Dorothy Aubrey Murphy was 83 years old and frail. Everyone that knew her called her Dot and no one that knew her would have called her frail to her face. She could flash those blue eyes and melt a person. Once a man came in the salvage yard office with pistol and told her to hand over the money. She snapped those blue eyes and told him if he put the pistol in his pocket and got his ass off the property she wouldn't call the cops. He did and she didn't. George was so mad at her over that. Dot shifted in the uncomfortable chair, she and George were alone in the near dark room. George was motionless in the bed as the little lights blinked off and on. George was dying and it was Christmas Eve. First it had been the Alzheimer's that had robbed them of each other and George even of himself. Then three days ago came the stroke. They had told her there was nothing they could do. She cried for a bit and then said she wanted to stay with him on Christmas Eve. Dot took a large prescription pill bottle out of her purse and a small bottle of water, it was time for her medicine. They had spent a lot of Christmases together, her and George, they had been married 64 years. It was on Christmas Eve when George was 16 and she was 15 that he told her he had gotten a job at the salvage yard. He was so proud, and told her the world had turned. She began taking the pills. She had never heard that expression and asked him what it meant. It's what Grandma says he explained, when someone is born or dies, whenever something happens good or bad Grandma always says the world has turned. George lived with his Grandma. His father was a hopeless alcoholic, his mother had killed herself years ago. Only a few years later they were married. Thing weren't always easy though, it was tough when they bought the salvage yard. Money was so tight, stress and work took it's toll. George worked sixteen hour days most of the time. He was always so driven. The worst time though was after that, when they had money. Not long after they bought the third salvage yard. She took the last pill. More than twenty years ago she found that George was sending money to an address in town. She said nothing and waited. Then she saw again money sent to the same address on East Ninth Street. She confronted him and he denied knowing anything. She was infuriated and they had a huge fight. That was a Wednesday, they fought about it again on Thursday. Friday they were not speaking and she seriously considered leaving him. Christmas was on Sunday that year, on Saturday, Christmas Eve, George said let's go to the address on East Ninth I want you to see. She what she snapped your other woman? So on Christmas Eve she had gone with him to the squat brick building. It was five stories, old and run down with a single stairway. Dot banged on the door. A small Hispanic boy, maybe 8 or 9 opened it and gave them a big smile. There was no resemblance. A woman also Hispanic appeared at the door and a man. George stepped in front of her and said we are so sorry to bother you and introduced them both. Please he said I just want my wife to see where I lived as a boy. You lived here asked the man, looking at their good clothes. Yes, said George, in this apartment. When they were back in the car George said we lived here four years before I went to live with Grandma. His teeth were clenched tight. It was bad and there was no one to care, he said. I swore to myself if there was ever a time I could, then I would be the one that cared. No one would have to live there like I did. I don't know them, they don't know me, I send the money in cash. I don't even care what they do with it, I just know I did my part to make it better. Why didn't you tell me? she blurted. I didn't want anyone to know, I did it for me, for the little boy that used to be me. She was beginning to feel queasy. The darkness swirled a little and she straightened herself in the chair. That was both the worst and best Christmas they ever had. George continued to send money but in time the building was abandoned and eventually torn down. Later the city had bought the property and built a 32 unit low income housing facility. Her legs felt like they were going to sleep, this is an awful chair she thought. After George had been lost to Alzheimer's, Dot had driven by the low income housing a couple of times by pure chance. She made the arrangements soon after that. The attorney tried to talk her out of it, Dot snapped those blue eyes and told him it was her money. All the papers were drawn up and signed. George and Dot had sold the three salvage yards and they had a good bit of cash. Even after all George's medical bills the attorney said there was money for at least 25 years. Beginning this year on December 15th every tenant received 500 dollars, and each year on December 15th until the money ran out. In addition each tenant would receive every month 250 dollars until all the money was gone. Dot made sure the money was sent in cash and no one was to ever know where it came from. Over on East Ninth, Amanda turned down the heat and was ready for bed. She made sure Isabella was sleeping. Isabella was twelve and as sweet as any girl ever. Amanda crept to the broom closet and reaching above the furnace brought down a box wrapped in cheap Christmas paper. It was a laptop computer. When the money came Amanda hid it in her room and didn't tell a soul. Sometimes when you have been down so long, something good happens and it scares you that it could be taken away. She bought the computer the next day. Amanda knew with it Isabella's whole world would be opened. She would use it too, but Isabella she could escape Ninth Street. Amanda set the package beneath the small artificial tree. When the little lights on the machines quit blinking the staff scrambled down to George's room, even though there was a firm DNR order. They found George dead lying just as he had been the last three days. Dot was in the uncomfortable chair. The empty prescription pill bottle had clinked on the floor and rolled to the edge of the bed. Dot's blue eyes were open and blank, fixed on George. On her lap was a piece of wrapping paper, red with green candy canes. On the back of the paper she had written, The world has turned. Below that she wrote, It is up to us to turn it. None of them knew quite what to make of that.


“Welcome! To THE CHAOS GATE!” Nick put on his best booming dramatic voice. His friends around the table stared at him. He ignored the mix of sarcastic and amused looks and continued. “After a long journey, you have finally reached the central chamber of the Temple of Goth-Shinu” Ben spoke under his breath “I stand by that being a such a weird name for a temple.” Nick paused his dramatic speech. “Listen, when you write the campaign, you can come up with the name of the freaking temple okay? I’m not good at naming things.” “Yea, we are aware” Jess mumbled in a sarcastic voice. “Hey!” She blurts out as Kevin gently nudges her shoulder as he gives her a knowing look. The table was silent for a brief moment before a knowing laugh spread around the group of friends. Kevin looked over to Nick “Okay Nick, please continue.” “Thank you.” Nick smiled and looked back at his DM notes. He had spent the last week writing this grand finale for his friends, and he was eager to see their reactions to what he had planned for them. “Okay. In front of you is a large open stone room, bridges connect the center of the room above a deep pit below. At the center of the four bridges is an elevated platform, upon which sits the source of the evil that has been plaguing the land. A large black portal, with purple streaks emanating from the -edges.” Nick imagined the entire room in his mind, he knew this world like the back of his hand, but he knew better than to describe each bit of stonework on and around the bride, even if he could see it all clearly in his head. Ben was the first to speak up. “Well, we made it this far, let’s shut this thing down and go home.” “Sounds good to me, let's do it!” Jess reached over to the table and began moving the small party token across the rudimentary map Kevin had drawn up. A devious grin spread across Nick’s face, pleased with how well he knew what his friends would do. This led to a look of concern that spread around the table. Jess was first to notice. “Oh crap. I know that look. We totally missed something.” Nick ignored her and continued his speech “As you cautiously work your way across the bridge and onto the central platform, a large bang echoes through the room. You look to see each of the four bridges explode into rubble that falls into the black pit.” Nick grabbed his pen and scribbled a few lines on the map to indicate the bridges being out. “Welp, on the bright side, those goblins we avoided earlier aren’t gonna be sneaking up on us now” Kevin consults the notepad on the table in front of him, then continues.” Okay, so if I remember right, the freaky wizard dude we met before we came in here said we would have to…” Ben stands up and cuts her off with the best dramatic voice and arm movements he could muster. “Enter the void and defeat the monster that lies beyond!” Ben smiled, satisfied with the drama while the rest of the table seemed to ignore his performance. He sat back down into his seat, unphased by the mediocre reception and continued. “Question- I know we are SUPPOSED to go in there and I’m sure there is some dramatic monster on the other end that Nick wants us to fight, but like, have we considered trying maybe, turning off the portal?” Nick looked at him blankly, “You could try, I guess. Uhhhh, each of you roll an arcana check.” He scribbles a few notes behind his DM screen as each of his friends consult their character sheets and roll their dice. One by one they speak out the results. “I got a 5.” Ben shrugs. “I put my stats more into strength anyway. Kevin?” “I think I need to get my lucky dice out for this.” Kevin takes the dice set from in front of him and opens the backpack hanging off the back of his chair. He reaches in, shuffles around and pulls out a set of smooth silver dice. He shuffles them in his hands before gently setting them on the table next to his character sheet, before carefully picking up the D20 and shaking it between his hands. “Okay, here we go, nat 20, nat 20, come on natural 20!” He throws the dice with a flair. Everyone watches them roll before quickly settling in the middle of the table. “A 6? Really! Ugh, and that’s only a 7 with my plus 1 to arcana.” Ben retrieves his dice and slouches back into his seat. “You guys are lucky I'm here; I have a plus 5 on my arcana stats.” Jess says confidently as she cracks her knuckles before throwing her own dice. “I got this.” The die rolls on the table, Jess looks at Nick and Ben confidently as the others watch as it rolls around on the table. Then the other three burst out in laughter. “What? “Jess looks down and is shocked to see a 1 showing face up on the table. She sighs. “Dang it. Of course, the one time I get a bad magic roll, at least it’s a plus 5” “Shouldn’t have wasted your luck on that merchant last session.” Kevin joked. Jess quickly shot back “I’ll have you know that roll saved you from getting scammed into a buying a stick that you thought was magic.” “Touché” Jess grabs a pretzel from the large bowl and takes a bite. Nick smiles before getting himself back into character. “You each examine the swirling portal in front of you. You all feel a dark power emanating from it, but none of you can think of any way to turn it off from this side.” “Okay, and just hear me out here. We each have ranged weapons, sooo -maybe before we go in and fight what is sure to be some big scary monster; we just, you know, shoot it from this end for a bit? Maybe we will land a few lucky hits?” Ben gets a proud look on his face while the rest of the friends just stare. “Hey, you have had dumber ideas, remember the bog witch?” Kevin joked. “We agreed to never talk about that again Kevin!” Ben and Kevin laugh, Jess and Nick roll their eyes. Nick waits for the laughter to die down before flipping around a few pages in his notes. “You know what? I’ll allow it. All of you Roll for initiative.” He writes some things down on his notepad and rolls some dice. Jess looks across the table and Ben. “Why do I feel like this is a bad idea?” Kevin just laughs. “Jess, we are shooting arrows into a mysterious black portal that is the source of all evil in this land.” He takes on a sarcastic tone. “What could possibly go wrong?” The friends look around at each other and roll their dice. Nick takes a deep breath and mutters to himself, “Here we go.” So I may have gotten really into D&D and decided to write about it.


Fenix hit the atmosphere hard. He felt the Lady Gray shudder in protest as the air outside thickened, fighting against the ungainly bulk of the ship forcing its way towards the surface through the night sky. He imagined the dull pitted gray of the ship’s underbelly slowly began to turn a deep orange and then a white hot, as the ablative plating was slowly burnt away. That would need replacing, he sighed to himself. Safely nestled in the cockpit and buckled down into the acceleration couch, Fenix scanned the readings being thrown across his lenses and display screens. It was hot and stuffy in the cabin. The stale air being recycled continuously by the oxygenator did nothing to pull the rank smell of his unwashed body from the air. It had been weeks since he had been able to do anything more than cursory wipe down with antibacterial towels. He tortured himself once more with the thought of the bath he would take when this job was over, trying to calculate how much of his profit he could afford to spend on the water allowance needed for such a luxury. A small incessant chirping from his nearest display was demanding attention. As he pulled the screen closer, dragging his thumb across the small angry looking notification in the top most corner. A spew of data slid past his eyes, listing levels and temperatures in the various tanks and equipment throughout the ship. The rear starboard side fuel tank was reporting a slow loss in pressure again. Slightly worrying, but it had been reporting that for weeks now and nothing he did seemed to fix the issue. He had even resorted to shouting and threatening it but to no avail. He muted the warning and added it to the list of things to investigate when he was next able to afford a full service. The flight information for his current descent was running as a constant feed in his lenses. He absorbed most of the incoming information on a subconscious level while his main focus was fixed on the feed from the hull cameras. He scanned through the clouds and highlighted his destination, a small outcropping of islands off the south coast of England. He’d made this trip dozens of times now, and so far he'd had no major issues. Which somewhat troubled his superstitious mind. Too many good runs in a row was never a good sign. But then neither were too many bad runs, he mused. You couldn’t really call these things until something happened. But he had the feeling something was bound to catch up with him sooner rather than later. He could feel the fatigue of the past weeks starting to make itself felt, its delicate tendrils creeping into his mind and limbs. Whispering into his ear to sleep. He dialed in an order for the ship to administer his preferred concoction of stimulants and analgesics to fight off the need for rest. After a brief pause, two small capsules were spat out of the dispenser to his right, which he snached up and swallowed dry. As he waited for them to kick in, he checked and then rechecked his entry coordinates and those of his destination, making the habitual scan for the tell-tale pings that would indicate his craft was being monitored. Everything seemed to be in order. The overlapping satellites and sentry drones that monitored the upper atmosphere had the occasional hole appear in their coverage that he was able to take advantage of and slip through. Still, it was hard to hide a ship hurtling from the sky in a fireball of its own making. Smuggling was no one's first choice for work, but the pay was good and he was desperate. What made it slightly easier these days was the exponential increase of traffic to and from the colonies scattered across the edge of the solar system, who were exploiting the mineral rich asteroids of the outer belt. And exploiting them had become the new gold rush as companies and individuals fought to grab a share of the market. Fenix was just one more trying to make ends meet. The shaking reverberating through the ship had reached its peak. Fenix was almost unable to hear himself think over the noise of the interior rattling. Things began coming loose in the cabin. Photos had fallen and a number of his trinkets had been sent scattering across the small cramped space. It was coming up to his least favorite part of the reentry. He was waiting until the very last second to deploy his thrusters to slow the ship, as local authorities would be suspicious if their scans caught the sudden ignition of the engines anywhere over 1000 meters. He fired off a quick prayer to whatever deity was looking down on him this time and, a little under his target altitude, hit the thrusters. The couch swelled and cushioned his body as the forces on his fragile body multiplied while his organs tried to escape out of his throat. The ship slowed from its free fall descent and he switched to atmospheric flight. Short stubby wings angled out from the body of the hull allowing him to steer the craft towards a small cove below. Landing belly down in the slowly churning surf, the cold sea water rapidly cooled the ship’s battered and scorched plating. He unbuckled himself from the couch and stood unsteadily, having to stoop due to the confines of the interior. He peered out of the front view port to see a group of small boats making their way towards him from the beach. Their outboard motors kicking up white tails as they cut through the dark water. He caught his reflection in the port side window as he moved about the small space. He didn’t strike an imposing figure. Skinny and malnourished from his time spent in zero gravity environments. His coveralls hung from his body, sagging, in odd places as he hadn't been able to afford the full body modifications to fully adapt to long term space travel. His greasy black hair, which was swept back from his face revealed deep craggy lines across his forehead and cheeks, while the three week growth of scraggly beard did nothing to hide his hollow cheeks. It turns out a diet of narcotics and cheap coffee can only get you so far, he thought wryly to himself. “Oh well”, he said out loud, to the empty cabin. “Looks like this intrepid space traveler will have to do for now”. He reached up and unfasted the heavy locks holding the hatch closed and heaved himself up and out into the cold night air to meet the party coming to collect the contraband he had stashed in the hold.


Our mom always told us that if we ever went to the outhouse, we pray after we shit. Otherwise the toilet monster would grab us and throw us down into a Great Lake of poo. What a load of bullshit! It took me 6 fucking years to finally realize that all she’s been saying was made up stories to get us to pray. Pray to the food, pray to the dog, pray to the goddamn truck we use to get into town each day. Otherwise some monster would come to get us because of a spooky family curse! WOoOoOoO! I even asked Kyle if his family did the same. But he thought I was joking! My mother made a fool of me and my siblings. So, I’m not gonna pray anymore. Starting with that goddamn toilet monster! — I remember seeing Dan acting more and more rebellious recently. He even began telling us how we should stop praying and how everything was bowlshit. But we didn’t want to make mamma sad. We didn’t wanna die either. So we continued to pray, doing it honestly too. But not Dan, he only did it to make it seem like he was in the loop. Whatever that meant. Plus, he even began to pop outside in the bushes, but mamma wasn’t so happy about that. Saying he should do it in the out house. “Why should I shit in the out house if there is a monster in there?!” Mamma said “Because if we don’t the toilet monster gets mad!” “And if we don’t pray it also gets mad?” “Our fecal matter are offering’s to the beast. Cease the offerings and it will strike back!” “Whatever!” Then, Dan just stormed off and went into outhouse as mamma told him. Me and the other younger siblings gathered to see if Dan was actually pooping or not. We heard a plop, but no praying. He even said “Fuck you! I hope you eat my shit you god damn shit monster!” We all got worried and tried to pray for Dan, hoping it would help. “Thank you Toilet! Thank you Toilet!” Dan would walk out as we prayed and look at us with a strange look. “What the hell are y’all doing?” But that’s when the monster came out. A wet, light blue, 3 fingered, clawed hand grabbed Dan’s head and yanked him back in. He scream as he held onto the door frame. We all looked in and saw the Toilet Monster for the very first time. As it was light blue, had yellow fins on its arms, and a huge one on its back. It almost looked like a man, but it had some weird round mouth with sharp teeth and a scary look in its yellow eyes. Angry. Really angry. “Help me!” We all tried to pull Dan away, but the monster one arm was too strong. It’s fingers even began to dig in Dan’s head, making small cracking sounds. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” But that’s when we all lost the tug of war. Dan was yanked into the toilet along with the monster. We tried to see where they went, only to find poo and pee. We never knew where Dan went. Not even mamma knew, as she cried over the toilet praying for Dan to be safe. But all we knew was one thing. Pray, pray, pray. Otherwise we might end up like Dan. No one wants that.


The sky is an unsettling dark gray with very thick clouds. Nothing about this beach is right. The sand isn't that beautiful white sand I remember from my visits to Florida's gulf coast. Instead it's the dingy brown sand you'd find along the eastern seaboard. The waves crash violently instead of gently lapping the shore like they did previously. The shore line itself is covered in washed up seaweed. Ever since that one conversation I have a lot less control over the environment. I can pick the location, but not the details. At least Vanessa looks nice. She's wearing the same green dress that she had on when I first met her. Her jet black hair is tied back in a lovely braid. The contrast of her tan complection with her green eyes is still incredible. Except now I see a deep seated despair in those eyes. She glances down at the pistol in my hand. "How do you want to do this?" she asks. "I really don't want to do it at all." "I know, and I hate to put such a burden on your shoulders. But, we already tried the other way, and it didn't work. This is the only alternative I can come up with. I think that you have to push me out of this reality for it to be permanent." "Are you sure this won't kill you in real life?" "I didn't die last time. I just woke up. I think that's a good sign." "Vanessa, I..." she cuts me off, already knowing the words before I even speak them. "Don't say it, please." "I understand. We'd better go ahead. Just turn around and look at the water." I wish I could have given her a better view. Like the beach we stood on before. She turns to face away from me. I take one last look at the way the dress shows off her shape nicely. I raise the gun and take aim at the back of her head. I'm holding it less than six inches away. At this distance I can't miss. I hesitate for a moment and I'm not sure if I have it in me to do this. I have to force it to happen. I feel my finger slowly begin to put pressure on the trigger. \*\*\*\* Vanessa and I are on the rooftop where we danced before. Except this time there's no sound of a Latin street band below, playing that song that she sang along with in Spanish. Now there's mostly just the noise of a heavy wind. There's a sharp chill in the air. This feels more like New York weather than Miami. She sits on the roof ledge and explains her idea. "If I die in here then that should sever this link between us. Then I can live my life, and you can have your own dreams again. You can build the world you want." "I wish it didn't have to be this way. For what it's worth, I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you." "It's not your fault. I got carried away, and I should have been honest with you from the start. I hope that you'll find someone new, and give her the kind of experiences that you gave me." "If I ever figure this out, I'll definitely try it." She turns herself around facing the ten story drop below. "Goodbye Kevin." she says as she pushes herself off of the ledge. She doesn't scream as she falls. Suddenly I hear the impact. It's a loud thud of something smashing against metal as if she landed on a car below. It jolts me awake, and I lie in bed feeling my heart pounding inside of my chest. \*\*\*\* We're alone in a deluxe hotel penthouse suite. I'm still lying down in the wonderful king size bed. Vanessa is up and looking out the window. I can see in her face that something is bothering her, but I'm not sure what it is. She turns and looks at me. "Kevin, " she begins, "I can't keep doing this." "Why not?" I inquire. She walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. "I need to tell you something.” she says. “Out there in the real world, I'm married. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kept that from you." She pauses for a moment to let the news sink in. I'm silent, not knowing what to say. Vanessa continues. "I justified this little adventure we've been having because we weren't doing it in real life. But when I’m awake, I'm starting to think about you more often. I can't do that, my husband is a good man, and we have a good life together. I can’t let things that happen in a dream interfere with that." I take a deep breath before speaking. "I understand. This leaves one big question though. How do we stop?" "I don’t know. We’ll have to figure that part out." \*\*\*\* The beach sand is a pristine shade of white, that looks amazing in the sunset. Waves of crystal clear water gently roll in and back out. The air temperature is perfect. I'm relaxing in a beach lounge chair with lots of cushioning, covered by a big blanket. The lounger is double the normal width, which is great since it allows plenty of room for her. She's lying next to me, and my arms are around her. She looks into my eyes and smiles. "This was fun, " she says. " and the beach scene was a nice touch." "I'm glad I wasn't the only one enjoying it." "I'm getting that feeling, like we're gonna wake up soon. Or, at least I am." "Yeah, I'm feeling it too. Hopefully we'll meet up again." "I'm sure we will. It's been pretty consistent so far." "Well, I'll tell you what. While you're awake, think about some different environments you'd like to try, and places to see for next time." "Will do." We lean in and end things with a kiss as I hear the sound of my alarm off in the distance. \*\*\*\* I've been experimenting with lucid dreaming for about five months now. I'm starting to get the hang of it. I've finally reached the point where I can start to control the environment, so I've been exploring different places. This time I'm in a park, looking at a pond with a dozen or so ducks swimming around. "Nice day." I hear a woman's voice say. I turn and look to see her approaching. She's 5'8 and slender. She has a tan complexion, and jet black hair going just past her shoulders. The dress she's wearing is emerald green, and fits just right, showing off the contours nicely. Its color matches her eyes perfectly. "Yes it is." I reply, "I'm Kevin, nice to meet you." "I'm Vanessa. It's nice to meet you too." "So, Vanessa, what brings you here?" "I don't know. This is where my dream started." "Your dream? What do you mean by that?" "I'm a lucid dreamer. I haven't actually had a full conversation with a dream character before, so this is new to me." "Ah, well, I'm not sure how to break this to you, but I'm not a character, and I'm dreaming right now as well. In fact, this is the environment I created for my dream." "What? How is this possible?" "I have no idea." "Well, what are you planning to do while you're here?" "I don't have a set plan, I'm just exploring. Since you're along for the adventure, maybe we should take a walk, and get to know each other better." I reach out my hand for her to take hold of. She looks at it and grins. "Okay, but we have to come to an understanding on one thing first." "What's that?" "Under no circumstances are you getting into my pants." she says, trying to sound very serious. I can't resist the opportunity to say what I'm thinking. "You're not wearing pants." I reply. She gives me a mischievous half smile, and takes my hand anyway.


Hello? Is someone there? Yes. …Who said that? Me. You gotta be more specific, mister. The monster under your bed. You’re a monster? Correct. And what are you doing under my bed? I don’t know. I just woke up, and here I am. Weird. You’re telling me. So…are you gonna eat me? What? No. Why not? …Do you WANT me to eat you? No. Well…I’m not that kind of monster. I’m a nice monster. Are there mean monsters? Oh yeah. Lots of them. Where do they live? Somewhere you can’t see them. Another plane of existence. An alternate dimension? Isn’t that what I just said? Oh yeah. Sorry. It’s okay. So what’s your name, mister nice monster? I doubt you could pronounce it. I could try. Just take my word for it. Fine. Well, what should I call you? I don’t care. Give me a name. Uhm…Albert? ALBERT? That’s the best you have? It’s all I could think of. Well, you’re certainly not creative. That doesn’t seem like something a nice monster would say. I’m not nice ALL the time. I can tell. Look, you can call me…Zordor. Zordor? Yes. It’s the closest to my real name. Ok. Nice to meet you, Zordor. My name’s Charlie. Nice to meet you too, Charlie. How old are you? Nine. What about you? Three-thousand. You’re joking, right? Wish I was. Wow. That’s like…forever. Yeah. So…do you live in the monster dimension? Not anymore. What do you mean? They banished me. For what? You don’t want to know. Yes, I do. Tell me. Trust me. Please? Alright, fine. I was eating the younglings. They tasted really good. You ate the baby monsters? Precisely. But I thought you weren’t gonna eat me? I won’t. Human children are far too salty for my taste. How do you know? You know how. Oh… I promise you’re safe. Okay. I trust you. Odd. What’s odd? You. Trusting me. Based solely on my word. Well, you haven’t given me a reason NOT to. I also haven’t given you a reason TO trust me. I’m just really trusting, I guess. I guess so. How long have you been banished? Not too long, actually. Only been a century or so. That’s pretty long. For you, maybe. Will they ever let you go back? I don’t think so. Have you ever tried? Yes. And they cursed me for it. Cursed you? Mhm. What’s the curse? I’m cursed to starve for the rest of my days. Can’t you just eat something? Nope. It never goes away, no matter how much I feast. That’s terrible. Mhm. It sucks. I’d probably go insane. I did too, back when it first happened. And you’re better now? For the most part. I’ve learned to live with it. Well, I’m glad you’re doing better at least. Me too, kid. Wait, I forgot to ask something important. What? What do you look like? Uhm…I have green, reptilian skin. What else? Big, scary horns too. And sharp teeth that cut through anything. That sounds really cool. Kind of. It’s not so great when I bite my tongue. Oh. That probably leaves a lot of blood. Oh, monsters don’t have blood. We have essence. Essence? Yup. It’s like…puzzle pieces of the soul. I don’t get it. I don’t think human minds can comprehend it. Aw, man. Tough luck. Want to know what I look like, Zordor? Sure, why not. So, um…I have blond, fluffy hair, blue eyes, and skin. …and skin. Yeah. Don’t all humans have that? …Oh yeah. Ha. You’re funny, Charlie. Thanks, Zordor. You are too. Charlie…it’s time to go to sleep. Not yet, please. I just want to talk a little longer. No. You must rest. But…why? Because…today has been hard, hasn’t it? … Hasn’t it? …Yes. Mom and Dad still aren’t getting along, hm? No. They’re not. Mhm. So you need rest. …Okay. I promise I’ll be here tomorrow night, okay? Okay. You may not remember me. I won’t? No. This isn’t the first time we’ve spoken. Oh. Just…try and remember I’m here for you. I will. Good. Tomorrow will be better. It will? Yes. It will. Okay. I trust you, Zordor. Goodnight, Charlie. I love you.


Nicholas stood there in complete shock as he faced his brother Andrew for the first time in an entire year. “Andrew? Is that you?” Andrew then turned around and dropped his knapsack at the sight of his brother standing at the railroad station. “Holy shit Nicholas?” The train station platform was crowded with soldiers going to and from the front and among them was Nicholas who just so happened to encounter his brother getting off the same train he was on. The two brothers then hugged each other tightly and Andrew spoke directly. “My God. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be sitting in a trench in the West right now?” Nicholas shook his head “I’m on furlough.. What are you doing here? You’ve got nowhere to go, if I remember correctly you’ve only just turned eighteen”. Andrew then looked around and took up his knapsack “Yeah I’ve got a long story to tell you.. come on let’s get out of here”. Nicholas nodded in agreement and the two men got off the platform and into a local tavern. They found a booth somewhere in the back away from watchful eyes and sat down. “Why didn’t you write that you were coming back?” Andrew asked. Nicholas nodded “I wanted to surprise you for your birthday.. Sorry for being late. Getting away from the front was no easy task.” You didn’t answer my question by the way”. Nicholas then asked in turn. Andrew began to fidget with his hands. An uncomfortable habit that he picked up from childhood. He then spoke, “I was at the train station because Ive volunteered. I’m going to go off to the war Nicholas”. Nicholas then scratched his red beard, an uncomfortable habit he picked up since joining the army. “What?” He finally asked. “You heard me,” Andrew said confidently. “I’ve decided to join the army like you did and serve our country.” Nicholas leaned back against his chair. “Why would you do that? You stupid fucking idiot” he said as his voice turned into anger. Andrew then seemed hurt “What do you mean? You’re the idiot wearing the uniform. What a hypocrite you are”. Nicholas spoke back “Look around you. You’re in a room full of soldiers coming back from the front? Look at their faces, Andrew. These men have seen nonstop shelling, hair-pulling stupidity and the horrors of watching their friends die next to them and not being able to do a thing about it. What kind of idiot would you be to enlist at a time like this!” Andrew then stood up “War is not supposed to be a fairytale.. I thought you’d be happy for me I’m going to go serve my country like my brave older brother did. Why can’t you be happy for me.” Andrew then grabbed his knapsack to leave but Nicholas stopped him “no wait.. just please sit down”. Andrew then obeyed his brother and then did so and Nicholas scratched his head. “Andrew I have to be honest with you.. I’m not on furlough. I went AWOL.” Andrew then became angry “Now who’s the stupid idiot? Why would you do something so stupid?” Nicholas then sighed “It’s not what they say it is in the papers Andrew. There’s nothing honorable about shooting at men you’ve never even met before and get shot in return while drowning in mud. It’s a Hell I want to save you from. I’ve made a mistake and I don’t want you to make the same”. Andrew then rubbed his face in dismay “I wish you didn’t say that.. I really wish you were wrong. But I know you’d never lie to me about something like that. But I still have to leave for the war.” Nicholas then found his anger again “did you not hear a word I just said? I got lucky by escaping from the Army. You won’t be afforded the same option.” Andrew shook his head “it’s not like that.. I’ve lied to you too actually”. Nicholas then raised his eyebrow “What?” Andrew then reached into his knapsack and pulled out his notice “Because I’m not enlisting. I’ve been drafted”.


Robby dropped the thick tome down on the mahogany table. "I Guess I should have worn a mask." she coughed in the plume of heavy dust. "Alright, lets crack this thing open" Yin said, eager to find the spell and be out of this dank place. "Its ok" Robby reassured her friend, "We have time on our side." She let the glowing Infinity Pendulum dangle over the Spell book by its silver chain, and spoke - “Ubi est puer Sanguis et aqua non inecum facit quod semel est iterum” The book obeyed, tracing wild, green embers across the cover in long forgotten symbols. A chill wind slapped the book open. The embers rose and ghosted into finger bones fluttering the pages to attention before landing on the correct one. The wind died and all was quiet again. "Tubular" Robby grinned, "Alright Yin, take a picture, I want this page and that one too, then we need to go." Yin pulled from his sack a heavy scanning device, the red laser hummed and passed over the spell book before the scanner promptly caught fire. "You have got to be kidding me!" Yin shook the device until the flame sputtered. "Must be some sort of ancient anti-piracy measure." Robby laughed and up-heaved the spell book off the map table and into her satchel. "Oh well, looks like the book is coming with us." "Are you trying to die twice?" Yin demanded, "That scanner belonged to Onslow, if we don't replace that tech he is going to solder our faces together! If we survive that, well have the Capitol City Magic Department searching for whoever stuck into the archives and stole the 1st edition of Sovereign Ihura's Circulus Salis Et O!" Robby held up her necklace and pointed at the pendulum pennant she wore around her neck. "This pennant means answers. This means a chance to find out who really shut down our school and where they really shipped all our friends. I'm not going to let something so trivial as the C.C.M.D. stop me now. “ “You mean stop US now.” “Exactly.” She grinned. The duo snuck back up through the narrow stone spiral staircase they had used to reach the archives. They both activated the limited night vision afforded them from the HUD goggles, also courtesy of Onslow. At the top of the staircase lay a room that was definitely not the same room they had come through ten minutes earlier. “Well, this is not good” Robby whispered and plucked a data pad from an inner pocket of her orange overalls. The data pad silently bisected itself, the top half acting as the drone. The machine activated surveillance mode and liftied up into the old wooden rafters. Over the dark maze of bookshelves and halls of ornate rugs the drone hovered, sending the image back to Robby. “So, are you going to clue me in as to what is going on?” Yin shrieked. “Patience, my young friend.” she grinned. “I'm less than a month younger than you, my old friend.” “Shut up, I see something.” Robby opened up the options menu of the flight control software and activated functionality mode, a sub menu popped up and Robby chose data extraction and pulled the slider full left. Four of the five drone’s extremities grappled onto a cruddy wooden beam while the fifth leg stood erect. Robby touched the button of a triangle with a slash through it, activating the drone’s optical nano-data diode. “Look, right there!” Yin said too loud, pawing at the screen of the data pad. He pointing out a computer terminal with core access that was sunk into the cobblestone wall a few hall turns away. “I see it, I see it” she elbowed him out of her way “And be quite!” The drone’s blue eye shot its beam into the terminal, easily overloaded its protocols, cherry picked relevant data and sent it back to Robby. At her touch, the pad went dark and all data streamed straight to her goggles. She brought up the schematic, after a moments analysis, she spoke “This is not good.” “Let me guess, the crystalline engine that powers this place keeps the layout procedurally generated to deter would-be thieves from combing over the archives for old magic?” Yin lamented. “Precisely. How did you know that, are you reading my mind?” “You know I wouldn't do that.” “ I know, I’m teasing. Lighten up, we will get through this.” she assured. “I’ll believe that when I wake up in bed tomorrow.” “Okay, it looks like this room is surrounded in some illusionary spell, creating an infinite dungeon labyrinth of ancient bookshelves.” She spoke. “This looks promising... Found it, only a specific combination of left and right turns will trigger illusion magic override and open maintenance hatch, leading...directly to the first floor. “ “Amazing. What's the combination?” “I don't know. The combination changes every hour.” she grinned hard and turned up the opacity of her goggles so she could not see how agitated her friend had become. “This will take about 40 seconds to decode, I’m recalling the drone.” “Then we have to pack away the tech, it needs to survive this mission. We can’t afford to got caught with it, knowing Onslow, its probably stolen.” he admitted. “Here, take these goggles and quit yapping before I hug you,” she knew he hated having his personal bubble threatened. “Here comes the drone, grab it for me wi -” Robby cut her sentence short when a massive suite of medieval armor lunged from the dark, slicing the drone in half with its razor sharp sword before crashing into the ground, thunderously rocking the entire floor of the archive in a shower of sparks. “Stay calm, It’s an illusion spell, its not as tough as it seems!” she said. “Run!” Yin yelled, diving out of the way of the armor’s second sword swing, his poncho nearly nicked by the end of the blade. “It’s clearly not an illusion, are you trying to get me killed?!” “Whoops, my bad, but I do have to combination!”Robby shouted without looking up her her pad. “Left!” she grabbed on Yin’s collar and yanked him down the hall with her. The armor followed close behind with another momentous swing of of the sword. Missing wildly, the very real sword crashed into bookshelf, instead of exploding into a foray of pages and splinters, the sword passed through the illusion of a shelf and crashed into the floor for a second time. The shock wave sent Robby and Yin flying into a nearby wall, a thick tapestry saved them from concussions. They pulled themselves to their feet just when the suite of armor to be upon them once more. “Left again!” Robby yelled, stabilizing herself on Yin’s shoulder before pulling him down another dark library hallway. “Right!” the pair jerked the opposite direction. The Archive’s security measure entitled hall\_patrol.exe lost sight of the two as it’s thudding steps came to a halt, standing unnervingly still. “Three rights and a left,” she then whispered, trying not to to rouse the armors ire. They slunk around the appropriate bookshelves and found themselves at the maintenance hatch. “Finally. How do we open it?” Yin asked. “It should already be open!” Robby spat. “I – I don’t know why its not open!” “Robby, it sees us!” Yin’s eyes grew two sizes and he gripped his friend by the shoulder. The spirit inhabiting the armor grew bright with white and purple rage, turning it into a colossal torch of hot metal and anger. The suit ran toward them, bellowing with furious metallic clank. “Robby, Look at your necklace!” She looked down at the pendent at the end of the chain, upside down T shaped stone pendulum was glowing with the same ghastly green as when it woke the spell book earlier. “Stand back!” Robby ordered Yim. She took off the necklace and, with her heart pounding nearly as loud as the steps of the metal threat barreling upon them, she whirled and slung it stone-first straight at the armor. In the split second that it took to reach the target, the Infinity Pendulum grew into the size of a boulder, crashing into the center mass of the armor and sending it flying backward were it landed in a heap of purple steam and twisted metal. “YES!” Yin cheered like a person who’s life had just nearly come to an end, “How in both hells did you know it could do that?!” “I have done that once before,” she wheezed before falling on her butt. “It takes a lot out of me, but apparently, its worth it.” She laughed. Yin helped her to her feet. Yin grunted, “Unbelievable, after 10 grades at school we never learned how to do anything as powerful as this.” Yin stepped into the crater the armor had made, searched around and found Robby’s necklace, back in its original condition. He tossed it back to her just as the maintenance hatch popped open over her shoulder. “Beautiful.” Robby leered deep into the jewelry. The friends emerged from the hatch of the brick building into a dark, rain-soaked alleyway. They darted under the nearest awning and packed away Onslo’s tech with enough time to catch the midnight Hover Rail across the city to the Little Moon neighborhood. At the crest of the business district, just before the rail descend into residential, Robby could see nearly the entirety of the City. The streets that stank of burring mystery meat. The glowing neon shopping plazas constantly supplying a steady steam of weapons for violence, drugs for sex, and rock ’n roll for everything else. She wasn’t designed for this place, she was destined to be somewhere else, she just didn't know where. “Hey” Yin elbowed her and smiled. “Hey” she elbowed him and smiled back.


05:00 The alarm sounds, immediately he is awake, the sound emitted by this torturous box is a piercing wail breaking the respite which slumber provides. Before the senses can fully adjust reaction slips in, taking over. Instantaneously he is, sitting erect on the edge of the bed, spine stiff, his hands clench the mattress, his feet planted firmly on the floor. He has taken care of the alarm long before his wife could be aroused by it's incredulous scream. It is always just at this moment the gears of his mind begin to turn, he curses the day and all of the ills it will surely bring him. Ageing gracefully is a concept lost on this man. He mutters imperceptibly to himself as he, using his night table for support, rises from his position. He begins his journey to the coffee, the same as he has done every morning the past thirty-one years. He is older now and his routine, perfected over the course of three decades now, takes a few moments longer, and a few more steps than it used to. He is not as young as he once was and knows that by the time he gets to the coffee it is the medication he truly needs to get through his day. Something stirs deep in the recesses of his mind and it makes him uneasy. He questions himself wondering what it is about the medication that gives him such concern after all these years. Having always possessed a strong, quick mind he was not one to write himself notes but his memory is failing him at this moment, perhaps the coffee will jog it. Standing now, he carefully makes his way around the foot of the bed, across the room to the door, he exits, closing the door softly behind him, and proceeds down the hall to the top of the stairs in darkness. Twenty - six steps in all, one more than yesterday. His walk is purposeful as he makes his way, he knows the path through the house which leads to the kitchen well, he has traversed it many times. Mindful of the creaking boards he side steps the soft spots as he continues to the landing at the middle of the stairs. Seven steps. It is at this point lights to the downstairs living room can be turned on. Continuing his decent to the bottom of the stairs he knows the light is not needed and the switch is ignored as he passes. Three steps. The children are long gone as are the toys they would leave on the stairs after abandoning their play. He continues down the stairs, mindful of squeaks, as he descends. Seven steps. There is an oversized leather arm chair on the left, and a part of this high backed wing intrudes at the bottom of the landing. He could never quite convince his wife to move it and that it was a painful intrusion into his life should he come into contact with it. His wife offered a smile and a simple suggestion when giving her response, "Well, you will just have to stay over to the right a bit, now wont you dear!" she would tell him. He smiled at the thought of this, his wife always provided a smile and solution to counter life's inconveniences. As he sidesteps the chair he crosses the living room and makes his way to the front door of the house. He takes smaller, more calculated steps in the darkness though the toys are long gone such is his routine. With the passage of time twelve steps has evolved into fourteen, "thirty - one years" he mutters. He releases a small sigh as he reaches for the door handle, the paper had better be on the porch today. He is tired of telling that kid and swears to himself, for the umpteenth time, if that damned paper is in the driveway again he is cancelling his subscription. As he opens the door he looks down and sees his paper is laying where it should be, on the porch in it's little plastic bag so it would not absorb the morning dew. Slowly, and with a great deal more effort than it used to take he bends down to retrieve the paper. As he closes the door he turns to the right and proceeds through the dining room, twelve steps, and into the kitchen. He makes his way to the coffee pot sitting on the countertop opposite the doorway. Ten steps today, one less than yesterday, maybe things are looking up. The coffee is brewed and waiting for him when he arrives, but first the medication. Again the word triggers an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, hairs stand on the back of his neck. His fists clench the countertop and he blinks, once, and again. He relaxes his grip and reaches for the cupboard containing his medication. He grasps at the unpainted, wooden door, it is grooved and splintered, odd, he thinks to himself. His unease grows as he attempts to pry open the cabinet door, the medication is most necessary this morning. The door is ripped open and he is suddenly enveloped in a bright, intense, blinding light emanating from inside the cabinet. Pain and light are all he is aware of as a loud booming voice demands "Take your medication right fucking now, stop resisting!" There is no resisting, both he and the attendant know this, it is all part of the routine. A speculum is inserted into the orifice that was once his mouth, it is engaged and the loose flesh that made up his lips and cheeks is spread wide revealing a rotting hole long devoid of teeth, most of its tongue rotted away. A watery, acrid substance, a combination of drugs and nutrition, is sloppily poured from a wooden vat onto his garishly disfigured face. They are not concerned with accuracy or dosage as enough of the substance will find its way into his now gaping mouth hole and into his system. It is time for the medication. The realization of what he is comes rushing back to him as the medication runs into his orifice and pools in his throat, he struggles to swallow. The liquid pours over and around what is left of his face, streams through remnants of the matted patches of hair, finally falling through the sluice he is strapped to and recycled into a new vat to be used on the next floor. The medication must not be wasted. He is no longer in his kitchen about to have coffee, all thoughts of his wife are gone now. There is nothing but pain accompanied by light, combined with screams, groans, and wailings of both himself and many others around him. Straps are tightened although there really is no need as his muscles atrophied long ago but it must be done, such is the routine. Its 05:00 as the lid is secured back on his box, the light gives way to blackness and the medication has taken hold. The alarm sounds.


###Please take note of the new feedback rules! #Welcome to Micro Monday Hello writers and welcome to Micro Monday! It’s time to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic, you ask? Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I provide a simple constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. This rotates between simple prompts, sentences, images, songs, and themes. You’re free to interpret the weekly constraints how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. **Please read the entire post before submitting.**   *** #This week’s challenge: **Summer Constraint Mashup: Use 1 thing from at least 2 different categories in the table below (2 constraints total).** These constraints are all suggestions from your fellow writers! **THEME** | **SENTENCE** | **OBJECT** | **MISC. CONSTRAINTS** |:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:| | Waterfall | It was my bread and butter. | sunscreen | story is all dialogue | Below the Surface | A fine line separates them. | a lost letter | use at least 3 of the 5 senses | | Customer Service | There are no secrets here. | fog | circular narrative | Calm Before the Storm | Can you hear them? | a pro-con list | features an unusual weather event **Bonus Constraint:** Use 2 or more additional constraints from the table below. Remember you may interpret the themes any way you like, as long as the connection is clear. All stories must **follow all post and subreddit rules**. Sentences should stay intact, but you’re welcome to change pronouns and/or tenses. Your story does *not* need to be summer-related. The bonus constraint and use of the included images/song are not required. **Note: Don’t forget to next Monday!** (The form usually opens at about 11:30am EST Monday.) You get points just for voting. You can check out previous Micro Mondays .   *** #How To Participate - **Submit a story between 100-300 words in the comments below.** You have until **Sunday at 11:59pm EST**. (No poetry.) - **Use to check your word count.** The title is not counted in your final word count. Stories under 100 words or over 300 will be disqualified from campfire readings and rankings. - **No pre-written content allowed.** Submitted stories should be written for this post, exclusively. Micro serials are acceptable, but please keep in mind that each installment should be able to stand on its own and be understood without leaning on previous installments. - **Authors are required to leave feedback on at least one other story each week that you write.** You have until **2pm EST Monday** to get your feedback in. Only **actionable feedback** will be awarded points. See the ranking scale below for a breakdown on points. - **Please follow all subreddit rules and be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here; we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. You can find a list of . - **Nominate your favorite stories at the end of the week .** You have until **2pm EST** next Monday to submit nominations. (Please note: The form does not open until Monday morning, after the story submission deadline.) - **And most of all, be creative and have fun!** If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the *stickied comment* on this thread or through modmail.   *** #Campfire - On **Mondays at 12pm EST,** I host a Campfire on our server. We read all the stories from the weekly thread and provide live feedback for those who are present. Come join us to read your own story and listen to the others! You can come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Everyone is welcome!   *** #How Rankings are Tallied We have a new point system! **TASK** | **POINTS** | **ADDITIONAL NOTES** |:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:| | **Use of the Main Prompt/Constraint** | up to **50** pts | Requirements always provided with the weekly challenge | **Use of Bonus Constraint** | **10** pts | (unless otherwise noted) | ***Actionable* Feedback** (one required) | up to **15** pts each (5 crit max) | You’re always welcome to provide more crit, but points are capped at 75 | **Nominations your story receives** | **20** pts each | No cap | **Bay’s Nominations** | **20 - 50** pts | First- **50** pts, Second- **40** pts, Third- **30** pts, plus regular noms | **Voting for others** | **10** pts | Don’t forget to vote before 2pm EST every week! *Users who go above and beyond with feedback (more than 2 in-depth, actionable crits) will be awarded Crit Credits that can be used on r/WPCritique.* Note: Interacting with a story is not the same as feedback.   *** #Rankings for - - u/ZachTheLitchKing - - u/NotMuchChop - - u/This_Wicked *** ###Subreddit News - Join to chat with authors, prompters, and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly Worldbuilding interviews, and other fun events! - Experiment with tropes and different genres with the brand new feature on r/WritingPrompts! - Explore your self-established world every week on ! - You can also post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


The warehouse was old and in a state of disrepair. The back of the building had been renovated several years prior. An upper level was added with a two bedroom residential apartment. I remember this kind of thing being fashionable in previous decades, as it allowed the business owner to live on the property. Kayla was being held in one of the bedrooms. She was tied to the chair at her wrists and ankles respectively. It was hard to believe that this now thirteen year old was the same girl who was three when I met her father Diego ten years prior. Earlier that day I'd felt both of them calling out to me. When I arrived at Diego's place, he explained that these three had kidnapped Kayla and the ransom was him pulling a job for them. He was supposed to crack a safe full of diamonds at a high end jewelry store in town. I told him not to go anywhere near that place, and promised him that I'd bring her home safe, and deal with these thugs. I followed Kayla's mental distress signal to this place. I floated through the apartment walls, and out into the warehouse. Her three captors were all downstairs. There were two men and a woman. The woman, I'd heard one of them call here Piper, was the one calling the shots. She had one guy in the office of the warehouse with her, and the other was to stand guard outside. The guy inside the office wore a black t-shirt bearing the image of a local rock band. I had heard this band play once, so I could tell immediately that he had terrible taste in music. During their conversation he mentioned that he wanted to "have a little fun" with Kayla. Piper told him he'd have to wait until after the job was done. I decided right there that his chances of surviving the rescue were going to be incredibly slim. Piper also mentioned that Diego had an hour and fifteen minutes left to pull the job and call them to confirm. This hastened things a bit. I would need to be in a corporeal form to interact with the environment. I would thus need a host body. The easiest approach would be to take over one of them, and just let Kayla go free. Maybe take over band shirt guy, and drive her home safely. When I arrive maybe encourage Diego to put a few bullets in the body. I couldn't use any of the three though. I could sense that inside of them they were all completely given over to their inner darkness. That was the biggest limitation to this ability, I couldn't take over a person with too much darkness in them. Of course everyone has a dark side, but to be able to override them I needed a host whose dark side was small. I'd have to find someone fast. I floated outside and went high above the building. I flew a couple of blocks away and saw the corporate office building of an insurance company. It was 4:30 PM and some people were leaving work for the day. I floated down to the sidewalk outside of the main entrance. I spotted a young guy as he walked out. He looked to be about 6 '2 and seemed physically fit. He was wearing his letter jacket from his recently completed high school days. I could see that he graduated two years ago, and got the letter for football. Excellent, he'd have good reflexes, and was likely to be quick on his feet. His name was also embroidered into the jacket. Brian Cromwell. I could sense that the darkness in him was small, almost microscopic in size. This was the kind of guy you'd hear about running into a burning building to get someone out. Usually I prefer to research a host more thoroughly first, but time was of the essence here. "Alright Brian, " I thought to myself. " you get to be the hero today." I entered Brian's body, and could see through his eyes, and hear with his ears. I wiggled his fingers for a moment. In my experience that was usually the fastest way to get a feel for how to pilot his nervous system. After that I reached into his right pocket and found his car keys. I saw the make of the car on his key fob, and then looked out at the parking lot. I could see three different models of that make, so I pressed the unlock button, and saw the lights blink on a blue four door sedan. I made my way to the car. I got in and started the engine. I looked around the car for a moment for anything I could possibly use as a weapon, or helpful tool. That's when I discovered that he kept a folding knife in the center console. I took the knife out and clipped it to his belt. I then put the car in reverse and backed out before throwing it into drive and departing for the warehouse. I parallel parked the sedan about fifteen feet up the street from the warehouse. I walked along the sidewalk until I came up on the guy standing guard. He was a few inches shorter than my host which worked to my advantage. "What's up?" I asked him. "Chillin Man, what about you?" "Dude, I am so lost right now. I'm supposed to be going to this place on park street, and my phone died, so no gps." That's when he made the mistake I’d wanted him to make. As he began to give me directions, he pointed toward Park Street. I knew exactly which way it was when I asked him. As he pointed he turned his body facing away from me, and that was the moment I made my move. I removed the knife from Brian's belt, unfolded it, and dispatched him before he knew what happened. I dragged his body into some nearby bushes, and took the pistol from his waistband. I checked it and found nine rounds in the magazine, and one in the chamber. That would likely come in handy shortly. With the guard now removed from the equation I turned my attention to the warehouse again. I made my way to the front door, and stepped inside. To my right were a pair of restroom doors. The men's room light shone through the edges. I waited for a moment, and then the door opened. The guy in the black t-shirt stepped out. I made quick work of him with the knife as well. As I approached the stairs Piper emerged at the top. "Who the hell are...?" She didn't have time to finish the sentence before I drew and fired. She stumbled back, clutching her abdomen.She then drew her own pistol and returned fire. I got out of the way and used a nearby vending machine for cover. She fired four rounds. I leaned out from behind the machine and saw that she had herself propped up in a halfway sitting position. She was a smaller target now, and the shot was risky, but I took it anyway. My effort paid off and I saw her fall back down again. I slowly ascended the staircase with my weapon still drawn and ready. As I approached the top I could hear her labored breathing. The wheezing sound seemed to indicate that I'd punctured one of her lungs. I got visual confirmation of this as I reached the upper landing. She was in bad shape, and wouldn't make it. I put a final round in her head to finish her off. Regardless of what somebody has done, I don't like for them to suffer needlessly. I made my way to the apartment on the second floor. I entered the living room, and took a moment to check my surroundings. After I made sure that the kitchen, restroom, and second bedroom were clear I made my way to the one where Kayla was being held. I opened the door slowly and called out. "It's okay, it's me, Simon." I heard a sigh of relief from the other side. I entered and quickly cut her makeshift restraints free. "Thank you Simon." "No worries. Let's get you home. Oh, and you might not wanna look on the way out. Your captors are, um, expired." She chuckled slightly at my choice of words. I got Kayla back home, and chatted with Diego for a little bit. He offered to get rid of the gun and knife for me. I knew he could dispose of them in a way that they'd never be recovered. I took the opportunity to wash the gunshot residue off of Brian's hands before I left. I also cleared the GPS history both from his car, and phone. That would be enough to get rid of most of the evidence of him being there. He wouldn't remember what happened today either, so that also would work in his favor. I took Brian back to his apartment, and settled down on the couch. I could feel the adrenaline wearing off, and the crash setting in. I leaned him back and relaxed his body. I then left him asleep on his couch. I floated through the exterior wall and into the hallway leading to his front door. I left the apartment complex and went up to a higher altitude. A couple of blocks away I noticed a new sandwich shop that I hadn't seen before. I made a mental note of it, so next time I had a host who was hungry I'd give it a try.


A solemn breeze haunts the infinite corridor that stretches for miles underneath the scorching sands of the Red Dunes. Regardless of its proximity to the sea of fire above, the air in the seemingly endless tunnel is cool and damp, and the bolts and nuts that have kept the structure together for thousands of years rust in peace. The only light source in these hallowed grounds comes from the fluorescent alloy and its light reacting to every step Null takes on the way to the core of the buried giant. “We are getting closer, Ninez,” he says. The words echo ceremoniously through the hallway before him like a hymn of sorts. Ninez, who hovers closely behind, inspects the runes etched on the metal frames of the tunnel before replying. “The runes confirm it! This should be the last core, Null.” The small synth hovers ahead for once, too far ahead this time, temporarily deactivating in mid-air. Null is quick to hasten his stride, bringing the synth back online before it hits the ground. “I’ve got no more spare parts for you, buddy. Mind sticking within the field’s range?” Ninez hovers back to his side like a wounded bird. “I’ve seen you manipulate the Flux at longer distances. Why do I have to stick so damn close. I’m beginning to smell you.” Null kneels abruptly and passes his hand across the dusty metal plate before him. “I’ve already told you. This place is full of things meant to keep us away. If I’m not careful…” His hand presses on a rune etched on the ground, which disables a previously invisible array of fluorescent beams lined up along the walls of the winding corridor. He takes a beacon attached to his belt and throws it at one of the dissipating rays. At first it appears undisturbed, but when it falls on the ground, it splits cleanly in two. “Did you have to destroy something to make a point?” “Better it, than you,” Null replies, continuing his path through the infinite hallway. “At least now you’ll stick close.” Ninez was a small synth. Around a ten centimeter diameter hunk of gray metal, subtly adorned by hints of crimson that Null had tagged when he’d put Ninez back together. For a machine, it sure could bicker, and the anti-grav module allowed it to float freely around him like an obnoxious fly. Although the recurrent, buzzing commentary could be exhausting, Ninez was his friend. Not to mention his only company for the last five years. “Are we there yet?” Ninez asks, landing on his shoulder. “Feels like we’ve been walking for days. You’d think the Ancients would have a little more sense of decor. Dull, gray endless corridors feel like a brutalist wet dream.” The small synth flickers like a broken lightbulb, before powering down its anti-grav module. “It’s a relay station, Ninez. What’d you expect? Everything here serves a purpose.” “Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” Ninez replies. “You think the others ever did?” Null remains quiet for a beat, as he usually does when Ninez speaks of the rest of the crew. “We knew what we signed up for. And we will get used to it being our new home. Now quiet. I need to concentrate.” A metal door stands before them, ten meter high, radiating a faint light from its hinges which seems to intensify every step they take towards it. Null places his hand on the structure as if to caress a sleeping beast. His hand spurs a series of glyphs to life along the frames of the hulking entryway, as the doorway opens with a seamless swoosh that sends sand and dust flying everywhere. A pile of bones lines the entrance, some roll towards Null’s feet as the door opens fully. Null can feel Ninez shift its weight uncomfortably on his shoulder. “This place is a tomb, Ninez.” Null steps over the pile of remains, some crack under the weight of his feet. Others just dissolve like sand structures that had barely kept their shape only to be disturbed by a rising tide. “What happened to them?” “The Ancients relied on (g)oldworld tech. Doors must’ve sealed shut right after the Flux. No tech to operate the hatches.” Null steps through the arch and the door closes halfway behind them, mechanically stuck on some of the Ancient remains that rolled over when it first opened. “They just starve to death?” Ninez hovers down, gliding a few inches above the ancient burial site. “You would think that—I mean they did, eventually,” he replies, turning to face the door. “But I suspect much of what happened ‘out there’ after the Flux, happened here at an accelerated rate. See the markings on the hatch?” Ninez inspects the scratch marks on the lower section of the metal door. “They tried to claw their way out, didn’t they?” Ninez floats back towards Null who’s starting to walk away towards the darkened corridor. “They probably turned on each other when the food started running thin. Eventually they trimmed the weakest to conserve supplies—war amongst them, likely disease, until even the victors ran out of food too.” “Remind me, again, why would you want to disturb a place like this, let alone stay in it ad infinitum. Even the Relic Hunter guilds consider this place tainted.” “You know exactly why. If we can activate the core—” Null stops abruptly. “Do you hear that?” The screeching sound of metal on metal fills the chamber as a wall of alloy drops from the ceiling, cutting them from the path behind as it seals off with a metallic grunt. “Is this you being careful?” Ninez asks. “Not me. Must be some sort of mechanical trigger—old school tech. Hold on!” The second wall drops ahead, too quickly for Null to roll underneath it. Its drop makes the structure shake as the second lock engages. They’re trapped.


Julia lay still in my arms. The gentle rise and fall of her chest ceased an eternity ago but I still held her. Cradling her like an infant, she looked so peaceful. Her limp body so delicate and as light as a feather. I was afraid that if I let go, she would be carried away by the gentle stream flowing around us. My world was in ruins. Piles of sodden debris lay around us, stacked higher than the houses they were once part of. Wooden walls had cracked and splintered by the unrelenting power of a sudden flood, collapsing houses in on themselves. The swollen river had burst its banks sending forth violent streams that snaked between the thinly scattered islands of detritus, tearing up the soil and marring the surrounding landscape. Corpses choked the river, clouding its crystal waters with scarlet streaks. Little was left but murky pools that drowned the country as far as the eye could see. Everything was lost. The grey firmament above opened to allow a single slender beam of light to trickle down from the heavens and caress Julia’s pale cheek. The soft glow brought a shade of warmth to her cooling flesh. I couldn’t believe my baby was gone. I was holding her when she first came into this world, and I was holding her when she left it. Seeing the light in my daughter’s eyes slowly ebb away was a cruelty no parent should ever need endure. Dappled rays played across her wet skin, tracing their way between droplets until finally coming to rest upon her amulet. A small thing wrought of copper and iron but beautifully inlaid with intricate tracings of gold. An amulet dedicated to our God, dedicated to You. We prayed diligently and did everything the Wise Ones told us to do to appease you. Not a single prayer was skipped, or offering missed, or ritual withheld, or any of your commands questioned or denied. We devoted ourselves in our entirety to you. And yet death and destruction are what we were offered in return. Does that seem fair to you? Not to me. I won’t pretend I know anything of the machinations of the divine for I am no priest and but a lowly mortal, but we clearly defied you otherwise why would this have happened? Why did the rains we so desperately needed and begged for continue well past the seasons end? Why did the river become so swollen? Why did the banks burst to release watery wrath upon us? Why would You allow this to happen to us? To me? But You didn’t let death take me like everyone else. You spared me. You may think you saved me, but you have done quite the opposite. I have been left with nothing but misery and sorrow. You kept me alive and took that which I love most in this world. There must be a reason for this, to keep me alive and no others. Whatever the reason, I will have no part in it. I once harboured the most fervent love and devotion for you. We all did. A powerful all-consuming love drove us blindly into your arms, our faith in your wisdom and benevolence held us tightly in your embrace. We thought we were safe. Misplaced were our feelings when our judgements were so clouded by deceit. Now, in loves place, I harbour something else. Something stronger. Hate. It feels wrong to hate you, but I can’t help it. It’s not that I can’t stop, it’s that I don’t want to. You deserve my hate for what you did. It is true you are a God and I am a mortal, and that most would consider me ungrateful and foolish for hating one so powerful and wise, yet I still do. You think despite taking all that I love that I should still revere you, that I should still worship you, that I should fill the void in my heart with the love of my creator because that is all the love I will ever need? No. You are sorely mistaken. You have forsaken me, abandoned me in this harsh world, and taken everything from me. I shall do the same to you. They say you die not only with the passing of your last breath but that you die a second time when your name is uttered in this world for the last time. I have not the power to invoke a physical death upon a deity such as yourself, but I can starve you of the attention you so desperately desire, of the love and worship you draw strength from. I cannot kill the unkillable, but I can make you wish you were able to die. Hence forth I, your last living breathing son, renounce you as my God and Father, and cast you out of my heart into the blackness of the void in which you have left me. Your religion died with the people who drowned for I will take it no further. I won’t even grant you the courtesy of speaking your name one last time, that too died upon the lips of someone lost to your wrath. In killing Julia, you have killed yourself. I hope it was worth it. Now we both are alone.


I really hope shes comes back today. This marks day 4 this week of trying to work up the courage to finally drag my feet over there and ask her for her name. The first time I saw her, she was just sitting there, blissfully unaware of her radiating beauty. Sitting alone in a bustling library, both airpods in, tapping away on her macbook in what looked like a studying trance. Seemingly unaware of the world around her. The soft steady beeping of the library patrons checking out their books and the humming of the overhead florescent lights drowning out near silence. I had been in this library to escape a rain shower on my morning walk to work. I pass it everyday and look at it in awe. Nestled in a little park stood this elegant library. Weathered stone bricks lead up to emerald green oak doors that looked to weight hundreds of pounds and seemed to stretch all the way to the roof. It had large stained glass windows, with a magnificent array of colors and inspiring designs. Around the windows there was swamp green ivy crawling up the walls along with bright pink flowers in bloom every 6 inches or so, creating a coat of leafy floral armor. The library is at the very beginning of my walk, so it wasnt the easiest or most fun getting here everyday, but I needed to talk to this girl. I feel like a creep watching her, but I cant take my eyes off her soft beauty. Her dark brown hair spirals off her head, falling into full beautiful curls, resting about her shoulders. Gold-framed, circle glasses, big enough to catch the sunlight that comes in from the great windows to blind me every so often, reminding me that ive been staring for far too long. I wonder if shes even noticed me. Everyday shes brought her Mac Book protected by an avocado green case, her baby blue back pack, and what looks like a iced latte from starbucks. What could I say to such a striking woman to even get her attention? Should I even try to interrupt her studying? What if she hates that? I guess I could just introduce myself, but what about after that? what if she has a boyfriend? she must, shes too gorgeous to be single, but what do I know? I wont do anything anyways, and she will just walk away, again. At least so I thought. Today stop in was like any other. Sounds of steady beeping of the book scanners and the now familiar smell of old paper and freshly brewed blonde roast from the nearby Starbucks filled the air. She was getting ready to leave. Packing away her laptop and books into her oversized backpack. Takes the last few sips of her coffee, and gracefully walks out of the building, capturing all the sunlight as she leaves, leaving the room noticeably dimmer. Everything was the same, except this time she accidentally left her pencil case on the table. Immediately my body moved on its own. I walked over to the study desk and picked it up without even thinking, and chased after the woman ive been too afraid to talk to. “Excuse me! I think you left this.” She turned around, finally allowing me to be able to take in all her beauty up close. Her eyes, striking and deep brown, like luminous burning coals on a cool fall evening. Peachy desirable lips sat on her face underneath soft and delicate cheeks. She had that true kind of beauty, not the kind you would find flipping through a popular fashion magazine. Only the kind that can be found on the face of someone you never could forget, no matter how hard you tried. “So you’re finally going to talk to me?” she replied in a playful tone. I looked at her puzzled, trying to hide the embarrassment and guilt of getting caught. “What do you mean?” “Oh, so im not supposed to notice the guy who isnt reading any books and keeps looking at me?” Damn, she really got me. “Ooooh” I said with a laugh. “You noticed that?” She chuckled “Well you didnt make it very hard. You came in for three of the last four days, and have picked up one book since youve been here?” she replied. I can feel my cheeks burning red with guilt. I guess I wasnt very good at hiding my slack jaw gaze. “Haha, well, I guess that wasnt the smartest idea, to be honest I just couldnt take my eyes off you. From the first day I saw you I wanted to introduce myself, but I was just too afraid to walk over.” “What? Why were you too afraid to walk over?” “Well, I have a hard time talking to beautiful women.” I replied. “Wow, did you really think that cheesy line was going to work?” she said in a mocking but playful tone. Shes really giving it to me. “Yes…..okay no. But its not just a cheesy line. I am bad at talking to pretty girls, and you are beautiful.” Now I can see her cheeks starting to flush. “Ok…so you have known ive been looking at you this whole time?” I asked. “Yes.” “And you obviously didnt think it was creepy or that I was weird cause you didnt have a worker to ask me to stop or leave.” “Wellll, I wouldnt say that.” she said with a smartass smile. “So wait, did you leave the pencil case on purpose?” I asked “Now you’re starting to catch on.” she replied in a sarcastic tone. “You kept looking at me and coming back in but didnt say anything so I decided to do something myself.” Oh wow, so she might like me too if she was willing to do that, but shes got me in her hand like putty and she knows it, I can see it in her sweet but intense eyes. “You havent even told me your name yet” she said flatly. Shit, how could I forget to introduce myself. I got so wrapped up in being embarrassed, I forgot how to be normal. “Oh yeah, duh. My name. Im Matt, its nice to talk to you finally” “Its nice to meet you Matt” she replied with a smile, “Im Natalie, but everyone calls me Nat.” “Well Nat, now that I have your name, can I have your number so we can go out some time?” “I dont know, are you going to stop coming into the library to stare at me?” she asked playfully. I slyly laugh it off, “of course, I will stop being a creeper from this day forward.” “Ok Matt, well here is my number.” She hands me over a piece of ripped loose leaf paper she took out of her pocket. “I had written that down earlier waiting for you to finally come over today but I had to leave my pencil case to get you in gear” “Ah, yes. Well im glad I was able to grab it finally. Ill go ahead and give you a text, I really gotta get to work.” I handed back her pencil case and we said our goodbyes. I watched as she walked away down the busy city street disappearing into the school of people in their way to whatever destination they had in mind. How am I supposed to go back to work after that? It was like the fourth of july and christmas morning all at the same time! I just cant believe she gave me her number. The feeling of anxiety of wanting to talk to her and dread for not talking to her leaving my body like all the gas being released from a pressurized can. I let out a relaxing exhale. That long walk back to the office just didnt seem so long that day.


Esur looked out into the gloomy sunrise over the harbor’s waters and wondered aloud. “Would life be easier if I were a fish?” It made sense to him the more he thought about it. Fish didn’t have to worry about things like a job. They didn’t have to think about a slave-tasker of a boss yelling at them to unload a ship’s cargo faster. All he’d have to think about was swimming. The fish didn’t need to worry about scraping enough coins together to cover bills from the landlord or the tax collector. Anything below the water's surface just had to worry about their next meal or avoid becoming something else’s meal. In fact, being a fish meant that all he needed to worry about was swimming, eating, and surviving. The more he thought about it, the more Esur liked the idea of becoming a fish more and more. There was a quiet simplicity to it. A life where problems seemed straightforward and their answers even more so. The first hurdle in Esur’s idea was the whole part of turning from a mortal man into a fish. He couldn’t just strip naked and take a dive into the waters. That was a half-assed solution to the problem at best. After all, he’d have to come up for air at some point. Esur was a decent swimmer, but that didn’t preclude that he still needed to breathe. There’d probably also be people with questions like ‘what are you doing?’ and ‘why are you naked?’. Plus, he didn’t have any previous experience as a fish. Knowing his luck, he’d probably swim around for five minutes before sinking his teeth into a baited hook. The fisherman on the other end would probably be excited for a few minutes before dragging Esur out of the water. He could go to a local alchemist and see if they had anything that could turn him physically into a fish. Something that he could down and get to the water’s edge before he couldn’t suck down pure air and needed to start breathing water. Maybe he should wait until he was in the water before drinking it. That seemed sensible. Or maybe he could go and find a potion that just gave him gills. His fingers ran over the nape of his neck, where he imagined a set of gills sucking in water and air. He frowned. Would that be weird? He wondered. Or would it be worth it to completely turn into a fish? If he took a potion to become one, would he be able to pick out the type he could become? He’d hate to go through all of this effort to become a sardine. There was an alchemist not too far from where he lived that his co-workers said they always went to whenever they needed a potion. Apparently, she had a little bit of everything that could cure a little bit of anything. He’d never heard a bad word about her treatments. Esur had never been there since the spare coin in his pocket was usually enough to weigh nothing. If he had ever gotten sick, he’d lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and slowly working through whatever gods he could recall praying to. By the time he got through the third or fourth rotation, he’d feel better. Either the hours of bedrest would do the trick, or one of those dozens of deities was listening. If this alchemist was good, maybe she could help him solve his problems. Throwing on a pair of trousers, boots, and a motley patched tunic, he emerged from the hole in the wall that he called an apartment and onto the city streets. Men, women, and children were already emerging from their little apartments to do their own business. Heading to the docks to unload ships, fishing for actual fish and not people trying to be fish, opening up their little shops next to their apartments, and things outside of what Esur knew. Down the street, he saw a dozen children gathering for their morning pickpocket meeting. The oldest, Old Brian, was in charge at the grand age of twelve. Esur had learned to avoid their morning meeting lest he became an easy target. Instead, he went a long way around them down several side streets, up a ladder, across a rooftop, and back down half a block away from the pickpockets. It was the only way to be sure. Heading deeper into the city, Esur tried his best to follow along with the traffic flow. It was easier said than done. The foot traffic in the city of Weido was dancing, if the band playing the music changed tempos and genres of music every few minutes. There was an ebb and flow to it, much like the harbor's waters, that you had to pay careful attention to. A shuffling pace could quickly become a hustle to escape tourists. Skimming sideways around a pothole could quickly back away as the pothole turned into a sinkhole. A simple walk down an empty street could turn into a full-on run for your life as a troll rampaged towards you. Unfortunately, Esur had two left feet. It was a medical condition, born with both feet hooked slightly to the right. The condition didn’t affect his living badly, except for dancing and convincing bootmakers to sell him two left boots. Esur did his best to follow along with the crowd, but that had quite never been something he’d ever been good at. Frequently he bumped into other people, apologizing as he tried to keep up with the forward momentum. He almost shoulder-checked a lamppost as the crowd surged to the right to make room for a few of the city guards riding horses down the street, smug looks on their faces as the crowd cleared for them. By the time Esur had traveled for four blocks, a hefty sweat had already begun to build upon his brow. The morning was still quite cool, with a gentle breeze blowing from the sea, but Esur had a habit of sweating like a pig at the drop of a hat. He pushed on, fighting through the crowded streets, until he finally arrived at the alchemist’s shop. It had been set up in a quaint little corner between two smaller streets. A steady traffic flow was already passing it by, and Esur nearly walked right by it. When he got a good look at it, he was surprised he could miss it at all. Hanging vines cut like bangs over the clear, clean windows of the shop. On display shelves, odd bottles filled with even odder liquids were presented to passersby. A door that seemed a little too tall and narrow was the only way in or out, with a tiled roof of deep muddy reds pulled to a tall peak. He was amazed that he had never seen this place before. Most of his time was spent going between the docks and my apartment, with few occasions going beyond those handfuls of streets. The shop stood out, not like a sore thumb, but more like a hypnotic creature drawing prey. Hanging over the vines themselves was a simple sign, red paint on a light oaken board Primrose’s Poultices. Esur shuffled into the alchemist's shop, and his nose was immediately filled with a hundred different scents. Plenty of smells were down at the harbor, but those were mostly seawater, seabirds, and dead fish. He immediately sneezed into the crook of his arm as his nostrils were assailed with things he didn’t know where to begin describing. The air was sweet, spicy, soft, hard, salty, and so much more. Wiping his nose, he saw even more shelves filled with strange bottles. All of them were neatly organized in a way that Esur assumed made sense, as from his perspective, it looked like they were haphazardly placed next to one another. There was even one that appeared to be empty. He picked it up and found the label simply said *Invisibility Potion. Warning- Do not consume with alcohol. Not because they don’t mix well, but because it is a bad idea. Trust me from experience.* A polite cough from around one of the shelves made Esur nearly drop the bottle. He placed it back onto the shelf when a woman he assumed was Primrose came around the corner. She was a hair taller than he was, with a significant quantity of red hair draped down over her shoulders and back. There was a tilt of her head as she examined him through a pair of wide, round glasses. She was quiet for a few moments that seemed to drag on for minutes before she finally made a sound. “Hm,” She said. “Hm?” He said. “Huh,” She continued. “Huh?” He replied. She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before, have I?” “No, this would be my first time here,” Esur said, wondering if this would be the last time he was here. “I knew it. I never forget a face. Names, I’m terrible with.” She offered her own. “Primrose.” “Esur,” He introduced, giving her hand a shake. Her pale hand was far stronger than he would have guessed. “I apologize in advance if I mispronounce or forget your name, Esur,” She said as she went over to a nearby counter, stepped behind it, and pulled a large, leather-bound book from behind it. “So, are you just window shopping or here for something specific?” “Something specific,” Esur said, following her and standing on the other side of the counter. “It’s actually a bit odd, but I was hoping you’d be able to help.” “Believe you me, Mr. Estur, there is no shortage of strange requests that have come through that doorway,” She said, flipping through a few pages to get to a clean one. She took out a bright white feather and an inkpot from beneath the counter. “I’ve seen all sorts of maladies and troubles. Heart problems, broken bones, missing bones, troubles of the mind, and many, many more. Tell me what bothers you, and we’ll see what I can do.” “Esur,” He corrected. “Well, I’m just going to come right out and say it- I want a potion to become a fish.” Primrose paused. Slowly, she looked up into Esur’s eyes with a quirk on her eyebrow. Her quill hung over the page, a droplet of black ink dripping onto the now-stained paper. “A fish?” “Preferably not a sardine.” Her head tilted to the side once more, and he could see that she was momentarily lost in thought. “That’s a new one.” “I thought you said you’d seen everything?” He said. “I said I’ve seen and cured many things, but a person requesting to become a fish is a new problem. One man wanted to live as a merman for a week, but never just a plain old fish.” She said as she began to write on the page. Esur leaned over to see what she was writing down, but he could not distinguish the words on the page. Some kind of alchemist code, he presumed. Or maybe her penmanship was terrible. Both were likely. Both could be true at the same time. “Then it sounds like you already know where to begin,” Esur said, feeling a twinge of hope for the first time since he woke up that morning. “Just take whatever you did with making that man a merman, remove the man, and make it permanent.” She shook her head. “Why does everyone assume that potions are anything alike? There’s a reason why your average person doesn’t get into the alchemy business. It takes a lot of work to develop a potion that works the same every time, usually with a lot of failure along the way. Anything worth doing right is worth working hard towards.” She gestured out to the shop. “Every single potion on the shelf here took a lot of sweat, other people’s blood and tears to get right. Some were passed down to me by my mentor, and some I cooked up on my own. If you’re looking to become a fish, then it will take a bit of trial and error to make it work right. And that’s a lot of work on my part and coin on your part to make that happen.” Esur winced. His mouth had gotten ahead of his mind once again. The hope that he had for a whole minute was already feeling further away than before. “My apologies. I didn’t understand.” He took a breath to collect himself. “I will be honest with you- I don’t have much to coin to my name. There’s little in my pocket, and as soon as my landlord finds me, I probably won’t have much else. Becoming a fish seemed like a good idea to just have those problems not be something of mine anymore.” Primrose frowned. She set down the quill beside her book and steepled her fingers before her lips. Esur saw a glazed look in her eyes, utterly unfocused on what was in front of her. He waved a hand in front of her face with no response. Esur wondered if he should just go. This seemed more and more like a dead end to him. Whatever she had in mind sounded expensive. He frowned, feeling foolish. This was just a waste, wasn’t it? He thought to himself. All this really did was make him late for work at the docks. Maybe being a fish just wasn’t in the cards for him. As he started for the door, Primrose’s hands slapped the top of the counter. “I’ve got it!” She said before turning to face him. “I think I’ve got a plan that can be mutually beneficial.” Esur paused. That flicker of hope was threatening to start burning once more. “I don’t have much money, so I’m not going to be able to pay.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Forget about money. You can work off what you’d owe me in exchange for the potion.” “Truly?” “As true as blue,” Primrose said. “I need to do some research and figure a few things out. Components I’ll need. Tests I’ll need to run. It won’t be easy, but I think we can come to an arrangement that will benefit us both- you’ll get to become a fish, and I’ll get my hands on some ingredients I’ll need for other potions. Do we have an accord, Mr. East?” “We do,” Esur said, putting out his hand again, not minding her getting his name wrong. She gave him another hearty shake. “Don’t worry about coming back here. I’ll find you. Now, get out of here. I need some peace and quiet so I can focus.”He nodded and headed out the door. Being thrown out didn’t bother him either. Standing outside of the shop, he took a moment for himself. He breathed in the cool, salty breeze. The sun felt warm and inviting on his face. Even the crowd around him seemed lively over annoying. For the first time in a long time, Esur felt himself smile. It was an odd sensation, an unfamiliar one, but far from unpleasant. As he began returning to the docks to get to work, he briefly considered whistling. The idea was quickly squashed. Esur had never been musically inclined. The one time his mother had requested he try to sing for her, the wince on her face had told him all he needed to know. He was content to smile as he headed down the street for now. Where to go? What to do? He wondered. There was no telling how long it would take Primrose to make the potion. It might be a few hours or a few days. Til he got his hands on it, he still needed money. Somewhat reluctantly, he began his way back to the docks to head to work. The smile still stayed on his face, despite the ear-lashing he was about to get from his overbearing boss.