“Well doc, I’m about to be married. Sure it took me till I was a little over 30, but what more could I possibly want in life than the possibility of eternal love and a family of my own?” I state this with as much fake enthusiasm as I can muster, though I’m pretty sure my long-time therapist Dr. Bennet who is in her 60’s and has seen more than her fair share of client pandering isn’t buying my crap as usual. “I’m not buying that crap Layla.” Told you. “Look Layla dear, we have been together on this journey of recovery for just over 11 years now and…” “And I promise I have taken every second of it heart doc, but…” “But, I’m not just going to watch you walk away from this if I don’t think you are truly ready. Not in good conscious at least.” I stand up and start to pace. “When exactly will that be huh? I may still be sick in the head according to everyone in this town, but I'm more sick of this. I just want my freedom.” “You will never be free…” “Until I learn to take this seriously. Yeah I know, and I try to. I mean I haven’t done anything drastic in years, and I’m am in a committed relationship.” I say pointing out my ring finger sporting a basic yet still elegant diamond engagement ring. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” “It isn’t about what I want Layla. It has to be about what you want, and even more so about what you need.” She stands slowly and gestures gently to the sofa indicating I should sit as she continues. I sigh and take a seat as she continues her lecture. “I can only give you advice on what I think would make you happy Layla, but I am not a psychic. While I have commended your progress and did suggest that it may be time to make new connections and relationships, you have to be doing it from a place of good intentions and not obligation. Also, while you may not have done anything drastic recently, we would both be lying to ourselves if we didn’t know the potential is still there.” As she talks, she makes her way around the desk and sits next to me on the sofa and to my surprise puts her hand on my shoulder in a comforting motion. Her look saddens. “While I am not supposed to grow too attached to my clients, after all these years together I do genuinely care for you and your wellbeing Layla.” “Stop being a perv doc. Remember I’m taken now.” “I’m being serious here. Please just know I am making you continue with these sessions not out of disregard for your feeling, but because of them.” “Doc, really I feel grea…” “Jason.” I instantly feel a sense of cold and empty dread inside. She has played this trump card many times before, and the cheap shot always wins. I look away trying to hide the impact the word has on me, or perhaps the lack of impact. She simply nods and we share a long moment of silence that seems to last an eternity. Finally, she breaks the silence by tapping on her watch, indicating the end of the session. “See you next week Layla.” Without responding or even looking her way I exit the room in a coldly heated haste. Exiting the office building I make my way down the street in a rush to get somewhere, anywhere fast. The brisk air of winter feels like nothing as I march mindlessly forward. As I move through the crowd I stumble a bit over a crack and smack into the nearest person. “Ah shit!” I get my bearings and see that I have smacked into the unwelcome but familiar face of Todd. Once a friend from high school, now just another one of the many thorns in my side from the prickly field of thorn bushes that is my life. The collision has made some unknown liquid he was drinking spill all over him. When he looks up and finally sees me there is an instant shift from simple frustration to instant hatred. While I know that may be a strong word, I assure you it fits the bill perfectly. “Of course it had to be Layla the Lunatic.” He says with a scoff. I start to walk away without a word, but he grabs my arm forcefully. “Don’t think you can just ignore me now. Just because others are scared of you or think you’re some pathetic pity case doesn’t mean I do.” He flashes to cold smile. “To me you will always just be the bitch who murdered my best friend.” “What do you want from me Todd?” I respond emotionless. “Nothing. You had 11 years to do something, but you can’t even muster up a sorry.” “Would that make you feel better?” “No, but this might.” He lets go and goes to grab a hot coffee from the stand next to him and is about to throw it my way when a little girl about five years old that has gone unnoticed till now tugs on his coat. “Daddy?” His eyes meet his daughters and without hesitation he places the cup back down. It was as if a spell was broken and I was no longer even there. He takes the girl's hand and walks away calmly, without even looking back at me. No longer in a rush after the encounter, I begin to walk more slowly, but just aimlessly. Todd was right, the town is split between those who think I’m someone to fear and those who think I am someone to pity. There were of course a few though like him, mostly those closest to the situation, who just entirely hated me, and may always hate me for what they think I did. But, seeing Todd today letting go of his hatred for his little girl though is something I can’t seem to get out of my mind. He just walked away from me. How come he didn’t try to punish me? How is he able to just let go? How come he can set himself free from that moment, but I can’t? I notice that my walk has lead me to tree a little outside of town. Nothing special about it really, but the area itself is peaceful and without intrusion. Just myself and a lone tall tree covered in a light layer of frost. I go up to the trunk and place my hand on it. Before I can even realize what I am doing I find myself beginning to climb the tree. Up and up I go without any hesitation or consideration of the risks. Finally, I get up to where I deem high enough, about 25 feet up, and set myself on a fairly thin branch near the top of the tree. I watch the view from up above as I feel my weight slowly starting to weigh on the branch I’m sitting on. I smile and just continue to stare out towards nothing in particular as I ignore the cracking sounds of the branch. I don’t embrace for anything as I hear the final snap. I just let it happen. Down I fall at a rate that would surely be fatal. The dizzying effects of the downward spiral take over me. The moment feels surprisingly slow and entirely chaotic as I feel myself hitting one or possibly two branches on my way down. I close my eyes partially from the pain and partially to try and stop the disorientation. Just as I am sure the final collision was about to come, I feel instead my hand catching onto something. I open my eyes with a start to discover myself just hanging in mid-air. Stunned I look up to see a figured hidden in front of the blinding light of the sun standing on a thick lower branch of the tree holding onto my hand with clear desperation. “Let go!” I call out forcefully. I get no response and hear the figure still struggling above. “Let go!” I call with even more force. Still no response. “For Christ sake, JUST LET GO!” “I CAN’T!” I finally hear the voice of my so-called hero respond only to find it oddly chilling and familiar. I shake off the feeling and get back to the matter at hand. “Ugh. Hey, if you worried I might die just look down.” I see the figures head move downward to look at the ground below which is at most 5 feet below the bottom of where my feet hang. “See. It’s not far enough for me to even spare an ankle. Though my arm might be if you don’t let go soon. You stopped my velocity and saved my life. Thanks, hero.” I say with signature fake enthusiasm. I feel the figure gently loosen their grip as I prepare for the drop to the ground, but suddenly I feel the grip tighten once more with renewed energy and begin to get lifted back up onto the branch the figure rests on. Once safely seated on the branch I shake out my arm and inspect it for further injury. “What the hell was that all about? You could have done some real damage to my ar…”

Before I can get the last word in I am suddenly embraced in a tight, almost suffocating, hug. Too shocked to even respond, I sit frozen as I am pressed into the figure's torso. Though strange at first, the feeling becomes warm and familiar as time passes. Finally, I can’t help but wince at the pain from the injuries sustained from the fall, and the figure slowly releases me, allowing me to I get a clear view of the person that now sitting beside me. I shudder in a shock so deafening that it silences all thought under the gaze of what I instantly recognize as my first love, and the cause of all my misery, Jason. Though the last time I remember seeing him he had just turned eighteen, the Jason before me is most certainly now a fully grown man around his 30’s. I stare with wide eyes at how he looks exactly as I had pictured a grown-up Jason would look had we never been separated.  “You can really see me? I’m really here?” Jason says with his intense gaze locked on me “How…” Suddenly he grabs his head as if just recalling something. “Oh my god. I am so so sorry Layla. I never meant for any this to happen. I don’t even know how it happened. I was right there with you on the field getting ready for graduation and then I jus…” I slap him with everything I have in me. Years of rage, sadness, fear, and pain that I held back in every session comes out in that singular action.

The force knocks him off balance and he begins to slide off the branch. Quickly I grab onto him to help steady himself. After a long moment of reflection on both sides, I decide to break the silence. “What happened?” “I don’t know.” “Don’t give me that bullshit Jason. You suddenly vanish out of thin air without a word and leave me with nothing. I was suspected of your murder! Now you just suddenly show up. I deserve to know where you were all these years.” “I was here.” “You have been in town this whole time?” “No. I mean yeah, but not really.” Frustration builds within me once more. “Stop playing games with me Jason. People think I’m crazy enough because of you, and I don’t need any more reasons to go off the deep end. Just give me a clear answer or I’ll do what everyone already thinks I did and push you right out of this tree.” “I thought you said it you couldn’t even sprain your ankle from this height?” “True, but falling head first may be a different story.” I stare him down in hopes of gaining results, but he suddenly starts laughing. “Is this funny to you?” “No no, sorry.” He coughs back his laugher. “There is just so much I’m feeling right now and I don’t know how to control it all so it just came out in laughter I guess.” He says as he turns to me with a smile. This simple act breaks me completely as I finally let everything free for the first time in years. “I spent 12 years being the town lunatic because I couldn’t control how I felt about what happened. I told everyone you just disappeared before my eyes. No one believed me, and those that did thought I was insane. I wanted to do nothing by cry for weeks, but I didn’t get to because I had to defend myself against your parents and friends mercilessly trying to get me accused of your murder. So after being too tried to fight or care anymore without you I just started to believe them and became the villain they saw me as. I did things I regret to get myself locked away from everything and everyone. I didn’t get to feel anything after that because I was too busy being told to repress everything or being given drugs that would do it for me. ” “I know.” “Like hell you do. What could you possible know when you were even around to see it?” “Layla, I saw everything.” “What does that mean?” “I told you I was here. I never left your side, but it was like I was some kind of ghost. I could see and hear everything, but never interact with them. Until today.” “Did you go crazy too?” He sighs and then puts his hand to his chin as if trying to think of something buried in memories. “When you burned the neighbor’s house down you made sure that you broke in and got their cat out first. Everyone thought it was just a lucky escape, but you did that because taking a life was a line you were never willing to cross.” He face darkens a bit as he looks down “Besides your own that is.” “How did you…” “I told you. I never left you side. During every hardship, I was there. I wanted to be the one to help you through it all like I always did, but I could never reach you.” As he says this he puts his face in his hands, as if to block out his pain. I can’t help but soften a bit as I see this and place my hand on his back. A moment passes before he regains his composure and I release my touch. “We should probably get out of this tree now.” I say “Could we just chill for a little longer?” “Why? It’s getting colder, this branch isn’t exactly comfortable, and I could go for something to eat as we talk more about how crazy we both are.” “It’s the only spot I know we can talk.” “Wait, you think if we leave this tree you will go back to...wherever you were?” “Maybe there. Maybe somewhere different. Maybe nowhere. Heck if I know.” “That’s just a stupid theory than. We aren’t kids anymore, or monkeys for that matter. I am not hanging in a tree all night. Let’s go” I go to hop down, but before I can Jason holds onto my forearm with shaking hands and sad eyes. “I’m not ready to let go Layla.” We stay in the tree for a long time after that. We go through topic after topic until the sun is completely gone and the moon is in full view. "Why now?" I question. "I can't say for sure, but maybe it was just the right time to get over all of this." "There is no right time." "Fair enough." "Are you even real?"  I finally dare to ask. "Honestly? Hell if I know." He sayings laughing a little. We take another moment to let our time together sink in. “Are you ready to let go now?” he asks me with sad smile. I pause and then kiss him one last time. Years of happiness, passion, and love for him released in one singular action. I release myself from the kiss and jump down from the tree. I gain my footing from the short fall and begin to walk away from the tree. Without looking back I keep moving forward. “Yeah, I think I finally am, Jason.” I say as I finally shed my first tears at the sound of the name of the man I will always love.


'No, brother. You can not defeat poverty with education,' said Leon and banged his fist on the rostrum.

The audience did not laugh because the previous dialogues had established that point pretty much. But Abner failed to hide his smile. He said, 'So, you are saying that education is inapt to fight poverty. That our schools are useless and we must expel the teachers from their job because they are keeping this nation poor.' Leon dangled the hook, and Abner happily got entangled in it. By blaming teachers and schools, Abner involved another demography to this debate. Abner and Leon were fighting for the empty senate seat. Both were emerging candidates, and they were there to make a difference. Only one of them would get that chance to make a difference. Most likely, the result of this debate would predict the outcome.

'No, schools & respected teachers made us worthy of what we are,' he folded his hands & bowed to the camera while saying that. A round of applause erupted from the audience. 'Don't insult them. Those hard-working teachers and school staff are the sculptors that dedicate their entire life to mold our future generation. Only the chisel and the hammer with which they are crafting our future generation needs some upgrade. Instead of giving textbook lessons, the focus should be more on learning skills. The subjects that include financial education, how to handle emotions, how to make things that are essential for survival etc. should be in the course. Let go of the textbooks that force us to remember things that would not put bread and butter on our table. We must...'

The applause forced Leon to stop his argument.

Abner took the chance and jumped in and said, 'So by teaching them how to earn money will solve all the problems. History is of no importance.' 'Yes & No, my friend. Teach them to fish, and you will never have to worry about them. And History has its importance because it will inform them where their elders used to catch the fish. Thus, they can avoid that spot. One must know but should not dedicate their entire life to learning history. I am not saying everything is useless, only that we must know where to use which.' The answer was vague and somewhat ambiguous, but Leon's team had given the clues to the paid supporters as to where to clap and where to shout. They applauded this answer, and naturally, everyone followed them.

The debate continued for another hour, and if the number of applause can indicate the winner, then Leon was the champion. Leon was not a leader material like Abner was, but situations forced Leon to stand among the giant and learn their craft.

The ruling party selected Leon as one of the primary candidates for the position of senator. It was all of a sudden for Leon. He enjoyed a fair share of public life, but to hold a position of power and the responsibility that comes with it was something new for him. He was not so sure about that. Leon's family members were somehow able to convince him to fight at least until the primary election.

Leon was able to make it through the primary election, and now the sole focus was to defeat Abner.

The ruling party gave Leon a team of professionals that were going to make sure of his win. All of the members of Leon's team were the part of the presidential election, and their efforts were visible in that presidential election. The president retained his office with the largest margin that the nation had never seen. Plus, the approval rating of the president was up the charts. All thanks to the professional team that was now at the disposal of Leon.

The importance of this senate seat was quite evident from the efforts of the ruling party. This seat was the deciding vote for one of the influential senate bill that will change how the government procures the weapons in this nation. Without the say-so of this senate chair, the bill might face a hurdle, and the ruling party was not interested in even slightly screwing this change to make a difference. So, they were all in for this seat.

Leon was not aware of this, and all he knew was that the party choose him for his public welfare work in the past and that his grandfather was also a senator. Leon's father dropped that baton, but the party was gracious enough to hand over that baton to Leon. Leon had already grabbed that baton with two hands, and he was running with all the strength he can accumulate.

But, the opinion poll painted some other picture. Leon was nowhere near Abner. Abner was leading on all front. It was like the presidential team was failing to make their mark. Un-employment was the issue that was at the center of this fight, and Abner, with his multi-billion dollar industries, was the people's first choice.

Leon was projecting the revival of the system while Abner was ready to bring jobs.

People trust the outcome more than the experiment.

Thus, the majority of them favored Abner, the Industrialist, who was about to start the manufacturing plants in that state. It was the common thing that both the camps were projecting to the voters. The promise of new jobs coming their way as soon as they elect Abner to the chair.

Abner made more than six television ads on this topic.

Leon promised reforms while Abner promised jobs in hand. Anyone would vote for Abner.

Leon's team were also counting on that. They were also promoting Abner's ad to reach that promise to every corner of that state. Their next move relied on the wide-spread of that message.

Leon's team had rigged the opinion polls by training supporters and paying some opponents to say that they will vote for Abner. It will boost the morale of Abner's team, and they will stick to that solid point of manufacturing plants coming to the state.

Abner's team will let go of the other appealing promises and focus more on that manufacturing plant. It will set the stage for Leon's team to come and take it all. All they need to do is to twist some facts and leak some documents that would break that promise of Abner.

Only 36 hours were remaining in the election, and Leon's team began their plan. They twisted some facts about the recent visit of Abner to mainland China. They leaked forged documents that indicated that Abner was moving all of his manufacturing plants to China, and when he becomes the senate, he will ease the sanctions on that nation with the help of his colleagues in the senate. There was also a photo of Abner shaking hands with one of the Communist provincial governors to prove that claim.

This leak was not the end of Abner, but the press conference on the next day nailed him to his coffin.

He had made a deal to move one of the manufacturing plants to that nation because the consumer of that product was that nation only. It cuts all of his transportation costs, and due to the cheap labor, it was a win-win for him. So, he signed a deal the previous year, when he was unaware of his chances of running for senate. His party chose him after this deal.

Abner tried to reason with the press, but when he confirmed that the photograph was not fake, people automatically took the document for real. Fear spread, and it spread like wild-fire.

Leon's team added gasoline with social media, and the fire reached every corner of the state. Now the choice was between a reliable emerging son of the nation and a deceiving industrialist who was loyal to money.

All of them choose the former on the election day. The results indicated that.


You drape a silk cloth over your dining room table and marvel over how smooth it is, like water flowing through your fingers. You rub your hands over it and press your ear to it, listening, as if it still had a heartbeat. You pick it up again and fold yourself into it, pretending you are a fantastical king and it is your cape, dancing through the room with it, you transform into a marvelous princess, from a time long passed, exploring unfamiliar lands outside of a well-protected castle. An alarm buzzes, your first warning. You put the cloth down. It isn’t a tablecloth, you don’t have one, it’s made of a dress you used to own. A dress you used to wear in the summer, dancing amongst sunflowers, with a chorus of voices singing to the rhythm of your sway. You cut it apart in order to make this tablecloth, it shed tears of embroidered emotions and tasted of fragrant memories. When you turn your back to the table, the cloth dies. You set out metal spoons, all your other cutlery is plastic, free gifts from the thousands of delivery meals you’ve ordered over the years. You light candles. One candle is thick and short, emitting aromas of vanilla and chocolate, with a hint of mint. You bought that candle at a ski slope, watching snow falling from the sky, like feathers from the burst pillows of clouds. You were drinking hot chocolate after a long winter day. You had raced the highest slope, going up with no idea of how to ski and no plan for getting down. It was an adventure, you thought. You had no guide, yet you did not hesitate before stepping onto the steep slope and plummeting down, down, and down. You sprayed snow in your wake, and the harsh winds obstructed your vision. You crashed onto a skier and smiled at him, a vague, sorry, hanging in the air. He told you you were going too fast and instructed you to sit on the snow and wriggle your way down. You laughed as you did so, imagining you were a clumsy butterfly having just emerged from its cocoon. The mint was snow, refreshing and clear, hard yet soft, the chocolate was your hot chocolate, the vanilla was the scent of the skier you crashed into. The candle was an echo. It’s essence engulfing you, pushing you back into the comfortable mould of memory which you slipped into like Cinderella into her slipper. Another candle is tall and smells of saffron and citrus. When you first bought it, you engraved it with patterns of seashells. When you light it, the sounds of cracking fire reminds you of the crashing of ocean waves. You had been surfing. You had taken surfing lessons for a year when you were younger. You always wanted to try for bigger waves, to stand as an equal in the presence of the ocean, to touch mother earth as you surfed through a tunnel of water, running your hands through the liquid that had, under your command, become a vessel. Your instructors told you that you should’ve tried for poetry, that surfing requires patience. What is patience, you thought. The answer came to you when you were picking seashells. An orchestra full of sounds emanated from the shell and the answer was only a hoarse whisper, but you could hear it clearly. Patience is talking to the sea and waiting for its response. When you told your instructors this, they laughed. Your parents glared at them, a silent warning. You told them later that laughter was music, your instructors did not need to agree with you to make music. You simply wished everyone to keep laughing. You told your parents laughter sounded like flutes and windchimes. When you surfed alone, you called for mother earth and the ocean responded to you, after all, you were it’s child. After you had finished surfing, you ate pineapple ice cream. You bought three cones, one for yourself, one for a child you had seen stare wistfully at the ice cream booth, and another for the child’s mother. They looked at you gratefully. The flavour exploded in your mouth, it made you blush and scream in joy. At night, you raced the waves. Trying to leave a footprint as close to the water as possible, so that when the waves surged, they would cover your footprints and wipe them clean from the sand. There were eight more candles, bought by him, your husband, the man for whom you had set the table. His candles were purely white, bleached of soul and emotions, like bathroom floors scrubbed clean of all traces of dirt. You placed those candles as far away from you as possible. You sighed a sigh of sympathy when you looked at them. You felt a deep longing to coat the candles with paint, to etch it with words and give it a soul, but you knew your husband, so you whispered a sorry to the candles and left to get dinner. Alphabet soup. Your husband laughed when you bought it for the first time. You married him partly for his laugh, an intergalactic market place with colourful stalls, a white mushroom is a lush forest, the feeling of snow on your tongue. That is what his laugh sounded like. A picture, a feeling. Your husband had been laughing at you, but you were captivated. When he realised you actually planned on eating the alphabet pasta, he stopped laughing. His silence was like bad soap, paper labels that you couldn’t get off no matter how hard you tried, you wanted him to laugh again, you spent the rest of the shopping trip trying. You boiled the alphabet pasta, and as you did so, you imagined the pan was a hot spring. You breathed in the steam of the hot spring and allowed your tense muscles to relax in the calm water. You had not been in a hot spring for four years, your husband thought they were “silly” and “unnecessary.” When you agreed, you heard him laugh again, the magic of his laughter was enough to cover up the rotting lie. By the time you got the alphabet soup onto the plate, the alarm had rung again, signaling five minutes before he was due to arrive. You arranged four letters in the soup, putting them gently onto the spoon so that their order would not be changed. The letters L, O, V, and E were arranged to spell love. You used to marvel at the word, waiting for your Prince Charming, I suppose. You thought love held so much power, and you longed for it, even though you were already happy. When you met him, you were desperate to find someone you could love, just to tick that last box on your imagined bucket list. You had let him tie you down, telling yourself he was keeping you grounded. You had continuously tried to please him, bringing him on adventures, you thought you were letting him fly. This, the dinner, the candles, the tablecloth are — although you can’t quite admit it to yourself — just another elaborate scheme to lift him up in the air. His birthday, which happened to coincide with Valentine’s Day, was just another day, another eternity, of you trying too hard, and him tying you down again and again. Even though this day has happened a million times, even though you can see a million shards of memories mirroring what will happen tonight, you are impatient. You don’t like waiting. Your hands longed to paint and your legs longed to dance. Your face longed to act out a play, to recite Shakespeare or Euripides. Your eyes longed to stargaze, to pinpoint stars and create your own constellations. You wanted to move, to run, to feel a fresh breeze of air. Instead, you stand opposite the clock. Watching it move like a predator watches their prey, no, like a prey watching the predator come closer, knowing that it can’t escape. But you can, a voice whispers. Those three words had been your motto before you met him. It was your morals and worldview squashed into one. You had not thought like that for four years. Four years since you skied. Four years since you surfed. Four years since you really lived. The realisation comes to you like a flurry of snow being blown into your face by a chilling wind. You shiver, and goosebumps appear on your skin. You stare at your wedding photo. You got married on top of a mountain, with the backdrop of a cliff. It was windy, and the veil had been blown away from your face, but it settled just in time for the photo. Your dress was stained muddy green from dirt and leaves but your husband’s suit was crisp and clean. After the wedding, you had wanted to throw your veil over the cliff, but you could not. The photo is not particularly remarkable. It’s not luminous, alight with the glow of memory like your ruined dress. It doesn’t smell of faint nostalgia like your candles. But when you look at it, you see everything that could have been between you and your husband. As the sound of the front door opening reaches your ears, you rip the photo apart. It rips in the middle, through the veil. Crumpled pieces of paper fall onto the mahogany floor.


“Faster!” A gun against his head, Carl filled the bag with bills as fast as he could, then handed it back to the hooded man over the counter. The police sirens could already be heard outside in the far distance. “The watch too!” screamed the assailant. The clerk glanced at the golden watch on his wrist and swallowed with great difficulty. “It has sentimental value,” he replied in a shaky voice. “THE WATCH TOO!” Betty, the bank’s financial advisor, crept up from behind her desk, her square glasses sliding down to the edge of her nose. “Give it to him Carl,” she pleaded. “Give it now!” Under pressure, Carl complied and mechanically tossed the golden watch into the bag. The assailant’s female accomplice grew impatient. “C’mon, we have to go! The cops are almost here.” Both robbers dashed out, leaving the bank’s employees and clients trembling like leaves in their frozen positions. “Are you insane?” yelled Betty as she tried to put one foot in front of the other to walk towards the counter, putting her glasses back into place. “You never refuse to do something when there’s a gun to your head.” “It was my father’s watch,” replied the clerk. “It’s all I have left of him. All I had left.” “At least you’re alive! These guys were going full on Bonnie & Clyde, they were not to be messed with.” The policemen arrived, brandishing their revolvers left and right, oblivious to the fact they were much too late. Sergeant Harris took both the clerk and the financial advisor apart in the loan manager’s office to get their depositions. “Did you notice any detail that could help in identifying them?” “No,” replied Carl. “They were dressed in black from head to toe, there was barely an inch of skin visible.” “What sum of money did they take out?” “Roughly twenty thousand, plus my watch.” “How much was the watch worth?” “It was fake gold, so probably six hundred tops, but it had sentimental value.” The Sergeant rolled his eyes. “Sentimental value is the least of our concerns here.” He got up and gathered his belongings, ready to walk out of the narrow office. “Wait, so that’s it?” asked Carl. “Unless you have something else to tell me, yes.” “What about my watch?” “We’ll investigate for sure, but it’s a long shot. Judging from the similarities, it’s probably these wannabe Bonnie & Clyde who have been hopping from state to state carrying out heists. Nobody has managed to catch them. We’re looking at pros here.” “Are you saying they’ve done this multiple times? You better do something then!” Betty grabbed his hand in an attempt to calm him down. “Carl, please,” she said. “We should just let the policemen do their work.” “You’re absolutely right Miss,” chuckled the Sergeant, dismissing Carl’s outburst. “Let’s keep your boyfriend under control.” “He’s not my—” “Not my business,” he replied, hastily walking out the door and shutting it behind him. Carl banged against the table, his skin bright red from the blood boiling under the surface. “You’re taking this watch business a bit too seriously,” stated Betty. “I get it, family heirlooms are important, but so is survival. Besides, the Sergeant is right, they don’t have much to work with right now.” “It’s not just about the family heirloom,” he said, his body still quaking. “What is it, then?” “The watch… I lied. It's quite valuable. I discovered last week it was a rare Italian item. I already put it up for auction online, it could easily sell for half a million dollars.” “Oh dear," sighed Betty. "That’s tragic, for sure. I guess you’ll just have to live without it.” “Actually, I can’t. I’ve been gambling a little bit recently… let’s just say I owe money to bad people right now.” "Bad people?" "Yeah. Pretty bad people. I never thought I'd say this, but I might as well be dead if I'm not able to repay my debts." The admission shocked Betty to the core. Carl, the respected bank clerk with a boring life and boring name, had just revealed himself to be wilder than she expected. A part of her pitied him. Yet, another part felt excited. Her life was also quite boring, and the morning heist was certainly the most exhilarating rush of adrenaline she had felt in her lifetime. Somehow, she craved to feel that rush again. She got up and paced back and forth around the office. “I didn’t expect that kind of behaviour from you.” “I didn’t even expect it from myself.” “What if I help you track them down? Would you be willing to share a bit of that money with me?” “How would you even do that? You said it yourself, the policemen have nothing. We’re just two boring bankers, I hardly think we can go fight off professional criminals.” She booted the manager’s computer and launched an online search. “Don’t underestimate me, Carl. I predict the stocks all day. There’s more than one algorithm in my bag to predict where they’ll go next.” *** Bonnie & Clyde parked in an alleyway three blocks away from Chicago’s Millenium Bank in their old-fashioned grey Rolls Royce. “Are you sure we should be going for this one?” asked Clyde. “I think we should drive further up north. We’re too close to the last bank.” “Don’t be stupid,” replied Bonnie. “I’ve been making the choices so far, and we always got away with it. Maybe you should stop questioning me. Put your hood on.” They both put on their black garments and got out of the car. Much to their surprise, a woman was waiting for them at the end of the alleyway. It was Betty, although Bonnie and Clyde did not recognize her as the banker from their last heist. “Who are you?” yelled Clyde menacingly. “Your worst nightmare,” replied Betty with the fierceness of a lynx. The line was cliché, but it gave her the feeling of being in an old film noir, and the inebriating rush of adrenaline came to her. Clyde pointed his weapon at the advisor. “Step aside, now! We have some business to do.” “Poor you. So simple minded. You’re awfully predictable, you know that. I just had to do a simple data mining extraction to pinpoint exactly your selection pattern. You always stalk the bank clerk on LinkedIn two days ahead of your heist, with the exact same account.” "How do you--" "Because the last clerk you robbed gave me access to his LinkedIn history, you idiot." “Shut up, old hag,” yelled Bonnie. Step aside now!” “I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you.” "And what exactly are you going to do? It's two against one, and you have no weapon." "No, but I do." The criminals froze. Carl stood behind them, pointing guns at their scalps. “I’ll take my watch back,” he declared. “And the car, too.” *** Betty and Carl rolled down the interstate highway back to Indiana with their brand new Rolls Royce, with Betty in the driver’s seat. “I didn’t know you were so badass,” said Carl gleefully, counting the money in the bag. “They'll welcome us like heroes at the bank. I can sell that watch now, plus we have a sweet ride. It’ll be hard to go back to normal life after this.” “Actually, I’m a bit tired of the banker lifestyle,” replied Betty. "But... that's the only thing we know how to do." "Not true. Looks like we're pretty good private detectives. I am, at least, but I could use a sidekick. Don't you want to keep feeling this rush Carl?" "You can't be serious." "I see it from here. Betty and Carl, Partners Against Crime." "That does sound pretty good." "Of course it does. I came up with it." Betty's square glasses slid down her nose again, but this time, she threw them out the window of the Rolls Royce. The financial advisor was no more. The new partners against crime rode into the sunset, wild and free.


My life was perfect until I met the new boy in town. Summer vacation had just begun. When the seasons changed, our landscape transformed almost overnight, from crisp, cool blues and the spirited aroma of pine trees to warm ambers, pink skies and campfires wafting through the air.

No matter the time of year, one thing stood true in Celestia; there was always a sense of cheer. Our slogan wasn’t “The World’s Happiest Town” for nothing. Everybody knew everybody, and we all got along like milk and cookies. The day I met the newcomer, I had been at the park.

My three girlfriends and I all got strawberry ice cream cones and played tag in the spacious, flourishing fields. Just a typical, carefree summer day in Celestia. I was wearing a rosy-pink sundress and brown sandals. Annie had put my blonde hair into a french braid. We were picking flowers when I saw him. He was probably close to sixteen-years-old like me, and he was sitting on a bench, watching people walk by. I thought he looked interesting, tall with reddish hair and little speckles on his face.

At one point he and I made eye contact and I smiled at him, as most Celestians do. A few minutes later he walked up to me when I was saying bye to my friends. “Hi,” he said. I waved. “Hello. You’re new in town,” I noted. He nodded. “I’m Opal.” I looked down at my fragrant collection.

 “Would you like some flowers?” I asked, holding out my newfound bunch. His eyes lit up, studying me with a sort of interest. “Thank you, Opal. That’s a pretty name. I’m Bryce.” A unique name, like mine.

“Your name is very pretty as well!” I exclaimed. Bryce turned the color of a fresh beet, and smiled. He had a nice smile. “So, where do ya go to school?” he asked. “School? Oh, we don’t have that here.” He looked perplexed. “No school? I’ve never heard of something so odd. How do ya learn?”

“There’s lots of ways. It’s all about the experience in Celestia. Those flowers you’re holding are called Taffy flowers.” Bryce held the flowers carefully up to his nose. “They smell just like candy!” he noted. “That’s because these flowers are special. My dad invented them.” I explained a bit about my father to Bryce, in case he hadn’t heard of him yet. My father, Lazlo, invented unbelievable things, things you wouldn’t believe were possible. He helped our town become what it was. We had special chutes that helped our mail get delivered almost instantaneously.

Large mirrors at the mall showed customers exactly how an outfit would fit before they made any purchases. He was even responsible for the absence of school. With a monthly subscription, you could have “Intelli-yum” delivered to your door. These hard candies were somehow ingrained with an entire subject. They came in sour, tropical and cream flavors. Bryce found this fascinating. He started asking a lot of questions.

Time seemed to fly by quickly. I shot Bryce an apologetic smile and glanced over at my friends who were politely waiting for me. “I’m sorry, I have to go. It was nice to meet you,” I said cordially, walking away. “Wait.” He grabbed my hand gently.

My fingers tingled from the touch and I turned towards him; confused. I felt something strange in my stomach, something I think I had felt before but wasn’t sure. I didn’t know what to call the feeling. “Could we meet up tomorrow, same place? Maybe you could give me a tour of Celestia?” he asked bashfully. I was brainlessly counting the cinnamon-colored freckles on his cheeks, but then realized he was waiting for an answer. I smiled. His eyes were a clear gray, seemingly endless when I looked directly into them. That strange feeling came back. “Is that a yes?” he asked. I had gotten distracted again, and now it was me who blushed. “That is a definite yes.” “Great! How does four o’ clock sound?” I told him that was perfect, because my painting class ended at two, and we parted ways. That night I had my first nightmare.

I usually only had one specific dream. I would be riding up a green mountain on a majestic black horse. This dream had a mountain too, except it was bare and covered in jagged rocks. I was running, then I tripped, right towards the dark abyss. My body jolted as I fell, trying to wake up, but I couldn’t open my eyes. Eventually everything faded to black until my alarm sang its happy morning song and I took in my pastel pink room. “I had a bad dream last night,” I told my parents over breakfast. My dad paused by the counter, his perfectly-stacked tower of toast teetering. He set it down on the table and peered at me through his thick, trapezoidal lenses. Mom just sat there with her usual calm smile, gently taking a bite of her pancakes. “A bad dream?” he repeated, “Did you remember to brush your teeth?” “Yes, of course dad.”

I could tell he was gearing up into invention mode and that was because nobody in Celestia really had bad dreams. Another one of dad’s inventions, “Peri-Dream.” It prevented any nasty, ghoulish thoughts from entering your brain. “Hmm, that is curious. Did anything else out of the ordinary happen yesterday?” he asked, scratching his wild, long brown hair. I shook my head. Wait- “Well, I did meet the new boy, but I don’t think-” “New boy?” he asked, eyes wide. “Yes, his name is Bryce. He just moved here from…well, I forgot to ask where, but we’re going to hang out today so I can ask him then. He was very nice.” Dad looked perplexed. Mom continued to smile. “Oh honey, that’s lovely,” she said. Dad shook his head. “I don’t want you to see him today, Opal.” I nodded. I didn’t need an explanation. My father had reasons for everything he did. I never questioned it.

“Since I’ll be free after my painting lessons, I can take a walk to the store and pick up some groceries for the house.” “Oh honey, that’s lovely,” Mom said. I tried to avoid Bryce, and did exactly as I was told. For painting class my instructor, Mr. Acrylic, had me construct an outdoor landscape. I decided to paint in the nightmare mountain, to see it better in front of me. When I stepped out to get groceries at five-thirty I saw him, walking in the same direction as me on the opposite side of the street. “Opal! Hey!” Bryce called, running over. “I’m sorry about today,” I started, “My dad doesn’t really trust-” I tried to think of a better way to word it and failed. “It’s okay, Opal. I completely understand. He probably thinks it's strange that some kid decided to move alone to a small, quiet town.” I shrugged. “He just doesn’t like not knowing things.” He nodded, like there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t quite construct. Bryce held my shoulders tenderly, struggling with his words. “Listen, Opal. You’re not who you think you are.” I stared at him, baffled. But the growing suspicion in my stomach wanted to know more. “I came here to rescue you.”

“Rescue me? But there’s no danger here,” I laughed, attempting to reassure myself. “Haven’t you ever wondered why? Look around, everything’s perfect. Too perfect.” “I-I have to go,” I said quickly. “Your family misses you! And so do I.” I backed away. “I barely know you. My parents are waiting for me to come back with the groceries.” He nodded, defeated. “Think about what I said. Really look around. If you change your mind, meet me at the park tomorrow at five.” I walked towards the store, gazing up at the evening sky. I realized I had never seen it without a bright, blinding sun, even in winter. How did that make sense?

There was no school here. Nobody grew older. My mom, she spoke the same line everyday. Why did she speak the same line? My friends...were all named Annie. How had I never noticed? I raced towards the grocery store. Everyone had matching, joyful expressions. Despite the massive selection, they all had the same groceries in their cart; milk, eggs and bananas. Dashing to the closest shelf, I picked up the only gallon of ice cream. My stomach dropped as the empty spot regenerated a brand new gallon. “The ice cream isn’t cold,” I said out loud.

I found an associate and held up the container. “Excuse me, shouldn’t this-” They turned towards me with an overbearing smile, silent. It frightened me, and I quickly grabbed what I needed and left. I didn’t brush my teeth that night. The nightmare returned. This time, I heard tires screeching, like someone driving dangerously close to the mountain’s edge.

I sat quietly at breakfast, my sunny-side up eggs smiling patiently back at me. “Everything okay, Opal?” Dad asked. I nodded. “Oh honey, that’s lovely,” Mom crooned. I held in my thoughts and took a bite of my eggs. “Delicious,” I squeaked. Dad looked leery. “Any more interesting dreams?”

I shook my head. “All gone. I actually have plans to meet up with Annie like, right now, so I have to go,” I said, getting up from my seat and rushing to the door. “Opal, wait-,” Dad called, but I had already stepped outside.

As soon as I did, I froze. Everything around me was made of miniscule squares. The house, the sky , even the bunny hopping through the front lawn was pixelated. I raced to the park. Bryce had told me to come at five, but if it was really an urgent matter, I hoped he would be there already. Thankfully, I was right. Bryce sat on the same bench he had occupied when we first met. Once he saw me, he jumped up and grabbed my hand, beginning to run. “What’s happening?” I yelled. “I’ll explain later, we need to go to my house,” he urged. I followed blindly. When we reached the little brick hut, I realized the inside was glowing green, and hesitated. He noticed my expression. “I’ve been working on this since I arrived.” “What’s inside?” I asked. “The truth.” Though I did want the truth, I was afraid.

A familiar voice bellowed behind me. “Opal!”

It was my father, racing towards me, concerned.

“Let me just tell him-” “No, we have to go! Now!” Bryce shouted, pushing me into the house and slamming the door shut. Immediately, we were immersed in the green light, which prickled against my skin. Everything blurred, and I closed my eyes, feeling my mind drift off like I was falling asleep. My body shook as I gasped for air. Finally, my eyes flew open. For the first time in a long time, I was awake. My limbs thrashed in shock, immediately met with a searing pain, like I was being branded. Black wires ran across my body, inserted through the ends of my fingers and toes.

How was I only now feeling this? A metal brace was wrapped tightly around my head. I screamed, but no one responded. I was trapped in a glass case, like a museum exhibit. In the distance, I made out the silhouettes of similar cases spread throughout the dark room. A large streak of light from the open door across from me caught my eye.

I tirelessly loosened the wires on my fingers. Eventually I freed one hand, then the other, trying to ignore the blood running down my arms.

I ferociously and repeatedly kicked the glass. My body was weak and nearly drained of energy but I pushed through. Finally, I heard a crack and glass shards rained down. With one more kick, the case shattered, but my head was still stuck in the metal contraption. Every time I tried to pull myself out of the helmet, my neck screamed in opposition. My fingers searched the outside of the case until they hit a small switch. I pressed down and felt instant relief as the helmet released my head.

Amongst the blood, fresh bruises and glass that sprinkled across my body, I realized I was wearing a white sheet, like a hospital gown. Like a newborn deer, I stumbled out of the case, holding the edge to steady myself. The other cases were empty. Slowly, I walked towards the illuminated room. A giant screen stretched across the wall. My mouth parted in horror as I realized the image on it wasn’t a screensaver. It was Celestia . People I was familiar with strolled across, conversing. I felt nauseous, realizing that these people weren’t real. “What is happening!” I shouted. Tapping noises echoed from the corner of the room.

Standing in a vertical glass case was Lazlo. Except this version of him was shorter and rounder. He still had wild hair, but it was white, and only present on the back of his head. Still, I recognized him by his trademark lenses.

His eyes were closed, head attached by the same helmet I had been wearing. Only his fingers moved. They were attached to some sort of keyboard. I watched him type letters and numbers, forming codes at the top of the screen which disappeared as the environment shifted. There was silence as his fingers halted. His case lit up, and began opening. I stepped back as Lazlo came to life, untangling his bindings.

“I see you’ve woken up,” he smiled a toothless grin. “Y-you kidnapped me,” I mumbled, backing up as he started hobbling towards me. He shook his head. “Oh Opal, only because I had no other choice. You were going to die.” He said this almost sarcastically. I stared back wildly. “Your dream of falling off the mountain was actually a real memory.” “What does that have to do with whatever this place is?” He chuckled. “You were walking on the mountain trail and must’ve slipped. I happened to be driving close by and found you wrecked at the bottom. Emergency services would’ve been too late.” He motioned to the screen. “Luckily, I developed a new technology, a virtual reality, if you will. During your comatose state, my machines worked on bringing back your consciousness while you continued to live.” “I woke up on my own,” I argued. “You didn’t do it alone, Opal. Unfortunately, there was a hacker involved. As soon as you came in contact with him the coding started to disrupt.” “Bryce saved me!” Lazlo sighed. “Opal, you stupid girl, the truth is, my machines saved you. My marvelous inventions! I am the world’s greatest inventor.” How long had I been inside of that glass case? I was afraid to ask. “Were any of the families real?” He shook his head. “We were the first human residents of Celestia. It was quite a success, I’m sure you’d agree.” My clouded memory was beginning to come back. “I was on the mountain that day practicing for my track meet.” He watched my expression carefully, holding a hand up as though to protect himself. “You drove me off the road.” The revelation sent me to tears. It felt good to cry again. His expression shifted, his lips curved into a simpering smile. “Do you understand what this technology can do for people? I’ve discovered a way to allow people to live virtually in the perfect world!” “You tried to steal my life,” I whispered. “I saved your life. In Celestia, there are no daily, mundane problems, no hardship. I even took away school!” It’s like he expected a round of applause, or a thank you. “You threw me off a cliff! You kidnapped me and wiped my memories so I could be your experimental puppet!” “Look at how upset you are. Wasn’t it better when you didn’t have these feelings?” I glowered at him. “Let’s forget this ever happened. I’ll remove these memories, get you set up in one of the other cases, and-” “No.” Lazlo looked shocked. I never disagreed with him in Celestia. Before I could move he grabbed me, with surprising strength for an old man. I screamed as he pulled me towards the other room, trying to push me into an open case. A loud, startling bang interrupted this. Lazlo suddenly released his grip on me, staggering backwards. Bryce stood behind him, wielding a rusty crowbar. “You found me,” I breathed. Together, we shoved Lazlo into the glass crypt, sealing it shut. I leaned into Bryce and we shared a kiss. “I’m calling the police.” “Wait. I have an idea.” When police asked me where I had been for four months, I told them I had suffered from amnesia and that my courageous boyfriend had gone to the ends of the earth to find me. My parents were overjoyed to have their daughter back, and I finally had my life again. Summer vacation has just begun. I excitedly throw on my favorite blue sundress, and give my mom a goodbye hug. “Have fun, text me when you get there!” she calls, watching me get into my car from the open window. Life isn’t as perfect as it was in Celestia, but I have never been happier. The drive took about thirty minutes. I pick out the proper key from my keyring and quickly open the door. I felt a rush as I descended the three flights of stairs into the basement. “Good morning, Lazlo,” I said cheerfully to the unconscious man in the case. I had installed a few chain locks around him, to ensure he wouldn’t be able to play any tricks. Giddily, I strolled into the viewing room and tied my hair back as I entered what once was Lazlo’s enclosure, attaching my hands to the keyboard. With a smile, I pressed the button to close my case.


“I don’t want to ever so much as see crystals around here again Lissette! You do know this is what got your mother killed, don’t you?” Aunt Ivy’s pine green eyes shift back and forth, examining Lissette’s tawny diamond shaped face. “But it’s also what made her feel alive.” Lissette responds. “I don’t understand how you so easily turned your back on our traditions all those years ago. What? Simply because you’re scared?” “Fear isn’t always a bad thing Lissette. You’re young, so you think you know everything, but you don’t. Please just stop with the magic. I already lost Ava,” The name catches in her throat. “Don’t make me lose you too.” Lissette rushes to the circular wooden door leading out to Willowdale. No one, not even Aunt Ivy, can take away what still connects Lissette to her mother. The one thing that brings joy in this dreary life. She strides towards the forest, where it’s safe to be herself. “Hey there, what’s the rush Lissette?” She’s startled out of her focused march by his chin length black hair and icy blue eyes. Her heart stops for a moment along with her feet. “Oh, hey Peter. Just,” She glances over at the small open market. “Out doing some chores for Ivy. Bread and all that.” “Ah. Would you like some company?” He asks. Lips twisting into a half smirk. “No, it’s fine. I’m kind of in a rush.” He bows slightly. “As you wish gorgeous.” She hopes he can’t tell she’s blushing and glances down as she moves onward. Lissette stops by the market just in case Peter’s still in the area. She lazily inspects the baker’s selection and overhears the conversation of two women behind her. “I can’t believe it. How did this happen when the Inquisori’s been so good about eradicating witchcraft?” Lissette’s ears perk up at the word witchcraft. “People can be sneaky. You never know what someone’s hiding.” “Yeah, but the Gargantha lurking in the forest is not something easily hidden.” “Those monsters are born rather small, or so I’ve heard.” A Gargantha is created out of someone’s insecurities, secret longings, and regrets. The mage gains someone’s trust, usually with the help of illusory magic to get the to the core of that person. Lissette despises crooked magic, but it’s what people generally associate with witchcraft. She buys a loaf of bread and walks back to the cottage. If a Gargantha is out there right now, Lissette would need to go into the forest more prepared than she is. Scents of a meaty stew swirl throughout the cottage, and Ivy’s more focused on the pot in the kitchen than she’d normally be. Good, she’ll probably ignore Lissette for a while. She slinks into her room which barely has enough space for her twin sized bed. Lissette places the bread and satchel on her miniature bedside dresser. She pulls off her blood red cloak over her thick curly hair and lays on the bed in her puffy white shirt and loose pants. She takes her notes and pen from the dresser. Use magic to defeat magic. Lissette pulls three empty sheets of thick yellowing paper from the stacks. She draws the symbol for verity. Three dots inside a triangle. Water, a circle with a t through the middle and raindrops in each of the four parts of the open circle. Fire, a diamond holding a flame inside. Truth and these elements are what best counteract illusory magic which creates a Gargantha. Lissette spends hours perfecting the symbols. She puts her cloak and satchel back on, placing the symbols inside the bag. She walks out to the living room holding the bread and finds Ivy sitting on the couch reading a novel. Barely looking at the table beside her, Ivy lifts her teacup and sips while reading. Lissette almost tells her about the plan. Maybe knowing that she’s using her powers for good will lighten Ivy’s views on it, but Lissette stops herself from saying anything. She’ll tell Ivy after she’s victorious. Hearing Lissette’s footsteps, Ivy says, “Help yourself to some of the stew.” She doesn’t take her eyes off the novel. “Thanks. I brought some more bread if you want any.” “Mm.” Lissette puts the bread on the counter and walks out to Willowdale. She spots Peter sitting below a tree playing the lute, and he glimpses her way just after she looks at him. Lissette quickly glances back down, but it’s too late. He walks over to her with a full smile on his moonlight face. “Out and about twice in one day. This is rare for you.” He says. “While you’re always out on the town.” She retorts. He raises an eyebrow, conscious of the double meaning in her words. She’s seen him walking around with almost all of the other young women in Willowdale. He’ll usually play them a song or two before moving on to the next one. She crosses her arms. “Is that such a bad thing? I can’t imagine how boring it must be to just sit in your room all day.” “Nope. Not boring. Peaceful.” She continues walking. “Anyways, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.” She glances at his blue eyes one last time and jumps back at the intensity of his gaze. “Huh. Well then, Lissette. Enjoy your day.” He walks back to the tree and starts playing his lute. Though she’s had a slight distant crush on Peter for a while, he hasn’t spoken to her much like he has today. She never realized he noticed her introverted ways like she’s noticed his extroverted ones. Lissette shakes her head. He’s just curious because she appears like a mystery. Lissette pulls on her satchel and thumbs through the three papers. Hopefully this works. The most she’s ever done are simple spells to help around the house or change energy. She’s never used magic for anything on this scale before. She ambles to the forest on the long trail out of town. Feigning interest in a light green plant with deep red dots, Lissette kneels down and touches one of the waxy leaves. Maybe she’s not the one who should go defeat the Gargantha. “Don’t doubt yourself. This is what I want you to do.” Ava’s voice nudges inside her head. Lissette stands back up and walks with determination. Plants on each side of her sway in the wind. Her mom’s presence guides Lissette forward, even if it’s simply in her imagination. Standing at the base of the entrance to the forest, she inhales and exhales a long, deep breath. Wind slows, expansive silence covering the dimming area. The sun falls on the horizon to her right as the moon lightly hangs in the other side of the sky. Lissette enters between the trees and listens for any footsteps or sounds from the Gargantha. Though she knows how one is made, she doesn’t know what they look like. Time passes, and as darkness covers the forest Lissette wonders if what she heard in the market was merely a rumor. Her ankles throb and she sits down for a break. Whispers flow around Lissette, and the back of her neck tingles. She sees no sign of anyone or anything in the area. The words are barely distinct. “Not good enough. Why try if you’re going to fail anyways? Save yourself the embarrassment. Not good enough.” She stands up but sees nothing from any direction. “Something must be wrong with you. Your time has already passed. It’s too late for you to become an actress. You never would have made it to the city anyways. Not good enough.” Lissette’s eyebrows knead together. She’s never wanted to become an actress. Bushes shift, and the brushing sound covers the whispers that were there seconds before. Lissette turns towards them, biting her lower lip. Peter emerges from the bushes, and she backs away as he comes closer. She blurts, “What are you doing out here?” “I could ask you the same question, Lissette. Except I already know why you’re here.” Without glancing behind, she backs into a tree. She looks around for an escape route. “The full extent of my charms didn’t work on you earlier because while I am a wizard, you’re a witch. Though,” he smirks, “You are attracted to me without the excess.” She shakes her head and feels through the satchel. “You don’t need to destroy my precious Gargantha. Imagine instead, how powerful we could be together. We could stop the Inquisori from trying to destroy magic. Average people are scared now, but we can make them fear us to the point where they won’t try to erase us anymore.” “I don’t do magic to hold a twisted power over others.” Lissette pulls out the verity symbol and sways her arms until a slight glow circles around her. “Oh come now, I’m not going to do anything to hurt you. I’m on your side. You’re not the only one who’s lost someone for our practices.” His eyes are earnest for a moment. “And what of the girl who you used illusory magic on? It’s evil Peter. You’ve altered who she is forever. Those thoughts will always be at the forefront of her mind now.” “Isn’t every human impacted in some way or another by those they come in contact with? I’m just a more powerful force than the average person. Besides, maybe she’ll actually do something to change her reality with all those thoughts floating around her mind.” Lissette shakes her head, and her eyes widen at the sound of a tree slamming into the ground. A large, rounded violet creature waddles behind Peter. It has craters all over its body, indents where the eyes should be. Whispers of, “Not good enough,” murmur through the Gargantha. Lissette pulls out the water symbol, but the moment her verity shield is down, Peter uses wind magic to push the papers out of her hands and satchel. She turns and runs for the symbols, but the distance between her and the papers is futile. Lissette isn’t practiced enough to use magic without them. “How did you learn to use magic without the use of symbols?” She asks Peter. “I had a wonderful teacher.” A bit quieter, he says, “She was the person I lost.” Lissette’s lips part, but she can’t think of a response. “Get away from her!” Lissette and Peter turn to see Ivy’s broad form. Elbows out to her sides and a ball of water flowing through the air between her hands. With the force of a tidal wave, it lunges for the Gargantha. Peter directs wind towards Ivy, but he’s too late to counteract her practiced force. A loud screech emerges from the Gargantha. Deep shadows of pain are in every note of disharmony, and the Gargantha transforms into a shadow itself before evaporating into the aether. The ball of water is motionless once more between Ivy’s hands. She gives Peter the most intimidating look Lissette has ever seen from her aunt. This is a side to Ivy Lissette had a vague idea of but never expected to know. She’s never even seen her aunt use charms since her aversion to magic started around the time Lissette was born. “Run.” Ivy commands, and Peter darts in the opposite direction of Willowdale. When he’s completely out of sight, Ivy releases the magic and sighs. “Good. I thought I was actually going to have to hurt the kid.” She turns to Lissette, who looks at the ground. Lissette asks, “How did you find me here?” “I may not have purposely used magic in a long time until now, but intuition is my strongest gift. One that I’m happy I can’t get rid of.” She pauses. “Did you not know the Gargantha and wizard were out here?” “I did. Well, I didn’t know Peter would be out here, but I knew the Gargantha would. I overheard it at the market.” Lissette looks directly into Ivy’s eyes. “It’s just, I thought that if I defeated it and told you about it after, you’d see why I should keep practicing magic. I want to use my powers for good.” She pauses. “Though, I’m beginning to see I barely even have any power.” Ivy shakes her head. “Come, let’s go back to the cottage. It’s already dark, and we don’t want anyone to see us walk out of the forest at midnight.” They move side by side in silence for a long time. As they approach the exit, Ivy says, “Your mother isn’t the only person I’ve lost to magic. There are more ways to lose someone than death alone.” Lissette glances at Ivy and waits for her to continue. “The wizard, Peter you said? He probably didn’t start off using illusory magic. Some magicians change when they get a taste of power. It becomes an addiction to ease the tsunamis within themselves.” She wistfully gazes at the stars. “Growing up, you’ve never seen me have a long term companion. And it’s because my heart is a ghost for someone who’s alive but no longer exists. Someone who I lost to that addiction. It will break my heart to the point of no return if I lost you the way I lost her or your mom.” “But that’s not who I am. It’s not who mom was.” Tears form at the edges of Lissette’s eyes, but she resists the urge to wipe them away. “And she’s still with me despite what they did to her. I won’t become like Peter or the person you loved, but I won’t back down to the Inquisori either.” Ivy stops walking and Lissette does the same. Ivy says, “What I’m about to say comes with a heavy heart. You need to leave Willowdale.” “What? I’m not leaving you here alone. Isn’t that what you’re afraid of?” Lissette shakes her head. “There’s a school out west where you can learn the practice, but they will also teach you the self control required for true strength. And you’re not going to stay here, where the Inquisori rule with an iron fist. The west is more open minded about magic.” “Well then, maybe you can come with me.” Ivy shakes her head. “No. I used magic today, but I will not sway from the life I’ve chosen for myself. Yet, I realize it would be selfish of me to keep holding you back from the life you want for yourself. You can lead a safer life there than in Willowdale. We can still write to each other and visit occasionally. Neither of us will be truly alone.” Lissette embraces Ivy as tears stream down her cheeks. “Thank you, Ivy. I won’t change.” “You will change. But some of the teachers at Vixose are from my past life, and I trust the change in you won’t be for the worse. I will draw out a map for you tomorrow and write the letter to the dean. But you will pay for the carriage with the earnings you made from your summer job.” Lissette pulls back. “You always were a cheapskate.” They laugh and walk the rest of the way home under a full moon.


My Love/Hate Relationship with New York City Suzanne Marsh I had two strikes against me before I was even born, both my parents were from New York City. My Dad hated the city and would do anything to avoid going there; Mom loved it. My first trip with Mom to New York City I was about five months old. It would be the first of many trips by car, train, bus and yes even plane. The first trip that I remember I was six years old. That year Mom decided to take me to the Bronx Zoo. I rode a camel that day, needless to say once we returned to Grandma’s the bathtub awaited yours truly. The Bronx Zoo was huge compared to the Buffalo Zoo. It was an adventure between the subway and buses. For the life of me to this day I won’t get on a subway; I saw the subway close with a lady’s arm caught in the door. The following year Mom thought I should see more the New York City; ergo we went to the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. The Empire State Building has one hundred and two floors, when it was built in the thirties it was the tallest building in the world, or so they say. The elevator seemed to be soaring we got off on the observation deck on the eighty sixth floor. The deck was all fenced in, Mom explained that a lot of people jumped from that floor. I walked around the deck, begged Mom for a dime to view the city from one of those observation viewers. I had great fun with that; then I had an idea. It was not to brightest idea I have ever had: I looked over and straight down. My stomach did flip flops and I decided it was time to leave. No, I have never returned to the Empire State Building. The Statue of Liberty is something that every American should see. In the 1950’s you took a boat out to Governor's Island, that I enjoyed. We debarked from the boat, walking toward the entrance. We took an elevator up to the skirt, from there we took winding stairs that became narrower and narrower. We ascended to the crown. There were windows that we looked out. That was when I had a very stubborn moment. It took Mom almost an hour to convince me we had to leave. I wanted to stay in the crown the rest of my life, so did not have to descend those stairs! The years went by Mom took me to the Bowery. That was a dirty place even back in the day. She told me about the Bowery and why it was famous. We went to Chinatown, Mom bought me a pair of silk type pajamas and beaded slippers. I still have a picture of me with those blue and pink pajamas, my hair was teased. We roamed Chinatown, Mom purchased a Buddha and incense. Mom lit the incense, it smelled horrible. Grandma spent the rest of the evening basically airing out the house. Time has a way of creeping up on all of us, me included. I have been to New York City several times since my younger days. My husband is a truck driver, we had several loads that we delivered. I have never been an ardent fan of New York City, I never cared for the odors. The city is laid out in a square, it is not accommodating to truckers. The rule of thumb was to stay in Pennsylvania if you had an eight o’clock appointment you left at four in the morning. The first trip my husband made to New York City was as a student driver. His mentor was driving, actually that was a good thing. The city has always been a challenge when it comes to parking. So the situation they found themselves in I could empathize with. There was a sign that stated: no parking here to the corner. There was a red Mazda RX7 parked on the corner. The mentor saw the sign and stopped. He did not want to take out the car. They sat there until one of New York’s finest approached the tractor trailer. He asked why the truck was sitting there with its four ways on. That was simple, the mentor did not want to hit the car: “Get that damn truck out of here you are hold up traffic.” “If I go around the corner I will take out the front of the car!” The cop pointed out that the car was parked illegally. The mentor put the truck in gear and over that beautiful candy apple red Mazda RX7 the truck went. When I heard about it I could still envision my Mom in her burgundy bathrobe, her hair in bobby pins, standing in a parking space while Dad moved the car from one side of the street to the other. Our first trip to New York City was a load of crackers going to Hunts Point, the Bronx. Just the thought that I was going to the Bronx scared me. It was not one of the better sections of New York City any longer. It had a high rate of theft in the area. When we crossed the George Washington Bridge, it was still dark. Trucks are only allowed on the upper level, we sat and waited until the trucks in front of us moved. We followed the directions, this was a load from hell! The first hint that we were in Hunts Point loomed in front of the tractor trailer, it was a prostitute no doubt on her way home. She had blond hair, a tight fitting leather fringed jacket, a very short skirt and glow in the dark pink knee high boots. The windows were up and doors locked. She continued on her way; we did also. The street we were looking for was a tight turn, we missed the driveway. There was a very helpful JB Hunt that told us if we continued down that street, we would be hijacked. My husband found a driveway and turned back to the driveway we had missed. That area was disgusting, between all the garbage strewn all over the area. The smells were horrendous. The adult in me could only remember how the city looked now not back when I was seven. I hated being there and wanted to leave. My desire to go to New York City is just not there. So much has changed over the years. It is still a dirty city but then most cities are. I used to love to go and visit Grandma. I remember there was no grass in the front only cement. Firefighters would open up the fire hydrants in summer so the children could cool off. Those memories remain that memories. The realty of New York City today is totally different from when I was a child. Yes I do have a love/hate with New York City and I always will.


Age 4: Anna ran beneath the dreamy, dangling branches of her favorite tree she affectionately called Willa. She loved jumping up to try to grab the willows as the wind blew them around. The sound of her giggles echoed across the prairie grasses surrounding the tree, and the birds happily chirped back at her.

Anna had been visiting this tree from the time she could walk. Nearly every day her mom would sit on the back porch and watch her wander down the hill, disappearing beneath the willows. Anna treated the tree like it was her favorite pet, gently talking to it, petting its branches and leaves. After tiring herself out from trying to catch the swaying limbs, she would lean her little body against the big trunk where there was a perfect notch for her. She would close her eyes, listening to the breeze passing through, and her imagination would take her to magical places filled with adventures, transporting her from her simple childhood to a land of dreams.

Today, as she sat there with Willa, she rode a unicorn named Bluebell across the sky, lightly floating among the pillowy clouds. Bluebell’s sparkling mane tickled her neck as they danced on the endless blue horizon. They sang a song about rainbows and princesses, Anna belting the words out from her spot beneath the tree, so engrossed in her whimsical world that she forgot about the real world around her. Her mom smiled from the deck as she listened to her daughter sing loudly and confidently. Anna finished her song and opened her eyes, turning to give WIlla a hug as if thanking her for the beautiful escape today.

Age 15: Anna carried her backpack heavily on her back. As she ducked under Willa’s branches she let her bag fall to the ground as she sat against the strong, reassuring body of her favorite tree. She didn’t even stop to say hi to her mom when she got off the bus, she came straight here. Sometimes Willa could comfort her more than the people around her. Today was one of those days. School sucked. Her friends sucked. Her parents sucked. Life sucked.

She sat there hugging her knees thinking about the embarrassment of the day. At lunch her friends talked her into going over to Dylan, the boy who everyone secretly and not-so-secretly wanted to date. She sat behind him in math class one semester so he actually did know her name, and she swore he would occasionally smile at her in the hallway.

She was feeling confident in her cute skirt and jean jacket today, so she bravely left the comfort of her friends and walked toward him. As she got closer, his eyes met hers and she lifted up her hand to give him a cute wave. Her hand got caught on her purse that was draped across her body, dumping everything out for all the world to see. She stood there mortified as she saw tampons scatter across the lunch room floor including one that landed right next to Dylan’s shoe. She quickly picked them up and ran out the doors, watching her friends and the rest of the school laugh at her as she passed them.

She felt her stomach churn as she relived the horrifying day. Wanting to escape, she did the only thing she could think to do. She leaned back against Willa, closing her eyes, listening to the willow branches flutter, the breeze gently caressing her face. The sensation was so peaceful her mind was immediately carried to an enchanting place.

She was in an art gallery surrounded by giant canvases adorned with explosively colorful, lively paintings that were the result of her brilliant mind. She stood tall in the middle of the room, center of attention, dressed in a glamorous red silk dress, her hair pulled tightly back in a chignon. Her soul felt full of fiery passion and confidence as she modestly celebrated her own artwork. Admirers greeted her with the trepidation of approaching a celebrity, but she received them with kindness and poise leaving them dazzled by her eloquence. There was no one, no criticism, no rejection that could dull her inner glow, instead it was quite the opposite. Her beautiful bright light from within her radiated to all those around her, illuminating them with joy.

As the 15-year-old Anna basked in the warmth of the self-confidence she had cultivated with the help of Willa, she gently opened her eyes, taking in her current place and time. She patted her hands down her body, hoping to be wearing that silk dress, but instead feeling the rough jean jacket. She wasn’t disappointed though. Someday that would be her. She wrapped her arms around Willa, placing her cheek against the cool bark before heading back to her house.

Age 35: Anna pushed away the branches of the willow tree so she could find her way toward the trunk, carrying her bag of art supplies over her shoulder. She was desperate for inspiration, feeling so deep in a creative lull she thought she should give up on this crazy dream. Five years ago she got a big break when one of her paintings snuck into the background of a TV show that was being filmed across the city. People found out her name and she commissioned pieces left and right for over three years. That wave had passed, and now she was back to teaching art at a community college. Her parents still lived in the same house, so when she came by to check on them she always spent time with Willa knowing everything in life was escapable under the whimsical branches of her friend.

She smiled as she saw the worn out patch of bark from years of sitting in the same spot, daydreaming. She sat down, feeling the familiarity of it, running her hands through the dirt around her legs, ruts from where she had done this so many times before. She dug out her paints and brushes, laying her blank canvas on her lap hoping time with Willa would stir her creative spirit. She watched the branches dance with the wind, closing her eyes as she allowed her body to sway like the willows, floating her into a different world.

It was always somewhere unexpected, and today she was opening the patio doors of her seaside bungalow in Italy, smelling the salty Mediterranean air as the sunshine warmed her face. She walked back into her bedroom there, putting her favorite summer hat on. It was the perfect accompaniment to her lovely blue and white floral dress that fit her body just so. She put her purse on her shoulder as she slipped on her sunny yellow shoes and headed out the door. She strolled down the cobblestone streets with no plans except to do the things she loved. She opened the door to her favorite cafe, smiling as the bells jingled to greet her. Maria handed her a croissant and cafe au lait with the familiarity of having this same interaction millions of times before. They warmly chatted about life for a few minutes before another customer arrived.

Anna sipped her favorite drink as she left the cafe, roaming the streets, entranced by the pastel colors of each building she passed. She found her favorite bench right by the harbor and savored her croissant as she stared at the beautiful blue sky, speckled with gorgeous white clouds. She thrived on slow living, finding joy in simplicity, fully at peace with her croissant, perfect coffee, and dear friends.

Her hands gripped her paintbrush as she opened her eyes, still tasting the flaky pastry in her mouth. She could easily feel the direction she was supposed to take with her art, and she affectionately patted one of WIlla’s low branches as she started painting the perfectly imperfect lines of a cobblestone street.

Age 103: Anna’s wooden cane swept back the bright green willows so she could enter the sacred space of her oldest friend. It took some convincing, but her family had eventually agreed to fly her from Italy to this small town in Georgia they had never been to. Anna had been there hundreds of times of course, but her family’s connection to this town ended with her stories of her life beneath the willows. To her grown kids and grandkids, her tales about Willa seemed like fables from an active imagination, but that was just because they were too young to experience the magic of this willow tree before they moved overseas many years ago.

Now, as she slowly lowered her fragile body into the nook made specially for her, she knew she was right where she was supposed to be, everything felt exactly as she imagined it would. She let a handful of dirt fall through her fingers, rubbed the bark of her dear companion, and listened as the willows whispered with the wind. As the gentle breeze caressed her face, she closed her eyes, feeling the enchantment swirl through her body.

She was lifted onto a cloud, looking over all the things she loved, pieces of her life dotted throughout the world below. She watched a newly married couple hang a painting of Italian cobblestone above their fireplace, smiling at each other with love in their eyes.

Her granddaughter Nadia pulled a red silk dress from her closet, holding it up to her petite body. Anna saw a snapshot of herself wearing that dress when she was younger in the corner of Nadia’s mirror. Nadia picked up the picture, holding it next to her heart as if feeling her grandmother watching her in this moment.

She saw her family walking down her favorite cobblestone streets outside their villa. The kids played in the piazza as they savored the croissants Maria’s grandson made them from the cafe they all visited every day.

As she let the joy of watching her family live the most beautiful life flow through her body, she felt someone take her hand. She looked over and her husband was smiling at her like the first time they met. She had been waiting for this moment for ten years. A tear gently fell down her cheek as she leaned her head on his shoulder, cupping his hand in hers, feeling at home.

“Thank you, Willa,” Anna said, filled with gratitude realizing that this was her final adventure, only this time she gets to stay here in this magic forever.


I was just a young girl who graduated high school. When asked what I would do with my life I never was sure what to say. Senior year was when my mother died from a terrible car accident dad and her where in. My dad blamed himself and fell into a drinking binge. He never hurt me, but I also never bothered him during those times. I felt so alone after graduation. My best friend Analise was getting packed up to move to the city for college and I was so proud of her and though she begged me to go with her, I knew I couldn’t leave my dad even if my relationship with him wasn’t the best. If I would have left it would have been the last nail in the coffin for him.

During that last few weeks before Analise would leave she decided to stay with me until her moving day. In the meantime, we had fun slumber partied together like old times, went shopping, gossiped and she even helped me look for a job in town. We came across a want ad at for a kennel tech at an animal shelter. It was perfect for an animal lover and introvert like me. I immediately made up a resume and sent it out to the owner’s email address. Not even a couple day’s later I got a call back for an Interview. I was so thrilled.

The owner’s name was Darrin. He was 32, had the shelter for 7 years and was running it with himself, and a handful of employees including his stepsister who was 16, Victoria. I must admit he was very striking to me. He came off so cool and so sweet, any girl in this small town would’ve swoon over him. He hired me on the spot, and I was extremely excited to start this next chapter in my life. To turn a new leaf and leave all the dark stuff behind.

Within a couple days our towns newspaper came out with a story of a missing girl Analise and I knew from high school. Her name was Bridgette, she was the bad girl in school. She was a bully to any girl in the school who was not in her clique and she dated any guy that was even the least bit attractive. For her everything was a competition in life. Although Analise and I did not get along with her the rumors of how she had gone missing had us worried. Bridget’s little sister believes her sister was kidnapped and murdered. She said Bridget was talking to someone new and then soon after went missing. Nobody knows who the person was that last talked to Bridget but people who did see her before she disappeared said she seemed like she was struggling.

Working at the shelter I grew close with Darrin especially after Analise left for the sister, but I also felt like he was hiding something the more I hung out with him. He knew how to be charming and sweet but there would be moments in the day when I would seem him drop the facade and look almost scary and calculative. I passed it off as him just being stressed with his business but, I had a feeling it might have been something more.

One night while working with Darrin and his stepsister Victoria he left frantically saying he had to deal with an emergency. He had never done that before and it was very odd. I went ahead and closed as usual with Victoria. After I locked the door to the shelter and got into my car I realized I forgot my jacket and headed back to the front door to get it and suddenly I heard a loud nose coming from the back. I went to investigate thinking it was one of the dogs getting lose again from his kennel but what I found was Victoria trying to shake the shed in the back open. There was this shed that since the first day of working here Darrin said was just a ‘junk shed’ and we would not need to worry about it. I found it obviously strange that Victoria seemed determined to get into it. The shed had chains all around it and without a key to the lock you where screwed if you wanted to get in.

I asked what she is doing, and she startled that I came up on her feels caught and immediately starts to confess that she is afraid of Darrin. She tells me how she thinks he had something to do with the disappearance of Bridge because he was the last person to see her. Bridget had come to him looking for a job and she didn’t get the job but they did go out once and whenever Victoria tried to ask about Bridget to Darrin he would curse her and threaten her if she said anything. I am in shock and start to become scared too. She tells me he probably has her body in the shed or that there must be something in there that can prove she is not making it up. I take a moment and realize when Darrin left, he gave me his keys to the shelter that included every key to every lock…. I quickly try looking for the key that fits the lock on the shed quickly before Darrin shows up and finally after finding the right key, we open the shed. When we go into the shed, we find it is spotless. As if Darrin comes in to clean the shed daily. There was not a speck of dust in sight or anything else in that matter. No junk or anything… Just what seemed to be an empty shed. Until I noticed a hidden door within the wooden floorboards. At that moment I knew we where about to find something awfully bad. I tell Victoria to keep a look out in the parking lot for Darrin and to call the police while I go investigate. She was hesitant to go alone but after I beg her to go, she did. I then open the floorboard and take out my phone to use the flashlight. I see immediately that there are stairs leading down further. I start to go down the steps and I hear a whimpering growing louder and louder. Finally, I get to the end of the steps and a stench hits me. I start coughing and covering my nose trying to prevent my self from getting nausea and then I hear a collective whimpering. I look around and see caged up dogs and cats, they look starved and sickly, they can barely even react to seeing me as a normal healthy animal would. Then I see a operating table and medical tools… there’s blood on the table that drips to the floor but no human or animal on the table anymore… I then try to look around more for where the stench is coming from and I see a dumpster and in it is dead animals and… a dead body… I am terrified at this point, but I must know who it is. If it is Bridget. I shine the light closer to the face with my hands shaking and heart racing and it is her…. I run back up the stairs as fast as I can when suddenly, I hear Victoria crying for help in the distance and Darrin cursing. They where coming towards the shed… I run back down the stairs with tears in my eyes and try to look for a place where I could hide. The only place I could hide is in the dumpster. I crawl in it and try to bury myself beneath the corpses of dead animals and Bridget. I cannot help but cry as I cover my mouth making sure no sounds come out. I can hear Victoria’s screams as he is trying to get her down the stairs. I suddenly realize this is it. I need to do something while Victoria is distracting him so I can help her. I get up out of the dumpster and grab the nearest object I can which was a scalpel knife that was laying bloody on the exam table. I yell for Darrin and as he looks at me in shock, I clench the scalpel and thrust it into his left eye. As he screams and falls to the ground Victoria and I start running out of the shed as fast as we can. We run and run and finally we hear the cop’s sirens coming closer to the shelter. We wave them down in a frantic and tell them to run to the shed and the cops start running with their guns immediately.

Victoria and I stay back while the ambulance pull’s up and start examining us and checking our vitals. I had not been able to process anything that happened, I felt so sick after taking a moment to catch my breath. With the overwhelming feeling of nausea, I step aside from the EMTs and throw up until I cannot anymore. As I am hovered over on the side of the street, I suddenly get a chill... As I look up slowly towards the end of the street, I see him... smiling at me.