“I get the child. End of discussion,” Calista says, folding a lavender top and putting it in her luggage. “I don’t understand how you can just decide that, without even asking me,” Julian says. He sits right in front of the luggage, forcing Calista to look at him. “I am her mother. Therefore, I get more rights on Lydia. Is that so hard to get through your thick skull?” she says, manoeuvring around him to place the next item in the luggage. “Yeah, maybe it is. Maybe I imagined it, but did you just say you had more rights on Lydia?” he asks. “Why, is there cotton stuck in your ears?” He grabs her hand and looks up at her from the ground. “Firstly, Lydia is not an object to be possessed by either of us. Secondly, she’s my daughter just as much as she’s yours,” he says, his hopeful eyes almost breaking Calista’s resolve. She frees herself from his clutches and looks at the wall behind them. “She is my daughter, more than she’s yours. Why can’t you just accept that? You never wanted a daughter, and now you want her just because you can’t have her?” she asks, still keeping her eyes trained on the worn-out dusty wallpaper of the bedroom they had shared for so long. “People change Calista. People change their minds,” Julian says, getting up, losing his patience. “You still haven’t answered my question. How do you arrive at the conclusion that Lydia is more yours than mine?” he says, seating himself on the mattress without a bedsheet on it. “I already told you, I’m the mother.” “I feel like I’m missing something big over here.” “I gave birth to her, so I should get to keep her.” “I thought that two people made a baby?” “If both those people wanted the baby in the first place. If one person doesn’t want the baby, it automatically belongs to the other.” “Show me this book.” “What book?” “Where these rules are written.” “It’s called common sense. You should really use it sometimes.” “Oh wow, what a sick burn. I’m melting,” he says, bitterly laughing. Calista rolls her eyes and returns to the packing that had slipped her mind. “Why are you like this? Why can’t you be a good person for once, and give us joint custody?” “I can’t do that.” “Why not?” “I just can’t.” Julian throws a vase on the ground in frustration. It breaks into a gazillion small pieces, and he picks them up, ignoring the blood that soon starts pooling in his palms. “Are you hurt?” she says, walking over to him. “No, not at all. I’m not hurt by the fact that my wife, sorry, my ex-wife doesn’t trust me with my daughter, no. I have no feelings at all,” he says, wiping off the tears on his face with his bleeding hands, leaving dark red marks on his cheeks. “Julian, you know that’s not what I meant,” Calista says, trying to help him up. He swats her hand away, and stands up on his own, wobbling a bit without support, trying not to get any blood anywhere on the room. He fails terribly, as he places his hand on the rough mattress to steady himself, the blood slowly seeping into it and leaving a stain. “You know what? You keep Lydia. You keep everyone. That’s what you always do, isn’t it? Everything is yours and yours alone. Can’t you open your mind up to the possibility that other people may also want the same things you do?” “Oh wait, I forgot. You can’t. You can’t do anything unless there’s something in it for you. So, you keep everything. You keep my broken heart, my daughter, my life, my home. I’ll just leave empty-handed, just like how I entered,” he says, and goes to the washroom. Wincing slightly at the sting, he washes his hands with soap and runs water over it until the bleeding stops. He washes his face and dries his cheeks. As he dries his hands, Calista stands at the door of the washroom, tears running down her face. “You know, I don’t even remember why we thought it was a good idea to get married,” she says, wiping her tears off. “We were stupid hormonal teenagers too caught up in love. I guess love isn’t always enough,” he says, and walks outside the washroom, passing by her. “It’s always like you’re speaking another language. It’s like you’re saying something, and I’m saying something else, and it just becomes this big mush of nothing. I don’t like that at all,” he says, sitting on a chair. “I don’t like it either. But you need to understand only one thing to understand me.” “That you have more possession of our daughter because you gave birth to her? That even though you were the one who said ‘I love you’ first, I still love you more? That even though my heart is lying on the floor in pain right now, you still have the right to put a knife through it again?” he says, his voice breaking at the end. “No, no just hear me out.” “What’s the point of hearing you out? We are not together anymore. Did you not know? Did you not realize that nothing you say will matter because this marriage is over? Gone. Burned to the ground. Even if you try to convince me why you have more right on Lydia or the house or the money, it will still sound as confusing and pointless as the first time I heard it.” “Julian! Can you just shut up for once?” He sets his jaw, his eyes on the floor. “Look, there is only one thing that you need to understand to understand me.” He tilts his head, looking bored. “I still love you. Even if we can’t understand what one person is saying half the time, I will always love you.” “But clearly, understanding each other is important in a relationship. We can’t speak different languages and expect it to work.” He cracked a sad smile. “We can have joint custody of Lydia,” she finally concedes, walking away from him and continuing the packing that had been abruptly stopped. His expression changes to one of shock. “Really? You’re not kidding, right? This isn’t some kind of sick joke, is it?” he says, getting up with a suspicious look. “No, not at all. She’s your daughter as much as she’s mine, so we must have joint custody.” He laughs in relief, and runs over to Calista, picking her up and spinning her around and around. “Julian. Put me down. Wake up a bit. It’s not like we got back together.” He stops spinning her, and puts her down, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I forgot myself there for a second.” “Thank you, Calista, you have no idea how much this means to me,” he says, and gives her a light kiss on the cheek. “You know, I think I have some idea of how much it means,” she says, smiling. He looks at her and smiles back. “I’m going to go and see Lydia for a bit,” Julian says and walks to the nursery, where Lydia is peacefully sleeping in her crib, not having heard a word of their argument. He caresses her head, looking at her fondly. “You know, today Mommy finally understood me. You know how much of a big deal that is?” Lydia just smiles in her sleep, and Julian knows that she understood. He smiles to himself, happy that in the last few minutes of their relationship, Calista and he had understood each other.


“Come on Jen, the holiday is almost over by now!” Brad jeers out from the front of the van.            “Give me a second, doofus,” I yell back, as I finish locking up my house.            “I’m going now!” He pretends to drive off, as I lug my suitcase over to the van.            “Very funny,” I say to him, and Micky helps me put all of my luggage in the boot. I smile gratefully at him. “Thanks M.”            “You’re very welcome.” He treats me to a dazzling smile, as he opens the door for me to clamber in. “Just ignore Brad – he’s had far too much air already.”            “We’re going on holiday!” Brad revs the engine, and then, without warning, drives off down the road. I look at everyone in the back of the van. Micky takes his seat right at the back, by himself, whilst Ella and Stephanie (or Steph, as she likes to be called) sit just a row in front of him. Ella gives me a small wave, whilst Steph jumps up and envelopes me in a warm embrace.            “Lovely to see you,” she says to me, and draws back. Her thick, Scottish accent is really prominent now. “It’s been ages!”            “Well, if you hadn’t been gallivanting around Scotland, I might have seen a bit more of you,” I tease, and she playfully hits me on the arm. I navigate around the luggage, which lies abandoned in the centre of the van, whilst Steph returns to her seat. I take my place next to Micky, who gives me a perky nudge.            “Everyone ready?” Brad eyes us all in the mirror, as we reach the end of my road. Everyone hollers at the back of the van, and Brad grins at us. “Then let’s go!”            We head onto the highway, and set off for our holiday. Brad swerves dangerously around cars, us clinging to our seats as we laugh through the journey. We have been planning this holiday for ages now – almost 7 months. After we left university, we vowed we would see each other often, not wanting the fantastic memories we made to fade into oblivion. However, once all of us got stuck into our jobs, none of us ever had corresponding schedules.            I am currently a journalist – or trying to be. At the moment, I fetch coffee and page people, so not exactly living my best life yet. My dream is to be a news reporter on live TV, but there is still a long way to go before that. Ella has always been the most determined and sophisticated out of all of us, and is studying to be a scientist. Stephanie has a flair for cooking, so she’s aiming to be the best chef out there; and judging by the food she produces in the Michelin star restaurant she works at, it won’t be long before a food critic snatches her up and helps her start her own one. Then there’s Brad, who has simply no idea what he wants to do next. He barely made it through university, and we spent many sleepless and soul-destroying nights trying to teach him all the content in as minimal time as possible. Suffice to say, we were all flabbergasted (albeit, extremely pleased) when he passed. As for Micky… I’m not too sure what he’s moving onto next. He’s always been a very introverted soul, and doesn’t open his mouth much.            Well, except to me.            “I want to know what he’s taking,” Micky whispers to me, nodding at Brad, who is admiring himself in the reflection of his mirror. We are cruising along at a considerable speed, as the sun blazes down, hitting the roof. Windows rolled all the way down, a light breeze flutters in and out of the van, and it dances around all of us. I waggle my eyebrows at Micky.            “Whatever he has, I want some,” I reply back to him, capturing a bit of fluff that soars through the window. “And I want vats of it.”            “Hey, you need to share!” He says to me, and he digs me in the ribs playfully. “What you got there, J?”            “It’s a fairy!” I unclench my hands, and show him the soft, white ball that is enclosed in them. “You make a wish on them, and then blow, and your wish will come true!”            “I don’t believe in that magic nonsense,” Micky says to me. Another fairy floats in, and he catches it nonetheless. “But, I guess there’s no harm in trying it out. You go first.”            I do as he instructs. I clasp the fairy carefully in my hands, and shut my eyes tightly. A million hopes and wishes blast through my mind, but eventually, I find one to settle on. I say it in my head, and blow the fairy out of the window. “Your turn.”            “You’ll have to wait now; you took so long, my fairy went to sleep.”            “Don’t be silly,” I roll my eyes at him, watching as he pulls the fairy close to his chest. He places it near his heart, and concentrates with all of his being. His cheeks are flushed with excitement – I wonder whether he’s nervous from talking to me, or if I’m just imagining it – and he has a soft smile on his face as he opens his eyes. He blows the fairy away, just like I did, and shoos it out of the van.            “All done. I hope it comes true.”            “I hope it does too. What did you wish for?”            He tuts at me. “Don’t you know anything about magic? If I tell you, it won’t come true!”            “Alright, Master of Magic, I won’t ask again,” I laugh at him, and we end up rolling about hysterically on our seats. The afternoon flies by, and by the time we reach our destination, everyone is asleep. Crazily, Brad is also included in that statement. I wake to the sound of the tires screeching, as he pulls out from behind a car he was unknowingly crawling behind. Ella thumps him around the head.            “You could have killed us, chump!” She huffs, and at least he has the decency to look concerned. “Keep your bloody eyes on the road.”            “Yes, mum.” He winks at me in the mirror, and I give him a smile. I turn my head to see Micky’s resting on my lap. He’s snoring peacefully, and although his chin is coated with dribble, he does look adorable. I brush a strand of hair from his forehead, which causes him to stir. He lifts his head up, notices me, and begins to grin from ear to ear.            “Are we almost there? How long have I been asleep for?”            “Yep, we’re just arriving now. And I don’t know; I also took a nap. But at least I didn’t drool all over your jeans.” I point out the wet patch on my knee, and he gasps. With his hair tousled from his sleep, he looks as if he hasn’t showered for days. He cradles his head in his hands.            “Oh God, I’m so sorry, J.” He grabs a tissue from his pocket, and wipes at the stain, but alas, it doesn’t help at all. I place my hand on his, and give him a reassuring smile.            “Don’t be silly, it’s okay,” I grab my handbag as Brad parks up at our holiday destination. “Just remember, it’s not normal for you to drool all over girl’s jeans – at least, not on the first date.”            “Oh is that what this is? A first date?” He raises an eyebrow at me, and I can slowly feel the heat rising in my cheeks.            “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a first date with you.” I mumble, and twiddle my thumbs, suddenly interested in the wooden flooring that adorns the van. “But I wouldn’t say this is a first date either. We’re just in a van, that’s all.”            “That’s true.” He sucks in his tongue, and rubs at his eyes. He clasps his hands together, and then unclasps them. Whilst the others leap out the van with their luggage, me and Micky remain in the backseat, awkwardly sitting next to each other. Micky inhales deeply, and sits forward to face me better. “So, hypothetically, if I was to ask you on a first date, right now, what would your answer be?” “Well, hypothetically,” I answer, my breath taken away by the butterflies in my stomach, “I think you should probably ask, and then you’ll find out.” He nods. “Jenny Feather,” he looks me up and down with his hazelnut eyes, flecked with little spots of grey – unusual, but very pretty. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” “I’d love to!” I answer immediately, almost too ecstatically. He laughs, relieved by my answer, and my eagerness to meet up with him. “Thank God,” he says, “I guess that’s my wish complete.” “What? Really? You wished for that?” I ask him, and by the nervous look on his face, as well as the twinkle in his eye, I can confirm the answer. I beam at him, feeling my temperature rising to be hotter than the sun. “Well I wished for a kiss from you.” “Really?” Breath knocked out of him, Micky mulls over his thoughts, and then flashes his pearly smile at me. “Oh no! You told me, so it may not come true...” “But it still might!” I hint at him, and he lips his lips nervously. “So, shall we make your wish come true?” “I think we should,” I tell him innocently, but as he moves closer, the door to the van opens. “Come on lovebirds: the villa is ours!” Brad shouts at us, waggling the keys at us. He grabs my luggage, and throws it towards our holiday house. Micky shakes his head, and shrugs at me. “I guess your wish will have to wait for a little while longer.” “I guess so. Promise you’ll make it come true though?” “Promise.” He holds his pinkie out solemnly, and I follow with mine. We share a knowing look, one that sends ribbons of joy through my body. We bundle out of the van, excited for the new experiences we are about to have, and for the romances that have yet to occur.


I - The Encounter The calm evening weather turned to a thunderstorm in an instant. Jack was planning to reach home before all of this started… but heavy drops of rain stated that this wasn’t an option anymore. A few hundred meters further there was an abandoned train bridge, it would be a perfect cover for the storm to pass. Nearing the bridge, the structure’s contours in the gloomy evening looked like a twisted creature . With rain pouring down, it seemed alive… breathing … sluggishly moving around. The thunderstorm was getting more and more intense as Jack squeezed himself into the very corner of the structure. The wind was picking up and his hands were freezing off. The sound came first… It was music , or at least it sounded like music. It quickly started and disappeared again. The noise was made out of different sounds - birds chirping, running waterfall, trees cracking in the howling winds . Sounds you don’t typically hear during a thunderstorm. And Jack might not have given this too much attention if it didn’t sound… human … like someone was talking to him in some obscure language… Hands weren’t freezing anymore, or maybe he just forgot about them. Even the rain and thunder were eerily quiet . The sound was getting closer and closer… Jack felt his body tense up, entering the dreaded fight or flight mode. And then it showed itself, not running, not crawling, but seemingly swimming past him as lightning illuminated the old bridge. He saw it for a second… it was… something … During the brief moment, Jack couldn’t even understand where the creature started or ended, where his head was, or did it even had eyes. He could swear that this uncanny thing was made out of random parts of its surroundings, half of a log, parts of moss and stones. Its body was made out of sharp lines but moved gracefully. Jack just stood there as the creature dove back into the forest. His mind desperately tried to come up with a logical explanation. One thing that Jack didn’t notice was the fact that he was already following the creature into the dark forest. His body was moving on its own, still getting soaked in the rain and collecting bruises from sharp tree branches. Only lightning illuminated the forest now, but it was frequent enough to at least orientate yourself. He couldn’t answer why he was following it, maybe to prove that there was nothing, maybe to hear that music again… He reached an opening and the sound, though faintly, appeared again. It was coming from right over there, but there was nothing… only regular rocks, logs, and other parts of the forest illuminated in flashes of lightning. He’s probably too tired , overstressed , overworked … Then it moved … he could swear that the thing just emerged from its surroundings, taking parts of trees and moss - making them part of its body. The creature looked different , it was bigger and had a wildly exaggerated body. But somehow Jack felt that it was the same entity , it must be. It moved around in slow yet methodical movements. Then dove into the forest like it was made out of water, yet again leaving nothing, just the same old trees and rocks. Jack wasn’t breathing for a long time and finally took a deep breath - like he himself was just about to drown. The thing resurfaced once more, a bit further down the tree line. Again it combined different parts of its surroundings, but this time an animal skull, or part of it dangled to his side. Even though Jack couldn’t say for the life of him which part of this creature was what, he felt being watched . The music, made of forest sounds, was getting louder . Combined with the constant rain and thunder it started to press Jack’s head in. Crumbling to his knees, still looking at the thing, but the creature didn’t move. Jack’s head was hurting bad, but even then, from all this noise, he could make out something - the creature was asking or maybe offering something. Like talking with a person without understanding their language - you might not know what they offer, but you KNOW they’re offering something. The thing started moving again, with slow moves , almost swimming, it reminded Jack of some form of dancing. God knows how much time Jack spent there in the middle of the dark shadowy forest watching the creature dance . Abruptly it stopped and stared one more time before diving into the trees and disappearing. The rain was dying down, he knew the creature was gone. There was no more music around, and the sound of thunder was back to normal. He felt cold , wet , and a bit stupid for standing in the rain for so long. All of this felt like a weird dream, and he just wanted the warm sheets of his bed… II - The Void It’s been 4 days and he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since the encounter. His bed was wrong , the air in his room was choking him, and the food tasted more like sand . The sheets of his bed felt thorny and almost burned his skin. He couldn’t work either, the sound of coworkers, or any person for that matter was irritating. Everything was empty , lifeless , grey , without meaning. Except for one thing, when it rained … During those moments, Jack became fixated with nature, it felt like pressure building all over his body. Even inside, the sound of tree branches moving and the smell of the forest were irresistible… It was 4 a.m. in the morning, and the small drops of water were beginning to hit his window… It’ll rain again … Jack snapped… he’s not going to try to force himself to sleep for the fifth night in a row. Naked , marched into his yard which was now a mud bath. The rain on his body felt amazing, cooling, like a part of him. Jack laid himself into the mud and it adapted to his body like it was specifically waiting for him. The rain wasn’t falling down on him , it felt like it was falling on him . He felt his skin mixing with the mud and stretching, sinking deeper and deeper. After a couple of hours, his body felt numb , liquid almost. Maybe from the cold rain or maybe his body wasn’t even here anymore. He shifted his eyes downward. Someone was standing behind a tree. Even though it had a different overall shape, Jack knew it was the same creature from before. It was observing him, silently, patiently, waiting for something…

It was probably watching him these whole 4 days, just from the shadows. Jack didn’t care, he was enjoying the peaceful cold of the rain and mud. Finally, he woke up as the first rays of the sun hit the ground. Getting up from the bliss , he headed to his apartment, carefully trying not to get noticed by the neighbors. III - The Offer Are you listening to me? You look sick Jack… You should probably go see a doctor… He didn’t care, didn’t care about anything anymore, all of this just felt fake , unnatural. Even the smell of other people made him sick . His coworker was talking for quite a while now, just talking, without any point or reason. Jack knew she was making things up, knew why, and even that it was not really her fault, just a human habit . Two weeks have passed since the encounter, and apart from the nights spent sleeping in the mud, Jack never actually felt alive, or even present… All thoughts were wandering around the forest, somewhere lost in the mesmerizing maze of it. It was beginning to rain outside and Jack desperately wanted peace… in his mind, there were two options, either lock himself in a mental institution or… or just live in the forest. A month ago idea like this would have been insane, but now it was burning in his mind, enveloping more and more of his thoughts. He quickly got up, abruptly ending the one-sided conversation. Didn’t even pick up his things, just left out the door, heading in the direction of that bridge. His plan was sporadic at best, his thoughts murky , jumping from one idea to the other. But he wanted to find a nice spot, just to clear his mind a bit. Wandering deeper into the forest, the rain was intensifying … A nice spot of moss, he can just lay there… yet again, being dragged under… sinking. The creature was here, carefully watching him, following his every move. Once again that weird music started playing, and once again it sounded… no, now, it definitely was an offer… to be something else…

Looking at the cloudy sky, Jack took a deep breath and finally accepted the creature’s deal. His body started spreading through the wet forest floor, tree branches, and small rocks around him. His skin was the tree barch, and his vanes were its roots… Then there was nothing, just a few rocks, some trees, and moss, nothing you wouldn’t see in any other part of the world. In the stormy weather, the forest was quiet. Jack Redmin disappeared on January 8, 2021…. Laura was hiding from the rain at an old bus stop, though it didn’t do much to protect her…. In the gloomy evening, she could swear that she saw 2 figures, dancing through the treeline, singing… calling to her. Laura Bratner disappeared on March 15, 2022….


Olivia M. Schmidt

Jackalope Horror Under the full moonlight, half a dozen horses and their riders tracked cautiously over the cool desert sand. They hold the reins in a white-knuckled grip with a rifle slung around their backs. Thunder rolled in the distance, steadily growing closer and closer. The horses snorted and neighed, stomping their hooves nervously against the rough grains. At the raised clenched fist of the sheriff, the little band stopped.

“We’ll carry on foot,” the gruff voice of the sheriff could be heard over the growing rumble. “Don’t want it to spook or injure the horses.” With a pat to his steed’s side, he dismounted and adjusted his dual bone-hilted pistols at his sides before turning back to others who soon joined him. To the youngest, the leader spoke, 			“Boy, watch over the horses. Keep them safe. We’ll be back soon.” “Hopefully, with its hide.” Another member, Dale, ‘helpfully’ added.

“Yes, sir.” The youngest promised the first man.

“Good man.” The boy amongst the men ducked to hide the flush of color. To the others, “Let’s get this done.” With that, the posse disappeared into the undergrowth. They moved slowly, guns at the ready. Despite the cooler air, the men were sweating from the anticipation and increasing dread. The thunder seemed to be on top of them, the ground shaking and quaking with the intensity of it. The group faltered in step.

“Steady men!” The sheriff commanded, voice still strong and level. Before they could lift their guns a centimeter, a streak of tumbleweed brown and creamy white shot out of a gnarled, craggily bush. The ground vibrated and caused two men to fall on their rear ends. The blur stopped in front of Dale. Startled, he fell backward and yelped when connected with a cactus.

“Dale!” One of the plain Jane folks, Hank, yelled. Raising the rifle, he added, “Turn so I can shoot you in your God dang eye.” Black eyes met his. Several rifle fires went off simultaneously, but none hit while the creature leaped into the air. Its hind legs connected with Dale’s chest, causing his ribs to snap and pierce his lungs. The jackalope didn’t wait for Dale’s last suffocating death. Instantly pushing off his chest, the beast repeated the same treatment to Hank’s head. It burst like a watermelon. Shots continued to fire, but they never grazed the creature. After Hank, the antlered rabbit bounced across the desert floor and gouged into the third man’s, John, chest with those antlers. John’s rifle went off and struck Rufus dead. The last Plain Jane folk ran up to the beast, who was preoccupied with yanking its antlers out with a sickening squelch. He trained his gun on the jackalope.

“Don’t try to move, bitch,” snarled the man. As a warning, he fired a shot and clipped the jackalope’s ear. Its eyes widened. A mistake that action was. With a mighty leap, the hare quickly dropped back down. The ground split from the impact, and the man plunged into the newly created chasm. His screams could be heard fading into the fathomless depths below. The sheriff scrambled away. He tried not to stumble and fall as the man ran toward the waiting horses. However, only one horse was waiting, trying desperately to flee from its tether, with the boy holding onto it for dear life. The other horses had already bolted.

“Well done, boy!” Heaving swiftly into the saddle, the sheriff held his hand out for the reins and lifted the boy up behind him. Without much prompting, the horse carried the men away. Even at the clipped pace the horse set, the ground continued to tremble underneath them. The two men spotted the jackalope leaping nearer from their peripheries.

“What do we do, sir?” The boy asked, borderline hysterical. His arms tightened around the older man’s chest, where he hung on for dear life.

“We’re encumbered! We need to lose some weight!” “How do we do that, sir?” He barely thought about it, if at all, before the sheriff unbuckled his pistol and shot the boy’s side. Yelping, the boy’s arms loosened and, with a final shove, toppled off to the ground below. The injured boy watched in shock as the cowardly man kept running without a backward glance. Without any remorse. Indeed, Sheriff Anderson felt no guilt. Maybe, he would when safely back in town after comforting the mourning families over their deceased. Or after returning with more armed men and finally skinning that monster alive. But not now. All he cared about was dodging the opening chasms erupting around him. The horse raced along the ridge off a burned valley of warrens, and distantly the sheriff saw the lit lanterns and chatter of his town when an abyss split in front of them.

Instinctually, the bipedal creature reared up and bucked off its passenger. The man tumbled over and over until he reached the bottom of the warren valley. Shakily, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. But before he stood or even moved another muscle, the jackalope leaped into the air and landed before him. Sand and dried earth slammed against the sheriff, knocking him into a dead, gnarled tree. A broken branch fell and pinned him down. Thunder ominously rolled above as the small creature advanced closer to the trapped man. Struggling around the branch, he upholstered his dual pistols and pointed them at the jackalope. Or, at least, he tried to.

“AAHHH!” Anderson screamed as the creature lunged forward, breaking his forearms with its front paws. Its antlers framed the man’s face as the jackalope’s face hovered before his. When the sheriff’s eyes focused, they widened from dawning horror. One of the jackalope’s antlers was shorter than the other. Broken, in fact, by blunt force, from a long time ago. Five years ago, if Anderson guessed. Which meant this was the same warren where Anderson and the rest of the town hunted the jackalopes because they were a nuisance and later a sport. To extinction, at least for one. A baby jackalope who the sheriff maliciously broke its antler and left to die. That jackalope, the last one, stood before the man with righteous hatred and vengeance in its eyes. And it left, thunder echoing further away as the jackalope headed toward the sheriff's town to enact its revenge.


Ever since my mum lost her dad, my grandpa, because of cancer, she has always felt empty. Not completely downhearted Perse, but that usual glow in her eyes whenever she woke up in the morning, her bright and charming smile she always flashed at me and my Dad whenever she was making breakfast had sadness and pain written all over it, and it hurt me more than anything. My mum loved Grandad, and so did I. He was without a doubt the most energetic and most loving man I have ever met. He acted quite young even though he's strength had slowly faded because of his old age. He was always working and always wanted to work even when my mum and dad would tell him to get some rest, he would brush all our comments aside and keep doing whatever he was doing while saying "I'm not gonna live forever, just let me live a bit would ya?" Just thinking about him saying those words now really hurt me. Everyone living in our estate loved my grandad, they loved his optimism and his company; they loved how he was always so hearty and smiling at every point in time, but one thing that people loved the most and admired was my grandad's signature chocolate muffins. Damn, were those things delicious. Every Saturday afternoon, when my mum would go out to get groceries and my dad would work on his greenhouse, and I'd either be studying or playing a video game. My grandad would sneak into the kitchen and whip up a large batch of chocolate muffins and hand them over to us after we were all around and less busy. He's smile as we took bites of his muffins and moaned in satisfaction was priceless. He'd usually make large batches, so, my mum (Being the kind-hearted person she has always been) would package the remaining muffins and share them with our neighbors who always asked the same question we asked grandad all the time. "What is your secret?" "I'm just good at baking, I guess" He would reply with a bright smile and a shrug. My mum told me he started making muffins for her when she was little after her mum (his wife) died in a car accident. Even though I never met my grandma, I could tell by how he talked about her and how my mum talked about her too that she was a good person. She told me how became depressed but eventually started using baking to heal his wounds, she also told me he would only do it on Saturday's because that's when he lost her, and ironically, probably because of some cosmic shit of the universe and probably a ton of other crap I don't understand my grandad died on Saturday as well. And now, it's also his birthday. Today. And I want to honor his memory just like he did for grandma. Ever since grandad died, my mum stopped taking muffins. She told me how she hated the fact that it reminded her of losing him and she honestly would prefer to stay without muffins than eat anyone other than his own, so; I decided to change that. By making his signature chocolate muffins. But that's the problem, it

he's signature muffins.  Not mine. I thought I could replicate it, I honestly thought it would be easy after watching a bunch of YouTube videos on baking chocolate muffins but each time I taste the batter repeatedly and I can't help but groan and realize how stupid it was for me to try to replicate something even his daughter didn't know how to make. " I'm just good at baking I guess"

I remember his words and stare at the muffin batter with calculating but very annoyed eyes. Guess I just suck at doing this huh? I look at the clock in my kitchen and sigh. Mum and dad are going to be back home any minute. I groan again before I push the small bowl of cake batter aside and carry another small bowl, while staring at the ingredients on the table, silently praying they could all just calm together and form my grandad's beautiful mixture. But unfortunately, it's just a prayer. My mum wanted to spend my grandad's birthday in the mortuary, paying respects to him and lying close to his grave. And my dad, well he didn't want to let my mum stay there all alone, so he tagged along, even though he felt like it was a pretty depressing way to celebrate her dad's day of birth, which I agree on, but she loved him, and the grieve of losing him still hangs around her. My dad told me if this is what it takes to ensure she comes back to her old self, he'd let her keep doing it until all shattered pieces of her some back together. They left me alone in the afternoon and told me they'd be back by 8:00 pm, knowing I was done with all my schoolwork and had nothing to do until their time of arrival, I decided to just use that as an opportunity to make some decent progress in The Last Of Us 2. While playing my video game, a glimpse of my mum's sad face and her rejecting the muffins miss Connor, our neighbor brought for her, along with all her breakdowns and everything flash before my eyes and suddenly, I just thought of what to do. Losing grandad was a bummer, a huge bummer, true, but the only way to heal from the grief of losing someone, the only way to attach the pieces of yourself you lost while grieving is to move on and that's what I wanted for my mum today. It wasn't just about celebrating grandad's birthday anymore; it was about letting him rest for good. After I had planned the idea out and did all the necessary preparations, I called my mum and dad and told them I had a surprise for them, my mum didn't want to leave of course but my dad insisted that they both check out what I have planned. She refused continuously, but after a ton of persuasion agreed and decided to come over. I was excited and decided that the only way to make this even more special was by preparing grandad's signature muffins, but after a ton of failed attempts, I kinda regret calling them before it was ready. Now, I have just 1 hour before they get back. Luckily, it's a 3-hour drive from the mortuary. What if this doesn't work? Hell, mum would be even more hurt that I tried to bring memories of him and I didn't even do it properly. A picture of my mum's face smiling happily flashes through my mind and I shake my head. No, no, no, I got this. I psych myself up before I put all the ingredients again, my thoughts going back to my mum now and then. I'll make her happy, I'll make sure this is the day she heals from the trauma, I'll make sure this is the day she becomes happier, I'll make sure this is the day she moves on. Grandad wouldn't have wanted her to be this way, and she needs to know that. After I finish, I stuff my hand inside the batter and stuff it in my mouth. My eyes immediately widen. OH. MY. GOD ______ "Dennis, we're home," My dad says and I hear the door close making my lip tug upward. "In the dining room," I shout back in response and fold my hands behind my back while waiting for them to enter. As soon as the door opens, my mum and dad both stare around the dining room, both of them completely flabbergasted. My mum's eyes move from a picture of grandad on the wall to the dining table filled with different food items, drinks, candles, plates, and glass cups. "Lady and gentleman, dinner is served," I say as I lead both of them to a chair. "What's all this?" My mum asks while sitting down and I sigh while tugging at my apron. "You've been so down about grandad for a while, and I wanted to arrange something that'll help you cherish his departure instead of being depressed about it. So, I did this," I say waving my hand around the table and her eyes become a bit glossy before she holds my hand and mutters a thank you. My dad nods at me with a proud smile. "I cooked up all of grandad's favorite along with yours as well mum," I say and she smiles brightly while I walk around the table pointing at different food items. "We got rice pudding, mashed potatoes, lasagna, stir-fry, bread, and a ton of other stuff I knew nothing about and had to check google for information," I say, and everyone laughs while I only smile lightly. "Well, let's dig in, I'm starving," My dad says before he rubs his hands together and we dig in. After dinner, we all go to the living room and go through a reel of my grandad's album that he brought when he was staying with us, a ton of photos making us laugh our hearts out. I had to search around the house severally but in the end, I found it. "And this, this is when he bought me a cat. Unfortunately, the cat didn't stick around and left me and dad" She says while pointing to an old picture showing her standing with a cat in her hand by grandad's side, we all stare at the picture for a while smiling until I get up and turn the reel off, and I hear my mum yawn from behind me. I walk back to my mum and dad and sit down on the couch and my mum grabs my hand and squeezes it lightly. A bright smile spread across her lips. "You don't know how much this means to me Dennis, thank you," She says with glossy eyes and I smile sadly before hugging her while my dad watches with a small smile. I let her go and stare at her before I remember something. "Wait here" Is all I tell her before I run to the kitchen. She stares at me in confusion and shrugs before she talks with dad. After a ton of plate rattling and looking for particular items, I come back into the living room with a tray filled with chocolate muffins. My mum stares at me and her eyes widen with a pained look in each pupil as her hand looks down on the muffins in my hand. I sit them down on the table and smile sadly at my mum and my dad just keeps staring at the muffins then back at me with a shocked expression. She stretches her hand and first picks up the paper on the tray and opens it up and reads it while tears fall freely from her eyes. When people die, the only gift we can grant to them, is our happiness- Grandad. I remember my mum telling me that was grandad's favorite quote after he lost his wife, and now I feel like she needed it to because if it kept grandad going even after going through so much, it was sure to keep her on her feet too. "You've been through a lot since grandad died. But, I just wanted to let you know that holding onto this pain will break you. You need to move on. I don't mean you should forget grandad but I want you to cherish his memories instead and believe he's in a better place and give him the one thing he always yearned for when he was alive, your smile" I say and my mum stretches her hand and picks up a muffin and bites out of it before she drops it back and starts crying, she stands up and walks up to me and pulls me in a tight embrace while crying into my shoulders. My dad stares at her confused before he picks a muffin and takes a bite out of it and his eyes widen before he raises his head from staring at the muffin to me. "It tastes just like..." "Dad's. It tastes so much like dad's" My mum says while still crying into my shoulders and I raise my hand hug her tight and she does the same, tighter than before. "Thank you so much, Dennis. Thank you so, so much. I can't explain how much what you did means to me. Thank you" She says while still crying and clean my eyes before my dad stands up and hugs both of us. "Thanks a lot, kiddo," My dad says while hugging us both. "I love you," She says while still crying and I nod while trying to hold my tears back but of course fail woefully. "I love you too, mum," I say while all of us remain in that position. How was I able to replicate his recipe? Even I don't still understand it. Something in me just clicked and everything just went well after I tried it again, I don't really know what ingredients he might have used to make his own so special but I know one emotion was always active whenever he made those muffins. Pain. The pain of losing his wife, and the pain of having to raise his daughter alone. Just like I equally felt the pain of having to see my mum keep going through this grief repeatedly. Is that what the secret in the recipe is? I don't know. It could be or it could be the 2 extra eggs I added this time, whatever it is, I sure hope I get it again, for next time, for mum. My mum and dad let go of me and she leaves her hands on my shoulder while staring at me with teary eyes but a bright smile before she asks me. "How did you do it?" She asks and I'm about to give her an answer before I smile and say something different. "I'm just good at baking, I guess," I say with a bright smile, making my mum and dad laugh. She keeps smiling at me before she turns back and looks at the muffins and then back at me with a grin. "Come on, let's devour those before they get cold," She says and we all walk back to the chair before we eat the muffins and make jokes about times with grandad. Eating these muffins now, it feels like he's here like he has been this whole evening and I know for a fact that my mum feels that way too. She surprises me by stuffing a muffin in my empty mouth and laughing loudly when I stare at her, shocked. She's happy for real again. And I'm glad that she is.


Carletta was a sophomore at the all-girls school, and it was the last day of school before the summer holidays. She was excited to go on vacation with her family and friends, and was looking forward to the break from the stresses of school. Her best friend Cristy was sitting next to her, talking about their plans for the summer. Cristy had twin sisters, Cristyanna, who was also in her class. Suddenly, their teacher, Mrs. Anderson, clapped her hands and said, “Okay class! Pop quiz!” The class groaned, and Carletta and Cristy exchanged glances. They had studied hard for the final exams, but they hadn’t expected a surprise quiz on the last day of school. Mrs. Anderson handed out the quiz papers and instructed the class to begin. Carletta and Cristy worked diligently on the quiz, but they were soon distracted by the antics of some of the other students in the class. Cristopher, Camila, Clara, Caroline (nicknamed Caro), Claire (Clara’s twin),were all writing songs and arguing about the answers to the quiz. Cinderella, Cindy (Cinderella’s triplet), Celestia (Cinderella and Cindy’s triplet), Cora, Chelsea (Celsea’s twin), Celsea (Chelsea’s twin), Chayse, and Calli were all trying to escape the classroom and go outside. Mrs. Anderson was getting increasingly frustrated with the disruption, and she threatened to call the principal if no one settled down. Carletta and Cristy, who had managed to stay focused on their quiz, were relieved when Mrs. Anderson finally announced that the pop quiz was over. The rest of the day passed without incident, and Carletta was relieved when the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the school year. The students all said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, but Carletta and Cristy stayed behind and hugged each other tightly. They were so excited to start their summer holidays, and couldn’t wait to make the most of it. The two friends set off to explore the world, and they had the most amazing summer of their lives. As Carletta and Cristy walked out of the classroom and into the bright sunshine, they chatted excitedly about all the fun things they were planning to do over the summer holidays. They both loved the ocean and had made plans to spend some time at the beach with their families. As they walked towards the school gate, they saw Cristyanna and her family waiting for her. They waved goodbye to each other and promised to keep in touch over the break. Carletta and her family had planned a road trip across the country, and she couldn't wait to see all the different sights and landmarks. She had always been fascinated by history and was looking forward to visiting museums and historical sites. Meanwhile, Cristy had enrolled in a summer camp that focused on outdoor activities like hiking, kayaking, and rock climbing. She was an adventurous person and loved the thrill of trying new things. As they said goodbye, Carletta and Cristy promised to write letters to each other and share all their summer adventures. They hugged each other one last time before heading off to start their summer holidays. As they walked away, Carletta couldn't help but feel grateful for her wonderful friend and the memories they had made together over the school year. She was excited to see what the future held for them both and couldn't wait to share all the exciting things in store for her when they returned to school in the fall. Carletta and Cristy made the most of their summer break and created unforgettable memories. Carletta's family trip across the country was filled with adventures and new discoveries. They visited landmarks like the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone National Park, and Mount Rushmore. Carletta was fascinated by the history behind each landmark and enjoyed learning about the different cultures and traditions in each state they visited. On the other hand, Cristy's summer camp experience was nothing short of thrilling. She tried new outdoor activities like white-water rafting, bungee jumping, and zip-lining. Cristy had always been an adrenaline junkie, and the camp was the perfect place for her to explore her adventurous side. As the summer break came to an end, Carletta and Cristy kept their promise of staying in touch. They exchanged letters and pictures of their summer adventures and couldn't wait to catch up on each other's experiences. When school resumed in the fall, Carletta and Cristy were excited to see each other again. They eagerly shared stories of their summer break and caught up on all the gossip. They were grateful for their friendship and looked forward to making more memories together throughout the school year. During the first week of school, Carletta and Cristy were thrilled to discover that they had both taken up new hobbies over the summer. Carletta had joined the school's debate team and was excited to participate in her first debate competition. Meanwhile, Cristy had started a photography club and was eager to share her newfound passion with her friends. As the school year progressed, Carletta and Cristy continued to support each other in their hobbies and shared many new experiences together. They attended each other's events and competitions, and even collaborated on a few projects. Despite the occasional stress of schoolwork and exams, Carletta and Cristy's friendship remained strong. They continued to make memories and have adventures together, always looking for new ways to explore their interests and passions. As they approached their senior year, Carletta and Cristy reflected on their journey together and felt grateful for their strong bond. They knew that no matter what the future held, they would always be there for each other. During their senior year, Carletta and Cristy became even closer as they navigated the challenges of college applications and preparing for their future. They spent countless hours studying together and supporting each other through the stress of exams and deadlines. As graduation approached, Carletta and Cristy reminisced about their journey together and all the memories they had created over the years. They were nervous about the future but excited to see where life would take them. On graduation day, Carletta and Cristy walked across the stage together, proud of all they had accomplished. They hugged each other tightly, knowing that this was only the beginning of their journey. After graduation, Carletta and Cristy went their separate ways to different colleges, but they remained in touch and continued to support each other. They visited each other on breaks and shared stories of their college experiences. Years went by, and Carletta and Cristy both graduated from college and started their careers. They continued to stay in touch and remained best friends, even as they started families of their own. As they looked back on their journey together, Carletta and Cristy realized that their friendship had been the one constant in their lives through all the ups and downs. They were grateful for each other and the memories they had created, and they knew that their friendship would last a lifetime.


DEAR ELLY, I’M SORRY She always wanted to see it. The ocean. Elly used to dream of what it would be like to smell the salty sea air. Her bedroom consisted of seashells, posters and postcards of palm trees, and white sandy beaches, wondering what it would feel like between her toes. Is the water cold or warm? Echoes of Elly’s voice slipped through my mind, sending goosebumps down my arms. “Would you be brave enough to venture out where you can feel the tides pull?” I said aloud, remembering all of her late-night rambling. I exhaled, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel, listening to the seagulls yelling at one another – the one true sign the end of the land was near. It took fifteen hours straight to get to the end of Alabama. My energy level was now fueled by sweets, coffee, and procrastination ten years in the making. I opened the car door and stretched before adjusting my jean shorts and an orange tank top. The box that sat safely in the passenger’s seat the whole trip awaited its final journey, one that took me so long to find the courage to achieve.

It was now or never. The wind blew my hair around my face, tickling my nose. I kicked off my shoes, tossing them through the open car window. The air was salty, just as Elly always wondered if it would be. The waves crashing against the bank beckoned me further, my feet squeaked against the clean, white sand, bringing out a giggle. I hesitated before touching the water, allowing my toes to sink deep down until they reached the coolness below. A smile crossed my face, one for finally experiencing her dream, though this wasn’t exactly how I pictured it. The beach was secluded. White dunes rolled behind me, seemingly untouched by man. One couple walked hand-in-hand in my direction. I looked down and wiggled my toes, chest starting to tighten. Fear gripped tightly around me, freezing me, refusing to let me proceed. Her voice flowed through my mind, reminding me of her never-ending questions she rambled off within the clutches of sleep. Do you think the water stays nice and warm down south?

What happens if we’re attacked by seagulls? I chuckled. The box remained within my fingers, staying close to my chest. It was no ordinary box – made of walnut, stained dark, black brackets, and black knobs that held it securely together to keep the valuable content safely concealed.

Enough courage surfaced to take a few more steps, once the couple passed me by. I closed my eyes, listening to each wave approach and then receded. The crashing sounds of their entrances were quickly followed by a quiet return to the sea, stirring up sand and shells. No amount of repeated CD’s could capture the true magic. I opened my eyes to find new shells traveling with each ripple, most broken, just remnants of what once was. One did lay there, soft, pink, unaffected by time and the movement of the currents.

“What are you waiting for, Billy?” Elly’s voice said through my mind, a sound not yet forgotten – a sound I was not prepared to lose.

“I don’t know,” I replied out loud, looking up from the shell. “Chicken.” “I’m not.”

“No, you’re not. So why hesitate now?” I sighed, looking down into my hands, holding the box closer to my chest. “You know why.” A tear fell, hitting the box, seeping into the wood. I dug my feet into the sand once more, searching for what the sun could not reach. I rubbed my finger along the edges of the box, longing for the courage she always gave me. Ghost crabs began to emerge from the sand, digging their holes to escape the eager seagulls above. The sun would soon make its descent. I took in a deep breath and moved forward, not stopping until I reached the first wave. Lukewarm water hit my feet with the first wave, sand brushing my ankles as it returned. Just a simple touch calmed my anxious heart, putting a smile on my face. I stood there, feeling each wave pass me by, relishing in the captivating sensation of never wanting to leave.

“See, not so hard,” Elly’s voice echoed, still close in my subconscious. “No,” I nervously laughed. “It wasn’t.” “How is it?” A tear proceeded down my cheek. “Perfect.” I ran my hand across the latch, unable to open it, fighting against my thoughts. Why did I come here? Why did I think I could do this now? Maybe I should go back, try again another time, later, much later. Ten years wasn’t enough. I can’t… I can’t. I can’t. “I can’t!” I shouted into the wind, turning to head back to the car. “Billy!” I stopped outside of the waves, jaw tightening, trying to hold back a scream. Elly. “Stop,” Elly’s voice spoke softly, shutting down the doubting voices in my mind before they could take control. “You can do this.” I fell to my knees, sand sticking where the water grazed. It took a minute to silence the demons inside effectively. Elly helped encourage me to stay active, to stay alive and sane – and I didn’t know how I could do it without her, how I could continue life without her. If I let her go, I would be alone with no one to save me. I turned towards the sea, watching the sun beginning to send a cascade of red and orange into the horizon. I sat the box into the sand in front of me, keeping it close between my legs. The wind had died down, lightly tossing hair around my shoulders. I pulled out a letter from my back pocket. The years of wear and tear showed. I wrote it for Elly’s funeral but did not read it. I did not speak to anyone that day. They didn’t understand, no matter how much their words tried to leave a soothing impact. I had lost the letter a couple of times over the years, but it seemed to have a way of finding me – and I think I knew how. Unfolding the paper took concentration, hoping it could withstand one more read. My heart settled, feeling a calming touch – a feeling only experienced with Elly’s presence. “Dear Elly,” I started, saying the words aloud for the first time. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know what else to say. You were the best big sister I could have ever asked for. Always there when I needed you, having all the advice, and sticking up for me. “Billy,” Elly whispered. I pushed her voice aside, trying to hold it together long enough to finish. “I’m sorry for all the mean things I ever said, the fights, the hits, and kicks.” “That’s what sisters do.” The flood gates broke with the approach of the final lines. Guilt tore through me, ripping into my chest, hyperventilation taking over, but I had to finish it.

“It’s...it’s my fault. I ran the car out of gas. Why? Be...because I wanted to see Jason, but I knew it wasn’t allowed. I...I didn’t tell you, didn’t warn you. You were upset with me for wearing your favorite blue sundress, and it slipped my mind. Mom and Dad do not know I am responsible. It’s my fault you ended up on the side of the road. It’s my fault…” I folded up the paper, wadding it into my hands, clenching my fists tightly together. I couldn’t. I remembered everything as I watched the ocean fade away, giving way to the flashes of my mind. Dad rushed home from work to pick me up, only vaguely giving information – the first time I ever saw my father break down. It wasn’t until we reached the hospital did I learn she had pulled to the side of the road, gas tank empty. It was then I discovered a truck had hit her – and we were too late. You were already gone. The calming sensation tried to regain control, but the pain would not relinquish. I sat in the sand, feet now completely gone, crying into my elbows resting on my knees. I cried until there were no more tears, allowing myself to grow numb, listening to the sound of the waves, and the gulls calling overhead. My mental capability had become weak over the years, and I no longer knew what strength felt like. The box moved closer through the sand. Some force seemed to push it into sight, an invisible force I had grown accustomed to. I looked up, expecting to find her face, but all I saw was the endless ocean and a descending sun. I knew what it meant. I knew what Elly wanted. She had been asking me to do it for some time now. Ever since the first time I heard her voice speak to me, close to my seventeenth birthday, a year after her death.

Elly wanted to be with the sea. We made a promise when we were younger. Our very first trip would be together. I at least held to that promise, and I needed to give Elly what she wanted. I shoved the letter into the front pocket of my shorts and picked up the box. The sand still squeaked under my feet as I made my way back toward the sea. The waves had cooled, sending a chill up my legs. I continued, stepping out farther, only stopping once the waves reached my knees, holding firm against the rocking of the tide. I exhaled before finding one more cleansing breath. “I hear you, Elly.” I rubbed my fingers across the lid once more before undoing the latch. A sigh escaped my lips, preparing myself for the final moments. My heart skipped a beat as I opened the lid and allowed Elly’s ashes to flow with the air and fall into the ocean. The wind shifted directions, carrying parts of her along the shoreline and out to sea. I closed my eyes, heart lifting freely, taking in the scent of her favorite lotion she always wore, cherry blossom, for the first time in ten years.  My eyes opened. Elly stood in front of me, almost like looking in a mirror at a younger version of myself. Her long, dirty blond hair swayed with the breeze, blue eyes shining bright. She stood in her favorite white lacy dress, which fell to her knees. She was taller than me by a couple of inches. Her skin tanned easier than mine, leaving it glowing against the sunset. I closed the lid to the box gently, breathing in the feeling of setting her free.

Elly’s red lips parted into a smile, showing perfectly white teeth. Her blue eyes continued to glisten, accented by winged eyeliner. Her freckles peeked out on her cheeks – not even foundation could ever hide them away. “It’s so beautiful!” She shouted, turning towards the horizon, allowing the waves to gently push against the back of her knees, the smell of the ocean intensifying. “You’re free now, Elly,” I said, allowing the tension to melt away, enjoying the moment of seeing her, not just hearing her voice. “So are you.” She turned and walked towards me, stopping close enough for me to feel her presence. “Let this be over, for good. What happened that day was no one's fault. Why didn’t I check the gas gauge to make sure I had enough? Why didn’t I get off the road? Accidents happen, Billy.” She smiled, her hand brushing my face, leaving the slightest feeling of her touch. “Go home. Talk to mom and dad. They are waiting for you to be a family again. Start your own family, follow a dream, become a vet, fashion designer, wedding planner. I don’t care what the hell it is, just do something -- for you.” I chuckled, taking in a deep breath. “Only for you.” Her arms wrapped around me. I could feel her touch and returned the hug, relieved in the ability to cherish her once more. “That is my final wish.” She pulled away, taking a step back. “I love you, Billy, and always will. We will see each other again, but not for a long time. I’ll wait for you. I promise.” “I love you, Elly.”

Elly’s smile broadened as she turned, running and disappearing into the sunset. I stayed there for a few more moments, watching the last of the sun fall below the earth’s horizon. All the regret and guilt of the past ten years melted away, making me feel whole and new. Elly was now free and happy. Keeping Elly’s words became my next task. Doing it alone took a strength I didn’t know I had. I returned home and spoke to my parents, unleashing all of the guilt I had hidden from them. They embraced me without hesitation, never once knowing her death weighed so much on my heart. That final relief of their love truly set me free, opening all the doors I kept closed. I did return to school, pursued a degree in history, and began the life she so desperately wanted me to start for the past ten years.

# I am currently finishing up my Doctorate. Death now shows itself in a new light, and I want to learn what I can from all corners of the world. Releasing Elly still weighs heavily on my mind from time to time, but I know I did the right thing. I no longer hear her voice, but perhaps if I did, I wouldn’t have made it as far as I have now. The letter I wrote is now gone, for I no longer say I’m sorry…

I stared down at the paper, heart filling with joy as I returned the pen to the notebook. Dear Elly, I’m happy. THE END


You’ve read this story before. By: Timothy McGuire

He woke up at the same time every day, though he didn’t have to. He walked into the bathroom, had a good morning pee, started to head out into the kitchen when he stopped and looked at himself in the mirror. Was that a permanent line in my forehead now, he thought. He was 47 then.          He went back into his bedroom and lied down, thought about his position in life and the sweat started beading on his brow almost immediately. He grabbed his cell phone and performed the now daily ritual of checking his bank account. The numbers just kept getting lower. He pulled his eyes away from the screen and thought that even his phone would soon become a luxury he could not afford.          He walked into the kitchen, to look what he could eat for breakfast. Not much, a tiny bit of milk bordering on expiring and some not yet stale store brand cereal. He sat down to eat, once done he looked up and said to no one ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do’ and the tears instantly came. This also became a daily ritual.          By the time the crying stopped, the sun was usually fully up by then, a year ago at this time he would be getting ready for work. A place that he no longer wanted to be at, with people who no longer wanted him there. He would always promise himself afterwards that if things didn’t change by the age of 50… he would never quite finish the thought, though dealing with one’s own brain, there’s never an unfinished thought. One day they called him into the office and fired him, for things that have been done the same way for years. Ironically, he had to wait to get fired for the ‘witness’, the number 2 in charge, he was usually late 9 times out of 10, casually apologizing with an $10 coffee in his pudgy little hands. Once the deed was done, he felt relieved, and panic all at once.          Now, driving to the local coffee shop, another daily ritual, waiting in the long line to pay for a drink he really shouldn’t be buying, but it’s worth it for the 20 to 30 seconds of flirting with the girl at the window, Ana Beth. She’s memorized his order by now and flashes her smile. He feels special for those few seconds, it quickly fades as he hears the her state the name of the next customer behind him at the drive thru.          As he drives home, he’s about to pass the library, that he’s passed hundreds of times before, but today for whatever reason he stops. The place is quiet as libraries usually are and he just started looking up and down the rows and rows of books, not knowing what he was looking for when he eyes just stopped on one title: You’ve Read This Book Before By: Fran Siss          He borrowed it and headed home.          He zombied out in front of a screen watching videos of people watching videos of people hurting themselves and reacting to it. It was a good waste of time while he drank his coffee. He was about to pick up the book when the urge to nap came upon him and he quickly gave in.          When he awoke, he noticed the sun was going down and figured it was almost dinner time, but he wasn’t too hungry just yet, instead he turned on his side and almost dozed off, when the cell phone on the night stand chirped saying it needed to be charged. Instead of going back to sleep he grabbed the library book and started to read.          It wasn’t exactly a mind blowing story, boy meets girl they fall in love and more than likely live happily ever after, he hadn’t gotten that far yet. It was the title that struck him, it was just strange, and nothing in the book seemed strange at all. It felt familiar, right from the first line, ‘He woke up at the same time every day, though he didn’t have to,’ felt comfortable.          After a little while of reading, he finally did feel hungry. Knowing there was no food in the house he’d have to go out. Found a bookmark and was about to save his place when he noticed the page was torn. It bothered him for whatever reason. He went about finding a scrap of paper to tape to the front to inform the library of the damaged pages, he noted the page number.          He went out to the nearest taco shop, getting one hard, one soft and headed back home. Ate in front of a screen watching videos of people reviewing other peoples reviews of movies. He glanced down at the book and noticed the author’s name Fran Siss, it didn’t sound real to him. It was his own middle name. He finished his meal and returned to reading.          The character in the book, who had a similar name to his own, met the love interest, a fairy tale sounding name Anagelina Elizabethe. It was predictable and boring and when he decided to turn in, grabbing his bookmark, again the page was torn, the number missing. He penciled the new number down as well. He fell asleep.          The next day, being exactly the same as the day before, he found himself in line for his daily dose of caffeine facing Ana Beth, giving her his order for the millionth time. The computer is taking longer than usual today, but she keeps smiling making small talk he doesn’t really seem to hear. His eyes wander from hers to her lips to her neck to her chest, and stay there just long enough for her to notice and give a good clearing of the throat. ‘Your change.’          Out of character he mentions that her name is similar to the name of a character in the book he’s reading. He says the name with a slight made up accent which she smiles at and says, that’s cute. And wishes him a good day. Back to the comfort of home.          He sits in bed and reads more of the book, each time he stops for whatever reason, the page he stops on is torn, there are 5 torn pages before he hits page 100. He was actually thinking about giving it up. Despite its interesting title, the beautiful love interest, and the calming effect the story had it was boring, even when the book presented a twist, the main character, the guy with a similar name, gets killed in a random robbery. That was page 100 actually, and he closed the book and thought about that is something that would probably happen to himself. He decided to return the book.          It was the middle of the night and he couldn’t sleep, he looked down at the book with the note on the front informing the librarians of the 5 torn pages and decided to return it. He drove to the night drop off box and was about to throw it in when he noticed the note was gone, this angered him a little bit, but also thought to himself, ‘figures.’ He threw the book back into the passenger seat and drove away.          Headed back towards home, he passes one of those 24 hour gas stations advertising gross oversized frozen drinks, decides to stop in to get one. He checks out the candy aisle maybe get a candy bar as well. He heard giggling voices and noticed at once, the beauty from the coffee shop Ana Beth looking at which six pack of beer to drink, she notices him and gives a half hearted smile and seems to be relived when someone comes up next to her, she whispers something to him, they both look at him, and he hears only a few short words ‘…staring at my chest.’ He turned away instantly thinking to himself that she had it all wrong, but he knew it didn’t matter.          He strolled up to the counter to get his drink, forgetting about the candy bar. The cute cashier, Beth, gave him a genuine smile and a friendly hello. He wasn’t feeling to friendly at the moment and went to pull out the money to pay, and the note from the book came out stuck to the cash, it fell to the counter. As she reached for the money he noticed on her wrist a little tattoo of a stack of books, smiled and thought it was cute. His attitude brightened a bit and once again out of character said out loud ‘cool tattoo, on my way to return one now.’          Beth smiled and handed him the change, and picking up the piece of paper she asked ‘oh, did you still want to play your lotto numbers?’ He turned and started to say they were not lotto numbers, but changed his mind, smiled and then nodded.          He became a millionaire that Friday, asked Beth out on a date Saturday night. Two years to the day, they welcomed baby Frances. He never did return that book to the library, the late fees must be outrageous!


I gaze around the room and sigh. It’s full of old cardboard boxes, both big and little, that seem to make the tiny room even smaller.  I walk over to the mattress beside me and plop down on it, sending a cloud of dust up into the air. It’s lumpy and covered with an unsafe amount of dust. Probably a victim from Andrews’s college years, which he claims was not that long ago but we all know different.

Andrew is my new stepfather, he’s… fine. He is a middle-aged man with a semi-large bald head and a tall body, six-foot-three to be exact. He’s obsessed with adult cartoons and even has the whole action figure set of the Simpsons, plus posters, clothing, and even three toilet paper holders, one for each of the bathrooms.

There is something odd about Andrew, other than his weird obsession, something that I can't quite but my finger on. It might be the fact that he reminds me a bit of my dad, and maybe it's just a feeling of loss and sadness. I don't know for sure but there is definitely something up with him. Andrew has three kids, Emma, Brinley, and Noah.

Emma is a 6-year-old girl, with not much to say about her other than she loves unicorns, the color pink, and pretty much anything else a typical 6 year old would like.  She also has a way of being super persuasive by simply looking up at her parents (and any other adult in fact) and smiling her missing-tooth smile to get whatever she wants or get away with anything.

She has extra long blonde hair and dark blue eyes, paired with whatever wild outfit she chooses to dress in that day. Noah is a 16-year-old boy with a love for skateboarding and surfing.  He will be outside from dawn to dusk, just skating up and down the street if you would let him.

We live only a mile away from the nearest beach, so on most weekends Noah will skate to the ocean with his closest friends and hang there for a few hours before riding back to our house, completely covered in sand.

Brinley is 14, the closest out of all of Andrews’s kids to my age.

She has short brown hair cut into a simple pixie cut and can be found wearing the trendiest and up-to-date clothing, and is the most popular girl in ninth grade.

She has a snarky, sassy, and arrogant attitude, but only around people her age. To any adult, she seems like a princess, to any kids she seems like a queen, but to any of us, she is a monster.

When she found out her dad was dating my mom, she told the entire school that my mom used adult diapers, which is definitely not true.

She refused to go to any of the dinners with my family, gossiped about them behind my back, and continued to make my life worse and worse.

When she got told that our parents were engaged, she waited until I was walking home from school to bring out a pair of scissors and cut off all of my hair, the hair I had grown out for 7 years, saving to donate to the cancer center my dad was in, the one he was in before he passed away.

When I told my mom and we confronted Brinley about it, she broke down bawling and said that the ‘mean’ girl in school, Lilian, actually did it and she ‘tried to save me but it was too late’. My mom believed her, and instead of feeling sorry for me, felt bad for her.

Luckily, she didn’t do anything when she found out our parents were getting married because she was away on a vacation with her mom, which she only sees a few times a year, and when she got back it was almost time for the wedding. The wedding was fine also, but it was super weird to see my mom kissing, and being so happy, with someone that wasn’t my dad. Brinley and I were bridesmaids, along with Julia, Cristina, and Lou, my mom’s best friends, Reagan and Angela, Andrew’s two sisters, and Colette and Ariya, my mom’s closest cousins.

Emma and Darcy, my 7-year-old sister, were flower girls. They were adorable walking down the aisle in matching fluffy white dresses and their hair piled up in little buns on top of their heads.

Rylan, my 17-year-old brother, and Noah were part of Andrew’s groomsman. They wore long black tuxedos and their hair slicked over to the side, the proper groomsman attire according to my mom. The wedding was huge, there were tons of people watching my mom and new stepfather getting married. It was so crowded and felt like hundreds of people were staring at me as I walked down the aisle in front of my mom. I wonder what my mom felt like, as she was the star of the show that day.

“Jade! Hurry up sweetheart, we’re just getting ready to do the Thanksgiving prayer!” My mom calls from downstairs, snapping me out of my daydream. “And don’t forget to wear the dress my mother made for you,” Andrew shouts after her, his hoarse voice hurting my sensitive ears. I wince, not just from his voice but from the thought of the hideous dress. For my birthday, which was only a month ago, Andrew's parents gave me a dress, a homemade one. It is made of cloth and yarn, alternating red, pink and purple. It is tightly fitted around the upper part but flairs out into a poofy skirt around and past my hips. There is a reason that it has been stashed in my closet for the entire time I’ve owned it, it looks absolutely revolting on me. It is bunched up in certain places and ultra-tight in others, it simply does not fit me. Yet, I am forced to wear it to dinner the makers of the dress aren't even attending.

It doesn't make any sense, yet I shove it over my head in order to keep my mom from yelling at me. I look into the mirror and sigh, for the tenth time today.

It looks as bad as I imagine it, wrinkly, clumpy, and horrible.

“Jade! Hurry up,” My mother yells from the dining room, “Andrew is about to say the prayer!” “I’m coming,” I reply grudgingly, walking out of my room and down the long unfamiliar hallway of the new house.

After my mom married Andrew, we all moved into his house, located a few miles away from my house, or my old house now.

I begged my mom to not make us move but she claimed that our house was too small for 4 extra people. I guess that's true, our previous house was a 3 bedroom, 1 bathroom place. Each of us kids got our own room while my mom took the pull out couch in the living room.

Andrew’s house or I guess my house now, is a 6 bedroom, 3 bathroom house, with a huge backyard. Other than Emma and Darcy, who wanted to share, we all got our own rooms, which I am definitely thankful for. Sharing a room with Brinley? That would be a complete nightmare. Even though I have been in the house for a few weeks now, it still doesn't feel like home.

As I walk down the unfamiliar curving stairs and into the large dining room, I smell a strong whiff of pumpkin pie. Pumpkin pie was my dad’s favorite Thanksgiving food. He loved the rich spices, crispy crust and the overall delicious pumpkin taste of the desert. He always made a homemade pie and added special ingredients that nobody knew about, he called it his secret recipe. He claimed he would never share it with anybody and take it to his deathbed. I didn't know it would be so soon that he would be laying there. I choke down a tear and continue my way over to the dining room table. Everybody is sitting there, talking loudly with one another and staring hungrily at the feast laid out in front of them. I silently slip into the only empty spot, in between Emma and Rylan, and start to unfold the napkin and carefully set it on my lap. “Alright everybody,” Andrew booms over the noisy chatter in the room, “Let’s pray before we eat this amazing feast!” We all grab our glasses, champagne for the adults, and water for the kids, and hold them up towards the middle of the table. As the noise settles down Andrew clears his throat and begins, “Dear Lord, thank you for this amazing feast in front of us. Thank you for blessing me with my beautiful new wife” - he opens his eyes and looks over at mom, smiling broadly - “and the amazing new family that comes with her. I wish that we can combine families well, which we seem to be doing great already, and hopefully continue to live the amazing life we are graced with. Thank you, Lord, for all you have given us, Amen.” We all murmur an ‘amen’ and start to dig into the food. I get my share of mashed potatoes, gravy, bread rolls, cranberry sauce, and my personal favorite, the turkey.

We eat and talk for a while until each and every one of us is stuffed full, like the turkey that was devoured within minutes of being brought onto the table.

“Okay, guys! It's time for the annual binge-watching of the Simpsons!” Andrew declares, getting up from his seat and taking his plate over to the dishwasher.

“Annual binge-watching of the Simpsons?” I repeat after him, confused.

The tradition for my family is to eat dinner and then head over to the local apple orchard and pick apples for pies. We would stay out there way past dark, picking apples, laughing, and having the time of our lives.

“Yes!” He replies, looking back at me, “That is the annual tradition in this household. Didn't your mother tell you?” “No,” I respond looking at my mom who was purposefully looking away from me, “We always go apple picking, that’s our tradition.” “Well, I don’t like apples.” Well, not everything is about you, I hold back my tongue in order to not shout back.

“Well, I-” “Plus,” he interrupts me, “it’s our family tradition.” The anger bubbles up inside of me, I feel it boiling over, over like an active volcano. A volcano about to erup- “No, it’s not!” I yell at him with full rage, “ Our family tradition is to go apple picking. We have done that for 10 years and are not stopping now. I am so sick and tired of you intruding-” “Jade Marissa Lemington,” My mom yells, even louder than I did. Her face is a fire hydrant, bright red. And her eyes are no different, blazing into mine, anger fully showing, “You are being so disrespectful to Andrew who has done nothing but being kind and caring to you. This is not okay behavior.” I look around the room and see every single person with their heads looking down at their plates, either that or up at us, and their faces flushed as well.

I look over at Andrew, he’s looking down as well. He was embarrassed at my outburst, and Moms. “Go up to your room right now.” She says, her eyes still blazing.

“Fine, it’s not like I wanted to be with you anyways,” I spat, turning and running upstairs.

I try to get to my room before my eyes burst but I’m not so lucky. Halfway up the stairs, the waterworks turn on and I am bawling before I even reach my room. This is so unfair, I think, I didn't do anything wrong. He started it all, it's all his fault, if he went along with our family tradition then we would be fine.

But then the good side, the more logical side of my brain starts thinking, Well it kinda was my fault. I did get mad at him instead of just calmly asking. And if we combine families we have to combine traditions, take some and leave some.

I sit there for a few minutes, too embarrassed to go downstairs, before finally grabbing a blanket from one of the boxes and lying down on the lumpy mattress. Within minutes I’m dead asleep. ****** A few hours later I hear a small knock on the door. I ignore it, turning over on the bed and trying to go back to sleep. But the sound doesn’t go away, instead, it grows louder.

“Can I come in? It’s Andrew. As much as I don’t want him to come in… well it is his house. “I guess,” I reply propping myself up on the bed. He walks in slowly, as if he is not wanted, which I guess is kind of true, and makes his way over to one of the larger cardboard boxes. He carefully sits down and turns to look at me, with a hint of guilt, sorrow, and anger in his eyes.

“Hi.” Hi? He came all the way up here to say one word? “Hello?” I respond, a questioning touch in my voice.

He takes a deep breath, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, I should’ve checked with all of you, not just your mother, to see if it was okay changing your traditions. I know it is hard,” - he stops for a moment, looking at the ground before taking another deep breath and continuing - “My parents got divorced when I was around your age, they only had one kid, me, and I had no other siblings until my mom married another person, then bam! I went from being an only child to being the second oldest of six. It sure was hard, getting used to all their family traditions and trying to fit in, but I did it and now I love them all like they’re my own blood siblings. I had to learn to let some things go, the ones that really didn't matter, and stand by the ones that did” He looks at me, “And I think that is something you need to learn as well. Something all the kids here need to learn.” I nod and look down at the faded blanket on my lap, my cheeks and ears both red. “But it's okay,” he says softly, “I know it's hard,” - he sits there for a minute before beginning once again - “especially since you lost your dad so soon.” I look up at him and smile, maybe he won't be so bad. Maybe I will learn to like him, “Thank you Andrew. Thank you for giving me another chance.” “Of course. I know I won’t be like your re-” “My real dad?” I say, “I know, and thank you for not trying to replace him.” “Well actually-” He starts, taking a deep breath.

He reaches up to his head, probably going to scratch it but instead rips his hair off to reveal a longer cut. I gasp. He extends his hand over to his pocket and pulls out a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and sets them on his face.

I know those glasses and haircut. Suddenly everything slides into place, like a puzzle, I begin to understand. He turns and looks at me, “I am your real father.”


The early morning sun was starting to burn through the morning fog. The  heat of the afternoon approached nonchalantly. For now, the weather is perfect with a little chill in the shadows.

Along the waterways, an unassuming man was on a stop along his walk and feeding the birds.

First came the pigeons, whose territory he was in, then a large raven landed while another rested on line nearby. The pigeons gave the huge bird space, deferring and staying out of striking distance no matter what was thrown. Today's breakfast was bits of scrambled eggs and bread.

His bites of the sandwich alternated between feeding himself and the birds. It was a family tradition his grandmother started, and the source family name, Ravenna. The Ravenna Family had leveraged their relationship with the Corvidae family into making the business empire you have never heard of. Ruby Ravenna took care of the families and the family took care of things. Like their avian comrades, the Ravennas had jet black hair with the occasional ginger popping up among them. Zenzero was one of those people, hence his name which meant Ginger.

 Zenzero was one of the elders of a family full of adventurers with the scars and tattoos to prove it. Not that it was obvious, he looked like someone who is easily overlooked. A look he carefully cultivated over the years. Anyone who has ever seen an episode of Hoarder's would be familiar with his work.

He called himself a broker. He arranged for people who could afford it to home creatures that could guard whatever it is that needed guarding. He was once in the business of finding monsters to populate the estates of the wealthy.

He preferred to call it a matchmaker service. He only placed creatures in their ideal habitats for buyers who could maintain the monster's lifestyle. He enjoyed his semi-retired life. Like himself, his kids were fertile and started early. His jokes about being in the business of raising rogues were tolerated because they knew their children were safe while they worked.

He didn't have any grandkids to watch today, now that they are school age, so his morning walks were quieter than he liked. The raven used the space given by the pigeons to communicate. The large bird pecked at the offerings on the ground, and a few other times as well. After a few bites, the scratches started to form the runes telling him that he was needed by the Enterprise.

  "I guess it's time for a drink," told the assembled flock, picked apart the rest of his sandwich, and scattered it to make sure everyone got a nibble. He patted himself, checking his pockets to make sure that he had everything needed. He doffed his hat to the birds, "thank you for your company. I must be going."

 Looking for a suitable place, he settles on a quiet bistro, pops the dried-up stem and cap of a mushroom into his mouth, and picks up a newspaper at the door

Zenzero walks into the bar, the brunch rush ending, the crowd thinning and the noises return to a low murmur, a few tables with a single person at them with notebooks and portable magic mirrors arranged in territorial markings, symbols of industry, and an excellent camouflage for the afternoon drunks pretending to work.

Picking a table near the bar, He sat down and pulled out his newspaper. Shortly after sitting the waiter came over to take his order. "Welcome, what can I get for you today?

You just missed brunch. We have some great afternoon plates available, would you like to see a menu?" "No thank you. I'd like an Absinthe, Oaklander if you have it, simplified presentation, please," before adding "make it a double." "Of course, I'll have that right out to you." The waiter's relief was hardly discernible, the classic absinthe ritual was labor-intensive, and those who usually order it either never had absinthe before or it was the only thing slowing down their consumption. Both groups are lousy tippers. The waiter correctly assumed that his customer was going to be a camper, just like the other smattering of the tables. Perfect customers for the time of day. It allows the staff to prepare for the evening rush. He pulled out a banknote which was generous without being suspicious. He needed to be undisturbed. The waiter brings out the glass and the pitcher of cold water, a slotted spoon, and a sugar cube, placing them on the table. He raised the glass to his nose and inhaled deeply, the licorice of the anise, blending in with the wormwood. A deep breath, held and slowly released, warm airflow out of his mouth as he sticks his tongue in the glass, tasting the undiluted liquor. Another deep breath and holding it, letting the bubbling in his stomach settle down, cheeks and forehead blushing. He starts the mantra of focus, "Yes. I welcome this lesson, this green fairy tale. Show me what I need to know." He opened the newspaper to the comics and puzzles, the crossword was where he would keep his notes. The absinthe combined with the magic of the mushroom to allow him to "see" his message. A kind of alchemy-induced telepathy.  The text and images of the paper were just something for his brain to focus on.

The text on the page started to dance. A slow shimmy as some words and phrases rise above the page. The runes coalesce the usual greeting.

So glad you could answer. Your skills are needed. Zenzero took another sip of the absinthe and then added some of the cold water.

The words formed and filled the page, a paragraph at a time. Do you know what happened with Mykonos? The letters formed a shape of a thick human with a bull's head, tail, and hooves.

The Minotaur recently was visited by poachers. He lives, but his reproductive organ has been severed. The golem used for transport, dubbed Egget, was hijacked by the organ, killed the poachers, went on a rampage, and was caught several days later.

"I have so many questions," he thought as he took a long sip of the drink, blinking a couple of times to let the words respond. As do we. Those questions are finding their answers. We need your efforts to clean up. The path Egget took is easily followed and littered with the bodies of the victims , all humped to death. He gulped the water, smiling grimly at the images of the roughly cleared path littered with mangled bodies.

We don't know if there are any survivors.

Zenzero recognized the cascading mountain range. Fortunately, it's sparsely populated but several large predator hunting territories were intersected.

Harpies were at higher elevations and along the coast. The only other thing that could survive was any one of the owlbears. The black bear-shaped lump showed just how roughly the creature wooed.

Owlbear are already enchanted and the combined magics would make for rare and valuable offspring. "What do you need from me?" His inner voice asked. The text settled. He took another sip of the absinthe, he didn't want to eat another mushroom. After a couple of deep breaths, the next part of the message appeared. Your mission: handle the situation. Backup is available upon request. Regional Managers are aware of your mission. Burping signaled the end of the session. The licorice flavors help to ease any nausea.

It also gave him something to focus on as his mind wandered around this new project. Egget, the newly sentient minotaur penis life support system of a golem rampaged through several known magical creatures' habitats, the only things big enough to survive the encounter are the owlbears. If there are any young, the value of their by-products in the arcane and alchemy markets is high. They need to be protected, and he started making list plans.

He wrote in the crossword puzzle Handle Inventory Spot Scatter Protect His mission was clear. Retrace the path of Egget, find any baby mamas, set up wardens to provide prenatal security, and find habitat ranges to relocate any surviving young. For these efforts, he would get to harvest any renewable resources, like fur, feathers, eggshells, and even nests. The ravens and others can help cover the area and keep track of the beasts, and there are enough relatives to share the efforts for a portion of the bounty. All of the history books talk about how the Great War ended, and the Dragons establishing a financial system that allowed the use of their gold via the bank notes the Dwarven crafters made allowing the new prosperity of the Great Peace. Most of those books barely mention the other immortals who helped shape the postwar world, the Ents. Employing their Branch Managers, druid enforcers who quietly keep the peace between the different factions and help reform the Goblinoids and integrate them into the brave new frontiers. The old trees were tired of the constantly clashing mortals and decided to try to influence their peace. The Enterprise is rumored to have a splinter group of dryad upstarts who are seeking power. Potential interference from them and the usual Undead Underground, who are probably behind the poachers, but Egget isn't any kind of necromancy, so there's no direct connection to them. Add to that the possibility of any murder hobo trying to make a name for themselves. Whether they are hunters looking for fame or other adventure capitalists like himself  This was going to be a lot of work, but it meant that the victims and their young could be given a chance to have a good life, and not exploited by some of the real monsters, the people who just see the revenue and not the animal. Discretion is a must. Nobody knows about Egget. Not yet, anyway, and once word gets out and that would bring all of his professional rivals.

Zenzero drains his glass and fills it with water, as he calls the waiter over and orders two sandwiches to go. It's time to start getting ready. The End