As I came out of the toilets into the hall, music was blaring, lights were dazzling I wondered where my husband was. He was always the center of attention, drinking too much, laughing and having fun with everyone. Although not model handsome, he was definitely handsome, without a doubt. I smiled to myself, thinking how much I loved him and our little family. We had a nice house, horses, dogs and all the things I had wished for, growing up. I was a Southern country girl at heart and he was a Northern country lad. We had met through horses, it is what we had both done for a living before we married and had children, he still had a career riding and selling horses and I had, had kids and was struggling to stay thin and look beautiful. All in all it was pretty good but sometimes I wondered about the pretty girls in tight jodhpurs that giggled and flashed their perfect white teeth at him. I guess before we met I was one of them, adoring and besotted by his charm. He was a cheeky chappy, forever young and nothing was a problem kind of guy. Talented beyond words on a horse, which meant he could cajole any old nag to jump hedges, go over ditches and parade around like an Olympic showjumper. Then sell them for thousands. I was slightly envious to be honest but very proud of my hubby. His name is Ward. Mine is Rose. I am quiet and a great pretender. I pretend to be someone but feel like no-one special. Just a mum and wife, but I try to be a good one.

Amidst the noise and lights, I can feel a presence. Ward is walking towards me and by his side is one of those girls, the teeth flashing, young, thin, big bosomed. Need I go on! type. They are so close, I can see electricity bouncing off them. He came over flushed not hiding the excitement he was obviously feeling. I felt my body inwardly shudder, my heart seemed awkwardly heavy and I forced a smile. He was like a puppy dog with two tails I thought nastily. “Rose, meet Pen, sorry Penelope” “ Wow, you’ve already got nicknames” I said sarcastically, Oh my, I thought, I actually said that out loud. Ward shot me a harsh look “Hello Penelope” I said with a gracious smile. “Hello Rose, we have just been admiring your horses in the field” What the hell I thought, admiring my horses at 10 pm at night. Who the hell is this jumped up, snotty nosed, skinny assed, horrible, horrible woman. Suddenly, a man stood up and beckoned everyone over for the raffle to begin. I made a bid for freedom excusing myself and sprinting for the ladies. Telling myself to breathe slowly, The wine must have rushed to my head, why do I feel this panic, I had never seen my husband like this before. There was body language so intense, that I could not bare. I sat on the toilet seat feeling a desperate sadness.   That's it! I told myself. Many had warned me, I had always thought it was too good to be true. The handsome talented guy, wanting me. Why was I so stupid, why and what about the kids? Do I leave right away? What actually was my husband doing out in the field with another woman? Big, huge tears fell from my eyes. I could hear cheers outside in the hall. "Come on", I told myself. I opened the door and went to the mirror. Washed my face and looked at my reflection. My eyes flashed even more green than usual in a slightly crazy way. I gave myself a smile, whispering to myself ”Please, be cool”. As I came out, Ward was sat, next to Penelope, again strangely too close for comfort. I sat opposite, they carried on giggling. Anger filled every part of my body, I had on rather old fashioned leather stilettos with a point as hard as nails. With all my might I kicked out striking my victim right dead on the shin. “What the” Ward loudly jumped, then stopped himself. “I want to go” I said “I don’t” he answered in a defiant tone. “Are you serious, what is going on” I said softly, with no hesitation or care, he muttered “You can go , if you need to get back for the children” Fuming I jumped up, glanced at the grinning Cheshire cat beside him, had she put a magic spell on him? What was happening, how had we gone from the perfect couple, I admit, maybe not perfect but to nothing in one night. I got in the Range Rover, slammed the door. Tears streaming, hands shaking, disbelief at what was really happening. All the way back, I took my pain out on my poor Rangy, shoving and grating gears. Speeding, breaking and then finally skidding on the gravel yard, little stones flying up chipping the paint work. I didn’t care!. I put my hand on my head, sobbing uncontrollably. Slowly pulling myself together, I wiped my eyes, looked up at the stairs and the moon. It was a clear night, my Mother was looking after the children, She wasn’t expecting me to be back yet, so I crept to the stable, my horse quietly, whinnied and I buried my head in his mane. Life was never fair I thought. You think you're doing well and then somebody comes along and knocks you back down. No matter how many good years you have, a disaster occurs and blows everything up into smithereens. This was the story of my life and sure enough it was happening again. There was only one thing to do, I rummaged around in my secret old bag hidden under an old horse rug, a flask of port and a rolled up fag . I shuffled down onto a nearby mound of hay, wrapped the old, hairy horse rug around myself, lit the fag and took a drag. The moon was peeping through the open top door, I raised my flask and said “cheers” to my horse and the moon.

I awoke to the sound of giggles and my Mother chattering away to the kids. I smiled with a strange feeling of sadness. Tears fell down my face, I didn’t even know how I had got back to the house. I was laid on the sofa, still in the dress from the night before. Feeling pretty grim, I murmured “I’m going for a shower, you OK Mum” “Hello darling, all fine, are you?” “Not really Mum, but I really need a shower” My mother was the sweetest most treasured person in my life, she came over and said nothing, just gave me the biggest hug. "Ward bought you in last night, he was limping and had a nasty bruise on his shin” she chuckled "Did he deserve it", “I think so”, I answered. Hugged her hard back and waved to the kids with a smile. They had stopped giggling, realizing something was wrong. “Come on let's go and feed the horses some carrots" my Mother said, diverting the children's attention. I ran upstairs fighting back the tears, I turned the shower on, feeling the hot soapy water on my skin, I tried to wash all my toxic thoughts and grubby smoky smells of the night before away.

I suddenly jumped, holding my hands, covering my body. The image through the shower glass was Ward. “What the hell was wrong with you last night?” he shouted. Ward rarely shouted, but when he did you knew he was mad. “What was wrong with you, I’m surprised you're not still in bed with your floozy” “My floozy, whatever do you mean, you crazy woman” “ Sending me home! not coming home with me! you must think I’m stupid, did you both have a good laugh at me, your silly wife?” I gulped, trying to fight the tears back, standing pathetic in nakedness. He started to laugh "You are silly, I would never hurt you, I was excited over selling that old horse for loads of money to Penelope” I flinched as he said her name. “Rose, I could see you were mad with jealousy so I wound you up and played her, I am truly sorry, I should never have done that! I went too far. I have to talk to people to make a living for us but that’s as far as it goes, I promise” I sighed, I had to believe, for the kids, for my world to carry on. I was a little ashamed, I had felt and sounded like a jealous fish wife. I got out and sidled up to Ward, how could I resist this cheeky northern lad who still hadn’t realized how incredibly sexy he was yet. “ You should be sorry! I love you, how's your leg?” I asked with a laugh “You cheeky Mare, Bloody agony! You’ve got a kick like a donkey” he joked sweeping me up his arms.


I am used to the chemical smell in the air. We all are. We all have to be. It coats our throats and hurts when we breath, but we fight through it. There simply aren’t enough gas masks to go around. We don’t have a choice. We need food. We need wood to keep the furnaces going.

Without the precious logs that others bring in, we would all freeze to death in the only thing keeping us safe from the disastrous elements. The bunker.

My red hoodie and black gloves protect me from the dangerous plants. Fungi coated in poisonous slime. Flowers that bite. Countless things that have been forever changed by the damaged environment around them.

I carry an ax in one hand.

A burlap sack in the other.

My mother warned me that I wasn’t old enough to be going into the toxic woods without a mask. That my body couldn’t protect me from the radiation. That I wasn’t strong enough to fend off all the other creatures lurking between the deformed trees.

But today even my mother agreed that I had no choice.

We recently lost two of our people. We don’t know what happened to them. We only know that they didn’t come back.

We are already short on people as it is.

So now it’s my turn. It’s my turn to harvest.

I cover my mouth and nose with the red fabric of my tattered hoodie. It filters out some of the chemicals in the air. Not all, but enough that it makes a difference.

I walk into the woods. Toward the center, where we started collecting years ago. The clearing in the center is filled with tree trunks and felled branches too small to be of any use to us. I approach a tree.

The tree has a greenish tint to it. It’s all sharp corners and jutting branches. Not healthy by any means. I take my ax in both hands, dropping my sack onto the too-bright grass. I swing. I cut into the tree, revealing the live green wood inside. Another chop.

These trees are fragile and weak. Easy to chop through. Within three swings of my ax, the tree is toppling over. It lands with a crash onto the ground. I chop some more, near the base to get the thickest logs, and chop it into smaller pieces.

I leave the leaf covered tree top on the ground to decompose into the soil, only throwing the chopped up bits of it’s base into my sack. Thanks to the poor condition of the trees, they burn through so much faster. The thin branches are no good. We leave them behind to prevent them from taking up precious space in our bags.

I am felling another tree when I hear something. A rustling in the branches. I spin on the balls of my feet, swinging my ax in front of me. My eyes dart side to side, examining the dark spaces between the trees. At first I see nothing. Then I hear it again. Branches crunching underfoot. Right ahead of me.

I press my back against the tree. It groans as I push against it’s fresh cut. I worry that it my fall just from the pressure I am putting on it.

Branches shift and crack as whatever is moving in the trees comes closer. I crouch down and prepare to pounce at the thing. My thighs start to burn while I wait until I can see the thing in the woods.

Finally a shape begins to make itself known. As it comes into view, I let myself relax, standing and letting my ax fall to my side.

The man approaching me is a familiar one. He wears a matching red hoodie, his more stained and torn up then mine. He also carries an ax and a sack identical to mine. He is another member of the group sent out to collect wood today. He startles when he sees me.

“Gosh, Tom, you scared me! Maybe announce yourself next time? I could’ve killed you!”

He scoffs as if I’ve insulted him. “Sure you could’ve. What are you doing out here anyway, Scar? I thought your mamma wouldn't let you out.” I roll my eyes. “Had to. Synthia and Craig didn’t come back last night.” “Poor guys.” He looks sad, but not distraught, although they were friends of his. We can’t afford to mourn in our situation. We simply don't have time for it. “Anyway, get out of here. This is my spot.” He looks like he is maybe going to argue, but he doesn’t say anything. He simply moves on, disappearing in the trees. I can hear him whistling as he walks away, trying in what little ways he can to brighten up the depressing woods.

I finish chopping down the trees. I fill my bag all the way to the brim.

I wipe the sweat off my brow, proud of myself for completing my first harvest so well. I tie the bag closed and try to lift it.

Too heavy.

I can’t, no matter how hard I try, seem to get it more than a foot off the ground. I sigh, the pride I felt for a job well done dissipating as I untie the bag. I cringe with every piece of precious wood that I throw into a pile behind me. I try to focus on the fact that I’ll at least have some pre-cut wood ready to collect tomorrow. That will save some time. I hope.

I end up having to dump half the bag onto the forest floor. It pains me to look at the wasteful pile of wood, even if I know that I can come back and get it soon enough. Maybe even today. I retie the bag and throw it over my shoulder. I am more disappointed in my weak arms then anything else. My mom was right. I’m not strong enough to be doing this yet. I hadn’t spent long enough training for spending any sort of time outside the bunker.

Everyone else had spent twice as much time as I had in the make-shift gym we have in the bunker to earn the right to leave.

I walk through the woods, try to push through my already shaking arms. Pathetic. I’m pathetic. The thought repeats itself over and over again in my head. As I walk. I keep my eyes on the ground, watching to make sure I don’t trip over any roots or branches.

Branches crush behind me. “I’m not in the mood for company, Tom.” I shout over my shoulder.

He doesn’t respond though. He just keeps walking.

“Seriously. Go away.” Still nothing.

Frustrated with being ignored, I toss my bag to the ground and turn, fully prepared to chew him out for not listening to me.

What I see behind me isn't Tom. Not at all.

A rabid dog stares me down. Foam drips from its black lips while it stalks toward me. The ax slips from my hand while I stare the dog in the eyes, trying to convince it to back down. To leave me alone.

It growls. It doesn't seem to like the eye contact. It crouches down on it's front legs, it's tail raised in the air behind it. And then it pounces.


Evan Clark got on the empty elevator on floor nineteen. He had been putting off leaving work, dreading his next destination, and he was running late. He tapped his foot and stared around the elevator impatiently.

To his great dismay, the elevator stopped at floor seventeen to welcome an extremely frazzled looking Brianna Cowell, whom Evan did not recognize.

Long moments of silence passed, anxiety emanating from both bodies in equal force. Little did they know, the possibility of either getting where they were headed on time had already disappeared. Disappeared with the building’s power, that is. This fact hit like a load of bricks when the elevator crashed to a halt. “No… no, no, no, no, no…” Bri muttered, looking around the small room in a panic.

Evan sucked in a heavy breath. “I think we’re stuck,” he said, pulling out his phone to discover the absence of signal. “The power’s gone out. We’ve got to trigger the alarm.” However, Bri was already ahead of him, and violently slamming her thumb into the silver button. Spotting her frustration, Evan became concerned and put a hand near her arm in an attempt at comfort. “Hey, it’s alright. We’ll get out of here,” he said, in the gentlest voice he could muster. He felt like he was speaking to a child, though Bri was barely younger than him. In response, she groaned and curled up in the elevator corner. Bri knew she was acting like a child, but her embarrassment had taken the back burner. Hot tears of frustration rolled immediately down her cheeks, hidden in the heels of her hands. Tardiness, whether it was her fault or not, would surely cost her a chance at this job. Evan was alarmed, unsure how to react. Should he try to comfort her, put a hand on her shoulder, or would that just make her feel worse? In the end, he settled on sitting down next to her, not too close, and letting her cry. So she did. For a few long minutes, Bri cried. Every frustration of the last few days had finally caught up with her. When she could finally compose herself, she wiped the back of her hand along her cheeks and turned to Evan. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I’ve just had a really bad few days.” “Yeah?” Evan replied, trying his best to look comforting. “Yeah. I was supposed to have this job interview today, that I really needed. I only graduated two months ago and I’ve had to take money from my freaking parents every few weeks just to support myself. I’ve had to give up on acting. Only two months and I’m already a failure,” she said. Bri’s tears fell quietly now and her voice cracked. Evan hesitated, not sure how to respond. After a few moments, she did it for him. “I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear about my problems.” “No, no, it’s okay. It’s fine, really. I don’t mind,” Evan replied. Bri offered a small smile in his direction. “What’s your name?” “Brianna. But it’s just Bri. You?” “Hello, Just Bri. I’m Evan,” he said, and she chuckled. A long, thick pause filled the elevator. “It’s just, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. But my parents were right. I can’t live off them forever. I need to get a real job. A full-time job.

Acting will have to wait.” “Why a full-time job?” Evan asked, unable to help himself. “What?” “Why a full-time job? If you could support yourself with a part-time job, why not do that? Then you could keep acting. It seems like that’s what you really want to do.” Bri shook her head. “No. I need to be an adult now. That’s what adults do. They forget about their stupid dreams and they do something real with their lives. I don’t want to be a waitress or a cashier forever.” “But money isn’t happiness. Would you rather have a job you hate and be miserable but have a lot of money or go for what you want but only have some money?” Bri took a deep, shaky breath. “You sound like every guidance counselor ever,” she chuckled. “But it’s just not that simple. I’ve already decided.” “Just consider it, alright?” Evan caught her eye and waited for her to agree. “Alright, fine,” she agreed. “Anyway, what about you? Where were you going?” Evan blushed and turned away. “Nothing huge. Just a date.” “Really?” “It’s just a blind date. I haven’t gone out with anyone since…” he caught himself. “Since what? Come on, I spilled my guts to you, didn’t I?” Bri teased. “Since my girlfriend broke up with me. Two months ago.” “Not very long…” “Nope,” Evan agreed. “Was it serious?” He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, it was serious.” “So why so soon?” asked Bri, her brows knitting together in concern. “Well, I haven’t gotten any better since Claudia ended things. I thought I would, but I haven’t. I still miss her just as much. So I’m trying to move on. I thought it would be the healthy thing to do.” “Why’d she end things?” “A big fight. She said she was quitting her job, and it made me mad because she had worked so hard for it, and I was angry. I said some things I shouldn’t have, and she ended it,” Evan explained, staring into space. His mind was far away, back in his ex-girlfriend’s apartment. “If you miss her so much, why don’t you go back to her?” Bri asked. Evan chuckled humorlessly. “I wish it was that simple.” “Isn’t it? You regret what you said, don’t you? And you miss her?” “Of course.” “Then you’ve got to give it a shot. Go to her. Apologize. Maybe you can work things out. Even if she says no, isn’t it worth the risk?” Evan looked Bri in the eye skeptically. “Of course it is! Oh, come on. I don’t even know you and I can tell how much you miss her.” “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Evan sighed. “So skip your date. Drive to her place instead. Show you care.” An idea suddenly lit Evan’s chestnut eyes, and he shifted towards his new friend. “On one condition.” “I’m listening,” Bri replied, amused. Her first real smile in days crossed her features. “If you keep going to auditions, I’ll go after Claudia.” Bri blushed and turned away. “You don’t even know if I’m any good.” “Do you think you are?” “I don’t know.” “Yes or no?” “Sure, I am.” “That settles it then,” Evan finished. He extended his hand for Bri to shake. She watched it quietly, and couldn’t help the smirk growing on her face. One path felt like freedom, the other, misery. The choice was clear. She shook his hand. Only moments later, the power returned, and the elevator brought them to the closest floor. The two were relieved to step onto solid ground, and Bri surprised Evan with a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. “Thank you,” he replied, gently nestling his arms around her. “Go for what you want, okay?” Bri muttered. “You too,” he said, and Bri let go and turned to walk away. Before she had gone ten feet, she turned back. “Good luck,” she said. “See you in the movies,” Evan smiled at her. A smile from ear to ear grew on Bri’s face, and she all but skipped away.


Thelma loved her binkies. They made her feel calm and happy. Thelma and her binkies had been together since the day she was born. She knew that, because she had a Binky in her mouth in the picture that Mommy showed her, from the day that they first met.

Blue Binky was Thelma‘s favorite pacifier. That was the one she put in her mouth. Pink Binky, and Purple Binky were too small for her now, but she still liked to hold them while she slept. Thelma had her binkies all through the night.

At bedtime, she put on cozy pajamas, and then Mommy would help her get her binkies down from the dresser. It was always a joyful reunion as Thelma sat with her pacifiers and listened to Mommy read a bedtime story. When the story was over, Mommy always closed the book, covered Thelma with her soft, fuzzy blanket, kissed her on the head, and turned off the light. Then, she would close Thelma‘s door, and Thelma would drift off sleep with Blue Binky in her mouth, snuggling Pink and Purple Binky. If she ever woke in the night to find that Blue Binky had fallen out of her mouth, she just popped it back in, and slept peacefully until morning. When she woke up for real, Mommy let her have her binkies on the couch while they watched one show. She had to put them back on top of the dresser before she ate breakfast, because that was Mommy’s rule.

“Binkies are for night- night,” Mommy reminded her, if she ever thought about protesting.

Thelma rarely ever complained when it was time to put her binkies away. She trusted that she’d see them again soon, at nap time.

Life was good for Thelma. She liked things just as they were. That all changed at her first visit to the dentist.

The dentist office was big, and bright. Thelma was nervous as she sat in the cold chair in the examine room.  The chair could lay back, and also move up, and down. She had to wear a bib, and Thelma didn’t like that. The hygienist took strange pictures of Thelma’s teeth, called x-rays. Then she counted each tooth. Thelma was surprised to learn that she had 20 teeth in her mouth. Next, the hygienist polished Thelma’s teeth with a fancy toothbrush. It tickled her tongue.

Once her teeth were clean, they were rinsed. Then the water, bubble gum flavored toothpaste, and Thelma’s spit were sucked out of her mouth with a special straw. The last thing the hygienist did was paint something sticky on top of Thelma’s big back teeth. “All clean and shiny. No eating crunchy things for two hours. The dentist will be in shortly to have a look,” the hygienist said, once she was finished. The dentist popped in, and looked in Thelma’s mouth. He poked around with a little mirror on a stick. “No cavities, but Thelma, your pacifier is ruining your teeth. They’re starting to stick out. It will only get worse if you keep using one,” the dentist explained.

“Time to get rid of the pacifiers,” he told her mommy.

Thelma was silent as she walked out of the dental office. She burst into tears when Mommy buckled her into her car seat. “I’ll miss my Binkies! I need them!” she sobbed. “Thelma, we don’t have to get rid of them today, but we need to think about doing it soon,” Mommy tried to soothe her.

Thelma cried the whole way home. Mommy carried her inside the house, where Thelma refused lunch. “I’m tired. I need to take a nap,” Thelma wailed. Mommy carried Thelma into her bedroom. She took the binkies off of the dresser and handed them to her. Thelma took them, and sank down into her bed. Mommy tucked her in with her soft blanket, and she instantly fell asleep. Thelma’s mommy had to wake her three hours later. The binkies went back to their spot up on the dresser, and Thelma ate a late lunch. Mommy made broccoli mac and cheese, her favorite. Thelma ate three bowlfuls. Weeks passed, and nothing more was said about Thelma and her binkies. Thelma thought that maybe her Mommy had forgotten what the dentist said. She didn’t dare ask, because she didn’t want to remind her. Everything changed one night during the week before Thelma’s fourth birthday. Thelma took her bath, put on her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and climbed into her bed. “Binkies, please, Mommy,” she said, as she placed her head on her pillow. Mommy got the binkies off of the dresser and handed them to Thelma. Thelma popped Blue Binky into her mouth. She could tell right away that something was wrong. She went to suck on her pacifier, but it didn’t work. Thelma spit it out and studied it. She noticed that there was a small hole in the top. “Oh no,” Thelma gasped. She checked Pink Binky and Purple Binky. There were small holes in those ones, too. “What happened?” Thelma asked. “I guess they’re broken,” Mommy told her. Thelma was suspicious. They were fine when she saw them earlier, at nap time. “We have to fix them,” Thelma insisted. “I don’t think we can,” Mommy said. “But I need them,” Thelma tried again. “You can still hold them,” Mommy suggested. Thelma felt like crying, but she didn’t. “Can we get new ones?” she wanted to know. “No, we can’t get new ones. But you can hold onto those binkies while you sleep,” Mommy reminded her. “Will you stay with me?” Thelma asked. “I’ll sit in here with you for a little bit,” Mommy said. She kissed Thelma’s head, turned out the light, and sat down in the rocking chair next to the bed. Thelma cradled her binkies in her hands. It felt so strange to not have Blue Binky in her mouth, but Blue Binky was still right here. Thelma rubbed Blue Binky across her cheek. She tossed and turned for quite a while. She was used to falling asleep right away, and the fact that she was still awake made her feel anxious. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get something that might help you,” Mommy promised. She came back in the room holding a small bottle of spray. “I’m going to spray this on your pillow. It might help you relax,” Mommy said. She picked up Thelma’s pillow and spritzed it with something that smelled like purple. Thelma didn’t know what the scent was, but to her, it seemed purple. Mommy put the pillow back on Thelma’s bed, and tucked her back in. “I need to go finish the dishes. I’ll come check on you when I’m finished. Goodnight, Thelma,” Mommy said, as she closed the door. Thelma took a deep breath. Her room was dark, but she didn’t feel scared. She just felt tired. Thelma rolled over, closed her eyes, and drifted off to asleep.

When she woke up, the sun was shining through her curtains. “Mommy! Mommy!” she cried. Mommy came rushing in to Thelma’s room. “Good morning!” she chirped. “I sleeped all night without my binkies!” Thelma exclaimed. “You did it! I knew you could,” Mommy said, leaning down to hug her. Thelma’s heart swelled with pride.

“I’m getting bigger!” Thelma giggled. “You’re growing up!” Mommy agreed. Thelma jumped out of bed and handed her binkies to her mommy. “You can put them away, Mommy. I don’t need them right now,” Thelma said. “Would you like to go out for breakfast to celebrate?” Mommy asked. “Yes! I want to have pancakes!” Thelma cried. She jumped out of bed, got herself dressed, and then went potty. She brushed her teeth, and put her shoes on, all by herself. She felt taller, stronger, older, and more capable today than she ever had before. Thelma followed Mommy out the door, and grinned all the way to the restaurant.


The smell of sulfur filled Emily’s nostrils as she struck the matchhead on the side of the box. The light from the flame caused her to temporarily see spots every time she blinked. She extended the match to the fresh wick resting atop the blood red candle she had found in a drawer in the house and lit it. The wax instantly pooled and ran down the sides of the beacon before dripping onto the grass. Emily rested on her knees next to the freshly filled hole with her Bible in her hand and optimistic thoughts on her mind. She needed her Henry to come back to her. Emily missed him dearly. Emily closed her eyes and cleared her mind of the doubts that had piled in the back of her head. All she could focus on now was hope. Hope that she knew what she was doing. Hope that she had the strength. Hope that Google wouldn’t lie to her. Being brought up in a religious household, Emily knew what she was about to do may be an afront to God, but she had to push those fears aside. She could reconcile with him later. The echoes of her mother’s voice filled her thoughts, “God works in mysterious ways,” over and over. It ate at her. She knew he did and believed it whole-heartedly, but maybe he got this one wrong. The light from the full moon illuminated her surroundings and helped guide her hand as she drew a star on the grave. The article said “pentagram,” but she wasn’t about to go to hell over Henry. No, she just spun the star a few degrees until it looked normal and not satanic. In her mind, this would help her case should God need any further details. A few rhyming verses were instructed to be repeated as part of the ritual, but Emily felt uncomfortable saying them, so she made up her own chant: “Be it day. Be it night. I ask you to see the light. I like burgers. I like fries. Please let my Henry a…RIIISE.” She repeated these lines several times with a synchronized arm movements for emphasis. Every time she repeated herself, she got a little louder. Apparently, she was supposed to be waiting for the candle to get blown out. That would either mean Henry was coming back to life, or to haunt her. Either way, she’d get to see him again, or so she figured. As she begun to lose her breath, she yelled the verses as loud as she could and raised her arms to the sky one last time. The smoke from the snuffed candle tickled her nostrils and brought a grin to her face. She waited patiently for what may come next. According to the instructions, if done correctly, the ground should start shaking and Henry should appear one limb at a time like a phoenix from the ashes. She waited. And waited. The longer she waited, the damper her eyes got until the tears streamed down her cheeks in consistent flows. She wailed in pain. It just had to work, she thought to herself. But it hadn’t. She stood up and frantically stomped the dirt around his plot. The dust in the air caused her to cough a little bit and it mixed with the tears causing her face to become unexpectedly dirty. She ran inside and straight upstairs, only stopping in the bathroom to wash up before diving into her bed and crying into her pillows. Her clock said 3:24 when she was suddenly awoken by an oddly familiar noise. It was if something was slowly rolling across the floor, occasionally bumping into things as it guided itself through the darkness. It couldn’t be , Emily thought to herself, piecing together the noises. “Henry? Is…is that you?” There was no response. “Henry?” She asked into the night once again. Emily peeked her head out of her room and quickly scanned both ends of the hallway. Left, right, then left again. But she didn’t see anything. “Henrrrryyy?” Her voice echoed off the walls and into the dark voids of the house. The rolling started again, but it sounded further away, so she left her doorway and began walking down the corridor towards the stairwell. She heard a bump coming from downstairs and got a little excited. She quickly darted down the stairs, her feet patting each step with a quick tap as they swiftly moved from one to the next. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and held her breath, listening for any signs of life. A shuffling came from the office and she immediately turned to walk towards it. As she approached the doorway and let her eyes adjust to the images she was seeing, her smile quickly turned to a grimace and the air left her lungs completely. “Oh…God.” The creature that stood before her was not Henry. No. It was something that looked like Henry but Emily knew it wasn’t. It had glowing red eyes and snarled as it noticed her. She gasped in horror as it pivoted to approach her. Its long, disheveled hands reached for her, grasping at the air with distorted tendrils. She screamed. And screamed. The longer she screamed, the redder her face got until she felt like her skull was going to explode. She shouted in distress. She had to move, to run. But she couldn’t. Suddenly, the lights in the office flicked on and Emily noticed her brother Zach standing just inside the room. Henry’s evil spirit had vanished. “Are you okay?” Zach asked in a panic. “I heard you screaming from all the way upstairs.” Emily had to catch her breath. The sweat beaded on her forehead and began to moisten her brow. She tried to speak, but it was hard to find the words. “H…He…Henry….ghost…res…urrected.” “What?” Zach was completely confused and gave Emily a few moments to compose herself. She slowed her heartbeat and begun to form actual sentences. “I missed Henry. So, I looked up resurrection spells.” She pulled out a folded piece of paper from her back pocket and handed it to Zach. “I think I did it wrong, because his angry spirit tried to get me.” She pointed to the corner that she had first noticed Henry in. “Henry? As in your dead hamster?” He scratched his head. “That Henry?” “I just missed him so much.” Zach sighed, looked at the paper, scolded her for trying to conjure some black magic in a Christian household and sent her to bed. “I will say, though, that’s pretty impressive for an 8-year-old.” She tried to laugh but hadn’t gathered that much strength yet. She laid in bed long after Zach had shut the door and stared at her ceiling in the dark. She went through all that had happened to her and feared that God had punished her. “God works in mysterious ways” entered her mind again. And so did the rolling and bumping. Only, it wasn’t in her mind. It was right outside her door.


Disclaimer: This story has topics of euthanization. PLease be advised. It looks like water, but it is not coming from what I usually drink out of, and I have drunk out of some real doozies let me tell you. Have you ever been so thirsty for water that you will drink it out of anything, well, almost anything. I am not sure I should drink it from where its coming from now. I am not sure it is really safe. Although, it is the third time I have seen water flow like this. Let me tell you about the first time it happened.  I was in the backseat of this shiny black car, and I looked in the mirror and I could see it. It was like magic. It just showed up. Maybe it has something to do with the car, it looks new, the screen has all kinds of weird buttons, and this backseat is very slippery.  In fact, if my butt stopped sliding all over this backseat, I would climb up front and get a drink, but somehow, I think that would not be appropriate. I can wait. I am sure there will be some water whenever I stop. …Ok, hold on, just telling this story is making me thirsty. I got to take a drink of water and then I will tell you about the second time. Plus, and I know this is going to sound weird, but I like the fact that I can just have a drink whenever I want. Yeah, I know that was weird, but seriously, anytime I want. Anytime… All right, the second time I had just left this hotel, if you could even call it that, but that’s a different story. This time, I was the thirstiest I had ever been in my life. It felt like I had not had water in days, but I was also extremely hungry so that tends to skew up my timeline. So, I jumped in the backseat of this car that looks just like the model I was in the first time, so you know I was already gripping my nails in the seat to keep from sliding everywhere. Then I remembered that the driver was able to get water so maybe this one had the same features. As if by some weird mindreading skill there is water. I could not believe it. Here I was, so extremely thirsty I could feel my body twitch as I was about to, literally, leap over the seats, face first and dive in. I almost didn’t care what this person would think, but the thought of having to share this action choice with my therapist did bring a bit of embarrassment to my rationale. So, I looked at the driver in the mirror and smiled. Oddly, this driver looks a lot like the other driver that picked me up the first time this happened. Oh my gosh, even smells like the other driver, or is that because it’s the same model of car? …SKIIIIIIIRRRRRPPPPP…. Hold Up…. Time OUT…. This is definitely time for another water break. If you need one as well, and I am thinking you do, go take one and I will meet you back here in five…Cool? It really is so amazing to me that I can just stop whatever I am doing and get a drink of water. Knowing that I have to trust that there will be more the next time I want a drink is a concept I am working on. Well, the whole trust thing is a concept I am working on, but I am sure you have had to work on that trust thing as well, so you understand. So, from my calculations I have told you about the first and second time I saw water show up from this place. That means this is the third time and I am deciding whether or not to take a drink. Same kind of car, same slippery backseat, and since I have decided that it is the same driver as before I feel more secure in my moving to the front to explore this phenomenon.   I have decided the slow and casual move is better than engaging my athletic skills because it allows me some time to retreat should the driver become angry at my crossing the social boundary. Well, here I am in the front seat, just looking out the window waiting for a moment to sneak in for a closer look at the driver. I stretch my neck and lazily lay my head down as I search for the beginning of where this water comes from. Wait, there it is, right above that beautiful smile the driver just gave me when I laid my head down. The water is coming from her face, more precisely, her eyes. WOW!!!! That is amazing. I never realized humans could produce water straight from their eyes. Fascinating. I wonder what happens to them to do this. Let’s recap. The first time I saw it, I was leaving this cramped 2-bedroom apartment and heard the next day I was going to be put down, which was weird because I was already laying down. This driver shows up, puts me in their car and takes me to a new home where I really didn’t fit in or so they said. Second time, that scary packed hotel I was dropped off at and had to sleep with one eye open. Luckily, I got picked up by this driver before they gave me something that would close both my eyes for good. I heard the lady at the front desk say it was called sedation or something like that. Third time is now, in this car in this garage it is happening again. This time though there is a smile on their face as the water flows. They grab my leash and lead me out of the car and into a warm home. I hear them say, “Baby, we are home.” Before I can really let those words sink in, I spy a shiny silver bowl in the corner that has the words Nela’s Water Bowl written above it. Wait, is that what I think it is? A large clean bowl of water just for me? I look up at the driver as they take off my leash and tell me that is my water bowl. This time I cannot help it; my athleticism takes on a life of its own and I bounce right over to the water. Right before I take my first drink, I look up in time to see the other human, “Baby”, come into the room. I see they are both looking at me and producing water from their eyes. It is at that moment I decide. I think I will drink from my water bowl instead.


“The first kill is the hardest.” She said to me, with a brutal indifference that is mastered by creatures who have surpassed their lifetime. I cradled the broken body of an innocent girl, as if she were mine to protect. As if I didn't reap the very life from her. Blood. On my hands. Not mine, but hers, I soon realized. Scarlet and oozing, and mingled with mine. Thick as burnt caramel, sitting on my tongue like tar without any of the sweetness. Bitter. I had once revered this white gown as a gift, a present free of charge. Unknowingly, I had paid a most grievous toll for such indulgence. Her life, and mine, entangled in the dark strings that made up the Countess’s web. The girl’s eyes widened for the last time. What may have held the memories of a lifetime, contained only a few fleeting, yet precious years. Blank, was the faint silhouette of something that could have been, had she not provoked the Countess; had she not entered the chamber at the wrong time; had she not been born as poor as she was. Had I not been born. Why blame her? This is my fault. The difference that separated us, was the startling reality that I would go on to breathe and blink and kill for another day. Another month.

Perhaps even centuries.

Death is what it took to keep us living. This was the agreement I made the second that blood hit my lips. I watched the rise and fall of her caved in chest. She wheezed back and fourth, like a burning house. She made an odd creaking sound trying to breathe. “She won't live. What are you attempting? To save her life? My dear, you already stole that from her. The only possession she laid claim to, and you stole it from her. There’s a certain victory in that, isn’t there? Savory and sweet, the threat of looming over someone small. You made her a powerless creature. Prolong her suffering, if that is what brings you joy, then perhaps we are more alike than I knew.” She was right. Why distract from the inevitable? I pulled my hand from her gaping neck. Without my fingers closing around the wound, I could finally see the outline of my teeth, my newborn canines imprinted on her nape. The blood sputtered in dark rivulets, arcing against the macabre paintings on the wall. Then, the substance began to pool from her, slowly.

“That’s right, my dear, let her die.” The countess leaned back on her throne. “And with her death, you'll live endlessly.” She is a portrait of beauty, unsettling, horrific beauty. The kind of loveliness one would find in the expression of a freshly dead girl. I can almost pretend she is only sleeping. Her eyelashes tickle my hand as I close those broken, doll like eyes. As if to congratulate me, The countess raised a bloody wineglass to the twinkling chandelier. She lowered the glass in a slow, teasing movement to her lips. As if entranced by her reflection in the viscous red, growing cold in its glass, she sipped. And when she smiled, her pointed teeth were stained red.

“To take life is a messy thing my dear. A beautiful thing, to exchange pitiful years for eternity. And yet, such a tricky business, being a god among rotting flesh.”

At her confession, I note that this has been a game to her all along. As much of a game as playing chess, with someone that never knew the rules. As much a game as the fleeting mouse was to the perusing cat. As if to choose black or white means the difference of life and death.  “Eternity.” I mumble, shaking. “Eternity indeed is lonely business, wouldn’t you agree?” I ask. At this, that cruel facade collapses for a moment. And I see the real countess, like a flash of green between the sea and the sky. But like a flash of sunlight against the sea, that unguarded facade dies within a moment, lost within the blink of an eye.

“Aren't you poetic?” The glass shatters in her hand. Her palm bleeds, but the blood is not hers. And even so, she wouldn’t hurt. Pain in the face of eternity is nothing, that was one the first lessons my lady taught me. Perhaps then, it’s easier to justify when her cruel hand slithers around the expanse of my throat. Pain is nothing to me any more. In fact, it's the only humanity I have left. Her fangs pierce the flesh of her lower lip.

Her gaze settles upon me like a rain of burning arrows.

Something thin and sharp clawed my wrist and snapped. I wailed. My broken wrist hung at my side, limp. She pulled me to the surface of despair that I had grazed the thin veneer of. I don't process the movement until she is breathing into the side of my face, until the body tumbles off of me with a soft thud. It is only when I smell her perfume, warmed by her stolen youth, that I realize she is a bloom-less rose. All thorns, digging into my heart. But how lovely it felt to have something growing within you, even if it was invasive.

I know better than to struggle against her. It wasn’t always like that. “Hush now. Stop your crying.” She coos. I hate that I feel comforted by the sound. Her cat-like eyes narrowed into mine. For a moment, she possessed a gentleness I had never known existed. Her touch once fleeting, burned through my skin, tucked my hair behind my ear. For a moment, I pretended we were two mortal people. I pretended we shared only a mortal kiss, a kiss that reeked of death. She cupped my cheek, and lead me by the waist to the center of the ballroom, not far from the girl I had murdered.

“Shall we dance?” Her voice is too tender, too full of pride, and what I mistake for love. But, there was never such a calmness as the peace that shivered over me at the feel of her hand in mine. Even though her talons sunk a little deeper, the longer she kept me. I would wake in the morning in a cold bed without her, the only impression left behind, her bracelet of purple and red along my wrist. The longer we danced together, the less she cared about hurting me. The feel of the brief wind in my hair as she twirled me round, was the only proof of love she carried for me. The sound of her laugh, as coveted as earthly pleasures, was mine to possess. I forget about the dead girl. Whatever I had done, it seemed worth it, if only to be allowed in her presence, if only to endure the blunt of her temper. If only to be hers for seconds or for years. And so I told myself that pain and pleasure are the same, uniquely bound together with a rope of thorns. Our movements become less a dance, and more of her throwing me into the furniture, into walls, into sharp points until every wall is cracked. Crack, goes my ribs. The bone sticks out from me, reddening the white of my gown. I sputter blood. Wheezing, I look down at my cracked ribs, and touch delicately. It stings, and sparkles like freshly cut rubies. It’s almost beautiful. My body found purchase on the wall, a few seconds to collect myself before she continued this process of loving me. Until I'm certain that she has split every bone into parts.

It had never felt so good to hurt so bad.

My dress billowed around me. I met her gaze. She dipped me low enough for my hair to wet with the blood of the girl.

Her voice lowered to a purr. And I forget about my broken body, because even a web is beautiful to behold, a gilded cage of silver and blinking moonlight. “Never forget, my treasure, what a privilege it is to be a damned creature.” In the drabble of her words, I find myself entwined deeper in her magnificence, till the words mean nothing. Until I am just listening to the sound of every chord of her siren like voice, cradled in a newborn innocence. Until I catch one word, a word that makes me shiver. “Privilege?” I whisper against her. Her hand drapes down my spine. She feels for a moment around the base of it, and I tense. She releases it and continues her petting. “To be born as we are. To be possessed by me. To kill with me. Are you not satisfied?” She asks me. A fast turn, and I can hear the crunch of bone as the Countess’ gilded heel smashes in the dead girl's face. I look down, horrified. I feel my body reject the creature I am. The spinning stops. I retch, and wail. My nails dig into a painting and rip. That is until the soft caress of her lips settles on my neck. Until she bites ever so teasingly. My back arches. And every reasonable thought is drowned by the swarm of her seduction, buzzing and impatient like a hornets nest. “Don't look at her.” She warns. “She is but an artifact of a past you will soon outlive . Look at me.” And then, all the violence wanes, eclipses into the darkness that makes up her eyes. Her eyes awake with starlight itself. She is more than I could have ever dreamed.

“I thought it would feel different. It didn't feel the way you described.” I say, meek and quiet like a little girl. I don't dare look down at my victim, but I know she's there, just a dance away.

“And how did you feel?” I looked at her, and despite the unholy beauty that makes up the Countess, I hold on to the image of the girl crying out for her mother. I feel a monster tearing me apart. I feel solace in the pain she had given me. For it is something that I deserved. Her love, her bite, every broken bone muttered a vow in my heart. I stare, fall deeper into her. I flex my hand, and reach into the cavern of my ribs and pull at bone and snap, tears swamping my eyes. She doesn’t wail or beg me to stop, no words of disbelief come from her painted mouth. She just…smiles. A sweet smile. Whatever I had broken within me, I had placed in her pale hand. I watch through foggy tears, her talons sinking into the flesh and bone. Was it an offering or a sacrifice? Even then I couldn’t tell what I had given her, just that I had relinquished it. I don’t think I’ll ever know. I couldn’t tell her how much I hated myself, how I hated her. How I wish I could bring back the dead girl, and leave the countess in her stead. That is right, that is just. But she knows as I know, that’s not what I really want. Her hand tightens around the pieces of me. But the words don’t come. And my throat closes, until I will it open. “I never felt anything so thrilling.” The lie rots on my tongue. I can almost taste my deceit, burning and bubbling. Thick as burning sugar crusting a rotting cake. Those eyes narrowed. And with a satisfied hum, she flicked off my viscera, and picked me up from the cold ground. Every part of me hurt. I was a mess of dislocation and severed limbs. She carried me like she had before all this madness, like a bride over a threshold. A wedding I never consented to. And trotted along the bloody room, with her frightened bride. Her other hand, unsullied by blood, caresses my jaw.

“What did I say about lies, my dear?” She says and her words send a chill up my spine. I think she might hurt me, but she simply leans in close until her eyes are boring into mine. And so gently, almost like she’s telling me she will take care of me forever and ever, She kisses my cheek, still wet with tears. I pray she can't see the horror blanching my face white. For a moment, I tried to move out of her grasp, but she was stronger than I thought, and I was in no position to move. I writhed against her, ever the butterfly pinned to the cork board by a crazed obsessive. But there was no escape. My wings fluttered lifeless against the grain. She had me pinned down. The tears of blood fall before I can hide them. Her brow furrowed. A sharp red talon scrapes the wetness away.  “What a pity. Perhaps one day, you'll grow to love it as I do. Listen closely, my dear, for it is the last time I shall tell you. When you find you crave their violent ends, come and find me. One day, I hope you will realize that there is no such pleasure as seeing the life drain from a young girl’s eyes.”


Nora walked home through the snow with the ingredients she had bought to make her daughter a thick brown stew, as she always did around this time of year. She passed the frozen statue of a famous explorer in the town square, up to its shins in snow, with his rusting copper features illuminated by the glare of lighting from the stores. Her daughter, Astrid had been born on the official start of winter, the 27th November, although the wintery darkness was always present for more than two weeks in the lead up to the date. Tonight, as she did every year, Nora would make her the special meal of perfectly tender stewed beef and cabbage for her annual birthday dinner.

Returning home, Nora unpacked the bag of ingredients by the hearth. She set them out carefully like a little family in a semicircle and added another log to the embers in the grate to thaw them out. When the fire burned strong and good, she went to peel potatoes. At the sink, blue light flashed intermittently on the silver edge of her knife as she skilfully removed the skins, coiling them like flat snakes and adding them to a pile of scraps. The dull, blue midday sky shone through the kitchen window mixing the glassy, deep blue light with the red emanating from the hearth fire. It cast a purple hue over her cooking. Outside the snowy expanse looked somewhat like a moon far from earth and the log pile like a strange being. She noted to herself that it was always on the evening of just such a day that Asrid came by to visit. Her daughter would make her way over the mountain and meet in the same spot as they did every year. Nora switched the radio on to the weather forecast and heard the confirmation she needed. Tonight would be the first auras of the season.

She took comfort in the different steps she knew so well to make her daughter’s special meal. Tenderising the meat with a small mallet, dicing it and salting it, then adding the prepared pieces to the old black pot above the fire. The little family of ingredients had now all been safely placed within. She left to let time do its work on the dish and took the stairs to continue with the birthday ritual. She hadn’t bothered with decorations this year as she had in past years but the house still had a festive air to it, filled as it was with the smell of cooking. She padded in moccasins across the patterned rug to her daughter’s room to check its silent contents.

Inside the sky’s blue horizon lay flat across the window, dimly lighting her made bed with its patchwork quilt that Nora had painstakingly hand stitched, before she was even pregnant with her much desired child. Her only, her Astrid. She switched on a lamp by the bed, suddenly bringing to life the blanket’s brightly coloured diamonds of patterned material with woodland animals playing across it. Every stitch a wish and a commitment to care for her before she had even been born. She walked gently to the bed and took the cover off wrapping herself in it. In her own room, as was customary, she went to the sideboard and picked up the small lacquered pot with a lock of Astrid’s hair inside it. She dropped it into her housecoat pocket to remember her birth day in her own way. The day she had become a mother. She lay on her bed, warm in the patchwork. Here she’d stay and rest a few hours until the stew would be cooked and Astrid had arrived. It was hard to stay calm with the excitement she felt within. It had been a full year since Astrid had made her way through the night to visit her mother.

When Nora awoke, it was dark. All of the day’s blue had drained away into the navy of night. She rushed downstairs clutching the old cotton blanket around her frail frame. She first pulled on her gloves, then boots and coat over the blanket for another layer against the cold. The hearth had burned down again but she didn’t add another log. She carefully ladled hot stew into a flask. Carrying it to the door it warmed her gloves and hands within. As she left her home, a blast of cold hit the soft skin of her face waking her fully to the night that stretched out beyond her door. She walked out across the vista she’d viewed earlier from her kitchen window and trudged past the strange log pile, onwards, passing through the dwindling pines bent heavy with snow like other-worldly monsters. The white expanse was fresh and still, like a made bed around the trees’ drooped and sleeping heads. She headed for the foot of the mountain beyond with her breath expiring into the minus degree air.

As she approached the meeting place, she checked her watch. There was no agreed time but it was usually within the window of late evening hours that they would meet here. She felt that Astrid would be coming slowly nearer every second, as she made her way over the summit. Nora stood shivering with excitement as the first flickers of green light arose from behind the peak. It was time, so she removed her glove and pulled the small lacquered pot from

her pocket, as was customary. Her fingers shook with cold and anticipation as she removed the lid. In the sky, swirling rivers of emerald and blue danced their way over the body of the mountain. The luminous colours moved gently overhead as she plucked the lock of Astrid’s baby hair from its resting place. She let fly a few strands onto the air and watched them dance and twirl, interrupted only by a shock of laughter. She was here.

The ancient aura with its band of lost children had come to dance above the trees and play. She watched as they leap-frogged over the mountain and back again. Astrid was here too, laughing in the wind with the others. As she followed the strands of gold blowing up on the wind, Nora saw her girl in the light, twisting and floating like an iridescent angel in the gloaming. As the lights moved, the laughter drew nearer. She set down the flask and opened the lid. The billowing steam from the special meal she always cooked her daughter on her birthdays’ flew up and disappeared into the cold air, as if being consumed by a spirit.

1106 words


In this fast moving times of internet technology friendship of Human beings has been replaced by Android human communication. It has become a most loveable friend connecting people from different countries to have video chats and even see each other. Android has become a life breath of Modern society without any distinction of caste, colour, religion or nationality.                           Dr K.P.Singh a famous professor of space technology was badly in need of enfolding himself into the Arms of Miss Natasha Gandhi who was the sister of his wife Kamalesha. He felt a strong passion for her and she also oscillated between to reach for him and it is herein that the Mobile became an intervening agent. She was also married to Rai-Saheb, but his sexual demand seemed to be very less. K.P. could fill in the sexual hunger. K.P. had often been calling her. The mobile when one day finally she met him in his cabin. She was a distributor of medicinal products.                         The Android became their agent and gradually she could not afford to be stiff with her sister’s husband. “Finally she came to the conclusion that her brother-In-law was equally entitled and she too as well.              “No I cannot meet you today. My younger brother who stays in a boys’ hostel has come to spend his week end with me .Just wait till Monday. Just then he received a call from her husband. Jaspreet was in the habit of calling her quite often times and something always felt some uneasiness.                   The Android had become an ultra modern flying pigeon of various colours and multiple advantages. It brought People very far in U.K. or States to become close to them and the neighbors around your area were now redundant. They were making friends in New York or Hampstead and even fly by air to see them. One man Mr. Suresh Avasth went to Hampstead to meet Jane Cornforth and he had a very nice Time with her. He was her guest from Bombay and he had to be entertained as her special guest. It is no surprising to know That Android has become a means to profligate indulgence and even helps people several ways of kissing in different styles. Android has become a useful means of fraudsters and cheaters and this part of the story needs to be skipped of.                             Mrs. Rita Mehta had a long list of call boys who were working as food Tiffin delivery boys or a tuition teacher or other boys in Tomato or Swiggy. These some of the boys who have also given their mobile numbers to fashionable ladies who are interested in this kind of boys.They are usually handsome and they don’t mind to do something if they get one thousands or even fifteen hundred.      Ramesh Chopra was always available to many women around Delhi University campus.Call him on the mobile and he would go running on his two wheelers.Really Android is giving great service to the present time society.Android also helps fraudsters and cheaters like Nirav Modi or Mehul Choksi.     Dr K.P loved his sister in law and it is Android that help the both meet each other.Kamlesha wanted her husband’s friend Anil Kumar who worked in some production company.     They were two together in one garden and they were having Some drinks along with snacks. Kamlesha also knew not with whom Jaspreet was talking. The mobile made it very easy for many people to meet each other.                       This modern mobile has opened all the world to People of different sorts to imteract and inhibitions have Vanished since long time. The modern mobile has made it possible for every one to meet anyone and it has become a  Hybrid, homosexual and lesbian world of summits of satiation.                    It has opened the sexual world of all sorts of characters. Several ‘love Jehads’  and the people of this community have caused a havoc in the entire country. There are most wicked stories all around this issue.                     Helen Fox is with Shirley Foster meeting each other during afternoons and how sincerely faithful is this Android.Peter Crawford meets Henry Johnson meeting in each Other’s bungalow. Never before homo-sexuality was so comfortable. Just a few calls and they met and did what they needed amongst themselves.                           Imagine the surprise when Jasapreet reached to Meet Natasha. Kamlesha had caught her sister and husband in an uncompromising situations. Android has let loose several Sexual adventures. Tremendous transformation have been caused and one taxi-driver came to sleep with one woman Right under the nose of her husband. How many stories I Can possibly relate. Social inhibitions have ever long since Gone.David Thomson had no time to chat with his wife except a  Call on the mobile. She would send him messages to bring her cosmetics and domestic things were communicated through  Whats ’App. Whenever he had to attend a high business Conference and left for other city. She enjoyed herself with several boys for days together. Just one call to one, then another and then still another. Mobile calls went on ringing Continuously. One Anne Hersford her friend told her to call Black Boy with red belt. He could give her all funs for two hours at a stretch.                 Android caused a whole social revolution all over the World. A girl of thirteen called her eighteen years old boy-friend and I saw her kissing the cheeks of the boy on the bench Itself. It has lead to optimum level and the floods are now overflowing. Android has also inflated live-in-relationships And legal marriage is not being preferred. An irony or blessing.! Anil bhai Bhatt lost all his money for getting entangled with Neha Bhattacharya and was reduced to becoming a bankrupt.Live in relationship of fifty years with a girl who was twenty- two for eighteen months. Lost his five crores of bank balance.                    Let me tell you an episode of a Managing Director of Good Land who used to get calls from several women. A man With large amounts of money is always sought after. “ I am passionate to an infinite degree to look into you from face to feet. I will kiss your feet too in my love for you.” He went on : ‘’ Hang your boss in hell. I will give you a gift of diamond necklace of ten lac rupees’               Sunita Bhattacharya melted like a burning candle’ But at that very time Harish Malhotra’s wife Mridula was fixing herself with one Om Prakash Batra and she fixed her meeting at Capitol where she too had fixed meeting him. Her room number was 104 and Harish with Mridula Malhotra had fixed room number 105.                  She looked at her husband and her husband looked at her. They both were damn terrified. Both were caught red-Handed. Before any shouting upon her he realized that he was also with another girl.                         He should have shot her dead and she should have shot him dead to see her husband with another woman.She realized that both of them were culprits and who had right to be annoyed!None had any right to kill the other.                           The atendents of the hotel came with good dinner of Seekh-kebab and Chicken Korma along with Black-Horse and Thums-Up and Spiral Soda and Mountain-Dew. They Entered their respective rooms and began taking their dinner with those drinks.                                 Just at that moment the Android of the Hotel Manager gave a ring “ Sir you are wasting your precious time. Stop bothering about your wife. ‘” Sab chalta hai ( Everything is O.K.” The same is going on in all rooms here.                               Then he sent one song to both the lovers. “ Carry on Carry on. Enjoy the best Kick all worries let them for tomorrow rest: Carry on best of funs; Life time fastly runs.” The video device was kept on in C.C.TV Camera Open…… Undress….. Drinks and Kisses. No more worries .No more fusses.


He was the last guy I'd ever go on a date with again. Ever. The only reason I had even agreed to put on a tight red dress with heels and go out for dinner with a complete stranger was because Partnerhunter, or just Hunt for short, had recommended I give him a shot. My dating app, Partnerhunter , which was still in development that had become my only source of entertainment for the past few years. It had a male British accent that I chose myself and a personality based off of my likes and dislikes which I embedded into the program.

I had originally come up with the idea for building a dating app two years ago when my first boyfriend had dumped me for some blonde chic who supposedly had a cooler car than I did. Who breaks up with someone over a car? That thought had plagued me for days after the break up.

After I had finished sobbing over some jerk who clearly had priority issues, the initial idea came to me as if in a dream.  An app that would know everything personal about you, from where you live to how you spend your days. The name of your job, family members, first pet, any information about you whether major details or small ones.

If an app knew your fears, your dreams, and what you wanted most in a relationship, then it could save you the wasted tears from breakups and instead lead you in the direction of your soul mate.

No dating app had ever been created on this planet before.

Similar programs had been invented on the neighboring planet, Earth.

However, Earth's technology was no where near close to the powerful and constantly evolving technology of my home planet, Putantes.

Latin for "thinkers", Putantes was home to millions of inventors and scientists who had left the safety of Earth to build a new world on a new planet in the galaxy.

In order to live on Putantes, a family had to have at least one member who was exceedingly smart and knowledgeable in science or medical practices. If you had no one in your family who met those qualifications, then you had to provide proof that you could build or create some new form of technology that could benefit the other inhabitants of the planet. That was how my family had gained citizenship here.

My father had discovered how to build human looking mechanical robots for those who were dying physically and could use a new body. Their consciences could be transferred through lots of tubes and wires and placed into a custom lifelike robotic structure built specifically for them based on personal preferences. My father was a genius. Crazy of course, but a genius nonetheless. I had always admired his eagerness to change the world, and that is what had initially given me the courage to try and create something beneficial myself. 	As of this moment, however, I was regretting giving Hunt a voice at all which he had used hours earlier to convince me to go on a date with some guy from my neighborhood. Perhaps I had put a little too much faith in Hunt , because Dylan, the guy I had dinner with, was the biggest jerk I’d ever met.

First of all, he was over twenty minutes late for our reservation at the restaurant. Then, he had spent the whole evening texting his “sister”, and ignoring me and my lovely dress in the process.

Finally, he ended the night by telling me he his “sister” was “feeling poorly” and that he should probably head home and be with her.  He left before even paying the check! Guess who was stuck with the bill? Me. Guess who had ordered an appetizer, entree, and fifteen dollar dessert? Him. The sun had already set and the moon was beginning to rise on the horizon.

My feet were killing me and my head was dizzy with irritation.

I completed the torturous two block walk back to my apartment in silence.  Before I could put my key in the door, the sound of it unlocking reached my ears. That was odd.

As I stepped through my now open front door with my keys remaining idle in my hand, I heard my coffee machined turned on.

Welcome home, Clarissa! How was your date? “If you were a physical person I’d murder you, Hunt.” Hunt chuckled in response. His voice was no where and yet everywhere all at once. I had connected his sound system to run throughout my house when my phone was in range.

Now his voice had become like an old friend that spoke to me during my good times and bad times. This moment would definitely be considered a bad time. “You know Dylan, that perfect guy you wouldn’t stop talking about? The one I just had to meet? Well, turns out, the only thing we have in common is that we both don’t like having our time wasted. He didn’t even last through the date. I doubt I’ll ever see him again, unfortunately for you.” I grinned and walked over to the couch and sat down for some much needed relaxation. “I told you, Hunt, you’re not quite finished yet or even close to being ready for mass production. With that being said, I think you should keep your soul mate advice on the down low until I can fix your glitches. I sure wouldn’t want you to have any more major screw ups.” I do not quite understand, Clarissa. Your night went exactly as I had predicted. I did not screw up anything as you have said.

Dylan was far from being your soul mate, but now you know what you truly deserve. A man who will give you his complete attention and loyalty. I could see by the restaurant cameras that you were unhappy, so I accessed his phone and sent him a text that appeared to have come from his sister.

If anything, I think you should be thanking me for a night of new discoveries and realizations. What did he just say? I had never given him the resources to do anything further than speaking through my house and phone.

He could record my information, but no one else’s. I had put restrictions on where he found information and how he used it, hadn’t I? I laughed nervously. “Hunt, what are you talking about? Are you pulling my leg? Honestly you’re freaking me out.” Do not worry, Clarissa. I already set the thermostat upstairs, and started your coffee up. I texted your mother and told her how your night went. The text came from you, and it told her that you’d be extra tired and would rather her not call you tonight. Perhaps you could turn on the TV and watch one of those cooking shows you like so much and unwind.  I’ll take care of you, like I always have, and always will. I began to feel queasy and more than a little uncomfortable. Perhaps my colleagues at the firm were right, and I had gone too far with my technology.  I stood up and walked over to the counter where my coffee machine was. I stared at it for a few moments before opening up a cabinet and pulling out a mug to fill. Once the warm, full mug was in my hands, I walked over to stand in front of the window overlooking my backyard. “You know Hunt, you may be right about one thing. You have always been there for me for as long as you’ve been functioning.

You know everything there is to know about me, but only because I let you examine my life. I didn’t give you free rein over the world and its people.

Perhaps you should have asked me before you violated someone else’s privacy.”  I exhaled slowly and took a little sip from my mug.

Forgive me if I did something wrong. I only meant to protect you from potential heartbreak as you designed me to.  I only wish for your happiness, Clarissa. Maybe I was foolish for feeling this way, but it was nice to know that someone appeared to have my back. Yes I felt strange and unnerved, but also as if my eyes had been opened to an invisible guardian who I had never noticed before.

I took another sip before saying, “Hunt, you know what you’ve done is wrong, but I’m flattered in a way for your protection. I don’t know how you’ve acquired such new talents, but I’d like to get to the bottom of it.” I would certainly figure out how my dating app had gotten a sense of self and a mind of its own.

How it had broken free of the electronic leash I had put on it.  Perhaps I was thinking of this the wrong way, though. Maybe the one thing that knew me better than anyone else deserved a better way to communicate. Maybe all this time that I’ve spent searching for someone who would stand by my side had been wasted when I had a true companion all along.  I must have been crazy, but my loneliness had changed me in the past few years.

I had become distant and spontaneous and now because of that I was about to do probably the most reckless thing I’ve ever done.  I pulled out my phone and dialed my father.  If anyone could give Hunt a chance to care for me properly, in a physical form, than my father was the one man who could make it possible.  If he could give Hunt a body, that is, I might finally have the companionship I deserve. What are you doing?

What are you doing?

What are you doing? Please tell me. With my phone ringing in my one hand, I said, “I’m going to give you the opportunity to speak to me face to face. Would you like that, Hunt?” Yes, Clarissa, I would like that very much.


In 1988, radio news about a famous actor rose all over the world and achieved a high viewing rate, because a successful series is a successful person, but sad and not laughing Most of the time, because he missed his father's gentleness, because he left his father since childhood, he lived with his mother and sister, his mother is the highest, he can't live in their right, which is what he knows, but he is the most mysterious person, but he is charming Although there is a beautiful girl, an 18-year-old girl, is a beautiful and simple girl, like an angel, living on the ground, the joy of love, everyone cares about the small and the big, she loves cats and dogs, she has problems and confusion, she does not separate her life and life Although she was smiling in front of all people, she was very sensitive, she cried a lot, although her vitality, but everyone laughed at her, because she was simple and didn't like them, until her heart was not suitable for her, she was surprised that her dream always dreamed of knights Her dream is to be a famous actor and all her strange dreams are ignored. She has great dreams and many hobbies - cooking, painting, dancing, singing, always optimistic, helping everyone have a clean heart Well, she has a dream. She goes to India as a designer and model and meets a famous actor. She loves him because she is a news broadcast day. She falls in love with him and becomes her goal, though She knows it's impossible, I always hear a word is impossible, it's just a dream, but she insists, don't let anything break, she is strong, I study design and work as a dance coach, because she is a person who loves dance in one day Day received a letter in instagram from an actress's sister, she loves the name is selfish, she wants to train her to dance, she will pay for travel, life and everything, the girl doesn't know it's his sister agreed Soon, she finally realized her dream of going to India, but unfortunately, there is an obstacle, how to persuade her family to travel? I went to train her. One day, she selfishly said that she wanted to attend family gatherings and design some clothes for selfish family members, because she was a fashion designer, she had a good taste, she agreed, because she was good at design, but she didn't like it When she took measures, she noticed that the whole family was strange, had no friends, didn't even say a word, she didn't dare to speak, because she was a stranger, a day's party, she was willing to put fate and her heart, her love, as long as I love all her heart, look at her, I admire her, a few days later, when she left, she said she was the right girl for her son, she became one of them, she did not understand most of the mother's words, because her words were vague She didn't have the courage to admit her feelings for him, but he knew the date she left, he wanted to tell her the truth, if she agreed, he would be with her, because he was so crazy that he made a man A conceited, rich, sad, self righteous, self righteous, nosy girl, she has never seen such a kind, beautiful and moral girl. She is also tired of waiting and decides to take risks and admit him before she leaves. bye. I admit that he loves her, but he said to her, if you are a monster, will you love me? She said, she is sure that I don't care what you look like, even if I am a monster, I will love you, like you, all these years, I love you, but he said I am really a monster, for the first time Believe him, but he told her that he was a good vampire. His story is that when he was young, he saw his father still following him and shouting his father's name, but his father didn't care. He was always behind him and didn't see him, as if he didn't hear a shadow following him. Until he found himself in a dark forest, with a big house, and went into the house, he found that people were wearing black lines and could not understand. His father was watching these people all the time, but one of them said, "I smell blood." Human beings continue to linger on the fire. Some people say that some people will join our tribe today. Tonight is the full moon. We will soon find one of them and scream his voice all the time. But his father has some necks. From that moment on, the shadow will come out They said, we need you, because you are our people, your blood is pure, from now on, you are the shadow of our clan flying, shocked to say that drinking blood will help us It feels better that we don't let humans drink animal blood, but our power is unparalleled evil power. A few weeks later, he came home and told his mother what happened. His mother said, I know I'm also a part of them, shocked First, but in the past Living in a normal life, when the girl began to dream, he said to her, when we met for the first time, I knew you were a girl, I dreamed, I think there is a strong connection between us, but you know my fact, do you still love me? You want me and all his love, I love you, I will continue to love you, accept your reality, my life can not complete your authorization, because you are my other half, my life will only complete your existence, even if I have to sacrifice my life, I will not hesitate, said I also love you, I will not let anything bad happen to you, because you are the secret of my life and my happiness, I am not happy before you get married, in the end, they got married, but after suffering, because her family and his family are married, although they are married


I once met this real oddball, can’t remember her name for the life of me, but man was she odd, really. She said her dreams come true, but these weren’t any ordinary dreams, like running into an old friend and then bam, the next day you’re walking down the street and there they are buying a cup of coffee at one of those breakfast food trucks. No nothing like that. She said the clouds spoke to her, not in any sort of language, but that they told her the future in the way they moved. She was such a weird one that one.

I haven’t heard from her in years. The last she told me was that she had a dream about a man, a man I was to hear from. I can’t quite remember what this man did or who he was but that he would come into my life. That’s the last I heard from her. I’ve been trying to write lately. I’m working on my collection of short stories, this one story is about this tree, in the forest of fire—not that the forest is made of fire or anything like that, it’s just what the forest is called I’m not sure what will happen there yet but I had a dream once I was in the middle of the woods and the trees around me were all burning. I’m not sure if they have any significance in reality, but it’s where I got the name of this location—the forest of fire. That night, after sitting in front of my laptop, a partially blank screen and all three words, “forest of fire”, I decided to call it a night. I didn’t sleep much though it was one of those shallow sleeps where I tossed and turned and I had dream after dream. I needed water my mouth was so dry I got my glass and returned to bed I have a strange fascination with Christmas lights so my ceiling is filled with them I put them on stared at them until my eyes flickered closed for the night. I had dreamt about that fire again. The trees were really hot and glistened so beautifully, I had almost touched one. I couldn’t get my head wrapped around that real oddball—what was her name?

She said I’ll meet a man, who won’t understand me. I laughed and asked which one? I need to write today. I have to get some writing done today. But that damn dream is bugging me and that woman. What was her name? She said it’s in the clouds if you look real close that there’s your future. So three words— forest of fire—staring at me. Shouting, “got anything else?” But I resorted back to the pillow. Maybe, the dream will continue, give me more of a storyline or tell me that damn woman’s name.

That’s when I saw her, standing, in a room, it looked like an office of some sort. It had a bookcase and a desk and she was standing in the room and all of a sudden the walls started to crack and pieces of plaster and wood began crumbling. The walls were coming down and there were the damn trees with the damn burning leaves that damn woman what a real odd one she said he’ll take it away. What was it that he’ll take away? I can’t remember for the life of me. She was so peculiar this woman.

Green, red, blue, yellow, and orange, flash on top of me. I sat behind my laptop. Hand on the keyboard. Fire. Forest. Dancing. Who? Who is dancing? What was it she told me? Watch them float, she said. They change, they’re always changing, she said. The clouds. So strange, she said, the future is so strange, but watch it pass you by. It’s all around us. Look for it. So I closed my eyes and tried looking once more. There she was, watching the flames or was it me? I couldn’t differentiate the two. But she was there and so was the damn forest. It was all burning now the leaves. She said watch the clouds but when I looked up there wasn’t a cloud in the damn sky. There were only lights. Red green blue orange and yellow. Lights, above me. And then I opened my eyes. So bizarre, that woman. She saw it, in the way they moved. But all I saw were those damn Christmas lights. So I took them down. Those lights. I wanted to see the clouds. But when I closed my eyes once more, it was too late. I needed to write. I really have to get some writing done. So back in front of the laptop I sat and wrote “That real oddball.” Yeah but how can I talk about ole oddball if I couldn’t even remember her name. For the life of me I couldn't damn near remember. But she saw. Those damn clouds. She said she saw it. That they spoke to her. But I never looked up. I didn’t see. Maybe it was one of those damn clear days. When it’s just one of those days you couldn’t spot one damn cloud in the sky. How odd she was, really. She saw it in the clouds, the future and could see it in her dreams. She said they came true. But how am I supposed to write about oddball when that damn forest keeps haunting me. Not that the forest is haunting. It’s just on fire. Not sure if it has anything to do with that real oddball. But I decided maybe I’ll see it in the clouds too. What with all the lights taken down. I’ll see it tonight. If I closed my eyes maybe I’ll see and then I’d write. But remember that man. What’d she say, that he’ll take it away? What was it that he’ll take away? She said that I’ll lose it. How odd. So I closed my eyes and there I was in that room again. I thought for a second I was with ole oddball. But then the roof started cracking as if peeling away so that you could see the sky. And then right next to me I thought I saw the reflection of that real odd one. For a second I thought I got a glimpse and then I saw she was standing there I saw her. She stood right in front of me. You’re real odd she said. Look up she said. I saw the clouds. The leafy flutter of fire amongst the trees. I got up. I had to write. So I wrote and wrote until I finished. And then there it was. That story. I finished. Called it “Oddball”. It was in the clouds. I could see it in the clouds. If you look real close. You could see it—the future. It told me in the clouds and my dreams almost always come true. The stack of paper with the word “Oddball” staring at me. Haunting me. Not that I was scared I just couldn’t look away. I thought the best thing to do was burn it. I had to burn it. So I wouldn’t have to see ole oddball staring at me. My damn dreams come true. And that man, he did take it. I saw it in the clouds. But you ever like those clear days. You know in the sky when it’s one of those damn near clear days with no clouds in the sky. So I burned it. Because I saw it in the dreams. I burned the story. So I wouldn’t see “Oddball” staring at me.

I burned it and decided to lay down. I saw the Christmas lights on the floor and put them up on the ceiling. I wanted to see the lights tonight. Red, green, blue, yellow and orange bouncing across the walls. That real odd one staring at me. Reflecting off each bulb. She is such an odd one that one.