I woke up to my alarm beeping in my ear at 8:30. This morning I didn't get to wake up to my husband lying right by me. He usually works the night shift at the New York City Fire Department but this morning he got called into work due to his fellow fireman out being sick. I get out of bed and open my curtains. Today is a dreary day. Lately as I’ve been opening my curtains the sun beams in and fills my room with the sun rays. I flip on the TV in my room and turn to the news channel to see what has been going on in the world. As I am faintly listening to the TV I begin to get ready. After my shower, I throw on my low-rise embroidered jeans and pair it with a white tube top. I figured since it was a little chilly out I would throw on my jean jacket. I went into my kitchen to gather my belongings for work and grab some breakfast. At 9:00 I head out of my apartment and begin my walk down the elven flights of stairs.

Once upon a time in a small town in Southern Indiana lived CinderJoe. He was your typical small town guy. Farming in the morning, cooking lunch, farming in the evening, and going home to cook dinner. The past few months he had been going out at nights to try and find a girlfriend. Although he was struggling to find one, he came across something that could be so good for him. There were posters posted all around the town as he was heading to the farm. These posters showed information about the upcoming hoedown that was to take place that night. The princess of their small town was going to find her prince charming by the end of the night. CinderJoe was so excited when he saw this information. He had to go. After staring at the poster for what seemed like thirty minutes, he headed to the farm to get his work done before he went home to get ready for the hoedown. While working, all he could think about was the beautiful princess of his small town. He wanted so badly to be her prince charming. CinderJoe realized he was getting no work done at the farm so he decided to call it a day and just head home and get ready for the big night. While he was walking home, he realized his boss probably called his evil stepmother and told her that CinderJoe did not complete any of the work he was supposed to for that particular day. His boss always calls her when he doesn’t finish his work because his stepmother does not let him go do anything when that happens. CinderJoe arrived at his house and saw his stepmother and two evil step brothers standing in the doorway with their arms crossed.

It was the second I walked outside of my apartment building that I noticed something bad had happened. The look of fear in these people’s eyes as they run back into the apartment building has me terrified. I take another step outside and look up at the World Trade Center buildings. Nothing but smoke is filling the city and lathering the buildings. “Ma'am you need to find shelter, run!” A man dressed in uniform screamed to me from across the street. I run up the stairs in fear and make it into my apartment. I lock the door and hear the news anchor talking about a tragic event that has just taken place in my city. I set my purse down and run to the couch to see what is going on. “At 9:03 this morning United Airlines Flight 175 struck into The World Trade Center's South Tower. We have the New York City Fire and Police Department on the scene to keep our city safe.” Panic filled my whole body as I thought about my husband. I begin shaking as tears stream down my face. I try to calm myself down and tell myself he is trained at his job and knows what to do in these situations. I text him in hopes I get a response.

As three hours go by, I am still checking my phone for a response from David. I am still perched in the same spot with my eyes glued to the TV in hopes of any update. Eventually after four and a half hours I got a text message from my husband. “Sorry to keep you so worried, I am getting released to come home in about an hour and I will be with you and surround you with comfort.” A wave of relief filled the whole room. I feel a big smile stretch across my face as I wipe away the tears that are still falling down my face.

After the longest hour of my life, I hear the front door unlock. David ran in and hugged me as tears poured down his face. We both were shaking. “Sara everything is going to be ok. I am glad to be back home with you.” David said in a sigh of relief to be back home. “I want you home with me forever, David.” I cried to him. We hugged each other for a good two minutes and made our way to the TV to see if any updates had been released. “The counts we are getting from the department are telling us 265 total deaths on the four planes and 1,945 immediate deaths from the attack. Many people are in critical condition as we are trying to get them all help. This is a tragic event that our police and fire department are trying their hardest to handle.” The news anchor spilled all of this information as David and I looked at each other. “David you could’ve been one of those 1,945 people that were instantly killed.” I tried explaining to him. “Sara I am here now and that’s all that matters. I just witnessed something many people won’t ever have to go through and I’m going to need time to get over this. I saw innocent people jumping out of the towers as limbs were falling off of them. That is traumatizing.” He said to me in a worried tone. “I understand that, I am so glad you are ok and here with me now. Thank you for helping out our city and keeping everyone safe. I think you need to go lay in bed and I’ll cook you a good dinner.” I offered to him. “Thank you, Sara, I would love that.” He said as he hugged me and headed off to go lay in bed. An hour later I joined him with our dinner and we sat in bed eating with a movie on. David did not want to watch the news anymore as he was scarred from what he just had been through.


Lindsey likes to talk in code. She sets the vase of irises down onto the overbed table. The mushroom cloud of purples block my view of the hospital room except for the visitor space on my right where an anaemic-pink armchair sags against the wall. She takes a seat on the edge of the cushion. A nurse attends to her routine of adjusting the pipes, tubes, and bleepers that keep me fed, watered, and alive. Soon it will be just Lindsey and me.

‘Your brother’s a fighter, he is’ I watch the brunette nurse from my paralysed perspective; her smile is comforting, stretching into her crinkled eyes. ‘Really inspirational chap, isn’t he? Read all about him in the papers’ She looks over the irises to my sister. I blink twice, trying to catch her attention with my eyes, her hand extends across my chest to twist the vase around. ‘That’s better’

No it’s not .

‘Like a saint’ Lindsey takes my lifeless hand in her cold one and copies the nurse’s smile in her own bland, unsatisfying type of way.

‘Aww’ The nurse is pretty but not when she’s acting. She doesn’t need to act, I’m a witness too. ‘Well, I better be leaving the pair of you to it then’ A nod to Lindsey, a wary look to my slack face and she exits the room, leaving me in the awful company of my sister.

The door suctions shut and the room becomes a tomb of silence. I blink,

wait . An anxious click from the heart monitor pings in my ears. Lindsey swallows her nuclear smile, my mechanised lungs labour to drag a breath into my body. A thin whistle sounds as it exhales for me. I want to throw my hands at her but my muscles are frozen stiff. The way she looks at me, grey eyes filled with half pity, half envy. They slink over the collection of ‘get well soon’ cards on the dresser, the tubes, and back to my elastic face. Livid with the signs of care in the room.

Why are they not at all directed at her?  There is a sick itch eating away at my sister like a parasite extracting sweet jealous nectar.

‘Not so handsome now with those burns, are you?’ We make eye contact. A memory of her white face in the black plumes of house fire smoke assaults my mind; the aftershock of a scream, dad’s limp arm aflame on the floorboards.

Bitch .

She takes out a cigarette and a lighter like a Bond villain, ‘You mind?’ I blink twice,

Yes . Could she get more

pathetic ? ‘Perfect’ A grin. She adjusts the blinds to the glass overlooking the hallway then moves to the window. I look at the irises again. Didn’t Van Gogh paint the same ones in his asylum? A gust of springtime air cools my face; an indirect, unknowingly granted gift. Lindsey returns to her seat. ‘You missed their funeral, not much to bury though’

She flicks the lighter. A searing pang of hatred lights my throat ablaze, I feel my face grow hot again. I wish my pain was a noxious gas that would leak from my pores and poison her, make her skin blister and eyes melt from her sockets.

The flame dies and her cigarette is still unlit, drooping from her lips. She takes my hand again and this time positions the lighter in my fist so that I’m holding it with her support. With my thumb, she forces me to light it. She puffs, my hand drops over the side of the bed, the toasted scent of fresh nicotine floats over my head.

How I want to pull out these tubes and suffocate her with them .

‘Cheers… I brought your favourite’ She motions to the vase.

These are mothers favourites, not mine. She would’ve been celebrating her 60th in twelve days. They are too bright and sickly as if the petals were moulded from cheap fondant. Sweet enough to choke me. Irises, springtime, April. A month of pastels and plastic things. I think of cheap yellow chicks on dry cake and hollow eggs. The irises are the senile colours that old women wear; jaundice yellows and purpura purples, insipid pinks and vapid blues.

My eyes follow hers, she flicks her cigarette and kicks the ash away. Her foot catches on something and there's a rustle as she picks the item up. It’s a newspaper, a blown-up image of my college portrait takes centre stage on the cover. The title reads ‘House Fire Leaves Model Son with Life-Threatening Burns’. Like looking into a mirror that shows you a better, dated version of yourself I’m reminded of how much I’d taken for granted. Lindsey throws the paper to the corner of the room, she scoffs. What could she possibly be mad at? She broke the boy in the newspaper that she resented, now she’s jealous that he’s broken and still made the front page. I know to which frequency the machine of her mind operates. Her fuel is envy and greed, then greased with an indulgence of self-pity.

‘Don’t you want to scream, hit me?’

Finally got something right .

She takes the last drag from her cigarette and looks over me once again, ‘God, you were always

such  an attention seeker…’ Her eyes light up with something ferocious and she moves forward, stubbing out the butt on my arm. She looks for a reaction, there is none. I don’t dare shut my eyes. I still feel it, every pinch. ‘You don’t feel a thing do you?’ I blink,

yes I do . ‘The doctors are wrong, you’re a complete vegetable’

I feel a sense of accomplishment. Despite being locked away behind the prison bars of my skin I can still control what Lindsey knows and doesn’t know about my condition.

‘You’ve never been so easy to talk to… I enjoyed this, let’s do it again’

She collects her coat from the floor and leaves the room with a bounce of satisfaction in her step. I stare at the irises, the irises stare back at me. Locked-in and rattling my cage of bones, I am bristling and alive inside. I have something I never had before; a master's key to my sister’s thoughts. Every locked room and hidden attic of her brain is free to explore as long as she returns,

let’s do it again . I won't be paralysed forever and when I walk again, I promise to return the favour. I will make it my goal, precise, an ordered plan, no loose ends. A perfect conclusion to a putrefying plotline. Done for mum and dad; once for her, twice for him, thrice for the order of the iris.


Final Sanctuary I began looking for something special, something that I didn’t even understand, when I was a small child. My parents were not happy together, my father drank, and my mother suffered, and I sought refuge from their misery. You could find me in the hall closet, burrowed in the nest of fallen coats, attempting to hide in the solitude of the dark, cramped space. Or in the cellar among the damp smells or one of the trees that lined our property. It remained the same until I left home, me seeking shelter from their misery and failed lives. I spent most of my life in the same pursuit, often afraid I would find it and not know it. I was wrong. I thought I had found the best refuge from the angst I carried with me, when I met Annie. With her freckled nose that crinkled when she laughed, ringlets of gold resting on her shoulders. She was a walking attitude that sucked you in and made you believe, too, that everything in life was special. We married young. She died young, and I learned what she did not teach me. I learned what true grief was. After that there wasn’t any solace, no closets, or cellars for me to hide in while I suffered. So, I looked for somewhere to be. Love went on the back burner for quite a while. So did my belief in God. He let me down, so I thought, and I had nothing to live for. Then, there was that day on Omaha Beach, and I was the only one to make it to shore from our landing craft. I was the only one out of twenty to made it up the cliff of Pointe du Hoc and help take out a German coastal artillery gun. The only one from my unit that was able to go home with both arms, both legs and both eyes. God had plans for me; I just didn’t know it until I got home. I stayed in the Army, and they sent me to medical school. I wanted to do more than put bandages and tourniquets on men. I wanted to save them. I became a doctor and a surgeon and went where I was needed, in various surgical hospitals around Viet Nam. I did three tours and came home and stayed. Three tours in Nam was like a lifetime any other war. When I got home, I read about a small town in the western Tennessee, that was building a hospital. It was desperately needed in the rural area. Answering an ad in the paper, I became the first surgeon they hired. Ended up meeting this beautiful blue-eyed nurse, Janine, who had been widowed three years and was the mother of two daughters. We fell in love, married, and had a son a year later. Together we built our little fortress and it served us well. Our family became our greatest source of comfort even in the hardest times. No need for closets; we wrapped ourselves in each other’s arms and the arms of our children. We lived in that same town until she passed two years ago. I still live here. Janine and I traveled the country, saw cities we had heard of all our lives, monuments to great men, battlefields where greater men fell and received no monuments. The road took us to the majestic Rockies, the Bad Lands, and Marfa, Texas. We saw the barren deserts that our ancestors had crossed in their pursuit of their sanctuary. And were always anxious to get back home to ours. Have seen lots of things I’m glad I saw, more than enough of those things I wish I hadn’t. I was always looking for something special and every time I thought I found it, the search started again. The Northern Lights over Alaska were like seeing a piece of Heaven. What showed in the light of flares over Omaha Beach was like seeing a corner of Hell. The sun coming up over the Grand Canyon was amazing; the same sun rising through the smoke and napalm bombed palm trees was something I could have lived without seeing. A lot of men died before my eyes regardless of how hard I tried to save them. Sometimes being an Army medic was not enough. But I also brought two lives into world and in those moments, I was more than enough. I am an old man now. I spend a lot of time in my mind, remembering and sometimes trying to forget at the same time. War crawls into places in your mind and leaves marks like an indelible ink. It can cross out good and replace it with things there are not even words for. You do your best to hold your own but sometimes you lose your grip, and you end up in a place from 40 years ago. Since losing Janine, I find myself searching again for solace. The kids have families of their own and while we keep in touch with each via phone calls and video chats, each time a call ends I am reminded how desperately I miss my haven with Janine. Even at this advanced age I find myself drifting and looking for a safe harbor. A shelter to share with someone else but it is getting harder to row the boat while I seek cover. Recently a routine doctor visit revealed that the fatigue and restless sleep was more that signs of my advanced presence here on Earth. My body is revolting against me, angry at my insistence on spending so much time here. Leukemia has invaded my life blood, sapping my energy and drive but not my will to live. I knew that would no doubt come later as the fatigue increased. The aches and pains I attributed to advancing age are proving to be more pronounced and one day I will finally say “enough.” But today is not that day. Tomorrow might be but not today. I still have wisdom to impart, stories to tell, secrets to share  now that I have found my final sanctuary. Here in this sun filled room in the hospice wing, I am relieved from my search. These four walls housing my memories, tales of glory and heartbreak, have given me a true respite. Janine waits just beyond my reach, and she is patient. She knows that she is my final sanctuary.


(Write about a family who decides to camp out in the back yard during a power outage.) Bob and Margie looked at one another with a look of knowing panic! More than panic, horror actually! What could they possibly do? How could they corral these four kids in a dark house with no electronic tentacles to the outside world? The family had gathered around the kitchen table where one candle provided all of the ambient light. The family was Bob, the head of the clan and father to two sets of twins, and Margie, head cook and bandaid applier for minor scrapes, and also the mother of the kids. Then we have ten year old Buck and Oz, boys both, and eight year old girls Sadie and Sandy. They were a handful in the best of times so Bob and Margie knew this was going to be tough. Bob picks up the big metal spoon that grandma used to use for canning, and bangs it on the table top. That is always the signal that he expects quiet children who are at least pretending to listen. Bob begins with a very brief description of what a power outage is and the possibility it could last a while. After fielding a few questions from his future scientist son Oz, he goes on to tell them in his most seductive voice that he is willing to try an adventure BUT they must all agree to help and do it quietly. Here is his plan or the plan he presents. Dad will get the tent and the camping lanterns from the garage. Mom will pack a picnic style camping supper with lots of snacks and drinks. Each of the kids will find their own sleeping bags, and a comic or two and one favorite non electronic toy. Everyone will meet back here in half an hour for a night of camping in our own neighborhood! Then he gives the boys a flashlight and the girls a flashlight. He will use the lantern and Margie will use the candle. Now the question is, “Do you want to do this?” With that he has to sush a loud cheer! Ok back here in thirty minutes and dress warm! Bob has time to find the tent and set it up and also build a small campfire in the fire ring from the patio.  The kids are eagerly waiting and ready. Excitement is running high! Out they go to camp! They quickly devoured everything Margie had brought to eat. It was about this time that they were getting restless, the newness of the idea wearing off, they were beginning to squabble. Even something as unusual as sitting in a circle around a fire was wearing thin. “Ghost stories!” Dad yelled! “Yes!” Said the boys. “No!” Whined the girls, too scary! Mom said, “Let’s try something different!” “Let’s try to make up something like a story BUT one will begin, and then the next person will add a word or two on to the story, around the circle until we have a whole story.” “What do you think?” “If you want to add a bunch of words or just one word it is ok, I will try to help you out sometimes as we go along.” Oz yells out, “Ok, me first!” he said. He has a devilish look in his eye! And so he begins..

~~~~~ OZ…Park bench! Ha ha.

MOM...I am but a bench sitting near the edge of a river. It is becoming springtime and everything is changing, evolving, once frozen and sparse, now life begins again. SADIE ...yells ducks! MOM...Early morning ducks waddle by my base looking for fallen crumbs of food dropped by passing visitors or seeds thawing from the snow and ice. They chatter among themselves as they move down the shore always in search of food. DAD…a fat man (chuckle) MOM...Shortly a short man all bundled up in a muffler and coat comes by with a fat bulldog on a leash. The dog snif snif sniffing at everything he passes. Only the dog knows if he is sniffing for food or if he is just experiencing who or what has recently visited these places using his best sensing device, his nose. Both seem to be making small huffing noises as they move by. MOM...The bench would like someone to sit and visit or rest awhile. Use him, the bench, for what he has been put here for, but at this time of day, early morning, most creatures are on the move, between morning coffee and picking up the newspaper from the corner store, walking the dog or on their way somewhere. SANDY...People MOM...The voices are loud as a middle aged couple approach the bench. They are arguing, about money it would seem, their voices get louder as they reach him and luckily they pass quickly, voices fading as they move down the shore path. BUCK...Someone to sit down. MOM...Finally someone sits! An older gent, unfolds his newspaper and with a quick snap turns and folds it again to the sports section. Muttering to himself he goes through scores of games, second hand and after the fact coaching of missed plays and mistakes. If only he were young again he would show them a thing or two. Ah, but he isn’t young and before he stiffens up, he groans to his feet and shuffles away. SADIE...A girl! MOM...Now comes a pretty girl in a yellow dress. She is busy with her cell phone, what else, of course, and hums a current song while her fingers fly over the buttons trying to find a person to share some information or arrange a time or place. A quick mumbled conversation ends in a giggle so she must have been successful. DAD...More visitors. MOM...Mornings are usually like this...a passing crowd...not a resting or passive visitor, not someone or something a bench can get to know. Oh, there are always a few regulars during the day, some pleasant, some not so nice, like the older fellow who regularly raises his rump to pass gas right here on this bench.

BUCK...A Mother. MOM...A young Mother with a stroller visits often and if her baby sleeps she reads a book in the sunshine but if the baby is fussing, she lifts him out and feeds him making soothing and cooing noises. That is always nice, for the bench, folks seem to forget he is there, a witness to it all. Yes it is not a bad life, seeing and hearing bits and pieces of life. BUCK...a kid on a bike. MOM...A bicycle whizzes by and then another, they are not supposed to be on the walking path but as always happens, kids take short cuts and hope to escape detection. It is amazing the way folks move by him.

SANDY...Swans MOM...Most folks take no notice of him at all but today he thinks he will have a few “sitters”. The swan family has been active on the river for the last few days and people love to watch them, coming with a variety of cameras and wanting to freeze the moment to take home to share with family over dinner perhaps. DAD...how about friends? MOM...The bench has been wishing and waiting for a few weeks now for a regular happening in spring, young lovers, walking hand in hand, talking quietly, sitting close and often whispering words to each other he cannot quite hear but knows it is about love. If a bench could smile, he would be smiling, thoughts of the many couples who have sat here talking, remembering, planning, they are by far the best visitors. Old lovers are nice too, so much reminiscing but it might surprise you to know that old lovers are sometimes new lovers too. Having been given a second chance in the golden years they cherish the moments. Yes if a bench could get teary eyed he would do that too. MOM...Yes, I am but a park bench but I am also an observer and the things I see are marvelous, life in all forms, and I will testify that life is good! MOM...The end! ~~~~~ Margie says quickly before the mood gets active, “And now we need to figure out how to get us all into the tent without bringing in mosquitos.” “ I’m glad we already arranged the sleeping bags so we know where we are going.” Oz says, “I think we should do this once a week, I’m already making up a story about a werewolf!” “I think I could do a whole story by myself!” And so, the family may have begun a whole new tradition, family time under the stars, around the campfire telling tall tales!


The Cookie Exchange “Hey Kevon, thank you for coming,” Venia said as she opened her bakery shop door. The gentleman greeted Venia with a big grin. He came in and took off his jacket. Kevon said, “Your sign said closed. I hesitated for a moment. Then I remembered you said the shop had not officially opened yet. So you're hosting a “Cookie Exchange” tomorrow? How will that work since your the owner of a Cookie Bakery?” Venia took the mans jacket and hung it on coat holder. She held her arm out to lead him to her unusual black and gold edged counter. Venia said “My cookie exchange will be as different as my bakery. All the invited guess will bring their favorite baked cookies. I will bake my cookies tonight, using my secret ingredient. My cookies will be placed in the mix with all the other cookies. Not me, but each guess will blindly taste all the exchange cookies. After a nice cookie feast, they will vote on their favor one. The winner will be an honor guest on opening day. Their cookies will be sold. The winner will collect 100% of their sales. I will take nothing.” Kevon nodded in approval. He said, “That's an excellent ideal. You'll build a great connection with the community. Glad you invited me to see your bakery for our first blind date.” Kevon took a seat and rubbed his hand over the beautiful counter top. “Yea, this is my place.” Vena said as she poured some international coffee for her guest. “Like I said when we connected online, I still felt embarrassed. Looking on a dating site for company still feels awkward. I was not sure about you at first. So I kept our date a secret.” Kevon said, “I know how you feel. I didn't tell anyone myself. If our date goes bad, no one will know. You and I know business folks like us, have to be extra careful. So many people want to take everything you work so hard for.” Vena nodded as she took a sip of coffee. She stared at her guest for a moment. She took another long sip and smiled. Venia said, “Call me a dreamer, but I believe someone out there could be the very ingredient I need to uplift my life.” Kevon nodded. “I feel the same way. As you know I have a start-up Accounting business. I am so glad to see someone is till interested in start-ups. It seems the only way to build real wealth these days. Tell me about your bakery.” Venia came from behind her counter. She carefully pulled off her colorful apron. Venia said, “Lets start with this apron. I designed this picture when I was a young girl. Twelve years old in fact.” Venia proudly laid her apron on the counter top. She said, “Its my original drawing of this bakery. If you look closely some lines are not straight. I kept this in my dresser drawer. I believed one day it would happen. I had the picture printed on all my aprons.” Kevon said “So you were always a visionary?” “Oh yes! I was determined to create a unique taste. It had to be different. I needed a new tasting cookie. I was always in the kitchen coming up with different flavor cookies.” Venia paused as she look out of the window. The sun was barely picking through a large gray cloud. It started to rain. The street lights began to click on. One by one the lights brighten up the street. Venia said, “A year of ago, I put my life savings into this place. Even tho I was short on my main unique ingredient, got my license to open. I gathered all my recipes. Brought this place, and all you see in here. I should have been nervous but I wasn't. I am here. I am ready. My Cookie Bakery will open tomorrow.” Kevon gleamed. He said in excitement, “So show me around!” Venia quickly wiped the counter. She said “Just what I was wanting to hear. Come on back let me show you the kitchen.” Both of them walked thought the steel double swinging doors. Inside it looked like a professional kitchen. Metal center island. Multi double ovens. Industrial appliances. Large colorful mixers, and blenders all around. Venia said, “Were hitting it off well for our first date, don't you think?” Kevon touched her shoulder and smiled. He said, “I'm glad I came. Your much prettier in person than over the internet.” They both laughed. Venia said, “How about you and I make some cookies together?” In excitement, Kevon untied his tie and rolled up sleeve. “OK whats first?” Venia pulled down some bowls and open some maple drops. With her handy white towel, she pop him on his thigh. She said, “Hey, my handsome helper can you go through that metal door by those stairs and grab the brown flour on the very top shelf?” Kevon grim, “Why sure boss. I'll get it and be back in a jiffy.” Kevon eagerly walked to the door and went in. Kevon yelled back. “Hey where is the light, its dark in here!” Venia yelled back, “Go in a bit more and you'll see a large bright orange button on the left side. Push the button and the lights will all pop on.” Vena quickly ran to a lower cabinet on her right side. She bent down and reached way in. Venia stretched in as far as she could and in pulled a lever. The metal door Kevon went through slammed! Immediately Kevon yelled in agony, “Help me, Help!” Vena ran over to the metal door and locked it. Kevon's voice quivered with horrible screams. The air was filled with cries and painful moans. One last time Kevon screeched out a horrible yell, “Noooo!” Then there was silence. “Crunch. Crunch. Grinding, then mixing sounds came from the room. After a few minutes Venia ran downstairs. She opened up a concealed panel, and went inside. Up against a low ceiling wall there was a spout. She grabbed a jar and pulled the lever. Substance filled her jar. When it was full, she twisted the cap tight. Venia did a little dance as she made her way up the stairs. In the man kitchen, Venia opened the jar and took a long whiff. She went over to her center island and prepared her batter. She scooped out a tablespoon of the textured substance from the jar. “Just a scoop will do.” She tasted her mixture. “Hum, so tasty. A winner for sure!” Venia hummed as she stirred in some added in flavors. She spoon her dough on the cookie sheet, and placed it in her warm oven. Twenty minutes later she pulled them out and tasted her cookie. “Now that I have more of my secret ingredient, I'm ready for opening day!” Lupe Fuller email: lmfday@hotmail.com


It was the Christmas of 1936. I docked from S.S. Emerald and found myself roaming about the roads of Middlebourgh—a town secluded at the south of West Sussex and had long preserved the customs of the old fashion. The ringing bells and the exciting carols of the children heard on the doorsteps of the wooden cottages were a reminder of the holidays of which I once cherished in Middlebourgh. For me, it was a stroke of luck that my intentions were not to return but to settle a will reading with my family.

If only Daddy listened to my advice towards that diminishing health of his, perhaps this urgent demand for my presence wouldn't curse me with much fright and agitation. I was, however, encouraged by a hope for substantial inheritance to at least exhibit a friendly smile. At quarter to ten, I took a carriage to the Chevrolet hall, the home where my childhood flourished. On the doorstep of the hall, I saw Ms. Orchid Elliot. She was the head of Daddy’s maids, deemed excellent in fulfilling her duties. She took my hand as I alighted.

“You’re a lady in a fine fettle, Lilith Dear—”

The wind struck suddenly and as suddenly, died away.

I stumbled on the snow, clinging onto my pillbox hat.

She stood me up with a soft chuckle. “And one who hadn’t changed a bit.”

I played with the fingers of my left hand that was concealed with a glove and doing so nearly shed me a sweat. I gave my pleasantries to Ms. Orchid thereafter. “Please make yourself comfortable, Lilith Dear,” she said. “Do you fancy a cuppa?”

I nodded.

Ms. Orchid opened the doors for me. I was about to step inside when continuous blaring noises, apparently from a Cadillac, sounded at the gates. The driver of the vehicle had round scarlet lips, auburn hair styled into curls, shades of black, and on her hand, a tobacco pipe.

That woman, though reckless in nature, was my sister, Elise Chevrolet, and was the oldest among us siblings. “Do hurry, will you?” she told the gatekeeper.

“I see your sister keeps well too,” said Ms. Orchid. Elise skidded her vehicle at high velocity and stained the markings of her wheels on the pavement.

She ceased in front of us, put down her shades, and looked at me with crinkled eyebrows.

“Has Father gotten himself a new maid before he died?”

I rolled my eyes and teased her with a frown.

“Oh, yes.” she snapped. “Little Lilith. Still can’t say boo to a goose, can’t you, eh?”

I shrugged.

A man with a bowler hat, six foot two if I were to assume, exited the front doors and called our names. His beard and mustache were those of Van Dyke. I couldn’t get who he was at first, but soon realized he was my brother, Cillian Chevrolet. Unlike us, he didn’t leave town and stayed with Daddy until his final days.

I hugged him abruptly.

“Why, how’s life in the Netherlands, Lilith?”

“Lovely,”

He tensed his tone and aimed it at Elise. “And you, Elise? What have you done for the past years? Father and I heard of your scavenger hunt. Chasing men, I suppose ? ” “That’s where you’re wrong, Cilly.” she put on her shades and drove away. “It’s the men who chase me.”

“I wouldn’t wonder if Father cuts that swine out of the will,” Cillian said. “An irresistible creature with no guilt at all — that’s what she is.”

I couldn’t hold my soft giggle.

“Come on inside, Lilith. Maxwell and Juliette await you at the sitting.”

“Mr. Ed-Edward?”

“Oh yes. He’s been here since dawn.”

My other siblings, Maxwell and Juliette, welcomed me with their flattering smiles. With the solicitor and some tea at the sitting, we went with the customary ways of getting along after centuries of being separated. I was proud of Maxwell as he was now a doctor and to my sister, was saddened upon hearing her recent divorce. Elise later joined but didn’t say a word. She was too busy contemplating me with a smirk.  At a segment of our chatter, my sight dimmed and everyone in the room but me vanished into the air. I peeked at the window and saw day becoming night, winds severing into gales, and the falling snow turning into rain. Confused, I stood and walked about.

A shadowy man emerged from the sitting. His face slowly became clear.

“Daddy!” I screamed with utmost joy and noticed he was seated on one of the red couches, looking rather sick and tired. I cuddled Daddy, but he didn’t reply as if I was the ghost, not him. I tried moving his arms but could only touch Daddy and even if that was my sole ability in this strange scenario, he couldn’t feel any sensation.

I then jerked and went to a far corner seeing he had a pistol in his right hand. "Daddy?” said a lass. She entered the sitting holding a stuffed unicorn. It made me smile as that girl was my younger self. Another girl walked in. It was young Elly. She hid behind my back with a somewhat unhappy expression.

Daddy replied with his cavernous voice: “It's past your bedtime. Why are you both awake?”

“Where’s Mommy?” Elly asked.

Daddy paused to a great extent, and then an outburst of tears wet his cheeks and reddened his eyes.

“She’s gone,” he murmured. I woke up from what I thought was reverie. Elise and everyone else returned.

At half-past eleven, we gathered for the reading at the round table in Daddy’s study. I recalled the days Daddy would work with his typewriter while I would lie on this very desk, reading a book and listening to Mommy’s violin. We were once a joyous family until Mommy passed. Without her, no music fluttered the air, no energy stimulated the house. The solicitor coughed. “Shall we begin?”

“If you’re ready, Mr. Edward,” said Juliette.

Mr. Edward tore the seal off the will’s envelope and commenced the reading. It ended with Cillian inheriting all of Daddy's fortune, properties, and estates. The solicitor also reported to us that Daddy's supposed will was surprisingly changed on behalf of his dire request only a week prior to his death. If it weren't for that, Maxwell and I would originally possess all of what Cillian owned now. Maxwell placed his fists on the table. “Poppycock! Father wouldn’t do that.”

“Cillian,” Juliette said calmly, “Did you coax father to do this?”

“No.”

His reply hung above us for a little while and then made its way out the window and flew with the snowflakes. Juliette and Maxwell leaped into their defense and argued with Mr. Edward. Elise, however, only had a gaze locked on Mother’s ship bottle displayed atop one of the shelves. I gave no interest in the conflict either, although deeply, I was upset. Cillian was in disbelief too. He was frozen.

“Are you sure about that, Mr. Edward? His signature wasn’t plagiarized, or any sort of that matter? It doesn’t do justice. Especially to Dear Lilith. She did no wrong to deserve this,” said Juliette. Mr. Edward flung his shoulders.

"It's all perfectly true." Maxwell knitted his brows on Cillian. “Now playing the guilty party?” “Maxy, might that be too harsh?” Juliette tried calming him. “You heard what Cillian said. It’s not his fault. Father did it because he wanted it to happen.”

“He treated Mother and Father as if they were ready to be thrown out to the rubbish,” he sat with a palm on his forehead. “Mother wouldn’t allow this.”

I must confess my brother’s outrage had a few points I could agree with. Cillian, at his young age, was an unruly boy. He was Daddy's favorite as I was Mommy's. Our father even sewed a multi-colored robe just for him.

“What now?” Elise whispered, gnawing her nails. “Murder Cillian?”

“Sometimes I wish to put my dear scalpel against his neck and just slit it open.” "Gracious, Brother! You're going too far with your inanities," said Juliette.

“What will wounding him gain you?” Elise walked from her chair and halted in between the gap of the doors. “Satisfaction? Anyway, I’ll be heading straight off to London.” “So, you’re going to skip Father’s funeral just like what you did to Mother’s?” said Maxwell. Elise tipped her cloche hat and continued her way out.

Maxwell abandoned us inside the room and was followed immediately by my other sister, perhaps to make certain he was alright.

I laid myself on Cillian. He wrapped me in his arm and rubbed my shoulder with eyes on the vast portrait of Daddy in front of us.

“Such a charming, innocent, woman, you are, Miss Lilith.” Mr. Edward tidied the desk. “How come you haven’t married yet?”

“Mother prohibits her unless she’s twenty-six,” said Cillian.

“I see.” He took his suitcase from the floor. “I do wonder why your Father would make a bold move. He often spoke of you to me, so it seems you’re fond of him.”

 Ms. Orchid knocked timidly on the doors. We informed her that the reading was finished and since it was, she offered Mr. Edward to have lunch with us, but he couldn't agree because of his appointment with the barber. Ms. Orchid called a carriage for the solicitor instead. Cillian cupped his chin in the palm of his hand. “I’ll join you in the dining later, Lilith.”

I nodded.

“I’ll be in my bed if you need me.”

“You’re not going to have lunch yet, Mr. Cillian?”

“No, no, Ms. Orchid.”

I wandered about the room for a moment and whilst wandering, I came across Daddy’s furnace. On the black charcoal wood was a torn parchment labeled with two peculiar words: From Elise.

My sight dimmed again.

“Burgundy!” A voice, that of a man, yelled and nearly pushed a scream out of me. It came from behind. I looked back and a woman with a fine shape, eyes of amber and hair of black, walked into the study. She met me with ignorance and walked through my body as if I was invisible. I recalled the name Burgundy a myriad of times and later remembered it was the nickname of my mother. I was worried about Mommy as she seemed distressed and infuriated. She continued her way to the mantel of the furnace, unzipped a case, and then brought out her violin.   My father followed.

“Burgundy, listen!”  Mommy ignored him and began playing her violin. She increased the volume of the instrument the more my father spat gibberish at her face.

This response of hers deteriorated Daddy’s patience. Daddy grabbed her instrument and Mommy tried to reach for it but her strength was of no reliability, thus, her violin ended up being fed to the inferno.

Mommy, wailing, collapsed to the carpet and watched the wood of her precious Stradivarius burn into ashes. Daddy was suddenly aware of what his actions had led him to. He froze and stared at Mommy.

“There’s nothing!" my mother yelled. “There’s nothing I can do. It’s all over—it’s done. I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do.”

Their argument arrived at a minute of calmness.

“This is the last call. You will agree or—" “Abortion or not, I can't do anything about what I did. It’s better to raise—" Daddy was maddened. He pulled Mommy from the hair and dragged her out of the study. I wanted to help, but I winded up giving her a mere touch. She was dragged along the hall of the second floor. Young Elly and I, watching them from our room's door, perceived the pleas for mercy from our mother. From the study, I saw Elise bending further, clinging to the door.

We were seen by our Father, but he didn't mind and instead went on with pulling Mommy. “Look, Lilith!” Elly said and pointed at Mommy.

My younger self gasped.

“Where are they going?” Elly took my hand and delivered ourselves outside the bedroom.

Young me resisted and showed her the time on the clock. “Come on! It’ll only be awhile. The maids are asleep. They won't catch us.”

Ms. Orchid spoke, snapping me back to reality.

“And you, Lilith? You must be starving.”

I convulsed to a jolt and flashed a smile. “I’ll be at the dining once I finish cleaning this room. You go ahead.” I was the earliest to arrive at the table with silence keeping my company. I suffered in deep thought with fear for Cillian. Witnessing Maxwell and his jarring dialogues left me anxious, however, his words appeared short in genuineness to me.

Elise and Juliette came at half past noon. They were quiet until Juliette sparked a conversation. “Could Father really want this?”

“He wouldn’t cut us out for fun. That’d be absurd.”

Juliette snared. “You’re one complex lady, aren’t you, sis? Whenever it’s positive, you’re negative about it and vice versa. You deserved to be cut off.”

Juliette paused and looked at the fingers of her right hand. “Maybe I—Maybe I do too, but Maxwell and Lilith?” “Cillian’s Father’s favorite child. Do you recall the robe Father gave him?" "You should be content, sis." "Who blabbers about the will?" Elise turned to me. “About you, Lilith? What are your opinions?”

I shrugged.

“You ought to speak more often. Feels like I’m being watched by a ghost.”

From the back doors of the kitchen, Ms. Orchid entered and dusted her apparel.

“Why, where are your brothers?”

“I’ve just lost track of Maxwell. Maybe at the lake. How’s Mr. Edward, Ms. Orchid?” said Juliette.

“Took a long time for the carriage to come. But he’s on his way back to Endbourgh. Hopefully.” “I was just at the lake,” Elise chimed in. “Neither Maxwell nor Cillian were present there.”

“Room.”

“Room? They're in their room?”

“Cillian,” I said to Juliette.

She launched herself up the stairs. In a matter of seconds echoed a scream trailed with waves of hiccups. It aroused us three. The three of us went to the second floor. Before Cillian's door was our sister, deeply rooted beside a sculpture of Escamillo from Bizet’s opera. She tried to withdraw but dread remained her intact.

I took a peek at Brother’s room and was paralyzed by drastic shock. Cillian was on the carpet. Tears clouded my vision as I gripped Elise’s dress. In my sorrows were a blend of rage because of Maxwell's presence. I cleared my eyes a dozen times, yet still, there he was, sitting inside with fists clutched on a knife and a shirt now damped with Cillian’s blood.

“Does this make you proud, Brother?” Juliette hissed.

Maxwell had no reply. He trembled.

Ms. Orchid ran to the other room to phone the station. Elise threw away my grasp and walked down the stairs with poise. I followed her with the slightest pace so as not to be caught.

She weaved herself through the kitchen and traveled to our lake at the back of the hall. She ceased to the fore of the waves and threw snowballs to the water.

 I expected to be successful in my approach without her gaining any suspicion, but then she stopped and didn’t say a word.

I went closer to Elise and stood by her. We both looked at our reflections cast on the gentle current.

“You.” she snuffled, “You ought to get back inside, Lilith.”

Her eyes were carmen and her voice was croaky.

I disapproved of my sister’s order and cuddled her in efforts to deliver her warmth and comfort by virtue of the horrendous scene. Seeing Cillian’s body must’ve touched her soft spot.

“No,” she pushed me aside and turned her back on me.

“Elly?” “Go inside now, Lilith,” she said strictly and took out her revolver. “You wouldn’t want to see this.” I was appalled. I ran to grab it but tripped inches from her.

She pointed the gun at me. “Lilith, inside!” Her index on the trigger twitched.

“Elly?” My voice quavered.

Elise exhaled and pointed the gun away. She picked up a snowball and shot it at the dense woods.

“I did,” she murmured, “I did it. I knew from the start that Cillian would have everything. I couldn’t hold myself and had to attend the reading. He may be a chimp, but isn’t he the only one who accompanied Father till death? Juliette, I,” she chuckled lowly, “Even you... You... avoided him. I know that Lilith.”

My lips quaked. I threw buckets of snow at her to express my fury. Even if I saw how irked she was, I didn’t stop.

She slowly turned back to me with her gun to my stomach. “You think you’re so innocent, Lilith, just like what people say you are? The woman who cares for everyone? One thing you failed to realize—”

I stopped. “Is what you hide underneath those gloves of yours.” I lifted my hands, positioned them before me, and looked at them without awareness of what she spoke of.

“Don’t play dumb.”

She grabbed my wrists as I tried to grapple, yet my grand attempts were impotent against her might. My gloves slid out and there she and I gazed upon what I kept secret from my family for years—my wedding ring. “Indeed, I knew, and I had to write to Father. You can never stay clear from the papers, Lilith, no matter how discreet you and your duke is.”  I was devoured by an inner consuming blaze and couldn’t help but to drown her in my rage. We pulled each other’s hair, inflicted scratches upon each other’s faces.

We heard the sirens ringing in the front yard and Juliette scouring for us in the house, yet we both ignored them. Then, Elise above my body, a thunderous bang was set off. My lower abdomen burned and fire clustered in it.

Her shadow shook me and repeatedly called my name. Her voice was becoming deeper and blurred.

My sight dimmed for the third time, and probably the last. It transformed into night and was stormy like the first two. I looked to my left and saw our parents covered in mud meters away from us. Our mother shrieked and shrieked, protecting her stomach while struggling to escape Daddy above her. "Please! I beg of you," Mommy said breathlessly. "I can't—I can't breathe, Lawrence." Daddy was deaf. He hurt her at the behest of jealousy and his utmost aggression that worsened until he decided it was time to end Mommy for good. He took out his pistol and aimed it at Mommy but conscience thought better, hence changing his plan. Instead, he dragged Mommy once again and to the wharf he brought her. My Father tied a heavy stone with a rope and tied the other end at Mommy’s feet. After a slight hesitation, however, moments before he disposed of our mother, Daddy realized Mommy was no longer uttering a word nor feeling any pain. She went silent. "Burgundy?" Daddy whispered, shaking her. I looked at the Hall — blood still flowing in me — and spotted young Elly and I just staring out the window, watching Daddy lament on Mommy's breast. We were witnesses to a crime we could’ve attested to. How stupid of me and Elly to stay quiet. If only the sun came and swept away the thunders, we would be at liberty to step outside — blind to fear that cripples. The curtains of memories furled. I did my best to have a glimpse at Elise one last time. “I didn't— I didn’t mean to,” Elise mourned. “Lilith, Lilith, I’m sorry — ” I closed my eyes, and then she spoke: “The ordeal is finished.”

There was stillness… And after that came another bang.


Mindfulness vs. Mindlessness The room is a cool green, minty, or aquamarine, a colour which encourages the atmosphere of comfort and relaxation which, I believe, because I am told, is central to any mindfulness therapy. We are told to close our eyes and think about our bodies in relation to the chair, the floor, the ceiling, the window; anything really, except the other people in the room: those others (why are they here?) whose eyes dart about, who shift uneasily, who avoid eye contact. We are asked to imagine that we are walking beside a river, to imagine the sound it makes and the effect that this has upon us. O.K. A river...erm.. 'sparkles'. No. That's what water looks like when the sun shines on it. We are supposed to be thinking about walking beside and listening to a cool, gently- flowing river...and nothing else. This is the essence of Mindfulness. I surreptitiously glance at my phone and look for 'noises water makes'. Google obliges. ' A brook or stream or river babbles or ripples or even burbles. 'Burbles'... The word 'burble' was first used in the 1300's, and it probably comes from an imitation of the sound a rippling, bubbling brook makes.' I look up and catch a grimace (not a frown, just a glance of quickly-hidden disapproval) from our therapist, and I guiltily slip the phone back into my pocket and close my eyes...concentrate. On not concentrating on anything. Why didn't anyone tell me it's hard, really hard? I have been sent here to write an article for a magazine about natural health. Apparently, mindfulness is the key to lowering stress levels, getting to know our pain, connecting better, improving our focus, and being kinder to ourselves. Mindfulness may lessen the emotional experience of pain.... If you find, as many of us do they say, that you are 'stuck' in a cycle of wanting things not to be as they appear to be, you can realize that now is the time for you to be kind to yourself, to love and accept yourself. However, acceptance does not mean that you have to be happy all the time, that you have to become a hedonist and abandon your principles. You need to be willing to see things as they truly are in the present. You need to be open to and accept whatever you are feeling, thinking or seeing. This is the way forward, towards healing, and growth. I reach for my phone again (how am I going to get through this hour?) This time I type (in my pocket. Very proud of this skill...) 'How does mindfulness help?' The answer: 'With the correct application of mindfulness, specifically, the connections between the fear-responsive amygdala and rest of the brain weaken, while those between the emotionally-regulating prefrontal cortex and rest of the brain are strengthened......these changes suggest that mindfulness lessens reactive and fearful responses and enhances thoughtful appraisal of events .” But...aren't “reactive and fearful responses” useful survival techniques? When a giant hyena, a cave bear or cave lion or even a giant, predatory kangaroo loomed, burbling and slathering, out of the prehistoric mists, wasn't it precisely these responses (namely fear, followed by running away) that ensured the survival of the species homo sapiens? I drag myself back to the present. I do my best to be present. I'm perfectly willing to give it a try, if all I have to do is think about nothing but the noises a river makes when it burbles. However, I never dreamt it would be so difficult. Actually, I have never, to my knowledge, had any mental health issues. I'm just a little bit proud to state that I thrive under stress. Stress (such as that which is put upon a violin string) tones the mind, instead of letting it get flabby through under-use. I don't really get the part where you are supposed to think of nothing. When a thought comes into your head, you are supposed to accept it courteously, then let it go. One wonders...Why? 'Mindfulness is the basic human ability to be fully present, aware of where we are and what we are doing. Apparently, the ability to be 'mindful' is something we all naturally possess: we just have to tap into it, suspend judgment, approaching our experience (of nothing?) with warmth and kindness to ourselves and others. 'To be fully mindful, we need to learn how to disregard what is going on around us. You are being mindful when you bring awareness only to what you are directly experiencing through your senses, here and now.' Plucking up all my courage, when we are invited to share our first experiences of the practice of mindfulness, I venture a question: “Erm, excuse me … but is it not a little... er, mind-numbing? And, I might add, impossible? I can't think of 'nothing'. Nature abhors a vacuum.” Our mentor fixes me with a crinkly-eyed and disciplined smile, and responds with the tiniest hint of condescension (or is that the impression just 'me', I ask,.. a trick of the mind?) He answers. “Might I say that our next session will lead us towards the power of meditation Meditation is a close relation of, or, might I say, a descendant of mindfulness. It is exploration. It is not a fixed destination. Your head doesn’t become vacuumed free of thought, totally undistracted. It becomes a special place where every moment is momentous, every consequence has consequences, every event is eventful. When we meditate, we venture into the workings of our minds: our emotions, our sensations, our thoughts. For example, we take time to pause and breathe when the phone rings instead of answering it. Today, we have taken the first steps towards this freedom from the oppression of the apparently urgent...” I suddenly feel ashamed and convinced of the sincerity of our crinkly-eyed mentor. He is genuinely helpful to many of those who hide their sadness in our complicated and perplexing world. I thank him, and, clutching my phone, I gratefully plunge out of the room, the silent room, into the vibrant world of bustling, noisy, multicultural and cosmopolitan London: resilient, aggressive, kindly: a world of museums, rivers and bridges, boats, birds, concerts, cakes and ice-cream. I decide to experience, directly, through my senses, here and now, all that is on offer.


"Don't try Blake. What's done is done." I argue, wiping tears away from my face. "Alex. You're not li-" "It's clear as day! You cheated on me. At least own up to that." I shout, flicking some stray ginger hair away from my face. "Alex. I didn't cheat." He deadpans, running a frustrating hand through his brown hair. I hate myself for thinking he looks amazing. "I caught you redhanded Blake." He rolls his eyes. "Maybe if you listened to what I had to say." "You want me to listen so I can get my heart broken? Is that it? For you to tell me it's nothing, or maybe that I got it all wrong?" I screech. "You do have it wrong." "Yeah, I do," I mumble, "I had you wrong all this time. You're not who I thought you are." He groans. "Alex, I love you." "Yeah, it looks like it." I grab the heels the girl left on the floor and shove them at Blake's chest. "I hope you had a swell time." I snarl. He scoffs. "I didn't want her to walk around the house with shoes on. I know you hate it when I do that." "How nice of you to think about me when screwing someone else!" I accuse, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't screw around with her." "Yes, you did!" I accuse, dropping the heels to the floor. The heels are Louboutin's. She must be rich. Why am I even jealous? Anger flares in me. "You can pack your stuff up and get out." "And where am I supposed to go? This is OUR house and I haven't done anything wrong!" He defends, his green eyes darting between me and the door. Is he expecting her to come back? "I don't care where you stay. I think the streets are calling your name anyway." He chuckles.  "You're always jumping to conclusions. I can't believe that you immediately thought I was cheating on you." "Are you trying to gaslight me?!" I accuse, jabbing at his chest. He catches my hands swiftly and drops it back to my side. "I'm not doing anything. I'm trying to get you to notice how insecure you are." "How insecure I am? Gee, how am I supposed to feel when a stunning blonde babe walks out of OUR apartment?" "I get where you're coming from but-" "But what Blake? What are you going to say?" "But... I didn't cheat. I'm telling you I love you." "And I love you. But, you've broken my heart." He groans. "You are beautiful. I only have eyes for you which is why-" "Which is why you cheated on me?" I bawl, tears crawling down my face. My nose instantly becomes blocked and I breath through my mouth. He holds me in his strong, muscular arms. The scent of mints drifts through my stuffed nose, mixed with the smell of expensive cologne. I sob into his chest, annoyed with myself for letting him comfort me like this. Annoyed that he's seeing my cry over his stupid mistake. "I didn't cheat on you. She was here because-" His phone blares on the coffee table. We stand still and silent, the sound of his heart beat in my ears. I pull away and glare at him. Anger curses through me when I glance over and see 'Amber' on the screen. "She's calling you? I bet she's trying to ask if you got rid of me." "Alex, calm down. God, you're so beautiful." I blush at the compliment before realising what's happening. "Don't. Why the hell did I fall for that?! Don't you dare try and distract me. Calling me beautiful isn't going to cut it." "Alex. We've been dating since we were 15. This is 10 years of a relationship. Do you really think I'd throw it away?" No. "Alex?" "No." I finally answer. He wipes at my face. "Will you finally listen to me baby?" I nod and follow him as he leads us over to our cream couch. The fake fireplace cackles menacingly in the background. I turn towards him and let him take hold of my small hands. He holds them up to his mouth, kissing my ring finger before putting our hands down in between us. "Explain yourself." "O-" "But before you do, just know that if I feel like you're making me look like an idiot, I'll slap you and leave." "Such a feisty redhead." He muses. I glare at him even though a small smile slips out. "Blake, stop wasting time and explain." "Amber is a jeweller." "Seriously? Is that your excuse? What was she jeweling? Your arm. Maybe in between your le-" He cuts me off by pressing a finger to my mouth. "Shush. She's someone I called to make an engagement ring and she just happened to deliver it today." I gape at him, my eyes widened in horror. I shouted at her and practically chased her out of our apartment. It's almost laughable. He pulls a box out of his back pocket and I still. "Will you do me the honour of marrying me?" He drops onto his knee and holds my hand out. I burst out laughing. This will be a story for everyone to hear. 'How'd you get engaged?' someone would ask. I'd reply saying: 'I accused him of cheating with the jeweller who came to drop the ring off. I chased her out the house and almost kicked Blake out, all for him just to get down on one knee. It's romantic right?' "Blake. I don't know what to say." I mumble. "Yes?" He offers. "I don't think I could possibly say yes after how I acted." He slips the ring onto my ring finger. I hold my hand out in front of me. Diamonds are embedded around the outside of the ring with a rose gold diamond in the middle, stealing the spotlight. The ring truly is amazing. "Do you like it?" "I owe Amber a thank you and a huge apology. It's beautiful." "I'll call her back here." Before he can grab his phone, I take hold of his hands. "I'm sorry. You're right, I instantly accused you without getting to know the full story. I guess I really am insecure." "It's alright. It was funny watching you get possessive over me and kick her out." I grimace. "I really did lose my cool. I love you." "I love you." He pecks my lips lightly and presses down on my stomach. "Maybe you can call Amber tomorrow." I offer, unbuttoning his shirt. "I guess Amber can wait..." He lands a kiss on my nose. "I love you Blake."


“It’ll only hurt for a second. Really! See that picture?” I turned to look and said “Where?” That’s when the nurse jabbed me. “Oowww” was the only thing I could think to say. But her skilled hands made the procedure so quick that it really didn’t hurt at all. I instinctively went to rub my arm and she stopped me. “First things first” she said with an accent that could only come from the West Indies, and she had a small bandage over the puncture. Then she sat back in the examination chair, crossed her arms and looked at me with an expression of haughtiness. “I told you it wouldn’t hurt.” “You said it would hurt for a second.” She turned her eyes to the side in thought. “Oh yeah, I did. Oh well, it still didn’t hurt, right?” I had to admit, it didn’t hurt at all. But I wouldn’t tell her that, especially as she made my twenty five years seem old next to her. I just rubbed my arm and pouted. Nurse Cahill had rolled her chair to the counter where my record lay. She picked it up and opened it. “Ok Mr. Nunce, you’re done here” she said as she made a few notes. “Oh, uh, ok. Ummm, yeah, see you next time I guess.” “Oh, no, this is the only shot you need. You’re completely done.” Her lilting voice coming out of a face that looks more like she just got out of school than been through med school did not sit well, but she was the nurse. “Ok, then thanks.” I stood up a little too quickly and became dizzy. I reached for something to hold on to when the nurse reached for me. “Careful Mr. Nunce. The shot can make you dizzy. Sit down for a second, please.” “Yeah, sure” I said as I regained my seat. “I think it was just because I got up too fast. I”ll be alright.” “Even so, I want you to sit in the recovery area for ten minutes. You don’t want to be driving right now. After ten minutes I’ll come check on you and if you’re fine I’ll let you leave, ok?” She felt his forehead and his cheeks while she talked. Such small hands. They were so tender and warm, like a mother’s hands. The look of her made her talents as a nurse seem weird, like he was getting this attention from his baby sister. Any minute she’ll say “Look at that” while pointing at his shirt. And when he looks down she’ll flip his nose.

“Ok, but then I have to go.” “Why, what’s the rush? You don’t like me?” “I do, I mean I have a date. That’s why I’m here now, to get this over with so that I have plenty of time to get ready.” “Ooooh, ok” she said. “She must be pretty special then. Don’t worry, I’ll have you out of here pretty quick.” She pulled back the curtain hiding us from the rest of the pharmacy and pointed to a few chairs not far from the med-booth. They were against the wall near the pharmacy counter. I got up, slowly this time, and took a few steps. The moment I was out of the booth the curtain closed behind me. All of that motherly attention ended right there and then. I sighed, and made my way to the seats. Sitting down, I realized I was directly next to the condom aisle. Like I needed these ideas in my head right now. Actually, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a few back-ups. Something to think about while I’m sitting here.

But I have to be subtle, I guess. After I give Jerry the ring I guess anything could happen. She might decide to jump me right there. With her parents there and everything. I hope the restaurant is ok with that. I had to laugh at that, which got the attention of the clerk and a lady two aisles over who peeked up like a meerkat to see what was happening. “Sorry, I was thinking of a joke” I said to them both. The lady snorted her nose and went back to browsing the antacids. The clerk smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up.

I sheepishly looked down at my lap to hide my embarrassment. And I called the nurse weird, while I’m sitting here laughing at myself like a crazy person. It’s time to focus on tonight.

Ok, run the checklist. Ring? Check. Reservations? Check. Did I tell my roommates I might be coming home with company? I pulled out my phone and checked the text messages. Wait, who’s Molly, and how’d she get my number? Oh right, this is Chuck’s girlfriend and he needed to use my phone after his died. Why is she still using my number though? That’s the last thing Jerry should see if she gets a hold of my phone. Oh wait, focus, did I? Yes, here it is. Chuck sent me a thumbs up emoji while Peter sent, what is this? Some sort of gif. I clicked on it and heard the sharp snap of a whip. Ughhh, really? He’s still going on about me being whipped. Anyway, they both got the message and..what the…? The sound of the crash was sudden and caught me off-guard. It came from the front, through the front door. I jumped from my seat, not knowing if I should run or take cover. That’s when it hit me, and everything went black… “Hey” Who was that? “Hey”. “You ready?” Huh? Who was this guy? “Ready for what?” “For what’s next.” Of course I was. I was going to propose to my girlfriend. But who was this guy? “Yeah, I just have to take care of something first.” “No wait…” “It’ll only hurt for a second. Really! See that picture?” I turned to look and said “Where?” That’s when the nurse jabbed me. “Oowww” was the only thing I could think to say. But her skilled hands made the procedure so quick that it really didn’t hurt at all. I instinctively went to rub my arm and she stopped me. “First things first” she said with an accent that could only come from the West Indies, and she had a small bandage over the puncture. Then she sat back in the examination chair, crossed her arms and looked at me with an expression of haughtiness. “I told you it wouldn’t hurt.” “You said it would hurt for a second.” She turned her eyes to the side in thought. “Oh yeah, I did. Oh well, it still didn’t hurt, right?” I had to admit, it didn’t hurt at all. But I wouldn’t tell her that, especially as she made my twenty five years seem old next to her. I just rubbed my arm and pouted. Nurse Cahill had rolled her chair to the counter where my record lay. She picked it up and opened it. “Ok Mr. Nunce, you’re done here” she said as she made a few notes. “Oh, uh, ok. Ummm, yeah, see you next time I guess.” “Oh, no, this is the only shot you need. You’re completely done.” Her lilting voice coming out of a face that looks more like she just got out of school than been through med school did not sit well, but she was the nurse. “Ok, then thanks.” I stood up a little too quickly and became dizzy. I reached for something to hold on to when the nurse reached for me. “Careful Mr. Nunce. The shot can make you dizzy. Sit down for a second, please.” “Yeah, sure” I said as I regained my seat. “I think it was just because I got up too fast. I”ll be alright.” “Even so, I want you to sit in the recovery area for ten minutes. You don’t want to be driving right now. After ten minutes I’ll come check on you and if you’re fine I’ll let you leave, ok?” She felt his forehead and his cheeks while she talked. Such small hands. They were so tender and warm, like a mother’s hands. The look of her made her talents as a nurse seem weird, like he was getting this attention from his baby sister. Any minute she’ll say “Look at that” while pointing at his shirt. And when he looks down she’ll flip his nose.

“Ok, but then I have to go.” “Why, what’s the rush? You don’t like me?” “I do, I mean I have a date. That’s why I’m here now, to get this over with so that I have plenty of time to get ready.” “Ooooh, ok” she said. “She must be pretty special then. Don’t worry, I’ll have you out of here pretty quick.” She pulled back the curtain hiding us from view and pointed to a few chairs not far from the med-booth. They were against the wall near the pharmacy counter. I got up, slowly this time, and took a few steps. The moment I was out of the booth the curtain closed behind me. All of that motherly attention ended right there and then. I sighed, and made my way to the seats. 			Sitting down, I realized I was directly next to the condom aisle, again. Like I needed these ideas in my head right now. Actually, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a few back-ups. Something to think about while I’m sitting here.

But I have to be subtle, I guess. After I give Jerry the ring I guess anything could happen. She might decide to jump me right there. With her parents right there video taping the whole thing. I gave them a heads up so they know what to expect. I just hope they can keep a secret. I laughed, not really knowing why but the impulse was there. I caught the attention of the clerk and a lady two aisles over who peeked up like a meerkat to see what was happening. “Sorry, I was thinking of something” I said to them both. The lady snorted her nose and went back to browsing the antacids. The clerk smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up.

I sheepishly looked down at my lap to hide my embarrassment. And I called the nurse weird, while I’m sitting here laughing at myself like a crazy person. It’s time to focus on tonight.

Ok, run the checklist. Ring? Check. Reservations? Check. Did I tell my roommates I might be coming home with company? I pulled out my phone and checked the text messages. Oh look, it’s Molly, Chuck’s girlfriend. Why is she still using my number though? That’s the last thing Jerry should see if she gets a hold of my phone. Oh wait, focus, did I tell them? Yes, here it is. Chuck sent me a thumbs up emoji while Peter sent, what is this?. I heard the sharp snap of a whip when I clicked on his message. Ughhh, really? He’s still going on about me being whipped. Anyway, they both got the message and..what the…? The sound of the crash was sudden and caught me off-guard. It came from the front, through the front door. I jumped from my seat, knowing I should take cover. That’s when it hit me, and everything went black… “You ready now?” That guy again. “Look, I don’t know what you want but I have an important date coming up and I don’t need you bothering me right now, Ok?” “That’s just it. You no longer have that date. You’ve passed.” “Passed what?” “Passed on. No longer part of the world. Moved onto the next plane of existence. Deceased. Dead.” That caught me by surprise. I didn’t feel different, so how could I be dead. “You’re kidding, right? This is just a prank. Wait, where’s the camera?” “It’s not a prank. Sorry.” I thought about that for a second. Something didn’t make sense. And who was this guy? “Ok look, a car lost control and crashed through the front door. DO you remember hearing the crash?” “Uh, yeah.” “The car hit the cosmetics shelves and just happened to send a jar straight at you. I think it was concealer. Anyway, its aim was true, and it smacked you right in the temple.” “Wait, I was on the other side of the store, way in the back.” “I know, right?” “No, not right. I was way in the back!” “A million-to-one shot. It happens.” “No no no, you just wait a minute! I’m supposed to meet my girlfriend later so that I can propose. This can’t happen now!” “Propose, really? Wow, this has got to suck.” “Screw you! I need to take care of something then I’m off.” “No, wait…” “It’ll only hurt for a second. Really! See that picture?” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, just do it. I have to go.” Her skilled hands made the procedure so quick that it really didn’t hurt at all. I instinctively went to rub my arm, but instead said “Oww.” “First things first” she said with an accent that could only come from the West Indies, and she had a small bandage over the puncture. Then she sat back in the examination chair, crossed her arms and looked at me with an expression of haughtiness. “I told you it…” “…wouldn’t hurt, yeah, yeah, yeah. I have to go now.” Nurse Cahill had rolled her chair to the counter where my record lay. She picked it up and opened it. “Ok Mr. Nunce, you’re done here” she said as she made a few notes. “Ok, then thanks.” I was about to stand up but stopped. If I did, something would happen that would keep me here. Just play it cool. “Mr. Nunce, I want you to sit in the recovery area for ten minutes. The vaccine can make some people dizzy and I want to make sure you’re ok to drive before I let you go, ok?” Dammit. “Ok, but then I have to go. And it’s not because I don’t like you. I have a date. That’s why I’m here now, to get this over with so that I have plenty of time to get ready. So where are the seats?” “Ooooh, ok” she said. “She must be pretty special then. Don’t worry, I’ll have you out of here pretty quick.” She pulled back the curtain hiding us from view and pointed to a few chairs not far from the med-booth, against the wall near the pharmacy counter. I sat down on one, the same one, and remembered the condoms. Yes, I should definitely get some. There was something I had to do first. Oh yeah, laugh out loud. But what if I didn’t? Would anything change? Would the woman browsing the antacids even notice me? Would I care? I laughed at that and tried to catch myself but it was too late. There’s the snort. Oh, and the thumbs up. Cool, now all that’s left is the check list. Ring? Check. Reservations? Check. Did I tell my roommates I might be coming home with company? I pulled out my phone and checked the text messages. Chuck’s girlfriend, check. Sharp snap of a whip? Check. Wait, what’s about to…? The sound of the crash was sudden and caught me off-guard. It came from the front, through the front door. I jumped from my seat, not knowing if I should run or take cover. That’s when it hit me, and everything went black… “Hey, you’re back!” This guy again. “Can you please stop interrupting my evening. Can’t you see I need to go? All I want is to marry the love of my life but you keep bringing me back here. Is this funny to you?” “No, it isn’t” “Then let me be! I have a future to plan.” “That’s done. You’re dead. I can’t change that.” “But all I have to do is…” “No, don’t do that again!” “But…” “What you’re doing is re-living your final moment. It won’t send you back to her. It’ll just keep repeating and repeating, your own little private hell, and try as you might to change the outcome, it won’t happen. Ever.” This gave me pause. I didn’t want to believe this person, but I couldn’t deny that every time I went back I still wound up here, in the darkness. Futility began to creep it’s way into my consciousness, as did the sadness of loss. I was, we were, going to be so happy. “Jerry…” “She’ll be fine.” “Without me?” The first time the voice paused. At last, It showed that it didn’t know everything. “I’m sorry for your loss, really, honest and truly. But we have to go, or you could get stuck here.” A pause, then “You ok?” With a quieter voice I answered, “No.” “Will you come?” “Yes.” Great. It’s this way.” “Ok.” I sighed, heavily. All the good times I would miss. And Jerry. Who would look after her? “C’mon, it’s this way.” “Ok, just let me take care of something.” “No, wait…”


I WAS THE LIAR WHO WON “Get your ass over there!” I shout at my comrades, as the enemy starts to creep in. I turn my attention back to her and watch the blood pool around her lifeless body. The thick, dark crimson blood that filled her entire being. I kneel beside Robin and look at her horror-stricken eyes, the same pale green eyes, that would watch me jealously, as I kissed a girl I did not love. I shut her eyelids, not wanting to feel the pain over her death all over again, and stand up.

“Get rid of the body, now,” I hiss at a man passing by and he nods. “Yes, Lieutenant Seyton,” He salutes and I tuck my gun back in its holster, before creeping out of the battlefield, leaving behind the body of Robin Whitmore.  I smile as I race up the building’s stairs, I’m close to being reunited with the ones that I lost. I unlock my apartment door, hoping Camille won’t notice Robin’s disappearance. I think about it for a hot minute, then forget about it, Camille won’t care, she’s a selfish woman. “Cami, I’m home!” I grin widely as I push open the door and the girl flashes me a pearly white smile. “Lear!” She cries and hugs me, pulling me close. “Woah there,” I smirk, “Someone’s excited to see me,” and Camille laughs. “You’re a darling, Lear Dear,” She gives me a mock pout, “I was just so lonely! Being by myself is no fun,” She takes my hand and pulls me over to the couch, “It’s okay now that you’re here with me,” She kisses my cheek before collapsing onto the sofa. She sighs, running a hand through her long, wavy auburn hair. “Do you ever just…” She begins before closing her mouth and shuts her eyes. “Do I ever just…?” I prompt, and keeping her eyes closed, she continues. “Do you ever wonder if this war is going to end? I know it’s only been two weeks since we’ve had a brutal fight like this… but how did our world become so divided?” I blink, Camille’s never been a thinker, I guess we learn something new every day. “I’ve never really thought about it,” I admit, the gears in my head are turning. I’m going to have to kill Camille… but can I do it? I shot Robin with no hesitation because she was already dead. Just an empty shell of a body, walking with no true purpose. “That’s alright. A topic for another day then, I suppose,” Camille whispers before pressing her lips against mine. She crawls closer to me, sitting in my lap, and I desperately wish it was Robin sitting before me. But Robin is dead. The two of us sit there for a minute or two before I stand up. “Hey, we should get something to eat,” I remind Camille and she nods. We make our way into the kitchen in silence. Something in our dynamics has changed, is it because Robin isn’t home? No, that can’t be right. This has to be something else. Camille pours hot water out of the kettle and she stabs the noodles, as they begin to go soft. “Where’s Robin?” She murmurs under her breath, surprising me. “I didn’t think you cared, Cami. It doesn’t matter where she is,” “Well, I do care Lear. I know you love her more than you love me,” I look over to her in disbelief, “You’re not the only one who hides their true feelings, Lear,” She continues in her angelic-like voice that could send me to sleep if the horrors of my past didn’t keep me up at night. “I- What? What do you mean?” I ask, without having to fake my curiosity. “You heard me, Lear. I know you pretend you love me, I know you would choose her over me any day, and I also know that you’re a fucking traitor.” Camille digs her hand into her back pocket, pulls out a gun, loads the trigger and aims it at my face. “Why did you kill her, Lear? I saw it from the window, you idiot. You thought you could get away with shooting someone on our side. You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? Saying you hate people on the opposite side, who try to kill us when you’re the Lieutenant for the opposition, and you kill people like it’s normal. Doesn’t it hurt? To know that you are the reason someone is no longer living.” I let out a hysterical laugh, doubling over, this girl is a joke. “I don’t want to shoot you, Lear, don’t tempt me,” “Well, then the feeling’s mutual. Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” “Ah, so I was just eye candy to you. Thought as much,” “I’m serious Camille. I don’t want to shoot you,” “And yet you shot the love of your life? My sincerest apologies, but I don’t believe a damn word that comes out of your mouth,” “You think you know everything, but you wouldn’t understand,” I hiss and then it’s her turn to laugh. “I wouldn’t understand?!” She cackles but without humour. “You’re funny Lear Dear. Hilarious. I shot my brother because at that moment, I thought it was the right thing to do. You know what Nicholai said when I put the gun to his temple? He said he was glad. GLAD. That I was shooting him, and that I did him a favour because he had no more will to live, and I couldn’t stop him. I watched my parents rip each other’s throats out and I witnessed my sister sacrifice herself because she thought she was doing it for me. So cut the crap, Lear. The only thing I don’t get,” She pauses, her hand not wavering the slightest as she keeps the gun aimed at my head. “I don’t understand why you became a traitor just to kill Robin. Why the Hell would you think shooting your ‘crush’ is a good idea?!” I turn away from my opposition and pull my gun out of its holster.

“Who’s the hypocrite now? You shot your brother and I shot my lover. Looks like we’re on the same plain now. However, I did what I had to,” I mutter and raise my arm, both of us a second from shooting each other. I blink, lowering my gun, “I’m not going to kill you, Camille. I shot Robin because I loved her. Because there was nothing left of her, she was empty, like she didn’t have a soul. It hurt to see her living like a mess every day. So I suppose you could say I did her a favour,” Cami puts down her gun and slurps up some noodles. “Wow, threatening,” I announce in a deadpan voice and she throws a fork at me. “It would be so easy for me to shoot you right in the heart, but I have decided I might shoot your mouth so you can shut up. We both declared we weren’t going to attack each other. If you’re keeping your word, then I can eat my noodles in peace, is that okay with you Lieutenant?” She scoffs, before continuing to eat. “Fine, but when we’re both on the battlefield, I might not spare you,” “Duly noted. Now, if we’re going to live in this same apartment, you better watch your step,” She adds before taking her cup and continues to eat her food, eyeing me up and down from the couch. Thoughts race through my head. We both know the truth, I am a traitor and I killed Robin. And I don’t regret it, not when her life was living Hell. And now… well, now I’m watching Camille eat her lunch, which is oddly perplexing when seconds earlier, we had guns pointed at each other’s head. “Camille,” I suddenly speak up, breaking the silence. She sets down her cup of noodles and looks at me, her eyes daring me to go on. “We’re not going to talk about Robin again, okay? And on that matter, we’re not going to talk about all of this. Otherwise, you leave me no choice, I will shoot you as I did to Robin,” “You’re an idiot, Seyton. Although, we can’t have everything. Life isn’t fair even to those who deserve it,” “Are you implying that you’re worthy of life’s fairness? Last time I checked you committed homicide when you shot your brother. That doesn’t sound pretty fair to me,” “Your idea of ‘fair’ is distorted and very different from mine. So you can stop talking now,” She demands, turning her back to me, and I take that as a cue to leave her alone. If she keeps going at this rate, she’ll piss me off so much I will have to kill her. I storm off to my room, pulling out my phone and scroll through my last messages with Robin. There’s a lot of teasing and joking around but I can see how half-hearted the conversations become by the end. A pang in my heart forms and I sit up, I’m going to do as much as I can to win this godforsaken war.

Robin used to love counting the days since special events. And if I’ve done my maths correctly, it’s been five weeks, twenty-two hours, sixteen minutes and a few seconds since this war started. It was a small rivalry first. The Emperor of the East, Heath Smythe-Lockridge and the Emperor of the West, Algerone Rothschild weren’t always merciless Emperors. It was the classic best friends turned enemies over jealousy, who fought for the same woman. Their descendants were now the rulers on the throne, and the citizens were caught right in the middle of it all. I had been born and raised in the East, but it was a general from the West who told me I could avenge my family. I had known they were manipulating me, they had just wanted to convert as many Easterns to fight with the West. Now I'm too far in, I can't escape the life I set out for myself. And for what? To see Robin again? Even Camille knows it's impossible. I shot my best friend and the love of my life for something no one could give me. I put my phone down, and look out the window. I've made my decision, I've already decided to betray my side, but now I'm going to pull a reckless feat. I'm going to sabotage the side I joined, and make up for all the lives I ended. Even if Camille doesn't believe I've decided to turn a new leaf, then so be it, I never needed her approval anyway. Sabotaging the Western side is stupid and reckless, but the only thing I can do to end this war. Not only is it the only thing I can do, but it’s also probably going to be my last. ~ I rub my eyes wearily, it's easy to say I'm going to sabotage the West, but planning it out and doing it is going to be a lot harder. This is how it's going to work. Phase One is to exterminate the first group of soldiers, as Lieutenant, I know some of the patrols’ locations and times. Before the changeover, I'll plant the small supply of grenades I have left, in that area. Once I pull out the pins, it'll only be a matter of time before they go off. And once they do, the soldiers will be killed, if any of them happen to live, I'll shoot them before they can call for backup. The explosion will no doubt catch other guards' attention, so then I'll move onto Phase Two. The next round of soldiers will send some of their men and leave their station. They'll rush over, but by then, I'll be gone. Once their station is unguarded except for a few men, I'll shoot them down. Phase Three starts then. I've already written a note to Camille, telling her and some soldiers from the East to go to the open area. The place will be defenceless since the soldiers will be dead. That is their chance to rush the Western’s temporary base, leading to a win in that zone.

What am I going to do after that? Turn myself in. Robin wouldn’t have wanted me to roam free when I knew I'd committed treason and several crimes. No one on this Earth would want me to run free. I spend the rest of the day organising my plan, making sure all my timing is correct and refining my methods. Camille doesn't bother me, but at some point, I hear the door to Robin’s old room slam, and after that, I hear crying. Not that I can do anything to help her, since I'm the reason for her tears. Not when she’s living with the man who killed several of their people. The Eastern Empire would never let me get away, they'd probably kill me, but that's fine with me. As long as this plan succeeds, I'll be fine. Until then, Robin will have to keep waiting for me a little longer. Early the next morning, I pack all my things together, knowing this is the last time I'll be in my apartment.

“I’m sorry Mum. I'm sorry I broke my promise of being the best I could be. I'm apologising to you too Dad. Even though I never listened, even though I had the best teacher right in front of me, I ignored you. I'm the most apologetic to you Robin Whitmore. I never lied, you know, I did it all for you. I knew you couldn't cope with it any longer, I saw the pain in your eyes every day once your mother died. I regret that I never told you I loved you.” I whisper, my eyes closed before I open them again and quietly shut my bedroom door for the last time. Gathering all my supplies, I leave the note on the kitchen counter and softly close the door. I mutter a goodbye to my home and run down the building’s stairs, to finish what I started. In five minutes flat, I make it to the right location and wait two minutes and thirty-nine seconds before pulling out the grenades’ pins. I hide behind the rubble of the building; my timing is nearly perfect as the soldiers walk right into my trap. I cover my ears with the muffs and watch the sky blow up, stone, blood and dirt going everywhere. Phase One has been completed, and no one has survived. I rush onto Phase Two, racing to the second station, carefully slipping through the shadows of the buildings. When I’m halfway there, I stop, and hide behind a wall, hearing the soldiers race to the explosion site. I smirk, I was right, they sent half of their team, leaving five men in the base. I continue to run towards the base, pulling out my gun, shooting as I run. One down. I hide behind an overturned car, before firing again. Two down. I pick up a stray piece of metal, throwing it at two of them, and while they’re distracted, I shoot them both. Four down. The final one sneers at me,

“Well well well, the Lieutenant is a traitor… whose side were you on, Seyton?” I don’t reply, firing right at his heart, and he crumples the ground, body limp.

That’s Phase Two complete, and I let out a laugh. I’m already onto Phase Three, it won’t be long before Camille arrives, and I’ll turn myself in.

“Lear! What on Earth is going?!” I smile, say her name and she will come.

“I’m surprised you read my note,”

“What do you mean you’re surprised? I find a note with my name on it, of course, I’ll read it,” “Oh, right. Well, you know what to do,” is all I say, and the soldiers from the East start rushing in. They infiltrate the Western’s base, taking down the tents and any soldiers in their way. The men from Phase Two have returned, but they’re shot dead instantly, with no time to fire or call for help. “Lear Seyton, you have helped us a great deal” I turn to one of the general’s of the East, knowing what is about to come. The battle for today is over, which means so is my freedom.

“However, you are a traitor. We cannot confirm your intentions, nor can we say you are innocent or guilty. We are putting you under arrest, no retaliation or-” “Ok, let’s go,” “Pardon?” “Let’s go. I was planning to turn myself in, so here I am. Do you want to leave now?” I hold my hands and wrists out, and someone snaps some handcuffs over them. “Wait, Lear, why are you doing this?” Camille pushes her way over to me, and I shrug, “I suppose it was the right thing to do, Robin would hate me for it so…” “Oh, right. It was nice knowing you Lear, well, the nicer part of you anyway,” “The feeling’s mutual,” I reply, Robin’s voice echoes in my head, the first words she had ever said to me, as they take me away. “You know Lear, I think you’re someone who’s going to go far in life, whether that be good or bad, but in the end, you’ll give into good.”