“Wond’ring in the night, what were the chances, we’d be sharing love, before the night was through?” Frank Sinatra lilted through Laura’s headphones. She flicked a mosquito off of her face. The moon hung high in the sky, glowing with the light from the far off sun, but the warm, sticky, summer evening was getting to be too much. She had vowed on New Years that she would go for a walk every other evening. Her beginning of year self-had been all about “wellness” but now she was tired and less inclined to listen. After all, she was older and wiser than she had been 6 months ago was she not? A thick silence hung in the air, broken only slightly by the distant croaking of frogs and chirp of crickets hiding in the bushes. She had decided to take a route off of the normal path, winding through willow trees and looming oaks. The moon peaked shyly from behind the leaves, providing her with incredibly little light. She wiped sweat from her forehead. Her hair was already frizzing up from the humidity. Oh my god she had just straightened it this morning. Executive decision, it was time to turn around and go home. Just as she was about to turn around however, she suddenly noticed what seemed to be a pair of large, glowing eyes blink down at her from the trees. Startled, she backed up a few feet, squinting to get a better look. Probably just a cat. She turned around, but only got a few feet before she heard a rustling behind her, and a light sound hitting the dirt. “Who’s there?” She whirled around and was surprised to see a woman standing before her. She looked to be in her mid-twenties perhaps, but there was no way because, this woman was most certainly not human. Her hair hung down to her knees, in the moonlight Laura could see that it was an emerald hue. The woman’s skin was tinted a pale green, and vines seemed to sprout from her arms and legs. Her large eyes glowed ever so slightly in the dark and she slowly blinked below long eyelashes. Her dress was crafted from intertwining leaves and vines, and she was completely barefoot. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead of English came out a lilting song. The language, Laura could not identify. Instead, she stood there, astonished. The woman seemed to notice her surprise and cleared her throat. “I am sorry, English is not my first language.” “I-I-uhm it’s fine. It took me a while to learn too, up to the age of 5 I think.” What on earth was she saying? And why was she even talking to this woman? No, this…creature? The woman smiled ever so slightly. “Who are you? Why are you in my woods?” “Y-your woods?” The woman nodded. “I am the spirit of this forest. A dryad. People do not stray from the path here; it can be hard to find your way out.” “Yes, I mean I was slightly concerned about that. I-I’m sorry, am I hallucinating?” The woman actually laughed this time. “I should hope not, that would make me a figment of your imagination and I would hate to see this forest left uncared for. It is beautiful after all is it not?” Laura nodded her head, still in a daze. “What’s your name? Even if I am imagining this, I may as well feed into this. The walk has been so terribly boring.” “Well, I don’t truly have a name, but the name commonly given to me by humans would be Vedia. Holy spirit of the forest in Teutonic.” “You’re a…forest spirit?” “In a sense, yes. As I said, I am a Dryad, but more so I am the forest itself, a part of nature but simply personified. I am the life force of nature shown in a way that your human eyes are able to see.” It was difficult, admittedly, for Laura to wrap her head around this. The night was hot, she was tired, this very well might all be delirium, but it was damn cool at that. “Why would you, I don’t know, show yourself to me? I mean you know better than anyone the shit humans are doing to forests. I could kill you or something. I mean, I won’t, believe me I won’t, I promise. But…I don’t know.” “The path you wandered to end up here does not show itself often. And it does not show itself to anyone.” Laura perked up slightly, a small flicker of pride blooming in her. The dryad must have noticed this however because she quickly added on. “You do not possess any sort of magic; you are simply a good human. No purity of heart is involved, I simply know that you do not wish to harm the environment here.” She smiled warmly, the sides of her eyes crinkling as she smiled. Laura’s heart picked up in pace. “I-no, of course I don’t. I really was just going for a walk. I was actually thinking about turning around…but now I don’t want to.” “It is best not to dwell for too long in these woods. Life force is concentrated here and is not the most suitable for humans to be around for long periods of time. As I said before, you will lose your way.” “If I leave will I be able to find you again?” “If the forces allow it. I will guide you home.” “Wait I-” But before Laura could finish her sentence, the woman disappeared. Laura cursed herself and turned towards the dark woods. Suddenly, a ball of golden light apparated before her and lazily wound through the trees. She was being guided back. Through the nearly black woods, she followed the light until she was spit back onto the park path. Damnit. “Something in your eyes was so inviting, something in your smile was so exciting, something in my heart told me, I must have you.” Laura’s manager called her in for extra shifts every single day that week. Lindsey called in sick, Derek had a family event, Portia was on a trip, so Laura was stuck shaking cocktails at the hotel bar until 2am. One of the nights was slow, and her mind was drifting, memories of her encounter with Vedia drifting to the surface. Laura did not think she had ever seen a being so beautiful in her life. The way she just seemed to radiate the moonlight, how light bounced off of her hair, and her graceful movements. “Hey, can I get a Southside?” A light voice broke Laura out of her head and she looked to see a young woman standing before her. She was on the shorter end, light brown hair fell just below her chest, complimenting her blue eyes. Freckles dotted her nose and cheekbones. Her brown lipstick set apart the rest of the look. She wore a navy suit, a white blouse blooming beneath the collar. She radiated confidence and beauty. “Yes, of course I’m sorry.” She turned to grab the gin and limes from behind her. “I don’t blame you for spacing out. I’ve seen you working late every single night this week. Co-workers bailed, huh?” “Yeah, unfortunately. How often are you in here? It’s hard to notice that the bartender has been consistent every night.” The woman chuckled. “I’m staying here for work, the lounge is probably the most relaxing space in the hotel, I’ve been working in here at night.” “What do you do for work?” “I’m a marketing consultant for the aerospace company in Seattle, I live in New York maybe three quarters of the year but during the summer they send me across the country to help them fix all the marketing strategies their team needs help with. What’s your name?” “Laura, what’s your name?” “I’m Margaret. Laura, can I take you out to dinner on Friday?” “Sorry, what?” “I said can I take you out to dinner?” “Well, I mean I suppose so- yes. Yes, no of course you can.” “Wonderful. Are you available to meet me in the lobby at 7:00 on Friday evening?” “Yes.” Was all Laura was able to get out. Margaret smiled at her. “Could I have my southside?” Laura looked down; she had been in the middle of pouring the simple syrup into the shaker, but had seemingly stopped midway. “Yes, I’m sorry.” Margaret gently took the drink from Laura. “I’ll see you on Friday.” Friday evening Laura stood in the lobby for nearly half an hour. Well, in fairness to Margaret, Laura had gone down to the lobby at 6:30 fearing she had misunderstood the time. She wore a dark blue navy slip dress and black kitten heels. Her hair had been slicked back into a claw clip that her hair spilled over in the back. Layers of delicate gold necklaces lay across her chest and gold bangles clinked together as she pulled her phone out once again to check the time. 7:00. “Not one to be late I see.” Margaret stood behind her smiling, hands at her hips. “Well, I wasn’t completely sure what time you said, so I just got here at 6:30, and I didn’t want to be late, and-” “You look nice.” “So do you.” Margaret did look nice, really she looked gorgeous. She had on a dark gold midi dress and dark blue heels. A gold and sapphire layered necklace hung at her neck and blue rings of various sizes studded her fingers. Her hair had been swept up into a loose up-do, and she had traded in the brown lipstick for a dark red. “Are you ready?” “Well, I’ve got nothing else going on this evening.” Margaret laughed and extended her hand to Laura. Saturday morning, Laura thought she would go for a walk. The previous night, she had been out until nearly 3am with Margaret. Once they had been asked to leave the restaurant after they had overstayed their time, they barhopped for a few hours and finished the night with ice cream. Margaret was so easy to talk to, although many times Laura was at a loss for words when she would glance over and see Margaret staring deeply at her. Her skin tingled and her face warmed. She did not think she had had a nicer evening in a while. She grabbed her phone. The bright light of her lock screen glared back her. 8:00am. She wouldn’t have to go into work until 6pm tonight, she should definitely get out. “And ever since that night, we’ve been together, lovers at first sight, in love forever” Laura trudged through the back paths of the park, vaguely remembering a certain path in the back of her head. Where she was going she wasn’t sure, even what she was looking for she could not recall, but she felt pulled by some sort of energy. A sort of gravity leading her through the woods. She must have been wandering for nearly 2 hours when she came across a large willow tree. Pulling back the delicate hanging leaves, she was revealed to Vedia. Oh right, Vedia. She did not seem to notice Laura yet, and was kneeled at the base of the tree, melodically trilling to a rabbit that was cuddled in her arms. There was that foreign language again, and there was that quick heartbeat. “Vedia.” Vedia startled and the rabbit jumped out of her arms, darting into a hole underneath the tree. “You scared him.” “Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to but well, I wasn’t expecting to see you. Or well, I was I suppose but something had fogged my memory. It is good to see you again though.” “Hello Laura.” Vedia smiled and patted the ground beside her. She looked slightly different today. Her eyes did not glow like they had a few nights ago, but rather sparkled green and blue in the rays of sunlight peeking through the willow leaves. Her hair was twisted into an elaborate braid falling beside her knees, and she seemed to glow in the sunlight. “I’d like to teach you some things Laura. I can feel that you will be a constant presence in this forest. An important presence in my very existence.” Weeks passed, months passed, a year passed, and nearly every morning Laura visited Vedia. She showed Laura the flow that nature had, the life within the forest, and the beauty behind the life force that coursed through every living being, including Laura herself. It was not hard to find Vedia, Laura was drawn to her in ways she could not explain. The moment she would lay eyes on her, energy zipped through her body and warmed her inside. One evening they layed in the grass, stargazing. Vedia’s voice was soft, her knowledge of the stars vast and beautiful. Laura quietly listened to her stories. She liked the idea that from nature she had been born and to nature she would return. They were less than an inch from each other, and she knew they could both feel the electricity in the small gap. The small gap that internally, Laura knew she could never close. She woke up the next morning that same distance from Vedia, so close she was nearly curled within her arms. She had been officially with Margaret for 7 months now. It had taken a while for Laura to muster up the courage to ask her to be her girlfriend, but they were settling into a life together. Margaret was set to move in 3 weeks from now, and yet Laura would visit Vedia every morning. Her presence filling Laura with joy and a sense of belonging. The day before Margaret moved in, Laura woke up early that morning, being sure not to wake her sleeping girlfriend and left to walk. Laura could have done the journey with her eyes closed by now. She came to the same tree, pulling back the leaves, but Vedia wasn’t there. Laura paced around the area, peering behind bushes, squinting up into trees, calling Vedia’s name. Nothing. Her eyes began to water, and her breath came in short spurts, had she lost her? Had she lost her love, her energy, her life force? Was Vedia gone? “Laura.” She whirled around to see Vedia standing behind her. Laura rushed over, gravity pulling her towards the dryad, towards her Vedia, but she stopped short in her tracks when Vedia extended her arm to stop Laura from coming any closer. “What? What’s going on? Where did you go, I got so concerned I-” “Laura, you need to stop coming to see me.” “What? No, I can’t, I can’t do that you-” “Laura. I am a holy spirit, I am not mortal, I am not of your realm, I cannot be with you.” “That’s ridiculous, I’m with you every day, we see each other every day I-” “You know what I mean. Laura I am not even truly the form that you see me in, you cannot spend a life with me. I am of the earth, and I am concerned that you do not realize that. I knew this from the start, at least I suspected it.” “Vedia. Please you have to know-” “I do know Laura believe me. I know what you feel, and the only reason that I had not stopped you from coming here every day was because I felt the same. The same connection to you. I felt everything that you felt in my own way, but you would never be happy with me.” “But I love you. Every day this year when I have been in your presence I have felt an energy that nothing else can make me feel, not even…” “Not even, your girlfriend?” Laura’s head dipped in shame; her heart fell into the pit of her stomach. Margaret, she loved Margaret. She knew she loved Margaret. “I feel a different way around you I can’t describe it it’s-” “It’s the life force Laura. When you are with me it is within you, it flows through you. You are feeling it in your soul because it makes up everything that I am.” Laura held back tears. “My feelings for you were real.” “I believe you. But I also know that the life force eats away at those it inhabits if they take it in too much. This is why I told you the dangers of it. I should have stopped this earlier. Before you-” “Fell in love with you?” Vedia stepped closer to Laura. “Be with Margaret Laura. She is your future; she is what you need in your life. Not me. I’ll kill you eventually. My presence will kill you.” Tears streamed down Laura’s face, she felt weak. Nearly about to collapse. “I can’t stop you can I?” Vedia shook her head, gently reaching towards Laura’s face, but pulled away abruptly. “Go home Laura.” “I’ll never see you again?” Vedia did not reply but stepped closer. She gently kissed Laura, life force flowing through one body into the other. She opened her eyes to see a glowing golden orb floating through the sky, glowing with life and radiance. She wiped tears from her face and trudged back down the path. Years passed, and Laura loved Margaret. She really did love Margaret. They moved in together, Laura proposed to her one day, and they got married 5 months later. It was a summer wedding, and their friends and family attended with joyous tears streaming down their faces. Laura picked a very specific spot. Right underneath a large willow tree. They were pronounced newlyweds, and as they kissed, Laura heard a whisper of love in the air, a warm breeze flowing through her, warming her soul.


Tick Tock. Six In the morning, but exhausted.

Waking up, go to work? About to call in sick.

I'm a manager, so I gotta go.

An office job, so most likely bored. A 40 min. Route away. Not much of a drive but enough to consume the day.

Open up, and switch the lights on. Clock in and make sure nothing is wrong.

Make a copy so the printer's working. Of course, make some coffee to start the morning. New day same events. Same chatter, same stories, nothing different.

Looking for an assistant because help is needed. Work picks up, and my energy depletes. Found several, time for an interview. Roughly 20 resumes gotta pick and choose. Jessica, Britney, Cassie, and Stasey. Seen enough faces to just want to leave. All for the same position. I don't want to say no, but they have to reason. I came across Lucy but, of course, had to interview. Ask my questions, and the response will conclude.

She had about five years of experience. She knows her way around printers a fax and computers. Can organize and keep a heavy list. Perfect to remember, she makes notes with a pad that has a pen attached to it. Takes the calls and makes sure I remember the meetings. Can summerize everything and only what's needed. Spoke with respect and kept eye contact . Dressed well respectfully. She had a smile that would make you grin back. Sounds too good to be true. Odd to say but people can always stretch the truth. Others had moments that didn't end well.

Some no experiance. Some dressed like it's a motel. Had one I won't embarrass her. Name I won't mentioned but wore a ripped t-shirt. Definitely drunk at least she apologized. She said it's not usual for her but can focus. Right! Tick Tock. 6am once again. The day starts over as if it's my friend. Open up, lights on, coffee again. Lucy caught my eye she seemed promising.

I can't rush too quick more resumes. Give everyone a chance as one says.

Patricia, Tanisha, Helen. I spoke to more people than some do on Television.

Then there was Tiffany, Veronica, and Brittany. Can't remember them all but still respect the effort completely. Time moved on as it does. Denied most of them. Probably holding a grudge. Went on to Lucy and didn't hesitate.

Strange but 100% certain as if we're related. I called to give the news. It was a Thursday and arranged for Monday's schedule.

Then I went on day after day. Bored out of my mind in the most irked way.

The job pays and I do it well. Can't blame the system but mentally it's hell.

Always in your head sometimes. Focused on work but still out of your mind.

Friday came, a mood switch. Finally some action before I leave it. The third Friday of the month so donut day. I reward my people enough to obey. Respect because the job is tough. Accounting so the pressure struck.

Lunch comes around it's the three of us. One talked about his dog and the other talks about her crush.

Enthusiasm doesn't match. Vibe with one while the other memorialize that. Saturday I chilled at home sleeping. Went shopping towards the afternoon but nothing obliterating.

Excitement was craving but behind shame. Sunday I was alone then later I came.

Monday comes once again. As it always does upset the confidence.

Recovery mode from the weekend. Zone into work before the soul's condemned.

Lucy's first day her presence makes it official. Beautiful honestly but the viewing was minimal.

Showed her the ropes and how to climb. The ins and outs before the comply.

Picked up quick and she did her thing. Got a weight lifted off me like armor on kings. The day drags as normal. Lucy up to speed and quite professional.

"Meeting with Robin at 10:30 and lunch with Steven. 2pm you have a customer should be smoother than a jam session." "Thanks, Lucy I appreciate it. The energy and motivation is there I can feel it. Nice to get the ball rolling."

Work gets done while the minds provoking.

Wednesday jumps in it's place. Out of bed, brush teeth, out the door, and tie the shoe lace. Open up, flick the lights the same old routine. Printer's good, computers on.

The business is operating. Everyone comes in, and life moves forward. Scan paperwork then onto a folder. Lucy comes in and starts right away. Made a coffee for me as if my vibe was gray.

Presence that I appreciated. Enjoyed her smile the stress was detained.

Months fall into my lap. Lucy on point awareness sharp like a wild cat.

Knew the gap between throwing jokes and being serious. Single passing through but can definitely subsist.

Days move as normal but the vibe has changed. Low key happy to work Lucy deserves the blame.

Talked about it all from time to time. Life is hard verbalizing the pain can delay the confine. Spoke about her time before. Worked as a flight attendant 10 Years back the mind was restored.

Good for her went out to explore. Of course landed an experience that put a foot on the door.

Needed a change she said. The money isn't the goal spoke like a legend.

Enjoyed the job as I hope to. Doubt anyone would deny information reduced. We went out several times but not as a date. Didn't want to come up from such a strong claim.

Just as friends and it was great. Laughed, drank, walked just magnificent. Tick tock. 6 am another day. Shower breakfast then work it's Tuesday.

Open up, lights and printer's on. Everything seems right. I gave a little yawn.

Everyone comes in Lucy as well. My coffee was made I enjoyed her smell.

A perfume that hugs the nose. My body is there but mentally composed. Years passes our bond just grew. Work went well a ton of papers were used.

Never got in the way as some might think. Kept it professional give it a wink.

I began to feel and I couldn't stop it. Let it warm me up love was convinced.

She had a vacation planned for some time. Christmas in Switzerland I was surprised.

Had someone there to show around. Will be gone for two weeks. No Lucy found.

Plane will leave at midnight. I Will pass before she leaves town tonight.

It might be my chance to confess. God know she might even find love there and have mine vanish.

Friends become close enough with time spent. Keeps you from moving like a foot in cement. Hours pass work picks up. Had to finish manager stuff. Sucks but it is what it is.

Worked longer than usual physically drained. I ador Lucy and fought the feeling. Smacked my heart with diligence ignoring the meaning. Can't love at work just doesn't coexist. Maybe I speak and she might start to resist. I felt it though, the fondness.

I don't wanna ruin what's already great and have her to drift. Plane leaves at midnight and I contemplate. Fell for her but don't want desire to fade.

What choice do I have? Just throw myself like a basketball on Cupid's behalf. 11pm and a 30min. drive. Damn can't be late gotta let my emotions fly. On my way still following the laws.

Strit town so I can't get caught. Thinking on what to say. Brain in a fog my thoughts are moving like a parade.

Made it to the airport and didn't even park correctly. Got out anxious looking for my allurement. Saw her at a distance resting with her legs crossed. Eyes at a book captivated.

Approached and stuttered no lie. Couldn't manage but willing to try. "What are doing? I'm leaving soon. Almost midnight my flight can't be moved." "Before you go I had to be honest completely. I understand our work and understand the boundaries." Preserving the moment.

"We have known each other for some time now. Been happier and fulfilled every time we were out. The work suffocates but not with you. Hard to place in words but enough to deduce. Your green eyes and coffee colored hair. The ambience was wild and peace was declared. Your presence over the years grows onto me." "Wow, I didn't expect this before I'd leave." "Sorry, but I had to, emotions distinguished. I couldn't risk you being oblivious to it. My feelings are in..." "Well to be honest before you continue. I will put out there I have feelings for you too. The air is just perfect between us two. would love you to come with but didn't want to destroy our relationship too. Everything was going so well.." "Yeah I felt that. Definitely understand and afraid of getting cut back." "NO I wouln't do that to you. I would be honest but nothing to tear down a heart that's just rude." A hug was produced. Feelings were poured like some apple juice.

Throw myself and sit there in scrutiny. Make sure the words bleed well since there was so much to loose within me. She went on her way. I shuffled to work. Stay in contact like an atterny or lawyer. Missed her as I would. Time moved twice as slow like it wants to reassure. She came back and love sparked. Not give the news at work or it'll throw things off.

Happier than a winning ticket. Got me moving back and forth like a game of cricket.

Lucy my love strange how we collide. Other than the help the rest was a surprise. Up for anything other than goodbye. Kept a great vibe I can't emphasize. The rest is for you to conclude. My life went well enough of the mental abuse.

Still stressful at times but turned down a notch or two. Let's see how it goes December's our yearly review.


"Congratulations!" my Grandfather shouted and gave her daughter a hug. "Thank you Papa!" Mom beamed. "Aren't you going to say something?" Nyla whispered. "Hello." I said in a bored tone. "Idiot." Nigel shook his head and snatch a piece of brownie from the table.

Nyla gave me a small smile and held my hand. "It's time for a new beginning,Niamh." she said. I didn't say anything. I felt like I was still in a dream. Everything happened so fast I haven't even had a time to brush my hair or paint my nails. "Look at them,they look so happy." my younger sister muttered. "What are you trying to imply?“ "That you should be happy for them too." My brows immediately furrowed on that thought. "Our mother just married a man the same age as our older brother. What you'd think people might say?"

"I don't care about what other people might think or say,I only care about mom's happiness." Nyla stated. "Of course." I said and laughed sarcastically. Why can't she understand how I feel? Our dad just passed away a few weeks ago and now his wife is married to another man. Did they even feel a single ache from what just happened?I don't think so. "Niamh,tell your daddy dinner is ready." mom said It's been 5 days since Jake settled here in our house and everyday,my mom keeps on insisting to consider him as my new father. I haven't talk to her "He's not my dad." I hissed and stood up. I walk quietly and went towards the master's bedroom. Before I could even raise my fist to knock,I heard a voice spoke so I decided to listen. "Tomorrow would be another remarkable day for a member of my family."

"Why?" "A big surprise." "Film it." I heard a loud laugh before the room went silent. "Jake! Dinner's served!" I shouted and went back to the dinning room. A big surprise? Really? The next day,I was really excited to go home to give my younger sister a new dress that I bought for her. "Nyla I'm here!" I shouted. "She's still not home." Nigel said and poured some orange juice on his glass. "Why?" "They went out to watch a movie." he explained. "They?" "Yeah together with mom and Jake."

So I'm guessing Nigel doesn't want Jake to be a part of our family too. That's cool. "Oh,okay." I grinned. I was about to take a walk outside when I heard the door opened. "Nyla!" I immediately went towards her and hugged her tightly. "Go away." she whispered. I slowly released her and placed both of my hands on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" I asked. "I think she's sleepy." mom said. "It was a long and tiring day." I smiled shyly and handed Nyla a paper bag. She really looks exhausted and her eyes were still swollen like she just woke up from a 12-hour sleep and still needed more. "Nyla!" I called. I made a few knocks and it took a while before the door opened.

"What do you want?" she asked in a bored tone. "I just finished baking!" I giggled and show her a tray full of cookies. "I don't like it." "But it's your favorite." I chuckled. "I said I don't like them,didn't I?" Nyla snapped. My smiles faded as I stare right through her eyes. I know how to read someone else's emotion and all I could see within her is pain. I placed down the tray at the top of a table near me and held her right arm. "Nyla." My eyes widened when she pushed me back. I winced when I felt my body ache from the impact I received. "Leave me alone!" she screamed at the top of her lungs and slam the door in front of me. I blinked twice before standing up. I couldn't believe what just happened. This was the first time my younger sister shouted at me. Before I could even say anything, I already felt the tears rolling down my cheeks. "I'll always be here for you." I whispered and ran to my room. Something's not right and I need to find it out as soon as possible. "Mom!" I called out. "Yes sweetheart?" she wiped her hands with a clean towel before leaning to gave me a kiss. "I think we need to take Nyla to a psychiatrist." I said. "I don't think that would be necessary." Jake suddenly spoke behind her. "Are you even my mom?" I hissed. Jake smirked at me before sitting in a chair. "That's out of our monthly budget." Jake said. "He's right, what makes you think she needs one?" my mom chuckled. "Have you seen her movements these past few days?" I asked,not leaving my eyes on Jake. "No." she answered. "It's because you don't care." I said nonchalantly. "Niamh?" I could clearly hear the confusion in her tone when she called me. "You heard me right,it's because you don't ca-" before I could even finish,my mom slapped me so hard I took a step back. I glared at the both of them before heading back to my room. I opened my cabinet and grab my wallet. When I returned,they were both talking in hushed voices. I threw my wallet and it slid right in front of them. "500 bucks and two debit cards." I growled. "Set an appointment tomorrow morning." I demanded and left them dumb founded. I was about to walk past Nyla's room when I decided that maybe I should talk with her.

"Nyla.." I spoke. I knocked on the door a few times but she won't open it. I knew she was there,I could hear her sobbing and that made my heart shatter into pieces.

"Nyla,talk to me." I pleaded. There was no response but I don't want to give up. "You told me we wouldn't keep a secret and now you're here,ignoring my presence." I whispered and let out a heavy sigh. "Nyla."

The door opened and I immediately hugged her tightly. I thought she might push me away again like what she did before but she didn't moved at all.

"Nyla,please tell me everything." I said when I finally let her go. She wiped her tears away before taking my hand and letting me inside her room. She locked the door and sat on the floor. I sat beside her and caress her cheek. "Do you remember the day when I didn't go to school because I was sick?" she asked all of a sudden. "I do." I answered. That was the day when mom and Jake took her out for a movie. Also the same day Jake said he'd have 'a big surprise' which didn't happen at all. "I was here in the room reading some books when someone knocked. I opened it and saw Jake carrying a tray. I let him in so he placed the tray on the table. He went towards the door and I thought he was going to leave but instead he locked it." she cried. "He locked the door and pushed me."

I felt like my heart stopped beating when I realized what she had just said.

"He.." my voice trailed off. Nyla nodded and cried even harder. "He took advantage of my weakened physical state."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked softly. "He told me he will kill all of us if I even say a single word about it." Nyla answered. I wipe my tears away and hugged her tightly again.

"Please don't tell anyone." Nyla whispered. "I won't." I said. I gave Nyla a kiss before letting her go. She leaded me out of her room and smile before closing the door. I walk towards my room and took my phone out. "I'm sorry,Nyla." I whispered before calling a number. It was a minute past nine went I heard sirens of a police cars outside. I immediately went out and I saw Jake being handcuffed by four policemen. My mom kept on crying while grabbing her husband's arm and I was still there,standing near the corner, watching them. Nyla went towards us with eyes wide open while Nigel's taking random pictures,obviously enjoying the scene. Nyla began to cry and hugged me tight. That was the moment I knew we were all safe now.


Trigger warnings: Loss and dementia

I got an email this week about submitting to a short story contest. The theme is The Five Stages . What stage am I in, spending my first Father’s Day thinking about the father I have in pieces? Is it selfish to say, “I want more of you”? Is it ungrateful to say, “There just isn’t enough”? I miss the whole. The parts that are left are too small, and the parts I remember are things I want to forget. They’re under my skin like shards of glass, and I need them to rub down into sand alright already, Jesus Christ Almighty, etc.

You forgot too much and I forgot too little, and now here we are, your broken bits and my shitty Scotch Tape. If I have to listen to one more white person sing about Kintsugi, I’m going to lose it. Why don’t I like more art made of found materials? Is that the final bastion of you holding out in me? They put a neon light in your home, and you called it ugly, or did I say it first? You could be a collage. You’d hate that. A photo album, then. Prints of Renoir paintings of long-haired women. Rural Ukraine with people you met once 40 years ago and never stopped loving. Track lists from before I was born, Linda Ronstadt again. Black-and-white movies starring Alastair Sim. Your friends Jim — and John —, who you speak about often and always with their last names, as if there might be another Jim or John you love that much. You covet tradition, and what a blessing that is, since the pieces you’ll be the longest are the ones that were there first. Nice, because I remember your mother dying for both of us. Sad, because you’re losing things that still love you back.

My new boss reminds me of you. Can’t say why. He’s an old white guy. Are all old white guys going to remind me of my father? Read up on reddit later. My boss loves candy, and it feels like a gut-punch. You don’t like candy. You’re like me. You like chocolate, mostly the good stuff. Callebaut and Lindt. You travelled with a Snickers bar but hated when we ate junk food. Judged us, so we made girls’ trips to Dairy Queen under the guise of running errands. Now you have a sweet tooth. When I hear you talk about it, I want to cry. All my shame comes up at the same time as I think, “How cute,” because there’s something boyish about this despite your grey hair, you in your old-man slippers and too-big khakis. You wanted me to be a little girl who plays with tools. You wore lipstick on Halloween. You were a hippie and an actor and a teacher. We were flying back from a funeral when I told you I had to medicate to keep myself sane, and you don’t judge me one bit. You were on my couch when you said you were afraid to take medication to keep yourself sane, in case you had to pee a lot. You said “I’ve always been a dog person,” then sang to my cat under the bed. It might have been a Tom Jones’ song, but we watched Looney Toons together on leather couches you loved, so you would sing “Puddy tat” instead. “My daughter and T.S. Eliot.” How lucky was I? How lucky am I? If I went to visit you, would you call me “boop boop”? Would you call me “sweetheart”? When I got my first job, you called me your working girl. I had to tell you to stop. You had no idea. If I went to visit you, maybe you would have no idea again. Maybe you would ask me, so polite again, “Who are you?” Sweetly confused. I won’t know. I can’t go see your pieces this weekend, even though it’s Father’s Day, and parts of you are still my father. You don’t know what day it is. A year ago, I bought you a card. It had a tie on it. You loved ties, maybe still do. I bought you a gift you couldn’t stay awake to open. I kept it “for your birthday,” and your birthday was no better. “So for Christmas,” but Christmas was too late. I regifted it to Mom. I’m so afraid I’m punishing you by trying to keep myself whole. Make note to schedule therapy session after work, before move, between friends, in a time slot where I am supposed to be coping.

Your disease is hereditary. I am going to fall to pieces too, and sometimes I can’t wait. I’m ready to lose the things I saw, the things you said. I want to see a meme and laugh. “And then there are the horrors,” it says, and I don’t see the horrors about you.

I want both of us in bits.

You don’t have a piece of lead stuck in your thumb from when you were a boy. I don’t have the hiccups. You are my dad, whole. We are on the deck you built with two now-dead men. I’m having a birthday, and there’s a magician in the backyard. You listen to birds in the morning in a maroon bathrobe. I cry because I hate piano lessons. You smell the lilac bush in the backyard. I am depressed and angry and you step in. You teach me how to wrestle. Nothing makes you happier than a tickle fight with me. Also YouTube. I wonder if you still love YouTube. I want to remember more, but I have to smash whole parts of me to find this. A thousand words and I’m wrung out of tears. Finding more that I can stomach is like pulling teeth. But I have to keep digging past the things I don’t want to look at anymore. If enough of us breaks away, maybe we’ll both be whole.


The canvas remains nestled on the easel. No image bestowed. No story to tell. Dust gathers around the square edges. The paints are all dry, nothing left of them to use. What used to be vibrant greens, yellows, oranges, and reds have turned to a dull cracked paste. Leroy hates this room; he hates it with every atom of his being. Why he hates it? He does not know. There are pieces of him he cannot access. Memories, stories, and his past have all fleeted him now. He is left to be consumed only by his raw emotions, never knowing their explanation. He hates this room, he hates the dried-up paints, and he especially hates the canvas. It mocks him with what it lacks, mirroring his own inadequacy. The emptiness is too unbearable to have to be reminded of it. Yet, as much as he hates this room, being within these four walls—he is drawn here. He feels it calling to him, and he always goes—miserably. It is in this room, the room he utterly despises, and cannot escape that he feels something else for the very first time. Hope. He hears the family before he even sees them. The sound of children laughing excites him, he moves to the window and sees them. A mother, with radiant red hair, carrying a small black cat close to her chest. A father with a taped-up cardboard box, wideset shoulders, and dark curly hair… and lastly, the children. A boy and a younger girl. They tussle over the key ring giggling, arguing about who will help unlock the front door. A front door that has remained locked since Leroy has been here. The older boy is gentle with his sister, he half plays to wrestle for the keys not trying to apply to much force to accidentally yank them out of his sister’s hands. He pretends to give his best effort, and in the end the young girl wins. She waits for her mother to join her on the front porch, to help her insert and turn the key. With a click, and a heavy creek the family enter and pass the threshold, unlocking their way into Leroy’s home. The mother’s hair is ties back on the nape of her neck. She is kneeling in front of the flower bed, disrupting the soil, and carefully placing each tiny flower in place. She gathers the dirt and forms a tiny mound, packing it atop the roots. Solidifying the stem in place. As she pushes down a glimpse of silver is seen swaying around her neck, a small red pendant at the end. Amelia , Leroy thinks as electricity flows through him. Amelia, where are you? Where did you go? The sensation is overpowering, and Leroy can no longer bare to look at the woman who mockingly plants her flowers the same colors his beloved paints used to be. One thing becomes certain for Leroy, he needs to find her—and quickly. The fire warms the room as her face reflects the light bouncing from the flames. “Tilt your head towards me…good now tuck your chin down just so slightly,” Leroy instructs her. She does exactly as he says, shooting him a flirtatious glance with her eyes. The way she looks at him he will never take for granted, and after tonight, Leroy will have captured her on this canvas forever. “How much longer must I sit for you? So much work and no play?” Amelia chirps at him. He has the shade of her skin down perfectly on the canvas, he added depth and highlights to make her features look as if she were not a basic portrait, but the radiance of beauty that sits before him now. Her eyes are the last thing he needs to perfect, they are so exquisite it will be hard to match their complexity on the canvas. “Your eyes dear, they are a gift from God. My gift cannot carry them the way they deserve, though I will try. A little bit longer, and then we can play.” He smirks back at her. She playfully rolls her eyes and sighs. Leroy’s attention is drawn to the light catching on her silver necklace, a locket that has remained in its place since Leroy presented it to her last month. A promise for more to come. A promise for an escape. The father has been going through Leroy’s room today while the cat sits in the doorway eyes locked onto Leroy. Leroy hides in the corner, not to disturb him or cause a scene, the glaring cat unnerves him. The cat knows he’s there. Leroy watches as the father picks through the dusty books on the shelf, inspects the old fireplace for birds’ nest, and contemplates what to do with the remaining art materials. The father scratches his head inspecting the paints and the canvases, Leroy longs for him to get rid of them, to throw them into the empty box he has brought with him. Urges him with is mind to dismantle the last blank canvas leaving Leroy to enjoy this room more peacefully without it. Instead, the father seems interested in the debacle. He inspects the canvas, its material worn thin. He lightly picks it up from its resting place on the easel and turns it over. His thumb runs along the dusty edge, he can tell this was hand crafted. The canvas pulled taught along the wooden edges. The father stops, his thumb rubs the small wooden corner of the canvas, a burned inscription remains. The father speaks the name aloud: Leroy Chambers. The meadow was brighter that day, thanks to the unforgiving sunlight and clear skies. Amelia lay on a blanket in the grass, Leroy prompt up on this elbow alongside her. Their hands reaching for each other, their fingertips dancing together. Leroy grabbed her left hand, and gently slipped on a small golden band, his mother’s before, Amelia’s now. He could feel Amelia’s entire body stop, for just the slightest second. Her eyes met his, and then looked down at the band upon her ring finger. A testament of love, a promise and commitment for the rest of their days. Marriage, holy matrimony, till death do they part. “Yes, I love you Leroy Chambers,” she whispers, reaching up from her spot to kiss him. A kiss of wanting and need, he was going to save her. He just promised her that. A glass breaks in the kitchen, the little girl begins to cry. The mother is soothing, the father shouting. The mother now shouts at the father. The children’s feet start pattering up the staircase. Quickly, swiftly. The door slams and Leroy turns to see the children, red faced and winded. The boy looks around, panicked. He rushes his sister to hide in the corner, the door behind them creeks open. The mother enters, cooing and shushing. The children run to her; they jump into her arms. They kiss her face, they haven’t noticed it yet, but Leroy has. He’s seen that mark before. A kiss that bites deeper. Amelia’s face is burdened with her truth. She attempted to hide it from Leroy, but he knew the second he laid eyes on her. The soft bruise that has kissed her left eye, the purple color brightening the deep green of her iris. Leroy sweeps a stand of her hair that has fallen in front of her face, and places it delicately behind her ear. He takes her face in his hands, lightly, not to startle her. “We leave tonight,” He insists. She doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t have to. She nods.            After dusk, they pack little belongings and make their way out of the house and through the garden. He is finally able to promise Amelia what he has been promising all along, a life free from her abuser. Her husband and Leroy’s employer. A man of many respects of fine wine and artwork but lacks that affection towards his beloved wife. A man that does not deserve Amelia, a man that Leroy has fantasized killing on more than one occasion but is satisfied in making Amelia safe. In making her happy. Tonight, it will all set in motion. He will set it right for her.            They make it to the garden gate before they hear the dogs barking, they hear the shouting.            “Run!” She urges him, and together they run past the gate and into the meadow. They run as hard as they are able. Until the groundskeeper blocks their path. It isn’t long until they are cornered. Guns risen. Pleads shouted. Triggers pulled. Dead weight hitting the ground. Leroy’s face turns towards Amelia’s, she lay there lifeless mirroring him. Her eyes, so exquisite but lifeless, fixated onto him.            Leroy finds the urge to paint today, he didn’t even know he had these urges left in him. The paints are cracked, the canvas dusty but he does what he can. He swishes and swirls, he mixes and molds. The radiant red hair comes to life, but the eyes, the eyes don’t belong to the mother, their Amelia’s. When the portrait is finished, what is left to stare back at him is the face of defiance. The face of love, compassion, and courage. The face of a mother, seeking asylum for herself and her children from their father. The father ironically enters the room after Leroy has finished his new prized piece. He stops when he sees the canvas full of life now. He’s confused. Skeptical. He approaches the piece, and Leroy can sense his fear. He is afraid of this woman in the portrait, not because he is afraid of his wife, but because this woman would leave him. She would forget him in a fortnight. He knows she has this power, he has done everything to subdue this in her, to harvest this force from her. There’s a shift movement behind the father, a chill that breaks both his and Leroy’s attention. They are not alone here, there is another force present. That force makes their presence known, it grabs the father through the chest and strangles his heart. His eyes pulse with fear, confusion, and then utter agony, until his body goes limp and there’s a crashing of dead weight falling to the floor. The force makes their way to Leroy now, he is not afraid. He is open and willing, beckoning his fate. Formless, it slides its way to him, unfolding and revealing their identity. Leroy’s world stops. Amelia , he breathes.


   “Shall I pour you another cup, mam?” Mellie asks as she tiptoes over to my chair, hands shaking nervously causing the tea kettle to clink and water to spurt out.

Though quiet and timid, and not much older than myself I found her company surpringingly enjoyable.

“Yes, please. I can’t seem to warm up my bones this morning.” I confessed, though I knew this had less to do with the inclement weather and more to do with what lay ahead.

                Mellie dropped in a cube or two of sugar before transferring the hot cup to me, the steam warming my cheeks as I took the first sip. She encourages me to take a bite or two of the scone she brought from the kitchen, but my appetite is lacking this week. The tea is soothing enough, and I stare out the window with my knees pulled up towards my chest. I watch in amusement as the white snow flurries fall heavily onto the street below.                 Downstairs familiar voices shout firm directions and orders to one another. Young serving maids mumble concerns under their breath as they walk swiftly past my door. Their feeble attempt to create a scene from a fairy tale is almost comical. They confess their annoyances to each other, only out of earshot of Lord and Lady Breaux. The shuffling of feet remains swift and with each step a purpose while chaos is alive and abundant in this very well-respected downtown home on Canal Street.

                Aside from the current event planning happening right under my nose, it is also the 1899 carnival season in New Orleans. The city appears unusually calm this morning. A thin blanket of snow covers every surface of the city, a very rare occurrence for New Orleans at any time of year.

                 Any other day I would rake through catalog after catalogue for the perfect gown to wear to the festivities and masked balls that would surely follow the parades. Even on such a dreary day as this my spirits would have been giddy and playful. Today, however, my girlish fantasies and mindless games are far behind me. A new life is waiting for me downstairs, and I am compelled to focus on nothing save the melting snow disappearing from the soiled ground.         	A recollection of past anticipation of “becoming a lady in society” has come back to haunt me. In less than a season, I’ve blossomed from a gangly imaginative child to a lost woman with a world of unwelcome responsibility on my shoulders. A responsibility that I do not wish to inherit and one I despise with all my heart. I’m trying to overlook all that lies ahead, to no avail, and choose instead to focus on the snowy white morning outside. I convince my mind to believe the weather might hold some glimmer of hope. Maybe this unexpected form of precipitation is a sign from God that I may be rescued from this predetermined life that has been my destiny since birth. I’m sure my mother perceives snow in the south on a girl’s wedding day as a sign of good luck. My mother and I disagree on many things.         	Unfortunately for my future, I was born into a prosperous family. When my father inherited his father’s railroad company at eighteen it flourished more than anyone imagined it would. He derived an obscene amount of money only after his father labored most of his life with grunt work, and then passed away before he could benefit from his company’s wealth.

My mother was born into a family of affluent lawyers. My grandfather, Theodore Monroe, represented my father in a lengthy court case when he was dragged into a lawsuit with one of his conductors. My mother was introduced to him shortly after.

Both families saw courtship between the two as a great opportunity for two well known families in New Orleans to unite as one. Love was never an option for my mother. She understood her duty as the daughter born into a world of privilege. Privilege, although sought after, came with much responsibility.

She married my father without asking any questions or making any fuss. They have been a “happily married couple” ever since. Or at least that is what everyone on the outside is meant to believe.         	So, here I am falling into the same footsteps as my mother. Sitting in my bedroom half dressed in my corset and petticoats pondering a future that was never mine to decide. I watch the last of the snow dissipate from the ground, unable to keep my mind focused on any one coherent thought when my eyes begin to dart around the room, taking in all that will never be mine again. The shredded lampshade I ripped to pieces with my knitting tools. A result of the raging anger that burst from me when I found out I was to be married to a man I could never love. My custom wedding dress hangs ever so delicate on the oversized oak armoire in the corner of the room. It’s one of the most beautiful dresses I’ve ever laid eyes on. The exquisite beadwork runs up the torso and fans out across a high neckline to accentuate my small frame. The train is long and embroidered with satiny lace and tiny white jewels. It was shipped all the way from Paris. My mother loves French designers. My wedding dress, in her highly recommended opinion, would not be designed by any other than Callot Soeurs. It’s a shame I won’t be able to enjoy wearing it. Precisely in one hour, I will be expected to walk downstairs adorned in this lavish wedding gown tailored just for me with some semblance of a smile on my face. If only I could convince myself to put the wretched thing on.         	I anticipate my nanny will be up soon to check on me. It seems senseless that I even still have a nanny when I’m seventeen years old. My father thinks of me as an “ill mannered young girl with wild dreams in her head.”

Yet, he thinks I am old enough to be betrothed to a man near his forties.         	My fiancé, Andrew, is the son of one of the most successful plantation owners in the South. He inherited his family’s tobacco plantation outside of town, but he's been working for my father for the last five years. His interest has always been in railroads. We started a courtship only a few months ago after my mother met him at a dinner party. Both my mother and father

decided he would make for more than a suitable husband. Thinking more of his purse than his person, I wasn’t given the chance to refuse him and my father reminds me every day that “Andrew’s wealth exceeds our own by ten times our worth”

.         	We’ve been on numerous outings together over the past few months. He escorted me to a dinner party one evening recently, but barely spoke a word to me while we were out. He sat at the bar with some of his fellow businessmen and ordered his usual brandy to go with his ill smelling cigars. I was expected to mingle with the other young ladies who were brought to this party for the same reasons as me. I think of our kind as pigs being fattened up for slaughter. We were only there for one reason. It’s our destiny and the will of our fathers to be married off to someone of substantial fortunes. If I would have fallen in love with someone of that said worth before now I wouldn’t be in my current position. Only I am to blame for believing I could escape the fate so many before me have surrendered to. The only purpose for girls like me at balls such as these is to show off our dresses and make small talk with each other. Most of the girls were more than delighted to be invited, myself included up until I realized the intention of such charades. They have dreamed of nights like this their entire lives. I am only beginning to realize how substandard their ambitions are. The thought of it makes my stomach churn from the absurdity of it all.         	When Andrew finally chose to speak to me once or twice during the course of the evening he did so in such a tone to suggest I’m only a child without a clue of how the world works around her, while at the same time staring only at my breasts. When I spoke to my mother about this she only told me that it will be his God-given right only too soon to stare at my breasts as often as he chooses. She then goes on to argue how, “he’s a very handsome and powerful man around New Orleans and any bright young woman would feel flattered and fortunate to have him as a husband.” My mother can’t understand that it’s his power that frightens me the most.         	All of these things considered, today is still my wedding day. It’s supposed to be the most important and happiest day of my life, but I cannot be happy about something or someone that I did not choose. Every ounce of energy I had stored for this day has been drained from the last three days of uncontrollable sobbing and my frequent need to throw adolescent fits.

Regardless of the energy it takes, I try to make an effort to stand up. For the last several hours I’ve been lounging on the peach colored settee that has been in my room since childhood. I record a mental note in my mind to ask my mother if I can bring this settee to Andrew’s house. Maybe having one familiar object will help me feel more at home there. Glancing over at the clock I realize I’m down to ten minutes before I must go downstairs to meet my fate.

After my maids help me dress, I take a moment to gather my thoughts. Moving at a slower pace than normal, every step is just one step closer to my new life. I stand before the large floor-to-ceiling mirror that has also been in my room my entire life. The diamond necklace my mother passed down to me from her wedding day and the other family weddings before hers lies delicately on my vanity. Clasping it around my neck I curse the precious diamonds for their existence and the unending curse it holds for each new generation. As my fingers caress the glimmering diamonds, my breath catches. The dress suddenly feels heavy and tight, and the room gets smaller with every breath. The sunlight shining through the window seems dark and haunting. For a moment I feel as if I’m a small bird stuck in a cage, just waiting for someone to set me free. I’m afraid I may lose consciousness, but there is an impatient knock at the door. If only I could have been so fortunate to faint at that moment, but I didn’t.

Nanny is calling to me. It’s time.

Staring into my dark brown eyes on the other side of the mirror, I recognize a small glimpse of my mother. Her strained smile reminds me that I’m doing the honorable thing. Andrew is a decent man, and it’s only proper to do this without a fight. Her eyes, on the other hand, are urging me to run. A small tear runs down my cheek and into my mouth. The taste of salt on my tongue sends me back into my harsh reality. My time is up.

My eyes lock with the ones in the mirror once more and I can’t help but imagine the tiny bird stuck in a cage chirping loudly to be freed.


Graveyard: Life’s reality check When it comes to the part of memories, they are not only the collection of precious moments in our treasure box but also pre-gifted power to make our upcoming moments precious. Some memories are meant to be erased, some are meant to be learned, and some are meant to be applied. You may reckon why I am describing so much about memories, but you may not know the value of the moment until and unless it becomes a memory. This story is of two young men deciding to spend the night in the graveyard, ultimately learning life’s reality.  “ How long would it take a mechanic to arrive here ?” questioned Mark. “ I am trying to reach him, but due to network issues, I am not able to contact him, ” answered Jack.  “ It’s all because of you and your brainless planning Jack, we are trapped here. How shall we reach back to our place? It’s getting too late, and tomorrow we have our business associate meeting. How would we be able to reach there on time? Aaah! This hell network, not able to connect anyone, I wish I could  throw away this bloody network company. ” Mark exclaimed with an aggressive tone.

 “ Oh come on Mark, I too haven’t dreamt of such a situation, I only wished to have a long drive after hectic business days and thought you too would chill out for a while, ” exclaimed Jack again trying to contact the mechanic. “Oh God Jack, who has time for chilling, anyways, were you able to contact the mechanic person?” “ Still nope Bro,” answered Jack. Mark, a tall handsome man in his mid-thirties, a business-oriented person, only focused on making fame and money, still single, for him money matters everything, on the contrary, his business partner, Jack, a young man also in his mid-thirties, jovial, quite enthusiastic, lovable person. For him the only language that unites the whole world is love. For him, money is just a piece of paper, used to survive on this planet. A two opposite natured individual joined together in the bond of partnership, now got stuck in the middle of the forest, due to an unforeseen car repair. “What are you planning to do Jack, are you planning to spend the whole night in this dark jungle or do you have another foolish stuff in your head?” “Mark, your words are becoming so rude nowadays, try to modify your way of speaking. Anyways due to  network issues, I am not able to contact a car mechanic, so as of now we have no other option to leave the car here, and go in search of help, maybe we can get the help of local people here.” “Okay we don’t have any other option other than this, lock the car and we will move further.” Jack and Mark moved further in search of help so that they can move out of this deep forest as soon as possible. They quickened their pace in search of help. But both were not aware that with every walk they are moving a step closer to their destiny. After a long walk they both could see a bright fire somewhere close to them, they walked closer to it, and in the brightness of fire, saw an old man, face covered with wrinkled all around, dark-skinned, with bright white curly hairs, seemed that from years he hadn’t shaved his hair, sitting in front of a fire and roasting a rabbit for his meal. “Hello Sir, we are stuck in this forest, as our vehicle broke down and soon we have to reach back to our place, can you help us to move out of this place?” questioned Jack “Well Listen, son, from her, you have to walk another twenty miles to reach the main highway, from there you can catch any vehicle and reach back to your place, but at this time I don’t think so, it would be safe for you to walk twenty miles, as it too late, and the next twenty miles are covered with dense forest, which is homage to various wide animals, but then it's up to you, whether you want to travel or not, it was my duty to guide you.” exclaimed old man. (Jack now in a tensed expression sees Mark to consult with him) “What shall we do now, Mark? Are you willing to move forward, or shall we stay here tonight, and move further in the early morning?” “ Hmm! No problem, we will stay here tonight”. (Who would like to stay here in this ruined area, but who too wants to be a meal of wild animals murmured Mark.) “ Sir, can we know what are you doing here, alone in this dark jungle, that too at late night?” Jack questioned Old Man. “Son, I am a gravedigger, working in this cemetery. This is my home and I stay here.” answered the Old Man. Jack and Mark hollered, “what! Is this a graveyard?” “Yes, my son” answered Old Man. “Why you didn’t tell us earlier about this graveyard? We wouldn’t have agreed to stay here, What the hell is going on here?” shouted Mark “Come on Jack, I am not ready to stay here in this graveyard, with this stinking Old man, let us leave just now.” “Ohh my dear son, I don’t have any problem, if you wish to leave, you are free to do so, but make sure you have all the weapons to handle the wild animals. I hope you would have it!” responded the Old Man. “Hello, you old coot, trying to frighten us, with your dangerous advice?” bellowed Mark. “Not at all my dear son, I only tried to safeguard you, but anyways if you want to follow your own way, you are always free to do so” expressed Old Man.

“Come on Jack, let us leave from this place ” ordered Mark. “ Are you sure Mark? You are willing to leave this place, make sure we won’t be getting any help from anyone in between our journey, as from now till crossing twenty miles, not a single resident lives. So think once again” advised Jack. “Then you wish to spend the rest of the night in this graveyard?” questioned Mark. “It’s better to stay with dead persons rather than getting dead!” Jack exclaimed with a wink. “Ohh GOD what to do, anyways you got a chance to take revenge, your TIT for TAT subject would be completed here. Isn’t it?” expressed Mark “Ohh! Come on Mark, why would I even think of taking revenge on you, as I told you earlier, it was not my plan, I never dreamt of such foreseen happening, nothing was under my control, you too know it, I only planned for your happiness, but all things went out of the way” said Jack. So after a long discussion and argument ultimately Jack and Mark decided to spend the rest of the night in the graveyard accompanied by the old man. “As now, you both ultimately decided to spend the night with me, would you wish to enjoy rabbit roast with me? It tastes too delicious, and you seem tired. You can charge up your energy level.” “Ohh thank you for your dramatic concern, you enjoy your delicious meal.” expressed Mark. “Sorry sir, don’t mistake my friend, though his words may seem rude, but he is tender by heart. You enjoy your meal sir, we will have it later,” exclaimed Jack. In the middle of the forest, with a bright shiny moon, with accompanying starts embedded like a diamond stone on a black velvet cloth, surrounded by huge ancestral trees, sounds of a howling wolf, clicking bats, buzzing mosquitoes, hissing snakes, raised our heartbeats, sweat started dripping down, which made us feel cold with every touch of a gentle breeze, fragrance of wet mud filled the air and we two in middle of the graveyard surrounded by memorial sites all around. “Sir, where do you sleep? Don’t you have any hut, or kind of it to stay?” Jack asked the Old Man. “No son, this whole graveyard is my home. I am working here for the last 40 years and I started my work when I was just ten years old with my father, but soon he left us, and from then till now, I am the in-charge of this graveyard. People from all nearby places come here to bury their loved ones, and I spent my life burying those dead bodies.” “Don’t you feel afraid of staying here, sir?” Jack questioned. “ No son what is there to be afraid of, instead this is the much safer place on earth, as the dead person lived their life and now they know the value of life because they are the one who went through the reality of life, and now they know, nothing in the world is permanent, they too know that world is nothing but a mere stage, where we are just actors, and our permanent homage is the graveyard, so they don’t wish to harm anybody.” explained the old man. Mark overhearing all their conversation starts to think, are all the luxuries in which he lives, all the money which he has acquired, all the fame, prestige, and wealth which he worked for, are temporary? So does it mean all the effort spend on it is vain? So he thinks, if nothing is permanent, why we are born in this temporary stage, is our life a time pass? “If you feel graveyard is safer than any place why do people fear staying here? And if the world is a temporary stage, why GOD gave us birth? Is our life a mere time pass?” Mark questioned the Old Man. “Your answer to the first question is too simple, it’s because people prefer to believe in a beautiful lie rather than an ugly truth.  You are born on this planet with a purpose, your life is not just a time pass, GOD has sent you to accomplish a great task, and finding meaning to your purpose is your ultimate destiny, But what you people do, always try to chase the worldly pleasure, without knowing the purpose of it, I am not in an opinion that money is not important, it is important to sustain life, but in the race of making money, don’t forget to make relations. Working in this graveyard for the last forty years, I have learned life’s important lesson, seeing you young guys, wish to share it with you, you may think what this old coot will deliver us, but mark my words, those are the life’s important lesson, that you may neither find in any book nor could search it anywhere” said the Old Man roasting his rabbit.    “Life is too short to be lived, so enjoy every moment.” “Nothing is more precious than your time spent on your happiness, money gone can be earned, but a broken heart is hard to restitch, and even stitched it leaves behind a permanent mark on it.” “Be a person in this world, that when you die at least there are four persons who truly miss your presence.” “My dear sons love your life, you are made by a heavenly creature named god. He has spent the entire course of his life to design you, love yourself, love others, make your place a heaven to stay in, as at last you too have to come back to the same place, and your body too would be buried deep in the world”. “Have you ever guessed my sons why our body is buried deep inside the earth?” questioned the Old man. Jack and Mark seeing each other shrugged. Old Man answered “It’s only to show the reality that you are born for this mother nature, and your ultimate destiny is back to nature itself. After we die, our body has a purpose to satisfy the hunger of worms, so find meaning in every work, and love the work you do. As you work to gather money, work to gather relations too, as money can be lost one day, but true relations made are forever”  After hearing life’s ultimate truth, Mark revised his course of life and understood that in the race of making money and fame, he never had time for his loved ones, but they are the one who stayed with him in a tough time, but somehow, staying a night in graveyard taught them life’s an important lesson and from that night onwards, he understood making money is a part of life but gathering relations itself is life. He too understood that the only thing man takes with him in his last part of his life is the golden memories stored in his treasure box, so they are more valuable than any other precious commodities in this world. Meanwhile, Old man prepared his handmade bed, which was nothing but a pile of dry grass, which is used to cover the coffin, before closing it with mud, and in a short while, all slept with a deep sense of peace in there mind. The dawn broke, and which the first ray of the sun, Mark and Jack decided to leave, they searched for the old man, for giving a thank note, but could find nowhere. As it was getting late for them, they left the graveyard and started their journey back to their home. While entering the graveyard they had nothing with them, but while going back, they had a collection of precious moments, which later would be their best memory of their life.


Silence Is Golden       The waiter asked, “Would you care for more wine, Sir?”

He smiled and waited for my response. I nodded and looked around the restaurant. I lifted my wine glass. The waiter took it from me, poured the Riesling into my glass then handed it back to me. I smiled and nodded to imply a thank you. The waiter grinned and left my table. I wiped the bottom of the glass with a napkin and placed it in front of me next to the glass of ice water.       I was sitting alone in a room full of people at a restaurant that seemed to be designed for couples. I felt out of place but enjoyed myself, nevertheless. I never had a problem eating or drinking alone. Solitude became something I cherished in a busy day of people asking me questions and wanting this and that. It was nice to have companionship, but I'd become used to sitting and watching people talk, laugh and even cry when they were with someone. Being with someone is usually nice as long as you can manage to keep your individuality. Stored like something in a shoe box hidden under the bed or placed high on shelf in a closet. You could bring it out whenever you want someone to show more pieces of you. Needless to say, I needed a very, very large shoe box.       I was trying to get myself back from a mental trip I’ve taken for a year or so. Being with someone that was very needy was exhausting. I never minded helping someone, and probably still would, not hesitate to stop listen and do whatever I can to help somebody I care about. This time was different, though. I was strong enough to take on the situation but not smart enough to realize that it would take more than strength to get where we needed to go. It would take respect and that would have to come from both of us. I did my part. I got tired of waiting for mine to arrive. I felt used, angry, sad and thirsty.       I looked at the glass of wine and it was almost gone already. I’ve sipped it without tasting the great taste. I couldn’t seem to taste anything but that bad, bitter taste I had from the relationship that ended a couple of months ago. I looked around to find the waiter but noticed someone entering the restaurant with some guy whom I didn’t recognize.       She looked as I remembered. Tall, chestnut-colored hair, slim and elegant. Her shoulders didn’t seem quite as stiff as they once were, however. The weight of the world seemed to be lifted from her. She walked with poise and her feet looked to move across the floor lighter and balanced. Her heels always made her legs and everything above seem very sexy and inviting. Her smile and beautiful brown eyes were the things that captured me some years ago. Her intelligence and integrity held me hostage. Then, her generosity is what set me free to do what I had to do in a place I had to be.       Memories flooded my mind like a dam breaking from an anxious river looking for a place to flow. She caught me staring at her and stopped in her path. She didn’t say hello but her eyes gave me the once over and she grinned with approval. I think my mouth was open because my throat felt really dry and the wine glass in my hand was still empty. I placed the glass on the table and leaned back.       She and some guy sat at an adjoining table. The man's back was in front of me as she sat across from him. I moved my chair a bit to the right so I could see her beautiful face. She looked incredible but that was merely being normal for her.       The waiter finally arrived and filled my glass. When he left, I raised my glass slightly to toast my long-lost love. She grinned from her seat and I took a sip.       The guy she was with seemed too busy with his phone to realize she was slipping away. She ordered nachos and some wine also, just as I remembered... she loved white wine. ‘Mr. Cell Phone’ asked for a mixed drink I’d never heard of.       It wasn’t long before the waiter returned with their order. She smiled her beautiful smile and thanked the waiter, but her friend said nothing as the waiter placed his drink in front of him. She gave ‘Mr. Rude’ a bad stare but he was too busy messing with his phone to notice or probably care. She sipped her wine and I shook my head.       I motioned for the waiter to come over and when he arrived, I asked for some coffee with Baileys Irish Cream. The waiter nodded and walked to the bar in the back.       When he came back with my order, ‘Cell Phone Guy’ called for the him. The poor waiter had to listen to the guy complain about his mixed drink having too much ice. I imagined dumping the drink on the guy’s head, but that thought was interrupted when she apologized to the waiter and handed him a twenty-dollar bill.       The waiter walked by my table and rolled his eyes. I grinned and overheard the beauty tell ‘Mr. Rude’ that he had better apologize to the waiter or he would soon discover how she deals about rudeness. I heard her also explain that the waiter was not responsible for making drinks and that he shouldn’t have to take any rude behavior.       I nodded and kept myself from getting up, walking over to their table and smacking the guy in the back of the head by envisioning the waiter doing that very thing. ‘Rude’ shook his head, shrugged at her suggestion then answered his cell phone on the third ring. She sighed with disgust and looked at me. I slowly shook my head again and sipped my coffee.       When the waiter returned to their table with the food, he did not move to make room for the waiter to place their food on the table. Instead, he went to her side and placed the food down staring at the guy. I was hoping the waiter would hit himwith the tray but he didn’t. That made me sad.       The thought of shoving the guy’s phone deep down his throat existed when she was ignoring his plea ‘to just listen to him’ after she said she should have just canceled their dinner.       I recognized that tone. I remembered her using it when I explained that I had to leave her because to work. I was too busy to enjoy any time with her. The question of why I had to handle so many things at once entered our relationship more than it should. It was never truly answered but the final result proved to be the consequence of it all. I was watching it again and I felt her hurt and anger. I sipped my coffee, listened to her tell ‘Clueless’ to just forget it and watched her stab the food on her plate.       The waiter brought another drink to their table. ‘Mr. Moron’said an empty apology to the waiter and she smiled her beautiful smile as a plea of acceptance. The waiter grinned at her, nodded at the guy and assured him that it was quite alright. The waiter apologized for the previous drink then walked toward my table. I laughed to myself when I noticed the waiter mouth an unfavorable word about the jerk while walking by.

      My coffee was almost gone. The Baileys disappeared faster than the coffee as I kept pouring more to get a sense of enjoyment from the liquor.       I overheard her claim that ‘too much has happened and it’s just not the same.’

Her last comment before she gave him the cold shoulder was, “You should have canceled that meeting if you knew you had plans with me!”       He became the source of my violent imaginary visions. She was frustrated and at her limit. I knew how it felt to be at the other end of that conversation. I was waiting for the ultimate maneuver by her. The classic ‘do-whatever-the-hell-you-want’ pose of hers... waving her hand in front of her with the slight tilt of her head to the right. Her disengaging eye contact would make anyone seem unimportant because of the topic at hand.       I sipped my coffee thinking to myself, “Wait for it… wait for it...”       The moment arrived when he answered his phone a few moments later. I wanted to walk over to him and tell him, “You’re way past your time, Buddy. She’s long gone now!” Instead, I sat and thought about the last conversation I had with her. She was brushing my dog and ignoring my attempts to say any rationalization of leaving. She was sitting on the floor in our apartment and I was standing in the doorway. I felt like I had already left but yet I was still there just a few feet away.

      The way she looked at this guy seemed all too familiar. The feeling of emptiness came back to me when I remembered how that night ended. I heard my dog bark when I shut the door behind me to got in my car to drive off for awhile. After I started the engine, I recalled seeing her standing on the porch. That scene was more than I could stand. A couple of hours later, when I returned to see my faithful dog laying on my bed, I noticed her and her belongings were gone. The apartment seemed smaller that particular night. I didn’t sleep too well and heard every noise around me… especially my dog snorting and snoring.       I turned my glass of ice water and noticed she was watching me. I looked over the rim of the glass while drinking. The water left me thirsty for relief of the memories and the guilt I kept inside for years.       Her eyes were wet and she dropped the napkin on her plate. He was sitting quietly at their table. I waited for words to be thrown out in desperation but he was awkwardly quiet.       When the waiter appeared out of nowhere and asked me if I needed anything, I stared at her. She was angry and sad.

I softly replied, “I had all I needed but never had enough time to enjoy it!”

He looked confused and stood beside me a bit longer before I told him I just needed the check.       When the check arrived, I stood and noticed that she was watching me again. I grabbed my coat from the back of my chair, handed him some cash, thanked him then told him to keep the change. He thanked me then walked off to tend to other guests.       As I was putting my coat on, I noticed she was reaching for her purse. I walked passed the loser still pleading for her to listen to him. I took her coat, helped her put it on then followed her out of the restaurant as the guy shouted something she didn’t care to hear or reply to. I didn’t pay any attention to it, either.       We stepped outside and she asked me if I still had the place near the restaurant. I told her I did. So, we walked through the Boston Common, then The Public Garden and arrived at my place near the pub named, “Cheers.”       When I opened the door, my apartment was dark but a faint snore could be heard from my room. She laughed and quietly walked over to the bedroom door. I closed the door and watched her staring at my dog in my bed.       A few hours later, I was watching her sleep in my bed with my dog, also asleep, wedged between us.


Victor VanLorn’s Lunar Circus was known for taking its customers away. Natalie didn’t think it would be quite so literal.

The circus was a collection of blue and grey tents with strings of lights that looked like mason jars filled with fireflies. Natalie had been so enamored with it all: the joyous cries of laughing children, the smell of funnel cake and popcorn, and the sparkling wonder of the circus that made Natalie wander around so bravely. She’d drifted through the carnival games, followed behind a trio of performing acrobats, and looked deep into the eyes of a caged tigress. The only problem was that she’d lost her way back to her parents and when the darker it got, the less Natalie wanted to stay. Trying to find her way, Natalie walked through the circus. The tents here weren’t the glorious big top or the charming carnival games. Behind the scenes, a circus started to lose its whimsy. The roars of sleepy lions started to sound like they were hugging her in the dark and the people talking seemed sinister and feral. Biting back the urge to cry, Natalie tried retracing her footsteps until she stumbled across a group of performers sitting around a fire.

“Eighty-six,” a young woman frowned, flipping through a stack of bills, “eighty-seven, eighty-eight…damn it. Coming up short, again.” “Victor isn’t willing to front you anymore?” Another woman asked. “I’m still trying to pay off my last advance,” the young woman sighed. She was wearing a gold leotard that sparkled against the firelight. Her black hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail adorned with golden pins. On her back were a pair of fairy wings with more firelight sparkles that Natalie couldn’t help but stare at. The other woman had blonde hair and was dressed in an outfit that looked like a bluebird warming itself by an open flame. A bald man with a pair of black pants and a fourth person wearing a dark blue mask with spiky black hair were sitting around the fire as well, the bluebird woman’s head in the bald man’s lap as they lounged.

“Downside of circus life,” the bald man grumbled, running his fingers down the bluebird woman’s arm, “no overtime pay.” “I don’t see why you pay rent anywhere,” the blue masked person shrugged, folding their arms behind their head.

“It’s a storage unit. I want to have somewhere to go after I finish my time here and it’d be easier if I was starting with more than what I have in my car.”

“What about temp work?” Bluebird asked. “John made some extra money when we were stuck in Atlanta for a week between shows.”

“Worst five days of my life,” the bald man sighed. “‘Corporate doesn’t care for clowns!’ as the owner always told me. Not that I was any worse than of the other goons in the data entry crew. The three I was with were always high off their—“ “Shh!” The golden woman perked up and looked across the fire. “What’s she doing here?”

Everyone around the fire looked, surprised to see Natalie, but their surprise was quickly covered over by careful ease. The Bluebird perked up and hopped over the fire, crouching in front of Natalie with an eager smile. “Hello, little girl…what are you doing back here?” “I—“ Natalie stammered, her voice breaking a little. “I can’t find my mom and dad…”

“Poor girl’s freezing,” the Blue Mask said. “Come sit by the fire for a minute. You’re shivering so much I can see from here.”

Natalie hesitated, but the warm smile of the Bluebird and the Golden Woman enticed her to sit. Bluebird made a show of clearing off a stool for Natalie, wiping it clean with a handkerchief. Bald John hoisted her up and plopped her onto the stool.

“There we are,” John beamed, “best seat in the house! A warm fire and good company are the keys to a good mood! What’s your name, miss?”

“Natalie. I live in town.”

“Well, Natalie who lives in Town,” Blue Mask smiled, “my friends call me Rain! This is John and his lovely wife, Hannah. And our lady in gold, Amy. We’re all quite pleased to meet!”

“Are you all in the circus?” “Acrobats,” Hannah said. “Except for John, but he’s alright for a clown.” “They’re all well enough,” Amy said. “Did you come with your parents, Natalie?” Natalie nodded and regarded the stack of bills in Amy’s grasp. “I have two dollars…” “Oh?” Amy asked a little confused.

“You can have it,” Natalie said, stretching out her hand with the crumpled bills in it.

“Oh, I couldn’t take it from you,” Amy smiled. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but…”

“My mom said I could spend my circus money how I want,” Natalie said. “I don’t mind.” Amy sighed deeply and looked to her other compatriots. When no one else objected, Amy took the two bills from her grasp. “Well, I’d hate to take something for nothing. Two dollars strikes me as enough for a small parade.”

“Natalie the Generous!” John said, hoisting Natalie onto his shoulders. “The Charitable…the Kind!”

“We’ll sing her praises through the Lunar Lane!” Rain cheered, hopping up and running in circles around John.

Natalie giggled as the acrobats rushed through the circus, cheering for her and jumping into throngs of people. People applauded as she walked by and John encouraged her to wave at people as they passed by. Before long nearly, the entire circus was following Natalie and her crew as they marched through the impromptu streets.

“Natalie!” Natalie’s mother came rushing through the crowd and reached up for her. Amy lifted her from the bald man’s shoulders and passed her off to her mother with a smile.

The golden acrobat knelt down and smiled. "A good deed can be its own reward, but you helped me more than you may ever know." Amy stood again a little prouder and raised her hands to the crowd. “To Lady Natalie the Charitable!” Amy cheered. "Friend to the circus and all the circus folk!" The crowd roared with applause as Natalie’s mother carried her out of the circus and the acrobats cheered. Natalie looked back to see Amy holding up the two dollars with a broad grin.