Hi my name is Mia Smith, and let me tell you my story on how I had worse and greatest Christmas eve. I know it sound confusing, so let me start... I was born with a wealthy family, but I didn't like it that much. My mom and dad always need to go to work so I rarely see them, and my sister never gave attention to me and dissapeared a day before my 5th birthday. I feel like I was invisible to my family. As a part of a wealthy family, my dad once told me, not to be a disgrace to the family and always be at the top. So I worked my ass off, so that my family will be proud and pay attention to me, well that didn't actually work. I was always lonely, I had no one to talk to. It always felt cold. Until she came..... Her name is Anna, after she and her family started working for my dad. It felt warm, it felt pleasing that now there's someone that can talk to, and understand me. But it didn't start off good, Anna was always shy and run away from me. When I was about to give up, she came around and started to open up to me. When we were in 3rd grade we were inseparable. After all the years, both of us changed, the way we styled, talked, and act around people. I started learning how to skate, while she started social media. But ofcourse we needed to hide all the things we loved, because according to my family these things are inappropriate for the family. So we helped each other hide each other's secrets. Anna's content weren't the best but it's bearable. Anna and I only had a year in our high-school life. Anna and I were about to be 18 and start the adulthood. But it all fell apart when my mom and dad had a talk. "You know Mia, you're about to be 18. You need a MAN to take care of you. So as the family planned. You will be choosing between the men we think are right for you, and you'll be set for life" "I—" "Ahh No, you can't go against us. Look at your sister, she manage to be successful like I am." I didn't know how to answer, all my plans fell apart like a cookie. They didn't understand me, and I had no choice, because they were the one who chose my decisions and I had to obey them... My dad introduced me to the "gentlemen" he chose. They're looks were decent, but I didn't imagine that my parents will be the one choosing for me. I always knew that I wasn't free to do what I want. The first guy was Miles, I already knew him when we were 1st grade, his mother transferred him from other school because he had anxiety that caused him not to focus on his studies. He was also bullied by Mason who was my 2nd choice. He always got detention and got addicted to drugs at one point, and then there's Levi my third choice. I haven't met him, but I heard he's a foreign exchange student that is from Germany and now goes to our school. My 4th choice was Liam he was my rival when we were elementary but ofcourse I still didn't lose to him, he obeys his father all the time and my father said that he'll be the next heir of his father's company, let's just say he was kinda a nerd. Last but not the least Patrick, I kinda had a crush on him he was the one who made me feel welcome to the skating group in our neighborhood, he thought me how to skate and everything. The one problem is... right now he's more like a brother to me. My father agreed to have the boys spend one day with me and see how it goes. I'm just gonna say one thing "I hate my life" First things first, I need to talk this through Anna, and then get ready. This will be a busy Christmas... *knock, knock "I have some news for you—" "Yeah I heard..." "If that's the case, can you help me for this past 5 days?" "I guess I can make time..." "Are you sick? You sound sad, You good?" "Yeah, it's no worries" Well thanks to Anna, I managed to be on time. Anyways first day is Liam. This date will be so awkward...

"Hey— Mia, it's been a while huh?" "Yeah it is, so what have you been up to? I heard you'll be the next heir of you father's company" "Yeah after I transferred to another high school, I kinda got tired of obeying my father, and about that company. My brother just died last year, so he had no choice but to put me as his heir. I think you were kind of the reason why I worked hard when we were young. After I left, my grades started to fall and made me a failure" "Oh c'mon don't say that. You were so good back then. I almost didn't catch up to you at History. That subject was not made for me" *both laughs "You know I didn't want this, I was forced to break up with my girlfriend, but I'm not saying your bad or anything. It's just—" "—Hard to move on, don't worry it's just like the movies. The rich kid's force marriage" "Yeah I guess so... Can I take you somewhere" "Why not, our day is almost over anyways." After we talked about our past, he brought me to our favorite amusement park when we were little. We ate tons of corn dogs, we rode some rides. Overall he was a great guy except the fact that he mentioned his ex... But behind all thos rivalries we had, he's great. My second date was Mason, up until now he was still scary. His build was huge and and he chose a pub to date. At first we galked about him having an addiction, and he also talked about him being 1 year sober. After I had that date with Mason he really change. He was life those big man that would just cuddle you. He was soft and was not that moody like I expected. I guess this wasn't bad after all. There was uncomfortable moments but he sure is huggable. My third date was Miles. He didn't change, he was timid like usual. It made me go back to the days . It was a decent date. But I didn't expect him to say this... "Hey, I think I feel more comfortable around you, I don't feel timid like I used to. But I like men... I know this was awkward but I consider you as a friend, and I also like a guy." "Awww Miles, I'm so happy for you. Honestly I didn't expect that but do tell. Who is this guy..." "Well, you probably know him. It's Levi..." "Whoa! That is amazing! Not because like I don't like Levi or anything. But I'm proud of you. You're so brave not to hide these things from me. I hope it goes well on your side." "Thank you Mia" Well I didn't expect that. I'm not hurt, I feel happy but unexpected. I might even try to help him... -Next day- Let's just act normal. Don't worry Miles, I ain't gonna steal your man. I'm not here to ruin a perfect love story. "Hey! What's up?" "Oh, Hi! Umm take a seat" "So... let me just say that you probably don't like me intimately right?" "What?! No it's not like that" "At the first day of us meeting, your eyes keeps wondering around Miles..." "We're just school mates, nothing else." "..." "Fine, yes I am in love with him. He's just like an angel. He's perfect inside and out, and I'm sorry this was all my father's plan or else he'll disown me, so I agreed to this" "Levi, your life is all yours don't let anyone drive it for you. Be honest with yourself. I'll even support you guys. Anyways this was a good talk. Hope you the best of luck Levi" "Good bye, Mia" Did I just made history? I hope they'll end up together... -Next day- Last day, FINALLY! I guess it's time for Patrick. Well he told me to go to our skaye park. So I guess this will be a casual one... "MIA! You're finally here! Well welcome to our date..." "A skate date? Pretty casual, I like it" "I knew you'd like it, I spent a LOT of time for this" "Haha, pretty funny. I didn't imagine us having a date, but I guess you like planning dates" "*laughs. Yeah— You know I wanna tell you something—" "MIAAAAA!!" "Wtf? What are you doing here Anna?" "I wanted to talk to you" *looks at Patrick "in PRIVATE" "Oh, umm yeah sure. She's all yours" I was having a good time with him though... "Mia, I want to tell you something—" "Before you tell yours, I think I made my decision" "What?! So all of my chasing was all a waste..." "What do you mean?" "I-I LIKE YOU MIA!" "You-you like me? That's not possible Anna, we've been friends for so long. It's just not possible..." "Yeah we've been friends, but I guess you didn't notice all the effort I've done to tell you it, huh? "I'm sorry Anna, but it's just not possible. You were like a twin, a sister to me. It doesn't make sense, but I'm sorry Anna but it isn't mutual" "Well, I'm leaving tomorrow night to LA. So I rushed here to tell that to you, I hope you the best of luck." "Good bye Mia, and Merry Christmas" It just didn't make sense, my best friend was leaving and liked me?? It was just too sudden. It was all unexpected. I excused myself to Pat. It was the worse. I felt so defeated. My Christmas was ruined... All of a sudden all the boys texted me to meet them in a place, and the most surprising my sister came home. She acted so differently, she was so happy. Anyways I still can't forget what happened last night, and I still needed to prepare for Christmas eve and for the boys. I met up with Mason first. He invited me for a bike ride. We arrived at the beach, and out of nowhere he said... "Mia, I know I have done shitty things. But I like you. It was totally different when I left. So I'm gonna ask one question. Can you be my parter in crime for the rest of our lives?" "I-I. Mason you're such a great guy. But I've known you for a long time. That I treat you like a brother. I'm sorry but I don't feel anything when I'm around you" I was so foolish, I had to hurt his feeling and love to me. He's more like a brother that a lover to me... I met Liam second. The area we needed to meet was so crowded, it seemed like there was a concert or something, as I walked closer I saw a sign saying "Will you be my Girlfriend?" Wtf is this?... "Mia! You're here, umm it's all of a sudden but... will you be my girlfriend?" Like what am I supposed to say, I'm in a state of shock. I don't know what to do. I just don't want to hurt him. "Liam, I'm sorry. You're such a great guy but I know you still like your ex. I think it's better to talk things out between you. I can't give you the happiness and love you received from her. I'm sorry but I need to go" Wtf just happened, as I walk away I feel so much worse. Why did I need to do this. After that I started to go to the next one. It was Miles. I hope it isn't another proposal. As I walk towards him, I noticed and felt that someone was watching us.

"Hi Mia, I changed my mind. I actually don't like Levi. When I talked to you it all felt different. I like you and I hope I spend the rest of my life with you..." He's definitely lying. I noticed that he was nervous and the major problem I saw a bruise in his arm. It seemed like he was forced to do this. If I talk there could be a mic up him. I should be cautious. I checked his body and as expected there was a mic, I disconnected it and talked to him. "Run, I'll take care thing here. I'll contact you to where Levi is." "But— you'll be in trou-" "Just run they're gonna be here any second. Run as fast as you can. I'll contact you as soon as possible" "Thank you..." "Fuck, they escaped. Search through out the area. Report at once if you found him!" Well I just got my ass on trouble. Luckily I'm about to meet Levi soon. -Later- There he is, Miles is still safe. I hope he'll have time. Well I hope this works out. I told him to book a flight so they could get away out of country. "Mia! Here, here. I jus want to tell you that thank you, but I found that you're really who I am finding, Mia I like you and I can't live without you" "Stop the bullshit and meet Miles in the airport." "What do you mean? and how did you know?" "Just shut up and get the hell out of here. You found the right one, you don't have much time" "I really owe you a lot..." I really am in trouble now. What the fuck is wrong today. I got proposed 4 times?!! I just can't with my life right now... Patrick asked me to meet him at our favorite skate park. As I arrived, I saw all myfriends and the skating community. Patrick wore something nice. It was perfect. "So, you might be surprised that all of our friends are here, and I wore something decent. But Mia, I've liked you sice you joined and started skating. I was just so coward to tell you how I felt, but I won't be the coward self right now. Mia Smith, I Patrick Morrison would love and care you, and I'm asking you to be my girlfriend... will you be my girlfriend?" Out of tiredness, I saw a glimpse of the moments I had with Anna, and at that moment. I realized that I'm making a fool out of myself. I've helped so many people but I didn't even payed attention to myself. Ofcourse I like Patrick, but I guess it was a different king of Love. While with Anna, I was happy. I remembered what I said to Levi "it's your own life, don't let other drive it for you" while I'm here not following my heart... "Pat, I'm sorry. But the kind of love that you received from me was not the girlfriend, boyfriend love. You were like a brother to me. I'm sorry Pat. But I don't feel the same.." I hurriedly went back home. Thinking in my room, what I've done... All of a sudden my sister knocked the door. This was the first time me and my sister had a conversation. "Hi Mia, so I heard the guys proposed. Who did you pick?" "None..." "I'm sorry Mia, all over the years I didn't become the best sister you had. But let me tell you why I'm here right now. I was at your age when dad and mom brought 5 guys. I had to pick somebody, it was like a multiple choice test on my finals. But there's always this one choice it's called None of the Above, but dad stopped me and made his choice for me. After a year I divorced him, and went to my true love, dad and mom admitted they were wrong and apologized. So here we are, I'm happy right now and I managed to talk to you for the first time" "So you're saying, you broke the barrier againts mom and dad?" "Yep, I guess you could say that. Mia I know there's someone who's is your heart right now. Maybe there's still time" I looked at the clock and hurriedly went to the airport. I asked all around shouted her name over and over, and somehow she heard it... "Hey, you're gonna embarrass yourself" I ran toward her like a dog who haven't met his owner for years. I teared up hugging her. "I'm sorry, I was late to realize that you were always there for me" "It's okay, somehow we missed our flight so we decided to stay for a little more" "I've been proposed 5 times today, so maybe I should do it too. Anna, will you be my girlfriend?" "Yes— looks like we might've got you parent's blessings" "I'm sorry honey, don't worry we will support you whatever decision you made" "C'mon GROUP HUG!" After all of that, we came back home and enjoyed Christmas. Oh and let me give you updates on the boys. Levi and Miles got their blessings but it was a tough road. Liam got back together with his ex and moved to Hawaii. Mason is now studying to become a therapist. Patrick found his true love in the skate park of course. Last but not the least, I'm still together with my Anna having the best Christmas of our lives. -You see now how it was the worst year?, and yes this is The End-


She took one glimpse at his fragile yet stable face. His crystal, Emerald eyes sank deeply through her unravelling, beaming smile. Her intentions were over the limits of expectation; her hour-glass body spoke the words of her exceptional mind! She knew one detail but he knew every last ounce... THREE YEARS BEFORE... The beginning... It all began on a traditional evening; he would wake up, throw on  his off white shirt and his blood red trousers. He would grab his Raven jet black jacket and sneakily tumble to his faded grey Lamborghini. His name was Vincent. Vincent was mysterious, obscure, perplexing, mystifying and secretive...    Nobody knew his life, his past but only his impression he gave. He was driving rather rapid, he came racing round the corner to find he had to boost his muscly leg right up-against the breaks! He started skidding in circles until he came to a halt. Why did he stop your  probably thinking, right? Well he saw her, he saw her flattering legs, her electrifying, golden blonde hair, the way she strutted, the way her rosy red lips stood out. He knew that's what he wanted and that's what he would get... The entrance of her... She ran as quickly as her heels would let her, she raced towards the car and  opened the door on her left, she sat on the seat. She reached over and gave him the most rewarding hug he could ask for. She calmly whispered in his ear asking if he was alright. He winked and gave a relaxing reply. "Yes but this only happened cause i seen you!" She gave a suttle laugh and opened the door ;  she gave him five words he would always remember, "I will never forget you" and then she fiercely sashayed off... two da ys later. Vincent came across her again, but this time instead of stopping he listened, and that's when his mission truly began... He found out her full name. Vincent quickly searched her and that's when he found her social medias. Her name was so gorgeous and magical. He had to know more! Her name was Tiara-Lee ash Aymara. Her meaning was so powerful and revealing in a way. (princess clears a sexy path for her lover). It is so creative! Then he chuckled. two years later... He knew so much about her. Where she lives, her family, her school. EVERYTHING! Soon he would meet her again and start an extremely fantastic life with her! If only she knew... The day of the meet... She took one glimpse at his fragile yet stable face. His crystal, Emerald eyes sank deeply through her unravelling, beaming smile. Her intentions were over the limits of expectation; her hour-glass body spoke the words of her exceptional mind! He gripped on her smooth bum and pulled her in and said the words she once said, "i told you i would never forget you ..." -this short story is a horror yet romance!


“Want an Almond Joy?” the taxi driver said, leaning back toward me and shuffling through the bag––a monstrously large collection of little blue wrappers. “That’s very nice of you,” I mumbled, nodding my head. When I realized he didn’t see––he was looking straight ahead––I said, “yes, please,” so softly I could barely hear my own voice. I leaned toward the driver so he wouldn’t have to turn around. “Thank you very much.” As I nibbled at the Almond Joy, the driver scooped three more candies for himself. Plopped them in his mouth all at the same time and chomped.

My eyes swept over the view: as rice fields rolled by, I caught a glimpse of my nose in the window’s reflection. It glittered with sweat. And my blue eyes shone, overflowing with anticipation.

“I’m taking a longer route,” the driver said, adjusting his dashboard mirror, “because there’s traffic on the main road.” “No, no worries!” I settled into my seat, tracing a stain on the middle seat. “Whatever gets us to Boston,” I said. “I have a job interview at the university this afternoon,” I smiled, trying to imagine the dean. Would he be wearing glasses and a sweater vest? A suit? I looked down at my dress, black cotton, and smoothed it out a bit. I couldn’t remember if I had ironed it in the hotel room that morning––though I suppose it was too late to try to worry about it. The taxi driver laughed. “Whatever gets us to Boston, that’s a good one! I’m gonna start using that one from now on.” I spotted a porcelain white road sign, ordained with hand-painted blue, yellow, and green leaves to frame its contents: “Carrer del Destí,” it read. Street of Fate . When did they start translating road signs here into Catalan? I almost asked the driver, but found myself too embarrassed. Back when I lived in Massachusetts, all the road signs were in English. But there ’ s no official language in the United States, I told myself. Must have a large Catalan community here nowadays, I nodded. Yes, that must be it . “Would you like another?” the driver asked. “A what now?” “Would you like another Almond Joy?” “An Almond Joy?” “Yes.” “Why would I want an Almond Joy?” I shuffled in my seat.

“Well––” the driver fell into a silence so stupid I wanted to kick the back seat. “I have a lot here, and––” “Let me tell you something about Almond Joys,” I started. “Almond Joys are the only candies that tell you how to feel in the name... because biting into one isn’t clear enough. ” The driver let out a nervous laugh. “No, really,” I continued. “The insides are a pathetic attempt to capture the sad texture of some kind of coconut filling, and the chocolate is just waxy enough to remind you that the thing contains almonds. It almost makes you wish you were allergic to nuts, so your head could swell up and you could go the rest of your life without ever having to touch one again, or, better yet, dead.” “That’s a good one, hun,” the driver forced out the words through his chewing. The sound of his interminable, slushing saliva assaulted my ears. “Don’t call me hun if you want to keep the tires on your car.” Suddenly the phone rang––mine, thankfully, or I would’ve heaved the driver’s phone out the window--and I answered it after catching my breath. “A petty solace to the small talk,” I said into the phone without checking the caller ID. “Alice speaking. Now what is it?” “Penny, how many times have we been through this?” a shrill voice chirped on speaker. “Nobody knows who Alice is. Nobody has ever––called you that?” “Is that a question?” “Forget it, sis.” “So, then?” “Huh?” Her stupidity irritated me. “Your point. For calling.” With Elizabeth, everything had to be spelled out. Perfectly said and entirely literal. “Well…” she stumbled. There was a crackling sound, as if she were crumpling a paper on the other end to try to convince me we had a bad signal. “Roxy passed away this morning.” “That’s it?” “Penny––I’m sorry. I know how worried––how beside yourself you were last night.”

“First of all, don’t call me Penny,” I said. “Penny is the name of a coin, and the worst one, at that. Second of all, I never worry. That’s a lie. I’m never ‘beside myself,’ not for you, or anyone, let alone a goddamn chihuahua named Roxy.” I hung up the phone, and the driver blinked, and it rang again. I picked it up on the third ring––the best ring, and the only ring, at that, that doesn’t look like you’re desperate for human connection. “Elizabeth, what in the hell don’t you understand about someone hanging up the phone on you? I don’t want to talk.” “Listen, sis,” the voice on the other end dipped into a baritone. “Elizabeth asked me to call you. I wanted to…check in.” “David!” I squealed. “David! Who’s my favorite baby brother?” I smiled, cupping the microphone as if it were a rotary phone. “David is my little brother,” I explained to the taxi driver. “He’s about to turn six.” “Penny…I’m…almost thirty-seven,” David said. “Ohh, right,” I smiled, cupping the phone again. “David likes to play pretend,” I shouted to the taxi driver, whose eyes seemed too wide for him to still be dead-silent. “I think he’s gonna grow up and become an actor!” “I’m in a taxi right now,” I shouted into the phone. “Can you call me back in a bit?” “Penny, I know. I was the one who called you the…Uber. Listen,” I could hear David swallow. “This is important.”

“Uber! Davie, you have such a way with words.” I couldn’t help it. Even though David was already a kid, I spoke to him as if he were still my baby. The perfect doll Mom and Dad brought home from the hospital just for me . “Penny…” David’s voice was hushed, though more out of kindness than out of secretiveness. “Is Author changing you again?” “Hmm,” I said. “Give me a minute.” I thought for a moment, now growing pensive.

“Penny, are you still there?” I didn’t know how long it had been. “Wait a bit, David. It’s a good question. Give me a couple more minutes, I think Author had to go to the bathroom.” “Let’s hope she’s not constipated today,” I could hear David mutter to someone on the other end. After a few minutes had passed, I hissed into the phone. “Daaaavid?” “Penelope.” “You’re right,” I sighed. “Author did change me again.”

I glanced at myself in the window’s reflection. My black eyes glittered, and a tear rolled down my cheek. “She has me looking at my reflection in a window,” I said, slow and steady. “And she has a tear rolling down my cheek like a third-rate novelist.” “Penny, take a breath.” “I am breathing.” “Good, now I want you to tell me one thing.” “What’s that?” “What color are your eyes right now?” “Black,” I said.

“You’re sure?” “Yes.” “It’s not the worst edit Author’s ever made––” I heard David whisper to someone on the other end. “The worst edit Author’s ever made was making the whites go yellow. I was there for that. Had to take her to the hospital for cirrhosis of the liver and they didn’t believe me when I told them there was no family history and she had only just started drinking on her 21st birthday, a few days prior.” “Listen, Penny, I want you to ask the driver where you’re going.” I asked him. “Andorra,” I reported to David. “What’s that?” “I’m starting to hate her,” David said in another hushed tone.

“I’m sorry.” I said it as if it were a reflex.

“Not you, Penny,” David sighed, “I’m starting to hate Author.” “Everything Author does is for a reason,” I replied, again more out of a reflex than out of a conscious thought. My words were just words––devoid of all meaning. “Well maybe Author should start using her intuition more because reason doesn’t seem to be working out,” David said, and my phone went black. The battery’s dead. I looked over to the driver, and then to the Halloween-candy-sized bag of Almond Joys on his passenger seat.

I leaned over. “Hey, can I have one?”

“Take them all,” he handed them to me so quickly (almost nervously?), that I was touched. The kindness of strangers, I mused, munching on the chocolate, sweet and soft and gooey as if it’d been sitting out in the heat, waiting, waiting for the perfect moment––waiting just for me. “I want…eh, to apologize,” the driver said. “For taking the long road. I––I––there wasn’t actually that much traffic ahead, you see?” “No, I can’t see because we didn’t go that way,” I tried to remain matter-of-fact. It was the least I could do for him. “No, I mean,” the driver hesitated. “It’s just that I haven’t been getting many rides, and I thought if I showed you around the countryside I could get a better tip.” “Oh! Well, that is silly,” I replied in a laugh. “Yes,” he mirrored my laugh uneasily. “I mean, I don’t even have any money on me!” The car went silent, so silent I could hear the driver’s belabored swallowing.

“You pay…on the app,” he explained, “any time throughout the ride or just after it. Would you like a phone charger?” “No, thanks,” I said, sifting through the bag of Almond Joys. “I think it would make Author pretty mad. She’s a big fan of all those plays that involve a miscommunication because a letter or something isn’t properly delivered, you know, like Romeo and Juliet?” “Uh-huh.” Although I interpreted it as the driver agreeing, I could hear him roll his eyes. “I’m pretty sure she’d just crash the car into a ravine if I took the charger,” I laughed. “She’s not very creative.” “Oh?” “Yeah.” “Well––take the charger––for my sake.” “Really?” “I insist.” “Okay!” Somehow I agreed before Author could change me––could change my mind again––and as the battery signal on my phone lit up, the driver laughed. “ Que turista més boja ,*” he said. *[“What a crazy tourist”] I would later tell David, as he hovered over my hospital bed with a line of worry permanently carved into his forehead, that those were the very last words I heard before the whole world went black.


The Alignment happened once every three thousand years, the exact length of time civilization had been blooming on Hinadora.

One sun and two moons. Never had the world seen all align as one. The planet Hinadora often praised their sky. Moon Sy gave them moments of green when eclipsing Sun. Her blue and crystalline existence casting ripples and beams that sprung new life from the dirt. Blood moon Tertia looked to bite into Sun when she crossed, leaving Hinadora in dark quiet. There was the rare moment Sy and Tertia overlapped opposite Sun, the planet Hinadora hiding the reunion that sent ghostly rays of lilac to reflect off the land. What would happen, the people wondered, when Sun, Tertia, Sy, and Hinadora, all aligned as one? Rashel scurried between water and city, a drapery of leaves swishing over her shoulder and down her back. Her wooden slip on shoes clattered over the stone slabs that were pressed deep within teal spikes of grass.

“And where are you rushing off to?” Gladstone called from the neighboring canal as he pushed his boat through. His ore he shoved into the muddy benches, altering his progress to follow her upstream.

“The meeting house,” she said, breathless.

“Meeting about what?” “Stop making me talk.” “Well it would be easier if you got in.” The tapping of her shoes slowed and sounds of birds and whirring of the city were able to regain dominance. Rashel glared and caught her breath. “If this gets wet, I will drown you,” she jostled the woven leaves like a threat. “I promise you will arrive dry as bone.” “So morbid,” she muttered, teetering and testing her footing. The soft earth gave in and the rusty mud began to seep upward. “I can’t. I’ll just have to run,” she shook her head and resumed her staccato jog. “Whoa, wait a second,” he shoved hard, causing muddy clouds to swirl in the clear aqua water where grass continued like a blanket. His long boat settled next to a spear of wood still embellished with knotted ropes and frayed edges. Gladstone threw his rope over, pulled tight, and tied himself off before striding out of the rocking vessel. “I’ll carry you.” Rashel sighed, and it felt good to expel the pent up energy. She eyed the taller man moving for her, his dark brows tilted in humor, matching the full mouth. Settling into her stance, she jut a hip and shook her head. “And how would I get out? Oh!” Her gasp bounced off the water as he leaned down, and wrapped his arm around her legs. “Oh my goodness…” she pressed her palms to his back as he stood upright and turned with her over his shoulder.

“Leave everything to me,” he pressed, taking greater care with his footing on return to the boat. She closed her eyes and prayed to Tertia that the leaves pressed between them would survive the trip. When her sense of gravity shifted to something familiar and her balance rocked to the demands of water, she opened one eye. Gladstone was wrestling with his rope, tossing it back to the boat before pulling up his ore and resuming his push upstream. Rashel opened both eyes and relaxed, pruning and plucking the leaf blanket to bring it back to life. “Your gift to the celestials?” Gladstone asked, nodding his broad chin to her leaves. “A paltry gift,” she huffed, shifting in her seat, “It’s decoration. Somehow this got left behind.” “One curtain of leaves? Can’t imagine it makes that much of a difference.” “It does,” she brushed her cherry red hair over her shoulder and straightened. “Green leaves to represent Sy and Sun?” He asked, turning forward. “Of course. We have water for Sy and flowers for Sun and…” “Blood? For Tertia?” “Tertia demands blood,” she arched a brow and shrugged. “But no. Wine.” “You’re dressed for Tertia today,” he noted the red silks that rippled across her bronze skin, settling on the new color of her hair. His voice became pensive, “Almost didn’t recognize you.” “I’ve always followed Tertia.” “I know. But now you look it.” “And who are you following these days?” “Same as always. Flowing and steady,” he glanced skyward. Rashel followed, cupping a hand to her brow. Sun was stationary and strong, but a dark red Tertia was beginning to carve into the light. Sy approached slower from the opposite side, beams already refracting through its ocean-like existence.

“Thank you,” she dropped her sights to the meeting house of marble engulfed by canal, “I’m cutting it close. Were you heading home just now?” Her head tilted suddenly. “Yes,” his smile flickered out and he refused to turn to meet her. “You were going to miss the eclipse? It’s never been celebrated once! The chances we are the ones fortunate enough…” she paused at his shrug, “Oh, don’t tell me you are one of those…” “Isn’t it interesting? The timing? The world as we know it, born almost precisely…” “Gladstone,” her tone made him hunch. “What disaster would strike us? Tertia blocks Sun. Sy will have no light to cast. What do you think will happen?” “I don’t know.”

“Surely you have a thought…” “No. No thoughts,” his head lifted and he flashed a brilliant smile to her, “Now that I know you’re putting this on, I suppose I’ll stay.” “Easily persuaded,” she pursed her lips and pressed her hands to her hips. “What are you doing after?” “Cleaning up.” “I’ll help.” “You don’t have to.” “I want to.” “Do you really want to?” She propped her chin on her palm and watched him dock the boat. His muscles flexed beneath the rolled cuffs at his forearms. Before he could catch her stare, she returned to his face.

“Anything for you,” his words were as soft as his smile. He extended a hand to hold hers as she balanced her way to the edge of the circular meeting house. “It starts in two twists,” she brushed the wrinkles out of her dress as he twisted the watch on his wrist twice.

“I’ll be there.” The pillars of the meeting house dwarfed her as she ran through them, weaving into the deeper circles that began to morph with spades of emerald, petals of golden yellows, and sheets of flowing water and wine that always connected to the streams within.

She passed the blanket of leaves off to waiting hands, already stationed at the ladder to unfold the long form from roof to floor.

Another satisfied exhale. Rashel was standing in the center of the meeting house, head tilted back to the central opening that peered up to Sun. She smelled the ocean and salt and fresh air before she felt Gladstone’s hand warm her side. Her heart thudded and she leaned against him feeling the rush of blood hitting her cheeks.

They watched as Tertia ate up half of Sun and Sy was just beginning to meet from across the way. The water moon began to ripple as it kissed the blood moon. It shuddered in current, the circular shape warping and bulging. Rashel held her breath, Gladstone went stiff, gasps echoed through the crowd around them.

Slowly Sy wrapped around Tertia, engulfing the solid red moon into warping water. Never before had the moons touched, but on this journey, their paths converged. The world became dark save for the bright ring of filtered light still rippling. Hinadora watched in collective awe.

The moons hung, and instead of moving beyond, Sy clung to Tertia, traveling with her as she passed by Sun. Tertia boiled. Or was it a trick of light and liquid? The moon seemed to shift and bulge and the layer of water moved with it. Inside, Tertia was more vibrant than her usual existence, but Sun at her back made her dark, like a face in silhouette with an unreadable expression. Brilliant streams of color erupted as Sy steamed. A low rumbling hissed long enough, loud enough, that Hinadora began to feel it through the air. The water moon thinned like Tertia was drinking it dry, and soon, one moon was left. Bloody and dark and still boiling with shards of rainbow glinting off its outer shell. That’s what it must have been. A shell. A shell that cracked and boomed and made the sky shudder. Eruptions of orange fell away and the silhouette of something large unwrapped itself from the spears of Tertia that were burning down to Hinadora. Crystal wings opened and thin legs reached around the falling edge of shell. It expanded. Stretched. Huge black eyes of infinite fractures focused on the planet. Its heavily shelled body pulsed, the rainbow of wings beat and the creature leapt down to kiss the sky of Hinadora.

It was screaming that came next. Screaming from fear of the unknown creature, screams for the debris beginning to plummet, screams when the tube-like tongue unrolled and began to drink from the ocean. Rashel gripped Gladstone’s hand, and the two could only stare in silence as screens around them flashed images of the thing beginning to overtake the world. “Blood and water,” the sage voice croaked, patting the hand of the younger girl peering out of the tunnel. “I saw it then, you know.” “Saw Terrya being born?” The girl turned back and propped her chin on the worn shoulder that felt like sticks inside a sack. Her large eyes blinked up to her. “Yes. Such a big thing. We’re just small little pebbles to her. When she wants blood, she takes blood. When she wants water, she takes water.” “But she can take too much. I heard Stony say so.” “She has. But have you noticed? She’s been leaving to the stars. Building something with mud.” “A moon.” “Yes. And what do you think she will do with the moon?” “Put something in it. But what about the water moon? You said there were two.” “We will have to see how it happens, but I bet there will be one. A carefully crafted route for both, and in three thousand years, we will begin again.” “But this time we know and we will tell everyone and be ready!” “Do you think in three thousand years we will care? No,” Rashel shook her weary head, “We will have forgotten. We will be absorbed in our lives. Distracted. That’s why she waits for so long. Waits until we are complacent and she can leap down and snatch up what she wants. Like so many things,” her voice trailed off. “What things?” “Keep your eyes open, my little star. Always question why things are in the sky, and when they try to appease you with their beauty, to give you small moments of shimmering gifts, know that behind everything, there is a monster waiting for the right time to take.”


Once was Lost, Now is Found Since they had moved away from their old home, they didn’t go to London much anymore. Bella used to love visiting the big city with all it’s museums and theatres and activities. Her daughter loved to go for the shopping. They would usually make a deal that if they went shopping for a couple of hours then Bella would get an hour in a museum. She supposed she could just let her daughter go off on her own – Chelsea was 17 now but Bella didn’t quite trust the city. It might not be safe to let a teenage girl off on her own, even if it was only to roam Oxford Street. Bella knew she was over-protective but after what had had happened with Rory, she couldn’t help herself. The train was crowded but they had reserved seats in advance so they were able to sit down for the journey, although they had been forced to ask people to move out of their seats. The two women who had ignored the reserved sign gave Bella a dirty look. The younger one said that her mother had a bad knee. Bella retorted that she herself had arthritis. Well, it was true and if the older woman was disabled, why hadn’t she reserved a seat? Chelsea hunched her shoulders and slipped into the window seat, her earbuds in so that she could ignore Bella for the entire journey. Bella considered offering Chelsea’s seat to the older woman and then decided against it. She wanted to keep an eye on Chelsea. Opening up her kindle, Bella tried to get into the book she had been reading for several weeks. It had been highly recommended and well-reviewed but Bella found it boring. She would force herself to read it though as she knew it would be good for her. She couldn’t read trashy novels every day. She glanced over at Chelsea who was now resting her head against the window. She would get covered in germs. Bella would remind her to wash her hair tonight. She reached into her pocket and made sure that she had remembered her hand gel. London was so dirty. Woken by a jab in the ribs from Chelsea’s elbow, Bella heard the conductor announcing Victoria Station. She closed her kindle and put it deep into her backpack, checking that her wallet was zipped into an inside pouch of the pack. She reminded Chelsea to put her phone in her coat and not just leave it dangling out of her jeans for a pickpocket to grab. Chelsea sighed and did as she was told. Armed with their tickets to get through the exit barriers, they disembarked from the train. The crowds at the station pressed about them until they were siphoned through the gates into the shopping arcade. Chelsea wanted to go into a shop to buy a drink so they headed into WH Smith’s. While Chelsea scanned the snacks and beverages, Bella took a quick tour of the books. She noted that there was a new volume from Percy Jackson. Rory had loved those novels. Bella remembered one Christmas day when they had all curled up on the sofa and watched a film made from one of the novels. That must have been the last Christmas with Rory. Bella put down the book. There was no point in buying it. They took the underground to Bond Street and started trawling through the shops of Oxford Street, making their way towards Covent Garden. Chelsea had a job now and was able to spend her own money in the shops but Bella found herself frequently offering to pay for a second item when Chelsea couldn’t make up her mind. She knew she shouldn’t spoil Chelsea; you can’t buy love after all but it would make the journey home more pleasant if Chelsea was feeling grateful. She might even chat with Bella a bit. When the bags got too heavy, they stopped for a coffee. Bella was shocked at the exorbitant prices. How did anybody live in London? Everything was so expensive. Rory had always wanted to live in London. He had applied to a London university but Bella and her husband had discouraged him, telling him it would be more economical to study closer to home. They would tell Chelsea the same thing when she applied to university. London was fine for a visit, but you couldn’t actually live there. After they were revived with caffeine, it was Bella’s turn to indulge herself. There was an exhibition at the Hayward Gallery on the Southbank. Chelsea groaned at having to walk that far but Bella insisted it would be lovely to cross the river. It wasn’t even that far a walk but Chelsea was carrying several shopping bags. Bella offered to take a bag and Chelsea handed her a large package that had heavy shoes in it. They crossed over at Embankment and Bella paused on the bridge, letting the wind blow through her hair. She looked down at the boats and remembered taking Rory, when he was quite young on one of the London tourist cruises. “Did we ever take you on one of those boats Chelsea?” Her daughter shook her head. “I haven’t been on the London Eye either,” she accused.They had taken Rory on the Eye. He had been rambunctious and an elderly couple in their compartment had asked Bella to ‘control her son.’ Perhaps they had been frightened that the leaping and stomping of a five-year-old boy would cause the capsule to swing lose from its place and fall into the river. “We could go on the Eye if you really want to,” Bella felt she should take Chelsea if Rory had been. “But it’s very pricey. We might want to spend the money on a meal before we go home instead.” Chelsea shrugged, “Whatever.” Bella decided she didn’t want to go on the Eye. She would take Chelsea to the terrace café on the Southbank. They would both be hungry after the museum and then they could get the underground from Waterloo to Victoria with only one change. The exhibit was stunning. Bella spent ages drifting from one piece to another. Chelsea had abandoned her early on, settling on a bench in the middle of the gallery, her shopping arranged around her. Bella thought her daughter would be safe enough there, nothing untoward could happen in a gallery. Bella used to frequent art museums all the time; Rory had loved them and they had always seemed to be havens. Rory had been quite an artist himself and she thought he might have studied art at university, if he had gone. He used to sit on the floor in front of paintings he liked, forcing tourists to walk around the child parked in the middle of the National Gallery or the Tate. When he was older, he took a sketch pad so his presence had been more acceptable. Bella still has a few of those sketches. The meal was not good value for money but they needed to eat something before their journey home. Bella texted her husband giving them an estimated time of arrival. She hoped he wouldn’t mind picking them up that late but she didn’t want to get a bus with all of Chelsea’s purchases. After leaving a tip, they collected their bags, Bella tucking her wallet deep into her pack and pulled it around to rest on her chest. “That looks so stupid,” Chelsea noted. “I’m sure it does.” There was not point in arguing with a fashion conscious teenager, “but I can get to our tickets and money easier and no one can pull it off my back and steal it.” Chelsea rolled her eyes. “It’s getting dark and it’s a bit rough down here. Is your phone in your coat?” “Yes,” the tone was testy. They made their way towards Waterloo, having to go through a concrete underpass where several young people were sitting along the wall. Some were chatting, one was playing a guitar. A few just sat on the pavement, looking cold and hopeless. “Lady, can you help? You have some spare change?” Bella kept her head down, trying to pass through as quickly as possible. At the end of the tunnel, she saw a body sprawled on a sleeping bag. ‘Drugs’ she thought and as the young man was unconscious, she allowed her eyes to dart towards him. Then she froze. Chelsea bumped into her. “What?” Bella couldn’t speak. She stared at the person stretched out before her. He didn’t look that different. Thinner of course and dirty. Filthy actually. Bella noted the black dirt encrusted under the nails, the long thin fingers, one hand loosely draped over a tin of cider. Although his eyes were shut, she knew they were blue. His ash blond hair hung greasy strands, partly obscuring his face, but she knew. She dropped the shoes she was carrying for Chelsea and crouched down next to the youth. She wanted to reach out and brush the hair away but she didn’t want to startle him. “Rory,” she breathed and then did reach out, touching the hand resting on the cider tin. The man swatted at her, “Ger away,” he slurred without opening his eyes. “Rory,” she said again, this time taking the hand and holding it tightly. “Rory, it’s mum.” The eyes cracked open and attempted to focus. “It’s mum, sweetie, and Chelsea,” she motioned to her daughter who took a tentative step forward. Rory said nothing, staring at them. Bella wanted to take him in her arms and rush him home. Bathe him and wrap him in clean blankets. She wanted to feed him and buy him new clothes. She wanted to do everything for him, right now, at once. “Are you hungry sweetheart? Do you want us to get you something to eat?” Rory shook his head slowly, as if it hurt to do so. “Not hungry,” he muttered. “Can you give me some money?” Bella felt her heart sinking. “Sure. I don’t have any cash on me though. Why don’t you come with us to the station where there’s a cash point?” “Nah, I’ll lose my space.” Bella looked at where her son had camped out. There was the sleeping bag and a rucksack but it was undercover, out of the weather. She could see that it was a prime spot. “Why don’t you just come home?” Chelsea broke in. Rory looked at her as if he had never seen her before. In a way, he hadn’t. She had been 12 when he left. Now she was nearly grown. “I mean,” she went on, “this kind of sucks. You could at least come home and get some free food and stuff. Then you could leave again if you want but it would be, you know, a break.” Rory shifted his gaze to Bella who tried to smile at him. “That’s true Rory. You could just come home for a little break, if you would like to. We’d love to have you.” “What about Dad?” Bella let out the breath she had been holding. “Rory, we all love you. You will always be welcome in our home.” “Does Dad love me?” “Yes, of course. Fathers and sons argue but you still love each other. Chelsea,” she grabbed her daughter’s arm. “Mums and daughters argue. Don’t we Chelsea? But we love each other. I know Chelsea can’t wait to grow up and get away from us but she knows she can always come home, right Chelsea?” Chelsea nodded solemnly, then she crouched down next to her brother. “Come home Rory. We miss you. Mum still thinks about you everyday and cries. I need your help; she’s going to drown me.” He almost smiled, then pushed himself to a sitting position. “I don’t know. Maybe,” he pulled his rucksack into his lap and hugged it like a comfort toy. Bella reminded herself to keep breathing. Patience. She had to be patient and not push too hard. She reached out her hand to help her son to stand. “Let’s go get you a cup of coffee, then you can decide. If your place is gone and you don’t want to come home with us, I’ll get you a room for the night.” There was a long pause and then Rory placed his grubby hand in hers and they stood up together. He reached down and folded the sleeping bag under his arm, shifting the rucksack to his back. He leaned heavily on his mother, unsteady on his feet. Chelsea retrieved the package of shoes that her mother had dropped and moved to the other side of her brother. Cautiously they moved down the road towards Waterloo station, it’s bright lights gleaming in the London dusk.


“Hey! Thanks for making it.

Don’t you look dapper.”

A gorgeous brunette in a red trench coat called to a balding man in a wrinkled business suit.

He sat on a park bench about to read a newspaper.

He turned around looking for whom this beauty could be speaking to in the crowded food court.

She looked like a model straight out of Victoria Secrets.

He pointed to himself.

“Yes, I’m talking to you. Cliff, right? Don’t you remember me? It's me, Demona.” Cliff cleared his throat and secretly removed his wedding ring. He gave her a quizzical look.

 “We chatted online last night.

I sent my pictures.” She displayed one of her photos. “I recall your pictures were from NYC.” He put the newspaper away and grinned.  “Now you remember, so sweet.

You agreed to meet me here, at the Markets of Hartford, the best street food in Connecticut.”

She sat next to him and crossed her legs. “We have everything your soul could desire.”  Cliff was about to speak, when Demona interrupted.

“It’s so busy here, but it’s never too late for street food.” Cliff looked at his watch.  She looked at his watch.  “It’s only 9 am?

I lost track of time.

I was up so late with you.” She winked at him. “How about a breakfast burrito? I know the best place.”

She grabbed his hand and they ran across the tumultuous courtyard.

They stopped in front of ‘Hellfire Burritos’.

She ordered for him and within seconds his steaming hot meal was ready.

He took a bite as she watched.

The amazing flavors nearly burst his taste buds.

Cliff moaned in culinary pleasure.

“I knew you would love it.

Best burritos in the business.

I have connections.

I used to manage this whole facility.

Now I work in culinary education and promotional distribution.” Cliff devoured another bite and then pointed to himself.   “You work in education right.

A teacher?  No, I remember a principal.

Fascinating.” She grabbed a napkin and invaded his personal space. “You got a little salsa on your chin.

I’ll get it for you. There you go.

I know, so amazing.”

He snapped off another bite staring at her. “How about a coffee?

Excellent.

Be right back.” She touched her cheek.

He enjoyed watching her walk away.

In a flash, she returned with a large hot coffee from ‘Witches Brew’.

He sipped the dark elixir.

It tasted better than the burrito.

“Do you like the java?

Fresh ground Colombian.

I drink it all the time.” Cliff pointed to the logo of Juan Valdez on his cup and then to his hostess.

“Juan Valdez?  No, I don’t know him.  You are funny.” He shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and devoured his breakfast. “So tell me about your school.

Last night you mentioned, let me guess, Daniel Webster Middle School?

On the other side of town?

I love that part of town, so quiet, simple, and quaint.” Cliff agreed with her.

He took a sip of coffee and placed it on a round table.

He pulled out his school ID badge.

She slowly removed it from his hand.

“Wait a minute, it’s Monday morning.

Shouldn’t you be at school?

Are you being a little devil and skipping just to meet me?  You are so cute.  You’re turning red.”

She rubbed his arm.

The blushing principal pointed back to the ID and then sipped more of his beverage.

Demona examined the back. “Oh, I see, the assistant principal, Mrs.Carpenter, opens on Mondays.

Perks of the job, am I right?

So how long can you play hooky with me?”

With his coffee hand, Cliff lifted three fingers. “Until noon? That is fabulous.”  She put her hand around his elbow and smiled.

“Let’s sit down in a private cozy spot. Over there.” She pointed to a restaurant called ‘Wolf’s Den’. “It’s my favorite little hangout.”  They walked together. Cliff grinned, finished his meal, and followed her like a lamb. They walked into a dimly lit bar and grill.

Demona went directly to a secluded booth near the back.

She removed her coat revealing her skin tight dress and knockout figure to Cliff.

He plopped down in the booth and she slithered up to him.

She caressed his pasty hands.

“How about a mimosa?

Great.

I love these in the morning.”

She waved her hand in the air.

Cliff couldn’t believe she wanted to be with him.  Her beauty hypnotized him.

Three morning cocktails appeared before them.

He noticed one was red instead of orange.

He pointed at the different one.

She smirked, “After a mimosa, I like to drink a Bloody Mary.”

Cliff raised his drink to her.

Demona copied him. They clinked glasses and drank.

He barely sipped while she downed it all.

“Aww.

So refreshing.” She boasted. “It cleansed my palette.” She stared at Cliff and ran a finger through his hair. “So tell me about your school.

Any interesting students?”

He shrugged again and unsuccessfully chugged his cocktail and spilled some on the table.

She wiped it up with a napkin.

She cleaned his chin and then brushed her lips on his.

“You had a little pulp on your lips. Your lips are so soft.” She eyed him. “You’re probably wondering why I keep asking about your work.” Cliff raised his eyebrows and drank the remaining mimosa.

Demona pointed to an outside window. “I used to work at a shop out here, with a business partner, making and selling cupcakes. ‘Cupcakes by O’ Scratch’.  You can still see the sign by ‘B. Elze’s Butcher Shop’.” Cliff strained to see through the darkness and then his focus switched to her body. “Would you like to try my cupcakes, Cliff?” He grinned from ear to ear.

“You are such a bad boy.

Here you go.” She twirled her left hand and a luscious cupcake with black frosting and red sprinkles appeared before him. Without hesitation, he devoured the entire pastry.

He had frosting all over his face.

She continued, “My partner and I did not want to be a small-time operation, so we pitched our ideas of worldwide distribution on Death Tank.

It’s like Shark Tank , but if the judges don’t like your idea, they mutilate you in front of the other demons. Very entertaining for the audience, but high stakes for the participants.” Cliff, for the first time, realized his surroundings and his precarious position with a dangerous beauty.

He stood up but Demona, with one finger, pulled him down to his seat.

“Not time to go yet.

I have to finish my story. You don’t want to be rude, do you?” He shook his head and nervously smiled.

“Cliff, you seem anxious, so I will get it over quickly.

Put you out of your misery, so to speak.

My partner, Lou, and I got a contract with Death Tank and it has been an extreme success.

We changed the name to Scratch Cupcakes.

We have been selling cupcakes and gaining souls by the millions.

However, the only stipulation of Death Tank is that we control all the school districts in Connecticut, before we go nationwide and then worldwide.” He listened politely, but his eyes tried to find an exit.  Any exit.

“Are you tracking with me, Cliff?” She grabbed his pasty face and shoved her phone into it.

“You see that tiny blue dot, in the sea of red? Can you guess who’s school that is?”

Cliff shrugged, but could not break her grip.

“It’s your school, you dolt. Do you know a kid named Joshua Carpenter? Think Cliff! Think!” She screamed.

He realized the other patrons ignored her screaming.

He nodded in agreement.

“Did you know this little punk won our cupcakes for the whole school, but rejected them.

Any reason why, Cliff, what makes this stupid kid so special?

You like my cupcakes, right Cliff?”

The principal began to whimper and cry. “You are useless and pathetic.”  She snapped her fingers and two burley shadows lifted him from the booth.

 “Take him away and harvest his soul.

First, send his lovely wife these sensuous pictures.”

She sneered and displayed a series of pornographic photos to Cliff.

“I really like this one.” He tried to protest, but the shadows stuffed a dirty napkin in his mouth and dragged him out the backdoor.

They launched him into a garbage filled dead end.

They slammed the door.

Demona’s phone rang. “Hey Lou. Just finished.

Yeah, you were right.

The principal was a wash.”

 She listened for a few seconds.

“So you’re telling me, this kid,

the one you said was no one special, called for an all school assembly to talk about healthy food choices for 11 am!” Demona listened.

“He does seem overly clever.

Do you think he’s getting help from the other side?” She looked over her shoulder and felt a shiver run down her spine.

“Ok.”

She whispered. “I’ll be right there.

Don’t interact with him until I get there.

Let’s keep this quiet.

See ya soon.” Demona snapped her fingers and an ominous shadow beast placed car keys in her hand.

It bowed before her as she exited the Wolf’s Den.

She wrapped the coat around her neck and it transformed into a red-hooded cape.

She jumped into the driver’s seat of a jet black Cadillac Deville.

She peeled out and drove through the busy food court toward the quaint part of town. License plate:

1MORSOL


19 th May Wednesday ‘ He’s right here' Gathering everyone, I pushed everyone to the back exit. Suddenly I felt my knees weaken and almost give up on my posture: he’s near. There was no time to explain, I felt the goosebumps take over me as if to warn he is near-by. We needed to run. Since it was only me that had the unique ability to see him, the only hope they have is me. mustering up all my courage I turn to my friends. ‘I made up my mind’ I say. ‘What are you talking about El?, we will die here’ she says. ‘We won’t’. I say. ‘Get out of here and don’t wait, run fast as you can’ I knew that he could smell us. Especially me. I can feel him just as much as he feels me. That’s why he’s here for me, I’m the only one that can get rid of him. So he is afraid of me as much as I am of him. I watch my friends break the back door and run out, Stacy turned around, with tears in her eyes shows a hesitation to leave me, but I nod reassuringly. ‘ I know what to do’ 15 th May Friday I hurried to the bus and sat near my spot. Everyone seems to want this seat and I’m not going to this up without a fight. ‘How are you so selfish, you never give this seat up, ever’ Stacy stands in front of me looking at me as if I owe her an explanation. ‘I’m not. I’m just very fast’ I say. She rolls her eyes at me and sits on the opposite seat. Honestly, the view is amazing, but it all goes downhill when the bus comes to an abrupt stop and everyone hurls to the window seats to see what happened. ‘Oh my god’ was the first thing that I said. Suddenly I disliked the view very much. Stacy pushed me aside with a force to see what I saw. Immediately her reaction scared the rest of the students for she banged on the glass and screamed ‘what is that?’ Beside the panicking I was trying to get Stacy away from the glass and make her sit still. My efforts proved to be purposeless as she weighed more than I actually thought she would. ‘Everybody just calm down, it’s just a dead deer’ the bus driver said to us in a very chilled voice. He even smiled at me. and that was disturbing.  ‘Just calm down? That is a very dead deer with it’s eyes and one leg missing’ Stacy butts in. ‘it’s intentional’ The driver narrowed his eyes at Stacy giving her an expression as if he doesn’t like to get told off by a random teenager. ‘we’re off, we don’t have all day’ 16 th May Saturday Something felt extremely off. I’ve had rocky days the past few months, but now it just seems to have heightened. I keep thinking about how Stacy’s eyes widened when she said, ‘this is intentional’. We live in a small-town Amarillo, Texas. Nothing bad ever happens because that’s merely impossible because everyone knows each other here. If someone messes up, it’s for life. ‘It could have been a hunting session gone wrong’ Joshua said when I called him on the phone yesterday evening. ‘I don’t know how I manage to miss the best of the scenes’ ‘It wasn’t one of the best scenes’ I said blankly and kept the phone. I felt uneasy. I knew it wasn’t because of what saw. It was because I knew Stacy was right and I was wrong to let it slip away. What did the driver even do? Did he call the police? Seemed like he just wanted nothing to do with it. 17 th May Sunday Today, we met at Katherine’s, the most underrated coffee shop in town. It’s a win-win because we also get amazing coffee for a pretty great deal. ‘That was a conspiracy’ Stacy almost spits her drink on my notes. ‘If I wanted you to spill your coffee everywhere I wouldn’t have invited you all for this’ I say ‘Can we just forget this?’ Joshua shakes his head as if to say I’ve gone mad. ‘there are no tribes trying to kill all animal life so they can worship Satan’ ‘It sounds funny when you say it like that’ I say sarcastically. My eyes trail off away from them, and something made me stare out from the coffee shop and observe how calm outside was. Even though this town is cramped up with less space for the shops, everything is very classy. ‘You should have seen the test result I got’ Joshua shows off the paper ‘C- with no whatsoever planning’ Stacy stands up and gives him a slow clap, a sign of how little she cares. I pull her down immediately and tell them to shut their mouths. Stacy begins to protest but I look at her and says ‘look at that man’ ‘What man?’ ‘He is breaking that door!’ ‘What are you talking about?’ Joshua raises his voice. ‘Can you not shout?’ I hiss back at him and points at the man again. He was abnormally thing. The kind of thin where you would expect someone to get blown off by wind. He carried a long wire-like rod, except there were uneven spikes jutting out of the rod. The rod was almost as tall as him, but his stick figure made it difficult not to cringe. ‘what is that?’ I whisper. ‘What is what?’ Stacy grabs me by my shoulders and tries to get me up from the place we are crouching. ‘people are looking at us El!, stop this nonsense’ ‘I am not joking’ I shout unintentionally, and everyone stops what they are doing and looks at us. Joshua and Stacy backs off as if I’ve slurred at them. ‘what is wrong with you?’ He asks. I decided to slow the facts down. ‘There was a man, he broke into that shop and he went inside, except he broke and entered, he didn’t look…’ I couldn’t find the right word to describe what I witnessed. ‘Look what?’ Stacy looks at me. ‘…Human’ Both of them look at me for a second with utter complexity. I felt relieved for a moment, but they started laughing, making me feel like I was a psychopath. ‘Goodness, that was a good one El’ Joshua pats my shoulder really hard, that It made me almost fall backwards. We all collectively get up and what annoys me is that they were still mocking me. ‘why couldn’t they see it?’ I  think. ‘Am I really going bullocks?’ ‘You got us though’ Stacy says with a relief but that reaches my limit. ‘let me show you’ I say ‘follow me’ ‘I’m not sure if that’s a good idea’ Joshua blocks me. ‘If you think I’m crazy, there is nothing to worry there is it? ‘Fine’ they say. We carefully cross the road and I could feel the adrenaline pumping though my veins. I don’t know what I expect to find. The shop owners’ body? Brutally murdered? Why else would someone carry around that sort of a rod? ‘Are you sure about this?’ Stacy asks, I mean, we’ve never been to this shop before! What does it even sell? Antiques?’ ‘Are you crazy, who buys antiques anymore?’ Joshua lashes out. ‘Can you two stop bickering? A man could be murdered inside, and you care about what this shop sells?’ Stacy opens her mouth to protest but we were already at the shop. As I suspected, the door was unlocked. I look angrily at both of my friends and give them an ‘I-told-you-so look’. Now they genuinely began to panic. ‘We should call someone, Elijah’ Before we could consider her option a man with a familiar smile opened the shop door for us. “hi, good day to you, can I help you?’ The man was quite chubby for his age, and it was as if he was being forced to smile. His clothes stuck to his body, making him seem larger than he already is. Why is he smiling like that? I ask myself with doubts that seemed to get more unsolvable by the second. While I was busy drifting off, Joshua pushed me aside and extended his hand’ ‘we were just passing by and realized we’ve never been here, so decided to take a look’ Smart. ‘come in, come in, you can call me Miller. We don’t get much visitors given that no one likes antiques these days much’ he says without an expression. I swear, am I the only one receiving negative vibes here? Despite all the seriousness we surrounded ourselves at the moment, Stacy mimics to Joshua, “antiques, I told you” Joshua in return shrugs her off. ‘Are you the only owner?’ I ask straightaway. ‘Yes’ he answers me, but his focus was somewhere else. The door. The door lock should be broken if I’m correct. I pretend to be very interested in the rusted lamp section and walk towards the door. Instead of checking the lamps, I direct myself near the door, to trace any sign of forced entry. Bingo. The lock is down, it’s clear that it was broken with a force. Clearing my throat, I say ‘Oh look the door is broken’ and looks at Joshua and Stacy. I raise an eyebrow to tell them to play along. Thankfully, Stacy gets it. ‘Oh, Mr. Miller you should probably get a new lock’ she says. For a second he seemed lost. It was as if, his body was here, but his expression seemed to be puddle of worry. He was dazed. His reply got me by surprise. “I broke it” he paused. We wait in silence for him to further explain, but he doesn’t. I know for a fact that the person I saw was the exact opposite of Mr. miller. He is more human-like, but the person I saw outside was more obnoxious. ‘Great’ Joshua breaks the silence. ‘we have to go, don’t we?’ ‘Yeah, I have…classes’ Stacy says, clearly a lie. Dragging me along with them, we get out of there with absolutely nothing but proving that I might indeed be trailing off from the very reality we are living in right now. 18 th May Tuesday Several days pass and I chose not to think about the events that almost made be doubt my sanity. I discarded it as a minor hiccup in my daily chaos. Until my phone rang. ‘Hey it’s Stacy’ ‘I know’ I reply. ‘what do you want’ ‘I know this is going to sound crazy’ she stops for dramatic effect. ‘but Millers is dead’ I have never sat up this straight with so much energy. I knew it. He didn’t break his door. It felt so good knowing that I might be able to explain what happened to millers. But this is a long shot, for I was the only one that saw this man with the metal rod. ‘lets go to see the body’ I say and end the call to dress up as soon as I could. I cycled down to the crime scene and it was great to see Joshua and Stacy already there. ‘This is insane, we just saw the man perfectly alright’ Joshua says. ‘I don’t know, he looked pretty uncomfortable to me’ I think out loud. After waiting a few moments near the same shop, the crowds began to swarm the whole place, the police secured the place and began to cuss at those who tired to intervene. We looked at each other and realized that explaining ourselves would be a bit difficult than we thought. ‘Excuse me officer’ I say after my patience was no longer coping up. ‘we’d like to talk to you about Mr. Millers death’ ‘Unless you killed him or know who killed him, don’t bother’ he said without even looking at me. Rude. ‘We might be able to tell you who killed him, I saw someone breaking his door’ The policeman looked at me with doubt. ‘okay, let’s hear it’ ‘The three of us’ I point to my friends ‘we were in that coffee shop’ and I point to Katherine’s. I saw a man, really thin as paper breaking this very door with a metal rod, in broad day light. I don’t know how none of the people saw this happening.’ ‘Right…’ the officer didn’t exactly show positive remarks about my story. ‘come into the shop, look at his body’ I definitely didn’t want to go in. I didn’t know what was waiting for me inside, if a dead deer could spook me out I don’t know what a dead man’s body is capable of doing to me. restless nights are already anticipated. The three of us carefully step inside and walk with utmost caution. The place stinks really bad. We pass the antique lamps and the cupboards. When the officer removed the white sheet off to reveal the body underneath, it was beyond horrifying. A cold crept up my spine like a wet spider crawling vigorously to get out of my skin. Stacy immediately turned back and covered her face. I wouldn’t blame her. Millers body was almost as if it wasn’t there. His hand was cut in half and his toes were missing. What disgusted me was that I remembered the dear. Just like that, his body was missing the organs, including the eyes. ‘he did it’ I say without having the energy to breathe. Joshua turns and wipes the sweat off his forehead and says ‘we need a sketch artist’ ‘What I’m worried about is, I only saw him from his back. ‘Describe what you saw kid’ the sergeant  says and orders someone to draw what I described. I told them every single thing I saw. But at the end, the drawing looks as if I was describing something less of a human. The two police officers looked at me as if to tell me to be more accurate rather than describing something from a horror movie. ‘I’m telling the truth’ I say desperately. ‘Sure, kid’ the sergeant says and looks at the other officer while they both collectively discard the drawing and shove it in one of the boxes. 19 th May Wednesday I skipped school. I knew I should presumably tell my parents about this, but I knew they will think I’m insane even when my friends think so. I attend the first period to make it seem like it’s normal and got out out during the first interval. ‘Where are you going El?’ Joshua asks me. I jump at the sight of him and laughs it off. ‘I’m going to find out what happened’ ‘how exactly?’ ‘I’m going to wait at Katherines’ for a few hours on the lookout’ ‘guess you’ll need some back up’ Joshua gives me a reassuring handshake and I take it. ‘Stacy and I will meet you there, go ahead’ Without wasting a minute, I turn back around to grab my cycle and paddle off, but Joshua says ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do Elijah’ I smile and cycle as fast as I can. When I get there it was 10.00 am on the dot. I order my usual caffeine dose and began to wait. Few moments later Joshua and Stacy sit down in a hurry next to me and unload a camera on to the table. ‘let’s record’ she says. I look at her with a glimpse of hope and it felt great to have someone on your side. Few hours later – 12.30 pm Even though we had nothing to do but wait, this was getting out of hand. the streets were empty and there was no movement whatsoever. Joshua stands behind the camera and nods every few minutes to let us know it detects nothing. The frustration grew inside me like a seed and my hopelessness watered it every second. ‘Why is nothing happening’ I bury my face in my hands. I felt that day never existed. Maybe I was hallucinating. Even though I laughed at Stacy for overreacting, it’s me who couldn’t stand seeing that dead deer. ‘This is puzzling and stupid. You two shouldn’t miss school because of me’ It was not a moment afterwards when I decided to raise my head and look out the window. The frightful image appeared right outside the window; except I couldn’t react to what I saw. Seeing his face for the first time, I clearly noticed how his eyes were dead. The iris took the whole space in the eyes and they were hollow. The nose was almost non-existing and damp. One thing was for sure, Joshua and Stacy seemed to be going on with whatever they are doing. They didn’t see him. His non-human eyes pierced through my skull making me get up and scream at Joshua to tell me what he can see through the camera. He replied calmly, ‘nothing yet’. At that split second the window broke with a loud crash, shattering glass everywhere. Both Joshua and Stacy look at me and I nod; ‘ he’s right here’


Drawing Together By Paul Crehan “Do you think things work out for the best?” “Sorry?” she said, removing an earbud and turning his way. “People say that,” he continued, “but I wonder if it’s true. Maybe it’s just some comforting thing we tell ourselves.” If he were hitting on her, this was the weirdest hitting-on she’d ever encountered. But maybe he wasn’t talking to her, but to someone in his ear? Unless—was he crazy and talking to himself? He turned to look at her directly. He looked…benign—but crazy people often did. He was waiting patiently for her to answer. She didn’t have any answer and wouldn’t have given one if she did. In fact, she wanted to get away from this guy. What a strange-o. He continued. “Because, maybe things just resolve. Or not ‘resolve,’ but just end up being . And they’re neither good nor bad. They just are , and we decide to characterize them as good or bad. Or, good and bad. That could be. But they’re not anything until we decide they’re something.” He looked back at the painting. She thought, well, he’s a strange-o, but a thoughtful one. She didn’t pick up menacing . Still, she wanted to get away from him. She was in no mood for any conversation, let alone something all existential or whatever. But how to make this clear to him, politely? “In other words,” he continued—and Damnit , she thought, she had missed her moment to move on!—“they work out for the best because we want them to. Or need them to. In other words, this breathing life we’re born into is indifferent to our presence. It’s not here to work for us or against us.” “I’m sorry,” she suddenly said, holding up the earbud she had taken out of her ear, “I have to listen to this lecture for class.” She gave him a friendly smile and, putting the earbud back into her ear, moved away, to the next painting on the wall. Was he going to follow her? He wouldn’t follow her, would he? He followed. “Okay,” he said, “I understand. I’m just saying, I think, it’s no wonder we feel so deeply alone.” Suddenly, his eyes widened and he cleared his throat, because it occurred to him, finally, how he might be coming across to this woman, this stranger. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Sometimes a painting—or whatever—just stares right back at you. And it’s a lot .” She wasn’t listening to a lecture for class. There was no class. She wasn’t a student. She was listening to a mixtape she’d made of her favorite arias. It was her soundtrack for her visits to this museum. She looked at this guy carefully. He wasn’t crazy; or at least not super -crazy. He wasn’t drunk. Or high. But he was shaken. That painting had shaken him. Which was interesting, because she herself didn’t think much of it at all. What was it about that painting that had gotten to this guy? He was reaching out for help. That’s what he was doing.  That’s all he was doing. He wouldn’t have engaged with her had he not needed to. But he needed to. She could have been anybody. A guy. He hadn’t been interested in flirting with her—the usual thing she got here. The downside of coming to the museum. Alone. But wait. Why didn’t he want to flirt with her? Irrationally—and she would have acknowledged herself as behaving so—had present circumstances allowed her time to reflect—she felt insulted by this. Who was this guy to not want to chat her up? To not be interested in her? She was pretty. She was hot. He wasn’t ugly—he was, in fact, attractive; but still, she’d be doing him a favor by showing interest—not the other way around. But she said, because she was kind, and he did have this need to connect: “Well, I mean, what is it about that painting that gets to you?” In an instant, she realized that she’d better make her question rhetorical, and not interrogative like this, and therefore showing personal interest. She quickly added, “That would be the question to ask yourself.” She gave him another kind smile and, putting her earbud back in her ear, moved away. She gave the painting at which she now stopped a brief glance and moved to the next. Please, don’t follow. Please, don’t follow. “It’s the hands,” the man said, “the monk’s hands. You can see ‘giving up’ in them. You see—just in the hands—more than in anything else—disillusionment.” He hadn’t followed her to this next painting. He had remained where he was. She heard his words through the soaring notes of Un bel di . His thing about the hands was interesting. You could see disillusionment in the hands ? She had barely looked at the hands. In any case, they hadn’t registered with her. In fact, the entire painting hadn’t really landed with her—and here was this guy so terribly moved by it; so much so, that he had to talk to someone about it. Curious now, but reluctant to move back toward this guy, she nevertheless did just that. He had hooked her with the disillusioned hands. She stood in front of the painting and looked at the monk’s hands. This guy, this weird guy, was right. The hands told the story. Or, that wasn’t the way to put it, really. Maybe it was that they summed-up the story. They…what was that word?—for a part representing the whole?—a word she had learned in rhetoric class at Uni—whatever. She couldn’t remember it. Nonetheless, he was right. Those hands spoke. And to make the point super-clear, the monk’s lips were pressed together tight. That was interesting. Why these choices? she wondered. The hands clearly doing all the talking? “You’re right about the hands,” she said. “They do the talking.” “They do the talking,” he repeated, nodding. He liked the way she had put that. She saw that he liked the way she had put that. Maybe he’d want to really look at her now. Reframe how he saw her. Not just as a stranger to reach out to because he didn’t want to be alone with the thoughts in his head. “I guess the artist,” she continued, “really wants to make that point, because look how tightly pressed the monk’s lips are. He’s holding something in. Or back.” “A howl, I think,” the man said. “Something Vesuvial.” She liked Vesuvial. “Vesuvial,” she said. “Yes.” “What do you think happened to that monk to make him this way?” he asked. “Or, I mean, what happened to the artist?” “He got rocked,” she said. “Rocked. Yes.” “Some terrible, maybe unimaginable, loss. Something that didn’t make sense. Something that God, his God, wouldn’t allow—and yet did. And now, he’s disillusioned.” “Crisis of faith,” the man said. “Loss of it,” she said. “I mean, I think he’s past the crisis point. This, now, is all about the end result. This is what loss looks like. This is a portrait of loss .” The man took this in. She watched him taking it in and appreciated that he was doing so. He was making her feel good. It’s not that it was rare that people took her seriously, but it was…well, it was rare. What if she dressed differently? Didn’t make so much of an effort to show off her figure? “Yes,” he said at last. “You’re right. That’s what this is. Loss. The title is Fra Domenico . But it might as well be Loss .” He fell silent as he studied the painting. Should she say something else? “And now,” the man suddenly said, “he questions all his beliefs and choices. He believed things. Why did he believe them? I think there’s some anger and bitterness—in those lips.” He looked at her, to see if she might agree. She turned from the painting to look at him. Something in his voice. The ‘he’ was all about him. This guy was ‘he,’ not the monk. “Well,” she said, turning back to the painting, “I mean.” She paused, because what to say? She herself didn’t see any anger and bitterness in those lips. Not that it wasn’t there. She just didn’t see it. So, maybe he was seeing what was in him to see. She changed the subject. “I mean,” she repeated, “you know what? This is loss, to be sure , but I don’t see giving up. Like he’s throwing in the towel. Like he’ll never get up off that bench. Those hands are strong. Those hands—that’s a lifetime of hard labor. He’s used to hard work. Not afraid of hard work.” “That’s true,” the man said. She turned back to him. “He can get a grip. You know? I see that in him.” But did she see that? Or did she just want to see that—in this guy? Or, most probably, she was just being her kind self—trying to help this guy feel better about himself; and about life, in general. Of course, maybe it could be two things. She was being her kind self, trying to help someone, encourage someone, and she also did want to see strength in this guy. That he was strong. Not a wimp. Troubled. But a man. And maybe she really did see strength in him. For real. “I see what you mean,” the man said, eyes laser-sharp on the portrait. “But. You know? He’s not looking at his own strength. I mean, see how he’s looking over his hands. I mean, not at them, but at something else—outside of the frame? Something that maybe is heading for him?” A good point, she thought. The monk was looking over, looking past, his hands. In other words, his strength. His strength wasn’t in mind. He was looking at something only he could see. He was alone with what he saw; with what he was taking in. It dominated him. In this moment, it dominated him. “Well,” she said, “I mean, maybe it is something heading for him, but couldn’t it be something heading away from him?” “Or away from him!” the man exclaimed: he was that excited by her thought. This made her feel good. She turned and smiled at him. She had no idea why the heading away business should excite him like this, but she was glad that it did. He was tall, she realized. Six-two, perhaps? And he was attractive. Not handsome, no. But attractive. And a definite kind of person. Not run-of-the-mill. Cut from something a little different from most people. He observed. He thought. Observed carefully. Patiently. Without ego getting in the way. If he asks me for coffee or whatever, I’ll go, she thought. She said, “Maybe we’re supposed to see what he does not—that he’s got the strength he needs. It’s a part of him. Whatever he’s lost, or whatever’s coming, he’s still got the strength to deal with…the rest of his life.” The man nodded. “I mean,” he said, “yes. You really could make that point.” He turned and looked at her. She was making him feel good; like, not a total loser. He wanted to talk to her more. He wondered if that were in the realm of possibility. To just get a coffee, maybe? But she was really pretty; too pretty for him. She had to have a boyfriend. No ring, he saw. But certainly she had a boyfriend. “You know,” she said, “we could dip into the cafeteria. Get a coffee. Take the picture with us—as it were. Sit down, you know?” He truly could not believe what he was hearing. In fact, he looked around the gallery. Was this a prank? Was there a camera crew? But no. It was just the two of them. And that was odd. Where was everybody else? “I would love that,” he said. “Yes.” “Good,” she said. “I’m Holly, by the way.” She stuck out her hand, half-humorously. “Dan,” he said, taking it, fully earnest. “I’m Dan.” They will be married for fifty-two years before Holly succumbs to her cancer, dying with Dan’s hands pressed hard to the sides of her head as he says to her, his voice strangled by grief, Stay, my darling. Stay…


Nothing was supposed to have happened. His hands touch at the rug, its fraying pattern. His mind touches the words. Matra. Proverb. Nothing was supposed to have happened. One. A party. the smell of frosting on hands, the rims of cups. The hidden magic, a drugged brownie drizzled in tinfoil chocolate lies. A cup of water weighed down in red plastic and smiles, invisible illusions blooming. One drop- a single bite- The spiraling magician would wave his wand. Nothing was supposed to have happened. There was the party, there was the girl. The way she stumbled onto the stage, all loosened eyes and blurring curls. Clutching a microphone and giving crowds incoherent giggles instead of the lyrics splayed behind her. Nothing was supposed to have happened. Him. There. In the crowd. Him, watching the girl. Him seeing- his house, his living room couch used as her platform, his money spent on cups and magic, his hands typing the invitations, His eyes, watching as she fell- Hit the ground. The stain of red is a bit like magic, inviting in its own special way. another magic trick. Another white rabbit and shrinking cookie and buzzing wonderland. The stain of red in the fraying pattern of the rug. "You didn't have to invite me." A memory. An afterthought. The boy is on the ground even as his mind stays on the then. The walking bodies and then the running bodies as the party drew its line of blood and the girl was left on the other end. No more loosened eyes, dirty curls focused and lifeless. "You didn't have to invite me" Her voice is sharp. A blade cutting through the air. He takes a breath, a wonderous thing, truly, How can something made of magic turn into a blade? The raw of his words, "I didn't have to invite you" She laughs and he wants to take the sound, take it from her transparent skin and place it back into those eyes. The ones connected to the microphone. The ones open, alive , so so alive. Announcing her name and then the song she would never sing, the way she fell... "I didn't have to invite you." His fingers touch the carpet. pattern. stain. there's no one here, he knows this, not the dead girl on the ground, not the red sneakers abandoned by the fireplace, he hears those who have abandoned him, he hears those who never will. He hears her. "You didn't think, did you?" she shifts on the couch, hand fingering an abandoned napkin, a crumbling cookie. It smells too sweet for this room, he thinks, the copper outweighs it. "I didn't think" "They never think, not when they start to bring out the magic tricks. not when they peel open your lips and stuff your throat and let you lose your mind," she laughs, a sound made of blown balloons and children's birthdays, "You're losing your mind when you take it. You lose your life as you try and clean it up." .....Nothing was supposed to have happened. She shakes her head, skin fading, "But something did happen" Ignoring. His eyes turning from her silhouette. One hand on the body on the floor. One hand now scrubbing, scrubbing with every piece of magic left in him. Scrubbing the carpet until the pattern disappears, the blood disappears. "I didn't have to invite you" His words are scrubbed raw, " I didn't have to invite you. " I didn't have to invite you. I didn't have to invite you. Nothing was supposed to happen. "Something happened" the girl's voice fades, watching him, watching her body on the ground. New form leaning against the couch. The couch she fell from. The sound of sirens coming through the open door, open window, the one life home. "I can't get it out" Please. Please, he begs. "I can't get it out I can't get it out I can't-" "It's not coming out" Her laugh is gone, her eyes gone pale. Skin molding to the bone, hollowing cheeks. Black rimmed eyes deeper and deeper. Every drop of magic and its bled into her brain. Every drop of magic as its bleached the color from her hair. Dug into cells and nerve collapsing, collapsing, a medicine you can't clean up, a hangover you can't get rid of, even when the parties over.... "I lost everything to it" Her words are whistful, he scrubs harder, he scrubs even as the sirens come to close, he scrubs even as the voices outside knocks against his door, he scrubs with closed eyes and regret. You took a pill, you took a drink, it contained magic but not the fun bounce house and top hats kind. Not the sparkles and music. This is the kind of magic that lets you realize how truly far Alice had to fall down the rabbit hole... "I lost my mind" She's lost her mind. "I just wanted to have fun" She just wanted to have fun. The boy stops his mumblings. He stops his scrubbing if only for a moment. If only for the length of a pill as it dissolves into a system. It's not fair, what we're doing to ourselves. It's not fair the people we've lost to it. The innocent souls and beautiful students who never were able to bloom for all the pesticides they carpeted against their bones. It's not fair, the image. The thinking of- it's only one bite. It's only one drop, sip, one party. One. One. One can end your forever, one can lead you to this world. Knees and carpet and ghosts speaking to you in her own sermon. You wish you had gone to church, not this party. studied for the test instead of cleaning the red. He frowns, it's too small a gesture, "Nothing was supposed to happen" Her smile holds no magic, no life, "that's the funny thing.... nothing Is ever supposed to happen" The door opens. The grieving families will soon come. Nothing was supposed to happen. Something happened. Now, Her ghost watches him scrub the carpet. Nothing was supposed to happen. He'll never scrub out the magic stain of blood.