Hal coughed and blinked open his burning eyes, his breath stuttering as a wave of heat and nausea rolled over him. Holding his position bent forward against the steering wheel of the intercity transit bus, he took several deep, ragged breaths, focusing down at a mustard stain on his outsized middle as he attempted to regain his bearings. Another blast of heat assaulted him, hot enough to cause him to wince beneath the cover of his folded arms, and he shook his head weakly from side to side. Hazy memories began to cohere with his rational mind, and as they did, the distant sound of screeching began to rise in his ears. _Screeching—the screeching of tires… the pain in his arm and chest… the impact_ Jerking upright, Hal clutched a hand to his heart, gasping and squeezing at the meat of his chest. He was still in the bus… He had been driving, but then… Blinking furiously, he tried to make sense of his surroundings. A second wave of screeching wails met his ears and he frowned, turning to squint out through the glass doors. Where was he? He had been driving through the tunnel, but that didn’t look like concrete they were wedged up against… And that sound… That wasn’t tires against pavement. It almost sounded like— “—A great wailing and gnashing of teeth…” Hal spun in his seat, searching for the source of the unfamiliar voice. His eyes fell on a man—a priest, clearly, by the collar at his throat. Black of hair with gray at the temples, he stood, staring out the window before him, a distant and highly troubling expression on his face. Hal grunted a bit as he leaned to unfasten his seatbelt, then turned the rest of the way to take in the state of his passengers. Staring back, he paused. _Where were the rest of them? There had been at least eighteen passengers at his last stop—where were they?_ Only three people remained on the bus: the priest, still staring through the window, a young woman, maybe eighteen at most, dressed to the nines in the thickest goth glam Hal had ever seen, and a young man wearing dark-rimmed glasses and sea-green scrubs. Both of the latter two were finding their feet, beginning to stare about at their surroundings, a look of confusion, similar to that which Hal, himself, was feeling etching their features. “Is everyone alright?” Hal asked hoarsely. “Where’s everyone else?” “Saved…” The priest’s voice was quiet and distant. Hal waited, but no further explanation followed. Shaking his head, he turned away. _Sounds like EMS must have already started getting folks out._ And just as well—Hal really didn’t feel like dealing with a shellshocked priest just now. Reaching his hand out, he fumbled to open the door, but it was jammed hard against the wall of the tunnel. Heaving himself up and out of the driver’s seat, he started walking down the center aisle. He stopped short when he made it to the priest. He hadn’t moved as Hal approached, just stood there like a statue, staring out the window. Heat pressed hard against the side of Hal’s face, and he turned to look out the same window. Flames glowed against the outside of the bus, stuttering and flaring in unsteady bursts, fighting against the interior lighting for dominance against the thin pane of tinted glass. _Shit! we’re on fire!_ Hal caught a momentary glimpse of his own stunned face in the reflection as the fire wavered and disappeared once again. Pushing past the priest, he quickly moved to the rear exit, throwing his shoulder hard against the glass-paned door when it wouldn’t immediately open. It budged, but only by a small crack, and through it, Hal was able to glimpse a mangled, soot-covered mass of corrugated steel, the remains of what looked like a shipping container, wedged tightly against the outside. He pushed against the door once more, but quickly gave up, turning back to try the emergency exit instead. Glass imploded from the opposite side of the bus, and a shriveled, smoking form hurtled in through the broken window. “Shit! Shit—oh shit!” The man in scrubs was shouting, scrambling over the back of the seat in an effort to distance himself from the burned and twisted body writhing in the aisle, right next to where he had been sitting. A few seats forward, the goth chick began screaming. A sigh of relief passed over the lips of the burned man, and Hal watched in shock as he relaxed against the filthy floor in what looked like rapture, nuzzling one blackened cheek against the rubber aisle. _What in the hell is going on?_ The rush of searing heat from the broken window brought Hal’s attention back up, and the sound of screaming and screeching increased. _Dammit, we’ve got to get out of here._ “Alright, everyone—off the bus, now! We’ll send EMS for him.” Crossing to the emergency exit, he jerked the lever up with one thick fist and threw it wide. Glass crunched underfoot as he waved the passengers forward. Goth chick was the first to jump ship, skirting around the smoking and sizzling man with a squeamish twist of her fishnet-clad legs, leather boots notwithstanding. The man in scrubs, casting one hesitant glance downward on his way past, quickly followed. “Yo, padre, you coming?” The priest, unmoved from his distant attentiveness, even through the entrance of the burning man, blinked at Hal as if coming back to himself and then nodded, turning to follow the others through the small exit. A scorching gust greeted Hal as he stumbled heavily to the ground, and he lifted an arm protectively in front of his face. Squinting through the caustic, sulfuric wind, he found the others just a few feet away, hovering close together far back in the space between the bus and the wall. Light flared from directly beside the huddled group and they all cried out as the nearest set of tires ignited and burst, dropping the bus sharply in their direction. Goth chick threw herself against the wall of the cave but then immediately jerked away again, as if burned, heavy streaks of black mascara running down her cheeks as she began to hyperventilate. “Where are we?” she cried, staring around the dark space with wild eyes. “What happened?” Hal held both hands out toward her, palms out, hoping to stave off any more hysterics. He really didn’t have time for hysterics. “Look, just calm down. Nobody panic. Miss, what’s your name?” Frantic eyes found his face. “A-Amelia.” Hal nodded, then turned to the man in scrubs. “Doctor Benjamin Turner,” he answered at Hal’s raised brows. “I’m a resident at County General.” _We’re in the middle of a freaking emergency and this guy’s going to make sure I know he’s a doctor?_ Hal shook his head, spitting out a globule of ash-tasting saliva before turning to the priest. The father furrowed his brows. “Who I was doesn’t really matter now. My judgement has been passed.” _Judgement? The hell’s wrong with this guy?_ Ignoring his words, Hal asked instead, “You said the others were already rescued. Where’s EMS? The cops?” The priest just stared at him. Hal stared back, the expression on the father’s face making him think there was something he wasn’t catching on to. Another blast of heat pressed against him, and he scrunched his eyes shut. He shook his head. “Whatever, Padre. Come on, we’ve got to get out of this tunnel before the whole bus blows.” “I wouldn’t.” The priest’s voice held a note of warning, and Hal paused in his motion of turning toward the rear of the bus where a small gap remained between it and the wall. “Excuse me?” “This cave, this… crevice, of unnotice—this is likely our last reprieve before final judgement throws us eternally into the fiery furnace. Whatever breath of the Kingdom we carried here with us… it will not abide long, not here.” _Fiery furnace? Judgement?_ Hal blinked hard at the man, shaking his head in frustrated bewilderment. “Dude, what the hell are you—” but then he broke off, slapping a hand to the side of his face as, with a painful flash, he remembered. _His vision shrinking to a small, bright haze; passengers and tires screaming in equal volume as the bus spun sideways; the oncoming semi careening through the freeway tunnel…_ Shaking his head, Hal cleared his spinning brain. “Are you telling me…” he began, a sinking drop plummeting from the pit of his stomach all the way to his toes. Then he shook his head again, scoffing at the ridiculous notion. This guy must have hit his head something fierce. “You’re crazy. How could a priest and a doctor end up in Hell?” He cast a momentary glance at Amelia but said nothing, earning a reproachful look in return. He ignored this, though; clearly, she hadn’t been going to church in those platform boots… Doctor Benjamin Turner, MD looked slightly uncomfortable, but it was the priest who replied. “It’s not simply a matter of our deeds that save our souls.” Then he took a ragged breath, staring out past the rear of the bus at the dim glow of light filtering in. “And it would appear that some sins truly are unforgivable…” Hal spared him one last incredulous look before turning away. “Whatever you say, Padre. I’m getting out of here.” He motioned to Amelia. “You coming? Doc?” Doc Turner nodded and moved to follow Hal and Amelia toward the dim light at the end of the tunnel. The bus had halted crookedly in the narrow space, and there was only a small crack between the rear of the vehicle and the wall in which to pass through. Sucking in his gut, Hal squeezed his body through the narrow gap, wincing as the heat of the stone burned his skin. His thoughts unconsciously slid back to the priest’s ominous statement as he felt it sear across his back. A rush of scorching air blew past him as he emerged around the bus, and he spun away from it, blinking to find the others following with much less difficulty. Clearing the ashy grit from his eyes, he turned back to the red glow. The sound of screaming was louder, nearly overwhelming, and Hal found himself adamantly denying the priest’s words. Again. And again. And then again. A horn blast, deep and thunderous, shook the tunnel with its basso call. Slapping his hands over his ears, Hal ducked his head, cowering against the heated wall. Through his squinted vision, he saw the red light at the end of the tunnel begin to flash. _Firetrucks! Thank God! But did they have to blare the horn like that?_ He turned to the others. “Looks like EMS is straight ahead,” he shouted over the remaining echo. “Likely thought it was too dangerous to enter the tunnel or something.” _That would do it, right? They were worried about the integrity of the tunnel so they didn’t drive the vehicles in?_ He choked and coughed on another lungful of caustic smoke, surprised at the worry he felt when he realized… it didn’t smell like diesel fumes. A tendril of flame shot up the wall to his right and he shied away. Amelia peeled her hands away from her ears. “Something’s not right,” she whimpered, staring around at the confining space. “Look,” Hal maintained, “you can see the flashers—they’re less than fifty yards away.” Doc Turner moved around her, staring at the mouth of the tunnel as he wiped his forearm across his face. A streak of black remained in its place. “No, she’s right.” “I’m telling you—” Hal argued, motioning to the light, now a dim, steady red again, and he hesitated. _Not flashing?_ “Look at this place,” the doctor hissed through a choked cough. “Does it look like a traffic tunnel to you?” Hal stared at him, squinting against the caustic air, the smell of sulfur and hot iron thick in his nostrils. “Look!” And as the young resident’s arm shot around in a frustrated attempt at illustration, Hal looked. Really looked. He blinked through the haze of heat, searching the walls, the ceiling, the floors. _Where were the lamps? No lines on the road? Those walls were made of stone, jagged and rocky, not concrete… Where the hell…?_ But he stopped that thought dead in its tracks. “Look, it doesn’t matter where we are! We need to get out before that whole bus goes up in flames!” Not waiting for an answer, Hal spun and began marching down the tunnel, skirting sporadic bursts of flame as he moved purposefully on, trying to ignore the rising sense of dread growing in his middle as the sound of cries and wails increased with every step, trying to keep his pace steady as the blistering wind blew with increasing fury against the exposed skin of his face and hands… trying not to think of the priest’s words. But as he emerged through the mouth of the tunnel, all thoughts of denial or rescue or redemption left him. Towering walls of rock and flame extended out from either side of him in an endless stretch, curving around until they faded into the distance amid a rippling haze of smoke and heat. Slowly, his gaze followed the concave arc of jagged rock as it plummeted downward to form a fiery, gaping basin. Hell was a bowl… Hell was one giant, inescapable bowl filled with writhing bodies, all screaming and scrambling over each other in a bid to climb to the higher reaches. Hal followed the rise of the sloping walls, his eyes tracking the burning escarpments up to where they terminated, high above them, their peaks shrouded in a glowing black event horizon of brimming darkness. The darkness sucked at him, pulling at his clothes, his duty vest, whipping the burning heat over his face until he was forced to turn away from the boundless expanse before him. A scream from right beside him caused him to jump, and he spun to find a body, crusted and blistered, climbing over the edge of the cliff at their feet. One smoking hand was clasped around Amelia’s leather-clad ankle. She screamed again and kicked out at the body, breaking its grip and causing it to fall backward from where it had emerged. Shocked, Hal quickly stepped to the brink. Leaning cautiously out over the edge, he watched as it tumbled, crashing against rocks and other bodies in its descent, those bodies joining the first to create a grotesque cascade plummeting to the center of the fiery bowl where they disappeared with agonal shrieks into a vast, burning lake. Hal stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape the precipice. Suddenly, the horn sounded again, and, in a panic, he ducked beneath the shelter of his arms, pressing his forearms hard against his ears when his hands overshot their goal. He felt a rumbling begin in the soles of his feet as the horrid blast reverberated over the increasing volume of cries and screams. And as he looked up, his frantic gaze sweeping the ledge, torrents of writhing bodies burst from the walls in all directions, flowing over each other in macabre rivers of flesh, oozing from cracks and crevices as if the walls themselves were bleeding. Hal flung himself backward into the passage right as the bodies began tumbling over the mouth of the tunnel in a sickening waterfall of limbs and twisted faces. The heavy, repetitive sound of flesh smacking into stone made Hal’s gorge rise and he backed away, deeper into the darkness to find the others already there—all three of them, including the priest. The father simply stared out at the gruesome river of fire and flesh, a grim acceptance in his features as he began to edge forward. “Father!” Hal shouted, gagging as fear-ridden nausea clamped his throat closed and his stomach heaved. “I am undeserving of that title,” the priest answered sadly, waiting for the cascade of bodies to ebb before moving closer to the lip of the cliff and staring down toward the lake of roiling fire. Hal coughed and gagged again, shielding his face with a forearm as a blast of heat smelling of brimstone and burning corpses rose up from the depths below. “Father, get back!” But the priest kept inching forward, eyeing the lake with a terrible intensity. “The fire already grows hotter. If I commend myself now, before the torment truly begins, will I meet oblivion? If I seek my second death, rather than flee it, will it still be eternal fire that awaits me?” Hal watched in horror as the priest inched a toe over the edge. Perhaps it was simple instinct that caught at the man, for Hal truly believed, in that moment, that the priest was about to commit to that second, irreversible step. But, instead, he stumbled, wheeling an arm out behind him to catch his balance before he could slip fully over the edge. Amelia, eyes wild, darted forward and grabbed the back of his jacket. “What are you doing?” she cried, clutching at his sleeve, pulling him back toward the mouth of the tunnel where he stumbled and fell against the inside wall. He was breathing heavily, and there were deep furrows in the center of his forehead. He didn’t seem capable of answering her, though. He just sat there, staring out at the infinite space, listening to the cries and struggles of the multitude, now once again climbing up the fiery walls. “We need to get back to the bus.” Hal looked around. It was the doctor who had spoken. “What?” “The bus—didn’t you hear what the priest said before? He knew where we were the moment we came to. We weren’t getting burned back there—we need to go back!” Sure enough, Hal could see the skin on Doc Turner’s face beginning to redden and chap from the blistering wind that was a constant plague here, outside the tunnel. Nodding, Hal heaved himself up and staggered after the others, back toward the bus. He collapsed against the tires when they finally reached their goal. Had it been so hot here before? He was breathing heavily, gasping against the rawness of the heat, tears cutting paths through the soot and smoke on his face as they leaked unbidden from the corners of his stinging eyes. Hal wiped a hand across his face, absently surprised when his fingers didn’t come away dripping with sweat and tears; the heat had cooked the moisture right off the surface of his skin. Suddenly, he remembered what had befallen the last set of tires, and he quickly pushed himself away, moving instead to the open emergency exit door. “Jesus Christ!” Hal leaped back, clutching a hand to his heart as he met the raw and blackened gaze of the burned man. He sat crouched in the opening of the small door, blocking Hal’s way and grinning down at him with a lipless leer. “Not anymore,” he rasped, “but once, yes.” The priest shuffled near, peering around Hal as he blocked the heat from a nearby burst of flame with a sleeve. “Blasphemy!” The tormented soul chortled in low, gravelly tones. “Oh, yes. Plenty of that around here, as well.” “Ignore his words. He is one of the damned.” “And here, too, you stand, priest—unworthy servant.” Hal felt another wave of nausea rise up when a globule of flesh ripped away from the body’s half-formed lips as he spat out his words. The doctor suddenly looked as sick as Hal felt, but Amelia was staring at the creature with a look of morbid fascination. …Perhaps a similar fascination as what landed her here in the first place. “Who are you?” she asked, inching closer, her voice just audible over the rush of flame and wind. “I am old and again, and your histories know me well,” he hissed. “I have been named Nero, Vlad, Khan, Himmler… I have ruled you, conquered you, taught you and enlightened you. I have been your king, your council—I have even been your pope.” The priest curled his lip at this last but did not speak. “Amun, you may call me, as that was how I lived first.” “Amun,” Amelia echoed. But then Doc Turner pushed his way forward, causing Amelia to stumble even closer to the burned man. “You’ve been all those people—you’ve gotten out?” Suddenly, Hal was paying very close attention. “Mmmm,” the soul crooned, “oh yes, there is a way out…” But then he struck like a snake, darting his hand out and catching Amelia by the throat, jerking her close. Hal and the others leapt forward, but they were brought up short by Amelia’s terrified squeak when the charred fingers abruptly tightened their hold. Amelia was squirming and whimpering, but Hal’s gaze was drawn, transfixed, to the creature’s hand and arm, where, in the manner of flames coruscating over burning wood, new flesh was beginning to ripple and bloom over the once scorched and peeling extremity. “There is a way,” Amun continued, inches from Amelia’s shuddering face, tipping his head slightly as he took in her porcelain features. “And if you take me there, I will deliver you from an eternity of torment.” The grinning face moaned, and Hal watched in horror as a slender tongue slipped out and licked Amelia from neck to hair.


Restaurant The Phenomenal View "Are we almost there?" Tom wearily pushed aside a branch. We had been walking around the forest for a few hours. It was our last destination. "I hope it's worth it," I muttered to myself. Tom had been in a bad mood all day. The journey had been long. I knew he wouldn't admit it, but he was homesick. And I understood it. We had been traveling for six months and not all destinations had been worth it. I'm just more of a traveler than he is, by now that was clear. I straightened up, pulled on the strap of my backpack and walked on. Tom rumbled behind me in his bag. "I checked the map again." I sighed. "We are almost there. We have followed all the steps. Let's go through for half an hour, okay?" I stopped to catch his eye. "If we don't find it, we'll go back." Tom nodded. He folded the map back up, but didn't put it away. We walked on, he kept the map in his hand. My watch indicated that it was half past three. If we walked too long, we wouldn't be back at the car before dark. We had been seduced by the travel stories. A bright spot in the middle of the forest, it sounded so beautiful. After hours of walking you would arrive at a lake. A lake where all the animals from the forest came together peacefully. A lake that immediately took you into an unreal feeling. As if you stepped into a fairytale. I definitely wanted to be the first one to photograph the location. That's why I brought Tom, he was the photographer. I took care of the beautiful locations and the texts. The only footage that existed of the location was some drawings of missing travelers. A few descriptions. I did not understand why there were no photos. What I did know is that this would change today. In good spirits I stepped on quickly. We were going to take the picture. Suddenly I felt Tom standing still behind me. Irritated, I turned around. I expected him to be looking at the map again, but he was staring at something to his right. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth hung slightly open. Slowly I walked back and stood beside him. 'What is it?' I followed his gaze. // Newspaper article: Restaurant The Phenomenal View Tom and Anna. They would return last week, only they have announced that they will extend their trip. Anna has contacted her family through short messages and let them know what Restaurant The Phenomenal View looks like and that they are safe. A quote: "Tom and I are happy here and have decided to extend our trip." The traveling couple's families and fans were looking forward to their return home. Their grief and disbelief can be felt. "We expected them to come home on Monday. They never arrive later than discussed, so we were all very worried. Fortunately we heard three days later that they were safe, but we regret that we no longer can listen to all the adventures." So Anna's father spoke. // It was phenomenal. I stared at the huge lake in front of me. Twilight had started around us. Tom and I automatically walked to the only light we saw. There were large letters at the top of the building: The Phenomenal View. We walked over the strip of sand. Tom carefully opened the door. "Welcome, Tom and Anna!" A woman with a purple flower in her hair came running up. Her arms were spread, a warm welcome. "We've been waiting for you for dinner. Come on in, put your bag aside." Her red dress swung around her as she turned and indicated the filled table. We heard all kinds of languages mixed together. In disbelief, we walked to the filled table. The smells of dishes from all over the world came to me. One by one, the guests at the table looked at us. Each with a smile on their face. I quickly looked at Tom to see if he had seen it.


Part one: Capers Harry had heard from God last night He hadn’t slept much at all that week, drinking every night to calm his nerves and to possibly coax himself to sleep. It wasn’t working. At the end of the week he was burnt out with hardly any money left in his bank account. When he arrived home that Friday he was debating whether or not he should use what scant money he had left to get more beer but then he would have trouble paying the bus fare to get to work next week. “Fuck, shit," he muttered to himself unconsciously, it was his most common verbal tic. He took out his phone and logged in to his bank account to try to figure out what he should do with his last ten dollars.There was $3.45 in savings like there always was, and in checkings there was $154.53. Harry closed his eyes and opened them. The money was still there. He logged out of his account and then logged back in. The money was still there. Had he some pending payment owed to him that was somehow forgotten? There was no reason he could think of as to why that money was there. He refreshed the page over and over again but it still showed the same results. It had to be a banking error in his favor, that was the only possible explanation he decided. The pale, bloated body he inhabited suddenly felt a burst of life and he shot up out of his house to immediately capitalize on this fortunate accident. At the corner store he withdrew all of the money so the bank wouldn’t be able to get it back until next payday then bought a six pack and a pack of Newport 100s. On his way back home the rush of energy that propelled him off the couch was starting to wear off, his steps slowed and his eyes became glassy. His racing mind has become quiet and serene, a trance like state comparable to meditation. Common sights were rendered unfamiliar. A peaceful and accepting air had engulfed him, he basked in the inner silence, relishing a break from the bad thoughts that he had to drink to silence. Then something happened. “You are dying.” It was spoken softly by a calm and certain voice. He looked around but the streets were bare this cold night. It must have come from his head but it didn’t feel like it was his own internal voice. Unperturbed by this development he continued on walking in his mindless state. Then not ten steps later in the same knowing tone: “You are dying and will be dead soon.” Harry stopped dead in his tracks.Standing there wavering slightly back and forth he started musing about death. In this hypnotic state he felt certain that he could accept death whereas usually he was terrified of it. But why be afraid now? There was no reason he could conceive of. But who had said that? “How?” He thought. A vision started to fill his mind, he watched as it manifested and began to play out like a movie. He was in a hospital bed, writhing in pain and clutching his stomach. His face was contorted into a wide twisted smile that was only interrupted briefly by a spasm of pain. A doctor entered the room looking concerned with a nurse at his side. Harry seemed oblivious to their entry. They parted at the front of his bed, each going to one side. Upon reaching his waist they leaned over and checked the restraints on Harry’s wrists. Satisfied that they were secure the doctor said “Come on in.” Harry’s mother came through the door. Harry’s body suddenly shot up, bound by restraints on his hands and feet his torso and legs formed a squirming upside down u shape like a yoga bridge. Then he let out such a howl it sounded not human. “KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME FUCK SHIT KILL ME FUCK SHIT AAAAAAHHHHH MOM I AM SORRY MOM MOM MOM I AM SORRY MOM MOM MOM FUCK SHIT FUCK KILL MEEEEEE!!!!” His mother put her face in her hands and started weeping uncontrollably. The nurse ran over to her and led her out of the room by her wrist. The doctor leaned over Harry with a syringe in hand. The vision ended there.


I'm new to writing and I've been writing short stories if anyone could give me tips and feedback much appreciated, here it goes. Perry: The Sports Teacher. Perry's day started just like any other day, he would wake up, go for a 2-kilometer jog, then he would come back home and cook himself up some eggs and bacon. Today was different though something felt off to Perry, was he gaining weight? Was his hair not perfectly gelled back? He brushed it off and continued with his morning routine. As he was putting on his Adidas tracksuit getting ready for work, he heard his neighbors fighting again. “All that kid fucking does is play his goddam video games in his room all fucking day!”. Perry peeked through his curtains to see their faces, but they were blurry, he rubbed his eyes and though ‘dam, at least I'm not that kid’ and brushed off the fact the neighbors faces appeared blurry and quickly left for work. As Peery sped through traffic on his *Honda Motor,* he took time to appreciate the world around him, looking at all the other people in this small unforgiving world going about their day with not a care insight. He loved his morning commute, he always made his stop at a coffee shop, to get a glimpse at a girl he has been in love with for a while now. She was beautiful tall but not too tall, long curly blonde hair that she put up in a bun. She was everything to Perry ‘alright today is the day I finally talk to her and ask her name’ he thought as he was taking off his helmet to go inside to get his morning coffee. As he entered the coffee shop, his nose was overwhelmed by the strong aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and of course he singled out the perfume, She, was wearing. It gave Perry a warm sensation, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time, nervous, why was he feeling nervous ‘I'm not one to get nervous, why now, why, I have the perfect chance.’ he wondered, but nothing was stopping him today. He walked over and introduced himself to her “Hi ip merry.” “excuse me?” “uh nothing, never mind.” His cheeks turned red with embarrassment, turning to run back out the door he knocked over an old man making him drop his freshly brewed soy latte. He got on his bike and buckled his helmet as fast as could before taking off on his *Honda Motor.* The only thing that could make Perry forgot the atrocity that just took place as if he was to pop the biggest wheelie he has ever done. He succeeded no doubt and continued his way to work. Perry parked his *Honda Motor* in his spot, “The Sports teacher” it read in its fading black paint. He grabbed all stuff and proceeded to make his way inside to the teachers' lounge greeting students as he walked past. When he walked through the big mahogany door to the teachers' lounge he heard a familiar voice saying “Hi ip merry”. Chad was playing a video from his holophone, the video was of course Perry and his awful performance on trying to talk to a woman. “Hey Perry, you fucking beta.” “What do you want chad.” sighed Perry “Is this you, you fucking dweeb.” “Yes Chad, you know dam well it's me, ha-ha look at Perry, the idiot that doesn’t know how to talk to females.” “Alright you two that’s enough.” The principal walked in, elegantly as always. She proceeded to inform all the teachers that it was a new school year and that they are expected a lot of new kids this year. Perry was excited because he was the sports teacher, that meant all he has to do is make the kids play dodgeball, so he could sit back and watch his TV shows on his holophone. The First-period bell rang, Perry was up for his first class with the new little kids. “alright every, my name Perry Perryson and I will be your sports teacher for this year. Now I don’t care much for what you guys do as long as you don’t hurt each other and at least run around for the hour.” They all shouted “yay” in unison and violently engaged in a game of dodgeball. This was great for Perry, with no one objected like last year and making him run a ‘Proper’ class, he was able to catch up on all his favorite Tv shows like The Florpsons and Space Wars XIX. Perry was very pleased with how this day was turning out, he gets to watch his favorite TV shows all morning and he has another sports class after lunch. Nothing could ruin Perry's day again, or so he thought. It was nearing the end of Perry's workday, with having caught up on his TV shows and getting to relax all day, he enjoyed himself feeling accomplished. Even though no work was actually done he was content with life again, forgetting all about what ensued this morning. Now it was time for his favorite time of day again, his commute home, on his *Honda Motor.* Perry decided to take the longer route home today, driving along the beach and taking in all the fresh air, traces of the sweet ocean scent that reminded him of his youth playing in the sand with his friend Noel. Perry was finally home after enjoyed a scenic ride along the ocean side enjoying the view and all that came with it. Perry entered his wonderful home, upon a hill in the mountains he felt a sense of pride in his accomplishments today. He went to his gel fridge and pulled out a beer, sat down of his couch, and booted up his Square Box 10, a gaming console that much needed and upgrade bad, but that didn’t bother Perry. He logged on to his social server with his friends and they all played their favorite shooter game together “Shoot Those Aliens 5”. After gaming for what felt all night only five hours has passed, Perry thought this was enough time because he had to wake up early and watch kids pelt each other with dodgeballs again. Perry said goodnight to his friends and logged off, he walked to his bed like a zombie reaching for brains. As he lay in his bed, he put his hands to his temples and pulled, a VR headset peeled off his crusty face. He blinked twice and for the first time in a while he looked around his real room, moldy and a gross stench seeped from the carpet, ‘gross’ he thought as he struggled to get up from his stiff mattress and walk to the kitchen. “AH look who it finally fucking is, you done playing your dumb VR games all day?” “uhhh” ‘Perry’ rubbed his eyes and looked at his stepdad. “When are you going to do something real Jack?” A name ‘Perry’ hasn't heard in a real-time, Jack was his real name and he was a 17-year-old, living in a trailer park high rise. Jack grabbed a can of mountain juice and returned to his room. He lay back in his bed, shedding a tear of sadness as he wished he could be Perry in the real world, he looked at his window and opened it. “time to log off for real.” As he sat in the window sill tears coming from his eyes, he looked at his VR headset one last time before pushing himself out into the open air and falling 10 stories to his demise...


When I was a child I had an imaginary friend, and every night while I was falling asleep she would stand outside my doorway and watch me, imparting a deep feeling of calm over me and in a way lulling me to sleep. I had named her the Mother of Spiders, a rather fitting name in my opinion. Although my parents, who lovingly tolerated the strange and yet inexplicably common aspect of a child's mental development, considered the name to be more than a bit unnerving. My attempts to explain why the title was a deserved one, describing her tall, thin figure, her leatherlike skin, her lanky quadra-jointed limbs, all ending in four hyper flexible digits and her oblong and insect like head, perched upon a long, strained neck. Although this description only seemed to worsen their anxieties. As I began to grow older and the age when imaginary friends were considered acceptable was behind me my parents began to consider the ongoing presence of the Mother of Spiders to be a problem. Although, personally, I considered her presence to be a reassurance, a sort of constant throughout the ever changing landscape that was adolescence. I had my first appointment with a psychiatrist when I was in 4th grade, and after my parents explained my symptoms to the doctor for me I was finally given diagnoses, a scientific explanation for what my parents considered to be a strange ailment. It was a strange form of pre-sleep sleep paralysis. Rare, but not unheard of, and learning this my parents finally seemed satisfied. It took the better part of a decade before my nightly visits from the Mother of Spiders began to mutate and change. I was unmedicated for the better part of that time, and I slept well under the entity's caring gaze. It was in the middle of highschool, late 10th grade, when my parents decided enough is enough, and although my pre-sleep paralysis had remained unchanged for over five years at that time I was placed on imipramine, a medication designed to put a stop to the episodes. The mutation almost seemed like a response to my medicated status. Not only did they fail to stop my sleep paralysis, but the visions began to slip, bleeding out of their nightly allotted slots and into my waking days in the form of hallucinations. Not only this but as the medication failed to have any of its intended effects I was faced with the worst of its negative side effects, and for some time I was plagued with fits of dizziness and blurry vision along with frequent headaches and I gained and lost weight with an uncontrollable ease. I spent a month like this, blighted by the side effects of a useless medication while I went day to day fearing the possible appearance of the Mother of Spiders. I went on like this for a few months before finally confessing to my parents, I switched from imipramine and too olanzapine, an antipsychotic, and while the negative side effects went away, my hallucinations remained. She would appear to me in the least expected of places, on busy sidewalks where I'm reasonably sure trees were meant to be, down the vacant side streets when I would take walks down my hometown of Littlebrook’s sleepy mainstreet and within the empty aisles of department stores. In these moments I could finally fully observe and appreciate her. And while she still exuded a calming aura of motherhood I found her to be physically terrifying. She must have been 8-9ft tall, with skin like mummy yet oddly flexible, a beaklike mouth and eyes that rippled and shimmered like an oil slick. I found her beautiful in a horrifying sort of way. While she continued to visit me before I fell asleep, and while those nightly visits were more than welcome I began to grow hopeless on the topic of ever ridding myself of her in the hallucination form. Surprisingly this didn't effect me, at least not as much as I assumed it would, if I had grown used to the sleep paralysis I could grow used to this, I told myself, and within a few months my life was seemly normal again, not because anything had changed but because I had gotten used to it. I stopped taking my olanzapine soon after and found my life to be unchanged. For a year I managed to live a mostly normal life, I graduated high school and went through my summer content and normal, ignoring the once unnerving sight of the Mother of Spiders exposed in daylight. Over familiarization maybe. Life was good, at least for a while. I write this from my cubelike room, cell, whatever, in the Pine County Psych Hospital. I've been here roughly a month now, and in addition to that it's been nearly a month since I last saw her. It's so unnerving not having her accompany me, being abandoned by my one and only constant companion throughout life. I feel so dreadfully alone. It started two weeks before my internment when my family discovered I hadn't been taking my olanzapine It appears that refusing to take your medication while still claiming to see a titanic spider woman and openly describing it as an hallucination was seemingly a good enough reason to be checked in to a psych ward, no matter how lucid I claimed to be. In all honesty I don't mind most of my treatment here, the constant therapy sessions, both group and one on one, and I can understand why my off hours are spent locked in my room, I don't even mind taking my medication, I thought it was working, for a while at least, but not anymore, because last night she finally returned. I'm writing this for a reason, not just to recount my mildly interesting life story but because last night my entire world changed. After a near month of absence she finally returned, and as I drifted off into the uneasy slumbers I had grown used to without her, I heard a deep low noise from the hallway, from just outside my door. Slowly she pushed open my door and I saw her through my hazy eyes, and gazing at me as I drifted into my first peaceful slumber in what felt like a lifetime. I woke up early in the morning, content and well rested, although those feelings changed in mere moments when I noticed the irregularity across from my bed and I felt my heart skip a beat , across the room I saw my door, the one I knew to be locked when I fell asleep, hanging open and ajar within the morning sunlight with the metal lock torn, twisted and sitting on the floor.


It has just rained. Not too heavy and not too light either. It was just perfect. I roll the glass of whiskey in my hand and lean back in the chair. A cool breeze tugs and pulls at the fire burning in front of me. There is no noise except for the crackling of the flames. I look up at the night sky filled with stars. I take a sip of the whiskey and I feel it soothe out the fear and ambiguity of the past two months. It’s like the gentle touch of a lover, massaging my knots. Just perfect. “I’m not even going to wait for you to drink”, I say and take another swig. He chuckles, squatting next to the fire, as he plays with the wood. Trying to make the fire perfect. His glass of whiskey stays untouched on the crude table we brought out for the occasion. He is one of my oldest friends. We were schoolmates, college mates and kept in touch for the last fifteen years. He stayed back in Kerala while I explored my options abroad. He married at a young age while I zipped through relationships. He’s a family man while I’m still the eligible rich bachelor. And yet we remain the thickest of friends. Through all the good and the bad. It’s a shame that I’ve returned to Kerala and am yet to have met him. Which is why when he asked if I could come over to have a drink with him (albeit with social distancing) I seized the opportunity and broke the quarantine before you could say Jack Daniels. “You’re sure no one saw you?”, he asks for the umpteenth time. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Yes. Yes. No one saw me. You don’t have to worry about the police” I say in mock irritation. But I get it. He has a family and kids. He doesn’t want them to go into quarantine. Which is why we haven’t even hugged. Which is why he sits a good couple of feet from me. Which is why we are out in the middle of his vast estate and far away from his home. I’m not complaining. This is good. I down my drink and get up to pour another one. It is some really good shit. He makes an observation as I maneuver back to my seat. “You’ve gained weight” I sigh. It seems to be the only thing anyone notices these days. “Yeah … I kinda lost the plot during the lockdown” “Doesn’t seem like you ever had a plot” “Hey. You try being a single man in a lockdown with zero cooking skills. It was either fast food or starve” “They don’t deliver normal healthy food?” “Not as fast as I would like”, I say “And not nearly as tasty” He chuckles again. “This wouldn’t have happened if you were married. Who do you think will marry a pot bellied pervert like you now?” “A girl who likes pot bellied perverts.” We laugh. It’s a little awkward given the space between us but it feels good. Like I’ve come home. My fingers begin to tingle. Man, this whiskey is good. He fiddles with his fingers. “You should have…. You know… gotten married before she…“ It takes me a few seconds before I understand. I nod slowly. He’s talking about my mother. She passed away two years ago. My father had passed five years prior. I have literally no family left except for the few relatives I lost touch with after my mother’s death. “Yeah, I know”, I say “At least she didn’t remember I was single before she died” He looks at me thoughtfully. “How was she … towards the end?” “Alzheimers is a bitch. Everyone romanticizes it by thinking it’s just a disease that messes with your memory. At least that’s what we all think after Thanmaathra. What it doesn’t tell you is how the disease progresses, how my mother would forget to speak, forget to breathe, forget what pain was supposed to mean. It is daunting and she suffered through it. But it is what it is.” I’m surprised to notice I still have tears to shed for her. I thought I was all cried out. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet her before she passed”, he says as I wipe my eyes. I laugh. “Yeah that would have been fun to watch. You know … incredible as it is she still remembered to warn me about you … two days before she died”, I say. He frowns. “Really?” I nod and wipe the last of my tears. “It was during her very brief moments of clarity. She looked up at me wide eyed and asked “Are you still friends with Radhakrishnan’s son?’” “What’d you say?” I remember the look in her eyes. “I said no. It … seemed like the right answer at the time.” I stare into the fire. The memory of my mother is fresh in my mind. Her wide eyes as she said those words. *Stay away from him* “She never liked me, did she?”, he asks. *Be a good boy and stay away from him* “I never really understood why”, I reply. “My parents never wanted me to be friends with you. Do you remember how they’d fuss whenever we walked back from school together?” He nods. Which is interesting. I expected him to verbally agree with me. The both of us had never really forgotten how taboo our friendship was for the outside world. It was something we never understood as kids or adults. But when he nods, it feels like he’s finally understood. I sip at the whiskey again. My toes have begun to tingle. My body is extremely relaxed now. I look over at him and notice that he is still fiddling with the wood. His drink remains untouched. “You're not drinking”, I say and follow it up with “Wow. I don’t drink like I used to. I’m already slurring” He stokes the fire with a smile. “She was just looking out for you”, he says. “My mother? What was she looking out for?” I ask. “She always called me Radhakrishnan’s son?” “Always”, I reply. He nods and finally sits on his chair. His eyes remain fixed on the fire. “What have you heard? About my family I mean?”, he asks. I tilt my head, trying to recollect. “The normal stuff. Your family is one of the oldest to have settled here. All this land was once the property of an influential and rich Brahmin family. They fell into disgrace and your ancestors bought them out.” “Go on”, he prompts me for further details. “That’s all I know” He throws his head back and laughs into the night sky. “BULL CRAP!” he exclaims. “You know more than that for sure. After all these years you still don’t have the balls to say it to my face!” I grin sheepishly. “Your family is cursed or so they say.” “There you go!” He smiles “Cursed by the Brahmin family. You know what? In all reality - we just could have been.” “Oh please. Don’t tell me you believe that!” “I’m serious! They would have cursed us publicly when my ancestors took possession. I’m not saying that the curse is real but it would certainly explain the ill reputation we’ve had all along!”, he explains in a matter-of-fact tone. “Any calamity that befell us was explained away by the “curse” despite a purely logical explanation” This is clearly a rant he’s been holding in for quite a while. I make a pathetic attempt to calm him down “It’s fine! Just ignore it all” “That’s easy for you to say. You are not the one who’s been ostracized. No, don't give me that look. That’s exactly what we are. Ostracized. They may talk to us but it is always just formal talk. We are not welcome to marriages, house-warmings or any social events. We have no visitors over and no one spends the night with us. We have done nothing wrong and yet we are shunned. For what? A stupid curse that may or may not have happened. Oh, if only they knew …” “If only they knew what?” He looks at me with a wicked smile. “You want to know why your mother would only address me as Radhakrishnan’s son? An associate of my father disappeared nearly 35 years ago. Around the time I was born. The people here have always made up stories which made him look like the killer.” I nod slowly. “Yeah, I’ve heard some”. I raise the glass to drink again. Real good stuff. “That and well…”, I trail off. He cocks an eyebrow at me as though asking a question. Something tells me he knows the answer. “Well” I say and frown. “Oh you mean that well there?” He points to the well several feet behind me. “My my … you do know a lot more stories than you let on” My neck is tingling. That’s weird. I’ve had these tingling sensations while drinking before but they were always reserved for the arms and legs. Never for the neck. I turn my neck but the tingling makes it difficult somehow. I’m barely able to before I give up. I’ll try again. “That’s where they think his body is. Some people tried to bring in a court order and have the well dug up. In some ways, I wish they had dug it up. People would have known the truth one way or the other” he says. I try turning again. Nope. Weird. Maybe this is some sort of muscle relaxant based alcohol or did he give me a roofie ? Why would he slip me a roofie? *Stay away from him* His drink is untouched. “Why drink?” I ask and frown again “Careful” he says softly “You’re beginning to drop words” “Wha-?”, I ask. I’m beginning to sweat. I hear a faint ripple of water behind me. Like a stone falling into a well. The well. “Wha-you-do?”, I ask desperately. “The truth of the matter is … We are not cursed. We are haunted. We’ve been haunted for centuries and it has driven us to the ends of our sanity” I’ve discovered that I cannot move. And my tongue is increasingly numb by the second. My body is relaxed. Like an anaesthetic has been applied. I begin to lose every sense of touch I have … except for the rising panic in my mind. More sounds from the well. I cannot turn to look. But it sounds like someone is moving behind me. “There’s a woman in the well.” he says. I look at him wide-eyed. What did he just say? What is he talking about? “My family has known about her ever since we bought this land. We don’t know her story but we know she exists.” Movement behind me. Echoes from inside the well. Something … climbing. Making its way to the top. A woman? No no no. Shared hysteria ? Mass mania? My mind races to explain this sudden lack of reality. Why am I stuck here? Why can’t I move? And what the fuck is coming out of that well ?!? *Stay away from him* “She was a remnant from the previous owners of the property. Or the owners before them. She’s been here for as long as the well I guess” The echoes grow softer. Whatever is making the noise is near the top. Please. Please. Let this be a dream. Let me wake up now. “We had to make some sacrifices before we learned that she was hungry. I’ve heard from my grandmother that she’d always hunt a family member and then disappear for a generation. One full grown adult would last her 35 years.” I hear the crunching of wet leaves. Something is walking towards us. Please, please let it be anything except a hungry woman from a well. “You know I’d almost lost hope. I was certain my father was the only one who’d been able to break the cycle. For the first time in centuries, a member of my family wasn’t served on a silver platter to her. He gave me the recipe for the paralyzing agent and I was ready to find some unsuspecting sorry son of a bitch I could sacrifice. But the lockdown was extended and with no one out and about - I didn’t know how I was going to pull it off.” He looks up at me with a beaming smile. The feet are closer now. I strain to see what horror lurks behind me. “And then you come along. Like a knight in shining armor. You are my best friend. But you have nothing to live for. I’d have some guilt if you had a family left but you don’t. It’s just perfect!” “Ffffoooookk y … y ...y”, I struggle but my tongue refuses. He gets up and pulls a wooden log out of the pile. Without a base piece of wood the fire begins to burn down. “My father told me that the agent in your drink makes it painless and I hope he was right. Truth is … I don’t know. She will eat you. I don’t know if she will kill you before or if she’ll eat you alive. Just pray that it’ll be over soon” He looks up and I see fear in his eyes. The last of the fire dies away. I look up at the star lit sky. It was perfect just minutes ago. Now it is a nightmare I am dying to wake up from. “I’m sorry but I have to leave now”, he says as he backs away. “I really don’t want to know what she looks like” He turns his back towards me. I scream furiously in my head. *Be a good boy and stay away from him Out of the corner of my eye I see a pale, thin hand gingerly feel its way over my forearm. Long claws and grotesque skin clinging onto its bony fingers as it digs into my shoulder. My eyes widen in their sockets as I learn that the paralyzing agent does not shut off pain. The hand pulls me out of the chair in one swift, violent and inhuman move. I stare up at the stars through my tears of fear and insanity. I hear my best friend’s voice one last time before I’m dragged into the darkness. “All yours.


He watched the boy stare at the caged birds from the balcony he was on. The boy had been staring, wordless and clenching his jaws, at the caged birds on the roof of the opposite house. Kulak knew that the boy was thinking about freeing those birds but there was a dangerous obstacle before him. There was a grey ledge about a metre long from the balcony the boy was on and after that arose a stretch of nothingness for about three metres. Kulak shivered in glee as he saw the boy bang his fist against the hard cement. He knew that the boy had allowed anger to conquer his mind. And Kulak knew that anger could be a very strange and powerful thing in circumstances such as this. A chilly breeze flew through the area and immediately Kulak knew that the All-Father was watching from far away on a branch of his own. Odin had cast his gaze, from his perch atop Yggdrasil the World Tree, directly at the boy. He knew that the old man would be conjuring up a Rune for a blessing if the boy did what was on his mind. Kulak also felt the presence of the invisible, formless creatures that had gathered in the air around the vicinity. He knew that these were mystical beings that were indigenous to this beautiful island called Sri Lanka. Sometimes he felt their gaze on him as well but when this happened he could feel them as if they were very far away. Cheaky little fellas. Kulak slid his beak across the branch and ruffled the black feathers on his back. This was going to be an interesting day because he would have to be silent for this entire experience. The boy should not realise that he was being watched as that could change the entire line of dominoes that was about to fall. There were forces that the boy could not see or comprehend at the moment because he was blinded with the rage that was bubbling in him. Kulak also noticed that there was one more detail that needed consideration. In between the two cages was a flag that swayed in the breeze. It was the multi-coloured, striped Buddhist flag. This indicated that whoever owned the roof atop which these cages were placed were Buddhist in faith. The raven wondered how a family of humans who claimed to be Buddhists could go to the length of imprisoning birds. Caging an animal that was winged and enjoyed the gift of natural flight was heinous in his mind. After all these were his brethren, though not of his own bloodline. And then it happened. Kulak edged forward and gripped the branch a little bit tighter. The wind picked up and whistled with expectation. Odin chuckled with merry and jabbed his spear into the air. A knee emerged over the edge of the balcony and in a swift jump the boy jumped over the tiny wall. He immediately darted towards the edge of the ledge and stared across the gap. The boy licked his lips and clenched his palms into fists. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and walked a few steps back to the wall. The eyelids rose and his gaze locked itself on to the edge of the roof. And then Kulak did something he usually never does. He interfered. He flew across the thermals and landed on the roof of the cage directly in the boys line of sight. The boys eyes locked with his. The boys eyes narrowed as he looked at Kulak and his lips parted. The raven then cleaned his beak by sliding it across the metal edge of the slate of the roof and brandished both sides of his beak vigorously against its surface. He then raised his beak towards the sky and made a swallowing motion with his throat. And then Kulak immediately looked at the boy, spread his wings and returned to the shadows that sheltered within the branches on the tree from which he had alighted. The wind suddenly increased in strength and whipped around the boy flicking his hair and ruffling his clothes. Odin had gasped and placed his palm across his mouth in shock. Would the boy get it? It was a long shot. The boy breathed in once more and he grimaced, bracing against the pelting of the wind. He grunted, expelling air, and took off across the expanse of the ledge. At the very edge he threw himself forward and leaped across a stretch of potential death. His chest thudded and crashed into the edge of the fated roof and he grabbed onto a bar of iron twisting out of the cement. With both hands he hurled himself up and over, sprawled on the roof of destiny. A storey below him two children slumbered and one of them dreamt of a knight atop a horse tearing through a stream of soldiers with a spear. The boy slowly rose to his feet with a wide grin plastered across his lips. He scanned the first cage and almost immediately began pulling at the beams and strips around the edges of the roof. He pulled with care as he didn’t want to make any sound which might alert the owners of the cages. It was at this point that Kulak suddenly felt a strong, powerful force enter the vicinity. It was formless and invisible like the creatures that were watching but it was some kind of higher entity. Kulak could feel it’s watchful gaze penetrating into the boys mind and searching his intentions. This was some kind of mystical deity who had become enthralled by the actions of the boy and had now come to watch the dominoes fall. Kulak instinctively knew that this was a very ancient being. There was something about it’s aura that made Kulak feel it had been here before raven or man had even been born. It was a being that was indigenous to this island and it knew its every nook and cranny. Kulak felt the entity slide into the canopy of the tree he was on and settle into the sunlight kissed branches. With a sharp crack the straps and beams came undone and the boy slowly lifted the metal sheets that made up the roof of the cage. Sunlight filtered into the open cage and Kulak knew the birds inside were contemplating this sudden development. With a sudden rush of wings and an ecstatic beating of hearts the birds erupted out of their damaged prison and rose into the sky. The boy felt his heart soar and a nervous laugh escaped his lips. Within a few minutes he had broken open the roof of the second cage and a second exodus spilled forth into the misty blue wastes of the open sky. Kulak could hear Odin scratching his beard as the old man completed the transference of the blessing of the Rune he had prepared for the boy. One day if the boy was ever trapped in any kind of circumstance the Rune would find a way to free him. Kulak finally cawed and shook his wings as the boy let out a shout of exhilaration into the air. The wind died down. Odin looked away, content with his blessing and the invisible creatures gradually crept away. The powerful entity which had been watching from the canopy rose into the air and kulak could feel his presence slowly wane away like the setting of the sun. He cawed once more and cast his eyes towards the boy. Far away, decades from now he would have no way of realising that the rebels to his dominion over this island had on that fateful day been sleeping beneath him, dreaming of knights, death and war. *** “The birds are gone. Someone has freed them,” the father said and buried his head in his hands. He rubbed the back of his neck as worry and despair invaded his mind, destroying the delicate sense of stability he had been building over the last few years. The mother stared at the white table cloth before them, a small film of tears resting on her eyes. “Those birds were our entire livelihood. Without the money we get from selling them we have no way to feed our children,” whispered the mother. She grabbed her husbands hand and stared into his eyes, fear and uncertainty striking deep into her heart. “How will we feed them?” The father looked away unable to bear her pain. Darkness had descended and all hope was lost. They heard a crow caw from outside the window. It cawed once, twice, thrice and then with a beating of its wings it was gone.


The red glare of his lightsabre shone against the pale skin of his face as a young Palpatine stood at the doorway of his Masters chamber. A silent whisper from the Dark Side Nexus beneath the palace whispered to him, “What you do when you cross this bridge will determine the fate of the Sith Lord that will incinerate you. Remember Sidious you are the culmination of what we’ve been dreaming. Fulfilling the jealousy bound within Rule of Two in this instance will allow the Force to birth a saviour. Find him and bring him to us. The Legions await his arrival.” Palpatine stood at the doorway, awestruck by the sensuality of the voice that had cascaded through him. He hadn’t realised that the Nexus could speak to Sith such as himself. He’d always assumed that his Master was the sole recipient of the power stored within the Nexus. He heard the soft rustle of clothing inside the chambers as he opened the door and stepped into the moonlit shadows scattered in the chamber. Holocrons, relics, masks and statues stared at the young pupil as he walked unsteadily towards his Masters deathbed. “... the fate of the Sith Lord that will incinerate you.” The voice whispered through him and he saw a silhouette of a Dark Side User in a metallic black, robotic mask lingering against the outline of the moon. Hatred and fear courses through him as he raised his light sabre above his head, his eyes locked onto the heart of Hego Damask. His hands shot downwards and the light sabre stopper an inch above the heart of the Muun. His Masters eyes shot open and a kind smile crept across his face. “Good. You’re fulfilling the Rule of Two. You’re still not strong enough for what must be done young Sidious.” Darth Plagueis reached upwards and clasped the hilt of his disciples light sabre. “One day I will see you across the aisle child. I will be very different then. You will not even know who I truly am then. And yet balance will be fulfilled. Let that jealousy inside you flourish. I’ve seen that it will do wonders for the Dark Side. Remember do not mourn my passing.” The Muun slowly lowered the light sabre through his chest with Palpatines hands still clasped around the hilt. The Apprentice stood transfixed as he watched a transcendent smile overwhelm his Masters face. The body of Darth Plagueis disappeared. Palpatine stood still. The palace trembled and cackled. Far away, the energy around the Senate shivered as a youngling Emperor was born. The moon before Palpatines eyes had a red glow around it now. The silhouette of the future Vader shattered into dust and crept into the wind. *** 9 years later, the spiritual essence of Hego Damask was instantly teleported by the Force to the planet of Tattooine. The former Sith Lord smiled as he saw a serene woman kneeling on a stretch of sand dunes staring at two suns. He glanced briefly at the golden haze of the setting sun and entered the womb of Shmi Skywalker.


Theon stared into the eyes of the Night King whose blue orbs laughed silently at him. His fist gripped the spear in his hands even more tightly. The White Walkers around the Night King glanced at each other, amused and twirling their icicle fringed weapons through their fingers. The Night King took a few steps forward, the snow beneath his feet solidifying into dread ice. The ground whispered with the legion of the Night Kings hordes as Theon charged forward. With a deft flick the Night King tossed aside the Greyjoy into the awaiting arms of his Generals. Theon closed his eyes as the shadows of the White Walkers closed in on him from above. The silhouette of a kraken shimmered into the air above them in the dark of the night sky. The White Walkers raised their spears into the air above him and divine tentacles of the Drowned God floated towards Theon. The young Greyjoy gave a crooked smile and laughed as he felt his father grace him. Brandon Stark sat transfixed, the whites of his eyes clear and strong as he lay immersed in the power of being a Greenseer. The Night King inclined his head towards the left gazing at the young Stark before him, narrowing his eyes curiously at the youngest Greenseer to ever live. “Why do you not fight me boy?” The Night King asked. In his state of being immersed within the beasts raging in the battlefield afar, Brandon smiled, “I already am. Its my sister you need to worry about.” A snarl whipped from behind the Night King and Arya Stark descended through the air. Grabbing her by the neck and the hand wielding the Valyrian dagger the Night King smiled, “Ah, the foretold Bride to be. I saw you when I was first born Arya Stark and I saw you on the Iron Throne.” The feral Stark girl growled and as the dagger dropped from her left arm the Night King dragged her down into the snow. His fingers curled around her wrists, hemming her in and he placed a fingernail on her cheek. Arya screamed as the dread blue entered her eyes. “Welcome my Queen,” the Night King whispered, his voice a low husk, filled with adulation. The ground beneath them shook with thunderous roars as Daenerys landed atop the fury of Drogon. A blast of fire roared through the Night King and the Night Queen. Brandon Stark left the bodies of the beasts on the battlefield and stared into the furnace that Drogon had created. The Valyrian Dagger shot out of the fire towards the youngest Stark. Dany screamed into the heated air of the night. The tail of Drogon slumped against the weirwood tree. The face on the weirwood tree began to cry blood. *** The throne room of Kings Landing shivered as Daenerys Stormborn sat on the Iron Throne. An icy shadow stretched behind her, twirling onto the wall behind the Throne. Dany dragged her fingers down her face. Arya Stark smiled, her blue eyes wet with love as she looked at the slew of Faceless Men before her. She tapped her fingers on the thorns of the throne. “We are legion.


Grandmother Lovely By Skye Woods Maria Alvarez's heart slammed against her chest after she watched two police officers shoot an innocent African-American teenager. The teenager who suffered being killed was a thirteen-year-old honor roll student. The young man was a hero because before being killed by the police he had just saved a little boy from being hit by a car while walking to school. Instead of being thanked by the child’s mother for his heroic actions, the teenager ended up getting shot to death by two racist police officers, who thought he was reaching for a gun. The teenager got into an altercation with the two policemen, when the two officers said that he fit the profile of a wanted suspect. The policemen killed the teenager, even after they witnessed him saving a child’s life. Maria felt outraged after witnessing the two policemen shoot an innocent thirteen-year-old boy to death. When Maria woke up in the morning, she somehow knew that two cops would shoot an innocent teenager right in front of her house. Sometimes she could see the future and she knew that the policemen would kill the teenager because the child’s Nubian black skin color made him a threat, even after he saved a two-year-old baby from being struck by a car. Maria knew that the two policemen would shoot the teenager, and she also knew what it felt like to have a bullet inside her. One night while Maria was at a gas station, an attacker tried to rob her and he ended up shooting her multiple times in her back and in her chest. But Maria didn’t even have to go to the hospital that night after being shot eleven times by the carjacker. She ended up killing the carjacker when he attempted to steal her SUV with her four-year-old grandson still in the backseat. The carjacker threatened to shoot Maria’s grandbaby if she attempted to stop him from stealing her car. The carjacker underestimated Maria thinking she was an average helpless old lady. Maria broke the carjacker’s neck with one arm and she dislocated the man’s arm before officially killing him. Maria killed plenty of criminals over the years, and the carjacker was one of many. Maria was a sixty-three-year-old woman who used to be a rock musician, and she looked younger than her age. She had spiky silver hair that had a purplish tinge. She wore earrings shaped like skull heads and she also wore a silver ring in her nose. Since Maria was a huge rock fan and a former rock artist herself, she had the logo of the rock band Van Halen tattooed on her right arm, and she tattooed the young face of rocker Jon Bon Jovi on her left. Maria was a very attractive old lady and her clothing style was gothic. She loved wearing her black dresses and her black leather motorcycle jacket. Maria’s gothic fashion blended well with her very shapely and well-sculpted breasts and hips. She found it funny that at her age she still would get asked out on dates by younger men who were old enough to be her grandsons. Maria would have to reject the advances of younger men because number one, she was too old for them, and number two, she wasn’t ready to enter the dating scene again. The last man Maria dated was her husband. Maria had to watch her husband die all because she refused to do a job for a London crime lord, and she also refused to do a job for the boss of an underground Japanese crime syndicate. Maria had a dark past that went with her. She used to be a former rock musician, but her rock career was only her part-time job. Maria used to be an agent for the CIA, and she was one of the best operatives the CIA ever had. But Maria ended up getting laid off from her job because of government budget cuts and new CIA recruitments who were far younger than her and could do the job longer. It didn’t hurt Maria when she lost her job, but she tried to search for a new job that demanded her skill set, which was killing people. When Maria first joined the CIA, she didn’t start out as a killer, but a hero. It was fun at first when she had to execute a terrorist leader or a corrupt politician, but things took a dark turn for Maria when she had to carry out assassinations that required killing innocent people. Maria was an efficient killer, and she could execute using anything as a weapon. She once killed a man ten times her size using a screwdriver and when she had a gun in her hand, she had a special gift at shooting with deadly precision. One time she had to assassinate five men who were terrorists, and she ended up killing all five of the men using one handgun that only had two bullets. She killed three men using one bullet, and she killed the other two men using her hands instead of the gun. Maria loved using knives and swords. She perfected the art of knife throwing and her favorite sharp weapon was a sword. She remembered after getting hired as an assassin; Her boss gave her a contract to kill a rival London crime boss. After Maria lost her job with the CIA, she began looking for a job that paid and she knew that becoming a contract killer wasn’t the best option, but she did it because working as a cashier at a local Walmart wasn’t paying enough. Maria remembered the night she had to kill the London crime lord. She remembered how he was a burly and rugged man who collected Samurai swords and displayed them on the wall of his office inside of a nightclub he owned. Maria remembered the look on the London crime boss’s face when he tried to shoot her using his machine gun. The man watched in shock as Maria slapped down every single bullet that came out of his machine gun. She even sliced some bullets in half using one of his Samurai swords. The London crime lord never thought he’d see an old woman do something that was impossible, and he also never thought a beautiful old lady would end up chopping off his head using one of his Samurai swords. Maria remembered what she was wearing the night she chopped the London gangster’s head off. She remembered how his blood splattered all over her black leather jacket and the white sleeveless dress she wore beneath it. Maria never forgot how she carried the London crime lord’s head with one hand while using the Samurai sword in her other hand to slaughter thirty of the London crime lord’s bodyguards. Maria remembered how she turned a South East London nightclub into a war zone using the sword to execute one man after the next. Young men and women were on the nightclub’s dance floor, moving to the sound of hip-hop and electro dance music. The young men and women were oblivious to Maria who was running and flipping across the nightclub’s floor avoiding gunfire and chopping off heads, arms, and legs using her sword. This was the night that Maria discovered she had supernatural powers. While fighting inside the nightclub, Maria ended up getting shot thirty times. But the bullet wounds would heal in a matter of seconds, and Maria couldn’t feel the pain of the gunshots. The nightclub became vacant when Maria started shooting explosions of white fire out of her hands. All the young men and women who were dancing to the club music ran from the nightclub. Maria was alone standing in the middle of the dark club holding a London crime lord’s head in her hand and looking around at the sea of dead men’s bodies that surrounded her bare feet. It was a night to remember for Maria. She thought about how she was racing through the streets of London on her motorcycle, holding a man’s severed head and realizing that she was the world’s most dangerous assassin at fifty-nine-years-old, which was her age at the time. Being an assassin at first felt good for a moment, but Maria soon grew tired of killing people. She didn’t mind executing criminals, but she had a problem with killing innocent people. Maria had to find a way out even though she knew there would be consequences. Becoming a contract killer gave Maria a one-hundred-thousand-dollars a year, and Maria enjoyed the money, but she felt that she was losing her soul. There was an underground secret society for contract killers that Maria was a part of. The only way you could leave the society was by sacrificing a loved one. Maria didn’t want to lose her husband, but it was the only way she could get out of the game. Her husband, Frank, even agreed to have himself killed so that his wife could be free from being a member of the underground world of assassins. Maria remembered how her husband blew a kiss at her before getting shot in his head at point-blank range. This story could have ended sadly, but just because Maria watched her husband get shot right in front of her doesn’t mean he died. Maria soon discovered that she had the ability to resurrect the dead, and that’s what she did to her husband. Maria never forgot how she almost gave her daughter Jenny a heart attack. When Jenny went to visit her mother, she almost went into shock when she saw her father sitting at the dining room table after just attending his funeral a month ago. Maria had a lot of explaining to do to her daughter and even after explaining her supernatural gift to Jenny, Jenny couldn’t believe it. Maria tried to explain to her daughter that after she became a born again Christian, she felt something enter her body. It was something that Maria never felt before like a supernatural charge running through her veins. Maria also told her daughter she was a former assassin and that she used her God-given gift to resurrect all the innocent people the government sent her to kill. It was a hard thing to explain to her daughter, but God helped her. Maria was a goddess or at least that’s what she felt like, thanks to the God she believed in. God had given her powerful gifts and now every criminal who lived in the state of Texas feared Maria because she had become a new assassin. She was an assassin who now worked for God instead of working for a crime boss. Maria had a smile on her face when she first woke up in the morning. She did not know that she would walk out on her front porch to witness a child get shot to death by two trigger-happy police officers. Before she saw the policemen shoot and kill the teenager, Maria could hear the boy shouting at the two policemen. “Man, fuck y’all! I was just walking to school, and I ran out into the street to save this baby from being hit by a car! Now y’all gonna try to arrest me and I didn’t even do nothing!” That’s what Maria heard the black teenager say to the policemen through his tears. While arguing with the policemen, the teenager reached for his smartphone in his back pocket so he could call his mom. When Maria walked out on her front porch, that’s when she saw the teenager reaching for his phone, and that’s when she witnessed the two policemen open fire on the child, assuming that he was reaching for a firearm. It enraged Maria to see that after the two policemen discovered that the teenager didn’t have a weapon, to exclude themselves of committing murder, the two policemen planted a small twenty-two caliber pistol in the dead teenager’s hand, to make it look like the child was armed and that the officers were only defending themselves. This angered Maria. It angered her so much that she crushed in her hand a hot cup of coffee she was drinking. Maria looked down at the blood and the broken pieces of glass in her hand that used to be a coffee mug. The gothic grandmother watched as the bloody cuts in her hand healed up in an instant. Maria’s body transformed into a state of invincibility and she was a sixty-three-year-old woman who now had bulletproof skin, thanks to God. Through her years of working for the CIA, Maria witnessed countless acts of racism. She realized that the U.S. government was the biggest racist organization in the world. Maria was glad that the CIA ended her employment after she secretly discovered a top-secret government program that involved killing off all African Americans. The government planned to release a bioweapon into the drinking water that ran through inner-city neighborhoods and places heavily populated with blacks. Besides corrupting the water filtration plants near inner-city neighborhoods, Maria also discovered how the government was using law enforcement to kill off young African Americans. But what Maria discovered was only the tip of the iceberg. There were darker government secrets, and one of them involved a top-secret program called Operation Nightfall. The Operation Nightfall program involved creating a neuro-gas that was colorless and odorless and could only affect the minds of people of African American descent. The name of this neuro-gas was X714. Once X714 becomes inhaled through the nose and mouth of an African American man, woman, or child, it triggers chemicals in the brain such as Serotonin that causes deep depression and suicidal tendencies. The government planned to not only use X714 to kill off African Americans in the United States but they also planned to use their bio-weapons throughout the world, especially in Africa and in Haiti. X714 would exterminate every starving baby, every mother, every father, every African tribe and all African families who lived in every African continent. X714 would cause every person of color to fall into a deep depression and commit suicide, along with every black person living in the U.S. and across the world. X714 would affect African American celebrities and even an African American woman who was the president of the United States. It was the rise of a deadly bio-engineered disease that would cause an already oppressed race of people to kill themselves, and soon the African race would become extinct. X714 was in its early stages of development. The government released samples of the weapon into the air over parts of Chicago such as the Southside, and in parts of California, such as Compton, Los Angeles. The government still had to work a few bugs out of X714, because instead of causing suicides, it would cause black on black crime, race riots, and irrational violence and anger with African American young men. Black people were still destroying themselves through poverty, drugs, criminal activity, and gang violence because of X714, but it wasn’t the way the government wanted blacks to kill themselves. Committing suicide was a much cleaner and efficient way of destroying a race of people. It would take years to make X714 perfect so that the bio-engineered chemical weapon could do what the government designed it to do. At first, the government considered bringing slavery back, but they felt that eradicating black people altogether was a better plan. X714 would be the answer to a racist white person’s prayer. There would not be any more prejudice towards black people and fear towards black people thanks to X714. The little mind of a racist white man or woman would be at peace because they didn’t have to worry about their sons and daughters marrying a black person or worrying about black families moving into their neighborhood. Thanks to the U.S. government, X714 was on the rise and Operation Nightfall was starting its process of destruction. But the U.S. government and their brilliant team of military scientists had a problem. That problem was Maria Alvarez. A grandmother who was a former rock musician, a former CIA agent and a former assassin who would cause the U.S. government a world of trouble because of her God-given supernatural abilities. Maria would not stop and she was a powerful and relentless killer. Imagine the fictional action movie hero, John Wick, only if John Wick was a beautiful Hispanic sixty-three-year-old woman with short spiky hair and supernatural gifts. It was all going to crash and burn for the U.S. government. Maria stood on the steps of her porch watching the two policemen who were standing over the black teenager’s body mumbling to each other and speaking into their police radios. Maria felt herself becoming more infuriated while listening to the conversation between the two policemen. They were talking as if they were at a restaurant. Maria could see that one policeman was far younger than his partner. He had blonde hair and a clean-shaven face with a medium build and pale white skin. Maria thought the younger policeman had a boyish face. He looked like a nerdy little boy with a man’s body which irritated Maria. From his looks, she could tell that he was a rookie. The much older policeman looked ruggedly handsome in the face. He looked like the cowboy type, sporting a thick gray mustache, a three-day beard and experienced wrinkles in his square-shaped face. Gray peppered his hair, and he was balding a little at the top of his head. The older cop had a bigger and bulkier body compared to his younger partner. The older policeman also wore dark aviator sunglasses that concealed his lifeless eyes. Maria began to saunter down the steps of her home while listening to what the older policeman was saying to his younger partner. “We’re not getting in trouble for this,” the older policeman stated. “Yeah, but he didn’t have a gun.” The young policeman said. “That’s why we planted the gun on him to make it look like he had one. We want this execution to look legitimate to the public.” The older policeman gave his partner a confident smile. “It felt good firing a gun for the first time.” The younger policeman chuckled. But he was looking around to see who was watching the two of them. “Yeah, it always feels good firing a gun for the first time. Now we shot this boy, but we shot a black boy which is a good thing because we’re only doing our jobs as government officials. We’re doing what our government wants us to do. We’re supposed to annihilate some of these black folks, but make it look subtle and accidental,” the older policeman told his partner through his Southern drawl while gently nudging the black teenager’s dead body with the tip of his cowboy boot. “We shoot unarmed black kids all the time because we’re supposed to. That’s our job now given to us by our government. Once we report this to the organization director, we’ll go grab something to eat.” The older policeman patted his partner on the back while turning his head and looking to see Maria, who was approaching them from behind. The older policeman at first didn’t know how to react to Maria, who was creeping up towards the residential street where the two cops were standing. “What’s the matter?” The younger policeman asked before turning his head and seeing Maria approaching them. “You want me to stop her? It looks like she’s coming over here.” The young policeman didn’t even wait for an answer. He turned around and began telling Maria to stay back. “Excuse me, ma’am. We’re gonna need you to stay back.” The younger policeman spoke calmly as he began approaching Maria with his hands out in front of him, trying to stop her. When the young policeman placed his hands on Maria’s arms, it was the worst thing he ever did. The young policeman screamed when Maria took hold of one of his hands and began crushing it like it was a soda pop can. The young policeman screamed out in pain as he heard the bones breaking in his hand, which sounded like tree branches getting snapped in half. “I’m sorry,” Maria hissed out her insincere apology to the young policeman while crushing his hand down flat like a pancake and balling it up like it was a piece of paper. The young policeman screamed for his partner to help him as he watched his hand get turned into mush. The policeman wanted to reach for his gun, but he was in too much pain. Maria made things even worse for the young policeman when she reached down and grabbed the area where his penis and testicles were. The young policeman stopped screaming because the pain of feeling his penis and testicles getting crushed made his vocal cords lock up. After feeling the pain of a fist pierce through his torso combined with the earth-shattering pain of getting his genitals crushed, the young policeman’s heart stopped beating. Maria lifted the young policeman’s two hundred pound body off the ground by his throat after removing her fist from the police officer’s stomach. While Maria was mutilating the young policeman’s body, she was getting shot at by the older policeman who became overwhelmed with terror by what he was seeing. The older policeman was already horrified after watching Maria punch her fist straight through his partner’s stomach, but he was even more horrified because he couldn’t kill Maria no matter how many times he shot at her. The older policeman ended up unloading his gun on Maria. He watched as the bullets passed through Maria’s body and he saw how the bullet holes disappeared on her body, leaving behind not a single trace of blood. The older policeman dropped his gun on the ground with his body full of desperate fear. He watched Maria hurl his partner’s body into the air. The young policeman’s dead body landed on top of the hood of his squad car putting a huge dent in its hood. The older policeman thought the world was ending as he looked into the cunning hazel-gray eyes of a beautiful old Hispanic lady, who was approaching him with fire shooting out of her hands. Maria’s shapely hips were rotating beneath her tight-fitting denim blue jeans. Her wide breast bounced beneath her black sleeveless blouse and her skull pendant earrings were wildly swinging back and forth on her ears from every hard step she made towards the older policeman. It seemed like everything was moving in slow motion for the older policeman as he took off his sunglasses and dropped them on the ground while watching a blast of white fire head towards him. The pain was beyond excruciating. The older policeman went into shock as he felt his skin burning and melting away. He never thought he would experience getting burned alive, and it was an experience that Maria forced him to endure. The fire had engulfed the policeman’s body, and it made him look like a walking, screaming human torch. Maria folded her arms while watching the older policeman’s burning body slowly stumble down the street before collapsing to the ground like a burning pile of rubble. Maria could smell the fire cooking the policeman’s flesh, which reminded Maria of the smell of hamburgers cooking on a grill. After destroying the two policemen, Maria laid her eyes down on the body of the teenager who was lying on the sidewalk a few feet away from her driveway. While kneeling down on the ground beside the teenager’s body, Maria looked around to see people standing outside their homes and on the sidewalk watching her. Maria waved and smiled at her shocked neighbors while holding the African American teenager’s body across her lap. She took her attention off the shocked faces of her neighbors and put her eyes back down on the teenager’s face, with her fingers stroking through his well-trimmed afro. Maria could feel the blood leaking out of the bullet holes in the teenager’s body. While stroking the child’s head, she began healing all the bullet wounds on his body. Even his blood that stained the fabric of his blue basketball jersey was disappearing. While bringing the thirteen-year-old back to life, Maria admired the young man’s handsomeness. She admired his Nubian dark skin and his strong but baby-like facial features. She could see how his puberty was setting in from the peach fuzz beneath his nose, which would soon become a full mustache once he reached his twenties. A silver necklace hung around the teenager’s neck and it had a pendant hanging off of it which were two diamond-encrusted letters. The letters that hung from the necklace said JD, which were the child’s initials. Maria caressed her hand across a bullet hole in the child’s left arm. She also waved her hand across a bullet hole in the teenager’s neck. After removing twelve bullet holes in the teenager’s body, it was time to wake him up. “Wake up, baby,” Maria whispered down to the teenager with her hand caressing his face. She adjusted the child’s body across her lap before restarting his heart causing the thirteen-year-old to wake up gasping for air. The young man began taking air into his lungs and coughing as he opened up his eyes and looked up, to see a sweet but edgy faced old lady looking back down at him and giving him a loving smile. The teenager studied the silver ring in Maria’s nose and the silver stud pierced in her lip. He looked at her shimmering skull head earrings and he also noticed that Maria had a missing eyebrow. The teenager could see that Maria had a slight purplish color in her silvery short hair, and he admired her pretty but edgy facial features. The teenager had never seen such a cool looking old woman, and he had never seen an old lady with tattoos on her shapely arms. “Wow! Who are you?” The teenager asked Maria while looking at her through his cocoa-brown eyes filled with confusion and wonder. The young man watched as Maria slowly leaned down to kiss him on his forehead. Maria never answered the teenager’s question. The grandmother only smiled at the thirteen-year-old boy while gazing down at the lost expression on his face. She held the teenager in her lap while gazing down into his eyes for a good long time and stroking her fingers through his soft mini afro.