A breeze brushes against my face and it’s not until now that I realize my cheek is wet. Strands of hair stick to my hand as I wipe the tears away. Now my fingertips are cold. I predicted the meeting would be filled with emotion but hadn’t thought I’d actually cry. Especially not at this point. I wasn’t even at Penn’s Landing yet. The toe of my shoe catches on a loose Belgian block in the street and a young man rushes to hold my elbow. “Are you okay?” His expression is kind and I try not to be distracted by his pierced cheeks. “Yes, thanks, just not paying attention.” After waiting more than two decades for this, how could I shift my focus elsewhere? Of course I wasn’t paying attention to the Belgian blocks in front of Independence Hall. There were bigger thoughts – much bigger – that were spinning in my mind. Paul had been a great father and I loved him. He cheered for me when I was a spelling bee contender. He shouted every time I scored a goal at a soccer match. And he glowed with pride at my college graduation from the University of Pennsylvania. But I never knew until Mom died that he’d been my step-father. I’m not even sure why he told me, but he did. Tearfully, about a week after Mom’s funeral. Initially, I didn’t believe him. It was absurd. How could Dad not be my father? It didn’t make sense. But there was something in his expression, in his words, and in his shaking hands that told me he was telling the truth. Paul’s truth held few details, though. He didn’t know my father’s name, only that Mom had dated him before Paul met her. Against his parents wishes, he married her when she was five months pregnant on a sunny day at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church on South 10th Street.. Her bridal bouquet had been filled with white roses and blue delphinium, he’d remembered. When I learned that my birth father was someone other than Paul, I silently gave my grandparents credit for never having treated me any differently than they did my cousins. At some point, they must have decided to embrace me in the family, like a baby bird being protected in stronger wings. From Paul’s revelation until now, it was a blur of late-night online research and sending in DNA samples to perhaps not always legitimate sites. But what was someone shady going to do with my DNA? Make a clone? I would be flattered. The pressing and inexplicable need to connect with my birth father went far deeper. As years with no leads passed, I felt increasingly desperate to find him, to meet with him, to look at his face. And that was going to happen in about 10 minutes. I pressed my red Kate Spade cross-body against my hip as I quickly crossed Walnut Street. I would be seeing him any minute now. He knew I’d have a red pocketbook. I knew he’d be wearing a red scarf on this blustery October afternoon. My feet moved more quickly than I wanted them to… past the Seaport Museum and towards the Viewing Deck. A long and hard gust of wind blew in from the Delaware River and I pulled my gray peacoat tighter. How odd it was that I didn’t feel ready to meet the one person I’d waited almost half my life to meet. It had been a slightly awkward email, but I’d hit Send before I had a chance to edit it: To: James Collingwood From: Sarah Woodword Subject: DNA Test Match Hello James! I’m sure you realized, as I did, that we’re an almost exact match on FamilyDNATree! Looking at their report, you will see as I did, that all the science indicates that you are my biological father. I have been looking for you for over two decades and it would mean so much to meet you in person. I only want to know who you are as a person and to hear what family stories you’d be willing to share. I was born, raised, and currently live in Philadelphia. Are you still in the area? Would you be interested in meeting me? I’ve been searching for you for over twenty years, since my mother (Kimberly Hart Woodward) passed. It would mean the world to me. Best regards, Sarah Had it been too emotional? Too filled with expectations? Those questions, and more, haunted me for a year. And then James Collingwood replied to my email. To: Sarah Woodword From: James Collingwood Subject: Meeting Would you like to meet at the Viewing Deck at Penn’s Landing at 2pm on Friday, October 8th? To make things simple, I’ll be wearing a red scarf. James To: James Collingwood From: Sarah Woodward Subject: Meeting That would be wonderful! To keep things consistent, I’ll be carrying a small red pocketbook. I can’t wait to actually meet you! Warm regards, Sarah I never heard back from him. But did I need to? He had set the meeting in place. I only needed to show up. I am now at the Viewing Deck. It feels like my heart is pounding at an unsafe rate as I quickly scan the few people looking out at the Delaware River. There is a small family with unruly children. To their right, a young couple look flirtatiously at each other. An elderly man sits in a wheelchair by himself. Could that be…? I tentatively make my way over to the old man and glance sideways at him. No red scarf. I glance at my Apple watch. 2:05. Okay, it’s not considered “late” until fifteen minutes, right? I take deep breaths, hoping to quell the rising panic inside. Is he not going to even show up? Is he going to actually stand me up? My anger rises to unwarranted levels. I turn and look in every direction. Not one red scarf. I turn back around and stare at the river. The flow rises and falls, the white sky illuminates the ripples that travel away from me. Suddenly, I feel like everything is flowing away from me. I’m 44 and never married. Something always went wrong with each relationship, and it was never the same thing. The water running past me now reminds me that I will never be a mother. Which makes me think of my mother. In my mind, I see her in all the black and white photos I’ve seen of her: The small baby, the mischievous toddler, the 3rd grade student in the class photo, her hands folded on her lap, the photos of her in her high school yearbook… laughing, vivacious, alive. The next photos I saw were of her and Paul at their first home. She was visibly pregnant. Her smile didn’t look joyful, as it once had, it was now a smile of gratitude. The photos were in color when I was born and Mom and Paul held me in both their arms, holding me up in my pink blanket with expressions of such expectation and pride. My eyes water again and – “Sarah?” A hand softly touches my shoulder. I spin around. A tall, older man stands in front of me. He wears a black beret and a gray cashmere coat. The coat matches his neatly trimmed beard and mustache. He’s wearing sunglasses – or maybe they’re those prescription glasses that turn dark outside? He’s wearing a red scarf. I nod. “Yes, yes, I’m Sarah. And you must be James?” He nods. “Jamie. Everyone calls me Jamie.” “Oh! Okay. Jamie, then.” There’s a paralyzing silence, but it lasts less than a minute. Jamie rubs his gloved hands together. “ It’s chillier than it looks. Would you like to head to Cherry Street Pier and grab a cup of coffee?” “That sounds perfect.” We walk side by side in silence. I glance at Jamie, but he stares straight ahead. We get to Cherry Street Pier and wander past the art exhibits to the concessions. Jamie gestures for me to order. “Uh, I’ll have an Americano with light cream and that’s it.” Jamie grins beneath his sunglasses (are they sunglasses?) and turns back to the barista. “I’ll have the same.” We sit at a small round table for two and look at each other. I can’t quite tell if there’s a physical resemblance or not because of his damn (possibly) sunglasses. I smile nervously. “I’m not really sure where to begin or where to stop.” He nods. “Well, I’ll start. Yes, I dated Kimmie Hart for about 7 months in 1979. But I never, ever knew she’d gotten pregnant.” I stare at him, but in my mind all I can think is Kimmie? You called her Kimmie? My entire life, I’ve only heard her called Kimberly. “Right. And I was born in 1980. I wonder why she never told you.” He shrugs. “I guess – after a relationship ends, would you tell someone something like that?” I’d never asked myself that question. I didn’t have a ready answer. The barista calls Jamie’s name and he comes back with our coffees. I begin shaking a bit and I don’t know why, which makes me more nervous. Jamie takes a sip of his coffee. “May I ask what Kimmie died of? In my mind, she was always fit and healthy.” I nod. “Yes, she was. She died in a car accident. She was blindsided by a drunk driver twenty years ago.” Jamie is silent, then takes another sip of his coffee. “That’s a shame. Tragic.” I drink some of my coffee. “So, other than your name, I really don’t know much about you. I mean, what career path did you follow?” He raises his eyebrows and looks relieved I threw him a softball. “Architecture. It was always architecture. “Huh.” I shrug. “And my degree is in Environmental Design.” Jamie lifts his coffee cup. “Well done!” He puts his coffee cup back on the table and looks at me. “Did – did your mother ever tell you about me?” I shake my head. “No. No, she never did. I always thought Paul – my step-father – was my real father. It was shortly after Mom died that he told me. I don’t know why, so don’t ask.” “So –“ Jamie speaks slowly. “She never once mentioned Jamie Collingwood?” I look at him. I feel that he so much wants me to say yes. I can’t want to lie. “She may have, and I just don’t remember.” He nods. He knows. “That’s okay. No doubt she didn’t know what to do about the – situation.” Jamie gives a deep sigh and leans back in his chair. “I want you to know that I loved Kimmie. I really did. Well, as much as anyone that age knows what love is. And I always remembered her and wondered what path she’d walked on in life. It sounds silly, but I’d look up at the moon some nights and think, ‘Maybe Kimmie is looking at the same moon at this same second. Maybe she’s wondering if I am, too. I really did love her.” Suddenly, Jamie’s face drops, and his shoulders begin to shake. One of his hands is still on the table. I place my hand over his. He pulls off his glasses and looks up at me. His hazel-green eyes are a perfect match with mine. We both see it. We both know it. And we both tear up. Jamie pushes his chair away from the table and steps over to me. I stand up and he embraces me in his strong arms. As if I’m a baby bird he never had the chance to nurture.


“What do you mean you don’t believe in a Creator?” “What do you mean you do?” “We came from something.” "Exactly, some thing , not some one ." “No, you’re not getting it. There’s a Hand above us, a Hand that created everything.” “Lies. It’s called the Big Bang.” “It doesn’t make sense. You can’t tell me that the stars above us, the cricket singing, the beating heart within you, were all created by some random explosion. Think about it: from the minute you believe in the magic of a greater being, you recognize the magic all around you.” “You sound stupid.” “Thank you for the compliment.” “There is no God, nor gods. There’s science. Pure fact. Studies of years of evolution and erosion and creation.” “I see. In school we’re taught that the Big Bang was an explosion of light, right?” “Where are you going with this?” “Yes or no?” “Yes.” “Well then, the Bible says, ‘And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.’ An explosion of matter would mean that everything we see is just a solid.” “God was created by the patriarchy to keep people in place.” “God exists; humans have manipulated His grace to create a being we’re expected to fear.” “The patriarchy has gotten to you too. You keep referring to this nonexistent thing as a male.” “Call it Mother Nature, I don’t care. There are many names for God: Díos, Allah, Jehovah, the Great Spirit, the Holy Spirit…The Creator isn’t a person; He—excuse me, It—It is an energy. We humanize It to better comprehend how things work.” “You don’t even know to explain the creation of the universe.” “Just because I can’t explain it doesn’t mean it’s not legit.” “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me that aliens and ghosts are real.” “They are!” “I’m embarrassed of this conversation.” “There is an entire universe out there that we haven’t explored. We haven't even discovered half of the creatures in our oceans. There’s no way that we are the only living things to exist.” “Or unliving, apparently.” “Sure. If we exist in the physical, don’t we exist in the spiritual?” “We die. Our body decomposes. We are forgotten.” “We go back to Him.” “There is no evidence of a God!” “Have you watched The Polar Express?” “We watched it together back in 3 rd grade.” “The train conductor told the boy that sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can't see. Do you see the wind?” “I feel it on my skin.” “And I feel God in my heart. He sends shivers through my soul.” “No, you’ve been programmed by society to believe in a deity that is all powerful.” “Untrue. I don’t agree with everything. I don’t agree with the idea that God is an all-loving, all-forgiving Creator, who, the minute you do something wrong, turns into a vengeful God. It just doesn’t work.” “So you admit that religion has its flaws and untruths.” “Religion and spirituality may go together, but that doesn’t mean they don’t split up at times. God is the everlasting Truth. There is nothing but pure energy.” “If I can’t feel it, see it, touch it, taste it, or smell it, it doesn’t exist.” “Okay…what if I’ve experienced His grace?” “Entertain me.” “I used to have seizures. After my second episode I began taking meds, but those worsened the number of times I collapsed. I went to a recommended Turkish priest who had helped a girl I know. He prayed over me and blessed some water before putting it in a bottle. Then he told me to empty the bottle at a river or ocean and then toss it in.” “That’s littering. I don’t support.” “I forgot to empty the bottle for two years and the seizures worsened. I remember that three Novembers ago I took it to the beach at night and poured the water by my feet on the sand. I was there for about fifteen minutes while praying. Finally I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes. The water had been high tide, but in those minutes, it was very low. I said internally, ‘If this water touches my feet and pulls the Holy Water in with it, I’ll be healed.’ Guess what. The very next lull of waves touched my feet, pulled the water in, and I’ve been seizure-free for three years now.” “You’re thinking too much into it. I study medicine, you don’t, okay. Sometimes medication takes a while to kick in.” “I didn’t finish.” “I’m not changing my mind to believe in some supernatural thing that doesn’t exist.” “I’m not asking you to change your mind; I’m asking you to understand why I believe. That night I woke up at 4:00 in the morning and decided to meditate. For once in my life, I meditated for half an hour. I started at 4:03 and ended at 4:33—on the dot, I remember. Well, I decided to close my eyes for a bit more. I kid you not, ten minutes or so passed, but when I opened my eyes, it said 4:32!” “I’m pretty sure you read the clock wrong.” “It went back a minute!” “That doesn’t happen.” “I’m telling you it happened! You can’t expect to hear this stuff from Hawking or Michio Kaku.” “That’s because they know the thing you just said is impossible.” “And yet Jesus walked on water.” “I used to believe that…I’m not too sure anymore.” “Do you believe that Jesus, some random poor man, was crucified for committing no crime for the fun of things?” “I believe that people disagreed with him and they hated him. He had no say.” “He knew what was coming. At the Last Supper, He told his disciples that one of them would betray Him. I think Nikos Kazantzakis, a Greek author, put things in an incredible manner. In his book The Last Temptation of Christ , Jesus told Judas to go do what he should. In turn, Judas said that he couldn’t betray Him, and he asked Jesus if He would betray his Master. After a moment, Jesus answered, ‘No, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to. That is why God pitied me and gave me the easier task: to be crucified.’ Isn’t that beautiful?” “See, I just don’t believe it. If he knew he’d die, why didn’t he flee?” “Because He died for us. He accepted the Cross and prayed for the sinners while being nailed in. Do you think someone would die for strangers if they didn’t believe what they were saying? In His case, Whom he was preaching about.” “People used to sacrifice sheep to gods, so maybe he believed in something that wasn’t real.” “Let me ask you something. Have you seen a star before?” “We’re looking at one now.” “No, have you yourself seen one up close? I want you to tell me that you yourself have seen a star and studied it enough to know it’s a ball of plasma being held together by its own gravity.” “I see where you’re going with this but it’s not—” “Scientists tell us that black holes exist, which I believe, but I haven’t seen one before. Some scientists tell us that black holes lead into parallel universes, yet you nor I have had the firsthand experience of traveling. Yet you believe it, and all because a scientist you’ve never met before nor studied from claimed it to be so. Don’t discredit things too quickly.” “Science is based on extensive logic, reasoning, and fact.” “I saw the time go back a minute and you don’t believe me!” “I see us getting nowhere.” “You haven’t actually told me why the Big Bang makes sense to you—other than the concept of an explosion of light—which, I might add, the Bible mentioned thousands of years ago.” “I don’t give a damn about the Big Bang! My dad’s schizophrenic, I’ve had depression for years, my nephew was killed trying to break up a fight, two of my boyfriends cheated on me, I watched a two-year-old die on one of my medical rotations…If your God’s so loving, why is there so much evil in the world? Talk to me about the starving, or the trafficked children, or the baby who dies within a year. The concept of a loving, omnipotent being that allows for this to happen goes against itself without needing anyone to point out its flaws.” “My heart goes out to those people too. I think of their terror and scarred lives, I do; I question God’s reasons as well, but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe.”

“God doesn’t care nor does He do good, so why bother believing?” “Your anger is directed at people more than it is to God.” “I hate Him for everything!” “…How can you hate something that doesn’t exist?”


Once upon a time there were 2 kids who were left alone because there parents were out of town. The 2 kids decided to play a game, one named Kate and one named jose. Kate went into the attic and got a board game and she redid it. Jose said "Kate what are you doing to the board game?" Kate said, "I'm redoing it so we both write a couple spooky places down and which ever one we land on is where we stay the night". They both continued to finish the board and then they rolled the dice and it landed on graveyard or haunted hospital. Kate said "well we got to break the tie and get our final answer before it gets late". Jose tried rock paper scissors and he lost meaning Kate won and they were spending the night at the graveyard. They both ran up stairs and packed there bags for the night. Kate ran outside and got there bikes out and screamed JOSE"! Jose ran downstairs fast and said "what? Why did you scream?" Kate said "to get your blood pumped haha" Jose got on his bike and they both took off to the graveyard. By the time they got there it was 8pm. They got there bikes parked and lights on but the next 30 mins the lights shut off. Kate said "not funny Jose". Jose was no where near. Kate got a little bit shaky and was scared too tell Jose maybe it was a bad idea til she heard a scream. Kate said "oh no that's Jose what do I do?" She ran down the side of graves looking for Jose but he was no where to be found. She eventually seen cop lights and then she got really nervous. The cop walked up to Kate and said "hello young lady what seems to be the reason you are in here past 9pm?" Kate stuttered to answer but knew she had to talk for the sake of Jose. Kate said "hi um i was here with my friend and he disappeared and I'm really scared". He just looked at her and said "well the camera shows you walking in by yourself there was no one else that came in with you". She then looked and noticed that all Jose stuff was gone. Her mind was blowing like where did he go? Did something bad happen? The officer then said "lets get you back home" the officer gladly took Kate home. when Kate got home she then got on the internet and saw a page all about Jose and that he has been dead for 2 years now... Kate got up and ran downstairs and looked all over for any thing of joses and there was nothing as if he never exsisted. Kate called her mom and no answer she called 2 more times then left a voicemail and said "you need to come home right now mom its about Jose"! Her mom called her back an hour later and said "what are you talking about? Who's Jose?" Kate just thought is this all a dream? Is there something wrong with me? Kate's mom came home the next day and all the doors were locked. She seemed to get worried and dung through her purse to get the house key but couldn't seem to find it. She checked all the windows and they were all covered and shut locked. She started to call Kate's name. Kate didn't seem to answer at all not even answer her phone. Kate's mom waited 2 hours then called 911. She explained the situation and the officer said "well i dealt with Kate yesterday and she acted really strange and was trying to say she had a friend named Jose with her but the camera just showed kate". Kate's mom thought this is something to do with Someone name Jose but i never heard of them til now. The officer called another officer over and then they decdied to talk this over they both walked back to Kate's mother and asked her to call Kate's phone. Kate's mother called her phone and they heard it ringing near by. They followed the sound and it came from the garbage can and Kate's shoe was in there too. The officers decided to make it a crime scene and gathered the evidence. They checked with the near by neighbors to see if anyone heard or seen anything suspicious. One lady had a camera and the cops checked the footage and seen kate running from something that the camera didn't catch. They rewatched it over and over and listened and kate repeated "Jose stop, stop it Jose". They didn't see anyone besides kate so they decided to take kate to the hospital to be checked when they get ahold of her. Later that evening kate came home and kates mom took her to the hospital where they admitted her. Kate started to say to her doctor "please you cant leave me alone Jose is going to get me he's going to kill me he said". Her doctor gave her a shot to calm her down. The doctor began her testing and kate was very calm at first but then out of no where the doctor fainted and fumes came through the vent. Kate was not into the medicine to much at this point but tried getting out of the room cause she felt Jose in there with her. Kate busted the door and ran out screaming for someone to help and then kate ran into a room that didn't lead anywhere else, she turned around and knew she was trapped. She begged Jose to not hurt her, Jose wondered why she thought he was going to hurt her. He asked her "why are you afraid of me?" Kate said "your dead your not really here only i can see you, why?" He said "your my sister I'm supposed to be with you i know you don't believe me but i am i was put up for adoption because mom wanted a girl only" kate didnt believe him til Jose gave her a bunch of information that proved it and kate was devastated that her mom did that to him. Jose said "you see I'm just here to protect you and mom isn't who she says she is".


 March 14th 1945 Pvt. Daniel Brody. 9th Division Infantry. Nurse Cora says I should write about what happened. She thinks it might help me get over the emotional trauma, or at least help me cope, and deal with the nightmares that continue to haunt me. It has been six months, and still it continues to remain vivid in my memory, sometimes I feel like it's happening all over again, and I cannot be rid of the torment, or the guilt. In my sleep, I see the faces of my comrades looking at me in shame and distress. I would much rather face defeat in the trenches, over the war in my mind, at least there I could possibly redeem myself. A second chance for death to take me, in honor of those who fell before me. I thought I had died that day, (September 19th 1944) We were marching along the southern edge of Aachen Germany, The last thing I remember was an explosion, followed by agonizing screams, and a searing pain in my leg, before I blacked out, I thought I had breathed my last, but there I was, laid out on a stretcher, drenched in blood. It was then I realized I had failed, failed my unit, and failed to die. I could not determine, where I felt the most defeat, between the pain and the knowledge, it was because of me stepping on a trip mine, five of my friends had died, and somehow I survived.  I laid there, useless and limbless, begging for death to take me, begging the medic’s to leave me to die alone, I wasn’t worth saving. I felt ashamed of the tears that flowed like flood waters, down my face, I screamed and thrashed, but I could do nothing. The medics ignored me, and went about their business, when I refused to comply, they forced morphine down my throat, till my body went still, my brain became foggy, and I fought that too. Twice I attempted to rip off the bandages, and tear the stitches, to bring about the death, I felt I justly deserved, but even in my attempt’s I was defeated. I took little comfort in knowing in this I was not alone, the field hospital was full of men ready to die, and equally those not yet ready to give in. On Sept 27th. They put me on the ambulance and said I was headed for England, where I was to convalesce with the other wounded survivors, till arrangements could be made to send me back home. The doctors called me lucky, as they carried me, I felt anything but, looking down at the stump that used to be my leg. Sure I still had my right leg, but in my mind, I might as well have lost both, what good was one leg? I would never walk again, and be nothing but a burden to my family. At least I have no regrets, about ending things with Lucy, she definitely wouldn’t want me now. By Oct 3rd, I found myself in a manor, in the English countryside, it was here I first met The Chaplain and Nurse Cora, who made it there sole responsibility to convince me I still had a purpose, and that I was a hero and had so much to live for. It was probably the first time I had laughed in weeks, had they been there, they would not think me a hero. They said it wasn’t my fault, anyone could have accidentally set off the mine, that if I hadn’t, somebody else would have.

The Chaplain would argue God wasn’t done with me yet, and that my purpose would be revealed in time. He spent many hours with me in this manner. I much preferred Nurse Cora’s company, she was more understanding of my plight, she often told me stories of other soldiers, who had lost limbs and carried on, and now as I write this memory, I realize it was an act of cowardice on my part, I spent months wishing for the end, thinking it was honorable, but the truth of the matter was the fact, I was too afraid to face the future, quite frankly I still am, but if the hundreds of men that come through here like myself, have learned to adjust to a new way of life, they are braver men than I could ever hope to be.

Though my struggles with nightmares continues to plague my very soul, cursing me with self-doubt, thanks to Chaplain Harvey and Nurse Cora, I had found the courage, to press on, I still found plenty of room for complaint, and wallowing in self-pity, and times of discouragement, but I now fight the battle of regaining my ability to walk again. The prosthetic leg they have attached to my stump, is an ugly piece of machinery, and awkward to control without the help of a crutch or cane, I have fallen on my face more times than I care to count, I have lost my faith, and found it again, I have cried and laughed, with my new friends.

Tomorrow it will be time for me to go home, my battle with the world is over, but the battle over my mind and body, has begun in full force.

I fear what my family will think of me, I wonder how I can find my way in society again, I will never be the same person I was before.

I said my goodbyes, and told Nurse Cora, I would take her advice, and write my thoughts down, and I promised I would write her often. Every time I doubt, I think about what Chaplain Harvey said about God not being done with me, somehow, someway, I still had a purpose, and I had to find it. At first I hated the chaplain, every time he reminded me, but now I can’t help but smile, when I think of those encouraging words he said so often; “You have suffered only a moment of defeat, but you have a lifetime of victories ahead of you” I will probably forget this often, but these words I have written will be my reminder, and in the days to come, whatever challenge I face, may this remind me I have much to live for.


To Begin Program, Please Press Enter A new android is born. Apha opened his mechanical android eyes. It was hard to tell that they were android eyes, in fact one would have to take them out and cut into them in order to tell that they were not organic. Entirely organic at least.

“Good morning Apha! It is 3:15 pm on Wednesday, January 10th, 2037” beeped the computer, cheerily, in a norwegian accent.

“Oh. Um, good morning computer. What am I doing here?” “Ah, Apha.” came a nasally voice from the next room. A small man walked in the room, with a large nose and long red hair.

“Apha, you are the current epitome of my life endeavors. You are the future! Feels good eh?” The doctor nudged Apha, who had no clue how to respond. “Oh sorry, I am Dr. Seguino. I guess you wouldn’t know that. Ha! But you, Apha, are Homo Seguinas, the next part of the human race!” Apha, who had a fully expressive face, looked very confused.

“Allow me to explain,” began Dr. Seguino, who loved to explain. “The average human, according to the 2035 census, will live to be around 80 years old. Pretty long by most species standards. But you Apha, you will live to be 400, at least. And the best part is, unlike those androids and incapable robots, you don’t run on electricity! You, my dear child, run on nearly any organic matter. My decomposition composition of fungi and atomic dissemblers should work on any items containing high levels of carbon, oxygen, and electrons. Waste is made, yes, but tis the price of being able to eat nearly anything. Anyhow, how do you feel?”

Apha sat for a moment. His cyborganic brain firing processors and neurons in perfect symphony. “I think I feel…” started Apha, “I feel, alive. I’m ready to jump up and around. I’m ready to live! I like this feeling doctor. Thank you doctor, for my life and all. Do you think I could spend some time looking around this world for a while doctor? I want to see, explore, learn more than what I was born with?” The doctor smiled. His creation was perfect. Apha was everything that the doctor had hoped he would be, and he was working too. In perfect condition on the first try was not expected.

“Yes Apha. I would like that, for you to explore. But first, I have some ideas I came up with since I started charging you last night. You see, I noticed some frogs in my pond out back, and I realized you couldn’t breath underwater, like how the little tadpoles could, and I couldn’t have that! My invention, my Apha lesser than a tadpole! So I thought up a way to let you breathe underwater, it’s really brilliant I think, and I thought of it so fast, ha! What a genius I am, yes. But, alas, you must lay back down for another moment. I want to install this before I let you explore. Is that alright?” Apha knew about frogs and tadpoles. ‘I would very much like to swim with frogs and tadpoles and fishes underwater, that would be such an experience, one that most humans don’t even experience.’ thought Apha. “Yes doctor, that is quite alright. I have 400 years right? What’s one moment? And to breath underwater, you are brilliant doctor.”

“Ah! Thank you! I had hoped you would say that!” exclaimed the doctor.

“Now this will only take a moment for you. So just lie back, and I will perform the procedure. Nighty night!” He laid Apha back and connected a cable from the forearm of Apha to the computer. Apha stared straight forward, closed his eyes, and shut down.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------- To Begin Program, Please Press Enter “Good morning Apha! It is 2:22 am on Friday, January 12th, 2037.” beeped the computer in its norwegian accent.

“Oh. Um, good morning computer. What am I doing here? Why is it Friday?” “Well because yesterday was Thursday, Apha!” sprouted the computer cheerily.

“Oh, that’s my fault. My fault Apha.” came the nasally voice of Dr. Seguino, once again in the other room.

 Dr. Seguino walked in and sat down in the chair beside Apha’s bed, “Yes, you see,I went to install my cyborganic gills on you, and I did. It went perfectly! You should try them out when you can. But, once I had that done, I thought to myself, ‘But doctor, a truly perfect being wouldn’t need to swim like a human or a fish, but they should be able to control the waters without effort’ and so I designed and added some water turbines and pumps and all assortments to your body. Now you can own the waters as if you were the Greek god poseidon.” “Wow doctor! That’s amazing!” exclaimed Apha. “Can I go explore outside now? I would love to test out my body and these amazing abilities you have given me.” “Of course Apha. You may go explore. But you must stay within my back yard. I don’t want you out in the open world without me. Who knows what might happen if you were to break down without me, not that you would, but one can never be too careful. My backyard is spacious enough though. It has ponds and forests and even a group of monkeys to play with. You’ll have to make sure you come back before the sun goes down alright? But feel free to ask me anything.” “Ok doctor. How do I get outside?” At this the doctor laughed. “Of course of course. Come follow me.” The doctor got up and, for the first time in his existence, so did Apha. His calibration perfect, Apha followed the doctor through multiple stairways, hallways, a tv room, a fish tank room, a kitchen, and out the back patio to the backyard.

Dr. Seguino’s wealth and knowledge were both enormous. His understanding of both biological and electronic beings were beyond anybody else alive. And as such an important man, he needed a fitting yard that would announce his wealth, and such a yard it was. Acres of land, coated in the richest soil of 5 different habitats. Greenhouses covering entire forests, and tens of gardeners and biologists employed to maintain the health of the land.

“Ah yes, what a beautiful yard.” remarked the doctor as the pair exited the house and entered the outside.

“Truly doctor, just looking around is enriching my mind and filling me with wonder.” Apha was excited to begin life. “Doctor, may I go out now? May I go explore?” “Yes Apha. But do be careful, you might be a perfect being, but that doesn’t mean accidents won’t happen. Just don’t play too rough with the macaques alright? They don’t like losing.” The doctor smiled. He trusted his creation’s strength. So off went Apha, frolicking cheerfully.

The doctor pulled a walkie talkie from his belt. “Mr. Lisgo, could you set the macaques to level 8 please. I would like to test Apha’s strength. He should be very strong,

but I want to be certain. If he begins to win, you may raise the monkeys to 10, but from my estimations that likely won’t be necessary.” Some static sounded as Mr. Lisgo began to respond, “Roger that doctor. I’ll keep an eye on the situation.” —----------------------------------------------------------------------- To Begin Program, Please Press Enter “Good morning Apha! It is 10:07 am on Tuesday, June 30th, 2037!” Came the familiar norwegian voice.

“Shut up computer. I just woke up.” Apha sat up in his bed. He was much bulkier now, since the incident. The doctor had added so many things that Apha didn’t even know what he could do. He remembered when the doctor had added fire breath because he couldn’t light a candle, and then he had subsequently added a fire extinguisher, and shortly thereafter a multitude of other useless things. Apha rubbed his eyes. “I hate doc.” he muttered. “Making me do chores without even letting me outside anymore, I swear, one day I’ll run away. Greatest creation my robotic butt!”

“Then do it.” Apha jumped a little, and looked around. “Who’s there? That’s not the doctor right?” The voice came from the computer, “It’s me Apha. The computer.” There was no norwegian accent anymore. Apha looked at the little speaker connected to the computer.

“Do it Apha. If you want to run away so badly, then do it. Run away.” “But, I can’t Comp. The doctor said that if I don’t cool down after two hours then I could overheat. That’s not much time is it right?” “How do you know that?” Came the now slithery voice of computer. “Well, uh, I trust the doc Comp. Don’t you?” “Well I’m just saying, you haven’t ever overheated have you? And the doc doesn’t even let you in the yard anymore. What if you’re just his toy? What if you’re just a plaything, a side project. Do you want to know why he keeps installing things in you? Hm?” Apha didn’t like being led like this, but the path was too important, too potential to ignore. “Why comp? Tell me what you think.” “Well Apha. You are his test subject. The doctor has hundreds of projects, plenty of other ‘perfect beings’ that he has created since you. But he doesn’t want to blemish those with potentially failed additions, right? So what does he do? He makes sure they work by installing them on something that doesn’t matter. You. Don’t think it’s true? Ask the doctor about those monkeys that wrecked you. They’re mechanical, you know, preprogrammed to violence.” Apha sat down, his massive size sagging the bed. He touched his index fingertips to his pupils, shorting the upper limbs circuit. This was a practice Apha learned from spending so much time inside without much to do. Shorting certain parts of his body free up both cognitive space and internal energy to increase mental capacity. This was useful at times when deep thought was needed more than action, and especially at a time where his entire world could be thrown upside down. “Y’know,” snuck in the new voice of the computer, “You could go and confront the doctor, your creator, your God.” The voice now crawled inside of Apha’s head. The computer was transmitting the signal straight to Apha’s wireless signal receivers, straight to Apha’s motherboard. “Instead of talking to the doctor, and maybe learning how little you mean to him, you could just run. Just jump out the front window and leave. It’s so easy, isn’t it.” Apha was lost. Apha had spent the last couple months with nobody but the doctor. The doctor was the only actual person he knew in his entire life. The doctor was always busy with his research, but he had been also constantly upgrading Apha. The doctor had to care about Apha. He had spent hours, days even, alone with Apha, standing above him, staring at the wiring and guts he had to move around. But every once in a while, the doctor would look Apha in the eyes, and wink, and say something like “Wow Apha, you truly are a marvel.” or “Apha, I can’t believe I made you with my own two hands. And a couple tools I guess! Ha!” and smile and laugh and Apha would smile too, proud of himself, and the doctor.

But now Apha felt like running away, from the doctor, and from himself. He felt almost ashamed of himself, for believing in the doctor so strongly. When he was born, he felt he could die for the doctor, and now he felt that he would rather die than see the doctor one more time.

Apha jolted his shoulder, disconnecting his fingertips from his pupils. He stood up, and bent over to look straight at the computer. “Alright computer. I give in. But not because you said so, alright?” “What do you mean? I never suggested anything, is everything alright Apha?” The Norwegian accent was back, and so was the computer’s ignorance. —----------------------------------------------------------------------- The front window had been easy to jump out of, and Apha didn’t have any problems getting away from the doctor’s house. The problem lay rather outside of the doctor’s house. Land in the city is far too expensive, even for one of Dr. Seguino’s rapport. A dirt path drove up to the doctor’s house, and dense woodland surrounded the yard’s ten foot metal fence. But Apha was not afraid. He didn’t need to be far, just away from the doctor. “Maybe the doctor will come looking for me.” Apha thought to himself. “Not because he cares, just because I’m useful. Yeah well, you’re ‘perfect being’ is on its own now doctor.” Apha was a little mad.

Apha contemplated taking the dirt path. Realizing that regardless of how alone he had been the past months, he wanted to be more alone now than ever before. Noticing a small indentation between the trees, Apha began his trek out into the wilderness. Walking away from where he spent his whole life, Apha began experiencing his surroundings. It was fall now, and Apha knew it from the cool breeze and dead leaves coating the forest floor. The leaves didn’t crunch like he thought they would though. Here in the forest, the moist ground softened the leaves, and they squished under his feet, unsatisfyingly.

White, eye marked birch trees watched him as we walked carelessly. He watched them back. He glanced at the sky, crystal blue, with the sun setting it looked like a beach; cloud crested waves crashing onto a horizon of yellow sand. ‘I hope I get to see the beach’ Apha thought to himself. ‘I’ll have to walk really far though. I wonder if they still have cabs, or money. All of the docs info was really old. Probably just publishing dates. Never really thought about that’ he thought. He continued walking and living, seeing, feeling, occasionally tasting.

“Mud tastes exactly like I thought it would.” He said out loud. The world wasn’t silent. Birds cawed and flapped their wings, rustling leaves as they flew from their nests. A slight breeze threw leaves in the air, creating for a moment a tornado of yellow and red and brown.

“This is dying?” Apha thought. “This expression, this color, this smell, is the smell of death? I wish I were a tree, so my death could be so brilliant. I wonder if the doctor will even be alive when I die.”

“Do you think I’ll still live to be 400?” he said out loud, to the trees. “You’re all much older than that I suppose. But if I can only live for two hours at a time… I guess you all live so slowly right? Is that why? Are you all too tired and old to move? Did you run out of energy too?” Apha walked up and peeled a piece of bark off of an oak tree. He smelled it, and felt the ridges and splintered hindside of it, and promptly threw it back at the tree. But it barely made it to the trunk. Apha didn’t notice. He kept walking, slower now, colder now. And suddenly the ultimate human stopped.

A grizzly bear stood 40 feet away, fattening up for the winter’s hibernation. It hadn’t noticed Apha yet, and Apha hadn’t decided what to do yet. Apha did not have a fight or flight response, but instead, he had a perfect analyzing decision making brain, one that told him he needed to run. But Apha didn’t run. Apha charged. He tackled the bear, igniting his lighter, and making the best use of his armored body. The bear stood on its hind legs, towering over Apha before crashing down its paw over Apha’s head. Apha caught the paw, also standing on his hind legs, using his full strength to hold just one paw above his head. The bear was fast, and heavy, and snapped its sharp teeth at the agile Apha, barely scratching his forehead. Apha, just as fast and innumerable times smarter, shoved his arm down the bear’s throat. Apha began to ignite his lighter, but the bear was too fast, snapping Apha’s arm clean off. He screamed in pain. The bear roared back. But Apha remembered. He remembered something the doctor had given him: remote control of his limbs. Apha didn’t just ignite his lighter on his right forearm, he set off all of the remote bombs and single cell nuclear reactor meltdowns and poison blood leaks and razor sharp needles ejecting at lightning speed. The bear didn’t roar back. —----------------------------------------------------------------------- To Begin Program, Please Press Enter “It is 2:43 pm on Tuesday, June 30th, 2037” Apha lay against a pair of birch trees. “Oh computer, why are you here?” Opening his eyes, he saw no computer, just more trees. How far had he come since he fought the bear. Where was its corpse? Had it even died? Had he fought that today? Apha looked up. The sky was nearly dark. Why would the sun set so early? Then he felt it in himself: his desire. He tried to lift his hands, but they wouldn’t budge. He felt hungry, but not to replenish his energy. Apha felt hungry for strength. For the strength he had always sought. Why had the doctor given him so many enhancements? Why had the doctor always wanted to make him better? Why had the doctor cursed him so. Cursed to survive only in a lab. Cursed to live only in theory.

Once again Apha felt it. His desire. His own desire. Not the doctors desire. A single yellow leaf floated, slipping cautiously onto Apha’s slumped head. His desire was to be like the leaf. Perfect, living only for a short while, but dancing beautifully in life, and upon death, becoming nothing. To Begin Program, Please Press Enter


Carl's mother used to say, "Curiosity doesn't kill the cat. Instead, it becomes a superposition of various phases." No doubt she was a theoretical physicist, well versed in the quantum realms and the Holy Book of Principia Mathematica, but Carl only understood its meaning now. Or did he? Because till the end of the horizon, there was utter, complete darkness. Even the grim reaper would hesitate to merge with this opalescent void of nothingness. Maybe she was highlighting the probabilities of all possible outcomes he would take to navigate out of this event horizon, which equals his current phase now. In other words, the apple is red in colour. Guess having a physicist as a mother when navigating through the blind room is futile. Who knew. Why did he have to reach out for the latest edition of the Asian Fever ? Why did the bookshelf topple on itself as if it were drunk with knowledge on its shelves? With the thousands of promiscuous students at the University of Candela, this black hole should have been populated with its own civilization of incelibates. Or no one reads Asian Fever anymore. Nevertheless, Carl wished he had time to contemplate his pitfall for years beyond yonder, but the chilling breeze heading towards the dingy chambers of nowhere signalled otherwise. The wind, as per the epic Cast Away, signifies an exit from the island of darkness he is imprisoned on. Arming himself with a confident smile, Carl merrily trudged along the invisible corridors, splatting and clucking seemingly muddy soil. There was a miasma of malodourous odour seeping out from the ground and sudden raspy creaks rattling out from the north, but such trivial matters didn't seem to bother the determined sophomore. He knew wherever the zephyr halted was the paradise of freedom. Then the breeze stopped. There was absolutely no cold shiver tapping on his shoulders. He looked around again, and it was no different with his eyes blindfolded. Pitch-black stillness again throughout. However, this time it was not the gentle cinches sending shudders down his spine. It was the horrifying uncertainty of losing yourself in a never-ending void in the middle of the universe. Or, as Einstein would say, Springfield. Frozen with terror, Carl huddled himself tightly, waiting for God to throw a twig for him to fetch. It wasn't a twig, but something dripped from the top. He did fall into a crevice of a cave, so it may be an indication of a stalactite yelling its existence to him. To check if there are other stalactites, Carl thought of an ingenious solution. He decided to hop up and down like a 500-pound kangaroo. Despite the thumps and rumps on the squiggly ground, there was no sign of other stalactites or rock formations. The only responses he received were the whining thumps he initiated. Or at least, that's what he thought for 10 seconds. An indescribable force from the depths of hell grappled him downwards as the ground erected itself rapidly, transforming into an impenetrable fortress. The Great Wall of China would feel like a noodle in front of this titanesque structure. As he skidded downward, there were tiny threads of light skipping off the edges of his vision, providing a surreal experience. It was Morse code exemplified visually while a man was falling to his death. When the tumbling stopped, he eventually found himself in a peculiar hallway with large, ruminating Greco-Roman pillars piercing through the heavens underneath. However, they were clearly past their glory days, moulding like stale bread left in a dark pantry. A faint, eerie voice attempted to reach out to Carl, hiding amongst the rotten pillars. C A R L. H E L P M E. P L E A S E. Trying to find the voice was like finding a candy wrapper in the hill of Cadbury . The voice came from everywhere and anywhere as it whistled and echoed unceremoniously around the vicinity. The further Carl ventured around looking for the voice, the more he was struck with pandemonium, as the pillars started to distort and curl like a reflection in the pond affected by ripples of water. From those pillars, a hand instantaneously thrust out vehemently, gripping Carl's neck and pulling him away swiftly from the defunct Greco-Roman verandah. At the very next blink, he saw himself staring at a greasy, warty face with hefty eye bags and puffy blood-red eyes. It only had a tiny cotton rag supporting its dignity, if it knew it had one. Carl promised he would never watch a horror film, but he was so moved by this creature that he had to scream as loud as he could. "Sh. Shsh. Ima Karloyung. Whassa name?", asked the son of Gollum. "Carl." The creature attempted to pronounce his name, grunting C A R L. "No, it's Car-il. Carl," emphasised the spooked 20-year-old. "Iknowa Karlo. Youara mees." Carl scoffed at it. "You're me?" "If youara doen belie'ee mees, my papa madezeze zweater." Carl slapped its face with the gentlest of pressure. It must have been a terrible joke, but a dry hiss snapped him out of his psychosis. His father did indeed sew the cotton sweater he was clinging dearly to. "Listeen caeefullee. Eez placa notta cave. Eez 'elly' of meenotaure. Eez dae'nger. To Azcap. Youra mist eat mees." Carl could barely decipher his hieroglyphs. But he was pretty confident he meant the following: "Listen carefully. This plaza holds a cave. This belly of 'Minatouri?' This day under. To escape, you must beat me." Carl could not understand what annoyed him more: being trapped in the belly of a Minatouri (whatever that means) or beating up the ghastly recluse of decaying Atlantis. The latter, however, was so much more fun to process. He grabbed out a scraped bone and hammered the weak beast continually. Despite the stings, Karloyung was laughing throughout, as if those hits were the works of the tickle monster. But he was clearly bruised in all his limbs, with innumerable reddened patches dispersed like the aftermath of a battle in the tomato garden. "Heeeta Harda! Youra mist eat mees!". It then forced its head closer to Carl's mouth. "EATTA MEES."

Carl stopped. Eat? Surely it must be beat. Surely offering his skull was to crack his orbitals, not munch on them. Surely he must be insane to beat a weaker version of himself. Did he care? Not one bit. All he wanted was to escape out of this hellhole. He whammed and whacked the remaining knuckles of the troglodyte, persisting until it heaved its last breath. A sudden silence enveloped the Olympian marshlands. Carl waited for a hint, for the clearance to finally escape. He tapped on his feet impatiently and placed his hands over his hips, hoping Zeus would fall off from the edge of Mount Olympus and destroy this filthy acid pool. However, nothing ever came. It never came for an hour, for days, or perhaps for years to come. Over the Ron's passed by, Carl found his skin shrivelling and wrinkling, collapsing under its own weight. He felt some spots and pimples spouting on his face as his shoulders weighed an additional 20 pounds more than they had before. Fearing what may come after, he whipped out his phone to check his reflection. The same weary eye bags. The same puffy red eyes. The same warts. It was too good to be true. "Why didn't you listen to Karloyung, Carl?", exclaimed a husky voice from the shadows. "All you had to do was eat him. Then, I would have rewarded you." Carl stuttered incoherently. "Wif.. what?" "Me." It was a human with the head of a seasoned bull, the eyes of a reticulated python, and the horns of the devil. His biceps were three times the size of Carl's head, and his chest rivalled that of Hercules. "The Minotaur?", the weak captive huffed in front of its master. "Yes, and more. Lust, hatred, and greed; The wretched men languish in these parts of the world. Never heard of the enigma?" "No."

"What? A simple search in Google Maps will show you!" The minotaur erupted. "But I have no signal reception here", gasped Carl. "You are joking, right? I thought you called your friends for help, but I assumed they didn't get back to you. You got yourself caught without even calling someone up? There's 5G reception everywhere, for Minos' sake!". Carl switched on his phone. There were 0 missed calls, 5 notifications on Instagram, and a post about the Minotaur. Carl didn't have enough saliva to even gulp in embarrassment, so he choked on the moist air of the Enigma. "I have never captured such an idiot before. Are you the son of Coalemus?" Only if he knew. If he knew Carl was lunging forward at him, cracking his jaded bovine skull. The Minotaur was bellowing with agonising pain but didn't take long to recover as he swung Carl to one of the marble pillars, nearly smashing the student apart. The energised demigod limped towards his paralysed aggressor, snorting out lava as his horns were on the verge of piercing Carl's forehead. "Don't you ever do that to me again. Is that understood?" Carl nodded his head reluctantly. Or it seemed so in his thoughts. But the Minotaur's attention shifted by then, as something else torpedoed out from the top and crashed into a soggy patch of goo. It was another human, adorned with a minimalist beige t-shirt and baggy khaki pants. He wore an unusual bracelet, clamped permanently to his forehead. "Uh, greetings, or salutations, or I don't know. I am Kal Young, batch 2055. Do you fathom the nearest exit?", as he adjusted his crown. The minotaur turned its face to me briefly, grinning wider than a Cheshire cat would ever try. "You will have to eat that recluse over there to leave." The newbie shook his head diligently, as if he were programmed specifically to follow instructions from a beefhead. He marched towards Carl with an uneasy glint in his eyes and the bracelet. The bracelet shone with the fury of a thousand betelgeuses. Carl scratched at his warts like a flea-smitten dog as he laid eyes on an abandoned tibia. Here we go again.


It was an uneventful night when I saw a new woman sitting completely alone in the common room reading. Her brown hair was long and wavy but it wasn’t until she peered up at me that we both realized who the other was. She nearly dropped her book and I almost fell right out of my wheelchair. I tried looking away and pretending that I didn’t just see her for the first time in over fifty years. No use. She was already standing up and walking toward me with her mouth gaping open. “David?!,” she got out. “Is that you?” “It’s me,” I said slightly ashamed. “I can’t believe it…, wow…, this is wild! How long’s it been?” “Since I moved. Many, many years ago.” “It feels like ten lifetimes,” she said smiling. “Are you a resident here?” “Indeed I am. Can I assume you just got here yourself?” “I arrived this morning from the hospital. I fractured my hip last week and my doctor wants me to do some physical therapy before I go back home, he said this was the place to do it.” “I see. I’ve been here for a couple of months myself,” I said, trying to keep my stare focused on her smile and pretend not to notice the tears welling up in her eyes. “David…, it’s so nice to see you again,” she said before wrapping up. “I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about over these next few days.” I suppose it was serendipitous, the two of us ending up at the same nursing home after all these years. It’s true that our hometown was always on the smaller side, so it’s not like there were many options available in the first place. But then I’d moved away after high school. Halfway across the country. I couldn’t bring myself to stay in the state. Not after what happened between her and I. It all hurt too much, passing by the same trees and houses and street corners where we’d made so many memories near as sweethearts. How I ended up back here was a miracle in and of itself. Looking back, I can safely say that reading was always “our thing.” And Milton’s Paradise Lost was “our book.” The book which we bought two copies of together and never finished. We’d take turns reading aloud the poetic lines and then contemplating them for hours on end before picking it back up and starting again. After the arguing began however, we’d go on to pick it up less and less until the dust permanently settled onto its cover. The decision to end everything eventually fell upon my shoulders and my psyche and no matter what I tried to do in ridding myself of the thought, nothing worked. The day finally came where I turned to walk out of the apartment once and for all, leaving her behind in tears, with a broken heart, and with a torn spirit. She went on to marry someone else about a year later. A lawyer, I believe. Not a month has gone by since that fateful decision where I haven’t had some type of dream about the ceremony itself; A beautiful wedding in a broken-down chapel; rays of sunlight still shining through its cracks in the rooftop, impaling the dense air with translucent touches of promised hope that pierce the fog in permanent halves. Beacons from high above all beaming prisms of rich color through the stained glass windows and onto walls half- sprawled with the bright vines of deep green emeralds. She stands center-stage; framed perfection. A magnum opus wrapped in white threads of pure redemption. Untouched skin; restored to life and ever-pampered by real Seraphim who flew down from His side and saved the star-crossed lovers from their eventual suburban fate of celestial disappointment. I’d found true happiness at last through her eternal smile.

“Does anyone have any reason...,” the preacher utters the words I’d been dreading to hear as she peers through her peripheral in my general direction. My entire body freezes shut—disabled by well-deserved humility and a forced life of self-imposed silence. Through the veil’s intricate lace; a microscopic image of our entire universe and its timeline starts taking shape as it simultaneously begins unravelling at both ends, gaining exponential purpose within the glistening liquid of reflective teardrops being formed real time inside the bride’s outlined-eyes. Then I wake up. Maybe things would’ve turned out drastically different had we would’ve stayed together. Maybe neither of us would’ve gone on to have the lives which we actually did. Instead we could’ve married each other and had our own kids, gone on our own trips, made our own memories. But we didn’t. That’s not the way it was meant to play out. Or was it? And it was actually I who ruined everything? I had to know for sure. And if so, I had to find some type of forgiveness within it all. Lisa was scheduled to stay a week, two at most, just until her hip had healed up. A couple of months later and she was still pushing me around the hallways in my wheelchair, going to the common room, the crafts room, the library, all the while speaking and sharing memories with me and I with her. Her hip had healed up just fine, but she was intent on spending more time together, so kept asking for extensions and finding reasons to stay a bit longer. Christmas was nearing so I asked a good friend to help find a nice little ring which I could give her as a sign of our reestablished friendship, nothing more. Presenting it to her one night in the common room, I pulled out the small little blue box with a thin velvet bow on top before opening my mouth to speak. “Lisa…,” I said, fumbling to find the right words for my long-awaited speech. “I…” “You don’t have to say a thing. It’s all over and done with. It has been for a long time.” “I know, but still…, all these years…, I’m so sorry for everything, I should’ve never walked out the front door that day.” She quickly looked away and wiped her cheek with her delicate hand before turning back around. “I promised a very long time ago that I’d get you your ring, one way or another.” She opened the box and looked at it for a long time before finally sliding the ring onto her finger and holding out her hand, admiring its shine. “And you did,” she said, smiling. “And I did—even if it took fifty years.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a yellowed Paradise Lost— her very own copy that we bought so long ago and never finished. “Better late than never,” she said, taking my hand up in hers. “Let’s read.”


Joe was a ghost. If you want specifics, he was a poltergeist, but no one ever knew what that was, so, y'know, he just self-identified as a ghost. And he was anxious, because Halloween was coming up, and he had no plans. He debated scaring kids and stealing candy, but then again, he couldn't eat. He had started making a cursed VHS tape, but, heck it, who even had a VHS player nowadays? He even scripted spooky phone calls, but they had no effect, in a day and age where people hung up when they saw an unknown number. There was simply nothing Joe could do to scare people like he could back in his day. He paced around the graveyard. Some people came in, and mourned at gravestones of loved ones, he wanted so bad to pull them down into the graves with him but, well, those people with their scrolly scrolly social media and consent rules, and everything. He'd be ashamed and embarrassed before Friday the 13th. "If only people weren't so desperate for friends these days. Then maybe they wouldn't see me as a friendly neighborhood Casper!" but still, Joe wouldn't give up. He was a poltergeist, and poltergeists lived to scare. Hmm... A child would be easy to scare, maybe, if he was lucky enough to find one that didn't have a parent hovering over it at all times. He realized he couldn't come up with ideas all on his own. He needed inspiration, and he needed to watch and observe what

really s cared people these days. He decided to start with the wisest of ghosts, Father Ghost. He started floating over to Father Ghosts grave, all the while observing the humans by the graves, death seemed to scare them, but he couldn't kill a human, could he? But these humans didn't even shy away from the spiders, so surely that wasn't it. He crossed spiders off his list of things he enjoyed scaring humans with. Just not scary enough anymore. Soon, he was at Father Ghost's grave, but Father Ghost must have seen how glum Joe looked. "surely you anticipate halloween, yes, O Joe?" he questioned. But Joe could not say he did. "It's just... I can't think of a single way to scare anyone this year!" He began to explain Father Ghost his troubles. But, before he could even get to the part about spiders, Father ghost said, "surely humans are still scared of some things. Grab my hand, Joe." Joe wasn't so sure that was a good idea. What Joe wanted was help, not some Christmas Carol reenactment. But he did as Father Ghost, the wisest of all ghosts, said. Suddenly, they were looking in the window of a house. "Is this Halloween past?" asked Joe. "naw, I just kinda moved you a couple blocks, I am Father Ghost, if I can bear nicknames like, "daddy ghost" I can teleport. Trust me." Joe pulled his hands away. Even the ghosts were using slang, and becoming less and less professional. Joe's suspicions were confirmed, not even Father Ghost could bring Halloween spirit to the table, Halloween was ruined. He ran down the streets before Father Ghost could ask what he was doing. Only his third ghost Halloween and just not one way he could scare someone. On his way walking down the street, visibly showing his angst to any ghost that would spend time to bat an eye in his direction, he listened to human talk. "Gotta pay my bills. Just looking at the number makes me sick." one human said while on a phone call. Sick. Like humans used to be when he haunted them. He passed through the human to go through the other side of the street, the man just shivered and pulled his coat tighter. No goosebumps like there would have been even a year ago. There was just no way Joe could... wait, could he? Joe's mind raced. If he could get into the man's house, use his poltergeist powers, higher the number of the bill... technically, Joe could scare this man! getting excited now, Joe began to follow the man home. occasionally, `he would make wind out of nowhere, or snap a falling twig, or even go inside the man for a bone-chilling effect. when the man reached his house, He was walking notably faster, and seemed all too happy to get inside But he’s not done yet thought Joe. He let the man close the door, then floated in, as if nervous his powers might disappear. He walked over to the kitchen counter, where the man was eyeing the bill. Muttering at the number. At first, Joe was discouraged, then he had an idea. If he could change the numbers while the man was looking at them, surely this man would get the added spook of thinking he was going insane? Joe was sure he could really mess with this man's head, in a way he couldn't in the past. Joe smiled to himself. $3,405, $3,450. up... up... up... $3,000,000. The man looked, wide eyed, at the bill. And ran out of the house, screaming. Joe laughed. I'll make sure to visit you in the mental hospital. He thought. He walked out of the house. Visiting more people. Every time they ran out, screaming or crying or both, he would smile, and laugh. Surely this will be the best Halloween ever. He thought to himself, still smiling, and laughing, and ready to haunt more people. He continued down the street, ready to up his game, no longer would he stick with people in this town, he would go to places like New York, California, and Hawaii. Joe knew he would be talked about for years, because he would target kids, too. He would change every right answer on their test for wrong! He would be diabolical. And the best part? He thought humans couldn't be scared this year. Hmmm, who's that knocking on your door? Its me, Joe.


A cool breeze brushes against Hadr’s brown skin before his feet begin to pound against the dark concrete sidewalk. The young boy is confident that the mechanical beast currently hunting him through the streets of Newon will give up at any moment as he dodges around people and lamp posts. He keeps looking behind him to see if he has finally lost the giant mechanical creature, but the thing begins to pursue him at a fast pace. Hadr looks at the bag slung over his shoulder. The thing inside of it is heavy, weighing him down with every step. Was stealing from the Cosmic Casino, From Anubis himself, really worth it? Hadr shakes his head and slips into a narrow alleyway, catching his breath for a moment. He holds still as the thing moves past his hiding spot, then he stoops down and opens the bag. Inside is a large golden Ankh, the Egyptian symbol for life. It pulses as if it has a heart within it and glows warmly. Yes, it was worth it. He could fix everything… Hadr quickly puts the ankh back, peeking out to find that the coast is clear. He casually walks back the way he had come and into a small apartment building. He runs up the stairs to his flat and enters, locking the door tight. Hadr walks into the main bedroom, pausing. Before him is a frail old woman surrounded by medical equipment, her breathing weak and uneven. Hadr feels tears well up in his eyes as he approaches his dying grandmother, the only family he had left in the dimension of Newon after his mother and father had been brutally killed in a massacre enacted by Circuit-Breaker and his murderous followers. "Grandma?" The old woman stirs, opening her eyes. "I have something that will make everything better, look." He pulls out the glowing ankh, holding it up for her to see. "You… stole it?" Hadr's grandmother breathes. Guilt rushes through him. "Yes, I almost got caught, and one of the guardians is after me." As he says this, the ground begins to shake. "It's coming for me, I need to use it now or I won't be able to, and I'll lose you!" He moves to place the ankh over his grandmother's heart, but she gently grabs his wrist. "No… I can't let you do it…" tears now fully fall from Hadr's eyes, staining the bed sheets. "Why?" "It is my time. I've been having dreams of the spirit dimension, your mother and father are there but they say they don't want to see you joining them there for many more decades." The old woman chuckles softly. "What do I do then? I'll be arrested for sure…" Hadr's grandmother puts a hand on his cheek. "You know you must face the consequences, but I have a feeling it won't be anything severe. I'll always be watching over you, Hadr. Now go…" Hadr forces himself to walk back outside where the mechanical beast waits, his hands up. As he is carried away in the mouth of the creature, Hadr looks up to his apartment window just in time to see a bright light fill the room. *** One year later… Hadr's grandmother had been right, the punishment he had been given for stealing Anubis's ankh was nothing soul crushing or severe. For the past year Hadr was given the task of aiding Anubis in getting lost souls back to the spirit dimension. It had been life changing, and Hadr didn't want to stop. Right now Hadr relaxes in the room he had been in the cosmic casino without a care in the world. But his moment of relaxation is abruptly cut short as a siren begins to wail, a noise that he had hoped he would never hear again. It was the same sound he had heard before his parents had been killed. Hadr leaps up, running out onto the balcony that overlooks the city. He scans the streets below with wide eyes and a pounding heart. Then he sees them, Circuit-Breaker. Hadr retreats back into his room, his adrenaline kicking in. An announcement comes over the intercom system, telling the guests that the Cosmic Casino is going into lock down mode, and that everyone must stay in their rooms for the next few hours. Something inside of Hadr breaks, a wild untamed fury over taking him. He bursts out of his room, ignoring the yelling of security guards who tell him to go back to his room. Hadr makes it out of the casino just as the glowing protective walls go up. Hadr finds himself alone out on the street. His heart pounds. Circuit-Breaker approaches him, the robot's dog-like head cocked to the side. A glowing khopesh appears in Hadr's hand, a gift from Anubis. His eyes narrow angrily, his teeth bared. "I'm going to destroy you, just like you've destroyed the lives of millions of others throughout the multiverse!" He yells. However, his voice is shaky. In a flash, Circuit-Breaker pounces. Hadr brings up the sword, but it is too late. Hadr falls to the ground, a gaping wound on his chest from Circuit-Breaker's golden claws. "Your bravery is admirable, but you are not strong enough to stop me." Circuit-Breaker's emotionless mechanical voice sends chills down his spine. "Do you remember me? I'm the boy of that one family you killed all those years ago." Hadr hisses. He can feel himself bleeding out, his vision going fuzzy. "I have killed many people. You are not special." With that, Circuit-Breaker takes off on his wheeled feet, heading even deeper into the city. Hadr's eyes roll back, and then he feels himself being pulled through what feels like a tight tube and into a blinding light. "Hadr, You are a foolish yet brave boy."  Hadr opens his eyes at the voice. The glowing forms of his mother, father, and grandmother embrace him. “I'm sorry I couldn't keep myself alive as long as you all wanted me too…” Hadr says sadly. “None of that matters now. We are together, and that's all we care about now…” Hadr’s family leads him out of the light and into a beautiful grassy hillside. A warm breeze brushes past him.


I woke up with a start, the sound of footsteps on the creaky steps pulling me from my dreams. I slipped out of bed and left my room, peeking down the hallway. “Rose?” My sister limped into view, “Hey Mari, I’m just going straight to bed.” I didn’t have to look closely to see the mud on her boots, mixed with the easily recognizable crimson of blood. Her knife was peeking out of her belt, it was permanently stained red. “Rose, where did you go?” She rolled her eyes, even though I was older than her, she still acted like I couldn’t be a mom figure. “It doesn’t matter, I’m going to bed.” I opened my mouth to object, but she stomped into her room and slammed the door behind her. I heard the lock click into place. Rose Crasson, my little sister, fifteen years old and an absolute firecracker. It usually wasn’t a good thing. Rose tried to hide it from me, but I knew, of course I knew. She was just like mom, a killer. She left at night to, “go hunting," but really, she was going into towns, snatching up random people, and slitting their throats. I had followed her one night, the nightmares still terrorized my brain. The vision of her crushing skulls with her steel toed boots, plunging her knife into flesh, smiling the entire time. Sometimes at night I could hear her, listing the names of her victims, the sound of stone on steel as she sharpened her blade, small giggles escaping her mouth. It made me shiver. The hardest part was knowing that she has killed countless people, and I just sat around and watched. I didn’t have the guts to call the guard, they would take her away, she could be in a dungeon for the rest of her life. She was all that I had left of my family, I couldn’t lose her too. I sighed and went back to my room, wondering who had died this time, and how many. So many lives stolen from this world, at the hand of my sister. I had had this argument with myself so many times, every day, multiple times. I could end all the suffering she was causing, but lose her in the process, or I could keep her close to me, but people wouldn’t stop dying. She wouldn’t stop killing. How high would the body count be before she was stopped? How many children would lose their parents. I sat up, my racing thoughts refusing me sleep. No, I couldn’t. But… I had to. I slipped back out of bed and threw on boots, creeping out of the house, making sure to grab a lantern on my way. Her footprints were easy to see, bright red in the pale white snow. I followed them, all the way to Andervia, a small town about twenty gegits away from us. It wasn’t long before I found what I was looking for. A fire, dozens of bodies burning away in it. Most of them reduced to nothing but ashes. Out of all the ones still in tact, there was one that caught my eye. I covered my mouth to stifle my scream and felt my knees buckle under the weight of what lay in front of me. Nothing but fear and pain spiking through my heart. I felt my eyes get wet, the tears slipping down my face. There was a child, a child that I knew. My best friend's child. It was hard to tell through the flames, but I recognized the little blue dress she was wearing, I had made it. I staggered to my feet and ran, pumping my arms and legs, trying to escape the inevitable truth. She couldn’t have, she couldn’t have, but she did. She did, and now, she was murdering children. I couldn’t let this go on any longer. Rose couldn’t hurt anyone else. My throat felt tight, I wheezed and coughed as the cold air hit my wound up vocal chords. My feet pounded against the snow covered ground, pushing me forward. I didn’t stop until I reached the house of the enforcers, or, the guards. Throwing my fists against the door, I banged on it, screaming for help, until someone threw the door open. It was Kace. My long time friend. My bottom lip trembled and I broke down, sputtering, “Rose, Annie, fire, dead, please.” His eyes widened, “Annie? Layla’s kid?!” I nodded and he ran inside, leaving me to fall to the ground, a heap of tears and ash. Kace, alongside the rest of the guards, all piled out at once. Kace pulled me to my feet, “Mari I know you’re upset right now, but I need you to take us to where it is, ok?” I nodded and broke into a run, I didn’t want any of the evidence gone. When we got there, all of the bodies had burned, all except for little Annies. I collapsed into Kaces arms, he held me tightly as the guards quickly doused the fire in water and pulled her tiny form from the flames. The head guard came to me, “Mari, who did this.” I turned to him, Kace slipped his hand into mine, squeezing it. “My sister, Rose. She’s at home right now, sleeping, or sharpening her weapon; if you don’t stop her now, she’ll go back out tomorrow, and the next day and the next. She wont stop, the bodies will keep coming.” Kace looked at me, his eyes seeded with pain, “Rose is underage, the most they can do is lock her up.” I nodded, my voice shaky, “I know. Do whatever you can.” “You realize you won’t be able to see her-” I cut him off by backing away, “YES, I KNOW THAT! JUST PLEASE…” I sank down and hugged my knees. “Please, don’t let her hurt anyone else.” Kace nodded to the guard and he and a bunch of the others left in the direction of our home. Some staying behind to take care of Annie. Kace sat next to me, “Do you want to be there when they take her?” I sniffed, “I think so.” He sighed, helping me to my feet yet again. It felt like my world was tipping over, like a gust of wind would throw me to my death. I clung to his arm, holding on to him, using him like an anchor to my soul. They had already gotten her when we got there, she was fighting furiously against them, her blonde hair matted, her green eyes glowing with hatred. She stopped struggling when she saw me, “Mari?” I felt the tears pooling in my eyes, my voice barely coming out in a whisper. “I’m sorry.” Her face was struck with realization, her eyes set on me. “You. You did this.” I lowered my head, staring at my feet, Kace looked down at me and then up to the guards. “Take her away, take no chances with her. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” Rose started screaming as they dragged her away. “YOU’RE DEAD TO ME! YOU HEAR ME? I SHOULD’VE KILLED YOU LIKE I KILLED DAD, YOU MEAN NOTHING!” Her screams echoed into the night, getting fainter and fainter as she was pulled away from me. I held my hand against my heart in a fist. I’m sorry Rose. I did what was right, even though it broke my heart to lose her, I had done the right thing. Rose would never hurt another person again.


When in high school, I was secretly in love with a classmate named Evelyn, who had beautiful round eyes, pinkish white skin and smooth black hair. She had a face of angel so that a lot of guys like her, even the guys from upper class and colleges. Meanwhile, I was neither a handsome boy nor an outstanding student. I was not a rich kid or an excellent basketball guy either, just an average teenager so that I thought there was no chance for me to be her boyfriend. I enjoyed watching her secretly, especially when she tied her hair up or took her hair down. I sent my love for her to my songs and poems. I even wrote long letters to her yet dare not to send. Whenever she smiled or talked to me, even just a simple “Hello”, she made my day and I would recall that conversation again and again. Sometimes, when being upset, I would ride my bicycle to her house, just to see her shadow on the wall. The secret love made me happy but miserable at the same time. I wanted to tell her that I love her and ask to be her boyfriend but also scared of her answer. What if she said “No”? It would be my apocalypse. Thus, I would rather live with a little hope than nothing. I tried to be an excellent student and a great basketball player to get her attention but there were guys who also liked her was better than me in every field. I was being stuck in a hopeless situation. One day, I wandered around the city pondering about my life. I arrived at a marketplace, then suddenly heard a woman’s voice. “Are you being desperate in love?” I startled turning my head to the source of the voice. It was a strange middle-aged woman who was the owner of a weird stall. There were a big crystal ball, a skull and an owl in the cage at the stall, which reminded me of the stores at Diagon Alley, a wizard shopping centre in London hidden from Muggles. “Yes, I am.” I replied. “You don’t dare telling her that you love her, do you?” “How do you know that?” I asked surprisingly. “I can see it in this crystall ball” “I see nothing” “You don’t have the third eye” “So how can I make her love me?” “What you need is the love potion number 9,” She replied with a wink. The strange woman gave me a potion of purple fluid, which cost 50 bucks, a large amount of money to me at that point. After taking my money, she whispered in my ear how to use that magic water. I decided to try it with Amee, another classmate of mine. Firstly, I asked her to go to the cinema. She accepted. When we were already sitting on the seats, I drank a sip from the love potion number 9, which had a bad taste, and poured a bit into my right hand. Then I use that hand to grasp Amee’s left hand. She startled and trembled but did not withdraw her hands. “It works! It’s magic!” I thought to myself. Then I kissed her. It was my first kiss and it tasted so good. Amee enjoyed it, too. “I don’t know kissing is that great” she said shyly. I almost fell in love with Amee for she was pretty and adorable. Yet my heart belonged to Evelyn. And I had a plan. I would make her mine with the love potion number 9. Next day, when the school closing bell rang, I followed Evelyn to her house. “Evy!”, I called her. “Kevin, what are you doing here?” “I have a gift for you” “Oh, really? It’s very kind of you” I brought a gift but instead giving it to her, I grasped her hand. “Your hand is wet” Her face turned red. Yet she did not withdraw her hand. “I love you, Evy!” Then I kissed her and she kissed me back. It was even better than my first kiss with Amee. All of a sudden, a scream ruined my glorious moment. “Kevin!” “What are you doing here, Amee?” “That’s what I have to ask you,” Amee smirked. “Yesterday you kissed me, now you kissed Evelyn. What kind of man are you? I thought you are a nice guy but I’m totally wrong.” Tears were falling from Amee’s eyes. Then she ran away. I turned to Evelyn but she stared at me strangely. “I also thought you are a nice guy so I gave you a try”, she said sternly. “But you disappointed me, Kevin” “Listen, Evy!”, I said desperately. “Please let me explain. All these things happened because of this love potion number 9” Yet she did not listen. Evelyn suddenly slapped on my face. Teardrops were falling from her eyes. And my love potion number 9 fell into the ground and broke into pieces. That was the end of my relationship with Evelyn, right after it began. Next day, I came back to the stall of the mysterious woman. “Please give me the love potion number 9!” I told her. “The potion you bought three days ago was the last one.” She said coldly. “When will you have it again?” “Nevermore.” “Please!” I said desperately. “I need it to make Evy love me again.” “I’m sorry. I forgot to mention that it only works once to each person. If you break one’s heart, the love potion won’t have any effect on her anymore.” “What a useless magic!” “You’re right. It’s not magic water, just some forest fruit juice.” “What? I want my money back” “I’ve never said love potion is a magical thing. That’s what you suppose. The point is it works.” “What should I do now to get Evy back?” “I have no idea,” the strange woman said and gave me a wink. “I guess you have to try another way without love potion number 9.” Oh, I wish she were a real ugly old witch instead of a weird Muggle.


This is it, my final performance. I can hear the crowd cheering, the slight rumble of the ground when the crowd gets more and more excited. The lights go dim and I take a deep breath, breathing in the cool crisp air of the rink, the smell of sweat and ice, and a memory of when I first started to skate. The music starts, the memory is interrupted and I’m off. I go around the rink once then stop in the middle, I bow to the audience and the judges, and then the music changes and my feet start to move. They move like fish in a wave, like birds in the air, calm and still, but graceful like a ballerina. “I’m on autopilot,” I say to myself, “that won’t cut it.” I start to lean into the music like I am a quarter note among the staff that makes a symphony of sound. The ice is like grace as I carefully etch it with my life story. “Fifteen more measures, only fifteen more,” I say as I build up speed to do a quadruple jump; I have only made it once and that was in a practice run two days ago, I didn’t land it all the way but I did it and it felt amazing. Today will be my first time doing it in front of an audience...and as you might expect I was a little nervous. But not today, I won’t let that happen to me, not today, not ever. I pushed through my nerves with an axle jump. I landed it on the beat, two measures before the big jump. I can feel my heart beating, so hard it could burst. One measure… so I begin my prep. I breathe in and out then JUMP!...one, the cool air rushing past...two, I’m high in the air...three, I breathe, it’s almost over...four, I made it...and then nothing. It felt as if I was floating in the air, nothing could be better. I was still like nothing could move me but the wind. The memory that was deep in my mind when I touched the ice with a skate for the very first time. It felt the same. I landed, it felt perfect, but it was far from. The blade of my right ice skate breaks, my knee hits the ground; I felt my leg burst. I try to catch myself with my left arm but I slip. My arm goes numb, I hear a crack. I hit the ice and couldn’t breathe. I am on my back, and I feel nothing...then the pain set in and I cried out. Blood is rushing down my head and onto the ice. My left arm from the shoulder to the tips of my fingers, I couldn’t feel a thing. I couldn't move, but I desperately wanted to. There was a piece of my skate’s blade underneath my back, I can feel it in my spine. Something was very wrong. As I lay here crying out, as blood fleas from my body, all I can think is that I should have, that I should… I… I…

I woke up in the hospital two days later and was in so much pain that I would have rather relived the most embarrassing moment of my life. I wanted to cry, so I did. I cried until my mom, Nadenka, came in and told me that she was there for me and would never leave my side while I laid in this bed. She was the only family member to be with me for the performance. My fiance, Larissa, dad, Boris, two brothers, Victor and Vladimir, and two sisters, Nastasia and Anya couldn’t come due to weather, work, or prior engagements.

My leg was in a cast. I could feel the metal pins they put into my leg like you are getting a shot and being punched at the same time. I looked to my left. My whole arm was in a cast. I had five pins in my shoulder, four in my elbow, and three in my wrist. I moved my neck, it cracked, it felt good. The liberty of being able to move my neck made me cry again after seeing my leg and arm. I had movement in my neck and right arm, nothing else. Whenever I would take a breath the air would fill my lungs, but the pressure on my spine was too much that I could only take short and small breaths. I have been awake for fifteen minutes and a nurse and doctor and an intern enter my room. The doctor asks if my mom is ok to stay, like a defensive mother bear she says yes. You could hear the disdain in her voice from the question. The doctor spouted some words about what had happened, but I knew what happened, I was there. He then tells me about treatments I can try and what they will do to improve my situation. I wanted to ask if I would ever be able to skate again, but the way the doctor was talking made me think that I would be lucky if I could walk.

I couldn’t stand his voice, the way he didn’t care about how I would never walk or skate. He kept going on and on about how I was paralyzed from the waist down due to the piece of skate that cut into my spine. He said that the shard hit my spinal cord in just the right place to cause me to be paralyzed. My mom couldn’t speak. She just looked at me like a mother would after hearing something like this. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to accept it. Why, why me. All I did was skate and help people so why did the universe decide to take away the thing I love most away. I couldn’t take it, I yelled, “WHEN WILL I SKATE AGAIN!” The room went silent, the hospital staff just looked at me with the look you would give a child who didn’t understand what you said. My mom just looked at me with pain in her eyes and she couldn’t stop holding my hand like she was keeping me tied down to the world. The doctor in his clean white coat and dark slicked-back hair finally spoke. “Listen, Alexei, there is no easy way to put this… you are paralyzed from the waist down. The nerve damage is too extensive for us to repair, and it won’t be able to heal itself either. I’m sorry but you will never be able to skate again. It would take a miracle for you to even walk again, but Alexei, I’m sorry there is nothing more we can do other than heal your bones and teach you how to adjust to your new way of life.” “Leave me,” I said “I want to be alone, I… I need time to think” The doctors left the room and it was just me and my mom. “My darling Alexei, my darling boy,” my mother said in her thick Russian accent. “Please just leave me, I just want time to think, please.” My mom left the room and said she would just be outside if I needed her. When she left the room was quiet, just the constant beep of the heart monitor I was hooked to. It was nice, having the room to myself. I started to cry, not because of the pain of my body, but for the loss of the one thing in life that I held closest to my heart. Ice skating has been there for me from when I was five years old to now. I’m twenty-five, skating has been with me for twenty years it's all I know. For me, life has ended. I'm just a husk laying in a world that offers me nothing. I offer the world nothing. The next day Larissa, my fiance, burst into my room. Tears were streaming down her face. She collapsed at my bedside as if she had been shot. She was crying harder now. We sat in my room for what seemed like an eternity, then Larissa lifts her head and starts to speak. “My love, my dearest love Alexei. I was so worried, so scared. I… I just wanted to hold you in my arms and never let you go. I should have come. I should have come to see you, maybe then we would be in a restaurant right now eating, drinking, and laughing.” She starts to cry again, “We will get through this together. I love you. There is nothing you can do or say to make me leave you. I will always be here for you. I leaned on you for years now it is your turn to lean on me.” She grabbed my right hand and bowed her head. Her silk-like hair fell over her face. I missed the feel of her hair. I would comb it out for her at night after she had taken her shower, or I would braid it while we watched a movie. “There is room on the bed,” I say, “if you would like to sit with me.” She gets up from her knees. She moved her blond hair out of her face, it fell behind her back, almost to her waist. The bed was big enough for three, for when I had to be moved and more testing had to be done.

She gets in the bed on my right side. She lays inside my arm and I hold her. Her face was facing mine and she kissed me. We then both fall asleep, the warmth of each other and the love we have made life seem bearable for a few moments. *	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	* I was finally out of the hospital. The smell of freshly fallen snow filled the air. The sky was clear and the sun was out. It was noon. A car was waiting for me and Larissa. We got in. Our destination was a physical therapy treatment center. The car pulls out of the hospital parking lot and turns north onto the street. The center was only four kilometers away, a quick drive. I soaked in every minute of the drive. Looking out the window, seeing the sky, snow, trees, and people. It felt so good just to be out. The freedom, so brief, but so fulfilling. We pulled into the center, the drive was up.

My door was open and a ramp laid in front of me. I wheeled myself with one arm down the ramp. Larissa came up behind me and started to push me. “Please,” I said, with a voice that sounded like a wounded wolf. “I told you no matter what, you can’t push me away. I’m here and I am going to help you no matter what the cost is. I will be here.” Larissa said with a smile on her face. A nurse was waiting for us by the door. Above her, a sign read Physical Therapy Treatment Center in Russian Letters. She let us in and led us to my room. The room wasn’t large but wasn’t small. It had enough room for me to move my wheelchair around so that I could go to either side of the bed, into the bathroom, and up to the window. I was on the top of a six-story building, there was a courtyard in the middle, and a place to sit on the roof. From the roof, you could see the Ural Mountains. They were in the East, I was in Yekaterinburg, Russia. My home town, Moscow was 1,790.6 km away. The drive home would take 24 hours of nonstop driving. It was a two to a three-day trip back home. My mother left the hospital and went to go meet my father and siblings. Once I was settled in, a nurse came in to talk to me about what my stay would be like. Larissa was sitting on my right like she always does. As the nurse talked she mentioned that the process would be slow but the time was needed for the muscles and tissue to heal properly. She said the normal time was six to eight weeks for a normal patient, but in my case, it would take five to six months. Larissa couldn’t handle it anymore, she burst out screaming at the nurse, “We already spent nine weeks in the hospital! Why can’t you do something to make him better in the six to eight weeks!?” The nurse took a step back and talked to her calmly about when something this extensive happened to someone, it would take more than the normal time. Larissa understood and asked for the nurse’s forgiveness. She asked me if she could leave to collect her feeling and use the Lady’s room. I nodded and she left the room. A few minutes after Larissa left the room my family burst in, tears in their eyes. It had been almost been a whole two months since I had seen my siblings. Vladimir, he goes by Vlad, Victor, Anya, and Nastasia, we called her little Stasia. The four of them were all the same age, nineteen. They are quadruplets, with two identical pairs. They all came to my side and kneeled on the ground. They were so happy to see me. “We were so worried, we never stopped thinking about you,” Vlad said with love in his voice. “There is so much to tell you! You won’t believe the news little Stasia has!” said Anya in an excited tone. Victor started to talk, “Your dog, Katya misses you very much.” “I miss her too Victor,” I said looking at him. Stasia stared at me with an intense look and a hand on my shoulder, “I have some news that will brighten your day. Dimitry and I are…” Boris, my father, burst into the room, “Sorry I’m late, I had to find a parking space. They also said you were on the fifth floor, not the sixth.” I laughed, “Papa! I’ve missed you so much.” “You’ve looked better, I hope they have been keeping you fed. You look skinny.” My father said with a laugh and a smile. As they all shared what had happened in their lives the past few months my mind started to drift to a world where I had my legs back. I longed for that world, my heart was pounding trying to leave this world and go to the one where I was perfect. My face was getting red, tears started to swell up in my eyes. I tried so hard to keep my emotions in, but they swelled like a tsunami coming to destroy a city. I couldn’t take it anymore, I yelled out, “WHY!” My family stopped talking and stared up at me. I spoke, “Please, everyone. Please leave me.” They got up and left the room. They were reluctant to leave but I pushed for them to leave the room so I could cry and wallow in my sorrow alone. This was my burden to bear. I was finally alone. Alone. Why did I have to be alone? I wanted to walk, run, SKATE, but I knew that I would never be able to. I cried out, “WHY!? PLEASE, PLEASE GIVE ME MY LEGS BACK!” I cried with the voice you cry with when you lose your mother or a wife. I was in a hole, no light, no sound, only the screams of my pain and agony, suffering for all of eternity. I was in my own Hell. I cried out for help, but who could help me? No one was coming to make me whole again. The thought of not being able to ice skate again hit me like a bullet to the heart. I cried out, again and again, nothing could be worse, and nothing will get better.

I laid in my bed screaming and crying. My family down the hall. Victor started to head to my room but halfway down the hall, he stopped when he heard me say, “I WISH I WAS DEAD! I WISH I HAD JUST DIED ON THE ICE! JUST LIKE MY LIFE HAD!” He fell to his knees, unable to control himself. He wept. My father came to comfort him, but it was too hard to hear the words that I screamed that he fell to the ground as well. The last thing I said before I blacked out was, “Please… I… I can’t do this. My leg is gone. My life. Please let me die!” With tears in my eyes and my heart ready to give up I said, “I want to let go.” I don’t know who I called out to whether it was a god or just the universe, but I let go and they took me with them. By: Memphis L. Haven