The cape whips behind him in the wind as he zips by in a colorful blur. His giggles dance across the field as his furry companion chases close behind – yipping with joy found only in the bark of a puppy at play with their beloved child. His imagination running wild, he “flies” with abandon. A tiny hero and his trusty sidekick. Out to save the world from the evil supervillain of the day. He’s only six, with a mop of unmanageable curly red hair, blazing blue eyes, and a shower of freckles dappled across his ever-smiling face. Still frolicking in that joyous childhood bubble where the good guy always wins, the bad guy is defeated, and everyone lives “Happily Ever After.” His mother, however, has a firm grip on the reality that is, well… life. She watches him play, and dreams of what could have been. Imagines a better life for them both. One full of happiness. But the truth is, she is miserable. Trapped in a marriage that should have never been. With a man with the unique ability to see and consider only himself. Things are not horrible. Her friends tell her how lucky she is. But they don’t see who he really is. No – he has never hit her. But he controls every move she makes. And keeps her trapped in a cage of his own design. They can’t see how beyond unhappy she really is – living in a loveless marriage and raising her son all by herself. If only there was a way out. A way to find love and happiness again. She glances up as she hears a rumble in the distance. A dust cloud billows behind a truck barreling down the dusty road. She is not expecting a soul… who could that be? She stands and heads up to the house, curiosity peaking as she wonders who has made the trip out without calling first. Her breath catches as she realizes, it’s her father! It’s been many months since he last traveled out to see them. He always seems sad when he leaves. But here he is. She breaks into a run to greet him with a hug. “What a surprise, Dad! It’s so good to see you!!!” “Well, kiddo. I just couldn’t wait one more day without seeing my favorite grandson.” She laughs and points up the hill. “He’s up there! Saving the world, once again! But your favorite daughter is thrilled to see you.” “As much as I love that kid – I am actually here to see you. Let’s go make some coffee. We need to chat.” He says as he leads the way into the house. She looks curiously at him. This is very uncharacteristic. He is typically all jokes and humor. But this… this sounds serious. She follows him inside and sets to work making a pot of strong coffee. Just like he has always liked it. She sets out the mugs, and waits for the brewing cycle to finish. As soon as the steaming mugs are ready, she joins him at the kitchen table. They have a lovely view out the picture window where they can watch Robby and the puppy running and battling the imaginary bad guy under the trees. “Alright, Dad. What’s going on?” she asks as she gently sets the mug in front of him. He sighs… a deep, heavy sound. Like he has been carrying a weight. For years. “Darling, it is time. I have to tell you the family secret. But first. There are some things you should know.” “Dad… we have a SECRET???” her shock goes beyond what she can even express. The family had always been so open and honest with each other. She cannot even imagine what they may have been hiding all these years. “I know you are unhappy here. I know you have been unhappy for ages now. Robby has made life better… but still, things are not good. Jarod has made things really hard for you.” She stares in silence into the inky blackness of her coffee cup. She had no idea her father saw her life so clearly. That he saw the pain she struggles so hard to hide. She cannot even begin to formulate a response. “Catherine, there’s a way out of this. A way to fix it. All of it.” “But Dad. I can’t just leave him. He’ll never allow me to do that.” “No. I see that, Cat. But there is another solution. This is why I came today. It’s time. It’s time for me to tell you what you can do. What you have always had the power to do, but we had to wait for the right time to share it with you.” “Dad. This makes no sense. What are you even talking about?” He closes his eyes. And begins to speak. “Catherine. Our family is special. We have been given an amazing gift. A… super power, if you will. The power to CHANGE the past.” “Ok. Wait. What?” She shakes her head in disbelief. This is it. He’s lost it. Now he is just talking crazy. “I know this sounds like I have lost my mind. But hear me out here. Throughout our history, we have had this power. The ability to stop our lives, go back in time, and change things. Big things. Small things. ANY thing. But… we can travel back only once. So we have to choose carefully. Most of us never make that choice. Because you can never foresee what else will change when you make one minor adjustment in history. Our family stories have some tragic outcomes as a result of this gift and therefore many of us live as everyone else. Content with the way things have turned out. But a few of us – when we find ourselves with no other options – we make the choice to step back in time. And try again. Cat – I think you should try life again. Make a different choice. You KNOW what you should have done.” She sits in silence. Processing. This all sounds way too good to be true. A way out. A way to try again. Make more than a new start. A whole new life. But then her eyes catch a flash of color up the hill. That little boy. He is her life. What if the choice to change the rest of it… takes him? Is it worth that sacrifice? If only she could be sure that she would still end up with him. Her father follows her gaze. And her thoughts. “There is no way to know. Not for sure. It’s a risk that you’d have to be willing to take.” They chat for the rest of the evening. The earlier conversation lingering in her mind. Sneaking into her thoughts and pushing her toward the idea of happiness. Robby joins them, with the puppy in tow, as the sun fades and the shadows crawl across the landscape. As the time for Jarod to come home inches closer, her father stands and bids them farewell. He has no desire to see or speak to her husband of close to 20 years. He has nothing left to say to him. As he hugs her goodbye, he once again encourages her to make the choice. “Choose joy, Cat. I feel in my soul it is the right choice for you. And remember - I love you. No matter what you choose.” Her night is spent as it usually is. She gets Robby fed and bathed. Reads him a story and sings a few songs. Then he drifts off to sleep, the pup curled at his feet.  As she climbs into bed later that night, she feels the weight of unbearable sadness crush her chest. She cannot live like this any longer. Her heart feels crushed by the knowledge that this is her life. And will be forever – unless she listens to her father’s advice and takes a leap of faith. Into the past. To perhaps correct a mistake she had never forgiven herself for. Her eyes flutter closed, and she sees his face in her mind. The man she loves. The one she’s never forgotten… Her eyes open to the sun streaming in the open window. She’s a bit disoriented. That dream was… very strange. But so real. She laughs softly to herself. What a ridiculous notion. To think she would have married someone like… that. And then to think her family had the power to time travel. She wraps her cozy robe snugly around herself and heads downstairs to make a pot of coffee. She finds her father sitting at her kitchen table, already enjoying a cup he had brewed when he arrived, no doubt. He often arrived early on the weekends and made himself at home. She loves how comfortable he is in their home. She wouldn’t have it any other way, really. But this morning, he gives her an odd, knowing smile. “Good morning, Cat. How are you this fine Saturday morning? You… feeling alright?” “Sure, Dad! Feeling great! Wait… why are you looking at me that way? What’s going on?” “Oh… nothing. Really. Just asking.” She rolls her eyes at him as she answers, “Alright then. Breakfast?” He nods in the affirmative and she begins to prepare their usual Saturday morning meal. Nothing fancy. Just bacon, eggs, and some toast. “Is our littlest superhero up and about already?” she asks as she cooks. “He is. I saw him and his furry sidekick up the hill when I drove in.” “Excellent. I’ll go call him inside as soon as these eggs are ready. I wonder where his father has gotten off to?” But as she plates the eggs and prepares to go to the door to call her son for breakfast, she hears a ridiculous commotion just outside. Barking. Squealing. Banging. Giggles. What in the WORLD??? “MOM!!!! Mom - LOOK!!!! I got him! I captured the evil villain and saved the city!” Robby races into the kitchen, cape flying, little dog bouncing around his feet, yipping happily. And behind him, his dad limps theatrically as he follows him inside. They look so much alike, it makes her heart swell to see them together. Robby insists on keeping his soft, black hair the same short style as his dad. And their eyes are the exact same mixture of dark, swirling brown with a little green mixed in around the edges. They smile with the same smile and both have adorable crooked smirks when they are amused. He wants nothing more than to be JUST LIKE his dad. And Catherine has no problem with that. Neal is the most perfect father she could have ever asked for, and he loves her well. Every day. Her happiness knows no bounds. As Neal kisses her forehead and grabs a bite of bacon off the plate, she catches her father’s eye. He has a look she has never seen before. Robby and his dad race to wash up before breakfast and her father whispers in her ear, as she takes a seat. “Isn’t this better? Aren’t you glad you made the change?” And the truth hits her. She remembers it all. Everything from before. And now her whole new life. It wasn’t a dream. They really did have the ability to travel through time and make things better. And she did it. She made that choice. Took the risk. And now – here she is. Happy. Finally. AND… she got to keep her son. Only with the dad he should have had to begin with. This is love. And it is beautiful.


Caution: There is strong language, mental instability of a couple characters, and violence. Note: The premise is to be like a manga/comic book style story. In a world full of fighters with super soldier abilities that they attain by using an energy called eco, there are several groups lurking in the shadows with all sorts of different intentions. There are empires and government alliances that will be briefly mentioned throughout this narrative. There are characters named Carter and Emily who are two Bellators that defected from the Bellator Project years ago and are now encountering others who have destructive nefarious intentions. An organization named Virgo has put itself on the map as an intercontinental threat. These two Bellators have encountered a few members of this organization already. Two of which have been Necromancers. These necromancers are extremely dangerous and have various abilities that are a mystery to this world. With the help of Karii, a hyper-intelligent AI program, they have been able to gather intel on these ultra powerful Bellators. From here on, The story will be narrated by a Character who works for one of the Bellator agencies. He acts as a speculator based on Karii's observations: About a year ago, Carter earned his nickname known to many as "The Bull." He took down a renown dictator who planned on enslaving all people of the common species and he wanted to use the Bellators as his primary executive class to accomplish this. Carter fought this man valiantly, but that wasn't the end of his journey. After this, he had several trials and tribulations. The most noteworthy one up to this point was his takedown of one of the mentioned necromancers who went by the name of Darkthorne. This man was ruthless and fought and killed many within Carter and Emily's friend group. Now they are facing off against a much more powerful opponent, known as The Cyclone. He was a member of Virgo, but went awol after going frantically insane. He went on a killing spree of several Bellators and was unstoppable up to this point. They faced off and it became clear that he was literally trying to annihilate all known life that exists. That’s right, the planet, with all of its inhabitants, was hours away from being obliterated by a super psycho maniac who killed dozens of Bellators over the previous week just for fun. Virgo was under the impression he was already dead and the governments across the world had no idea of how powerful he really was. Carter and Emily just got lucky and stumbled across this off-putting character who just wanted a quick fight, at first anyway. After reading the notes from Karii, it appears that when The Cyclone almost killed Emily, Carter flew off the goddamn handle. I mean, he just about lost his shit and you’d think the way Carter was punching that the planet would fall apart just from the astronomical amounts of red eco he was releasing from his punches. The Cyclone enjoyed this, he liked to see others go on a frenzy. He protected himself with two different shields, a seemingly impenetrable sphere of mysterious heavy rock and ice-filled thunderclouds, which were somehow reinforced with all forms of eco. The other one consisted of pure eco of all forms and instead of a sphere surrounding his perimeter, it protected his physical body tightly. The Cyclone had an odd liking for Carter. He looked at him and asked, “Carter the Bull.. Why not end it all?! Look at what they did to us! The people of this world, the people of this universe have created nothing but suffering. You and I have suffered enough. But there’s a way to start over, a way to destroy this timeline of disgusting people and start anew. As the ancient sayings go, ‘the day of reckoning will fall upon all of us. Only those who are wise and good-natured will breathe the air of life.’ Don’t you get it, Bull? The ‘air of life’ is eco. We have a duty to recreate this universe.”

Carter responded with, “This universe? This universe has become its own thing long before we did anything to it! Forget about all of that Royalist crap! You have to decide for yourself what to hang on to and not. Nobody is going to create something perfect for you and hold your hand through it all.”

The Cyclone, with a seemingly distasteful look on his face, pointed his palm at Carter and said: “I will guide the hands of the newborn lifeblood. We live in a perfect universe, full of imperfect creatures! I will rid this plane of the existence of our species. I will serve as the catalyst to our new existence! I am the real Osh, all of the Boundations of creation the Royalists speak of, they are about me!”

It's pretty obvious that The Cyclone lost his marbles. But what do our heroes do now? Carter and Emily were immediately engaged by this maniac and his attacks were on astronomical levels. They tried just about everything they had in their playbook. Emily used various assassination techniques that she combines with her ability to levitate and Carter used his headstrong red eco attacks that have devastating effects, but nothing worked. After exchanging blows back and forth, The Cyclone overpowered Carter and Emily and tossed them around in a destructive sphere of dashing eco that ripped in and out of their bodies. He flung them around and slammed them into the ground. As they got up, they were assisted by one of their friends named Hikari Haru who has very impressive healing abilities. He was accompanied by their friend Barron, who is mostly their intelligence gatherer. After being beaten up by this super psycho maniac, it seemed like all hope was lost. The Cyclone floated above this group of friends who all went awol from the Bellator Project and agreed to an alliance to be-rid the world of its evil Bellators. The Cyclone states, "Foolish children. Each and every one of you. You have no idea what this world has done to me. I will compress and expand all of space time and will eliminate everything before us." After this, they begin to panic, but try to remain calm on the surface..

Except for Carter. He lets it all out. He goes berserk. Frenzies up like a deranged bull. “Enough!” He screams at his limits, scratching his voice with a roaring tone. “You think you’re destined for this?! Destroying all of life?! What kind of whack-job do you have to be?!” Carter yells. “None of this belongs to you! None of it! You're destroying everything!”

“Carter, he’s not going to listen.” Emily consoles. “NO! That’s It!” He yells, as he collapses in a controlled manner, his arms glow purple and black, suddenly covered with what looks like a series of strange patterned, unreadable tattoos, and starts to dig into the ground. All of a sudden, a sight never before seen by anyone else, not Karii, not any of Carter’s friends, not even Emily, his own lover, has seen something like this before. He pulls out a body. That is, the living, breathing body of Darkthorne the Necromancer.

“What. The. Fuck.” Barron says with sheer astonishment. “Is that?!..” Emily questions with her eyes wide open. “Darkthorne.. The Necromancer.. The man who put us through all of that trouble.” Karii declares. “It appears Carter figured out how to bring him back to life.”

“Hey.” Carter says in a low volume. “What do you want?” Darkthorne asks gruffly. “I need to do that thing. You know, the purple ax thing.”

“Violet Bladesong.” Darkthorne speaks as he sighs in a rather disappointed tone. “Yeaa.. How does it go again?” Carter cluelessly asks. “WHAT!” Barron comically yells at a distance. “You brought this serial killer back for that? For a demonstration?!” Darkthorne responds, “Think of the weaver’s tale. The power of Rho compelling the-” “Yea, yea the Bastion of hope and the power tower and river of esteem and all that stuff.” Carter interrupts. “How do I summon them by my side?” “Do this.” Darkthorne motions his hands around in an aggressive and somewhat complicated choreographic display and lets out a loud “Hah!” Putting everyone else at alert. Carter does the exact same thing and spawns out two large, purple eco-encapsulated axes and sheathes them into his back. “These are bigger than the last ones.” He says. Darkthorne responds with, “You’re getting better at it and you can control your eco flow more masterfully now, just keep practicing and you’ll be surprised at what you can do.” After hearing this, everyone is at a total loss. Barron’s jaw drops as he cannot even fathom the idea of Darkthorne teaching any of them anything after all those times they recall him trying to murder them with this same technique.

“The clock is ticking!” Karii exclaims as she understands that everything is most likely at a total loss at this point.

The Cyclone, levitating towards Carter and Darkthorne, says, “Brother! You have returned!” Immediately after that, Darkthorne instantaneously disappears and reappears behind The Cyclone and forces the blade of an ax into his back. This catches everyone except Carter by surprise. He yells in despair and at the next moment Carter is right before him, jolting at a speed that breaks the sound barrier. He swings an ax with relentless force and hits a shield protecting The Cyclone. He looks at Carter and says, “You’re a Necromancer. I should have known. You can control Darkthorne’s actions now.” He throws his arms up and down and lets out a massive wave of air that pushes Carter back down to the ground. “It’s over! Give up! This universe will now reset!” Carter motions a strange hand sign and red and purple eco manifests all over his body. [His entire body? Since when did this happen?] Emily thinks to herself.

“Emily! It’s do or die! We need to act now!” Carter yells. “Too late!” The Cyclone screams as the ground shakes and erupts around them. Chunks of the planet now start crumbling from the surface and towards The Cyclone. He frantically laughs and shields himself with an even larger sphere of rock, ice, cloud, and eco. “You will now witness the greatest sight of compression and expansion of space time. The perfect display of mankind’s failures being thrown right back at it!” The rocks start violently flying at them as each of them scramble for a solution. “That’s it! Run like the little ants you are!” He yells. Hikari shoots blazes of yellow eco at him, but is easily dismissed by his powerful shield. The Cyclone hits and grounds Hikari with an easy blow. Then he warps to Barron and throws him violently at Carter. Carter catches him, but they both take a hard hit from the impact. Emily takes a chance at stabbing and slicing at The Cyclone, but it works to no avail. The barrier is too strong and he creates an opportunity to grab her and vigorously swings her around and thrusts her own blade through her leg, then proceeds to throw her into Carter. He catches her too, this time hesitantly as the battle is wearing away at Carter’s will to fight. He stands there.. shaking.. he looks down at Emily, with her in his arms, bleeding out of her uncontrollable, twitching leg.

“Damnit.” Carter speaks, then looks up at The Cyclone. “You.. son of a Bitch!” He begins to lash out as he lays her next to Hikari, “Fix that leg with whatever you have left!” Hikari looks at them, with tears in his eyes, the moment is here, they are about to die, all of them.

Carter charges up with everything he has left, “Thorne! Let's go!”

“Right.” Darkthorne affirms as they both lunge into the air. The Cyclone quickly stops this advance as he smacks Carter around at a speed simply just too fast for him to keep up with. Darkthorne is then wrestled into the ground, his deformed and powerless body goes limp as The Cyclone grabs the back of his head and shoves it into a rock. Darkthorne dissipates and a flow of eco rushes through the air, straight to Carter. The Cyclone turns around and Carter bounces with twirling blue, orange, and red eco, through the air, a technique copied straight from the Megalachorin special forces. Carter hits one of the rocks in the barrier out of place “AHHHH,” then another one “AHHHH,” then another one “AHHHH,” until The Cyclone gets fed up and sends out another push of force. Carter stops himself, forming a barrier behind him as he hits it with intensity, harming himself, but bouncing right back into action. He lets out a roar, “You will not win!” He thrashes and dashes, what looks like a fluid stirring of fireworks in the air surrounding the perimeter of where The Cyclone is levitating. The Cyclone grabs Carter’s right arm and winds up a lethal blow that should finish the job.. but Carter tears his own arm off, flinging and twirling in a wildly unpredictable fashion that catches The Cyclone off guard. He misses a kick, misses another kick, then swings his head as hard as possible and headbutts the Cyclone’s shield, sending shivers down every observer within the vicinity. Carter screams, “Your limbs are next! I will tear every fiber of your being into shreds!” Lashing out with a chaotic, unidentifiable face, one that would force a demon to check under his bed at night for this psychotic Bull.

“What is going on?” Hikari asks. “He lost his marbles.” Barron responds. “Which one?”

“Does it matter anymore? It’s over.” “He’s a monster.” Hikari states. “I see a psychopath.” Barron rebuttals.

“Karii, what do you see?..” “I see..”

Karii pauses for a moment then says..

“Determination.”

She describes as she and the rest of their group stand there watching the helpless Carter fight for everything he and all living beings have ever wanted to be and known to have been. Carter roars and throws himself down onto a large, still standing piece of ground. He breathes aggressively and black steam comes out of his nose. He loudly and painfully sheds a layer of Necromancing Eco from his body and another arm disgustingly grows out. Carter claps his palms together and interlocks his fingers. He speaks in a strange language then separates his hands and strongly digs them into the ground, now incoherently saying, “Emily.. I love you,” with nobody able to understand or even hear. “HAAAAAAA!” He yells as he pulls an entire Utanic imperial mausoleum straight out of the ground and The Cyclone looks at him saying, “What could you possibly do now? I have to admit, I have never seen anyone as dedicated as you in trying to take me down, but come on, it’s hopeless.”

Carter grips his mysterious purple lanyard tightly with one hand and with the other hand he bursts open the gravesite structure. A moment later, a long dead first-gen Utanic General walks out. He’s one of History's most dangerous Bellators and known to be the Utanic Empire’s most skilled Vanguard.

“What is this?” The revived General Okyrin asks.

“I need you to move me at the speed of light.” Carter says. “What? I’m not listening to a foolish child!” “Your legacy dies here if you don’t. This man before us, he’s about to destroy everything.” Carter establishes as the revived General looks up and sees a faint, yet unsettling resemblance of the very apocalyptic nightmare he once feared. Something that would have happened in his lifetime had the Utanic Empire not been as ‘glorious’ as it was. “What is that?” He asks. “That.. is a planet. It’s about to destroy all of the things we have created. Everything, including your glorious empire, will be destroyed in just a few minutes.”

“Everything? Where are my Warrior Saints?”

“No time for that! We need to act! Give me what you got!”

“Fine!!! Look at this! A kid! Giving me orders!” General Okeryn crosses his arms as the particles around him accelerate at intense speeds. This is important as this somehow allows Okeryn to give Carter the abilities of an elemental Bellator. He places his hand on Carter’s upper back and siphons vast amounts of eco into Carter’s body. “You must have incredible strength for a young man. All used up like this and you’re still fighting.”

Carter doesn’t waste time. A flash of light is seen stringing around The Cyclone as Carter throws a fiery fist into the shield, then a rock-covered punch, then a strike of lightning, which penetrates and destructively annihilates the spherical shield surrounding the Cyclone.

The Cyclone begins to react and Carter dashes behind him and swipes an open handed slice that cuts through his body shield. Carter used an advanced necromancing technique that Darkthorne taught him weeks ago. The Cyclone lets out a rush of madness and Carter says, "Lockpoint! Shadow Containment!" And The Cyclone implodes and warps out of sight. Carter used an advanced necromancing technique that Darkthorne taught him weeks ago. They had no idea Carter’s been training under a former necromancing master by somehow inheriting his abilities and bringing him back to life. Apparently, the necromancing masters pass on their abilities to those who defeat them and it just so happened that Carter the Bull managed to defeat Darkthorne and, when he realized he inherited the necromancing powers, he trained with them in secrecy.

The world is at peace.. for now. Carter the Bull managed to defeat The Cyclone and convinced him to undo the destructive process he originally initiated to destroy the solar system and all of its inhabitants.


Nobody was safe from the sun. Today was no exception. It shot rays of heat down to the small town of Brinaville. In a small shop full of sweating customers, it melted a fresh scoop of strawberry ice cream almost immediately as it touched the cone. A red stream dripped down Cliffords glove. He tried his hardest to lick it up, but the ice cream only redirected down his chin and into his shirt. “No refunds,” the cashier muffled behind his mask, pointing to the sign on the wall behind him. “Really? But, you saw what happened,” argued Clifford. The cashier stood with his finger pointing to the sign, his eyes glaring at him from behind his worn goggles. “Next,” he said, shrugging Clifford away with a glance.

Clifford walked out of the shop. A cloud of dust blew by, covering every piece of exposed cone in his hand. Clifford lowered his head, crushing the cone in his hand and throwing it to the ground. He had traveled far for this, only to have it end up covered in dust, just like everything else. “Hey! No littering!” Shouted a small voice. A very angry little girl ran up to him, two women standing on either side of her. Based on her height she looked no older than 11. Her mask was green with a pattern of ducks on it. She wore a vest that looked like it was from an old costume shop, with a worn badge on it that he could barely make out as the word: SHERIFF. “Are you going to just stand there or pick this up?” she snapped. She stood toe to toe with him, looking up with a sharp stare. “Sorry, ma’am.” Clifford dusted off the cone and picked up the pieces, throwing them in a nearby trash can while the girl and the two women followed him closely. “I’m going to guess that you’re new here, so you won’t get arrested this time. But if you plan on staying in my town then you better keep it clean, got it?” She pointed a finger up at him, her hand resting on her belt. A broken water gun was stuffed in the holster. “Got it.” Said Clifford. “This…is your town?” “Yes sir, it is. I’m Sheriff Brina, you can call me Sheriff Brina. Welcome to Brinaville.” He couldn’t see her face, but can tell that she was smiling behind her mask, very pleased with the name of her town. She held out her hand, and he shook it politely. "Nice to meet you, Sheriff. I'm Cliff." “May I ask what brings you here?” “Ice cream. I came here for ice cream.” “That’s it?” She laughed. “Yeah. That’s it,” he said. The end of his sentence trailing off in almost a whisper. The sheriff noticed the dry ice cream on his glove and glanced at the cone in the trash can. “I’m guessing the first scoop didn’t work out?” “No ma’am, it didn’t. The sun ate it before I could, and I’m afraid I have no more coins for another. So I’ll have to get going.” “Sorry about that. We have plenty of jobs around here if you want to earn more and get another scoop. Ms. Loretta at the salon could use a hand if you’re good with scissors. I’m sure she’ll throw in a haircut, which it looks like you could use.” Clifford ran a hand over his greasy hair. He hadn’t seen his reflection in a long time and forgot how long it had become. “Or, if—judging by your age—you’re an educated man, the kids at the school can always use more teachers. We can’t find many books in good condition anymore. And not many people come through here who remember the knowledge of the old world. Would be nice to teach them more than just colors and the names of animals.” Clifford remembered being a kid and having his nose deep in a textbook while his mother tried her hardest to teach him math. “No, Cliff. Try again. You have 7 and a half apples. I give you 5 and a half. How many do you have now?” His poor mom would buy so many apples to help him learn. But, they would all go bad before he could figure out the correct answer.

He used to stress out so much about homework, what he was wearing to school, whether his haircut was cool or not, what he’d grow up to be… and at night he complained if it was too hot or too cold. His mom would always oblige his every need. She was a good mom. Now it was hot every moment of every day. And he ate whatever was there. You’d be lucky if you got your hands on an apple, depending which part of the world you’re in. He thought about the sheriff’s proposition, glancing around at the town. The people looked happy enough. There were only a handful who looked like they were his age. “Who makes the ice cream?” he asked. “Oh, that’d be Ms. Belle and her cow, Ms. Blue. She makes that ice cream from scratch. But since there’s only one cow in town, she only makes a new batch every few months or so.” “Does she need an extra hand?” “I can ask, if you’re interested,” she giggled. “You really like ice cream, huh?” “Yeah.” Clifford spent the next few months working with Ms. Belle to keep the barn clean and the animals fed. She let him keep his horse in the barn, next to Blue, so long as Clifford promised to do at least one lesson a week at the school for the kids. He agreed. The kids all loved Clifford. They loved his funny little stories of the old world. Stories about motion pictures, snacks, air conditioning, pools, theme parks, and grocery stores full of food. He told them about his school, and played games with them just like the ones he grew up playing. He watched as the mothers and fathers of the kids would pick them up from school. He thought about his own mom again. One of the fondest memories he had of her was years ago when they were camping in an old cave. Cliff was crying, saying he was tired of camping and wanted to go home. His mom said, “Cliff, I’m sorry, but this is how it’s going to be from now on. I know it’s hard. I know it’s different. But, I promise you that you’ll find something about the world to love again.” “What do you love about it?” he asked. “Ice cream,” he remembers her saying with a blank stare. “I want to have just one last scoop of strawberry ice cream again before I die. In a cone. Wouldn’t that be nice?” He remembers her staring blankly at her hand as she talked about it, as if she was picturing herself holding the cone. A tear ran down her cheek. He rubbed it from her cheek and gave her a hug. “I promise I’ll find some ice cream for you, mom.” At the time it felt like an easy promise to fulfill. At the time he was still optimistic that one day things would return back to normal. Schools and ice cream shops would open again. The fires will stop, the air will be clean again, and the government will rebuild the cities and restock the shelves of the grocery stores. But he’d find out soon enough that there was no vaccine or government powerful enough to right this wrong. And so he hugged his mom will full confidence in his promise. “Thanks, kiddo,” she said with a smile, hugging him back. She never got her ice cream. It was cooler today in Brinaville. Clifford was going about his usual day, tending to the cow and the other animals. Ms. Belle called him inside. “Everything alright, Ms. Belle?” “Everything’s fine, Cliff. I just wanted to see if you could taste this for me and let me know if it’s alright to send out to the shop?” She held out a cone with two scoops of strawberry ice cream in it. He paused, ,waiting for the sun to strike it down like a bad dream. But it didn’t. He patted his chest pocket where a picture peeked out. He closed his eyes as he reached out, grabbing the cone and feeling it in his hands. Ms. Belle couldn’t see his face under the mask, but could tell that he was smiling. She put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a hug.


The majestic whale who had seen many decades was floating with the swells near the lighthouse.  She knew her time was nearing, when her essence would go on to another life. She began to instinctively look for a soft, sandy beach for her 40-foot-long body to rest.  For many years the wise whale taught the younger whales and helped lead when they swam in the migrations up and down the Oregon coast. They liked to spend summers in the Arctic and go south to the warm, tropical waters off Mexico for winters. There they bore their calves and mating season occurred.

Now some of the old female whale’s own babies had calves born last winter off the Mexican coast of their own. These yearling whales were already swimming off from their mothers, exploring and forming play groups. The old whale listened to the whale songs and sounds, unique to her group. When the group reached Mexico the male whales would begin to seriously serenade and seek to impress the females with their complex singing, acrobatic leaps out of the ocean, and enthusiastic tail flapping.

 Rising and falling with the rolling swells, the whale drifted away from the group, slowly letting the currents of an incoming high tide carry her toward the shore. A wide sandy beach seemed to beckon. As the high tide surged up it lifted the whale above the shallows and gently placed her on the soft sand.

The whale took a deep breath, feeling tired, knowing her work was done and she could rest. She felt contented knowing she had lived life to the fullest – a life well lived. Then her breathing slowed and gently her essence left her body, shedding it like an outfit of old clothes.

*************** A few weeks later a school of migrating humpback whales were spouting, breaching and tail flapping off the coast of the lighthouse shore. "The whales are heading from the Arctic oceans to the warm waters off the Mexican coast for the winter," said Joseph, the head lighthouse keeper. "Look at that!" Elsie, Joseph's daughter, stood next to her puppy, Teddybear, gazing out at the sea. "Where?" Edward, her brother, squinted and looked back and forth. "Right out there." Elsie pointed. "Oh, I see it now, a whale spout going up into the air," Edward said. This brought everyone in the lighthouse keepers’ houses outside to their porches to watch. Elsie's mother canceled school for the day to watch the whale migration and the children had unexpected free time. The children of the three lighthouse keepers had unexpected free time. With light hearts, they began to envision how they would take advantage of it. Thoughts of exploring the wilderness trails, whale watching, and playing on the beach below the bluffs called to them. Her father brought his telescope out onto the porch of the white Victorian house on the high bluff.

Beyond the tall white lighthouse tower with its huge glass lantern and red roof, the ocean was unusually calm for a day in December on the Oregon coast. The winds were quiet. The lighthouse keepers’ families enjoyed a rare, warm, sunny day between the winter's gale-force winds and heavy rain storms on the Oregon coast. “See the whales. There's one spouting. Take a look,” he said. Elsie and her brothers each took a turn and then let the other children look too. The school of huge ocean mammals was not far from shore.  Elsie called to her puppy, Teddybear. She looped a long rope around his collar and held the other end.  Then she and the other children ran down the sloping wagon trail from the lighthouse keepers’ houses to the beach.

A day of playing on the beach and whale watching was a treat, especially in the middle of winter. ********** ********* At the beach Elsie and her brothers imitated the whales by leaping and twisting, and making sounds like whales spouting air. Her shaggy, dark haired puppy ran and jumped with them, enjoying this game.

“Teddybear,” Elsie called, giving a tug on the long rope attached to his collar, “Come.” Together they galloped and cavorted along the beach.

High above the cliff’s their parents watched from the wide verandas of the two lighthouse keepers’ houses.  Another quarter mile up the bluffs, two hundred feet above the ocean, the lighthouse tower gleamed white against the blue sky. Pretend was one of their favorite games at the remote lighthouse station. With the children of the other two lighthouse keepers they made a group of eight, ranging in age from 9 years old through teen years.

In Elsie’s twelve years she had lived in Austin, Texas, San Francisco, California and briefly at another Oregon coast lighthouse station before the Mystic Beach Lighthouse. Her long braids flew out behind her while she ran across the beach below the lighthouse. A brown apron covered most of her dress and protected the material of small colorful flowers. “Tag, you’re it!” said a boy with tousled brown hair blowing in the wind and falling over one eye. He wore a pair of rugged pants and a grey shirt, well adapted to the outdoor life in the wilderness. “Catch me if you can, Erik,” Elsie called, smiling. She took off almost flying across the sand.

With a gleam in his eye, Erik put out a burst of speed and reached for one of her braids, giving it a little tug. Elsie wiggled away and kept running, laughing. They ran toward a rocky outcropping and rounded a corner. In front of her was a wider beach with mounds of sand dunes. Erik followed her, and the other children ran after them. In the distance was a long, tall dune, that looked grey instead of beige. “Hey, look at that!” said Erik. “I think it’s a whale.” The group trotted along the beach to get closer. “Look at the size,” said Elsie. They stood gazing at the enormous whale, its flippers and tail, and its snout. “I wonder how long it has been here?” said Elsie’s brother, Edward. “A while I would guess, judging from the smell,” said Samuel, Elsie’s other brother. Erik puffed out his chest a little. He wanted to impress Elsie and a way to do that had just occurred to him. “Watch this.” He walked over to the whale’s flipper and climbed onto it, then crawled up on top of the whale. “Yippee. Look at me!” He waved his arms and lifted them over his head, smiling and laughing. The group of children stared in awe at the figure of the young man on top of the huge whale. Then they gasped, “Erik! Erik!” They saw Erik start to sink into the whale. The rotting whale’s skin and structure gave way. The group saw Erik completely disappear from view. “Heeeelp! AAAAaaaggggh!” Erik felt his feet sinking into the soft, drying whale blubber, like going down into quicksand. He tried to grab onto the whale skin but his fingers slid. Elsie’s heart pounded, her eyes were wide, and her breath stopped. She approached the whale slowly, trying not to smell the decay. Teddybear sensed her distress, and protective instincts were aroused. Close to her side, crouched toward the ground, cautious, moving in a panther-like style. His sensitive nose did not like the smell either. “Someone! Get me out!” came from inside the whale. Trembling, Elsie reached the flipper and climbed onto it. Teddybear snuggled up to her. The other children followed and stood next to the flipper. “Yip, yiiiip, yiiiiip!” Teddybear barked excitedly, tail swishing, intense eyes peering at the place where Erik stood when he disappeared. “Edward, Samuel, come here,” said Elsie. She untied Teddybear’s rope and hung it loosely around his neck. “Erik, call Teddybear. He has a rope. We’ll pull you out.” She hollered. “Teddybear… here Teddybear,” called Erik. Slowly the growing pup lowered himself into a deep crouch and crawled across the whale’s skin toward the opening on top where Erik had been standing. “Good dog, Teddybear. Here boy. Come Teddybear,” called Erik. Slinking down into a deeper crawl, the pup went a few more steps. The group could see him looking down at something. A hand reached up and grabbed the rope. Elsie, Edward and Samuel held the other end. “Hold on tight, Erik,” called Edward. “We’ll pull you out.” Inside the whale, Erik leaned against the drying flesh of the whale and part of the bony structure. Elsie, Edward and Samuel gathered the other children and together they all leaned back, groaning and pulling. Erik’s head popped out of the whale’s back, then his shoulders. The group struggled to walk in the sand, pulling harder.

“One, two, three..pull now!” yelled Samuel. Erik popped back up onto the whale’s back, his face white, shaking, gasping for breath. He slid on his hands and knees toward the flipper and tumbled onto the sand. “Here, let me help you,” Samuel said. He grabbed the smaller boy around the shoulders and half-carried him. Edward came to the other side and together they helped Erik along the beach.

When they were far enough away so the smell was less pungent, they all collapsed on the sand, resting. While the others caught their breath, Elsie walked back toward the whale. On the way, she picked some wildflowers growing in a bunch on a small dune. Then she found some clam shells, broken parts of sand dollars and other shells. A heart shaped rock caught her eye and she added this to the treasures. When she reached the whale she set the flowers, shells and heart shaped rock gently on the flipper. The other children saw her standing quietly for a few minutes next to the whale. They knew she was paying tribute and honoring this enormous friend from the ocean. Everyone looked at Erik to see if he was ok. There were some remnants of dried whale on his clothes but otherwise he was the same as always. Erik cast his eyes, down, embarrassed. Elsie felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He raised his eyes and their eyes met by accident for a moment. It was only a second or two, but something electric flashed between them. Erik knew he tried his stunt to impress Elsie and get her attention. In that flash of eye contact, Elsie sensed this too, and she felt flattered. A large wave crashed nearby, seagulls called, and the moment passed. But it was not gone forever. Instinctively, Erik and Elsie knew the story of the whale would connect them somehow. After resting, the group rose to their feet and hiked around the end of the rocky outcropping to reach the beach below the lighthouse and the keeper’s houses. They could see the figures of their parents sitting on the verandas of the white Victorian houses gleaming on the bluff above. “Err, Elsie, Edward, Samuel, everyone. Please don’t tell my parents,” said Erik. Elsie’s eyes narrowed with laughter and the group broke into giggles. Even the pup, Teddybear, opened his mouth into a wide smile, white teeth shining against his dark fur, tail wagging. He joined in with the mood, laughing too as dogs can do. Erik began laughing too. “OK,” said Edward, with a grin.

For the rest of the day, the parents were mystified when their children kept glancing at each other and laughing. Later, whenever someone said, “whale,” the group slid their eyes to each other and broke into giggles. They had a whale of a secret.


It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. The lush green grass she used to run across as a child was still neatly mowed. The pine trees towered along the edge of the property, giving an enchanted feel to the air. The red roses she loved to pick and scatter still crept in-between the pines, weaving ropes of thorns and scarlet petals. The sky was bright blue, like the crashing waves she could hear in the distance. The air was mixed with tinges of pine and sea salt. Her heart started to hammer as she continued to walk down the pebble driveway. Her hands were wound tightly, nails digging into her palms as she grew more nervous.

The house still looked the same. A little faded and worn but still the tall two storey brick house she used to spend all her days in. The windows looked dark and empty. It didn’t look like anyone was home. The sun shone on the front deck, making the wood gleam golden in the light. She reminisced as she got closer, of her and Alex running around the wooden deck, playing hide and seek and trying to tackle each other over who ate the lost chocolate bar. The old rocking chair was still out on the deck. Her father always used to sit there or her beloved ginger cat, soaking up the sun and peace. She would often curl up by her father and read a battered book or insist on playing charades. Then she and Alex would sit on the deck and dream, about being older, being adults, about living and life while their faces dripped with sticky ice cream. She’d spent the first third of her life in this house, summers with her best friend, holidays with her mum and dad, and now after all these years it looked empty. The few steps to the deck and front door made her stomach churn. For what, for if there was anybody behind the door. If they still knew of Alex and his family, of her, of what this place used to be. Of the happy days and endless summers before her family ripped her away to the otherwise of the world. No goodbyes, no last day at the summerhouse, they were just gone. Year by year had passed, it was too painful to try contact Alex. Her parents told her to forget, to forget her childhood best friend and first love but after all these years, she was still curious. Curious about what happened the house, to her second family, to what the last 24 years were like for him. She couldn’t forget him, no matter how hard she tried or far she travelled. She took a deep breath and smoothed out her shirt, tucking back her hair and raising her hand to knock at the old oak door. The house sounded hollow as her knuckles rapped at the door. She shuffled her feet in agitation as she pulled back from the door. For a place so well kept, it looked empty. No cars up the drive, no murmurs of voices or animals, stillness and quiet in the air. She waited. And knocked again. Waited again. She couldn’t stand to be here and be locked outside of the door, her nerves got the best of her and she turned away, not wanting to try anymore. She tightened the strap of her bag over her shoulder and began to walk away, across the deck. It had been 24 years, she thought, she shouldn’t have expected anyone to be home, let alone anyone she knew. She was so in her head, deep in thought and worries that she didn’t hear the creaking of the door open. Or the patter of footsteps. “Um, hello?” A husk male voice asked, “Can I help?” She froze in her steps. Her eyes widened with surprise and shock at recognising that voice. Though it was deeper and older, more mature, it was still the voice of the boy she grew up with. She turned around and his sea green eyes bore into hers. A moment of silence passed as they both stared at each other in surprise. “Rosie?” His voice dropped, “Rosie, is that you?” 24 years late, and they were no longer children. She looked at him. Taking in how he’d grew up from being that young gangly boy to a tall muscular man. His hair was still curly and the colour of caramel popcorn. His skin, golden as always unlike her pale white complexion. Her heart heaved in her chest as she stood their gobsmacked. “Alex,” She breathed, “Hi.” Alex seemed to have snapped out of his initial shock. He began to move, covering the ground of the deck quickly and scooping her into his arms. His face broke out into a smile, as did hers and they stood there locked in a tight embrace. “Hi,” He murmured. Rosie curled into the crook of his body, “Hi,” She giggled. “Took you long enough to come back,” He snickered into her ear, nuzzling his head into her neck. She huffed, indignant, “Yeah, put everything on me, gee thanks.” He chuckled and pulled back. His hands reached out and cupped her face, gazing at her like he’d never seen something this remarkable in his life. “I can’t believe it,” He shook his head in disbelief, “I never expected to see you again.”

Her heart ached at the pain that flicked across his face. Rosie looped her arms back around his waist and sighed. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on,” She murmured into his chest. He tightened his arms around her, “That can wait.” She went to speak, to apologize, to blurt out anything but his fingers softly shushed her lips. “Rosie, my Rosie,” He whispered, “You came back to me.” She sunk into him, relaxed at last. His heart beat against hers, and that was all that mattered.


Tourists Alicia knew she should have broken up with Darren before their trip to Hawaii, and the fact that she was standing at the edge of a Native burial ground, in the middle of the night, telling Darren to come back to the hotel property line, really reinforced that she should have followed her instincts. She heard Darren’s drunken laugh as he turned on his phone’s flashlight to see the map he’d purchased yesterday at a musty thrift and antique store in Lahaina. Alicia thought that Darren was going to have the map framed for his office back home. It was a great souvenir because it was unique, not a t-shirt or plastic conch-shell jewelry that said “Hawaii” but was actually made in China. The map had yellowing, curled edges and faded black lettering that looked like it came from quill and ink centuries ago. “Damn, Alicia, this is sick. I swear to God the shit on this map is moving. Freaking GOAT, I am telling you. God damn ,” he said. “Come here and look.” “Darren, we’re not supposed to be here. There’s a fence for a reason. It says to keep out, and the woman who checked us in told us repeatedly not to cross the fence line for any reason,” Alicia said. Maui was beautiful AF, and she could hear the ocean crashing on the shore, and see faint white caps of the Pacific’s wild beauty against the black night, but she was still creeped out. The moment Darren had set foot on the burial ground, Alicia swore the sky turned darker and the wind coming off the Pacific stilled. “If there was anything dangerous here, they would’ve put up more than a four-foot fence. That fence is almost short enough to step over. Come on,” he said. He had not stepped over the fence, Alicia thought. He had done a drunken hop, and almost fallen. She was already rehearsing her break-up speech to Darren. She had been going to wait until they got back home to Rochester Hills to break up with him. Now she thought she’d break up with him on the plane, maybe an hour before they landed in Detroit. She couldn’t do this anymore. Darren was a tool. But she wouldn’t say that. Instead she would say, “I’m sorry, Darren. We’re just too different.” “It’s not just about danger, Darren. I don’t think they want white people here. It’s sacred,” she said. “I am two-percent Black,” Darren said. Alicia rolled her eyes at him, even though he couldn’t see her do it. He had been so happy when two-percent Nigerian had come back on his 23andme DNA profile. He had immediately started saying the N-word when he sang along with rap songs. That was when she should have broken up with him. Right then. But she had never been to Hawaii before. And Darren, well Darren’s father, was paying for their vacation, and she had thought Well, I’ll go see Maui, and break up with him when I get back . And this was her punishment for her delay. “DNA results don’t lie, and basically I’m Nigerian,” Darren said. “Come on, ‘licia, you’ve got to see this. It’s like… animated.” Alicia heard a rustling near the cliff, a rustling not related to the sounds of the waves. She had seen all the iconic horror movies and there was no damn way she was stepping foot onto a burial ground in the middle of the night with her drunk-ass boyfriend. She turned on her phone’s flashlight, and pointed the beam at the ancient black stone with its large, chiseled shelf that faced the ocean. The shelf was large enough to hold a small person. It had been battered by the elements, and was stained with something rust-colored. Countless notches ribbed its edge, all the way around its perimeter. “Do you honestly not see that thing?” Alicia said, motioning to it. “Don’t you see how creepy it is? Darren, come back. Let’s go back to our room, and we can look at the map there,” Alicia pleaded. “Don’t you think it’s weird that we bought this map just because it looked cool and it turned out to be the map of a burial ground right by our resort? What are the odds of that, Alicia? And now, I’m telling you, shit is moving on it.” He looked down at the map again. “Right here,” he moved closer to the cliff, the ocean, and the ancient black and rust-colored shelf. “It looks like there used to be some sort of palace!” Even in the dark she could see him squint his eyes. Nope, Alicia thought . No way in hell am I moving . Alicia heard the rustling again and suddenly Darren shrieked. He was shoved sideways, with great force, was he tripping? Had he tripped? And there was a sickening thud as the side of his head hit the ancient shelf, and he collapsed, the map fluttering out of his hand and landing next to him. “Shitshitshitshitshit,” Alicia said as she lifted her right foot up and grabbed the fence with both hands to pull herself over. She ran across the lush grass to reach him and saw blood oozing from his head. “Shit! Darren? Darren?” she shakily pulled out her cell phone. Dammit, she had no service here next to the ocean. She rolled Darren over and took off her sweater and pressed it to the side of his head to try to stop the flow of blood. She needed to get help. “Darren?” There was no response. Not even a groan. Her fingers moved to his neck. He still had a pulse. She pulled herself over the fence again and then checked her phone. She had a tiny bit of reception. She pressed 911, but it didn’t go through. It was just dead air. Shit. There was no alternative. She was going to have to leave him and run to the lobby and get help. She took one more desperate look at Darren, and then took off at a full-out run to the resort front desk. She felt the shrimp salad and the two glasses of wine she’d had slosh in her stomach and felt sick. Well, at least, she hadn’t had the God-only-knew how many gin and tonics Darren had. She wouldn’t have been able to even find the lobby then, let alone run to it. She rushed into the lobby, and saw a handsome Native man, probably in his late 30s, at the desk. “Please,” she gasped, breathless from her top-speed, half-mile sprint. The resort was huge. “Please. My boyfriend tripped. Or fell. He hit his head. 911, please.” The worker looked concerned, nodded his head, and picked up the phone. “Where is he?” he asked. Alicia felt so embarrassed. “He jumped over the fence. He’s on the burial ground at the edge of the property.” A panicked look passed over the man’s face. “I’m sorry,” Alicia said, helplessly. “He got an old map at an antique store in Lahaina. And he drank too much tonight and…” he’s a tool , Alicia almost added. No, no, no… she and Darren were different, that’s all. Just different. So, so different.  The man picked up the phone to dial 911. He gave the pertinent information to the police and then called security as well. “The police will meet us out there,” he said. “We’ll see if there is anything we can do in the meantime.” “Thank you,” Alicia said, gratefully. They jogged back out to the burial ground. Alicia could hear the distant police sirens, and see a security guard in a golf cart ahead of them. The security guard was a Native woman. She pulled the golf cart to the edge of the fence, got out of her cart, and vaulted over the fence easily. Alicia and the man who had been working at the desk, Makani, (she had finally been able to read his nametag) reached the burial ground moments later. “Where is he, miss?” the security guard asked. She was short but powerfully built. Her long dark hair was braided and pinned to the back of her head. “What do you mean?” Alicia said and then she saw her sweater, and somehow strangely, the map, which should have blown away, right? She’d made no effort to secure it, or put anything on top of it. But it was still in the same place Darren had dropped it. The security guard shined her flashlight all around. “I see the blood here,” the security guard said, pointing by the sweater. “But where did he go?” The security guard looked at Makani, and then walked closer to the cliff. “Oh no,” Alicia said. She moved to hop over the fence, and the security guard turned to her. “Stop. Were you in here with your boyfriend when this happened?” the security guard said. “No. He wanted me to come in but I knew we weren’t supposed to. And then… he tripped. Or fell, or something. I did hear…” Alicia trailed off. She didn’t want to sound crazy. “What did you hear?” Makani asked. “I know it sounds like I’m drunk, but I swear I’m not. I heard something, okay? There was a rustling and it was almost like something shoved him into that shelf,” Alicia said. “Someone,” the woman security guard said. “Anna,” Makani said. “Don’t.” “What?” Alicia asked. “Nothing,” Makani said. Anna gave Makani an angry look, shadowed by her flashlight. “A long time ago, a very young princess, daughter of Chief Hoolae, no one even knows the poor girl’s name anymore, was forced to marry King Pi’ilani, so that the east and west sides of Maui could be united. She ‘rests’ here. If this can be called resting,” Anna said, off-handedly, still searching around with her flashlight. Anna sounded almost like a recording, like she had told this princess story a lot. Over and over again. “Ghost tales,” Makani said, trying to smile. But he was so pale. “So like, she… haunts this place?” Part of Alicia wanted to laugh at what Anna was saying. The other part had seen the strange angle at which Darren had fallen, and heard the thwack of his head against stone. “Are you going to go look for him?” Makani asked Anna. Anna bent and picked Alicia’s sweater off the ground. “If you weren’t in here with him, how come your sweater is here?” “I ran in after he fell. I put my sweater around his head to try to stop the bleeding.” “You came in here?” Anna said. “Just to try to help him.” Makani turned even more pale. Alicia heard the police car’s door slam, and heard the ambulance siren cut out as it entered the parking lot. The officers jogged toward the burial ground. One officer was Native, one was a white man. The white man stopped at the edge of the fence while his Native partner hopped over it to join Anna. “Where’s our trespasser?” The Native police officer said, motioning to the ambulance. “We brought the stretcher.” He got his flashlight out, and leaned to pick up the map off the ground. “Who’s is this? It looks old.” “It’s my boyfriend’s. He got it in Lahaina yesterday… or the day before.” Alicia was confused by what day it was now. A tiny bit of light was appearing at the edge of the mountains and ocean. “So, the princess has been at it again, eh?” The police officer said, shining his flashlight over the edge of the cliff. “I don’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s not down there.” “Listen,” Makani said. “You’ve got to find him, okay? We can’t keep… losing guests. Eventually the tourists are going to notice and then no one is going to want to come here and we’ll all lose our jobs.” “The only guests who ‘get lost’ are the ones who can’t follow directions and stay on that side of the fence,” Anna said. “Wait. What are you talking about?” Alicia asked. “How many people have died here?” The white policeman looked down at his fingernails. “You seem nice,” Anna said. “And I’m really sorry you crossed the fence to try and help your boyfriend.” “What do you mean?” Alicia asked. “We should call in some backup. But I bet you anything the body washes up tomorrow. Just like last time,” the Native police officer said. “Does anyone have a granola bar, or anything? I’m starving.” “There’s some snacks in my golf cart,” Anna said. “Last time? Do you mean… is she like, going to come after me?” Alicia said. Alicia couldn’t really believe what was going on. Was she dreaming? Was she going to wake up soon next to Darren in their bed here at the resort? Anna looked at her with pity. “We’re a little different here in Hawaii,” Anna said, turning off her flashlight. Light was filtering up over the mountains in an incredible ray of pinks, red, oranges, and yellows. The native police officer turned to Alicia. “Look, this is going to be a lot of paperwork. Why don’t you head back to your room, we’ll call in backup and keep looking for your boyfriend, and then we will come get you and get the paperwork started.” Anna nodded in agreement. “Got get some rest, miss. You should enjoy the time you have left here.” Alicia felt her spine contract in fear. “Wait, do you mean enjoy the time I have left here on earth, or here in Hawaii?” The Native police officer nodded. “Quick, this one.” Makani gave them all anxious looks and then took Alicia’s arm. “Let’s get you back to your room.” Alicia allowed herself to be led away. She looked back over her shoulder. Anna gave her a sad little wave goodbye.


The train to Oliver Junction is never late. Not once has it ever been late. Something to be proud of if you’re a train. Or a conductor. Whoever is in charge of all that. You can set your watch by it. We put your grandfather on that train. When we did, he was in much worse shape than you are now. They say some things skip a generation. I suppose that could be so. I thought I got lucky. Anytime you think you’re lucky, you’re blind. That’s how life goes for people like us. We live by the water and the shine from the sun gets in our eyes. Hurts us when the time comes to see what we got to contend with in this world. You wear the hat your mother made you? She was worried you’d be cold. I told her it doesn’t get cold where you’re going. Nice and warm there. She still wanted you to have it. I want you to know that we forgive you for all the things you said when you were angry. Until I was ten-years-old, I thought they poured hatred right into those brown bottles, because every time my father would drink from them, out would come the vitriol. Nastiness and pettiness and all things he’d beg to be forgiven for later. Most of the time I could forgive him, but on a certain occasion, he slapped my little sister across the face. Even when he was on his deathbed begging, I had a hard time absolving him of that. Or the memory of that. By then, your aunt was long gone. She inherited all the family demons. They wanted nothing to do with me. Just lucky I guess. Lucky and blind. That’s how it goes. I see you wanting to shake. You just go ahead and do it. Do what you need to do. No hiding anything now. The first time I found that bottle in your room, I thought about locking you in the basement until you were so scared, you’d never touch another drop again. Your mother told me “Boys will be boys.” She wasn’t wrong. It’s just that nobody in her family was a drinker. On that side, they gamble. Your mother’s mother would bet on whether or not the toast would come out burnt, but gambling is an acceptable addiction provided it doesn’t land you in the poorhouse. Luckily for your mother’s side, all that linseed oil money made sure they could burn up cash to their heart’s content. On my side, we were too poor for the finer addictions. It was alcohol for my father and shooting up for your aunt. Your grandmother and I spent all our lives praying and waiting. Waiting for a midnight knock. Waiting to be told somebody wasn’t coming home. And when they did, it was its own kind of Hell. In another year, you’ll be eighteen. Then you’ll have every right to kill yourself if that’s what you want to do. That’s why we had to send you away before it gets to that. I know you hate me right now and that’s fine. I’d rather a live son hating me than a dead one who loved me. You’re the blue pearl of my life. The gem and the jewel. Without you, I’m nothing but an oyster shell, my boy. Your mother feels the same. We have each other, but the loss of you would turn us into strangers. I don’t doubt that one bit. Something in your posture tells me you might consider running. You should know that I’ve called up every friend I’ve ever made to form a circle around this station. Should you choose to take off, they have been instructed to do anything and everything short of a felony to keep you from escaping. I know the wisdom states that you have to want to help yourself and nobody can force you into it, but the wisdom can suck a peach as far as I’m concerned, because you’re going to Oliver Junction if I have to ship you there in a packing crate. Once you’re on the train, the staff knows what to do. They’ll turn you over to the staff at the facility. You’ll be there for as long as you need to be there. Your mother and I have worked it out financially so that you can take all the time you need. When they feel you’re in a better spot, they’ll put you back on a train and you’ll come home. If you need to postpone college, you’ll postpone it. I’m not worried about that at the moment. I’m just worried that this is deeper in your blood than any of us realize even though saying that makes me sound like some kind of kook. I know there are things that reside so deeply in us there’s no getting them out. I simply have to have faith that you’re not beyond saving. It won’t be like this always. In the midst of turmoil, we sometimes believe everything from alpha to omega has been corrupted. We see no path to light. I’m not speaking religiously as you know I’m not exactly a man of the church. I’m speaking as a father. I’m speaking to my son. I hope you hear me as a son and as someone who has wrestled with loss and grief his entire life. When you tire of the fight, you give it over to me. Doesn’t matter if I’m a thousand miles away. You close your eyes and ask your father to take it from you, and somewhere, somehow--I will. I’ll feel it fall upon me and I will fight until my last breath so you can rest. That’s what you must tell yourself whenever it begins to be too much for you. I hear the train arriving. Always on time--just as I said. It’s nice to know there are still things you can count on in life, isn’t it? Nice to know certain trains will always be on time.


“I quit!” Looking up from the book I was reading my eyebrows shot up in surprise as a spiral notebook went flying across the living room. I traced its flight path back to the den where Jason stood glaring in the open doorway. “What happened, babe? Writer’s block again?” “More like brain constipation because nothing is coming out, not even word shit,” he stormed into the living room and did a belly flop on the couch. “I’ve been sitting at that desk for 3 hours Chris, trying to squeeze something out but my brain refuses to form words. I can’t do it.” “Maybe you’re trying too hard. Why not relax and don't write for the rest of the day and maybe tomorrow. Don’t even look at a piece of paper or a pencil.” He buried his face in the cushions and let out a muffled groan before sitting up. “I can’t. I have a deadline to meet and a word count schedule to keep. I’m already behind because we had to help Tyler and Ken move yesterday, I can afford to not write if I want to finish this story by the end of the month.” “Can’t you ask for an extension on it?” “Maybe but it won’t do any good if I can’t get past this stupid scene.” I closed my book. “What’s your story about? Maybe I can help.” Jason shook his head. “Nope, you know the rules. If I tell you the story or let you read it before it’s done then the book is as good as dead.” “Can you tell me what part you're stuck on? Maybe I can help give you ideas. Grease the wheel to get it rolling.” “It’s a romance. That’s all I’m saying.” “Oh come on, give me more than that. Is it a straight romance? Gay romance? Give me something to work with” He let out a huge sigh, gaze fixed on the ceiling. “You’re not going to let this go are you unless I do.” “That’s right so share.” “It’s a gay romance and I’m trying to figure out how the love interests meet without it sounding cheesy or sappy.” “How can you avoid that? Romance stories are cheesy and sappy just like erotic stories are spicy and kinky.” “So not helpful.” “Sorry,” I sat forward. “I’ll be serious. Why not have them meet the way we did?” He turned to look at me. “We met at Tyler’s house party. I threw up on you and you took me home because I was drunk.” “Yeah, I also stayed the night because I was afraid you’d drown in your own vomit or something. Three years later and I’m still here.” Jason smiled. “I don’t think people want to read about the main characters vomiting on each other. That’s not exactly sexy or romantic.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You messed up my pants and shirt so I had to spend the night in my boxers because I didn’t have any other clothes and yours were too small. I think that counts as sexy.” “Too bad I don’t remember that. Want to reenact it? Might help inspire me.” I grinned. “Hmm, maybe that’s the problem. You’re sexually frustrated and need to masturbate.” He sat up and looked wide-eyed at me. “What?” “Just think about it. You’re having trouble writing a romance scene between two people and we haven’t fucked in 3 days because we’ve been busy or too tired. You’re clearly sexually frustrated and need to clean your pipe to help the creative juices to flow again.” I curled up into a ball as a couch cushion came flying at me. “I don’t need to masturbate. Do you want to have sex? We can do it right now if you want but I’m not hard-up and it’s not going to help me figure out this scene.” “Hey, I’m just trying to help,” I said, tossing the cushion back at him. “All I’m saying is that maybe you’re putting too much pressure on yourself, making the scene more complicated than it needs to be. Keep it simple.” “Fine, I’ll try,” he put the cushion back before going to his discarded notebook. “What time is it?” I looked at my watch. “4:45.” “I’m going to work on this until 6:00 then I’m calling it a night. Order a pizza and find something you’d like to watch on Netflix. Tonight we Netflix and Chill.” “Hey, why not use that for your story? Your characters can have a nice night together, drinking while making out on the couch to porn.” Jason laughed as he headed back to the den. “Sounds good but I think I may need to act this out later to help me visualize the scene and write it properly.” “Are you asking me to be your muse?” “Yeah. Wear the black thong I bought you for your birthday with matching socks. Nothing else.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “What are you going to wear Mr. Kinky?”

“Just my silk knit lounge pants. You’re my muse, my inspiration so it’s important that you do as I say tonight.” “I thought you said this story was a romance. Sounds like it’s crossing into erotica territory.” He gave me a big smile. “Nothing wrong with adding a little spice to romance. And it has been 3 days since we had any spice.” “In that case, I better fix the bed for some late-night inspiration sessions. I’ll even take out the toy box.” Jason’s hand went to his crotch. “You’re killing me now. Get everything ready for 6, don’t bother me until then.” “Yes sir.” He rolled his eyes at me good-naturedly before retreating into the den and closing the door behind him. Heaving a satisfied sigh I got up and went to work planning out our night. I never knew when Jason would decide to get his freak on but now that he had 3 days' worth of pent-up lust I planned on figuratively and literally milking it for all it was worth.


The Sepia creased wrapper was left torn on the floor of her bedroom. She was measuring her pulses when the ringing clock flustered a gasp out of her breath, which was already stolen. The wood was glistening, the shadow enlarging. with every second her thoughts were left out of time.

There was no warning through the windows. Just the haze of the morning lightening the paper, darkening her inside. But she knew there was a part of covering she had forgiven regarding the possibility. She’d left as a witness of her pain that she can pull with herself on the days left over for drawing blunders because the part untorn read a name.

A name she didn’t need to see because she can feel it. A name who owned money for the benefaction she didn’t know where to set down. The bed was left affected when she pulls herself off. She betrayed the time-lapse for a moment and quickly decides to throw the packaging away, as far as she could throw, as deep as she could hide it to not see it again. For the souvenir, she caressed the name and thereby noticed for the first time the quotes written beneath. She distrained the paper. It says,

“The things disintegrated with time are more valuable when they are broken.” “How can it be?” she shrieks between the silence. Her voices gave the essence of hatred she had been in the whole night, but she didn’t notice. Instantly, she had no answers in return, she slammed her eyes shut. But it did was more when she saw her tears raining on the written texts. She sunk on the floor, fisting her hands. She couldn’t stop herself. The emotions were a lot cascading in every way credible. Her eyes were locked on her hand, blurred to see the expressions she imagined with a face. She turned the wrapper back. “Flowers to my Lily, ” it said. She sniffed and wiped her cheek to confirm it again. Guilt streamed on her face. Instantly, She left the shealth flying down like a feather and rushed out of her room. Her chest was levering her down, yet she made it to the end table, loaded with a huge bouquet of peonies. Her favorite. Last night, the knot of flowers was surrendered with her name on it, handed to her by a guy in Prussian blue uniform with a ‘Deliverer’ written on his back with a number which reminded her regression of not picking up the phone yesterday. That was the time when her anger was peaking to its hard limits. She wanted to prove to herself that someone can deserve such hostility. Her destination was certain but it was the way wrong, that held her onto making him believe they were running with no assistance. The call didn’t come back. In her defense, she just needed the last quiver. One last call to lessen the entropy. She took the bouquet in her hands, touching least. Terrified that her soreness would somehow kill them. The vase was sitting next to it, but she hurtled toward her door and shot out. The wild winds touched her lips and her senses quickened the scrutiny of the salt and irritation on her face. She couldn’t throw the flowers, they didn’t belong in the garbage pail, and neither in the destination to be seen every time. The flowers hold every shade of the relationship. The moment of confections, the nanoseconds when his smile was magnificent, when she made a mistake only for him to fix it when his breath was the freshest air around. The times of hesitation when the mistakes weren’t assigned to anyone, and the decisions disappointing her because they never took them. She knew the time when ingenuous of her endeavor she was trying to stop them from being. But finally, she knew that his silence was to tell her that he’s noticing that. That she didn’t know what that was. She didn’t care. Well, You take everything you want , she remembered his words, came out with pride in his tone, but now she doubts her abilities. She doubts that she was the one to devour this time. Standing outside, she imagined the time he was opening the gate, groaning with his rusted iron. He was walking towards her yet he ignores her and knocked on the door instead. He passed through her and the door opened like she was already there twiddling her thumb. She welcomed him with a huge smile and he hugged her. But she didn’t feel his body. It was the same checked shirt, same brown messed hair, already blushing lips and transparent blue eyes in which she can see her old. His arms were wrapped around her but his warmth was swept away by the wind. When she concentrated hard, he was finally nowhere. She knew it but it broke a part of her. The grass of her lawn was not green anymore as she looked down. And her house wasn’t decorated anymore as she saw in his eyes. Colors were fading away as long as her vision was possible. The peonies were still in her hand. There was a desolation in her nerves that the wind was warning her to hold them tight or she would lose them too. That’s what I want , she lied to her subconscious, and marched out of her garden, out of her house.  Her feet halted on the edge of the road, and she threw the gift far. The plastic band holding them together showed a white flag. The flowers were left scattered on the road like fifty candles in the darkness. It took away her tears and hope grew more inspiring. It was the only place he should be. Not inside her house expressing neither he could be hidden in a box, she would never open. She turned back to her house convincing herself because at the time she wasn’t left out of her insensitivities. And that was the proposal for the rest of the day. She sat on pause on her window, from where the flowers were visible but it never happened. She didn’t see his shadow, he didn’t come to her street like she wanted him to. Strangers stared at the withers turning into dust as the day went, but no stranger was him. The sun hid in disappointment. It wasn’t the day for beams and sparkle to touch Lily. Her only friend appeared to be the dark knight telling her that it’s the end. THE END


     What can one do when the one they loved the most was sufferings? No matter what you try, how much money you send, and how much hope you have, you know that there is nothing you can do to save them.          Wilhelmina stood over the limp form of her husband and held back a sob. She pressed a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes. He could not die. She needed him too much.          She bit her lip and forced herself to calm down. She would not cry, could not cry. She had to be strong for him. Perhaps her strength would carry over to him.          One of the maids at their estate tapped on the door and looked at her. Mina knew what she was here for and nodded. The maid nodded back and walked out. In a moment, she would return with the doctor. Though his visit was unnecessary. Every time he came calling, he told her the same thing. Her husband’s health was in a fragile state, and there was nothing he could do about it. And yet, having the doctor come, gave her a small bit of comfort. Something she rarely had since her husband’s illness.          She heard her husband mumble a bit and she rushed to his side. She wiped tears from her eyes, tears that she hadn’t been aware she shed. “Dear, i-is there a-anything I can do?” She twisted her hands, desperately hoping that he would need something from her.          For the past month that this unknown illness had taken place in her husband’s body, she had felt so utterly useless. Powerless even. She had tried to help him, but there was nothing that she could do to ease his suffering. How she ached to take his pain as her own, but she could not. In fact, she could do nothing, but pray that he would get better.          She looked back down at her husband, but he was sleeping. She let her tears flow. They dripped down her face and chin, and finally came to rest on her clasped hands. What if her husband never got better? What would she do without him?          The doctor walked into the room, giving her a respite from her morose thoughts. He smiled gently at her and patted her shoulder before moving past with his medical bag in hand.

“Doctor,” she whispered, so as to not wake her husband, “is there anything I can do?”          He shook his head, not taking his eyes off his patient. “Just give me so space.”          She nodded and sighed. Then she walked out of the room and pulled the door closed behind her. She found the maid standing there, waiting.

“Is there anything I can get for you, Madam? Perhaps some tea and biscuits?”          Mina shook her head and brushed a hand under her eyes. “No, thank you. I am well.” A lie, but what could she say? ‘Yes, I would like to enjoy some tea, while my husband is ill and near death.’          The maid gave her a sad, almost pitying look, and then turned and left the hall.          Once the maid was out of sight, Mina sunk down on to the wooden floor, her heavy skirts weighing her down. Even though it was unladylike, she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.          A moment later, she felt a tap on her shoulder and realized that she had fallen asleep. Th doctor stood over her.

“You should get some rest. You will be little help to your husband if you make yourself ill.”          She was little help to her husband when she was well, she thought, but she did not say it. “How is he, Doctor?”          He shook his head and ran a hand over his balding head. “As I said before, his health has been failing. I gave him some laudanum to help with the pain. I also left some extra, you know how much to give him in that case.”          She nodded. “And?”          He frowned. “I have never seen this illness before, but from what I know, he is in a bad state. I did all I can for him, so the only thing you can do is monitor him and send for me if his condition worsens. I’m sorry, Mrs. Clark.”          She shook her head. “I know you did all you could. Thank you, Doctor. I will have one of the servants come around to you so that I pay you.”          “Take all the time you need. The most important thing is being with your husband.”          She nodded and turned back to their room. She knew that she should walk the Doctor to the door, but she knew that he was aware of the exit and would be able find his way out without her. Plus, as he said, the important thing was being with her husband.          She reentered the room and felt the familiar helplessness creep in. Her husband needed her support and love, but she wanted, no needed to do more. She sat in the chair beside his bed and laid her hand over his where it rested on the coverlet.          And then she sobbed. Quiet, yet heart-wrenching sobs. Sobs for the pain her husband endured. For the helplessness she felt. For the fear of losing her husband. And for the sorrow and pain it would cause her.          She was so lost in her pain that she barely noticed her husband’s hand grab onto hers. She looked down at him and met his gray eyes. “You’re awake.”          He tried to smile, she could see the strain it caused, but his lips only lifted a slight bit. “It…appears…I am.”          She pressed a hand to his face. “You have not woken for a while. I had hoped to see you awake, but you just slept. I know you needed the rest, but it has been so hard not knowing if you would…” She bit her bit and did not continue.

“How do you feel?”          He shrugged one shoulder and grimaced. “I feel…like I have…been stomped on…” he paused for a deep breath. “by a racehorse.”

“Do you need some laudanum?”          “No, just sleep.”          She nodded and stood. She started to turn for the door, but she stopped. “Can you promise me something?”          He looked at her with those gray eyes of his. Those beautiful gray eyes. “Anything.”          She bit her lip. “Will you promise me to try to get better?”          He smiled, a real smiled this time. “I promise.”