They had finally done it. Earth Space Agency, the only and most powerful space agency on the Earth in the year 2121, had finally discovered a way to travel faster than the speed of light. They could now travel to faraway places never known to mankind. They could explore everything. All the possibilities were open and today was the day when they were finally going to run their first faster-than-light ship. The ship in theory was perfect. Today was their first flight to test it. They had previously tested it using bots, it worked fine. But today, it was gonna be a human. Also the bots were never sent out of the solar system. But today’s destination was a planet far out in the unknown universe. 10 planets were shortlisted for the destination and this was the one selected. The name? RS-210 The information about this planet was not known much. The only thing that was known is they had received a signal from the planet and that alone was enough to select the planet. The people to be sent were a team of 5 people. It consisted of three men and two women. Captain Mark was the commander. Joe, Philip, Laura and Sansa were the rest four. At the launch site The four crewmembers had a talk with their families for the last time before launch. All of their families were very sad but the crewmembers assured them that they’ll surely return. They had so much faith in their ship. One by one all the crewmembers boarded the ship. The ship’s was then locked and the launch processes were initiated. Captain Mark checked all the ship stats and assured the control centre. The control centre then checked all other things and the countdown began. 3…2…1… and boom the ship took flight and within a fraction of a second, they disappeared. The journey was about 5 minutes long. Wait, what did you expect? A view of the flight? C’mon it’s faster than the speed of light. The whole world waited for 5 minutes staring at the counter on their screens. Each and every soul on Earth waited for 5 minutes. 3…2…1 The counter came to and end. The silence for the first two-three seconds was like never before seen. All the people looked at the screens, at each other but did not utter a sound. “Flight control, do you copy.” “Yes, Captain Mark congratulations.” And suddenly the whole centre burst out in joy. They had successfully did their first faster than light flight. “What do you see Captain?” “I see a beautiful red planet. Looks much like Mars” Slowly the captain moved the ship towards the planet and somewhat tried to circle the planet, observing it from all sides. They began circling the planet but as soon as they reached the other side of the planet, the crew fell silent. “uhhh, flight?” “Yes captain?” “We might have a problem here” Saying this, the captain, relayed the visuals to the control centre and suddenly the control centre was dead silent. What the crew was seeing was a humoungous ship, nearabout 100 times the size of their own. It was all illuminated with bright lights. It was the same doughnut shaped colony concept that we had been trying to make. It was a colony. A alien colony. There were capsules flying all over and around it. The crew was just awestruck. They couldn’t believe their eyes. Slowly the Captain tried to move his ship around, but suddenly there were two drones coming their way. They were small drones, about the size of a bucket. They looked way more futuristic than what we had here. The crew didn’t move an inch. The drones approached the ship. They came nearer and nearer. It turned out that they weren’t normal drones. They were able to travel through things. The drones straightaway entered the ship and flew to the crew members. One of the drones went to Mark and slowly a headset came out of the drone. The drone instructed him to wear it. Similar headsets were provided to each crew member. After that, the drones just floated in midair. They didn’t move at all. The crew members were puzzled. Captain Mark immediately relayed the audio the the control centre so whatever the audio is gets to Earth. Suddenly the headsets starting playing a recording. The audio quickly reached Earth and was played at the control centre. It was instantly telecasted to all T.V. Channels too. The whole of mankind was listening to the same audio at the same time. It was a pre-recorded clip. It lasted for exactly 3 minutes and 32 seconds. Every person sat still. The crew had a puzzled look on their face after the clip ended. The control centre guys couldn’t believe anything. The drones took back the headsets from the crewmembers heads and started going back. After a few moments, the Captain looked at all the members and simply closed his eyes for a minute. “WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!” The captain shouted. “I peed my pants after seeing the drones and this is what they give us, huh?” “This is gonna get a billion views man!” the alien teenager said. “Yes Rickrolling the inventors of rickroll whole civilization at a time.” The other replied.


“*GAH!* Not again!” Grumbling, the Beast removed a smoking, charcoal-black rectangle from the oven. He slammed the ceramic oven tray heavily onto the marbled counter, pulled the polka-dot oven mitts off his large paws and flung them across the kitchen in a blind fury, where they almost hit a passing servant in the face. “Everything going alright, your Highness?” the servant squeaked, picking up the discarded mitts. “Beth is getting impatient for her dinner.” The Beast growled in frustration as he clumsily leafed through the chunky recipe book, tattered and yellowed with age, that had been sitting on the counter. “I don’t *get* it, Lucy,” he muttered. “I just don’t *get* it. I did everything the recipe said. *EVERYTHING!”* The last word was almost a roar, and he slammed the book back down on the counter, startling the maid several steps back. “Fry the onions. Simmer the tomato. Bake in the oven for forty minutes. And yet…” He thrust a paw at the burnt mess sitting on the counter. “Does that *look* like a lasagna to you?” Lucy coughed a little from the thick smoke that hung in the air. “It doesn’t look *that* bad.” “Would *you* eat it?” “No, your Highness.” “Then it’s a failure.” He heaved a sigh. “I’ll never break this curse. I’ll be stuck as this ferocious, hairy thing *forever.*” “Oh don’t say that,” said Lucy, a sympathetic look on her round, pink face. “You’ve still got three days.” “*Three days!”* the Beast roared, making Lucy flinch. “How can I get that woman to compliment my cooking in *three days?* She’ll never eat this. She didn’t even like the oatmeal I made her this morning, and that was my best work yet.” “Oh, that reminds me, I’m almost done scraping the burnt bits off the oatmeal pot, so you should be able to use it again tomorrow,” Lucy said. “Oh, *joy,”* the Beast muttered. He slumped down at the large table, burying his large furry head in his paws. “It’s no use, Lucy. There’s just no pleasing her.” Lucy softly patted him between the ears. It was a bit like patting a dog—a very sad dog that didn’t know how to cook. “We could always get her drunk,” she suggested. “Bit of extra wine with dinner. Everything tastes better when you’re sloshed, believe me.” She began to chuckle, then stopped, blushing self-consciously. “It’s no use,” the Beast muttered. “You remember what the witch said. It has to be a *genuine* compliment on the quality of food I’ve prepared.” He banged a huge fist down on the table. “Of all the women I could have picked to break this stupid curse, why did I have to pick the *food critic?”* \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ The Beast was in his armchair by the fireplace when Lucy came in to the living room later that evening, after having brought tea and toast to Beth and apologising for the lack of dinner. He was gazing despondently at the oil painting on the wall across from him which depicted a handsome, golden-haired young man grinning smugly. Lucy had paused at the doorway, silent as a mouse, unwilling to intrude. “Come in, Lucy,” he said, somehow detecting her presence without turning around. Lucy had grown used to this sort of ‘sixth sense’ he now possessed—it was a bit like how dogs knew who was at the door because of their keen sense of smell. Except it clearly wasn’t a keen sense of smell, otherwise he’d be able to smell his cooking burning. “There’s no point, Lucy,” he said, as Lucy drew closer. “I can’t possibly learn how to cook in three days. I might as well get used to this.” Lucy took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to give you these before, your Highness,” she said, “because I was worried you’d be offended. But now… well, I don’t feel I have much of a choice.” “What are you talking about?” said the Beast. Lucy placed two books on the end table next to him. He glanced sideways at the stack, then, curiosity piqued, picked one up. “*Cooking for Dummies?”* he read. He looked at the second one. *“Cooking for Idiots?”* “And if those don’t work…” Lucy hesitantly handed him a third book. “There’s this one.” *“Cooking for Complete and Utter Nitwits?”* the Beast’s furry brow wrinkled in confusion. “But I don’t understand. I don’t *think* Beth is a Complete and Utter Nitwit… although she certainly acts like one.” Lucy swallowed. “No, erm, you see… the titles refer to the… the…” “The what?” said the Beast impatiently. “The person who’s… *doing* the cooking, your Highness.” She gulped. “You.” The Beast was silent for a very long moment. Lucy’s heart hammered. She had never insulted the prince before. He was going to tear her to shreds, she was sure of it. Suddenly, he roared—with laughter. He laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks. Lucy, rather taken aback, managed a nervous chuckle. “Of course!*”* he managed at last. “Of *course*! All the recipes I’ve tried so far were written for people who’ve got a clue what they’re doing! No wonder I’ve failed. This, my dear Lucy, is *exactly* what I need!” *\~\*\~\*\~\*\~* “Zero out of five stars,” said Beth, placing her fork down. “You’ve barely even *tasted* it,” growled the Beast from the other end of the long dining table. He’d woken at dawn to pore through (well, paw through) *Cooking for Dummies,* and the recipe for perfect scrambled eggs had seemed easy enough. “I don’t need to finish the whole thing to know they taste like burnt rubber,” said Beth, turning up her nose at the yellowish-grey blob on the plate. “They do not,” grumbled the Beast. He took a spoonful himself, but couldn’t remember how eggs were meant to taste, and has no idea if Beth was in fact correct. “The eggs are fine. You’re just snooty. Nothing pleases you, not even the meal I slaved over all morning.” “I am *not* snooty!” Beth snapped, glaring down the length of the table. “It’s my *job* to be critical of what I eat, even if it is prepared by a dog.” “I’m not a dog,” the Beast growled, pausing to dislodge a flea from his left ear, “I’m a *beast!”* “Same bloody thing!” said Beth, standing up. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend to like your bad quality food. I’m going for a walk.” She left in a huff and headed for the door to the unkempt garden, no doubt looking for an escape route (she wouldn’t find one—it wasn’t that easy to break through to the Outside). The Beast was left alone in the enormous, empty dining room. He sighed and brought the recipe book out of his coat pocket, glaring at its bright, glossy cover. He threw *Cooking for Dummies* in the bin \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ The salad he made for Beth’s luncheon had been a limp, soggy affair, with a ‘zesty’ vinaigrette that tasted like a mouse had peed in it. Beth had given it one out of five stars, only because “it wasn’t burnt”. The Beast had remained in his seat long after she’d left, pondering how someone could possibly burn a salad. Perhaps it was something a Complete and Utter Nitwit would do, he mused. He threw *Cooking for Idiots* in the bin. The spaghetti and meatballs he made for Beth’s dinner were no better. The meatballs all coagulated in the pan to form one enormous, formidable meatblob that looked like the alien monster from a low-budget science fiction film. He threw *Cooking for Complete and Utter Nitwits* in the bin. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ That night, after Lucy had given Beth her supper, she did not go down to the living room, but went straight to bed. It broke her heart to see the Beast so glum every evening, and after the events of the day he was sure to be gloomier than ever. He’d been such a proud, smug little man before the curse, she remembered. He’d been picky with his food, too, like Beth. He even used to give the meals a rating when he’d finished. She bet he and Beth would get along marvellously if he was human. She lay back on her pillows and lost herself in reverie. Imagine if the Beast became human again, and he and Beth fell in love! She’d surely forget all about being kidnapped and being forced to eat his horrible cooking, once she’d laid eyes on his handsome face and golden curls. All the household staff would come back, too—the staff that had fled on that stormy night when the curse took hold—and the old ruined house would be full of life again! Her fancy popped like a bubble when she remembered that there were only two days remaining before the anniversary of the curse, when it would be stuck forever—his birthday. That night, he had turned a starving beggar woman away from his doorstep, not wanting to ruin the mood of his big coming-of-age party. That beggar woman had turned out to be a witch. Of *course* she bloody had. Honestly, sometimes Lucy felt like she was a character in one of those stupid fairytales. Why did that witch have to pick on him, of all people? All young men were like that, weren’t they? Caring only about themselves, not giving a toss about some ratty old woman on the doorstep, begging for scraps? There wouldn’t have been a scrap to *give* her, anyway. He’d already eaten all the frozen pizza. He hadn’t known it was frozen pizza, of course—had he known, he would have turned his nose up at it, the way Beth had at her eggs that morning. It had been a little joke amongst the kitchen staff. His Highness, so picky with food, had devoured that cheap frozen meal, claiming it was the best thing he’d ever eaten. The laughter down in the kitchens that night had soon turned to shrieks of terror at the menacing creature that had lumbered frantically down there to hide his hideous new form from his terrified guests. She thought again of the witch’s curse that had echoed through the halls that night, muttering the lines to herself in the dark. “With thine own hands, prepare a meal…” Lucy sat up in bed, beaming with excitement. “I’ve *got* it!” \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ “So you’re telling me,” said the Beast, raising a skeptical, furry eyebrow, “I don’t need to actually *cook* the food? Just *prepare* it? Why didn’t you tell me this before?*”* “I only thought of it last night,” explained Lucy, tending to the sizzling bacon in the pan. “And besides, you heard the curse as well as I did. You could have looked for a loophole too.” “You’re right,” he replied, in considerably better spirits this morning after Lucy had told him her idea. “And besides, it’s not as if I need a lot of time to make this work. Surely just one meal will suffice.” “I hope so,” said Lucy. “Here, plate this up. Make it nice and presentable. Remember: toast first, then bacon, then egg, then the hollandaise sauce.” She gestured to each pot and pan in turn. The Beast’s clumsy paws were, however, not designed for assembling breakfasts, and the result looked less like an Eggs Benedict and more like an earthquake at brunch. Lucy hid her dismay as she surveyed the plate. “I suppose it will have to do,” she said. “Besides, it’s the taste that’s important. I’ll wake Beth, shall I?” \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ “Zero out of five stars for presentation,” Beth announced. “Oh, come on!” snarled the Beast. “It’s not that bad. Besides, who cares how it looks? What are you doing to do, take a photo of it?” “I usually do,” said Beth primly. The Beast refrained from rolling his eyes. “Just taste it,” he urged. “I worked very hard to *prepare* it this morning.” Beth eyed the plate critically, and sighed, poking it with her fork. “Oh, all right. If you worked *so* hard to—*eek!”* She shrieked suddenly, her fork flying out of her hand and landing on the floor. “What *now?”* “There’s a *hair* in it!” Grimacing, Beth pointed a manicured fingernail at the intruder. “Right there. In the sauce.” Sure enough, there was a long, ruddy brown hair, coiled up in the hollandaise sauce. “Can’t you just eat *around* the hair?” *“No!* I’m not going to eat something with dog hair in it. It’s unhygienic.*”* “It’s not *dog* hair,” growled the Beast, insulted. “It’s *my* hair!” “Same thing,” muttered Beth, getting up and storming out of the dining room like she did at every meal. The Beast groaned in annoyance. He had been so close! Of course he had to go and get a hair in it. He was always shedding these days; he really ought to have been more careful. There was still lunch and dinner, after all. And tomorrow. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ “Just grab a sprig of parsley from the herb garden and put it on top,” Lucy had instructed, after checking for stray hairs in the steaming bowl of pasta carbonara that the Beast had just scooped. “You do know which one’s parsley, right?” “Of course I do,” he replied coolly. “I’m not a Complete and Utter Nitwit.” Evidently he was, because Beth turned her nose up at the meal. “I do *not* eat coriander,” she announced. *Coriander. Dammit,* thought the Beast. He should have swallowed his pride and let Lucy see the herb first. “Just pick it off.” *“No.”* Beth pushed the plate away with finality, and arose for her afternoon walk. This time, however, she paused by the door and glanced very briefly in the beast’s direction with an odd expression. Then she was gone. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ Dinner was Lucy’s famous seafood risotto. She hadn’t made it in a very long time, but it had been one of the prince’s favourites. Lucy had watched as the Beast stirred the last of it and carefully ladled it into the bow, checking meticulously for stray hairs. So far, so good, he thought, watching Beth down the length of the table. For one thing, she was *eating.* Her face was impassive as she chewed. Occasionally, she glanced up from her plate and met his eyes with a thoughtful expression. Finally, she scooped up the last mouthful of risotto. The Beast couldn’t believe his eyes. She’d finished the whole meal, and hadn’t complained once! Beth hesitated. “It was good,” she said. The Beast pricked up his ears. “Good?” “More than good. Absolutely delicious,” said Beth. “Best thing I’ve ever eaten.” This was it, the Beast thought, standing up and inadvertently knocking over his chair in excitement. They’d *done* it! Beth had finally given him a genuine compliment on the quality of food he’d prepared! The curse was broken. He’d transform back into a human any minute now. Any minute now… He frowned, looking down at his enormous paws. They didn’t show the slightest sign of changing into the smooth, slender human hands he once had. In fact, he didn’t feel very different at all. He glared up at Beth. “You’re lying.” “I’m *not!”* she insisted. “It really was the best—oh, alright, you got me.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat. “I’m sorry. The texture was like glue and there was too much salt.” “Then why did you tell me you liked it? Do you *pity* me?” “No,” said Beth quickly. “No, of course not. I just… well, on my walk today, I was thinking… I *have* been rather snooty. You’ve been working so hard on these meals, after all, and even though they’ve all been *terrible…* you kept trying. The last two even showed some promise.” She smiled encouragingly. “I didn’t want you to give up.” “It’s too late,” said the Beast quietly, turning and walking away. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ “Didn’t *like* it? Didn’t *like* my famous seafood risotto?” Lucy furiously scrubbed Beth’s plate in the kitchen sink down in the servant’s quarters. “Too much *salt?!* Texture like *glue?!”* The Beast, seated at the large wooden table, shrugged. “Oh, well,*”* Lucy sighed. “We’ve still got tomorrow. I’ll make something simple. There must be something…” “Forget it,” muttered the Beast. “It’s no use. Everything we’ve tried has failed. This curse is truly unbreakable.” “Oh, please don’t say that,” said Lucy. “We’ll figure it out. There’s a whole *day* ahead, yet! We’re so close!” But Lucy just couldn’t cheer the Beast up, no matter how she tried. Miserably, he went up to bed, and she returned to her own quarters, the matter of what meal to prepare for Beth weighing heavy on her mind. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ The Beast didn’t come down to the kitchen that morning. Lucy tried to coax him down, telling him that there was no way he could mess up preparing porridge under her watchful eye, but he refused to get out of bed. Deciding it best to leave him alone for the time being, Lucy cooked some scrambled eggs for Beth (much closer to a sunny yellow than a yellowish-grey this morning) and served her breakfast in the dining room. “Where’s the beast this morning?” asked Beth. “His Highness,” said Lucy pointedly, still a little sore from the news that her famous risotto had gone unappreciated, “is unwell.” “Oh,” said Beth, poking her scrambled eggs with a fork. “I hope I didn’t offend him last night. He’s awfully sensitive about his cooking, isn’t he?” “You might say that,” said Lucy as she poured Beth’s tea. “But I can’t help the way I am,” said Beth, shrugging. “Only the finest quality food suits my taste. Still,” she mused, with a mouthful of egg, “It seems he’s really trying to impress me with his cooking. He really wants to win my heart, doesn’t he?” *Not your heart,* thought Lucy, but the curse allowed her to say no more. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ The Beast didn’t come down to prepare lunch, or dinner, no matter how Lucy cajoled. Lucy’s heart sank—he really had given up. Lucy’s vision of the palace bustling with life again seemed more distant than ever. But though the beast had given up, Lucy had not. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ It must have been about 10 o’clock at night by the time the Beast grew weary of staying in his room and made his way down to the living room for a change of scenery. Lucy had come down there to pester him about preparing a meal for Beth, but he had sent her away. Besides, she was unlikely to eat anything at this time of night. As he sat, listening to the hiss and crackle of the fireplace, he heard the door creak open. Thinking it was Lucy come to pester him again, he turned around to tell her off—and stopped. “Beth?” “Your Highness,” she said, walking slowly into the room. She was wearing a horrible yellow, frilly dress instead of her usual t-shirt and jeans, and appeared to have done her hair up. The Beast was rather taken aback. She never called him Your Highness. “What do you want?” he said. “I’m not going to cook for you. Lucy’s been feeding you, hasn’t she?” “She has,” said Beth. She smiled shyly. “I came down here to… talk.” The Beast grimaced. “I don’t want to talk to *you*. And there’s no need to come down here and try to make friends with me. Tomorrow you’ll be free. I’ll be out of your life forever.” He turned his head back toward the fire. “Well, you see… I don’t think I want that,” said Beth. “What?” “Can I sit here?” said Beth, perching awkwardly on the arm of the Beast’s huge leather armchair. “There’s another chair over there,” grumbled the Beast, but Beth didn’t seem to hear him. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ Lucy picked her way through the unkempt back lawn in the dark. Her stockings were wet with the evening mist that clung to the long grass, and her feet squelched in their sensible shoes. She shivered. This was no time of night to be out of doors, and a small, selfish part of her wanted to give up as the beast had, to sit by the fire and accept the curse. “No,” she said to herself, as she finally reached the dilapidated old garage that sat a little ways from the house. Her freezing hands fumbled for the rusty old key that would unlock it. “I must give it one last try.” There was a family of rats living in the old car, and they seemed to be having some sort of party. After shooing them out and settling herself in, Lucy took a deep breath. It has been a while since she’d broken through the barrier to the Outside — the day before the prince’s coming-of-age party, in fact. She remembered it well—she and the other cooks had crowded into the car, laughing about the prank. She remembered her heart hammering as they broke into the Outside with an ear-splitting *Pop!* She remembered the busy streets, the people walking about in their strange clothes, the chill of the frozen-food aisle. They’d even gone through a “Drive-Thru” on the way back, for chips and burgers, the woman in the window eyeing them strangely as she handed them a brown paper bag that was nearly transparent with grease. It had been a good day. This time, she was alone. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ “You know,” said Beth, “I’ve had my share of terrible boyfriends in the past.” The Beast wished she would stop talking. He just wanted to be left alone. Suppressing a groan of frustration, he said, “All right. Tell me about them.” “Oh, I won’t bore you with the details,” said Beth, waving a hand. (*Then why did you mention them in the first place?* thought the Beast.) “But I will say this: they *never* put in any effort for me. Cheap gifts picked up from the dollar store. Ugly flowers—I hate flowers, you know. One of them, in fact, tried to throw me a romantic candlelight dinner\*,\*” she paused for effect, “with *frozen food!* I saw the boxes in the bin by the freezer. A frozen lasagna, and a blueberry cheesecake. I can still see the cheesecake, a greyish-purple slab of horror, defrosting on the counter. Can you *imagine?”* The Beast could not imagine it. He had heard of pre-packaged frozen meals, of course—they were apparently quite popular in the Outside—but had *certainly* never tried them. He was surprised to find he was chuckling. “So what did you do?” he asked. “Why, I stormed out without so much as eating a bite!” Beth exclaimed. “You should have given the meal a go,” said the Beast. “You might have liked it.” After a moment, the two burst into laughter. “My point is,” said Beth, “he didn’t even *try* to cook something for me himself. In fact, none of my boyfriends have.” She held his gaze. “Except for you.” Now the Beast was *really* confused. “But I’m not your boyfriend,” he said. “No,” said Beth softly. “But you could be.” “What?” “You see, nobody has ever gone to this much effort for me before,” she said. “And even though you can’t cook to save your life, I… well, I think I’m in lo—” “Your Highness!” Beth and the Beast looked up, startled. Lucy, red-faced and dishevelled, with mousy-grey curls escaping her bonnet, clutched the doorframe and struggled to catch her breath. “In the kitchen,” she managed at last. “Important. Emergency. Now.” \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ *“Frozen pizza?”* the Beast exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind? She’ll *never* eat this. She literally just finished telling me a story about how she ended a long-term relationship over a frozen meal. Why in blazes do you think this is going to work?” “Just trust me,” pleaded Lucy, shoving the box into his hands. “She won’t know. Besides, what have we got to lose? Hurry now, we only have until midnight.” The Beast shrugged. “Well, if you insist. But I tell you, it’s not going to work. Now, how do I prepare this?” He peered at the box. *“Delicious gourmet pizza in twenty minutes,”* he read. *“So simple, even a Complete and Utter Nitwit can prepare it.”* \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ The old grandfather clock showed 11.45 by the time the Beast re-entered the living room, carefully balancing a plate of steaming pizza between his large paws. He still didn’t think this was going to work, but Lucy had seemed so *certain* for some reason. “Oh, Beth,” he called gently. “Fancy a midnight feast?” Beth, who had been sitting sulkily in the large armchair, turned around, and her face lit up. “Goodness, is that *pizza?”* she said, sniffing the air hungrily. “Did you make it for *me?”* “Of course I did,” replied the Beast, setting the plate down on the coffee table near the chair. “That’s why the maid came in earlier….to tell me that I forgot to take it out of the oven.” Beth laughed. “You were having so much fun *talking* to me, you forgot that you were *cooking* for me!” “Yes, that must have been it,” said the Beast distractedly. “Look, just try a slice, will you?” He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but couldn’t help it. Beth wordlessly ate slice after slice, a rapturous expression on her face. She even dabbed the crumbs off the plate with a finger when she was done. “That,” she said emphatically, “was the *best* meal I have ever eaten in my *life.”* The clock struck midnight. The Beast felt his paws begin to tingle. He felt an odd pulling feeling in his face, as if it were changing shape. Torn between glee at the prospect of having broken the curse, and amusement at the fact that the snooty food critic had complimented a cheap, frozen meal, he began to roar with laughter—the laugh becoming less roar-like as it went on. Beth’s eyes grew wide as the ferocious beast changed into a handsome young man, with golden curls and dark blue eyes, before her. “It *worked!* Oh, I *knew* it would work!” Lucy, who had been hanging around the doorway tentatively, now bounded into the room, tears of joy spilling down her face. She joined hands with the handsome young prince, and they danced in a circle, laughing and whooping with jubilation. Beth, unused to being ignored in this way, cleared her throat loudly. They stopped dancing; the prince looked at Beth with a slightly disgusted expression on his face. “Yes? What is it?” he said. “You’re *human!”* Beth exclaimed, beaming. “I broke the curse! Oh, don’t you see? Now we can be together! …Darling? What is it? Don’t you… don’t you want me?” “Well, frankly, no,” replied the young prince, sneering. “I just can’t bring myself to be with someone who enjoys *frozen* pizza.” “Frozen pizza? What on earth are you—” Her eyes darted to the empty plate, and she gasped in horror, her hand flying to her mouth. “You *fiend!* You *trickster!* You—you—” Overcome with anger, she fled from the room. The prince rolled his eyes. “What a fraud. I can’t believe she ate that garbage\*,\* but turned up her nose at my cooking—and even *your* famous risotto.” He turned to Lucy, incredulous. “How on earth did you know that would *work?”* Lucy smiled mysteriously. Some things were better off kept secret.


Words do not come easily. My hands do not write well, it is slow and strange. But I have a story to tell, I do not know why I must tell, but the words want to be together and to be seen. I am guarding all the time, I stop the ones who enter without being allowed, I stop them quickly and I stop them forever. There is blood, there is screams, people call me a monster, but they know to fear me because they are not welcome. The last ones I stopped were young, they wore matching jackets with a big letter on them, I heard the word “senior”, but they are not old, so I do not know them. The one that I still remember was much more little, a girl, tiny and very strange to me, she smiled at me and made noises that were nice. The tiny girl came to my lair, holding a smaller bear that was not alive, the tiny girl had her eyes tight against the light and smiled at me. She did not fear, she did not make the loud and high noises, so I believe she was welcomed, I did not stop her from entering my guarding place. “Aren’t you lonely up there?” she asked of me, I did not answer, I am not meant to feel ‘lonely’. She sat under where I rest and spoke to me of things I do not know. She said that she was a princess and I was a king, and I was trapped and would one day be free. I did not know that I am a king, but I like that, maybe it is the reason I do not remember before guarding the tall plants. The tiny girl spoke to me more, asked me if I was sad because I do not have anyone to speak to, I did not know how to answer, none have spoken to me since I began to guard, so I shook my head. The tiny girl jumped and then clapped her hands together, she was happy I moved, all others are not, they run when I do, and I know to chase them. I climbed from my perch, the tiny girl smiling at me as I towered over her, I asked her the only thing I could put into sound. “You not fear monster?” The tiny girl laughed and then clutched one of my legs, the words she spoke are still in my thoughts, “Yeah I’m scared of monsters, but you just a big ol' friend.” I do not know who 'friend' is, but I think it is my name, so I will be Friend. “Princess not think monster?” I asked her, confusion is new and confusing. “Nuh-uh, you’re the king and I’m the princess, you hafta stop monsters!” the tiny girl said, stamping one foot to make herself known. “I am Friend-King, I will stop monster,” I now know my purpose, it is my purpose given to me by the small one, my tiny princess. The princess stayed with me until the light went away and the dark started to appear, I could feel how she feared when she saw the darkness. She told me she would be back the next day and we would do more of the playing, I led her to the edge of my guarding place. The princess did not lie, she came the next day and the next and for many more after, each day telling me of our guarding place. It was called a 'Kingdom' and we were good and protected people, and that the kingdom next to ours had monsters who were gigantic and evil and pretended to be nice. Princess would not let me destroy the monsters, she told me that the monsters were not always evil, that the monsters were good in the light, but when the darkness came, the monsters would hurt people. Tiny Princess looked very sad when she said this, she touched a place on her face that had a different colour to the rest of her. The princess told me that she had tried to fight the monsters of the darkness before, but the monsters were stronger than her. “Tiny Princess is strongest, teaches Friend-King and is good and is welcomed,” I told her, I made the Tiny Princess cry, but I do not know how. Tiny princess clung to me, I had learned in days before that when Tiny Princess did this, I was to do the same, but very, very gently, because princesses get hurt easy. I held my Tiny Princess until she did not cry and was silent and asleep. She woke when the darkness had come up, fear was her feeling once she realised, I held her hand as gently as I could and took her back to the edge of our kingdom. She let go of my hand and started to run, quiet-yelling she would come back at the next light. I waited in the place where it is darker, then I followed, to make sure none of the monsters lay in wait for my Tiny Princess, she was very brave going back to the bad kingdom every time it reached dark. She entered into a building and disappeared, she had reached what I think is her place in the bad kingdom, so I returned to my castle-perch to guard the night against those unwelcome. The next light came and I waited. The light after that and she had not come back, in the many lights I had known my Tiny Princess, she had always come back. I waited until the darkness and moved to her place in the bad kingdom. I could hear voices, their words were loud and strange, they spoke of another, but they spoke quickly and with anger. On the outside of the place, I climbed and peered into the clear walls, all but one were empty. My Tiny Princess lay in one, asleep with strange colours on her face. I ran a finger down the clear wall and she opened one eye, the other looked to be made wrong, strange and the wrong shape, and a bad colour. “Y-you came to see me,” she said with quiet-quiet. She moved the clear wall and I climbed inside the place. She smelled of pain, and of blood and of ending. “Friend-King worry, Tiny Princess gone,” I wish I had better words. “It’s okay, I-I’m j-just-,” my Tiny Princess started to cough, it was a bad sound, I had made that sound happen to the unwelcome, but my Tiny Princess should not make that sound. The ending smelled stronger, my Tiny Princess looked in pain. “Monsters hurt you?” “They didn’t mean it, I know they really don’t I-,” Tiny Princess was in pain again. I helped my Tiny Princess to lay on the soft raised ground. I crouched next to her, watching for her ending, I cannot stop endings, I can only make them happen. “Please, hold my hand.” I held my Tiny Princess, not just her hand, as she made small sounds and her ending happened. She held me with her her tiny hand and in the last moments before she went away, I spoke to her. “Do not be feared my Tiny Princess, Friend is here, Friend will hold you.” She smiled the same smile she had given me when she first knew I lived, and it was what her face held as she ended. I do not know time, but I know I held her for much of it, until the ones in the bottom of the place made noise coming to the top. A man and woman, they were making loud noises, they were angry, the man more than the woman, the entry to my Tiny Princesses place flew open and a man who smelt of sourness, rot and sweat stood in the light. “What the fuck have I told you about-,” the man said, he stopped when he saw me, he held a belt in a hand, it had a big metal front, it smelled of my Tiny Princesses pain. But he smelled of fear, he was not welcome in this place, it was not mine to guard, but it was the place of my Tiny Princess and he had made her have pain. He had made her end. He was unwelcome and I let him know. The woman tried to flee, but she smelled of fear and of the same pain the man’s belt held, she was an unwelcome one. I made them both stop, I made them end. My Tiny Princess asked me if I was lonely when we first met. I was not then, but I am now.


It had rained the night before and I had forgotten all about the drying laundry outside. It rarely rained in Autumn, but when it did, the thunder that came tended to aim for power lines. It was not until my daughter woke me that I realized my alarm clock hadn't gone off. "C'mon Dad, I don't want to be late again!" Nell was in such a hurry she managed to button up her shirt wrong. I rose out of bed and yawned as my daughter ran around the house, getting ready for school. Nell was already waiting for me in the car when I got on, urging me to hurry with her eyes. "Dad, I left your sandwich on the table," "Thanks sweetie," "And don't forget I'm going to Ashley's house today after school," Nell said. "Tel Mrs. Davis to call me when you're done," I said. "Okay Dad," Nell answered. The woods surrounding Bakersfield hid our secluded home well and protected it from flooding, however it did little to stop the dirt road leading into town from turning into mud. The track into town took longer than usual, only to be slowed down further due to the almost complete loss of power in town. Most stoplights were turned off, and those with energy flared in and out of existence at random intervals. I parked outside of Nell's school, making sure to fix her shirt before walking her into class. As we approached Nell's classroom, I was preparing for my meeting with the infamous 7th-grade teacher Mrs. Varela, rumored to have been around longer than the decrepit building she taught in. "Mr. Richardson, this is the third time this week your daughter will be late to class. It's at least good you showed up, even if you're late as well." Mrs. Varela said, looking discontent as I had always seen her, standing in front of the doorway to her class. "I apologize once more, Mrs. Varela, my alarm clock didn't go off this morning," I said. She did not look amused in the slightest. "Go on Mrs. Nell, I’ll start class in a minute," Mrs. Varela said as she ushered Nell into her class. "Mr. Richardson, It is my understanding that you are set to take care for your daughter, however I am starting to believe she is the one set out to take care of you" Mrs. Varela continued without letting me speak a word, " I understand you are acting as a single parent, however that does not excuse you from your responsibilities. If you really care about your daughter and her future, I recommend you get your act together." Mrs. Varela said. I had recently lost my job working as an electrician, and with the bills lining up to take pieces of me, I had been forced to take a night job as a security guard at a local superstore. "I will, things are just difficult at the moment." I told her. "I really hope so, Mr. Richardson, have a pleasant day." Mrs. Varela said before abandoning me in the hallway. I quickly left the school, my shift didn't start until 10 pm, so I headed home to get some more rest. When I got home, I went straight to the backyard and put all the still wet clothing into the dryer. It wasn't until I realized the power was still gone that I gave up and headed to bed. I was awoken by the hum of the dryer as it stirred to life. The sun was close to setting, and my stomach craved food. I headed to the kitchen and ate the sandwich Nell had made me. I began preparing Nell's dinner and turned on the television in the kitchen. As I boiled some water, I switched between channels looking for something to watch until I came across the local station covering breaking news. "…appears that two of the three patients have been apprehended. Police are still on the lookout for the third escapee from Bakersfield county psychiatric hospital. We will bring you updates…" I was startled by hissing and turned towards the stove to turn it off. I continued preparing the meal until I was once again distracted, this time by my ringing cellphone. "Hello?" I asked. "Ah yes, Richard, is Nell still coming over today? Ashley hasn't stopped asking since we got home," Mrs. Davis said. "…What do you mean?" I asked. "I waited for her after school but when she didn't show up, I assumed she didn't go today. Wait, it was today right? I always mix up the days." My breathing stopped, but my brain was speeding up. "Richard? Hello? Are you there?" I couldn't process what I had just been told, and when my lungs reached for air once more, I began hyperventilating. I sat down in the kitchen floor, next to the television, Mrs. Davis still on the other end of the line. I began to think of any and all possibilities of Nell's current whereabouts. Could she have forgotten to tell me about an event? Had my late arrival to her school have earned her detention after school? I was beginning to calm my breathing when I caught a snip bit of the still ongoing breaking news. "… confirm that the suspect is one 32-year-old Jane Richardson. She is to be considered hostile and under no circumstances should anyone…" "…Oh god, no," I whispered to myself. It had been raining for the past hour as Jane sat in her bed. She once again began to make shapes out of her padded cell walls as the minutes ticked by. Jane would sometimes see a tree, a pair of scissors, or a face, mainly that of her daughter. It was when she saw her face that Jane's thoughts calmed. Occasionally she would also see *his* face, on dark, decrepit nights, like that night. Jane really tried not to get angry as his face managed to appear in the seams of the padded wall, but she couldn't help herself. The head nurse rushed to Jane's room as she heard Jane breaking down again. As the nurse neared the cell, she spied on Jane through the door, as Jane hit the cell wall over and over with her head and bound torso. The nurse was familiar to the rage poor Jane would exhibit on certain nights. She had seen Jane doing the same thing over one hundred times, and as habit dictated, prepared a good enough dose of medication to get Jane through the night. Poor Jane was never able to let go of her past, from what little the nurse had heard about it. From one day to the next, Jane had gone mad and had lost everything she knew and was now stuck here. At least that's what the nurse heard the other nurses said. As the nurse headed inside, she approached Jane, prepared to lull her to sleep with an injection. At that precise moment, not very far away from the psychiatric hospital, a ray of thunder dashed through the rain. It hit an electricity pole, splintering it into millions of pieces, knocking out power to most of the nearby town, including the psychiatric hospital. Darkness inundated the room as the nurse stood still. Fear began creeping into her. Poor Jane had always been docile, unless it came to her anger attacks. That did not stop the nurse from shaking. It took 5 seconds for the backup generators to kick in, illuminating the room once more. Blinded temporarily by the sudden rush of light, the nurse held her breath as all she could hear was the rain outside. When her vision came back to her, she was met by poor Jane's face, not 5 inches away from hers. That was the last thing she saw before she was knocked unconscious by a headbutt. Jane felt good after being the one to put the nurse to sleep, not the other way around. She then realized the nurse had left the door to her cell open, with no one about until morning to stop her from going after him. Anger fresh on her mind, Jane ran out of her room and headed for the exit she had seen the nurses use to leave at night. It was controlled by a small terminal, which was usually operated by the unconscious nurse in her room. Without knowing how to work the console, and having her arms bound by a restraining jacket, Jane sat on the console, hoping to hit the right switch. She got it on the first try, unlocking some cells down the hall, but she didn't care. All she cared about was getting to him.


It was 3:00 AM when I woke up. I can't remember the last time I slept completely through the night. I get up to pee or drink a glass water every night. These past few nights however, I keep waking up at 3:00 AM on the dot. I stared at the blue LED numbers as goosebumps began to form on my skin. I turned over, pulling the covers a bit closer, and drifted right back to sleep. I woke up again in my room and slowly sat up in bed, a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. As I looked at the blue LEDs, I swallowed and felt myself start to sweat. It was the dead of winter but for some reason I was so hot, and somehow it was still 3:00 AM. I knew something wasn't right, something was off, and that's when my eyes adjusted to the darkness of my bedroom and I saw it. I tried to scream, to move, run, turn away, but I was paralyzed save for my eyes. The creature standing in front of my bedroom door had skin so pale it seemed bleached. My eyes paused on it's long, dirty fingernails. Was that blood underneath its fingernails? flesh? dirt? Or perhaps all three. Each one was sharpened and pointed, perhaps to make killing its victims easier. My terrified eyes started to move slowly up its body drinking in more of the horror when all of a sudden it leapt at me. I screamed out and sat up in bed. I looked at the clock. 8:13 AM and sunlight greeted me. After a few minutes of deep breaths the dream started to fade and I began to get ready for work. By the time I got out of the shower it was barely a faded memory with each part of the day fading it a bit more. By the time I got home from work and cooked dinner I didn't even remember the dream. Even better I fell asleep watching reruns of my favorite lighthearted comedy, Always Sunny. My sleep would be nothing but peaceful tonight. I was exhausted and as I drifted off to sleep, I even had the gumption to think I may sleep through the night. I woke up upside down in my bed with my feet resting on my pillows and my head at the foot of my bed. I slowly turned my neck to right, the wall my alarm clock was on, and felt my body get hot. 3:00 AM, fuck. I looked back up at the ceiling and saw it, laying on the ceiling staring back at me. Again I was paralyzed as I stared on in horror. This time, my eyes first paused on the top of its head. Bits of scalp, bald spots, and tiny tufts of hair and blood decorated it. I felt the urge to vomit as I drank in the rest of its face and saw where its eyes should have been. Instead of its eyes I saw hollowed out sockets. Dried blood ran down the creatures pale cheeks all the way to its chest. Instead of vomiting I screamed and flipped out of my bed, desperately trying to reach the door. I was too late however, and as I felt its sharp fingernails dig into me I woke up to sunlight and an alarm clock that read 8:13 AM. As I laid there adjusting to real life, I realized that I felt like how roadkill looks like. First of all I felt simply exhausted. My shoulders and back ached despite not exercising in months. My muscles felt cramped and as I stretched out I realized something else. It was the dead of winter, but for some reason I was quite hot. I got up to brush my teeth and as I spit and rinsed out the toothpaste my eyes fell on the thermometer I keep in the bathroom cabinet. I was still quite hot and so I took my temperature. 103 degrees?? I called out of work immediately and went to go sit down on the couch. This morning the memory of my dream hadn't quite faded so fast and I was a bit reluctant to go back to bed. Instead of my usual coffee I made some green tea and turned on some Netflix to distract myself both from the nightmare and my fever. The strange thing was that although I was burning up, I hadn't coughed, sneezed, or even sniffled once. Mid day came and I realized I was starving, so I ordered some soup from a local favorite deli and went to go pick it up. As I stepped outside into the cold winter air I felt...blinded? The sun was harsh and unforgiving and so as I raised a hand to protect myself from its glare I realized that I felt even hotter out here. I went back inside and changed my soup order to a delivery, that broccoli cheddar would just have to come to me. I played some video games as I waited and when the soup finally did arrive it seemed to sooth my aching muscles and bones. Instead of heading back to the couch, I made my way to my bed and let the exhaustion wash over my body until I drifted off to sleep. No. Fuck no. I woke up in my room and the sun was gone. There was no way I slept that long and as my eyes drifted to that stupid alarm clock and I saw 3:00 AM light up the screen I felt a chill. My chill turned to goosebumps as I realized that I wasn't feeling hot anymore. I felt cool as a cucumber in kind of a good way. The lack of sun was comforting and cool as if I had just jumped into a pool on a hot summer day. As my stomach practically fell through the floor my gaze went immediately to my bedroom door. Nothing. Then up at the ceiling, also nothing. I sat up in bed, looking straight ahead, and saw it staring back at me at the foot of my bed. I saw its pale, white skin. I saw the patches of scalp and bloody hair hanging off its head. I saw its long pointed fingernails. I saw its hideous gouged out eye sockets and the dried blood around them. And then I saw something I hadn't noticed before. Or something I hadn't noticed a lack of. The hideous creature had no ears. I backed up to the edge of the wall behind me as it crept forward, opened its mouth, and screamed the most hideous scream I've ever heard. This time, when I woke up the harsh sunlight greeted me but the clock read 3:00 PM. As I gazed around the room I checked that horrible creatures usual spots and found nothing. I looked in the closet, under the bed, everywhere a monster would like to hide and found nothing. I sat at the edge of the bed and checked my phone in disbelief. I hadn't slept through an entire day and then some, I had only slept a few hours and I still felt so damned hot. I went around my house and drew all the curtains closed, maybe that would help? I sat on the couch desperately trying to distract myself with video games, comedy tv, anything but still that damned monster lingered in the back of my mind. So I called out of work for the next day, I still felt like shit and had a feeling I wouldn't get much sleep tonight either. As I went about my nightly routine I saw its pale skin as I washed my face. When I ate dinner I saw its grotesque fingernails. When I looked in the bathroom mirror and brushed my teeth I saw its horrible empty eye sockets. I stared at the clock that night terrified of sleep until at least 5:00 AM and when I woke up it was 3:00 AM and I felt so wonderfully cold. Each night continued similarly. I would be haunted all day with a terrible fever and terrible memories. The blinds drawn shut, trying to stay awake and distract myself. I slept for about an hour or two each night for weeks until I decided enough was enough. I had to fight back and get some real rest. I stopped bothering to call out of work, stopped bothering to eat when I woke up, I didn't even take medicine to combat my fever. The stress got to me after awhile and I noticed bits of hair falling out, sometimes even a bit bloody. Funny enough, when I woke up in my nightmares I felt no hunger, no fever. My scalp didn't hurt and I didn't feel exhausted. I could move a tiny bit more each nightmare and so I started fighting back against the monster. I filed my nails down to sharp pointy ones, all the better to sink into its pale skin. The mere sight of that monster stopped scaring me and I would lunge at him ready to attack and so he screamed at me for hours and hours in my nightmares. The screams were so horrible and so screeching that they alone paralyzed me. I had to beat the bastard, so I cut off my ears the next day. I would rather be deaf the rest of my life than deal with this monster every single night. When I woke up at 3:00 AM that night I lunged at the monster, he opened his mouth to scream yet I heard nothing come out. As I sunk my razor sharp nails into his pale skin something happened. He stopped resisting and I stopped fighting and we took each other in. He didn't move his hollowed out eye sockets but I felt him take in my pale white skin, the bloody bits of hair and scalp hanging from my head, the sharp, grotesque fingernails, and the scars where my ears should have been. Although he couldn't see I knew that he knew because his face seemed to look at mine and he smiled. He smiled the most hideous, grotesque, smile I'd ever seen. His teeth were stained yellow and his smile was unnaturally wide. I woke up knowing immediately what I had to do. I went to the bathroom and studied myself one last time. Pale white skin, bloody bits of hair and scalp hanging from my head, scars where my ears should have been. I looked down at my fingernails and then back at my reflection. I didn't want to look at myself anymore than that damned monster and so I raised those sharp fingernails to my eyes and gouged them out. I thought I would feel pain, I thought I would cry out, but I felt nothing. **Nothing but warm blood trickling down my face and the urge to smile, unnaturally wide.


Sylvia stared at the door listening to the trickling of water running beyond it. It had been so long since the two had the chance to relax, had the chance to not be running. She felt there was no way that the night would end badly, she believed in her heart. Her heart was what brought her here to this point, and she had always trusted it. “I wonder if he realizes that he shares the same powers as Abigail, myself and his brother.” Sylvia murmured to herself as she looked out over the night sky, the moon full in the blanket of the night as it illuminated the bedroom. The water soon stopped and her eyes quickly looked away and out the window into the glistening night sky. Rustling could be heard as the curtain slid across the bar, the opening and closing of the towel closet. Wet footsteps were heard making their way to the door against the linoleum and soon the handle began to turn. A shiver went up her spine as she knew who was behind the door. She shifted before he opened the door, turning her back to him. Avery stepped out into their room, towel in hand rustling his dirty blonde hair shaking loose water droplets everywhere. The gunshot on his shoulder noticeably healed. He glanced over at her as he unzipped his backpack that was on a nearby desk, “oh… Sylvia sorry I should’ve put more on.” he commented only wearing loose fitting jeans. Sylvia didn’t turn around, she could clearly see him in the window, a small smile pursed over her lips, “No, you are quite alright.” she whispered, slipping a crossed leg off the bed, toes touching down onto the floor. “I don’t mind, I’ve seen you in less after all.” Sylvia sneered as she stood from the bed. Avery blushed lightly as he turned his gaze to the floor, “yeah...heh that is true.” his voice was soft. Sylvia crossed the room to Avery, her gentle touch caressed his shoulder as she walked around to face him. She pressed her index finger to his chin and tilted his head up to look into his eyes, “Are you feeling better,” she asked with a small frown. “Yeah it’s fine now, all thanks to you.” his towel dropped from his hand as he placed it over hers. She looked down at the floor blushing a little. Avery took his other hand pressing it lightly to her chin tilting her head back up to look at him. "Avery?" she said blushing, looking deeply into his sea-green eyes. Avery shook his head lightly, "shh." escaped his lips before he leaned in with pursed lips as they pressed against hers giving them the first kiss they had ever shared. Another shiver shot up her spine as his lips met hers, and his hand cupped her cheek. She gently pressed back against Avery’s lips, slipping into his arms. Sylvia’s hands slid down his shoulder to rest on his chest, her legs getting weak. *Was this really happening*, raced through her mind, *was this what I’ve been waiting for*. The boy she had protected for so long, the boy she had known for all these years, was standing here kissing her. She mentally shook the word boy from her vocabulary of him. *No, he was a man now. I no longer have to protect him. He is here to protect me*. The thoughts foreign to her. Avery felt her hands move and her body slipping closer as her knees grew weak. His hands moved from her face and down around her waist holding her up. His kiss lasted a moment longer before he pulled back looking at her soft face. A few strands of hair fell across her eyes and with a free hand he slid them behind her ear. “Sylvia I…” he began to whisper looking at her unopened eyes. Sylvia reached a finger up and pressed it to his lips, “Please. Let me enjoy this for a moment longer.” she said resting her hand on his shoulder and soon her head on his bare chest. “Just….a little longer,” she whispered out breathless, her mind still trying to get a grasp of all these emotions. Her heart was a flutter, like hummingbird wings. Avery wrapped his arm around her shoulders the other still around her waist gently swaying back and forth as he held her. His thumb brushing up and down on her shoulder, he leaned his head down kissing the top of hers. Sylvia pulled her head back looking up at Avery into his deep aquamarine eyes, “Avery…” Sylvia started a quiver in her voice, “I…I lo…” Sylvia was cut short as Avery gently kissed her lips, placing his hand on her face brushing his thumb over her crimsoning cheeks. “I love you.” he said as he pulled back in a whisper against her lips before kissing her once again. Her legs grew weaker, almost collapsing; those three words struck her deep. Her emotions flaring even higher, her mind began to race with question. *Was that what I really wanted to say? Is that what I’ve been feeling all this time?* She pulled back again just staring into his eyes as she leaned into his hand placing hers atop his. Her lips opened, her voice lost for a moment. “Avery I…I love you too” And she leaned up on her tiptoes kissing his lips before retreating back a little from his grasp. Her strength came back as she began to accept everything. Avery took both of Sylvia’s hands into his, looking down at them, then back up to her eyes. “So does this mean I get to protect you now?” he asked rhetorically a smirk across his lips. Avery’s fingers laced between Sylvia’s interlocking them, noticing her grip tighten back. Her face grew less red, the same smirk coming across her lips, “Just because I love you, doesn’t mean you are stronger than me.” Sylvia pushed back against his hands lifting them up at the same time to shoulder height and slamming him into the nearest wall, “I’d say I am still the one protecting you.” She calmly quipped as she looked up into his eyes, “Unless you can prove me wrong.” before leaning up and kissing him roughly. She felt his lips grin under hers and she pulled back slightly, “What’s so…” Before she could finish her sentence Avery spun them around pressing her now against the wall grinning down at her, “check.” he responded leaning down and kissing her neck softly. He slid their hands down to her waist keeping her pinned as she did to him, “and now checkmate.” he whispered across her neck with each kiss. Sylvia’s eyes shut and she almost melted with each kiss Avery placed along her neck, one hand slipping out of his grasp and lacing through his still damp hair. “Not…fair.” She breathed out almost trying to catch her breath. The waves of emotion rushed over her, not something she was used to. “You fight dirty Avery.” And she tugged lightly on his hair pulling him up to look her in the eyes. Avery tried to hide the devilish grin on his lips, “all is fair in love and war beautiful.” he quipped, noticing a shade of pink gracing her cheeks. “Let’s call it a draw for now,” he said before wrapping his hand around her waist, lifting her and walking over to the bed. He turned around and fell back on the bed with her on top of him. “For now let’s go to bed.” he said gleefully while looking up at her. Sylvia’s cheeks felt like they were burning, “I’m not that easy Avery.” She said quickly as she placed her hand on his chest pushing up from him. She wasn’t sure if she was jumping to conclusions, but she wasn’t ready for that. She loved him but she was still new to all this. She remained silent looking down at him glancing at his lips occasionally, not noticing a frown. “What?” She asked plainly. “I don’t mean like that,” Avery smiled looking into her eyes. He could see the hesitation, he pulled her closer, her hand slipping off his chest resting beside him. “I want to be close to you.” He whispered to her as her head rested on his chest she looked up at him. Avery leaned down and kissed her forehead. Sylvia smiled softly, closing her eyes as she lay there in his arms. She knew deep down that he would protect her now, and she felt safe for once. She always had to be strong for the both of them, and now she knew there was nothing to worry about. She wrapped her arm tighter around Avery getting as close as she could, “I love you.” she whispered into his chest slowly falling asleep. Avery slid his hand up brushing hair from her face as he watched her fall asleep. “I love you too,” he whispered to her.


It was late in the day when the Companions gathered in the Hall to mark the passing of another somber Summoner’s Eve. Each had their own stories, but it was in silence they filed through guild, only the clink of battered armor to tell their tales. With bowed heads they murmured prayers to the gods for blessings, opportunities to prove themselves, and a chance to end the reign of the dragon king. One day… *one day!* It was a promise that fell from every warrior’s lips and a prayer over every babe. Forty six years of the dragon king’s rule had left the land scorched and the stables bare. The people of Fairen despaired that it may never know the sight of a green countryside, or cattle in their pastures. On this day, like so many anniversaries of Summoner’s Eve past, the brave companions mourned their kingdom’s future. It would start with a solemn prayer, followed by an offering of leafy greens to the gods…. A thud at the far entrance interrupted them, light spilling into the establishment as the huge oak doors swung open. The dying streaks of ripe currant in the sky silhouetted an expectant figure at the far end of the lodge. The occupants paid the visitor no mind-- every adventurer from here to Hare’s Peak thought they were the first to arrive on the dusk of Summoner’s Eve, just like the mage Myrgan in tales of old. Only forever more the Companions of Everlasting Courage knew the truth. The kingdom of Fairen would never again be free. A thousand companions and mages had died at the hands of the immortal dragon king. There was nothing left but to drink, and remember the days of glory, when most were just squires to the brave souls who proved the truth of the kingdom’s fate. Hugor the Hale was one such former squire, now a man broad of belly and chest and a gray head taller than any Companion still alive. He sat at the end of the long table, whisking a whetstone down a blade the size of his palm. It was a blade of great sentimental value to him, and despite the hopeful days of glory well behind him, he took care to sharpen it each day. Sir Sven the Stirring would be proud. It was the least Hugor could do. He was the last in a long line of king-blessed knights to bear the blade. The visitor’s over-long pause in the doorway continued for a moment more, cleared throat echoing through the hall. It was duly ignored. Travellers were common in the Guild District; they’d find their way out on their own, or they were shown out. It wasn’t until the newcomer approached Hugor that he bothered to pause his task. A woman in boiled leather glared at him, a dark braid thrown over one shoulder, a bandoleer stocked with vials slung across her front. She seemed even shorter than she had in her ‘grand entrance’ to the hall, barely reaching the height of his stooped shoulders, and he was sitting down. She bore a resemblance that seemed awful familiar, but Hugor couldn’t place his finger on why and thought nothing more of it, and bent to his task once more. “Heard you needed a mage.” Her voice carried a bellyful of pride, like so many before her. Hugor scoffed. “The guild for ninnies and womenfolk meets in the warrens.” He began to turn back to his whetstone, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure they are just dying for another of your kind.” She spat, green-tinged saliva arcing to land on the man’s breastplate. It smelled… minty. Hugor looked down, disgusted by the spittle slipping down his armor. Tiny flecks of green floated in the liquid, landing in loud drips on the stone floor. “Uncommonly rude.” He wiped the spit away with a sleeve. “I will forgive the impertinence if you leave my guild this instant.” The girl made no such move, instead fishing into her belt pouch for more mint before folding her arms in defiance. “You fool! I have come to lend strength and honor to your cause!” Hugor barked a laugh. “*Strength?* And *honor?* You could’ve been mistaken for a mouse in a potato field. Go home, little mouse. The Age of Courage is over. The Foretold never revealed himself. Summoner’s Eve is just another day. ” The little mage’s eyebrows slammed together in her fury. “My name is Frynn of Premly, Frynn the Foretold! I am here to show you the error of your despair, Hugor the Hale!” She thrust her arms out, baring dark arcane tattoos on umber flesh. They seemed to writhe of their own accord in the candlelight like a mess of serpents in a pit. Hugor sat up. The lost resemblance and distinct marks now demanded further thought. Some old geezer before the fall of the rightful king had come knocking on the guild’s doors, nailed some convoluted drawings and a prophecy to the doors. Uncommonly rude wizard, too. Called them all fat and slovenly and downright unheroic. Finally some interest dawned in him. “Where’d you get those?” “I am the Foretold, and I am here to lead this fat and slovenly Guild to glory once more.” At such a loud and rude proclamation a number of adventurers stood, their benches scraping away from the table in indignation. Hugor raised a hand to quiet them. “I don’t care if you’re my mother’s dull daughter, insulting the guild’s state of fitness will not earn you friends, mage.” “You blind buffoon! I told you, my name is--” “*Uncommonly rude.* Nealan, Kayn, would you do the honors?*”* The two Companions came forward, nearly as portly and grizzled as Hugor himself. Nealan the Noble and Kayn the Knightly saluted him. With an energy they’d not shown since their last near-campaign, the two warriors bundled a shrieking tiny mage back to the doors from whence she came, and ejected her into the street. A thundering boom followed as they barred the door from any similar incursions. The rest of the warriors gathered ‘round them, cheering and congratulating Hugor and their mates for their swift actions. And so it was that on Summoner’s Eve, forty six years after the fall of the rightful king, that the last in the line of true royalty, and only soul to bear the marks of the prophesied Foretold, was ejected from the distinguished hall of the Companions of Everlasting Courage. Alas, the kingdom was doomed. But at least it still had standards for manners. \_\_\_\_\_\_ Thanks for reading! You can find more smoking hot garbage at .


The night was cold, an angry wind swept through the trees. My dog and I were two miles into a hike near Cedar City, Utah. Most people didn’t like to hike at 2 a.m. in the middle of winter, but I’m not most people. The seclusion and danger of the hike made the trips a thrill. My dog was just excited to get out of the house. Trees stood around me, each of their needled arms trying to block the sky above me. A gentle snowfall had started moments earlier forcing me and Titan to turn back. “Sorry buddy, it’s time to go home.” Titan wagged his tail at the sound of my voice. He responded with a lift of his leg and a sprinkle on a nearby bush. My dog was the best companion for these hikes. A girlfriend might complain twenty minutes into the hike, a friend wouldn’t be interested unless alcohol was involved. No, these were my little getaways, just myself and my good boy. The large black dog cheerily followed me up the mountain, tongue wagging out the side of his mouth. His ears perked at the occasional sound deep in the woods, but he never strayed from my side. A powerful gust of wind snapped a branch somewhere in the mass of trees. The rustle of falling needles complimented the crack of splintering wood. A gentle cascade of snowflakes, shaken loose from the branches around me, danced in the glow my flashlight. There was an unmistakable energy present in the air. A second even stronger gust of wind nearly knocked me on my ass. The howling stung my face, the blanket of snow doubling in intensity. A blizzard had started. I pulled out the leash from my backpack. Titan sat down paw in the air in anticipation of it being hooked onto his collar. “Sorry buddy, just until we get to the car I promise.” He was a great dog, incredibly loyal, but even a loyal dog could get spooked. The nylon loop reassured me he’d stay by my side. Slowly, we trotted through the darkness of the mountain. With every passing minute the storm grew. What was initially a gentle snow fall had quickly escalated to a howling wind of icy shards. My nose and ears burned like I had been buffeted with a torrent of bees. Where had I parked the damn car? Crouching low to the ground, I placed my backpack on the snow in front of me. After a short while of rummaging, I pulled out my GPS. “What the hell.” My expression resembled a child whose nose had been stolen. The GPS wasn’t working. Actually, to say it wasn’t working was an understatement. The device was going completely nuts. My position was changing rapidly jumping to locations miles away only to return to my current position. Sometimes multiple location indicators would appear at different spots. An aura of panic settled around me. My vision was now limited to mere feet in front of me, the flashlight doing little to reveal my path. That’s when the humming started. Titan’s ears pricked up, his attention shifting to a spot just behind us. I tugged on his leash to get him moving but he wouldn’t budge. He was frozen like a statue, eyes unwavering from the location. Just above the gusts of wind, a melody, if you could even call it that, could be heard. A chorus of dissonant hums reached my ears. They were cut short by a bark. Titan’s hair stood us as though he had been statically charged, his tail tucked between his legs. Through the torrent of snow, I thought I could make out a figure. I squinted my eyes to double check, but nothing was there. “Come on Titan, we’re going to freeze to death out here.” I gave the leash a firm pull. A furious growl escaped his throat as he turned and bit my leg. Warm blood trickled into my sock from the spot just below my knee. I kicked him hard in the ribs out of reflex as I tried to retrieve the leash I had dropped. No luck. I watched as the blue leash disappeared into the blizzard like a serpent, Titan barking until I heard nothing. “Come here boy.” My only answer was the howl of the wind. Even through my gloves, I felt the chill of the storm on my hands. Holding the flashlight was like holding a handful of dry ice. “Titan!” I yelled again. I thought I heard a whimper from behind me. Swinging the flashlight around, I limped towards the sound. Each step sent a throbbing pain up my thigh that came to rest in my eyes. Just in front of me, I saw something dangling from a branch. The occasional break in the snow allowed me to glimpse it just barely. I came up to it and saw that it was Titan’s leash. I traced it up to the branch and my light illuminated a figure on the tree branch. Two snow covered legs swayed in the wind devoid of clothing. Naked arms protruded from the frozen torso. The surface of this thing was covered in ice crystals with black chunks of frostbitten flesh where the hands and feet should be. My eyes came to rest on the blank mass of flesh where the face should be. Eyes like snow globes glared back at me. A mangled sound came from within its chest, no mouth opened to let it escape. What met my ears was the hum I’d been hearing earlier. The creature fell forward out of the tree landing directly in front of me. I bolted in the opposite direction, unsure of where I could run. The chorus of hums surrounded me once again. I tried to avoid them as I shifted my direction to anywhere they were not. Behind every tree I would spot the figure. If I stopped to catch my breath, it was there watching me. All the while my ears were flooded with the awful humming. I pulled out my GPS hoping that it would just show me where I was. Of course, I wasn’t that lucky. According to the screen I was everywhere. Dozens of blue arrows appeared and disappeared across the mountain. A bark pulled my attention from the device and with it, the humming stopped. “Titan!” I screamed into the blizzard. I stepped through the snow only to see the dog standing next to… it couldn’t possibly be… myself? There I was standing with his leash; it was the moment he had bitten me. I remember thinking I had spotted something in the blizzard, the words I had spoken reached my ears as a garbled distortion of my voice. Titan growled furiously and bit the other me’s leg tearing away and rushing towards where I currently stood. I pulled back my flashlight and prepared to strike the dog with it, but he never reached me. Instead I found my self postured up against a blank patch of snow. Titan and my doppelganger were nowhere to be found. “What is going on up here.” I found myself speaking to the mountain. My answer was a torrent of increasing snow fall. The cold bit deep into my clothing. I tucked my face further into my hood hoping to shield it from the boreal weather. My world no longer consisted of a forest but instead was replaced by the constant howl of wind. But it wasn’t the wind I feared. All I feared was the hum. Every time the storm let up my ears listened for the pursuer. Not long after a break in the wind, I saw a figure stumbling ahead of me. They were facing away, the large hooded coat concealing their head. “Hey!” I nearly lost my footing as I increased my pace. “Help!” My voice was fighting the gusts of wind, but one soundwave must have won. They turned to me, the large jacket obstructing their face. They bolted away. “No, please wait!” The pleads came out like gravel. I tried to keep up with the person, but I had no luck, soon I lost sight of them. Not wanting to give up hope, I continued charging forward. My mind kept reminding me of the encounter with the phantom me, kept reminding me of how I was an outside viewer of an event that had taken place earlier. My thoughts were interrupted as I tripped over something. I hit the ground hard. My leg landed on a rock protruding from the snow. I rolled up my pant leg to assess the damage expecting a fresh stream of blood. The wound hardly bled. Frostbite must be setting in. My eyes didn’t focus on the leg long as they discovered what had tripped me. A body. Face down in the snow lie a frozen bundle of clothing, the wearer was stiff as a board. I recognized the jacket, the man I had spotted was wearing it. I also noticed it was the same jacket I was currently wearing. My heart was racing as I rolled the body over. I stared into my own frozen eyes. I was stunned. There was no mistaking it was my body, even the dog bite was visible on his leg. My shock was cut short by the familiar hum. It permeated the air around me as suddenly as the blizzard. I had to move. It was as I stood to run that I saw something clutched in the reflection’s corpse. A blue leash. Without really knowing why, I took it with me. It’s hard to say how long I wandered in the storm. It felt like an eternity. The strange sighting continued, draining me mentally. I tip toed around the endless corpses of myself that now littered the mountain, a never-ending blanket of snow burying them. I found myself falling into the snow, my hope for finding the car shattered. Then it was there. As though responding to my helplessness, my car peaked at me through a gap in the storm. The endless humming came from the same direction, but I didn’t care. My body had long since lost feeling, I was ready to escape or die. Although I reached the car with no issues, I couldn’t ignore the endless faces peaking at me from the trees. The entity following me had multiplied into an army. I came face to face with one for the last time as I reached the vehicle. My body sat in the driver’s seat. This corpse had not yet frozen over like the others I had seen. Instead I witnessed it as the ice and frostbite consumed the corpse. The face became a featureless mass as the eyes popped open. What started off as a scream, soon twisted into a familiar sound coming from the corpse’s mouth. The hum. I turned away not wanting to see it. My eyes locked upon the monster standing mere inches from my face. My senses were overwhelmed with the cold, a strong smell of death filling my nostrils. I fainted. One eye popped open, the other slowly followed. I was inside of my car, heater bathing me in warmth. From outside the foggy windows I could see the storm had stopped. I noticed the leash sitting in the passenger seat. Titan. Hopping out of the car I began to yell. “Titan!” Memories of the creature had surfaced as I slowly regained my bearings. I must have run to the car while the storm started and fallen asleep as the storm raged, but why would I leave my Titan behind? As I searched for the dog, I noticed the footprints surrounding the car. I could see that they were heading off into the tree line. I pulled the leash from the car as I followed them. I must have searched for him for hours with no luck. The limp soon reminded me of the dog bite. Blood still stained my pants. This confirmed that at least some of what I had experienced was real. The icing on the cake was what I discovered shortly after. Hanging on a tree branch in front of me was Titan’s leash, exactly where it had been when I encountered the first entity. A large imprint lay beneath the tree not yet hidden by the snow fall. I never found him. I officially gave up hope after a week or two of returning to the mountain. I still return to the mountain from time to time, something inside me keeps drawing me back. Although this event took place years ago, I still entertain the idea of finding him. I guess I should say I would like to find the real him. Sometimes, If I wait until just the right time of night, I can catch a faint glimpse of him. I never see all of Titan, just catching a glimpse of his tail behind a tree or the flick of his ear in a nearby bush. I know this isn’t the real Titan. Every time I see him, he’s always moving away from me, heading deeper into the mountains. I never follow him though. Whenever he appears that familiar hum is right behind him, calling him away from me, luring me with Titan as the bait.


Rat #26! Lying on his stomach, J was watching over the vast hills from the tower in which he was positioned. Everything was grey, black, or broken; a scene that screamed war. From his bird’s eye view, blast craters divided what used to be a blanket of lush green hills which now resembled a dirty, torn up cloth. His rifle had been cold since he left the regiment to take a position at the top of the tower. "You are the arrow tip, J," his officer had told him before leaving. The rifle’s buttstock was pressed against his sweaty cheek when he decided to clean the scope. He rubbed the lenses for the fifth time that morning and sparked up a cigarette. Before long, his mind wandered back home. Reminiscing about better days before the start of the war, he made himself a cup of tea and indulged in his memories. As he picked up the biscuit box his daughter had given him before leaving for the frontlines ten months back, he thought, “Or maybe eight months,” he whispered to himself, exhaled, then murmured, “I lost count.” He dusted the box off and replaced it in his backpack. Unsure, he thought that he may have heard a ricochet shot, yet, when he looked down through the scope, he couldn’t see a single soul out there. His tea was as cold as river water by the time he took the second sip. The sun was rolling over the hills, extending shade over nothingness. J held his breath for a second and tightened his grip around the rifle. He saw movement…. at the dead center of the scope, the same scope he had used to eliminate two dozen invaders. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and continued looking, but to no avail. Then he exhaled abruptly, "A sneaky rabbit!" He drank his second cup of tea warm that chilly noon. Beneath his vacant eyes dirt, fatigue, and the droplets of steam left from hovering over his hot drink all began to run together. One thing J had learned about the war was if you're not shooting, you're in a lucid dream. His daughter was showing him a headband she had made. While hidden under the cover of those sweet memories, two invaders were sneaking between the bomb craters. They exchanged serious eyes and sign language. When the invaders were mere yards away from the tower, J was heating his last can of salted tuna. He pulled it from the heat and peeled back the lid of the can. J pulled a pocket-knife from his coat and pushed it into the soft, steaming, shredded fish meat. Blowing on a hot bite of tuna, he suddenly thought he heard two mice moving. "Maybe two rats! Not mice." J whispered to himself while chewing up his salty snack. Just as he began to disregard the sound, he noticed a more familiar, more noticeable sound. The sound of boots stomping over loose gravel. There was no mistake about it. He quickly, yet quietly, laid his last can of fish down and sprang into action. The sound of the steps was getting closer when J took his first shot. And missed. The piercing tone of the gunshot echoing throughout the hills caused the trespasser to perk his head up, giving away his location. The invader quickly pulled his rifle from his shoulder and before he could locate the scope to see where the shot had come from, J pulled the trigger for a second time. “Twenty-five.” He mumbled as he lay back. He gazed up at the burnt wooden ceiling. He stared at it for a few seconds before slowly closing his eyes. “Twenty-five souls.” He whispered. The first mistake the other rat made was to hide at the base of the tower. And the second mistake was creeping up the stairs thinking that he would make it to the top unheard. The now lone rat realized how wrong he was when he saw a lemon-shaped grenade strolling down the tower steps towards him. The invader's ears buzzed, and agony came washing over his body moments after he opened his eyes. Then he felt the rope around his hands. As he was pulled up to the top, he drew two shameful eyes towards the sniper sharing the tower top with him. "Almost twenty-six!" the invader heard the sniper hysterically giggle. J gave the supine invader a breathless moment to accept the inevitable. Then J's daughter appeared again to say, "Daddy, I think he's hungry." So, he offered him two spoonfuls of the last tuna he had cooked up minutes before. Despite the fact that the hostile expression on the invader's face indicated that he had no appetite left after the lemon shower, it was a grounding moment for both of them when J helped the injured invader to sit down and to drink some water, then followed by cleaning his wounds. J looked into the invader's eyes and announced, "Interrogation starts tomorrow." He stifled a chuckle while tying a bandage and added, "I hope you understand what that means." J's nights were either a series of restless nightmares or dreamless, coma-like blackouts. Overall, he got used to the adrenaline rush the instant he opened his eyes, realizing that he was on the verge of being alive. He had little to no trust in everything and anything. His provisions and bullets were running low, but his hope was starting to run lower after each passing day. J didn't imagine reaching that level would ever give him strength. Every struggle he had been through was helping him climb over an imaginary ladder, away from his pitiless reality to a place where he started thinking himself the hero of a lousy movie that he felt no connection to. When he was most conscious, J remembered that he would give everything he had to see his daughter again. But, recently, those episodes never lasted for long. The invader freed his own hands and crept on a dozing J with a rusted blade; J calmly watched the man, slowly drifting off as if he was in a lucid dream. Then he pushed the weak rat by force of being the movie hero he was, followed by a bleeding punch on his nose. J sat over his sleeping bag and lit a midnight cigarette after he had tied the bleeding invader to a half-burnt, wooden beam. He then rolled two bowling eyes at him, saying, "maybe staying alive is too much for you!" As he ashed his cigarette. At midnight, J realized that the small space at the top of the tower wasn't enough for both of them when the invader started screaming. J responded by stuffing cloth in the invader's mouth after he had butt-stroked him twice with his rifle. While taking long gazes at the tied man, J drank his morning tea deliberately slowly. His daughter didn't appear again. Ahead of the interrogation, J was calmer than the other day. Until his patience cracked when he opened his backpack and found that the invader had pissed all over it. J approached the invader, smiling too sweetly, and while untying his hands, swiftly said: “Let’s go for a walk together, you and I, huh?” The invader was looking at the ground when J pushed him from the tower top. He pulled up his rifle and fired, looking through the open sights under his scope. The bullet pierced the head of the bound rat before his lifeless body met the gravely ground down below. After the pinging echo ceased, a voice was heard from the top of the tower. "Twenty-six.


(Note: inspired by the WH40k story of Ollanius Pius, who is without doubt the bravest bastard in that entire universe. Look up his lore if interested. Also, cross posted from r/HFY. I’m proud of this story and wanted to share it here.) He wasn’t even supposed to be there. He should have been on one of the hundreds of evacuation ships that left weeks before. He should have left with the remnants of his company. He should have at least been standing a bit to the left when the final desperate assault force was teleported thousands of miles into the air and onto a ship that should not have even been there itself. Fights like this one were supposed to be off in the distance, where awestruck souls could watch the air strain on the horizon as swords that could cleave mountains and guns that could destroy cities clashed. These fights were only supposed to be between legends made flesh. Heroes who stood head and shoulders taller than any normal person and who wore shining armour emblazoned with medals, heraldry, and battle honours, not some foot slogger in a flak vest whose only title was his name and whose only gifted marking was his serial number. Battles like the one outside this ship were supposed to be fought in the space between stars and only seen through long range sensors, in battle reports, or told as hyperbolic war stories by old veterans, not felt through the hull or witnessed through the porthole. Battles like this decided the fate of entire star systems, where fleets of grand cruisers, imposing destroyers, and personal flagships slugged it out in devastating broadsides. This one was far to close, far too real. A confusion of thousands of battleships, cruisers, and frigates clashed in blinding light above the surface of Terra itself. Entire ships were torn in half by volley upon volley, only for the detonation of its reactor to claim vengeance from the grave. Even the ship he stood in was wrong. Twisting corridors that led to nowhere, doors and rooms in every position but upright, and flickering lights that revealed the silhouettes of those that never were. Daemons were supposed to be the villains of ghost stories, told by parents to frighten their children into behaving. They should not have even been real, but the walls of this ship dripped blood and the sounds through the bulkheads echoed with maniacal laughter and agonized screams. Control panels that should have displayed air pressure and door switches now blinked with bloodshot eyes and chittered with fang filled mouths. But of all places, he should have been anywhere else in the vastness of the galaxy but right here. Before him stood hatred incarnate. A warrior in armour that put tanks to shame, wielding a mace larger than that tanks turret. The warriors hand was encased in a clawed gauntlet of pure malice that dark gods had chosen to be the instrument of their will. Draped across his Herculean shoulders was the hide of an alien monster that would have taken several tank companies to bring down, but personally claimed by this warrior as an earned trophy. His entire body glowed with the fires of hell and he stared into him with an intent so absolute it could melt the steel floor he stood on. All he had was his flak vest, rifle, and bayonet. His knees almost buckled from fear. But there he stood, in the worst place he could have possibly been anywhere in the universe. He stood because behind him lay someone he saw as a god. The last time he saw him, he stood proud and tall, clad in brightly polished and untarnished golden plate. A hero who, despite being at the frontline of countless battles, always emerged unscathed and triumphant. A man who could walk past the field hospitals and bring every soldier back into fighting shape. He was supposed to be the hero of the story, riding in at the last moment to save the day. He should have been the same charismatic and fearless leader he always was, but now lay bloodied and broken behind him and on the verge of death. He should have been disillusioned, abandoned his beliefs that this man was invincible, given in to the whispers and promises that spoke in the back of his mind. He should have thrown down his weapon and run for his life. But there he was, standing ill equipped between the avatar of untold horrors beyond reality and the broken and dying hopes of all humanity. It was a pointless stand, but one no one else was there to make. He held his rifle with tightened fists, regained control of his legs and planted his feet, and took a deep breath before banishing the insidious voices from his mind. When he opened his eyes again, that unholy warrior looked down at the puny mortal that had the gall to stand in his way. What he saw was not the terrified visage of someone scared of death, but instead the stern face and disciplined military stance of someone who would not move without a fight. Just as he saw his leader struggle to get an arm under him to push himself up even just a small bit, he heard a new voice in his mind. He heard his leader, his emperor, his _god,_ beg him to stay, and gave him one last order. ‘Hold the line.’ And there, in the one place he should not be, he held the line. If he died, ten will take his place, and a thousand more of them. If anyone was willing to take up arms against the horrors of the galaxy, the bastion would never falter. If there was even the faintest ghost of hope left in the universe, planets themselves would break before those that stood guard. With the strength he never knew he had, he stood his ground against hell to his final moments.


James sat in his favorite chair by the fireplace, watching his wife, Emma, and young son Charles clean up after their meager dinner. It was times like this, deep in winter with little food to put on the table, and the recent fighting between settlers and Natives, that made him regret leaving New England and coming west. But he had been able to buy a modest plot of land for himself and his family, and it wasn't as crowded as the eastern States, with more and more people immigrating from Europe. Still, he sometimes missed the crowding and industrialization; it was easier to stay fed in the winter, at least. His musings were cut short by the stirrings of a bowel movement. He threw on his coat and hat, dreading the winter night. He lit his lantern, stepped out the door, and began the short trek to relieve himself. It was a cold night. Snow was falling, and the wind cut deep. He huddled himself against the weather and quickened his pace. As he approached the outhouse, he paused. He saw something. It was darker, somehow blacker than the surrounding night. It looked as if an emaciated giant lie in wait for him behind the outhouse. Long, thin fingers curled around the sides, an inhuman face with sunken eyes peeking, staring at him, from over the roof. Gooseflesh began to prickle his skin. He couldn't move. The sight had frozen him more surely than the frigid temperature. After taking a moment to regain his nerve, he extended his arm out, bringing the lantern closer to the outhouse, and rubbed his eyes. There was nothing there. There couldn't be. A trick of the weather, then. He walked the final yards to the outhouse and sat down inside. As he was getting settled, he heard footsteps in the snow, circling from outside--too fast. Worse was a scraping as if someone was running their fingernails along the wooden walls. Then he heard a voice hard to describe. It was almost a whisper in the wind, yet deep and profound. He felt a thrumming in his chest as it spoke. It spoke in a native language he did not understand. maajaa maajaa maajaa His heart was pounding. He was vulnerable, pants down, in a four feet by four feet box. It was winter, but he began to sweat. He felt his stomach sink and he couldn't quite make his lungs work. He could almost feel the creature breathing on his neck. Its presence was heavy, suffocating. Sheer terror gripped him. He fled from the outhouse, half-clothed, toward the safety of his cabin, stumbling more than once in the snow, too afraid to look back. Afraid that if he did, he would see spindly, unnatural fingers grasping at him from the dark. He burst through the front door and latched it behind him. He leaned against the door for a moment, as he could barely keep himself upright. He stood there, panting, trying to regain control of himself, eyes darting back and forth in primal panic. His wife glanced up at him with concern. "Are you okay? You're as white as a sheet." "Just cold is all.