The air is thick with movement. It’s saturated in noise, dripping with the rowdy cheers and cries of the multitude of people crushed together into a humid crowd, and there’s something vaguely claustrophobic about the whole experience. The need to hurl out the latest meal asserts itself in between his ribs, rather rudely shoving against his insides. Determined little bugger, that one. Everything honestly felt like scrambled goo, and his head was not feeling so hot either. Nasty thing, that headache. Jax squeezes his eyes shut instinctively, revelling in the cold palm of darkness pressed against. He must have forgotten to take his pills again, he thinks. The familiar nausea comes and passes, like a tidal wave drawn by the moon, except that his own fortune wheel is discombobulated and non-linear, and as a general rule, doesn’t follow any logical pattern.

It’s not a leap or bound to assume that fate has it out for him. He wonders if that’s what it really wants; wind him up, and watch him go.

He’s jostled into the next writhing mass of folks in the next second, a sharp blow of the elbow of some passerby to the soft skin of his gut, and he’s wheezing up a storm, and swept along the living stream of bodies. His eyes fly open. The sunlight happily digs its way into the sensitive film of his eyes. That drumbeat in his head worsens. Panic claws it’s way up and through, in a rising swell of bile and nausea creeping up the back of his throat. The taste is sharply sour, like spoilt milk cuddling into clumps of sticky bacteria.

Breathing is not a chore, but bringing himself under control certainly is.

It’s a struggle. He struggles to hold back the pained grunts that his throat insists on making. He struggles to control the wild rush in his veins, fighting against something that feels like ice thirstily swallowing up his blood and marrow. Most of all, he struggles not to let go. He’s losing his grip. He wandered deeper into the heart of the throng, sweaty bodies pressing up against him in what should be a direct violation of personal space. He bites back on a harsh shiver, clamping down his teeth and lips into a narrow, tight line so as to keep the building pressure inside. He wants to leave, but there’s nowhere else to go, though.

Glancing back and forth, he tries to search for an exit, or anything even remotely resembling one. Smears of colours steal his focus, amidst the plethora of noise and air - the distortion of colour and light ensconced the world around in a refracted image. The atmosphere shuddered with heat, shimmering slightly as it simmered high on both the bright sunlight as well as the sheer body heat. He’s lost, and he doesn’t know where to go. The innate power of his magic thrums underneath his chest, racing harshly against the pulsating branches and arterioles of his circulatory system. The strength that it takes away with it is consuming, and he can only be a distant spectator to the delicate strains of shattered webs radiating from his body, glimmering far away into the bruised lungs of the sky. It certainly turns a few heads to look in his direction. The taste of the acrid loss is seared in now, supplemented by the rapid deterioration of his life supply. He tastes, sees, and feels everything keenly, amplified up to an almost frightening degree. His vision begins to blur; a thick and sickeningly cloying sensation that makes him gag. “Hey,” Someone says in alarm. He squints, but can’t make out any features amidst his ongoing minor breakdown. “Hey, man,” They say again, “Are you alright?” They sound kind, he decides fuzzily, and pitches forward with a gurgled choke. He never comes in contact with the ground, however. A heavy weight pulls him back from the edge, encircled around his waist and arms. The contact burns his skin, and he flinched away with a muffled hiss. It actually feels like a human noose splitting him in two, like white-hot vines dragging him towards the earth to bisect. “Shit, hold on.” The panicked breath floats by him. He doesn’t catch it, not completely, at least. The sun shines down at them. Now that he actively has a better look at it, he can see the world in its monochrome entirety; not entirely shades of grey, but darker, more sinister overtones. The sky is slate. Stitches of thin, reedy light thread the wide expanse above, overwhelmingly bright. It highlights the flaws with startling clarity; the veins of wounded purple linings, alongside the sickly yellow and enrages pulsating bruises of the shadows caused by the sun’s radiance. It’s beautiful, in a very ugly way. The sight is hypnotising, and even more so that his focus on the surroundings so he doesn’t actually notice that he’s been moved by that Good Samaritan, until the underside of the red canopy of one of the vendor’s stores eclipses his sight. He blinks, slowly. Overwhelmingly, bright red, but still equally bland. It looks worn down, patchy and used. The rush that follows soon after is unlike the previous. It gives, but doesn’t take and he leans into that heady rush of cold water streaming through his head, radiating ice from the touch of the person still gripping him tight. He’s tense for a few moments, before he gives up on the fight and finally sags into the odd embrace. He breathes in, dragging in the air through the congested airways until the chilled breeze tickles the insides of his chest. Feeling marginally better, Jax croaked out, “Personal space?” “A thank you would be nice. You’re welcome, by the way.” He blinks away the wet sheen clouding his vision, and focuses on his saviour for the first time. He opens his mouth, closes it. A faint flush runs along his cheeks. His mouth goes dry. Recognition hits both of them at once like lightning.

The sensation is electrifying, like surges of ice stroking up the back of his spine. He looks back into startlingly amber eyes framed by dark curls, and something inside of him shifts, before settling in heavily as if it was always meant to be there, like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

Wordlessly, Jax pulls off the blue strip of cloth entwined around his wrist. Pale skin peeks out, revealing a distinct mark there; the image of a raven sitting atop black antlers. He hears a quiet hiss of breath, equally tremulous.

His saviour does the same, removing the red cloth, to reveal the exact same mark. They stare at each other.

“ Holy -“


CW: Sexual violence/abuse, suicide, swearing             “You’re the absolute last person I want to call, but I’m really desperate here, Elliot.” Scarlett’s voice sounded shaky over the phone. Was it emotion or a bad connection?         “What’s wrong? I’ll do anything to help.”         “You’re the only one who answered.”         I waited for her to continue.         “Can you meet me at the bridge? Where I work. You remember where that is?”         “Uh, yeah. I’ll head right over.”         “Are you home? I’ll order a ride.”         “I can drive.”         “You’re driving again? Is that a good idea?”         My fists clenched and my eyes squeezed shut. I sucked in a deep breath. “I haven’t had a drink in ten months.”         She sighed. “Okay. Hurry.”

She doesn’t believe me. This shocked me, but maybe it shouldn’t have. My sister and I weren’t all that close these days. After the accident, my remaining family dropped me. No more invitations to holidays, birthday cards, or updates on how everyone was doing. It all stopped. They thought my driving my car off a bridge while drinking meant I had a drinking problem, and when I refused rehab, they lost it. The alcohol I consumed that night was simply liquid courage for what I felt I had to do. End everything. I never corrected anyone. Being seen as an alcoholic seemed better than the vulnerability of admitting I wanted to fly off that bridge and didn’t plan to walk away from it. I quit drinking only because it didn’t work for me. It never made me feel good, only sicker.         I grabbed a tan corduroy jacket and put in my earbuds to listen to my favorite true crime podcast. These deranged criminal masterminds and psychopathic serial killers often had families, friends, and sometimes even girlfriends and wives that adored them. Made me wonder about how quickly my family turned me out. As I walked out of my studio apartment, I checked my phone one last time for messages. Connor invited me to play zombie paintball, and it filled me with relief to be able to say I had other plans. It’d been so long since I had any plans, never mind options. My sister can say what she says, but I always have and always will put family first. Might be part of the problem.         When I opened the door to leave the building, cold air shoved through me like a ghost on a mission. My insides felt as icy as if I were naked. I needed a better coat, but they cost money. Maybe some fat to insulate my bones, but I struggled with keeping on weight. Having a strict diet comforted me. When people can do things to your body and you have no say in the matter, it helps to take back power where you can. My therapist said something like that anyway.

Glowing pumpkins lined the street doorsteps. Vampires, ghosts, kitties, and monsters carefully carved to perfection beamed their orangish light. Leaves danced around me in the soul chilling wind.

        I sat in my car, turned the key, blasted the heat, and rubbed my hands together. My breath formed fog clouds in front of me. I’ve never smoked, but sometimes I wanted to. Yeah, it’s dangerous and all, but it’s part of that tough guy image. Don’t fuck with me. I don’t even give a shit about my own health, what makes you think I give a shit about you? That’s so lame. I know. I don’t have an ounce of tough guy in me. Another part of the problem. Tough guys can defend themselves from monsters that crawl into their rooms at night, and I couldn’t. I froze and let the monsters suck the life from my soul and leave me as the empty void I’ve become. No wonder I have zero friends thinking like this. Well, except for Connor. He did invite me to fight zombies, and that counts for something, right?         I took another deep breath and stepped on the gas. To the bridge, I go! The fucking bridge. I should steer clear of bridges.         The ride wasn’t terribly long, and I knew Scarlett probably didn’t expect me to show up. The wide-eyed shock on her face when she saw me validated that thought. It’s weird, but I still always expect to see this little girl running over to give her big brother a hug. This little girl who always wanted to play video games and tell me all about her day. This little girl that truly loved me. Instead, I saw a full-grown woman wearing a security uniform with a taser and nightstick hanging from her utility belt. A tough, broad shouldered woman. Tougher than me, that’s for sure.

        “You came,” she whispered.         “Yup, I’m here.” I put my hands in the pockets of my jeans and shrugged. My neck felt warmer with my shoulders up there protecting it, so I kept my hunched-up posture a while.         “I got a call from the babysitter. Mackenzie got sick. They rushed her to the hospital.” Tears glistened on her cheeks. Quietly at first, then she started sobbing. “I’m so worried.”         Mackenzie is my niece I never saw, but I suspected is probably about two years old now. Despite not knowing her, I still loved her. You’re supposed to love family no matter what.         “So, you need to go see her, and you need me to…”         “Guard the door.”         “Okay?”         “I’ve called all my co-workers, my boss, everyone. Most didn’t answer. Some are too busy. It’s Halloween. It’s a crazy night for us.”         “Right.”         “You know how it is. A house gets hit with a single egg and it’s the end of the world in that community.”         I didn’t know anything about this strange gated community she monitored, but now wasn’t the time for a full history lesson. My eyes followed the bridge to a door in the center. Why did a bridge have a door halfway across? “Where does the door go?”         “It’s better I don’t tell you. This is a bad enough idea already. You knowing more could make it worse. Don’t let anyone near that door, okay?”         “Okay.”         “That’s all you have to do. Guard this door for a few hours while I see how she’s doing. Then I’ll be back. Worst case scenario, my shift ends in five hours and the next person will be here.”         “That’s fine.”         “You don’t have to do anything. Don’t let anyone near the door. That’s it.”         “Is anyone even going to try to get to it?” I chuckled hoping to lighten her intensity.         “It’s Halloween.”         “What does that mean?”         “Please don’t mess this up. I can’t lose this job.”         “Well, the expectations of me are just so high.”         She sighed. Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks as she sniffled.         “It’ll be fine. I got this.” I needed to reassure her. Having a kid in the hospital was a big deal, especially one so young.

        “You’ll fuck it up. I know it…but what choice do I have?” She threw her arms in the air.

        “Thanks, sis.” My therapist told me I was doing really good considering all the trauma, but maybe that’s something only a therapist can appreciate. To the people in my life, it’ll always all be my fault somehow. Elliott split up the whole family.

She shook her head and walked towards her car.         “I hope she’s okay. Let me know how it goes, okay?”         She kept walking.         “I love you,” I yelled towards her back.         She jumped in her car and sped off.         “I love you too, Elliot.” I imagined her voice telling me. I even gave myself a hug.

        Fog surrounded the bridge, which was odd given the clarity of the other direction. I knew shit about fog. Maybe only being near the water made all the sense in the world. It gave me the creeps though.

        “Alright, Elliot. Here you are for several hours guarding a mysterious door. How the hell will you ever stay awake? Painful memories perhaps. They sure do work at home when you’re in bed.” I walked to the door and plopped down in front of it. So intimidating. If anyone really wanted in this door, they’d kick me aside like some small rock in their way. I’d flail and fall to the side with a weak whine of “oooohhh no! You can’t do that!”         I didn’t even get a taser. I patted my pockets searching for some useful weapon in case. Nothing.         All I could do was sit silently. What’s behind the door? What’s behind the door? What the fuck is behind that door? I walked to the edge where the door met the bridge and craned my neck as far as I could to see the other side. My hands clutched the damp red railing tightly. From what I could see, behind the door laid the rest of the bridge. Exciting! I sat back down with my feet dangling off the edge of the bridge and tossed pebbles into the water. They were too small to make a splash, even with the force of falling from such a great height.         Then I heard a sound like a dog scratching on a door to get out. A dog scratched at this door. I didn’t see a dog though. I stood up, leaned over the railing, and glanced at the other side of the door again. I didn’t see anything. Was I not supposed to open the door? She didn’t say that. What harm would it do? Apparently, they didn’t want people crossing the bridge. It had nothing to do with an actual stupid door, right? I put my hand on the knob. Then again, why take chances? I didn’t want to be a fuck up anymore. I needed to nail this job. Needed the love from doing something well. The dog kept scratching and then whined and whimpered too.         “Sorry, doggo. You can’t cross this bridge. Doggies from that side aren’t welcome here.”         The dog growled.         “The fuck, Cujo? You sure as shit ain’t getting over here now!”         The dog snarled.         “But dear sir, they’re calling for us.” A man’s voice said from the other side of the door.         I froze. “W-who's calling you?”         “There’s a séance in town. Margaret wants to see me. It’s Halloween. Our day to be together. If not for this silly door.”

Scarlett, you may have forgotten some key instructions. I tried to call her and ask what I was supposed to do about the other side of the door trying to get in. She didn’t answer.         “Fuck!”         “Someone should wash that mouth out with soap.” The voice said.         “My dirty mouth’s the least of my issues, Buddy.” I laughed. “Look, I can’t fuck this up, so why don’t you pick a different way to get to your séance.”         “I can’t. This is the only door between our worlds.”         “Worlds? You telling me the other side of that door is a whole other fucking world? I think someone’s a bit arrogant about their town patriotism.”         “Well, it’d be rather nice if your world considered us one in the same. I don’t want to be separated.”         “So, there’s a reason you’re behind that door and locked out. Good to know.”         I looked towards the town and saw a young girl staring at me. “Why’re you talking to yourself?”         “I’m not. I’m talking to this fine gentleman on the other side of the door. What’re you doing walking alone at ten o’clock?”         “I was out trick or treating, but then these boys stole my candy. I ran away and now I’m lost. Can you help me?”         I stepped forward, then stopped. What if this is a trick? “I-I can’t. I’m sorry.”         “I’m scared…and cold…and hungry.” She cried. Her little pigtails bounced with the forceful movements of her sobs.

        “What’s your parent’s number? I’ll call them.”         “I don’t know. I’m just a kid.”

Just a kid. That work for anyone?

        “I’ll call the cops then.” I pulled out my phone. It didn’t turn on. Told me the battery was dead. Fucking, of course it is.

“Aw, help that little girl. Turn the knob and open the door a crack first though, would you, pal?” The man’s voice said.

“Shut the fuck up about that door. It’s not getting opened until my sis says it can be.”

“Please, help me.” The girl whined.

I noticed a figure shifting in the shadows. At first, I considered it a scarecrow and that my eyes were playing tricks on me, but then a group of teenage boys emerged. Teenage boys on Halloween. That’s something to be worried about. At one point, I was in a dangerous group like that trying to fit in. Trying to find a fake family.

One of the boys walked over to the girl and flicked one of her pigtails. “I’ll help you find a way home.”

“I-I think he...it’s alright. I’m fine.”

“You can hang out with us a bit.”

The way he looked at her made my skin crawl. The fear in her eyes, I knew all too well. I pictured bashing his head in with a baseball bat, but I didn’t have one and I couldn’t leave this stupid door.

“Get away from her!”

The boy looked at me and laughed. “Mind your business, old man.”

“She’s just a kid.” There was that phrase again. As if bad people ever cared that kids were kids.

The boy reached out and grabbed her hand. I charged. Shoved him down on the concrete.

I heard my mom’s voice in my head. “He’s violent. Mentally ill. An alcoholic. A drug addict. You can’t trust a thing he says or does. Those lies about me? You don’t believe it, do you? I couldn’t possibly do that. No mother could.”

She said that to my dad, and I saw the uncertainty creep across his face. “Stop!” I felt hands pulling back my shoulders. The boy remained on the ground. Blood all over his face. One of his friends shook him and got him up. They ran off. I turned in time to see one of the other boys open the door. The boy stepped back as pale apparitions walked through. They were a beautiful bluish white, and there were hundreds of them floating forward.

“You saved me!” The girl yelled and threw her arms around my neck.

“Ah, we’re finally free.” An old, ghost man stretched his arms and yawned.

A robust woman drifted towards me. “Thank you for letting us out. It’s been years.”

I dropped to my knees and buried my face in my hands. “I fucked up.”

I couldn’t see a thing with the flood of tears. I cried so hard I choked and gasped for air.

“Oh my, dear. What’s troubling you?” The woman asked.

“All I wanted was to protect her.”

“This child? Oh, you did, dear boy.”

“No, my sister. Mom said if I never told anyone, she wouldn’t touch her. Wouldn’t take those pictures of her. Wouldn’t sell her. All I needed to do was keep quiet. Take it all myself. Be the tough one. I fucked it up. I fucked this up. She’ll never forgive me. I only ever fail her.” I knew it was hard understanding my words. They weren’t coherent.

“Oh my, dear. I’m afraid I can’t make heads or tails of what you’re saying.”

“I wanted to be a good boy.”

“You are, dear. You saved this child and you freed us. That’s all very good.”

“I think you need Mrs. Banana Nana.” The little girl handed me a yellow teddy bear with a torn cheek and missing eye. I hugged the bear tightly to my chest and kept wailing. I couldn’t stop. It poured uncontrollably from my body with such strength it hurt. The little girl patted my head. “Help me home. My mom will make you tea and read you a story and you’ll feel all better.”

Then I heard my therapist’s voice. “You did the right thing. You did what you were supposed to.”

Then why did they all turn against me? “She trusted me. How hard is watching a door?”

“Well, dear, this is a pretty powerful door. I’d say it is quite a task.”

Some ghosts walked forward. Some floated into the air. Thousands were pushing and shoving their way out the door. They tripped over each other and fought. They were all different ages. No way I could wrangle them back in. “Please, don't leave. Please go back!”

“Sorry, dear. We’ve waited a long time for this.” The woman soared into the air after that.

“You’re my hero,” the little girl whispered. “I think she’d understand.”

I hid my face in Mrs. Banana Nana’s soft fur, and sucked in her sugary candy scent.

“It’s not your fault, Elliot.”

“I just wish I could hear that from someone who isn’t paid to say it.”

“There’s candy at my house and I can show you the pumpkin I made.”

“I need to fix this.”

“Some things aren’t yours to fix.”

Screams echoed across the town. “What the...how is this getting even worse?”

A ghostly man with a dog by his side stood in front of me. “Maybe they deserve it, pal.”

“Huh?”

“You said earlier it sounded like there was a reason they locked me...us out. What if we aren’t the bad ones?”

I stood up. The little girl took my hand in hers. My other still held the bear to my chest. What if we aren’t the bad ones?


A child witnessing a major historical event. The winner for the under- 18 race competition for the South-western Nigeria competition is Dara Akin, the master of ceremony announced over the microphone again. She was sure she heard it the first time but her mind was fixed somewhere. In between the drifted moments, Dara tugged her mother, gazing at her with a puzzled look.

Mum, I won the race showing off her set of beautiful teeth. She held in her hand the golden trophy. The trophy gleamed in the hot afternoon sun with red and blue ribbons adornment. It was indeed a sight to behold. First in what...? She wanted to say before her mind was welcomed back to the Inter- state racing competition. . Dara’s father was on a business trip and couldn’t make it time for the game. She had come to watch her daughter run. An opportunity presented itself and Dara was chosen to represent her state. When her consent was sought, she gave it between hope and despair. She didn’t know when she lost the consciousness of her environment. It all began when the whistle was blow. As usual, she had her eyes shut praying for her. Not necessarily to win but without any health complications. She just wants her girl to be fine. Different news reporters were there with their camera taking their shots as they posed with the trophy. They keep asking her how she managed to raise Dara to be strong. She told them her story, just as she told some people sometimes ago. She was always eager to share Dara’s story. She lied on the hospital bed. Her hands were cold out of fright. She hoped for a miracle for this child she was carrying. The stethoscope beeped indicating the presence of life as the doctor moved it over her bulging belly, however faintly. The doctor asked her to sit up while she broke the news to her.

Your baby is not too fine. Her breathing pulse is weak and we have to perform an emergency... Before the doctor could finish her statement she was lost in despair. This pregnancy was her fourth’s, though the first to reach the third trimester. In the space of two years, she had lost three pregnancies before the onset of second trimester. The awfulness was second to none whenever she noticed the thick warm reddish liquid trickling down her thighs. More saddening is the evacuation of the remains. She watched gloomily as the remains were disposed as trash. She wished she could open her mouth and pass the breath of life to it. But was she God? Slowly she fell into depression blaming her- self for working so hard she hardly had time to rest. The self loathing spread like wild fire cutting deep to every part of her. When her husband noticed it, he took her on a vacation. On returning, life returned to her and then it happened! This time, she became conscious of all her activities. She never missed her checkups, maintaining a healthy diet for her baby. And now an emergency caesarean section without prior plans. She asked for a moment to call her husband. Without further delay, the doctor prepared her for surgery. She was cut open to save her baby. In less than a hour, her baby arrived- weak, tiny and fragile but she loved her. The baby was moved to the intensive unit of the hospital where she was attended to till she was of age. Her joy knew no bounds. She clutched her baby in her arms while her husband held her bags as they made a visit to the doctor’s office for the final check-up. However the joy was short-lived- Your baby has a weak heart. She will take a while for her to reach her milestones. But she will eventually. As she grows do well to check her. Drugs and other supplements will be given to you...

She didn’t let the doctor complete her statement before she dashed out in anger. Her husband apologised on her behalf. Immediately he followed her demanding for the reason for her irrational move. In between tears, she replied pointing her hands back to the doctor’s office I will not sit there while this doctor keeps giving me no hope. Was she bent on frustrating me? Her husband having understood her gave her an embrace. He whispered in her ears- she will be fine and we will too.

Together they both cared for Dara. Gradually she hit her milestones without much complication. Soon she was able to attend pre-school. At the end of the pre-schooling session, the teacher’s report on extra-curricular activities reads- she loves running. Immediately, her mother put a call to the school with strict warnings never to allow her participate in any extra-curricular activities. She promised to sue the school if such came to her notice again. Thus Dara was always left in the class with the class assistant teacher as she advances in class. She will peep from the windows watching her classmates running down the green grasses. Often times, she sneaked out but was usually caught before she makes her way to the field. Soon this began to affect her academics performances. The only subject that arouses her is drawing. She will take her time to draw athletes either as they run or as they collect trophies. Then you will see her beam. Reports were taken to her parents. The head of school advised she should be allowed to follow her dreams. But the words of that doctor keep re-echoing. Whenever such matter were discussed she will owed it to Dara having a weak heart. Fortunately, a new teacher was posted- Young, beautiful, dutiful and smart. She noticed the seclusion of Dara from sporting activities. She made her inquiry. Then she decided to help her. First she visited Dara’s mother. She made sure she earned her trust even to the extent of signing a legal document. She was determined to make it work. Then she made available a first aid box for her. This act however brought taunts to Dara. Instead of calling it a first aid box, they referred to it as Dara’s box. But with such a great teacher with her, she found solace. The first race she ran among her mates got her into a faint. Quickly she was attended too and she regained her strength. Soon she represented her house in the Inter-house competition. Her parents made sure to pick the first row seat. Her mother had a bag containing a pack of glucose, energy boosters, an inhaler, pain-relief medications, a bottle of cold water and lots more. She clearly didn’t trust the school first aid box. Soon the commentator announced the commencement of the race. She shone brightly in a blue sport wears. She waved gleefully as she sighted her parents. Her parents waved back however with fear sinking them. The whistle was blow. Her mother had her eyes shot. Her father was already on his feet holding the bag in case of any unpleasant incident. Then the race was declared finished. She came Third! They couldn’t believe their eyes. Their Dara came Third! They ran to the field. She was held high by her father while her mother kept checking her legs for any injury. When her father dropped her, she held out her arms to her. In tears, she whispered to her ears how sorry she was for keeping her away from what she loved. She told her how proud she was for her. Her mother reached out to Miss Ade amidst the crowd (for that was the teacher’s name). She thanked her for helping her see the ability in her disability. Miss Ade beamed. She was happy it was all worth it. The recognition Dara got that day was more that the Winner and the Second runner-up. Some people wondered what the fuss was about and proudly they shared the doctor’s report of when Dara was born with them (the people). A testimony some say!


Nervous eyes stared back at him. One hand on both ends of the sink, clutching the sides tightly. His tie swung crookedly as he ducked his head away from the mirror, trying to collect his thoughts into one coherent sentence. He didn’t fail to notice the bead of sweat running down his forehead,

He grabbed a paper tower and dabbed it away. “C,mon Peter.” He said to himself, backing up one step away from the sink. “Just…think of something..think of something better..” He bunched up the paper and took a deep breath. “Marilyn..” he stared down the mirror, pretending he was the beautiful woman who sat in the restaurant, waiting patiently for his return. “We’ve known each other for a while now…a long time actually…and I think…I think it’s time…” He shook his head, turning away from the mirror and holding his head. “That’s…that’s not good..” he picked at the paper towel. “She’s going to know right away..”

Refacing the mirror, he held up his hands. “Marilyn. Ever since grade one, when I saw you pick your nose I ....” His eyebrows furrowed at himself. “…can’t say that. She’ll be mortified!..there’s gotta be something else..” He snapped his fingers with his right hand and balled the paper in the other. “Ah!” He stopped snapping and straightened his tie. “Ever since grade one, when I saw you save that ladybug, I wanted to be your friend…you were so gentle and kind that it drew me…I…” He waved his hand in a circular motion, raising his eyes to think. “I…I am so happy to have found you.” He met his eyes again, then frowned. “No…I am so grateful that you let me in your life, and shared your sandwich with me when I forgot my lunch.” He nodded, staring intently at what he imagined was Marilyn. “My darling, you have given me so much joy and inspiration, I wouldn’t have…” he sighed. “No, you are my joy and inspiration, I wouldn’t have…no that still doesn’t sound right.”

“You…you…” he closed his eyes, raising his head to the ceiling and dropping both hands. “You are the reason I feel so much joy in life, no..why I find life so joyful and inspiring….you have given me so much joy…” “I believe you’ve said that already lad.” A voice in the back piped up, startling Peter.

The voice was followed by a flush and the stall door opened. A man in his 50’s walked out, also in a neat suit. He came up beside Peter and washed his hands in the neighbouring sink. They were both silent for a moment, joined by the sound of water splashing and intense awkwardness. Peter glanced down at the man's hand and saw a gold wedding band on his ring finger. The man cleared his throat, turning the tap off. “It’s nerve wracking to do what you're about to do…It’s been about twenty-five years and I still remember how anxious I was.”

“Yeah?” Peter gripped his crushed paper towel with both hands. “How did you do it?” The man looked around the bathroom, making his way to the paper towels. “Probably about the same way you are now, except I believe I already had my speech planned…are you coming up with yours just now?” He began to dry his hands. “No…well yes…I’ve been practicing all week.” Peter turned back to the mirror. “I haven’t been able to think of anything that’s good enough for her.” “She sounds like a catch,” the man chuckled, throwing the damp paper towel into the trash. “Would you like a tip?” “I’d probably accept anything at this point..”

The man put his hand on the doorknob. “Let her know why it’s her you want to spend the rest of your life with, and try to keep it simple.” He tipped his head towards Peter. “My congratulations in advance.” Then he left.

Peter looked back at the mirror, thinking over the man's words. “Keep it simple…okay…I can do that.” With one hand, he fixed his hair and straightened his jacket. “Marilyn, ever since grade one when I saw you save that ladybug, I wanted to be your friend. You were just so kind and gentle that it gave me the impression of how wonderful you would be….of how wonderful you are…”

“You are beautiful, strong, and you have given me so much joy…you are my joy…you make me happy…yeah…” he nodded to himself. “You make me happy to be just around you, just like how a tree needs water…I need you to live…” He nearly banged his head against the sink. “That was too corny…” trying again, he looked in the mirror. “You make me happy, my world….my world would be dark without you…no…I…love.” His eyes widened. He knew what he would say. It almost felt wrong with how simple it was, but somehow he knew it was the right thing to tell her. He stood back from the mirror, glancing down at the crumpled paper towel and smiling. His heart still pounded, and there was a ringing in his ears…but he wanted to do this. Dabbing his forehead one last time, he double checked his appearance. He went to the door, threw the paper towel out, and walked back into civilization. The scent of seared steak and grilled onions enveloped around him as he made his way into the room full of tables draped with white tablecloths and candlelight. Waiters in white suit jackets carrying trays moved to the side to let him pass. The man he talked to not long ago sat a few tables down from his spot; however, he had his focus on one thing, and one thing only.

There she sat, in a beautiful maroon dress with her brown hair in a french braid. She stared down into her half full wine glass with a thoughtful expression. She twirled the contents slowly, as if the motion of the liquid gave her a view of another world.

Peter paused briefly, taking in the sight. He patted his coat pocket, then slowly came up beside her.

Upon seeing him, Marilyn smiled gently. “I was beginning to think you passed out on the toilet.” The idea of passing out wasn’t out of the question just yet. He clasped his hands to still the shaking. “Not quite, but…I need to tell you something.” She raised an eyebrow, and it was apparent that the tables around them had gone quiet in anticipation.

“Marilyn…” he started, feeling his speech fade to nothing. “Ever since grade one…when you saved that ladybug, I really wanted to be your friend..” “Peter..” Marilyn whispered, staring at him intently. “And all these years you have been the most wonderful friend, my best friend.” He kneeled, knowing the other tables were looking at them now. “You…You make me incredibly happy…I love you. I love you so much.” Marilyn smiled, and small tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

Finally, at long last, Peter pulled out the ring. “Will you marry m-?” “-Yes!” Marilyn tackled him to the ground, hugging him hard. The room erupted in applause . “Of course I’ll marry you, you dork!”

It took a few minutes before he realized he had been crying as well. Through his blurred vision, he caught a glance at the man from earlier, tipping his head to him in approval.

The speech hadn’t been very elaborate, but having Marilyn accept him was the best embellishment he could ever ask for. The free dessert was a plus.


-Eve- I haven't been out of the house in a while... It hurts to get out of the stone-cold bed in the morning. It hurts to interact with people. It hurts to get dressed and look at myself in the mirror. It hurts to see myself as the shell of who I once was, cracked from the inside-out. Even so, my friends convinced me to get out and meet someone. They signed me up for some stupid dating app and I found someone eager to meet me, so, despite my reservations about online dating, I mustered the courage to go. Sluggishly dragging myself out of my messy bed, traversing through mountains of abandoned clothing, I make my way to the bathroom to shower, brush my teeth, wash my face. I can't remember the last time I did this. The last time I went through all the steps to maintain good hygiene and self-care. It feels good to be clean on the inside, but the sinking feeling was filling me ominously. The mirror hurts me. My face is ugly. I'm not the only one that thought so. Choosing makeup is like a balancing act. You must choose a perfect medium to avoid scrutiny. The same goes for clothing. Not enough makeup and you're ugly, a masculine ugly wench undeserving of love and affection. Too much makeup and you're a cheap floozy or a clown deserving of sarcastic catcalling and being grabbed. If you dress too modestly, you blend into the background as a boring gray girl. And when you dress revealing you are an easy harlot who is showing off her body for male attention and are "asking" for it. Every morning routine I'm a funambulist on a tight-rope. It's exhausting... After at least an hour of struggling to assemble the perfect mask of makeup and clothing, I don't feel ready at all for the blind date ahead of me. He won't like me. That's for sure. Anyone could see me for who I am: a shy little girl just so scared of the world around her, a little girl shaking in fear from criticism lurking behind any corner. The air is cool and the town is bustling. The sun is high in the sky and the clouds are lazily floating through the pale blue sky. I am just going to get a coffee with a guy. It's nothing to be nervous about. And yet I am so incredibly nervous, I can feel every fiber of my being shaking. I grip my pepper spray like its a gun. My eyes are shifting nervously like a cornered animal, scanning down every alley and street for attackers. And what if my date is an attacker? Guilt and fear settle in my stomach like concrete as I wonder if I'm even brave enough to attempt to fend someone off. I am so scared, it is eating at the very core of my being. The coffee shop is insight. And, as a brave heroine would, I venture forward with timid courage. -Russel- I haven't been home in days... Every night's a different woman. A different thrill and another check on my list. It's so easy to find dates nowadays. Women practically throw themselves on me. They're desperate. All I do is sit and bask in their attention-seeking glory. I talk sweetly to a shy girl. She resembles a little doe, a small Bambi tripping over her long legs. Her eyes light up in excitement and wonder as I pamper her with fancy dinners. She has never seen anything so lavish and luxury before. Before she even understands, I swoop in so fast her little blonde head spins. And there's another notch in my bedpost. I don't know just how to play the game. I've mastered it. I am the puppetmaster of these girls. They become so enchanted with me and my confident ways that all it takes is one whiff of my expensive French cologne and they're eating out of my hands. It takes a lot of discipline to keep the schedule that I do. Workout at the gym, expensive Italian suits every day, hustle through work, then find a babe to go home with. It's a lot of hard work but I can handle it. And today is no different. The girl I'm meeting seems nice. Sweet, shy, probably insecure. The perfect type to romanticize. They play right along with the plan. And it works every time. I'm at the coffee shop 20 minutes early. That way I can scope out the local ladies in case things go awry (even though they never do). I can appear well-prepared and organized, the way a man should be. And I seem calm, cool, and confident as I just sip my black coffee. Unbothered as the girl stumbles towards me, confused and nervous that she's late. And just like that, she's already feeling that she owes me, feeling worse and desperate for positive reinforcement. A short, curvy girl with dark brown hair and eyes appears as the soft jingle of the coffee shop door echoes through the place. Her eyes are already nervous, scanning the room rapidly with fear and anticipation. All that nervous energy clashing against my confident calm makes a perfect blend for me to strike. Eventually, her eyes meet mine. I take a long sip of my coffee as she clumsily teeters forward, standing right above me. Her eyes don't stay in one place for long. She can barely maintain eye contact with me. Her long fingers are moving quickly and nervously, picking at her skirt and fidgeting. "Russel?" Her voice is quiet and sweet. She seems fragile and shy, like a little school girl. I don't even speak. I just gesture in front of me and she raises an eyebrow confusedly. I shoot her a condescending glance, hoping she gets the memo. Her big doe eyes fill with realization and shame as she sits in front of me, crossing her legs daintily and peering out the window. She looks uncomfortable and nervous. I lick my lips in anticipation. Let the fun begin... -Eve- "Are you going to order, Eve, or just sit there?" My heart jumps when I hear his voice. It's deep and gravely, a little intimidating. I try to retain my composure before answering. "Uhm, yeah," I chuckle nervously, "You already ordered?" He takes a long sip, keeping his cold hazel eyes trained on me. I look away as my cheeks heat up. "No," He says shortly. There's a hint of sarcasm in his voice but his tone is so cold that it feels hurtful. I force a dry laugh but it feels wrong. "I guess I'll go order something... W-would you like anything?" His stone face finally expresses something: curiosity. He raises an eyebrow and stares at me playfully, making my heart beat a little quicker. This time it's a good feeling it's... almost nice. Reassuring. "Yeah, I'll take a croissant," His voice morphs into a French accent at the end. He has a rich and foreign tone. He slips me a $20 bill with a twinkle in his eyes, "Get yourself something for the trouble." My heart is all warm and I know I'm blushing, but something is off-putting. I know I can't accept this. But why am I feeling some type of way? "Oh, no, I'll pay my own. But thank you," I smile shyly while taking the money and beginning to walk in the line. Quickly, something grabs my arm and pulls it back. In a panic, I yank it away and prepare to run. My heart's in my stomach and my hand is already feeling for the pepper spray. But when my vision clears it's Russel, holding my arm with a steel grip. I pull away again, but he was strong. The charming smile on his face makes me sick. "Hey, you're doing me a favor," He insists, power in his voice, "Just consider us even." I feel so intimidated that I just nod yes. Even when I order, I feel his eyes on me. I order the smallest drink possible as to not make him pay too much. Shivers travel down my spine as I hand the cashier the money. He looks out the window with his coffee in hand, as if he wasn't just staring me down. I hand him his change and croissant. There's an awkward silence until I sit down. He looks me up and down, almost judgingly. I feel shivers down my spine again. His cold eyes feel so protruding and frigid, like a doctor's stethoscope. "You got one of those prissy sugary drinks," He comments in a tone that should have been playful but comes off condescending, "That's not really coffee, is it? It's either the regular black or nothing." I want to laugh and joke along but I only feel cold judgment. Still, feeling like I have to, I force a smile and take a small sip. "I just like sugar." "Makes sense," His voice is low and rich, "Since you're so sweet." My cheeks are red but my heart doesn't feel so warm anymore. I want his compliments and flirting to feel good, to make me feel whole again. But every time there's a little piece missing, like an empty spot in my heart that even flattery can't fill. Every comment he makes enlargens the hole until I feel consumed by the void. Pushing the thought down, I take a long sip of my drink. "Thank you," I mumble quietly, "For the coffee." "Anytime, sugar," He says smoothly. I almost choke on my drink at the name. It should have felt warm and lovely. A bit shocking but then fading to tingly feelings. But instead, I felt cold inside. "I guess we should get to know each other," He sets the coffee down and stares me in the eyes like he means business. I do the same without even thinking. "Yeah," I murmur nervously, "I guess so." "So," He stretches the word out, thinking about what to say, "What was your last relationship like?" It feels like a knife in my heart. My windpipes are closed. My eyes are wet with tears. My entire body is aching from pain and I try to keep my composure. I can't bear to tell him the truth. Whatever leverage I had against him I would lose instantly if I did. "Uhm," I clear my throat, blinking away tears, "It was rough. He was uhm.... not a very good guy. Not a very easy break up either." Russel's eyes soften for the first time and suddenly I lose all suspicions about him. His body leans closer to mine, comforting and protective. I can't meet his eyes but I know they're trained on me, not judging but filled with pity. I never quite liked pity but it feels better than his constant condescension. "I'm really sorry, Eve," He says softly, his voice is like honey, "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want." I nodded while swallowing the lump in my throat. A little angry thought puts bitter words in my mouth before I can filter them. "How about you?" I normally wouldn't be so confrontational, but deep down I feel offended that he would even ask. It's so personal and triggering for me. I want to go on this date to get away from the pain that my ex caused me, not relive it in a different form. The least revenge I could get is to make him confess like I did. "Oh, you know," Russel strokes his clean short beard slowly, "I don't really do long-term, you know? Just go with the flow, float from flower to flower." My heart dropped. Nausea overtook my stomach. What were his intentions?  Is there a reason he's so bold and upfront? "I, uhm," As I stumble for words, hoping to formulate some sort of protest to what he just said, he changes the subject. "So, do you have any hobbies?" I respond too quickly that I can't even say what I wanted to, "I love art." "Art?" He repeats, "Very interesting. Classy, even. Maybe I could take you to the museum sometime." "Oh, uh," I struggle to stay afloat in our conversation, it feels so one-sided, "Yeah. Sure. I mean, I would love to." "Ah, then it's settled," He cuts me off quickly, like he's closing in a deal, "We can go on Sunday." I feel so overwhelmed by his quick talking and strong, confident voice that I just nod along. I thought I was going on a simple coffee date but I'm flying by the seat of my pants and my head is spinning like a carousel. "Though, maybe you should wear something a bit classier next time," his eyes are zeroed in at my chest. Nausea and shame burn like poison in my throat. My cheeks are entirely red as I cover them slowly and guiltily, trying to hold back tears. Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm dressed too revealing, desperate for his attention. Well, here, I got it, but now it makes me look too easy. Every man in the area has to have stared at me the same way he is. His hazel eyes are hungry and full of competition like I'm a prize to win over. I feel like prey sitting there across from him. "Oh well, hopefully, those won't stay on too long anyway." That's when I snap. -Russel- That's when the crazy witch snaps at me. "Excuse me, but do you have any manners at all?!" She screeches, her hair going wild. Her dark eyes are wide and her little pupils are tiny. She looks insane. I almost would be scared of her if she wasn't already eating right out of my hands. "What?" I scoff, "Eve, what are you talking about? What's wrong?" "Shut up!" She yells. People around us are starting to stare at the scene unfolding. I have to control her, I have to calm her down somehow. If she flips now I won't have her in my clutches by sun-down. "Eve, sugar, just relax," I stand and place my arm on her shoulder, hoping to soothe the savage beast. My gesture is obviously too much for her as she jerks it away and stomps up to her feet with the chair falling over with her. Her face is completely red and her eyes are filled with tears. I'm worried for a second but then I realize I can work with this. She can let out her energy, then deflate into my arms. This can work. "Don't you dare call me that!" "Eve," I plead with her, "What did I say that makes you feel this way? I just want to listen." She is fuming and tears are streaming down her face in a snotty disgusting mess, "You have been nothing but rude and sexist and condescending this entire date. I'm nothing but prey to you, am I?" "What?" I shake my head, "Sugar, people are staring. Just calm down." She looks around the room at the people watching awkwardly. Her dark eyes fill with shame and regret. Most importantly, sadness and guilt. I can work with that. "It's okay, baby," I assure her, taking her hand in mine. Her hands are cold and rigid. I ease her back into her seat but her expression doesn't change. "There," I say soothingly, "Now we can talk this out rationally." "I'm done with being rational," She spits under her teeth, "I don't know what you planned to do with me after this, but I'm done. I've seen abusive men before and you have all the same traits. Get serious help, jerk." I sit in shock. I'm too bewildered to comprehend what happened until she's already stomping out the jingling coffee shop door. "Wait! Eve!" I call out loudly, desperately trying to catch up to her. Her hand is shaking in her purse. I need to get her back. I can't lose a girl like this. She turns down corners at least four times until we're back at the coffee shop. She's trying to get rid of me, I can tell. But I'm still hunting her down and I don't take no for an answer. I can still reel her in, I just need to catch up and talk.  No woman can resist me, let alone reject me. The sun is starting to set. This is just a minor setback, I'm sure of it. By the end of the night, we will be with each other, making a wonderful ending off to our date. I'm sure of it. I'm right behind her. I grab her arm. She whips around so quickly I don't even see the pepper spray. -Eve- After I'm done running, I'm shaking. Tears streaming down my face. Fear rushing through my veins like ice. The hopelessness takes over my body again and all I can feel is that void deep inside of me, accumulating more mass. It physically aches. My heart feels heavy and broken. All I can see are flashbacks from past relationships, only with Russel's face on each memory. They all feel the same to me. I can never escape them. Because every time I think I've gotten rid of one, another one follows me down the street and grabs me. And another one whistles. And another follows my car all the way home. And the other one calls me a harlot. And another tells me I'm too masculine. And the next tells me I'm basic and I shouldn't be like every other girl. And one protects me from another and I know deep down I wouldn't have survived if a man hadn't stepped in to save me. I just feel helpless in this whirlwind. Closing my eyes as I seep into my bed, I wonder if I'll ever find peace.


It was the Babylon Day party that started it all. If I hadn’t gone to Harry’s party marking five long, hard years since the events of Babylon Day, when the blackout started, I wouldn’t be writing this letter. But … But it was, after all, the fifth anniversary of the start of the blackout, which everyone called Babylon Day. The theme of the party was, of course, Babylon V. Everyone came as their favorite alien ambassador. How could I resist? Things were finally settling down to the new normal. The electrical power industry had gotten used to the decentralized paradigm. The superconductor revolution had helped make local power grids possible. That, and solar power, wind power, people power, … well. You know. So, I thought the fifth anniversary party would be more upbeat! Not so much whining and bemoaning the good old days before Babylon Day. More optimism and looking forward to a bright future. It might have been that way, too, if the Greenies hadn’t been there. Rachel and her boyfriend Cliff started it. They’d brought their phones with them, and they kept looking at the screens, like they expected a miracle to happen. Then, Cliff was rude enough to ask if he could charge his phone from the local grid. That pissed Harry off; it was his grid, his party. He told Cliff that if he wanted to pedal the bike long enough to top up the battery, then sure, he could charge his stupid phone; otherwise, get the hell out. Cliff had had too much of the free beer to pedal for long, so he and Rachel slunk off to a couch on the other side of the room. “Damn Greenies,” muttered Harry. I tended to agree with him, but as usual I was minding my own business. April, who had come with Rachel and Cliff, and who was not drinking the free beer, spoke up. “Have you ever been to a church service?” She pulled out her phone—an antiquated Samsung Galaxy—turned it on, frowned at the lack of service, turned it off again. Really, what had she expected, a miracle? “Hell no,” Harry replied. “That damned green comet had nothing at all to do with the blackout. It was the Earth’s poles reversing that started it all. Electricity behaves totally different in a reversed magnetic field” “No, no,” Eric chipped in his two cents’ worth. He was drinking the free beer and eating too many of the free tacos. “No, it was the Earth’s core that stopped spinning that caused the radio frequencies to shut down. Everything else was just a chain reaction.” “Core does that every seventy years,” protested Harry. “That had nothing to do with why all the radio frequency stuff stopped working!” Finally, I spoke up. “Neither of those events explains why all the high-volume power lines caught fire. We simply don’t know why we can’t transmit electricity at high currents across long distances anymore.” Everyone shrugged. No one knew. No one knew why radio frequency traffic was limited to less than a kilometer. No one knew why electricity worked when generated locally, at low levels, but caused large power stations to explode. Babylon Day was history, and the blackout was just status quo now. “The green comet appeared in our skies,” said April, “as a warning that we had transgressed against God’s will. It will reappear when we have learned to use God’s Essence with reverence.” Harry rolled his eyes. “You would understand if you came to one of our meetings,” April went on, ignoring him. “I’ve seen miracles happen. Sometimes, we get two, even three bars of service, just for a few seconds.” “Right before the church’s WIFI router blows up,” I said, cynically. “Besides, that comet isn’t due back in the inner solar system for fifty thousand years! Are you saying humanity has to wait that long before we get the Internet back, or before we can broadcast radio around the world like we used to?” After that, the conversation became predictable. Sentimental blah blah about how it had been so great back in the day, when we could use our mobile phones. Reminiscences about listening to the radio in our cars … Wistful memories of satellite or cable TV, GPS, FaceBook, Twitter, Email, texting …

“Sometimes we can text, for a little while,” called Rachel, from the couch across the room. “Email, too. Just locally, on the church’s intranet, before …” She looked down at her feet. “Before it blows up!” I said again. “Just like all the long-distance lines did, just like the power plants did, the radio stations, … No one knows why!” From there, talk segued into who had lost people on Babylon Day. Because everyone had. Millions had died, before things started to come under control. Everybody knew somebody.

“We remember them all, too, at our services,” Rachel chimed in. “God remembers all those He took when the blackout fell. He will set his covenant in the skies when we are worthy of the gift of His Essence.” “Oh, this is crap!” Harry threw his empty Solo cup into the trash with a disgusted motion. “Things are better now! We generate electricity at low levels, locally! We’ve got superconducting batteries now! You can still use your computers, just … not for very long at once, and without the Internet, but … who cares!? If anything, God did us a favor by making high-volume electricity generation and radio impossible!” By that time, most of the free beer and all the free tacos were gone, and the whining and nostalgia was starting to make me vaguely nauseous. It was early morning, and the sun was coming up.Improvements or not, new normal or not, the nights were still darker than before. The colors of the dawn were bright pink and purple streaks across the sky. Their cheeriness stood in stark contrast to the sour mood of the party. So much for optimism. April was fiddling with her dead cell phone. “Come with us,” she coaxed. “If you only felt the closeness to God that we enjoy …” Harry shook his head. “I don’t even own a phone anymore,” he said. “I’m happy with my old desktop computer for word processing and stuff. The Internet and all that is gone forever, and I’m okay with that.” He walked to the door. “Party’s over, folks. Happy Babylon Day.” He held the door open in a “Here’s your hat, where’s your hurry,” gesture.

I don’t know what made me go get my iPhone. I got all the way home, three blocks away through still-dark streets. It was probably an old habit that made me reach in the drawer of the hall table and pull out the phone. It was dead, of course. Maybe I still craved the comfort we all used to get from the LED screens, the cheery little chimes, the music and ring tones and … Whatever obscure impulse that moved me, I slipped it into my pocket and walked out the door. The closest Church of the Green Comet was only a few more blocks down the street. April smiled at me as I walked in. The place looked like nothing so much as a meeting space for a 12-step program. It was lit by Christmas tree lights. Music played from a boom box. Not surprisingly on the morning after a Babylon Day anniversary, it was filling up pretty quickly. People were plugging in their old phones, and I had to hurry to grab a USB port before they were all taken. Pretty soon, a guy in a Radio Head T-shirt got up on the stage at the front of the room. Was it getting warm in here already, or was that just my imagination? Was that a tang of ozone, the acrid smell of singing insulation? “Thank you all for coming today!” He bowed his head. “We ask the Lord to be present, and allow his Essence to flow through us and our unworthy instruments.” Beeps and start-up tones cascaded through the room like a tumble of coins. “Would anyone like to testify?” “I had two bars!” Cried a fervent voice from somewhere in the back of the room. “Two bars for three seconds!” “Amen, brother!” Came the response from all around the room. “Let connectivity return to us all.” A woman stood up. “I got spam Email from the Prince of Nigeria!” She cried. “Just like in the days of connectivity!” The chorus of “Amen,” was a little shakier this time. I had a hard time keeping the smile off my face. If it hadn’t been so pathetic, it would have been hilarious. As it was … There were a few others who testified. One guy claimed his GPS worked and saved him when he was lost. Lots of people claimed to have briefly gotten a few bars of cell coverage. All of the testimonials rang with a jagged edge of need and desperation. After a while, the preacher raised his hands and brought the testimonials to an end. “And now, brothers and sisters,” he intoned, “Let us bask briefly in God’s holy Essence, which He has withdrawn from us, yea, until the green comet returns to signify His forgiveness!” He gestured to the workstation beside him. He pressed a button, and winking LED lights glowed to life. “The usual password, children, 1234. Hurry and connect, while God’s grace visits us.” Frantic screen-tapping rustled around the room. I had 30% charge on my iPhone, and wasted no time connecting to the local fragment of the net that was briefly conjured to life. A soft, jubilant “Ahhh,” swirled through the room. People began texting one another, sending Emails to the person next to them or across the room. Someone FaceTimed me; I smiled at April’s image on the tiny screen. Too soon came the pop and sizzle of overheating circuits. The stench of ozone I had been expecting finally arrived. The WIFI router exploded, and the minister yelped and threw up his hands to protect his eyes from fragments of hot plastic. Even so, I saw blood on his cheek. A collective wail of grief and loss came from us all as whatever was causing the blackout proved too much for even this paltry use of radio frequencies. I hastily put down my iPhone, which was growing too hot to hold. I was surprised to find tears in my eyes. The minister dabbed at his cheek. He had a beatific smile on his face. He held up a stopwatch. “Four minutes, thirty eight seconds!” He cried. “That’s a new record!” His face fell. “Once again, God has withdrawn His grace from us,” he said regretfully. “We are reminded of what has been forbidden us! Just as the Tower of Babel was struck down, so has the use of the airwaves been denied to us! In our arrogance, we used electricity to sin egregiously! Now, by the sweat of our bodies do we make the power we need, and no more than we need. Until the Green Comet returns,” he folded his hands in prayer. Silence fell upon the churchgoers, as they bowed their heads. The collection plate came around, but I ignored it. All the useless sentimentality and silliness had left me seething. My stomach felt full of bile. I didn’t offer to stay and charge up the church’s batteries, even though I’d selfishly used their power. I didn’t contribute money or food or anything. I didn’t pray, or thank the minister. I just stood up, unplugged my phone and walked out. When I got outside, I tossed my useless iPhone into the gutter and walked home.

When I got there, I charged up my own batteries with an hour of brisk pedaling, until I was sure I’d have enough electricity for the day. I tried to call my mother on the land-line, but as usual the static was too loud for us to hear each other. I tended my garden and harvested a few crops for the local food bank. The restlessness wouldn’t leave me. I paced and did busy-work, cooked my lunch on the small gas ring … Nothing made me feel better. I didn’t know whether things were better now, or whether they’d been better back when we had radio and the Internet and all that crap. I felt caught between two colliding worlds. This is why I am resigning my teaching position with the Physics Department. No one can explain why the blackout happened; why it is still happening. Millions died, and maybe millions more will die. Physics can’t explain it, and the Greenies can’t explain it, and I can’t keep teaching Physics to kids who are growing up in a world where science has failed. Babylon Day just happened. The blackout is here to stay. It’s time we live in the present, instead of the past.


Sulley was introverted, non-compliant and non-conformist, he was pretty orderly and organised as compared to most people his age.

Since his early childhood years he had never as much as liked large companies of friends, or even smaller groups of people. He stuck with his own ideas and appeared to be conceited to people, but in reality, he was just shy and awkward in social situations, and so it registered in his mind that he was better off being reclusive. Sulley was a teenager who loved technology, he would often watch videos on philosophy and bits of psychology, he enjoyed those because he loved new knowledge and he also fancied variety when it came to music. Since Sulley's childhood he performed fairly well in school, but he knew within himself that he was far better than the grades he scored on tests and in examinations but he just couldn't put his finger to what exactly made him underperform.

In his last teenage year, at age 19 he started watching some videos on YouTube that inspired him to think more and helped him to understand his younger self better. He soon understood that his studies weren't as effective as a child because he was always taught in large class sizes (which were uncomfortable to him), also he preferred doing individualist work as compared to group assignments that they often did in basic school. He realised also that he preferred intellectually stimulating conversations and deep conversations to small talk.

It happened that on his nineteenth birthday, he started watching this clinical psychologist on YouTube , by this time he had one friend who he could talk to, one who deeply understood his introversion. His name was Tom. Sulley spoke with Tom about anything that bothered him, and so he decided to let him know about an issue he was having with his mind lately, he wasn't sure if he had a mental issue or if it was entirely or partially normal, but he was worried . Sulley suddenly got up from his seat one day when he had Tom over after school and asked Tom " hey, do you think I'm going psycho?... um... uh ... I've been listening to this clinician on YouTube for a while now and I really admired him... but uhh ... mmhh ... lately I dont seem to have a conscience of my own like I used to anymore..." Tom interrupted " wait , wait... how long has this been?". "Well I started listening to him last year, but the voice in my head uh ... it started like last uumm.. maybe two weeks ago... it tells me things like 'clean up your room' or 'lay your bed' and 'pick up a responsibility and shoulder the responsibility of adulthood' ... you know the voice doesn't necessarily say any bad things, it actually helps me to stay productive..." Sulley said. Tom looked on a bit confused, scratching the top of his head , while Sulley continued " but the problem is that... I hate it because I feel like I don't really have a conscience of my own anymore, like I know that voice isn't the Holy Spirit that my sister spoke of , because the voice sounds exactly like the clinician from YouTube" Tom didn't think it was much of a problem, so he quickly replied " I think it's a normal phenomenon and happens to several people and you uhh might... you shouldn't overthink it maybe... yeah?" Sully tried hard not to frown, he wasn't satisfied with Tom's response but decided to keep the rest of his talk to himself, besides, he enjoyed his little moments of soliloquy alone in his room, asking himself questions and switching between alter egos , pretending to interview himself and all that. So Sulley decided he needed time alone so he turned to Tom again and said " well , Tom, you know what?... I don't think I want to talk much anymore, I think I need some alone time to recharge... so maybe you should go home, I'll see you tomorrow" Sulley tried not to make it sound awkward but that only made lt worse. It was always awkward and abrupt the way that Sulley would often call it a day, but Tom was used to all of that and just nodded and shrugged and said " well , okay, and please don't overthink the whole new voice of your conscience... it may come in handy... who knows?" Tom just smiled and waved at Sulley who never even bothered to escort him out of the room to the door leading outside. Once Tom was out , the voice started to instruct Sulley to complete tasks he had left undone, Sulley did it in such a little space of time that he surprised himself. He then reflected and realised that he could have never finished it so soon even if Tom helped out. Besides, Tom just like everyone else was fond of following socially accepted rules for doing things, which for Sulley, was a poor reflection on any human's creativity. Sulley sat a while and thought about things he had to do that he hadn't yet done , he remembered he hadn't done the economics assignment in class that their tutor gave because it was so hard to do, and even with the help of his sitting partner who he obviously struggled to communicate with, it was still near impossible to finish it. The voice of his conscience interrupted "don't reschedule resposiblities when you can do them now" Sulley nodded and agreed, after all, Tom mentioned that it wasn't a big deal that the voice of his conscious seemed to sound like someone else apart from himself , and that it may come in handy ,so he decided to do the assignment that minute. As he started, his thoughts felt lighter, he felt like a more intelligent person, and within five minutes he was halfway through. The clinical psychologist's voice in his head egged him on. Finally he finished it all up and was satisfied. He questioned how he was unable to do it in class but finished it almost effortlessly while at home and on his own. He reflected and introspected and came to a conclusion that he worked way better away from so much noise and that he was more productive being individualistic than as one working in a team. It was obvious to him now that he was one to work in silence. He was excited to find out about this new part of him, which he realised was obvious all along but not didn't have much attention paid to it. As the years went by, Sulley grew to know more about himself. He would often stay indoors, he didn't care whether or not he was invited to parties, he walked through the streets on weekends at the least busy hours in a hoody with his face pointing downwards and loud classical music playing in his ears. He was the type to change routes in a supermarket just to avoid a school colleague and he often did his serious work at midnight in the dark with dead silence and no one around or awake while chewing on a snack like tortilla chips. In school, he took up whole class group project works by himself and presented it on behalf of the team and scored brilliantly on them. He often finished up the work himself and would brief group members on his findings to keep them abreast with what they needed to know concerning the project. He was soon realised to be one who was independent. Sulley sooner than he thought became a young man in his mid twenties, by this time he was out of school and out of touch and contact with many of his peers because of his natural disposition of introversion. Even Tom barely heard from him now. They had begun to work and Sulley really didn't have the time to be hanging out with people. He had grown into a conscientious young man. He was disciplined to a fault and he still had that voice in his conscience spurring him on to do all he needed to. It so happened that his nation came to a state of emergency where government data had been hacked and citizens were at risk of having their personal data fished and misused and their bank accounts being emptied. The newspapers and television news aired the news with headlines like " your personal data may now be public information". Tensions were rising , as personal information of the president had already began to be attacked by this unknown hacker. Everyone was in a frenzy and tensed up, the government called for professional IT personnel to help resolve and reverse the situation but there were no experts found who believed that this could be solved. Sulley was in his room at 12 midnight at his serious thinking and work hours eating snacks, the voice in his conscience hinted that it was about time he stopped with snacks and ate some real food. Sulley sighed and put the snacks away. Sulley hadn't used social media for close to seven years, as he got tired of it and saw it to be a waste of time. He also didn't have much of his data online either. In fact he had almost a hidden identity on the web. He logged on to a news website and saw the national emergency. He sighed, and locked his phone's screen. The voice of his conscience seemed to vibrate in his head, "this could be the adventure of your life, take it up..." for once Sulley was about to shut the voice of his conscience, but the voice kept on " don't run away from things that seem big, start them with small incremental steps, you could get somewhere,... who knows? Life is an adventure, take it and see what happens" Sulley pondered for minutes on end. At 1:45 a.m he decided to tackle the situation. Sulley over the years had in silence and on his own learnt a lot about coding, information technology and cybersecurity during his active midnight hours and was ready to put it to use in an undercover adventure now. Sulley decided to help one of his favourite top IT companies to solve the national issue, so he decided to start sending them emails and post mails anonymously. The first email was a request to help solve the national emergency. The follow up e-mails were step by step solutions on recovery of all the lost and misplaced personal information of citizens on the web. The company was called "weTech" , they agreed to receive his help and asked for his identity, but Sulley insisted on staying anonymous and having no share in any profits made after the recovery was done. WeTech made a public announcement that it was ready to solve the crisis, the president gave the go ahead and stated a huge cash prize to be won , public tensions began to ease as they were assured that the situation would be solved within the month. Meanwhile, Sulley found the hacker online through a series of simulations and checks and witty efforts he made online. He sent e-mails signed with a pseudonym "working in silence". He signed off every letter to weTech and to the hacker with "working in silence" , weTech finally decided to make this strange anonymous guy called "working in silence" a headline by falsely claiming him to be a top secret worker in their organisation . Before long after many nights up, Sulley had worked out the whole puzzle of the hack and weTech was announcing to the public that it was in the final stages of retrieving all the data they needed. Sulley finally sent some mails to the hacker telling him to restore the bank money he drained from accounts or otherwise be turned in to the police. The hacker wrote back saying the money had been used and it would take some time to restore, so Sulley gave him the benefit of the doubt and allowed him time to get back the monies. By the end of the week, all the newspapers and Television news stations were buzzing with headlines like " top secret IT agent AKA "working in silence" solves national emergency" . Sulley saw it all over the news and just sat in his room, meanwhile WeTech had profited from Sulley's effort.

The company decided to mail his anonymous email account to have him to receive a job there and be paid. The voice of his conscience came up again " try this and see what adventure may come out of it" but for once , Sulley came against the voice of conscience and said out loud to himself " not this time, I'd rather work in silence... so its back to my life until another emergency" Sulley decided that this midnight could be taken lightly and maybe he should sleep , but before that he decided to use a real email account to mail the hacker , as he realised that he was just a man trying to make ends meet. It happened on one day in that week he suggested they met (he and the hacker) , the hacker agreed , and they met at a coffee shop. Sulley found that he too (the hacker) was introverted and very much like him , he suggested he came to stay over at his place in separate rooms while Sulley helped him clear the debt (without revealing that he was the one who uncovered the hacker's identity). Sulley helped him in various ways and from then onward they both worked separately in silence and met once in a while on the rooftop of their new shared apartment with snacks to talk about their unconventional thoughts at midnight . Sulley then one day said "what do you think about that national hero who they call "working in silence" " the hacker (who was called Shane) replied "well, I think he truly is a hero and considerate, I think he may be just like the two of us" Sulley smiled and said "well, yeah, I guess we are all working in silence" they both laughed and slouched in their chairs and went back to eating their snacks and gazing into the stars in silence. Sulley's phone suddenly rang. He ignored the call since he didn't know who it was that was calling, it rang again and he ignored once more, not long after , a text came through reading " hi, man, it's Tom... following the news lately about this mystery guy called working in silence made me think of you in your childhood days..." Sulley read on and smiled , then got up and threw his phone far and down and said to Shane "it turns out some people know us way too well" he took his chair and attracted making his way back into the house downstairs and said " I'm going to bed now, I hope I dream of new adventures working in silence haha"


The first time she recalled seeing him was when she had just managed to dodge a rain storm that was passing through her small town as she made her way to work that morning. He was already inside the small cafe and, if she recalled correctly, he had a coffee as he enjoyed a black book that bore no title on the front. She had only happened to notice him because the cafe was nearly empty already except for a couple in their own world off to the side and a lonesome barista who was busy in the back. As she had entered, she also took notice of him because he had been the only one to take notice of her enough to put his book down casually and smirk as he picked up his coffee. His smile seemed to welcome her in. What made her recall now and had made her never forgotten since then, was when their gaze met, it was a feeling that haunted her to the very core and to this day she still couldn’t shake. A feeling that she would consider similar to having an electric current running through your whole body as if to resuscitate one back from near death. Quickly, she hesitantly averted her eyes to the register and motioned for the barista who happily came to grab her simple coffee order. Only to wait out the storm, she slowly enjoyed her coffee and peered out the large window near the entrance. Her back was to the strange man and yet, still she felt as if someone was watching her every move which in turn caused her to feel even more awkward. The storm lasted just long enough for her to finish her cup of joe, thankfully in her own mind she thought. As she had made her exit, from the corner of her eye she noticed his head slowly turned to watch her every move as she continued down the sidewalk to make it to work in a timely manner. This had happened just three days ago. She swore to never forget that face. Now, here he was again, but this time at her office. Her boss was introducing him to the whole department where she had worked for the last five years. He was to be working with the business for the next foreseeable future. As he greeted the department, he made direct eye contact with her as he smiled warmly. The damned electric currents were back yet again. They ran through her chest making it hard to focus as she tried brushing it off by looking down at her desk and taking a deep breath in. How could she not even meet his gaze as the rest of the office welcomed him so enthusiastically with ease? The rest of her co-workers were smitten (that much she could tell by the dreamy stares and sighs from the other women) and in definite awe of the newbie so she was sure the smile had not been directed directly to her. This was just ridiculous; the feelings in her chest and how he could just make her so “weak at the knees” and not to mention, flustered to not even be able to look him in the eyes. Throughout her life, she had never had this issue. As her father always told her, she must show her true strength by looking everyone straight in the eyes as she or they spoke. This man was making that very difficult already and he just started today. She wasn’t sure why she kept feeling this way deep within her being, nor had she ever experienced anything like this before in her life. A part of her was sure it was just a gut-feeling that one got when they met someone they knew was probably going to be nothing but trouble for them and just for everyone else in general. Maybe fate and her consciousness was trying to warn her to be weary of this particular new man, especially if he DID have the nerve to even try something with a very multi-talented person such as herself. Her father had made sure she knew how to handle herself very well with the numerous self-defense classes. Deep in her gut, she at least knew she had to be very careful of him; no matter what. It was late when she finally got to pack up her things to go home. With a promotion on the line, she had promised her boss to stay late to finish up the last of some important paperwork. A co-worker of hers was to leave soon, so to her delight, her boss had acknowledged her hard work and had offered it to her as long as she proved herself in the next coming months. It was dark and lonely out in the parking garage as she made her way to her car. As she walked, she felt her hair start to rise slowly as goosebumps rose up on the skin at the back of her neck. She peeped over her shoulder as she continued faster to see the very last person she wanted to see standing next to the elevators. He watched her as she was walking away and pulled a cigarette out. As he lit it, he smirked and leaned against the wall, watching her as she continued. She felt even more flustered and just focused on getting to her car quickly without any confrontation. Feeling her face turn red, she opened her car and got in swiftly. All she wanted was to get out of there from his predatory stare and dark dementor. As she started her car, she scolded herself to not look back at him because he was definitely not the last person she wanted to see tonight, especially with the previous sightings she had experienced with him already. She left the parking garage quickly. As she turned out of view, she peered in the rearview to see the dark figure turned towards her direction as if he knew she had to look just once more. For the rest of the night, she knew she would hate herself for it. The next morning showed the day to be a gloomy one, but this was not going to stop her from getting the much needed thing that she craved mentally. Her jogging. They had always seemed to help her clear her mind of all the mess she would gather in it from time to time. As she parked, she noticed another car off to the side. For a moment, she thought it to be abandoned because she knew this park well. It was her favorite due to how secluded it was early in the mornings and she never saw anyone else. Maybe it was the grounds keeper or perhaps it had been abandoned. She shrugged the thought of it off and stretched to loosen her limbs. The park was about a mile long with most of the running track going through the woods and by a small pond that had a lovely gazebo next to it. She grabbed her small bag and was off.

About halfway through, she came to the view of the small pond. She froze abruptly. Across the pond, on the other side, a dark figure walked slowly. Her heart throbbed as she realized who it was. How could this be? Yes, it was understanding of the second time being by pure coincidence, but this is the fourth time in the course of just a week that they were in the same spot at the exact same time. Now she knew he had to be following her. No, worse, stalking her somehow. How else would he have known she comes here out of all places? She sat down to catch her breath and think more clearly before jumping to conclusions she didn’t have evidence of. Wait. That remote car in the lot? He had to have gotten here first, so he couldn’t have followed her, she realized dumbly. Really, she didn’t even have a problem with him. Not that she could think of one. It was just that feeling. The same she was feeling now as he drew closer and closer. It felt as if lightning bolts were coursing through her body, making it hard to even breathe. Part of her felt this thrill from it. It made her feel something she had never felt, but also alien to her as she didn’t know what it could be nor why she was feeling it towards him. Now that she was thinking clearer, she knew she had to find out.

The stranger was now just a ways from her. He slowed to a stop as he saw her sitting there. He pulled an earbud out from his ear and half smiled. On the other hand, she was fixated on him. Maybe she was scowling or looking a bit too stern, but at this point, she didn’t care. She wanted answers. Her voice came out much shakier than she thought it would be, “What are you staring at?! Why is it that we keep ending up in the same place as one another? Is it just me to notice or?” He smiled as he looked down at his feet while taking his earbuds out. His voice came out cool and made her feel like butter as he spoke, “Honestly, I was thinking the same, but to answer your first question, I’ve come to the conclusion that you must be an angel or something to be this beautiful and smart.” “Excuse me?”, she scowled. “What are you trying to achieve by complimenting me?” He got closer and smirked at her, causing her heart to thump so loud she felt as if it was going to jump out her chest any moment. “Nothing really, but if it makes you smile then that’s worth something.” She scooted over to the end of the bench so he could sit on the other end. Her heart was pounding so loud now that she was sure he heard it as he sat down. Taking a deep breath, she replied calmly, “Hmm, yea compliments only get so far with me..especially coming from a complete stranger who happens to be everywhere I go nowadays. Are you sure you’re not following me?“ “Oh I wish I was. I just love to be alone when I jog and this happened to be the first suggested spot to try first. I saw no one so I decided to try it. If anything, you seem to be following me, miss.” He cracked a crooked smile and looked out at the pond. She shifted and sighed a sigh of relief. “Well judging by that sigh, you seem to have gotten a load off your back, but that is the least of your worries now.” He looked at her again, but his expression had immediately changed that caused her to her heart to sped up even more than it already was beating.

“Sorry, what was that you had just said?” She stood up and looked at him gravely. “Oh I am sure you heard me. I hate to see your pretty face look so scared, but I know who you really are and your real father has been looking for you for a long time. You made it difficult to track you, but I am the best at what I do and your father has paid me quite handsomely to find you and retrieve you to deliver you safely and sound back to him. He wants to raise you to take over his kingdom when he steps down, ya know. That’s quite something to just walk away from.” Her blood started to boil as she grimaced at him. Her guts had been right all along and now, everything her real father had tried to prevent from happening was now falling into place. “A kingdom full of drugs and blackmail? Yeah, no thanks. I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ve dealt with your kind hunting me my whole life and I’m not going to let someone like you to ruin what good I’ve worked for.” Instantaneously, she lunged towards him, pinning him to the ground. He struggled under her weight as she promptly stuck him with a syringe filled with a mysterious green liquid. His movements slowed as the drugs took effect instantly. When he will wake, like the rest who came for her, he won’t remember much of anything. His memory of her would be wiped clean, thanks to her father’s beautiful green concoction. Before his disappearance, he had left it to her as a gift along with the formula on how to make more of it.

Now she had to uproot her life yet again. Her blood father would never stop unless she exposed him or killed him. Neither of which sounded easy or pleasant. She would probably have to go dark again and get in touch with her father’s old friends. Yet she knew one thing as she left the dark stranger’s body in the woods as she made her way to her car, you can never hide from your past. "Well here we go again."


Julian has seen lots of things in his life, seen things that made others scratch their head. With a camera and hawk-like precision, he took pictures of these things, catching the infinite beauty tied with the landforms. Today, though, was a special place. Before him stood a landmark that no one could ever quite explain. Around him was a barren desert. On the trek to this place, his shoes hissed on the cracks of earth, little rocks spurring in his wake. Dust settled into small clouds on the surface, hiding his ankle and shoes in a dim mist. He could still hear and feel the earth beneath him, deprived of water and greenery. But the place that stood in front of him was the opposite of a desert devoid of life. It was a pond. Somewhat big, a perfect circle. The waters were shimmering blue, rolling waves like the silk of the dress of a fallen queen. The waves lapped to his feet, gently sloshing against his shoes. Even through the thick fabric, he could feel the bite of cold, like an icy kiss.

A pond in a desert. That might seem strange enough, but it wasn’t even the strangest part of the place. Sure, glistening waters in a dead zone were startling, but it was what stood in the middle of the pond that was the star, that had scientists grumbling and local folk whispering. Straight at the heart of the pond stood a tree. Its trunk was thick and sturdy. Julian thought that the color of the trunk was that of aged paper, like it was dipped in fine wine and left out to dry. Grooves ran up and down the length of the trunk. Some were black and wide, others were a dim white, almost as if the tree had battle scars. It ran the entire length of the tree before vanishing in the leaves and branches. `	But Julian’s breath caught when he looked at the leaves. He had focused his camera lens on those very leaves, shooting at multiple angles, but even with his expertise, his pictures did them no justice. The leaves were like cuts of emerald on diamond branches. They were aglow in the sun, veins running through them, beams of sunlight shining behind them, making them turn shades of orange and yellow. The branches were pure white, dazzling in the afternoon sun. They were thick and strong, reaching up to the sky, the clouds. The leaves rustled in the wind, making a whispering sound that sent chills down Julian’s neck. He didn’t care if people thought he was crazy for thinking this. But he fully believed, with all his heart, that this tree was alive. Of course, he passed middle school, so he knew all plants and animals were living beings. But that wasn’t the case with this tree. He believes that the tree has a conscious. As if it’s aware of everything around it.

The way the leaves rustled was as if it was whispering. The way the trunk stood was as if its back was straight, ready to face the world. The branches were like arms and hands and fingers, reaching towards him, reaching towards the sky. It’s as if the branches were praying, praying to the gods who listened. With this thought, Julian shivered and stepped back, his toes immediately warming without the constant lapping of the glass water.

The wind seemed to form a cocoon around him, trapping him so he could hear its murmurs. You are not crazy. You speak the truth. Julian’s mind just froze. And then the wind, the voice, all stopped. He just stood there, camera in shaking hands, as the wind left him alone. Whenever people visited this place, they never left with a sane mind. His own father had journeyed here to capture the pond and tree’s beauty, and when he came home, there was a crazy gleam in his eyes. “Jewels,” he had said, clinging to Julian’s shoulder. Julian had been nine at the time, and seeing his father like this set him on edge. “Those winds… the trees… they whisper, Jewels,” he mumbled, his voice slurred, as if he had drunk numerous bottles of wine. “They whisper ancient knowledge, all you have to do is listen.” Julian had tried to pry himself from his father’s grip, but he didn’t waver. His father just looked at his son, as if searching if Julian could listen to the whispers. “When you get older, promise me, Jewels. Promise that you will go there, and you will listen to the whispers. The wind… oh, their knowledge, their sayings,” he had said, drifting off into the living room, muttering to himself, swaying in place. Nine-year-old Julian had been terrified. Had vowed to himself that he shall never go to that ancient place in his father’s photos. But now he was here, standing in front of the waters, taking picture upon picture. He still wasn’t sure why he did it. You are doing it because of your father’s legacy. His last dying wish. Julian froze again. The winds spoke the truth. On his deathbed, Julian’s father had clasped his hand, looking at his son with murky eyes. “You will go to the ancient site. I have a map… in my room. Go, Jewels, go,” he had rasped.

After those words were uttered, his father turned his head and sighed, the air permanently leaving his body. As if Death had waited for those words, then whisked him away. We know Death. Cunning man, swift on his wings. He claims those who are old, those with illness. What is your thought, Julian Mare? “Stop,” Julian whispered, shaking. The water seemed to edge closer to his toes, though he was several feet from the shore. “Please, stop.” You are worried about becoming like your father. Interesting. Fine, we shall no longer bother you, Julian Mare. But know that with your father’s legacy, your lifeblood belongs to us. “What do you mean,” Julian said, his voice clipped. This was not a question, but rather a demand. Long ago, your first ancestors swore an oath to us, this tree, the waters. They said that every male in the family shall visit this site, and in return, we shall protect their life. Death can only claim them when they reach old age. Julian sank to the ground, his hands in his hair. He was going crazy, just like his father… Look at the water, Jewels. Go to the glass. And for some reason, the command struck into his soul. He found his hands pushing off of the ground, his feet lurching towards the waters. And with his torso leaning over the waters, he looked. And saw a spirit beside him. Julian didn’t move, couldn’t move. The spirit was made of wisps of smoke, like its whole body was a shadow. And Julian could make out the faint line of a smile. You are not going crazy, Julian. You are just seeing what every male before you saw. “Why did my father go insane after visiting this place?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the spirit. He could have sworn it grimaced. Your father went too far. He swam in the sacred and forbidden waters. As a punishment, we required his sanity. His debt was paid. And with that, Julian found his body walking backward, away from the waters that seemed to turn black. It was like the galaxy swirled around the tree. Just pure and endless black spotted with shades of red and purple and blue. Julian turned, facing oblivion, his ears ringing and mind whirling. And he felt a gentle nudge on the small of his back. As if a child’s hand pushed him away from the waters. Come back soon, the wind purred as Julian walked away. Away from this sacred place that held his life in their wispy hands.