotting remains of a man the size of a mountain, wrought entirely from Old Steel, and located in the center of some of the most treacherous terrain the world offered, among mountains torn in half and boiling lakes of poison. It was not a journey for the faint of heart, and this was Tavaaris’ second time here; not enough to shake the feeling of anxiety that came with every few feet he ascended. The world-corpse was a functional mountain edifice; sheer cliffs going up hundreds of feet, ecosystems and floral biomes occurring within and without of the steel. Trees blossomed on the exterior, vines crept along limbs larger than can be imagined. It was unclear to Tavaaris if the creature had ever lived, or if it was a monument of some kind. He did know that nothing lived near here aside from plants - not a single creature called the miles surrounding the world-corpse its home. The approach to the corpse was both near-fatal from the hazards, and funereal in silence. Up and up his ascent took him. The entrance to the world-corpses’ innards took place through a shattered glass plate about 500 feet off the ground. The hole itself was three times again Tavaaris’ height, and the opening was practically a needle-hole, relative to the scale of the world-corpse itself. His people had tried to create easier entrances on some of their expeditions here over the many years of journeys, but the Old Steel had never acquiesced to the insistence of their cutting or bashing tools. As he ascended, Tavaaris ruminated on his extreme fortune; He had never been particularly good with contributing to his tribe in the capacity of a community leader or organizer, and he had little interest in family. All told, the fact he could grow his people’s prosperity via clever use of bow, his eyes, and courage beat exile any day of the week. He pulled himself into the cavernous hall atop the world-corpse. Even after hundreds of years, nature still did not dare to intrude. The smallest of lichens and thinnest vines had crept up the colossal body and could be seen tiptoeing - or the plantlife equivalent - into the interior. Shattered glass, torn steel, and the endless colored thin serpentine shapes bursting from the walls in repose defined the room. Old Steel made plants flee at its presence. There are few things darker - and more terrifying - than the inky black of the inside of a cavern, and the world-corpses’ innards were no different. He squatted down in the hall, removing his pack, and retrieving the components of a torch; wooden handle, expendable cloth, jar of oil, and flintstone. Seconds later, the room blossomed into a comforting orange light. The features of the room hidden in shadow crept into view; jagged columns of Old Steel, short and square. The remains of a few camps that had once been set up here, now rotted into uselessness. The ceiling remained out of view, being about 5 times taller than Tavaaris was, he recalled from his previous trip. His anxiety ratcheting down, the perception of scent came to him slowly; the specific smell of the world-corpse could not be mistaken: Dust, earth, petrichor, oil and metal, and something else. Not blood, not food, not someone from his tribe, but something acrid and sweet and poisonous. It was here the last time he ascended the world-corpse, and it didn’t bring him harm then. He let it fade into the background of his perception. The inside of the world-corpse existed outside of time, outside of the necessary rhythmic cycle of Ta rise and Ta fall, of sleep and shared meals and working. Minutes could be hours, hours could be seconds, and he found it critical to make time to assess the needs of his body in the moments of quiet between ascent and descent down the corpse’s spine, or pulling unfamiliar artifacts from its blackened bowels, rooms the size of a generation house in his village. He started to make camp. The throat of the corpse laid at the back of the vast hall he was in, a vast vertical tunnel that he had never seen the bottom of, about seven times his height in diameter by his estimation. It was from this central shaft he had previously accessed the manifold rooms on his previous excursion, and it was down this column he intended to descend once more to pull more valuable finds for his people; useful shards of Old Steel or other exotic materials for weapons or to protect the village from storms. Sometimes he would find whole tools, such as the fire-blade he discovered last time, with a short, narrow blue flame out of a tin neck that was hotter that any fire he had made or had heard of. Slabs or bricks of Old Steel enchanted to repulse metal from it were everywhere in the World Corpse, but due to their weight, he could only bring back one or two per excursion. He was offered a tidy sum for each, though. He settled into the small camp he had built, lit by a now-sputtering torch, and prepared to rest in preparation for his journey into the poisonous, stygian innards of the world-corpse. Tired from his trip up, sleep quickly approached. His last thought before drifting off occurred too late to keep him awake with its implications; exhaustion muting the question under a blanket of sleep.


Her jet-black hair blows gracefully in the wind as she turns around to look back at me, giving me a wink and a peace sign with her fingers. Her high-school uniform fits so perfectly on her, just the right length for her skirt that I can see her beautiful long legs but not too much that it’s too revealing. Her blouse perfectly buttoned, not too high that I can’t see her cleavage, but just low enough to leave things to my imagination. Her hair, medium length, of course I will say how just right it is. What can I say, she’s perfect for me. I couldn’t have asked for a better senior year, with her by my side. I’m planning to enter the same university as her in just a few months after summer’s end. I need to follow her wherever she goes because she is that magical. We are those eighteen-year-old high school sweethearts. *Could* I *marry* her *one day?* I only wish we can keep things going the way they are, because I never want our story to take a turn for the-- “--Haruka!” She let out a laugh of contentment, “Kanako!” She shouted my name with her hands cupping around her smile. “I love you!” I run towards her in panic as she stands upon the rooftop edge about to take her next and final step to death. *ONE MONTH EARLIER* She sat at the piano playing a tune she told me her grandmother used to sing to her when she was a little girl. I sat beside her at the piano and listened. It was peaceful until she said, “Kanako...Want to wake up with me?” “What do you mean?” I asked as her fingers faltered on the keys. “You know, I’m so happy with you. This must be a dream,” she said; “Wouldn’t you want to wake up with me? If we were dreaming, I’d want to wake up next to you.” *I shouldn’t take her seriously*, I thought*.* She was probably like this with all the girls at Kodachi High. After all, she was popular with the ladies. “Haruka, stop playing games,” I said but she hushed me with her lips. They were as soft as I expected. I pulled back. “I’m not--” Before I could say anything she leaned in again, this time not only kissing me. I felt her small hand caress my breast. Tingles ran through my stomach and my hands went cold. I was nervous and she must have read my mind. “Don’t be nervous,” she whispered between tender kisses on my lips. Her other hand creeped slowly up my leg and under my skirt. She was about to touch my valuables, when she just stopped. She leaned back and sighed, and looked disinterested. My heart was racing, I couldn’t comprehend what just happened, let alone why she stopped when I was getting so hot for something I didn’t even know I would like. Then she said to me, “You know, I’m not a lesbian.” She looked me dead in the eyes with the uttermost seriousness before breaking out into a laughter, “I just like to mess around, have a little fun. I never go the whole way…” Her right index finger caressed the keys on the piano in a shy manner. The third period bell sounded and we could hear the others filling up the hallways. I grabbed her right hand with my left. “Let’s get to class.” There was one other time that I should have noticed… “I’m actually in love with you,” I confessed my love to her at the firefly festival. The sky was lit with only stars and the lanterns illuminated the pathway in the garden behind our school. It was just me and her sitting on a bench enjoying the scenery. She got up to try to catch a firefly. “Are you even listening to me?” I was getting a little irritated that she wasn’t taking me seriously. She had changed me in so many ways; she was my best friend that turned into someone I love. I needed her approval to make us official. Haruka finally captured the firefly, then crushed it in her hands. My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe she would do that. “My hands were like life,” she turned to me as she rose from her crouched position. “You and me--the firefly. Given the right condition,” she wiped her hands on her skirt, “ life can destroy us into the bliss we never knew we needed.” “What does that even mean?” I was confessing my love and she was spouting randomness, so I dismissed it and asked, “Do you even love me back?” “Yes,” She said. “You will be the only one I ever love.” I was relieved. She was mine and I was hers. So when she tells me to come to the rooftop today, our graduation day, I’m eager to see her, but this is not what I expect to see. I run toward her, everything makes sense now, I can’t let her go through this alone, I have to be with her. She soon steps off the ledge, I grab her as we plummet and we hold each other hard. Life’s grasp is enclosing, and these are our last nine seconds. “Why?” I ask her. “Because, I want to wake up next to you,” are her last words.


Here, take it. It’s yours, I made it for you. Do you like it? It’s no big deal, really. Just a little something I threw together. I thought you’d like it, so I decided to make it for you. It wasn’t easy getting it just right, it actually took me a few tries, but I’m really proud of how it came out. There’s a part of me in it, so every time you look at it you’ll that I’m thinking of you. Maybe it’ll remind you of how much you mean to me, or how hard I worked to make you smile. You did smile, did you? To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give you this. Of course I want you to have it! But what if it doesn’t work for you? What if you don’t like it? I’d hate for all of my hard work to go to waste. What if it becomes a burden for you, something that you don’t want but you can’t get rid of because it’s a gift? What if you can’t help seeing me when you look at it, and you start to think that it’s me you don’t want? I worked so hard to make this. You hate it, don’t you? STOP. I’m so sorry. Of course you don’t hate it. I saw how you smiled when I gave it to you. You have such a beautiful smile. No one can smile like that and not mean it. I guess you did like it, then. Maybe you even loved it! Maybe it’s the best gift you have ever received, and you will cherish it forever. I doubt it, though. Like I said, it’s no big deal. It’s a big deal for me, though. I don’t usually make things like this for people. I don’t usually make anything for anyone, actually. I never saw myself as the kind of person that creates beautiful things out of nothing. I don’t even know what came over me when I decided to make this. I was thinking of you and it just…. happened. I guess a part of me thought that if I made you this you’d see me in a different way. Maybe now you can see me the way I see you. You did like it, didn’t you? Please say something. It’s been too long, and starting to panic. I’ll say it was a joke, that I didn’t really make you this, and that I just wanted to see the look on your face. At least that last part is true, isn’t it? Maybe I’m the joke for thinking this would change anything. There’s no way you liked it, you would have said something by now... Fuck, what do I do? I can’t take it back, it’s awkward enough as it is without me about-faceing my sorry ass out of this shitshow. What’s wrong with me? Why am I like this? Why do I get myself into these stupid situations? Why did I ever think this would work? Is there something so wrong with my head that I’ll obsess about a terrible idea for the longest time only to realize it’s a terrible idea just when it’s too late? I have to do something. ANYTHING. Why can’t I move? I have to get out of here! Oh wait, you’re saying something, what was it again? Oh... Well, I’m glad you liked it! No, don’t worry about it. Like I said, it’s no big deal. I just thought you’d like it.