“Is there anything else that you will need?” Asked her Aunts butler as he set the tray of tea on the table in the dining room, an elderly gentleman, about the age ninety five, with slick white hair. “Oh, no sir, I believe that’s all, thank you.” Orchid replied politely. Orchid had only been at her Aunt’s Gothic styled mansion for about three days; she was still trying to get used to the quietness about the manor but try as she might she didn’t think she would ever get used to the reclusive silence.   Aunt Tess being older than not, had a head of white hair, and what seemed like no emotion whatsoever, she despised loud noises claiming that they would reignite the pain of her headaches she seemed to get so often. She never spent time with Orchid, even though Orchid was sent there to spend the entire year with her Aunt, her Aunts health was not at it best so Orchid’s mother and father thought it was a good idea for her to spend a few months with her Aunt as an energetic pick-me-up, so to speak. The whole idea sounded great to Orchid, she had heard so much good things about her Aunt and was excited to meet her for the first time, but the only thing her Aunt had said to her the whole time she was there was, “Hello” Once and, “This is Wade, the butler. If you need anything ask him.” And that was it; her Aunt had no care whatsoever of what Orchid said or did as long as it was out of her way. “Wade,” She said quickly before he left the dining hall, “is it all right if I explore the mansion?” “You may, as long as you do not get in the way of Madam Tess, she has complained of a massive headache this morning.” He replied dryly. “Oh good,” She thought to herself as she ate her breakfast, “I’ll have the whole day to myself. I can explore part of it today and part tomorrow! Maybe I’ll find secret passage or two.” She stood up and started for the sitting room, there was a grand fireplace there, she was almost certain there would be a passage to another place in the mansion. She walked up to the fireplace, it was a beautiful masterpiece carved out of a huge block of marble. With flowers, leaves, vines, and trees carved out to make it a magnificent part of architecture. “Oh where, oh where, would there be a trap door or something of that sort,” She said to herself. “Aha!” she exclaimed, “there on the grapevine, in a cluster of grapes, on the bottom there’s a hickory nut!” She softly pushed on it, and then as if it were a magic trick, the fireplace slid back than to the side. “Oh my goodness!” she jumped back in surprise, “I didn’t actually expect that to work, I just felt intelligent.” Once it slid back she grabbed a small flashlight from the coffee table behind her. She turned to the new opening in the wall, she took her first step into to the darkness, Crunch , she stiffened. She slowly directed the flashlight to her foot. “Ah!” She screamed as she jumped back, it was the cleaning maid. She was, dead, Orchid ran as fast as she could, screaming all the way on the top of her lungs. Her Aunt marched out of her room and grabbed Orchid by the arm. “What is the meaning of this? Waking me up in the middle of my nap! Running about like a headless hen! You have brought about my blistering headache once more!” Aunt Tess yelled as all the staff gathered round to see what was all the commotion. “A b-body in the sitting room!” Orchid  gasped out, “Who is it child, who?” asked her Aunt “The cleaning maid!” Orchid raced to the sitting room, her Aunt and the rest of the staff closely at her heels. She pushed the piece if the fireplace in and it opened up to display the maids body lying on the ground. There was a shriek from the maid’s sister, Maud, who also worked at the mansion. “What happened? How could this be?” said Maud frantically. “Calm yourself Maud, Wade call the police. Orchid, make Maud a cup of tea. Everyone else stay here until the police can question everyone.” Aunt Tess sat down on the cotton sofa; funny to Orchid it seemed Aunt Tess’s headache had by some miracle dissipated. When the police arrived Maud had calmed down quite a bit and was eager to find her sisters killer. “Would Maud Waters please come forward for questioning?” One of the officers asked politely. This was said to everyone in the room, Orchid’s Aunt had given the police a list of everyone who had been working that day, and who normally worked there. It wasn’t a very long list because of how little the staff was at the manor.  One of the police officers said that they believed her to have been poisoned, but was not sure. They said that they could not be certain of the cause of death until after an autopsy has been finished, which would not be until a few more days. Orchid, still being a bit shaken even after the police had left, went to her room for the rest of the evening. Her Aunt went to her own room and the rest of the staff went home. “This is very strange indeed,” said her Aunt as she walked to her room, “very strange to happen to the cleaning maid of all people.”            “This is a very strange turn of events.” Orchid thought as she drank the rest of her tea, “And who would murder her of all people, there wasn’t much anyone had against her.” She sat there making a mental list of suspects. “There was Wade, but he would have no reason, Maud, but her own sister? Hmm… who knows? Well Maud had seemed to recover from shock surprisingly soon for seeing her sister dead, perhaps. And Aunt Tess didn’t seem surprised at all, there was the laundry maid, but I don’t believe she was here today, oh yes she only comes on Mondays and Fridays. And it was Wednesday. So she couldn’t have, there was the cook, he could have poisoned her lunch or a cup of tea,” Her stomach did a flip, “oh I certainly hope it wasn’t the cook, he might poison anyone of us.”  As she continued to think about who it could have been she lost track of time and realized it was time for dinner, “Oh I hope it wasn’t the cook, because I’m still eating whatever he’s made for dinner.” She mumbled under her breathe as she quickly walked to the dining hall.            It had been one week since the autopsy had been sent out, it said she had died by poison, Arsenic, to be exact.   And Orchid was no closer to finding who the murder was, all she knew was it could not have been anybody. “Who could it be, who could it be.” She whispered to herself as she reviewed the clues she had found over the week, after the body had been moved she had gone down that passage and found it led to the library where it seemed that the cleaning maid had been dusting the book shelves.  There was a new stain on the carpet that seemed to be tea, so she suspected the culprit had poisoned the maid’s tea. She also found a piece of a blue hair ribbon at the scene of the crime of course the police had investigating and had asked her if she knew of anyone who wore blue hair ribbons. She had said the laundry maid did but would think of other people who might have been wearing one. “Wait a minute,” said Orchid out loud in a bit of a gasp, “the day the cleaning maid was found she wasn’t even working here that day, but how could her body be here? Unless she came for some reason, someone made her tea, poisoned it, and hid her body! For one thing who told her to come to the manor that day?” Orchid quickly jumped up ran for her aunt’s room and lightly knocked on the door, “Yes, who is it?” Her aunts said quiet dryly, “Um, it’s me Orchid. May I speak with you?” “Oh, yes I suppose so.” Her aunt opened the door stepped out and said, “Come I was just about to go to lunch, can you walk and talk?”

“Yes quiet well, and I just had a question, have the police searched the cleaning maids house?” “Yes and the cleaning maid had a name, its Carol.” “Oh yes, very sorry I didn’t know her name. And did they find anything suspicious there?” “Yes, they said there was a note there saying, ‘Come to the manor immediately, very urgent.’ And that was it.” “Written?” “Yes, actually very sloppy of someone planning to kill.” “Hmm, very odd, may I go to the police station?” “All right, but don’t stay out after dark.” She knew exactly who the murderer was, and she wanted to see if the police agreed with her.            It was late in the afternoon when all the staff was gathered in the sitting room, the police was there ready to make an arrest. But they waited until Orchid could come in and explain exactly how she thought it happened. They believed they could get a certain reaction out of the murderer if Orchid was the one explaining how it happened and by whom. “All right everyone thank you all for being as patient as you waited, I had to get some things from my room. Now I am going to explain exactly what happened to Carol, the cleaning maid, who was found in this room a week ago. Now it started with the note, it was sent directly to the cleaning maid’s house by whom? By our culprit, the hand writing was definitely our very own Maud Waters, but Maud has a very solid alibi helping Aunt Tess and our dear butler Wade rearrange the living room. And actually everyone has a very solid alibi, it could mean only two things; one everyone did it, or two there is a psychotic murderer on the loose. And so all of you shall be arrested and taken to court. ”

“No,” There came a shrieking wail from Maud, “you knew! You knew the whole time that it was me! How could you turn me in like this you little rat!” “There you are officers, there is your killer, but I must ask one thing, why?” “Oh you should know why, because she was going to marry him, she knew I loved him but she was going to marry him anyway! She deserved to die!” “Marry who?” “Her fiance, Clark, of course, oh and I was going to marry him once my sister was out of the way! But you’ve ruined everything!” The police took her away once she was out of the house Orchids aunt asked her how she knew, “Well for one thing,” Orchid said, “she had been acting guilty all week, and another thing all the clues especially the note pointed to her. Did you know she’s an extraordinary forger, she was bragging about it the other evening and I asked her to prove it. I wrote something down and she copied it almost exactly the same.”


When Uncle Dave lifted me off the plane and set me on the ground, heat waves greeted me, radiating up my legs. It took me a minute to get my balance. After two and a half hours of sitting in twin engine plane, buckled up with my sister, Becci, and squished into the tail of the plane with two other gals, my legs were cramping. I could smell tar and gasoline, comforting smells, reminding me of home. The airstrip at home is made of tar, and I used to rub my hands in the cool gasoline when Daddy filled up the Volkswagen van. Uncle Frank met us. He stowed the luggage in the back of the blue van and we jostled up the gravelly, twisting road, that led to the boarding school. The campus was on the site of General Douglas MacArthur’s Post 7, United States, army base in Irian Jaya, Indonesia. It lay at the base of a mountain. I was relieved to arrive on campus because of the turmoil in my tummy. But I totally forgot about my tummy when I saw the magnificent waterfall flowing down the mountain behind the dormitory, and I took a deep breath of wonder. The kids in grades 4-8 unloaded their suitcases and disappeared into the “big” dorm. Uncle Frank shut the door of the van once again, and after starting the engine, began the short trip up a small hill upon which sat the aluminum barracks for Douglas MacArthur’s troops. This was the “little” dorm for kids in first through third grade, and since I was in second grade, this would be my new home. Aunt Dee and Uncle Jim helped us off the van. Other boarding school kids swarmed around to greet us with a loud buzzing of voices. Jenine, David, and Jonathan, who had been on the plane with me, had been here the year before, so they knew most of the kids. Aunt Dee introduced me to some of my dorm mates: Rachel, Susanna, Shannon, Theo, Harris, and another Johnathan. Although I nodded to each one, I wrinkled my brow in frustration. These were only a few of my dorm mates. How long would it take to learn everybody’s name? Uncle Jim kindly carried my two suitcases to the second-grade girls’ room and said, “Aunt Dee will be here in a minute to show you around.” I sat down on the bunk bed nearest the door and held my doll, Betsy, tight. My tummy was tied up in knots and I trembled with mixed emotions. Meeting the other kids was scary, so I was thankful to be alone for a minute, but I was also curious to see what my new home would be like. I didn’t have long to wait before Aunt Dee peeked in the door. “You ready?” Setting Betsy gently on the pillow, I followed Aunt Dee outside, where a hot breeze caressed my face. “The drinking fountain is over there,” said Aunt Dee pointing at an oblong metal box against the wall of the breezeway. I had never seen a drinking fountain before and wondered how to get water from it.

Aunt Dee continued showing me around. “This little room on the right is for the first graders. The living room, where we have devotions before bed, is just beyond that. Uncle Jim and I live in the apartment behind the living room.” “What are devotions?” I asked timidly. “Every one in the dorm meets together to sing praises to Jesus, listen to a Bible story, and share prayer requests,” replied Aunt Dee. “Oh, OK.” That didn’t sound too intimidating. Going back through the breezeway, Aunt Dee continued the tour. “The third graders are in this room next to yours,” said Aunt Dee, pointing to a door on my right. “Behind the second and third-grade girls rooms are the boys’ rooms. The bathroom and the showers are to the left over there. Just beyond the bathroom is the laundry room. There are extra blankets in there in case you get cold.” Getting cold was the last thing I was thinking about. Even with the breeze blowing, it was hot and humid. Leading me back to my bedroom, Aunt Dee said, “Go ahead and start unpacking. You are the first second-grade girl here, so you get first dibs on which bed you want. It’s 11:00 now, and we’ll be eating at noon.” Once Aunt Dee left, I began to feel afraid, and my tummy started to hurt again. What bed should I take? Which set of drawers should I choose? Where are Jenine and David and Jonathan?  I hadn’t seen them on the tour. With all the questions looming in my mind, I didn’t bother to unpack my suitcases. I picked up Betsy, the only familiar thing in these strange surroundings, and climbed onto the bottom bunk next to the door where I had sat before. As I lay on the pillow, my tears started to flow again, and this time I didn’t even try to stop them. I was exhausted emotionally. Everything was so new and I had no one with whom I could share my confusion. I missed my home at Sowi and my mommy and daddy. I buried my head in the pillow, so no one could hear me, as I cried myself to sleep. I jumped wide awake when Aunt Dee opened the door. “I’m sorry, Sharon,” apologized Aunt Dee. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’d like you to meet Cindy, one of your roommates.” Setting down Cindy’s suitcases, Aunt Dee said to Cindy, “You’ll need to unpack after lunch. It will be ready in a few minutes.”

Getting up, I rummaged in my suitcase for my brush. Where had Mommy put it? Then I saw it: my light blue hair brush. Mommy used it to put my hair up in a ponytail earlier this morning. I grabbed it, took out the ponytail holder, and quickly brushed my hair. I didn’t bother to take the time to try and put it back into a pony tail. Cindy kindly waited for me and led me down the hill to the dining room, a great big building that had windows all the way around the front and the sides. It had been the mess hall for the soldiers on base. I could see long tables laden with food and children sitting on benches. When we opened the door, children’s voices echoed in the dining hall. I wanted to sit with someone I knew: Jenine or David or Jonathan; or maybe one of the ‘big kids’, my sister, Becci, or Lorraine, or Pam. But I hadn’t seen them since arriving. Should I sit with Cindy? I looked around for a familiar face, but there were no extra seats at those tables. Wishing I had sat with Cindy, I finally found a table with room to squeeze onto the end of the bench. The buzzing of voices surrounded me. I knew no one. Fear engulfed me. I sat quietly with my mind frozen, unable to take in anything new. My tummy was hurting again. I was tired of it hurting all the time. It hadn’t hurt at home. I couldn’t eat the peas, mashed potatoes and meatloaf that were served for dinner. They looked OK. Mommy served meatloaf at home and I ate it with enjoyment, but right now, I knew I wouldn’t be able to swallow a morsel. I was thirsty and took a sip of water. It was warm. When we were finally dismissed, I went back to my bedroom and began the arduous task of unpacking my suitcases. I was randomly putting socks and underwear and shirts and pants in every drawer. When Cindy joined me after lunch, she asked how I was doing. Hesitantly, I shared with her the confusion I was having in trying to arrange my clothes in the dresser. “Here, let me help you,” Cindy offered. Coming over to my open drawers, she helped me reorganize my drawers, showing me how to neatly put my socks and underwear in the top drawer, and my shirts and shorts in the second drawer. Then together we hung up my dresses and I finished unpacking by putting my shoes on the closet floor. Thanking Cindy for her help, I helped her unpack her suitcases. It felt good to be working together.

The afternoon was quite an adventure as more kids arrived. Aunt Dee introduced me to my new roommates: Alice, Chris, Viviane, Joleen, Tosha, and Heidi. I already knew Cindy, but I had trouble memorizing everyone else’s names all at once. I was quiet, holding Betsy tight, watching my roommates greet each other. I seemed to be the only new girl. Cindy invited me to walk down to the dining room with her again for supper, and we sat at one of the long tablels with several other second-grade girls. Now, I didn’t feel quite so alone. I mostly listened to what the other girls talked about. But my tummy didn’t hurt quite so much, and I was able to nibble a slice of bread without the peanut butter and jelly. After supper, Aunt Dee knocked on the door and called us for devotions. We sang, Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so... and Deep and Wide and Climb , Climb Up Sunshine Mountain . Although I knew the songs, I couldn’t sing. My mind began to wander back to my home, where I would sing these songs with Mommy and Daddy. I started to get that lump in my throat again and the familiar knot in my tummy as I imagined what might be happening at home. Mommy and Daddy are probably having ‘devotions’ together, too, before bedtime. I’ve got to stop thinking about home. I just can’t start crying again. My dormmates started leaving the living room, and I realized that I had totally missed the story and the prayer time.

Devotions over, I made my way to the bathroom. The toilet stalls were on the left and they smelled like someone had peed on the rough cement floor. The open shower stalls were on the right. There weren’t even shower curtains. I decided not to take a shower. As I was leaving the bathroom, I heard a buzzing overhead. Looking up, I spied huge black moths flying around the ceiling lights and humungous walking sticks hanging from the rafters. A large space between the top of the wall and the ceiling allowed the bugs to get in. I almost stepped on some pincher beetles in my hurry to get away from the walking sticks. A couple of the beetles were flipped on their backs, hissing helplessly and wiggling their legs, trying to flip back over. Before I could escape the buggy bathroom, I overheard one of the girls saying in a taunting voice, “Look! Those huge walking sticks are still hanging from the ceiling. I wonder who will be the first victim to have one drop down on them this year.” I’d never really been afraid of insects before, but the thought of a walking stick dropping down on me made me shudder. I had already exited the bathroom when I heard another voice, a kinder voice, say, “Don’t tease the new kids like that. You know that has never happened!” Feeling a sense of relief, I made my way back to the bedroom. Even with seven other girls in the room, I felt so alone that first night.

After tucking myself into bed, by holding Betsy tight, and pulling the top sheet up over my shoulders, I laid in bed trying to sleep. I could hear the familiar chirping of chichaks, and although I hadn’t seen any of the friendly little brown lizards, I felt comforted. But it didn’t take away the feeling of fear that gripped my heart about what tomorrow would be like. When I woke up that first morning at boarding school, I didn’t know where I was. It all came back to me in a flash: the good-bye, the plane ride, supper, devotions—and ugh—the bathroom. Then I remembered it was the first day of school. No one else was awake yet, so I snuggled in bed with Betsy. It seemed like just a few minutes passed before there was a knock on the door.

Aunt Dee poked her head in and said, “Time to get up!” We were required to wear dresses to school, so I went to the closet and picked out my favorite. Most of the girls seemed to know each other and were chattering merrily. Not knowing what to say, I dressed in silence. I brushed my hair and parted it down the side, but when I tried to put the barrette in my hair the way Mommy had shown me, it just didn’t want to go right. I finally gave up and parted my hair down the middle.            A slim brunette approached me. “Hi, my name is Viviane. What’s yours?”            “Sharon,” I replied.            She watched me intently as I made my bed and tucked Betsy under the covers. Her eyes were kind and tender. I felt no fear or shame.            “That’s a cute dolly. What’s her name?”            “Betsy.”            “That’s a pretty name. Would you like to sit with me at breakfast?”            “Oh, I’d love to! Thank you!” I was excited Viviane had asked me to sit with her, because I didn’t want to have to figure out for myself where I should sit. “You looked really tired last night,” said Viviane. “Everything is just so new and different.” My voice got shaky, and I thought I was going to cry again. “It won’t be long and this will feel like home.” Viviane reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Let’s go.” We managed to find places at the table where my flight-mates, Jenine and David, were sitting. There was oatmeal for breakfast with cold toast. The oatmeal tasted strange.            “The oatmeal is yucky, isn’t it?” commented Jenine, when she saw I was not eating mine. “They don’t put salt in it. This goat-meal isn’t fit for animals.” I watched as David put peanut butter in his oatmeal. He glanced up and saw me staring. “The only way I can eat this goat-meal is to put peanut butter in it. You should try it.”            “Maybe next time,” I replied. It felt good to be greeted and talked to in a kind way. It gave me a glimpse of hope that maybe I would learn to like it here after all, and that this could become my new home.


SUSHILA AUNTY She had no relationship with our family but we called her auntie, Sushila Auntie. Our father was a dear elder brother to her. She once said to me, ‘what your father has done for me, only a true elder brother would do to his sister...he is my dear Bhai Jee.'

Sushila Auntie was a victim of India's partition and creation of Islamic Pakistan. She was from a town, known as a ‘city of wrestlers’ and famous for its food. She had built a one-room apartment in Himalayan town and named it ' Sushila Nivas'. It had only one room but was almost the size of a small hall. She also built a well adjutant to her house. It provided drinking water not only to her but to the entire locality. Once while playing, my small ball fell into the well. I was sad for many days for losing my favourite ball. Sushila Auntie was living with her younger sister Vimla who was a mental case and known in the area as a madwoman. People in the locality believed that Vimla lost her mental balance due to tortures she got during the turmoil on the division of the country. Vimla was married and her in-laws were rumored to be settled in another nearby town. There was no news about her husband. Was he a victim of Muslim rioters?

Sushila Auntie’s husband deserted her as she didn’t agree to him to leave her mad sister. Her husband said that Vimla was the responsibility of her in-laws. For every need Sushila auntie would call on my father for support. She always used to wear white Indian dress and a muslin long scarf around her chest and head. She was a strong believer of Hindu rituals. She liked absolute cleanliness in and around her house. We used to call her 'Chuchi Mai' as she was a crazy lady for purity and cleanliness. She had different clothing’s and slippers for the toilet. Inside the room and kitchen she would wear wooden slippers. Whenever we visited her she would insist we wash our hands and feet first before entering. For this a bucket of water and a small metal pot were kept at the door. She would then give us a sugar candy. Sometimes with one cardamom or two almonds. On my father's death, she cried and felt like an orphan. She would visit my mother almost every day. Though she was not in a position to help us financially, would inquire about our well-being and encourage us with kind words. She sometimes would give me some coins. As events turned, we were forced to sell out our house. Suddenly we were without a shelter. On hearing this Sushila Auntie was first to reach out to us. She told us to come to her house. My mother was hesitant as she knew her life in one room apartment. As a true Hindu Barahmani, she was a strict follower of daily rituals. But she was angry at my mother, ‘Oh! My brother's children have no shelter and you are asking me about my rituals? I have already taken permission from my Lord and made space for Him in one corner of the room... don’t worry... my Lord will be happy to see you there and help me to support you.’ She shifted us to her house. It was a big relief for us at that difficult time. We were there for around a year till we arranged another house. Such was our Sushila Auntie. Unknown people come into our lives, do great things towards us and go away silently. They leave behind nothing except memories and painful feelings of debt towards them. Some years later Sushila Auntie's sister Vimla’s in-laws came realizing their duty towards her and took back their daughter-in-law. Sushila Auntie's son who was with his father and got a government job in Delhi also came. Sushila Auntie sold her house and went with son. I never met my auntie again. But she had a permanent space in my memories. I tried to find a photo of her but no luck. Once while surfing on my mobile, I suddenly saw a picture on Facebook, paused for few seconds. Looked at it again and once again. It was not Sushila Auntie but resembled to her. People say social media is bad. But, I realized, it's a wonderful tool to keep you connected to your past and help you live with memories.   . This story would have ended here. But time was changing. India was set to be a huge economy. People were desperate to grab new opportunities. A mad rush to win. Emotions were getting defeated to profits and accumulations. I went to that locality after many years. It was changed and unrecognizable. New buildings came up. The locality of my childhood was not there but I recognized Sushila Auntie's house. The big main room was intact but the space around it was filled with construction of additional two rooms. The metal gate was changed to a large wooden gate. The stone with SUSHILA BHAWAN was still there on the wall. The owner of the house had built some commercial space there. A small grocery shop also came up. The cycle repair shop on the corner was now known as a motorcycle workshop. TV antennas were there on every roof. I looked for the library complex which was popular among elderly residents of the town. Library was confined to one room and other space was filled with a commercial institute.  Time was changing so was the attitude of people. After roaming for two hours and looking for some known faces, I could only find that big Mango tree whose surrounding was our playground. I sat on a broken bench there. It was a hot summer day. I was thirsty. I remembered this mango tree was a few yards away from Sushila Auntie's Well which was the only source of drinking water for the people of the locality. Well was filled up and a building had come up there. I purchased a bottle of water from the grocery shop, gulped water and realised I was standing on Sushila Auntie's Well. The water bottle was in my hand. Looking at it I felt my Sushila Auntie was around smiling. She said, ' Look at your water bottle...your ball is still floating...' Suddenly there was laughter. Mango tree was laughing with Sushila Auntie. I was hesitant for a moment. Looked around and then joined them in laughter.


My mom used to tell me this story about her home planet, Earth. She told me all about this once magnificent planet, but when I looked out of my spaceship window, all I saw was a scary ball of flames that used to hold beautiful, green trees, vast oceans, and oxygen that seemed to last forever. The humans needed to eat for fuel, drink water to live, and oxygen to breathe. Mom said that Earth was home to many families, children went to school, and everyone was happy at one point. But one day, Earth changed. It wasn’t all of a sudden, but certain events led up to this moment. The humans would cut down trees for their buildings like stores and houses. They learned how to make paper from trees and would cut down about 15 billion trees each year. My mom would show me a picture of a tree and it looked gorgeous. It looked so alive and green that I couldn’t believe it even existed on the toxic planet. She told me that birds of all colors and sizes would live on the trees and sing happy songs. Mom would smile at the picture and then become sad, saying that one day, there were no more trees the humans could cut down, and it caused many problems. The humans couldn’t breathe in carbon dioxide because it was toxic to them. But CO2 levels on Earth had gotten so high that not many of them could survive. A lot of the humans had a hard time breathing and it even got to the point where they had to always wear oxygen masks to live. You see, the trees that they cut down inhaled carbon dioxide and exhaled oxygen. If the humans hadn’t cut down all of their trees, there would still be air for them to breathe. Animals also lived in these trees, sheltering and protecting them. Mom said that the humans could have recycled their products, try to use cloths instead of paper items, and plant more trees to avoid what happened. Another problem that contributed to the humans’ air quality is their use of fossil fuels. They used it to heat their homes, produce electricity, and as gas for their cars. One tank of gasoline could take their car hundreds of miles. The humans used fossil fuels so much because it didn’t take much processing to make. What they didn’t know was that fossil fuels released a lot of harmful by-products, creating pollution and affecting their air quality. Fossil fuels are also a non-renewable resource, meaning once you use them, they’re gone. The humans were also using fossil fuels much faster than they could be made. What the humans could have used instead of fossil fuels are renewable energy sources, meaning resources that can be naturally made over a short period. Some examples are solar panels and wind turbines. If the humans used these resources, they could have had more time on their planet. Mom said that Earth used to have blue, massive oceans. She would show me a picture of her next to something called a “beach.” It had blue water and huge waves, like something from my dad’s old history books. The oceans provided water and had sea creatures like sharks, fish, and octopus’ that have 8 legs! I find that hard to believe but if they did, the creatures are long gone now. The oceans also produced oxygen for the humans to breathe. There are a few theories about how the oceans changed drastically, but here is one: carbon dioxide. With so much carbon dioxide on Earth, it could have turned into ice and covered the oceans. Eventually, as it gets warmer, the ice would melt and evaporate. If the humans had done as was suggested before to decrease their levels of CO2 on their planet, maybe they would still have one. Maybe I would also have experienced this “Great Earth.” Eventually, the human population decreased so much that there were not many left. They couldn’t live without the oxygen their trees provided and the water and air their oceans gave. The humans had only one planet and now it’s gone. My mom and dad were astronauts when the downfall of Earth happened and got on a rocket ship to live in space. My daily life is to wake up, make sure my space suit is intact, and check to see if I have enough oxygen for the day. Sometimes it’s annoying because the stuffy suit would get in the way of the things I need to do like schoolwork. Mom and Dad would switch off teaching me different subjects, but I loved learning about Earth. If Earth was my planet, I would have definitely taken good care of it for future generations to enjoy nature’s beauty. The humans only got one planet and it’s not easy getting another one once you have destroyed it. I don’t even think you could get another one! My parents told me that back then on Earth, humans didn’t have to go through the hassle of paying and caring for an oxygen tank. It’s second nature to me though. I’m jealous of those humans on Earth; they got free oxygen just from big, green trees and were able to swim in the vast, blue oceans. Dad tells me that one day I might be able to go to Earth and experience its beautiful nature, but I could tell he doubts that would happen because of the unlivable toxic atmosphere. I was born and raised in this rocket and never got to see rainforests or feel the wind of the beach, but I heard that it’s amazing. I could only hope and pray that I would have those luxuries. Breathe in fresh air from trees instead of the air of oxygen tanks. I want to feel the sun on my skin without getting burned because the ozone layer is basically gone on Earth. Earth didn’t wait for the humans to change their ways, so it showed them a life without it.


TW: contains descriptions of gore appropriate to the sixteenth century and there are references to miscarriages. A king does as he pleases and anyone who disagrees is a fool. Wolsey, my lord chancellor, who the pope made cardinal, erred in being too slow to deal with “the king’s great matter” which was how the need to legitimately free myself from my first marriage became known. Thomas More who I promoted to the same position, forfeited his life when he put conscience before obedience to the crown. When Thomas refused to take the oath of succession and denied I was the Supreme Head of the Church of England, it was only a matter of time. Both men lost their lives; one before he could be tried and beheaded, and one who actually was. I was sad about More’s death because I learnt much from our religious debates. Until things took a turn for the worse, I enjoyed our little spars. He must have known I had no choice but to have him executed for his treachery – although I showed mercy by transmuting the manner of his execution to beheading rather than the hanging, drawing and quartering of his parts which is the standard punishment for treason.

I dream of him sometimes in the dead of night, but that is inevitable with someone who was once a friend. NEVER LET IT BE SAID I HAVEN’T BEEN A JUST KING! ** At first, Anne Boleyn was my dream girl. Beautiful, vivacious, and intelligent, she was going to give me everything I desired. I knew she would satisfy me in bed, but I also hoped to confide in her and assumed she’d continue to support my interests. Above all else, I needed her to provide me with a legitimate male heir. In return she would be my queen, gain undreamed of riches, and her family would be given lifelong prestige.

Loving her was a kind of madness. I was such a pitiful wretch I actually trembled in her presence! She must have wanted me, but her refusal to yield and become my mistress made me crave her all the more. She was the only woman who denied me, and it spurred me on. I was crazy for her sweet pert breasts (I called them my doxies). My soul drowned in her bright eyes, and at every opportunity I would try to kiss that fine gazelle-like neck – even when she perkily brushed me away and said, “No, the queen might see and be upset.”

Anne created a stir everywhere she went. Her alluring voice and elegant French ways were the talk of the court. She’d first been sent to Brussels, then to the French court, by her father for seven years and returned a true daughter of the Renaissance. She had an air about her quite unlike other ladies of my acquaintance. I knew if I stalked this enchanting creature long enough, I’d win my prize. Later when we were together, she joked she’d had no choice in marrying me. It was boldly devilish coming out with something like that, and I laughed heartily at her archness. She further shocked me by saying I’d “pestered her by bombarding her with letters and gifts” when she withdrew from court for a year. Could she have been trying to escape my advances? Not possible. It was just another ploy. One of her schemes which had me had playing into her hands. And it worked. It made me all the more determined to catch her.

Like Jacob who had to serve Laban seven years for his daughter Rachel and then was tricked into marrying his older daughter Leah, I had to wait seven years before I could marry Anne. We slept together a little before marriage, but only when the marriage was certain. Divorce from my first wife Catherine should have been straightforward, but for political reasons the pope refused to grant me one. I grew increasingly desperate. I certainly could never have imagined the trials and tribulations that lay ahead as I fought to marry my dream woman. The very fabric of my country’s religious landscape was being altered as a result of the reforms I made. I could not turn back. Although Anne had been the maid of honour to my first Queen, I did not let that deter me. I can hardly believe I once loved Catherine and did my best to comfort her in her miscarriages. It was only after years of failing to provide me with a male heir, I realised the marriage must have been cursed and that I’d been wrong to marry my brother Arthur’s widow at seventeen.  By marrying Catherine, I had unwittingly “uncovered my brother’s nakedness.” In doing so, I had gone against Scripture. For doesn’t it say in Leviticus that if a man marries his brother’s wife they will be childless? NEVER LET IT BE SAID I WASN’T A PIOUS KING! That being the case, I had no choice but to look elsewhere. In the early days, it was easy to pursue Anne at court. When she emerged from Catherine’s bedchamber, I ran after her in the corridors. I ignored Catherine’s tearful pleas not to embarrass her in front of courtiers by flirting openly with her maid of honour. As far as I was concerned, our marriage was over. I had been supremely kind to Catherine in the past, but my patience had long worn a beard. NEVER LET IT BE SAID I WAS NOT A TENDER-HEARTED KING. Shortly after this, Anne retired from her position as maid of honour and retreated to her family home at Hever. Distance is no barrier to a lover’s heart, and I deluged her with letters and gifts. I was amazed when she kept sending them back, possibly out of a sense of misguided propriety. I couldn’t believe it! Most women would have been falling over themselves for half the attention. Anne’s sister had happily given herself to me in the past even if it had ruined her reputation. I knew Anne couldn’t resist for ever and my need grew so urgent I even told the court I couldn’t manage without seeing her. I camped nearby at a friend’s house and besieged her daily. By the time she consented to marry me, they had long been calling her the “great homewrecker” and the “great whore.” An accusation that no longer appears as unjust as it once did. ** I don’t know what I was expecting, but not long after I had Anne, the craving stopped. It was as if all the fire of passion that had driven me had been extinguished. She was better than her sister who just lay there like a sack of potatoes while I took her, but really no different to any other woman in that way. Perhaps after waiting for so long to achieve my goal, I had grown bored. Now she was mine, there was no need to chase. By her second pregnancy, my eyes started wandering a little, but after all I’d gone through to make her my Queen, I could hardly rid myself of her without just cause. For a while, she became more compliant, and we had a few months of happiness. I decided I would bide my time. But when she miscarried again, I could hardly contain my disappointment. The stillborn baby boy lent proof to my doubts. Anne always maintained she miscarried on account of my jousting accident when she’d feared I was going to lose my life. She kept telling me I was never the same after the horse fell on me and I lay unconscious for two hours. Either way, it seemed unlikely she was ever going to be able to give me a son.

The fate of my second marriage was now sealed. Ironically, before the miscarriages, Anne had given birth to a healthy girl at Greenwich palace. At least my daughter looked like me! As Elizabeth was our firstborn, I did my best to cover over the embarrassment, but there were none of the expected bonfires and rejoicings a male birth would have merited. I could almost hear the bawdy remarks in taverns up and down the land. No doubt my predicament was a source of merriment at court; I could read the guilty looks and hated the way the talk dried up as soon I entered a room. Secret scornful laughter mocking my failure. ** NEVER LET IT BE SAID I WAS A KING TOO PROUD TO LEARN FROM HIS MISTAKES.

The strength of character, the witty personality that had once so delighted me now grated. When I heard Anne laughing with her coterie of male admirers, I felt as if she was insulting my manhood. When she wasn’t doing that, she was accosting me about reforming practises, constantly asking whether some of the money from the dissolution of the monasteries could be used to fund places of education. She said I had agreed to this, but I don’t recall making such promises. Nothing worse than a meddlesome woman! Who was she to harass me? Once convinced our union was doomed, I could think of nothing but finding a way to get rid of this woman who’d made me a laughing stock in Europe. Though it occupied my every waking hour, I came up with nothing. That was when I turned to my right-hand man to see if he could find a solution.

Cromwell has never disappointed me. Yet. Unlike More and Bishop Fisher who steadfastly refused to accept the new faith to make me head of the church and were destroyed for their treachery.

It didn’t take long for Cromwell to resolve my problem. He has the most practical turn of mind of any man I’ve known. He understood my infatuation for Anne had turned to something else. I had become obsessed with the need to rid myself of this burdensome woman. The woman I had once adored now hung about me like a plague. I could hardly bear to breathe in the same air. In his customary style Cromwell sorted things out and before long Anne was escorted to the Tower where she was charged with having committed adultery with five men, one of whom was her brother! It didn’t surprise me. The pair of them were always sneaking off in corners and giggling together. No doubt laughing at me behind my back!  I could well believe her capable of it even though she strenuously protested her innocence against every charge brought against her. She claimed she had never once been unfaithful. She had always been true in word and deed to her king.

How could I have been so deluded? How could she have betrayed me thus? How could she have lied so? And how could I ever have fallen under her spell?

** She has been hunted down and will be slaughtered tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. I daresay she will be waiting in a high state of dread, not knowing when it will be.  I have already been more than magnanimous in acceding to her request for a French swordsman; that way her end will come swiftly for she only has a little neck. I consider it a final act of kindness towards a treacherous wife who was once queen.

NEVER LET IT BE SAID I WASN’T A FORGIVING KING. Tomorrow or the next day, I will wait on Tower Hill for the cannons to announce the witch’s death. Then I will turn horse and ride to Hampton court. I anticipate celebrating with Jane once the deed is done. Jane is not well educated, but she is loving and submissive as a good woman should be, and I plan to marry her soon. I know we will be blessed with a son. I can HARDLY wait.


-     look at it! Sleeping on the table, with that disjointed window that keeps opening from one side to the other! - Asserted the 60-year-old Blessed Bertita, with an unknown face due to the veil that had never been removed from her.  - Do not deny because to deny is a sin! - The priest of the chapel replied, yawning, with the chalice of holy wine in her hand, from which she sipped little by little, while she laughed.  "Surely you must already be canonized as holy as you are," she said, upturning her nose, a sin that became customary.  -     that's how it is! - Yawning her. In truth, almost closing the eye.  The blessed could only extend her arm covered with the purple of the penit to close the left side of the window, the one that had not yet detached from its frame.  - Or else, all the people spy around here - the saintly woman justified herself, with a laughing finger.  - It faces the alley.  - The cobblestone?  - Yes, the cobblestone behind the parish.  - Ah! If it is true - affirmed the father,  -, opening his eyes - is where it was distributed  - bread to the ordering in the mornings.  - It is the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves, carried out by means of divine mercy, charity and love of neighbor - explained the parish priest, sanctified by the wine from the sacristy, which seemed to diminish every day in the cruet.  -It is that everyone knows that the window does not have a knocker that protects the privacy of anyone, and they all start to spy inside the sacristy through the silk curtains - Blessed Bertita explained, covering her flushed face with her veil .  - That's right - observed the parish priest with a grimace: and everyone knows that the priest of the chapel falls asleep on the sacristy table after a few, let's say, somewhat generous copetizers of the wine of the Eucharistic celebration - looking for a key to his room , at the bottom.  -Suddenly, he drops a plastic bottle from his pocket.  He runs to pick her up, hiding the dropped bottle with Franciscan sandals.  - being poor is not a sin! - He said, showing his perforated sandals and the cassock that was longer in the back than in the front, as well as being darned on the sleeve.  "I'm sure he's going to sleep now," said the saint, leaving the room on tiptoe so as not to wake him up.  -And many times he had fallen asleep in the middle of the celebration.  Upon awakening, she would fix her hood and girdle, straightening her slightly crooked posture in the priest's chair.  Then, he was dedicated to sanctifying the divine blood, tasting all kinds of wine "to honor the Blessed One", until the end of the celebration.  A hooded man, with an unmade beard and dressed in black, approached the famous open window of the sacristy.  "She doesn't have a padlock, she's only supported," said the hooded man, opening the window a little with the tip of the knife he was carrying.  - It is better to certify that the pious women are not in the sacristy - with the hurried glance of the crime, seeing the father asleep.  Not a shadow of them! is now ! - He whispered, looking around.  It is not known exactly how it happened, however, in the same second he was inside the room, like a cat trapped in the sandbox.  He opened his gaze from eye to eye, seeing the cruets, bread and cheese covered by a tablecloth.  He took the tablecloth and put the bottle, the bread, the cheese, the forks arranged on the table, the keys to the cupboard where there were the gold crucifixes, the hóstias, and some coins kept in a white envelope.  The priest was still asleep.  But the man took the opportunity to also take the gold curtains, the gold cups, the pearl necklaces given to the saints by the faithful on the occasion of the Christmas celebrations washed down with more wine, hosts as well as greetings and blessings as well as songs. typical of the time.  - hosanna in the heights "- faithful years repeated, while the parish priest poured holy water on the heads of the faithful, but not on his own - throwing the straps of addiction in more a victory over sanity - this, normally disguised as homilies:  -    Faith moves mountains. Come on! Receive the salvation of the Lord! Before the enemy takes us all in his hands and makes us burn in the infernal embers of sin.  Thus, the parish priest said that the shape of the body did not matter, because “the most important thing is the spirit of the divine word glorified by eternal love - it had arrived together with the inauguration of the bust of the martyr of independence in the square, when his predecessor - a certain Don Francisco, I believe that he died, according to the pious women of unknown cause.  As a vacant position it had to be filled, to avoid the demand of the faithful to other churches.  Don Panchito - the priest - fresh from a cold that took him away from the curia for some time, offered to fill the vacancy that nobody wanted - that was obvious: nobody in their right mind would like to be bitten by malaria or spend nights followed without wine or a fiery saint - as he had in the curia.  - But ... Don Panchito ... this ... in that town there are no benefits as there are here- said the secretary of the curia, a fourth-year student who did administrative practices- “I must be a great administrative priest,” he said, "To put the souls of God in order."  -    No matter. What matters is saving more souls and offering them to the Lord.  Don Panchito knew that there were ways and means to save souls.  His specialty was the hidden collection of services, as when he simulated an exorcism on a girl who had many seizures, she would turn purple as a grape and stiff as a statue.  -His soul from him is saved, save! Thanks be to God, let us give thanks to God our father and to this faithful servant who saved the soul of his beloved daughter in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.  - Amen- almost said in chorus those present, because they cried so much that you could not understand what they were saying.  Grateful, they served him feasts with a lot of food, a lot of wine, and they also offered him a house "so that you could stay as long as you wanted."  Don Panchito - and let it be known that that name was not free - stayed in the house, closed at night, when he received the blessed women "for special healing and spiritual healing sessions", stripping them naked to wash their sins "that are impregnated in the body and soul ”.  He had pictures brought from the curia, the most valuable, in order to get support "from the faithful during their prayers full of hope and faith."  She asked the pious women to bring her lunch "with a little demijohn of wine and three glasses, one for me and one for you and for you" to her rooms, where she would take off her white coat, perfume herself ("these perfumes are sacred. the faithful in the curia gave it away, "he said to the pious women who served him lunch, making them dizzy, until they fainted and fell into the priest's bed, where they woke up still drunk with wine or perfume - they did not know it - and out of pure modesty they they closed their blouses "I opened up? It can't be! I must do penance and ask God for forgiveness, bring the rosary and let's start right now to ask God for forgiveness for our sins.).  Without worrying about payments of any kind, all the salary that he received from the curia was kept in a flask, closed with two padlocks and hidden under his bed, high and sovereign as a worthy representative of God on Earth.  One afternoon, the bell rang for him after tea that the blessed served him punctually at five in the afternoon.  Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  - Come on. You, go see who it is, this ...  -     Martha . My name is Martita.  - So, Martita, go open the door.  Without even wiping her mouth, she sees her beloved and distant secretary-student-clerk walk into the food hall.  -Dear Don Panchito, how is he?  - Oh! Dearest disciple in God! What brings you here from so far away?  -We need his help: there is a chapel that almost fell in this town. We were thinking of building a new chapel for you, but nevertheless the curia asks me to tell you that this will not be possible.  -    That is not a problem. There is an old chapel that can be renovated.  -    Yes. That is why I came. I came to bring you the permission that the curia grants you for the chapel spare parts, with the right to carry out the necessary transactions for the work.  -    Money?  -    Yes. Besides that, you can have the workers and other people for the repair.  -    Well. Where are the papers?  -    Here. You must sign them.  - Sure- yes, he would sign it because that was his chance to rise in the clerical hierarchy, conquer better positions within the church and finally establish his informal influence in the political media.  - We're going to have to interdict the entire building, temporarily.  -    No problem.  - In this case, we already started the works.  -    No problem.  And the window, symbol of a life, was destroyed, leaving behind the shame of an inglorious past, and perhaps with the hope of finding some future ... with wine?


Fallacies and fantasies.

I gradually and tightly hugged my doughy headrest and turned my cranium in front of my room’s entrance. The dimness of the room gave me nothing but a wilderness of my fiction. It’s giving me the fantasy from the article I read which in my opinion was a deception. The article about the man in different people’s nightmares brought me a whole lot of foreign confusion. Its round complexion, murky eyes, thick eyebrows, and fairly pointed nose. Or, perhaps, it isn’t. Possibly, it is a soft and petite nose. The way they describe the man seemed fine but the portrait itself is way too vicious. They called the man in their dreams, this man. If this is a paranormal or spiritual mystery hidden within the subconsciousness of oneself while the confusion was lurking around the dreamer’s brain, this might be useful as typical evidence to prove a theory that conceivably, dreamland does exist. I scanned again my browser, silently hoping to find a concept within the website that has a distinct and unique description of the man in their dreams, but there are none. Every dreamer has an indistinguishable portrayal of the man’s details which is too absurd to be pondered as a truth. Their assertion was way too perfect that it made me believe that it was scripted.

They describe the man in the dreams way too perfectly like they have met him in reality. I heaved a deep sigh before turning my head again, but now facing my room’s ceiling. My mind is being disturbed by a bunch of thoughts. I closed my eyes wanting to fall asleep even with my hazy mind, but it wasn't as easy as I thought it was. I couldn’t sleep. I just couldn’t. I opened my eyes again and planned to shift my muscle but to my horror, I couldn’t move even a single finger. The image of a man standing in front of me with a knife in his hand brought fear to my whole system.

Is he going to jab me?

“I ain’t a myth, fallacy, and deception. I am your nightmare, Triv. I am your trepidation.” As he raised his hand while holding the knife with the vicious grin plastered in his round complexion, I almost cried. He is way too terrifying that would make everyone piss on their pants. The man seemed to be so hostile that I couldn’t even look at his face for too long. I tried to open my mouth and scream but I couldn’t and when he was about to hit me, I managed to move my tongue. “W-Wait!” I shrieked which made me wake up from terror. I was shrouded in sweat. Anguish and turmoil compelled my body to tremble. My heart thump slows down but it's throbbing so bad. It’s excruciating. The nightmare is suffocating.

My heartbeat is at its abnormal rhythm.

I immediately got up from my bed to fetch some chilled water from our fridge to alleviate my nervousness. The setting is quite depressing. The only thing you’ll hear aside from a dead stillness is the insect’s outcry. The silence is deafening which would compel everyone to assume that chaos is near. It’s too bizarre. The insect's outcry added more suspense that made me tremble with fear. “It’s been a year, Triv,” a voice of a man uttered. It horrified me when a familiar voice from my posterior spoke. It’s the man in my nightmare. Tears build up because of fear. This can’t be true! This must be a dream! This man is all fictional. There’s no scientific explanation that’ll prove his existence. There’s no way in hell that he’s true! I am just hallucinating! I have to wake up!

The man grinned before he slanted his back unto the wall just a meter away from me. “You reckoned the idea of your God, but you don't acknowledge me? You assume the unseen: deity, air, afterlife, epitome, and redemption, yet you don't believe what you've seen?” the man sarcastically said. Entirely outraged by his remarks, I threw the glass in his location with all of my strength.

The exact moment that the cup was approximately about to hit him, it halts in the air propelling me to be more surprised than ever.

“Human-person doesn't discern gravity at all,” he declared. “Your notion of gravity is not meticulous. I am not asserting that your science is erroneous. It is partially authentic but not wholly accurate.”

He snapped his fingers which provoked the glass to fall.

“You, humans, are unstable beasts. Immoral. Faulty. Vicious. Fond of negligence. Creators of numerous faults then rendered the same mistake again,” he said while crossing his arms and tapping his elbow using his index finger. “Mortal’s immoral succession. Errors after blunders. Impaired. Weak,” he insulted. He beamed again. His statements keep on booming in my head. He’s driving me to insanity. “If you’re not like us, t-then what are you?” His brows puckered but his creepy smile is still plastered in his round complexion.

“I am nonentity but a saga. I am the gravity itself but can't be categorized as gravity by humans' portrayal of gravity. I am the utopia but not the atmosphere you'll see on sunny days. I am the rain but not the rainfalls. I am the conflagration but not as feverish as it appears. I am the water but I am not as decent as it is. I am in between ebony and white but I am not gray. I am not God but I am the god of myself. I am trivial and hearsay. A nightmare itself but can't be fiction without the dreamer.” “I am the riddle without an answer,” he said. As his body fades, the whole room changes its shape. It was another trance.

“W-Wait!” I shrieked which made me up from terror. I was shrouded in sweat. Anguish and turmoil compelled my body to tremble. My heart thump slows down but it's throbbing so bad. It’s excruciating. It’s suffocating.

"De javú," I murmured as actualization hit me.


The doorbell rang twice, and each time a different person was let into the house. The first time it was the plumber. He was a man by the name of Gabbani, and he had only just started plumbing, but he was grateful for the things he had and was never one to complain a lot. The second time the doorbell rang, there was the pizza man, standing like a delivery angel complete with a steaming box of pepperoni pie and a bottle of root beer. He had also just started working as a pizza man.

It was his first job, seeing as he was a very young fellow, and he wasn’t nearly as grateful for what he had as the plumber. In fact, he just wanted to get done with the delivery so he could go see his girlfriend and they could go eat, well, anything but pizza. He was just so tired of pizza. He never wanted to see it again, or smell it again, or taste it again, or anything. He wanted nothing to do with the stuff. Fortunately for him, he didn’t really need the job. Oh, no, not Monterosso. Monterosso’s family had money by the gobs. Absolute gobs of it. The only reason he was at a job in the first place was because his father wanted him to have the experience for when he started interviewing for other, better jobs in the future.

The third person in this story was the lady that opened the door to both of these men, and she was a very slight old woman whose name was Susan. She had straight down the back gray hair that used to be blonde and also blue and one time it was pink, but that really was a long time ago. So long ago, in fact, that Susan couldn’t remember the colors her hair had been in the past very well at all. She did, however, remember that she had called the plumber because her toilet was broken and that she definitely didn’t order pizza.

“I didn’t order pizza.” She opened the door and saw Monterosso standing there with his neat little pizza box and moved to slam it back in his face but stopped. “Did I?” “Well,” Monterosso was not known for his manners, “If you called the pizza place and you put in an order then I’m going to take a WILD guess and say yeah, you did order pizza.” He stepped past Susan and set her pizza on the hallway table. “I’ll be right out… But I need the money first. It’ll be fourteen dollars. Twelve for pizza, two for root beer.” “I can’t eat pizza though, and I don’t like root beer. Why would I go and order something I don’t like, young man?” “I don’t KNOW. Maybe you are a crazy old kook and you forget things or something, but what do I care? I just want to get my money and get out of your house, lady. It smells like mothballs and… mmm…” Monterosso took a deep breath, “Desperation.”

“That’s rude.”

“Dude, I just want the money. I don’t care if you ordered it or not. I’m not taking it back to the pizza place. No one wants it.”

“Did your parents want you?” It was the plumber, the darling Gabbani, who said that just as he strode out of the bathroom. He had just fixed the toilet and had also just finishing overhearing the young pizza man be very rude to Susan. “I think you should apologize to this kind lady.” He set his toolbox down and took his wallet out of his overall pocket. “If you apologize to her like you should, I can pay for the pizza. It smells good and I’d be happy to take it home.”

“I didn’t say anything that would warrant an apology!” Monterosso threw his hands up in the air. He was getting tired of old people. An old lady not knowing if she ordered pizza and now an old plumber guy telling him to apologize for nothing. “I didn’t.” He crossed his arms and decided he would just wait until someone gave him his money already.

“Apologize or take the pizza back.” Gabbani would never let a kid of his own (if he’d ever had a kid, that is) speak to an old lady like that. Then again, he wasn’t going to let that happen now either. The punk would repent or he would regret his actions.

“I really don’t think it should be that much of a problem, I can just go grab my purse and both of you can be on your ways…” Susan was saying, but neither the plumber or the pizza man was listening. They just glared at each other, death rays shooting from their cold eyes.

“No, he can’t take your money, ma’am. You didn’t order it and he can’t take your money. It could have been a prank or something, but either way, I’ll handle it as soon as he says he’s sorry for calling you an old kook.”

“But what if I am an old kook? Look, the kid probably is stressed or depressed or anxious or otherwise mentally addled. All the kids these days, they have these different problems than we do. Like the planet melting and all the polar bears dying and also, the new viruses and that.”

Monterosso glared at Susan. “I am not mentally addled. I just want the money so I can go see my girlfriend and get home. I have school in the morning.” Gabbani didn’t care about girlfriends and school in the morning. He cared about justice and the freedom to not pay for something you didn’t want. He opened his mouth to protest the kid’s excuses, but then, in the living room of Susan, the television flickered to life and a news reporter was announcing something. “People of Chardot, we have an announcement to make. As of now, everyone must stay where they are if they are able to. If you are at home, stay there. If you are at a friend’s home and they have room for you, stay there. If you are capable at all of staying, don’t leave. If you try to go home and do not have a reasonable reason to do so, you will be apprehended and executed by the general Tuttibrutes. They will not hesitate to put you out for the common good. The pandemic is rising, do not leave if you can stay.” The television flicked back off.

Susan stared at Gabboni and Monterosso.

Gabboni stared at Monterosso and Susan. Monterosso looked towards the door.

“What should we do?” Susan asked them, because she technically had four extra bedrooms in her two story house and her grandchildren always were visiting her, enough that she had stocked her pantry full and bought new toothbrushes last week.

“I can’t stay here.” Monterosso suddenly really didn’t care about money. He just wanted to go home. He didn’t want to stay somewhere with a weird old lady who thought he was mentally addled and an abrasive plumber with a vendetta against him. “Please, guys, I can’t stay here.”

“You may have to.” Gabboni didn’t want to stay either, but he wanted to not get executed by the general Tuttibrutes even more. They were practically running the town, the little cookie buggers. “Ma’am, do you have extra rooms, in case we did have to stay?” “Indeed. I have four extra rooms. For my grandchildren when they come stay with me.” Her grandchildren hadn’t been able to come visit for a while now, but it wasn’t worth mentioning. “You’d be welcome to stay if it comes to that.” “I guess I’d better call the chief Tuttibrute and ask what he thinks of the situation. My house isn’t nearby, so it may be for the best if the pandemic really is getting to be so bad… I didn’t know it was.” Gabboni got his phone from his other overall pocket and headed towards the kitchen to call the chief, whose shower he had fixed on several occasions.

While he was on the phone, Susan decided she’d better figure out what to do with Monterosso. She guessed she’d better start with introductions. “My name is Susan, by the way.” “I’m Monterosso. I’m sorry I called you an old kook. I didn’t mean to be rude to you, I’m just kind of tired and I wanted to see my girlfriend. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, so it was going to be like a little reunion thing. I’d better call my parents, and then I’ll call her.”

So Monterosso called his parents and they agreed that he should stay with the nice lady Susan until things subsided at least a little bit. Then he dialed the girlfriend, Elisa, while Susan went back to her bedroom to think dinner out.

“Elisa?”

“Oh, Monte, hello!” Elisa did not sound disappointed to know that Monterosso would not be seeing her that night. In fact, she sounded somewhat relieved.

“Elisa, I won’t be able to make it tonight, but you’ve probably already heard that. Where are you?” “Um, I’m at a friend’s house...” Monterosso did not like the um word there in front of the sentence. That word meant she had to hesitate when telling him where she was and while he had never been particularly over possessive, he didn’t much care for blatant lies. “Are you going to have to stay there?” “Yeah, I probably will. Where are you?” There was laughing (deep laughing) in the background of Elisa’s phone call and Monterosso’s heart stirred unsettledly in his chest. “I’m, ah, also at a friend’s house.” “Really? What friend?” “Susan.”

“Monte, you have a friend named Susan? Why didn’t you tell me about her? Why are you there?”

“She’s not really my friend. I was delivering pizza to her house when the stay there orders fell. I’m here with her and a plumber named Gabboni.”

“I’m with Fede and Benji and Vana and Palma and her sister and their neighbor.” “Were you at a party, then?” “Yeah, I would have invited you, but you were working.” “Why were you at a party? There’s a pandemic going on and you went to a party? Why would you do that?” “You’re still delivering pizza!” “That’s different. That’s my job. Elisa, you should have told me you were going to a party before I planned our whole date. I thought it would be nice to see you again after such a long time, being that we’re dating and all.” There was too long of a pause on the other side. “Maybe we should break up, though. I was going to say that tonight anyway. I don’t really feel like it’s working out for me. Thanks for everything, but bye!” There was another rumbling laugh in the background and then a click and Monterosso was all alone. He dropped his phone. Gabboni was also getting off the phone, and his news wasn’t any better because the chief had ordered them to stay where they were like everyone else. When he walked out of the kitchen and saw Monterosso on the verge of tears, he had to ask what was wrong. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Not mentally addled or whatever Susan said I was. I’m good. I’m okay. It’s alright, right? It was probably for the better of things anyway.” “What happened?” “Elisa broke up with me. She was supposed to come to this whole date I had planned for her but then it turns out she was actually at this party with our old friends and no one invited me because I was working.” Gabboni crossed his arms again. “They were having a party in the middle of a pandemic?” “Yeah, I wouldn’t have gone anyway.”

“Then I guess you really aren’t mentally addled after all. I’m sorry if I scared you with the… Before when I wanted you to apologize to Susan. She reminds me of my mother.” “Do I really?” Susan had left her room after deciding she would make tuna casserole for dinner. “Do I really remind you of your mother?” “Yeah, sure.” Gabboni smiled for the first time that night, his teeth all there and bright white, like he brushed them regularly after meals. “You dress like her. You wanted to let a little punk get away with stuff like she would. You’re not kicking us out like she wouldn’t kick us out. And I’m guessing you’ve already planned a dinner for us? Because she would.”

“I actually was thinking I’d make a casserole, if you two were hungry, but while I was doing that you could go upstairs and choose a room. There’s four. And the bathrooms have towels and toothbrushes. You,” she looked at Monterosso, “You maybe could find some pajamas to wear of my grandson’s. He’s not much bigger than you are, though he’s only twelve so they may not be your favorite style. And I have nothing for you to wear, Gabboni.”

“That’s okay. Also… You don’t have to make a casserole.” “Well, I’m really quite a good cook, you know. I think you might like the casserole I make. It has a lot of cheese and… oh, are you a vegan?” Gabboni shook his head. “No, but we already have dinner.” “We do?” Monterosso had to laugh at that. Not rudely, though. He’d already learned that lesson enough for one day. “Yeah, we have a pizza and root beer.” “Oh, that’s right!” Gabboni and Monterosso shot each other a covert look. They knew they’d be in for a ride the next few days or however long they’d be staying. Monterosso figured he’d be busy enough taking care of Susan that he wouldn’t have to think too much about Elisa. “That’s right alright.”

Gabboni picked up the box and the root beer and carried them into the kitchen. “Who's ready for dinner?”


My fingers are raw from trying to find the floorboard. I silently curse my fifteen-year-old self for not being smart enough to make some sort of indication on which floorboard I hid the box under. I finally am able to lift the jiggly one with the help of my car keys. I lift up the box, a wave of the past hits me with the force of running headfirst into a brick wall as I open it.

“Are you even going to remember this box, Winnie?” Andrew laughs, kissing me on the cheek.

“You know, if you keep calling me Winnie, I’m gonna have to call you Andy.” I laugh back, blushing bright red in contrast to my white t-shirt.

“Okay, Winston.” Andrew jokes, toying with everything that litters the floor. “What if you forget about all of this stuff?” He picks up a mood ring, “Are you sure this isn’t awfully important?” Andrew jokes, putting it gently into the wooden box.

“I think that I’ll live without a cheap mood ring.” I say, reaching for my half of our best friend’s necklace. “Can you put yours in too?” Andrew looks hesitant as he takes it off, “Please?” I make a pouty face.

“But-” “Please,” I ask, holding my hand out stubbornly, “Do it for your ‘best friend?’”

He sighs, dropping it into my outstretched hand, “Fine, ‘best friend.’” He watches intently as I make a show of placing both necklaces in the box with extreme care. I look around my mess of a room for other items.

I reach for a pen and hold it up, “Is it worthy?”

Andrew covers his mouth with his hand as he laughs, “I think you know that answer to that Winston.” I run my hand through my hair, and I look around.

“Well, what do you think I should put in here?” I keep looking around my floor for something of personal value.

“What about this?” Andrew asks, holding up three photos. The first one is a strip of photos of all our friends crammed into a photo booth. Everyone is laughing and squished against each other.

I grab the strip, “I can practically hear this photo.” I look at the two other photos. The second one is one that Andrew took of me as I held up my dog for the camera, trying to block my face. “That’s when you first got your camera.” I say, chuckling.

“Mhm.” Andrew says, waiting for me to remark on the third photo. The third photo is another photobooth strip. It's him and I. We do a variety of poses and I kiss him on the cheek in one of them. I see his blush which is exaggerated in the poor lighting of the photobooth camera. “Do you like this one?” “No,” I say, taking all three. “No, I don’t think I like it at all.” “Wha-” “I love that one.” I place all three into the box with a satisfied smile. Andrew punches my shoulder and I look at him with concerned eyebrows.

“Jesus, you scared me.” Andrew says with a glare. I laugh at the severity of his glare.

“Gotcha.” “No shit Sherlock.” Andrew tries to hold his serious expression but breaks as I poke him in the sides. “Okay, okay!” He jumps up on the bed to avoid me poking him where it tickles. “I surrender!”

“Come back down.” I say, clearing a space for him on the floor. I push aside action figures and dolls, magazines and comics, stuffed animals and unmatched socks. “We need to finish the box!” I insist as we settle back into our spots. “Okay,” I say seriously, “what else?” “Hmm,” Andrew looks around, “chapstick?” “Chapstick?” I look and see the chapstick in front of me. “I mean, why not? Maybe this kind won’t be around when we’re old and stuff.” Andrew picks up the chapstick, “And when we’re old and everything, we’ll be needing this chapstick more than ever.” Andrew pulls his chapstick out of his pocket. “In fact, put this one in there too. Better safe than sorry.” “It’s good to have multiple flavors too.” I add, putting my cherry flavored chapstick and his mint flavored one into the box. After the chapsticks are settled into the box, we continue to look around.

Andrew taps my knee, “What about this shell?” Andrew points to a shell on my nightstand. It stands out pink against the clutter that covers my whole nightstand.

“You think it’ll fit?” I ask, turning my head to the side. “‘Cause I don’t want to break it or anything.” Andrew reaches up for the shell, trying not to cause a collapse of items onto the already disastrous floor. “No. no I don’t think it’ll break. We might have to do some rearranging.” Andrew frees the shell with little damage, and I giggle at his carefulness, “The shell will probably be the last thing in the box though.”

“That’s fine.” I say, taking the shell in my hands, “I can’t think of anything else to put in the box anyway.” I hand the chapsticks and necklaces to Andrew as I hold the shell, “Wanna know a secret about this shell?” “If it’s about talking to mermaids, you’ve already tried that trick on me.” Andrew says, putting on his chapstick for the last time. “I’m a bigger man now. Smarter.” “Not so sure about ‘smarter.’” I joke, positioning the shell just so, “The shell isn’t actually real.” Andrew rolls his eyes, “Really? I had no idea. The bright pink color and the plastic-y texture didn't give it away at all.” He says sarcastically.

“As I was saying,” I grab back the chapsticks and necklaces back, putting the chapstick on for the last time too. “My parents bought it for me at some shop because everyone else found seashells and I just couldn't find any.” Andrew laughs, toying with a G.I Joe on the floor, “Your mom told me a different story. There were plenty of shells, you just couldn't get any because you were afraid of waves.”

I sigh, “Okay, yeah, maybe that also was a factor in why I ended up with no shells and everyone else had shells.”

Andrew gets closer, “It’s okay Winnie. I’ll protect you from the waves if we go to the beach.”

“That was a long time ago!” I protest, “I’m not afraid of beach waves any-” Andrew kisses me and I’m taken aback. I lean into it, not sure how to do anything. Where to put my hands or whether to keep my eyes open or to keep them closed. He’s only kissed me on the cheek before and we officially became ‘boyfriend boyfriend’ last week. After panicking for an eternity, I tentatively place my hands on his face. After a while of me panicking and Andrew being perfect as usual, we break apart.

“I think I did it wrong-” “Winston-” “But-” “Just put the box in the floor.” I close the box, tears welling up in my eyes. I take a few deep breaths and reopen the box. “Can’t believe we didn’t think Carmex wasn’t going to exist when we were older.” I say to myself with a chuckle. As I look through all the items in the box, I hear little feet enter the room.

“Dad, whatcha doing?” My daughter, Jettie says with her hands on her hips. “Oh, just something me and Papa did when we were younger.” I say softly, holding the bright pink shell in my hand.

“Like in the olden days?” Jettie asks, peering in the box.

I laugh out loud, “Mhm, that’s right.” As Jettie and I continue to look through the box, I hear someone else come in.

“You found it?” Andrew asks, kneeling down and setting Jettie on his lap.

“Sure did.” I pull out his half of the best friend's necklace, “And you thought I would forget about it.”

“To be fair, you did until I reminded you on the car ride to your parents' house.” Andrew says, taking his half and putting it around his neck. He takes the box, “Can’t believe that we put chapstick in here.”


"Speak now." Father said. His arms crossed firmly against his chest, so tight that you could see muscle strain against his red polo shirt. His gaze pierced and forced Gregor's eyes down by the judgement it contained. Gregor wish he could explain, truly he did. He was used to being in good graces with the grownups in his life, but now his lips were sealed, and his hands trembled. He grimaced at the hot burn in his eyes and nose. The indignation of doing the right thing was fresh with him. His father sighed in resignation. "Alright. Go to your room. We'll talk later." His posture relaxed into resignation and grabbed his keys from the hook. He mumbled something about supper. Gregor cleared his throat and said, “The usual, please.” His father grunted and the his heavy boots announced his leaving on the wooden floor. Gregor slumped down the old hallway towards a larger-than-needed room painted in a joyful robin eggs blue. He looked over to his squat dresser; on top was a photo of his mother in an old picture frame. She was sitting next to him and playing on his Gameboy while he watched. The picture always brought a smile to his face. The warmth of her smile had that magical essence that allows it to travel through time and space and enrich all who saw it.  “I miss you.” Gregor said in a stifled voice. She’d been out of the house for a while now. They tried to explain to him that they just needed some time apart, but he knew things were worse than they were letting on. Mom had been acting strange lately and the small town rumors always swing around to everyone – That tetherball of gossip. The hottest take was that she was moonlighting as a prostitute to pay for a crippling drug addiction. He bloodied a boys nose the first time he heard it at school. He got three days suspension, and of course there was no punishment for spreading what Gregor knew in his heart to be slander. With his dad out of the house to pick up some food for the night, he opened his closet door. Everything was as he left it. He moved some clothes that had fallen off their hangers long ago to uncover a forgotten moving box. “So far, so good…” he thought. He knew his dad had gotten a call from the school, but he wasn’t sure if he’d already done a thorough investigation or not yet. He opened the box and gave a sigh of relief. His hard work remained undiscovered, though he knew he had to act soon. Tonight would be the night. Dinner with Dad started expectedly awkward. Both ate fast food in silence, Dad occasionally glanced up at his son with a vacant but concerned stare. As dinner went on he relaxed though and said, "Do you want to watch a movie tonight?" Gregor took a few moments before answering and met his gaze with hesitation. “No thank you…” “Ah, you sure? There’s a whole lot of westerns on this week. Some kind of special, I think.” He quickly shoved a handful of tepid fries in his mouth. Dad always preferred a specific burger place in town that was just far enough away for things to be a little lackluster when they got back home to eat. "Yeah, I think so... but thanks" Gregor grew out of westerns a long time ago, when he was six or so. There's only so many high-noons and drunken prospectors a kid can take. Dad never seemed to get his fill, though. The memory of watching them together must have stuck with him. It'd been a while since they've found a common passion. "Sure thing, son... Hey, listen..." Gregor tightened up at this. He knew it was coming eventually. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" His voice was deep and gravely. It sounded like a bear trying to sooth a rabbit with a growl. "Yeah, I know Dad." He said. His gaze dropped down again. "Well, okay then." Dad said with a sigh of frustration. "You know where to find me if you need me, son." He lumbered to the living room to fill the dad-shaped dent in his recliner to turn the TV on and crank the volume up. His hearing has steadily gone downhill since he took the factory job; his energy too. Gregor knew that he'd fall asleep in about thirty minutes or so. Gregor played video games in his room while he waited for Dad to fall alseep. Tonight was the night he’d do his best to help things go back to how they used to be. It didn't take long for his Dad's snoring to reverberate across the house. It was a comforting annoyance, like the creak in the ceiling fan one has had since they were a baby. He changed out of his pajamas and put on a dark hoodie and black sweat pants. Not only to blend in the night, but the cold nip of a fall night filled the air. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled; He looked like a frumpy little ninja. "I'm on my way, Mom." He said with a nervous smile. He positioned one of his pillows beneath his covers to make a little boy-shaped bulge. When he felt satisfied with his ruse, he slid off the windowsill to the outside driveway, his sneakers crunched on the gravel. The box was heavy in his hands, but he pressed on past his father’s mud-crusted truck and made his way down their alley. He knew his way around his small town and still remembered the bike paths he'd take to avoid the heavier trafficked streets, and the yards of the meaner kids at his school as well. Back when he went outside. He walked on and passed by his school. It always looked like it would topple over on him, especially when he’d gaze up at the steeple. The lot was empty all around it, which gave him comfort. Sister O'Hara's classroom light was on, she never turned it off. Something about how 'Sin perpetuates most in darkness'. Gregor couldn't help but snigger at himself, stumbling in the dark, making her words true. She was the whole reason he was out so late this night, he remembered. He had overheard her talk about his mom to another teacher. Talking about how she'll never go to heaven if she can't get off of drugs, how her vice has led her to doing unholy and shameful things. How she abandoned her son because she gave in to Satan. Through tears and a swelling fear he ran. He knew if he had to hear her talk any longer his blind rage would lead him to expulsion, and his parents had enough stress in their life as it was. The rest of the trip was uneventful, save for the couple of times where he ducked behind a hedge to hide from a passing car. Things never happened in places like this at night, or if they did it was so seldom as to not change the habits of anyone. Life would simply roll on, and no one would feel guilty for staying the same. Not when a tragedy didn't affect them directly. He reached his Grandma's house after traveling a couple miles down a dirt road. It was pitch black save for the beam of his flashlight. he pressed on until he saw the faint dim blue glow of her house in the copse of elm trees around her lot. He was holding his breath in anticipation and exhaled in relief when he saw his mother’s blue Oldsmobile in the drive. Thank goodness she was here. The box was feeling heavy as it shifted underneath his left arm, sloshing slightly. A light was on in the second story guest room. That must be where she is, he thought. He smiled when he saw her faded-pink colored bedhead pass by the window. She looked hollowed out but still warm, somehow. Like a fire on its last legs. She held a freshly lit cigarette in her hand, a habit she quit off and on for years. Gregor picked up a pebble and chucked it at the old paint-peeled boards next to the window. He saw her look his way, her eyes thinned and her face curled in confusion before she gasped and opened the window with some effort. "Son? What on earth are you doing here, it must be... Goodness it's two in the morning!" "I'm just like you mom, a night owl I guess." She gave him an exasperated smile, rolled her eyes, and said, “You must be freezing! Come in!" He saw her hurry away and before long the kitchen light glowed through the side door. Gregor approached and wiped his feet on the mat out of habit before he entered. She gave him a long and remorseful hug before sitting at the small two person table in the old kitchen. "You know you can't be sneaking out like this, Greg, Robert would have a heart attack if he knew you walked here... I nearly had a heart attack! Are you okay?" "I'm fine, I’m fine. I got into a bit of trouble at school, but...yeah." He set the box town on the table and sat across from her after giving her a hug. "Mom, I know you and Dad aren't getting along and that you need some space, but I miss you and I couldn't wait until the weekend to see you again because something happened." "Well, what happened, Greg?" She was fully awake now. Her face contorted with guilt, a look that became increasingly familiar those days.” "I was walking by the teachers’ lounge after school waiting for Dad to pick me up when I heard Sister O'Hara talking about you. She said that people like you don't deserve to have children and that she'd be surprised to see you in Heaven." She looked pained and she closed her eyes before sighing. “People love to say hurtful things when they're not around their victims, Greg." "I know, I know. What scared me so much was the idea that you wouldn't go to heaven. I don't think she knows what she’s talking about, but I just wanted to make sure that someone was looking out for you, and I figured it might as well be me." He opened the top of the box and pulled out a gallon of grape juice and a box of communion wafers. He also took out two petite plastic cups and set them on the table. Staying late usually sucked, but he was glad to that one day, when he’d swipe the communion supplies right from under Sister O’Hara’s nose. His mother looked confused and looked back at him with a confused face and started to laugh. "Oh my goodness, son! There was no need, dear! I'm-" "Mom-" he cut her off, "It would mean a lot to me if you shared communion with me tonight." She looked up and smiled at the seriousness of his face. "I had no idea you felt so strongly about this stuff, Greg" "I do, in my own way I guess. Sometimes church sucks. Everyone takes it too seriously; or not seriously enough. Sometimes I think they only want to look good and not be good." She smiled softly at him, “We all have different ways of dealing with the world, honey. It's easier for some than others too. Lord knows I've had my faults in how I've delt with it myself. Just as Sister O'Hara has hers and you yours. No one is handling this thing called life gracefully; if they look like they are that just means they're good actors." She winked at him while he poured the grape juice. "I'm touched you'd do this, though, Greg, I really am. I can't say I approve of you stealing from school or being out so late, but I will say I won't forget tonight. I'll share this and pray with you, if you like, then we got to get you home, okay?" Greg yawned and nodded, sliding over a wafer and shot glass of grape juice to his mother. She took it gingerly and he his and she said a small and clunky prayer over the grape juice and crackers. They both solemnly completed their communion. Mom wiped away a tear from her eye and hugged her son. "Tell you what, let's do whatever you'd like to do this weekend; maybe I can even get your father and I to take you out for a big fat steak, how does that sound?" "I don't know if Dad would be down with that, he seemed a little mad at me when he got the call saying they think I stole from the school." "Well... Let me talk to him and explain, and I'm sure he won't be mad after. Sometimes we do the wrong thing for the right reason, you know? That doesn't always make up for it, but it does make it understandable. We'll talk it out, dear, but know that regardless of what he says that I'm very proud of you. I love you unconditionally, and I know that he does too." She smiled at him slowly and with an expression of complete and utter prideful delight. "Besides, when have you known your dad to pass on a big slab of meat and potatoes?" "Only that time you burnt the crap out of his filet mignon." He gave her a crooked smile. She gasped and had to stifle her laugh from waking up her mother. "Alright you turd. Let's get you back." The school never found out who took the supplies. Dad and Gregor munched and drank the evidence over the next few weeks, and with the evidence gone, all that remained was a fond memory for all three of them to cherish.


The gentle breeze of autumn, the chirping of birds, the changing sky and a cup of coffee, what else does it take to enjoy the last light of sunset! This daily scene helps Anu to think about her imagine world, but today is different. Suddenly she is feeling nostalgic for the first reunion celebration three years after she finished high school. She thought at first she would go but avoided at the last moment. Thinking of that...now it seems a bit strange why she didn’t want to go! She had the opportunity to met with her teachers, batch mates, close friends, acquainted seniors and juniors, but she was afraid to grab the chance. At that time her university's admission test was going on, but her result did not come in any public university. She was afraid, her friends would laugh at her if they found out. To escape from this thing, she stuck in her mind the memories of 5 years high school life. “She still can recall clearly even after 10 years”! After finishing primary, she was admitted to Khagrachhari Government High School. The first day she went to school, she thought she had come to an alien planet. It was the first time she had seen so many students together. There was no one she knew in the room! Choyonti was her first high school friend who talked to her. She could not remember Choyonti's name at all. It took her two months to remember her first friend name! Then everything like magic she became familiar quickly with the school. There was a banyan tree next to the school canteen. At tiffin time they would sit there talking and chatting. There were three large fields on the school campus for students to play. She used to play cricket sometimes. She liked to chew center fruit. It was everyone's favourite in that time. Specially in her village, it was an exotic food for children’s. hahaha... she was a quite, shy girl. Everyone said, why do you talk so little? She couldn’t even answer that question! Who would have thought that this quite girl was not really very calm! Maybe those who said it at first realized it later. Nevertheless, she was never seen on the first bench in Class Six and another shocking news is that she never passed the half-yearly exam from class six to class ten in mathematics. For the first time in Class Seven, she was appointed Class Captain when the former two Captains failed to maintain their responsibility. After that in class eight and in class ten she was elected class captain two times by friends. She was a strict class captain. It's still felt so good remember all those memories as if It's just happened yesterday! Anyway, when she was in class eight, Bifin sir was their first class teacher. She took leave five times saying that, It was her grandmother's annual (Her grandma passed away when she was a high school newbie in 2010). When sir realized the truth, he once asked how many times your grandmother has died so far? She just gave him an idiotic smile and replied. I also don't know sir... As a saying goes, power can make people different., as a class captain she had some authority in hand. She did take some action that caused few students get scolded by teachers, but it was all for their good. She once made an application to the head mam about some students running away from school by skipping classes. Then she became their enemies. Suichingla even threatened to stab her. Though she didn’t believe those words, she was on guard for few days. They never talked after that until they went to college. That morning surprisingly she got a message from Suichingla on Facebook saying 'sorry. I have treated you very badly. Sorry again'. She was happy, Anu even forgave him long ago. She was an introvert girl, had no problems talking with girls, but talking to the opposite sex has never been easier for her. Because of that, she had no boyfriend in whole high school life. It's sad right? The first friendship gift she received was from Nunuching. Until then, she knew nothing about friendship day! It was totally unexpected for her. She never thought in that time someone will gift her someday. She made her 1st close friend in class 7. Her name was suikra. She was so naive that later suikra abandoned her. She felt pain, wanted to cry loudly, wanted to say 'am I not good enough to become your friend'?. It was hurt her badly but couldn’t do that anything. All she did to drink her pain alone. Then she never tried to make any close friends. She was a high school teenager and had lot of crush. One of the boy name was Atul. She still can remember him cause he had beautiful eyes and was good at study. Uchainda was the quietest girl in the class. There were 4-5 naughty girls in their class who were more or less known by everyone in the school. They were famous for their deed. There was a girl name Roseti whose hair was always tidy. There were few girls who used to brought their beauty belongings with them. In there school had annual sports and cultural competitions every year. She used to participate in all sports though she was not good at sports. However, she has won some prizes in the cultural field. Their long five-year of high school life ended in 2015, February. It was a memorable journey with friends and teachers. On their last day of class while everyone’s crying she didn’t border to wet her eyes but deep down she broke into pieces that day. It was not just a campus, It was a place of their dreams! All the memories they made together, all the teachers- Bifin sir, Devobroto sir, Shadon sir, Sukumar sir, Elius sir... it were all floating in their minds. They all handshakes, they all promised to keep contact and meet again. They all wished to take good care of each other. Anu returns to reality from the past. So it’s been a while! I should have gone into the reunion. I really lost that chance. Memories kept coming back to her mind. I avoided our first reunion because of my fear. The evening came down a long time ago as well as the echo of one's own mind......take care dear school. Take care my friends wherever you all. We will meet again on our favourite campus. Right? We will.