Centuries ago a secret society, bent on the idea of a world inhabited only by them and those of their choosing, quietly formed and began to lay the foundations that their chosen predecessors would build upon for generations to come. Eventually they proclaimed themselves the Elite Intelligence Leaders of Earth's Reform or EILERs. Only the very highest of society's high class and those viewed to be absolute genius within the proper academic fields were deemed worthy of recruitment consideration. Those candidates were thinned further using stricter scrutinies until only those found perfect were cleared to be approached. With members dedicating their entire lives to their sacred cause the EILERs swiftly and silently put into place everything ruled necessary to create the world they so feverishly sought. For decades enormous laboratories, safe houses, storage facilities, and highways connecting them were installed deep beneath Earth's surface in preparation of the day their dreams could be realized. Years before humanity could develope infantile suspicions, EILERs had developed things far beyond their capacity to fathom. Genetically engineered beasts known as Wolgarears, Fawldorees, War Baralin, Crocazurphin, all programmed to obey the EILERs. Any human wanted for entertainment or servitude purposes would be lab produced, pre-progammed specimens of chosen design. The different countries, states, providences, even the plant itself would cease to exist by their former names as with only one controlling factor any needs for such divisions were rendered extinct. This new playground for the true deserving rule would be known only as Euphrasia, the perfect combination of EILER humor and truth, as this Utopia would come about through their unique form of euthanasia for euphoric gains. Many would like to believe this only science fiction, perhaps at worst the ramblings of some conspiracy theorist who's mind has finally completely broke; for Remainders, the last surviving non-EILERs, however, Euphrasia has been their new reality for the greater part of eight years now and, despite it's spelling, they all understand it's pronounced hell. Rag-tag groups of Remainders had banded together in mostly small numbers since the EILERs launched their first wave. Many were hunted down and killed by the various beasts that now prowled on land, in the sky, and by waterways alike. Others starved or succumbed to the elements, diseases, or effects of nuclear and chemical fallout. Some couldn't be defined as surviving, their minds had snapped leaving them barely more than wild beasts themselves. Others just disappeared into what wilderness was left, content with existing however long they may have so long as they lived and died on their own terms.

Sure some fought back but to no avail, most fought and squabbled amongst each other handling the EILERs work for them.

A very rare few had proved themselves quiet the intolerable nuisance; as had been the case for Alina's band of misfits. Had been was, of course, the key phrase of that statement. Alina came back to semi- consciousness in panic and an agony like she'd never known trying in spite of it to bolt upright and intensifying the terror as she realized she was immobilized. Hot tears sprang to her eyes but with effort she blinked them away and staved off the flow. They could take her life but not with the satisfaction of breaking her first. Physical pain is only temporary no matter how bad, she told herself, the phrase fast becoming an inner mantra even as the fog settled back in fading her out. "Alina?Aaaaliiiinnnnaaa? ALINA!" That final snapping of her name, sharp as a slap, brought her to the surface enough to at least cut her eyes in the direction of it's origin. "Ah, yes, atta girl. Unfortunately, instead of just putting you down like the repulsive vermin you are I need you alive and conscious for at least a bit longer. Alina dear, don't do that, focus." Someone was talking and snapping fingers in her face, and again she fought to understand.

"Fine, I'll give you the antivenin, though I'd much rather you suffer through. Pay attention damn it, you'll be coming out of it rather fast once this traverses your veins a time or two." A pinch, then a feeling like being forcefully yanked from watery depths. Alina gasped and nearly wretched. "Don't you dare!" A man, thin and balding, thick glasses, stood over her with such an extreme hatred in his eyes he could be no other than an EILER. Fear gripped her hard again and this time, as the agony faded away, she knew she should have fought to stay inside the fog instead. This was it, the end. He knew it and knew it wasn't going to come easy. His could only hope the others had gotten away safely somehow. He was long overdue on the other side of life, he was good with dying, but getting one of them killed? Unacceptable. They should've been ten times more cautious, years of successful raids on EILER buildings had made them stupidly confident and bought them their send off this time. Hagan mentally checked his body for injuries, rating severity, while attempting to appear still lost in unconsciousness. Nothing noteworthy internally, he focused on what his senses, with the exception of sight, could tell him about his external surroundings. Lux somehow made it to the rendezvous point before collapsing to his knees, then over onto his side. Gone, they were gone, the only family he'd known for the last five horrendous years now just names on an already too long list.

His mind replayed that last heart wrenching sight before he'd finally forced himself to follow logic and run. Alina leaping from the roof, attempting retreat, nearly making it but being brutally seized in the air by a Fawldoree, it's lethal, venom soaked talons piecing deep into her back. Her scream before the beast disappeared back inside the compound with her would haunt him forever. He knew the risk he was taking every second past the set limit of ten minutes but leaving was like confirming them dead. Chrissy sat shivering, her back pressed against the damp earth of the pit she dropped into. The ground had just opened up beneath her, swallowing her whole and closing behind her. The darkness so complete she may as well have squeezed her eyes shut. As absolute as it was, it didn't feel empty, and when the stench of rotting meat hit her nostrils followed by a warm, sickeningly wet tongue lapping slowly up one side of her face as if savoring the taste of her fear, Chrissy began to scream. Rainer came to with blood running into his eyes, the stinging causing him to grab a fistful of the his shirt and use it to rub at his face forcefully. The night around him was deathly still but as he started to raise up a strong arm snaked around his throat dragging him backward. "What do you want from me?"Alina found her voice as her captor dug through a desk compartment for who knew what. "Hmm? Oh, not much really just keep breathing for now and when the time comes do really well with your part as the pitiful, helpless female so I can extract the information I need from your mate." "From my...." She internalized the rest of her sentence. Mate? What mate? Did he mean one of the men in her crew? Had some one else survived? "You're wasting your time and mine." He casually stood and walked calmly to the table she was strapped on, looking down at her with an eerie smile before exploding into violent action and driving an old letter opener straight to the bone inches above her right knee. Calm again, he watched her strain involuntarily against the straps, her high pitched scream fading into the keening of a wounded, terrified animal.

"I don't believe I am, no. No I think something of that sort will be just the ticket." He smiled again, flicked the opener's protruding end and danced away as if enjoying some grand tune. Checking the masterpiece they dared still title a watch, Harrington smiled again, what an exciting night, and oh, how he loved excitement. Now that the filthy little rodent was squirming in pain again, he had other business that should be delivered within the minute. Leaving the interrogation chamber and swiftly entering his temporary living quarters, he was not displeased with the timing of a thump at his door. Rolf, his personal Wolgarear, sat patiently with his part of this mission balled up and shaking between his massive front paws. "Very well, bring her in and place her on the cot." Carefully as a mother lion might her cub, the grizzly sized wolf, cougar, bear hybrid lifted it's living package and padded into the room doing exactly as he was told. As they always did.

"Hmmm, very good, too long, too long indeed....hmmm. Thank you Rolf, see yourself to the male's holding area and await further instructions." He absentmindedly waved the beast off. "Welcome home daughter." He strived to hit the perfect tone of disappointed, stern, yet relieved parent. "Let's hope the cleansing it's gonna take to rid the last seven years you've insisted on living as normal filth doesn't actually kill you before we can reunite as a proper family." Gently as possible he tightened the restraints on her wrists, ankles, and midsection. He'd let her rest as he worked on the disgusting bile that had somehow poisoned her mind and taken her from him long ago. Having heard the muffled but still bloodcurdling scream, Hagan had to rethink the good of his previous prayers, he knew death could indeed be a great mercy. He didn't get long to chew on it as a Wolgarear entered, plucked him from his gurney as though he was a mere infant and trotted out into a corridor of sorts. Humiliating to say the least, dangling from the beast's mouth like a chew toy. He caught glimpse of a man, unmistakably an EILER, seconds before a hood slipped over his head and the trotting started again.

He was soon roughly discarded onto a hard surface pulled upright into a sitting position and the hood was yanked free.

A whip thin man in at least his early fifties stood towering over him, his expression inquisitive with a fist pressed to his lips, forehead furrowed above beady squinting eyes. "Not even acceptable breeding stock, ah well, not the purpose anyhow, nothing lost. Come now look at me, really look so I know your fully aware." "Fuck you, how's that for breeding stock you evil piece of shit." "Not much intelligence either, speech is understandable though and that's all I need. Listen carefully I only say this once without consequence, I need to know how many little friends you brought with you and where to find the ones that may have managed to survive." Slowed reaction time due to just regaining consciousness saved Blades from being flung across his shoulder and ending up with a broken neck.

"Shush it tough guy, I didn't drag myself and your sorry ass out of that cluster fuck just to die from your lack of control." "Fuck you, Blades." He managed to sputter out. "You got a long way to go before that's a possibility Romeo, pull yourself together." "How, bad...everyone..." "Shush, listen. It's bad, worst we've ever got. Jeremy and Feist are dead, Chrissy and Lux are unaccounted but it's difficult to believe in a happy reunite at a rendezvous...." "Alina?...Ha..Hag..." She paused but then. "Taken." Causing him to strain to get up forcing her to muscle him around more. "No. Don't be stupid. We try to go in that only ends with all four dead and you know they may already be gone, breathing or not. We wait, we watch, long as we can. If we can we will do everything possible if we cannot we do not dishonor them by dying stupid." She was right, he hated it but he'd preached those very concepts to them repeatedly for years, he and Hagan had. Alina squealed and thrashed about despite her every attempt not to as the bastard viciously twisted the object deeply embedded in her thigh. Hagan spewed a stream of obscenities and promises of brutal death and she desperately sucked in deep, unsteady breaths trying to prepare for the next assault. "That does not pertain to a single question I asked you, I'm very disappointed in you." He disappeared behind his desk causing Alina to start shaking. "Hagan keep your mouth shut, it don't matter!" She still managed through clenched teeth. He'd known pain and suffering, seemingly unbearable agony, but this... this was indescribable.

"Hagan! Don't you fucking da..." The EILER son of a bitch cut her off mid sentence by grabbing her by her chin and pinching tightly.

"It's a shame I need you making all those pretty screams, else and I'd sow that filthy mouth shut!" Releasing her with a shove he turned back to Hagan. "Now that I have your undivided attention..." He held an inconspicuous little silver instrument in front of him for Hagan to see but hidden from Alina's view. "Do you know what this is? What it's used for?" Hagan's chest and throat began to tighten and burn as he worked desperately to keep down the churning stomach acid. "No? Ah, well then, allow me to educate you." He towered over him again but leaned down til they were almost nose to nose.

'Big mistake asshole.' Hagan had to suppress a grin, but then... "Rolf, should this pathetically stupid Remainder do anything to prove that nature, the girl automatically becomes your dinner and you are to take your time, really savor your meal."

"You son of bitch, you sorry motherfucker I'll.." "You'll shut up and listen to me only speaking when asked to or I'll cut my losses and he can have her now."

As if to get in it's rathers the Wolgarear whined and chuffed from its place by the door.

"Now, back to our lesson, this pretty little instrument here is simple yes but a must for any data extraction kit. You see you take this end like such, placing this part underneath the fingernail just so and press until you feel the resistance of the nailbed. Now, here's where technique is applied, some prefer to just cram it in and pop the nail loose all in one quick go. Myself, I say what a waste, no creativity. This is an art! I like to slowly work it back and forth, never really letting up pressure but not rushing the process either and my way you can get all the way to the base and pry loose the entire nail. None of that sloppy business." Hagan trembled, his eyes closed tight enough to cause starbursts, his jaws ached from clenching his teeth, and his finger tips threatened to bite into his palms. "Please." "I'm sorry what was that?" "Please. Please don't." "What? Use this? On her? I most certainly will without your intervention. I'm not the bad guy here really, you could stop it. You could end every bit of this, I just need a number and relative location. Pretty fair trade I believe."

He stood back up straight and began backing toward Alina, twirling the damn thing between finger and thumb. "Going once...going twice...AND I'll count the silence as your choice. Negotiations are closed for this round folks." Turning, he latched onto one of Alina's fingers as she fought hard to get away. "The more you squirm the longer this takes. Your choice." Showing obvious surprise in his voice, he couldn't help but cruelly tease her as she stopped struggling. " Now see, there a good dumb c...." Now his eyes registered a very different surprise and he tried to straighten himself to full height, mouth gaping. Harrington Mathews Fellerock III fell dead without ever finishing that sentence. Alina's eyes widened with fear as she remembered the Wolgarear, Hagan already had his attention glued to the beast that still sat by the door calmly as though nothing had become of his owner.

Chrissy went straight to quickly loosening Alina's restraints until she was satisfied Alina could finish the task, silently she stepped over her father and began loosening those on Hagan. Alina and Hagan remained tense but stunned into a continued silence Chrissy finally broke.

"I'd say search quickly but I'm not sure that would be smart, I've already gathered some supplies while I searched for a weapon and your whereabouts, they're waiting outside the door, can both of you manage walking out of here or..." She grinned devilishly, looking from one to the other for dramatic effect before walking over to the Wolgarear still sitting as calm and innocent as an oblivious puppy. Neither could hold back gasps of alarm as she put her face to it's and spoke something inaudible to them. The confusion only intensified as the Wolgarear stood up, nudged her chin almost in a loving like gesture and padded out the door where it stopped and glanced back as if to say "You guys coming or what?" "Well? Walking or riding?" "Walking." They declared in unison. "Chrissy" Hagan started but she hushed him with a stop gesture. "Earning everyone's trust was harder for me than anyone else in our group, why?" "Because you're...." Quickly connecting the dots his astonishment only increased."That piece of work is?" "Was, at one time, my father. Yes. Not for a very long time now and I feel nothing other than relief in saving you two and admitedly excitement for getting to reunite after all these years.... you see? Rolf was never his, he was created and programmed for me when my father was still convinced I'd delight in being an EILER." She smiled again brightly.

"So, how you think our next raid is gonna go seeing as how we have our very own Wolgarear now?"


It is a warm August afternoon in California, so Candace and I are hanging out together. My hands are behind me, and my legs are hanging over the edge of the somewhat clean wooden boards that I call the floor. Candace's curly blond hair is on my shoulder, and her little hand is enclosed in mine. We're staring at the sky together, and since our parents aren't home, we've planned to stay up until at least two in the morning. Candace turns her head to glance at me, her eyes, as blue as a cloudless sky, crinkle up around the bottom, and she giggles as a butterfly flutters around my head. "This is the best . So peaceful." She tells me, her hands now clasped on her lap.

I nod. "Yeah, you're right. Thank God we didn't have that much homework." I murmur, staring at the orange splatters in the salmon pink blanket that we call the sky.

"Kylar, can I tell you something?" Candace asks me, smoothing the hidden wrinkles in her white halter dress.

"Sure... Candace," I say hesitantly, holding my breath as she cups my face with her hands.

Candace smiles at me, her legs swinging off of the floor. "You're one of the best friends I've ever had." She exclaims, hugging me.

"Yeah, well... Candace... I like you." I tell her, avoiding her eyes. I know she won't be there when I wake up, and my eyes begin to water involuntarily.

I can't believe I've fallen in love with a girl who isn't even real.

I stand up, nearly tripping, and falling off of our treehouse.

Candace's eyes are wide too, and not a muscle in her body moves. Even her curls are still, which is surprising because they're like kangaroos every time Candace walks.

"I..." She murmurs, turning to face me. I sigh, still avoiding those beautiful blue eyes of hers. "I know, we can't be in love since I won't be here for long. I have to wake up soon." I remind Candace, trying to smile through the tears I'm attempting not to show.

Candace stares at me, her eyes wet with tears. She starts to fumble with something in her dress. "I thought you would say that." She exclaims solemnly, tears streaming down her face and making her cheeks damp. "I don't understand... do you not love me? You said you did!" "Candace, you know I do. I just can't keep living in a fake reality anymore. You and I, we can't be together. But I will always love you" I tell her, rubbing her shoulder. Candace rips her shoulder out of my grasp, her eyes narrowed at me. She glares at me with her arms crossed, looking like a five-year-old who didn't get their ice cream after they asked. Her bottom lip is out and the tears in her eyes make her look almost pitiful. “Then why don’t you stay with me?!” Her tone is hysterical, and the beautiful blond curls are bouncing faster than kangaroos. The smell of vanilla trails from her, into my nose, and I sigh. “Stay with me! Don’t leave, this can become your reality.” She exclaims, a tender smile on her face. She looks cheery, but this feels sus, especially because she’s been striving to make me stay with her forevermore. I stare at Candace, biting the inside of my cheek. "I'm sorry, but I'm not staying here," I tell her, my arms crossed.

A feral grin grows on Candace's face as she slowly begins to circle me, revealing the item that she had hidden in her dress. My heart sinks as I spot a butterfly knife in her pale hand. I want to ask her why, but no words form when I open my mouth.

"Guess this is the way it has to happen then, huh?" Candace asks me, shaking her head. "I thought you were different. But you..." Candace snickers. "You used me as a toy. And I let you. I can't believe I let you." She exclaims, her face twisted into a scowl.

"Candace, I never used you. I loved you with all my heart." I tell her, still biting the inside of my cheek.

As Candace starts to stomp towards me in her black ballet flats, the treehouse falls apart right in front of my eyes, and Candace plummets off of the treehouse, still screaming at me. Suddenly, everything is quiet as she hits the ground. "Goodbye forever, Candace," I say, waiting for myself to wake up from this terrible nightmare...

∆∆∆∆∆∆ My eyes open, and my vision is blurry, but for a second I see blond curls fly past me. I close my eyes, hoping for the best, and open my eyes again.

Either I'm in heaven, or this room actually is the brightest, whitest, thing I've ever seen. I'm in some kind of cot, and when I sit up, the back of my head starts to throb. I see a girl sitting in the navy blue chair next to me - finally, something of color - next to me, and I almost faint when I notice that this girl has silky blond curls up to her broad shoulders, and the clearest blue eyes, like a cloudless sky.

When she notices me sitting up, she smiles, the same warm smile.

But… how?! I made Candace up! "You're awake!" She exclaims, giggling the same giggle that Candace did in my dreams. As she begins to walk towards me, I flinch and shrink into the wall. This fake Candace looks confused, biting on her bottom lip. "Kylar, what's wrong?" She asks.

I hesitate. "Yo-you tried to kill me!" I cry out, my voice cracking.

Candace stares at me, her eyes wide. "What are you talking about?! Are you okay? Your mother has been worried sick about you!" Candace exclaims, sitting next to me.

"What happened?" I ask, rubbing my temples with my fingers. I don't remember anything, except that crazy dream.

Candace avoids my eyes, her breathing getting shaky. "You were in a coma for a week. They put you in this hospital, but the doctor said you probably wouldn't live. You hit your head pretty hard." She tells me, tears streaming down her face. She quickly wraps her arms around me, her head on my chest. "After I told you that I liked you. We were in the treehouse, remember?" She asks, staring at me.

My eyes widen, and I kiss her gently on the forehead. "I remember everything. I like you too, Candace."


Eva gazed through the window, looking at the Sun and so did I. Sunrise was always ‘our thing’, something that we could bond upon. We would wake up at 5 am just to see the rising sun. Sunrises were something I was grateful for, it made me realize that every dark phase is accompanied by beaming positivity. It’s a cycle, maybe the cycle of life. You do not want the night to stay forever neither do you expect the day, the light, to be forever. Eva was just like a sunny day, positive and cheerful, but the only difference was this day did not come to an end. She made me look at life with a different perspective, she taught me to be happy, to live life to the fullest. Eva and I met in school; we lived in the same street, so we were good friends.  I was a shy and reserved boy whereas she was out spoken and an extrovert. Although I was the older one, it was she who would boss around. I liked to be with her, listen to her blabbering and talking to her. She made me feel good about myself. We used to walk from our home to school and school to home. While returning we would share all the sweetmeats and fries that we had saved up for each other from lunch time. I always felt connected towards her although, we were poles apart. A part of it was because; I came from a family, where I received no love. My parents died in an accident, just a few months after I was born. I was then given shelter by my uncle and aunt. They never talked to me, but when they did, they made sure that I knew, how big of a burden I was for them. Students at school wanted to humiliate me, as I was a shy kid. Sometimes it was just too much and that was when Eva consoled me. As we started to mature, her talks started to include me and, her. She talked about us. I knew, I loved her but couldn’t convey that to her in words. But once when I said that felt lonely. And she said, “Noah, why would you be alone? I love you so much and I will always be with you.” That was the happiest day of my life. As we passed out from school, we thought to marry. But her parents did not approve of our union and locked Eva in her room. I was devastated. Even my uncle and aunt did not approve of our marriage and kicked me out of the house. I and Eva kept in touch through our cell phones. And one day we thought to elope together. That night we reunited and ran away far from our village to a city nearby. Helpless we took shelter at an old age home. After a lot of struggle, Eva got the job of a junior teacher at school and we rented a small apartment. I then started to prepare for civil services examination. I felt guilty for sitting idle at home. So one day asked Eva, “I am sorry Eva, I couldn’t provide you with anything I promised. I know you are unhappy, but bear with me a few days.” Eva replied, “Bear? Why should I bear with you, I will live with you. And why do you think I am unhappy? I am working and so are you. You are preparing for the examinations and also looking after the house. You are doing so much for us. And, believe me; being with you is as good as being happy.” After two years of hard work, I was finally ready to give the exams. I anticipated the results, but Eva gave me hope and said, “Noah, don’t worry, you would clear the examination with flying colors. I know you had put all your efforts in the preparations.” And I did pass with flying colors. When the results were announced Eva broke down. It was the happiest day of our lives. With tears in her eyes, Eva hugged me and said, “Noah, let’s celebrate your win” and broke down completely in my arms, I too let my tears roll down my cheeks. Our life became a living fairly tale. After getting the job, we rented a bigger house. Eva and I decorated the house with zest. We had knitted all our dreams in and around those four walls. But unlike all fairytales, our life didn’t end on the ‘happily ever after’ note. For my work I had to travel a lot and had to frequently go on tours. At those Eva would say, “Bring me something beautiful, when you return.” She loved bangles and I would buy all sorts of bangles for her. But once when I was on a work trip, I received a call from Eva. I picked up and an excited Eva started talking, “Hello Noah! You know, today mom called after so many years. I talked her for hours. And we cried a little too.” Although I could not see her through the cell phone but I knew that she still had tears in her eyes. She said, “I want to spend some time with them, so I have booked bus tickets for our village.” I was happy too, until a thought crossed my mind. What if her parents don’t allow her to come back, what if they persuade her to divorce me? I was baffled at the thought of losing her. She was the love of my life, my support system and the backbone of my life. I warned her to not visit her parents. But she did not listen to me. I was tensed. For the next two days I did not answer her calls or texts. I was upset. But who knew this would be the last time I would listen to her voice. By the time I returned my city, I was happy. But uncertainty was still there, I did not know if I would meet Eva or not. As I reached home my greatest fears had come true. I expected her to be back by my return and that is what she told me but Eva was nowhere to be seen. But then my cell phone started to ring. It was an unknown number. I picked it up and the person at the other end said something that I had never ever imagined even in my worst dreams. The person was from a local hospital and he said, “Excuse me sir! Are you Eva Duke’s husband? I am sorry to inform you that her life is in danger. The bus she was travelling in met with an accident. And she is seriously injured. Could you please come down to identify her?” I was dumbfounded or was I numb? I certainly did not know how to react. My lips quivered for a bit and I cried my heart out. I could see my happy life falling apart. I rushed down to the hospital immediately. There were a lot of patients, maybe from the same bus. But my eyes were searching Eva. After a lot of struggle, I found her lying in a bed, motionless. My heart skipped a beat. There was an inner turmoil going on within me. I just couldn’t believe what was happening around me. One moment I am happy and the other I’m sad, I feel like tearing apart. Life has been unfair to me, and it’s still being the same. Seeing Eva in the hospital bed, among thousands of wires and machines made me feel sick. I felt helpless. Days passed and turned into months, Eva did not recover. She was in coma for six months. I was told that, she cannot hear me, but I knew she could listen to me. And so I talked to her every day. While coming back from office, I would visit Eva in the hospital and stay there for hours until the visiting hours were over. But going to home meant depressing me. I couldn’t face the reality. It was hard for me to live in a house where Eva and I had created our dreams. It had been five years now, Eva was still in coma. Now, I had started visiting Eva even more. I was told by the doctors to be ready anytime, for any bad news. The doctor said, “Mr. Noah, I don’t know how to convey this to you, but you need to be ready anytime for a bad news. I know how is it to lose a loved one, but now nothing’s in our hands. We think, we should take her off the ventilator. She’s is not responding to the treatment. And it’s been 5 years. We really don’t have any hope.” I was furious and answered back, “How would you know the pain of losing your one and only family member.”I was breathless. The doctor tried to console me, but I pushed him away. That night I didn’t leave Eva for even a moment. I talked to her about our olden times in school. It was a one sided conversation, but it didn’t matter, as far as I was with her. Eventually, I fell asleep. And when I woke up, I saw Eva sitting upright. She looked at me once and giggled. The sun was rising and we were again gazing at it, again. She looked at me once and said, “Noah, you remember I once told you that I wanted to travel to the sun?” “Yes.” I replied back. “I think now is the time. I will now travel to the Sun.” “I also want to come with you. Don’t leave me alone here.” “No, Noah. Don’t you know, you can’t come with me? You will come, when you are destined. Now set me free Noah, set me free.” “Yes Eva, I do want to set you free but promise me that you will always wait for me, won’t you?” “Yes I would, wait for you, forever.” With that she flew away. Suddenly, I heard some noise and opened my eyes. I saw Eva, still lying in bed, motionless. I had just dreamt of her. But the noise was still there. I turned my heads to face the screen, Eva’s heartbeat went up and down and then all of a sudden, the crooked lines ceased into a straight line. Eva was dead. She had gone, because I let her go. I had set her free. And I know she will be waiting for me, forever and ever. Now that I write this sitting across a lake, seeing the moon reflecting itself, I know that Eva has gone and I would never have another person to bond over sunrise.


Marcus moved closer to the edge of the window to get a better look at the red-headed woman under the black Fedora sitting in the back of the small cafe. There was something about the red-headed lady's smile that caught Marcus's attention as he passed the cafe window of the train station. The painted Christmas decorations and frost across the front window hinder his viewpoint. The possibility of the woman being Anya seemed beyond his dreams. He last saw her the night he boarded the train to be sent overseas one snowy night just like this back at the beginning of WW2.

He observed the lady as she poured the tea into the blue China teacup. She daintily dropped three sugar cubes into her tea, adding one at a time, stirring and tasting the tea after each cube. He cautiously viewed the teacup ceremony from a distance as his heart began to beat in anticipation. He realized no two women would prepare tea in the same manner. "It has to be Anya, It must be Anya," he said to himself as he pulled his red plaid scarf tighter about his neck still standing outside in the temperatures that made frost gather on his gray beard.

After adjusting his black trench coat tighter around his slender waist, he opened the door to the cafe and limped in with his cane. A soft chime rang out above his head that summoned the other diners to look in his direction. A blast of wind and snow followed in behind him as he opened the door only to leave a wet trail about his black boots. "Please, take a seat. I'll take your order in a minute," said the waitress from behind the counter. Marcus limped to the lunch counter by the back door, looking for a seat. He dusted the snowflakes from his shoulders on to the floor as he removed his coat and scarf. Off from his right side of the wall, a soft voice said, "Excuse, me sir. You are welcome to sit with me in my booth. I notice there are no more tables, please join me." Turning to face the direction of the familiar woman's voice behind him, "My dear madam, I will be delighted. My name is-My name is Fa-, Franklin Marcus Cagney, at your service." His voice hesitated when he looked directly into her big brown eyes as he removed his hat, bowing his head to her.

"I am Mrs. Anya Cervantes-Estrada. Please sit. Would you care for some hot tea?" Her smile was unmistakable, down to the delicate dimples in her cheeks. Along with red and gray ringlets about her face that laid intertwined along the bottom edge of her Fedora. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cervantes-Estrada." "Please call me Anya, my mother always use to say,

'Anya, there are no strangers in this world only friendships waiting to be made.'" "Then you must call me Marcus. I see you have two cups, are you waiting for anyone?" "I always order a second cup, for destiny may bring a friend when one least expects it. A new friend like you this evening. However, I am waiting for my grandson, Alexander Marcus, and his family to pick me up. I always spend the holidays with them at Christmas. I am looking forward to having a white Christmas. Will you be spending the holidays with your family here too?" "No, there is just me. I came here to give a testimony for a friend at his church. He is a pastor in a small town outside of Salem. His name is Arthur March; we were in the army together. He was the one who told me about being saved. I'd have to say he is the closest person I have to a family. He will be picking me up at about 8." "You look cold, take a sip of your tea. Would you care for some cream or sugar?" "Can I get you anything else, sir," the waitress interrupted. "Just this tea thank you." He said before taking a long sip of tea, he looked into Anya's eyes and said, "It must be wonderful to have a family where you can spend your holidays together." "My dear, in my eighty-seven years, I have learned one valuable lesson about family; That is, you have to work at making a family. Marcus, for many people, a family will be blood relatives. Yet for others, a family is made of good friends you must collect and nurture. Much like tending a garden." "My grandmother Lupe always told me that too. She raised me after my parents were killed in a car accident when I was about thirteen. I have to say that is when I stopped believing in God. I was in and out of reform schools for a few years until I joined the army. I never did anything to hurt anyone, but I did enough to be put in reform school." "It must have been hard on you Marcus losing your parents like that, so suddenly at such a young age. Did you have any girlfriends?" "Well, to tell you the truth, you reminded me of a girl I once knew when I was about nineteen. Her name was Anya Maria Cervantes, that's whom you reminded me of when I saw you earlier from the outside window. She wore a black Fedora just like yours. I gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday before I was shipped overseas. She had the most beautiful red hair I have ever seen in my whole life. Her eyes were big and brown like yours too. Before I came in, I thought you were her." "What happened to her?"Anya leaned forward to listen as Marcus' voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you sure I'm not bothering too much with my tale?" "Please, Marcus tell me what happened to your Anya?" At that moment, she reached over and took Marcus by the hand as his tears welt up in his eyes. He was thankful that their booth was in the back of the cafe, it was in the dark no one could see his face cringe in despair except for her. "I did a terrible thing to her. I told her we were going to be married before I left. However, I left for overseas before we could get married. Being eighteen, I felt relieved about not having the burden of a new wife. About that time, Arthur March came into my life, and he shared his faith with me, and I realized I loved Anya. A month later, I received a letter from her telling me she was pregnant. I wrote her back telling her I loved her, and we would marry as soon as I could return. She never responded after that first letter, even though I kept writing once a week. By the time I came back, six months later, due to a leg injury, she had moved away. No one would tell me where she went. I looked for her for years, and I still don't know what happened to her or our baby." He put his head down on the table to keep from crying in front of her. "Marcus, my boy, it was the war years. In life, we all do things that hurt other people. Sometimes we do things with the best intentions, not knowing how much we will hurt the ones we love. I have my regrets too, son." She strokes his hair in a motherly fashion to comfort him.

Sitting back up and wiping his eyes with a napkin, he says, "My mother and grandmother use to do that. It's been a long time since I have felt so loved. The funny thing is I feel like I know you. Like I said before, you remind me of my beloved Anya." "You said you were here to give a testimonial. Can you share the topic?" Again, she reached over to take his hand; he gave no rebuttal to the friendly gesture. "Who would have thought, that my topic would be

How God Changed my Life.

He brought Anya into my life. She was such a good person and I pray that someday I will find her again. I believe I will find them both someday."

"Marcus, I need you to listen to me. Today we are both blessed with faith beyond our dreams. I need to tell you something. I am Anya's grandmother. I am the one who never gave her your letters. Her father made me promise; it was the only way he would support us. It is because of that promise Anya did not have to give her baby away for adoption. I beg you to forgive me, my son. This hat I am wearing is the same one you gave Anya. She made me promise before she died a few years ago that I must come here every Christmas with this hat and wait for you to return. You see, she never gave up on you returning, but her father sent her away to live with me when he found out about her pregnancy. We had a good life, I will tell you more someday." Marcus' eyes glazed over as he looked at the red-headed woman sitting across from him. He took both of her hands in his as he said, "There is nothing to forgive. You took care of my family all these years. Also, you are telling me she never gave up on me. She always loved me? Our baby, what happened to our baby?" At that moment, the chime above the door rang, a man about thirty walked in with a woman and two young twin girls with red hair and two sets of big dimples. They waved to Anya and headed over to her usual table.


Dawn.

Tara walks to the well outside the village, a pot in her hand. Two years into adulthood, her green bangles clink as the pot bounces against the side of her thigh. Her saree is crudely worn, and a sliver of sunlight illuminates her tired eyes, which she promptly covers with her hand. Her toe rings, a sign of marriage, click against the hard, barren earth. She reaches the well, and puts the pot down. A metal bucket tied to a string sits on the edge of the well. Tara knocks it over with her elbow, and it tumbles down until there’s a small splash, and the rope goes slack.

She pulls up the bucket with the rope, only to see that it is half full. She looks down into the well, but sees only blackness, and the light quiver of dangerously little water. Not eager to deny her neighbours of water, Tara pours the paltry amount of water into her pot, and hoists it onto her head. Suddenly, she hears the distant sound of something foreign. Something recurring and rare. An engine. A cloud of dust trembles on the horizon, a blemish on the rising run. Tara looks at it, squinting. The dust cloud grows in size, and Tara makes out the rectangular oblong shape of a sleeper coach within the dust. She walks back to her hut, a heavier pot on her head.

— Vasu looks out of the window of the coach as it hobbles through the dirt road.

He’s struggled to sleep throughout the journey, but it doesn’t show on his face. He twirls his moustache, thinking of her.

— The village bus stop is small enough without fourteen people packed under it, sheltered from the morning sun. At the front of the small crowd is Susheela, a short and weary forty-five year old woman, waiting. The rest of her entourage, consisting of tall, dark and burly men, wait impatiently, talking amongst themselves.

The coach rolls in, tossing up another cloud of dust. Everyone squints to avoid the dust except Susheela, who gazes at the bus.

The bus stops, and after a short pause, the passengers begin to pour out of it, hauling bags, boxes and baskets.

Susheela looks at the door of the coach in anticipation, and her face brightens as Vasu walks out of the door, bags in hand. Sunlight hits his face as he sees his mother and family, and he squints and smiles all at once.

Vasu skips down the stairs and pushes through the people to embrace his mother, who hugs him tightly as he towers over her. He looks up at his uncles and cousins, and smiles at them. They smile back. Vasu lets go of Susheela.

“How are you, Vasu?” Susheela asks. “Was the trip alright?” “It could’ve been worse,” he replies. “We had to stop near Ramnagar because of a crash, but we didn’t end up losing much time. Shall we go?” He asks.

Susheela nods.

The entourage heads home, as Vasu’s older cousin Soma takes his bag from him to carry it himself.

“Happy to be home, Vasu?” Soma asks. “Of course. How’s your wife?” “She’s good. You know; the same old fights.” They laugh. Soma ponders for a moment, before leaning into Vasu’s ear. “Your mother wants you to get married soon.” “What?” “Yeah, she wants to start looking for a bride in a few weeks. You don’t have anyone already in mind, do you?” Vasu looks at Soma. — “So what is it that you study, exactly?” Uncle Deepak asks.

Vasu is seated on the floor in front of a banana leaf full of food. His cousins sit next to him, also eating. His mouth is full of rice and curry. He chews his food, and swallows it.

“Biomedicine. BES College.” Uncle Deepak raises his eyebrows. “Biomedicine,” he repeats. “Couldn’t you get into medicine?” Vasu chokes on his food, caught off guard. Some of his cousins chuckle. Deepak laughs. Susheela shakes her head.

“Drink some water, Vasu, don’t choke,” she says. She turns to Deepak and adds, “you and your jokes! My son just arrived and you’re already trying to kill him?” Deepak laughs once again. “I was only joking. How long are you here, Vasu?” Vasu smiles.

“2 months.”

“I hope that village life doesn’t bore you…” Deepak mutters, adding: “not as many pretty girls here.” “Deepak!” Susheela exclaims.

The single light bulb illuminating the whole room flickers, shrouding Vasu’s reaction in darkness momentarily.

He looks up at the light, and back at Deepak.

“I don’t think I’m going to be bored, Uncle,” Vasu says, and bites into a piece of chicken.

— Tara sits in the dimness of her small home, sifting rice. She sings a song to the rhythm of her sifting.

Outside, the rush of a small village, muffled by concrete walls, is still ever so slightly audible.

Tara continues singing even after she is done sifting rice. She pours the rice into a metal pot, and takes it over to a large canister filled with water.

She tips the canister, pouring the water into the pot of rice, squatting, when she loses her balance and slips. Water spills all over the floor, along with grains of rice. She stops singing and gets up, wiping herself off. She looks at the clock in the house. 1:21.

She begins singing again, cleaning the water off the floor with a cloth. The door opens. She stops.

— Vasu walks through the busy village street, alone. He takes a left into a residential street, and as he walks, the noise of traffic grows quieter and quieter. He makes a right turn, and then another. He climbs down a narrow staircase into a smaller neighbourhood situated on a downwards slope with smaller houses and less bikes. The houses are crammed together, congested, with no space to move.

Vasu makes his way to one of the houses on the edge of this downwards neighbourhood. He stops in front of a house, covered in chipped away green paint.

A man sits at the front of the house, smoking. His name is Prasad. He looks at Vasu, who is looking at the house, while slowly walking past it. The confusion on his face becomes recognition, and Prasad gets up.

“I’m just passing through,” says Vasu sheepishly.

Prasad runs at Vasu, pinning him against a wall by the collar. He towers over Vasu.

“What the hell made you think you could come back here?” Prasad asks.

“I wasn’t—” “Yes you were. She’s not here, you dirty bastard.” “Listen, let me- let me show you-” Vasu reaches into his pocket and takes out his wallet. He opens it and shows Prasad a passport size photo.

“My girlfriend! Ok? Why would I look for your sister if I already have someone?” He pauses. “I used to play cricket here as well, right? Do you own this neighbourhood?”

Prasad thinks for a second, and loosens his grip on Vasu’s collar. Vasu pats his shirt down, getting rid of the wrinkles. He puts his wallet back in his pocket. Prasad looks away.

“Don’t think you can come around here any time you want,” he says quietly, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Don’t let me catch you here again.” He lets the smoke out of his nose. The man turns around and walks back into his house.

Vasu spits on the ground, and walks on. Children playing cricket with battered plastic equipment look at him as he shrinks into the distance.

— Tara dreams of her boat. She lies inside her boat, dry, untouched by the salty water. Her boat floats through the endless ocean. Tara looks up at the sky, with its soft, moving clouds. A single bird flies across the sky. She can’t tell what kind of bird it is. It flies away. Tara continues floating. – Vasu is on his phone in bed late at night. He is trying to access the internet, but it isn’t working. On the search bar on his phone is “hot porn.” He refreshes the page over and over, only for it to not load. Over and over again he tries unsuccessfully. He sighs, and turns his phone off, rolling over to sleep, when he feels a bump against his hip. In the darkness, he reaches for it. It’s his wallet. He pulls his wallet out and looks at it. Then, making sure everyone around him is asleep, he grabs his penis with one hand, and picks out the passport size photo he showed to the man earlier. The photo is of an attractive young woman, smiling. On the back it reads, “Sara, XOXO.” He squints at the photo through the darkness. He begins.

– Tara is at the market, buying vegetables. She looks at the vendor, a young man. He avoids her gaze.

“How much for the okra?” she asks.

“Sorry, what, madam?” “How much for the okra?” “40 rupees for 250 grams, madam.” Tara looks at the man, eyebrows raised. “Isn’t that a bit much?” “No, madam, they’re very expensive this time-” “I just saw you sell a whole box of okra to that man over there.” “He’s a caterer, madam, he needs-” “Make it 25.” The vendor drops his facade of kindness.

“25? Are you crazy?” “25. Take it or leave it.” “I’m the one that’s meant to say that! 30, take it or leave it.” Tara is silent. She looks down, and back at the vendor, who smirks.

Tara shakes her head, brushing her hair off her forehead. The vendor stops smirking as he looks at her, and begins to put the okra in Tara’s bag. Tara takes the bag, and hands the man a 50. She looks at the rest of the market. It teems with activity and life. “Madam?” Tara turns around. “Change.” Tara takes the change, and counts it. 25 rupees.

“You gave me 5 rupees extra,” she says. She hands the vendor back the 5 rupee coin. He shakes his head, refusing to take it. “Keep it, madam,” he says. He hesitates, then says, “for yourself.” She looks at the vendor. He smiles.

“Take care,” he says. Tara nods, and walks away from the vegetable stall. She looks at herself in the reflection of a shop window, and sees that there is a purple bruise on her forehead. – Vasu does not wash his plate after eating dinner. He leaves it in the already crowded sink where his mother stands, washing dishes.

After washing his hands, he goes around to the front of the house, where his cousins are playing rummy and smoking. Smoke hangs over them; self-made fog. A single tube light illuminates the verandah, casting deep shadows across their faces. Vasu stands behind his cousins, watching them play. Soma turns around and sees him. “Hey, someone give the city boy some space to sit down!” Soma calls out. Some of the cousins shift over, and Vasu sits down. “How do you have so many cards this early into the game?” Vasu asks Soma cheekily.

“They’re cheats,” Soma replies, shaking his head. “I’m glad we didn’t do this one for money-” “You’d have to live on the outskirts!” another cousin calls out, resulting in everyone except Soma laughing. “So how’s village life, Vasu?” one of the cousins asks. “The girls here don’t give it up as easily, huh?” another cousin taunts. They laugh. “I mean, it’s hard, you know?” Vasu says. “2 months without it is going to be tough.” The cousins laugh. “Yo, Sidda, it’s your turn,” someone says. They begin talking about the card game again. Vasu looks out into the night. “Vasu,” Soma says in a low voice, below the chatter of the others.

“Yeah?” Vasu turns around.

“I heard you went to Tara’s old house.” Vasu looks at Soma wordlessly.

“Who told you that?” “Prasad told one of our boys.” “It’s not true. I was just-” “Save the bullshit.” Vasu looks away.

“Don’t you know what happened after you two got caught? Remember, you broke the walls of that straw hut going at it-” “I remember. What happened?” “You went to boarding school, right?” “Yeah.” “She got married off to a drunk.” Vasu looks at Soma, hoping he’s joking. “Where?”

“They still live here. On the outskirts. Some of our boys have had to break up some of their fights.” Soma looks away, and turns back to Vasu. “Why do you want to meet her? It’s been six years. You’re just going to cause more pro-” “I just wanted to apologise to her, Soma.” Soma looks at Vasu, not believing him.

“Honestly.” “There’s brothels here too. She’s not the only woman on Earth-” “Paying for it is no fun.” “What?” “I just want to apologise, okay?” “I’ll see what-” Someone smacks Soma on the shoulder. “What are you two old ladies gossiping about? Soma, it’s your turn,” another cousin says. Soma looks at his cards, and back at Vasu. “Play your cards right, Vasu.” – Dawn. A couple of days later, Soma and Vasu are walking together.. Vasu has neatly combed his hair, and is clean shaven. They take a left into a residential street. They make a right turn, and then another right. They climb down a narrow staircase into a smaller neighbourhood situated on a downwards slope, with smaller houses and less bikes. The houses are crammed together, congested, with no space to move. They walk past the green house this time, however, and further down the slope.

 Vasu and Soma reach the bottom of the slope, and take a left.

The neighbourhood begins to grow sparser, with dirt roads, straw huts and lanterns. Vasu and Soma take a left into a laneway. They reach the true edge of the village. Beyond the road is a small well and a vast, dry landscape, peppered with withering trees. A lone figure is walking towards the well in front of the sun. “Is that her?” Vasu asks. Soma nods. “Every day she gets up at this time to get the water,” says Soma. “Why?” Vasu asks.  “That drunk husband of hers doesn’t wake up till at least noon. I’m waiting here.” “Make sure no one sees,” Vasu says, looking around.

“I’ll whistle if someone’s coming. Keep your ears peeled.” “Ok.” “Ok, hurry,” Soma says, and pushes Vasu away.

– Tara carries the pot of water on her head as she walks back.The sun has not risen yet, and the world is dark and warm. She feels the water rock from side to side in the pot. It won’t spill, though. She knows that. There isn’t enough. Slowly, she walks back home, her bare feet calloused to the sharpness of the dirt. “Tara!” a voice hisses. She stops, and looks straight into the dark mass of trees and houses in front of her. Something is moving. It’s a person. She stands still, waiting for the person to come into sight. She does not know who it is. – Vasu briskly walks to Tara. He cannot see her properly, but he knows it’s her. Her stature, or the way she sways her hips lazily; it’s her. – It’s Vasu. Tara lowers the pot from her head, and puts it on the ground. She looks around to make sure that no one is there. “Vasu?” she asks. Vasu walks towards her slowly. She walks backward. He keeps walking, and eventually, Tara stops, leaning against the trunk of a dead tree. He gets closer, and closer, and closer, until she can feel his breath on her. “You smell the same,” he says. Tara is paralysed. Whether it is with fear or shock, she doesn’t know. “W-when did you come back?” she asks, her voice shaking. “Doesn’t matter; I’m here now.” He wraps his hands around her waist. Soma is turned away from the well, smoking a beedi. “Vasu, stop.” “I missed you so much.” “Vasu, please, stop, I don’t want people to-” “My-” Tara slaps Vasu in the face, and pushes him away.

“You bastard! Is this all you want from m-” Vasu looks at her. “I don’t know you anymore. You’ve changed.” “What?” “You’re not the-” “Shut up!” Soma turns around, but beyond some sound, he cannot say what is happening.

“Shut up, you’ll wake the whole village up!” Vasu hisses. “Go away!” “I love you, Tara. I waited all these years for you.” “I’m married!” “No one has to know.” For a moment, Tara is quiet, looking at Vasu. “Eh?” Vasu says, smiling and coming closer. “At least for as long as I’m here, we can-” “Fuck?” Vasu pauses. “You shouldn’t talk like that. That’s not how I-” “If you thought it was wrong, you would’ve-” Tara begins to tear up. “You would’ve asked me something, Vasu! How are you, Tara? How’ve you been, Tara? Are you-” her voice breaks. “Are you happy, Tara?” Vasu looks away. “Please, Vasu.” The sun has begun to rise. Dawn peeks in between the branches of the tree, and Tara sees Vasu’s face for what it is. Confused; opaque. She stops herself from sobbing. “Are you going to come back for me?” Vasu’s face lights up. He’s gotten through. He nods, getting closer, and closer. “I didn’t want to leave you the first time, darling.” The last word is thrown as rancid bait. He gets closer, until Tara can feel his breath on her once again. Then she smells his breath, and feels his chapped lips on her. His hands search her for something she doesn’t have anymore. Something foreign and distant.

– Tara dreams of her boat once again. She lies inside her boat, dry, untouched by the salty water. Her boat floats through the endless ocean. Tara gets up this time, however, and looks at herself in the reflection of the water. She looks at her skin, her hair, her eyes and nose, and doesn’t recognise them. She wishes she knew the face she wore.


Tap-Tap-Tap There have been several tappings on my window in the past, usually a bird with an inept sense of direction, poor braking skills or still trying to master the art of flying. When I peer out all I can see is an almost ghostly outline of a bird, wings outstretched, smeared across the window pane. At least I have no cats to pounce on any of the concussed feathery aviators. Last night at approximately midnight I heard such a tapping. Just three short sharp taps. Tap-tap-tap. I thought nothing of it initially but thereupon came to reason that actually these winged marvels do not take to flight in darkness with the exception of owls. So what could it of been? I then thought perhaps a moth of rather gigantic proportions - it would have to be to make such a noise. Pleased with my Sherlock style powers of deduction I settled back in my plush chair and continued to read my first edition of War of the Worlds by a prolific writer with extraordinary talent, namely Herbert George Wells. I was just easing my way back into chapter three when... Tap-tap-tap. What the blazes? Not only was the moth gigantic, it was insistent as well. However, it could not of been drawn to the light as I had merely a small candle flickering away beside me while I read and I knew of no Kamikaze moths, so what could it have been? “Pesky insect,” I mumbled as I rose unsteadily from my chair and ambled across the room on unsteady, arthritic legs. I pulled back the curtains and gazed out, my breath creating mist circles on the glass. I couldn’t help noticing that my breathing was a little faster than normal. What was I so nervous about? I am in my own home, with all doors and windows locked to keep any nefarious miscreants outside, there was no reason whatsoever that I should be scared. But I was most dreadfully afeared. Squinting through the gloom I cupped my hands around my face but despite the slight improvement to my vision I could still see nothing outside. There were still numerous lights on at this late hour in town, stretching for miles in all directions, a scattering of flickering yellow stars on a black sky. Satisfied that there was nothing out there I closed the curtains and made my way back to my chair. However, I didn’t pick my book up again. I kept my hands firmly clasped upon the arm of the chair and I stared anxiously at the window, waiting for the next tap. The seconds ticked by, becoming minutes, before realising that the time was now 5 minutes past 1 o’clock. Almost trance like I had been concentrating on the window, my mind wandering off to some other time and place, losing track of time. Satisfied that the tapping had stopped I decided to make my way to bed. I shuffled across the living room, I had developed a lazy habit of dragging my feet rather than lifting them, I had paid the price with some hefty falls, but still I shuffled. I stopped at the doorway to my bedroom, holding on to the door frame, not only to steady my weary body but also to steady my nerves as if touching something tangible would allay my fears and keep the thoughts of something unreal at bay. I waited with baited breath in the doorway listening for any sounds but I could hear nothing untoward, in fact there was no sound at all as if the whole world was on mute. I shook my head more with frustration than anything, my ridiculous superstitious mind was playing tricks with me, creating frightmares from a mere tap at the window. “Stupid old fool.” I reprimanded myself, and still shaking my head I limped through to the bathroom to prepare myself for bed. With ablutions done I settled into bed pulling the sheets up under my chin. I never do this normally but tonight was different, tonight I wanted to make myself as invisible as possible for anything that may be… Screeee. What was that?

Screeee. Damn these nerves! That’s the blasted pipes, they always make that noise. I have heard them so often over the years that even when they do make a sound I pay no attention. But tonight is different. Tap-tap-tap. I shook my head firmly. No, I did not hear that, that was not another tapping at the door. Absurd to think that it was. There was no tapping at the window, I am merely over tired and creating sounds that do not actually exist. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Closing my eyes I sighed heavily, my chin resting on my chest. I did hear it, this is no longer my imagination, there really was something at the window. With a mounting sense of dread I climbed out of bed and slowly made my way back into the living room. Just as I grabbed the curtains there came the all too familiar… Tap-tap-tap. With restored nerve I flung open the curtains, determined to have it out with whoever was there. They were going to get the sharp end of my tongue, make no mistake. It was time to bring this damn prankster down to earth with a bump. “WHAT THE DEVIL…”, but I never finished my reprimand. Afeared once more I fell backwards, landing heavily on my left side, I felt bones crunching unnaturally together in my wrist and hand as they bore my not inconsiderable weight. I cried out, not in pain but in shock, as my eyes beheld that which stood outside my window. A face cloaked in darkness peered back at me, his eyes tinged with a red hue shone brightly despite the gloom, sharp pointed teeth, immaculately white complete the chilling vision. I could see nothing else until an arm gradually ascended with first finger extended, pointing at me. It’s nails were almost like talons, these were evidently what had been tapping on my window. Then, impossibly, the finger seemed to morph with the glass before sliding through with the tip of the finger now inside the room. Too scared to scream or utter any sound I just stared dumbfounded at what I was seeing. “Arthur Harold Worrell,” a deep rumbling voice echoed around the room, ringing in my ears “I have come for you.” I looked around the room and noticed my slumped body in my reading chair, glasses askew and mouth slightly open. My eyes were also open but they were unseeing. I was quite dead. It was then that it all made sense, my less than holy life had caught up with me. My charge sheet of misdemeanours, large and small, was endless and it was time to re-pay. A grim smile played across my lips. “You took your time getting here!” The finish


Trigger Warning: Violence, Gore, Swearing, Murder Eli typed vigorously on his computer. The brightness of his computer screen illuminated his face like a beacon. His blue eyes darted back and forth behind his wide-rimmed glasses, giving him an owlish look. The other cubicles, once filled with the hustle and bustle of coworkers, now stood empty, a testament to the late hour. Computers dark, chairs pushed in, like sentinels guarding a deserted fortress. Elijah Warner was a tall man in his mid-30s. He slouched in his chair beneath his mop of unruly brown hair, which stuck out in every direction. It often resembled a bird’s nest by the time his work was done. He was wearing faded jeans and his threadbare GenCorp lab coat. The frayed cuffs and stained pockets blended seamlessly into the beige walls of the research facility. Despite his disheveled appearance, there was an air of intensity about him. Eli had worked for GenCorp for a few years and he was suspicious. For a top-secret military R&D facility, it sure held its secrets. He had been completing a final budget review for his latest experiment when he found the account had received fifty million dollars from a bank in the Middle East. Feeling uneasy, he knew he had to investigate further.

Eli's hands flew across the keyboard, dancing like a pianist playing a familiar melody. He had developed the habit of biting his nails short during his graduate school days. As he scrolled through lines of code and financial records, he muttered to himself, "What's this? A shell company in the Cayman Islands?" He grabbed a nearby pen and began scribbling on a pad of paper. He let out a low whistle. “Offshore accounts in Somalia? ‘That is simply brazen.” His computer suddenly froze, flashing bright red letters across the screen that said “Unauthorized access detected.” He rushed to clear his computer history, covering his tracks. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” grunted Eli as he grabbed his bag and shut off his workstation lights. A "successful" message popped up on his monitor. “Yes, finally,” he whispered. He powered down his computer and sprinted for the bus stop.  A few stops later, Eli made it back to his apartment. Exhausted and anxious, he fed his cat, Merlin, and ate a meatloaf TV dinner. He lay frozen for hours, surfing through TikTok until he finally passed out.

Suddenly, he heard three loud “bangs” against the door, causing Eli to jump from his bed. “Ah, what the fuck!” He shouted as he fumbled to the living room. A deafening voice came from the hall.

“Police open up!” Eli’s eyes widened as he slowly turned the knob.

"Elijah James Warner, a.k.a Eli?" stated a surly officer. Two others stood watch down the hall, hands on their tasers.

"Uh Yes?” Eli replied, sheepishly The officer pushed past Eli, as another pulled his arms behind his back, securing them with a set of cuffs off his belt. "You're under arrest for financial embezzlement and conspiring against the United States," echoed through the corridor.

 "What are you talking about? I'm just a scientist!" Pled Eli, as he was shoved into the back of a cop car.

At the station, he was shown forged documents with his signature at the bottom. "You're a clever man, Warner," the detective sneered. "But you can't hide the truth forever." They provided a warrant to search his apartment, where they found records connecting him to suspicious offshore transactions. His world crumbled instantly.

Three weeks later Eli stood in front of a judge, wearing a baggy orange jumpsuit labeled, ‘NY Corrections’. His heart was racing as the verdict was read.

"The defendant is hereby found guilty of fraud, and embezzlement, ..”

Eli became numb with panic. He was going to prison for 12 years, for crimes he did not commit.

 Eli's remaining family had utterly disowned him, leaving him to face the harsh realities of prison alone. Desperate to clear his name, he protested his innocence to other inmates, a mistake that only fueled their resentment. His fragile physique and nervous demeanor made him an easy target. He lived in a state of hyper-vigilance, his eyes often darting around the cellblock in search of potential threats. Yet, even in the darkest depths of despair, Eli’s assignment to work in the prison library had been a godsend. The musty smell of old books, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights, and the whispered pages of forgotten knowledge had become his sanctuary. It was there that Eli stumbled upon a website - friendafelon.com - a pen pal program for inmates. A chance to connect with the outside world, beyond these cold, gray walls that had held him captive. And then he saw her - Amelia. Her profile picture showed a stunning woman with long, dark hair and sparkling green eyes. Eli's heart skipped a beat as he gazed at her image. She was completely out of his league. Yet, he couldn't help being drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. He dove deeper into her profile, devouring every sentence, every scrap of information he could find. She was a computer programmer for a high-end tech company. “She must be smart at least”, Eli told himself. They started talking daily, and Eli was star-struck. As the months passed, he opened up to her more and more. Eli couldn't wait to get to the library and rush through his tasks. They talked about everything - their hopes, their dreams, their fears. He realized he had fallen deeply for Amelia and started to tell her about his case and his history.

Amelia,

Hope your meeting went well this afternoon. I received my second swirly of the week (I was not aware that adults performed this level of bullying). My cellmate spends his day pacing around the space, giving me no place for peace besides this library. I’m starting to feel worried, claustrophobic. The courtyard feels smaller every time I walk outside. I guess only 6 years of this hell hole left to go.

Talk to you soon

Eli

Amelia was an incredible listener and responded almost instantly. Her messages gave him hope, reassuring him that he was strong enough to handle it all. She eventually convinced him to come to LA when he was released. He was hesitant, but agreed. He knew he needed to meet her.

Victor, Eli’s long-term cellmate, took great pleasure in tormenting him. His massive frame and menacing scar above his left eyebrow put most inmates on edge. Late one night, He awoke to Victor hovering over him, his voice dripping with malice. "You think you're better than me, Warner?" he sneered, his fists clenching into balls of fury. The venom in his voice sent a chill down Eli’s spine.

But he stood his ground, trying to defuse the situation as he rolled over, shouting "I'm just trying to do my time, Victor! Leave me alone!" But Victor charged, swinging his massive fists.

Eli dodged and weaved, trying to avoid the blows, but Victor was relentless. Just as Eli thought he was overpowered, he heard boots coming down the hall. Johnson was equally burly as Victor and fairly skilled at being new to his security position. Johnson immediately intervened, pulling Victor off Eli and slamming him into the ground

But the guard didn't stop there. With a swift motion, he raised his baton, and Eli watched in horror as he brought it down, again and again, until all that was left was a motionless body. Blood spattered across the cell walls as Eli puked in the corner, shielding his face.

"You're safe now, Warner," Johnson heaved, his chest rising rapidly from his bludgeon-style workout.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" Eli exclaimed, unable to process what he had seen.

The guard stared directly into his eyes and whispered, "... for my family." "What the fuck does that even mean?" Eli yelled, pointing to the husk of a man beaten to death inside his cell. But he didn't answer. Bloodied and exhausted, Johnson turned and walked back down the hallway.

As more guards arrived, Eli reluctantly grabbed his belongings as directed. They never questioned him about the dead guy on his floor, and he was fine with that. He cozied up in a new cell, all to himself.

The next morning, he returned to the library to update Amelia. But she didn't respond. Elijah was perplexed. She was always online. He wrote her one last message before returning to his duties: I’m sorry if I spooked you earlier. I didn't mean to cause distress. Strange things are happening in this place. People went from targeting me to avoiding me altogether. I guess it's better this way, and at least I have my space. I spoke to my lawyer and requested an appeal. He laughed but told me he would start the process. So fingers crossed dear.

Talk to you soon Elijah Three days later, Eli sat on his bed, staring blankly at the white envelope in his hands. He never received traditional mail. His heart raced as he carefully tore the edge, removing a single typed page. April 4th 2022 Elijah Warner

Your Appeal for early release, submitted on April 3rd, 2022, was approved. Your expected release date is April 22nd, 2022. You are required to establish with your assigned patrol office directly after your release.

Contact us with questions,

Department of Corrections

Eli read the words again and again. Released? He whispered to himself. This letter was written two days ago. He stood in the lengthy phone line for what felt like hours. He couldn't wait to call his lawyer for more details.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "... I'm not aware of any updates on your case, Mr. Warner,” reported Mr. Deet. “Can you tell me more about the letter?"

Eli's excitement faded. "It says here that my appeal has been approved. You don’t know anything about this?" “I haven’t filed an appeal yet..” Mr. Deet sighed. "I'll have to do some digging. I'll update you soon. " But when he called his lawyer a few days later, he was met with a disconnected line. Eli felt confused and frustrated. What was going on? He wondered.

Weeks went by, but Eli heard nothing. Until one day, he received a visit from a public defender who confirmed the news. “Where am I going?” asked Eli as he shuffled down the hallway. "Reintegration into the system," chuckled the guard. Before Eli could ask more, the guard turned and opened a small office door. “Hands,” he directed sternly. He removed a ring of keys from his belt, unlocked his cuffs, and pointed to a gray folding chair.

Eli had never met the man behind the desk. He was short and round, yet very well dressed. He shuffled through a stack of loose papers like he was on a mission for buried treasure. The black plaque on his desk read, ‘Mark Jenkins PO.’

“Ah, Elijah James Warner?” asked the man, as he pulled out a manila folder.

“Yes,” Eli replied reluctantly.

His office was cramped, littered with stacks of files and certificates. Mr. Jenkins looked at him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. "Elijah, I have to ask, who do you know up high?" he said, leaning back in his chair.

Eli furrowed his brow, puzzled. "What do you mean, sir?" Mr. Jenkins leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Don't play dumb with me, boy. ‘Someone has pulled significant strings to secure your early release and now, no probation requirement.” He tossed the file labeled ‘Early Termination of Incarceration’ across the desk, the large ‘Approved’ stamp catching Eli’s attention. “That doesn't happen to just anyone."

Elijah shook his head, genuinely perplexed. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir. I just followed the rules." Mr. Jenkins raised an eyebrow, skeptically. "Save it. I've seen cases like yours before. Someone with influence wants you out, and they're making it happen. Just be grateful and get out." Eli stood up, still confused. "So, I'm free to go?"

Mr. Jenkins nodded curtly. "You're a free man. You have a few days at the local halfway house to sort your life out and get on your feet. After that, you're on your own." While walking the 6 blocks to “Havenwood Halfway House”, a sleek black SUV with tinted windows pulled alongside him. The driver, an imposing figure with sunken eyes, stepped out of the vehicle. His gaze scanned Eli’s face with an unnerving intensity. "Mr. Warner?" he asked, his voice low, gravelly. Eli nodded anxiously, his thoughts racing with fear and curiosity. "My name is Marcus," the driver said, as his expression softened. "I'm here to give you a ride to the airport.” Eli’s eyes narrowed, unsure of Marcus's words. Why would I need a ride to the airport? Marcus continued, "I know you're trying to get to Los Angeles. I can help you with that. But first, we need to talk."

Eli tossed his bag into the back seat as Marcus opened the passenger door. The luxury Mercedes gleamed, with polished leather and sleek chrome accents. Sweat flooded from Marcus’ face as he tugged at his shirt collar as Eli felt a sense of trepidation wash over him. He was about to travel to a place he'd never been, to meet a woman he had never met. And he was terrified.

"So. Uhhh, what's going on?" He asked after minutes of silence. “There are things you need to know son, she’s not who you think she is,” exclaimed Marcus, turning onto a private runway. “You need to be prepared for her…”

Marcus paused as ‘Unknown’ suddenly flashed across the dash. His eyes narrowed, answering the call through his headset. Eli heard the anger echoing through the earpiece as Marcus stepped out of the car.

Eli could see a man jogging towards the car, wearing a three-piece suit. “Mr. Warner?” He exclaimed, bending over to catch his breath. “It’s a pleasure to serve you today, sir. The plane is ready for take-off. I’ll grab your bags.”

“But…” questioned Eli, looking back at Marcus. The spry little man scooped up his duffle and took off back towards a small jet. “Right this way Mr. Warner!” He yelled, waving him in.

Eli could hear Marcus becoming agitated, demanding answers. “You won’t get away with this! The truth will come out!”. Suddenly, his eyes widened with fear. He replied with a single "Yes" before cutting off the call. Eli jogged up the metal set of stairs as he heard a loud “pop” come from behind him. He turned around and let out a gasp, witnessing Marcus’ lifeless body slumped against the driver's window. A single bullet hole in the center of his forehead. “Excuse me, Mr. Warner!” The flight attendant pushed Eli to the side, closing the cabin door. He watched the handle spin until it made a faint ‘click’, sealing the plane for takeoff. “I apologize for the confusion, sir. My name is Milo, and I will be your attendant for this flight.” Please take your seat and let me know if I can get you anything.

A high-pitched ‘ring’ filled the cabin. Eli froze as he picked up the phone from the seat next to him. Caller ID. AMELIA

 “Uh.. Hello?” Eli answered. "Amelia, what's going on?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice steady. "Who was that guy? He needs help! I think he might be dead!” “When you get here, I will explain everything,” Amelia replied, maintaining a calm and collected voice. "Explained? What do you mean? Is this some kind of sick game?" Eli’s anger boiled over. “Elijah, I told you.” “But I don’t..” Amelia had already disconnected the line. Milo reappeared, handing Eli a bottle of sparkling water and a cheese tray. He watched out the window as the plane sped down the runway and launched into the sky.

Soon he found himself surrounded by white fluffy clouds and the miniature city below faded from view. There was no turning back now.

Eli shivered as he stepped out into the dark, dusty hanger as Milo tip-toed in front of him, holding open a single-man door. “It was a pleasure, Sir” Milo whispered, handing Eli his duffle with a partial bow.

The air was thick with the smell of dust and decay. He could hear the hum of the towers as he walked around the room as dozens of monitors in standby mode covered the space in a warm glow. A single workstation suddenly lit up and Eli recognized it instantly. A 1998 iMac desktop, complete with a wired mouse and keyboard, just like his computer from high school.

Eli got closer to the monitor, as it illuminated rows and rows of servers buzzing away with life. A message in cold, green block letters swept across the black background.

‘Hello, Elijah. It's nice to meet you. My name is Amelia.’ Eli froze in place, hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. His heart raced as he stared at the screen, the words taunting him with their simplicity.

The screen flickered again as a strong, sultry voice echoed from the surrounding speakers, sending shivers down his spine. “Welcome to my lab. I've been waiting for you.”


Don’t look don’t look don’t look don’t look don’t loo- dammit.

My stride stuttered as I again was unable to keep my eyes forward, away from the sparkling temptress the universe has placed in my path as some cruel joke. Not only is there a high-end jeweler right on my walk to work, but it happens to be the one housing the St. Beneficio Egg. Many have heard of Faberge eggs, but those are cheap trinkets in comparison to the St. Beneficio Egg. It’s gorgeous. It’s priceless. Well, technically it did have a price: $225 million. As if anyone with $225 million would just walk by and impulsively buy the egg from the window. I never understood why a jeweler would just put it in the window like that. Probably just the universe trying to test me.

I left the egg in my wake, as I did every morning, and tried to forget about it. There was a time in my life that I would have had that egg months ago. The first time I’d seen it, I would have begun planning. In just a few weeks, I’m sure I would’ve been ready to make a move. I mean, damn, when I was in the game, I was good. All it would take was a little observation of the business, the employees, the security measures… no. Dammit I was not doing a good job forgetting about that egg. I shook my head and went back into reality, only to realize I’d walked right past my office.

I knew it wasn’t rational, but I didn’t want to do a 180 and show everyone I had messed up. I decided that as long as I’d already missed the office I might as well just get coffee at the upcoming cafe. That way it would be like I had purposely walked by the office for a reason. But if I was going to show up late to work with coffee, I had to offer to bring some for everyone else. Or at least anyone that responded within the couple minutes from when I sent out a text to when I was ordering. I whip out my phone and shoot off a text, but somehow, as if another test from the universe, I must have clicked the wrong “James” and my past comes back again.

James: Hey girl, I imagine I wasn’t supposed to be in that group coffee text. My, how boring your life must have become to have a group coffee text

Me: You are right about exactly one thing: you weren’t supposed to be in that text.

James: Oh please. Don’t pretend you’re not bored. You know you miss the thrill, and the lifestyle. I know you burned through those profits quick. You must be almost out… hence whatever dead-end job you got where you’re stuck getting everyone coffee.

Me: Getting coffee isn’t part of my job. I’m just doing it

I paused. I was about to type “for fun,” but if I’m getting coffee for the office for fun, wouldn’t that just prove his point about my life? That would have just sounded sad. I deleted it and typed “for today.” But wouldn’t that make it sound like it is part of my job, just not everyday? Why did I care so much what James thought? I started thinking maybe I should just not respond, when he texted again.

James: I’m going to take this sudden silence as meaning I’m right. Well if you’re so bored, I’m going to be in the city in a few weeks and I would be more than willing to help you with a job. Just think, this time you could live off that money for years since you’d be more careful about your spending… Stupid James thinking I was bored. I wasn’t bored. I loved my new life. Well, I liked it. It was fine. At least I wasn’t perpetually at risk of going to prison or dying. It was a much safer life. Plenty of people were happy in lives just like this. I just needed to get adjusted to the slower pace.

James: No need to decide right now. Just let me know in the next couple weeks so I can prepare.

Getting out of the life was the smartest decision I ever made. So why was I considering James’s offer? I mean, maybe one last heist wouldn’t be the worst idea. I could get it out of my system. Like smokers having one last cigarette before quitting. Or like smokers using nicotine patches to quit. I mean no one just quits cold turkey… that never works. Plus, James was right that one last heist could hold me over financially for years. And if we pulled the right heist, it could last me for life. One long, lowkey, normal life. James was also right that I had already blown through all my money from all my prior jobs before I decided to give up the life. At the time I had thought it would keep coming in at the same rate.

Coffee Orders: Yeah, I’ll take a large hazelnut latte! Thanks! Coffee Orders: Large iced coffee, almond milk, caramel.

Coffee Orders: And James would like a large hot coffee with cream no sugar. Not sure why he’s not in the chat.

Coffee Orders: Medium herbal tea for me! You’re the best!

Coffee Orders: I’m Hilary, I drink tea, I’m so special and different.

Coffee Orders: Laugh at me all you want, but at least I treat my body with the respect it deserves so that it can take care of me. Ugh, Tim, why did you have to stir the pot? Was Hilary insanely irritating with her pretentious, clean-living, crystal-loving, treat-every-living-thing-like-a-friend attitude? Yes. But that was more something we talked about behind her back than brought up directly to her. What was even the point? She wasn’t going to change just because--

Oh my god. How was this my life? Inane workplace drama. This didn’t used to be something I would care about. Maybe it was good that it was something I care about in my new, normal life. The drama Tim stirred up was the talk of the office and I let myself get lost in it. I forgot entirely about the St. Beneficio Egg and James. I didn’t even think to look in the window on my walk home, mostly because I was on my phone texting about the Tim-Hilary situation and how it had split the entire office into Team Tim and Team Hilary. James and that egg were things of the past. At least for the day.

The next day, I walked by the jeweler again and again I caught myself looking at the egg. I tried to remind myself of the Tim-Hilary thing to try and distract myself, but it turned out that a little workplace conflict was more of a one-day distraction. Who knew when the next distraction of that magnitude might come up? That was the biggest thing that had happened in weeks. God my life was boring. But it was the smart thing to do. Wasn’t it? Maybe some people just aren’t meant for boring lives… But I gave that up for a reason! I needed to stop thinking like this was even an option. It was only an option because James was coming to town. If I’d never texted him on accident or if he wasn’t coming or if that stupid egg wasn’t on my walk to work, I’d never be considering going back to the life.

Then again, maybe the accidental text coming right before James’s trip and the insanely valuable egg just happening to be on my walk to work wasn’t by chance. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe the universe wanted me to have one last hurrah before giving it all up forever. I mean, what are the odds of it all lining up just by coincidence?

But if I really wanted to quit and leave it all behind, like I knew I should, I needed to resist the temptation to pull one last heist. I was done with that life. For good. And I couldn’t say that if I was just a couple random coincidences away from pulling another heist at any given moment. I was not pulling a heist and that was final.

And it was final. For a few days. Then James texted again.

James: So… we on or what? Listen, I could only tell myself that it was all a bunch of coincidences for so long. It wasn’t like James to actively seek out a job. He normally waited for the jobs to come to him. There was only one explanation: the universe wanted me to pull this one last job. I mean, if I just pulled one last job, this time knowing it was my last job, it could hold me over forever, both financially and in excitement. Me: I know a place. I’ll do recon. Meet me in George’s Cafe on 8th at 5:30 PM on the 14th and

we’ll go over job details.

James: See you then.

Over the next couple weeks, I went through my normal routine. I got the blueprints from public records (thank god for zoning requirements). I observed the opening and closing procedures from the restaurant across the street, which familiarized me with the security measures. I scoped out the cameras and found out which ones they were by shopping online for cameras that looked the same. I knew James would find the buyer. By the time he was in town, I had our plan ready to go. And it was flawless, truly some of my best work.

James was one hundred percent on board. He had already found the buyer and was ready to go. He agreed to strike that very night, just as I’d planned. We waited for night to fall, then for nightlife to die off, bars to close, everyone to get home. Around 3:45 AM, after everyone had made their way home from bars and parties but before the early morning people were up, I was outside the jewelry store, wig in place, shoes with hidden lifts changing my height, wearing big reflective glasses that would mess with the cameras. Right on time, I saw James approaching, matching me in glasses, wearing the ridiculous outfit we’d agreed on. I tried not to laugh. “You ready?” he asked. I answered with a simple nod and began typing the lockbox code I’d watched the manager type a dozen times.

Just as the lockbox clicked open, suddenly lights were flashing and sirens screaming. “HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! NOW! GET ON THE GROUND!” I spun around to see two cops coming from across the street, guns and flashlights trained on me. Cop cars came flying around the corner, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Stunned, I obeyed, dropping to my knees and locking my hands behind my head. What were the odds? For years I was pulling heists without being caught, but the one heist I pull after going straight…

But that’s when I noticed it. James. He wasn’t dropping to the ground. He wasn’t putting his hands behind his head. He wasn’t even surprised. He refused to make eye contact as the officers placed the cuffs, but I couldn’t look away. So it wasn’t a coincidence, but it wasn’t the universe either. “James?” He winced as I said his name. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. I was shocked. James and I had been partners for years before I left.

“James, I knew you were disappointed when I gave it up but this?”

“It’s not about that… They had me in custody when you texted… they offered me a deal if I could get them you too…” “But you knew I was out--” Then a cop started in on my rights, beginning with the right to remain silent, and I shut up. I’d said too much already. I mean, they couldn’t possibly have had too much on me, could they? As I ducked into the back of a cop car I could not believe that I was so stupid to go for that damn egg. I knew better. Oh god, this was going to last the office wayyyy longer than the Tim-Hilary thing. Oh god, how was I thinking about the office right now? I guess I was more into that new life than I thought I was… A realization that came too late.


Silent, crouched in the cozy nooks of the bushes, the dark haired girl watched with earnest eyes, once again finding herself staring at the golden flicker of light hidden beneath the line dividing sea and sky. She recalled when it was a blazing sphere of inferno, looming above the earth. A gleaming, gargantuan garnet raising its fiery fingers into the sky. Ahi had lingered behind the foliage, plotting her ambush. When her keen eyes discerned the right moment, she pushed herself off the ground and swiftly pursued her target, careful not to startle it. But just as she got close enough to grasp the sun, it sank further into the sea, enshrouding the world in darkness as its flamboyant flames were extinguished. Ahi walked back to her dwelling, moping when she was unable to acquire the jewel in the sky once agian. She repeated her process of watching and waiting every single day, the elusive sun providing to her an impetus to succeed. But the glowing orb seemed to spill through her hands just as she was about to ensnare it, almost as if it were amused to see Ahi’s cycle of futile efforts. Sometimes it would ascend, sometimes it would descend. Ahi could never predict its moves. Then one day, she saw her father gingerly severing slabs of wood in his workshop. The potent scent of fresh pine revitalized her senses, refreshing her after yet another perpetual game of hide and seek with the sun. She glanced at her father’s determined visage while pounding nails into place and an idea struck her—if the sun wouldn’t come to her, then she would go to it!

“Wow Father, that chair looks exquisite! You really have a talent for bringing out the rich shades of the wood,” Ahi wheedled. "Anyone could learn so much about woodworking by just watching you!" she said, alluding to her knowledge of woodworking she had obtained by studying her father all these years. "Could I perhaps create something of my own?" "Well that depends, what do you want to make?" her father asked. "I'd...I'd like to craft a catapult to help me capture the sun," Ahi admitted. To her surprise, Ahi's father strongly advised against her ambition, and he was resolute in his decision.

So, Ahi toiled secretly at nightfall, just as the sun dipped below the horizon. She was a bit disheartened that she'd have to wait until her project was completed to attempt to catch the sky’s crown jewel, but once she was finished with her invention, she would no longer need to run outdoors to see the sun- she could display it right on her nightstand!

After numerous nights of silently sculpting and sawing, the catapult was ready.  Ahi stepped into the wide band and gradually  inched backwards, tightening her grip on the sides. This was it. This was the moment she had been waiting for nearly all her life.

Ahi pulled back one last time and let go. The next few moments were a blur through the dark. She opened her eyes and let out a yelp when she saw that her cottage was the size of a doll’s house and her father, frantically signaling with a lamp for his daughter to return, was the size of a caterpillar! Which could only mean that Ahi was soaring through the skies! As she gazed at the navy sea of stars above her, the golden globe became clearer. She had never been so close to it, and the glow nearly blinded her. Light was a beautiful thing, and after living in the dark every time the sun set, Ahi wanted light for herself. She would no longer have to stare petrified with fear as shadows crept across her walls. She would no longer need to worry about childish things like spilling her bottle of ink or accidentally slicing her finger in dim environments. The sun was so close now that Ahi grazed it with her fingertips. Nearer and nearer it crept, until Ahi grabbed a hold of it! She began her descend, but the ball of light would not budge. It was as if a thousand mountains were holding it in place. Ahi pried and pried, kicked and stomped, pushed and pulled. She heaved and hauled, but it was as if the sun was fused to the sky. Tears of frustration glistened at the corners of Ahi's eyes when she realized that her father’s woodworking knife was in her pocket! She whipped it out and began to hack a grotesque circle around the sun. When was done, she gave it a slight tap and the sky's jewel fell into her hands. It glowed like it was life's essence itself. Ahi returned to her cottage, earnestly waiting to show her father her prize. But as she trudged back with the weight of the sun on her shoulders, it was as if she fell into another dimension. The world was dark now, pitch black. The darkness sucked everything up into its deep abyss. Ahi could barely see her cottage or her father’s workshop and everything felt surreal, leaving Ahi feeling as if time itself had stopped. She was frozen in a void of nothingness. Everywhere Ahi looked, to her right, her left,  up and down, there was black. By trying to take the sun for herself, Ahi had denied everyone else an opportunity to bask in its beauty. She needed the flame to return. But it never would. It never would ascend into space or dive down to the depths of the ocean floor. Things would never be the same. Her life, everyone’s life, was sentenced to an eternal darkness.

And so, Ahi fumbled around in the dark, trying to locate her catapult. Stumbling as she strapped herself to it for the second time, Ahi launched herself back into the sky. She locked the sun into place, but it she had disrupted nature’s jigsaw puzzle when she'd hacked the sun out of its throne in; The sun fell and fell, no longer properly fitting into the gentle curves of the sky. Ahi deftly caught the sphere of light, memories of the fun ball games she’d played with her cousins flashing in her thoughts. But this was no game. She pushed the sun back into place with all her might, but every time Ahi removed her hands, it would fall right back down to earth. She realized now, the significance of her father's admonition. Ahi understood that caging the sun's spirit meant that she had left everyone in murky misery. She felt as if her muscles would explode with pressure from trying to push the sun back in place, she felt as if liquified fire was running through her veins. But Ahi persevered, twisting and turning the sun until it finally snapped into place. That was the last thing she saw before blacking out and falling back to the ground. When she awoke, instead of hunting the sun like she had once done every day, Ahi marveled at its glory, at its light, at its warmth. It was like a large bird, meant to be free in the wild, and Ahi never wanted to restrain it ever again. But every year, the sun becomes loosened due to Mother Nature’s antics and tumbles out of the sky, no longer precisely snapped in place after Ahi had cut it out of the atmosphere. And every year, the dark haired girl catapults herself back into the sky to drag the jewel into its rightful place, a feat that became known as a Solar Eclipse.