January 20, 2023, at 11:59:59 PM Eastern Time – A communication was received by the Green Bank Radio Telescope located in Green Bank, West Virginia located in the Allegheny Mountain Range. --- The round-the-clock surveillance team was working and sifting through normal noise picked up by the radio telescope when intern Bobbie Sagan noticed something unusual. The data coming through was in English. She thought she was dreaming so she called her colleague over. Dr. Phillips sauntered over thinking something was wrong with their equipment. “What’s going on, Bobbie?” “Uh…I’m not quite sure. This message just came through and…” “And what?” “It’s in English.” “English? Let me see that,” as he ripped the paper from her hand. “It makes no sense,” she replied. “Someone’s playing a joke,” Dr. Phillips insisted. “Who? There’s no way.” “There’s no way a message comes from space in English,” he insisted. “Don’t think for a minute that it was me,” she glared. He stared at her not surprised, “Then who? It’d be funny if it was you.” “I swear, it wasn’t me.” “Rerun the transmission.” “Will do.” “According to the data, the transmission emanated from more than 25,000 light years away. This makes no sense.”  “I know, that’s what I’m saying. I’ve confirmed and rerun everything several times. There’s no way someone could fool the system.” “Hello to the children of planet Earth. Long story short, I’m the one who received your communications. I’ve spent the last three earth seconds composing a response…,” Dr. Phillips read aloud. “I’ve read it several times; it makes me uncomfortable.” “What the hell…get Dr. Shaw on the phone.” “Certainly,” Bobbie said reaching for the phone. “1974…1977?” Dr. Phillips continued. “Hello, Dr. Shaw? This is Bobbie Sagan from Green Bank. I’m sorry to wake you but we’ve received a communication that doesn’t make sense. I mean, it makes sense, but it doesn't.” “What? You’re not making sense,” Dr. Shaw replied in a half-awake voice. “I know, I know. You need to get over here right away. Dr. Phillips is here also and he’s not sure what to make of it either.” “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Within twenty minutes, Dr. Shaw had arrived and the three read the message aloud several times and confirmed the origin of the message. They all agreed that the message seemed authentic and that no one could have sent the message from earth. It was unsettling and they were all very troubled. They decided to call in General Hensfield who then decided to call the President. The five of them jumped on a video call and General Hensfield deferred to Dr. Shaw who explained the situation and then read the message aloud. --- Hello to the children of planet Earth. Long story short, I’m the one who received your communications. I’ve spent the last three earth seconds composing a response and in the correct format. You see, I’m the one responsible for deciphering and evaluating communications from different regions. I hope you can appreciate that I must keep this communication short, because I’ve strict policies against long and drawn-out communications. I’m more a ‘get to the point’ being. I’m referring to your ‘Arecibo message’ that you transmitted in earth year 1974 and aimed at, what you call, Messier 13 (aka M13). I’m also referring to the ‘Voyager message’ that was conveniently sent on a phonograph record and transmitted in earth year 1977. It’s great stuff, but I’m well aware of your progress, as I’ve run reconnaissance missions periodically to your earth and every object in that region for that matter. I exist in a place where time and space are not measured. I’ll always exist, because I’m able to regenerate myself periodically. It’s basically a super-evolved method of cloning. I’m asexual and can reproduce once every one-hundred earth years. Essentially, I reproduce – or clone – myself. I birth myself in perpetuity. It may sound strange, but it’s how I’ve evolved. At the risk of saying too much, I have a system of oxygen collection and processing in a fluid form, which makes my body less susceptible to external pressure forces. I have a layer of oxygen receptors in my skin. Beneath that skin, is a layer of oxygenated fluid that moves through my body to my lungs. I don’t breathe air – think of it as liquid breathing. Additionally, every twenty-five earth years I am subjected to an involuntary toxic wash, which is a process of purging and regenerating the oxygenated fluid. It is intended to keep me from aging and preserves my vitals to get me to the cloning stage. I’ve just entered my five-thousandth cloning and have never felt better, but I digress. Your evolution in intellect has been critical to your success. It has led to numerous advancements in areas such as, communication, travel, survival, and emotion. You’re learning the hard way that everything comes at a cost and that’s where you struggle. With the advent of fire came overuse of earthly resources. Overpopulation is another problem. Water has become scarcer, and the sustainability of life seems in question. Pollution is just a waste; you really need to figure that one out. If that’s not enough, your earth is headed toward a cycle of extreme warming. Soon your earth will be covered with water. Your mountains will shrink, and you’ll be forced to take to the water, but taking to the water in any form is not the best path. You may not completely see it, but technology is your friend if managed correctly, or safely. Kudos on your advancements with robotics by the way. Robots certainly have a place in your survival, but it must be policed and not by robots. To that end, while you’re in the infancy of artificial intelligence, it’ll be your guiding force in space travel. I feel obligated to inform you that your travels from your earth and into space is your best course of action – your path. Your medical advancements to date will certainly assist in your survival, but you lack focus or advancement in three main areas. First, while Nuclear Fusion needs to be achieved, it must be controlled. It is a steppingstone to what happens next. The earth’s sun will guide you. Be ever so careful and cautious. Second, a more durable space-travel material does exist and you’re circling all around it currently. Third, and I think most importantly, you must perfect a breathable liquid. It will extend your space life to the next stage of evolution and provide unlimited options for future travel. I’ve taken great risk in sending this message and hope you follow the path necessary to continue your journey to the top of the mountain. --- The President blurted out, “What the hell was that? Is this a joke? There’s no way this is real.” Dr. Shaw exclaimed, “I don’t believe it’s a joke, sir.” General Hensfield replied, “Tell me again you confirmed it.” “Yes, we’ve confirmed it,” Bobbie chimed in. “There’s nothing to prove it isn’t real.” “What does this all mean?” replied the President. “The top of what mountain?” Bobbie immediately responded, “Man seeks his maker and strives to survive and reach the pinnacle of knowledge to that end. We’ve always climbed that mountain.” “We can’t let this get out,” ordered the President. “No one’s going to believe this.” Dr. Shaw fired back, “Sir. With all due respect, this is monumental. We can’t sit on this.” “If I may,” Bobbie interrupted. “We need to get other opinions on what all of this means. The five of us can’t in good conscience make a decision on behalf of mankind.” “General…I’ll call you back,” offered the President. “No one’s going to believe this.” The remaining four stood staring at each other in utter disbelief. General Hensfield looked to the stars, rubbed his face with both hands and said, “No one’s going to believe this.” Dr. Shaw followed suit, “Yeah, no one’s going to believe this.” Dr. Phillips also followed suit, “You’re right, no one’s going to believe this.” Bobbie remained silent. “Bobbie?” asked General Hensfield. “Yes, sir.” “What say you?” “No one’s going to believe this?” General Hensfield placed his arm around Bobbie’s shoulders, “Let’s go for a walk.”


PRESENT DAY …I looked at my house for the last time. Then I got in my car and drove off silently into the night. TWO MONTHS AGO I was sitting inside my living room, donned in a casual sweater and jeans, looking at the painted walls and the dusty paintings. I wanted to take one last look at them as I turned to the flyers in my hands. The flyers that were responsible for getting my house sold. The pictures of the interior of the house and the exterior flashed before my eyes. So much in life had changed yet the house that was reflected in these pictures looked the same as if it were built yesterday. This house was a symbol of me growing up and having lived there from when I was five till I entered college meant that this house held a special place in my heart. As figured, I was skeptical on selling it, as it had been my childhood home. But since Father and Mother had passed away recently and I was the only child, the only thing left to do was to sell the house. I needed the money after all. As I looked at the flyers, I heard footsteps. The sound of the steps made loud clicking sounds. "Lisa, what are you doing here?" It was my realtor, Jessica Eastman. She had on a grey suit and high heels. "Just taking one last look at the house before the open house." "I was just going to say, I have an open house in a bit so you should probably get going." "I know. But I just wanted to sit here for a bit." "You can do that, but afterwards." I got up reluctantly. "Good luck," I said as I walked out. I didn’t end up coming back that day. The following week, I had no luck in prospective buyers. No one wanted to buy the house. I asked people I knew, friends, family if they knew anyone who were looking into buying a house, but no one had anyone in mind. In a sense, I was relieved of this fact. I secretly didn’t want the house to be sold soon. But…as my fiancé Brad said, being twenty-eight now meant I had to look at things beyond material value and instead practical value. ‘Sure, you love holding on to things of the past and that’s fine, but this doesn’t mean you should keep your childhood home if it isn’t practical for you to upkeep and maintain,’ he had said. I didn’t listen to his words at the time. 1 MONTH AGO I got married the very next month. This meant that I was starting a new life and new beginnings. After our honeymoon, Brad and I drove up to my childhood home for one last time. Someone had made an offer on the house, during our time at the Bahamas.

After we got back, I was sitting in front of our TV in our apartment. It was a smaller but cozier place of residence that was just right for us. It had all the amenities we wanted. A indoor washer/dryer, a toaster oven, state of the art fridge, and a balcony. In other words, it had everything one could want in a living space. Except living here was not the same as living in a house. A house that could hold memories and... "How do you feel?" my husband suddenly asked. I looked up. "About what? “About selling your house. You don’t look too satisfied. You've been keeping a face ever since you started the selling process. You seem out of it also." “I’m not out of it. I was just thinking. It's hard to sell a house that means so much to you. But you know what? You’re right. I didn't want to let go and still don’t want to let go of it for some reason.” I stopped watching the TV as my thoughts took me back to the house. He sat down next to me and put his arm around me. In a comforting manner, he said, “You must be willing to let go of it. You have new buyers now who will make great use of the house." The new buyers were a family of three- husband, wife and a child of eight years. They for sure would be able to enjoy my house with its pool and large front and back yards. I sighed. I was hard to see reason to his words, but I knew he was right. After all, we all had to let go of something in our past, whether it possessed a sentimental value or not. "I’m glad they made an offer on the house though. If no one had done so, I would have reconsidered even selling it in the first place." My husband didn’t seem too happy with my words. He didn’t say anything. PRESENT DAY My realtor called me and said that the prospective buyers now wanted to move forward with the buying process. The FOR SALE sign that was previously on my lawn now read SALE PENDING. My house was officially sold after a week. By the time all the paper work was signed, it was late in the evening. From Jessica’s office, I decided to drive over to the house for one last time. When I reached, I parked across the street, got out and just stared at what used to be my childhood house for what seemed like eternity. The FOR SALE sign now read SOLD. Memories of the past came flooding back to me as I stared at the two-story cemented house with glass windows and a lovely water fountain out front- the wonderful times I played outside, the picnics, the playdates, the bike rides, the pool parties, filled my head. Specifically, I remembered the tears from falling off my bike as I rode around the backyard, the laughter from splashing my friends in the pool, and the cries of joy over getting into the college of my choice. I then remembered what my husband told me. That I had to move on and leave this part of my life behind. Let this other family enjoy this house as much as I had. …I looked at my house for the last time. Then I got in my car and drove off silently into the night.


Eleri Lloyd was not someone you'd expect to be a colonist. She was on the shorter side, with dirt brown hair, casually blue eyes, and a frame that had once been described as "kindly", in an unkind way. On Earth, she had been a housekeeper. Not even to a rich family. She had worked around her village in Wales, going from house to house to do whatever it was people needed. Cooking, cleaning, babysitting, etc. But here she sat, billions of light years from home, and a few hundred years older for it, without a single wrinkle to show for it. Cryogenic pods really were miracles for the skin. She swung her legs, looking out over the vast darkness that lay just beyond her feet. At the end of the universe, there were no planets. No stars. Not even meteors. It just... existed. An infinite void, just waiting for light. The nearest star was half a million light years away. The nearest planet was five million light years away. Eleri and her fellow colonists lived in a bubble. An artificial planet with no name, and less than two hundred people living on it. It was just slightly smaller than a dwarf planet. Yet it still felt too big. The bubble itself made up most of the size, and the "island" within it had about a 6 to 1 ratio of plants to humans, or, more accurately, four pounds of oxygen for every two point three pounds of CO2 breathed out by each person a day. Eleri's job was to keep everyone alive, more or less. She was still a housekeeper, but now she was a housekeeper in space. Who'd've thought that a bunch of geniuses could forget to vacuum? Her job was to go around to each dwelling—they weren't exactly houses. They looked like weird, concrete igloos—and make sure they were cleaned according to the specifications of that individual. Food was more of a communal duty, and luckily didn't take much creativity, as it was a lot of prepackaged food that required little more than adding water and heating. "Once everything is stabilized," they said, "then we can make room for frivolous plants." Eleri would have argue that rosemary and mint were hardly frivolous when it came to keeping one's tastebuds alive, but who was she to argue with the needs of the many? Eleri's favorite part of it all though, was the dock. Ostensibly, it wasn't for recreation. It was where the next ship would disembark its passengers and supplies. But Eleri couldn't help but sit on it and swing her legs out over the dark vastness that was the end of the universe. Artificial day after artificial day, once her work was done and diner was had, she would sit out on the edge of the dock and look out into the emptiness. Sometimes, she brought a cup of tea with her and entertained thoughts of pouring it out to see what would happen. Other times, she talked to the void. "Cal did it again. How's a man so smart forget to brush his own hair?" Or, "Maria needs someone. She's getting lonely, I can tell. She was talking about her pet spider, Archie, you remember Archie from last time, right? Well, she was talking about him again. I think she misses that spider more than she misses her own mother. Course, it probably helps that her mother is in an urn on her shelf, but still!" Things like that. She liked to imagine that the emptiness was where God lived, sometimes. That it was where he took his seventh day of rest, every week. Eleri didn't view God through any particular lens. She had been raised with him as just sort of an all seeing figure, who made everything in six days and rested on the seventh. There hadn't been any churches or synagogues or mosques or other religious houses of worship near her village, so she had been instead raised on what her mother knew of Him. At the end of the day, that wasn't much. But the idea of God was comforting. So she sat on the dock and dangled her legs out into the darkness and talked to Him like he was an old friend from home. "I imagine my stories must get boring to you," she said. "They don't change much. Cal forgot to brush his hair again. Maria misses Archie. But there's some good news. The next ship is a year closer. 253 days until they arrive! Corey, you remember Corey, right? The radio operator. Corey said that by the time the ship arrives, I'll be allowed to plant my garden. They're even bringing me honey for my tea. And get this, they're bringing bonsai trees!" She slapped her knee and shook her head. "Bonsais! Melissa said its for our mental health, and I believe her. Taking care of this bunch of forgetful little ninnies is wearing on me. Be nice to take care of something that doesn't stain their lab coats copper sulfate green or potassium chloride purple." She liked describing colors by their chemical components. It made her feel smart, the way they rolled off her tongue. "I'll bring you one once they get here. I hope one of them looks like they way they do in the movies. All gnarled and green. I once saw a picture of one that was from an apple tree cutting, and it grew an apple in its first year." Eleri shook her head. "Plants. Darndest things ain't they?" The bell for night cycle rang out, and Eleri stood up, dusting her hands even though there was no dust. "See ya soon," she said. "I'll bring ya one of the bonsais when they get here." Time passed in the way it did at the end of the universe. Measured out by the chiming of cycle bells and updates from the coming supply ship. Eleri started counting mornings by the creak of her bones and the ache of her joints. The supply ship came, and with them, they brought bonsais and honey and potting soil. Eleri started her garden. She put drops of honey in the morning tea pot and rosemary in the packaged food. She took her bonsai to the dock when she went for a talk. And then she didn't. A new figure sat at the end of the dock. Next to them was a bonsai, and a teacup. "So..." Maria felt ridiculous doing this. "Eleri's gone. I thought someone should come and tell you." She lifted the teacup in an awkward salute. "But I thought you might get lonely," she said to the sprawling darkness. "I know I'm not Eleri. But I'm not trying to be." She kept talking, filling the silence Eleri left behind as best she could. When she left for the evening, she put the bonsai on the dock post. It stayed there. The dock too. People came and went. Some passed, some left of their own free will. No stars bloomed. No suns rose. No planets formed. The project was eventually closed down. But there they still sat. The bonsai, and the dock at the end of the universe.


In retrospect, I really did not think that she would have become such a huge part of my life. I don't know why it happened but all I can say is that I'm glad it did.

It's funny how the littlest things tend to have the biggest impact on our lives. I've noticed how as time goes on, people never tend to separate the significant moments from the insignificant. But to me, and to her, we were the most significant people in each other's lives. It started in eight grade, I was so intimidated by everything. School hasn't exactly been a “safe” place for me to sort of speak. I was intimated by the people, the teachers, the environment, the work, I just picked at everything and it ate me alive. The kids in the school sucked, their ideologies, attitudes, and stereotypical mindsets sucked even more. But aside from that I wasn't exactly a social butterfly, considering my social anxiety and lack of will to hold a conversation with the opposite gender. I wasn't the best looking girl in the grade either, and I knew that. It made me insecure. I hated the way I looked and hated the idea that in order for me to talk to someone, they had to look at me.

I was sitting at a table full of kids I had never met before. I knew of them, but I didn't think they knew me. How could they? I was practically invisible, and anybody paying attention to me must've been short a couple screws. For the first day of school, everyone around me was unnecessarily loud. It didn't make sense to me, how people were able to form connections and relationships so quickly. I felt awkward, it made me feel bad, like I wasn't completing the assignment or something. Our homeroom teacher gave us ten minutes to get to know our peers. God I hated the first few weeks of school, icebreakers, and cliche games. Could this get any worse?

I had gone an entire day without speaking to anyone, I walked alone in the hallway, sat alone at lunch, and went through all my classes without a single interaction. That day I went home and I cried, I hated it here. I didn't want to go back and experience another day of that. On the bus ride back home I was talking to myself in my head going over how horrible my day was. I was good at that. I had always been that way, forcing myself to be there for me because who else would do it. I kept telling myself that things would get better, and that I just needed to hold on a little longer. There she was sitting across from me one chair to the left the next morning. She was so pretty, it always bothered how she didnt see what I saw. She had everything a girl could want. A pretty face, a nice body, brains, and even an amazing personality. Me on the other hand? I'm not even sure I compared to her in a dip. But I guess she saw something in me because this was the beginning of our forever.

I can't remember what class it was that we were in. She said my name, and introduced herself. I was shocked, I didn't even know how to respond. I smiled, and told her my name as well. I couldn't tell if she was talking to me out of pity or genuine interest. But whatever it was, I was so grateful that she interrupted my mind dwelling because I had begun digging myself into a dark subconscious pitiful hole. I had already convinced myself that I would be spending the rest of my year alone, sad, and depressed.

The bell rang, and class was over. It was time for lunch Oh joy I thought to myself. Hey wait up! I stopped in my tracks to see who was screaming.

It was her, it was Lina. Desi if you want, you could come sit with us at lunch. She glanced over to her friends, motioning to Trevor, Mia, Charlotte, Xenia, and Joy.  I couldn't come up with any possible answer for why she would ever consider asking me to sit with them considering she had already acquainted herself with a decent group.

After all that's happened over the past couple of years, it seemed as if these memories ceased to exist. I had forgotten how we met, and how our friendship began considering the events that followed after. Eventually I had gotten really close with the entire friend group. They were really nice to me, and as it turned out we all shared similar interests, hobbies, music taste, and ideas. But you know how it goes, friend groups in middle school and high school never truly last. Lina and I had been through a couple of friend groups as time progressed. We did everything together and we were there for each other through thick and thin. And I mean THIN. Including the late night drunken facetime calls, the early morning meltdowns, the fights over out stupid ex’s, the many mental breakdowns, the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows. She taught me things and I taught her things. We shared many laughs together along with many tears. I had never been so grateful to go through so many friend groups with one person. That includes freshman, sophomore, and junior year of high school.

I ended up getting really close with her family as she did with mine. They say that in your lifetime you'd be looking to find your other half, and I was convinced she was mine. She understood me so well to a point where all I had to do was give her one look and she knew it was on my mind. There was no one else I'd rather be scream-laughing with on the phone at 5 am on a summer morning or crying with after getting my heart stomped on… AGAIN.

I don't know where I’d be without her today, we grew together as people, and are better versions of ourselves today because of each other. So this is for you Lina. Thank you for coming into my life and making me who I am today.


“I told you no one was going to be wearing team costumes!” Oliver whispered harshly to Kerry as the five teens walked into the big building where the competition is going to take place. They all looked at the other teams of five that had on the matching colored T-shirts while they had on elf costumes. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Anna said when she looked at each team either wearing blue T-shirts or red or any other color. The other teams that were each standing behind their own kitchen island was now staring at the new team that walked in dressed as elves. Giggles began to fill the room then. As if Kerry’s chocolate brown skin tone could not already hide the fact that she was blushing so hard, she scooped a bunch of hair from either side of her face to hide her cheeks. How could she have made such a mistake? “We-we still got this guys.” She said turning around so that her back was to the other contestants and she was facing her four good friends. “It doesn’t matter what we’re wearing. All that matters is that we make the meanest; biggest cookie the whole of Idaho falls has ever seen!” She smiled her wide smile at them and even though Anna wanted to cry of embarrassment and Freddy could feel his elf tights riding up with every step he took and the other three were almost as red faced as Anna, they still nodded and mumbled

‘You’re right.’ at Kerry. Kerry clapped her hands together and the five of them made their way to the one and only vacant kitchen island. 8:45am. They still had a whole fifteen minutes to wait before the competition would begin. Now that the initial shock of a group actually dressing up as elves was over, the other teams seemed to have forgotten and started talking among themselves. “Okay guys.” Kerry began saying. “Do you all remember what to do?” Kerry had always been a huge fan of cooking shows and ‘Big Time Bake: Holiday Special’ was her absolute dream show. Last year the task was to bake a very moist chocolate cookie and this year the task was to bake the biggest cookie ever. When she found out about the competition last month she immediately persuaded her four best friends; Oliver, Anna, Freddy and Cassie to be her teammates. “Hold on, when it’s time for getting the ingredients I’m gonna get the uh...” Cassie trailed off as she placed one hand under her chin and started thinking hard about what her part in the ingredient snatching was. Kerry rolled her eyes. “You’ll grab the baking soda,ground ginger and baking powder.” She reminded her. “Oliver you’re collecting the flour, dark brown sugar and granulated sugar. Anna, cinnamon and butter, Freddy salt and nutmeg and I’ll get the chocolate chips and cocoa butter. Guys this is really important cause once those first five minutes are up, we can’t get any other ingredients.” Kerry could already picture the award she would win when the competition was over.

She imagined placing it on the desk in her room but Oliver said they should all take turns on who should have the trophy. “But I thought I was getting the flour and ginger.” Cassie asked confused. Kerry felt like she was growing faint. Maybe bringing Cassie along was a mistake. “No Cas.” She said trying to keep her voice in check so she wouldn’t come off as though she were stressed even though she clearly was. “Remember your duty is to get baking powder, baking soda and ginger.” She said the two ingredients slowly. Like if she said it any faster it would jumble up in Cassie’s brain. “Morning contestants!” A deep voice came from the front of the huge kitchen making everyone look forward. It was George Reed. A very famous baker and the host of Big Time Bake.

After him came floods of men and women holding huge cameras up and recording everything that was taking place. The teams applauded him as he looked from right to left at all of them. When he finally got to the last team which was Kerry’s team, his eyes popped open just a fraction but he quickly regained himself from his brief shock of seeing their costumes. Anna’s face was now as red as her elf dress and her blue eyes stared down at the floor. “Welcome to this years annual Big time bake off Christmas special, teams.” They all applauded. “I’m George Reed and today we have six teams with us.” Some of the camera men recorded each team as George Reed called out ‘the red team, the blue team, the green team.’ When he finally got to the last group he hesitated before saying; “The elf team!” Kerry, Oliver, Freddy, Anna and Cassie waved awkwardly at the camera which seemed to linger on them before shifting back on George. “Okay teams, We have a special guest today. She is the owner of her own five star bakery and has published several cook books. Introducing Miss Carla Adler!” More applause filled the room as a woman of about five foot two walked in from the door on the right and stood beside George. Both of them looked like polar opposites as George was tall, lean and as pale as a ghost while Carla was short, plump and darker than he was. She said a short greeting to the teams but now Kerry wasn’t paying any attention. She couldn’t wait to get started. “Can I get an hour on the clock?” George asked and the huge circular digital clock that hung behind him and Carla on the wall read; 1:00:00. Excited chatter filled the room as Carla and George began to count down from ten. Once they got to one, everyone ran as fast as they could into the store that had automatic doors that just opened up. Oliver was the first to get back to their station followed by Anna. Freddy was next and Kerry followed. When the five minutes were almost up Cassie wasn’t back yet. The automatic doors were beginning to slowly close when finally Cassie came out just in time almost tripping over twice. Oliver and Anna started on the dry ingredients. Since they aimed at making the biggest cookie the whole world had ever dreamed of, they used a lot of flour, ginger, cinnamon nutmeg and cocoa in a huge bowl.     Anna handled mixing the butter with fresh ginger and brown sugar. Cassie lines the baking pans with parchment while Kerry heats the oven. The clock doesn’t stop for anyone and when it’s thirty minutes left the dough for the cookie is ready and they need to shape it. “Stop eating the dough Freddy!” Anna says. “I’m sorry it tastes amazing.” Freddy says. “Let’s shape it in the baking pan.” Oliver suggests. They all work together to shape the dough into a round shape and when they’re done they have only twenty minutes left. “We have to bake it now!” Kerry says after sprinkling the huge flat brown circle that is the cookie with granulated sugar.

She rushes and drops it into the oven feeling a hundred times better that now their master piece is baking in the oven. “Five minutes left teams!” George’s voice comes. “Uhhh Guys?” Anna says uncertainly. She’s standing in front of the oven looking in at the baking cookie. Everyone gathers around her and stares in horror at the terrible sight inside the oven. “Why does it look like bread?!” Freddy asks. Kerry opened the oven and took out the baking pan bringing the monstrous cookie out into the open. She can hear Carla talking about their cookie gone wrong but she doesn’t pay attention to it as she tries to think about what could have gone wrong.

Why was the cookie rising? She poked at it and it deflated. “I think I know what happened.” Oliver says. He hands Kerry a container of yeast that was beside the baking soda. All eyes turned to Cassie who’s eyes were wide open. Her hands flew up to her mouth but she couldn’t utter a coherent sentence. “I’m s-so sorry. I don’t- I didn’t- I thought.” Kerry couldn’t help but cry. This was going terribly wrong. After all the weeks of practice this awful ugly brown half risen half deflated cookie is what they show for all their hard work. “Don’t cry Kerry.” Anna said wrapping her arms around her. “We did our best. And honestly this was a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be.” “Three minutes left teams!” “Yeah Kerry.” Freddy started. “We’re dressed as elves plus we have these ridiculous bell things on our shoes. I still don’t know how you got me to wear this.” He stuck out his right foot and jiggled it making Kerry giggle.

Who would have thought Freddy with the black leather jackets, greasy sleek black hair and boots would be dressed as an elf wearing shoes that had bells attached to them. “This isn’t something I’m gonna forget in a long time.” Oliver added. Kerry smiled, looked around at her friends. She was so busy taking this whole thing so seriously that she missed out on the best part which is having fun with her friends. “You guys are right.”

She said finally. “This was really fun.” George and Carla begin to count down from ten and Kerry, Oliver, Anna, Freddy and Cassie huddle together in a group hug. “Okay teams step away from your cookies!” The judges start from the right, talking to the teams as they taste their cookies. The other teams cookies look great. They are big and flat and different flavors and scents fill the room. George and Carla finally make their way over to the elf team. The Camera man zooms in on the weird cookie so that everyone who is watching live will get a good look it. “Elf team what do we have here?” Carla asks. “This is a chewy chocolate ginger bread cookie.” Oliver informs her. “Well.” George says taking another look at it. “It’s huge.” Is the only nice thing he can say about the cookie. The judges break pieces from the giant cookie and chew it. When they’re done they head back to the front of the room to decide who the winners are.

They are back a few minutes later. “Thank you teams. This has been a very amazing competition. We loved all your cookies. You all showed great technique. But it is without a doubt that we give the award to the team who has really wowed us today with their cookie.” He pauses for a dramatic effect before saying. “The green team!” ***** “You know, these participatory badges aren’t all that bad.” Anna says as they head back into the van that will take them home wearing shiny badges on their chests. “Yeah at least now we don’t have to worry about sharing the award.” Cassie says. They nod in agreement. “We should do this again next year.” Kerry suggests. “No way!” The four of them chorus.


The sun was scorching as Luthar set foot on dry land. Five days he had been aboard the ship, and two of them were spent vomiting. The captain had set a fast course, and the winds had been kind, but the summer waves seemed intent on rocking Luthar’s guts overboard. Even the limestone dockside seemed to sway under his weight. The only joy he could take from coming ashore was the gentle breeze that licked his face. Men rushed this way and that, with tightly packed wagons of goods ready for shipping. Customs officials checked paperwork from captains before barking their orders in some strange, harsh language. On the larger piers wooden cranes lifted large and heavy cargo onto dry land, ready for the next leg of its journey. Warehouses with vast wooden doors lined the perimeter of the docks, a constant stream of wagons and carts emerging. A few men-at-arms here and there watched business commence with steely expressions. ‘Come Luthar, you will settle quicker than you believe.’ Lady Akindra ushered him along and into the city proper. As they passed the enormous warehouses that held everything from cotton and silk to timber and gold, the sheer size of the city began to feel intimidating. Each side of the narrow street there were buildings of five and six stories, casting the two of them into shadow. Luthar followed Lady Akindra closely, afraid that if he lost her, he may never find himself again. The streets criss-crossed at perfect right angles, at the meeting points they opened into small squares where dark-skinned men wearing white linens congregated to flaunt their wares. Lady Akindra strode on, turning right, then left, then right again. They passed yet more merchants, battling with their neighbour to declare their own wares the greatest. Whorehouses, inns, and dream dens lined the thoroughfares, contributing to the din that assaulted their ears. After another sharp turn, the buildings fell away and Lady Akindra led them into a great square, far larger than any Luthar had seen in a three kingdoms city. A park sat in the middle of the expanse, strange trees, bushes, and hedgerows lined gravel pathways. Every few yards a bench supported some well-dressed man or woman enjoying the morning sun. Its centrepiece was a large fountain, in the shape of a mermaid, standing at least twenty feet high and spraying water into a clear pool. Lady Akindra paused for a moment to speak to Luthar. ‘This is called Park Square. Over on the north side are the government buildings.’ She pointed to a plain, rectangular building five stories high that stretched along the whole side of the square. ‘On the south side, the temples of sun and moon.’ She pointed again, this time to two totally different buildings that gave the appearance of being stuck together. On the left, a golden coloured temple, sloping on three sides and at least double the height of the government building. Fires burned in huge baskets to its front and lanterns swung in the breeze at its door. It seemed the very personification of light. Joined to its straight wall was another temple, exactly the same, yet opposite. It had the same three sloping walls, and looked to be identical in height, to the inch. But it was built from stone as black as night, polished to a fierce shine. No fire baskets or lanterns burned, giving it a sinister and unwelcoming appearance. ‘We will find L’Beira in the temple of the sun.’ She finished, before heading off straight across the square. They approached the golden building, weaving between hundreds of people going about their daily business. Two men in simple white linen gowns and sandals hailed them as they approached the door. ‘Good day to you both! Would you care to make a donation to the giver of life?’ He rattled a small wooden cup at them, implying it wasn’t optional. ‘Of course sir, thank you for your service.’ Lady Akindra dropped a couple of coppers into his cup and beamed her best smile at him. His partner pulled open the wooden door and beckoned them inside with a bow. Luthar couldn’t help but notice the cudgel hung at his waist. Despite his baggy attire, his muscular frame was evident. The door led them straight into a vast, dark hall. It was cooler in here, soothing Luthar’s delicate stomach. In the centre was a large pool, sunk into the floor some ten feet deep. Directly above, Luthar saw there was no roof, a square of blue sky was visible where the sloped walls ended. Arches ran along the back wall, casting the rear of the room into shadow. Another robed man stepped out of the darkness and approached them. ‘All that lives welcomes you to the temple of the sun. I am L’Beira, child of life.’ He was tall, towering above Luthar and Lady Akindra, but not intimidating. He had an easy manner about him, and a welcoming smile stuck firmly to his face. ‘I am Lady Akindra of the Mage’s Guild. This is Luthar Shoresmith, member of the Warrior’s Guild.’ ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance my lady.’ He bowed smoothly to her, showing the top of his shaven head, before turning to Luthar. ‘And you’re Luthar are you? You still bear your family’s name. Some would call that fortunate.’ ‘What do you mean?’ The strange introduction had Luthar baffled. ‘Some boys join the guild without even knowing their father’s name, the guild is the only family they have. Your family name is Shoresmith, meaning you know your family. Do you still visit them?’ ‘No. I’ve never seen or heard from them since I joined the guild. The men of the guild are my family now.’ ‘So why bear their name? There is still some love there I think.’ ‘It’s something I’ve always done. Is this part of my training?’ The line of questioning was making Luthar uncomfortable. The less he had to speak about his family, the happier he would be. ‘Ah yes, your training. Follow me.’ L’Beira led them through a door that was almost invisible in the shadows behind the arches, and into a small room where two more robed men were praying to a stained-glass window depicting the sun. They waited silently at the back of the room for them to finish and rise from their simple wooden benches. ‘Acolyte A’Mad, please escort the lady to our guest rooms, she will be staying with us for some time. Make sure she is comfortable and has everything she needs.’ ‘Of course, Master.’ He bowed to L’Beira before approaching Lady Akindra. ‘My lady, please follow me.’ Luthar and L’Beira followed them from the room before turning left and exiting the building through a rear door. Outside, a square had been built from hastily erected fences, almost identical to the one at the guild. Luthar’s face must have shown his confusion as to why a temple would need a sparring square. ‘We train our men fiercely in all manners of combat. We must defend our temple, and our faith, rigorously in times of war. In this world the strong take from the weak, and we cannot be weak in the eyes of life and death.’ He approached the gate and removed his gown, leaving just loose linen trousers underneath. Luthar could see the man was pure muscle, he hoped that would slow him down. ‘Here we fight in our skin. Remove your shirt.’ He pulled off his shirt over his head and left it in a pile with his two swords, other than to sleep this was the first time he’d removed them since leaving the guild. He stepped into the square and stood opposite L’Beira, awaiting his next instruction. ‘In your three kingdoms you fight with swords and shields, here, it is spears. Much more graceful, like a dance.’ As soon as he finished speaking, he kicked sand in the air, showering Luthar and stinging his eyes. When he had regained his vision, L’Beira snatched a spear from the air, then stood to attention, holding it in front of him. ‘Leyton informs me you need to be faster.’ ‘He said the same to me. I’m not strong – ‘ Before Luthar had finished speaking L’Beira lunged for him, spear aimed for his heart. He retreated backwards, away from the onslaught. Still, L’Beira pressed him, spear whirling in the air, forcing Luthar against the fence. ‘No, no, no. How do you propose to win a fight by running away?’ He turned and walked back to the centre of the square. ‘You need to fight back, Luthar.’ ‘But I have no weapon.’ ‘You have your hands, your feet, knees, elbows, head. These are all weapons if you care to use them.’ Before Luthar could think of a response, L’Beira charged him again, spear slashing the air. Not sure he was doing the right thing; Luthar dodged sideways, trying to stay too close for the blade to strike. ‘Good, good.’ L’Beira noted, before lashing out with an elbow into Luthar’s chest, knocking him to the ground. ‘You focus too much on the spear, not what I am doing.’ He offered a hand to Luthar and hauled him to his feet. A barefoot boy dressed in tattered clothing approached the fence, watching them both intently. He looked gaunt and starved and his eyes were heavily shadowed. ‘Sir, a message from the games master.’ He held out a scrap of paper to L’Beira over the fence. ‘Thank you boy.’ L’Beira took the paper and nodded to him before fishing in his pocket for a copper piece. He tossed the coin to him and turned back to Luthar. He bit his lip as he read quickly. ‘Good news, you fight tomorrow.’ ‘Tomorrow? But I haven’t even held a spear yet.’ ‘Then we have much work to do this evening.’ Luthar drilled through the afternoon and evening. Finishing only when the sun vanished, leaving the square in darkness. His muscles burned in protest at the ferocity of the work, but he felt glad that L’Beira had not seen fit to kick him into the dirt as Leyton often had. As they headed back inside, L’Beira led Luthar through a stone arch, then a door, and into a private bathhouse. The room was completely made of stone, somewhat darker than the light limestone of the exterior. Torches burned merrily in sconces on the walls, throwing an orange glow over them. A steaming pool of water, at least ten feet at each edge, took up the middle of the floor, with steps leading down into it ahead of them. L’Beira took of his trousers and descended the steps, as naked as the day he was born. Luthar followed suit, the hot water draining the aches from his tired body. The water was not quite clear, a white mist seemed to float under the surface, he scooped a handful out, but could not catch the strange substance. ‘Ocean salts, they’re good for relaxing after a hard day.’ L’Beira’s head bobbed above the surface, the rest of him submerged. ‘I wondered what it was. How do you manage such luxury in a temple of the gods?’ L’Beira laughed, a deep rumbling sound which set his shoulders bouncing up out of the water. ‘It’s funny how people assume a servant of the sun should live in poverty. Our teachings are centred around kindness to others, building friendships and worshipping the giver of life. Nowhere does it state we cannot enjoy this wonderful world which he has created for us.’ Luthar thought he made a valid point. Every religious temple and cathedral in the three kingdoms housed men in simple woollen robes living a life of restraint. Rules stated they could never marry, or drink wine, or even grow their hair. How this could prove they were closer to the gods, he couldn’t fathom. An acolyte opened the door and bowed Lady Akindra into the room, resplendent in a green silken robe. She approached the bath and let the robe slip onto the floor, descending the steps clad in only her skin. Luthar felt the blood in his cheeks rising, he turned his head away until she was just a floating head alongside the two of them. Something stabbed his heart as he thought back to Elisabeth and what she would say if she could see him naked in a bath with her. When she was seated next to L’Beira on the stone ledge that ran around the perimeter of the bath, she engaged him in conversation. Luthar was too busy enjoying the relaxing water to pay any mind to what they were saying. He leaned his head back on the stone rim and closed his eyes, trying to visualise his fighting stances to rid himself of the painful thoughts of Elisabeth. ‘What do you think Luthar?’ L’Beira asked, bringing him back into the room with a jolt.  ‘Sorry, I must have dozed off.’ Replied Luthar, slightly embarrassed. ‘I was just telling Lady Akindra that you’re due to fight tomorrow. I’ve got ten of your three kingdoms silver on you to win. You’re going to make me rich; I can feel it!’ ‘I’ve only had a day’s training; how can you be so confident?’ ‘Leyton speaks very highly of you, and he never rates anyone. Plus, you’re a quick learner, you’ve mastered techniques today that it takes some men months to learn. I’ve a good feeling in my belly!’ ‘Some of the gladiators will have been training years, how can I hope to compete with them?’ ‘But you have trained for years with a sword. And if you meet me at first light, you’ll have had another half days training!’ L’Beira laughed again, Luthar couldn’t tell how serious he was. But if more training was on offer, he would have to take it. ‘Don’t worry too much Luthar. The people you’ve fought before have always been many years older and more experienced. Trust your abilities.’ Lady Akindra cut in, her calm, reassuring manner soothed his nerves slightly. ‘Thank you, my lady, it’s just a task I never thought I would have to do.’ ‘The world often has a funny way of testing you.’ She smiled at him, like a mother to a favourite son. ‘Besides, you’ll never know unless you try.’


The woman tightly gripped her barf bag. It was of the least concern given the circumstances, but admittedly she had been looking forward to the view on her flight. She felt silly for feeling this way; it didn’t matter now. The craft was in auto drive and the pilot had been side eyeing her for a long time. She had grown tired of it. “Don’t think you can try anything just because of where you’re taking me.” “Don’t think just because you’re here that you are of any interest to me.” “Well you’re looking at me like I am.” “I’m looking at you like you’re a criminal. Because that is exactly what you are.” She would have responded but instead vomited noisily. The pilot stood, extended his arm. She stared at him, not understanding. “What, you want to hold onto it as a souvenir?” he motioned to her barf bag. She handed it over. He placed it in the chamber and shut the door, ejecting it through the vacuum release and handed her another. She continued to stare at him. It was the kindest anyone had been to her since all of this began.

“How long until we are there?” “Kind of eager given what’s about to happen to you. It’ll be about ten light minutes give or take, unless we run into trouble.” “Do you have music?” She figured she might as well ask. He laughed and said nothing. For a while, she stared blindly at the control panel which looked like its own nano metropolis. The craft felt like it was frozen solid. Vomiting had helped her feel better temporarily but everything was starting to swim again. Her jaw twinged sharply and her mouth filled with saliva. She tried to keep breathing but all she could smell was the metallic atmosphere inside the craft. It began to reek of old, congealed blood and she vomited again. The pilot repeated the ritual of disposal. Her ears were ringing and the vacuum release sounded like a natural disaster happening right beside her. It closed and left an even greater silence than before. She leaned her head back. “So that’s a definite ‘no’ on the music?” She practically gagged the words out. The pilot sighed heavily. “Look, we can talk if you want. But I have two rules if we are. One, I don’t want to know what you did. If you tell me, you’re getting gagged and tied up in the toilet.” “Noted.” “Two, I want to know something.” She was actually surprised by this. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “What knowledge could I possibly offer you?” “Well I know certain things that most regular individuals do not. One is that this,” he gestured to the craft, “only happens if it’s offered. By extension, I know that you have to pick.” She had stopped looking at him. It was silent. “So,” he said, “Why did you pick H334?” After he said it out loud it was such an obvious question. She just hadn’t considered that someone would be bothering to ask her this. She was normally very prudent about what details to share with others and calculating in how she shared it. After reflexively thinking it over, she threw her own rulebook out. “It’s safe to assume that you know nothing or next to nothing about H334?” she asked him. “You would be correct in that assumption.” “H334 is.. Unusual. It’s the only known planet that has liquid water but no life. Even the plants are nonliving, like rocks. Trees, grasses, flowers, whatever that is there… All have been there since the beginning. Totally undisturbed.” “I don’t understand. How can something occur without growing first?” “Supposedly, H334 had a different atmosphere when it was a young planet. Whatever it was, it allowed some life there to begin to proliferate. They say that something changed. Specifically, that something collected and changed the planet. I’m not sure what it was, but it permeated the atmosphere.” “It permeated the atmosphere, meaning it came from..?” “Outside of H334, or so they say. It paused everything. Apparently, there are no winds of any kind either.” “And you’re going there.” It wasn’t a question. The woman felt the tiniest part of her smile.

“I’m going there.” “So, if any of this is true, you will be paused as well?” “Not quite. H334 is understudied for a reason, but that isn’t it. Whatever toxin or entity that collected in the atmosphere operates differently on animals than it does on plants.” She was silent for a long time. “I’m going there to forget. To answer your original question. That is why I picked H334.” “You want to forget what you did? I almost feel bad for you, but that seems kind of cowardly. Then again, you are a criminal.”

Her nausea began to rise again. “I’m not trying to forget what I did, I’m trying to forget everything that happened before. My crime was a blip compared to everything else.” She retched but held it back. Her stomach contracted sharply in protest. The pilot did not react. “My memories weigh more than I do. I’m tired.” The pilot shifted his gaze to the control panel and looked over at the woman. “We’re here.” Her eyes flew open and she craned her neck forward towards the cockpit window. H334’s sun hung behind it in the distance glowing against the muted grey of the planet. Even from out here, she could sense the stillness of the planet. If she stared at it long enough, it looked like a flat circle punched through the darkness of space. The color of it had no dimension. There really was no airflow there; no clouds or currents could be seen. As the minutes passed and they drew nearer, the planet grew exponentially larger. Her heart pounded and she had to close her eyes. The view became far too overwhelming. Nothing but the planet could be seen through the cockpit window and the monotony of it made it look as though they were flying into a solid wall. “We are about to enter the atmosphere,” the pilot cautioned.

The craft shook and screamed for the moments it took to breach the atmosphere. The woman held her breath and pushed herself as far into the seat as she could. As the craft slowed, the metallic screeching ceased and the turbulence all but vanished. The pilot sat back in his seat, his gaze darting between several points on the control panel.

“My sensors indicate no wind flow. In any direction.” She said nothing. He looked back at her directly for the first time. “Honestly lady, I didn’t believe a thing you said.” The craft made a landing so smooth it would have been undetectable had it not been for the light impact from making contact with the ground. When the surface came into view the pilot whistled. The planet was indeed entirely colorless. The dirt, the trees and vegetation she could see from the craft were all the exact same shade of grey. H334 looked as though it had no dimension. The pilot stood up and walked over to the vacuum release chamber. He opened the door and proceeded to place the woman’s small bag inside. He walked to the back of the craft. The woman looked over to see what he was doing back there. He reappeared a few moments later, setting something down near the chamber. He walked over to her and unlocked her seat. She stood up and he walked her to the chamber. “Please take this,” he said, offering her a suit and helmet. She frowned as she looked at it. “Why?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

“Memories are heavy because they contain everything. I don’t think you should throw them away.” She was shocked by his gesture. She feebly extended the helmet back to him but he pushed it towards her gently. She slowly stepped into the suit. She felt like she would be sick again. She held onto the helmet but did not put it on, and stepped into the chamber. The pilot closed the door.


“Where am I and what’s been going on, I appear to be in a hospital ward that just seems ‘so wrong”! “I’m in here with ‘old aged pensioners’ but I’m only ‘twenty four’, I’m easily the youngest in here but I don’t know what it’s for”? “I was very dumbfounded by the situation and I really had to think, ‘I remembered collapsing whilst I stood at the bathroom sink”! “That’s right’, there was a fall and soon an ambulance appeared and then I was in hospital and rapidly felt quite weird”! “I was suddenly rushed outside and then I heard the helicopter blades, and I heard my fiancée say ‘see you up there’ as my daylight slowly fades”! I was in an unusual position in an unusual and unfamiliar environment because I was now sitting upright in a hospital bed, which apparently, was a positive improvement because for many weeks all I could recall was lying in the foetal position! I would later be both reminded and updated on the cause of my collapse and my prognosis, which was, that my initial collapse was because I had had a brain haemorrhage and I had been in a coma for many weeks after the initial life saving operation and then I continued being ‘in and out’ of consciousness for a further frustrating period of time afterwards, which explained why I was now seeing Easter eggs on bedside tables next to other patients because I last recalled looking forward to celebrating the New Year with my Fiancée and friends! My tediously slow, frustrating and upsetting recuperation began in a horizontal position for months afterwards and I only saw nurses, doctors and visitors looking down at me and they had a ‘one way’ conversation with me because, much to my surprise, I had a thick tube inserted into my throat and my unfamiliar voice was ineligible anyway! As I looked around this ward I could see no familiar faces but they were friendly faces that recognised a similarity with my condition and therefore I received acceptance and compassion, which made my personal situation only ‘very slightly’ bearable but it was very depressing and mentally frustrating and upsetting! This ward accommodated, including me, about fourteen patients and it was a pleasingly light and bright ward with about six or seven large windows welcoming ‘natural light’ which had previously seemed a very rare but precious ‘gift’ that we sometimes take for granted! One of these very large windows would neatly frame my daily visual activity and this mental stimulation would be beneficial for exercising my brain and imagination! The window that was opposite to me framed, rather symmetrically, a tree on a grassy hill and clouds would either slowly drift past this tree, rush high above it or just linger over the tree as though it was behaving in a suspicious way! The clouds’ movement and direction would depict and intrigue both my thoughts and imagination ‘as well as’ encourage my poor geographical knowledge with regards to their appearance here, there direction and destination and from where they could have possibly arrived! If they were moving fast I knew that it must be windy outside, or if they moved slowly past I could tell that there was a breeze ‘in the air’ or if they just lingered idly above I could tell that there was little wind today ‘if any’ and the colour of the sky would be an indication of the warmth and the season! Today I estimated that we were in the month of March or ‘very early’ April but I could also see that it was a very pleasant day! On this particular morning the clouds were already there as soon as the long and heavy curtains were quickly ripped open and these clouds were low and conveniently lingered because they were awaiting my presence so that they could take me out of here on a  ‘mystery tour’ and my destination, at a guess, appeared to be on the South Coast of Wales? “Roll-up’, roll-up’, come and get your hot-dogs, burgers or chips or if you prefer we have ice-cream or other ices and freshly made doughnuts to offer you ‘as well” said the colourful and smartly dressed man and our surprisingly quick journey had ended and we now appeared to be at the seaside and ‘as I’ dismounted the cloud that brought me here I soon realised that I was in a ‘Fun-Fair’ at the seaside and it was a very popular place today and so was the golden sand of the beach that was adjacent to it! Where would I go first? The warm fresh air and the vastness and the freedom of the great expanse of the adjacent beach was very appealing but before I could wander-off a ‘rather loud and irate voice’ was heard from behind and then this voice was followed with the accelerating sound of footsteps - ‘oh dear’ I thought ‘somebody’s in trouble’! The footsteps became louder and this accelerating sound seemed to be right behind me and as I turned around I was immediately confronted by an extremely large and tall man who hastily grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards this very large marquee that occupied the central area of the FunFair and he continued scolding me with his very deep and loud voice- “where have you been, I’ve been looking ‘all over the place’ for you and as he was literally dragging me towards this large grey canvas marquee I noticed that there was a photograph of me outside and apparently I was ‘great’ and ‘amazingly acrobatic’! He continued with his ranting “If you don’t perform then we have no act and if we have no act then we have no show and if we have no show then you don’t get employed or paid” and I soon approached the marquee’s entrance and the promotional poster outside that boasted my amazing skills and were the ‘apparent highlight’ of this show and I was both baffled and bemused with this idea that I was talented with both athleticism and daredevilry! “Now I want you to perform particularly well tonight because we have a ‘full house’ and I don’t want to refund any money again…… ‘do you hear”? ‘As if’ the pressure of performing any unknown athletic act, that was worthy of payment, wasn’t daunting enough but he had to add the threat of doing it well and to be entertaining and I didn’t have a clue ‘as to’ my routine or responsibilities but my first dramatic act, after I had ‘warmed up’, was to successfully perform on the very high and daunting trapeze! I didn’t particularly like heights and even the thought of climbing up the very tall ladder that was attached to the side of one of the tall uprights frightened me but I was ‘forcibly encouraged’ to perform well tonight and I really didn’t know how! I started the climb very nervously and showed no signs of confidence, bravery or athleticism and I could hear the predictable angry shouts for refunds now! I had succeeded in climbing the very tall ladder and expected to be applauded for that but I just heard a few sighs and comments of  ‘about bleeding time’! I suddenly felt very dizzy and started to wobble at being so high with no safety precautions ‘in place’ but my time to surprise even myself had to soon begin and I very nervously placed my right foot onto the thin and taught wire that was my thin and high pathway to success and safety would await me on the other side! I was automatically given a balancing rod to aid my actual walk across the wire but a ‘jet-pack’ would have received a  ‘much more’ grateful response! I nervously began with this ‘suicidal walk’ and very cautiously placed my trembling right leg onto the thin wire that awaited my disastrous crossing and my left leg briefly joined my right leg on this wire but my stability instantly failed and I very tragically fell off but ‘as I’ began to fall the soft and fluffy cloud that brought me here appeared ‘just in time’ to dramatically shorten my fall and its gratefully sudden appearance would also rescue me from any angry verbal disappointment from either the ‘paying public’ or my ‘already irate’ boss because its appearance here was a thankfully short one and it moved swiftly towards the exit and the open air outside and it continued on its return journey. The weather had remained refreshingly fine and there were no other clouds to distract or redirect ‘my cloud’ and I continued on this journey with relaxing calmness and we would soon return to the hospital and to my hospital bed. The afternoon might not have been a totally positive one but it had excitement, travel and fresh air with the probable ending of both my life and career! Any negativity was soon ended when I was given assistance from a nurse to be seated in an upright position in my bed ‘as though’ she expected my arrival which was conveniently in time for both tea and visitors! My fiancée was my first regular and prompt visitor whose visits were looked upon very very favourably and finally I would have some exciting news to tell her when she automatically asked the question “what have you been doing today”? ‘As soon as’ she asked that predictable question I could ‘at last’ gain her genuine interest with my exciting reply and she listened to my story with both sympathy and despair as her eyes looked upwards and she ‘tutted’ loudly with frustration before quickly concluding “so, you’ve been in bed asleep this afternoon have you, whilst I’ve been working hard”? “Dreamer”!


Brecti smiled warmly at her father when he came to collect her, his ever-present scowl deeper and darker than usual. She, on the other hand, had perfected the art of warm smiles--scowls were for men, smiles were for women. "You ready then?" he barked. "And so it begins," whispered Hitieli in Brecti's ear. Brecti ignored her. Ignoring the ghosts was a skill one developed over time, especially when they chose to remain invisible. "Yes, father," Brecti said, and Hitieli screeched with laughter at Brecti's docile tone and calm expression. The laugh was full of hilarity, but the sound had a distinct edge, that of a ghost who was beginning to stray into madness. Brecti rose and followed her father from the tiny cave in which she slept. "Whatever happens, girl, you will never enter this hovel again," Hitieli cackled. Brecti envied the ghosts. She had, for most of her life, longed to be one, if only because they were able to hide their words and actions from

each other.

The living, on the other hand, were constantly watched by the dead, their every move noted and, if they strayed from the Way, reported. If they stole a diamond from the mines, for example, or if they scowled when they were supposed to smile. The ghosts were, after all, just the ancestors of the Wayfarers who had gone before, obedient and submissive. Brecti had tried to join the ghosts twice. The first time she had been a child. Her mother had stopped her and her father had screamed that she was never to do such a thing ever again. Brecti had simply looked up at them, the blood pooling around her feet and her hastily bandaged arms not detracting for even a moment from the fixed, docile smile upon her face. She hadn't understood. The ghosts were to be respected and honored. What could be wrong about joining them? But she had obeyed. She hadn't known how to do anything else. Besides, it was the ghosts who had called out to mother, a thundering echo of twenty or thirty ancestors screaming Brecti's name in unison. They must have not wanted her either. The second time had been a year ago. By then Brecti understood that ghosts went mad, with time, that they were trapped in the Belows just like she was, that becoming one meant dying and never again evolving, changing, growing. For a while, that had been enough, but on the day of her fifteenth birthday, she had realized that the living couldn't evolve, change, or grow either. So, what did it matter? After her shift had ended, she had climbed the side of an abandoned mineshaft, the steepness and the darkness posing no threat at all to one who had been born in the Belows, who had spent her life crawling on cavern walls. She'd expected a flood of ghostly watchers to fill the space at any moment, screaming, yelling, calling for assistance, but no one would come, not in time to stop her. But the ghosts hadn't appeared. When she had climbed high enough, she had closed her eyes, taken a breath, and prepared to let go. That was when Hitieli spoke to her for the first time. " There is another way,"  Hitieli had whispered.

"I'll tell you, if you will listen." "Where are the others?"  Brecti had wanted to know. Ghosts were never alone. "They're holding back, girl. I told them to. You are my kin, and I have rights." Which was when Brecti recognized her. Ghosts weren't worth noticing, not usually. There were too many of them, crammed into every inch of the Belows. But any good Wayfarer knew the names and faces of their own ancestors. "Yes, girl, you're my daughter's daughter's daughter's daughter, and we have much to discuss." Hitieli was already showing signs of ghost madness, but she had not turned into a howling specter, not yet, so Brecti had listened. And when Hitieli was finished, Brecti had climbed down and returned home, smile firmly in place. She had not spoken again after asking where the other ghosts were. Hitieli had warned her not to. Brecti had spent an entire year listening. Hitieli was an older ghost. The oldest were nothing more than whimpering wisps, curled in on themselves, unable to dampen their voices or fade from view. They congregated near The Pit in the distant depths of the Belows, their madness having defeated them. Hitieli would inevitably join them, but as yet, she was still awake, still in control, still able to hide herself from the other specters. When The Pit had opened many generations previously and people had started becoming ghosts after death, the Wayfarers had rejoiced. Brecti knew they had. Their rejoicing was etched indelibly into the Undying Tablets that lined the walls of the Main Shaft. Why not rejoice in being able to spend more time with those you loved? But as time passed, and older ghosts got angrier, louder, sadder, wispier. . . There was nothing that could be said. Rejoicing had been recorded in the Undying Tablets, and to say that the ghosts were somehow bad now was to go against the ancestors, something the Way would never allow. Brecti had considered jumping into The Pit, its black expanse going deeper than anyone had been able to measure. No one knew what lay at the bottom, if there even

was  a bottom. What they did know was that those who jumped did not become ghosts. But Brecti didn't want to

end . She wanted to be free. So, she followed her father, obediently. As they wound through the tunnels of the Belows, scrambling through tiny holes and ascending the steps of mighty mine shafts, others joined them, other smiling girls who were sixteen that month accompanied by other scowling fathers. "Higher, higher, higher!" cackled Hitieli, but her voice was difficult to hear over the susurration from the hundreds of ghosts following the procession, whispering and chattering and shrieking from every side. Brecti's family was poor. Their mine was among the deepest, but ever since The Pit had appeared, people were afraid to dig deeper. Instead, they dug outward, and expansion, rather than depth, had been recorded in the Undying Tablets as the most Way-filled direction. Brecti wondered if the Above-grounders had any idea at all just how far the mines had spread. There were lots of things the Above-grounders didn't know. For example, they didn't know about The Pit. "Look at it!" Hitieli crowed. For a brief moment, Brecti's feet stumbled, but she corrected her gait before her father could shout. They had reached the Main Hall, a place of worship and where decorum had to be observed. Brecti had never been to the Main Hall. Once, it had been the deepest part of the Belows, but those day were long gone. It had taken most of a day to climb this far, and Brecti hoped that her stomach would not betray her hunger and bring her father's wrath down upon her. The shock of stepping out into such a large, open space was difficult to bear. Brecti focused on placing one foot in front of the other, on smiling, on trying not to gawk at the huge pillars hewn directly from the rock or at the cavern ceiling high above that sparkled with the ancient diamonds that had been embedded there. Enough to feed her family for a lifetime. Six lifetimes. And still they climbed. The staircases were wide and ornate now. No more narrow tunnels and stairless shafts. She began to feel light-headed, perhaps from the length of the journey, perhaps from hunger, perhaps from the thinning air. "Keep your feet, girl," Hitieli whispered, directly into her ear. "Not long now." It was a lie. Hours passed, the day bells were rung, and still they climbed, ceaselessly, not pausing to rest or slowing their speed, for that was not Way-like. Ahead of them, a girl collapsed. Her father kicked her, but stopped when Hitieli revealed herself to him and screamed in his face. The girl did not rise. Brecti passed her without looking. "Listen to my voice. Listen only to me," Hitieli said, returning to Brecti's side and fading so that Brecti, and Brecti alone could hear and see her. "Above, there are trees. Above there is water, so much water, enough for everyone. Above there are friends and homes and light and love. Above the dead stay dead. Above is terrifying, but Above is better than Below." Brecti didn't answer, but she let her smile dip and widen so that Hitieli knew she had heard. "Good," said Hitieli. "It will all be over soon." Their progress slowed. They had reached the famous bottleneck, the single corridor that led to the Choosing Chamber. Guards lined the walls, glaring angrily at the girls who passed. Brecti's father grabbed her arm hard, using his larger size to plow through the masses. Brecti hoped that no more girls fell. They would be trampled if they did. In the Choosing Chamber the husbands waited, surrounded by hollering ghosts who whistled at and commented on the latest batch of brides. The men, who were of all ages, jockeyed for a chance to grab one of the 'pretty' ones. Brecti had no idea if she fell into that category, but it was only a few minutes before a hairy arm grabbed her and her father let go, melting away into the crowd. His part was done, his duty executed, and he would probably never think of his daughter again. Brecti didn't look at her husband as he pulled her toward the next corridor. He didn't matter. More guards lined the walls, not there for the husbands or the wives, but because in the next cavern an Above-grounder stood. He would be marrying couples from the Belows in a bored, tired voice. Above-grounders were a threat to the entire Way. Only Above-grounders could perform marriages. It was one of their rules, along with keeping the ghosts out of the Marriage Chamber and not sending anyone who was armed out of the mines. If the rules were broken, the Above-grounders would invade. "Are you a nice girl or a naughty girl?" her husband asked, his scratchy face close to her ear. Brecti suppressed a shudder, relieved that he couldn't do anything until the ceremony was complete. The queue slowed to a crawl as each couple was married, quickly and perfunctorily, before hurrying to one of the marriage bed caverns to rest and recoup and. . . Brecti did shudder this time, but her husband didn't notice. Or didn't care. Finally, they reached the front of the queue. A tired Above-grounder waited, bedecked in purple robes that awed Brecti more for their cleanness than their bright color. "Almost time," Hitielli said. This cavern was large and comfortable, designed for the Above-grounders who hated the Belows and who only tolerated them for their diamonds. It was brightly lit by roaring furnaces around the end but also by a new, unusual light that shone faintly behind the priest. Brecti's eyes widened slightly as she realized what it was. Daylight . The priest muttered some words. Brecti's husband barked a quick response, and then the priest reached for one of the iron 'necklaces' that were stacked next to him, the collar that would be placed around Brecti's neck marking her as married, as taken, as

possessed . "Almost. . ." muttered Hitieli. Brecti tried to keep her body from tensing. "Almost. . ." Then, her husband let go of Brecti's arm to take the necklace in both his hands, as was customary. Brecti took a tiny step away from him, and then Hitieli screamed, "NOW!" Hitieli made herself visible to Brecti's husband, to the priest, to everyone in the chamber. "We defy you!" she shrieked. "Think you can fight us? We dare you to try!" Brecti ran, past the priest, past the Above-ground guards who were too focused on the threat in front of them, past the acolytes and hangers-on. Behind her she could hear the Below guards rushing to join the fray. "There will only be a dozen or so," Hitieli had said. "So just run! They won't care about you." So, run Brecti did, ignoring her stabbing headache, her weak legs, her empty stomach. The Marriage Chamber was close,

so close  to the surface. The Above-grounders wouldn't have it any other way. "Faster!" Hitieli shrieked, and Brecti turned to see the ghost at her side, a triumphant look on her face. Brecti quickened her pace. "This is the

other  Way!" Hitieli screamed, and Brecti's heart soared, because she knew exactly what Hitieli meant. Ghosts could stay and go mad and sink to The Pit and float forever in misery. Or they could leave the Belows and . . . end. Hitieli had chosen her Way, and she had offered Brecti, her kin, the chance to choose too. "Close your eyes," Hitieli said, and Brecti obeyed. She was a child of darkness, she knew how to move through the world with no light to guide her. Suddenly, the sound of her footfalls changed, softened. The echoes that Brecti was so used to hearing vanished, leaving the air feeling barren and empty. Warmth, almost unbearable in its intensity, beat down on Brecti from above. She threw her arms to her face with a cry and fell to her knees, hitting the stony ground hard. Even with her eyes closed, even with the sun already setting, it was so

bright . It was also so, so quiet. No ghosts wailing. No Hitieli whispering instructions. Nothing at all. Then: "One of them got out!" "Quick! Get a medic." And gentle hands lifting Hitieli from the ground before she fainted and distant voice that might have been a remnant of Hitieli or may have bee Brecti's own thoughts whispering, " Freedom. "


Chapter 1 “Uncle Pig snorted at the webcam,” Did you say a doctor?” “Um … a medical scribe, the person who takes notes for the doctor.” “So, you’re a note-taker?” “Yes, but I also ….” My uncle squealed, “You spent five years at college taking notes to take

more

notes!” “Well, I ….” “What happened to medical school?” His words sunk into my subconsciousness. Like most humans, I once had a dream. But eventually, you learn that nothing is free, and medical school comes with a price tag of

$324,500.99 . Bo and Ma, my immigrant parents, ran a hair salon. In the front window, a green neon sign flashed—Splendid Cuts. Vietnamese immigrants, like my parents, often enter the beauty industry—that or selling Pho. Sure, a lifetime supply of Pho sounds good, but at least I get free haircuts. But again, nothing is free, especially haircuts. Bo made a deal—one haircut for every straight A’s on my report card. Unfortunately, I suck at biology. By Halloween, people thought I was Chewbacca. Blinded by my bangs, I pleaded for a haircut. Bo nodded, but only under one circumstance. Bo stumbled downstairs with a stack of papers under his armpit. It was a large manuscript. “It’s heavier than I remembered,” Bo was catching his breath. “Your philosophy thesis?” “No, I burned that decades ago. These are the dreams, the dreams of all your ancestors. My eyes widen, unsure which I was more surprised by, Bo burning his life’s work or needing to read that monstrosity. Bo flicked my forehead, “Are you ready to add yours?” Chapter 2 Have you listened to a song while you’re in love and then heartbroken? It’s different. Sure, the pitches, lyrics, and melody are all the same, but what changed is you. I was on a plane to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, listening to “Xanh” by Ngot, a Vietnamese band. Indie music, often calm and tranquil, allows me to sort through my thoughts. I felt a gentle tap. “Sorry to bother you, but would you like a drink? We also provide alcohol,” a female flight attendant smiled.

“Sorry, I have a history of stomach ulcers,” I bowed politely. “Oh, no worries, let me show you the non-alcoholic menu.” Her mannerism was attractive. Her listening made me feel like a human with thoughts, feelings, and dreams. Perhaps I’m overthinking. It’s her job to listen. Subtle loneliness fills me as I sip my Coca-Cola. When my family arrived at Ho Chi Minh International Airport, we were stopped by a security guard. Bo had brought fourteen automatic solar-powered garage lights, which got some suspicion. The guard’s Vietnamese accent was thick, but I could translate a word here and there. Ma began opening her purse, filled with US dollars. I slapped her hand, “What are you doing?” “We can pay him off.” “No, that makes us seem like snotty rich people.” “I’ve seen it work,” she nudged on. “Where?” “In K-dramas … and that one award-winning Jewish-Nazi film.” Luckily, Uncle Pig came to help, who just happened to be the airport manager. Ma said her brother started as a janitor, mopping and sweeping his way to becoming a security guard, assistant manager, and now the big man. Although never top of his class, he was good at staying put. In fact, he stayed in high school for an extra three years. If you’re patient enough, everyone eventually leaves, and you get the promotion. We loaded the fourteen automatic solar-powered garage lights onto the taxi. Afterward, Ma rushed over to hug Uncle Pig. “Why are you so fat?” She slapped Uncle Pig’s belly. “Because you keep sending us American chocolates!” Ho Chi Minh City is a bustling ant colony, but instead of ants, there are motorbikes, lots of them. I once watched this National Geographic video of ants attacking a beetle. That’s how I imagine our four-wheel taxi, slowly ambushed by an army of metal smokers. Chapter 3 Our taxi made its way down to Tan An, the city Bo grew up in. The streets were filled with local food vendors, red plastic chairs, and straw baskets filled with longan, durian, jackfruit, mango, and dragon fruit. Several of my uncles in Vietnam eat fruit almost religiously. Unfortunately, too much of anything is bad. Uncle Pig developed type 2 diabetes last summer. I see type 2 diabetes quite often, especially as an ophthalmology scribe. A big word, right? If you google “ ophthalmology,”

you’ll get about 265,000,000 million results with stock images of lab-coated doctors examining the eyes of happy and smiling individuals. Let me tell you a little secret, eye exams are not fun, especially dilated ones. The assistant comes in, asks about your weekend, and dilates your pupil. As your eye pupil opens, more light enters your eye. Suddenly, the world looks like Heaven, but not in a good way. The intensive light is so blinding that I once thought my bed night light was a car headlight. I might be over-exaggerating, but Uncle Pig would agree with me. He has early-stage diabetic retinopathy and needs a dilated diabetic eye exam every 6 months. Other patients are not so lucky, getting eye injections every month. Sounds rough, but after the 2nd or 3rd one, eye injections become routine, like doing your yearly taxes or cutting an overgrown toenail. “Ugh, looks like it’s raining again ….” Uncle Pig yelled while driving. “Did you watch the news about the flood in Seoul?” Bo asked. “Yeah, I did, seven missing people. Such a developed city, but a little rain, and suddenly you’re in Venice, Italy.” We parked near a narrow alley, water pouring down the walkway. Three houses down stood a silhouette of figures waving to us. One of the figures ran towards us. I couldn’t believe it; it was her. Chapter 4 I met her five years ago when life seemed simpler. Our fathers were childhood friends, attended university together, and even shared the same birthmark on their necks. Of course, Ma believed this was a sign, taking it upon herself to arrange a marriage. Barely nineteen with rose lips, a thin waist, and a soft-spoken appearance, she probably had hundreds of prospective men. I had just turned twenty—still needing a fake ID to purchase beer for parties. For health reasons, I avoid drinking as much as possible. Yet, I wanted to grab a drink with her. “You want to grab a McFlurry?” she smiled.

“Sure,” I replied, starting to feel jet lagged. I couldn’t tell whether my shirt was drenched by rain or sweat. She was twenty-four now. I was twenty-five, yet time seemed to have stayed still since our first encounter. I held an umbrella over her head, doing my best to keep her dry. She smelled good, a sweet familiar fragrant. “I’m sorry about your grandmother,” she put her hand on my shoulder. “She lived a good life,” I made a face, unsure if I had told a lie. Grandma lived through a war and gave birth to nine children—one died stepping on a land mine. Their farmland was burned by soldiers, forcing her to evacuate her family to the capital. But when Saigon fell, her husband was imprisoned, forcing Grandma to support her family by weaving baskets and mats. Upon her husband’s release, they immigrated to America, only allowed to bring half of their children. Luckily, Bo met the requirements. A decade later, I was born an American citizen. Although Grandma helped raise me, I never understood her, nor did she with me. She died last week, now waiting to be cremated. We arrived in front of large double golden arches—McDonald’s. Inside was playing a familiar tune, “Xanh” by Ngot. As the girl ordered two McFlurries, I found seats near the window. Outside, an elderly couple kissed in the rain, perhaps celebrating their 50th anniversary. A large sapphire diamond wrapped around the woman’s finger. It must have weighed at least nine grams, the weight of twelve small peanuts. I wondered if she ever felt tired wearing it; surely your finger must be sore if you glued that many peanuts to it. The girl had returned with two trays, “McFlurries with a side of fries, your favorite.” I dipped a french fry into my McFlurry, stirring it around, “Actually, it’s a side of Banh Cuon.” “No way, you told me McDonald’s!” “It used to be, but that was a while back.”

Five years to be exact. Long enough for your eyebrows to come back after shaving them. Long enough for me to graduate. Long enough for a global pandemic to destroy my social life. I was a different person, and so was she. Chapter 5 I stared at her, wondering if it was the same girl from five years ago. Her eyes, blue and dilated, resembled two pools filled with thoughts, feelings, and dreams. Yet, I stood from afar all these years, observing from a distance. I continued to stare blankly, now even unsure of her name. “Have you started medical school? You said your dream was to be a doctor, right?” She asked. I choked on a McFlurry-covered french fry. “I’m alright … um … maybe I was just blindly in love with the idea,” I popped a few fries in my mouth, glancing at the elderly couple outside. “So, you don’t want to be a doctor?” “Not sure. It’s not glamorous like everyone thinks it is. There are days when you come home yelled at by patients, drowning in documents, and wondering if you developed a mental health disorder yourself.” “Not as glamorous? You mean like marriage.” She smirked. “I suppose,” I chuckled.

We wiped our table, returned the food trays, and strolled down Ho Chi Minh Square, a popular tourist area. The girl kept a fixed gaze ahead—a street food cart. She grabbed my hand, pulling me through a large sea of people. A smell emanated from afar. A jazz band in the background was playing Duke Ellington’s “In a Sentimental Mood,” creating a tranquil vibe. The food cart hung a cardboard sign, painted on it were the words: Banh Cuon. A man, probably the owner, was busy chopping scallions, cucumbers, and mint leaves. He then rushed over with a cloth, wiping down two plastic chairs and a table, gesturing for us to sit down. Before we could order, a plate of Banh Cuon was already laid in front of us. After a careful examination, I took a bite. My tongue was experiencing a beautifully orchestrated symphony: strings of sweetness from the chili fish sauce, beats of savoriness from the smoky wood ear mushrooms, and a tiny note of tanginess from the splash of lemon. Opening my eyes, the girl in front of me disappeared. Instead, an elderly woman sat before me. Her eyelids sagged, hair withered and grey. It was Grandma. I choked, gasping for air. She rushed over, smacking the back of my head. A piece of pork flew out of my mouth. A tear fell down my cheek, “Grandma, I’m sorry ….” “For what, my dear?” She asked in Vietnamese. “We lived together twenty years, yet I never asked about your life. I don’t even know your name … I skipped Vietnamese classes. I was selfish, wanted to play with my friends, but now I regret it ….” She replied, “My child, you did know me. You listened. Maybe not with your ears, but you always felt it down here—your heart.” I wiped my tears. Grandma disappeared and left in her seat was the girl. She was now leaning at the edge of her chair, “Are you alright?” “I talked to Grandma.” Her eyes widened, “What did she say?” I sniffled and smiled, “She gave me her name."