“Ho there! stranger what brings you to this cursed lands”.
The man who spoke was large ridiculously so. With thick veins snaking along his forearms and bulging muscles beneath them. His skin shone with sweat and dust. The man strained as he pushed a massive boulder up a broken hill. She could see his body strain under the weight. His muscle pushed, and the man grunted as the colossus rocked moved up the hill at a snail’s pace. The only article of clothing he wore was a tattered robe that hung loosely around his waist.
Elena could make out the man’s face behind the curtain of matted hair, the veins in his forehead pulsed with effort. His eyes, his eyes caught her off-guard. They were alive with joy. She had never expected to see genuine joy in a man cursed with a ceaseless task for all eternity. But there was something in there to. It burned, consuming all that he looked to. His honey-coloured eyes shone in the darkness with their hot intensity.
He was nearing the top, his steps thudded as he put one foot in front of the other. Slowly ever so slowly the rock moved. It seemed to grow heavier the closer he got to the crest of the hill. As though an invisible weight pressed against it with every step he took forward. Yet the man pressed forth a low groan escaping his clenched lips. He smiled the man actually smiled as he neared the very top. A row of pearly white teeth glinted in the dying light. A few more feet and he could clear it.
Thunder crashed shaking the world around them. The stone, as if tipped by a spectral hand pressed against him. The man’s feet dug gorges into the earth as he fought against the boulder. Ever smiling even with a boulder three times his size bearing down on him. From where they stood Elena could see how the man was losing. With a cry the man fell backwards, the stone rolling over him as he let go of it. It rolled a quarter down the hill before coming to rest.
As though tethered it pulled him backwards. The man dug his fingers into the earth him, struggling against a weight that mercilessly pulled him back. He fought against it, using every bit of strength he had left from the excruciating climb. He bared his teeth at the world letting out a hoarse yell as the earth tore free of his grasp. The man fell, bouncing as he rolled down the hill throwing up dust. Elena cringed hearing cracks and snaps the man rolled down. He came to rest as the foot of the hill just where he started.
An odd sound filled the empty corpse of a land. It was eerie and jarring, Elena cocked her head to the siding finding its source. It was coming from the man. He lay looking up at the dead sky, his chest heaved as he took great deep breaths as he laughed even louder. No wonder Elena couldn’t recognise what the noise was. It had no place in this hellscape. it was joy, there was genuine joy in his laughter. He was smiling, the bliss in it was so pure that it took her a moment to figure it out. She hadn’t had someone laugh like that in months. She hadn’t laughed like that in months.
“Why?”
“Hmm?”
“Why are you happy?”
“Wrong question stranger. The better question would be why not”.
He turned to her and Elena could see took for intensity was something else. It wasn’t the happiness that caused them to burn. It was madness, a madness that run so deep it manifested in every action he took.
“My hubris earned me this eternal torture. For a millennia I have pushed this boulder up that damned hill and for a millennia I have fallen down that hill. I am given a false hope every time I neared the top. For every time, I get ever so closer. But each time I fall.”
“So, I gave up, but the thing about eternal punishment is well…its eternal. Even if I gave up my punishment stayed the same. I was forced to push that same rock up that same hill. Oh, how I hated it all, it was the perfect punishment. So, I went mad with rage and hatred. I cursed my self for doing something as foolish as thinking my wit was the greatest there was. However, Know this young stranger. You will always be a big fish in a small pond. No matter, If the pond turns into an ocean and your skills grows better, there will always be someone greater.”
“So, what happens when your actions cause no change, but you are still forced to do the same thing?”
“I don’t know”. Elena whispered.
“You do what you can”.
“So, I did my best to find joy in this task. It was impossible at first but now, well now I have a rock to push”
Groaning the man stood up, stretching he pushed the rock back into position. The stone was scarred, with marks that counted something but stopped as well dried blood. Yet the man affectionate with it. With a smile he returned to his eternal task.
“Thank you” Elena said calling out.
But the man attentions was already gone his mind focused on the task before him.

Chapter 22
Suri had spent some time looking around the border of the pool and found a wheeled box that seemed built for the purpose of transporting the snake. “There are some input and output ports here. They look like water is pumped in and out through it.” She pointed to the various holes. “There are pipes here and they seem to match. K’bu, help me.”
While the apes worked on filling the box, the marines scouted the perimeter of the large room.
………………………………..
With the snake safely stored in the long waterfilled trunk. The group got ready to go.
“Apes, on the box. You’re too slow to keep up. See a shark, shoot it.” The apes nodded and climbed on the box. They sat cross-legged and laid the shotguns across their knees.
“Reilly, you’re pushing the back of the box. It’s big and heavy and you’re the strongest. Kiko, at the front and steering. If we need to turn, you direct the box. Easier to change the front than the back.” Kiko and Reilly gestured they understood.
“Al Harthy and me will provide roving cover front and back. If we get bogged down and have to stop, take cover behind the trunk and return fire.”
They took position and started moving towards the nearest “safe” exit. As they prepared to open the door, attempts to open the door they’d used resumed. Pounding and voices boomed in the pool room.
“Ignore it, they can’t get in” said Dixon.
Suri and K’bu exchanged looks. “We should hurry.”
The pounding got louder, more sustained. It sounded like something large was being used to beat on the door. Suddenly the door shattered. Everyone froze for a moment, then started moving again. As the dust and fragments settled, a shark stepped through the door. This xeno was larger than normal and came through the door sideways. Already bigger than humans on average, this alien was almost 3 metres tall and a metre wide.
Al Harthy was in awe, with jaw hanging open. “Holy shot, that’s a big frigging alien.”
“Al Harthy, get the door! Reilly, push!” Dixon got off a couple of shots at the xeno as it rushed the humans. It held a glaive in front of it and a round glanced off the blade with a loud clang. The xeno lowered its shoulder and rammed Dixon out of the way. Dixon flew across the room into a wall.
With Dixon out of the way, Suri and K’bu were finally able to fire without hitting the marines. They fired twice each at the huge alien, hitting it in the chest, shoulder and side of the head. The hits staggered the approaching xeno, blowing chunk out of it. It lost some momentum but kept moving forward. The alien slid the blade of the glaive into Reilly’s back just under his armour. He screamed out, back arching. He stopped pushing the cart and reached behind to his wound.
The xeno readied the blade to smash down on Reilly again, on his shoulder this time, but it took a number of shots in the face and chest, from the apes and Al Harthy. More sharks poured into the room, firing at the group. The marines shot back, Dixon from a prone position on his back, the apes from the trunk and Al Harthy and Kiko from their positions at the front.
Within seconds, most of the aliens had received gunshot wounds. Plasma flew through the air and smashed against the human armour and suits. The groups continued firing at each other. Several of the aliens crumpled to the floor dead, the remaining two or three retreated to the safety of the computer room followed by a hail of gunfire and shotgun slugs.
The group watched for a moment as the xenos stumbled out of the pool room. When it was clear they had left, the marines and apes regrouped.
“Hey K’bu, help me lift Reilly onto the box.”
K’bu climbed down and grabbed Reilly’s legs and lifted. Dixon grabbed the shoulder straps and lifted with his legs, keeping his back straight. They swung the wounded marine onto the cart.
Suri injected him with painkiller then got to work cleaning Reilly’s wound and bandaging it.
The group checked each other over for wounds. They applied healing cream to a couple of areas, but there wasn’t much to do apart from Reilly.
“According to the limited data we have, this next corridor will lead us to the flight bridge. There are a number of doors leading off it, no doubt with xenos lying in ambush.”
“Dixon, it’s a killing zone. If they set up at the door at the far end, they can take shots at us all the way there.” Al Harthy shook his head.
“You’re right, but I think our retreat get cut off. We need to go forward and link up with the augmented guys and the cat. If the detachment guarding the shuttle gets cut off, we’ll lose our bus home.” He looked around the group.
They exchanged looks. Suri had finished with Reilly and was rearranging his clothes and position on the trunk. He lay face down, drooling. “Are we getting back on the trunk?”
“This thing is maybe the first living prisoner we’ve taken. That we can use the trunk as transport is a bonus.” The others nodded.
“Kiko, you get front this time. Huggers, if you see we’re gonna hit a wall, use your feet to push off.”
Al Harthy threw open the door and Dixon grabbed the cart’s handle at the back.
“Three, two, one! Let’s go!” Kiko pulled while Dixon pushed. The apes pushed like riders on a bobsleigh. The trunk gained momentum and trundled through the doorway. Al Harthy jogged in front and to the left, rifle butt in his shoulder, scanning the corridor. Kiko slung her weapon at shoulder and pushed the trunk. She was careful in directing the trunk, making sure to keep it from hitting the walls.
A xeno popped out of a door about 5 metres looking the other way. It got hit with about 3 shot gun shells in under a second and flew back the way it came.
They gained a little momentum, and Dixon eased off as he didn’t want to lose control. The trunk trundled along, Al Harthy jogging in front. The front of the ship approached, doors to what should be the bridge, with a barricade outside. They maintained pace. “Guys, get ready to return fire or for cover.”
At twenty metres from the bridge the doors opened and all weapons snapped up. There was no light inside. “It’s OK, it’s us. Bring the trolley inside.” Ilyone’s voice called out.
The group manoeuvred around the barricade and entered the dark hole of the bridge.

Memory transcription subject: Tricci, Krev Teacher
Date: [standardized human time] May 7, 2160
The last several weeks had been a blur. The opinions of me as a teacher had done an about-face. Students who were previously leaving my class had come back, and I even had requests from parents to have their kids moved into my class so their kids could meet my human and his students. I didn't have the resources to expend on extra students but the thought that I had suddenly become a hot commodity among our school district was amusing nonetheless.
Talking to George is like a dream. The more humans reveal about themselves the more I can't believe we had such treasures in our backyard without knowing it.
George and I had spoken to our respective governments about our proposed field trip idea. The consortium signed off on it almost immediately, but the colonial government of Tellus had reservations. They didn't feel comfortable sending their children off to an alien planet with their numbers already so low. As such it was agreed that our first field trip would take me and my children to Tellus to meet George and his students.
The shuttle to Tellus was packed with dozens of krev. My students from all my classes brought snacks for their human counterparts to try, some brought toys to donate. One of my students had a plushy of a human with exaggerated features clipped to her backpack. For my part I brought George a bottle of noskberry wine for him to sample.
We had tried to watch some human films sent to us by George, but they were all too hard to watch. Watching 22nd Century Prophet, starring Manny Griffin, physically made me ill. I had managed to watch a few films recommended by George, the Indiana Jones series had some violence and even some poor adorable humans getting mangled, but they were George's favorite films so I had to know the hype.
George insisting that the humans dying in those films being bad guys doesn't compute with my brain. How can those sweet creatures be evil?
As our shuttle touched down I reminded my students to be on their best behavior, and not to overly infantilize the humans or invade their personal space too much. I hoped my students were mature enough to remember that these were sapient beings who had agency and couldn't be treated like obors. The shuttle door opened after the ramp unfurled, lights led us from our shuttle and through the space port. The humans milling about their work drew coos of adoration from my students and some of our chaperones. The humans, in turn, flashed big toothy snarls of affection at our young ones, some of them spoke in higher softer tones as they greeted our posse. It was hard to imagine that these creatures saw us as adorable in return.
Leaving the modest complex I scanned the vast parking lot for George. On the far left side of the parking lot, next to a large yellow bus, George squatted, idly scrolling his holopad and drinking from a canteen. As we came closer he took notice of our approach and stood while putting his holopad away.
He took a sharp swig of his canteen before greeting us warmly. “Hey Tricci the Teach-y! How's my favorite green meanie?”
“M-meanie?” I sputtered, “I haven't done anything to offend you have I?”
“Hmm? Oh no! That's just a name some of the dudes in the mines called the krev, ya know before all this” he said gesturing to the surrounding city. “It's a reference to some old movie I've never seen.”
We shared a brief embrace which seemed to catch the human off guard. He had multiple wonderful fragrant smells I assumed had been applied artificially by him. His coverings smelled floral while his skin had a fruit-like scent. Thinking about his clothes and his skin, my mind began to wander back to one of the Indiana Jones movies he had me watch in which the archeologist had damaged his clothes and was mostly shirtless. I began to picture George with similar tattered garments earning a nervous yip from me and causing my snout to flush a deep blue. I pulled back from our brief embrace and saw that George's own face had flushed to a subtle red.
After a brief silence George cleared his throat, “well it's a short drive to the new school building from here, uh, we might be a touch late but it's only 7:45 AM local time so if we are late it will only be by a minute and since the school is new the colonial government has been pretty lenient with us. That being said I don't feel like testing Hathaway’s lackies on the school board. So all aboard I suppose”
We clambered in the bus with George offering a helping hand, as the bus was designed for long legged humans not us stubby legged krev. After we took our seats the primate punched an address into the interface on the car's dashboard. When he took his own seat near me the bus lurched into motion by itself. After we got onto the road the human took out his canteen again and began drinking once again.
“That isn't alcohol is it?” I chided.
“Hmm this?” He gestured to his canteen “ no this is an energy drink. We stock piled hundreds of thousands of the packets from earth to hold us over till we could get to a new planet and start growing coffee beans, but no one ever drank ‘em except the crew on the ark. So we are practically bursting at the seams with them. I get them by the box load from a supply shop in the old cavern for free. You mix the packs with water and hey presto. Fizzy caffeine at your fingertips”
George handed me a small yellow packet with terran script on it. Running my scanner over what appeared to be the front the text read “Gamersupps Energy”. Flipping the pack over I saw what appeared to be nutritional data, which I ran my scanner over once again. Most of the ingredients were benign fruit based acids and sugars but one statistic sent a chill up my spine. “Caffeine 100mg”
I looked at George in horror for a brief moment, who seemed to be ready to take yet another drink of the poisonous liquid.
“George! Wait! How many of those have you had?”
“Uh, this morning? Two, this is my third.” he said which nearly caused me to yip in alarm.
“George, we can introduce our classes later. We need to get you to the hospital.” I said frantically yet trying to keep my voice low to not cause alarm.
“Huh? Why? Do I have something on my face?” Am I bleeding?” He asked, looking at what he could see of his person.
“No, oh goodness. Did you not read these packets? They've got way too much caffeine for one person to drink on their own. Let alone three whole packets! I'm surprised you can speak, you should be suffering cardiac arrest!” I hissed.
The primate looked bewildered for a moment before he began bellowing laughter. I tilted my head with confusion, non understanding why he wasn't taking this more seriously. My confused look caused him to get a hold of himself enough to respond.
“I'm sorry Tricci, it hadn't occurred to me that would seem like a lot to someone. Humans have a much higher tolerance to caffeine than most animals, hell I think other primates are resilient to it too. I can't remember why for certain but the amount of caffeine we consume would kill most other creatures, we love the stuff.”

Memory transcription subject: George Geef, human teacher
Date: [standardized human time] May 7, 2160
Dad wasn't a big hugger. He told me his mom smelled like cigarettes and his dad died in the Houston power station attack back during the Sat Wars, So he avoided them all his childhood. When I was a kid on earth my mom and older brother Oscar showered me with physical affection, I often wonder if that was because they wanted to compensate for my dad's literal hands off attitude when it came to loving his kids. When we got to Tellus dad became more distant and over time I went from getting hugs all the time from mom and Oscar to Almost never getting a hug.
Needless to say Tricci’s affectionate assault left me taken aback. I was awkward and unpracticed at physical touch to express emotions. As soon as we let go I found myself at a loss for words and a little red in the face. So I rushed us into the bus to get to school.
After the energy drink snafu I considered briefly going over the snacks that her students brought for mine. Perhaps the poison misunderstanding goes both ways and her kids brought something that would make mine violently ill. My worries were assuaged when I remembered the pamphlet which I provided for her to give to her students.
As we pulled into the school parking lot I nabbed up my things and polished off the last of my energy drink before stuffing my canteen into my briefcase. We shambled out of the bus while I assisted the scaled mammals in getting down. Once everyone had disembarked we made our way into the school.
The building was of moderate size compared to schools back home, but we only used the first few classrooms as we didn't have enough kids to fill up the entire complex. Once the ecto-genesis babies helped us rebuild our population, this school would fill up. It was only a matter of time.
My students sat in the hall waiting for us to arrive. Several held small signs which featured krev scratchy looking text which I assumed said some variation of “welcome”. Kelly, the mischievous child who'd tipped off my class to my participation in the exchange program, giddly waved at Tricci and her students.
“Hi Miss Tricci!” They called out in unison.
“Very good class!” I praised, “thank you for being patient, lemme just grab a few supplies and we'll head right into class.

• -

Due to the special circumstances class only went on for about 2 hours today. We called it a day after lunch. Kelly had spent most of her day talking to a kid named Grecca. The two were inseparable and seemed to get a kick out of seeing how the other played on the playground. Grecca let out a high pitched squeaky noise watching Kelly swing on the monkey bars, when I asked Tricci about that reaction she told me the monkey bars resembled a common toy put in obor enclosures for enrichment called an obor’s ladder. The child was likely just having what we'd likely call a “squee” reaction.
A few krev parents spoke with human counterparts, even a few exchanged contact information. A small incident occurred when Mike's mom, Laura, coldly retrieved her son and left while her boy had been playing with a krev child next to their parent. I had to quickly intervene by explaining Laura's husband died in a mining accident and that she didn't have the fondest opinion of the krev, which seemed to pacify the green alien.
The krev kids were slated to go home tomorrow after touring our former hovel, they would be staying at a hotel for the night with their parents or chaperones. After the last of the parents had been picked up by automated taxis I started off in the direction of Bruce's new bar before Tricci piped up.
“Uh G-George?”
“What's up?” I asked with concern.
“I kinda goofed, I just realized something” she said, wringing her paws together in a way that earned a sympathetic look of concern from me.
“What's wrong? Did you eat something you shouldn't have?”
“No I uh, in my haste to plan this. I forgot to book a hotel… I have nowhere to sleep tonight.” she said trying to avert her gaze.
I sighed tenderly and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“You can stay with me tonight. I got an extra room. Come on, I'll take you home.” I said guiding her down the sidewalk. “Hell, let's get something to eat while we're out. I can introduce you to Bruce, he's my be- my only friend really.”
Tricci and I sauntered down the sidewalk on our way to Bruce's. Hopefully my new friend would give him some sort of comfort that I was opening my social circle.

Chapter 2

Kai looked at the maid and tried his best to not show any emotions.
Her face was pale and she looked to be straddling the line between lean and malnourished. It was different from the body he was in which looked to be well fed.
Her lips were wide open without moving for a few long seconds as she tried to gather the words.
The silence seemed to stretch before she remarked, “Lord Arzan, there's… there's blood on your clothes.” Her eyes lingered on his chest where the blood was clotted.
She spoke in Manakrit, he took note of the name she called him with. The language was familiar, but the accent was different than he remembered. Though, it seemed like he really was in a noble's body.
Arzan. I guess that's what I'm called now.
He didn't have time to ponder about it as he needed to deal with the situation at hand. How was he going to handle the maid that had popped up out of nowhere? If he was even a 1st Circle mage, a sleeping spell might have done the job, but he didn't have that option right now.
“I’m not hurt,” he said with a commanding tone. “You don't have to worry about it.”
The maid's eyes went towards the ritual circles and the mess that was on the floor and Kai felt a headache creeping up. There were better ways to deal with it, but he was used to spells doing all the hard work.
Now, he was without them.
“Still, let me go find Cleric Jo—”
“No need to.”
He cut her off. He wasn’t sure if the body owner was open about his “hobbies”, but either way, he wasn’t about to expose himself to any Clerics who might think of him as a dark sorcerer and try to get the church after him.
From the maid's shocked reaction, it didn't seem like she was privy to his hobbies.
Before she could ask any questions, he shot a question at her, “What are you here for? You didn't even knock on the door.”
Kai hadn't been a noble, but he knew they didn't like to be disturbed and had sets of etiquette.
The maid's eyes went wide the moment he asked the question, “Lord Arzan, I'm sorry, I should have told you this beforehand, but there's been a situation in the estate.”
“What kind of a situation?”
“A mana… mana weaver has appeared! Guards are trying to fight it, but I thought I should inform you.”
The urgency in her voice was all he needed to know.
Mana weaver. That can be bad if it's highly corrupted.
“There's no mage around to deal with it?” he asked in a questioning tone.
“We knocked on the doors of Mage Actra, but he kicked the maids out, telling them not to disturb him. A few guards set off immediately to get Knight Killian, but we don't know if he would be able to get here fast enough.”
He frowned and considered his options. Even in his current state, he could think of a few tricks against a mana weaver and he doubted whether the guards would be able to handle one, especially without an Enforcer or a Mage helping them.
“How corrupt is it?” he asked and the maid stared back in silence.
“Uh, I—I don't know.”
He sighed as the maid cowered in front of him. Not wanting to waste any more time, he made a decision.
“Okay, give me a minute. Stand outside the door.”
The maid obeyed his words. He opened the drawers and saw fresh clothes that were neatly folded inside.
He rummaged through the stack. There was a wide range of tidy tunics—tunics made of wool, and linen, all richly embroidered, and several tunics that were made of silk.
It was obvious that the garments were made for a wealthy man. He grabbed a tunic from the stack and a pair of pants along with it.
Kai wished to wash away the blood from his body and take a bath, but there wasn’t any time for that.
As he walked outside, he saw that the maid was waiting for him. She bowed to him as he exited his room and came into her field of vision.
“Take me there,” he said.
Kai wasn’t familiar with the estate, therefore he let the maid lead.
Without waiting for Kai, she turned and briskly walked into the corridor outside his room
Kai silently followed her, trying to match her pace. His body felt more sluggish than usual, but he didn't focus on it.
He looked around as he walked, trying to observe the place. Since the corridors were quite narrow with only dim lighting that came from the torches, his sensitivity heightened.
He also noticed coins jiggling in his pocket, feeling annoyed at the inconvenience he felt with them brushing against him.
She took a turn to the left that led down to a staircase.
The walls beneath the stairs were filled with pictures and weapons. The weapons were, in fact, quite the sight. From different sizes of swords, staffs, bows and arrows, and javelins to small throwing knives and boomerangs, the collection was massive.
It gave the impression of a household with a history.
The paintings and weaponry assemblage expanded for two more floors, and they finally halted in front of a narrow path. It had a similar setting to the corridor they had encountered previously.
The path was quite dark, even though it had a few lamps here and there. Most of them were unlit.
The maid turned and stopped, allowing Kai to move ahead without her. Fear was prominent in her face as she looked at the passage ahead.
Kai heard shrieks and cries through the trail. He stopped in his tracks as he realised that the attack was taking place just around the corner. The screeches got louder along with the noises of metal clashing.
“Stay right here,” Kai said and walked ahead. It was only a few steps inside when he reached toward the metal handle of the wooden door. Light suddenly blinded his eyes as he pushed it open.
It was the courtyard.
As his eyes slowly adjusted to the light, he noticed that there were some workers and a few other maids, trembling with fear watching the scenario in front of them. They were backed to the corner beside the door.
Kai moved past them to observe the guards in front of a massive water fountain.
They were trying their best to control the Mana Weaver, but without the help of a Mage or an Enforcer, their attempt wasn't going to lead to success. There were already a few guards on the ground, injured and bleeding.
Strangely, the maids hadn't run away but were too scared to interfere in the battle.
Soon, the maids who were hiding behind the fountain noticed him.
“Lord Arzan, please don't get close to that monster. He’s corrupted!” A maid who was among them yelled across the courtyard from behind the fountain.
“Stay back!”
“Please don’t go in there!”
Murmurs and mumbles spread from everyone as their attention turned towards Kai.
He ignored them as his focus was stolen by a specific man who seemed to be the centre of the fight. The man wore a torn guard uniform and had his hand tightened around the throat of another guard. With his other hand, he aggressively pulled a guard towards himself. That was when Kai saw his hands.
The fingers had turned to claws, but the arms were still human. Dark lines scaled up on the arms, showing the extent of corruption that had taken place.
It was a mutant— a mana weaver.
It lifted the guard off the floor and continued to press the claws to the sides of his arm. In return, the guard could only bash the shield against Its head, desperately, in the hopes that It would let go of him.
The noise of the metal banging filled the air.
The guard yelled in pain. The blows from his shields only got weaker and he dropped it on the ground.
The mana weaver threw the two guards rolling on the ground. Its moves were swift and unpredictable, as It quickly rushed towards two more men and threw them across the floor.
“Argh!” A few more guards advanced, covering themselves with shields. As the mana weaver turned around to face the guards, Kai got a better view of how It looked.
The weaver’s face was gruesomely disfigured, half morphed into a corpse and the other half, human, engraved with fresh scars. Its face itself was enough to make little children and grown men cry.
The scars went beyond Its face, extending to Its hands.
The entire thing looked like It was straight out of a nightmare.
Kai observed the mana weaver and weighed his options. If It was already fully transformed, then he doubted anyone would be able to save them. Maybe, the Mage that the maid had talked about, but he didn't know how strong he was. For all he knew, they could be an Apprentice Mage.
For now, he had to deal with it and although there was risk involved, he knew he could pull it off. Otherwise, people were going to die.
It looks to be at the first stage. I might just be able to do something.
He ran towards an injured guard. Blood was oozing from his sides. Kai carefully sneaked past him and picked up the shield that was lying on the floor.
The shield didn't seem like it would protect him from a lot of blows, but he just had to get close. Controlling his breathing, he calmed his rapidly beating heart.
This body doesn't seem athletic or it would have been easier, Kai thought while trying to manoeuvre around.
He closely observed the weaver’s movements and looked for any opportunity to attack.
Taking calculated steps, he calmly waited until he was just five feet away. When the mana weaver tried to slash at a guard, Kai ran forward.
The mana weaver didn't see him coming, and as footsteps echoed behind it, the monster turned around only for Kai's shield to come into contact with its head.
With a yelp, the mana weaver was on its knees. Kai’s hands tightened around the shield as he once again landed a blow on its head, hitting the same spot, again and again.
He attacked the human-like side and blood started dripping out of its ears.
A dual-toned cry pervaded the air, as the mana weaver emitted a raw, visceral, painful scream and an otherworldly lament at the same time.
The mana weaver leapt forward, desperately slashing at Kai's face, who barely protected himself with his shield before kicking it away.
As it viciously glared at Kai, it screamed, but Kai didn't give it any time. With the adrenaline rush powering his movements, he charged forward.
He hit the weaver once again, putting all his strength into another shield bash.
The mutant fell on the floor, holding its head.
“Hold It!” Kai yelled loudly as three guards came running. They held the monster by its shoulders, and their legs strapped to the sides of its abdomen, keeping it in place.
It wouldn't stay still for long.
He saw the corruption inside its body spreading. The weaver struggled on the floor and Kai could see through a small gap in its eyelids that the eyes were starting to turn black.
A newly transformed mana weaver’s strength was almost double that of a normal human, and the guards barely managed to contain it.
He knew he couldn’t use his usual magic, therefore, he had to try something else. A technique that had long lost its meaning with the rise in strength of mana weavers, but here, it might just work out.
After all, the transformation didn't look to be older than a day.
Kai walked around and grabbed the mana weaver by its throat. His thumb searched the back of its neck to find the exact nerve.
There it is. With sturdy fingers, he pointed his index and middle finger and pressed right on the nerve, in an attempt to put it to a slight slumber.
The mana weaver tried to pull its hands out of the guards’ grip—the claws opened and closed. It tried to grab the guard to its left.
Kai pressed until it hurt, but soon, the mana weaver stopped struggling.
The weaver's hands fell to Its sides as it slowly lost its strength and fell into a slumber. Kai’s attempt was successful.
He took a step backwards, a bit drained out of energy and looked down. This body wasn't used to moving much and it was going to be a problem.
A few more guards broke through the door at that moment. They seemed to have run to the courtyard, but seeing the mana weaver on the ground, they stood confused.
“Lock it inside a room. I’ll take a look at It later. It won't wake up for a while but use chains to bind It. It will try to break free,” Kai’s authoritative voice came out loud as he turned towards the guards.
He didn't know his relationship with them and how he was perceived, but there was no time to figure that out.
A few of the guards nodded, and one bowed, his eyes looking at Kai in a strange light. The others had similar reactions, especially the maids who were whispering something among themselves.
The guard in front seemed to hesitate before opening his mouth, “Why don't we kill It, Lord Arzan?”
Kai shook his head, a bit surprised by the question. The transformation hadn't increased enough that there was no remedy. Killing It would be unnecessary.
“No, killing it won’t solve the problem.”
“But it's how we usually deal with these beings. If we let it live, then it will contaminate the surroundings further.”
“It's just in the first stage. There's no need—” he stopped speaking, realising the strange look the guard was giving him.
It seemed like there had been something he was missing. If he had any memories of Arzan, it might have been easy, but right now, he had to try to not come off as too strange to these people.
“No, just put it inside a cell. It's an order.” He refused to explain anything just yet. “Get these guards to get the help they need. They’re losing too much blood.”
He commanded and looked over at the guards who were still scattered around the greenery, dealing with injuries.
“Yes, Lord Arzan,” the guard nodded towards his fellow men. “Take it inside!” He yelled and joined the other guards to help them carry the mana weaver inside.
Four guards held the weaver by the sides, all the while its legs were dragging through the floor. It had completely lost consciousness, and by how the guards struggled slightly, Kai knew it must be heavy.
He walked past all the men and women who were now discussing the incident among themselves.
They threw shocked stares at him and continued to talk about him in whispers. The words “Lord Arzan” were heard repeatedly as Kai got around to the corner of the courtyard.
Kai saw to it that the injured guards who were on the floor were lifted and taken inside the infirmary for treatment.
He knew he needed some time to think. A headache had crept in and he knew nothing about the place and body he now occupied.
He turned and walked the same way he came in.
He navigated around the people who were walking here and there with heavy tasks in their hands after the attack. Some were carrying water buckets to clean the blood that was spilt during the attack in the courtyard, and some carried the shields of the injured to the armoury.
As Kai entered from the courtyard, he found the maid where he instructed her to stay. But as soon as she saw Kai, she walked forward towards him.
“I’m tired,” he said, to avoid any questions the maid might have. “Come with me.”
The maid nodded in return and followed Kai as he walked to his room. She closed the door behind her, and her eyes trailed Kai who sat on the bed immediately.
She looked around the room, taking note of the bloody ritual once again. The fear and the panic had subsided, though she still saw him with strange eyes that he wasn't able to discern.
As he sat on the bed, he looked down at his body.
After the adrenaline rush subsided, he felt drained. He also hadn't eaten in a while, but more importantly, he had to ensure that the words of whatever ritual he was conducting didn't spread to anyone else.
He looked up to see the maid’s eyes roaming around the place. She looked concerned but curious.
“Don’t let anyone know about this,” He commanded, gesturing around the room. The woman immediately nodded, startled by his voice.
“Yes!”
“What is your name?” He asked, wondering if he should push her more. Threatening innocents wasn't his thing and once he recovered his magic, a spell could easily solve his problems.
Till then he needed the maid on his side.
“Claire, Lord Arzan.” She said as Kai took a good look at her. She had an ordinary round face with brown hair. She resembled a scared bunny as she lowered her face, refusing to look him in the eyes.
Seeing how she behaved, he knew the former owner of this body didn't have the bestreputation.
It was the perfect scenario for him.
“Claire, if you keep quiet and do as I say, there will be rewards for you.”
“Rewards?” She looked curiously at him.
“Yes,” he said, grabbing into one of his pockets to take out a gold coin. It seemed like Arzan had a habit of forgetting money in his pockets.
Claire's eyes shone as she looked at the gold coin. That was all the response he needed as he pushed the coin towards her and she grabbed it.
In most eras, a gold coin was valuable and akin to the monthly salary of individuals.
“Work hard and there will be more.”
“Y-yes!!”
“Bring me some tea, please, Claire. And some food, preferably some bread.”
“Yes, Lord Arzan.” She turned to walk out of the room as Kai asked another question.
“Do you know who's the current king?”
The maid halted and replied.
“King Thorian,” she responded quickly. “Why are you asking?”
“No, nothing. You can go.”
Kai frowned immediately as she left, taking a few minutes to remember the name from his history lessons before his frown deepened. His ritual had gone terribly wrong.
***
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Four friends, Emily, Jake, Sarah, and Tom, decided to go on a camping trip to Blackwood Forest, a place shrouded in local legends of hauntings and mysterious disappearances. Ignoring the warnings, they set off one Friday afternoon, eager for adventure and a break from their hectic lives.
As they entered the forest, the dense canopy blocked out much of the sunlight, casting eerie shadows on the path. The air grew colder, and a sense of unease settled over them. They set up camp in a small clearing near a murmuring brook, trying to shake off the feeling that they were being watched.
That night, as they sat around the campfire, Jake recounted the tales he'd heard about Blackwood Forest. "They say people go missing here," he said, his voice low and serious. "Some say it's the spirits of the forest, angry at anyone who dares to trespass."
"Stop trying to scare us," Sarah said, rolling her eyes. But even she couldn't hide the nervous tremor in her voice.
After a few more ghost stories, they decided to call it a night. As they settled into their tents, the forest grew eerily silent. No wind rustled the leaves, no insects chirped. The silence was suffocating.
Emily was the first to hear it – not whispers, but a rhythmic tapping. It echoed through the trees, like someone or something was knocking on wood. She unzipped her tent and peered out, but saw nothing. The tapping continued, getting closer, then stopping suddenly.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream shattered the silence. It was Sarah. Emily, Jake, and Tom rushed out of their tents to find Sarah standing by the brook, her face pale and eyes wide with terror.
"Something... someone grabbed me," she stammered, pointing at the dark water. "It tried to pull me in."
They shone their flashlights at the brook, but saw nothing unusual. Trying to calm Sarah, they decided to stick together for the rest of the night. They huddled around the dying campfire, too scared to sleep.
As the night wore on, the tapping returned, louder and more insistent. It moved around them, circling the camp, sometimes right behind them, other times far away. The tapping seemed to be coming from all directions at once, creating an oppressive atmosphere of dread.
Tom, determined to prove it was all in their heads, stood up and shouted into the darkness, "Show yourselves!"
The tapping stopped. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, from the shadows, a tall figure emerged. It was humanoid, but grotesquely elongated, with limbs that bent at unnatural angles. Its fingers ended in long, pointed nails that it tapped against its own chest, producing the haunting sound.
The friends were frozen in terror as the creature moved closer, its eyes glowing with a malevolent intelligence. It reached out one of its gnarled hands, tapping each of them on the shoulder as if marking them.
Suddenly, the campfire extinguished, plunging them into darkness. Panic set in as they fumbled for their flashlights, but when they turned them on, the creature had disappeared. The only sound was the relentless tapping, now echoing through the entire forest.
They ran blindly through the forest, branches clawing at their clothes and skin. The tapping followed them, relentless and unyielding, driving them deeper into the woods.
By dawn, only Emily made it out, collapsing at the edge of the forest where a rescue team found her. She babbled incoherently about the tapping, about how it had taken her friends.
Years later, Emily still wakes up screaming, haunted by the memory of that night. The legend of Blackwood Forest grew, another tale of disappearances added to its dark history. The forest remains, a place of rhythmic tapping and untold horrors, waiting for the next group of curious souls to venture into its depths.

Moments later, a voice crackled over the train's intercom, announcing, "Arriving at year 1604 Tokyo."
As the train announcement echoed through the car, Sparks’ optical sensors shifted into advanced detection mode. A thin, translucent visor slid over his eyes, emitting a faint hum as it activated the holographic spectrum analyzer. The air around them seemed to shimmer and warp, and a ghostly grid overlay appeared in Jack’s vision, scanning the surroundings with an eerie, futuristic precision.
Sparks detected a group of five figures moving stealthily through the train. Their forms were shrouded in a cloak of darkness, their outlines barely visible through the shifting shadows that enveloped them. Each figure wore a sleek, black jacket, the word “Corp” emblazoned in a ghostly glow on their backs. Their presence radiated an air of malevolence, and the very atmosphere seemed to grow colder as they approached.
The shadowy figures were an unsettling mix of mystery and menace. One figure flickered in and out of visibility, its form seemingly tethered to another plane of existence. Another emitted a low, continuous hum, the air around it is crackling with electrical energy. A third figure was cloaked in a dense, dark mist that seemed to swallow any light that touched it, rendering it a walking void. The fourth figure had an unsettling stillness, its form outlined in shadow but devoid of any discernible features. The fifth figure moved with a mechanical precision, its every step a calculated, almost robotic motion.
Jack felt a chill run down his spine, a knot of fear tightening in his stomach as he watched the ominous figures move with purpose towards their car. Their silent, coordinated approach was as unnerving as it was menacing, and Jack’s mind raced with questions and dread.
“Sparks, who are those guys?” Jack whispered, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of the train and the murmurs of its eclectic passengers.
Sparks’ visor retracted with a soft click, and he beeped urgently, his voice tinged with urgency and concern. “Looks like we’re in for an unplanned detour, Jack! Time to make like a leaf and get out of here!”
Jack frowned, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Detour? But we’re on a time-traveling train, Sparks. How can there be detours?”
Sparks’ circuits buzzed with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Trust me, Jack, this is no ordinary detour. Those guys are trouble, and we don’t want to stick around to find out what they’re planning. I’ve got a craving for some Keicho Koban gold coins, and they’re like candy for me!”
“My circuits are practically tingling with anticipation,” Sparks added, his voice taking on a wistful tone. “I can practically taste that sweet, sweet gold!”
Jack chuckled despite the tension, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “But you’re a robot, Sparks. Shouldn’t you be watching your curves?”
Sparks replied with mock indignation, his Holographic eyes flashing playfully. “Hey now, just because I’m wired for data doesn’t mean I can’t drool over shiny treasures! Besides, who needs curves when you’ve got gold coins? It’s all about that clinking and jingling, baby!”
Jack rolled his eyes, unable to stifle a grin. “Alright, Sparks, you win. Let’s go satisfy that craving of yours before you short-circuit from all the excitement!”
With a shared laugh, Jack and Sparks made their way towards the back of the train car, their movements a hurried blend of urgency and adventure. As they moved, the shadowy figures continued their silent, ominous approach, their presence casting a long, dark shadow over the train car.
They fumbled with the latch on the back of the train car, their fingers trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. Just as they managed to pry it open, a sudden jolt sent them tumbling out into the open air. Gravity grabbed hold of them, pulling them down faster than they could process.
As they plummeted through the sky, Sparks let out a mechanical chirp, “Well, Jack, looks like we’re taking the express route to ground level! Hold on tight and try not to scream like a teapot!”
Jack clung to Sparks tightly, his heart pounding in his chest as they navigated the treacherous descent. They narrowly avoided crashing into a medieval knight on horseback and dodged a futuristic hovercraft whizzing by, the chaotic scene adding to the adrenaline-fueled madness of their fall.
Jack’s eyes widened in alarm as he spotted a swarm of small AI bots in pursuit, their metallic wings buzzing furiously. Each bot had a unique design, resembling miniature dragons with glowing eyes and iridescent wings that shimmered in the sunlight. Their mechanical screeches pierced through the air as they closed in on Jack and Sparks, their intent clear and menacing.
With the AI bots hot on their heels, Jack and Sparks darted between skyscrapers and weaved through narrow alleyways, narrowly avoiding obstacles as they hurtled towards the ground. The wind whipped past them, a deafening roar that drowned out all other sounds.
Sparks beeped confidently, his circuits buzzing with excitement. “Just leave it to me, Jack! I’ve got a few tricks up my circuits...”
Suddenly, Jack’s eyes widened as Sparks’ chest opened, revealing a sophisticated array of futuristic gadgets. With a flick of his wrist, Sparks deployed a holographic decoy, a shimmering duplicate of themselves that veered off in another direction, drawing the attention of the pursuing AI bots.
Jack’s heart raced as he watched the decoy in action, the hologram flickering and shifting with an almost lifelike fluidity. The AI bots, momentarily fooled by the ruse, followed the decoy, their metallic wings buzzing with furious intensity.
Sparks turned to Jack with a triumphant grin. “That should keep them busy for a while! Now, let’s get out of here before they catch on.”
Jack nodded, his breath coming in short, adrenaline-fueled bursts. They continued their descent, the ground rushing up to meet them with terrifying speed. Just as it seemed they were about to crash, Sparks activated a gravity dampener, slowing their fall to a gentle glide.
As they touched down, Jack’s legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the ground, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief. Sparks hovered beside him, his Holographic eyes twinkling with amusement and pride.
“You know, Jack, it’s a good thing I don’t have to worry about losing consciousness. Infinite power cells, remember? I’d never hear the end of it from my fellow robots if I fainted like a human.”
Jack mustered a weak smile, trying to shake off the dizziness. “Lucky you, Sparks. Always one step ahead, huh?”
As Jack’s consciousness gradually returned, he found himself nestled within the confines of a traditional Japanese Machiya, characteristic of the bustling streets of old Edo. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of paper lanterns, casting gentle shadows on the tatami mat flooring below.
The interior of the Machiya exuded an aura of serene simplicity, with sliding shoji screens allowing shafts of sunlight to filter through, painting delicate patterns on the wooden floor. In the corner, a tokonoma adorned with seasonal flowers and a delicate scroll painting provided a touch of artistic elegance.
Through the open shoji screens, Jack caught glimpses of the lively neighborhood outside—the narrow alleys lined with Machiya, each bearing its own unique character. Vendors called out their wares, the aroma of freshly cooked street food drifting through the air and mingling with the sweet scent of cherry blossoms.
Despite the unfamiliar surroundings, there was a sense of tranquility within the Machiya, a feeling of being transported to a bygone era steeped in tradition and history. As Jack took in his surroundings, he marveled at the beauty and simplicity of life in this vibrant corner of old Edo, eager to uncover the secrets that lay beyond its paper walls.
Amidst the tranquil atmosphere, Jack noticed the presence of Tenshi, the family's majestic Black Kite, perched on a wooden stand in one corner. It was Tenshi who had alerted the family to Jack and Sparks' presence atop the cherry tree, which led to their rescue. Tenshi's sharp eyes fixated on Jack and Sparks, assessing their presence with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, reminiscent of the moment they were discovered by the bird perched atop the cherry tree.
Jack’s eyes widened with wonder as he looked at Tenshi. “Hey, Sparks, do you think he’s gonna tell on us?”
Sparks emitted a series of mechanical chirps, his Holographic eyes twinkling mischievously. “Well, Jack, he might be thinking we’re aliens from outer space trying to invade his kingdom!”
Jack giggled at the idea, his imagination running wild. “Maybe he’s the guardian of the treasure we’re looking for!”
Sparks let out a burst of mechanical laughter, his metallic voice filled with amusement. “Well, in that case, we better make friends with him quick! Who knows, maybe he’ll show us where the gold coins are hidden!”
Tenshi let out a low caw, as if in agreement, before spreading his wings and soaring gracefully across the room, adding a touch of majestic elegance to the scene. Jack watched in awe, his excitement bubbling over as he realized that their adventure in old Edo was only just beginning.
Jack turned to Sparks with a grin. “Well, Sparks, it looks like we’ve got ourselves a feathered sidekick!”
Sparks nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed, Jack! With Tenshi by our side, we’ll be unstoppable! Who knows, maybe he’ll even teach us a trick or two about flying!”
Jack’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Yeah!
And maybe we can teach him some robot dance moves!”
Sparks emitted a series of beeps, his Holographic eyes flashing with amusement. “Now that’s something I’d love to see! But for now, let’s focus on finding those gold coins! My circuits are practically drooling with excitement! Oooo yummy, yummy candy, here we come!”
Jack noticed some tea, a bowl of cherries, and a set of traditional Japanese clothing beside him. He shot a glance at Sparks, who was busy engaging with the Japanese family in their native tongue. Jack’s eyes widened in amusement as Sparks delivered a witty quip, “Sorry, Jack, but I’ll have to pass on the cherries. Fruit ninja-ing isn’t exactly in my repertoire. Can’t risk getting cherry juice on these sleek robot circuits, you know? I’ll stick to my usual data packets and quantum mechanics, thank you very much!”
Jack and Sparks exchanged a grin as they made friends with Tenshi, the Black Kite. The moment was brief and filled with a fleeting sense of calm before the storm that was about to break.
Suddenly, the tranquility shattered as the rhythmic thudding of approaching footsteps echoed through the Machiya. The wooden floor trembled under the force, the sound growing louder and more ominous with each passing second.
Jack's heart raced, and he looked to Sparks with a mixture of fear and determination. Sparks' advanced sensors flickered to life, projecting a holographic map of their surroundings. The red blips of hostile figures were moving steadily towards them, their intent unmistakable.
"We've got company, Jack. And they're not here for tea and cherry blossoms," Sparks said, his tone deadly serious.
The mother and child exchanged terrified glances, their eyes wide with fear. Sparks quickly switched to fluent Japanese, his voice urgent. "Hayaku, kakurete! Bushi ga chikazuiteimasu! (Quickly, hide! Samurai are approaching!)"
The mother nodded frantically and led them to a hidden latch beneath the tatami mat. The latch creaked open, revealing a dark, cramped space just big enough for them to squeeze into.
"Get in, Jack! And don’t make a sound!" Sparks urged, his holographic sensors scanning the area above for any sign of the approaching danger.
As they slipped into the narrow crawlspace, the heavy footsteps of the samurai grew louder, echoing like the march of death above them. Jack pressed himself against the cold ground, the scent of damp earth filling his nostrils as he tried to steady his breathing.
Above, the floorboards creaked and groaned under the weight of the intruders. Sparks dimmed his holographic display, casting faint, ghostly glows in the darkness. The sound of unsheathing swords sliced through the air, the metallic hiss sending chills down Jack's spine.
"Shush, Jack. Don’t say a word," Sparks whispered, his voice a low, almost inaudible hum.
The air was thick with tension, every creak of the floorboards making Jack's heart skip a beat. He could hear the rustle of the samurai’s clothing, the clinking of their armor as they moved methodically through the house, searching for any sign of life.
Suddenly, a loud crash reverberated from outside, followed by frantic shouts and the clash of metal on metal. The samurai hesitated, their attention diverted by the chaos erupting outside. The sound of swords clashing and desperate cries filled the air, creating a symphony of conflict that sent shivers down Jack’s spine.
Above them, the samurai exchanged hurried whispers, their voices tense and filled with urgency. The shadows shifted, and Jack could see the faint outline of a samurai’s hand reaching towards the latch. His breath caught in his throat as the latch began to creak open, the dim light casting eerie shadows on the ground below.
Just as the latch was about to lift, a blinding flash of light and a deafening explosion shook the ground. The house trembled, dust and debris falling from above as the world seemed to collapse around them. The noise was overwhelming, a cacophony of destruction that drowned out everything else.
Jack felt Sparks' hand grab his, pulling him through the narrow passage. They stumbled through the darkness, the ground shaking beneath their feet as the sound of the samurai’s footsteps grew fainter behind them. The air was thick with dust and the acrid smell of smoke, the world above them collapsing into chaos.
As they burst out of the tunnel into the open air, the cold night wind hit them like a shock, the taste of freedom mingling with the fear of the unknown. They had escaped, but the sense of danger loomed heavily over them, the thrill of their narrow escape still pounding in their ears.
Sparks' sensors scanned the surrounding forest, his voice tense. "We’re not safe yet, Jack. We need to keep moving."
Jack’s breath came in short, panicked bursts as he looked back towards the collapsed Machiya. The moonlight cast eerie shadows on the twisted remains of the house, the silhouette of the samurai still visible against the darkened sky. Their swords glinted ominously, a silent promise of the danger that still lay ahead.
Jack’s breath came in short, panicked bursts as he looked back towards the collapsed Machiya. The moonlight cast eerie shadows on the twisted remains of the house, the silhouette of the samurai still visible against the darkened sky. Their swords glinted ominously, a silent promise of the danger that still lay ahead.
The night was still and silent, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the wind. Jack's heart pounded in his chest as he and Sparks moved deeper into the shadows, the sense of danger growing with each step.
And then, just as they reached the edge of the forest, a new sound pierced the night air—a low, guttural growl that sent shivers down Jack's spine. He turned to Sparks, his eyes wide with fear.
"Sparks, what was that?" Jack whispered, his voice trembling.
Sparks' sensors beeped urgently as he scanned the darkness. "I'm not sure, Jack. But whatever it is, it's getting closer."
The growl grew louder, the sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the trees. Jack's heart raced as he and Sparks slipped deeper into the shadows, their breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
As the growl reached a fever pitch, the air around them shimmered, and the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. Jack's eyes widened in fear as a pair of glowing red eyes appeared in the darkness, followed by the outline of a massive, menacing figure.
And then, just as the figure stepped into the light, the world exploded in a blinding flash of light, and everything went dark.

Chapter 1: The Unfolding of Lost Whispers

In the vast, unfathomable expanse of the universe, where galaxies swirl in a delicate cosmic dance and stars glimmer like tiny beacons in the dark, the infinite complexities of the cosmos stretch beyond comprehension. Amid these wonders, on a small, blue planet orbiting a modest star, unfolds a story both small and significant. A tale of a young boy named Jack, whose world, though minute in the grand scheme of things, carries the weight of the universe in his tender heart.
As the focus narrows from the cosmos, past the swirling arms of the Milky Way, and through the atmospheric layers of Earth, it zooms in on a bustling city on the North American continent, a city of great winds and even greater ambitions. The streets hum with the upbeat rhythms of soul music, and advertisements for new episodes of “Happy Days” and “The Six Million Dollar Man” flicker from television screens in shop windows. The scent of hot dogs and fresh popcorn wafts from vendors stationed along the sidewalks, mixing with the brisk, cold air. Overhead, the roar of an elevated train briefly disrupts the calm, a reminder of the intricate network of steel that defines the city's skyline.
Snow blankets the ground, a pristine layer that muffles the usual city sounds and reflects the twinkling lights strung across the streets and buildings. The sidewalks are bustling with people bundled up in thick coats and scarves, their breath visible in the frosty air. A towering figure of a beloved fictional character, the "Man with a Yellow Hat," adorns the window of a famous department store on State Street, while the majestic lions in front of the Art Institute wear festive wreaths around their necks.
Zooming in further, the focus shifts to a neighborhood of classic brick houses and narrow alleyways, where homes stand adorned with glowing Christmas decorations. Each house boasts its own unique charm, with wreaths on doors and flickering lights outlining rooftops, casting a warm, inviting glow into the frigid night.
One house, in particular, stands out, its red-brick facade adorned with a simple string of colored lights that flicker cheerfully in the cold. The house exudes warmth, a sense of comfort amidst the snow-covered streets. The scene moves closer, peering through the frosted window of a small room where a young boy’s life unfolds.
Jack’s room is a vivid sanctuary, painted in shades of deep blue and adorned with stars and planets that glow softly in the dark. Model airplanes hang from the ceiling, suspended in mid-flight among a fleet of handmade paper rockets. His shelves are a testament to his love of science fiction, crammed with books like "The Adventures of Tintin" and "A Wrinkle in Time," alongside colorful action figures of astronauts and aliens.
Jack’s bed, a twin with a wooden frame, is covered with a blanket featuring a rocket ship blasting off into the cosmos, stars trailing behind it. At the foot of the bed sits his favorite plush toy, a well-worn astronaut bear, its once-bright suit now faded from countless adventures. The nightstand beside his bed holds a lava lamp that casts an eerie, mesmerizing glow across the room, next to a stack of comics and a small flashlight for late-night reading.
The floor is scattered with the remnants of recent play—an open box of Lincoln Logs, a sprawling collection of Hot Wheels cars, and a nearly completed jigsaw puzzle of the solar system. A colorful mobile of the planets hangs above his head, swaying gently, and his walls are adorned with posters of spaceships and far-off galaxies.
Despite the warmth and security of his room, Jack feels a weight in his chest as he is called to join the family at the dinner table. The dining room is a cozy haven, bathed in the warm glow of a chandelier. The table is adorned with a red and gold cloth, glistening under the light. A Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, its branches heavy with ornaments and lights that cast a festive glow across the room.
Grandma, her hair neatly curled and wearing a stylish plaid dress, sits at the head of the table, her eyes sparkling behind her cat-eye glasses. Grandpa, sporting a red sweater and a neatly combed mustache, carves the turkey with practiced ease, his face a picture of contentment. Both retired scientists, they bring a wealth of knowledge and curiosity into the home. Grandma, a former theoretical physicist specializing in string theory, and Grandpa, an astrophysicist, now use their pensions to support Jack and his mom.
Jack’s mom, in a floral dress that flares at the knees, passes around the mashed potatoes and green beans, her laughter bright and infectious. The conversation flows easily, a mixture of laughter and stories, seasoned with the distinctive Chicago accent that gives their words a familiar warmth.
Despite the house’s modest size, the family makes the most of their space. The table is snugly surrounded by chairs, each one occupied by a loved one, making the room feel full and alive. The smallness of the house only enhances the sense of togetherness, each person contributing to the warm, festive atmosphere.
Before dinner, they all bow their heads in prayer, a moment of quiet reflection and gratitude amidst the bustling celebration. The silence is broken only by the gentle flicker of candlelight and the soft hum of the old radio in the corner, playing a news bulletin about the latest political events—a hostage crisis, debates over energy policy, and the ongoing discussions about a potential peace treaty.
“Can we turn that off?” Grandpa asks, his voice cutting through the room. “I’ve heard enough about politics for one day.”
Mom reaches over and flicks the switch, silencing the news and returning the room to its warm, festive atmosphere.
Jack sits at the table, feeling small and out of place. He fidgets with his napkin, his mind wandering to far-off worlds and epic adventures. He thinks of Tintin, the brave boy reporter, and how he would face this dinner table with courage, even if he felt as nervous as Jack does now. His thoughts drift to the latest Tintin book he read, imagining himself alongside Tintin and his faithful dog, Snowy, exploring ancient ruins and uncovering hidden treasures. In his mind’s eye, the room fades away, replaced by the vast, alien landscapes of “A Wrinkle in Time,” where Jack, Tintin, and his imaginary astronaut sidekick, Astro, race through time and space, battling dark forces and saving the universe from impending doom.
“Jack, how did you like the play at the community center?” Grandma’s voice cuts through his daydreams.
He hesitates, thinking of what Tintin might say in a moment of uncertainty. “It was… an adventure, just like in my books,” he says, his voice a bit shaky but full of a quiet resolve. In his mind, he imagines Tintin nodding approvingly, while Astro gives him a thumbs-up from the cockpit of their spaceship.
“Good to hear,” Grandpa says with a smile. “You know, your mom and I used to watch plays there too, back when we were younger. But that was a long time ago.”
Jack forces a smile, his eyes drifting to the family photos that adorn the walls. One photo, in particular, captures his attention—a picture of his dad, Dan, holding him as a baby, their smiles frozen in time. The mention of his dad, however, seems to hang in the air, unacknowledged by everyone but him. It’s as if a shadow passes over the room, a ghost of a memory that everyone but Jack seems to have forgotten.
“How’s school, Jack?” Mom asks, her voice bright and cheerful. “Are you still working on that science project about the planets?”
Jack nods, a lump forming in his throat. “Yes, Mom. I finished it yesterday. I think Dad would have liked it.” He thinks of Astro, his ever-loyal sidekick, who would understand the importance of such a project, their spaceship hurtling through the vast unknown, mapping distant stars and planets.
Mom’s smile falters for a moment, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” she says, quickly moving the conversation forward. “Grandma made your favorite dessert tonight, apple pie. You’ll love it!”
Jack looks down at his plate, his small hands trembling slightly. It feels as if the memory of his dad has been wiped from everyone’s minds, leaving Jack to bear the weight of it alone. He thinks of Tintin again, how he would bravely face even the most difficult challenges. “Dad always liked apple pie,” Jack says quietly, hoping to keep his father’s memory alive, even in this small way. A deep ache settles in his chest, a hollow feeling that no amount of food or laughter seems able to fill.
“Do you remember when Dan used to carve the turkey?” Grandma says suddenly, her eyes lighting up. “He had such a steady hand.”
Grandpa nods, though there’s a distant look in his eyes. “You know, it’s strange,” he says slowly, as if searching his memory. “Sometimes, I can’t quite recall what he was like. It’s almost like those memories are slipping away.”
Mom shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “I know what you mean. It’s so odd, isn’t it? I barely remember his laugh, or the way he used to smile. It’s like the memories of him are fading, almost as if they’re being erased.”
Jack feels a surge of frustration and sadness. How could they forget? How could they talk about his dad as if he were a shadow, a fleeting whisper in their minds? “But Dad loved Christmas,” Jack says, his voice trembling
“He always made it so special.” A tear slips down his cheek, and he quickly wipes it away, hoping no one notices.
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Mom says softly. “It’s not that we want to forget. It’s just… it’s been so hard, and sometimes it feels like the memories are slipping away.”
Jack looks around the table, frustrated and sad that they all seem to want to forget, to move on without acknowledging the loss that still haunts him. It’s as if he’s the only one holding onto the precious fragments of his dad, the only one who remembers the way he used to carve the turkey, the way he would laugh and make everyone feel warm and loved. His heart feels heavy, weighed down by the loneliness of remembering when no one else seems to.
Sensing Jack's distress, Grandpa tries to change the topic, leaning in with a familiar, enthusiastic glint in his eye. “Jack, you remember our last talk about black holes? Did you know that they can warp time itself? Imagine traveling through one and ending up in a different part of the universe!”
Jack’s eyes light up slightly at this, his mind instantly transported to the fantastical worlds of his books. “Really, Grandpa? Just like in ‘A Wrinkle in Time’?” he asks, his voice filled with awe.
“Yes, indeed,” Grandpa replies, his tone rich with the joy of sharing knowledge. “Just like in your book. The real universe is full of such mysteries.”
“And Grandma,” Jack turns to her, a spark of curiosity reignited, “tell me more about those… what did you call them… strings?”
“String theory,” Grandma smiles, glad to see Jack’s interest. “Imagine everything in the universe, from the tiniest particle to the largest galaxy, is made up of tiny, vibrating strings. It’s like a cosmic symphony, each string playing its own note.”
Jack nods, fascinated. For a moment, the room seems brighter, the weight of his grief lifting slightly as he immerses himself in the wonders of the universe. “I want to be an astronaut one day,” he says quietly, his gaze distant as if looking at stars only he can see. “Just like Astro.”
“I’m sure you will, Jack,” Grandma says, her voice gentle. “You’ve got the curiosity and the spirit for it.”
But as the conversation turns back to more mundane matters, the reality of his father’s absence presses down on him again, and he feels the tears welling up, hot and insistent. “I’m sorry,” Jack whispers, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. He pushes his chair back and stands, his legs unsteady.
Mom looks up, her eyes filled with concern. “Jack, are you okay?”
Jack shakes his head, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, his voice breaking. He turns and runs from the room, his footsteps echoing through the house, the weight of his sorrow too much to bear. In his mind, he’s running through a portal into another dimension, where Tintin and Astro are waiting to embark on another great adventure, away from the pain and confusion of the present.
“Jack!” Mom calls after him, but he’s already gone, disappearing up the stairs to his room, leaving the warmth and light of the dinner behind.
The room falls silent, the joyful atmosphere shattered. Grandma and Grandpa exchange worried glances, and Mom sighs, her heart aching for her little boy. She rises and follows Jack, leaving the festive scene behind, the weight of his sadness casting a long shadow over the night.
In the quiet dining room, the clinking of silverware is the only sound as the family continues their meal, their hearts heavy with the burden of loss and the hope of healing. The story of Jack, though small in the grand scheme of the universe, is one of love, loss, and the enduring strength of family.
The next morning, a brilliant winter sun shone through Jack’s bedroom window, casting a golden glow across the room and highlighting the remnants of yesterday’s snowfall. The rays bounced off the shimmering strands of tinsel draped over the Christmas tree and reflected in the polished surface of his mother’s pearl necklace, each bead gleaming like a drop of dew caught in the first light of dawn. The air was filled with the mingling scents of pine and cinnamon, a fragrant symphony that spoke of warmth and family.
Jack’s mother, Shelly, stood beside the tree, her figure framed by the light streaming through the window. She wore a cozy, cream-colored sweater adorned with delicate snowflake patterns, her soft blue jeans hugging her figure in a comfortable embrace. Around her neck hung the pearl necklace, a gift from years gone by, each bead a memory strung together in an unbroken line.
Jack's eyes wandered to the necklace, and he was momentarily lost in a memory. It was summer in Chicago, and the world was alive with color and warmth. They were in the backyard, celebrating his mother's 36th birthday. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, a soft breeze rustling the leaves of the old oak tree that stood sentinel at the edge of the yard.
His father, Dan, had looked so proud that day. He stood under the canopy, a wide grin on his face as he handed Shelly a small, velvet box. His eyes sparkled with mischief and love. "Happy Birthday, my love," he had said, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand promises. Shelly had opened the box to find the pearl necklace, its lustrous orbs glowing in the sunlight. She had gasped in delight, tears springing to her eyes as she threw her arms around Dan’s neck, their laughter mingling with the cheerful chatter of Grandma and Grandpa who watched with smiles of approval.
The memory faded, and Jack was jolted back to the present by the sound of his mother’s voice. "Jack, are you okay?" she asked, her tone gentle yet tinged with concern. Her hand rested on his shoulder, a soft weight that grounded him in the moment. "It's time you have this. It was from your dad. I don’t remember the details, but I think you should have it."
She handed him a box, its shiny red paper reflecting the light in a kaleidoscope of colors. Jack’s fingers trembled as he accepted the gift, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He tore away the wrapping, each rip of the paper revealing glimpses of the treasure within. Inside, lying in perfect repose, was a sleek robot. Its surface gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, and its design was a labyrinth of intricate details that spoke of far-off lands and ancient wisdom. This was Sparks.
Sparks was a marvel of robotics, a fusion of sleek modernity and charming retro aesthetics. His body was predominantly white, adorned with accents of vibrant blues and yellows. His exterior was polished to a gleaming finish, reflecting light in a way that made him look almost ethereal, as if he had stepped straight out of a sci-fi dream.
Sparks stood about two feet tall, his frame compact yet robust. His head was large compared to his body, featuring a smooth, domed surface with rounded edges that gave him a friendly and approachable demeanor. His eyes were large, glowing orbs of blue that emitted a soft, inviting light. They were set within a black visor-like faceplate, giving him an expression that could shift from curious to serious with a simple change in illumination.
His torso was a blend of sleek armor plating and intricate circuitry, with small compartments and panels that hinted at the advanced technology contained within. He had a chest plate with a glowing emblem that pulsed with a rhythmic light, possibly indicating his energy levels or some other mysterious function.
Sparks' arms were articulated with multiple joints, allowing for a wide range of movement. They ended in hands that could grasp, manipulate, and interact with the environment in a surprisingly delicate manner. Each hand had a set of fingers that were both functional and expressive, capable of performing intricate tasks or conveying emotions through subtle gestures.
His legs were sturdy yet agile, designed for both stability and speed. They were segmented with flexible joints that allowed him to move with a surprising grace, whether he was navigating through a busy marketplace or sprinting across open terrain. His feet were broad and equipped with a set of small, glowing pads that provided traction and stability, lighting up with each step he took.
On his back, Sparks had a small compartment where he could store essential tools and gadgets. It was a testament to his role as both a helper and an adventurer, always prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead. His overall appearance was an endearing blend of the futuristic and the familiar, evoking a sense of nostalgia while also hinting at the incredible capabilities that lay beneath his shiny exterior.
"Wow, Mom! This is amazing!" Jack's voice echoed with awe, his eyes wide and sparkling with the pure wonder of discovery.
His mother knelt beside him, her presence a comforting cocoon of warmth and familiarity in the midst of the unknown. "There are some instructions here," she said, her fingers brushing lightly over a small booklet nestled in the box. "Let's see how this little guy works."
But as they began to decipher the cryptic symbols and arcane phrases, the phone rang, shattering the moment with its insistent clamour. Jack’s mom sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of worlds. She rose reluctantly, her hand lingering on Jack’s shoulder. "Hold on, Jack. I'll be right back. Keep looking at those instructions, okay?"
As her footsteps faded into the distance, Jack's gaze fell upon the booklet. The margins were filled with strange markings, symbols that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. They were familiar, whispers from the past, from the secret games and hidden worlds he had once shared with his father. Little keys, phrases, and symbols that only he would understand.
"Yeah, this is Shelly speaking" his mom’s voice drifted back to him, carrying the cadence of a bygone era, a hint of Windy City charm that was as comforting as it was enigmatic.
Jack's heart raced as he pieced together the clues. Memories of adventures with his dad surged forward, a mosaic of secret messages and hidden quests. With a mix of excitement and trepidation, he followed the trail of hints, pressing buttons and speaking phrases that held the magic of their shared past.
Suddenly, Sparks sprang to life, his eyes blazing with a luminous glow. Jack's breath hitched, a shiver of anticipation and wonder running down his spine. The robot projected a hologram into the air, and there, bathed in an ethereal light, was his dad. His expression was urgent, his message cloaked in the mystery of a thousand secrets, played backwards to heighten the enigma.
"Come find me, Jack," the hologram intoned, the words echoing in the silence, wrapping around Jack like a spectral embrace.
Jack’s heart pounded in his chest, a wild symphony of fear and excitement. His dad was out there, somewhere, and now he had Sparks, his guide and companion on a journey that promised to be as perilous as it was extraordinary.
"We have 30 minutes! I hope you can run!" Sparks chirped, his voice crackling with urgency.
Jack's eyes widened in confusion. "What? Why?"
"We've got to catch a train, or else we’ll have to wait 10 human years to catch the next one!" Sparks' tone was serious, but a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes.
Sparks' Holographic eyes twinkled mischievously as he added, "You want to find your dad, right? Well, strap on your superhero cape and get ready to explore, my trusty sidekick! We're about to dive into an adventure so epic, even the masked vigilantes would be impressed!"
With a resolute nod, Jack sprang into action, his mind racing with the urgency of the task ahead. He packed his backpack with essentials, each item a link to his life and the journey that lay before him. Scribbling a hasty note to his mom, he slid it under her bedroom door, the words a promise and a farewell: "Be right back, Mom! Going to find Dad! Love, Jack."
Without a backward glance, Jack climbed out of the window, Sparks at his side, the cool night air rushing past them as they raced into the unknown. The town, aglow with festive lights and the scent of pine and cinnamon, seemed to watch them with silent approval. In the distance, his mom's voice called out, a worried echo that faded into the night: "Jack! Where did you go?!"
But Jack didn't stop. His path was clear, his resolve unshakable. With Sparks guiding him, he plunged into the heart of the mystery, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
The town square was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds, a carnival of holiday cheer. Market stalls overflowed with trinkets and treats, their bright colors a stark contrast to the white of the snow. Street performers spun and twirled, their laughter mingling with the strains of music that filled the air. Jack's heart beat a wild rhythm as he and Sparks weaved through the crowd, their destination a beacon on the horizon.
They arrived at the train station just as the locomotive began to pull away, its wheels churning through the snow, smoke billowing from its chimney like a dragon’s breath. With a burst of desperate energy, they leaped onto the train, their fingers grasping the cold metal of the railing as they hoisted themselves aboard.
Panting and exhilarated, Jack collapsed onto the floor of the train car, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the thrill of the chase. Sparks whirred beside him, his eyes reflecting the excitement and the promise of adventure that lay ahead.
But their triumph was short-lived. The train hurtled through the night, its path veering towards a cliff's edge buried beneath the snow. Jack and Sparks screamed, their voices lost in the wind, convinced they were speeding towards their doom.
Sparks, ever the optimist, quipped, "Well, that was quite the downhill ride, Jack! Remind me to avoid ski trips with you in the future."
Jack, despite the terror of the moment, managed a laugh. "You mean 'Ahhhhhhhhh,' that screaming? You mean it's not scary to you?"
Sparks responded with a mechanical laugh. "Oh, Jack, you know me. I'm as cool as a cucumber, even when we're hurtling towards a snowy abyss. But hey, I figured I'd join in on the fun, keep the vibe light!"
Jack grinned, grateful for Sparks' humor in the face of danger.
Then, just as they braced for impact, the world shimmered and faded, the train dissolving into a spray of sparkling particles. They were enveloped in a vortex of light and sound, a tunnel through time and space that carried them towards the unknown. As they clung to each other, Jack and Sparks exchanged a bewildered glance, their hearts pounding with the thrill and fear of the journey. They had no idea what awaited them, but they knew it would be an adventure unlike any they had ever known.
The train car they found themselves in was a bustling, fantastical wonderland, packed to the brim with passengers of every imaginable kind. Humanoid androids with bodies of polished chrome sat beside towering aliens with scales that shimmered like the night sky. Mysterious witches in flowing robes murmured incantations, their eyes flickering with hidden fires. Men in black suits, their faces obscured by shadows and wide-brimmed hats, exchanged glances and adjusted devices that blinked with foreboding red lights. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices and the hum of a hundred foreign tongues, each whispering a story of its own.
As Jack looked around, he noticed floppy disk flies buzzing around the train's cabinets, their wings whirring with a mechanical hum. He leaned over to Sparks and whispered, "Hey, do you see those floppy disk flies? What are they doing here?"
Sparks, with a hint of amusement, responded, "Ah, those ancient relics. They must have hitched a ride from a bygone era. Maybe they're here to remind us of the good old days when saving data meant something more tangible than cloud storage!"
The train conductor, a blob-like alien wearing an AI helmet and a uniform that sparkled with intricate designs, loomed over them. "Where is your pass?" it asked, its voice a bubbling gurgle that sent shivers down Jack's spine.
Jack stammered, "I… I don’t have one."
A tiny hovering bot emerged from the conductor's body, emitting a red beam that scanned them both before declaring, "Clear."
Looking around for a place to sit, Jack saw that the train was far from ordinary. It was a vast, cavernous space, far larger than it appeared from the outside. Though the train’s exterior was a sleek, steam-punk marvel of brass and rivets, the interior seemed to defy the laws of physics, expanding into a seemingly infinite space to accommodate its extraordinary occupants.
The environment inside was a chaotic symphony of sights and sounds. Enormous trees grew straight out of the floor, their branches stretching high above into a canopy that rustled with the movement of fantastical creatures. Small, winged beings darted among the leaves, their tiny, luminescent bodies flickering like fireflies. Down below, creatures resembling miniature dragons scampered around the tree trunks, nibbling at the bark and chirping excitedly. In one corner, waterfalls cascaded into lakes teeming with fantastical creatures like hydras and leviathans, their scales glistening under the shimmering lights. The sound of rushing water mixed with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant roar of a hydra, creating a mesmerizing soundscape.
Jack marveled at the sprawling environments within the train. There were sections with lush, sprawling forests where magical creatures roamed freely among the trees, their soft footfalls and the chirping of unseen birds creating a serene, natural ambiance. Next to that, vast deserts stretched out, their golden sands shimmering under an artificial sun, the air heavy with the scent of warm earth and dry winds whispering through the dunes. Beyond that, snow-capped mountains rose majestically, their peaks disappearing into the clouds, the crisp, cold air tinged with the sharp scent of pine and the distant calls of snow griffins echoing through the valleys. There were even dark caves, their interiors glowing with the light of bioluminescent fungi, the air cool and damp, and the sound of dripping water mixing with the eerie whispers of cave-dwelling creatures.
In another corner, a colony of giant spiders had spun intricate webs among the trees, their small, red eyes glinting ominously as they scuttled about. The largest spider, its body the size of a small car, had a single, enormous red eye that seemed to follow Jack as he moved. He shuddered at the sight but couldn't help but be fascinated by the eerie beauty of their silken webs glistening like diamonds in the dim light.
In the center of the car, a towering tree grew, its trunk massive and gnarled with age. From its branches hung delicate lanterns that glowed with a soft, warm light, illuminating the faces of the creatures gathered below. Jack noticed a group of elfin children playing a game near the base of the tree, their laughter ringing like silver bells in the air.
To the left, a bustling marketplace had been set up, with vendors selling everything from magical trinkets to interstellar snacks. The air was filled with the rich aromas of exotic spices and freshly cooked delicacies. Jack could hear the cheerful chatter of traders haggling over prices and the clinking of gold coins as customers made their purchases.
Overhead, the ceiling arched high into a dome, shimmering with a kaleidoscope of colors that danced and changed with the shifting light. Platforms suspended in mid-air held small gardens, each one a miniature ecosystem teeming with life. Plants of every conceivable shape and color twisted and spiraled, their tendrils reaching out to the passengers who passed by.
Further down, there were lakes where fantastical creatures like hydras and leviathans swam, their scales reflecting the shimmering light. The lakes were surrounded by lush vegetation, and the air was filled with the sound of rushing water and the soft rustling of leaves. In the center of the lake, a group of merfolk played instruments, their haunting melodies adding a mystical ambiance to the surroundings.
Jack's eyes widened in alarm as he saw a cluster of giant fire-breathing dragons resting by a pool of molten lava, their scales shimmering like hot embers. Nearby, a group of electric dragons basked under a storm cloud that rumbled with flashes of lightning, their bodies crackling with energy. And in a shadowy corner, a pair of acid dragons slumbered in a pit of bubbling green ooze, their scales dripping with a corrosive substance that hissed as it touched the ground.
Suddenly, Jack's attention was drawn to a flock of hideous, scary-looking flying creatures that seemed to combine the worst features of bats and reptiles. Their leathery wings beat the air with an eerie rustle, and their eyes glowed a malevolent red as they circled overhead. Jack’s heart pounded in his chest, a surge of fear gripping him. "Sparks, what are those?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Sparks, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, replied, "Those, my dear Jack, are tooth fairies."
Jack's eyes widened in disbelief. "Tooth fairies? But they look so hideous and scary!"
Sparks chuckled. "Yes, well, that's because human teeth are a crucial part of their diet. They've developed quite a taste for them over the centuries. Don’t worry, though. They’re just here for the scenery."
Jack noticed the tooth fairies eyeing him hungrily, their sharp teeth glinting ominously. They began to circle closer, their eyes locked onto Jack as if he were a delicious meal. Just as they started to make a move towards him, the train's intercom crackled to life. "Attention, passengers: Please remember that any form of attack or hostility towards fellow passengers will result in immediate disintegration. Thank you for your cooperation."
The tooth fairies hesitated, their eyes darting nervously. Jack watched in horror as they decided to test the rule, lunging towards him with a predatory gleam in their eyes. But before they could get close, a bright light enveloped them, and they disintegrated into a shower of sparkling dust.
Sparks grinned. "Well, looks like they bit off more than they could chew! Who knew being a tooth fairy could be so… disintegrating?"
Jack couldn't help but laugh at Sparks' joke, the tension easing as he realized they were safe.
As the train sped through a section that appeared to have no ceiling, Jack looked up and saw a breathtaking sight. The sky above was a vibrant blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds. Flying overhead were magnificent phoenixes with fiery wings, their radiant plumes casting a warm glow. A few dragons soared among them, their scales glinting in the sunlight. Jack could see witches riding on broomsticks, cackling with glee as they zoomed through the air.
The train itself seemed to stretch infinitely into the distance, its vast interior filled with creatures of every imaginable kind. Towering kaiju-like beings stood next to mobile suit robots that gleamed with polished metal, their movements surprisingly graceful for their immense size. Despite their differences, all the passengers coexisted harmoniously, each waiting patiently for their stop.
In one corner, Jack spotted a group of talking unicorns with shimmering coats, their horns spiraled with an otherworldly light. They chatted animatedly with a pair of centaurs, their voices a melodic harmony that added to the surreal atmosphere. Nearby, futuristic vehicles like flying cars and hovercrafts were parked in designated areas, their sleek designs a stark contrast to the more traditional creatures around them.
Jack's eyes widened in awe as he spotted a goat king, adorned with a golden crown, sitting majestically on a throne carried by a troop of goat soldiers. The goat king's regal demeanor was matched by the imposing presence of his soldiers, each one equipped with a gleaming spear and clad in ornate armor. They stood proudly beside him, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a watchful gaze.
All around, the air was filled with the mingling scents of exotic flowers, freshly baked pastries, and the faint, tangy aroma of ozone from the electric dragons. The sounds of laughter, chatter, and the occasional roar of a dragon or the hum of a futuristic vehicle created a symphony of life that filled the train with a sense of wonder and excitement.
Jack exchanged a puzzled look with Sparks, his mind racing with questions as the train sped through the vortex of time.
Sparks, sensing Jack's anxiety, began to sing, "You and I must make a pact. We must bring salvation back. Where there is love, I'll be there." Jack joined in, their voices a harmonious echo that seemed to soothe the tension in the air.
A moment later, a creature that seemed a blend of wolf and elephant, clad in a uniform as elaborate as the conductor's, approached them. "Do you want any refreshments? I am running a sale here, kid."
Jack declined, and Sparks added with a cheeky grin, "Yeah, we're watching our calorie intake. Got to maintain these sleek robot curves!"
As Jack stared out the window, watching the swirling vortex, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the life he was leaving behind. Memories of winters past filled his mind: the crisp air, the laughter of friends, the twinkling lights that adorned his home. He whispered softly, "Goodbye, home."
Just then, he noticed a figure in a black hat watching them from a few seats away. Jack's curiosity piqued, he leaned over to Sparks and whispered, "Hey, do you see that furry guy with the black hat staring at us?"
Sparks, with mock seriousness, replied, "Hmm, that's strange. I'm not in the market for romantic partners at the moment. Maybe I should let him know gently before he starts knitting us matching sweaters!" Jack burst out laughing, the tension easing as they journeyed deeper into the unknown.
Jack's curiosity piqued, and he looked at Sparks, wondering about the train's destination. Sparks, sensing Jack's question, smiled and said, "Want to know where we're headed?"
Jack nodded eagerly. Sparks' chest plate began to shift and morph, the smooth metal rippling like water. It transformed into a futuristic display, the intricate circuitry and panels aligning to form a high-resolution screen. The display lit up with a detailed map, showcasing their current location in a swirling vortex of time and space. Pulsing lines and blinking icons showed the train's path, destination, and estimated arrival time.
Jack watched in awe as the map zoomed in, revealing their destination: Tokyo, year 1604. The screen showed the cityscape of ancient Tokyo, with winding streets, traditional wooden houses, and towering temples. The arrival time flickered on the screen, counting down the minutes and seconds until they reached their destination.
Sparks' voice, calm and reassuring, broke the silence. "Next stop: Year 1604, Tokyo. Arrival in approximately 10 minutes. Prepare for an extraordinary journey through time and history."
Jack's excitement surged as he stared at the display, his mind racing with thoughts of the adventures that awaited them. Sparks' chest continued to display the map, the detailed graphics and vibrant colors illuminating the path ahead, guiding them through the mysteries of time and space.

Hi everyone! Many of you have been asking about my upload schedule. Here's how it works:

• New Chapter Every Monday: Guaranteed!
• New Chapter Every Friday: Not guaranteed if I'm swamped with work or real life.

Thanks for your understanding and support!
*** “OH FUCK!” the breaching marshal yelped in a pitched voice as he was violently ripped into the building,
Mason’s rifle immediately started to bark out, sending round after round through the flimsy sheet metal wall in an effort to stop whatever had just assaulted their point man from following up. The cacophony of gunfire filled the small space, and the muzzle flashes illuminated both the tight alleyway and the office space inside.
D and the other marshal recoiled away from the gunfire instinctively before their own weapons after they found the sight of a multitude of faces staring at them flash from Mason’s weapon. Adding to the din, the two found their footing, fired where the giant had been, and at any sign of life within the building itself. Bullets ripped through the walls' sheet metal and the cubical dividers' cloth.
Amidst the chaos, the poor soul who had been yanked inside was scrambling on the ground in a desperate attempt to get outside as his voice reached a high-pitched screech of panic. "Jesus fucking Christ!" he yelled while kicking towards the exit, but he kept slipping on the broken glass and shattered wood.
Inside the building, the sound of crashing and banging echoed over the gunfire. It was clear that the giant, or whatever it was, was on the move, trying to put distance between itself and whatever the hell had just attacked him as a hail of bullets sailed overhead.
Even as his ears started to ring, Mason did his best to track the sound of thudding footsteps through the wall as he swung his rifle in an attempt to track it. Each step was met with more approximate bullets while D focused on the doorway, firing away at any flicker of shadow or hint of movement inside.
“GRAB HIM!! FUCKIN’ PULL HIM IN!” D yelled as he kept firing into the doorway.
Meanwhile, the other marshal lunged forward, grabbed his downed and panicking partner's ballistic vest, and began forcibly pulling him through the opening as the downed man kicked and slipped on the wood and glass that littered the floor.
"I got him! I got him!" the man yelled as he heaved his colleague to safety.
Not a moment too soon, a long string of automatic fire and blinding muzzle flashes erupted from the darkness within the doorway. The deafening roar of gunfire filled the alley, and the others joined the man on the floor, diving for cover as bullets whizzed overhead.
"Mother fucker!" Mason screamed as he hit the ground, pressing his body against the cold, wet asphalt, and started rolling to avoid the fusillade. An entire slew of curses left everyone’s mouth as they scrambled to find cover, narrowly avoiding becoming Swiss cheese as the armed suspect swept the area with his weapon.
The sounds of gunfire and police sirens filled the air as Mason rolled on his back and pointed his weapon at the door as soon as one suspect entered the door frame firing his pistol. Without even thinking, Mason pulled back on his trigger, sending 5 rounds into what was obviously a gangbanger or mobster, causing them to flinch and clutch at their body before running back inside.
Mason would have kept shooting; however, after the fifth round, his rifle let out an audible click signifying it was out of ammunition. "Goddamn bitch!" He cursed at the gunmen before quickly transitioning to his sidearm.
Bringing his Glock 19 up, Mason began firing at any figures darting around inside while the others scrambled to their feet, reloading their weapons. However, just as they started shooting into the doorway, a strange and ominous silence descended upon the scene as movement and gunfire from inside the building ceased.
The men exchanged wary glances as they stood and started to back up with their weapons still trained on the doorway. The sudden quiet was unnerving, a stark contrast to the chaos that had erupted just moments before.
"You think we got ‘em…?" Mason asked, turning to D with a look that said he didn’t quite think they did.
With everyone back on their feet, the group started to back further away from the building and towards the intersecting alleyway, keeping their weapons pointed at the doorway. The light seemed to fill the interior, showing random office supplies scattered all over the floor and cubicles riddled with bullets.
The man who had been yanked inside gripped his weapon with shaking hands. "I don't think so..." he muttered unsteadily. "I swear I saw 5 or 6 of the fucks when they bastards pulled me in."
"Yeah, I don't like this. Let's back up a bit," D added before keying his mic loop. "Eagle 1, this is Unit 3. We have several suspects barricaded in an all-white office building north of the warehouse compound, facing Thorton Street. Requesting immediate backup, over." He barked into the radio as he kept his rifle and eyes laser-focused on the doorway.
The radio crackled to life, echoing back a response. "Unit 3, this is Eagle One. Roger that. We're guiding multiple units to your location now. Be advised we already have officers positioning themselves out front, so check your fire."
"Roger that, Eagle One. Establishing perimeter now." D acknowledged the transmission before turning to the other marshals. "Alright, let's post up on these corners and-”
Just as D finished his call for help, a figure stepped into the illuminated part of the doorway and extended their hand outwards, yelling an alien language. Suddenly several wisps of red streaks of light shot out from the darkness within. The beams snaked through the air erratically, their rounded tips glowing with an otherworldly light.
Before the men could react, the beams found their marks. Each one was struck with an incredible force, throwing them backward with heavy grunts of pain. The impact was like a sledgehammer hitting the air from their lungs and sending them sprawling to the ground.
Mason, however, managed to dive to the side at the last moment, narrowly avoiding a beam that gouged a huge chunk out of the brick wall beside him. Fueled by adrenaline, the others scrambled to the adjacent alley as they clutched at their ballistics vests, which had absorbed the brunt of the impact, as they sought cover.
More gunfire erupted from within the building as gangsters tried to capitalize on their newfound advantage. Barks of the suspects' firearms echoed throughout the confined space, and bullets pinged off the wall.
The incoming fire was inaccurate and amateur, but it was still enough to suppress the marshals as they did their best to recover from the magical onslaught. Mason, however, seemingly unscathed by the volley, quickly reloaded his rifle and pointed it at the door before squeezing the trigger. Without hesitation, the man unleashed a deafening volley into the doorway, silencing any gangsters feeling cheeky enough to run up on them.
“We got 3 marshals down!” Mason yelled into his mic loops as he kept his rifle trained on the door, trying to take a shot at any heads popping up with one hand. “I repeat, I have 3 marshals down by the white office building! I need bodies here, ASAP!”
A hand holding a pistol was stuck out behind the doorway and opened fire blindly, causing Mason to duck back into cover again. Rounds seemed to stick a lot closer to home than he was comfortable with, but he still had to keep their heads down. Sticking himself back out into harm's way, Mason opened fire again before turning his head towards his comrades to check if they were okay.
“H-hey, you guys alright!?” Mason said, twisting his head back and forth from the doorway and the other marshals.
More shots from Mason's rifle barked out as D and the others grunted and growled in pain while they pulled off their now destroyed plate carriers.
“Ya, I-” D tried to respond but ended up in a coughing fit. “Ya, I fuckin think so!” he replied as he struggled to get to his feet with one hand on his ribs, wincing in pain. “Plate caught it!”
D joined Mason in suppressing the doorway, firing his rifle while tactically minimizing his silhouette and exposing the least amount of his body as possible. Despite the pain in his ribs, he knew they had to keep the pressure on the suspects until backup arrived.
Still reeling from the impact of the red beams, the men that were hit writhed in pain as they pulled off their ballistic vests with grimaces on their faces. "Pretty sure my ribs are broken," one of them said through gritted teeth.
Mason looked over in worry. "Why the fuck are you pulling your armor off!?" he yelled, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"Whatever hit us shattered the plate! It's useless now, and the broken pieces are digging into our chests.” D responded with a face tight with pain.
Just as he said, more of those red beams shot out from the doorway, causing D and Mason to snap back into cover. However, the magic snaked around the corner. Luckily, the thing had the turning radius of a bus as it slammed into the brick walls, carving out vicious chunks.
The men all looked at each other uneasily, not enjoying their chances with literally magical homing projectiles. But their dashed hopes were soon reignited when they heard a rumbling sound echoing from behind them. They turned to see a Police SWAT team Rook Armored Bulldozer rolling towards them with its front shield facing the office building and a horde of New Orleans Police behind it.
“Oh nice, we’re not gonna die!” one of the marshals quipped with a relieved grin.
The Rook came to a stop just in front of where the marshals were taking shelter, shielding them and the combination of SWAT and regular police officers behind it. "NOPD, heard you boys could use some help!" one of the officers said as he maneuvered to one of the men who was painfully holding his ribs. "You said there was an officer down!? Come on, let's get you outta here!"
Still focused on the doorway, Mason turned to one of the SWAT officers who looked like they were in charge and yelled out, "Hey! Be careful! They got a magic user in there, and we don't know how strong yet!" He emphasized the danger, knowing full well that some magic users were strong enough to take a Bradley IFV or Abrams tank.
The SWAT officer paused, his expression growing serious beneath his tactical helmet. He had seen the aftermath of magic attacks before and knew that even their armored Rook could be vulnerable if the spell were powerful enough.
"Roger that," the officer acknowledged, his voice tight with tension. He reached for his radio. "Jake, push up a bit and get out of the Rook. They got a magic user!"
The officer in the Rook, Jake, responded immediately. "Copy that. Dismounting now." The Rook's hatch popped open, and Jake emerged, his weapon at the ready.
The SWAT officer turned back to Mason. "We got this, go get your guys to EMS!" He said, taking up Mason's old position at the corner of the alleyway to suppress the doorway.
Mason nodded to the SWAT, knowing they were better equipped and had far more bodies to handle entrenched suspects. Turning to his wounded comrades, he saw the marshals were already in the process of being evacuated by a swarm of New Orleans police officers.
"Easy, easy," One officer murmured as he slung D's arm over his shoulder, supporting his weight.
Taking up the rear, Mason kept watch for any nasty surprise while the group made their way down the alley. With gunfire ringing out behind them, they made their way into the massive opening where they first attempted their arrests and saw a swarm of police interceptors and Ambulances parked all over the place.
A voice crackled to life over the loudspeaker as they made their way to the awaiting medics. "This is the NOPD! We have you surrounded! Put down your weapons and come out with your hands up!"
“Man, this went to shit…” Mason grumbled as his weapon hung loosely at his side.
***
“So... what you’re telling me is you cannot contain these magical anomalies?” A frustrated and almost infuriated voice echoed in the somber and tense meeting room.
Government officials and Agency heads were gathered around a large, round table room was somber, the tension palpable as the officials gathered around the large, rectangular table of the Situation Room. The President of the United States sat there with this finger tapping on the table in a droning and rhythmic matter that seemingly intensified the tension in the room. Landing forward in his chair at the head of the table, the president’s gaze remained fixed on the Secretary of Homeland Security, who had just delivered the grim news.
"Mr. President," the DHS Secretary began, his voice steady despite the pressure he was feeling from the intense death glare. "I am…. I’m afraid to say Operation Arcane Shield is struggling.” He said, trying his best not to break out in a cold sweat.” The intrusion of magical entities into our cities and countryside has only escalated since the Ohio attack, but monsters like the Scroungers or Kobolds are starting to tunnel into our sewer and drainage systems.”
A growl left the president’s mouth as the pen gripped in his other hand snapped in half, but the Homeland Security Secretary wasn’t finished. There was one more grave piece of news that he knew would potentially put his career at risk, but it was his duty to deliver it. Far too much was on the line if this was swept under the rug just because he was afraid to lose his job.
“But, sir…” The DHS representative spoke tentatively. “It appears that… That the humanoid beings from the other world, especially their magic users, are no longer just trying to hide among the population. Our intelligence suggests that local gangs and organized crime syndicates, including cartels and mafia groups, have made contact with some of these entities. They're harboring them in exchange for knowledge and even employing them."
The room fell deathly silent as around the table, the faces of the other officials - the Attorney General, the Directors of the FBI, ATF, DEA, and even Toivonen - paled as the implications sank in. Everyone then looked to the President and saw an unreadable face as his finger stopped mid air just before another tap.
Instead, after digesting that bombshell, the President’s first came slamming down on the table in a bout of uncontrolled fury. “What the fuck does that mean, Jim!?” the President growled dangerously, "Are you telling me we got goddamn wizards in bed with fucking dope slingers and mafia dons!?"
The DHS Secretary, Jim Falk, visibly flinched at the President's outburst. He could feel the weight of every gaze in the room upon him. Swallowing hard, he nodded and continued with a strained voice. "I'm afraid so, Mr. President. The incident in New Orleans was not an isolated case. We're seeing similar patterns in New York, Chicago, Miami, and even Houston... It's playing out all over the Eastern Seaboard and starting to creep into the West Coast."
Jim paused, his hands gripping the table's edge tightly, afraid to continue. The Attorney General, Ashleigh Carter, spoke up to get some heat off the poor man. “Mr. President, if I may.” The Attorney general raised her hand. “What's even more concerning is the number of casualties our local and federal law enforcement are sustaining in our efforts to contain this new threat. These magic-wielding criminals are proving to be far more dangerous than we anticipated."
“She’s right.” The FBI Director added with a sigh. “The reports coming across my desk... they're unlike anything I've seen in my career. Strange beams of light homed in and skewered people who weren’t wearing ballistic plates, others torn apart by unseen forces, and some were even turned against each other through some form of mind manipulation in a fit of unhinged barbarism. The situation is becoming untenable, especially when there are still tens of thousands of these individuals out there still at large."
The President's brow furrowed deeply as he processed this information. He turned to the CIA's subject matter expert on the arcane they have been heavily relying upon, Toivonen. "Miss Toivonen, what countermeasures do we have? How do we protect our people against these… things?"
Toivonen, who had been quietly observing the meeting, leaned back in her chair. "Mr. President, according to the high-level mage we've recruited, the most effective way to combat a magic user is with another magic user or, ideally, a warrior capable of manipulating mana."
She paused, her expression troubled. "The problem is, the number of trustworthy mages and warriors capable of such are... limited. We're talking single digits. And they're all being utilized in developing countermeasures and detection methods for Operation Basilisk."
The President's face darkened at the reply and brought his hands to his head to massage his temples. "So, what you're telling me," the President said, his voice low and controlled, "is that we're outgunned and outmanned on our own turf?"
A deafening silence followed the President's question that caused the officials to exchange uneasy glances. Each one of them felt the gravity of the situation weigh them down, except Toivonen. After that encounter with that god-forsaken goddess, each and every high-level meeting was getting easier and easier for her.
"Well, Mr. President," Toivonen began confidently but still cautiously. “We do have... an extreme option. If you're open to it."
The President's ears perked up, his gaze intensifying as he focused on Toivonen. "I'm listening," he said, leaning forward in his chair.
"It's still in the infancy of its planning phase, Mr. President. It's nowhere near ready, but... we believe it could work." The FBI Director spoke up, his tone measured.
Raising his hand, the President motioned for them to continue. “Go on.”
With an audible grunt, The Homeland Security Secretary, Jim Falks, cleared his throat, causing the room to turn their attention to him as he sucked in a deep breath. "Mr. President, our intelligence suggests that a good number of the magical beings at large are mercenaries. They're in it for the money and have no real ties or allegiances to anyone."
Jim paused, gathering his thoughts as he tried to find the right words to explain the complex nature of these mercenaries. "They're what we call 'freelancers,' Mr. President. They operate in a manner similar to how sellswords or mercenaries function but with a twist.”
He leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him. "You see, these freelancers, they're not tied to any one organization or cause. They're independent contractors, offering their services to the highest bidder. Most of them, if not all of them, work through middlemen, handlers, and intelligence brokers of sorts, whom they call ‘taskers.' These taskers, they're the ones who have the connections to secure jobs, whether they're legitimate, sanctioned work or more... underground, criminal activities."
The President listened intently, his brow furrowed as he processed this new information. "So, these taskers, they're essentially brokers for magical mercenaries?"
"Exactly, Mr. President.” Jim nodded before as his eyes swept the room. “They have their ears to the ground, they know who's hiring and for what. And these freelancers, they're not picky. As long as the pay is good, they'll take on just about any job, no questions asked."
A sigh left the President’s mouth as his patience wore thin. "Enough beating around the bush. What exactly are you all proposing?" He snarled while lifting up his hand to indicate for the group of representatives to stop delaying.
"We've been working on something similar in nature to Operation Paperclip." Toivonen suddenly spoke up with a devious smile on her face.
***
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I flew in, got railed, flew out. It was a good weekend.
This was my first time at Spoony's house and my first time having sex with him. I have to admit his house is a lot cleaner than I thought it was and his dick was a lot bigger. Cleaner and bigger being relative when I had such low expectations.
So, we take off our clothes, we're buck naked, and he's railing me doggy style. All of a sudden Miles walks in. He stops in the doorway and looks a little confused. In short time a smile washes over his face as he looks back and forth between me and Spoony. Spoony is pounding me non-stop and seems unphased by Miles' presence.
Miles is ecstatic! He's on cloud 9! He comes over and starts shaking my hand. One hand on my shoulder, one hand eagerly shaking. He starts saying, "You're a GOOD man, you're a Good, Good, man! Keep going!"
Miles then opens his arms and looks at Spoons. Like an Italian who hasn't seen his brother for years he gives an exuberant, "Huh! This guy! This guy right here!" Like he's thrilled by what he's seeing. He gives Spoony a big hug. All the while Spoony continues to pelvic thrust. He smiles at Spoony with a twinkle in his eye and gives him a high five and yells, "Yeah! Alright! This is great!" A little like he was Jamie Oliver.
Miles walks towards his easy chair shaking his head, pointing back at us with a big smile on his face. He settles in and pulls out his phone. Periodically he would peak around his phone screen and yell encouraging comments, "Rail him good Spoon!", "Rail him so hard you'll send him to the emergency room!", "They'll have to send you to the ICU to reconstruct your prostate, Bruce!"
He even walked over a few times to shake my hand again and give Spoons a hug and kiss on the cheek. One time tears started filling his eyes.

Someone suggested, using extra strength diaper rash cream on the lesions that randomly pop up on my face, & it works wonders! Whatever is under my skin was trying to come out through my ears! Not like my eardrum, but the cartilage. I just so happened to screenshot a piece of a video. My lil fcker has been acting up for the last 16 hours or so.. I’ve been up all night bc I just HAD to pull out some clothes & wash them in case I miraculously got the energy or confidence to go anywhere. The hairs & the other shit has been everywhere! I don’t have fibers that come out of my skin, I have like a burrowing thing & a wiggly thing. We usually get along just fine but they showed out last night, probably bc I disturbed their nest of bagged clothes in my closet. My 4 kittens & their mama were climbing the walls! They were chasing this shit everywhere. My mama kitty stares at whatever it is & her eyes get red and glazed over. That’s pretty scary to say the least. Anyways, I’m about to wash off my diaper rash cream mask, & rinse this ACV out of my hair, & do my best to get my day started! I hope y’all have a good one.

Hi everyone! I'm querying agents for my first novel, and I just discovered this forum which looks like it's a great help. Went through some revisions of my letter on my own time but I'm curious as to what others think. Any feedback is helpful, thank you!
Dear Agent,
Because of your representation of [X], you might be interested in my novel, FUTURETRIP. Dean Cohen is an aspiring writer who, with the help of enigmatic lifestyle guru Amanda Bliss, manifests himself into a better reality in which he is successful and fit — but are his methods real, or is it just a delusion?
Insecure and unmedicated, we meet Dean working at a shoddy bookstore while dreaming of authorhood, heeding to his cold but beautiful girlfriend, Meg, questioning how they’re still together. Meg devours Amanda Bliss’ buzzy self-help guide, The Perfect Future, and Dean comes around to the New Age promise of manifesting anything you wish for when he falls under Amanda’s spell at a book signing.
While practicing Amanda’s radical techniques, Dean’s life becomes uncharacteristically perfect. Personally invited to her visualization workshops, he meets Jenny and Raf, a sexually adventurous couple whose relationship he’d like his own to mirror, and gets recruited as a writer for Wyng, a trendy culture magazine where his every thought is cherished. He alienates friends and family with his commitment to Amanda, who has already produced results: he gets promoted, exercises frequently, and finally makes progress on his long-imagined novel. As Amanda’s practices become more invasive and bizarre, the promise of enlightenment inches closer. But reality and fiction blur when Meg finds a draft of his book, which suspiciously resembles the story he’s ‘manifested’ for himself so far. Confronted by his two diverging realities, Dean must determine if this is the true life he’s built, or if his stint at positive thinking has gone too far.
FUTURETRIP is a 95,000 word novel with miniseries adaptation potential that combines the cutting social satire of Lexi Freiman’s THE BOOK OF AYN, the in-person and online malaise of Alexandra Tanner’s WORRY, and cosmic horror of Beth Morgan’s A TOUCH OF JEN.
[bio]
Thank you so much for your time and consideration. I look forward to hearing from you.
First 300ish words:
On my stomach, head between Meg’s legs, the song playing becomes familiar. It begins to irk me, so I pop up. She opens her eyes.
“What?”
“Sorry, just… What’s this song again?”
“Seriously?”
“You’re closest to the phone,” I say. “Can you please just check?”
Meg rolls her eyes and stretches over to the nightstand, she taps her phone. “Love Will Never Do (Without You),” she reports, “by Janet Jackson.”
I’m immediately relieved. “Perfect, thanks.”
She asks why I wanted to know. I’m still hovering over her crotch.
“I feel like it’d be good, I dunno, for a party. For a book launch.” I shrug.
Her eyes are narrow. “For the book you haven’t written?”
My face flushes at the shame of being honest. “Whatever, forget it.” I dive down again but she pushes my head away gently.
“No, I’m not into it anymore,” she says, pulling her underwear up and getting under the covers. “Maybe later.”
I’m almost off the bed. “Sorry,” I say, even though I’m glad I asked.
Later, we’re laying together half-clothed. A vanilla candle shines dimly surrounded by empty beer cans on my desk. My window’s open, bringing in a light breeze but mostly allowing distant sirens and honks to come through. We’re under a big green blanket I got from a thrift store.
Meg is reading a thick paperback book with a teal cover while I’m on my phone, making a playlist. I add the Janet Jackson song, then press a button so that my music app will automatically add more tracks based on their year, beats per minute, and popularity. Once it’s finished loading, I play it out loud so I can decide which to keep. It takes a while, and my phone is greasy from sweat.
I title it 'Novel Launch Party' and toss my phone to Meg while I go to the bathroom.

Here's the final chapter of Episode I. Episode II begins soon.
[INDEX]
Loretta was a hot mess, even after Silas had managed to talk her down from her panic attack when Horse refused to budge. She flinched whenever I tried to speak with her, so I gave it up after a few monosyllabic replies and let her remain seated on Horse.
There was nothing left of the shack, but [Local Map] revealed a small chest buried under the charred and still smoking timbers. I placed it in my inventory and considered starting a new life as a criminal mastermind. This really was a broken feature, allowing me to locate and place nearly anything in a 10 yard radius into my Inventory. Just for fun I tried to use it on Silas’ gun, but the System rejected my request — somehow it knows the difference between owned and unowned property? Or maybe I need to touch it for some reason? I placed it in inventory earlier, but I did have his permission to do so. A quick attempt to place his saddlebags into Inventory proved that there was some chicanery going on with ownership of items.
After a few moments of hesitation, I popped the chest out of Inventory. My battery was down to 22% from all the [Disassembly] and Inventory work I’d been doing and I was feeling it, sort of punch-drunk like I’d stayed up all night. I needed a good night’s sleep, or at least a nap.
“What’s this?” Silas asked when the chest appeared under my palm.
“Psychic thing. It was hidden under the floorboards of the shack,” I said, eyeballing the heavy lock securing it. The top was scorched and smouldering, but otherwise the chest looked sturdy enough that an axe would be required to bust it open. I was considering pulling out my trenching tool to see if it would be of any use against the thick wood when Silas stepped up and shot the lock with a Kinetic bolt.
Inside was a heavy bag of valuables Bill had collected from his victims, rings and necklaces, broaches, pocket watches, and other gold and silver jewellery. Three more pouches were filled with brass, copper, and gold respectively. A couple of books. Some maps. And wrapped in a soft cloth was a deep violet mana stone the size of a cabbage.
Silas gave a low whistle when he spotted it.
“The bastard wasn’t lying when he said he had a dragon core. Take a good look at that Vinnie, you’ll probably never see another one in this lifetime,” He said.
“What’s it worth?” I asked.
“To Patriarch Jurgens? A few thousand gold. To me and you? A death sentence,” he replied. “Bill was out of his mind, you can’t sell something like that, not even on the blackmarket.”
“Then what did he plan on doing with it?”
Silas shrugged. “No telling. It’s a hot potato. Maybe sell it to another Patriarch on the sly.”
I wrapped the oversized manastone back in the cloth and handed it to Silas. “You can carry that,” I said, pushing the chest back into Inventory. “We’ll sort the rest later.”
Silas took the stone and stashed it in the saddlebag of his new horse and quickly mounted. “Let’s go. Those guards aren’t going to wait forever.”
I had horse round up the animals scattered by our gunfight so we had one for each of us and two spares. Riding single file with Loretta sandwiched between us, we exited the bandit camp and followed my [MAP] back to the bridge where we had left the guards. The sentries that we had passed previously were gone, presumably hightailing it to the Southlands border.
“My Lady Loretta!” The guard captain called out as soon as we appeared, causing Loretta to flinch so hard I thought she’d fall out of the saddle.
Two maids rushed from the carriage that had followed us from the Patriarch’s manor and Loretta practically flew off Horse and into their arms.
Once they had returned to the carriage, the Captain turned to us. “Where’s Bill and his gang?”
“In a bag,” Silas said with a tight smile. “We’ll be wanting to see the Patriarch, we have some important news for him.”
The captain nodded and organised his men, getting us back on the road in just a few minutes. I rode in silence next to Silas for a while, trying not to doze off. The job was nearly done, all that remained was to turn everything in, make a report, and collect our bounty.
“Where you going after this?” I asked Silas.
“Back to Comstock to see my man and my son,” he said.
“Why don’t we hit the red light district and see what’s on offer?” I suggested.
He let out a low chuckle. “I’m afraid I might bring home a wife if I do that,” he said, pulling a card from his vest and handing it to me. “Maybe next time.”
Silas McClain Bounty Hunter POB: CC-1124
I suppose I should get some business cards too.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, even as the sun settled behind the mountains and darkness covered the land. We rode through the dark, arriving in Silvertown late in the evening. Loretta and her two maids scurried inside as soon as the carriage stopped. Silas removed the dragon core, still wrapped in the cloth, from his saddlebags and approached the butler and explained that we had important information for Patriarch Jurgens. We waited in the grand foyer while the stiff-backed man went to inform his employer.
“If you’re expecting a reward, see the sheriff,” the Patriarch said, his imposing presence appearing from a gilded door on the right. Silas immediately dropped to a knee and I bowed my head as his [Intimidation] washed over us.
“We have the source of all this trouble,” Silas said, offering the wrapped core to the Patriarch while explaining the circumstances of how we acquired it.
“Who else knows about this?” He demanded.
“Everyone in this room,” Silas answered. “The miner that discovered it and I assume the bandits who escaped also know.”
Mathies sighed heavily, wrapping the dragon core back in the cloth. “You could have brought this to Comstock, given it to your patriarch and he would have enfeoffed you. My city is not nearly as wealthy as your Comstock, but I’ll see that your honesty is rewarded.”
Silas bowed his head again. “Thank you, patriarch.”
We left the manor twenty-five gold richer, each.
“Put this in perspective for me,” Said to Silas reached the inn and began divvying up everything. “How rich are we?”
“The average family lives off of 450 silver per year, or less. 25 gold is 3750 silver, so…” He paused a minute, trying to do the math in his head. [Calc] pulled up the answer for me almost instantly.
“Over 8 years of wages for the average family,” I said. “But what’s that mean? Can I buy a house? Land?”
“The city patriarch owns all land in the city and fifteen miles from its walls. You could get a 99 year lease on a piece of land and build a house, sure. I don’t know, Vinnie” he said, frustration creeping into his voice. “It’s a lot. Charlie handles all our money. He’s good at it.”
I dropped the subject. In addition to the 25 gold Patriarch Mathies had rewarded us, we had collected three gold from the sour-mouthed sheriff for turning in the bounties, or 225 silver each. After we split the contents of the pouches in the chest, I was 9 gold, 136 silver, 121 copper, and 218 brass richer. All in total, I had nearly 45 gold in my inventory.
The conversion wasn’t anywhere close to accurate, but if I thought of it as 15 years of wages for an average family on Earth, that would be around $900,000 — definitely not enough to retire on and an amount that could be carelessly spent in just a few years. I needed to invest it.
I fell into a dreamless sleep shortly after Silas left my room, regretting that it was too late to have a bath.
I woke the next morning, completely refreshed with a full battery, and ate two breakfasts before Silas made an appearance.
We sold most of the gold and silver jewellery at the local pawn shop for another 2 gold, including the teeth I’d collected. The pawn broker didn’t even bat an eye, he just pulled out an enchanted bowl, placed the teeth in it and rapped the side with the back of his knife. When it had finished ringing, there was a small nugget of gold sitting atop a pile of white enamel dust, which he discarded after weighing the gold.
Six pistols of various makes were also sold, along with their holsters, netting us another 350 silver. Bill had a Mongoose like mine, so I kept it and strapped it on my left hip.
*Ding!*
-=-=-
🔫🔫 Two guns are better than one! Get [Dual Wielding] and shoot twice as much!
💰 Just 2500 credits!
⏳ Purchase in the next 60 seconds and get [Ambidextrous] as a bonus!
📦 Includes:

• [Dual Wielding]
• [Ambidextrous]

-=-=-
Fine. Whatever. Let’s do it.
I hit the [Y] and waited for the Download and Install to finish while staring at the wall like a drooling idiot. When it was finished I had new knowledge shoved in my head and honestly, my head was starting to feel a bit full. I had a brain full of false memories that made it seem like I had spent years learning things and I was beginning to catch on that this process had altered me as a person. Changed who I was.
And the fact that I wasn’t freaking out about it made it more concerning. I should be hella upset that I had suffered ego death and my personality was being re-written like some sort of file on a computer.
Or a cellphone.
I need to spend a few days getting my mental poop in a group and I made a promise that I would do just that once I was back in Wendleton.
Shaking my head to clear it, I returned my attention to the present, embarrassed to see Silas looking at me with concern.
“Psychic thing?” He asked.
“Just got [Dual wielding] and [Ambidextrous],” I said. “Sorry I spaced out.”
He nodded the said. “Good choices. They’ll serve you well. Make certain to train them up.”
“I will,” I assured him.
“You ready to go?” He asked.
“One final stop,” I replied, “There’s a temple of Delas here and I want to stop by for a moment.”
“Getting religious?” The older man chuckled.
I shook my head and said, “I want to hand over the engraved jewellery to the priest. I have a feeling that the god of vagabonds can find their owners.”
Twenty minutes later we were back on the road to Wendleton, having left the last of the loot with the priest. Hopefully each piece would find its way back to the owner, or perhaps a close relative.
The remainder of the trip was uneventful, filled with small talk along with the occasional conversation and news-sharing when we passed a slow moving caravan. I’m certain I came across as an uneducated kid with all the questions I asked, but Silas was willing to humour me so I didn’t hold back.
Yes, there were disease and parasites and all sorts of other nasty infectious things that could kill you if left untreated. Just go visit your local priest and they would take care of it.
Yes, even the social diseases. Even pregnancies if your god decided that it was in the best interest of you and the future child.
Dungeons and Towers were a thing, living entities resembling an ant nest or termite mound with a core hidden away from surface threats. Nearly all of them provided metallurgic wealth in the form of ores, alloys, and gemstones, and these resource mines were highly prized and heavily guarded by whichever city was lucky enough to have one in its territory. Wild dungeons, those outside the city limits, were usually owned by whichever guild or wealthy noble claimed it first and could fight off the competition.
Banks were a thing. Most were local, limited to serving their city, but regional and even international banks did exist. Conveniences that I was accustomed to, like credit and debit cards, didn’t exist. Cheques were a thing though, and were like magic scrolls. Just write the amount, sign the document, and activate it with a drop of living blood. Poof! Money appears, teleported from your account.
My questions continued until we reached the city walls and I’m certain Silas was more than happy to part ways with me by that point. We shook hands and I headed back to the Green Pig, my head full of knowledge and my Inventory full of cash.
Tomorrow, I would look into investing my new wealth.
HumanOS Version: 3.0 Model: Vincent J. Carter Serial: 987-65-4329 Battery: 1560 @ 100% Memory: 322/1024 Provider: Delas Network: (PSY) Credits: 410 Expansion: small white mana stone (unprimed) Apps: Labourer 1.1, Bounty Hunter 2.1, Psychic Skills 2.1 Utilities: Quickdraw 2.1, Aimed Shot 2.1, Haymaker 1.0, Overcharge 1.0. Bounty Sense 1.0, Dual Wielding 1.0, Ambidextrous 1.0, Traps and Gadgets 1.0, Intimidation 1.0, Tracking 2.0, Survival 1.0, Marksmanship 5.0, Close Combat 5.0, Stealth 1.0, Negotiation 1.0, Second Wind 1.0, Aura Manipulation 2.2, Auric Sight 1.3, Dreamworld 1.2, Mind Over Matter 2.0, Regeneration 2.0, Disassembly 2.1, Blessings: Boots of Delas 1.0, Items: S&H Mongoose, Marlin Model 1876, Tengaoi peace necklace Coin: 39 gold, 607 silver, 166 copper, 310 brass
[INDEX]

I had segments of dreams today, just like yesterday. I went to bed later, and ended up having nightmares for hours. In the first dream, I saw a leprechaun. I had been pissed off because of something Jackson Rathbone said, getting into an argument with my mom. She was being a control freak/apathetic, which she does in my dreams alot. One of the leprechaun movies was on, I noticed when I tilt my head. I had looked for my twilight jasper doll, commenting about his blue satin blouse shirt. A leprechaun that looked different from the warwick davis version, came into the room. He was in the corner of the ceiling, intimidating everyone in the room. He was slightly harassing, not as intimidating as he thought. I walked up to him and turned the gun he had on himself, pressing it into his face probably. I took the gun, which was silver. I shot at him, running out of ammo. He remarked about the lack of ammo. I shot at every inch of him, which wasn't enough. I ran out with a group of people, escaping a monarch lady who was the mother of the girls I was with They were baroque style girls. We went into a building, seeing disney painted walls. One was peter pan, the other of tinkerbell. I was almost lucid, seeing drop dead fred by the glass paneled windows in the lobby we ran into, the outside sky was nighttime.
I may of woke up after this dream. I forgot everything after waking, after the next segments. I was dissatisfied with the fact that I was having nightmares all afternoon and night. In all those hours of sleeping. I saw a neighborhood from a past dream, successfully being able to find it again. It has a strip of vintage houses, leading into a more modern '70s two story house subrub. There's a cottage house that I tried to take pictures of at night in front of, along with a colonial home at the end of the street. I looked towards at, remembering pictures I took of it in a past dream I had. It was vivid, like a real memory; alternate universe. All the windows in the vintage houses were lit up, at night. Like how the pastel cottage was in that first dream. That was 12 months ago or so. I was lucid, of course. In the next segment, I was in a car with my mom and sister. They were garbage picking. A street of victorian houses got my full attention. The view was from the front of them, from the street; car. We stopped infront of a brown gothic house, as I dug into the piles of fabric inbetween the trash bags. I tugged at it. I pulled out a green iridescent babydoll dress. Fit for a baby size. It had roses on the torso seam, metallic tulle. 'Whimsigoth' as genz likes to put it. Late '80s and late '90s era. I had dresses like that when I was a baby. There was something else that I grabbed that I completely forgot when I woke up, because my cat was crying. And the kitten who's in heat, constantly. There was also a hr puffinstuff thing, sealed and in a mat material. Authentically '70s. I ended up waking up, forgetting all the stuff that came before the stuff I typed out, every detail, of imagery. There's lots of stuff that I didn't get to memorize. I fell back asleep, forgetting everything now. Next, I was in my living room. My Dad was holding me. I was able to recall seeing chicken skin, and commenting about how it was shaped like the baby chickens, that it once was.
In the main dream that followed afterwards, It was another nightmare. I was in a dirty and evil mansion. There was streaks of piss covering the corner of a room I was in, farther in the back. I climbed up, onto a closet space, liminal corner. The shit was there for a while, likely. The piss stained the leg of the satin clothes I was wearing. Floral satin sleepwear pants; just like the '90s slip dress I own. Teal, pink, floral with white satin background color. A old classmate from my IEP program was there, embracing and hugging me. I took off my shirt, exposing my bare nipples. His dad has been harassing my mom with facebook friend requests and comments, so that's ironic. They knew eachother in highschool, in the '70s. My dad's friend from highschool in the '90s was next door yesterday, and she showed up in the dream. I ran off through the building, running into a witch-like lady, monarch. I was outside the building, climbing again onto a industrial walkway/belt, that went into a farmhouse building. It must've been the backside of the house. Or even a greenhouse/patio room. A blonde mother and daughter got stabbed to death, which I knew was going to happen. I ran into them at the top of a dark staircase. I saw it happen before. A low staircase, that looked like it went into a basement. It was probably just pitch black dark, and regular mansion stairs. Upstairs, I saw Jimmy Kimmel. I had just seen drew barrymore in bed with adam sandler and some other guy, in bed. I don't know if it was Jimmy Fallon or not. They were bundled in bed together cartoonishly. I went towards the door in the room where Jimmy was, with other rich people. He mentioned to them that he met keanu reeves, and that he was a 'upstanding guy' There were two pathways out of the room, in a line with people jimmy has slept with; and the other. I stood alongside the lines of people, barefoot. I raised my foot, making him nervous and definitely aroused. 'I'm ignoring you..' He said to me after I asked him something. I walked down the stairs, getting taken in by some princesses. I sat on the floor in front of the couch they were on, befriended by them. They admired me. I probably ran off with them behind me, realizing that I was in a bestbuy, it looked like. Stickers of the matrix were on the back of two crt monitors. I ran ahead, leading into a liminal space.
It was a room with video games inside. Don't know if there was standees, but there was movie posters on the outside. It seemed like a theater I was going to walk into. I sat with my classmate from earlier, having a memory pass through my mind. I was with my group of IEP classmates, all guys. I remembered being with them in this afterschool group before. I saw the game we were about to play was from 2015. 'It would've been nice if we would've been assigned to play this game, when it came out.' I said. 'Nine years ago.'
I knew how many years ago that was; I was lucid. There were a couple controllers next to us, most xbox 360. We were up against 4 people. We were timed, as a teacher gave us a countdown. My controller, along with the few others in front of us, were turned off. I focused on the screen, wondering if I was struggling to play or if my controller wasn't on. I pressed down on the xbox button, turning it on. My classmate might've handed me the blue playstation controller. It was a bluish gray color, early '90s color shade. The playstation icons were on the screen, at the end of the walkways; trails. It had them in a specific order, of the moves/skills I should've been tapping. To my other side, a black kid sat down. He was quiet, nice. I liked his energy. I told him, 'I'm not normally a bad gamer.' I glanced over at my classmate, adding to the conversation, 'I wasn't raised on nintendo.' I looked over to the other side of the room, seeing a superkmart. The perfect distraction for me. 'I grew up with call of duty. My dad raised me on, rpg--frames, Fps, I mean.' Two guys with buzzcuts sat by us, one was staring at me. He was very emaciated. His eyes were big and sparkly. Blue eyed. A blonde nerdy guy was next to my classmate, looking at me with amusement. He was very skinny too, skull narrow and thin. He had glasses on. I placed my barefeet on his lap. I noticed I was barefoot again, then getting distracted because francis from malcolm in the middle walked past us all. 'He's my brother, fun fact.' I had said, to which he corrected me and said something in response. Francis actually reminds me of my older brother, malcolm does too. My brother used to look like him when he was younger. The room had gotten bigger. In the superkmart, there was displays hanging from the ceiling, one had a milkcarton picture on it. The displays moved, drifted like an air conditioner was on. I woke up not long into this, leaving the dreamworld. I had a melody similar to the bono track from johnny mnemonic play through my head when I woke up.

Orginal Story by C.K. Walker
Written By Ayden M.N. and u/Memiiselgey23
SPOILERS FOR BORRASCA V
(Constructive Criticism is welcome and encouraged)
...
One hundred thirty two. That is the amount of people that were rescued that day on the mountain. I would be lying if I said it didn’t take me by surprise to hear the news about the stables let alone the number of people that were there. It makes me think back to when I was a kid and all the strange and tragic things that happened to me then. It's funny how time changes, how everything wilts away. How life goes on without a wait or stop. Sometimes you'll forget what lurked underneath, and when you do remember, it's already too late. I couldn't say my childhood wasn't bad but it's basically not as cheery as most kids have it.
My father was definitely sucked into his job as a lawyer, while my mom was bustling her back at an old diner, drinking her sorrows away. None had any time to spare for me, as a child. It made me a pretty independent child, and when my mother decided to give birth to Lucy, I became that mother figure that I never had. Aside from Lucy, I had nobody else to talk to. School in Drisking was okay, but I would be lying if I said it was a good experience. I was pretty much alone from childhood to teens. Most kids already had their own friends, their designated trio. I would always refer to it that way. It was by sheer luck that I really did find a friend. Someone who I could share my emo playlist alongside with and in return she taught me a lot about DnD.
However like if the world knew I was meant to be alone, she was taken away from me. I never knew what happened to her, but I beat myself about. If only I didn't moved from Drisking, maybe I could had found her sooner.
The one thing that has remained consistent is my ritualistic daily breakfasts at the diner. From the start of my freshmen year, I never missed a day of going to the diner. It was my way of getting my head together and preparing for the day ahead. Even into my adulthood, I never stopped going. Imagine my surprise when I saw a face that I’d honestly thought I would never see again. It didn’t click at first. I just felt like I knew it.
She was about 5’8” with asymmetrical short dirty blond hair. Her clothes were mainly black and I can just see something protruding from her around her waist. She had a plain black shirt tucked into her pants with a well-kept belt. She wore a Nobel 6 zip up jacket -Clearly a Halo fan- and a small d20 pin on it. Where this seems normal to the untrained eye, I can’t help but feel deja vu from looking at this woman. She seemed like this distant dream that is so fuzzy that it’s just familiar enough to almost recognize.
She walked into the diner and was given a table next to mine. I racked my brain trying to figure out who this was. I examined every part of her, again, and again, and again, just trying to make sense of who was sitting right there in front of me. She was so close, yet she was so distant from me.
“May I help you?” She sighs, putting her coffee down on the table in a way that I can only describe as a contained irritation. “Or are you just going to stare at me like I’m an exhibit?”
I wasn’t even conscious I was staring. She turns to me and it all clicks together. The d20, the jacket, and, my new discovery, looking at her closer and can see her, the freckle on her upper lip.
“Kat? Is that really you?” Stunned, I blurted out. I was adamant that that familiar woman had to be her. No one had that exact same freckle like her.
“That depends on who is asking.” She rolls her eyes taking another sip of her coffee.
She doesn’t recognize me? It makes since she didn’t. It’s been so long. Looking down at my empty plate, as I really wanted her to recognize me. Should I introduce myself? I thought, maybe I'll make her remember me.
“So you don't know me? I can give a hint, I'm sure it might give you an idea on who I am.” I nervously laughed, as I dug into my black leather purse.
Quickly, I pulled it out, plopping down a custom made d20 dice on the table. I remember painting my own dice black, since I was super obsessed with the color black as a teen.
“Wait,” Kat puts down her coffee again, this time with more of a clang. “What is that? Where did you get this?”
Placing the dice right next to my plate, I felt my throat lumping already.
“Remember on my 16th birthday, when it was only you and me. I remember we almost burned the house down because we had the dumb idea to bake a cake.”
“Pauly…?” A slow recognition comes across Kat’s face. Replaced soon by unadulterated joy. “Well, I’ll be damned!”
Tears started to well up my eyes, I was so ecstatic to finally see her eyes flashed with recognition. I slowly got up to my chair, every step I took felt like I was stepping in a pile of needles. Getting a great look on Kat, she looked different from the nerdy shy girl I knew. But, I didn’t care how different Kat looked, I was happy to see my old friend alive.
“I just don't know what to say. I thought I've lost you.” I whispered, my voice already trembling as I spoke.
“Oh,” Kat's voice cracks a bit too, pulling me into a hug. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Kat seemed to be holding back tears. Just being with her now, I couldn’t even wrap my head around it. It seems so surreal. Even when I hugged her, it felt like it was a fabricated dream. But it wasn't, this was all flesh and blood.
“Just…how are you…I'm so sorry that I never found you. Everyone, even the cops told me that you were long gone. I had hoped you'd come back. Just didn't know it would take this long.” Wiping my tears with my sleeve, I hugged even tighter. She was much taller than me, so I couldn't really comprehend it.
“Hey, hey.” Kat chuckles a bit. Still holding back tears, I could tell. “It’s okay. You…There was no way you could have known. I have a lot of explaining to do, I’m sure but let’s forget about that for now.”
“Yeah…I'm just so happy to see you again.” I sat across from Kat's seat, picking up a napkin to wipe the rest of my tears. It rubbed off some of my mascara, making me think it was a horrible idea to try out some make up today. “So, um…what have you been doing over these years? I see you got a gun holster over there?”
“Well, I…” Kat cut herself off. “I was a SWAT operative. It’s, uh, a long story. How about you?”
“SWAT? No wonder you look so tough and badass!” I then continued enthusiastically. “Well, I'm actually a nurse practitioner. I'm very specialized in prenatal care. I know it's funny because I really didn't like babies back then.”
“Oh? That’s…nice.” Kat’s voice shudders. “And I wouldn’t call myself a badass for being SWAT. It…makes you question a lot of things about yourself for sure. It’s all in the interest of others though.”
My smile slowly fell, as I was scared if I might've made her upset. “I see, I understand. We both are doing jobs that help people, and probably had to endure some bad cases once in a while.”
“Did…did you ever find Kincade?”
Kincade. I haven't heard of that name since after moving Drisking.
I took a deep breath, as I responded. “I did manage to find Kincade after your disappearance. They never told me what happened, and I lost contact ever since. Last time I checked, Kincade moved to California.”
“Oh, thank god.” Kat sighs out of relief, as she takes a seat back down. “Knowing that girl, she’s living it up in LA. Well, I was actually in New York all this time. I thought it would be a good place to settle down. For what it was worth, the NYPD was good to me.”
“Oh I can tell she is. I followed her Instagram, and she's always posting pictures of parties and such.” I tucked a strand of hair in the back of my ear, while I pulled out my phone to show Kat Kincade’s page. “Even if they don't want to talk to me, I'm just super glad they're okay.”
I sometimes wonder why Kincade hasn't had contact with me yet, but deep inside I felt like they were somewhat upset with me. The strange thing was that once Kincade showed up, my mother just randomly disappeared. My father had always told me that she's just had it with us, and left to do her own life. However I never believed that story. Sure my mom was a raging drunk chain-smoker, but she always loved Lucy and I. Her just leaving out of the blue isn't in character, and I just know that something wrong might have occurred.
Kat inspects the page. I can tell it struck something in her. I knew from this point she was holding back a bit with her emotions but for some reason, this broke her. Suddenly I saw my childhood best friend break into a waterfall of sadness. She started to sob. As if she had a dam behind her eyes and they just burst.
“Kat.. Oh shit, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” I rushed towards Kat’s side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
It broke me to see Kat this way, yet I couldn’t help but wonder what made her let out her tears. My eyes suddenly landed at one of Kat’s wrist, a light brown scar was marred on her skin. It was half covered by her sleeve, its appearance was more like a stab wound than a slash. I could tell Kat noticed me staring at it, as she quickly covered it up. The sky was now in a vibrant orange and magenta hue, while the bright sun started to slowly settle down.
Kat finally regained her composure after a few minutes of apologizing profusely.
“I know.” Kat weakly pushes out from her lips through her tears. “I know you see them. I know I have a lot of explaining to do. I got that…from a mission that I’m not sure if you’re ready to hear.”
Leaning against her shoulder, I looked up at Kat with an understanding expression. “I think I’m ready to hear about this. Over these years, I wanted to know what happened in Drisking. I don’t want to stay ignorant anymore.”
“Let’s…” Kat wipes her eyes, only for more tears to take the others place. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private.”
∆∆∆
“As you enter into the Church of the Overthrown Gods.” Kat dramatically pauses. “You feel as if multiple eyes are watching you. As you look closer to the rotting wood altar, you see a tiny eye just peeking out…and then another…and then another…and then another… as they rise up from the altar you see they are on tendeles attached to a large spherical mass. You see 10 tenderals rise all with snake-like eyes darting around the room before meeting yours. As the large mass comes into view you see one large eye on it staring at you and an unnerving smile as it laughs intimidatingly at you. As you realize what is staring back at you is…a beholder…and that’s where we will leave off tonight’s session!”
Several protests fill the room. It wasn’t out of character for Kat to leave off on a cliffhanger, but this is what we have been waiting for since the end of 2008. And even a year later, Kat always leaves the carrot dangling over our heads.
“Hey,” Kat shrugs “I gotta keep you hooked or else our three month streak of all of you attending won’t keep going.”
“Oh, fuck you, Kat!” Kami rolls her eyes lightheartedly “We come back every week regardless.”
“Yeah, but it's more fun torturing you.” Kat giggled while combing through her long hair with her fingers.
Shaking my head, I took a sip on my already luke-warm Snapple, “Typical Kat. Why do you always gotta tease us like that? I was literally witnessing my character finally healing from a poison arrow and just to end at that. I totally can't wait till the next!”
“Thank you,” Kat nods before getting up and starting to pack up and the group follows suit. “I cannot wait for next session. It’s a big battle so I recommend you all start doing some research on Beholders to be ready, because this monster is really tough. Remember, we are starting the next session at level 12, and I’ll see you all soon!”
After about 10 minutes, the rest of the group left except for me. I like staying after sessions with Kat. I don’t understand why the other two people in the group don’t stay. It’s not even 9pm by the time we finished and they are already out the door.
It’s sophomore skip day tomorrow and I sure as hell know everyone will be participating so what’s the rush? Well, everyone except for Kat. From all the time I’ve known Kat up until this point, she never skipped a day or cut any corners when it came to her education. It was admirable but also frustrating. I cannot tell you how many plans I had to cancel because she wanted to study. I never understood why she was so serious about it. It’s like her life depended on her making good grades and being a shining student. I have to admit, I am jealous of her dedication to it.
I would typically leave her to her own devices when it came to school but just by looking at her, she looked like she deserved a break. With the exams and the constant verbal battles between her mother and her father, I can tell just by looking at her, the pressure is on her. I could say the same for my home situation, but I'm already used to it, that it is practically normal for me. Kat, on the other hand, really deserved a break, just this one time.
While I was playing with one of the d20 dice, gathering up courage, I asked, “Hey Kat? Whatcha going do tomorrow?”
“Oh, um.” Kat says not looking up from her notebook, making some notes for the next session. “Just going to school, I should be able to go to take our usual walks tomorrow after.”
A smile crept on my lips, as I definitely predicted Kat's answers. Sure, I did hear that the Sheriff in town was going to give tickets to those that didn't go to school, but I didn't really care about that. I just wanted to have a chill day with my friends. After all, I busted my ass to at least have passable grades.
“Hmm. Hey Kat, why don't we…you know,” I nudged her with my elbow. “Skip school tomorrow?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Kat sighs.
“I know, I know. But I just feel like these days have been for us but we just have fun tomorrow.” I could tell that I was losing Kat already, her mind dead set on going to school. I tucked a strand on my blue hair behind my ear, as I followed Kat. “Kat, please. Sometimes I worry about you because you're working yourself out. Just this once, and I'll promise I'll try to raise my Geometry class to a B!”
“I suppose…” Kat thinks for a second. “It wouldn’t hurt to skip one day.”
“Hell yeah!” I tackled Kat, as I tried to spin her around in happiness. “I promise that you'll have the best day. That jackass Sheriff won't ruin our day. I'll make sure of it!”
“Alright! Alright!” Kat giggles “Fine. Just calm down.”
I feel a sense of relief coming from Kat like I somehow unlocked one shackle that she bore on her ankles. There’s still plenty, and this one is certainly not the heaviest but the littlest weight off of her is enough for her to appreciate.
I let her go as I dashed towards my Jack Skeleton backpack, fetching out my half torn notepad. “ I scribbled some of the plans I have for tomorrow. I was thinking we could dine on Prescott Artisan Sandwiches, and then maybe hike the trail over west of Crystal Lake. What do you think?”
“Yeah!” Kat exclaims. “I heard there’s going to be a few people there tomorrow. Probably could use the social interaction, or attempt to at least.”
“We'll have the lake to ourselves,” I chuckled, placing my notepad back to my back. I really did need a new notepad, however I remember my family was very tight on money at the time. “Oh I almost forgot that Kincade might be joining us too.”
“Sounds good to me.” Kat smiles. “Honestly, that girl needs to be a bit more interactive if you ask me.” Kat chuckles. “As if I’m one to talk.”
“That's why I invited her too. I feel like you girls could get along.” I then jokingly added, “Maybe you can indoctrinate her into playing DnD with us, eh?”
“I’m sure I can.” Kat giggles. “Alright, so are you staying the night tonight? I think I can take the car tomorrow so you can stay if you like.”
“I'll stay, but I should pick up Lucy. My mom said she left her by the Landys,” I rubbed my neck in frustration as I continued. “I hate how my mom just randomly abandons Lucy to strangers. Does she know there's creeps?”
My mother always had done this multiple times, even when I was Lucy's age. A seven year old like Lucy shouldn't be in conditions like this, and I knew damn well that my father won't be available till 7AM. I thought about maybe walking up to the Landys house, maybe it was like 3 blocks or so.
“I think I'll walk to get Lucy. You wouldn't mind my little sis joining in our sleepover, right?”
“I mean, I don't have a big problem with it. Honestly, prefer it to just be you and me but I won’t be kicking and screaming if she is here.”
“That's true,” I nervously laughed, “Either way, Lucy is pretty much a sweet kid, and she will probably be distracted playing with her ballet Barbie dolls.”
Peeping through the windows, the sky was pitch black, almost like a void swallowing the whole town. I took a deep breath, before heading out of the door. Before stepping a foot outside of the wooden porch, I called out. “I'll be back, Kat. If I don't come back, the Skinned Men might’ve caught me!”
“Oh, don’t say that!” Kat calls at me as I walk away. She didn’t seem offended more lighthearted but there was a little seriousness there.
Kat always believed in the supernatural. While all of us grew up and just accepted it was just an urban legend that wasn’t real, Kat believed it. Kat even dedicated an entire essay on the history of the Skinned Man, and where the legend originated from. Needless to say, there wasn’t much to go off of and because Kat is very committed to things, she decided to embellish the details a bit and even I knew that a lot of that stuff was all pulled out of thin air and had no actual weight to it. They were just urban legends that little kids would scare others with. Along those tales were the Triple Tree.
Everyone would carve their names in the Triple Tree, serving like a talisman to these Skinned Men. If you didn’t, then I guess you were fucked. I never really carved my name, for some damn reason, my dad never let me. The moon shined brightly, casting light to these liminal streets. I was already used to walking at night, but for some odd reason, something was off. Crossing the right side of the neighborhood, I caught some headlights shining through the bushes. It looked like it belonged to an old police cruiser, and that alone made me start running. I was not a fan of the officers here, plus I was definitely violating a curfew.
“C’mon, Pauly,” I uttered under my breath, jumping through some fences.
I landed on the backside of the Landy’s house, my knees landing on top of the pavement. Hissing in pain, I slowly wobbled towards the front side of the house. It was stupid of me to think that I would magically land on my feet, but then again I had the shitiest luck. Quickly, I knocked on the door three times, after the fourth knock, the white adorned door swung open. In front of me was a cinnamon brown haired 14 year old boy, who had that bored expression that every teenager had. I recognized that boy as Parker Landy, the youngest of the Landy family.
“Uh, can I help you?” Parker wrinkled his nose, while he adjusted his glasses.
I furrowed my brows, “I’m here for my sister. For Lucy.”
“Oh, okay. Um, I guess you can come in.”
Parker reluctantly ushered me inside, as I wasted no time to search for Lucy. There, located in the dinning, Lucy was drawing while Mrs. Landy was brushing her dark little locks of hair. She was wearing a baby pink ballet uniform, the one that my dad bought her for her birthday. Ecstatic, Lucy jumped up from the chair and darted to my direction. We bid farewell to Mrs. Landy, heading out into the night. However, I caught a glimpse of her face morphing into a sorrowful look. ‘She must have been worried for us,’ I thought, mainly because it was just two girls heading out, embracing the unforgiving night.
“Pauly, where’s mommy?” Lucy’s wide eyes looked at me, grabbing my hand ever so tightly.
I sighed, thinking how to word out an appropriate response, “She’s just working a lot in the diner. So we can afford your ballet classes,” I had lied, flashing an assurring smile. I didn’t want Lucy to know the truth, she was an innocent kid after all.
Crossing up that same street again, I could sense that we were almost close to safety. Or so I thought. A slow rumbling sound of an engine followed behind. It was pitch dark outside, so I couldn’t really tell what color the vehicle was, but I did recognize it. What my eyes could grapple from what little information it had at the time, it was just that damn old police cruiser. Just as I was about to run with Lucy, the dark tinted windows rolled down, revealing an old familiar face.
“Ah little Miss Rhoades. What brings you here past curfew, hmm?” Ex Sheriff Clery asked, while flashing a very wide smile. I remember him being the Sheriff since the 1950s, not before being replaced by Robocop Walker.
Lucy bounced up and down, as she exclaimed “Me and Pauly are going home! Mommy and Daddy are still at work!”
Clery’s gaze looked back at me, his grin growing ever so slightly larger. “Oh really? It’s quite dark out here, you girls might need a lift.”
“No thank-” “Yes please!” Lucy quickly cut me off as she threw the car door open.
She quickly slithered herself in the backseat, while I was too stunned to comprehend. It left me no choice but to take this impromptu ride. Trembling, I sat next to Lucy, shutting the car door behind me. A loud click followed, as both doors were locked.
The whole ride I was scared shitless. I didn’t know why, but I guess I scared myself alot reading Missing Persons cases. I mean, I just entered a car with a person I barely knew. Yes, I know he’s a cop and his entire job is to keep us safe, but I couldn’t help but feel this sense of unease creeping into my conscious mind. It might be from the hundreds of “Stranger Danger” PSAs I’ve been fed all my young life. Lucy probably noticed how tense I looked, latching herself onto my arm.
“It's okay Pauly, the Skinned Men won't catch us anymore. We're safe here!” Lucy nuzzled on my arm, clearly obvious about the situation.
Sheriff Clery let out a chuckle, adding on “Little Lucy's right. No need to worry about those monsters when you're the old sheriff, eh?”
I nervously laughed along, just wishing that we’ll be at our destination already. That just put me even more on edge. I decided to dare a glance at the interior back mirror and I saw a pair of eyes seemingly staring at me and my sister with a look that just sent a chill down my spine. I tried to rationalize that maybe I’m just imagining things but the way he was staring at us was undeniably unsettling.
It was not after a minute later we arrived. The whole minute felt like hours, rightfully so I bolted out of the cruiser with Lucy in my arms. Before reaching the front door, the older man called out, “Be careful next time. You won’t know what’s lurking around these parts.”
After that the police cruiser drove off into the dark void of the unknown. That sentence alone carried an unsettling meaning, yet I could never pinpoint why. Objectively, it was quite normal. It was just a man showing a kind gesture but my gut was screaming not to trust this person. I tried to just brush it off as a misunderstanding but it was so strange I couldn’t.
∆∆∆
“So,” Kat began. “The place still has Prescott’s name written all over the place even after everything that happened?”
“I believe so,” I took a deep breath before continuing, “I really hope it’ll be over now. Sometimes, I wished I could live on with life. Like nothing happened, you know?”
The melody of the forest sung around us as we took in the fresh day’s air and the warm embrace of the midsummer’s sun. We’ve walked through this forest hundreds of times before but it’s like discovering uncharted territories every time we step foot in it. It feels different now. It seems bleaker than it was when we were children. Maybe it’s just an optical illusion or that every memory of my childhood feels like a dream.
“God,” Kat scoffs. “I’d scrub that name off the earth if I could.”
“I have to admit, everytime I see that name, something bad always happens. It's almost as if it was cursed.” My gaze shifted back to the abundance of trees, each of them being so eerily identical. “Thomas Prescott really did sell his soul, and everyone had to pay the price.”
“Don’t remind me.” Kat almost growls like a wolf to a degree that caught me off guard.
Shit, I definitely struck a nerve there. Why? Why did that set her off the way it did? I tried to change the subject into something else. I really didn’t want to upset Kat any further, I felt guilty just by saying that.
“It’s so silent here, I don’t know if I should be on edge or relaxed.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like that. I don’t know what came over me.”
Kat’s eyes dart around before she runs her fingers through her hair with a sigh. It didn’t occur to me until just now that she had been watching everywhere and everything all at once. Every little movement her eyes locked onto. Could be just a natural reaction. I’m sure her line of work requires her to be hyper-vigilant so maybe it carries into her normal day-to-day life.
“You don’t need to apologize, Kat. I was the one who was pushing too much.” The wind blew softly, remnants of leaves danced in the air. It reminded alot about how life is, always pushing you in unpredictable directions. “I was thinking after this, maybe we should help each other out. My therapist gave me the advice that some wounds can’t heal by themself.”
“I can help you. I don’t really need help myself. When I was on the field, I was given state mandated therapy. It was important to do so to not go actually insane from all the messed up things we see. Trust me, there’s a reason why a lot of us quit after a few years of service.”
“ I see,” I gave Kat a crooked smile, “You're resilient, that's what I admired about you.”
Even after all those years, Kat still had those strong traits of being smart and strong. I could help but feel proud of her, and I wished her the best. I got closer to Kat, as I leaned on one of the oak trees nearby.
With a playful tone, I asked. “So when are you gonna show me how to use one of those?” I pointed at her gun.
“You?” Kat laughs. “I thought you hated loud noises?”
I shrugged, raising one of my brows. “Still do. It's just in case anything goes south. Or maybe I wanna impress somebody.”
“I’ll teach you soon. No doubt about that. I don’t have any ear protection on me and this beauty can get pretty loud.”
As we took in the forest’s lush surroundings, I noticed something that I haven’t seen before despite being out here for god knows how many times. There was a perfectly healthy tree in front of us but it seemed as if the bark had been ripped and torn definitely unnaturally; it had to have been done by someone, not an animal.
Kat and I exchange confused looks as we walk closer to the tree. Then, it all came together. I didn’t want to think that someone would have done this again. Not after the original was burnt to the ground a long time back. On the tree there were signatures. It sent an ungodly chill through my whole body. I looked over to Kat to see her reaction and she looked like she was frozen in time. With a look of shock and fear instilled upon her very body.
“It can't be. There's a new one here, but how?” My mouth was agape as I reached to touch the bark of the tree. My fingers grazed against each little individual signature. Each of them being unique, much like their owners’ names.
I look back at Kat. I realized I was mistaken, or perhaps it just shifted. Her look, it wasn't out of fear, no, it was out of resentment and hate and a boiling rage that I could tell is about to spill through. I know that even if I were to manage to say anything in this situation, I couldn’t prevent it from all coming out. What could I say? This isn’t anything I’ve seen from Kat. She always had a way to relieve her own anger but this was an anger that even the cool-minded Kat could not keep under control. Like a wildfire that had found a negligent camper’s gasoline can.
“Kat–”
“They think they can control me even in death but they can’t.” Kat whispers to herself quickly. I barely had time to process before the wildfire finally found the gas. “THEY FUCKING CAN’T!”
Kat lifts her shirt slightly, revealing her concealed gun. A Pit Viper. She draws it at a speed I barely had time to comprehend as she switches off the safety and takes a stance.
“Wait! Kat!”
That was all I could get out before I was overtaken by an ear splitting explosion. I barely had time to register the second one before the third went off. It was the same for the fourth and the fifth. My ears rang the loudest they have ever in my life as the pain in my ears set in and the agony of my head throbbing so hard that I thought my brain would burst from it alone. The sounds echoed through the forest. All the birds and the bugs and creatures stopped in unison as if Kat slain them herself.
And then.
Silence.

Here I am in hawaii, feeling relaxed while on "vacation" and I have a nightmare that felt so real. I'm writing this not even 15 mins after waking up because I want to remember the details.
I was in a waterless irrigation canal with a group of 3 others. We were trying to find our way to a city but the canals had branched off too many times and didn't make sense. My vision goes out and I'm being hit by something I can't see and eventually my arms are being pinned down with a force much stronger than myself. I struggle but can never seem to fight it off. I realize I'm dreaming so I force myself to wake up.
I wake up in my room but I'm feeling super tired and groggy. My eyes don't want to open all the way but I can see. I feel like I'm laying on something so I reach under myself and pullout a plastic clothes hanger. When I pull it out, I feel another one. I keep pulling them out and eventually have a pile that I threw on the floor. I get the feeling something is not right so I reach for my phone and as soon as I turn on the flashlight, I see a small shadow figure dart for the bed. My arms suddenly felt heavy again and I couldn't move. I look to my right and the shadow is under the covers and is giggling. I try to scream but I can't. I try to move but I can't. As it was about to come out from under the covers, I thankfully wake up. The whole ordeal felt like hours and just seemed so real.
I'm here in bed and I can still feel the feeling of coat hangers underneath me. I still feel the fear and paranoia from the giggling figure. I've had a time where I thought I was awake but had a figure appear and couldn't move. It was a tall figure with a white glow but this was pitch black.
Does any one have a thought on what this means? Is there any symbolism? Or did I just have a nightmare?

“It’s called a grief doll” Dr. Ramos said.
I stared at him like he’d grown a second head.
“A what?” I asked.
I’d agreed to this session to get my mother off my back. Provided, of course, that she also foot the bill. And, truth be told, it hadn’t been an easy couple of months. The word “stillbirth” sounds a lot more peaceful than the reality of it all. You get all the same blood and screaming as a regular birth but with none of the joy afterward. Things are, I guess, “still,” in a way. The silence of the grave.
“I know it’s a little unconventional,” Dr. Ramos said. “But, there’s been some really solid research to back it up recently. My colleague down in Camden–”
I cut him off. “You want me to buy a lifesized recreation of the dead baby that I just gave birth to?”
He looked slightly chastened by this. “I want you to process what happened, Mary. It can help. Look, if what you were already doing was working you wouldn’t be coming here, right?”
I sighed. “Alright. You’re the doctor. Who am I to argue with science?”
We talked a bit more after that, but it’s not really worth recounting here.
***
The next day I went to the address Dr. Ramos had texted me. It was a little building tucked away downtown between the huge tech skyscrapers and offices. When I walked in, the owner, a short man with a scruffy beard, smiled at me and said “You must be Mary.”
I nodded.
“Would you like to sit down? Do you want anything to drink? Anything to eat?”
I shook my head. “I don’t really want to stay here any longer than I have to, if that’s alright with you,” I said to the Rasputin-looking gentleman sitting behind the desk.
“I get it,” he said, nodding gravely. “People come here to get away from something, not to settle down. Do you have the pictures?”
I took them out of my bag. It had been quite a while since I’d needed to get photographs printed out. Ever since the world had gone digital we’ve all become allergic to paper.
“Here they are,” I said to him. These would serve as the model for the doll. He reached out and took them from me, examining them carefully.
“I think I’ve got what I need. I will let you know if I need anything more,” he said, stroking his long beard hypnotically.
I left and drove home. It was a quiet ride. Much more quiet than I’d been used to. Ever since Tim had left there were these little dead spaces throughout the day. He used to fill car rides with excited chatter about protons and leptons and all the -ons he got to work with as a physicist.
My brain had begun to fill these spaces with grim reflections on the past and future:
It’s your fault.
You don’t deserve a baby.
This is God’s way of telling you that you don’t deserve to be alive.
Over and over again these thoughts would run through my mind like the world’s most depressing tape recorder. Vicious, hateful, unbelievable things kept popping into my head as I drove the short distance home, making the trip feel far longer than it actually was.
***
I had taken to staring at the ceiling and crying myself to sleep most nights. The big, empty house felt suffocating at 3 AM, like all the open space was sucking the air out of my lungs every time I opened my mouth. This had been the way I spent most nights since the stillbirth. I tried to fill the silence any way I could. At all hours of the night, one could hear my TV blaring or my phone playing some podcast or another. Anything to avoid the little dead spaces between one task and the next.
But it was most difficult of all when I tried to sleep. I saw images of my little girl when I closed my eyes. I saw the blood and heard my own screams when it became clear that she would never take a breath. There were also subtler forms of self-inflicted torture.
Exactly one month after the worst day of my life, I came home from work to find Tim’s things cleaned out and a note on the kitchen table. It read:
“I’m sorry Mary. I can’t imagine how hard this month has been for you, but every day I stay here is like a knife to the heart. You’re just so sad and I can’t take it anymore.”
That phrase “You’re just so sad” played in a loop in my mind’s ear.
***
Eventually, I won the battle against consciousness. It was a fitful, restless sleep pregnant with terrible things. I felt like I’d lived an entire life come morning. I dreamt that I’d held little Sarah in my hands, that I’d been able to feed her from my own body just like I’d wanted to do for so many years. But as I held her against my chest she melted into a puddle of flesh and blood, yet never ceased to suck, to draw whatever life she could from me, and I was desperate to give it to her. Eventually, she was little more than eyes in a puddle of fleshy blood, staring at me from the ground and whispering “Why didn’t you save me, Mama?”
I woke with a start. Never, not once in my life, had I experienced a dream like this. I sat huddled in my bedsheets, shaking with tears as I saw the image of my melted little girl swirling around on the floor, asking why I hadn’t helped her. Reality seeped back in stages, penetrating the veil of sadness, and shocking me to my feet with the blaring intensity of my phone’s alarm. It was always turned up to full volume because anything lower risked my sleep-addled mind resisting its call to return from the deep. It had always been difficult to tear myself from the land of dreams, and more so after my life began to feel like a nightmare. But lately, sleep offered little respite.
I pulled on my clothes, brushed my hair so that it was halfway presentable, and poured myself a bowl of oatmeal. It was a gray, soggy pile at the bottom of my bowl. In a flash of unwanted connection, my brain superimposed the image of little melted Sarah onto my field of view. I nearly vomited into my bowl, but just then there was a knock on my door.
“Package,” the deep baritone on the other end intoned.
I opened the door and saw the mailman walking away. It occurred to me that nothing was stopping me from asking him out now that Tim had wandered out of my life. But, immediately, my brain stepped in to fill in the blanks:
Why would he want someone like you?
What the hell is wrong with you?
I don’t even want you and I am you.
These thoughts came as easily as my breath, and I had long since stopped trying to challenge them. In all likelihood, they were right. I picked up the package and saw that it was the grief doll. As soon as I got home from work I’d figure out what the hell I was supposed to do with the thing.
As I stepped into the bathroom, the mirror joined my inner voice in confirming my lack of romantic prospects. Deep, black circles formed rings under my eyes. Deeper wrinkles stood out on my forehead and my double chin and – was that a gray hair? Already? Immediately, the thoughts returned.
You’ll be dead at 50 by this rate.
The world won’t miss you.
Why not make it tomorrow?
Again, these suggestions were difficult to challenge with the evidence inches from my eyes.
***
It was hard to care about work. Even at the best of times, it hadn’t been the most fulfilling job in the world, but these days my cubicle felt like a tomb. My job was to call people who had filled out negative reviews for the phone company (I’m sure you know which one, but it’s probably best to leave that unsaid) and ask why.
This was a doubly depressing task because it was both neverending and pointless. How many times in the past month have you picked up a call from a number you didn’t recognize? I’m guessing the answer is lower than one. Almost nobody picked up, and those who did invariably did one of two things: hang up instantly upon realizing who I was or scream invective at me that I would hesitate before repeating to the devil himself.
One particularly creative gentleman suggested I fold myself in half seventeen times to create a black hole and then have intercourse with said hole while my company’s headquarters were sucked into the event horizon. Points for creativity. Deductions for misogyny. Although, in fairness to the man, I have no trouble believing he’d have said something similar to a male rep.
That day only two people picked up. One hung up immediately. The other launched into a tirade of such intensity and fervor that I was worried he wouldn’t make it to the end of the call.
“And another thing!” the man shouted as I quietly ate a sandwich on the other end. “Your website looks like it was designed by some rock monkey with shit for brains and feet for hands!” he screamed at me. This was an insult I hadn’t heard before. Variations on it appeared with some regularity, sometimes with racial overtones. I’m not entirely sure why this was, given that I had no accent identifying me as anything other than white, and in fact I wasn’t. The assumption seemed to be that because I worked in customer service I must be Indian. This leap in logic went unquestioned by a surprising number of my interlocutors. The average consumer of cellular services in this country is a few rocks short of an avalanche themself.
“I’m sorry that our services did not meet your quality and reliability expectations,” I said dryly, reading from the part of the script labeled “negative responses.”
“And I’m sorry that you people haven’t gone back to where you come from!” the man shouted.
“I’m from Omaha sir,” I said.
“Where you’re really from!” he shouted back.
“I’m really from Omaha sir,’ I responded tiredly. “And so is my father and his father, and before that we came over from England.” This prompted a string of racial epithets I’d rather not repeat. The rest of the day went like this, and after a while I defaulted to flatly repeating “I'm sorry that our services did not meet your quality and reliability expectations.”
My faith in humanity dimmed with each passing call. I decided to slip out at 4:00. I figured no one would notice. I figured right.
***
It was Wednesday: trash day. The walk from my apartment to the dumpsters was a dismal affair. Despite gray skies, cold fog and a pounding headache, the excursion did at least deliver the best part of my day. A few guys catcalled me on the way to the curb, and for a moment I felt like something other than a disgusting blob of flesh.
But then the thoughts started back in and made me realize that the men’s comments had not been compliments but acts of aggression. As I dragged the empty trash cans back to my apartment, the men once more yelled out their opinions on my face, my tits, my ass. In response, my mind conjured scenes from my dream – melted flesh, the endless unanswerable question: “Why didn’t you save me, Mama?”
By the time I’d made it back to my apartment I was practically in tears. At that moment, however, I remembered that the doll had been delivered earlier. It was time, I supposed, to open it.
After a few unsuccessful attempts, the package yielded its contents, and I nearly fell over when I saw it for the first time. It looked exactly like Sarah. Her little, premature hands. Her closed, screwed up eyes. Everything.
I held the tiny plastic facsimile against my chest and sobbed into it. I apologized to it over and over again:
“I’m sorry Sarah. I’m so sorry.”
But nothing could have prepared me for the moment that it spoke back:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
I screamed and fell backwards. The floor flew up to meet me and struck the back of my head with overwhelming force, driving the tears out even faster through a combination of momentum and pain.
“What did you say?” I asked, with a shaking voice.
For a moment, the doll was quiet, its little eyes still shut against the world. Then, they snapped open. Its little mouth opened and flopped around like a fish before repeating:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
I threw it across the room. It was an instinct, but a second later, I felt bad. It was like seeing Sarah’s death all over again. The doll screamed and cried.
Why did you hurt me, Mama?
It asked in its sad, childlike voice.
I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I threw up again and again, my body shaking uncontrollably. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible. That thing was nothing more than a hunk of colored plastic. When there was nothing left to expel from my stomach except bile, I returned to the front room and slowly approached the doll where it lay in the corner.
Its eyes snapped to mine.
Why did you leave me, Mama?
I picked it up and hurled it out the window. For a moment, I thought that I should try and call the short Russian man who had sold me the monstrosity but then I remembered that it was 8:30 on a Wednesday. Not even Russians have that kind of work ethic.
Instead, I poured a glass of wine with shaking fingers and turned on the TV, desperate for something, anything to break the silence. As the news blared and the alcohol entered my veins, I was almost able to convince myself that the last few minutes hadn’t happened. But then the screen began flashing images of babies in incubators – victims of some war halfway around the world. Protestors marched through the streets, holding images of the poor, malnourished infants, and listing out those they felt were responsible. Before I turned it off, I could have sworn that one of them turned to the screen and said my name.
***
When I did fall asleep, it was only after many hours of crying and shaking. As returned the silence, so returned my certainty that I had heard the doll speaking. But human frailty won the day, and my brain surrendered to darkness once more.
In my dream, I saw Tim holding little Sarah and crying. He held her close and put the tiny baby girl to his face, kissing her again and again. Then he turned to me with an eyeless face and spoke with a toothless mouth:
Why didn’t you save her, Mary?
I tried to scream but in this world I could not make a sound. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and I felt like I was breathing in the ocean. Then, little Sarah looked at me with her little melting face and said:
Didn’t you love me, Mama?
When I didn’t answer, the tiny melted eyes burned with rage.
I hate you Mama. Everybody hates you. You throw me out the window?! You should jump out yourself and do the world a favor you worthless sack of human garbage forgotten by God. Why are you even alive you heartless bitch?
I kept trying to scream but nothing would come out. I tried to apologize but could only feel the sensation of water rushing into my lungs. Sarah began to say, over and over:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me–
I woke with a start to find the doll inches from my face. It was shouting at me:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
This time, I did scream, and batted it away from my face. The horrible thing, which somehow had reappeared in my house after I’d thrown it out of a 7th story window, began to sob in the corner where it fell. It looked up at me with its tiny heartbroken eyes and quivering lips as it asked me:
Why did you hurt me, Mama? Do you hate me?
Without thinking, I said, “Of course I don’t hate you, sweetie. Mommy loves you very much.” I froze. What was I doing? This thing wasn’t Sarah. It wasn’t even a person.
Then why did you hurt me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me?
I buried my head in my hands. “I couldn’t save you! I’m sorry!” The tears continued to pour from my eyes in rivers, soaking the arms of my shirt.
You didn’t deserve me, Mama. You coldhearted cunt. You shouldn’t even be alive.
I looked at the thing in shock. Hearing those words in a child’s voice was somehow far worse. It couldn’t stay in my house. Not one second longer. But throwing it out the window hadn’t worked, so I had to come up with another plan. I grabbed the hateful thing and carried it to the fireplace. It screamed all the while, sobbing just like a child in pain.
Don’t burn me Mama! Don’t hurt me! Why are you doing this?
I was undeterred. The fire roared to life, and I hurled it into the hottest part of the blaze as it hurled insults back at me.
Nobody’s ever loved you! Why do you think Tim left, you stupid bitch? If he really loved you, he’d have stayed!
Slowly but surely, the thing melted in the flames. Its little face turned to mush, then to liquid, then to ash. The smell was atrocious, but at least it was gone. I lay panting on the floor, crying but relieved.
Later, I called the Russian man and told him that something was terribly wrong with his doll. He listened to my story, then said, not without empathy:
“Maybe you should go back to this doctor? The one who referred you here?”
It was the most polite way that someone had ever called me crazy. Seeing that this was a mistake, somewhat too late to avoid it, unfortunately, I hung up.
Work was no better than it had been the day before. I listened as people berated me over the phone, and read from my script in a monotone voice. I was no more useful than a robot. As the insults went on and on, I began to dissociate from my body. My mouth said the words in the script, but my brain had no say in the matter. The words simply spilled from me like tears from my eyes.
At lunch, I sat next to Jim. I’d always liked Jim. Had a huge crush on him since the day we’d met. Normally, we took our lunch breaks at different times, but that day the stars aligned. The biggest problem with talking to Jim had always been that we had zero interests in common. But that day, the TV in the break room happened to flip to a channel playing a soccer match. We discovered that we were both huge fans, and finally I had something I could say to him.
Things couldn’t have been going better until I looked down and saw, under the table, something that made me jump a foot in the air.
The doll.
It was staring up at me with its cold eyes and sneering mouth.
You can’t get rid of me, Mama. No matter how much you want to.
Jim looked at me strangely, and I apologized, making some halfhearted excuse that I probably wouldn’t have believed coming from him.
What makes you think he’d be interested in someone like you? Have you looked in a mirror sometime this decade? Unless he’s got a corpse fetish I’d say you’re about two decades too old for him.
I stared down at the doll so long, Jim asked me what was going on. I picked it up, and showed him. When he asked what it was, I hesitated before answering. Eventually, I lied and said that it was a present for my daughter.
“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” Jim said.
“Yeah, I gave birth a couple of months ago,” I replied, which was not technically a lie.
Of course it’s a lie you worthless bitch. If you told him the truth he’d run screaming into the street. The only reason he’s stuck around this long is because there’s only one break room. Nobody will ever love you. Nobody.
“Stop it!” I yelled, before remembering that Jim had no idea what this thing was. He looked at me strangely and I bolted out of the room, sobbing and cursing the malevolent presence in my arms. It cursed me right back:
What the fuck’s wrong with you? Why would you even talk to him? You’re a disgusting pile of shit and vomit unworthy of life. You know what you could do to make Jim’s life better? You could slam your fucking head through a plate glass window and spray the side of the building with blood until you fucking die.
“Stop it!” I shouted, and threw it onto the floor as I ran to my car. But, there it was inside, waiting for me, its hateful sneer plastered onto its tiny, childlike face.
What’s the matter Mary? Can’t handle the truth? Can’t handle knowing that you’re a failure as a mother and the ugliest bitch who ever lived?
I sank to my knees and screamed, holding my head with both hands and begging the hateful thing to stop. But it didn’t. It kept pummeling me with insults and threats until I couldn’t take it one second longer. I got into the driver’s seat and floored the accelerator, taking the car onto the freeway, then to the nearest exit, then right off the edge of a cliff.
As the car soared through the air, there was a tiny moment of quiet before gravity took over. It was only an instant, but in that instant I realized that I was going to die. So for the first time in weeks, I smiled.
***
The next thing I can remember is tremendous pain. My eyes hadn’t even opened yet, but even though the world was dark, it was still full of suffering. Then, in the next instant, my eyes flew open. There, at the edge of the bed, looking at me with all the hate in the world, was a familiar hateful face.
Welcome back to the land of the living, bitch. Couldn’t even get suicide right, could you?
I had no energy left to sob. Instead, I hung my head in defeat, looking at the tiny hunk of plastic staring up at me and wishing to God that I’d chosen a higher cliff. Soon, a man in a white lab coat walked in and smiled.
“Hello Mary,” he said.
“How do you know my name?” I asked.
“They checked your wallet when they pulled you out of the car. Your driver’s license was right on top,” he replied, still smiling.
“Right,” I said, not smiling back.
“I’m not going to lie to you, that was a close call there. But you’re going to be okay. Would you mind answering a few questions?”
I immediately became wary, but nodded my head.
“Before the accident, do you recall feeling lightheaded or dizzy?
I shook my head.
“Any alcohol or drug use?”
I shook my head.
“Okay, good. And have you had any thoughts of hurting yourself in the past week?”
This was the question I’d been waiting for. I shook my head again, knowing that an affirmative answer would mean at least a 3-day psychiatric hold. As soon as they learned about the doll, God knows how long it’d last.
“Excellent. You should be able to get out of here in a couple of days. You’ll have to be careful with those casts, but everything will be okay.” I nodded again, and he left. The doll popped its little face back off the bedsheets and set itself right back to its task: destroying my mind and soul. As the night wore on, I sat there, frozen, as it continued to pound me with reminders of my inadequacies, my faults, my failures. From time to time, I had to stand and it stood with me, clinging to my hospital gown as I made my way to the bathroom, to the cafeteria or to have one test or another performed. From that moment on, it was never quiet, though I seemed to be the only one who could hear it. Whether it was reminding me of that time in 3rd grade when Johnny Welkins had rejected me in front of the entire class, or the time that I’d sat through an entire date before realizing my shirt was on inside out, or berating me about letting the original Sarah die, it was always saying something degrading and humiliating.
By then, I’d become numb to the abuse. I never responded or argued. I never fought back or tried to get rid of it. Once or twice, I accidentally crushed it under my foot, but it always ended up right back where it had started: on my hospital bed, eyes burning with rage and lips firing off insult after insult.
***
The last night I was in the hospital, I dreamt of Tim. I dreamt of the last time that I’d seen him before he disappeared forever. He stood in the doorway, blocking it with a stern face and large hands. I kept trying to push past him, but he wouldn’t let me. Eventually, we fought, and he threw me to the floor. I landed on my stomach so hard all the air flew out of my lungs.
When I woke, the doll was standing over me, and it had gone back to its familiar mantra:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
I sighed and focused on filling out the discharge forms that the nurse had left. They were long and boring, and it was no simple task to complete them with the doll repeating its horrible question again and again and again. Eventually, I finished, and an orderly wheeled me out to my car, the doll clinging to my shoulder and shouting abuse into my ear.
A single tear fell from my eye and rolled down my cheek as I climbed in to the driver’s seat and started the engine.
***
When I arrived home, I collapsed on my bed and began to weep. I wept like a child. I wept so loud in fact that I couldn’t even hear the doll as it broke down my door and resumed berating me. But I ignored it. I ignored it as I made dinner. I ignored it as I took out the trash. I ignored it as I returned to bed and tried to sleep. But it wouldn’t stop. Finally, it got close to my face and screamed right into my ear:
Why didn’t you save me, Mama? Why didn’t you save me, Mama?
And, for the first time since the accident, I replied, shouting: “What do you want from me?! I couldn’t save you, Sarah! I couldn’t!”
Liar! You could’ve saved me! You know you could’ve!
In that instant, it finally pushed me past my breaking point. I picked it up and shook it as hard as I could, screaming: “What could I have done? What was I supposed to do? What do you want from me?! Why are you doing this to me?!” The doll looked at me with cold, hateful eyes and said:
You could’ve stopped Tim.
I froze. “What do you mean?” I asked.
You know what I mean, Mama. You know what he did. Why didn’t you stand up to him? Why didn’t you stop him?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I shouted.
Yes you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about.
“No!” I shouted. “No, I couldn’t stop him!” But even as I said it, I knew it was a lie.
We both know why the stillbirth really happened, don’t we, Mary?
I shook uncontrollably and ran into the backyard to get away from the doll, but it only appeared right in front of me, scowling down at me as I tripped and fell. It pointed to the ground and began to raise its little arms. The ground shook and trembled and I shouted at it, begged it to stop, but it was too late. In one enormous burst the ground split open and a body fell next to me.
It was Tim.
Why didn’t you save me from him, Mary?
The doll asked. I continued sobbing, but managed to respond, “I couldn’t save you Sarah. But I could get you justice.”
The doll’s face softened a little, and for the first time, the fire went out of its eyes. It crawled up next to me and buried its little face into my chest, and let me hold it, just like I’d always wanted to do.
I stroked its hair and whispered to it, over and over again, “I would’ve saved you if I could.”
And in its tiny, childlike voice, the doll replied, “I know.” Then it closed its little eyes, nuzzled close into my chest, and heaved a heavy sigh before never moving again.

September 2nd - 07:00 Service to London
The morning commute always felt too early for Simon. Now autumn was rolling in, and the night ate further into the morning, he could barely keep his eyes open. So when he saw it standing across the platform, he was happy to blink and rub his eyes until it was gone.
September 9th - 07:00 Service to London
The same platform, the same spot, shivering. Why had he been this stupid not to bring a jacket? Oxford station was as nondescript as you could get, for a city so beautiful and ancient, it stood out like a big grey concrete thumb. He stood under the canopy sheltering from the rain, sadly it wasn't doing much in the way of protection. Every gust of wind brought icy shards of rain scratching at his face. Looks like he wasn't the only one suffering.
Across from him stood a man. Drenched to the bone, his white shirt clung to him, a tie stained blood red cutting through his torso. With every gust he stood still. Not flinching. Not moving. His eyes locked on Simon. Simon scanned him from head to toe, like a mirror the man responded, tracing his every move. Feeling the rush of a train approaching, Simon took a step back and like a child discovering their legs for the first time, the man stumbled forwards.
Feeling anxious warmth flooded his face, Simon scrambled onto the train. He was safe here. He was safe.
September 16th - 07:00 Service to London
He approached the platform with caution today, yes last week was weird, but it was early and he was tired. When he looked up at the departures the bad mood started. 20 minutes delayed. It was as grey as usual this morning, not raining though, that was a bonus he thought. He stood endlessly scrolling through social media, head locked down. Then he heard it, a high-pitched whistle. His head shot up, and then across from him, there he stood. The same white and red clothed man staring. Simon could feel his heart beating in his throat, his stomach turning in knots. Dark cold eyes were tied to his from across the void of the platform, sucking the warmth from his body. Simon knew he couldn't move, he couldn't bear to watch the man copy him. Breathing heavily he dragged his eyes to the departures, not daring to move a single limb. 3 minutes. He had to hold out for three minutes. He was alone out there, the platform was a lonely headland out at sea, it was just him and the man.
They stayed eyes locked, standing stock still. Simon didn't dare to breathe too heavily. Time was moving, he knew that, but every second was an eternity. Out the corner of his eye he could see a faint light growing brighter and brighter. The train was coming. He would be safe. Then in a split second the man broke his gaze. He was running. His body moved in perfect symmetry flying along the platform, getting closer and closer to the passenger bridge. He can get me. He can get me! Simon's mind was screaming. Alarm bells ringing. The man was getting closer. There was a hollow thud of thunder as the man's feet stormed across the bridge.
The train was pulling in now, its brakes hissing as it glided to a stop. Simon slammed his hand against the button frantically waiting for the doors to slide open, and they did. Inviting him into the warm comfort of the carriage. The man arrived at the bottom of the steps, fixed his gaze on Simon and ran. Gaining on him, 10 metres, 5 metres, 1 metre. The doors slid shut. And the man slammed against them. Simon’s stomach clamped in on itself; he could feel the sour taste of vomit flood his throat and mouth, pouring out onto the floor. His eyes stayed fixed on the glass of the train door. He was looking at his reflection. But this was no trick of the light. The man had his face and he was smiling.
September 16th - 16:34 Service to Worcester
Simon spent his entire day scanning faces. Anyone who crossed his path was a potential threat. He made it through the work day, he would get home, call the police and get answers. Boarding the train with hundreds of other passengers he was shielded, nothing could get him. Every station they passed he checked every face twice. But his mind and body grew tired, he’d spent the day on high alert and he was feeling the effects. His breathing was slowing down, every thought came at half speed and his eyes drooped and drooped until he slipped into a dark dreamless sleep.
The thud of closing doors ripped him from his sleep. He was awake, alert, heart pounding. He could see a station by the window. Charlbury. He'd gone too far, three stations too far. He got up and looked around the cabin and not a single face turned to meet him. He was alone. It’s fine, he thought. He'd get off at the next station and turn around. He'll be home in no time. He sat there pushing every bad thought from his mind, humming a tune he didn't even recognise for comfort. Then in a matter of minutes they were pulling into a station. Standing at the door he surveyed the platform as they slowed. Empty. Completely empty. Then from the corner of his eye he saw it, a flash of white then red, and finally that face. His face. Shit. Shit. Shit. He had to hide. He ran back into the carriage and fell to the floor between two seats, making sure no part of him could be seen above the window. He heard the door hiss shut, and they were moving. He didn't dare to move. Was he alone? He sat still, not allowing a single muscle fibre to twitch. Then like rolling thunder the sound of heavy boots progressed down the carriage. Slow and methodical, they stopped at every row before moving to the next. Fuck it was coming. They were just inches from him. He craned his head up to look.
The eyes staring down at him were pure black. Obsidian marbles studded in the face he saw every day. He tried to scream but his throat clenched shut. A smile stretched across that familiar face. It was no smile he'd ever given. His breath felt like it was coming out in chunks. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't move. Then out of its pocket something glinted in the light. He saw his own cowering reflection in the blade. Tears streamed down his face. He knew the pain about to follow would be the last thing he'd ever feel.

Human Dave stands alongside Captain on the docking bay of a space station, waiting for clearance from the authorities to disembark and deliver their cargo.
Human Dave: “Do they just like making us wait?”
Alien Captain: “Do you have any pressing matters to attend to, Human Dave?”
HD: “Well, no. But we’ve been waiting here for over an hour just to get inside.”
AC: “I am not bothered by the wait, Human Dave. This station is manned by key races of the Galactic Community. Therefore, bias against Cradelians is rampant.”
HD: “We really need to find a way to fix your reputation out here.”
AC: “It is of no consequence, Human Dave. The fact that our allies know how we truly are is enough for me.”
Human Dave smiles at Captain’s words, before slowly devolving into a frown.
HD: “... I get that it might be enough for you, Captain, but what about all the other Cradelians out here? Don’t we owe it to all of them to try?”
AC: “We are, Human Dave. As Ship travels throughout the galaxy, we are spreading the word that Cradelians can be trusted, despite our reputation.”
HD: “Well, I guess that helps a bit?”
A large creature approaches the pair.
Human Dave and Captain immediately recognise it as a Stal’qa, with its four, sturdy legs, and several heads, as it makes a beeline for them.
The Stal’qa is staring at a datapad with one of its heads, while another head is immersed in a holo-call, and the central head stares at Human Dave and Captain.
HD: “I’ve never seen a Stal’qa with only three heads before.”
AC: “Neither have I, Human Dave.”
All three heads stop what they are doing, and focus on Captain; disgust visible on the Stal’qa’s faces.
Stal’qa, from all its heads: “Cradelians. We should have known that your filth would try to board our station sooner or later.”
As Captain slightly wilts under the gazes of the Stal’qa, Human Dave stands in front of him, and glares back at the opposing party.
HD: “And who the fuck are you meant to be?”
The Stal’qa blinks mutely at Human Dave; astonishment covering all of its faces.
Stal’qa: “... the Alora can speak?”
Human Dave immediately loses his composure.
HD: “I’M NOT A FUCKING ALORA!”
Human Dave’s shout immediately causes all attention to focus onto him and the Stal’qa, and several hushed conversations begin around them.
Bystander 1: “... did that Alora just speak?”
Bystander 2: “It just said it was not an Alora.”
Bystander 3: “Is it with a Cradelian?”
Bystander 4: “It makes sense. Cradelians steal anything and everything. Why not steal an Alora that speaks?”
Bystander 5: “Mother, can I have an Alora that speaks as a pet?”
Bystander 5’s Mother: “No.”
The Stal’qa’s numerous eyes narrow at Human Dave, as understanding covers its three faces.
Stal’qa: “... ah. Human. You are human. Not Alora.”
HD: “Ding, ding, ding. Give the Stal’qa a prize.”
Stal’qa: “I do not understand the meaning of the words you have spoken, human.”
AC: “He means to say that you are correct in your evaluation of his species.”
Stal’qa: “I was not speaking to you, Cradelian scum.”
Human Dave steps forward in between the Stal’qa and Captain; standing close enough to the Stal’qa that they can make out fine details in each other’s appearances.
HD: “Insult and threaten Captain like that again, and you’ll find out just how fearsome humans can be.”
The Stal’qa laughs from all three of its heads.
Stal’qa: “Fearsome? I care not for the rumours surrounding your species. Most must be exaggeration.”
HD: “Oh? Do tell. I’m curious to know about what the Galactic Community really thinks about my kind.”
Stal’qa: “Forward-facing eyes denote your kind as a predator species, but you lack the sharp teeth and claws all predators should have.”
HD: “You want me to show you just how sharp my teeth are? I guarantee that none of the Peacekeepers I used them on were in any state to argue about their sharpness.”
AC: “You bit a Peacekeeper?”
HD: “How do you think humanity confirmed that our saliva causes death in most species due to the number of bacteria in our mouths?”
AC: “You... bit... a Peacekeeper?”
HD: “I also had no weapons left to defend myself with, so I reverted back to more primitive means with which to defend myself.”
AC: “Was that not dangerous for you as well, Human Dave? I am uncertain if Peacekeepers are nutritionally beneficial for humans to consume.”
HD: “Wasn’t trying to eat him, Captain. Just wanted him not to kill me.”
Stal’qa: “That is another thing I do not believe. It is not possible that your species is capable of winning a war against the Peacekeepers. Their united forces should have had no trouble against your kind.”
HD: “United? Wow. You guys had no idea the lengths we went to while waging war, do you?”
Stal’qa: “What is the meaning of this question?”
AC: “Humans are persistence predators. They do not simply kill their enemies. They outlast them.”
HD: “Which segues nicely into the point I was going to make. Do you have any idea how much subterfuge and espionage we engaged in during that war? We started the spark that ignited the Peacekeepers into civil war. There was no way they’d win a war against us while fighting each other at the same time.”
Stal’qa: “Even if that were true, there is no eventuality where your kind should be capable of being considered equals to the Peacekeepers.”
HD: “I mean, we did end up allied with them after the war. Especially after we solved the majority of the problems we caused after we won. They needed help after they destroyed their own cities during the civil wars. And most factions saw us as people like them; none of us wanted to fight. We just fought back when they instigated the conflict.”
AC: “It was my understanding that humans caused the initial conflict, Human Dave.”
HD: “They’re the ones that decided to land in Australia, and got themselves killed by the local fauna. Had they fucking told us what they were planning, we’d have told them to land somewhere safer!”
AC: “First contact is usually done in wide open spaces, where it can be shown that they mean no harm.”
HD: “Well, kangaroos don’t care about niceties. They’ll beat the shit out of anything they don’t like.”
AC: “Remind me never to go to this landmass on your cradle-world, Human Dave.”
HD: “Noted.”
Human Dave turns back to the Stal’qa once again.
HD: “Anyway, who are you again? I don’t think you said.”
The Stal’qa glares back at Human Dave, and gestures to a metal adornment on its clothing, which vaguely resembles two triangles overlapping off-centre, in the shape of a six-pointed star, which denotes their rank as Vice Station Master.
Stal’qa: “I am Vice Station Master Kir’alk’ton. And I was informed by the Station Master that an important guest was arriving at this docking bay, so you will need to move your wreck of a ship elsewhere.”
HD: “Excuse me? Your dock workers directed us here. And I assume they would have gotten orders from the Station Master if there was some VIP coming here. And more to the point, why wouldn’t the Station Master have that VIP go to a personal dock, rather than the public one?”
Vice Station Master Kir’alk’ton: “It is not your place to question the orders of the Station Master. On this space station, his orders are absolute, and it is my place to enforce them however I see fit.”
The Vice Station Master grabs Human Dave by the front of his shirt, and pushes him to the side, while still holding onto him.
VSMK: “And if I decide that some forgotten wreckage needs to be spaced, then that is what will happen!”
Security guards seem to materialise out of the crowd, and apprehend both Human Dave and Captain.
Vice Station Master Kir’alk’ton grins madly at the situation unfolding before them, and gestures grandly at Ship.
VSMK: “Guards! Get this piece of junk off my station!”
AC: “THERE ARE STILL PEOPLE ABOARD!”
VSMK: “Then that is their own problem to solve.”
HD: “You’d kill innocents for this?!”
VSMK: “It was their choice to board your ship. Now, they will suffer the consequences of their decisions.”
The crowd had gathered completely now; all to watch the ongoing spectacle, but none intervening on behalf of Human Dave or Captain.
The guards silently moved to seal Ship, so that no one inside would be able to escape easily.
Also as a means of easing their guilt, as none of the guards were willing to disobey the Vice Station Master, but also unwilling to kill any innocents still on board.
Captain’s implant receives a holo-call request, and Pilot Reeda’s face appears on the holo-display.
Pilot Reeda: “Captain, why have the doors been sealed? And why are my credentials locked out of Ship’s systems? I can’t access any of the main controls.”
AC: “Pilot Reeda, please inform Doctor and Quartermaster that the Vice Station Master has decided to eject Ship from the space station. Secure everything as quickly as –”
A fist flies forward from one of the guards, and collides with Captain’s head, which knocks Captain into unconsciousness, as well as cuts the holo-call.
HD: “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!”
VSMK: “SHUT UP, HUMAN! I AM IN CONTROL HERE! NOW, GET THAT PILE OF METALLIC EXCREMENT OFF MY STATION!”
The guards move to follow the Vice Station Master’s orders, when a voice interrupts, emanating from the intercom system.
Intercom Voice: “Kir’alk’ton.”
The voice does not sound pleasant.
The voice sounds rough and scratchy, as if the throat of the speaker had been damaged badly.
VSMK: “Station Master!”
Station Master: “What is the meaning of this?”
VSMK, panicked: “... I was just getting rid of some garbage that made its way onto the station.”
The voice of the Station Master falls silent, which emboldens the Vice Station Master to speak with more confidence.
VSMK: “There is no need for you to worry, Station Master. I will personally ensure that nothing will interfere with the arrival of your most esteemed guest, and once this scum has been ejected from the station, this docking bay will be open to admit them.”
Station Master, through intercom: “You speak as if you know my will, Kir’alk’ton. Who gave you permission to eject anyone from MY STATION?!”
VSMK: “Cradelians are not people, Station Master. And neither is his pet human!”
SM: “And yet, that very human is the guest I’ve been waiting for.”
Vice Station Master Kir’alk’ton falls silent, as a dumbfounded expression covers their faces.
VSMK: “... what?”
SM: “Guards. Apprehend the former Vice Station Master.”
The guards rush to apprehend the many-headed Stal’qa, who struggles strongly against the guards, while yelling obscenities that do not translate to Human Dave’s implant, but have a very visible reaction to the onlookers.
Several sapient beings pale, and others eject non-vital and waste substances from various orifices.
A parent covers the auditory canals of their offspring, but is too late when it loudly asks what several of those untranslatable words mean.
In the meantime, Human Dave runs over to Captain, who was unceremoniously dropped where he was held by the guards who went to subdue the former Vice Station Master.
HD: “Captain, are you alright?”
Human Dave cradles Captain’s head, and takes a cursory glance over his head and body.
Seeing no blood, and not certain of any internal injuries, Human Dave activates his holo-display, and calls for Doctor.
Doctor answers the holo-call, which shows her securing her medical equipment down in Medbay.
HD: “Doctor, I’ve got something of a medical emergency happening here. Captain’s been knocked out, and he’s not responding to me.”
Alien Doctor: “... what?! When did this happen?!”
HD: “All of thirty seconds ago. Ship’s no longer in danger of being spaced, but Captain needs help out here.”
AD: “I will grab what I need, and meet you out there.”
HD: “Hurry, please. He’s breathing, but I’m still worried.”
The former Vice Station Master continues yelling obscenities, before one of the guards shoves the muzzle of his energy weapon into one of the Stal’qa’s mouths.
Guard 1: “Continue to hurl obscenities, and I will discharge this weapon into your mouth.”
Stal’qa Kir’alk’ton: “Release me! I am the Vice Station Master! You will obey my orders!”
Station Master: “Keep him restrained.”
The voice of the Station Master no longer comes out of the intercom system, and the crowd parts to reveal a moderately sized sapient.
Short, fuzzy, brown fur covers its body and head.
Two round ears adorn the top of its head, and a bear-like snout extends from its face.
Station Master: “David Anders. It’s been a very long time since I last saw you.”
Human Dave turns his head to look at the one who said his name, and is immediately dumbfounded to discover that he recognises the other party.
HD: “Baten?! The fuck are you doing here?!”
Station Master Baten: “What? No hug?”
HD: “I’m a little busy right now, Baten. Captain’s hurt, and I’m waiting for Doctor to get out here!”
Human Dave’s implant informs him of an incoming call, and he hurries to answer.
HD: “Doctor, what’s the hold-up?”
AD: “The exit doors are not responding. I cannot exit Ship.”
Human Dave glares at the pile of guards standing over the Stal’qa.
HD: “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU MOTHERFUCKERS DO TO SHIP?!”
SMB: “What’s wrong, David?”
HD: “Your guards sealed the ship! And Doctor’s still on board! Captain can’t get help if the doors are sealed shut!”
SMB: “Guards; unseal that ship.”
Several of the group break off, and head over to Ship’s doors to unseal them, while Human Dave glares at all of them.
SMB: “I had hoped that my being here was going to be more of a surprise to you, Dave, but it seems like things went sort of pear-shaped.”
HD: “Don’t get me wrong, Baten. I am glad to see you. It’s just that I’ve got a different set of priorities at this moment.”
SMB: “That’s alright. I did sort of spring this onto you, so it’s understandable that you’d prioritise getting your captain medical attention over chatting with an old friend. Especially since it seems like it’s my fault.”
HD: “How exactly is it your fault?”
SMB: “I told Kir’alk’ton here to keep this docking bay empty for you, and even went as far as informing the docking crew of Ship’s IFF, so they’d direct it here once it showed up.”
Station Master Baten flatly stares at the downed form of Kir’alk’ton, and snarls at the Stal’qa.
SMB: “But it seems that they didn’t pay attention to exactly which ship was supposed to dock here, nor who was on board. And they made more than a few arbitrary decisions on who’s welcome on my station, and who isn’t.”
SK: “Cradelians are scum; they do not deserve to exist, let alone be part of the Galactic Community. We should have glassed their planet when they were first discovered!”
This statement draws more than a few shocked gasps from the crowd, and the glare from Station Master Baten turns into a look of sheer disgust and revulsion.
SMB: “... how I was completely unaware this side of you existed, I don’t know. Throw him into the Pit. You will serve your sentence there, Kir’alk’ton.”
Kir’alk’ton stops struggling against the guards, and a look of defeated horror covers all of their faces.
Guard 2: “... t-the Pit, Station Master?”
SMB: “You heard me. If they die, then their sentence is served. But if they live, it’ll be because they learned just how this kind of thinking has no place in this galaxy.”
The exit doors of Ship finally open, and a very irate Doctor runs towards Human Dave and the downed form of Captain, followed closely by Pilot Reeda, who is brandishing a physical matter projectile weapon; one of Human Dave’s, in fact.
The guards recognise the weapon, and swiftly back up; realising the gravity of the situation now.
AD: “Move aside, Human Dave. Let me see.”
Human Dave jumps back from Captain, as Doctor pulls our her portable scanner, and gets to work.
It is at this moment that Human Dave sees one of his weapons in Pilot Reeda’s hands, and immediately runs over to her.
HD: “Reeda’Tila-Lasoran, what the Hell are you thinking?!”
Pilot Reeda: “These dumbasses wouldn’t unseal the doors. So I got creative.”
HD: “By swiping one of my guns?!”
PR: “These idiots know not to get in our way now!”
HD: “That’s one of my personal weapons! How did you even open the lockbox I kept it in?!”
PR: “Oh, please! I pilot a Cradelian cargo hauler held together with nothing more than duct tape, chewing gum, and hopes and dreams! You think I can’t open a damn lockbox?!”
HD: “At least tell me you didn’t load it with AP rounds.”
PR: “... okay, I won’t.”
HD, muttering: “... for fuck’s sake.”
Human Dave runs a hand over his face, and groans as he roughly scratches at his scalp in irritation.
HD: “Give me the gun, Reeda. The situation is resolved.”
PR: “You expect me to believe that, Human Dave?”
Human Dave gestures towards the Station Master.
HD: “The Station Master is an old friend of mine. And the former Vice Station Master, the aggressor in this, is now apprehended, so, yes, the situation is resolved, and no longer needs a trigger-happy Klofi-Watrin to sort out.”
Pilot Reeda’s eyes narrow at Human Dave, as she suspiciously glances at the crowd in their surroundings.
It takes a moment, but Pilot Reeda slowly relaxes, and hands the weapon back to Human Dave.
HD: “Thank you.”
Human Dave immediately removes all ammunition from the weapon, and stows it away carefully on his person.
SMB: “I think we can postpone our proper meeting until later. Tend to your captain, and let me know when you’re free to talk.”
HD: “We can talk now, Baten.”
SMB: “No, no. You’re too wired right now. Go calm down first. We’ll talk later.”
HD: “... I’ll see you later, Baten.”
Human Dave walks back over to Doctor, who had sat down beside Captain’s prone form, with Pilot Reeda hovering nervously close by.
AD: “Human Dave, can you assist me with getting Captain back to Medbay?”
HD: “Sure thing.”
Human Dave carefully picks up Captain, and carries him back onto Ship, with Doctor and Pilot Reeda trailing after them.
Station Master Baten turns to face the crowd.
SMB: “Alright; show’s over. Go about your business.”
As the crowd scatters, going about their own business, Station Master Baten grabs the arm of a guard, and gestures back towards Ship.
SMB: “Once they come out, I want you to send them directly to the main offices. Is that clear?”
Guard 3: “Yes, Station Master!”
First
Previous

Hi, I'm Andrew, and I've spent quite a bit of time researching kitchen taps, specifically pull-out models. After going through numerous articles and reviews, I've compiled everything I've learned into this ultimate guide to help you make an informed decision. Whether you’re renovating your kitchen or just upgrading your fixtures, pull-out kitchen taps have become a popular choice for many homeowners. Their sleek design and functional versatility make them a must-have in modern kitchens. Here’s everything you need to know about pull-out kitchen taps, from their benefits to installation tips and maintenance advice.

Benefits of Pull-Out Kitchen Taps

1. Versatility and Convenience Pull-out kitchen taps are incredibly versatile. The extendable hose allows you to direct water exactly where you need it, making tasks like rinsing vegetables, filling pots, and cleaning the sink much easier. The increased range of motion is a game-changer in the kitchen. During my research, I found a helpful blog titled Are Pull-Out Kitchen Taps Any Good? on Gold Bathroom UK that discusses this aspect in detail.
   
2. Space-Saving Design Unlike traditional taps, pull-out taps have a streamlined design that saves counter space. This is particularly beneficial for smaller kitchens where every inch counts. The retractable hose tucks neatly away when not in use, maintaining a clutter-free sink area.
   
3. Enhanced Cleaning Capability The powerful spray function of pull-out taps makes cleaning stubborn food residues and grease a breeze. Whether you’re washing dishes or scrubbing the sink, the flexible hose ensures you can reach every corner with ease.
   
4. Modern Aesthetics Pull-out kitchen taps come in a variety of styles and finishes, allowing you to choose one that complements your kitchen’s décor. From sleek stainless steel to elegant matte black, there’s a design to suit every taste. I discovered another insightful article, Discover the Benefits of a Pullout Kitchen Tap, on Tapron UK which highlights the aesthetic and functional benefits.
   

Key Features to Consider

1. Hose Length and Reach When selecting a pull-out tap, consider the length and flexibility of the hose. A longer hose provides greater reach, but ensure it retracts smoothly and doesn’t tangle.
   
2. Spray Functions Many pull-out taps offer multiple spray functions, such as stream, spray, and pause. These options add versatility to your kitchen tasks, so look for a tap that offers the spray modes you need.
   
3. Material and Finish Choose a tap made from durable materials like stainless steel or brass to ensure longevity. The finish should not only match your kitchen’s style but also be resistant to tarnishing and corrosion.
   

Installation Tips

1. Gather Your Tools Before starting the installation, make sure you have all the necessary tools, including a wrench, plumber’s tape, and a basin wrench. Having everything ready will make the process smoother.
   
2. Turn Off the Water Supply Always turn off the water supply to avoid any mess or accidents. This can usually be done by shutting off the valves under the sink.
   
3. Follow the Manufacturer’s Instructions Each pull-out tap model may have specific installation requirements. Follow the manufacturer’s instructions carefully to ensure a proper and secure installation.
   
4. Test for Leaks After installation, turn the water back on and check for any leaks. Tighten connections if necessary and ensure the hose retracts smoothly.
   

Maintenance Tips

1. Regular Cleaning Keep your pull-out tap looking new by regularly cleaning it with a mild detergent and a soft cloth. Avoid abrasive cleaners that can damage the finish.
   
2. Check for Clogs Over time, debris can build up in the spray head, affecting water flow. Periodically remove and clean the aerator to maintain optimal performance.
   
3. Inspect the Hose Check the hose for any signs of wear or damage. If you notice any issues, replace the hose promptly to avoid leaks.
   
4. Lubricate Moving Parts To ensure smooth operation, occasionally lubricate the moving parts of the tap with a silicone-based lubricant.
   

Conclusion

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It hated the screams. The creature underneath it struggled and continued releasing its guttural high-pitched vocalizations. Thrashing and throwing its limbs around, as it was slowly consumed. Limbs soon went still and the screaming fell silent. Emptiness. The body had died and was now nothing more than flesh to be devoured and assimilated. How unfortunate for the creature, but in order to heal its damage and return from this undiscovered world, it needed to gather resources and blend in with its society.
Fortunately, this species was sapient. This specific one beneath it wore clothing, understood patterns, and could vocalize repeated sounds that it could only assume were words in its rudimentary language. It moved up to the creature’s head after it had devoured most of its body. The brain was the most important part, and needed to be consumed immediately in order to gain its memories.
As it devoured the creature’s brain, small sparks of the deceased’s thoughts flooded its mind. All of the sapient’s knowledge, all their memories, subconscious thoughts and behaviors flowed through as information to every cell in its body. All this creature’s experiences, emotions, habits, and preferences. All of the creature’s small quirks and idiosyncrasies were fed into it as the body molded and became one, as if a data bank.
I see now. It thought. This was a female of this planet’s dominant species. They are called… humans.
It stood up. As the mold of flesh which was its body began to mold itself. Cells began to shape and harden into a bone, following the structure and anatomy of the human it had just consumed. Coating the recreated skeletal figure with ligaments to hold the structure together. Skeletal muscles and organ tissue formed in its proper places. Nerves and arteries were meticulously placed in their proper configurations. Capillaries. Veins. They were then covered by a layer of fat, and fat deposits were increased on its chest area and backside. Mammary glands, ovaries, egg cells, fallopian tubes, bladder, and uterus.
Throat and neck muscles were shaped the way they were, reviving the human female’s original voice, while the rest of its body began to close up by a thin layer of flesh and skin. Small hairs were sprouted all around the body, with some more than others. The brain began to fully form, and the facial features were completely indistinguishable from that female it had consumed. Hair on its head began to grow and multiply to the hundreds of thousands of individual strands, reaching down to its shoulders.
There in the darkness of the street, stood a lone woman without any clothes. At least, the body of one. It… no, she had taken on the woman’s complete identity. Her personality, gender, identity, memory, age, name, and shape, belonged to it now. She was the woman she had just devoured in the dark of the night.
“How… intriguing,” she said, testing out her voice. “So this is what it’s like to be this species.” She clicked her tongue, whistled, and snapped her fingers.
“This world may be a new feeding ground, with such rich genetic data and diversity,” she said, looking through her victims' memories. The woman was studying to be a wildlife biologist before she was ambushed and eaten alive. Now her knowledge served as an intriguing critique and collection of the biodiversity the planet had to offer. Animals of different species flashed in her mind. Felines, canines, reptiles, apes, amphibians, fish, and the like. Even images of livestock and pets were seen as she rummaged through the recesses of the mind she ate.
“Very interesting. It had been… a long time since my species found a world this rich. Devouring it would be truly splendid. A jump up the evolutionary tree with the treasure trove of traits. Nature has really invested in this planet.”
Humans were the most interesting to her, as she reviewed childhood memories and historical studies. A society unlike anything she had ever encountered in previous sapient species her kind had assimilated and eaten. Though this was the first sapient she had ever consumed, she was filled with excitement. She grinned widely, in an impossible way. Eyes appeared in her hair and jagged teeth of several rows shone under the light of the night sky as she literally smiled from ear to ear.
Her excitement brimmed in her chest, causing it to beat faster than anticipated. What interesting reactions this body has. I wonder what more I could discover.
“Hey!” A voice called out, making her turn her head in its direction. Her body returned back to its normal human state in an instant. It was a young man wearing a coat and a hat on his head, waving at her. “Do you need help? Are you hur— wait Zee? Is that you?!” he hurried toward her.
The woman quickly scoured her mind for memories of this man who seemed to recognize her, however, before she could, her body reacted first. The burning sensation in her cheeks and an odd knot in her chest. Her eyes dilated and a strange feeling overcame her. What is this? Why the sudden reaction? She recognizes this human male for sure but… oh.
She finally found it. The memory resurfaced before she could even call it to herself. This woman had feelings for this male. They were hidden, unspoken feelings, but feelings nonetheless. No wonder she had reacted so strongly.
“H-hey! Francis! I uh…” she stammered, adopting and following her mind’s flow of information. The synapses of her past interactions followed naturally and she copied her mannerisms completely.
“Zee, you’re naked! W-what in the name of—”
“I-I got attacked!”
“A-attacked? Who did this to you?! Were you hurt?!” Francis spoke with urgency, immediately taking off his coat and placing it around her. This woman’s feelings are flaring up again. Azrael Heathers, what an interesting name. It’s close enough to my real one. Azrael, Az, Zee; nicknames this human had given me in past encounters. This affection for him is strong and lasting, her subconscious mind is flooding me. My mind is flooding me.
“I’m f-fine. T-the m-man got away. I don’t know who it was but…”
“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” he replied. “Let’s get you to your apartment and we will report this to the authorities in the morning. We should—”
“No!”
“N-no?”
“It’s okay… I’m afraid that if we report this, that person might come back for me,” she lied, putting on a pleading face and clinging to his arm. “Just… stay with me tonight. Please? I don’t think I can fall asleep alone after that.”
“I-I…”
Zee held on to him tighter, squeezing his arm. “Please. I’m scared, Fran.”
Francis bit his lip and slowly shook his head. “Okay, it’s okay,” he replied. “I’ll stay with you tonight. Nothing will ever get through your doors so long as I’m there. Does this ease your thoughts?” he said.
Zee nodded. “Thank you, you’re always kind to me,” she sniffled. Oh you foolish human. Once we’re alone I will devour you too. I cannot wait to see how you taste. Will you scream just like Azrael? Will you look on with horror and disgust? Perhaps you will lay there shocked beyond your mind’s comprehension. Oh, what a rush!
The young man sighed. “It’s just the right thing to do. Besides, I cannot abandon a friend, especially not in this situation,” he said. “Now come, let’s get you to your apartment. Okay?”
“O-okay…” And then you shall be my second meal!
As the two headed back to her apartment, Azrael looked around the buildings and of the city around her and compared it to her memories. Possible feeding grounds, places to gather materials to fix her craft, a transmission device that could send messages to her brethren in deep space. Steel. Iron. Brick. Lead. Copper.
It’s becoming increasingly clear that this species is very rudimentary. No long ranged communications. No advanced computing technology. Not even advanced electronics! How backwards is this world! Ugh, such a barbaric and uncivilized species. Even this woman’s memories show nothing of value. Their most advanced transmission device is a box that uses radio waves for communication!
She grunted, shaking her head.
“Is something wrong, Zee?”
“Nothing, my head just hurts.”
“Then we should hurry.”
The two picked up the pace until they finally reached her apartment just a few blocks down the street. They entered inside and went up the stairs, heading for the first room to the side of the staircase. Francis went straight for the bed, leading Zee by the hand and sitting her down on it. “Just rest here, I’ll heat up some water and prepare you a warm bath. Everything will be alright, just take it easy.”
He went toward the faucet and began filling up a pot with water before heating up the stove. He opened up the compartment under it and checked if there was wood, and lit the wood with the lighter he pulled from his pocket. He placed the pot on top of the iron stove and nodded to himself. “Right, this should be ready in a few minutes. I’ll set up the bath for you. It should heat you up immediately.”
He looked back at Zee who was visibly shivering, keeping the coat close to her body and covering herself.
“D-do you mind if I go through your cabinet? I’ll find you some fresh clothes.”
“Are you sure you won’t do any perverted things to my clothes?”
Francis instantly went red and waved his arms around. “N-no! Of course not! I was just simply trying to help. I-if that is too much of an invasion of privacy, please forgive my statement.”
Good. He’s off guard and flustered. Now is my time to eat him up. What knowledge can you give me, Francis?
“You’re too kind, Fran. There aren’t many people like you.”
Francis let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Well, I believe a lot of people in this world are good. If there weren’t, then life would be hardly worth living at all. B-but really, it’s people like you who inspire me, Zee. You’re the best of us.”
Really? What an interesting human. Does he not know that his species is destructive and self-serving? According to historical documents from Zee’s memories, your kind’s legacy is war and bloodshed. Slavery. Destruction of life and the extinction of fauna. The exploitation and annihilation of your own species’ tribes. What good can there be in the rest of humanity? According to this woman’s own beliefs, you are the outlier here. That’s why she chose to study and work with animals rather than your kind.
“W-what do you mean?” Zee asked.
The young man chuckled softly, giving her a nod. “Well, I mean. I’ve always admired you. You were always so vocal about the preservation of life and endangered species, even if no one else shared your passion. You are kind to animals, and were always fascinated by them. Very few people care that much, but you do. Your kindness doesn’t extend only to people, but to all things,” he explained. “Remember that one time when you saved a baby canary that had fallen from its nest?”
“Yes…”
“You were careful with it and helped it back up. But when its own mother rejected it, what did you do?”
“I took it home and cared for it until it was old enough to be set loose.”
“Exactly. You were so careful, even buying a syringe just to feed it like how a mother bird would. You could gently tap on the canary and you documented every day of its growth. I’ve never seen someone like that before. It’s why I like you. Many people often neglect the part where we have to nurture nature as much as ourselves, and to do so with kindness and love.”
“Thank you. Did you also just say that you like me..?” Zee asked. How interesting. Does this human male share the same affection Azrael does? This female had not yet experienced sexual relations with another, perhaps it would be an enriching experience on human connection. Hm, should I try it with this male? Maybe not.
“A-ah! I mean… a-as a friend! You’re someone I look up to, and well, we’ve been close friends. There’s no way I would lie and say that I didn’t like you. You are a very likable person after all.”
What… a nice thought. It’s unfortunate that I have to eat you, Francis. Oh, well.
“Oh, Francis. That’s very nice of you. However, I’m very hungry now, and I’m afraid that this is where we part.”
“O-oh uhm, I don’t have any food on me. Maybe I could cook something up from the cabi—” Francis choked on his words as he fell on his back. “Z-Zee?! W-what—!” he stammered looking up at the woman in front of him.
Azrael had stood up from the bed and her hair floated in the air, moving as if like the tendrils or tentacles of a cephalopod. A large maw with rows of jagged teeth appeared on her stomach, opening vertically as if her midsection had ripped apart to reveal prehensile tongues several feet long. Her lips curved up to reveal a mouth of fangs and sharp canines. Her jaw unhinged like a snake’s. Eyes appeared on her cheeks and other parts of her body. Additional mouths sprouted from the palms of her hands and her thighs. Her fingers morphed into razorlike talons, and insectoid mandibles sprouted from the sides of her midsection… possibly to hold prey in place while it was consumed.
“Thank you for the lovely time, Fran. I enjoyed the company,” Zee spoke without moving her lips. In fact, it almost sounded like her voice rang in Fran’s head. As if she had spoken to his mind directly. The young man’s lips quivered in fear as he crawled away from the monster in front of him. He felt his back against the door, and his legs went numb.
“Z-Zee… w-what—”
“I will have a nice time devouring you, Fran.”
“N-no… No! Please don’t do this! H-how did this… what are you?!”
“You don’t need to know. Just know that it will all be over soon.”
“No! Please! Z-Zee, I know you! T-this isn’t like you! I-I’m your friend, please!”
The tendrils stretched out and wrapped around Francis’ arms. Slowly pulling him towards her gaping maw. “No! No! Please stop this! I-I don’t know what happened to you but this isn’t you! You’re kind! Y-you’re gentle and caring! W-we’ll find whatever or whoever turned you into t-this! We’ll get them behind bars!”
Tears began to form in the young man’s eyes as he struggled against her grip. “Zee, please! Please! I’m begging you! I-I won’t tell a soul! Please! I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die! Azrael! Azrael, don’t! Please!”
“I am not Azrael anymore. I devoured her like I’m about to you,” Zee revealed.
“T-then who… what…”
“I am Azryvlv’toth. A voraciocite. My kind eats and evolves. We infiltrate, devour, and destroy entire civilizations. Yours is no different. As soon as I repair my ship, my kind will come flocking to your world, and we shall feast upon all its life!”
“N-no… Z-Zee would never do that…”
“That is your mistake. I am no longer her. This world is meant to be consumed, and so are you.”
“No… please…”
As Azryvlv’toth dragged Francis closer and closer to her jaws, her head was flooded by thoughts. It annoyed her but she paid them no mind at first. However, the thoughts began to pool one after another. Emotions, feelings, logic, and her victim’s memories all began battering her mind. Sorrow, fear, panic, care, and an instinctual drive to protect. She felt her resolve wavering as the thoughts and emotions affected her actions. Her heart beat rapidly. Her legs threatened to give out under her weight, and her arms shook with intensity.
She grunted and dipped her head down, placing her hands on her temples. Growling, fighting something akin to a second voice in her head. Is this what happens when you eat and assimilate a sapient?! Was it because it was my first time that I had not properly separated Azrael’s thoughts from my own? No, she's dead. She cannot think. Yet, her memories and instincts are screaming at me!
She hissed and suddenly pulled her tentacles back, letting go of Francis and reverting back to her human form. She shook her head and pulled at her hair, letting out a scream that dripped with frustration. “Ugh, fuck! Fine! You win, Zee!” she yelled out.
“W-what…” Francis clutched his chest, backing away with confusing and horror still evident on his face. “A-are you… Zee, i-is that you?”
“Huh,” Azrael shook her head. “I can’t kill you.”
“Y-you can’t..?”
“She won’t let me. What dumb luck you have, Francis. This woman’s mind loves you too much.”

Honestly no idea where to start maybe last year? Anyways what happened is my father forced me out of my apartment I lived in for 3 year after he and my younger sister moved in during covid because he lost his job. I know huge mistake but my sis was 14 and didn't want anything happening to her. So he stole my debit card and was tapping at the ATM and pulling out cash from my savings he stole 7k then when I went to check my savings I saw 0 then and noticed that card was missing so I asked about it he started to throw my furniture at me and screaming eventually pulling his sks out loaded pointed at me saying I had 5 min to leave so I ran out to my car where he followed me said to leave it as it's his and some bs conspiracy theories about me try to kill him so on cops of course arrived then talked to him and me then told him to go back inside said they would let me grab what I could I said no its my apartment lease is in my name I rent the unit for about 3 years they said according to him it's his and I'm a drug addicted because that they refused to let me take my car and made dropped me off a rehabilitation clinic where I was found negative for everything but by that time my father stole the registration out of glove box and my insurance paper and they said with out those they can't prove the car was mine and refused to help me take it and dropped me off at the station where I spent a week at my friend's on her floor as she was new to the country didn't have any furniture other then Facebook market place free stuff, her bf was small dick prik who didn't live with her and throw me out I ended up having to leave my job and hitchhiking across the country to my grandmother's where she was say I shouldn't talk about him badly to the people next door and how it was my fault for paying for the rent my self and groceries for 3 people despite her sending him 3k a month that non of us there other then him knew about police still refuse to help me he's now forged my signature and registered the car under my sister's name because he's not registered in the province I used to live but is still in the current one I'm living for over 8 years now despite live there 1850km away ie insurance fraud so tried to report him for that but nothing anyways 7 months later I'm getting a call from him claiming I stole my money back and he's going to call police on me if I don't return it because he's lots everything he stole I told him to go suck him self off 2 days later police raided my place because I was doing side tech repair out of the basement and he claimed I was selling meth they found nothing apologized and still refused to help but now that claim even tho it's marked false made my employer fire me as they have strict rules against anything showing up with you name in criminal history, so now I'm still jobless missing a car, and money, furniture, clothes, hobbies total nearing 50k that he's been selling and wrecking who know who and out of fucking work fuck them and my grandmother still doesn't understand the issues trys to encourage me to apologize to him and nicely ask for everything back despite me paying her rent and building a kitchen and 2 room in her basement. Fuck family fuck life fuck police, fuck canada