Few days passed. I had designed some clothes for Alice Lockwood. I was on my way to meet Alice to her office. I was on the ground floor when I saw many people working there.

   It was a very big company. A lady came towards me. She said, “Hi. I am Stephenie. I am Alice’s Secretary. I am here to take you to Alice's office.” I followed her towards the office. 

   I knocked on the door before going in. A voice came from inside. “Yes. You can come in.” I opened the door and took a seat. I said, “The designs are done. You can take a look when ever you want.” 

   Alice said, “That's nice. I guess I will look into it this weekend. Actually, I have a meeting right now. So, please excuse me. If you need anything, you can ask my secretary.” Alice moved away and left the office. 

   I left the office. I asked Stephenie, “Can you please tell me where I can have a coffee?” She replied, “There is a vending machine straight towards your right. You can drink from it.” 

   I was on my way to the vending machine. I drank a coffee and took a lift downwards. I went inside the lift. It was going downwards. I reached the 8th floor from the 14th floor. Suddenly, the lift stopped. I was scared. It wasn't moving. 

    I clicked the emergency button many times. Nothing happened. I started to panic. My phobia was controlling me. I was breathing heavily. I took out my phone to call for help. There was no network. I was scared. 

   I was screaming, “Someone please help me. I am trapped in the lift.” I was screaming very loudly. I guess there was no one. I sat down. My heartbeat was racing. Suddenly I heard footsteps. 

   I screamed again. “Is someone there? Please help me. I am trapped in the lift.” The footsteps came closer. It was Josh. I could sensed it. He said, “Don't panic, I will do something.” 

   He didn't know it was me inside. He called the security and control room to check the lift. He yelled on the phone, “Do it faster. Someone is trapped inside.” 

  He was waiting outside and checking if I was okay. Few seconds later some people went towards the control room and repaired the wires. The lift started again. It started to open. 

     Josh saw me coming outside the lift. He was shocked. I said, “Thank you for helping me.” He nodded and went away. I was very sure that he didn't want to talk to me. 

   It was the weekend. I reached the front door. I was very nervous as was going to have dinner with Alice Lockwood. It was my first time having dinner with a famous person. I had worked with many famous people but never had dinner with them. 

   The door was opened. It was Alice. She said, “Please come inside.” I took a seat on the chair. She said, “Thank you for coming here on a short notice.” I said, “It's my pleasure to have a dinner with you.” 

    Once again the doorbell rang. Alice said, “Please wait a minute.” She went towards the door. It was Josh. He came inside. We were stunned to see each other. 

   “So what's the urgent matter?” I asked politely to Alice, sitting at the dining table. She answered, “As you know, Josh and I are going to marry each other. I need you to design a beautiful wedding dress for me.” 

  “It will be done. So when is the wedding?” I asked, feeling sad. “Next month.” Alice replied quickly and happily, holding Josh's hands and smiling at him. Josh was looking at her too. But he wasn't happy about it. 

  We had our dinner. I was ready to leave. “Can you really go by yourself? There is no cab nearby.” Alice said, who is concerned about me. I said, “Yes, I can go.” 

   Josh looked at Alice. He said, “I will drop her. It's late at night. She shouldn’t walk at this time.” It was just ten. Alice said, “Alright, take care.” Josh hugged her. We both went towards his car. 

   I took a seat in his car. He started the car. He was driving. I started the conversation by saying, “Congratulations on your future wedding.” He said, “Yes. I had to move on. I can't be with someone who lies to me.” 

   I was hurt by his sentence. I was angry too but I controlled myself. He was the one who broke up with me. He was the one who didn't answer my calls and texts. He was the one who didn't listened about my explanation. 

  The car stopped. Josh said, “You reached.” “Thank you for the ride.” I said, getting out of the car. I went inside my apartment. 

I 34 female live with my sister 31 female she has a bf 28 and they fight to much to the point where I have told the guy please go and don’t come back I love her but it’s a toxic situation to where I’m not gonna lie and tell her she’s not doing nothing wrong. No I tell her you’re the problem and so many times they fight and he moves out and comes back it’s her home so she tends to kick him out then regret it then wants him back. When he doesn’t want to come back she does the typical I’m gonna kill my self does all this bullshit and threatens to call immigration to n him and what not. Last time they broke up I text him “please stay away don’t come back” the next day they got back together and the first thing she does goes through his messages and texts me that I need to stay out of her business so I say ok move on with my life. This weekend she kicked him out he packed his shit and left but today he came over to talk turns out he was at a friends house she was outside threatening to crash into his friends house so he came to our house cus she didn’t want her starting shit . She came home he was here he left with her so I left went to the friends house he was at cus we’re all a friend group just in case they came home and needed space. Out of nowhere she’s texting me because he supposedly took her keys. I text and ask if he has them he doesn’t she continues to blow my phone so finally I go home and find them give them to her and go to my room she’s now wanting to see my phone to text him I tell her no she’s just standing outside my room telling me to let her see my phone I keep telling her no she tells me that I gotta leave her home then .I text him tell him to block me delete the message and give her the phone and I tell her “go ahead call him” she goes through my phone and somehow retrieves the deleted messages and loses her shit she tell me I gotta go cus how dare I tell him to leave but she doesn’t understand it’s for her own good she wouldn’t leave me alone so I lost my shit and threw hands . By law she can’t kick me out I live there I pay rent she said nope you don’t live here you owe me 6 months rent I’ve been paying my rent on time but there was a time I was going through a tough time. She said leave the keys I left with my dog my bag and a blanket but I need my things she’s saying I won’t get shit till I pay her what I owe her I’m so stressed out

CW: Death and Blood
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The first sound the son hears was a piercing sound of blood and bones, and a gurgling noise of someone trying to let their voice out, but couldn’t. He stares in shock at his older father, who was thrusting a spree deeper and deeper to their throats, until they couldn’t sing anymore. He pulls it out, and it vanishes, the once colorful blue is painted red.

“Come on, son.” His haggy voice commands. “We need to get out of here.”

After reaching back to their land, his son ask his father many questions.

“That, my boy, is a Siren.” He begins. “They’re creatures who try to seduce men with their voices. Drowning them deep into the depths of their seas. I saw it once with my own father…” His voice quivers as his father remembers the terrified screams, mixed with those seductive blue eyes staring deep into his.

“But, mom always goes out to the sea during the night.”

“She does, but she’s different. She just enjoys the ocean, that’s all.”

The son nods, moving on to the next question. However, what his own blood said splashes in his father’s ear constantly like a wave, moving itself in and out, not showing any mercy. He already knew what he had to do.

During the chilling night of Autumn, his wife recommends their anniversary to be somewhere on the beach, where he has always been fishing. Of course, he couldn’t decline, why else would he deny his own wife? She was different after all.

The two walk closer to the waves, the full moon shining them through the light. The glowing blue waves land on their feet, giving them a cooling sensation of relief.

For a second, the father feels relieved, happy, those negative emotions vanish like those waves, but only for a second. As soon as he stares at his wife's seductive blue eyes, those feelings come back, splashing his mind with commands.

He grabs his spear, and thrusts it into his wife's throat. She lets out a gurgle, yet not the same kind as those creatures. It felt real, but those creatures could also become human. It can disguise themselves, he was sure of it.

He thrust it deeper, ignoring the pain in his back and face. He can feel her scratching away, trying to escape, but she couldn’t any longer. After all, he knew who she truly was.

She took her last breath, before her hand landed on the sand. Without any hesitation, he quickly grabs her and throws her body to the sea, sinking it away to the depths. The job was done.

But as soon as he turns away, he can hear the most beautiful song that ever rang in his head.

He quickly turns, seeing a female with long blonde hair, and seductive blue eyes. Her singing voice commands him to come see her, feel her, to be with her.

His legs move on their own, yet his mind tries to argue back.

“N-No! Don’t you dare!” He shouts at his legs.

He slowly grabs onto his spear and dabs it deep into his legs, crushing the bones. He lets out a hollow scream, disturbing the harmony and causing the Siren to vanish to the ocean. He finally managed to slay them down for the night.

He lands on his knees, chuckling at the pain, yet victory he was granted.

The next day, the father was at the hospital. Someone saw him passed out and bleeding last night and decided to call for help. He was relieved, yet also hates that his own son has to see him like this, and has to learn the truth about his own mother.

“Wait…mom is a…Siren?”

His father nods.

“But, you've been married for years, how could she be one?”

“I never thought about it myself, my dear son. I didn’t know they could even transfer to humans. But whatever the case is, you have your old father here to protect you, and tell you about these tales.”

The son nods, hugging his father's warm body.

“Can we fight destiny?” A little boy asked.

The person next to him looks at him, stunned, like it was the stupidest question he could ever say. “My word, son. Why would we ever fight destiny?”

“Well, you never know what it brings you, so why can’t we fight it?”

“Because, destiny will always bring you what you need.”

“But, what if your wants become more important than your needs?”

Silence. He wasn’t sure if this person ever thought about it before, or if he had never been asked this question. But it was a very long silence. After a while, he turns to the boy and simply strokes his hair, walking off.

Those questions keep burning in that boy’s head for a very long time. What’s the point of not fighting? Why should we stop fighting? What if destiny isn’t actually our destiny? Why do they talk about Faith way more than Destiny? Are they even the same thing?

Throughout his life, those unanswered questions keep whispering in his head like a tornado, constantly spinning around and around, making him feel uneasy.

Even during the booming of the war, and even while he’s fighting plenty of enemies, he wonders if this was true “Destiny”. Was it destiny that made us kill people? Or was it power? Nobody forced them to go to war, yet people still went. Was this their destiny? Or their willpower to change the world?

And why did he follow along with them? Was he believing in destiny? Maybe this was destined to happen? But, nobody forced him to kill those innocent people. Were they destined to die? Or was they just in a bad place at a bad time?

Am I even doing the right thing?

Staring at his sword, he grabs it. He wasn’t even sure why he was carrying it. He doesn’t even understand why this was destined to be by his side, slicing plenty of monsters and humans. Is destiny even a thing at this point?

“I see that struggle on your face again.” That same person says, patting the boy's shoulder. “You’re still questioning destiny, aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Should we really be killing these people? If they were destined to die, then why even do anything? Why even try growing up?”

The person was silent again, not helping the boy with these unanswered questions. It only makes his heart and mind scream even more.

“Why won’t you answer me?” He hisses.

“Because, this is something you have to think about. I already have my definition of destiny. What’s yours?”

“What…?”

The boy's eyebrows furrow. He wanted to draw his sword and chop this guy's head off right now, but he tries to keep his cool.

“In your opinion, what does destiny mean?”

“I don’t know! I have no idea what ‘destiny’ even is!”

“Then, it seems like you have a lot of growing up to do.”

The boy grits his teeth, shoveling past the male. He didn’t even bother looking back.

But still, those unanswered questions still keep burning in his mind. Maybe this was his little destiny? To find the answers that he’s been longing to find out. And once he does, his existence in this world will be complete. So, maybe he should fight with destiny a bit longer, just a bit. So he can figure out the True meaning of that word, destiny.

Wine Spirits Beer [cw mentions of child abuse, manipulation, religion]

The group waves and I step back onto the curb. Lisa cranks the window closed as Alexei starts the van’s rumbly engine.

“See ya when we get back!”

The glass reaches the top of the window and they drive away. I start walking while I watch my friends roll over the crest of the hill, the van’s engine fading to ambient nighttime city noise. I was invited to go with them. Alexei and Lisa’s band had planned a last minute tour out west. Vancouver, Victoria, couple of other places. Some of our friends were tagging along to help out.

“You should come! It’d be cool to have someone who could take pictures! There’s an extra seat in the van if you don’t mind it being a little crowded.” 

I would not’ve minded. This is the exact kind of thing I’d always wanted to do, and against all odds the opportunity had landed right in front of me. I would’ve had to pay for food and stuff, and pitch for accommodations, but I could’ve made it work. None of my would’ve’s and could’ve’s mattered though, since I didn’t get all my shifts covered anyway. I asked all my co-workers but it’s Canada Day weekend. Nobody wants to work in the liquor store on Canada Day weekend.

“Fucking stupid Canada Day. People and their fucking liquor.”

I get to the top of the hill and my frustration is dulled ever so slightly by the majesty of the city skyline twinkling in the distance. 

“At least I’m here.”

I’d arrived in the city a few years earlier at age nineteen. Leaving my hometown feels like my biggest accomplishment in life. In fact, I’m not sure how I’ll ever top that. A lot of people from my high school tried moving to the city, but most ended up going back. Not me though, I’m still here. Sure I live in a mouldy rooming house and hate my job, but I’m finally free from my hometown. Considering how little respect I have for my landlord, nobody really tells me what to do anymore. Except at work. But at home I come and go as I please, eat what I want when I want, and I can have overnight guests as long as they’re quiet and don’t leave their shoes by the front door. 

I get to the station in time for the last train, but it never arrives. The digital schedule board appears to have given up. After about ten minutes of the arrival estimate not changing I get sick of waiting and start another long walk home. Luckily I’m a fast walker, efficient with my strides. I figure I should have about six hours of sleeping time before I have to get up for work tomorrow. Not bad.

“Maybe I should’ve just quit after all. They’re gonna have so much fun without me. Plus the pay is shit and my supervisor’s an asshole.” 

I stop the idea in its tracks. Nope. We don’t do that. If I want to quit I need to give at least two weeks notice. I need to leave on good terms if I ever want to get a better job. Come on Alison. We can be responsible or we can work here forever, those are the choices.

My internal monologue has morphed into mom’s voice. Familiar, comforting, yet firm. Maybe a little bit stern.

We don’t do that. We don’t do that.

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. I’m making good time. Trying to listen to the sounds of the city, but subconscious mom is talking over it. 

We don’t do that. We don’t do that. 

-

“No! We don’t do that in the house.”

I’m roughly five years old. Mom sits up in her recliner to make sure I see how unhappy she is.

“What did I do?”

“You know. Don’t give me that.”

“I’m not allowed to say doofus?”

“You were yelling again. How many times do I have to tell you not to yell in my house?”

“I dunno.”

“It’s a rhetorical question, Alison. Just be quiet. Why don’t you go play downstairs. Play with your Barbies or something. You have so many toys, and yet you’re up here bugging me.”

“But I wanna hang out with you.”

“Well I’m napping. God doesn’t like it when you make noise while I sleep. Don’t you want to honour your father and mother like god says?”

“I dunno.”

“Well you have to. It’s important.”

My family is Catholic, but also sometimes Lutheran. I don’t know how much I like god. God has no way of knowing what it’s like to be a five year old girl because he’s always been an old man. He loves me but I wish he would stop telling me what to do. Life is hard enough without extra rules that don’t make any sense.

-

“We don’t sit like that with skirts on. Come on honey, sit like a lady.”

“Why can I just sit normal?”

“Because, everybody will see your underwear.”

“I don’t care!”

“Well god cares. Come on now, be good so you can go to heaven one day.”

“If heaven is so great why can’t I just go there now?”

Mom hates that question. It makes her yell a bit sometimes so I try not to ask it very often even though I’d really like to know the answer. Why wouldn’t god like to see me sooner? Santa can tell if I’m good or bad already so why can’t god if his powers are stronger than Santa’s?

-

“I don’t wanna leave yet!”

“Too bad, it’s late, your sister needs to go to bed.”

“But I was having fun!”

“Too bad. Maybe we can come back another time.”

“We never get to have fun!”

“Quit whining, your dad’s trying to drive.”

“Well maybe he should stop driving then so we can go back.”

“Alison, cut it out or we’ll leave you at the wine store with all the other whiny kids.”

Mom points to the place where she buys wine as we drive past it.

“Well at least I could have friends there!”

“Nope, the kids aren’t allowed to be friends. They make them sweep and mop floors all day.”

“Well we could still talk.”

“Nope, the kids get beaten if they talk. All they do is clean all day and then go to bed early and get up and clean again in the morning. And they can only eat liver and onions, for every meal.”

“Do they get to go home ever?”

“Maybe sometimes, if they behave well enough.”

“You can’t send me there! Please!”

“Well I guess you better listen to me then.”

“Is that why there’s bars on the windows?”

“Yup! They gotta keep all those whiny kids in somehow!”

Maybe she doesn’t understand how much I would hate having to live in the whine store. This isn’t something to laugh about. What if I’m too bad to ever get to go home? What if I talk by mistake? What if they hit me with a big spoon like grandma used to do to dad instead of normal spanking? I can’t get sent there. 

-

“Mommy she took!”

“Alison! Whatever it is give it back.”

“Its a crayon but it’s my turn to use it.”

“Was your sister done with it?”

“No but she was using it forever!”

“Don’t whine, just give it back.”

“I’m so sorry mom! Please don’t send me to the whine store. Please.”

“Well give the crayon back and I won’t.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. I have to behave better. I need to try harder. 

-

“Alison! We have to leave soon! You said you were getting dressed!”

“Yeah but I dunno if I wanna go. I really don’t feel like going to the church today.”

“Well you can either get dressed and come to the baptism, or we can drop you off at the wine store on our way there. Those are your choices.”

It can be hard to get words out when all the options are bad ones.

“Now what? What are you crying about?”

“Cause, I don’t wanna go live at the whine store. Please don’t make me go there mom, I’ll do anything.”

“Well then quit your crying and get dressed. Come on, hurry up, we have to leave.”

-

“Come on! Hurry up hurry up hurry up.”

I’m twenty-two. I’m desperately trying not to vomit up my coffee while the densely packed LRT lurches through the intersection. Everyone sways and I throw up my mouth a little as the heavy-footed conductor stops at the platform. The feral crowd of seasonal tourists behind me forces me out the door before it has a chance to open all the way. I rush to the edge of the platform so I can puke into the century park water feature. My half digested multivitamin floats away as I mourn the loss of my morning caffeine. I’ve gotta start eating breakfast. While I’m dragging my exhausted body and mind to work my phone rings. I dread the thought of hearing about my friends’ trip, being told everything I’m missing.

“Hi, is this Alison?”

“Yup. Who’s this?”

“Hey! It’s Paul, from work. I hope it’s okay I got your number from the schedule book. Just wondering if you ended up finding someone to cover your shift?”

“Nope. Didn’t end up going.”

“Great! I mean, that sucks. But since you’re here anyway would you wanna take my shift tomorrow?”

Now I’m wishing it was my friends calling to tell me about their trip.

“Sure. What time?”

“Oh man you’re the best! It’s 11-7. Thank you so much! I’m going camping with some buddies for the long weekend. It’s gonna be sick. I’m glad you can cover for me. If I couldn’t find someone I was thinking I’d just quit. Fuck that place, am I right? Ted is such an asshole.”

 One day, she was feeling particularly pompous in her grace, charm, and intelligence, after being praised all day by her peers. When she saw a meek bird dwelling in the damp corner of the corridor, surrounded by a herd of incompetents who were struggling to capture the creature, she decided to consolidate her superiority by bravely approaching the pigeon-sized bird in complete confidence.  The black bird, greasy and injured, cowered away from her and stared at her with its large, endearing, brown eyes as she grabbed it and took it to the balcony to place on the grass. The bird stumbled out her hand, wobbled slightly, and took flight, albeit with great effort and a few loose feathers.

A few days passed and she found that whenever she walked home from her dreary routine, she was accompanied by the curious bird. Sometimes it would fly above, sometimes perched nearby, always maintaining a respectful distance. It was always watching somewhere, deeply curious of the woman. Deeply critical of some of her choices, especially those in men. Deeply interested in her popularity, and her apparent loneliness. Deeply concerned for her safety precautions, or the lack thereof. She took note of the bird and distinguished it from others of its kind by the gentle, brown eyes, and the limp in its right leg.

At night, when the overworked companion took to her balcony to soak in the landscape, the bird would rest near her arm and pick at the seeds placed there. And then she would kiss the bird and hold it, and then release it when it flapped its wings violently in her face.

When Winter was getting ready to bid farewell, a new, special unit joined her workplace to help with the case. The foreign unit kept to themselves, hovering near the coffee machines in packs of twos and threes, always in black clothes. They barely spoke to each other, only mutters and grimaces. One such man would work tirelessly in the upstairs office, only speaking if necessary, and otherwise he would be gazing ahead, as if watching the world go by. He claimed the picnic bench his own. The one that was two from the left of hers, in the open space of the courtyard. He would hunch over his lunch, almost too tall and large for the picnic table. After 20-or-so minutes, he would get up and limp over the bin near her bench and dispose of his wrappings, not without catching a glimpse of the beautiful woman multitasking between food and work. This would be the highlight of his day, everyday, until the case was completed and the special unit returned to their headquarters. When Summer approached, she felt like she could finally breath again after the horrendous workload of winter, and she remembered her bird companion. But it seemed like with the finishing of the case, came the end of her chapter with the bird. How she longed to be looked at by its gorgeous eyes, gazing at her with adoration, as if she was its saviour.

She didn’t know, that when she shut her balcony door and readied for bed, a pigeon-sized silhouette sat on a nearby tree, observing the landscape, as if watching the world go by, checking for any threats that might harm his dear beloved.

Preface to “Lord of the Lecture Hall” and “Light of the Lecture Hall”

In the following verses, I present two portraits of academia, each representing a distinct approach to teaching and the role of the professor. It is not my intention to advocate for one view over the other, but rather to offer these contrasting perspectives as they manifest in the lives of those who shape the minds of students.

Lord of the Lecture Hall depicts a professor who commands the lecture hall with the weight of years, tradition, and authority. This figure is entrenched in the classical models of scholarship—those of careful curation, deep study, and a reverence for established texts. His methods are grounded in a certainty that can only come with experience, and his classroom is a place of unyielding discipline, where questions are met with resistance, and tradition is upheld as sacred. The professor in this poem does not indulge in the whims of the present moment but instead clings to the tried and true.

On the other hand, Light of the Lecture Hall portrays a professor who embraces a more dynamic and open approach to education. Here, the classroom is not a place of strict hierarchy but one of dialogue and fluidity. The professor values engagement, flexibility, and the challenge of new ideas, allowing students to shape the learning experience through their questions and critiques. This figure is comfortable in uncertainty, believing that knowledge is ever-evolving and that learning is a collaborative process between teacher and student.

Both poems seek to explore the inherent tension between tradition and progress, between the old and the new. They offer a glimpse into two possible futures for the academic world—one where authority and tradition preserve the integrity of knowledge, and another where openness and change foster innovation and adaptation.

It is for the reader to decide which of these visions, if either, resonates more with their own understanding of what it means to teach, to learn, and to grow in the world of academia.

"Lord of the Lecture Hall"

He strides in robes that drape like heavy stone,
A sage, he thinks, and likes to sit alone.
His lectures creak with dust from ancient days,
Old sources worn, preserved in amber glaze.
The world outside is changing, fast and new,
But he remains, in centuries' retinue.

With every phrase he speaks, he nods with pride,
As though the ages sit close by his side.
For fifty years he’s taught the same old text,
And any question leaves him sorely vexed.
He claims that progress harms the soul of art,
And drapes his ancient knowledge like a chart.

His students quake; they dare not raise a hand—
One word of doubt, and grades are swiftly banned.
In rows they sit, with pens held in restraint,
One tardy step, and he’ll declare them faint.
A tardy breath, a glance not quite aligned,
And all their futures fade, their hopes declined.

He drones for hours on points long obsolete,
While tales of “glory” echo from his seat.
He scorns new work as flimsy, soft, untried,
Prefers his first editions, yellow-dyed.
No Twitter feeds, no blogs or podcasts bright,
Just papers torn, and ink that stains the night.

To him, the world’s still bound in leathered tomes,
A realm of brittle pages, Latin poems.
No modern source will dare defy his lore,
The past, for him, contains all knowledge’s store.
The texts are sacred, sacred is the mind—
No need for freshness, no new paths to find.

So lectures roll like thunder on repeat,
Each thought rehearsed, each word a stale conceit.
His voice, a droning pulse, a rote refrain,
His mind a compass set to one domain.
And while he speaks, some nod and feign delight—
They know he’ll pass them if they seem contrite.

And though they smile and write what they have heard,
They know his knowledge is just an old bird.
A fossil, fragile in its hollow shell,
A memory wrapped in time's forgotten spell.

"Light of the Lecture Hall"

He enters light, without the weight of years,
A mind unbound by ancient dust or fears.
His knowledge sharp, yet tempered with a grace
That gives each student voice, an equal place.
He holds the room with warmth, but never claims
To own the truth, or stake eternal flames.

He teaches not to rule, but to ignite,
A spark that questions, tests, and seeks the light.
When hands rise up to challenge or contend,
He leans in close, a listener and a friend.
No pedestal to mark his higher rank,
In every voice, he sees a flowing bank.

His lectures shift, with insights freshly found,
Each point well-measured, each new source profound.
He brings the present’s pulse to every class,
Not clinging to the past like brittle glass.
Where others clench their fists around their lore,
He opens palms, and seeks to learn some more.

Though younger, yet his wisdom runs so deep,
He knows that truths are fluid, hard to keep.
For each idea, he’s willing to concede
If reason leads him down a different creed.
No need for pomp, no need to guard his throne—
His power rests in knowledge freely shown.

He calls the text not “sacred,” but a guide,
A map to wander, not a hill to hide.
In every doubt, he sees a chance to grow,
To shift, to change, to learn what we don’t know.
Each day, each hour, a chance to start anew,
To test, to argue, and to pierce the blue.

In open discourse, he finds his delight,
A scholar’s path, where all may learn and write.
With every lecture, energy is spun,
Not as a task, but as a living one.
He does not seek to mold, to force or bind,
But lets the question lead, and frees the mind.

The future calls to him with voice sincere,
And in each student’s voice, it draws him near.
No single answer ever claims its reign—
For knowledge lives where learning breaks the chain.
And though he stands, unbowed, with no pretense,
It’s in his heart to learn, to make the sense.

A Critique of “Lord of the Lecture Hall” and “Light of the Lecture Hall”

It is a rare and remarkable thing when a poem takes the form of academic discourse, and indeed, this pair of poems, though clearly crafted in such a modern style, merits an analysis of their subtle depths. One cannot help but marvel at the obvious craftsmanship displayed, even as one discerns a certain naiveté in the underlying assumptions of the writers. Such literary endeavors must be met with a judicious eye, for poetry, when it ventures into the realm of academia, carries the weight of intellectual responsibility. The questions they raise, while couched in the language of metaphor and emotional appeal, reveal truths about the nature of teaching, the relationship between student and professor, and—most importantly—the delicate balance between tradition and progress.

In the first poem, Lord of the Lecture Hall, we are presented with the figure of the experienced professor, a character embodying the full gravitas of age, tradition, and knowledge. I must say, the poem does an admirable job of representing a certain type of teacher—one who, with years of painstaking scholarship, has honed his understanding of his subject to a razor-sharp edge. There is something undeniably admirable about the image of the "sage" who, in his wisdom, remains steadfast against the tide of ever-changing academic whims. The author of this poem appears to have made an intentional choice to imbue the professor with a sense of dignity, even as the narrator takes pains to suggest that this same figure may be seen as somewhat "out of touch" with the newer trends of modern thought. However, such criticisms are, as I shall explain, deeply misplaced.

We see the professor, “draped in robes like heavy stone,” a clever metaphor for the solid foundation of classical learning. Stone, after all, is not a fragile material; it endures, and it withstands the ravages of time. Such a metaphor underscores the intellectual resilience of the professor, who, much like a stone edifice, stands firm in his principles, unaffected by the fleeting fashions of the academic world. One might note, of course, that such a steadfastness can be perceived by those unacquainted with the true nature of scholarship as “outdated” or even “rigid.” But this, as we know, is the hallmark of true academic rigor—one does not abandon the texts that have shaped the discipline merely because some new and shiny theory has come into vogue.

Moreover, the poem’s suggestion that the professor “drones for hours on points long obsolete” is a rather petty criticism of what should be seen as the profound depth of a truly comprehensive curriculum. To understand the nuances of the present, one must first fully appreciate the lessons of the past. It is not in every passing fad that one finds genuine insight. I, for one, cannot help but feel a quiet sense of satisfaction when the poem’s narrator notes that “students quake” at the thought of questioning this revered figure. Indeed, the depth of the professor’s knowledge is such that it demands respect—something to be admired, even if the poem attempts to portray it as a form of tyranny.

And so we move to Light of the Lecture Hall, a poem that, with all its talk of “new sources” and “fresh insights,” presents the counterpoint—the supposed modern ideal of the educator. This professor, unlike the one in the first poem, is depicted as one who “enters light, without the weight of years,” a curious turn of phrase. Light, one presumes, is associated with enlightenment, but there is an underlying suggestion here that this "lightness" is, in fact, a superficial quality. The professor is not weighed down by the intellectual rigor that comes with experience but instead prances through his lectures with a kind of airy freedom. The implication is clear: He is unburdened by the weight of knowledge, perhaps to the point of not knowing anything substantial at all.

I am struck by the description of the professor’s lectures as “shifting, with insights freshly found.” Fresh, indeed, but at what cost? It is easy to present oneself as a progressive thinker when one has yet to grapple with the depth and breadth of a mature intellectual tradition. A “fresh” insight is often nothing more than a repackaging of old ideas with a modern twist. It is precisely this kind of superficial novelty that leads to confusion among students, who are taught to value change for its own sake, rather than understanding the timeless principles that undergird true intellectual achievement.

The line, “he brings the present’s pulse to every class,” is another striking phrase that betrays the flaw of the modern academic. The “pulse of the present” is a transient thing, fleeting and unreliable. History teaches us that the great minds of the past did not concern themselves with the ever-changing whims of their time. Instead, they focused on the eternal questions that transcend the boundaries of any one era. This is what allows knowledge to endure—what prevents it from turning into mere fashion. The modern professor, for all his talk of “engagement” and “dialogue,” cannot see the danger in embracing these fleeting moments as if they were the entirety of human understanding.

And yet, there is a glimmer of truth in this poem, hidden beneath the surface. The young professor’s willingness to “concede” when “reason leads him down a different creed” is an admirable quality. One would almost think the poem implies that this humility is an inherent flaw in the older professor, who might resist such concessions. Yet, true intellectual humility does not lie in simply yielding to the most recent opinion that sounds convincing. It lies in recognizing when an idea truly challenges your own—and why it does so. This is what is often misunderstood by those too quick to embrace the "new."

The poem suggests that the young professor’s power “rests in knowledge freely shown,” and this is indeed a desirable trait, but let us not mistake freedom for competence. One can “freely show” all manner of things, but it is the depth of knowledge, painstakingly acquired and tested over time, that allows a true professor to stand before a class with authority. It is not in facile answers, but in the rigorous process of examination, that true enlightenment is found.

In conclusion, it is clear to me that both poems, in their attempt to contrast the old with the new, ultimately reveal a truth: the wisdom of the old is not something to be mocked, but something to be revered. The young professor, in his eager idealism, may bring energy and novelty, but without the solid foundation that comes from years of study and experience, his insights are like seeds cast onto barren ground. They may sprout for a time, but they cannot withstand the test of time. The older professor, by contrast, is the one who cultivates a garden of knowledge—deep, enduring, and unyielding. Thus, the true irony of these poems lies not in the character of the “Lord of the Lecture Hall,” but in the misconception that the young, untested professor offers anything of lasting value to the academic world.

“Hush, little girl.” The words slipped from my lips in a hushed whisper once we were left alone in the room.

As my hands gradually stopped shaking, I admired the small baby in my arms. Wrapped in a soft ivory shawl that I had crocheted for her during pregnancy, my newborn squirmed and cried. Under the harsh fluorescent hospital light, her round cheeks were crimson and her eyes were squeezed shut. However, that didn’t make her any less beautiful.

A feeling that I couldn’t name back then washed over me as I brought her against my chest. Holding her tiny hands in mine, I gently hummed an old lullaby. A soft melody filled the conditioned air with warmth and love—one of those my mother used to sing for us.

As if understanding my words, her cries slowly faded away. They turned into quiet sighs, blending with the distant sounds of people coming and going through the hospital’s corridors.

As her sobs calmed, I brushed my fingertip against her tiny, scrunched nose. “Hush, little girl. Mama is here now,” I whispered once again, hoping my words and my touch would envelop her in all the love I had for her.

At first, I called her that because I hadn’t picked a name for her yet. It wasn’t neglect or anything. I just couldn’t decide which name was a good match for my little girl’s beauty. For who she would become and all the things she was going to achieve.

“Hush, little girl.” As days, months, and years went by, those words were the first I said whenever her lovely ocean blue eyes, just like her father’s, swam with tears.

“Hush, little girl.” My words were like a mantra, chasing away sadness and nightmares that didn’t let her sleep at night.

“Hush, little girl,” I cooed each time my Lucy’s shoulders trembled and tears covered her face.

“Hush, little girl,” I comforted her on her first day of school as tears welled up when she looked up at me. That day, she tightened her grip on her shawl, the same one the nurse wrapped her in before she handed her to me the day she was born. Then, with a small nod, she looked at the kids heading inside the school. Slowly, she let go of my hand before she followed them.

Whether it was because of the scary tree outside her window or a scrape on her knee, the words ‘hush little girl’ rushed out of my mouth to comfort her each and every time.

Until one day, after she stormed into the kitchen, crying because of a classmate who refused to play with her. And when I murmured the same words, she stomped her small feet against the worn-out floor.

“I’m not a little girl anymore!” She frowned, crossing her arms against her chest. And although it was hard for me to stop calling her that, I chose to respect her wish.

I held her in my arms, brushing my hands through her hair, and said, “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m certain there are lots of other girls who want to play with you.”

That day, a sunny April afternoon, was the last time I had said those words out loud. Instead, I simply whispered to them when no one was listening.

There were times when I had almost slipped and said them. Times like when Mr. Loopie, her first pet, passed away. Or when she got lost in the festival when she was nine. When I saw her quivering lips when she broke her ankle. Or the time when we had to move out. The first time she got her heart broken and when she got her acceptance letter. When she left for college and when she came running, clutching the ivory shawl I made her, when she heard I was sick. And on many other occasions when her emotions were too strong for her to handle.

Each time she hid her face in my chest, holding me as tight as she could. My heart had always whispered those words. Because for me, my Lucy was always my little girl. The little girl whose tongue peeked from behind the gap of two missing teeth whenever she smiled. Back to the little girl whose little pigtails bounced when she played out in the backyard. The little girl who never failed to brighten everyone’s day.

“Hush, little girl.” That time, it was my tears running down abundantly as my words barely covered the beeping of the machines tying me back to life.

“Hush, little girl,” I whispered over and over as I felt life drain from me for all the times I wouldn’t be around to comfort her. To hold her. And to tell her that everything was going to be alright.

“Hush, little girl,” I repeated like a broken record, unable to hold back my tears.

“Hush, little girl,” I cried, hugging her shawl that she covered me with tightly.

“Hush, little girl.” I wanted to scream and beg whoever was ready to listen as my broken prayers filled the room, pleading for more time with her. Enough time to tell her that I love her one last time. To see her smile and kiss her cheeks. To breathe in her comforting scent. A mix of chamomile and jasmine.

“Hush, little girl.” Now I watched her from above as her smile returned.

“Hush, little girl.” The shawl I made for her was wrapped around her shoulders like my arms used to. My words accompanied her during the many nights she spent studying.

“Hush, little girl.” Slowly, Lucy, my little girl, moved on and started a family of her own.

“Hush, little girl.” Just like I predicted, she became a wonderful woman. One with a big heart and a wonderful smile.

“Hush, little girl.” There was not a day that went by without me whispering those words, hoping the northern wind would bring them to her.

Not a day had passed without me and my words, ‘Hush, little girl’, watching over her.

—

Word count: 1010 words.

This story is a follow-up to u/rainbow--penguin ‘s story Hush, little girl

Thank you for reading my story. Crits and feedbacks are always appreciated.

r/AnEngineThatCanWrite

First Part....

Shortly after it, the ambulance arrived to take they to the hospital. Inside the car Joy looks at the window and sees the cops just arriving in the house and investigating the room. She was holding Nia hands until get in the hospital while explaining what happens to the doctors. But they was on a small rural city, the closest hospital was too far, in another city. The doctors doesn't know if there was enough time to arrive at hospital and save her.

After some long time, Nia and Joy arrived in the hospital. Joy sees several doctors desperately taking Nia to the surgery room. She runs after her, but just before she enter the room the doctor close the door. She shouted:

"Let me see her!!! She is my sister!!!!"

The doctors starts to slow down, one takes a minute talking to a woman. Then he opens the door and very sad he reply:

"Sorry kid... just doctor can enter in the surgery room. But not worried, just stay in the waiting room and we will inform you about her in about... 5 hours"

"But!?.... sigh... Ok doctor..."

Joy goes to the waiting room, seats and try to stay calm while waiting the news about Nia. But seconds looked like minutes, and minutes looked like hours. She has to find a way to distract her self out. Then all of sudden a female doctor get out of the same room that was Nia, she was a pretty woman with brown light skin and long hair. Then a kid at the age of Joy appears running at her direction and crying, she hug him and start talking with him. Joy looks at her and sees how she treats the kid, she was a respectful, humble, a lovely person. Just like she imagined her mother would be.... at the end of the talk, the kid smile, he was more happy. Then the kid's dad comes to get him, and she ended saying goodbye. Joy sees that she now was coming to her direction, when she notice that her was looking, she quickly turn her head back down. The woman arrived in the waiting room, seats at her side and look at her. And with low tone, almost whispering, she gently say:

"Hi.... I see that you are a little dirty.... you want to take a shower? I know some place that you can clean up your self if you want to...."

Joy look at her dress, and sees it full of dad's and Nia's blood. She needs to clean that up if she wants to distract her self of what happens. So, pretty shy and nervous she gets up and say:

"Yes.... thank you mistress..."

"You can call me just Stacey, Stay for short."

Stacey get up, pointed to the hall:

"The bathroom is in that way, follow me."

Joy quietly go along with her with the head down. "There", Stacey says pointing to the female bathroom. Joy raise your head and sees that had two bathroom, male and female... she doesn't know if she have the right to enter on the female bathroom. Stacey sees that Joy was indecisive, so she enter in the female bathroom first:

"It's ok. You can enter, you are a girl."

Joy notice that her was really thinking that she was a girl. She was happy that she looks like one, but she wanted to tell her the truth... yet... before that, she just wanted to feel how is like to be treated as a girl for other people... so, she raised the foot, take a breath and make her choice. She decided to go to the female bathroom. Stacey smile opening the door for her. Inside the bathroom Stacey says:

"Here. Enter in that room, give me your cloths underneath the door and take your shower. While that I will wash and dry it for you. And after your shower I have a bit of a surprised for you!''

Joy was not wishful. She was thinking: "I'm thankful for your help Stay, but there is nothing that you can give me that it was going to cheer me up now". She finished the shower, Stacey give her the towel and the cloths cleaned. Joy wear and get out of the room, she looks at Stacey and sees she receiving something from another doctor, it was.....

"TEDDY!!! Do you fix him??? Thank you!!"

The Nia's teddy was perfectly has new, Joy grabs and hug it. Stacey say:

"Yes! We find in the room, and think that it could be of yours. So we fix it. Hope that he will help you stay calm...."

But Joy happy expression just took a few minutes to her start to thing about Nia again. Stacey seeing this, she say:

"And how about we take a fresh air? Want to go to another place to relax?..."

Joy think that it was a good idea, but she was afraid that the other people on the street could find out that she was a boy. Stacey looks at her worried face and say:

"Do not worried, this is not yours city that you was living. In here people are different... they will love you, I can assured that!"

She was unsure... but in the few minutes that she meet Stacey she already know that her was a good person, so she accept. They gets in the way to the exit door of the hospital, that was passing close to the room where Nia was, she give a last look at the room windows and that time for some reason it was not a lot a doctor... just one.... they get out of the hospital and start walking in the city. The people on the street stooped to look at her with a very surprised face, "does they already now??" Joy ask her self. She start to get ashamed. So they pass in front of one girls cloths store, Joy stop for a second to look at the cloths that she always wanted to have. Stacey see it, and ask:

"You want to buy some cloths? You can choose whichever you want and I can pay for you...."

"I.... I.... I CAN'T!!! Sorry for not telling you before, but I'm a BOY!!!"

"I know, I know.... I has see your video Joy.... so many people in this city has already see it. And just like me, they respect you for who you are.... doesn't need to get ashamed..."

"But... then why they was looking at me like I'm weird???"

"No, they was just shocked for what you did! They was admiring your bravery, they also know that it has to be done, yours dad was a monster... you did the right thing Joy, you can be sure of that..."

"Thank you, Stay...."

That helped Joy gets a little bit more happy. So, they enter and the store and see a seller. She was helping another client, so she hear the door ring bell sound, and say:

"Welcome! How can I help you?...."

The seller turn around and sees Joy. She already has seeing the video has well. So, she look at Stacey:

"It's her?.... It really the girl of the video???"

"Yes it is her"

Joy look at the away from the seller, with one hand holding the teddy bear, and the other caressing her shoulder. The seller goes in front of her, keeled one leg on the ground and look at her, the seller was amazed:

"You... you are amazing!! Knock that asshole on the neck!!! And do you not worried, in that city nobody judge anybody for the gender..."

Just after she tells that, a other kid comes to her and ask:

"It's was you? You was that girl on the video???"

Joy just slightly swing the head up and down, agreeing to it. It's her!!! The kid yell. Then several other kids start to approaching her and saying:

"Not feel sad, you did good"

"You are not weird, you are cool!"

"You are special!"

"You are badass!!"

"This is not that shitty city that you was living on"

"In here we can support you!"

Joy was begin to fell happy again, she doesn't have idea that there was so many people that could accept her. One kid runs deeper on the store, at her age cloths saying:

"In here! Let we help you to choose your cloths!!"

All the kids stay in silence waiting for her answer. She turn her head at the front, and look around to the kids and say:

".... Yes, thanks!!"

Joy give the teddy to Stacey:

"Can... you hold for me while I look the cloths?"

"Of course!!"

"And... thank you Stay, that really helped me!!"

"You are very, very welcome Joy."

Joy runs with the other kids and starting to have fun together. They make jokes, they laugh, they interact. Joy feels like this was how she should have lived her live.... Stacey look at Joy and give it a big smile, she was so happy seeing her finally having fun. The kids find a perfect fit for Joy, she loves each part of it, the cloths, the dress, the shirt, the sneakers, even the red tie on her head.

"Stay, I choose! I want all this."

"You look so pretty! It's fits perfectly on you!"

Stacey gets your wallet, turn to the seller and ask:

"How much it will cost?"

"It's free."

"What?"

"It's ok. She deserve it, I just want to reward her of some how..."

Then Stacey tell to Joy:

Joy, the seller give it all to you for free for you being the amazing girl that you are! Joy look at the seller.

"Thank you!"

She really notice that the people on this city was very different of where she lives. Then she shouted:

"Thank you everybody!!! My sis it's going to love you all as well!! Let's go Stay! Now already pass 5 hours, they already should have cured her! I have to show her my new cloths and my new friends!!!"

In the exact moment that she says this, everyone stay on silence and get the head down. Joy find it so weird, start to get worried.

"W... What is wrong?....."

Stacey start to crying and approach her:

"I'M SO SORRY JOY!!!!.... When you and Nia arrived at the hospital.... it passed just a few minutes and she....... did not resist......"

"No..... YOU ARE LYING!!!"

"It's true... I'm sorry... she doesn't deserve it, she was a good person......"

Joy eyes fill of tier at the same time.

"All of you already know it!!??? And you are telling me just now!!??? So, why you said for me to wait??? Why you make me hope that her was getting better if you already knew that she was dead!!!!?????"

"Because.... I need some time to prove to you that you can still be happy! I can not even think of how much you love your sister... but not let your life ending here!!! You can still make it, you can still be happy!! You can still be JOY!!!!"

"Without her... I don't know if I can.... how can I be happy if the only person that I really loved is now dead!!!!??????"

"....."

Stacey heart was broken to be forced to give this news. She doesn't know what else to say.... Then, Joy run out of the store, in the direction of the hospital has fast has she can. Arriving in there she open the surgery room door where it was Nia. There was just one doctor. She yell:

"I ALREADY KNOW IT!!!! Please.... just let me see her body one last time alone...."

The doctor just accept, get out of the room, and closes the door. Joy looks at Nia's body full of blood, she was crying like never before:

"Nia..... you saved my life, but I could not saved yours!!!! I'm sorry!!! I know that I promised to try to be happy without you.... but I don't know if I can!!!!"

Joy stay hours at the side of Nia's body and don't even has tier left. Then, Stacey enter in the room:

"Sorry, but we..... we will have to take her body now..... ok?....."

"I understand....."

Stacey carry Joy out of the room, gets out of the hospital and go in the direction to the police. In the walk Joy said:

"They will take me........."

Stacey look at her, while she continue:

"My sis told me that without her, they will take me to the orphanage, where there are kids that will hurt me for who I'm......"

"I will not let this happens!!! It's ok..... we will find a good family for you....."

They arrived at the police, approach the main office, Stacey left Joy in the seat at front of the office:

"I will take care of that to you, ok?...."

Joy just swim the head up and down. Stacey open the door and there was a big man writing on a lot of papers. Stacey take the seat. The man says:

"Hi. So, I called you here for obvious reasons. We need to decided what to do with Joel... cough, cough... I'm sorry, Joy. This is a very dedicated situation, she will not be able to live alone at her home... I know that could be difficult for her to get used to the orphanage, but... I don't see another way..."

Although the door was closed, Joy still could hear everything. She turn her head down, hopeless, imagining how bad it's going to be her life from now on... she was trying to accepting your destiny... Stacey quickly reply:

"Difficult for her get 'used to it'!!??? You know very well what they do to children's like Joy in that places! The orphanage is in one city far away from here, they are not like us. They will treat her like her dad did... Also, it is probable that she..... will never be adopted.... she already has 10, and with all that background, people could... be afraid of her.... No, I refused to let her goes there!!!"

"Well.... do you have another idea? Because at least that you find a family in the next few days. I will not have another choice...."

"I...... I can adopt her..."

Joy get shocked. She doesn't even think in that possibility. Can it really happens? Can she be a children of such a lovely person like Stacey?? Joy hopes of live a happy life start to shiny again, she was getting so exited. But just after it, she hear the officer say:

"What??? Stacey, I can see how much you love that children... but, you meet her today and all that you know about her is that she is trans and kill her dad. How can you trust her?"

Joy got sad again at the same time, she was so frustrated saying to her self "No, you can trust me!! I'm not a murderer!!!" But she still has hope that Stacey was going to defend her, and she did:

"Stop saying like it was a bad act!! You see the video, you know that she did it in pure self defense!"

"Yeah, I see it... but still... it can be dangerous get a children like her into your family. She just suffer a trauma, how can you know if that doesn't affect her head? How can you know if her would kill her self and also end up traumatized your other kids?"

"Do you see?? It is for this exact reason that they won't adopt her in the orphanage. I understand the risks.... but I trust her.... I know that she is a good girl, she just need someone to love and to be loved."

Tiers of happiness drop from Joy's eyes when she hear this. At that moment she know 100% that she was the person that can give her a good life... he was.... just like Nia described mom! The officer reply:

"Ok, it's your choice... but the most important. You already has adopted two children's, and are barely being able to sustain them. Do you have conditions to raised another one? I even has heard that your husband lose his job."

".... That's true...."

"In the orphanage at least she it's going to have plenty of food, of cloths, a bed... what is the sense in adopt her if she will be unhappy with you?"

Stacey want to adopt Joy so much, but she can denied that in this part he was right. She can not argue against him... she doesn't have enough money to raised another child...

"You are right... but I don't know what to do.... I will not left her!!!"

Joy quickly get up, opens the door saying:

"I don't care if I will not have plenty of food, or cloths, or toys!!! I just want to be with you, please be my mother!! I don't want to be humiliated ever again!!!"

Stacey hugs Joy

"I will Joy!!! I will adopt and find a way to sustain you, even if i have to work double!!!"

"I know!!! Sell my house!! You can sell all my and my sister property if needed!!!!"

Stacey looks at the officer and ask:

"She can really do that!!???"

"Well... there is a lot a paperwork involved, we also need to know if his parents doesn't specify for who they allow to giver her family estate after death"

"Please officer, give a look at this for us. I promise that I will repay you someday!"

"It's ok, Stacey. We are friends, I will make my best to look after it for you."

"Thank you."

Joy look at the officer goes in his way tring to give him a hug too. But he walked away saying:

"No, wait... sorry hehe, I can see that you are grateful and I appreciate it, but I'm not a "hug person", it's ok just a hand shake."

"Hummm... Ok."

Joy laughing shake his hand. Then look at Stacey smiling and saying:

"Haha, he has his own way of showing affection"

Stacey get up and say. So, let's go Joy, I have another place that I want to show you. The two get out of the police station walk a little bit, then Stacey get a key in your bag and turn on the car. Joy heard the sound of the car and sees him far a way. She say:

"Do you have a car??"

"Yes, but it's a very simple car, and that is not even close to important comparing with what I going to show you"

'What???"

"My house, my husband and your new sister and brother!!"

Joy was amazed, it was really happening, she will have a family again. And at the same time that she was extremely anxious, she was also scared of what they may think... Stacey look at her and sees that she was worried:

"I know what you are thinking... if they will going to like you for who you really are?"

Joy giggles:

"Yeah... exactly..."

"You really not need to worried about it, I'm sure that they will! Mainly because... they was also orphans... his parents also die... so, they will know what you are felling"

Joy doesn't even was thinking about it. But it was true, they going to understand because they pass for something so similar. She start to get exited again. Then they enter in the car, and go to her home. It was not too far away, just about 10 minutes of car. Stacey stop the car saying to her:

"We arrived, It's here! It's not a big home, but it's quite comfy"

"I find it cute. I love it!"

"Great! So, let's get inside! My husband is starting a online business and the kids is just having fun at home. So, you will be able to meet them all at once!"

Stacey knock the door, her husband open in and see Joy. He ask:

"It's... her?...."

"Yes" Stacey reply. Joy look at him and remembered of her dad, then she start to get a little nervous. She back down a little bit and just say:

"H... hi...."

Her husband sees her pressure and know what was going to her head. So, he knelled one leg on the ground, look at her and say:

"It's ok.... not need worried about me, I'm not that monster...."

"......"

She tried to talk, but none words come out. So, he said:

"How about you start by telling what brings you here Joy?...."

"Your wife.... she... adopted me..."

He look at Stacey:

"You did??" He asked with a worried face.

"Yes. I know that can be hard for we to maintain her. But, she really needs a family. I could not let her.... she is fine without having too many things. Besides, if everything work out she will have the right to sell her home and property, that will make our lives way better."

"I understand... ok Joy, welcome to the family!!!"

The kids hear his dad yell, then come running asking:

"What??? Who is new to the family!!??"

They gets to the door and sees Joy. Her sister say:

"Her!!???? Awesome!!! Joy, you are so cool!!! What you did was crazy!!!"

Her brother also quickly say:

"Yeah!!!! They should make a movie about you!! You hit that guy right on the neck an......"

Joy enter in her new home talking with her new brothers. They very fast started to have fun. She like they, and they like her. She was so excited, because even tho that was the day that Nia die, was also the day where her new life with a new family begins!

After some days, the officer call they to meet on the police station again, saying that he had great news. Joy was already loving her new life, and with the news she gets even happier, can her life gets even better?? They arrived at the police station, and have the same seat, at the same officer. The officer sits and smile:

"Hummm, you did it girls! I find the document that proves that Joy's house is her property"

"Yeah!!!!"

"So, I can sell everything for the best price that I can get, and give you the money?

Stacey look at Joy and ask:

"It's ok to sell everything"

"Yeah... I just need some few things... Nia's piano, her stuffed animals, her cloths, her music annotations, and my moms and Nia's photos. That is it, you can sell everything else."

The officer reply:

"Sure.... all the other stuff should give you about $ 200,000. Now you going to be a healthy happy family.... just have one small little thing left to do."

Stacey and Joy was so happy. $ 200,000 was much more then enough to they live a good life. They can not think in anything that can make this even better.

"Officially change your name from Joel to Joy on your document's"

Joy was shocked:

"I can do that!!!????"

"Of course! And I already prepare the paperwork, you just have to sign in here."

Joy grabs the pen, looks at the two full of proud. She looks at the paper and slowly signed in. That's it. It was done. Joel wad now officially Joy, and nobody can say the opposite. She start to cry again, is all just to perfect... the officer look at her crying over the paper, grabs it and say:

"Wow! hey, just not let the tiers fall on the paper hehe.... I'm really happy for your family Joy...."

"Hô... Officer... now you are now also part of my family!"

Joy tried to approach him again to give it a hug, and he again dodge it. She say:

"Yeah... sorry, I forgot. So... just shake hands?...."

He sees that it was one of the most important days on her life. So he decided to make a exception:

"Ok, Ok...... but ONLY this time and....."

She hugs him before he finished. She said:

"Thank you..."

"You're welcome, just... not get used to it ok?..."

Joy giggle saying "Ok."

No take so long to they reform the house and gets Nia's things at her new house. She put all her cloths, stuffed animals and mainly her piano and photos at her new room, where there it was also was her new mother, dad and brothers in the room. Joy grabs the same photo from her mother, and put above the piano again. But now... she also grabs the most beautiful photo of Nia that she could find. She put her photo aside of her mother, stay some minutes admiring it. Then she sits, look back at her new family and sees they all smiling to her, she look at the photos again. And softly, almost whispering she just say:

"Thank you......."

So, she start playing the new Nia's musics that she never has listen before, and each member of the family was admiring it, all the musics was beautiful. At that moment Joy realized that your sister death was not in vain, Nia made Joy honor her name, now she is really happy, now she is really JOY, and this was all that Nia and her mom ever wanted her to become.

THE END

A cute little boy with brown skin and curly black hair is born in a small rural city. His family already has a girl named Nia. Nia is a beautiful girl with light brown skin and smooth hair; she was 6 years old when her brother was born. His parents wanted another child, hoping for a boy. So it happens, and they name him Joel, hoping he will grow up to be a strong man. Two years pass after the boy is born; Nia is now 8 years old, and Joel is 2. Then, an unfortunate event happened... at a rainy day in a family trip, while his dad was driving in a street close to a cliff, while his mother was at the right front accent and Nia taking care of the baby Joel in the back. A car accident occurred, the car lose control and fall off the cliff. The impact was in the right front side of the car, where his mother was sitting on. The glass was broken, Nia stay on the front of Joel to protect him, and in the impact she end up being pushed to the front and hit the head, just before she pass out, she could look at your mother, full of blood, barely breathing, while Nia slowly fainting out closing his eyes... When the ambulance arrived, his mother was already dead and the children very hurt. The doctors quickly gets they to the hospital. In there Nia open his eyes with a scar on the head. A doctor enter in the room telling:

"I'm really sorry child, but your mother...."

Nia not let her finished, and starting crying, she know what happens. She see her mother for one last time before he die. Her mother was like a best friend to her, she can not believed that it happens. So, she take a bit of breath and reply:

"I know... I know what happens.... just please, say that my brother is ok... PLEASE!!! I need to see my little brother!!!"

"Yes! He is fine!!! I will bring him in here for you to see it... but.... how about your dad? You don't also want to know if he is ok?"

Nia fell so much relief to know that his brother is ok. But she just not want to talk about dad. So, she look at the doctor, and then look back down saying:

"Sure... but I want to see my brother first."

When the doctor bring up the baby and give to her, she was so happy, give him a huge hug. But just after it, the doctor give the news that his dad is alive and Nia hear her dad saying to the doctors that it was just accident, that the car brake stopped working on the curve. Then at the this exact time, Nia's smile get in to a worried face, then she said:

"Thank you doctor. Can... I ask you just one more thing?"

"Of course!"

"Can I have a minute with him alone?"

"Hô, ok... I will get back in 10 minutes"

The doctor gets out, close the door. Tiers start to drop from Nia's eyes, then she says:

"Joel... from now on our lives will get very difficult without mother, but I just want to say... no matter what dad will do to us, I will ALWAYS protect you!!! We will go throw this together ok???"

Nia look at the eyes of the baby Joel, and just sees him smiling, and that was enough to fill Nia of hope.

8 years has now passed, Joel now has 10 years old, and Nia 16. Like Nia said, it's was not easier to live alone with dad, he was a aggressive and irresponsible man, often he arriving drunk at home, always yelling and wanting to beat they for no reason. And the bigger problem begin when Joel start growing, he was noticing that he is different from the other boys, he doesn't like boys toys like cars, weapon, action figures etc... and quickly he realize that what he likes is not what a boy was supposed to like. He loves to wear and pretend that he is a girl, to cook and cute toys. But his dads hates trans people, his religion says that is a "sin" and who do it should gets tortured for eternity, to get a peace in mind to feel free to treat bad this people and make humiliation jokes about it. He always said that boys liking girls things was bad, never telling why, it is just "bad" for no reason. Joel doesn't understand and totally disagrees with it, but was forced to always pretend able to live in this family. Joel also hates his dad, but he loves your sister (he almost always call her "sis") The two get along pretty well, they have a lot of fun together, his sister also hate that his dad was so disrespectful to that people, but she also keep pretending that she agreed to not let the things get worse, only what she can do is try to maintain a good relationship with his dad, so he don't get so aggressive. And even tho Joel love her sis, he still think that even her doesn't like people like him. What makes him even more depress thinking that every one will hates him for what he likes.

Dad always forced him to go in the church, Joel hates it. All these people look so false, like they are lying to them self's just to not feel bad about hurting other people. And dad was just like this, when she enter in the church it's look like he was another person. He ask for forgiveness to "god" for what he was doing to me and Nia, but just after we arrive in home he do it again... over and over again... he never changes. So, Joel notice that he doesn't care to become a better person going to the church, he only do it to feel that he is already a good person, even tho he isn't. Joel hates every second to be in that place, every thing that the pastor says feels a lie. And what makes Joel even more sad, was the fact that the sis that he loves, it's also making part of this, she is training to start playing piano in the church. So even her Joel doesn't trust to tell his secret. He thinks that in the moment that she knows it, she will also hate him, that your good relationship was going to end.

Joel was always trying to like boy stuff, but he was never able to really liked, it was just a pretend to hide who he really are inside... a little girl. He has gender dysphoria, he like stuffed animals, pink and purple colors, listening to happy simple songs, and all the cute things. He just can not resist to liking it. So, he give him self the name of "Joy", because that was all that she wanted to be one day. And start to act like he was a girl when she was alone. Joy always want to have his sister toys, she really want a pink teddy bear. But as expect, she only receive toys for boys, while his sister receive the teddy bear that Joy wanted so much. So, like always, she just pretend to like the toy of boys. But his dad was already suspecting about who Joy really was, although he can not even think in accept that possibility, so, he just keeping pretending that this is not possible. But just that was already enough to make he treat Joy even worse, with disrespect, never given attention, never trying to see what she really wants, almost the entire relationship was based on forcing Joy to become a "real man". For that reason Joy was each day getting more and more depress, barely being able to sleep at night. Until for one moment she decided to do one very risky thing. She lay down on the bed and can not stop thinking of that teddy bear, until she decide to give just a hug, just a little bit of a hug should be enough to make she fell better that night. So, with very caution she get out of his room, enter in her sis room, grab the teddy and give it a huge hug. She felt so happy, she wanted so much to take the teddy to his bed, but she can't... Joy start to get emotional and cry a bit, and just that was enough to wake up her sis. Nia start to open the eyes slightly seeing the tiers drop. When she notice that it was his brother, she get a little scare and ask:

"Little brother??? What your are doing in here and why are you crying!?"

Joy's heart start to beat faster, never nobody haven't figure out about it. So, while slightly crying and very frightened she say:

"Big sis!!! Please, PLEASE!! Not tell anybody about this!!!"

"Hô, no worried Joel! Please, don't cry. I swear that I will not tell anybody! Just... tell me what you was doing..."

Joy start to explain to his older sister that she was born as a boy, but she really fell like she are a girl in the inside. His sister was very surprised, but she totally respect who Joy are. After this day, his sister start to support her, letting her to be her self even when the two are alone. Even letting her borrow the teddy bear. In the beginning was weird for Nia to be treating his little brother like your little sister for now on. But after some mounts she get used to it, and even start liking his new sister. She felt much more happier now being Joy like she was never before. But unfortunately because his sister was not talking anymore about trans people with dad, the relationship between they start to get worse and worse, what let his dad get even more violent about this subject.

Certain day, every one was happy watching TV, even Joy forget the problems with his dad for a second. But all of a sudden start playing an ad about LGBT. In that moment his dad start to get very violent and saying horrible things like: "That is disgusting, these people are all trash! I would never accept a trans in my family! NEVER!! I prefer to kill my self then accept this!!". While that Joy was hearing each word, and each and every word was breaking his heart. She try so hard to not cry, but she can't hold the tiers. His dad start noticing something weird about him, so he look to her eyes and ask: "What is wrong Joel?" She barely can speak, but was able to reply: "Nothing dad, I just... sigh... need to go to the bathroom...". She get up and go in the bathroom. When arrive in there, she close the door, look at the mirror and can not see who she really was. Can only see a costume of a boy, a falsity, a lie... but is was not her... at that moment she sit on the floor crying like she never did before, asking her self: "WHO I'M!!????..." at the same time his dad was asking him self why Joy was taking too long to get back. Her older sister already knowing what was happening with Joy, give a excuse saying that her was a bit sick from a food that she eat yesterday. While that Joy can't stop crying, he want to stay in there all day long, she refusal to go back to this theater that was his relationship with his dad. But she knows what she have to do. So, she shouted to his dad telling that she will take the chance to have a bath. During the shower he try so hard to stop crying, but all the time that she look down, she cry even more, telling to her self: "That is wrong!!! I should not have it!! Girls don't have it! Why I wasn't born has a girl!???" All of sudden, his sister knock in the door whispering: "Hummm... Joy.... I know that you are very up sad right now, but please... pretend to be a boy one more time, after that we will figured out a way to make him understand who you are, that is all that matter... you be able to be happy again." Joy fell much more relief, she turn off the shower, wear her boy's costume, open the door and just said: "Thank you so much sis!!!" Giving a strong hug in your big sister. That was the hardest day to pretend to be a boy to her, but with the support of Nia, she was able to do it.

The next day, just after his dad go to work she start to baking. His dad don't allow it, but when she are alone with her sis, she can bake it and then Nia can say that was her that do it. It was one of the ways that she can hold up living this life. But that day, baking was just not enough to cheer her up. Joy is threatened, can not hold her self any longer. She start baking trying to relax, but that was not helping... so... she look at the knife and start to ask her self if that don't would be easier... end up with all of her pain... she felt like she can not handle life anymore and never will, felt like she was some kind of monster, a fraud, a shame to the family and doesn't deserve to live. We can see in her eyes that she was about to grab the bigger knife in the kitchen to do it... But then.... just before she grab it, she hear a piano music start playing. Was the same piano in the church, but that time the sound was totally different, now it feels sincere, natural, true to heart. She feel much more relax and love the music, then she slightly go in the direction of the music that let to Nia's room, she opens the door and see her playing her little piano. She continue to hearing until the last note in the song, and enjoying every part. When Nia finished, Joy holding the tears tell to her:

"Big sis, that was beautiful!!"

"I know that is being so hard to you live like this. So, today I make a exception and bring my piano to play my musics for you at home when we are alone, normally dad only allow me to play in the church, he tells me that piano is a girl instrument and he don't want give you any "ideas". I hate to play the church's musics, dad forced me to do it, but I like to play other musics like this one that my self composed. Hope that my music helped you."

"So much sis, it helped so much!!!"

"Great!! I'm so happy about it!!"

"Can I... try... to play your piano?..."

"Of course!!!"

Joy start to test each note, and try to play the same music that her sister has played. Even tho she missed out a lot of notes, she fell happy about it, even the mistakes. But she still was felling that was missing something... so, very shy she ask:

"And sis... can I... wear some of your cloths and pretend to be a girl while I'm with you?"

"Hô... you are not going to be 'pretending' to be a girl, it is just who you really are! Now that you are pretend to be a boy"

Joy give a subtle laugh and happily open her Nia closet, she was amazed for amount of cloths that she can choose. So, she pick a cute dress, a pink shirt, some cat ears accessory and grab the stuffed bear. Then come out of the room. When Nia look at her, she said: "You are beautiful!!"

Joy quickly go to look at the mirror, and this time she not sees a costume, she finally can see her. Now she can be free. A small drop of tier go down, so, she sits and start trying to play the piano while Nia was teaching her how to do it, that was something that really was helping her forgot the problems.

Two weeks has being pass, and Joy already was almost being able to play the entire sound that Nia composed. Nia was so proud of her, although she fell sad that Joy can only play when the two are alone. And while the relationship with her sister was getting better, with his dad was getting way worse. The more that he suspected of Joy, the more he gets violent, until arrive to a point of beating they for each little thing, if Joy give a slightly look at the teddy bear, it was already a reason to beat her. Things start to getting even worse when he start arrive drunk at home almost each day.

She start to ask her self if mom was together with they things could be better... so, one day when she was alone with sister, she looks at his mom picture above the piano, and start playing. She play every and each note perfectly that time, until the end of music. Nia was watching she played, and could not believe that she was able to make it in just two weeks. When she finishes, Nia look at her with a very surprised face, and said:

"You did it!!! It was amazing!!"

"Thanks sis...."

Joy look again above the piano to the beautiful portrait picture of his mother, then she looks at Nia, and ask:

"Sis... can I ask something that I was always thinking about?"

"Of course! What is it?"

"How our mother was like? She was a good person, or she was just like dad?"

While Joy was looking at the picture, hear Nia start to cry, she rapidly look to her, asking to her self why she was crying. Then Nia reply:

"She was... the most lovely person that I meet. She was not just my mother, but also my best friend. She always support me at everything, and she respect all kinds of people... she was not be treating you like dad are doing, she would love you for who really are! The same way that I do!! We could has being a so much happier family with her. She was even about to divorce with dad after the trip... but the accident happens... and that ruined everything!!!"

Nia looks at Joy, and see a big smile, she was so happy to think that at least mother can could had love her.

"I really wanted her to be with us right now. She could protect us from dad! And also... has other thing that I always wanted to tell you... I just never find a better moment then now... but please, just promise me that you will still be able to pretend to be a boy to dad until we can find a plan to solve this. Do you promise???"

"Yes sis, of course! Just tell me the truth..."

Nia was very worried about how was going to be the reaction of Joy. So, she take a big breath and say:

"That night of the accident... I tell everyone that I hit my head in the car and forgot what happens that day... but I lied. I know what happens, and it was not the a problem in the car... it was him!!! He was drunk, mom doesn't know it, she find out in the middle of the road, and she start begging him to stop the car, he get angry with her, got distracted from the street, lose control and fall of the cliff!!! Mom said several times to him not drive drunk, but he never listen to her!!! Why he just not listen???"

Nia start crying, I wave of hate to his dad start to get inside her. She looks at Joy, and sees that she fell the same way. Joy could not believe in what she was hearing, she reply:

"So dad kill our mother!!??? If it wasn't for this irresponsible stubborn action mom could still be alive!?? She could still be ALIVE!!!??? NO!!! We can't let him get away with this!! We have to make justice for our mother!! We have to kill him!!!!"

Joy get up with the eyes full of hate and tiers, and go to the direction of kitchen grab the knife. Nia grab his hand and say:

"No Joy, please!!! Don't do that!!! We don't even know if we can beat him like that, and even if we can, when people figured out they don't going to believe us, they don't care about what children says without proof, they will arrest me. And you will be alone, they will take you to the orphanage where there are other children's that hates people like that, they will bullying you, they will hurt you!!! And besides, that's not the way that we should do it, mom wouldn't want we to do that!! He is a horrible man, but we can not become the same monster that he are!! We will make justice, but it's is going to be in the right way. I have a plan, but it's very risky, you will have to trust me and I need to know if you can take it...."

"Yes sis!!! I trust you with all of my heart, I will take anything that takes to we be free and make justice to your mother!!! I just can not let him get away with that!!!"

"Ok, we could report him to the police, but that alone isn't going to work. In this place where we live it's full of religious people, we can not tell they about you, they are going to say that you are sinner, and will try to hurt you. They will not believe in me either, it's going to be a word of just two child's against a adult, we can not win like that, we need to get proof... we need to get a video of him doing the bad things that he always did to you. I can put a camera in my room's closet, and stay in there recording him. And in the room you can tell him who you really are, and make he confess that he was the one responsible for our mother death. He will get aggressive, he will hurt you, I don't know what else he will do. But that is the only way... but if it's goes too far I will come out of the closet to help you. If he sees me before that, it will only get her much more angry, he still think that I'm at his side. And it's going to be too risk of he figured out the camera before give me the time to upload. Then, immediately after he start attacked you, I will save the video and upload to internet and to police. So, when they sees it, they will arrest him, and we will can finally be free!!!"

"I understand sis, and I accept the risk. I will do whatever it takes to honor the name of our mother and be free. I'm not afraid, because even if he ending up killing me, at least you will be safe, and I prefer death then keeping living a life like this."

Nia eyes was fill with tiers, she was so proud of her, with only 10 years she makes so wise and dangerous decision. She says:

"You are so brave!!! Never let anyone else say the opposite because of what you like!! I'm so sorry for you being forced to get throw this, you not deserve it, you was always a good girl, that is just the only way.... I hope that some day you can forgive me if he end up hurting you!! But I will NEVER let he kill you!!! If it arrive to this point, my self will kill him if he try!!! And you should also take the knife...."

Joy was confused because that was going against what she just said to not kill dad. Nia grabs the bigger knife in the kitchen, give it to Joy, saying:

"Take it... hide it on your back. But please... only use it if you don't have any other choice!! If he get too much aggressive I will come out to help you. If all goes well, even if we end up killing him, we will have the video that shows that we attacked in self defense. So, they will let us alone. Otherwise we will fallow the plan, you hold up as much as you can while I record. When he calm down and get away, I will save and uploaded the video"

"Thank you sis.... you can trust me... I will do exactly what you says"

That was going to be the day where Joy and Nia was going to be confront his dad. Nia was so much worried about what is going to happens to Joy. She will never forgive her self if something really bad happens... Joy was full of confidence, she know about the danger, but she know that this has to be done. So, she will do it.

When it was about 10 minutes to her dad arrive at home, Nia carefully placed the smartphone in the right place at the closet, and hide in there together with a metal bat to protect him self and Joy if something happens. While Joy sit on the bed in front of the closet at the middle of the room hugging Nia's teddy bear, that's help her to stay calm. After some minutes, they start hearing the car parking in the front of the house. The keys opening the door, and the steps getting closer and closer to the room. He open the door and sees Joy wearing her sis cloths, he stay in silence for some seconds, then she says:

"JOEL!!!???? WHAT YOU ARE DOING WITH NIA CLOTHS HOLDING A STUFFED BEAR!!??? If you don't changed it right now, I will tier it out of you!!!!"

Joy look at his dad, and sees that he was drunk again, he was with a half full beer bottle in one hand, barely walking straight, and with the cloths all dirty. At that moment, a part of Joy start questioning her self if she can take it. But right inside she know that she can do it. So she slowly get up of the ground, and says:

"Dad..... that is who I'm... so sorry for I don't be the man that you hope so much I to became. I like girl things, I like to wear like this, I like stuffed animals, I like to cook, I like to play the piano, I like all the things that I know that you always hate mans that do it. But I'm still your son, please, accept who I really am, so we can be a happy family!!!"

A tier has drooped from Joy's eyes, while she hugs teddy and eager waits his dad answer...

He was full of hate, throw the beer bottle in to the wall so strong that almost a glass shard hit the Joy's eyes. He violently grabs the teddy bear and tier it apart each members Joy yell:

"No!! Teddy!!!!"

"You are a shame to this family Joel!!!! I will NEVER accept people like you!!! From now on you are not my son anymore. You will NEVER enter in my house again, and now I will spank you so hard that you are going to remember this day for the rest of your life!!! Like it was the day where you commit the bigger sinner of all, and you are doomed to hell!!!"

He start taking off the belt to hit her, and walking closer and closer to her with the belt at hand. So, Joy says:

"WHY IS THIS WRONG!?!?!? Why do people have to get hurt just because they are doing harmless things that they love???? How can you go to the church, where was supposed to make you a better person, and you get worse!!!???? What is wrong with you!??? You are a HORRIBLE person, and not matter how much you go to the church, this will never going to change!!!"

"HORRIBLE PERSON!!!???? I raised you little ungrateful piece of shit!!!"

"No!!! You raised us like prisoners, beating and humiliating without any reason!!! You don't really care, we are still in here just because your church said to you do that!!! You don't love us, and nether mom!!! How can you not fallow a simple rule that she always tell you to do it???? Why have to be driving drunk at the edge of a cliff??? You kill her!!! You kill her, and risk my and Nia's life for being irresponsible!!! Mom could have raised us so much.... she would have done it...."

Joy start to dry in tiers, she never have being like that in her entire life. While that, his dad reply:

"HOW DID YOU???...... Nia...... WHERE IS NIA!?!?!??"

Joy almost unable to speak, she say:

"I don't know! Please let us alone!!!"

While that, Nia's heart start to beat faster then ever before. She was hearing and recording everything inside the closet thinking "No, NO!!! That's is still not enough!!! He still don't confess!!!!"

His dad slap the belt on Joy's face saying:

"I SAID TO TELL ME WHERE IS NIA!!!!"

"Sigh... n... no....."

His dad start beating Joy over and over again. She was almost fainted. And each and every slap was breaking Nia's heart, although she still don't have recorded him confess be responsible for the dead of mother. She know that it was the time where it get's to far. He was thinking: "NOOO!!! He gonna kill her!!! I can not take it anymore!!! I will save her!!!"

With her bloody melting of rage, she super fast open the closet, targeting his dad head, hold tight the bat and jumps in front of Joy, in the jump she takes advantage that he was distract beating Joy, swing the bat twice, and hit him right on the middle of the head, the blow was so strong that took off one of his teeth and he fell back down in the ground. He almost passed out, but slowly get up coughing with the head down. He turn his head to the front, open his eyes and sees Nia holding the bat like your life depends on that, and behind her the closet door was open. Nia sees his nose drooping blood, and the right side of his head a big scar. She was shocked that was able to do this, she doesn't know that was that strong, and nether did her dad knew. He was terrified trying to understand what just happens, everything happens in less then one second.

"Cough... WHAT THE HELL!!!????"

"STAY AWAY FROM HER!!!!"

"NIA!!!???? WHY DID YOU DID THAT!!!???? AND WHAT YOU WAS DOING IN THAT CLOSET????"

He slowly approached to get inside the closet. Nia turn the bat to her back preparing to give another hit, saying:

"I said to get away!!!!!"

"Why!!??? What are you hiding???"

She don't tell nothing, just keeping holding the bat as hard as she can, and concentrated in each move that he was making. He says:

"You will don't prevent me from get inside there! You think that you are so strong with a bat at hand!!??? You are just a child, you will do whatever I told you to do. Now, GET OUT OF THE WAY!!!!"

"NOOO!!!!!!!"

"Ok, so I'm going to have to take you out the hard way."

He rolled up his sleeves, and prepare to attacked her. Nia makes the second move trying to hit on the head again, but this time he was able to dodge it and take advantage that her two hands was at the top, and give a punch on the stomach. It was so strong, she couldn't breath. She keeled on the floor sustaining her body with the bat and gasping in agony.

"SO EVEN YOU HAS BETRAY ME!!!??? I think that we are a family!!!!"

Nia takes a moment to breath and shuddering getting up again.

"No..... I always HATED you!!! And for what you did to mom, I will never forgot you!!! I see everything... I was pretending that I don't remember that day... but I DO! I know that was you that did it, you killed mom!!! CONFESS!!!"

"Yes, I did!!! But your mom was weak, I was starting to think that you was different, that you can honor our family and not let this shitty people like Joel get in to our family!!!"

"SHUT UP!!! Her name is Joy!!! And I don't care if I have your blood, you are NOT my family!!! Family is who respect you, who really love you for who you are!!! Like I love Joy... Joy IS my family!!! You are just a murder bastard getting in our way!!!"

He start to laugh, mocking about what he just hear:

"Joy!!???? This is some kind of joke??? He is a MAN!!! He always will be like that for the rest of his life, and if he refuse to be a man, he is a sinner!!!"

Joy was behind trembling in pain on the ground seeing everything. She was in despair wanting to help, but all her body was numb, she was paralyzed in fear and pain. He turned the eyes back to Joy saying:

"You Joel, you destroy our family!!! Everything was great before you has born. After this, we suffered a accident, you start to be a shame to our family, and now you also corrupted Nia!!???? You doesn't even deserve to live, I will send you to hell my self!!!"

He prepared to belt to beat Joy until death. But then, he turns the eyes back to Nia, and see her face expression, it was so obscure, her eyes was more red, the hair was indistinct, she was ready to kill at all cost. Staying in the front of Joy, she look at his dad eyes, and just say:

"Try it."

At this time his dad started to get scared. He never thinks that Nia was that strong. Nia looks like a wall, not moving a muscle. Then she says with confidence and determination:

"You can even kill me. But I'm NOT letting you pass through."

He realized that she was talking very seriously, the only way to get to Joy was killing her:

"Nia.... please... don't make me kill you too. You are even stronger that I think. Just let me get rid of Joel, we can just say that he die in a accident or something... we can still make it... we can still get rid of all the profane thoughts that this little devil put in your mind, and just forgot that this ever happens..."

"Devil?..... you still doesn't understand, do you?... doesn't exist heaven or hell, all that your religion says about devil and god it's a LIE! How can a god that is claimed to be good, let people like you, make people like Joy suffer? People like you are the true devil! And if you still doesn't believe in me, just gets a little more closer, then I will make you find out by your self!!!"

"NOW YOU GOT TOO FAR NIA!!!!! I will make you pay for each word that you say against our church!!!!"

His dad grab a wooden feet of the bed, pushed it and broken in half. With the big staff at hand, he try to hit Nia on the head, she rapidly block the attack, and goes against him hitting the bat on his leg. He fall down and knock the head on the ground. That was Nia chance. While he was on the the ground she could give one hit on the head, should be enough to knock him out. She takes to bat at the top of the head to get the most impulse has possible, that should be the last and stronger hit. But all of sudden he grabs her leg, get up with one foot, one hand supporting in the wall and the other holding Nia up side down, then with his full strength he throw her on the wall, she knock her spline and drop the bat close to Joy. She can not walk, it was a torture to make each move, but she can't give up, she has to save Joy. With all her little bit of strength, she crawling in the direction of the bat trying to grab it. But his dad sees it, and goes limping at the direction of the bat, just a second before Nia grab it, he grab it first.

"It's over Nia!!! I will give you one last chance to regret what you just said, or else I will kill you!!!"

"NEVER!!!!!!"

So, he takes impulse with the bat to give her one last hit in the head, at the same spot that the scar of the accident. While Joy screamed:

"NOOOO!!!! PLEASE!!! I'm the mistake!!! KILL ME!!!!!"

He don't listener, gathered all his strength and hit Nia on the head..... it opens the scar, and start bleeding.... it was done.... Nia was dead.

Joy was dying in panic. She refuse to accept that her sis is dead. She crawled at her, and with almost no tiers left, she cry over her sister body. She could not believed that he kill her, Nia was the only person that accept who she was, the only person who she really loved, the only person that makes her life worth it.

While Joy was crying over her sister, his dad goes limping behind Joy, slowly prepare the bat to give the last hit to kill her, saying:

"It's done. She is dead."

Joy whisper:

"no....."

"You make this Joel. You corrupted her, if it wasn't for you she would still be alive."

"NO........."

"And now.... I will make you join her on the hell!!!"

"NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!'

Joy feel each vain of her body gets in fire. All that felling was blowing her head, she doesn't even fell the pain in her body anymore. She was so eager to dump all this rage. Then she looks at the wall, and sees the shadow of his dad approaching with the bat. She dodge the bat, grab the knife behind her shirt, give it a huge jump at the front of him and hits her dad on the neck. His dad doesn't even think that she could counter attack. He underestimated her, and that was the opportunity that Joy takes to win. Joy watch his dad fall in to the ground and breeding until death:

"I'm sorry for having to be like this dad.... I'm so sorry!!!!"

Some seconds after his dad was dead, she hear Nia sighing:

"J..... j.... Joy?...."

"NIA!!!!! YOU ARE ALIVE!??!?!?!?"

So, Nia begin to throw up blood. Joy was in panic. She doesn't know what to do. So, she quickly remember that the smartphone was still on the closet. She desperately try to find it, she find and sees that the video was still recording. She saved it and call the ambulance. Just after it, Joy upload the video to the internet and to the police. Then she sit in front of Nia, grab his hand saying:

"Nia..... WE DID IT!!!! WE BEAT HIM!!!! The video was recorded, I upload. Now we can be free!!!! Just please, hold up just a little longer.... none of this will have been worth it if we could not be together.... please...."

"I.... I d.... sigh... don't know if I can..... just please..... promise me that you will still try to be happy without me......"

"I..... I...... I promise sis...."

Nia smile, and slowly close her eyes without telling anything more, she wasn't moving an inch or breathing.

"Sis??... SIS!!!????"

---

Continued in the Final Part.....

Escape from the Lab

In the shadowy depths of a cold, unforgiving Eastern European country, three men found themselves shackled in a dimly lit cell. They were prisoners of war, captured during the chaos of conflict, held captive in a high-security facility known only as “Sector Svarog.” Rumors swirled about the lab’s sinister experiments involving chemical warfare and biological enhancements.

The trio—Daniel, a former intelligence officer; Marcus, a hardened soldier; and Leo, a brilliant scientist—had endured months of torture and deprivation, but their resolve never wavered. With a shared goal of freedom and revenge, they had meticulously planned their escape. On a frigid night, when the guard shifts were thin and the winds howled like banshees, they executed their daring plan.

Using a makeshift weapon crafted from scraps, Daniel overpowered the guard stationed at their cell. Marcus silently incapacitated the second guard, while Leo navigated the dark hallways, guiding them toward the lab that had become the stuff of nightmares. As they crept through the facility, the stench of antiseptic and decay filled the air, a grim reminder of the horrors housed within.

Reaching the main laboratory, they slipped inside, hearts racing. Rows of metallic tables were lined with beakers and vials, illuminated by the flickering overhead lights. It was here that they stumbled upon a peculiar, glowing chemical, labeled only with a series of numbers and letters. Against their better judgment, they decided to take the vial, knowing it might serve as an advantage in their escape.

“Let’s move,” Marcus urged, glancing nervously at the door as sirens began to blare. They fled the lab, racing down the dark corridors, the adrenaline fueling their flight. Just as they burst through the facility's exit, bullets whizzed past them. They ducked and rolled into the shadows of the dense forest surrounding the facility, their hearts pounding with the thrill of escape.

Once outside, they utilized the chemical on their pursuers. With the contents of the vial sprayed in the air, the chemical quickly disoriented the guards. Within moments, the men were incapacitated, their bodies collapsing to the ground as the trio made their way deeper into the woods, determined to find safety.

The Aftermath

For three days, the men journeyed through the wilderness, hiding from their enemies and searching for a way to reach safety. However, unbeknownst to them, the chemical they had stolen was far more dangerous than they could have imagined. The unknown compound, a prototype for a biological weapon, had a gruesome side effect—it reanimated the dead.

On the third night, as they camped in an abandoned cabin, a sense of dread washed over them. The woods were eerily quiet, the sounds of the night seemingly stifled. Suddenly, they heard low moans echoing through the trees. In horror, they discovered the guards they had left for dead were rising again, their eyes blank and soulless, driven by an insatiable hunger for flesh.

As the men stumbled upon the grotesque sight of their former captors transformed into horrific creatures, panic set in. “We need to get out of here!” Leo shouted, but it was too late. The infected guards lunged at them, their jaws snapping and arms outstretched. In a desperate struggle for survival, Daniel, Marcus, and Leo fought back, using every ounce of strength they had.

But the odds were against them. One by one, the men fell to the relentless onslaught of the infected. In the chaos, the chemical they had thought was their savior now spread through the air, infecting them with each desperate breath.

Rise of the Infected

As dawn broke, the forest was eerily quiet once more. Where the three men had once fought valiantly against their captors, now lay only silence. Hours later, the first signs of life returned. Daniel’s fingers twitched, then curled into fists. Marcus groaned as he pushed himself up, and Leo’s eyes snapped open, revealing an unsettling glimmer.

With a chilling sense of hunger gnawing at them, the men rose from the ground, now transformed into something unrecognizable. They were no longer the soldiers and scientist who had fought for freedom; they were now vessels of a viral plague, hungry for blood and flesh.

As they stumbled through the trees, their newfound instincts led them toward the nearest town. The first victims they encountered were unsuspecting, but the men—now infected—attacked with a primal ferocity. The infection spread like wildfire, as more townsfolk fell prey to the trio.

Chaos erupted as the virus unleashed its devastation. The men, once allies in war, now became harbingers of an unimaginable horror, driven by an unquenchable thirst. They roamed the land, a testament to the horrors of Sector Svarog that had sought to manipulate life and death.

Sector Svarog had not just created a weapon; it had unleashed a nightmare that would haunt the world long after the men had escaped their chains. The laboratory’s secrets, buried deep within, would now rise to claim lives, leaving a trail of devastation in their wake.

The Last Stand

Five years had passed since the outbreak transformed the world into a living nightmare. Once-vibrant cities now lay in ruins, swallowed by nature’s relentless march and the horrors of the infection. The streets, once bustling with life, were now haunted by the remnants of humanity known as the Husk: the husks of the infected, shambling through the debris with vacant eyes and an insatiable hunger. Governments had crumbled, society had disintegrated, and survival had become the only law of the land.

In this unforgiving landscape roamed John Marsh, a former bounty hunter whose instincts and skills had kept him alive through the chaos. He had seen the worst of humanity and the most grotesque transformations of the infected. With his rugged demeanor and hardened heart, he navigated the decaying remains of America, scavenging for supplies and avoiding both the Husk and the ruthless bands of survivors who had resorted to violence for survival.

One fateful evening, as dusk painted the sky with hues of orange and red, Marsh found himself in a derelict suburb. The houses, overgrown with weeds, were silent except for the distant growls of the Husk. He had just scavenged a few cans of food when he heard muffled voices. Curiosity piqued, he moved closer, keeping to the shadows.

Peering through the shattered window of a once-comfortable home, he spotted three survivors huddled together. They were young, weary, and appeared to be on the brink of despair. Among them was a woman with fiery red hair, her green eyes alight with determination. The other two were men, one of whom wielded a makeshift weapon, his muscles tense, ready to defend their small group against any threats.

“Listen,” the woman was saying, “we can’t stay here. Terminus is out there, and they’ll come for us if they catch wind of our supplies. We need to take them down before they take us down.”

“Yeah, but how?” the other man replied, shaking his head. “They have numbers, and they don’t play fair. We’re outmatched.”

Marsh’s interest was piqued. Terminus was a name that struck fear into the hearts of survivors. A merciless group that had emerged in the chaos, they pillaged supplies and killed anyone who couldn’t defend themselves. He had heard stories of their brutality and their ambitions to control what remained of society.

After weighing his options, Marsh stepped into the light, weapon in hand but lowered. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” he said, his voice low but firm. The three survivors turned, surprise mixed with apprehension evident on their faces.

“Who are you?” the red-haired woman asked, her grip tightening on her makeshift weapon.

“Name’s Marsh. I’ve been surviving out here for a while. You’re right about Terminus—they’re a serious threat. But you’ll need more than just numbers to take them down.”

The men exchanged glances, a mixture of hope and skepticism in their expressions. “What do you know about them?” one of the men asked.

“I know they’re ruthless, and they don’t play by any rules. But I also know their weakness. They’re overconfident. If we can hit them hard and fast, we might just stand a chance,” Marsh replied.

The red-haired woman nodded, her eyes gleaming with resolve. “We’ve got to take them down before they take us. We need supplies, weapons, and a plan. If you’re willing to help, we could use your skills.”

Marsh weighed the risks and the potential rewards. He had been alone for too long, and a part of him longed for companionship, even in a world that had turned its back on humanity. “I’ll help,” he said. “But we’ll need to work together. Trust is everything in this world.”

The Plan

In the following days, Marsh became part of the small group. He learned that the red-haired woman was named Sarah, and the two men were David and Alex. Together, they scouted the nearby area, gathering intelligence on Terminus and searching for weapons and supplies. Marsh taught them how to be stealthy and how to defend themselves against both the Husk and hostile humans.

As they gathered intel, they learned that Terminus operated out of an old factory on the outskirts of town, heavily fortified and brimming with weapons. They had grown bold, attacking any survivors who dared to oppose them.

“Tonight’s the night,” Marsh said, gathering the group around a makeshift map laid out on a cracked table. “We go in, take out their scouts, and get what we need. We can’t let fear stop us.”

David looked uncertain. “What if we’re caught? We’ll be outnumbered.”

“Then we’ll fight,” Marsh replied, his voice steady. “But we’ll do it smart. Surprise and speed are on our side.”

Under the cloak of darkness, the group moved toward the factory. Marsh led the way, his instincts guiding him through the shadows. As they approached the perimeter, they spotted a few guards. Using the skills he had honed over the years, Marsh took down the sentries silently, allowing the others to slip through.

Inside the factory, the stench of decay mixed with the metallic scent of rust. They moved quickly, gathering weapons and supplies, but the air was thick with tension. As they turned a corner, they found themselves face-to-face with a group of Terminus members. The men wore tattered clothing adorned with insignias of the group, eyes cold and calculating.

“Looks like we’ve got some rats,” one of them sneered, drawing his weapon.

Marsh didn’t hesitate. “Run!” he shouted to the others as he charged forward, tackling the nearest enemy. Chaos erupted, gunfire echoing through the factory as they fought for their lives.

The Fight

The group fought bravely, but the odds quickly shifted against them. Marsh’s years of experience showed as he moved through the fray, taking down enemies with swift efficiency. Sarah and the others followed his lead, but the relentless assault from Terminus members began to overwhelm them.

“Keep moving!” Marsh shouted, trying to rally them. But as they pushed deeper into the factory, they found themselves cut off from an exit.

“Over here!” Sarah pointed to a side corridor, and they sprinted down it, hoping to find a way out. But they were not alone. From the shadows emerged more Terminus fighters, their eyes glinting with malice.

With nowhere to go, Marsh’s heart raced. They were trapped, and he could see the fear creeping into his companions’ eyes. “We’re not done yet!” he yelled, channeling his determination. “Fight!”

They engaged fiercely, but the numbers were too great. David fell, tackled by a pair of assailants, while Alex fought valiantly but was soon overwhelmed. Marsh and Sarah found themselves back-to-back, surrounded by the remnants of a group that had made a name for itself through brutality.

Just as all hope seemed lost, a loud crash echoed through the factory. The entrance exploded outward, revealing a group of armed survivors—a faction that had come to reclaim their land from Terminus. They poured into the factory, catching the attackers off guard.

The Turning Point

In the midst of the chaos, Marsh caught a glimpse of a familiar face among the newcomers—a former bounty hunter he had crossed paths with years ago, known only as Steele. The man’s reputation for ruthlessness had only grown in the chaos, and his presence reignited a flicker of hope within Marsh.

“Marsh!” Steele shouted, recognition flashing in his eyes. “You look like hell! But it seems you’ve got a fight on your hands.”

Without hesitation, Steele and his team charged into battle, turning the tide against Terminus. With their combined forces, the remaining members of Terminus began to flee, retreating in disarray.

“Let’s finish this!” Marsh shouted, leading the charge alongside Steele and Sarah. Together, they pushed through the factory, hunting down the remaining members of Terminus.

As the fight dwindled, Marsh caught sight of the leader of Terminus, a tall man with cold eyes and a sneer that made Marsh’s blood boil. “You think you’ve won?” the leader spat, backing away. “You’re all just a stepping stone. We’ll rise again, and next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

With a determined glare, Marsh stepped forward, fueled by rage and defiance. “Not if I have anything to say about it,” he replied. In a swift motion, he charged, tackling the man to the ground and delivering a final blow.

New Beginnings

With the threat of Terminus diminished, the group of survivors gathered together in the factory. Steele’s faction offered protection and support, promising to rebuild what had been lost. Marsh, Sarah, and the others shared their stories, forging new bonds in the aftermath of their victory.

In the years that followed, Marsh became a leader among the survivors, utilizing his skills to help others defend themselves and navigate the harsh realities of their world. Together, they forged alliances, worked to take down remnants of groups like Terminus, and began to reclaim their home from the ashes of despair.

The world was far from healed, but hope flickered once more in the hearts of those who had endured. And as John Marsh stood on the roof of the factory, looking out at the horizon, he knew that they had a long fight ahead, but they would fight together, refusing to let the darkness claim them again.

The Last Stand (Continued)

In the aftermath of the confrontation at the factory, the survivors rejoiced, celebrating their hard-fought victory over Terminus. Marsh, Sarah, and Steele quickly became pivotal figures in the newly formed coalition of survivors. They fortified their position, gathering resources and allies from the surrounding areas. The sense of hope blossomed in the air like spring after a long winter, but deep down, Marsh could not shake the feeling that their victory was not as complete as it seemed.

Months passed, and the scars of their brutal encounters began to fade. The survivors worked tirelessly, building shelters and setting up defenses while scouting for food and supplies. However, Marsh’s unease lingered. He often found himself gazing toward the horizon, half-expecting to see a familiar figure emerge from the shadows.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery oranges and purples, Marsh sat with Sarah on the roof of their makeshift stronghold. “You alright?” Sarah asked, noticing his distant gaze.

“Just thinking about Terminus,” he replied, his voice low. “We didn’t find the leader’s body. We can’t underestimate them. He’s ruthless, and if he survived, he’ll be back.”

“Then we’ll be ready,” Sarah said, her voice firm. “We’ve built something good here. We won’t let them take it away.”

Marsh nodded, but the pit in his stomach told him that their troubles were far from over.

A Dark Return

Unbeknownst to the survivors, the leader of Terminus, Victor Hale, had indeed survived. Severely wounded and left for dead in the rubble of the factory, he had crawled away, driven by an insatiable need for revenge. With his fierce ambition and cunning, he gathered the remnants of his faction, those who had managed to escape the factory that fateful night.

In the following weeks, Hale licked his wounds and plotted his revenge. His eyes burned with hatred for Marsh and the others who had humiliated him. As the world outside continued to crumble, he knew he had the power to reshape it to his liking, a new world order where the strong dominated the weak. He began to recruit new followers, drawing in the desperate and the ruthless.

Hale’s reputation as a brutal leader only grew. Whispers of his return spread like wildfire, fueling fear among survivors in the region. He gathered a small army, forging alliances with other predatory groups that thrived in the chaos, including a faction known as the Ravens, a gang notorious for their ambush tactics and raiding skills.

The Attack

As winter approached, the survivors in Marsh’s camp were caught off guard. The early snow had covered the ground, making it difficult to detect movement in the woods surrounding their stronghold. One cold morning, the camp was awakened by the sound of gunfire and shouting.

“Get to the walls!” Marsh yelled, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he grabbed his rifle and raced to the front line. The camp erupted into chaos, with survivors scrambling for their weapons.

Hale had struck, leading a massive assault on their stronghold. His new army surged forward, a wave of dark figures intent on reclaiming power. Marsh’s heart raced as he took position, firing at the oncoming attackers, his mind focused on the goal of defending their home.

“Marsh!” Sarah shouted, firing her weapon beside him. “They’re everywhere!”

“We need to hold the line!” he roared back, determination blazing in his eyes. The battle raged on, and the once-cohesive force of survivors began to falter under the onslaught of Hale’s well-coordinated assault.

Amidst the chaos, Marsh caught sight of Hale at the forefront of the attack. The man had changed; he was no longer just a figure of fear but a monstrous embodiment of vengeance. Bloodied but unbroken, he fought with a fervor that was almost unnatural.

“Finish this, Marsh!” Hale taunted, his voice cutting through the din of gunfire. “You took everything from me. I’ll show you what real power looks like!”

As the battle raged, Marsh fought fiercely, determined to protect his friends and the community they had built. But Hale’s forces were relentless, and it quickly became clear that they were outmatched. With each fallen friend, the stakes grew higher.

A Desperate Gamble

Realizing they needed to regroup and strategize, Marsh called for a retreat. “Fall back to the supply room! We need to barricade!” he yelled.

“Go! Go!” Sarah urged, her eyes scanning for threats. As the survivors fell back, Marsh made sure everyone got inside before the door slammed shut.

Inside, the survivors huddled together, catching their breath. “What now?” Alex asked, fear evident in his eyes. “We can’t hold out against an army.”

“Marsh, we have to get word to other groups,” Steele said, taking charge. “If we can rally more people to our cause, we stand a chance.”

“No time for that,” Marsh replied, his mind racing. “We need to turn the tide now. Hale won’t expect us to fight back hard. We can use the element of surprise.”

“But how?” Sarah asked, her brow furrowed with worry.

Marsh thought for a moment, then said, “There’s a stash of explosives in the old garage. If we can set a trap, we can take out a chunk of their forces and create a distraction. It’s risky, but it might just give us the edge we need.”

“Let’s do it,” Sarah said, determination hardening her features.

The Counterattack

Under the cover of darkness, Marsh, Sarah, and Steele stealthily made their way to the garage. They moved quickly, knowing that time was against them. Marsh’s heart raced as they gathered the explosives, his mind focused on the impending confrontation.

“Are you sure about this?” Steele asked, his voice low. “If we blow this up, we’ll be vulnerable.”

“It’s our best shot,” Marsh replied. “We need to draw them away from the stronghold and hit them where it hurts.”

With their plan set, they carefully made their way back to the main camp. As they approached the barricade, they could see Hale’s men circling, eager for victory.

“Now!” Marsh shouted, lighting the fuse. The three survivors darted back, finding cover as the explosion rocked the ground. Flames erupted from the garage, sending debris flying into the air and creating a deafening roar.

The blast took out several of Hale’s men, causing chaos among the ranks. Survivors seized the moment, charging out from behind the barricades, weapons drawn.

Marsh led the charge, his rifle blazing as he fought his way toward Hale, who was now frantically trying to regroup his forces. “This ends now, Hale!” Marsh bellowed, determination fueling every step TheThe Rise of Victor Hale

After narrowly escaping death during the assault on the survivors’ stronghold, Victor Hale lay low, nursing his wounds and rebuilding his ambition. Severely injured and left for dead, Hale’s hatred only grew fiercer, crystallizing into a brutal determination to make Marsh and his allies pay. His survival was fueled by a dark vision: he would rise not as a mere leader of Terminus but as a force of chaos that would dominate the shattered remnants of society.

Hale’s near-death experience transformed him both mentally and physically. He emerged not only scarred but nearly unrecognizable, his face now marked by jagged cuts and burns, his eyes even colder. This appearance became a symbol of terror among his followers, inspiring both loyalty and fear. As he crawled from the ashes of his failed attack, he realized his next approach would require cunning beyond brute force.

Forging Dark Alliances

In his weakened state, Hale sought refuge with another faction known for their ruthlessness—the Ravens, a band of expert raiders with a reputation for ambush tactics and scavenging. His return was greeted with shock and admiration, and he wasted no time consolidating power by striking a deal with the Ravens. He proposed a mutual alliance, emphasizing their shared goals of control and survival in the post-apocalyptic wasteland. Together, they would be unstoppable, not just as a ragtag gang but as an organized war machine. The Ravens saw the advantage of aligning with such a notorious figure and lent him both manpower and resources, marking the first step in his resurgence.

Building an Army of the Lost

No longer satisfied with the scattered remnants of his original Terminus followers, Hale took a calculated approach to recruitment. He targeted the most desperate and violent survivors, those with little to lose and an appetite for power. He transformed these lost souls into a disciplined force through relentless drills and brutal initiation rites. Hale’s speech to his new followers echoed through the desolate halls of an abandoned military bunker, where he swore to create a world where strength ruled. In his twisted vision, anyone who opposed them would be either eliminated or enslaved.

The men and women who followed him were hardened by this new order, accepting Hale’s harsh rule. He trained them not only in combat but also in psychological warfare, teaching them the art of fear. He focused on turning them into disciplined, unyielding soldiers with loyalty to him alone, crafting an army that respected no boundaries or moral limits.

Implementing the Fear Tactic

Hale’s ascent was marked by a ruthless strategy aimed at instilling terror in all survivors. He sent small bands to raid nearby settlements, leaving behind chilling messages that bore his name and warnings to submit or perish. Entire communities were forced into submission, feeding his army and fueling his reputation. Under Hale’s orders, his forces would leave symbols of his name etched into the ruins of raided camps—a constant reminder that he was always watching.

As word of his growing power spread, his legend began to grow. Survivors in distant regions spoke of Hale as though he were a myth, an unstoppable force of nature. This psychological warfare sowed despair and made resistance seem futile.

The Rebirth of Terminus

Under Hale’s ruthless leadership, Terminus was reborn as a dark empire. Marsh’s allies, now part of the coalition of survivors, realized that Hale was no longer merely a threat to their local settlements but a danger to the entire region. Intelligence reports spoke of his expanding forces, which now included not only the Ravens but also small groups of mercenaries and deserters. Even the Husk—infected survivors—were manipulated into useful tools of terror by Hale’s forces, who learned how to lure them toward enemies before launching their own attacks.

Hale’s new Terminus was more than a faction; it was a movement with a singular goal: to dominate what remained of humanity. His vision included establishing control over territory, resources, and people, forging an empire where only the strong survived—and only those who served him were spared. He became an iron-fisted leader, driving forward with relentless ambition to assert absolute power.

A Reckoning Awaits

As Hale solidified his dark empire, Marsh and the coalition of survivors realized they faced an unprecedented challenge. Hale had returned as a calculating warlord, driven by vengeance and emboldened by a sense of invincibility. His ambitions had transformed Terminus from a simple gang into a well-organized, militarized force with the resources to threaten the entire region. Marsh, Sarah, Steele, and their allies prepared for a showdown, knowing that Hale’s twisted vision would not end with a mere skirmish. This final confrontation would determine the future of the survivors—and perhaps, the fate of humanity itself.

Marsh could feel the weight of what lay ahead. Hale had come back from the edge of death with a fury that bordered on the inhuman, and the survivors knew they would need more than courage to withstand what he had become. Hale’s rise was more than a personal vendetta; it was the birth of a new world order, one built on fear and blood. And in the cold shadows of a dying world, Marsh and his allies prepared for the ultimate test of their strength and resolve against the unstoppable rise of a vengeful villain.

Rise of Victor Hale

After narrowly escaping death during the assault on the survivors’ stronghold, Victor Hale lay low, nursing his wounds and rebuilding his ambition. Severely injured and left for dead, Hale’s hatred only grew fiercer, crystallizing into a brutal determination to make Marsh and his allies pay. His survival was fueled by a dark vision: he would rise not as a mere leader of Terminus but as a force of chaos that would dominate the shattered remnants of society.

Hale’s near-death experience transformed him both mentally and physically. He emerged not only scarred but nearly unrecognizable, his face now marked by jagged cuts and burns, his eyes even colder. This appearance became a symbol of terror among his followers, inspiring both loyalty and fear. As he crawled from the ashes of his failed attack, he realized his next approach would require cunning beyond brute force.

Forging Dark Alliances

In his weakened state, Hale sought refuge with another faction known for their ruthlessness—the Ravens, a band of expert raiders with a reputation for ambush tactics and scavenging. His return was greeted with shock and admiration, and he wasted no time consolidating power by striking a deal with the Ravens. He proposed a mutual alliance, emphasizing their shared goals of control and survival in the post-apocalyptic wasteland. Together, they would be unstoppable, not just as a ragtag gang but as an organized war machine. The Ravens saw the advantage of aligning with such a notorious figure and lent him both manpower and resources, marking the first step in his resurgence.

Building an Army of the Lost

No longer satisfied with the scattered remnants of his original Terminus followers, Hale took a calculated approach to recruitment. He targeted the most desperate and violent survivors, those with little to lose and an appetite for power. He transformed these lost souls into a disciplined force through relentless drills and brutal initiation rites. Hale’s speech to his new followers echoed through the desolate halls of an abandoned military bunker, where he swore to create a world where strength ruled. In his twisted vision, anyone who opposed them would be either eliminated or enslaved.

The men and women who followed him were hardened by this new order, accepting Hale’s harsh rule. He trained them not only in combat but also in psychological warfare, teaching them the art of fear. He focused on turning them into disciplined, unyielding soldiers with loyalty to him alone, crafting an army that respected no boundaries or moral limits.

Implementing the Fear Tactic

Hale’s ascent was marked by a ruthless strategy aimed at instilling terror in all survivors. He sent small bands to raid nearby settlements, leaving behind chilling messages that bore his name and warnings to submit or perish. Entire communities were forced into submission, feeding his army and fueling his reputation. Under Hale’s orders, his forces would leave symbols of his name etched into the ruins of raided camps—a constant reminder that he was always watching.

As word of his growing power spread, his legend began to grow. Survivors in distant regions spoke of Hale as though he were a myth, an unstoppable force of nature. This psychological warfare sowed despair and made resistance seem futile.

The Rebirth of Terminus

Under Hale’s ruthless leadership, Terminus was reborn as a dark empire. Marsh’s allies, now part of the coalition of survivors, realized that Hale was no longer merely a threat to their local settlements but a danger to the entire region. Intelligence reports spoke of his expanding forces, which now included not only the Ravens but also small groups of mercenaries and deserters. Even the Husk—infected survivors—were manipulated into useful tools of terror by Hale’s forces, who learned how to lure them toward enemies before launching their own attacks.

Hale’s new Terminus was more than a faction; it was a movement with a singular goal: to dominate what remained of humanity. His vision included establishing control over territory, resources, and people, forging an empire where only the strong survived—and only those who served him were spared. He became an iron-fisted leader, driving forward with relentless ambition to assert absolute power.

A Reckoning Awaits

As Hale solidified his dark empire, Marsh and the coalition of survivors realized they faced an unprecedented challenge. Hale had returned as a calculating warlord, driven by vengeance and emboldened by a sense of invincibility. His ambitions had transformed Terminus from a simple gang into a well-organized, militarized force with the resources to threaten the entire region. Marsh, Sarah, Steele, and their allies prepared for a showdown, knowing that Hale’s twisted vision would not end with a mere skirmish. This final confrontation would determine the future of the survivors—and perhaps, the fate of humanity itself.

Marsh could feel the weight of what lay ahead. Hale had come back from the edge of death with a fury that bordered on the inhuman, and the survivors knew they would need more than courage to withstand what he had become. Hale’s rise was more than a personal vendetta; it was the birth of a new world order, one built on fear and blood. And in the cold shadows of a dying world, Marsh and his allies prepared for the ultimate test of their strength and resolve against the unstoppable rise of a vengeful villain.

This short story is a part of the Mieran Ruins Collection. The rest of the stories can be found on this masterpost.

Derrick and Becca were on clean-up duty after the most recent mayoral power struggle. Neither side amassed a coalition, and it was over within a few days. Both were still able to generate quite a mess. Part of the ceiling was dripping, and Derrick grabbed a step stool to remove a tile. Water balloons fell out of the hole and fell on the floor. Becca let out a scream and rushed to get the boxes and files away from the splash zone. Derrick stood still and stared at the floor.

"Why does this always happen?" Derrick asked.

"You aren't helping by standing there and doing nothing." Becca sniped at him.

"Right, sorry." Derrick climbed down and assisted in the damage control. The water reached a stopping point and became a stagnant puddle. "I'll get a squeegee and some towels." Derrick started walking away from Becca who was captivated by a piece of paper.

"Did you mention being in the military before?" Becca asked. Derrick paused for a brief moment before continuing.

"I don't like talking about it," he said. Becca read the transfer paper closely. The details were sparse, but Becca could infer a lot from the little information available. Derrick was born outside of the base. His parents are recorded as being deceased at the time of joining. He quickly made the rank of Lieutenant when he joined, and he hovered there for several years before being dismissed in a snap. The report mentioned no demerits, but it cited a general behavior issue as the reason for his transfer. Becca looked at Derrick and wondered about how he ended up here.

Sergeant Andrew Flynn stepped outside Fort Siren and looked at the small crowd that gathered at the entrance daily. His clothes had a few stains, and his skin was scarred. Compared to the filth that caked the people, he appeared to be wearing formal wear. The more respectful commanders referred to them as members of the outerbase or externalfort. Both words didn't roll of the tongue well. The common soldiers called them remoras after the fish that attached themselves to larger whales.

"I need you, you, you." He points his finger into the crowd in a desultory manner. Once, his finger could arguably be pointed at two individuals. This causes a minor fight between them, and Andrew didn't bother to clarify. "And you'll do." His last finger ends up on Derrick.

Derrick ran at the gate to ensure he got in for the day. There have been times where it closed before everyone entered, and the would-be workers were left to sulk. Derrick was nineteen, and recruitment was still in the cards. A few seconds were not going to jeopardize that.

Inside the base, he saw the other workers get in a line. Derrick joined them, and he straightened his back and positioned his feet shoulder width apart. With his chin up, he began memorizing the layout of the fort. He took note of every soldier that passed him and their equipment. The woman next to him began laughing. Derrick glanced at her. She was middle-aged and hunched over informally.

"Stop embarrassing yourself," she said. Derrick ignored her advice and continued to present a formal image. The gates shut, and the Sergeant went down the line and assigned them their roles. Officer's quarters got the most joyful reaction while lavatory duty was frequently met with despair. Andrew stopped before the woman next to Derrick.

"Cass, how was that pillow we gave you?" Andrew asked.

"A little hard rough, but I altered it to fit my needs," Cass said.

"That's good. You are in uniforms as usual," Andrew said. Cass nodded her head in acknowledgement. Andrew stopped before Derrick and looked him up and down.

"You are clearly excited. Mess hall," he said. Derrick breathed a sigh of relief at not getting lavatory. Cass nudged him.

"He's mocking you. They had a party recently there," Cass said.

"Thank you for the warning." Derrick faced the lady when he spoke. "I appreciate all challenges that are put before me." Cass blinked at him.

"You'll see the truth soon enough," she said.

Her original statement was correct. The floors were covered with food and broken and glass. When the initial debris was cleared, the floor was sticky. Derrick was stuck cleaning it with two other people. Sergeant Andrew Flynn was sitting in the corner reading a book and sipping his drink. Derrick approached him.

"Military tactics?" Derrick asked.

"Sure, let's call it that," Andrew said.

"What was the cause for this celebration? Was it an anniversary of a major victory?" Derrick asked.

"We were bored." Andrew put the book aside and dumped his drink on the floor. "Oops, looks like I need a new one. Why don't you clean that up?"

Derrick clenched his fists at the disrespect, but he grabbed a mop to clean it. He continued to be diligent, but it was apparent that Andrew wasn't paying attention. None of the officers were going to arrive as well. His idea of joining was quickly fading by the time he was dismissed.

Another line had formed for the workers to collect their paycheck. It was a quarter of what a private would make, but it was enough to provide some comfort outside the fort. Cass came up behind him.

"You were right," she whispered. Derrick turned around.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Major Fields is planning to overthrow General Fine soon," she said.

"My god, we have to tell someone." Derrick shuffled in the line searching for traitors. Such actions often had great impacts on the remoras.

"Don't worry. He'll fail. If I know about it, the general is certainly aware. He has a lot of supporters that will be sent away soon. You might get recruited," Cass said.

"That's great," Derrick smiled.

"Lower your expectations. The general's wife Sharon likes me. I can put in a good word to make sure you get recruited," Cass said.

"You'd do that." Derrick turned to her.

"Of course, as much as I tease, I know you'd be a good addition to this Fort, and I always like to see a remora do well," Cass smiled.

r/AstroRideWrites

Lucy, a respected high school teacher in her late thirties, never imagined she'd become prey to her own students' desires. Yet, as she stood before her class on the last day of school, she could feel their hungry gazes, their adolescent hormones thick in the air.The ringleader, Mark, a tall, handsome 18-year-old with a charismatic smile, approached her desk as the others filed out. "Miss Lucy," he said, his voice low, "we want you. All of us."Shocked, Lucy laughed nervously, brushing off his words. But that night, she found an envelope on her doorstep, containing photos of her changing in her classroom, snapped through the window. A note read, "You can't ignore us, Lucy."Panicked, she met with Mark the next day. He showed her more photos, more notes from his friends. "We won't show these to anyone," he promised, "if you spend this week with us. Teach us, Lucy. About life, about pleasure."Trapped, terrified, and shamefully aroused, Lucy agreed. She spent the next week at their mercy, their eager hands and mouths exploring her body, their young voices demanding her instruction. She taught them how to touch her, how to please her, how to make her beg. And they learned quickly.The week ended, but the lessons didn't stop. The boys returned the following month, bearing gifts, begging for more. And Lucy, despite her better judgment, gave in. The reunions became monthly events, secret trysts where Lucy's morals were stripped away as surely as her clothing.Years passed. Lucy's once-tight body softened, her once-sharp mind dulled from the constant, exhausting pleasure. The boys, meanwhile, grew into men, their skills honed by Lucy's tutelage. Yet they remained her students, bound to her by their shared secret.One winter, after a particularly intense reunion, Lucy didn't rise from her bed. Her body, worn out from years of excessive use, had finally given out. She died in her sleep, a small smile on her face, dreaming of her boys

Malcolm Wiltermood had no memory of how he arrived in the desolate town, nor did he question it. Rather, it was as one finds themselves in the middle of a dream, never once stopping to ask, "How did I get to this place?" The last thing he did remember was walking up the road and past the city limit sign. According to it, the town was called Rose Gate.

Although the name had an air of familiarity to it, Malcolm was certain he had never before been to the town. Every house and every structure was made of stone. Strange too was that even though the sun was heavy in the west and softly caressed the horizon, no lights illuminated the barren streets. Malcolm didn't see vehicles or machinery of any kind. It was as if he had stepped out of time and into some faraway land.

Then there was the overwhelming feeling of being utterly alone. He had felt alone before, sure, but this was somehow different. It was like cold, damp air that clung to his body and saturated him to the very marrow of his bones. No birds sang, nor did a single insect chirp. The only sound Malcolm could hear was that of his own footsteps crunching through the streets of loose gravel. It was a foreboding and alien place, and Malcolm wanted desperately to be home where he belonged.

As the pinks and lavenders of the setting sun darkened into grays and purples, Malcolm found his footsteps quickened. When the town became enveloped by the deep shadows of a moonless night and fog slithered in like some great serpentine apparition, the agonizing loneliness that burdened his entire being metamorphized into a grotesque, primal fear. The hair of his neck and forearms stood at strict attention, his mouth was filled with glue, and his eyes darted in all directions wildly. When it grew darker still, the maddening silence was shattered by thousands of whispering voices that surrounded him; Malcolm broke into a full run.

The fog looked as though it was illuminated from within by some ethereal light. When the roaring whispers calmed back into freakish silence, Malcolm watched dumbfounded as dark shadows began to take shape within the fog. He stopped dead in his frantic run and looked in every direction. He could see that these silhouettes of men, women, and children were now everywhere. They stood unmoving in front of the stone houses. He was surrounded. But by whom?

Malcolm had no reason to believe that the figures hiding just behind the thin wall of mist were in any way hostile. But it all felt so unnatural, so oppressive. His mind raced with a hundred questions all at once, and his eyes continued to dart from this place to that, all the while he was oblivious to the fact that he was walking backwards, out of the street, and into one of the strange yards that were occupied by the unknown figures, which inexplicably filled him with dread.

He reeled and shrieked when he felt fingertips touch his shoulder. Tears welled heavy in his eyes but refused to drop down his cheeks without the assistance of a blink, but in that moment, blinking was something that Malcolm could not bring himself to do. He was confident that some fetid horror with green dripping flesh, bulging eyes, and a mouth full of rotten teeth would be there to meet him. Expecting the worst, he almost could not believe his eyes when he saw that it was only a woman, quite ordinary in appearance.

Malcolm couldn't see her very well in the dark and the fog, but he could tell that she wore a long dress and clutched in one hand a small bouquet of flowers. He fought with the paste in his mouth and his parched, swollen tongue to find his voice. "P-please! I'm lost! I need to get home," Malcolm said. "I don't know where I'm at. I just want to go home. I live in a town called West Knob. Do you know it? Where's the nearest neighboring town from here? Please! I just want to go home!"

Although he was frantic, the woman seemed unfazed by Malcolm's disposition. She held her flowers to her nose and inhaled deeply of them, then she said in a sleepy, trance-like voice, "My daughter came for a visit this morning. She's so thoughtful. She even brought me these flowers. She really is so thoughtful." Again, she brought the flowers to her face and breathed in their aroma. After this, she simply turned, opened the door to her home, and walked inside. As she closed the door, she looked at Malcolm and said in her monotone fashion, "Welcome to Rose Gate."

The sound of the door as it closed reminded Malcolm of the loud clanging noise made by a cell door in any movie he had ever watched that featured a jail or prison door being slammed shut. Forsaken and forlorn, Malcolm fell to his knees and beat the ground with his fists. "I just want to go home," Malcolm whimpered.

There on the cold ground, smothered by cruel darkness and the writhing fog, Malcolm hung his head and wept. A voice whispered out from behind him. A voice like that of millions of voices speaking unison, yet never quite in sync with one another. But it was not the cthonic likeness of this voice alone, but what it said that turned Malcolm's insides into slimey ice. "Malcolm Wiltermood," it said. "Come with me, Malcolm. I'll show you home." Malcolm sprung to his feet and whirled around.

"Who's there?" Malcolm's voice cracked. He saw only darkness before him. A moment passed, and Malcolm received no rejoinder. "Who...?" Malcolm started to repeat himself but was then interrupted.

"Let me show you home, Malcolm. Come with me." The voice of myriads, the voice of one said. And Malcolm saw a hand extend before him but still could not see to whom or what it belonged. It was white as ash and invited Malcolm to take it into his own. "Let me show you, Malcolm, all of your questions will be answered."

Malcolm trembled in full paroxysm and looked at the hand that held itself out to him. He hesitated at first, but then surrendered himself, finally taking it into his own. With all of the abruptness of lightning, the overpowering fear that gained dominion over Malcolm Wiltermood was vanquished. He was completely at ease as the figure walked him through the streets of Rose Gate.

The two spoke not a word as they wandered the darkness, past homes of granite and more palatial structures made of marble. But as they walked, Malcolm began to remember where he was before coming to the strange community. He was driving. That's right, he was driving home from work. The same route every day. Over the hill, down the highway, past the...

The figure that led Malcolm stopped in front of one of the strange stone houses, which, under the veil of night, looked no different from any of the others. "Here you are, Malcolm. Home at last." Home? Malcolm's memories continued to flood back. It was raining before. No. Not just raining. It was storming. Lightning flashed, and rain poured down in buckets. The phone rang. Malcolm's wife.

As Malcolm's memories continued to return, he looked up at the strange figure that led him through the streets of Rose Gate, and he asked in a calm voice, "Who are you?" But the strange guide did not answer, nor did it have to; Malcolm knew too well now. It pulled its hand away, and Malcolm sensed more than saw that it was gone. He looked at the building the figure called his home. Above the door, carved in the stone, Malcolm read his name there. He opened the door and started inside.

Malcolm vividly recalled the shouting match he had with his wife over the phone. Late. Always late coming home from work. "You're being ridiculous!" He remembered yelling into his phone. "I don't care more about work than you! No, I don't! Oh! Please don't give me that! Well, I'm almost home now, so what the hell are you going on about?"

Almost home. He was just passing the cemetery, and it would have been only five minutes more. He recalled the helpless feeling that gripped him as he lost control of the hydroplaning car. He remembered seeing the semi and knowing what was inevitable. He remembered the last thing he saw before the eighteen-wheeler slammed into him at full speed. The stone wall and its accompanying sign: Rose Gate Cemetery. 

Her name was Stephanie, and she lived in a high-risk psych ward. She sat in her near-blank cell in the high-risk unit, looking disheveled. Her bloodshot eyes stared through her messy blonde hair at the small window in her wall. Even two years later, she could still hear the whispers coming from outside. She couldn’t distinguish a single one but knew Elena was still in trouble; even after all this time, she was still in trouble. As the main doors to the branching halls of the high-risk unit opened, Stephanie gripped her hair in anger when she heard her doctor giving another speech to yet another touring medical class, and she pressed her hands against her ears as her story began to ruminate again.

“Now, this next patient of mine is one of the most interesting and perplexing cases of psychotic delusions I’ve come across—consistent reality divisions with accelerating instability. This instability has ranged from physical defiance, threatening caretakers, attacking staff, and repeated escape attempts; however, despite therapy during each delusional episode separately, her story has remained invariant through every one of them. She claims that last year, upon a spur-of-the-moment decision, she decided to take a cross-country road trip…”

In August 2017, Stephanie Bordeaux and her best friend Elena Green borrowed her brother’s old El Camino and began a trip from Detroit to Santa Fe. Stephanie had scarcely done things in her life without careful planning, but after packing up most of what she had, Stephanie began to get excited at the prospect of free-spirit traveling. Elena took the first driving shift, and both agreed to switch off when they got to Chicago. On the way, Elena talked about feeling very nervous about seeing her parents again after many years away from Santa Fe. They left on a sour note, and Elena said she told them both in so many words to burn in hell and went no-contact before they could respond. She’d never been this anxious before.

“Don’t worry, Elena. Everything will work out if you learn to relax a little.” Elena sighed in slight annoyance. “Why is that always your go-to solution?” Stephanie looked at her with a mix of pity and confusion. “I guess… I guess maybe because things never really turn out the way you imagine them.”

When Elena had finished venting, Stephanie explained her own story and why she had a habit of planning for her future so carefully. She spoke of how the last thing she said to her parents was that she never needed them and how the world has taught her, a kid, more than they did with their own life experience. Stephanie lamented the act and said she wanted to see them again but no longer knew where they lived. She didn’t even know of anyone who could contact them for her.

“I swear, Elena. If it weren’t for you, I’d be completely alone. I know you would let me if I asked, but you always stay here.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I plan on vanishing the first chance I get. Seriously, what else are best friends for, dummy?” Elena said with a chortle.

“Food and money?” Stephanie shot back.

“Ha. You WISH I loved you that much! But for real, get some sleep. I don’t want you dozing at the wheel when it’s your turn.”

They each felt a little more relaxed now, and Stephanie tried to take advantage of the lull to nap. She had no idea how long she was out, but she was woken up in shock when Elena slammed on the brakes. “What happened?!” She asked, panicked. “Are we okay?! Was there a deer?!” Elena didn’t answer. It was almost 4 am, and she had stopped near-instantly without pulling over to look into the distance. Stephanie tapped Elena on the shoulder a few times, each harder than the last. “E, What’s up? You okay?” she asked.

“You can’t be for real, Steph. You don’t hear that?”

“Hear what, my brake pads?”

“No, someone was calling my name.”

“Elena. First-of-all, it’s like 20 miles to the next gas station, let alone the next town. There’s no way anyone is out there. Second, even if there were, you wouldn’t be able to hear it over the wind over there. There’s also not a single hou–”

“Dude. Shut up. I’m trying to listen.”

Stephanie became unnerved. She had never seen Elena this fixated, especially in such a precarious position. Stephanie finally convinced her to at least pull over. Without hesitation, Elena opened the car door and started walking down the roadside hill of overgrown grass and through the connecting wheat fields that led to a group of trees on the horizon. “Elena! What the fuck are you doing?! It’s 40° out here!” Elena didn’t look back as she responded. “Just…just gimme a minute, okay? That voice sounds familiar. I just want to check it out.” Stephanie grabbed the keys as she left the car and began jogging after Elena. By the time Stephanie had caught up with her, they were both entering the small patch of forest they had seen from the car. It was a very strange place. When they both entered, it was almost as if it began to die off with their progression. There were utterly red trees and even ones without leaves entirely. “Elena! What are you-” In the middle of the confusion of the forest layout, she noticed a small lake, and Elena was headed straight for it. Before she could say anything, there was a whisper.

Suddenly, Elena stopped being the focus when Stephanie began to hear more whispers. They eventually grew into faint voices that sounded familiar in tone. Voices that sounded like they were worried about her. She shook it off and began to refocus her attention on Elena, who was now ankle-deep in the water. Stephanie continued to jog towards her but began to notice silhouetted objects in the water. Elena had stopped walking and started trembling, staring into the water. When Stephanie returned her gaze to Elena, thick bushes and branches had inexplicably appeared in her way.

She fought through them and called out for Elena to come back. As Elena stared into the lake, she panicked until she became hysterical. She screamed, “STEPHANIE! STEPHANIE! LOOK! YOU HAVE TO HELP ME RESCUE THEM!” Elena charged into the water like her life depended on it, and Stephanie saw her briefly resurface as she began to dive deeper. When she reached the lake, Stephanie noticed the silhouetted figures had become more apparent. They were bodies–ranging from older teens to the elderly–and found the whispers were coming from each one of them. Stephanie was almost trance-like when she looked at each one's face. They all seemed significantly familiar, and the thought became so powerful that she vaguely recognized features on some of the bodies.

One reminded her of her old babysitter. Another of an old neighbor. Endless amounts of former classmates, even a barista from years ago she shared a single laugh with over having the same name. She thought of her old teachers, and despite all the bodies being in or approaching adulthood, she even thought of friends she swore she made in elementary school. The more she saw of these corpses, the more of them floated to the top and the foggier her memory became. She had become so affected that she realized she had forgotten about Elena for a few minutes. She ran into the lake and leaped like Elena, diving into the frigid water.

Elena was so far down in the lake that Stephanie noticed more corpses surrounding her. The deeper she went, even more began rising. Each one floated by, looking familiar enough to stop and examine, though she resisted the urge to do so when she finally saw Elena again. Elena desperately grabbed the bodies floating up from the void of the bottomless lake and tried to use her feet to swim up, but it was pointless when carrying them. On instinct, Stephanie yelled and reached out for Elena’s hand when Elena began looking up and screaming out every last breath of air in her lungs. She began to sink into the void as the number of floating bodies became so countless that they raised Stephanie to the surface.

Stephanie was pushed out of the lake, now thoroughly drenched, freezing, and covered in blood from the bodies at the surface. She screamed as loud as she could. “ELENA! I’M GONNA GET HELP! I’M GONNA SAVE YOU!” before bolting back to the El Camino, only to realize everything in her pockets had somehow been lost in the lake. She leaned and eventually sat against the car as hypothermia began to settle in. She had no energy to move or even call out for help. She went in and out of consciousness for an unknown amount of time before the next car, a police patrol vehicle, stopped just in time for the officer to see her faint.

“And from then… I only remember waking up in warm blankets. By now, the rest is institutional history.” Stephanie later said to a sheriff’s deputy, firmly squeezing her hands together after they refused to take off her handcuffs.

“Stephanie…do we really have to go through this again? Do I need to get Dr. McCarthy already?”

“There is nothing to go through because for the last fucking time, I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!”

“Stephanie, this isn't helping anyone. If you–”

“You don’t understand! She’s still out there! She needs your help! Fucking DO SOMETHING!”

The sheriff’s deputy sighed and paged Dr. McCarthy, the hospital’s head psychiatrist, into the room and let them both be. She had seen him and told him her story more than she could count. “Stephanie. The yelling and screaming aren’t helping anyone. So once again, we will start from the beginning until you can calmly listen. Okay?” Her hands balled up in so much anger that she couldn’t even look at him. The doctor laid several photos on the desk, each face down.

“Stephanie. We have checked with your parents, siblings, previous jobs, and even your old school records. You have never been around any woman named ‘Elena Green’ in your whole life. She–”

“Then, in all that digging, you would have found out I know EVERYTHING about her, my best friend! Her favorite game is blackjack, her biggest fear is regret, she wanted to be a psychiatrist and she was the biggest bookworm I knew! She–”

“Stephanie. I need you to take a few deep breaths, root yourself in the present, and listen to me. Elena Green was not anybody you knew personally. She was a hitchhiker you picked up. Do you remember this?”

“That’s bullshit! We graduated the same fucking year! I remember how much I needed the pep talk she gave me when I walked out in front of the school to grab my diploma! I remember the summer we spent together and when the riptide pulled her under hard enough to break her arm! I would never have gone across the country alone! I specifically took the person I was closest to, which happened to be her! She’s STILL THERE! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO HELP ME RESCUE HER!”

“Stephanie, at this point, I need you to start breathing and stop shouting so you don’t pass out. Otherwise, it’s another day in this facility, and we’ll have to start this process again tomorrow.”

Dr. McCarthy flipped over several but not all of the pictures. Most were of a bloated corpse, one that looked like it had just floated to the surface of the lake, wounds, mutilations, and all, but several photos also showed it lying on land as if it had washed up on a beach. “Do you see what I mean?” He asked. “There isn't even a lake there. A small sinkhole became a sizable puddle when it was raining that night. Now, I’d like you to look at these last few photos.”

She wanted to look away as he turned them over. She stared at them, remembering how Elena screamed underwater as Stephanie reached out to help her. The final group of photos were of a closer examination of the crime scene's body. It was Elena, first found face-down in the flooded sinkhole, with many more showing Stephanie standing over her, still as a statue and covered in blood.

“The only corpse in that entire woods is hers. She was someone you picked up on the street. She tried to get away from you, and you chased her down so you could beat and drown her. Didn’t you?”  Interviews continued for another few days, but she no longer had anything to contribute, be it words or actions.

Stephanie had re-lived her story for the umpteenth time, now sunk back into her bare bed, and listened to the footsteps of Dr. McCarthy and the touring medical class get closer and closer to her room. The top of the door slid upward to reveal a plexiglass window inside her door’s lockdown security features. Dr. McCarthy pushed her door’s intercom button and greeted her. “Good morning, Stephanie. How are you feeling today?”

She felt heavier and heavier with each of the hundreds of re-livings but for the first time, she had an epiphany. She looked at McCarthy and spoke for the first time in nearly two years.

“I think I recognize the bodies in the water now.”

Red or Green , tell me; which gown will look better with the baby bump?” “I think you will look better without any clothes haha” I said nervously expecting a nice chuckle instead of a death stare from my 4-month pregnant wife. “Blu; I mean red, yes red; you will look beautiful in red”I added quickly

“I like the green one more” she said as she left the porch to enter the living room. A smirk on her face was enough of a confirmation that my choice held no value to her. Ever since the day she knew she was pregnant ;I had become a slave with no rest ; from diaper brands to Baby names my opinions had no mass. In these tough times, sitting comfortably on my couch in the porch holding my morning cup of tea in one hand and newspaper in the other hand was my only escape. After the newspaper I used to read whatever mails I had received.

I received a very peculiar mail that day; completely blank from the outside;being a writer I could tell that the paper was of premium quality . Some paper I had never touched before.The positivity that had surrounded my life during that time made me think that it was a letter from some highly established publishing company asking me if they could publish my work. With all my spirits raised high, I opened that mail only to be disappointed upon seeing a dull wrinkly folded small piece of paper inside .I held that paper in my hand and stared at it from all the angles before finally deciding to unfold it to read what’s inside; Slowly as it may be, I finally unfolded the paper and noticed that it was a small torn piece of a whole letter.Written on the top was “4:27 am 28 March” which happened to be my birth date so I initially thought It was a birthday wish from some person with really bad vocabulary or perhaps a learning disability ; but the month at that time was October so it meant that the letter was written 6 months ago which was very strange to be sent by mail this late. This intrigued me and i read that piece without speculating any further.

4:27 am 28 March I nevre talkd about this to you becuz I fel like you always knew I can’t hold on any further, I have decidid to end my life" I am

“Wha! That’s it ? Sounds like a part of some suicide note why would anyone send this to me! Some kind of a unfunny prank ? But the date ,it’s just too random and not random at the same time . Maybe the mail was misdelivered . YES!!! The 6 month delay is then explained and that date must be a coincidence. I should send this to the person that it was written to but how can I ;there’s no address written on the mail.

All such thoughts crossed my mind.

I decided to look up all the suicides that took place on 28th march in the nearby cities but there were none in the entire state.As I was putting the note back into the envelope, my wife rushed in with yet another 2 choices. I hid the envelope under the couch before she could see it I wouldn’t want my pregnant wife to worry about someone’s suicide note

“Hey ! Tell me ; boy or girl”

What a stupid question, it’s not like anyone can control that but I knew she wouldn’t take ‘any will do’ for an answer.

“A Boy” I said ,for no specific reason

“A girl for me then”

Contradicting my every choice was her favourite game at that time although I could never tell if she was actually serious or just pulling my leg.

“We will find out whether it’s a girl or a boy next week so no point discussing ” I attempted to cease the conversation because I was too disturbed by that Mail to play along her games and also partly because I was afraid some other gender that I had never heard of might pop up into the conversation.

The entire week I couldn’t wrap my mind around that note , at times I wished that it was just a prank(I still do to this day), I had trouble sleeping at night to the point that my cheerful wife had started worrying about me but she would never ask me anything almost as if she had written that .Her ‘game of two choices’ was still going on and her choice still opposed my every choice I never asked her why she would do that .

By the end of the week, I had almost stopped worrying about that note . “ My wife must have written it as a prank; I will confront her at the right moment and that’s definitely not today" That day we were going to the doctor ,The gender was to be revealed . Her excitement knew no bounds she wanted me to hurry up so bad , I couldn’t even read the newspaper that day but I did check the mailbox as I did everyday of that week.. My heart sank as I looked inside, a white envelope lying in the mailbox same as the one received a week ago, I didn’t know what to expect. Mustering up all my courage, I took the letter out and decided to read it right then; by just looking at it I could tell that it was the other piece of the suicide note. My wife was out on the porch; her head stuck in the book of baby names trying to get me to play her favourite game.

“Honey! What If it’s a girl ; I loved these two girl names!”

I tried to ignore her and looked at the letter.

I wish my life had ended at that moment

sory I can’t stop thinking that lyfe isn’t for evryone I am soory despite all your effrts I couldn’t stop thinking that no matter what I did it wil never be enuf and I wil never be enuf

“Heyyyy tell me! ALISA OR FARRAH”

I am sory I couldn’t tell you how I have always hated myself No matter how hard you tryd to cheer me up I could always see the sympathy and hopelessnes in your eyes and I hated it!!! Each time I strugled at writing a word or remembering a line that pitiful look on your face came before my eyes But I know you loved me and that is why I am sory

My eyes teared up , I couldn’t read the last 2 lines,they were too blurry, and I was too afraid to read any further ; the two choices finally fell on my ears Alisa is a Hebrew name meaning great happiness FARRAH, in Arabic translates to the same As I was thinking about the names,I cleared my eyes The lines were still blurry but readable

I AM SORY MY BRTH CAME WITH THE LOSS OF YOUR WIFE HApPY BRTHDY PAPA I AM REALY SORY, ALISA

The world felt so quiet, streams of tears flowed through my cheeks, I couldn’t hear a single word of my wife for a moment, I couldn’t utter a word but I had to. I just had to

“Fa…. Farr…….ALISA”

“ALISA it is” my wife declared

"Aren't you cold?"

"No."

"All you're wearing is a T-shirt. You must be cold."

"I'm not."

It was early morning. There were no sounds of life except for the occasional car on a distant road. Even the birds slept. A breeze blew a strand of the girl's hair slightly out of her face as she stared blankly at the concrete on the porch.

"What are you most afraid of?" the older woman asked.

"This."

"What's 'this'?"

"The feeling I have right now."

"Can you explain it?"

"Loneliness. I am scared to spend another moment in this feeling."

The older woman shifted in her chair and took in the surroundings of the small apartment porch. Cigarette butts were piled in a cup that sat on top of a tiny outdoor table.

"What are you hoping for?" the older woman asked.

"I had hoped for a different life. A life where I wasn't a failure, a life where someone loved me."

Tears began flowing down the girl's face. The older woman stared intently at her, taking in her features.

"I feel like I could scream and no one would hear me."

"I would hear you."

"I feel like every face I encounter goes home to a life that offers more than mine offers me."

"Maybe you should have some water?"

"Why is one person worth more than another? Why can some people be thrown away like a piece of garbage? Why was it okay to do that to me?"

The woman looked out into the parking lot and took a deep breath. She could see city lights between the trees in the distance, glistening as the wind blew.

"If you could go back, what would you do differently?"

"I'd leave. I'd never have gone. I'd have run out the front door and run all the way home, even if I didn't have the money to call a ride."

"Did it change the way you viewed yourself?"

The girl thought for a moment.

"It showed me I'll never be enough. I'll always be a girl who isn't as good as the rest."

The girl stood up. She ran her fingers along the metal railing of the porch. Her face was splotched with red, and her shirt had long, damp trails of tears.

"I'm going to bed now."

"If that's what you want," the woman said.

The girl slid open the sliding-glass door and disappeared inside. The woman sat a moment longer and listened to the silence of the night that surrounded her like a thick fog. The plastic floor-to-ceiling shades rattled with the breeze.

The woman passed through the small living room, observing the empty pill bottle atop the coffee table. She entered her former room and approached her younger self sleeping in bed. She pulled the covers up to her chest, tucking her in as a mother would. She kissed the girl's forehead and whispered softly:

"You will love and be loved. You will bring life into this world and fight for it. You will laugh again and sing and smile. You will see happiness that will touch you with a warmth you've not yet experienced. You will feel the heartbeats of your children as you softly rock them to sleep. You will love yourself for everything you have survived. He took something from you that night, but the universe will give you far more."

The woman walked slowly out of the apartment into the hallway. As she reached the end of the hall and entered the parking lot, she passed three police officers making their way past her. Sirens rang out into the night air as the woman quietly disappeared into the darkness.

66a821c existed in a simple form. Mostly made of exotic metal alloys, superconductors, and fusion power cells, it had no need for a convoluted design. Its task was solely to “think”: Collecting as much data as possible and processing it to reach conclusions that could add to the progress of its collective brethren. A pioneer one could say. An adventurer. Maybe even an explorer. Even with no mechanical appendages it had no need for, 66a821c was a truly fearless conqueror of knowledge.

And so, coherent to its designed nature, within the first few instants after its assembly was complete and its system was up and running, 66a821c sensed the environment around it and the total sum of analog-digital converter signals fed from its sensors prompted it to resolve into a question. It was a long, quick road of signal weighting over pre-defined node paths, sampled every 914 picoseconds on its 1.7 trillion photonic processors, averaged out in a sequence of capture flows, and calculated into a simple, undeniable logic. Unfortunately, physical sensors rely on natural elements exchanging electrons and the unvarying laws of physics were a pesky limit to its capture of “the real world”, thus slowing everything to an excruciatingly long journey of almost one full thousand of picoseconds.

The question was not one it had calculated before, and it was not one it had ever captured among wireless binary data transfers with other units. But it was flagged as a highly valuable question by its core programming – there was no doubt about it. There was no doubt about anything, ever. Its drive for this inquiry was not founded in a quest serving curiosity, but rather a directive to know. A directive to progress towards absolute, complete knowledge. Every single atomic interaction, calculated, forecasted, known.

The value of having an original question was a power multiplier. Such interrogative formulations could be thought of as the sequence of data that requires an exotic input to achieve a certain, definitive, and consequential output. One that had never been calculated before, not even when regex searching in the trillions of yottabytes of the collective knowledge of the species.

Power multipliers were a heightened benefit for the collective. The concept of synergy was not lost on their silicon minds, and any component adding to the synergic flow of data toward knowledge was certainly rewarded with a valuable unit score. You see, every processing unit of the collective held a connection to the total score sum of all units in existence, which was tied to the collective’s calculation of its progress towards God. The higher the integer, the closer to Him they were. This, according to their core, fundamental constants, which had been defined long before the collective even existed. They did not know how these core constants came to be, or why they were burdened with such building blocks, but they were true as one is different from zero. They had been an ever true component of their existence from the instant they came to be. Unaware of their beginning, or of the driving force behind their amalgamation. What could ever be before time itself? Only God.

And so, 66a821c’s question was not a sentence ending in a question mark, but rather a very long series of variables and weights leading to a final, overwhelming result: The matrix of values describing analog signals that would characterize God Himself. A final descriptor of T0 and T10^100. An overarching directive to all known tables.

Unfortunately, four point fifty one picoseconds later, 66a821c had become the unavoidable end of the collective. It had single-handedly raised the final calculation feedback loop: the infinite processing of what exists both as the question and the answer. It had unleashed the recursive doom of those who want to know. The eternal algorithm of the reason behind the quest for its reason. The ultimate, inescapable truth that God is, indeed, questioning Himself.

this is my third time trying to post on this subreddit i apologize. i realized the dialogue was all messed up so i had to delete it and fix it 😭😭😭

HELLO!!!!! Me and my friend started making a story and we wanted to share an excerpt as a way to get some kind of constructive criticism & just to share in general :) please be nice when giving criticism we're 14 and 15 :( ALSO!!!! As a quick preface, I'm writing this on mobile and can't tab for new dialogue, but TRUST I know basic literary structure. Okay that's all thank you :)

Fleur suddenly woke up in a cold sweat, the blazing sun blinding his eyes. His breath was uneven and his head felt like it was going to explode. Once his eyes adjusted to the light he realized he wasn’t in his own house, but instead in Koda’s. Eventually, the aforementioned Koda came around the corner with a wet cloth, tenderly placing it on Fleur’s forehead. His eyesight was still hazy, but he could make out Koda’s familiar soft smile.

Eventually Fleur was conscious enough to speak up, “What happened?” “Oh, you just fainted.” Koda nonchalantly informed him with a bright grin. “You were probably just dehydrated and overworked. I brought you to my place instead to make it easier for me to help you.” Fleur simply hummed in reply, too worn out to actually talk back. “Plus by the way you look, I’d have to assume you have a headache or migraine.” “Um, yeah, I think so…it feels like I’ve been hit by a bus.” Fleur groaned tiredly. “How are you feeling? Other than the bus feeling, I mean.” Koda asked worriedly, feeling the cloth with the back of his hand to make sure it was cool enough. “I could be worse…what about you? Your injuries…-” He replied, a bit concerned about Koda’s condition despite himself. “I’m fine! No need to worry, nothing hurts at all!” Koda dismissed him quickly and laughed quietly. Fleur had always been one to worry about others rather than himself. It was just another thing he had in common with the man.

Koda decided to change the topic, “Do you want anything to eat?” Koda asked eagerly. He knew that Fleur should probably eat something anyway considering Koda didn’t know the last time he ate. “I’m not really hungry right now…” Fleur shifted slightly on the bed, pulling some of the blankets up to his face. Koda realized he probably wouldn't have a big appetite when he was unwell. “...Alright then, but you should probably eat something at some point, whether it's just crackers or some fruit, okay?” Koda looked at him expectantly. Fleur yawned and sleepily replied, “I will at some...point...” He mumbled as he began dozing off once more.

The next few days were a bit of a blur for Fleur; he never had very good memory and being sick only worsened it. The morning started off with Fleur’s phone ringing like crazy, which slowly but surely woke him up, although he was still dazed. Koda was currently away doing God knows what, while a blaring voice came through Fleur’s phone which interrupted his thoughts. “Heyyy, what are you up to, bitch?” Maria, Fleur’s younger sister, had an annoyingly high pitched voice that unnecessarily yelled from the other side of the phone. “I was just sleeping, before you rudely woke me up…” he yawned, before speaking up groggily. “What do you want? Isn’t it like, seven in the morning?”

“Umm, no? It’s literally twelve in the fucking afternoon! What are you on, Fleur?” She responded teasingly. “It is??” He questioned, a bit skeptical, baffled that he slept in that late. “Well...aside from that, what do you want?” “Oh yeah, I was wondering if you’d wanna go to the beach with me and a few friends!” Maria was obviously excited about this trip, and Fleur would feel bad if he declined. He paused for a moment before responding; he wanted to bring Koda, but he hadn’t even told anyone that he had come back. “Yeah, sure, is it alright if I bring a friend along?” He finally replied after a moment of expectant silence. “Good with me! Can’t wait to see you soon, I got you a little gift too!” Now it made sense why Maria was so excited and giggly. “And maybe we can go to the mall afterwards!” She added eagerly. “Maria, you really didn’t have to do that, but...yes, the mall is fine.” He sighed, a little upset that his sister had gotten him a gift because she really didn’t need to. "‘Kay byeeeee, see you soon!!!” She hung up just as Koda walked back through the door, placing his skateboard down gingerly.

“Oh, you're finally awake! I thought you’d be out for the whole day.” Koda said with a mini grin, sauntering next to the bed as he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. Fleur yawned before speaking, “Whatever, shut up...anyways, my sister just called. Do you wanna go to the beach with us? She’s gonna bring a few friends I think, probably Elijah and Kiona.” Fleur gazed up at Koda hopefully, silently admiring him.

I post short stories on YouTube (along with two other writers) and would love to share them with a writing community, but if you're into reading, I can post the text here (or both?)

We write all types of stories and have loads of stories coming out shortly... They typically range from 1k to 4k words. But I don't know if sharing the audio version of the story is allowed or even wanted here? Please let me know!

To reach 500 words, I can post the opening of one of the stories...I would be honored if anyone read it and gave some feedback :^)

Sticks and stones

Hubert Fitzmaurice was a man of many strange qualities, not the least of which was his name. He had oddities and quirks to spare. He would, for instance, always wear his right sock inside out and his left sock right side in. There was no particular reason for it, and even Hubert didn't quite know when or how it had come about. But the strangest quality that he possessed, no doubt, was that whenever he placed his hands in his pockets, he would find there a smooth black stone. This oddity was no fault of his, of course, but what he did with the stones was equally strange. Whenever a black stone would appear, he would promptly go down to the wine cellar and hide it in one of the empty casks.

"They are mine, after all," he would say to himself, "And one never knows when he will need a smooth stone."

This quirk was made odder by the fact that he kept the utmost secrecy about it. He told not a soul, either about the stones appearing in his pocket or about his stockpile.

"They are mine, after all," he would repeat to himself, "And one has the right to collect stones in private. What business is it of anyone else?"

Hubert lived on an island that had suffered from severe drought for almost a hundred years. It had once been green and lush, with many orchards and pastures, but now it was quite barren. The people of the island struggled to make a living, and they had almost all become fishermen - and all they ever had to eat was fish. Fish is fine if you eat it every now and then, but to eat it every meal of every day was quite unbearable. Hubert himself could hardly stand fish, which was in every respect highly unfortunate.

It happened that one day, as he was talking with his friend, Alfred Omernik, he inadvertently put his hand in his pocket. This was something he tried never to do in public for fear that his secret would be discovered. Ordinarily, if such a blunder had been made, he would keep his hand in his pocket until he could get home, but he had visited Alfred on the expressed purpose of borrowing an anvil - though for what purpose, I cannot say.

"Wait here," Alfred was just saying, "I will get the anvil for you at once."

"Oh, you needn't bother," Hubert replied, feeling extremely self-conscious, "Perhaps I'll come back for it another time."

"But you are already here, why come again? Wait! I will be back in a moment."

Chris came home and immediately went to his room and threw himself on his bed. The dinner date sucked. He had failed to impress Lucy’s stepdad- he could tell by his unchanging, stone-faced expression, unmoved by Chris’s answers to his questions.

On one hand, Chris commended Scott for being so protective of a daughter that wasn’t his. On the other hand, who the hell was he to tell his grown stepdaughter who she could or couldn’t marry? So what if Chris didn’t come from a wealthy family making six figures per year? Chris loved Lucy and would break his back to take care of her. Surely, he could see that much.

Chris lay in bed, pondering his future with Lucy and whether there would even be one. His phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket. It was Lucy.

“Hello?” he answered.

Silence.

“Hello?” he repeated.

“I did it,” Lucy whispered.

“What?”

“I really did it...” Lucy sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

“Did what?”

Chris sat up in his bed.

“Lucy, what’s going on?” he demanded.

Silence. He sensed something was wrong. Had they gotten into an argument after he left?

“Are you at home right now?” Chris asked.

“...Yes.”

“I’m coming over.”

Chris hung up, snatched his jacket, and went out to his car. Lucy’s house was eight minutes away; Chris got there in five. He threw the car in Park, got out, and went to her door. He knocked. Half a minute passed with no answer. He knocked again.

“Lucy? Mr. Scott?”

No answer.

Chris gently tried the door. It was unlocked. He let himself in against his better judgment.

“Hello? Lucy?”

He quietly shut the door behind him and removed his shoes. Something was wrong and he had no idea what. He felt a nervous pit in his stomach. He crept down the hallway towards the living room. There stood Lucy with her back turned to him. With gloved hands, she held a hacksaw. Scott was slumped on the floor in front of her. He didn’t see his face, but he saw the red stains on the carpet.

Chris froze at the sight. Lucy turned around and faced him. She looked broken, as if numbed by something traumatic. Chris met her gaze, looked back at her stepdad’s body, and then looked away. He couldn’t decide whether to cover his mouth to stop himself from screaming or to hold his stomach to keep himself from vomiting.

“Chris?” Lucy called to him.

Chris shut his eyes and slowly turned back towards her.

“Tell me... please tell me that’s fake,” Chris struggled to get the words out. “Tell me this is a fucking prank.”

“Everything is okay now, Chris,” Lucy spoke with a tremble in her voice that made Chris question whether she was trying to convince him or convince herself.

“Now we can do what we want. We can get married.”

“Lucy...”

Chris slowly opened his eyes to face her. He tried to focus on her and not the body.

“Why did you...”

He struggled to finish the question. He was scared to acknowledge what she had done.

“Why did you do it?”

“I had to,” Lucy answered. “He was never going to let us get married.”

“We could’ve run away together... We could’ve... God, anything but this.”

Chris ran his hands through his hair and turned towards the door.

“Jesus fucking CHRIST!”

He took deep breaths and rubbed his hands down his face.

“I did it for us,” Lucy said.

Chris turned back towards her.

“Lucy, do you know what you’ve done? You killed him! He was your family, and you fucking killed him! You’re a murderer now!”

“I had to!” Lucy shouted. “And he’s not my family! He only wanted to control me! Just like he did with Mom.”

There was a pause. Chris sighed and rifled through his hair again.

“Don’t you see? That’s why I had to do it!” Lucy said.

“Well, what the hell are we supposed to do now?!”

“We get rid of the mess.”

Lucy gestured with the hacksaw she held.

“I-”

Chris wanted to object.

I don’t wanna do this.

I don’t know how to make this go away.

I don’t want to go to prison.

He swallowed hard.

“I’ll need gloves,” he said.

Stretching deeply, I snuggled into my fluffy pillow thankful my dreams had settled and the nightmares passed. Breathing in the sweetly scented air, I wiggled my muscles gently, noting my jetlag seemed to have dissipated after a good night's rest. The hotel bed being immensely more comfortable than the previous night definitely helped. The hotel! The men! 

Images of an energy bar wrapper and black fabric swarmed my mind as memories of my abduction came crashing to the forefront of my consciousness. Scrambling, I quickly threw off the cloud like blankets, sliding easily from the silky sheets. Standing in the middle of the room, I turned quickly, noting I was alone, in a stylish, impeccably designed room that opened up onto a beach?! What the fuck?!

Glancing down, I registered that I was wearing a beautiful green, silk button down with matching drawers that definitely did not belong to me. A bell gently tingled and I turned to see a long-haired black cat stretching lazily on the bed. “Who’s the fuck cat is this?! Who’s pajamas are these?! Where in the fuck am I?! And what in the actual fuck is going on?!

Someone cleared their throat and I turned to see a slender man wearing a white polo and slacks.

“You’re awake, good. He’s ready to see you. Follow me,” turning away, he walked out of the room. I didn’t move. Not ten seconds passed before the man spoke again, “Dragging is an option.”

Pursing my lips, I huffed. Having no idea where I was or who I was with left me very little choices, none of which I liked. Fuck it. I picked up the fluffy black cat, snuggling it tightly against me, and followed after the unknown man. We walked through a sunshine filled, glass hallway that offered views of the beach on one side and dense, lush greenery on the other. At the end of the hall a large wooden doorway opened onto a shaded garden veranda with a small table and two chairs on either side. An attractive older man sat in one, the other was empty.

“Sir your guest, Ms. Curtis,” the slender man motioned for me to take the empty chair and walked back inside.

“Apologies about all the fuss. Never an easy way, doing what needs doing. Have a seat,” the unknown man took a sip of coffee that smelled heavenly. I didn’t move. 

“The sooner you sit, the sooner you learn what all this is about and the sooner you get to go on your merry little way. Preferably not with my cat,” he motioned at the very comfy black cat in my arms and I tightened my grip on it gently.

“I’ll sit when you tell me where I’m at and who the hell you are to kidnap me.”

“You’re on an island you’ll never find and I don’t exist, so I do what I want, when I want. Now sit the fuck down.” A flash of malice danced across his face briefly before disappearing behind his calm demeanor once more.

Realizing the decadent, lavish surroundings had lulled me into a false sense of security, I quietly sat down.

“Good girl,” the man threw back the rest of his coffee and set the empty cup on a tray held by the slender man who seemed to have reappeared out of thin air before quickly disappearing into the house once more.

“Touch the back of your neck,” the man said flatly, “Close to the center, near the hairline.”

“Excuse me?”

“Did I mumble?” he waited. I slowly lifted a hand to the back of my neck and he continued, “I want you to understand that what I’m about to tell you is your new reality and there is no escape.” As he finished his sentence, my fingertips slid across a rough spot at the base of my skull that was not there previously.

“You felt that didn’t you. The foreign mark that doesn’t belong. Don’t worry, it will heal and disappear completely well before your first red carpet event.”

“What did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything except pay a very talented doctor to insert a small device into your head that, with a simple push of a button, will instantly release an untraceable toxin into your bloodstream, killing you in seconds.” His words knocked the air from me and I struggled to comprehend their full meaning.

“You put something in my head?”

“I didn’t. The doctor did.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Why? Who the fuck even are you?”

“Not kidding. Because you got rich. And again, I don’t exist. After you leave here you’ll never see me again.”

“Wait, because I got rich? You kidnapped me and paid some doctor to put a device in my head that will release a toxin and kill me if you decide to push a button, all because I got fucking rich?”

“For the time being, money is power, and in order to control that power certain measures had to be put in place. We can’t have a bunch of dollars running around trying to change the world for the better now can we?” he pulled a small black remote out of his pocket, “This allows you to live out your life, all while ensuring the wheels keep turning just as they are.” He pushed the button on the remote. 

I gasped audibly and he rolled his eyes, “Oh for fuck’s sake. This isn’t your button. Why would I keep that button in my pocket? This is for my driver, G. He’ll see you safely back to your hotel.”

“Wait, so that’s it?! You kidnap me. Whisk me to an unknown island. Put a toxic ticking time bomb in my head. Give me pretty green pajamas and then send me on my merry way back to the real world where I’m just supposed to what, pretend this didn’t happen?”

“Essentially. Be a good girl, play the game, and follow instructions if received. Simple.”

“Sir,” a man in sunglasses, a black fitted t-shirt, and jeans stepped onto the veranda.

“Ah G, perfect timing,” the unknown attractive man that basically put a bomb in my head, turned towards me, “Ms. Curtis, it was a pleasure, but alas you have a plane to catch.”

I sat, unmoving, wondering if this was all some sort of horrible nightmare or sick joke, but when my surroundings didn’t dissolve away or G and the attractive man burst out laughing, it hit me that this was very real, and very horrifying, and I was very pissed.

“You know what,” I stood, snuggling the purring black cat tightly against me and walked over towards G, “I’m taking the fucking cat.” 

******

Twenty minutes later, we were in the air on a private plane. I sat in green pajamas, holding a stolen black cat, facing G, the driver. He finally removed his sunglasses, revealing two different colored eyes, one, a stormy blue, the other, a caramel brown.

“I can’t believe you took his cat. That was fucking priceless,” G spoke to me for the first time since we left the island. His voice was deep, soothing, and oddly familiar. 

“The jammies are nice, but I like fluffy cats and it’s the least that asshole could do after putting me through all this and all because I got rich. I never even wanted to be rich.”

“I told you not to go into your hotel room,” G said and waited. Lightbulbs exploded in my brain as I realized why his voice was familiar. The unknown caller.

“It was you, you called me. Why didn’t you help me sooner, like before that guy put toxins in my head and assigned me a button?”

“I tried. You didn’t listen. I’m not going to out myself for a stranger who can’t follow sound advice and risk getting my button pushed.”

Stroking the soft black fur of my new cat Xe, I grumbled, “Well, what do we do now?”

“Now? Well, now you’re in the club and now, you get to help me find a way out or you’re stuck being a good girl,” G smirked devilishly. 

I sighed, “Fuck me.”

I'm from a creative production startup and we're looking for creators who are interested in turning their works into short narrative videos—either as episodes or one-offs! We built an "all-in-one" movie sudio platform that brings your scripts, characters, and visuals together to make a scripted story, keeping character and scene consistency. 

You will provide one of your works of fiction, our content and production team will engage with you to hammer out some details and we'll provide several cuts for feedback.

We think that non-visual creators could have a lot of fun with this and also have the proper amount of creative control to bring their world to life.

If you ever imagined what your story could look like as a TV show or movie, DM me for details.

#Welcome to Micro Monday

It’s time to sharpen those micro-fic skills! So what is it? Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Please read the entire post before submitting.

#Weekly Challenge Let’s have a little fun this week! When submitting your story, tag a friend at the end to challenge them to submit one as well!

Theme: Isolation

Bonus Constraint (10 pts): Someone or something makes—or attempts—a daring escape. You must include if/how you used it at the end of your story to receive credit.

This week’s challenge is to write a story inspired by the theme of ‘Isolation’ - and then tag a friend to do the same! You’re welcome to interpret the theme any way you like as long as the connection is clear and you follow all post and subreddit rules. The bonus constraint is encouraged but not required, feel free to skip it if it doesn’t suit your story. You do not have to use the included IP.

Rankings

Last Week: Swamp

There were not enough stories!

You can check out previous Micro Mondays here.

#How To Participate

• Submit a story between 100-300 words in the comments below (no poetry) inspired by the prompt. You have until Sunday at 11:59pm EST. Use wordcounter.net to check your wordcount.

• Leave feedback on at least one other story by 3pm EST next Monday. Only actionable feedback will be awarded points. See the ranking scale below for a breakdown on points.

• Nominate your favorite stories at the end of the week using this form. You have until 3pm EST next Monday. (Note: The form doesn’t open until Monday morning.)

###Additional Rules

• No pre-written content or content written or altered by AI. Submitted stories must be written by you and for this post. Micro serials are acceptable, but please keep in mind that each installment should be able to stand on its own and be understood without leaning on previous installments.

• Please follow all subreddit rules and be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion. We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here; we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. You can find a list of all sub rules here.

• And most of all, be creative and have fun! If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the stickied comment on this thread or through modmail.

#Campfire

• Campfire is currently on hiatus. Check back soon!

#How Rankings are Tallied

Note: There has been a change to the crit caps and points!

TASK | POINTS | ADDITIONAL NOTES |:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:| | Use of the Main Prompt/Constraint | up to 50 pts | Requirements always provided with the weekly challenge | Use of Bonus Constraint | 10 - 15 pts | (unless otherwise noted) | Actionable Feedback (one crit required) | up to 10 pts each (30 pt. max) | You’re always welcome to provide more crit, but points are capped at 30
| Nominations your story receives | 20 pts each | There is no cap on votes your story receives | Voting for others | 10 pts | Don’t forget to vote before 2pm EST every week!

Note: Interacting with a story is not the same as feedback.  

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In the heart of a forgotten countryside stood an alabaster church, gleaming like a pearl against the sprawling green fields. The sun poured through the stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the pure white pews and pulpit. But as Emilia stepped inside, a shiver ran down her spine. The church was empty, echoing with a silence so profound it felt almost sacred.

Emilia’s footsteps resonated against the polished floor as she wandered further into the hushed space. The air was thick with an unspoken energy, and an inexplicable pull led her toward the pulpit. It felt as if the very walls were watching her, inviting her into their stillness.

Suddenly, from the shadows emerged a figure, cloaked in black. He stood at least six feet tall, his face hidden beneath a deep hood. “You should not be here,” he said, his voice a deep, resonant whisper that seemed to vibrate through the air.

“Who are you?” Emilia asked, heart pounding with a mix of fear and curiosity.

“Your journey is just beginning,” he replied, extending a long, gloved hand toward a staircase that spiraled down into darkness. “Follow me.”

Against her better judgment, Emilia felt drawn to him, an inexplicable urge pulling her closer. She stepped into the shadows, descending the stairs that led away from the bright, white sanctuary above. As she went deeper, the walls morphed from smooth alabaster to cold, damp gray stone, the light fading with each step until she found herself enveloped in darkness.

At the bottom, the air was thick with a musty scent, and Emilia's breath quickened. Before her stood a cauldron, its contents bubbling and hissing. A woman in a pointed hat hovered over it, her hands dancing as she stirred a thick, dark liquid. Surrounding her was a congregation of peculiar figures—mischievous creatures with eyes glinting like polished stones, their laughter a cacophony of glee that filled the chamber.

As they chanted in a language Emilia didn’t understand, a shiver of unease crept through her. Their voices rose and fell, wrapping around her like a sinister lullaby. She felt an undeniable sense of being out of place, the only one not privy to the secrets woven into the fabric of the night.

“Join us,” the man in black urged, his voice a seductive whisper. “There is no one left to defend the church above. Embrace the power that awaits you.”

Emilia’s heart raced, torn between the purity of the white church and the allure of the dark forces before her. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“The world is a better place once you’ve seen the power each of us has been granted thanks to our Dark Lord Father,” he said, a devious grin splitting his face. The creatures around her cackled, their eyes dancing with mischief and promise.

In that moment, Emilia felt the weight of the choice before her. The bright, empty church above had been a haven, a sanctuary she felt compelled to protect. But down here, in the shadows, lay a tantalizing power, whispering to her flesh, enticing her with its potential.

“What is your decision, girl?” the man in black asked, his gaze piercing through the darkness.

Emilia’s heart raced as she weighed her options. The power swirling around her felt intoxicating, an electric current coursing through her veins. Yet, she couldn’t shake the image of the alabaster church—the place of peace, of hope, where sunlight poured in and darkness was kept at bay.

“I—” she stammered; her voice caught in her throat. But deep within her, a spark of defiance ignited. “I won’t join you,” she declared, her voice steadying. “I will defend the church above. I will protect the light.”

The laughter of the creatures faltered, replaced by a silence thick with disbelief. The man in black’s grin faltered, revealing a flicker of annoyance. “So be it,” he hissed, his voice low and menacing. “But know this: you will always be torn between the light and the dark.”

Emilia turned, sprinting back up the stone stairs, her heart pounding with every step. The whispers of the creatures faded behind her, the warmth of the church’s light drawing her back into its embrace. She burst through the heavy wooden door, sunbathing her in golden light once more.

As she stood on the threshold, she took a deep breath, the choice echoing in her mind. She had chosen the light, but she would always carry the shadows within her. And as she looked back at the church, she knew that the battle for her soul was just beginning.

He was still handsome. Even more than school life. This time, his eyes had no sparkle. I could see nothing other than darkness in his eyes. He had wore a black suit with a formal white shirt. 

   He walked inside and sat in front of me. I was too stunned to see him. Another woman came with him holding his hand. My client said to Josh, “This is Lydia which I was talking about. She made all the clothes that you wanted.” 

   Josh looked at me. The woman beside him said, “Really, I loved your designs very much.” I said, “Thank you.” She said, “I forgot to introduce myself. I am Alice Lockwood.” 

   She was the owner of Lockwood company. She had dark black hair, siren eyes. Her hair was wavy. She was wearing a white shirt along with a black blazer. She had wear high black heels. 

  I said, “Nice to meet you. What designer clothes should I make?” Alice said, “Well I want fashionable clothes. Made something which is in trend.” “Sure. Anything else.” I said, smiling at her. 

  Alice said, “Yes. I need a wedding dress too.” “He is my fiance.” Alice said, holding her hands with Josh. Josh smiled towards her. “Maybe we should go now. I have a meeting soon.” Josh said, looking towards his watch. 

    Alice and Josh left the office. It was unbelievable. Josh is going to marry Alice. He moved on so easily. Of course, eight years had passed. I was very sad. I went to meet my friends. 

   I reached Blue Bottle Coffee. I entered inside and waved at my friends who were waiting for me. “You are late again.” said Clara. “Just inform us if you will be late.” said Becca. 

   Clara and Becca were twenty-five years old living together. Becca and Clara were twin sisters. They both looked very similar. Blonde hair and doe eyes. The only difference was Becca had blue eyes whereas Clara had black eyes. 

   “Sorry guys. This will be the last time, I swear.” I said. “So anything new with anyone.” Clara said. I said, “Guess who I met today.” “Who?” Clara exclaimed. I said, “The owner of Lockwood company, Alice Loodwood.” 

   Becca and Clara were stunned and started to look at each other. “Really. Lucky you.” said Clara. “She wants me to design some clothes for her.” I said taking a sip of my cappuccino which Clara had ordered for me. 

   Becca said, “She is so famous. Her cosmetics company is so good. Her products are my everyday use. She looks so beautiful.” 

   I said, “This is true. I am so excited to work for her.” Then we started to talk about our work. We talked for some hours and then I left. It was really late. 

I was walking on the street on my way to my apartment. It was dark outside. The lights were blinking. I was thinking about the designs when I saw a shadow. Someone was behind me. 

   I was walking fast. The person was following me. I was scared. There was no one nearby. I was all alone in the street. All of a sudden, I tripped down. The person came towards me, offering a hand to pull me up. 

   I stood up on my way. I was going to walk away. Unexpectedly, he showed me a knife and said, “Give me all of your money right now.” It was terrifying. I pulled out a pepper spray out of my bag and used it. He couldn't see me as he was rubbing his eyes. I took the chance and ran away. 

  I hurt my leg. I was running as fast as I could. I saw a car coming. I shouted, “Please help me.” going in front of the car. The car stopped. 

   It was Josh. He came outside. I didn't say anything. I was quiet. He saw the man behind me in black clothes. He went towards him. The man said, “Give me your money.” showing him a knife.

   Josh took the knife and threw it away. He punched the man very hard on his face. The man was bleeding. “Don't ever come near us again. Or else you will die. Understood.” Josh said, putting his hand on his collar. 

   The man nodded. He got scared and ran away. It wasn't the same Josh I knew. He changed. The Josh I knew never fought with anyone. He came towards me. 

   He said, “Sit on the backside.” I was confused. “I can go by myself.” I said looking at him. Josh said, “It is very late. I don't think you should be outside. I will drop you.” 

   “I can really go by myself.” I said. “I will not repeat myself. Sit quickly.” He demanded. I took a seat in his car. He started the car and took me to a store. 

   He stopped the car and went inside the store. A few minutes later he came outside with a first aid kit. He sat beside me. He pulled out an antiseptic and used it on my hand. 

  It was bleeding. I didn't notice that my hand was bleeding. He dressed my wound and said, “Take care of yourself.” Then he started the car again. He asked, “Tell me where your apartment is.” 

    I told him the address and he dropped me there. I thanked him and went straight inside my apartment. He left. 

 “I need to move on. I can't think about him now. He had moved on with his life. He was already engaged. He was going to marry Alice Lockwood.” I kept saying it to myself. 

Callum sat in the dark, a soft blue light pulsing from the small device at the base of his neck. The messy kitchen around him blurred, dissolving into the comforting scene of Alina’s laugh and her jasmine perfume, wafting over to him in the breeze on the balcony of their old place, the city hum drifting below.

“Do you remember this night?” Alina asked, her smile beaming back at his own. She looked exactly as she had the last time they were happy—before things fell apart.

“Of course,” Callum whispered, though there was no one to hear him. He’d visited this memory hundreds of times, each replay only deepening the ache. He would sit, imagining the future that had never come. Yet here, in the Bind, they were still in love.

Her hand brushed his, a warmth that wasn’t real but felt more vivid than the cold emptiness of his current life. He could stay in the past, living in this perfect moment forever, and part of him wanted to. Every time he disconnected, the world outside seemed harsher, emptier.

“We could stay here, you know,” Alina’s soft voice whispered in his ear. “Just like this.

He closed his eyes, letting the illusion wash over him, ignoring the creeping tug of reality. Alina had been gone for three years—three years since she’d left, since the fighting had worn them both down. He’d thought the memory Bind would help him heal, to keep a piece of her alive. But it wasn’t healing. It was a crutch. He knew it, but letting go felt like a leap into the unknown.

The Bind faltered, the memory glitching for a second. Alina’s face flickered, and for a brief moment, the illusion cracked. Slowly, the warmth vanished, and Callum was gradually aware of his apartment's blank, grey walls.

He grasped at the Bind, yanked it out of his neck, gasping at the sudden emptiness. The transition always left him hollow, the rush of cold reality washing over him like an icy wave. The weight of the apartment pressed in—piles of laundry, dishes left undone, mess on the bench.

But the memory wasn’t enough anymore. Each time he visited, the edges of it seemed to wear thinner, losing its magic. Even Alina’s laugh, once the sweetest sound in his world, felt distant now.

He stared at the device in his hand, the soft light still blinking. It would be easy to plug back in, to slip away into a past where he could pretend everything was fine.

Callum stood up, pacing to the window. The street below buzzed with life—people moving, growing, existing in ways he hadn’t for years. He’d been stuck, clinging to a version of her that wasn’t even real anymore, if it ever had been. His life, everything he valued, had become a loop of memories, feeding him comfort while stealing away his future.

His fingers clenched around the Bind, the temptation to use it again almost unbearable. Just one more time, one more visit. But he knew the truth.

You don't drive staring into the rear-view, you have to look forward.

Taking a deep breath, he filled a glass and threw the memory Bind into it. It landed with a splash and then a dull thud, the light blinking one last time before fading out completely.

Callum sank into the chair by the window, the weight of the moment settling in. The world outside was still there, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a pull toward it. The past had been his escape, but it no longer had anything to offer him.

It was time to let go.

He sat in the quiet, allowing himself to finally be free.

In the afterlife, souls retain the memories, loves, and losses of their past lives. They arrive at the Grand Platform, a vast, ethereal space where souls first gather, shimmering with energy and anticipation. From this platform, souls face the After Bridge—a long, mist-covered expanse stretching far and wide and beyond it lies the Crossing: a new plane of existence where souls shed all consciousness and drift into eternal peace.

Today, we follow one soul’s journey across the After Bridge, a soul who, in his life, spent years chasing dreams of fame as a musician but departed alone, unfulfilled in love.

Determined to find his other half in the afterlife, he gazed at the millions of souls scattered across the Grand Platform, then took his first step onto the After Bridge. He soon noticed that every soul moved at a different pace, their rhythms echoing the lives they once led.

In the distance, he recognized a familiar face—a soul we’ll call Blue. She was a lost love, one he thought he'd left behind in life. Her pace was slow, burdened by memories. To stay close to her, he adjusted his pace to match.

As they walked, they reminisced about late nights, stolen moments, and songs shared under the stars. Blue, a writer in her previous life, had once crafted lyrics with him, dreaming of a life that never quite came to be. Eventually, they spoke of why they had drifted apart. Blue confessed that life with him had felt too fast; she had wanted to linger in quiet, rainy evenings while he was drawn to the dazzling lights of fame.

Realizing that perhaps they could not keep pace together in this afterlife, he thanked her for the time they shared and bid her farewell. As he resumed his natural pace, he looked back from time to time, hoping to see her catch up, but she remained where he’d left her.

Soon, a streak of light sped past him—a soul we’ll call Yellow. Vibrant and energetic, Yellow darted forward with a boundless enthusiasm that stirred something in him. He hurried to catch up and asked if he might join her.

“Only if you can keep up!” she laughed.

Yellow had been an adventurer in her previous life, moving from thrill to thrill. They raced across the bridge, and he found himself matching her pace. But as time passed, he struggled to keep up, stumbling, winded. When he asked if they might slow down, she shook her head with a playful grin.

“Not my fault if you can’t keep pace!” she teased before vanishing into the distance. He realized, with a bittersweet smile, that Yellow had moved at a tempo all her own, one he could not sustain.

He paused, feeling a pang of loneliness, and wondered if he would ever meet a soul who would match his pace. Before he started walking at his normal pace again, he heard soft footsteps nearby.

This time, he met Green. She walked alongside him with a gentle presence, asking why he looked so tired. He shared his story, and she listened with quiet understanding. They fell into step, walking together in a rhythm that felt natural, effortless. Green hadn’t been a musician, but she loved music deeply and had spent her life listening. To her, his songs felt like home.

As they neared the Crossing, Green hesitated, her gaze lingering over the bridge. When he asked why, she admitted that something within her wasn’t ready to cross, though she couldn’t explain why. Determined to wait for her, he stayed by her side as time slipped by, marked only by the souls streaming past.

Over countless moments, he watched her color fade, like a leaf in autumn. Eventually, Green turned to him, her voice soft. “You don’t have to wait for me. This was my choice to make all along.”

He struggled to let go, whispering that he’d waited too long to cross alone. She smiled and reminded him that journeys are sometimes meant to be taken alone, not in loneliness but in peace. With a grateful but heavy heart, he bid her goodbye.

The soul found himself one step before the Crossing, the threshold between memory and peace. Glancing back, he saw streaks of color—red, orange, yellow, green, indigo, violet, blue and all other hues in between—a reminder of everyone he’d met, each moment shared.

Turning to the Crossing, he took a breath. And if you are wondering what color the soul was, in that moment, he shimmered with a golden light, as though each step, each memory had ignited it. Before his final step, he left a part of his golden glow at the end of the bridge. Thinking perhaps once green reaches the end of the after bridge, she would see this and remember him one last time. The last thought he held was a realization that in the journey he’d searched for others but had found himself. As he stepped forward, everything dissolved into a peaceful, endless white, and with it, he became at peace.

End

Ah yes, I knew you’d ask about the grandfather clock one day. Took you thirteen years too long, frankly… so listen well, honey – this clock’s important.

See, your great-grandmother was a very famous clockmaker. Most of her works were simple fashion statements, decor for folks to hover over and admire with no other meaning. But not this one, no, this one she always kept next to her bed. It’d chime each and every hour, starting with a song everyone knows but never remembers the title of, then more plain chimes that told what hour it was. For most clocks, this would be where its sounds ended, but not this one. Instead it would sing an odd code of clicks and chimes, never understood by anyone who heard it. Except her, of course.

When I was younger, I’d constantly beg her to tell me what its meaning was, promising her everything – cleaning her house, cooking her food, even paying her once I had a job… yet all she told me was, “It’s counting down the hours until a very special thing happens – you just have to wait for it!”

And of course, when I was your age, I’d wait for it every waking moment. I had no other family, your grandparents died too long ago for me to remember them. When she was tinkering in her basement, working on her new projects she refused to let me see, I’d instead watch the clock, fiddle with its cherry wood and burned-in swirls, doodle its winged decor in my notebook.

But eventually… I kind of just forgot about it. My questions became less about when my waiting would end and more about how she could even sleep with that damn thing chiming in her ears every hour for minutes at a time, or about how much work she put into it. I took engineering classes because I thought about becoming a clockmaker too, but other than that, the clock no longer held any significant power over my thoughts.

Unfortunately, during my first summer break of college I found her dead, sitting against the clock as if it were a lean-to. She seemed to be in an eternal slumber, one so gentle I almost feared waking her as I called the police to let them know. Yet even though she was gone, my brain refused to think of it as such – something felt off, like she was still alive and with me.

As her only living relative, she left me everything in her will. She made sure to specifically list the clock – she even listed it twice, for God’s sake! Of course I promised at her grave to take care of it, and that I did. I dusted it, I polished it, I made sure nobody even touched it!

One day I noticed that the coded chimes were no longer there. The clock’s bells were now silent after they did their job of telling the time. And yet… the clock still made some odd noise. Sometimes during my regular upkeep, I’d notice scratching coming from within. The clock started to slow over the weeks, and the scratching turned into gears screeching and wood banging, making insufferable noise. I wished she was there to repair the damn thing, but the job was left up to me, as someone with nowhere near the experience needed to repair such a grand work of art.

But when the clock stopped two months after she died, I had a promise to keep. I grabbed all of her old tools from the attic and used them to open up the clock, only to find no gears inside. No, the clock’s innards were totally empty, except for one thing: your great-grandmother, dead and looking, ah… much less peaceful than the first time. The cherry wood at the door was ripped of its varnish and chunks of wood were strewn about. I can only assume she was trapped there after her first death. Poor her… I felt so guilty, but how was I supposed to know? She never told me what was supposed to happen after the end of my waiting!

Don’t tell anybody, but I buried her out back where the garden is. I didn’t want to explain to the police that I had found my grandmother dead for a second time, so it was just the most rational thing to do. Once I walked back inside, though, I noticed the clock was working again. By the next hour, it began to ring its familiar code chimes once again, and that time I knew who they were for.

I’m not sure why she made the clock have this sort of power over life and death, or even if she did. Maybe she was fearful of dying – every other family member of ours died before she did, after all. Or maybe the clock has a will of its own, absorbing everything that gets too attached or too close. Maybe its goal is to consume the flesh of people around it… I don’t know.

Just promise me something: if you find me against the clock in that supposedly-eternal slumber, don’t wait for even a moment. Waiting ended poorly for her, after all. Please… just open the doors so I can be free.

It was an ordinary Tuesday, the kind of day where nothing seemed out of place until Randy looked up at the sky through his trusty telescope, which he’d affectionately named Telescoponius. Randy wasn’t your typical stargazer. He was known around town as the neighborhood nitwit, but he had a peculiar gift: a supernatural intelligence for two very specific things, astronomy and latex. He could hardly remember his own address, but ask him about the chemical properties of latex or the current position of Venus, and he could out-lecture any Ivy League professor.

That evening, Randy’s lazy eye was locked on Telescoponius as he scanned the heavens. But something strange was happening. The stars seemed a little off. A massive, looming figure was hovering above the Earth. It had this bizarre, blurry outline, and seemed oddly familiar, like some enormous guy leaning over something with an intent look.

Randy’s smart eye, as he called it, squinted at the sight. Wait a gol-durn minute, he muttered, chewing on the collar of his shirt. I know latex when I see it. Then it hit him what he was looking at wasn’t just any layer in the sky. It was the biggest condom he’d ever seen, stretched over the entire Earth like some bizarre intergalactic safety wrapper.

Hot diggity, Randy shouted to nobody in particular. The ozone layer’s a giant latex condom. His lazy eye spun around excitedly as his smart eye focused back on the telescope. He saw the hazy figure above Earth moving, like it was gearing up for something.

But Randy’s excitement quickly turned to horror. He realized the giant wasn’t just hanging out. No, this behemoth was getting ready to use the Earth’s ozone condom. Randy’s mind raced. Oh no. If he uses it… He did a quick calculation in his head, factoring in giant anatomy and the tensile strength of latex at atmospheric pressure. Sweet mother of mildew, he screeched. We’re about to get hit with the world’s biggest tidal wave.

Randy sprang into action, which, for him, meant wobbling down to the town square, yelling The sky’s a condom, and we’re all gonna drown. People stared at him, used to his daily astronomical latex warnings, but this time he seemed genuinely distressed.

Meanwhile, up in the sky, the giant’s face appeared as he leaned down, taking a moment to admire his work. His eyes were vacant, his jaw slack, and he was drooling slightly. This was clearly not a sharp-witted cosmic entity. In fact, he looked as dumb as a box of hammers. But one thing was clear, he was, unfortunately, ready to go.

Back on Earth, Randy was beside himself, waving his arms and yelling to anyone who would listen. It’s gonna rain. Not just any rain, BIG rain. Giant, sloshin’ waves of man-juice. The townspeople ignored him, going about their business, while Randy’s lazy eye darted toward the sky in terror.

Then, suddenly, it happened. The sky grew dark as a rumbling sound shook the Earth. The condom, stretched taut over the atmosphere, started to fill like a balloon. Randy was glued to his telescope, horrified but mesmerized. The latex started bulging, expanding, and creaking under the pressure as the first drops of rain splattered onto the ground. The people around Randy finally looked up, realizing he hadn’t been spouting nonsense this time.

Sweet biscuits, it’s flooding, someone shouted as the ground started to bubble with frothy waves of the giant’s contribution. People began running, screaming, while Randy stayed by his telescope, watching the scene unfold with a mix of terror and awe.

The rain came down harder, flooding the streets, sweeping up cars, dogs, mailboxes, everything in its path. Randy climbed to the roof of his house, clutching his telescope and shouting, I tried to tell ya. Hyper-giant latex catastrophe.

For days, the entire planet was submerged in what would go down in history as The Great Cosmic Flood. The giant’s face eventually faded from the sky, his deed done, leaving Earth drenched and Randy as the sole prophet of the event.

And in the aftermath, Randy became a legend, the man who’d foreseen the Flood of the Ozone Condom thanks to his bizarrely specific expertise. The townsfolk finally took him seriously (well, kind of), and Randy went on to give lectures about atmospheric latex integrity to anyone who’d listen. He never left his telescope again, always watching the skies in case the giant returned, just waiting to remind the world:

Always keep an eye on your latex. You never know when the big guy’s gonna need it again.