All was quiet, save for the footsteps. Just the rhythmic tap of shoes on concrete. These particular shoes were handcrafted by their owner, made of shining black leather, and the man wearing them was rather proud of them. They looked just like the pair he wore ten years ago, and that pair looked like the pair from ten years before, and so on backwards for over 200 years. Yes, Abraham Weston was proud of his shoes. This is not to say Abraham was not proud of all his clothes, but he was particularly fond of the shoes. He gazed down at them as he walked leisurely along the sidewalk, his hands in the pockets of his coat. When he looked up, he saw his destination in the distance. A large, elegant home on the very end of a cul-de-sac. Deep maroon with white shutters, and the liveliest little garden out front. As he approached the house, Abraham looked up at the sky. In this part of town, he could see the stars so well. The moon was nearly full-- just one day shy. He thought of his good friend, Eleanor. Tomorrow would be hard for her. Perhaps he would see her tonight? Abraham pulled his watch from his pocket and saw it was 11:59 P.M. The house was still over half a mile down the road, and he was due to arrive at midnight. He had to pick up the pace. With a sigh, Abraham moved to a brisk stride. At least, it was what he considered a brisk stride. He arrived at the door of the house. He looked at his watch again, just as the hands moved. Midnight, on the dot. Abraham grinned, putting his watch back into his pocket, and knocked on the door. He was almost immediately greeted by a familiar face. “Abraham.” “Oliver.” Abraham looked up at Oliver and they exchanged smiles. Oliver’s teeth were strikingly white, and his skin nearly matched. His porcelain complexion was only made to look paler by his shock of black hair. Abraham’s eyes lingered on the other man’s lips as they drifted down to his cheekbones and jawline, both worrisomely sharp. His golden eyes shone underneath his sculpted brows, surveying Abraham’s features. “Are you going to come in?” Oliver asked, an eyebrow raising. “Well, I can’t come in until you invite me.” “Please, you know you’re always welcome here, my friend.” Abraham shook his head, though he still smiled. He entered Oliver’s home, brushing past him as he did. Abraham made his way to the dining room, where he found another set of familiar faces around the table. Eleanor, short, stout, blonde, and beaming; Isaac, thin and mousy; and Mary, serene and adorned in her usual white gown. Each of their heads turned towards Abraham. Greetings filled the room as Abraham found a seat amongst the rest. “Abraham,” Isaac said, “I see not much has changed with you. All these years, and still the same pair of oxfords.” “Consistency is key,” Abraham replied, chuckling. “Just ask Mary and her dress.” “I would change if I could,” Mary murmured. Her eyes danced around the room as she hovered just above the seat of her chair. “Don’t you get bored of them?” Eleanor chimed in. “You should spice it up!” “Don’t listen to them,” Oliver said as he entered. “I’ve always loved them.” The conversation shifted to Oliver, and it did not stop there. Chatter and laughter surrounded the friends, eager to see each other once more. “Eleanor, you know, I was thinking of you as I was coming here,” Abraham said. “I was unsure as to whether you would be here, seeing as tomorrow is your big day.” “Big day, right.” Eleanor giggled. “Well, that’s exactly why I *am* here. Might as well enjoy myself while I still have some control, you know?” “And before you have to spend a week inside recovering,” Isaac muttered. “That too,” Eleanor said. “Post-transformation, I’m a real sorry sight.” “I think you’re still lovely then,” Mary said, eyes drifting around the room. “You’ve never seen me after I’ve turned!” “No, *you’ve* never seen *me* after you’ve turned.” Mary’s already translucent body faded and disappeared momentarily. Everyone laughed, save Eleanor, who blushed deeply. “Folks,” Oliver said, “may I interest you in a glass of my finest sanguine wines?” Abraham nodded politely, and Eleanor exclaimed that she would love some. Isaac rolled his eyes. “Oliver Price, in literal centuries, you’re the most pretentious man I’ve ever met. Just call it blood.” Oliver simply smiled in response, then stood and walked to the kitchen. When he returned, he held a labelless wine bottle, filled to the neck with thick red liquid and corked. He set it on the table, left the room again, and returned with four glasses. “Mary, I would have offered you a glass, but…” “Understandable. Blood was never my sort of drink, anyway.” Mary focused her eyes on Oliver as she spoke, and he shivered ever so slightly. He sat down, looked to Abraham, and gestured to the bottle. Abraham picked it up and effortlessly plucked the cork from the bottle before pouring each glass full. Isaac sniffed the contents of his glass. “This is--” “Yes, animal blood. I would never neglect your dietary habits.” Oliver sipped from his glass, and Isaac managed a small smile before doing the same. “It’s blood of the Tahiti rail, actually. This was gifted to me by an old friend of mine from over in Tahiti. He’s been collecting it for centuries-- it’s always been one of his drinks of choice-- and once they went extinct it became very valuable. He gave me this bottle some time ago… My 200th birthday, I believe. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. Now, what’s more special than having all your dearest friends together on a beautiful night like this?” Abraham took a sip and grimaced. He much preferred human blood, and thought to himself that he could never be like Isaac. “How fascinating. It’s delicious,” he lied. “Oh, I love birds!” Eleanor exclaimed. “So tasty-- and they’re bite size! I love the way they crunch. Although, I could do without the feathers in my teeth.” “Yes, I imagine that’s unpleasant.” Abraham shook his head and took another sip of blood. He continued talking with his friends, catching up on how they’d been since they’d last been together and on plans for their upcoming days. The group laughed and chatted, drank and told stories. He felt at home here. He felt understood. As the night went on, his friends began to leave one by one. Eleanor was the first to go. After all, tomorrow was going to be busy, and she wanted to rest up. Despite the wretchedness she knew would soon envelope her, she said her goodbyes cheerfully and departed with a smile. “She’s so sweet,” Isaac mused. “I’m going to miss her.” “She’s not that old,” Mary said. “We have time.” “Of course we have time,” Isaac responded, “but not enough.” “We have all the time in the world, old friend,” Oliver said. “Eleanor doesn’t.” Isaac stared at the table as he spoke. He chewed his lip, his fangs poking tiny holes into them. He sighed, and the holes had already closed. “Perhaps she’ll become a ghost,” Abraham offered. “You should hope not,” Mary said. “Do you want her to suffer?” “Oh, right. Tricky business, becoming a ghost. Not too often pleasant.” Abraham glanced at Mary, whose face flickered for a moment, becoming mangled and bloody. Red stains flashed on her gown and her arm hung to her shoulder by merely a thread. Only a flash, though, and Mary returned to her normal self. “Never pleasant,” she said. The group sat there for a moment in silence, each lost in their own head. Mary broke the silence. “I think I’ll go.” Isaac, Abraham, and Oliver said goodbye and she wordlessly floated away, out of the house. “I should probably go, too.” Isaac rose from his seat and emptied what remained in his glass in one swig. “Getting home before sunrise, all that.” “Right. Goodbye, Isaac,” Abraham said. “Take care,” Oliver said, nodding at his friend. “I’ll see you soon,” Isaac said, and showed himself to the door. Only Abraham and Oliver remained. They sat quietly, both with empty glasses in hand. Abraham gazed into the glass, and Oliver gazed at Abraham. “How about now that Isaac has gone, we enjoy the good stuff?” Oliver asked. “Human?” Abraham had a hint of excitement in his voice. “Of course. Freshly drained, just last night.” “I’d be delighted.” With that, Oliver made his way to the kitchen and came back with another bottle. He popped the cork out and filled both their glasses. Abraham took a large sip and sighed in delight. “I’ll never understand Isaac. This is far too delicious to give up.” “He still hasn’t quite embraced the monster, I suppose,” Oliver said. “Well, neither have I,” Abraham said. “I don’t think we’re monsters at all. I never have. There’s nothing monstrous about survival.” Oliver smiled wryly. “I understand completely.” “I know.” The two men sat in silence once more. Abraham studied the room around him, taking in the elegance. A cabinet full of beautiful china stood against one wall. A deep blue Victorian wallpaper covered the room, and the cherry hardwood floors shone. The very table they sat at was vintage and beautiful; Abraham had sit here many times over the past century, and yet he was astonished every time. He noted for what must have been the millionth how beautiful everything in the room was. He looked over to Oliver and their eyes locked. Yes, he noted how beautiful everything in the room was. “You know, I do understand how Isaac mourns.” Oliver sipped his glass and closed his eyes. “How so?” Abraham kept his eyes trained on the man across from him the whole time. “It’s terribly difficult not to feel empty sometimes, when you know the people you care about will be gone one day. We’ll stick around, and dear Eleanor… Well, and every year gets faster, doesn’t it?” “I don’t know,” Abraham whispered. “Sometimes it feels so slow to me. Like nothing ever changes, even when everything is new.” Oliver nodded thoughtfully, placing his glass down on the table. Silence consumed the room once more, though it did not weigh so heavily on them now. It embraced them, rather, like an old friend. “Do you miss anyone, Abraham?” “Not right now, no. Perhaps in an hour.” “Why then?” Oliver inquired. “I’ll have left you.” Abraham looked softly upon Oliver, who hid a smile behind his glass as he drank. There was a pause, and then, “I still miss my mother.” Oliver looked away as he said it. “I do wish I had gotten to meet her.” “You would have loved her,” Oliver said, “and she would have loved you. To this day, she was the kindest woman I’ve ever known. I miss her sorely, still.” “I know,” Abraham said, blinking back tears. “You always speak so highly of her.” “Yes, yes I do… Some days, I think she should have been bitten, instead of me. She would never view it as a pain. In an endless life, she would have done endless good.” “I’m sure she would have.” Abraham placed his glass down and let his hands rest on the table. Oliver reached out and grabbed one in his own. “Although, I am eternally grateful to get to be in your company forevermore.” Oliver smiled. Abraham blushed. “As am I.” Abraham checked his pocket watch. 4:49 AM. “Oh, dear. It is getting quite late. Or, early, I suppose. I should get going before the sun comes up.” Abraham stood, but Oliver rose with him. “Why not stay?” Oliver’s grip tightened on Abraham’s hand. “I don’t want you missing me in an hour.” Abraham smiled and pondered it for a moment. “Yes, I think I will.” He used his free hand to raise his glass and take a sip. A bit of blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. “Careful, my friend,” Oliver said, walking around the table to stand next to Abraham. He placed his free hand under Abraham’s chin and gently wiped away the blood with his thumb. The two men gravitated closer and closer towards each other, until they were so close their noses nearly touched. Their gazes were holding onto each other for dear life, and their hands still matched. Oliver’s hand still lingered underneath Abraham’s chin, and he slowly brought it up to rest on his cheek. “Oliver…” “Yes, Abraham?” Oliver’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. “I know I’ve said it before, but sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier to have lived and died like a real human. Eternity can be so burdensome.” “You’re mistaken. It may be difficult, but it is never a burden. Nothing will ever be too heavy for you, because you have me to help carry it all.” And Abraham leaned in. He pressed his lips against Oliver’s and squeezed his eyes shut. They held their kiss for a moment, and then Abraham pulled away. When he looked at Oliver again, he was grinning. “I never thought you’d do it,” Oliver said, cocking his head. “Neither did I,” Abraham replied, a smile cracking across his own face, “but a century’s worth of waiting proved to be arduous.” “My apologies. You may have waited a century, but you have me for the rest of time,” Oliver said. “And it’s still not enough.” Both of them smiled, and they made their way upstairs to a bed they would share, knowing in the morning, they would have the pleasure of waking up next to one another. Abraham Weston and Oliver Price relished the thought of waking up besides each other every day for the rest of time.


It was a choked gasp. One through a stiffened throat and a quivering chin. Elsa knew she was too late. With desperate feet and clawed hands she pulled, hawling herself up the steepened slope. She begged, and begged. Still be there, she said. But she knew. Deep down she knew that she was too late. Her feet wept blood from the stabbing thorns and twigs that probed, burying deep into flesh. Her skirt flared, shredded strips whipping in the wind. The vegetation grasped, pulling her back but Elsa pushed and tugged forwards. No! She would shout,as her body twisted to the floor, from a stick that curled beneath her foot or a stone that thudded against her shin. No! No! No! All her life he had waited for her, all her life he would say ‘I love you’ and yet her heart never wavered. Not for him. Not then. For her infatuation stifled the love she could of had. This love. This love she now ran for, through the hedgerows, across the fields, because once more she had made him wait. How long, oh how long had he waited, she thought, as her muscles flared with fatigue and her lungs busted under breathlessness. Was it when we were kids, playing in the golden fields of hip high straw. When the wind whistled through leaves, whispering to us that spring was here. When we bathed in the warmth of a rich light with happy smiles and joyous laughs. Just three kids, playing in our golden days. ‘Did I not see’ she wheezed through lacking breath. ‘Did I not see a love when his eyes first met mine?’ At the age of eight, a little London girl, new to the Scottish wilderness. Morose from her parents loss. Fearful of new places. But Elsa stood as she was taught, tall, proud and with a smile. Always with a smile. With white stockings pulled to her knees, curled locks tied back in red ribbons and a flowered dress of white and out of place elegance. She remembered looking upon them both, two boys with dusty hair, and mud smeared faces. Ted looked on her, like a lion does his prey. To Ted, Elsa was posh and pompous, a girl who knew little of the highland ways, and had no place for these hills. Later his hands would grip at her waist. Later he would say ‘beautiful’ and ‘you are mine’ before his fist thumped back, and struck Elsa to the floor. He would say ‘love’, but he couldn’t love a London girl. One who he thought was not made for mountains. But Joe. It was Joe whose arms were open wide, even at that first sight, as Elsa stood, tall, proud and smiling. His eyes glimmered when they met hers. A glimmer that said ‘friend’, and made Elsa’s, then darkened soul, smile. ‘How his eyes gleamed’ Elsa thought. Maybe that was love? But how could she know? Or maybe it was later, when Elsa grew taller. When a child begins to realise that a girl cannot be friends with a boy. Especially two farm boys, rough in nature, cheeky in spirit, and wild with fun. ‘Playing out there with pigs and mud is no place for a young woman’ her Aunt had told her with a chilling inflection. Oh but how much Elsa loved to play. Ted and Joe, her best friends in this barren place. Friends who brought joy and laughter to a heart that ached for her parents. With age, Ted charmed the streets, with his handsome stature and amiable facade. His breath and being was worshiped by every woman, with whom he played for amusement. Even when Elsa wore his ring. On those dreary nights, when sleep escaped her with a spiralling mind, she lay waiting. With a bang of the door, and a new perfume linger, his body tumbled besides her nonexistence. Many of times Elsa would cry, and it was Joe that came. Dabbing a damp cloth over her bruised eye, and hugging an unloved body. Joe cared. Joe had always cared. But his charm did not cage Elsa’s obsession, an obsession for a man who cherished little and took a lot. An obsession for a man that Elsa could not have. ‘Stand on Ben A’an before midday and I shall stay’ were Joe’s final words, before his feet shifted and as the birds flew south, he was gone. Numb, Elsa stood. The orange glow of a new day cleaved into the room, where Ted lay in a liquor stench. With tearful eyes she looked up, through the glass window. Birds flocked, south they went. ‘Oh let me come with you’ she whispered, with watery melancholy. Just as the bird flaps its wings, Elsa picked up her skirt and ran. She ran through the frosty air, her breath casting clouds of steam in the calm serenity of dawn. Forwards she hurried, ‘let me fly next you, and leave this place. Let me choose you’. Rising on Ben A’an, a roof to her home, her silhouette was cast by the suns apricot glimmers. Mountains were her home. Nature was her freedom, in its purity of no judgement or time. Elsa stood and looked outward, hoping she stood in sight of a man that she loved. A man that she had always loved.


I was finishing a cigarette on the porch of my house (something that only older people do) and thinking about everything and nothing at once, like when you try to remember the time you and your friends went out to play for the las time. The dogs were laying there beside us in the warm summer night, the lights from the nearest city glistened between the hills we could see from our comfortable knitted chairs. We opened a bottle of cheap wine and kept up our nice conversation, we were laughing, since I met her I always loved the small grooves that her smile made upon her her cheeks, her beautiful brown eyes and her long curly hair that made her look radiant when in a burst of laughter it covered her face. Hearing that goofy laugh could always make me feel better, it could always make feel like everything was alright no matter how my day had gone. After a long while of laughter and just being silly, she put her head on my shoulder and we both looked at the stars, neither of us saying anything, I looked at her, her eyes and the stare she gave to the stars that always gave me atleast this feeling she was trying to understand the universe, trying to find out a greater meaning than our being here. I always ended up staring at her, always baffled and intrigued by that profound stare. I would have loved to stare in to her mind for a brief second and get a small glimpse at her magestic thoughts which I'm shure would have had the answers to the universe and life itself. I stopped staring at her and focused my thoughts on the starry sky again, a light breeze flew by making it a delightful summer night. All my problems were forgotten, this moment was pure peace, the kind of peace many men and women would not live on their lifetime, the kind of peace that would make anyone jealous. She got of my shoulder and started towards me, those beautiful brown eyes coming closer to me, those eyes that I could almost feel were looking deep into my soul. I closed my eyes and started to meet her half way in one of those deep kisses I found so soothing. As I came close to her I saw that little mole on her lower lip, that mole that I found extremely sexy and that gave her perfect lips a personality of their own. Right before my lips touched hers, she disappeared, I found myself kissing the air as my eyes slowly opened. My eyes that popped out of a zombie like thin face, from a head that was attached to a beaten and zombie like body. A zombie like body that was covered on ripped rags and covered in dirt, blood and grime from days of travel by foot. There where only crumbles of the mountains that once stood tall and adorned the landscape, the city lights were glistening no more and there was a dark cloud that covered the sky as far as the eye could see. There was a very particular smell in the air, a thick disgusting smell which I had come to get used to in the past weeks, it was the smell of death. Three weeks have passed since the bombs were set off, as far as I knew no war was started and after the explosions there was no one who could provide information. The last time I spoke to her was over the phone, the last video call, the last time I saw her face... Those eyes that were once trying to explain the universe were now filled with terror, blankly looking at the phone, knowing it was the last time I would speak to her. Finally I'm back here in this porch, this porche filled with bricks, concrete and pieces from neighbouring houses, between the rubble a red tricicle, now scratched and rusty reminds me on the place a young kid used to imagine he was riding a race bike, an airplane, a fast car and I rember vividly how he closed his eyes when in his imagination the vehicle being imagined hit too speed. Here sitting on this chair, were we once lay, laughed kissed and loved I hope for my death and know I'll go to heaven, for living without her has already been hell, surviving was a curse and getting here was my last wish. Now I can finally rest on this chair, the only thing that remains standing from this once beautiful and colorful street, now I can rest forever and finally go back to her, to those beautiful eyes, those soothing lips and that curly hair. I can only wish for one last kiss, for a radioactive kiss.


"Dude! It's gonna be lit! Everyone is going to be there! What do you mean you aren't going?" Kevin was almost yelling. No, actually yelling. I didn't know what else to say, other than shrink under his wrath. "Bro, lay off-" Nick tried to pacify him, but that turned Kevin to the point of near physical violence. Nick grabbed him as he lunged forward and made a swiping motion. "Fuck you! You know how much I stuck my neck out for you to come? I told all my frat brothers that 'He's cool' and all that, and you're going to bail on me? I spent 50 dollars for us to go! Each!" Nick and Kevin wrestled for a little, but Nick was far stronger. He pushed Kevin off of him, and Kevin puffed his chest in rage and looked at me. "Tell me why, at least. You owe me that." Kevin stated "You don't owe him shit, Jacob. You don't want to go, that's it" Nick defended. "It's ok, man, " I started. I stood up and looked Kevin in the eyes. "Look, I'm really sorry. I really did want to go. Tell you brothers that I'm sorry, and I'll pay you back for my invite. But I thought that it was this weekend, not today. I mean, it's the 8th dude, you know I can't." Both of my friends instantly deflated. Kevin murmured "Shit *that's* today?", while Nick took a long exhale. The sudden silence was almost deafening as we all stared at the ground. Kevin raised his head to say something, than began backing towards the door. "Look man, I forgot. I'm sorry, uh, don't worry about paying me back. I got it. And I'm sorry I got so pissed, I, uh, pregamed a bit. If you don't want to be alone, then feel free to come. Wait, do you want us to stay with you this year?" Nick and Kevin looked at me expectantly, hoping this was the year I opened up about the death. It wasn't. I simply shook my head and winced at their collective sigh. I didn't look up, but I felt them squeeze me before I left. I waited like that until I heard the door shut, and their footsteps retreat down the hall. That's when I sunk to the floor, emptying myself of a years worth of pent-up pain and guilt and regret and and.... I wanted to tell them about him, so badly. I didn't want to do this alone. But I couldn't, because the person who died was me. An alarm shook me out of myself. That was all the time I left for grief. I had three hours to bargain for one more year. I went to my bed and slid it aside. Underneath was a inconspicuous gym bag weighed down with century old armor and weapons. What I was wearing that fateful day. I never wore the armor anymore, as it brought too much attention in the modern world. Instead, I simply drew my sword from all those years ago and began to head to the door. I invested in a umbrella shaped sheath years ago, which allowed me to move freely in public. I grabbed my keys and opened the door to find the grim reaper staring down at me. I almost flinched before steeling myself and pushing through the apparition. I walked down the hall and into the elevator. Just before the door closed, and hand forced the sensor open. I almost gripped my sword. To hell waiting till midnight, I'd deal with this right now. However, it was just a group of girls giggling about something. I shuffled to the far end of the elevator and they shuffled to the opposite end. They tried to muffle their conversation but I still caught snip bits as they looked over their shoulders in sneers. "He can't do it this time." "He should just quit at this point." "Why does he even want to live this long? I heard his life *sucks."* I shot the girls a look, but the doors opened at ground level and we all poured out. They began laughing about the party or something, leaving me to believe they didn't know what they were saying. I scoffed and tried to beeline for the door, but I heard Mr.Johnson call out to me. "Oh! Where you heading off to?" I forced a smile and looked back at him. "Ah I just don't like staying in that apartment all night. Gonna go for a drive." I turned to leave, but he didn't relent. "Oh? Well, have fun kiddo. Is it supposed to rain tonight?" "Well maybe! I got caught in a sudden storm once and I really don't want that to happen again." We shared a short laugh and Mr. Johnson rocked back in one of the lobby chairs. "Alright, don't let me hold you back from your date young mister. Just be safe and don't die ok?" I dropped my smile and Mr.Johnson gave a small wink. I turned towards the door as he began laughing at some other joke he heard. I went straight to the car and revved it, and noticed the clock read 11:00. Where...how? Was the elevator slower? The conversation... he was distracting me so I didn't notice him dilating time. Dammit! I'm not ready! I took off down the road, and made a mad dash towards the highway. Last time we had this duel in public, more people died, and I had to relocate completely! I just drove far and fast, not caring about the direction. I was one of two cars on the road. I cautiously readjusted my rear view mirror to watch the driver behind me sway and struggle to stay in the lines. I sped up a little to avoid him, but he maintained our distance. I glanced at him again only to see that he wasn't in my view. Or any view. Where- He hit me, sending both our vehicles tipping off the shoulder. We rolled a couple times before we finally stopped. The airbag almost knocked me out, and I lost track of everything. Where was he, where was I? The umbrella, no, my blade. I looked around, and saw it under me in the passenger seat. That's when I understood my origination; the passenger side was on the ground, and my seat belt was holding me in the air. I unbuckled it and fell with a soft grunt, onto the sheathed blade. I then kicked out my windshield, carefully crawling out on top of the car. That's when my hair began to stand on my neck. Another alarm called out into the night, echoing over the calling cries of the night. It was midnight.


December 1981 Many churches volunteer to help the homeless by doing soup kitchens on the weekend. In the city of Lakeland Florida where we lived, there was the Lakeland Council of Churches who coordinated this effect. Our church, the Church of the Christ volunteered but we were never called. Yet on the TV, the council was always looking for more churches to volunteer. One time they said just come on down. Well, our group did and was asked to leave. We were told we weren't wanted or needed. They never made that mistake again, saying to call first. What they really meant is only those that they deemed acceptable would be able to participate. The soup kitchen said they needed some people and I showed up. They were nice until I told them what church I attended. Then their demeanor changed from being nice to downright hostile. An older man started yelling at me telling me to leave immediately. He told others that they didn't need people like me at their soup kitchen. Some Christian this man was. I was in tears as I headed towards my car. I actually met Billie Grinds at the soup kitchen. He was homeless and had seen what had happened. Billie challenged them and was asked to leave before police were called. He left after asking them if Jesus would have turned our group away. They had no answer and ordered him to leave immediately and said that he would be arrested if he ever was seen at the soup kitchen again. He was accused of not being homeless and trying to abuse the system. This man seemed to know Billie saying that he was no good and was nothing by trouble. Good for nothing is what he said to him. Billie thanked him for the compliment and walked away. It wasn't difficult to figure this one out. We were outcasts in the Christian community because our belief system is different. No one would say this but it's the truth. I guess all the other churches don't have the exact beliefs but they aren't excluded from this. I will stop here as you get the general picture. Bill Grinds caught up with me and we talked as I stood by my car. I knew that our church took in homeless people and had a homeless shelter in town. As we talked, I sensed that he wasn't your typical homeless person or what you would think of as homeless. I knew that he hadn't had a meal. He had told me that he had stolen some sub sandwiches from Publix as he was hungry. I went into Publix and bought him some subs. I then took him to the shelter and went back to campus. I couldn't stop thinking about this guy. He was cute. A couple of weeks later, I went to the homeless shelter and found out that he had left shortly after he had arrived. I felt really bad and figured I would never see him again. At the time I was attending Church of the Christ college in Lakeland. Their headquarters were there as was the college. The college had about 1000 students. There were Churches of the Christ in Tampa, Miami and Jacksonville and of course the Orlando area including Lakeland which had the most members. The college that I attended even by standards of the day early 1980's was stricter than most college. No smoking, drinking or having sex outside of marriage. Of course no illegal drugs. We had to sign a pledge that we wouldn't do these things. Well, you know how that is. I saw Bill again in September when school started. He was playing in a rock band. He had gotten a house (I didn't know at first but figured it out). His home was outside the city limits of Lakeland (about 10 miles out) and it was in a more rural area. He didn't really have any neighbors. I also found out that he supplied those on campus with the alcohol (as stores in the area would report us for buying alcohol). Many in our college like to gamble, so they went to his home. He never sold any drugs but would turn a blind eye if people smoked marijuana. Hard drugs he wouldn't allow. He had a verbal agreement with the Student Council President. Nothing written down of course. He was good at avoiding detection or being on anyone's radar. The parties on his property never were out of control (most people would only have one or two drinks max) and no one drank heavily. He would buy the liquor at different stores, so no one noticed. Everyone chipped in for the alcohol. The parties at his home were about once a month. The student council President took the alcohol to his grandmother's home and hid it in the pantry. The grandmother was in a nursing home. One of the students lived in her home which was near the campus. I found out that he played at a bar in a rock band in Lakeland. He had a girlfriend and I was sad but oh well. Mid-September 1981 I was surprised when Billie called me. He asked me out on a date. Although the school was strict about matters relating to sex, it wasn't strict about dating. We could come and go freely without checking in but people would check up on us as the school knew who were dating. They wanted to know to preserve the reputation of the school. If you went away for the weekend, the school had to be notified as to why. He came and picked me up in the downtown area around 5:00 pm, Friday. Most people were gone. I was surprised that he was dressed up. I wasn't more dressy casual. He drove 45 miles to Kissimmee where we had dinner at the Kissimmee Steakhouse Grill. People didn't know him there but they knew him in Lakeland. I understood why as someone most likely would tell the school that we were dating. I always went to private school and was in my own world, so I didn't know him. Billie was one who challenged authority. I can't tell you how many times he was paddled by his teacher, by the principal and paddled by his parents. Nothing worked. In high school he got expelled for bringing a Playboy magazine to school. He never went back to school. When he was 17, he left home and basically hug out at bars. He slept wherever there was a bed. Sometimes he was homeless and slept outside. Was arrested as a juvenile for smoking marijuana twice and disorderly conduct twice for getting into a fight at the bar. I spend Halloween weekend with him. He pretended to be my father. Old Lady Wilson whose sharp mind had been declining agreed to the weekend away from campus. She forgot that my parents died shortly after I graduated from high school. My grandmother was in a nursing home. I had the house but couldn't bring Billie there. People would talk and tell the school. I went to church Sunday and no one knew. Billie dropped me off 4 blocks away but watched and made sure I made it to church. Oh, did I also say attendance at church was taken. I spent Thanksgiving with my grandmother at the nursing home. I felt sorry for Billie being alone but he couldn't come to the nursing home which was run by the church. On Black Friday we went to Tampa and had a blast. They had a battle of the bands and Billie was in one of the bands. It was really fun. I had several pictures taken with Billie. His band won which was great. There is more to come.


To my family and friends. All the one’s who trusted me. The actions took here in this cabin were my own. What happened to those people was not my doing. There is no way to possibly prove this, but I must try. I’m fighting back now. I just wish I had sooner. It’s so obvious that those . . . *things* won’t go away. Now that I have trapped myself in this cabin, I can express to everyone my side of the story. Once the police find this letter, I won’t be able to explain. I’ve hidden all reflective surfaces in the room so I can finish this letter. I can hear them in the walls now. The boards sound as if they are going to break. A tremendous force is trying so hard to reach me. To “convince” me to finish the task given to me. Well fuck them. I’ve always felt like I was being watched. I thought everyone gets that feeling every now and then. They’ve probably been around me for years, but they didn’t want to be noticed until now. I first saw them a couple nights ago, in my mirror. I stood in the mirror getting ready to go out for the night and I could see a figure half in the doorway behind me in the hallway. I saw it move and I quickly turned around. There was nothing. My hallway was empty. I stood and waited; listening. Nothing grasped my attention and so I turned back to my reflection. When I looked into the mirror this time it stood in the center of the hallway. I jerked my head back. Nothing. Suddenly, I heard a wet clicking noise. Like tongue to teeth repeatedly. It was so loud it felt like it was directly in my ear. Quickly, I turned my head back to the mirror only to see that a disfigured horror was inches from my face grinning it’s black teeth. My adrenaline spiked so quickly I nearly fell to the ground. I began kicking and crawling my way out of the room. No figure stood beside me in the room but as I ran, I seen it again and again in the reflection from the pictures hanging in the hallway. After making my way into the living room I stood still. I now realized I hadn’t seen the same figure over and over, I had been seen multiple of them. I was frozen in the center as both sides of the living room had large windows. It was dark outside and the light from the well-lit living room reflected off the windows resulting in them to act as mirrors. Although I was in an empty room, the windows portrayed that nearly fifty of them crowded the living room and were facing directly at me. The figures were pale, lanky, and deformed. Some of them looked as if they could hardly stand. One of them took stance dead in front of me. Staring directly at ME, not at the window so I could see it’s face. My eyes shifted to the front door as I began to move my weight in order to start a full-on sprint when I was suddenly and forcibly shoved. I hardly caught my footing when I was instantaneously struck from behind. This time something cut into my skin. I investigated the window’s reflection and saw I was seconds from being swarmed. I instinctively threw my arms over my head. I was violently thrown to the ground as I felt several blunt limbs and jagged claws striking my body. I screamed. Ten excruciating seconds of this and suddenly, a seize. I felt cold and wet from my own blood. The onset of unconsciousness seemed inevitable. My back felt like ribbons of flesh had came off. I slowly rose to my knees and looked up. They were all now staring at the window so I could see their faces. Hollowed expressions stared back at me. There were just as many figures in the room but now a larger one stood in the middle. It had red covering it’s arms and feet. It was my blood. It leered at me. I couldn’t see its eyes, but I knew it was looking at me, as were the rest. Before me was writing on the floor. Three messages. The last of the three had been scratched directly into the floor. “Kill your neighbor.” “If you dont we will take his life and your fingers.” “**DO AS I SAY**”. I rose my head back to the window’s reflection. The tall one’s head was slanted. Inspecting my reaction. It was waiting. Did I have to act now? What the fuck was even going on?! This is a nightmare, it must be. Any minute I will wake up, right? Twenty seconds went by as I hesitated. Some of the figures began to leave. I stood up. Instantly falling back to my knees now realizing how bad the wounds covering my body were. I shouted, “WHY? WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I LISTEN TO YOU?!”. At this moment even more figures began leaving. All in the same direction. The biggest one broke stance and slowly followed the others. The room had emptied almost instantly. I made myself get up and stumble to the window in the direction they were headed. I could see my neighbor’s house across the yard. His house was well lit through the night and I could see through his kitchen, dining room, and living room windows. There was no movement. All was silent beside the few drips of blood leaving my back and hitting the floor below. Then I saw a curtain move. My neighbor appeared in the kitchen, covered in blood. He was panicking; scanning the room intensely. He had no idea to look at the reflections. He suddenly grabbed his arm and bent over in pain, screaming. The clothes on his body began to tear and blood would appear seconds later. He fell to the floor as the walls and curtains were stained with blood. He was mauled to death in that very spot. They did it. I walked back slowly from the window and slipped, crashing to the ground. I slipped on my own blood. The message they wrote. They were going to come back for me. Adrenaline overcame me again and I hopped to my feet. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I began to make my way to the door checking reflections as I went. I swung the door open and ran outside. I began to go for my car. It dawned on me that outside, in the dark, was not a good place to look for reflections. I fumbled around in my pockets for my car keys as I approached the car door and began to unlock it. I glanced at my neighbors house and saw only one light flickering as the bloodied curtain sway lightly back and forth. I opened the door, sat down, and started the car. I shifted into reverse and peered into my rear-view mirror. The biggest one filled the back seat, his face inches from mine. Behind the car were the other figures. Next, I heard the clicking noise. I hit the gas but was instantly stopped. Sure, in hindsight I should have probably just gotten out of the car. Fuck you want me to say, I’ll remember that next time? The beings held my car into place and the biggest one grabbed the entirety of my head with one hand. It squeezed so tight I thought my eyes would pop. It continued clicking and I let go of the gas. I was to be obedient to it or I would be instantly killed. “I understand”, I thought to myself. I could barely reach the shifter and put the car into park. Once I did the figure pinched my head just a bit tighter and I instinctively grabbed my head. Except I didn’t grab my head. I grabbed it’s hand which I could only see in the mirror. It’s other hand came around and grabbed MY hand. I tried to scream and it pulled back for just a second then lunged once more and in one yank, ripped two fingers off my hand and dislocated another. I gripped what remained of my hand and screamed. Slowly, the being removed itself from the car and crept around outside, still holding my fingers. I lost it for a second and then seen it in the side mirror using my pinky to write a message on my car window behind me. The remaining figures began to disperse. I hunched over in my car and tried to control my breathing. I grabbed a shirt lying on the backseat of my car and wrapped my hand the best I could. I didn’t have anything to stop the bleeding. I sat in my car for probably 10 minutes. I was terrified but I was also done with this fucking game. I don’t even understand what was happening, how was I supposed to fight these things? I just waited for them to finish me off. The windows began to fog over. I became overwhelmed with anxiety as I knew the message on the window was waiting. I began to open my door. The cuts covering my body were now tender. I could feel stinging with every movement. I slowly lifted myself out of the car. The blood from the message was running down the side and onto the pavement. My heart stopped. “We know who you love.” “one of them will die every night that you dont take a life” “**WE ARE WAITING**” It’s been over two days since I read the message on my car. That day, I cleaned the blood off my car and attended my wounds. I drove and pondered what to do. I wondered if I could take a life. How was I supposed to do something like that? “I mean, I know HOW but like, DAMN IT!”. I talked to myself for hours as I drove nowhere. I made it several hundred miles from what was once home. The texts and calls came in just 24 hours after that fucking monster took my fingers. Those things didn’t start with someone I knew for a couple of years or something. It was my sister that called and said our mom was found murdered. Then several other messages of condolences and prayers followed. Today, just a few hours ago, the police left a voicemail on my phone informing me that my sister went missing and I was to appear at the police station for questioning. They must have connected the dots from neighbors death and my sudden disappearance to two members of my family dying. It’s a matter of time before they find me at this cabin I rented the next state over. A third person will die tonight unless I kill someone. So, I will. They won’t get what they want. I’m so sorry Mom and Sarah. I love you both very much and you didn’t deserve what happened to you. I can only imagine HOW it happened. Dad, or anyone for that matter, I don’t expect you to believe what I have written. Just promise me that if you ever see them in the mirror, you’ll take your own life, so they can’t.  Written by C.T.


(WP) A Bitter Feud She didn’t know just how many times she’d told her children no. To hell with the life-saving, advanced medicine and drugs they were always trying to push into her body. Why didn’t everyone understand how tired she was? This was not a life, not even a pale imitation of it. Stuck in a hospital bed, plugged in to machines, unable to hold down more than a few bites of food. Evelyn wouldn’t have wished this life on her worse enemies, and there had been many. But even now, close to death, she couldn’t make herself regret it. That wasn’t her style. Bitterness crested in her throat, as sour and familiar as bile. Was it so hard to understand, wanting to move on? Evelyn was broken out of her angry thoughts by the arrival of her nurse, Holly, with someone following in her wake. “Miss Eve,” Holly said, smiling warmly, “You have a visitor today!” Evelyn had to resist pulling her face into a scowl; she *hated* being called Eve, and what was worse, Holly knew it. It brought back unpleasant memories. But perhaps the nurse was torturing her. Some people got their kicks by being shitty to the infirm and elderly. Holly smiled and checked her vitals, then left her with her visitor. It was Evelyn’s only son, Charles, and she shook her head before he even opened his mouth. “I said no, and that isn’t going change any time soon, Charles. It’s not when you were little, when you could flash those dimples at me and get whatever you want—” This diatribe was followed by a harsh, wracking coughing fit, and she covered her mouth, ignoring the tiny dots of red that covered her palm. “If you’re not careful, Ma, you’re going to hurt yourself, going on like that,” Her son replied, mildly enough, but his eyes, dark like hers, flashed with silent anger and hurt. “I brought you lunch.” *What’s the use if I’m just going to throw it all up in an hour, if I’m lucky?* But she didn’t say anything; she was sure that he could see what she was thinking, anyway. Without another word, Charles walked to the chair that was next to Evelyn’s bed and sat down. He took out a picnic basket, and then put paper plates in front of them, along with paper cups, which he filled with sweet, tart apple cider. “Why are you doing this, Charles?” “You’re our mother and we love you,” Charles said, still mildly. “We don’t want you to die—” “You and your sisters are so foolish,” Evelyn snapped, interrupting him, watching as he divided the food into two equal portions: half a ham sandwich, slathered with mustard and garnished with bright tomatoes and Swiss cheese, and a bowl of soup, her favorite: borscht, made from her own recipe. To anyone else, this would’ve looked like a gesture of goodwill, of love. But Evelyn knew better. It was a bribe from her own children, to stay in this miserable existence.


I can’t sleep. I’m staring at the ceiling watching the fans blades slowly rotate. I roll to my side and see my wife fast asleep. My eyes start to grow heavy as I drift off to sleep. My breathing begins to get slower and the world starts to fade to sleep. I feel some time pass. There is a loud thumping sound from downstairs. My eyes pop wide open. I still hear the thumps from below. I quickly stumble out of bed grabbing my phone and pocket knife to go downstairs to go explore the source. I often hear random disturbances at night. I live in a neighborhood that many would call “a bad neighborhood”, crime is not uncommon here. I begin walking down the stairs, I can see where I am going because we keep a downstairs light on every night. The light softly illuminates the shadows from the kitchen. The entire time I walk, my ears are listening for any disturbances, for any sounds that are alien. I turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs that leads into the kitchen. No signs of life. Our old grandfather clock ticks methodically in the background, as it does every night. I make my way to the back door and glance out the window to the back porch. As I flip the flood lights on, illuminating the backyard, I see a quick dash of movement. An animal scutters running from the light, a raccoon. I let out a sigh of release. For some reason I still I feel on edge, but I can’t find anything out of place. I go back upstairs and get back into bed, the fan blades still spinning. I begin to start falling back asleep. In my sleepy haze I feel a weight lift off the bed, I roll over to face the bedroom door. I see my wife go to the bathroom, the light slightly shines through the crack in the door. My eyes begin to get heavy again. I see her figure walk back to the bed, I feel the pressure back on the other side of the mattress. I start falling back to sleep… I notice the lights glow is still on…. “Honey I think you left the light on” I say mildly in my half sleep. “What, did you say something?’ I hear her voice from the bathroom. Adrenaline surges through me, I am not longer feeling asleep. My hair stands on my neck. I am fully awake now. I still feel the pressure on the other side of the bed. My breathing begins to pick up a little as my body tenses, preparing myself to turn around and look. My mind flashes back to the disturbance from earlier in the night…. There is pressure on the bed… Who is in bed with me? \ If you liked that, check out my subreddit . I am a novice writer and love feedback. My first attempt all Horror, all feedback welcome.


(WP) Old Habits Die Hard You’re about to end it all when you are interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. The cold, silken weight of the firearm leaves your mouth, and you set it on the immaculate countertop. “I’m sorry, old friend, but you’ll have to wait for a little longer. It appears I have a guest.” The monster inside the weapon hisses, cackling with cold laughter. *Very well. I’ve waited this long; what’s a few minutes more?* Ignoring the triumph in its voice, you walk to the door, peering into the peephole. All you see is a cloud of bright, kinky curls, the color of a pink blush sunset. You open the door, frowning. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay away, far away!” “I’m worried about you,” Callie replies, pushing past you into the apartment, her dark eyes probing, searching for something, and frustration blooms in your chest, climbing up into your throat, threatening to cut off your next words. “I already told you, Callie, this isn’t your business—” “Bullshit it isn’t, Nolan! You can’t do this. You’re not all bad. We all have monsters inside of us—” “God damn it, Callie, this isn’t some philosophical discussion or a metaphor! *My* monster is something real. I’ve hurt people at its behest. And I can’t do it anymore. I’d rather be dead than to hurt someone else, accidentally or on purpose!” Your voice breaks on the last word, and your eyes sting; the room bows and sways, and you can’t help wishing that you’d bought some nice liquor for the occasion. You don’t understand why Callie is trying to talk you out of this; she barely knows you, in the first place. “I’m done, Callie. I can’t do it anymore.” “Nolan, please—” The spirit inside of the gun finally flows out of the weapon in a gout of sulfur-scented smoke, taking the form of a person with a bright, bloody red smile. *Foolish girl,* it sneers, swelling before her, almost preening in front of her. *This child has belonged to me before he even left his mother’s womb. And you think* you *can save him from his fate?* Its laughter echoes throughout the room, derisive and inescapable. “Nolan can make his own destiny!” Callie cries out, and you shake your head; you never wanted anyone involved in this, least of all a barista you made the mistake of confiding in one rainy day. “Please, Callie, I promise you, it would be better if you just left. And I could end it all. It’s safer for everyone that way.” “I’m not leaving you, Nolan, I already told you that! Please, don’t do this!” She grabs the front of your T-shirt, fingers twisted into the fabric like claws. But you don’t have a choice, regardless of Callie’s friendship. Every bone in your body is screaming with fatigue, desperate for release. You’re so exhausted, so tired of fighting for every ounce of control.


(WP) A Shroud of Protection I can barely remember my life before her: I was tucked into a wooden chest in the attic, being saved for a special occasion. Being a treasured family heirloom was an honor, but it was a lonely calling. Then she was born, and again, as before, I had purpose in life. I was taken out of the chest, able to feel sunshine again, and Grandmama Ruby spread me out, swaddling me around her fifth grandchild, and the warmth would have been enough to make me weep, if I’d had eyes. It had been so long since I’d felt the touch of a soft infant’s skin on my body. No matter how many years I had in the dark, these moments in the sun were always enough. Ruby cradled the sleeping child, staring down at her in silent wonder. I knew how she felt; with every life added to our extensive family tree, it never got old. A tiny life calling us home, giving me purpose again. Years had passed since Ruby’s mother had sewn me with her own hands, and after all these years, I would be tucked away, lying in wait for the next child born. And here she was, a baby to hold me close and snuggle me and take me everywhere. “Look at you, beautiful,” Ruby murmured, rocking her back and forth. “You have no idea how happy we are, that you’re finally here!” She was smiling, her dimpled cheeks flushed with joy. As happy as I was, I was also bristling with impatience. The bond would not form until Ruby told me her name, and as much as I wished I had a voice, my sentience did not extend that far. I had to wait until the time was right. “Oh, Frida. I cannot wait to show you everything,” Ruby whispered, and a subtle glow began to form around my edges, creating a protective barrier around the child. “I can’t wait to see what kind of person you become. But in the meantime, you’ll have this blanket. As long as you take it with you, you will be safe.” I was one of the family’s most closely guarded secrets, one of their sources of magic. Most people thought it was genetics, or good luck, but that wasn’t the case at all. Ruby and her family had been entrusted with secretive magical objects, and they only shared them with those who were trustworthy. I was one of the oldest in the entire collection, and Ruby always gave it to the youngest grandchild, as a way to safeguard against delicate mishaps. I was a shroud of protection, sewn into life and given a soul born from a family’s fierce love for one another. But, of course, this did not mean that other people, humans full of avarice and hatred and greed, did not covet or try to steal myself, and my brothers and sisters. Power is a truly dangerous, fluid thing, and there are some who would do anything to attain it. But I knew my purpose: to watch over the children of this line, until I turned to dust.


I'd taken that route a thousand times. Maybe even more. Every bend and curve became muscle memory to me. Every tree and every rock became recognizable. The view of the valley below, as you cling to the edge of the mountain peak, became as common a sight to me as my own home. Every day on my way back home, my bike and I would cling to the tarmac of that winding road, the cool mountain air and the hum of the engine below me becoming part of my routine. Brake here, swing hard there. Accelerate until there. Maybe I wasn't being as careful as I should have been. Maybe the darkness caused the irregularity, causing the all-recognizable treeline to become strange and menacing to me. Maybe the shadows stretched the road an extra inch that I wasn't used to. All I know is, I didn't brake in time. I could see it coming, but it was just too late. I slammed the brakes as hard as I could, my tires locking below me as they squealed and smoked in protest. But it wasn't enough. I slammed into the safety barrier, the impact jarring my bones as it traveled through my body. My bike came to a dead stop as the barrier crunched around it. I didn't stop. There was a moment of weightlessness. I felt calm as I rose in the air, my thoughts collecting themselves into a resounding 'oh fuck', as my situation sunk in. Then I fell, my stomach sinking into my gut as I realized what it meant. My moment of weightlessness was over as gravity swiftly re-affirmed its hold on me, reminding me sharply of what happens to those who defy it. I smashed into the first tree, the impact crashing through my frail body as I heard my own bones *crunch*. Momentum carried me onward, flipping me over as I flew through the trees at breakneck speed. After what felt like an eternity, I hit the bottom hard, the unrelenting ground coming up and forcing the air out of my lungs. I laid there for a moment, as my brain frantically assessed the damage. That was when I first screamed. My body burned, the skin over my leg stretching taut where bones lay broken under its surface. I pushed myself up, leaning myself against a fallen log, my vision going white as fresh pain seared through me. I took a few deep breaths in an attempt to force back the darkness of unconsciousness as I assessed the damage. My leg was bent at the wrong angle, in two places where it shouldn't be. It hurt to breathe. My arm felt like it had been smashed by a sledgehammer and my head felt cloudy, unfocused. My stomach felt warm, though. Wet. I lifted up my shirt, letting out a small cry as I saw the branch sticking through it. It was the width of my thumb, and there was no telling how deep it had gotten. I started to panic as blood slowly seeped out the wound, painting my stomach a violet color in the moonlight and drenching the soil beneath me in an endless stream. I needed help. I needed help badly. I pawed at my jacket pocket, forcing my shaking fingers to rip open the velcro holding it closed and fishing out my phone. I tapped the fingerprint scanner and it came to life, bathing me in its blissful LED light. It still worked. It survived the crash. Thank God. I clumsily opened its dialer, then typed those three numbers that were seared into my head since I was a kid. I put it on speaker and forcefully flipped up my helmets visor, as the call connected on the first ring. "Hello! Nine-triple-one here, how may I help you?" said a light, cheery voice through the speaker. "Gah, fuck, I need an ambulance!" I managed to croak out through clenched teeth. "Please, it's urgent! I fell off the side of I-40, and now I'm… I'm bleeding everywhere, and… And… Oh God, think I broke a few bones." Silence hung in the air for a moment, as the lady on the other line stayed silent. I took a few shallow breaths, trying not to agitate my chest any more than it already was. Suddenly, she laughed. It was sincere, almost apologetic, but with every passing moment I became more and more infuriated by it. "What the fuck? I need help!" I started screaming into the microphone, in an attempt to shut her up. "Why the fuck are you laughing?!" "Oh my, I'm sorry! It's just… Heh… Hoo boy… You must be looking for nine-one-one right?" she replied. "Yes! Fuck! I need serious help!" I shouted, as I watched my life drain from the hole in my stomach. "Oh my, I'm sorry, but it seems you called the wrong number!" she said, her voice straining as she tried to hold back further laughter. "A common mistake, but a mistake nonetheless! Sorry about that!" For a moment it didn't sink in. My mind, in its haze, just couldn't process this new information. I stared at the screen of my phone for a few moments, "**9111**" displaying in bold on its screen. My vision started to go dark, as the cold crept through my body. My head started to feel light. "Fuck, I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die here." I started to cry, my eyes burning as the first tear fell and I realized just what I had done to myself. It was stupid of me. Stupid to think that I was better at driving than I was. Stupid to think I could judge the distance the same at night as in day. Stupid to drive so fast in the first place. It was a stupid thing to do, and I'm going to die a stupid death because of it. "Alright. Sorry about that. Bye." I managed to say to the speaker, as I attempted to lift my hand and hang up. "Woah, hold your horses there Michael deary. If you hang up now you won't be able to contact anyone else." the lady said, her voice becoming serious for the first time. "You've lost a lot of blood, right? Try moving your fingers." For a moment I sat there, confused. I didn't remember giving her my name, but my head was so fuzzy, I couldn't be sure if that's true. I stared at my hands, I couldn't feel my fingers anymore, but I could still see them hanging there, limp. I tried wiggling them. I could barely get them to wiggle the way I wanted them to. I couldn't feel them. She was right. If I somehow managed to hang up, I wouldn't be able to manipulate my fingers into dialing the right number anyways. As it got even colder, I realized that this stranger will be the last person I'll ever speak to. "Fuck. I'm going to die." "Not necessarily, Michael my dear. See, we can still help you. It'll just cost a bit… More than usual." she replied, her voice washing over me as I struggled to keep my eyes open. "How much?" I slurred, as I barely kept my consciousness. "Don't worry about it for now. All I need is for you to say yes, and we'll work out the fine details another time. How about it?" she cooed, her voice dripping with honey. I didnt wanna die. I really didn't. If she could help, I wanted her to. "Yes." I managed to spit out, before I lost consciousness. My body was floating, the sound of the ocean waves washing over me and becoming louder and louder, roaring in my ears and drowning out all other sounds as I floated upwards, out of my broken body to somewhere better. Somewhere where it wasn't so cold. Before I reached the top, I heard a ladies voice. It cut through the rumbling waves and whispered clearly into my ear. "Perfect, Michael! See you in twenty years." I woke up a few days later in a hospital bed, attached to countless wires and drips. At first I had no clue where I was, what day it was, or even who I was. I had a severe concussion, three breaks in my left leg, a hairline fracture in my left arm and three broken ribs. On top of all that, I had severe open wounds in my abdomen thanks to the branch that lodged itself in there. The doctors told me it was a miracle it missed anything vital, and that if it was a millimeter out to any side, it would have hit major arteries and I would have likely bled out before help arrived. A family was driving home when they found my wreck of a bike on the side of the hill, still smoking, and stopped to investigate. When they saw that the barrier was smashed through, and that there was no driver in sight, they called for help. The rescue team found me at the base of the mountain, about a hundred meters down, crumpled over myself and passed out. They found my phone next to me, it's screen still on, the words "call disconnected" flashing across it. The recovery took months, the first few weeks spent in a confused daze as the concussion caused short-term memory loss. I didn't know where I was, or how I got there. I couldn't remember my girlfriend's name, or that we moved into town two years ago. But slowly I regained my memories. It started bit by bit and in no particular order. I'd remember my old managers retirement party, or a date with my girlfriend a year ago. After a few weeks, though, it all came back to me. I remembered the crash. The whistling of the wind flying past my helmet. The crack of the branches breaking against me. The shock I felt when I finally landed. The pain searing through me as the adrenaline wore off. I also remember the lady. How she laughed and laughed at me. How she offered me a deal, and that I took it. But worst of all, I remember what she said as the world slipped away from me and went dark. Her voice as smooth as butter, dripping with honey and venom.


The air entered his nose, flowed through his lungs, then back out his mouth. The oxygen was pumped through his body from his heart, rejuvenating his cells. Thousands of cells at once reformed from a lifeless organism into thriving cells all with a purpose engraved into them. His bones cracked and snapped back into place. Ligaments rebonded with each other from a tangled mess. He is alive. Now standing, he gazed upward towards the stone wall which was once behind him. Although it was night, it was still a shock to him when no end was to be seen. He began walking along the wall. At first limping, he now walked at a steady pace with gentle, deep breaths. His clothes, still tattered, were soaked to the brim with blood. Minute pieces of his broken off flesh stuck like wet glue to his pants where a bone penetrated his skin. After hours passed by, he, at last, saw a break in the forest around him; a road. Once reaching the road, he shifted his head to the left then right then began walking to the right. A little way down the road a light pierced the shadow of night and caressed his eyes. Covering his eyes as they adjusted to the sudden change, he instinctively was drawn closer. There before him stood a small convenience store. Through the clear pane windows, fluorescent lights illuminated the pavement which surrounded the convenience store’s immediate surrounding ground. He walked up to the door where a small laminated piece of paper was stuck to it. On it was the time of opening and closing. He looked at this puzzled. According to the schedule, the store should be closed, but then why were the lights on? Blowing this fact off as a mere mistake, he pushed to open the door and stepped through. The sense of dread overcame him. The air was murky with bloodlust. From the far left corner, a subtle flick could be heard moments after darkness shrouded him once again. The darkness was familiar to him. It took but a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark. But that wasn’t fast enough. A blade swung, slicing through the dorsum of his nose and splitting the pupil of his eye. He doubled over with his hands covering his face. Without hesitation, he came back up with force and caught the side of their jaw with his fist. Now in the dominant position, he grabbed their shoulders and kneed their gut. Taking advantage of the situation, he grasped the knife from his hand. He flipped the knife in his hand as he raised it above his head then plunged it into their back over and over again until their body went limp in his arms. He dropped the dead weight onto the ground and placed the knife next to the body. He walked away as the cuts on his face finished closing. He looked back one more time. Where the figure once laid, there was nothing.


The sun was setting as a thunderous blow crashed against Baron’s rib cage, forcing a cough that saw blood spew from his mouth. Struggling to breathe on hands and knees, he laboriously lifted his head to evaluate who or what he was being assaulted by. The creature before him had a large frame, standing roughly eight feet tall, and was covered in thick scale like skin that shifted colors between black and red. When it spoke, its voice bellowed deeply, and the repugnant stench of its hot breath could be smelled from several feet away. “Tell me… did you really believe you could slay demons?” the creature said as it kicked Baron again and again. The relentless impacts sent his body toppling further and further across the dirt road. First he felt his ribs being cracked, then his spine, and finally his will to live. The brutality of the scene was contrasted by Baron’s would be final thoughts. As the monster landed crippling strike after crippling strike, Baron escaped to the safe haven that existed in his mind. He saw her there, Amelia, smiling back at him. All the pain left his body as she walked towards him, gazing at him with eyes full of love and understanding, eyes that he had longed for. The only time he could see her was when the veil between this world and the next was the thinnest. He had to be on deaths doorstep just to hold her. As she took him into her arms, warmth washed over him and his body started to tremble. He wanted to cry tears of the purest joy. “I miss you so much.” Baron said as Amelia placed both of her hands upon his cheeks and stared into his eyes. “You need to stop doing this Baron. I miss you too but you can’t keep being so reckless. One of these times you could actually die.” Amelia said. Baron smiled as she pulled his head closer and pressed her lips against his neck. His physical body was in the process of being beaten to a pulp but his spirit was being reinforced to withstand it. Feeling her mouth on his skin sent a tingling sensation through his entire being. When she playfully licked his neck it wasn’t with a lustful fervor, but rather a slow, sensual sweetness that he desperately desired. They were a bonded pair, two monstrous spirit energies coalesced into a force of nature. She steadied him, acting as a sheath to his blade, and in return he fought tirelessly against the demons that plagued her mind. They were the source of each other’s power and desperately craved one another’s light. Unfortunately they were currently separated with no easy means to realign. Not much unlike the fated cycle of the sun and moon. They yearned for their eclipse but the toll was heavy. As Amelia pressed her lips against his own Baron slipped into a state of serenity. He knew he had to leave soon, that he still had a job to do, but parting with his beloved was the cruelest form of punishment he could be subjected to. “I missed your scent so much Amelia. I’ll never stop returning for you.” Baron said as his lips began to be separated from her own. He felt the cold pull of reality dragging him back. “I love you too.” responded Amelia. Her image faded and with a loud crack Baron’s body struck a tree and lied motionless. “I can’t believe this guy was supposed to be considered a threat.” the menacing creature said, laughing as it walked towards Baron to finish him off. The demon raised both of its hands high into the air brought them crashing down with a terrible force. Baron sprung upward, grabbed the creature’s wrists, and crushed them both effortlessly. The demon looked onward in horror realizing it had made a terrible lapse in judgement. The sky turned red, and upon looking up, the demon saw the fabled blood moon. “But… but… how?! She should be too far gone!” the creature said. Baron smiled and said, “She is with me now. She will never be lost again. Not entirely.


*Well... except for a few moments...*   \- Alright... Let's see who's next. There was the Reaper, doing its job as per usual. It had just taken a soul to the afterlife, so time moved a fraction of a second. Somebody somewhere was shocked to find themselves in a world of stopped time, but that wasn't the case for Reaper, who had lived that since the moment it was born. It left its crook aside and searched something under its robe. After struggling to find it for a few seconds, it took out a piece of paper. \- Edwin Carlson... Age, 43. Location, New York city, New York, USA. Cause of death, car accident. A wealthy man wanted to try out a racing car... He died doig what he wanted the most. And so, Reaper put the paper back in its robe and picked its crook back up. He raised it and hit the floor with its lower end. Suddenly, Reaper found itself in a racing track. There was a single car, smashed against a light pole. Multiple people were surrounding the car, but only one was moving. It was a man, around his forties. He was walking in circles, looking troubled. He had a lock in his chest. \- Edwin. The man looked behind himself. His legs started shaking, and his face went pale. \- D-D-D-Death! S-Stay away from me! \- No, Edwin. I'm not Death. Death is a natural process of separation between the body and the soul. Edwin gasped. \- Yes. You are already dead. Edwin fell on his knees and started crying. Reaper walked towards him slowly. It picked him up and held him in his arms. \- Calm down. It was inevitable. You can't live forever... If it makes you feel better, you don't end here. Reaper kept trying to calm the man down for ten minutes, until all he did was sob. \- You... You're not Death...? \- No. I'm the Reaper. I'm the one who helps souls reach the afterlife they're destined to have. \- And what afterlife do I deserve? \- The crook will be the judge. Once you're unlocked, you'll be taken there. \- Oh... They both stayed silent for a moment. \- If there's anything you'd like to know or do before your trial... - Reaper said. \- Well... There are a few things I want to know. They both sat. Edwin inhaled for a moment. \- First and foremost, what are you? Are you a spirit? Are there others like you? \- That's something I'm not even fully aware of. All I know is I've been created for the sole purpose of helping souls cross the metaphorical bridge between this world and the other world. \- I see... They both stayed silent. \- There is a Creator, though. \- Oh? And how is he? \- It doesn't have any shape or form, but it does have a voice. A strong, deep voice. \- Is it a loving God? \- Nah. I don't think so. It just wanted to create something. \- So that means... \- Yup. We are all the Creator's experiment. We have no ulterior purpose. \- And how come there's an afterlife? \- Well, it's not a "loving God", but the Creator does grow affectionate of its creations. At least of some... \- What do you mean some? \- You humans have an afterlife. I'm stuck in here. Forever. It's clear it doesn't want me to be with it. \- Huh... Silence again. \- And how does it feel to be the Reaper? \- It feels awful. I was created with a pleasant response to people who embraced their fate, but most people only accept reluctantly. " My job is horrible. Having to tell people who found Death a solution that they're in for more suffering... Seeing people from multiple religions have an existencial meltdown... Seeing the dreams and passions of young people crushed by their own fate... It honestly sucks. And I'm stuck here, living the same nightmare over and over again. Edwin sat there, unsure of what to do. \- I'm sorry to hear... Sounds like a really rough life. - He said. \- It's alright... It's not like I can do anything about it. Edwin thought for a second. \- But how do you know you'll be here forever? \- I'm the one who takes people to the other world, I can't take myself there. \- But what if someone else did? What if the Creator did it itself? \- Don't be stupid, the Creator doesn't care about me. \- And why is that? \- Because I'm going to stay here stuck... forever... Reaper stayed still for a moment. \- Well... I guess you do have a point. Edwin smiled. \- And now, I think it's time for me to go. \- Huh, really? No other business you'd like to take care of? Not even your wife? \- I'll meet her in the afterlife. What is 40 years without her compared to an eternity with her? \- Alright. They both stood up. Reaper pointed its crook at Edwin's lock. \- O, sacred crook, look into this man's soul and seek his actions! Judge them! Were they born from truth or were they created for evil? Only you will judge. The crook increasingly emitted a green light, and once it became intense enough, Reaper touched Edwin's lock with it. A spark came out, and a single chain came out of the lock's lower side. \- Purgatory. \- Huh? There's a purgatory? \- Yup, there is one. Judging by the small size of the chain, it shouldn't be that long a visit. \- Well... I guess I have no other option. Might as well accept it. I completely accept my fate. Reaper gasped lightly. Edwin giggled. \- You're welcome, Reaps. Now, take me there. - he said offering his hand. Reaper took his hand, shocked and perplexed. A green vortex formed below Edwin's feet. \- I guess that's it for now. - said Edwin. \- It... seems... \- Pleased to meet you. \- I... Nice to meet you too... Edwin started slowly descending. They both looked at each other. Just as Edwin's mouth was about to go through the vortex, five words came from it, followed by a smile. \- Hope to see you again. Edwin's hand went through the portal at last. It was all over. The vortex closed. Reaper just stood there, still shocked. \- Yeah... What if the Creator pulled me out itself in the end of times? Reaper got absorbed into this question. It dribbled around it for years and years to come, until the answer was eventually handed down to it.


Mark is back on the scene again he noted. He was never fond of Mark, we met Mark soon after we met up and I always found him to be a good guy, Mark and I had a shared interest in running amongst other things, but he didn't get on with Mark and tried to get away from him when he could. I decided it might be best if we only saw Mark a couple of times a year, in an attempt to keep the peace. I’d meet Mark at race meets and Mark would always ask after him, I hated that they didn't get along. I tried to convince him but he was having none of it. We first met in 2009 just before Natalie decided to leave him. He got very depressed about it and he came to live with me and for the first couple of weeks he moped around, sleeping a lot, doing crazy things like leaving the cooker on and nearly burned down the house. He got better though, after a couple of weeks he accepted she was gone and after a couple of months he went back to his happy demeanor. We decided in 2010 to head to Portugal for a few months where we both got fat and lazy, they were good days. We’d hang around the pool, drinking, or in the pool, drinking. A few months turned into nearly two years before we decided to move back. The downside for him was we’d bump into Mark from time to time. I thought the time away might help ease the animosity from him but no, he moaned every time we met Mark. Over the years we hung out as best friends do, we’d see each other daily, he turned into a good listener. I’d tell him my problems and he’d just nod his head, never butting in or never offering an opinion, he just listened. Earlier in the year he started to get a bit ill, and I couldn't help but notice his condition was getting worse and worse, he didn't listen as much these days and just got grumpier and grumpier. I put it down to the pain, though he never once complained about it. I spoke to Mark and asked would he come up to visit him, he got very angry when Mark came to the house. Mark never comes to the house he protested Why is he here? Dressed in his scrubs Mark said it was time, he injected him with the sedative and waited for him to close his eyes. Mark turned to me and told me that I didn't need to see the next bit, I walked away, but now I wish I hadn't. When I came back a few minutes later he was dead, and I was so very very sad. Mark and his colleague took him away and told me the practice would be in touch in a few days. A few days later I visited the vet practice and paid the man who killed my best friend.


"I remember you." For a moment, it was as if time had stopped. *Had he really just said what I thought he did?* "That's.. You're lying." I stammered, taking a step back as my shoulder blades propped up against the wall behind me. "You're not allowed to remember me." I continued, painfully clearing my throat as I felt the lump begin to form again. Nevertheless, his eyes remained trained on me, those familiar, puppy-dog eyes that glistened hazel in the moonlight and lit up whenever I entered the room. *"I remember you."* Well, he wouldn't for much longer. "Please, I just— I know I remember you, I know your face, I know.. I know you remember me, too." he pleaded, struggling against the chains that bound him to the opposite wall. It was almost too much for me to bear; I knew I couldn't keep up the act much longer if he kept trying to talk to me. With tears now streaming down my face, I turned my gaze away and began screaming for help, my voice cracking with each shaky breath I inhaled. "Help! Please! He says he remembers me! He shouldn't remember me!" I cried, my legs giving out as I slumped against the wall behind me, not wanting to watch them come in. Within moments, two large soldiers burst through the room and grabbed the male by his upper arms, wasting no time in dragging him away as he shouted and clawed and kicked. "No! No! I remember her! Please! June, don't let them do this!" And that's when I fainted. **𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟸, 𝟸𝟹𝟾𝟺 . . . 𝟾:𝟹𝟸 𝚊.𝚖.** *I remember the day they came to our city.* *Mama was busy cooking lunch when they knocked on our door. All I could hear was a deep, husky voice asking Mama lots of questions, and I could tell she was getting annoyed. Before I could ask who he was, Mama walked back into the kitchen and resumed cooking.* *I kept asking who that man was, but Mama was acting like she had no idea what I was talking about. That's how it all started.* *At first, Mama just thought I was playing games and messing around, but once they came and took over our city, she realized what was happening.* *Then one day, Mama didn't recognize me.* *She kept saying that I had her mistaken with someone else, but when I started to cry, she just turned away and went back to reading her magazine. Mama didn't remember me.* *Some of the neighbors stopped remembering me, too. They didn't let me play with their kids, and then their kids stopped coming outside altogether. I was all alone.* *I had to start avoiding Mama because she would get scared when she saw me. She thought I was a ghost, or a burglar, and stopped letting me sneak food from the pantry. It got to the point where I had to stay up all night and wait for my chance to get food after she went to bed.* *Soon enough, I wasn't allowed in the house anymore. Mama thought I was a squatter pretending to be her daughter just to get free food and a free bed. I pleaded with Mama to reconsider, to believe that I was really her daughter, but she never did.* *Since Mama didn't want me to live with her anymore, I was taken to an orphanage where other little boys and girls were. I cried when Mama left, but she didn't look sad at all.* *I could tell other kids were sad, too; they had splotchy cheeks and tear stains on their shirts. Why were we being left behind like this?* *I don't know if I'll ever get an answer, but I do know one thing:* *I never saw Mama again.* **𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝟿:𝟶𝟶 𝚊.𝚖.


Robert had seen a scary movie that wasn’t really intended for his age. The movie was rated at 18+ and he was only 10. “What will happen if I go to sleep after watching that? Will I get scary nightmares about monsters?” He said with a scared voice, trembling in fear. “It will be fine sweety, just don’t think about it at all. Just think about how today was fun!” His Mother said is a soothing voice to calm down his anxiety. Robert calmed down after some time, and went to sleep just to get the night over with. Tik Tok. Tik Tok.What was that? Tik Tok. Tik Tok. Where is it coming from? It stops right after the fourth tik. *DING!* Robert jolts awake, and feels like his heart is pounding, trying to get out of his chest. “What was that clock sound? Where was it coming from?” He nervously thought. As he looked around his room, he fell right through his bed. After falling for what seemed like hours, he hits the ground. He gets up, and looks behind him. A very big silhouette appeared behind him. “AHHHHH!” he screams out of fear. He starts to run the opposite direction, but as he is doing that, he hears a very faint sound. Tik. Tik. “That sound!” Tik. Tik. “Where is it coming from?” He stops, and turns around, to see the silhouette of the man from before behind him. “What do you wa-”. Before Robert can say anything else, the man opens his jacket. Robert cannot believe what he saw. He closes his eyes in fear, as the silhouette of the man starts to approach him. He opened them, and saw a giant clock, ticking, just ticking. It starts to tick even louder than before as it starts to get to the 12. Robert runs away, as the sound to him is unbearable, but it doesn’t get any quieter. He slips, and falls off the edge, and the clock stops ticking. *DING!* *DING!* "It is indicating that it is midnight.” He jolts awake again, thinking that the dream is over. He looks at his clock. 12. He gets up from his bed, and goes to his door to open it. “Should I?” he thinks. He has this irresistible urge to open it, but he feels that he shouldn’t. He opens the door, and all he sees, is the same silhouette of the man from before. “How? How? How can you be here rig-” The man jumps in front of him. As the silhouette does that, Robert covers his eyes out of fear. He opens his eyes, only to be stuck in a room, with clocks. “How am I here? HOW AM I HERE!” He keeps repeating those words over and over again to drown out the sound from the clocks. He looks around for a possible exit. There! He found a hatch. He crawls over to it, and opens the hatch, only to be swallowed in darkness. “Hello?” he says in a quiet voice. “Hello?” No answer. “Hello!” he says in a scared, loud voice. “Hello!” No response. He curls up in a ball, and starts to cry. “It is okay little one.” A voice said from the distance. Robert looks up with his face covered in tears. “It will be alright” The man said. Robert is now in an alleyway, with a man in front of him, just standing there. How did I ge-. The man spoke again. “Are you okay?” It starts to rain. Robert looks down, to see himself covered in mud, and his clothing ripped up. “No.” Robert said in a scared, trembling voice. “No, no I am not okay” he starts to cry, not knowing where he is, or when this will end. He wakes up in a cold sweat. Eyes wide open, scanning the room to find nothing in sight. He looks over at the clock. 7:30AM. “Is this still another dre-” His mom opens the door, frightening him. “Honey, it is time to get up you will be late for school.” “Okay” he yells out to make sure his mom can hear.


The day breaks just as it always does. The cold bite of the morning snaps at my fingers as I drag myself out of bed, eagerly stumbling towards the kitchen. There’s never a bad time for caffeine. Stepping out onto the tile deck above the back yard I bring the first cigarette of the day to my lips and light it, more so out of habit than enjoyment. The acrid smell of tobacco and coffee grounds serve as a dull reminder of the routine to come. I sit in silent contemplation a while longer before polishing off the steaming, bitter drink. I flick the cigarette butt into it’s tray and head back inside to get dressed. Pulling my jeans on unenthusiastically I grab the nearest shirt I see and drag it over myself. Both, as usual, are black. “Gotta stick it to the man somehow.” A reminder that, indeed, it was not a phase. With keys and wallet on my person I get halfway out the front door and suddenly… I stop. I’ve forgotten something. Taking several paces back I force myself to turn and face the stranger staring through the mirror. The stranger in my skin. *You know that it doesn’t work like that Jesse* And with a reluctant sigh, I take my insecurities with me. The added weight of remorse tears through the earth where each footstep lands, gnawing at the cold dew soaked soil outside; what a sad start to the day. And at the end of the street lurked something far more sinister, far more malicious than any internalised emotional issues could ever conjure. *Public transport.* The bus crept it’s way through the winding back roads of Sydney’s outskirts. Rural townships on the brink of urbanisation, with the only thing standing between the two being large expanses of farmland and a rather conservative group of locals. The scenic roads are wasted on me, however, as I marinate in thoughts I wish I’d left in that foggy place we leave our dreams. To be honest I’m not sure whether it was the silence of the engine or the stillness of the bus itself that I noticed first, all I know is that suddenly we had stopped. “For fuck’s sake.” I murmur, for lack of a better exclamation. In fact I find it quite appropriate. The driver, a short bald man with a rather plump physique, was busy fiddling with the controls spread across the dashboard. Seemed to me like he had as much of an idea as to why we stopped as I did. I looked out through the windows at the bush and fields around us and then brought my attention back to the bus. Maybe I should say someth- “Sorry mate! Looks like she’s gone and died on us. I’ll have to make a call out to see if there’s anyone nearby.” “You don’t know how long that’ll be do you man? I’ve got work in half an hour.” I do my best to play off my concern but it only comes across more anxious than usual, adding yet another awkward moment to obsess about later. “Couldn’t say for sure right now mate, we’ll just have to wait and see.


In a previous life I had been a rabbi. I died surrounded my friends and family, knowing that I had done well to help teach and bring meaning to the culture and religion I had dedicated myself too. After I died, I awoke in a pitch-black void. I could clearly see my body, yet I couldn’t see anything in the darkness. I had a clear feeling of being underwater, yet the numbness of the vacuum surrounded me. In this void of contradictions, I drifted, or maybe simply stayed still. Eventually a long rectangular line appeared before me, opening-up into a single human-sized eye. This eye was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, its dark pupil surrounded by alternating bands of black and gold lines that pulsed and shifted. Carefully I asked, “Are you God, O Lord of Heaven?” For a minute we sat in silence, I thought myself stupid for expecting an eye to respond when it lacks a mouth. But the silence was broken by a booming voice which came from everywhere, and nowhere. “I am the one you call God, who crafted the universe as a gift to my children within it.” For a moment I sat there in awe, meeting god was quite a momentous occasion after all. I said, “O God, why do you appear before me as but an eye, how could you make the universe when you lack a body with which to work.” And the eye I called God looked at me and responded “Child, how do you think I made the Universe? I gave up my blood to fuel the stars. My muscle and bone are the cores and mantles which hold the planets together, and my skin the crust which surrounds them. My stomach was a necessary sacrifice for the black holes which makes your galaxies possible, and my heart was given so that life could spring forth from the planets.” I was simply stumped, how could a God powerful enough to make the universe, be unable to do so without giving up his body. “God” I asked “that explains how they physical universe came to be, but what about the rest of you. Unless you were but a single eye with limbs, there must be more, right?” God chuckled at this question. “Yes, there is more. The last of my faculties I gave as gifts to my children. I gave up my brain so that my children could build, and learn, and feel. I gave up my mouth so that my children who were left downtrodden could call for help. I gave up my ears so that my children could hear those calls.” An irony that these are gifts human had seemed to squander back on earth. Wars of colonization, slavery, genocide…. All things that the gifts of the lord were meant to help us avoid. But instead we used his brain to build weapons, our mouths to shout orders, and our ears we covered, for we couldn’t bear the screams of the downtrodden. “God,” I muttered “I’m afraid that humanity has squandered those gifts, but there must be one last gift you have given us. After all something had to happen to your other eye.” The eye who declared itself God looked at me, conveying a puzzled look, despite lacking the face to show it properly. “My other eye?” God said “My child, I gave up all but one of my many eyes! How else could I have given you the many gifts of sight?” I was astonished, God had more than two eyes? This couldn’t be right, weren’t we made in his image? “God” I asked once again “You still have one eye, what gift did you reserve to yourself?” And the Eye known as God, looked at me and shed a single tear “The gift of seeing others as they see themselves.” “God” I asked, my final question for this eye who was only able to see the Gods its children saw themselves as “what did you used too look like before you gave up your body to make the universe?” And in my own voice I heard “More Awe inspiring than we could ever imagine.” I still don’t know who said it, God or me.


“Tell me your biggest fear.” I looked into Sam’s emerald eyes and smiled. Sam was so beautiful and I was the luckiest person in the world. I leaned in for a kiss. “Don’t try and avoid the question! Tell me your biggest fear.” “Just one kiss and I promise I’ll tell you.” I pressed my lips against Sam’s and, just like every other time, it was a drug I could never get enough of. When we pulled away, I could still taste its sweetness on my lips. “Now, what did you want to know?” A smack landed on my arm. “You know exactly what I asked.” Suddenly, I felt pang of sadness. I couldn’t figure out why. Here I was, intertwined with the love of my life, without a care in the world and I was feeling sad? I tried to shake it off but it lingered. “I suppose… um… it would be… being forced to watch White Chicks on a loop forever.” Another smack, this time on my belly. “What?? It is! I love that film and if I ever over did it and stopped loving it, it’d be hell!” “I’m serious! I want to know what shakes you to your core; the one thing that you would rather die than live through.” Those green orbs looked into me and all I felt was the same gloom. My brow furrowed as I wondered why I felt this way. I didn’t like it and tried to change the subject. “Why do you want to know this so badly, right now? Let’s just lay here and enjoy this moment before Life comes along and ruins it.” I burrowed my head into Sam’s brown locks and got lost in the scent. Sam always smelt like coconut. Always. But there was something else. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Different soap? Hair cream? Something wasn’t right. It was almost… metallic. “Babe, did you change your shampoo or something?” No answer. “Babe, are you sleeping?” I pulled back to check if Sam was asleep and a scream tore out of me. I jerked back and pushed away. Sam was covered in blood. But it wasn’t just that; it was the eyes. They were slit like a cat’s. “SAM? WHAT THE FUCK, SAM?” Again, no answer came but a hideous, spike-tooth grin spread across this *thing’s* face. “What’s the matter, honey? Aren’t I your ‘babe’? Don’t you want to just enjoy the moment anymore?” It was Sam’s voice mocking me. What the fuck was going on? I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think. My heart was pounding and my chest was about to explode. What the FUCK?! “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” it laughed. “Your tongue’s not the only thing I’ve got.” A blood-soaked hand – no, claw – reached out towards my chest and I scrambled back until my back hit the wall. Shit. “Oh shh shhhhh. Don’t be scared, I don’t bite,” it said soothingly. Almost sincerely. Then, a large sinister smile. “Not unless you want me to,” it sneered. “S-Sam?” “Is that what you want? Ok, one sec.” Instantly, Sam, *normal Sam*, was back. “Sam? Is that really you?” “What kind of a stupid question is that? Yes, it’s me! Why wouldn’t it be? What are you doing over there? Come back and let’s cuddle.” “I- I could have sworn you were just – I don’t know. It must have been a nightmare or something.” I shook my head to clear it. Such a vivid hallucination. “Oh, honey. You must be terrified. Come tell me about it.” Open arms beckoned me and I started to shift back towards them. “You stupid FUCK!” It was back! “That’s the problem with you people. One speck of affection and you’ll throw common sense away.” “Who- What are you?” I whispered. It was all I could do. My throat was closing up from pure fear. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is, I’ve won my bet.” “What?” “It took me a while. Considering I’ve only been doing this for a few weeks, I got you to crack in 2. The bet was 3. I tried all the cliché stuff first: spiders all over you, falling off a cliff; you know, the usual. But nothing truly scared you, not like this.” “What?” I couldn’t make sense of any of what it had just said, or that it was still Sam’s voice. Spiders? Cliffs? What? “I know you’re not stupid. But you do need to close your eyes and we can do this again, from the top. It’s so fun!” I was never taking my eyes off this creature. Not if my life depended on it. It probably did. I needed to get out. Somehow, I needed to distract the beast and make a break for it. My mind raced as I thought of how the hell I was going to do that. “Come on,” it goaded, “I promise it’ll be just as exciting!” It started to slither towards me and I didn’t think twice! I punched it in the face, jumped out of the bed and sprinted to the door. I was going to get out! Talons landed on my shoulder and dug in painfully just as I grabbed the door handle and Sam said, “you’re going to wish you’d never done that.” \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ “Tell me your biggest fear.” I got lost in Sam’s emerald eyes and leaned in for a kiss. “Don’t try and avoid the question! Tell me your biggest fear.