Science Fiction Part I
The Awakening
by buckethead


The Missing Link
by Hewitt

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Terry Mosfet hobbled along the cobblestone paths of New Veracity, trying hard not to look at the raggedy old homeless man and his malfunctioning SOC device. Long abandoned ever since the decision to discourage Link handouts, these vagabonds curl up tightly in their tiny cardboard boxes, piling up like garbage in Veracity's furthest corners.

"PLEASE, sir. I can't sleep from this infernal racket. Mine's been blinking funny, sir. Making noises too... What is version 38!? It says that I've got BUGS! WHAT IS THAT?! Will this get me more Friends? I DON'T UNDERSTAND IT!!!"

The hobo tried his best to read the flashing red display from dusty old vacuum tubes against the mahogany background of his Pre-war SOC mo

Science Fiction Part II

All That Remained
by Tsar Bomba

“That.”

“What?”

“Don’t bounce your leg like that.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Jay apologized, he didn’t realize he was tapping his foot nor did he realize it was bothering his captain. He wasn’t surprised though. The captain was easily agitated. Jay figured that irritability was something that developed with age, a plausible theory considering his superior was old.

The captain itched his poorly-shaven jaw, “How’d you manage to learn how to fly a cargo ship, but not how to keep still?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know.”

The captain responded with a grumble. Jay was familiar with the sound, though he was never able to derive any meaning from it. It was just a sound. That was another “old person” thing the captain did: he made a lot of noises. Whenever Jay was co-piloting the ship with him, there were always a handful of grumbles, snorts, and obscenities.

Jay didn’t really mind, though. He always focused on the more rewarding aspects of flying a spacecraft. He got to see the universe and go places he never thought he would go. Most of the other crew members were nice to him and during his free time they would invite Jay to drink or play cards. Little things that excused the reality of his uselessness.

You see, copilots didn’t matter. If you were something like a cybernetics engineer or a scientist or even a space station mechanic, your job is undoubtedly important. But when you’re the copilot of a cargo ship, all you do is push buttons and occasionally flip a switch. Maybe two. A monkey could do the job; the captain always reminded Jay of that. Still, being a copilot was better than being nothing. That’s what Jay used to be.
“Switch it to engine two,” the captain said, keeping a hand on the wheel and using the other to point toward the controls near his copilot.

Jay pressed a button, “Okay.”

“A goddamned monkey could do your job, you know.”

“I know.”

The brief exchange was followed by silence. Silence was okay. It made for an effective thinking space. Jay believed that contemplation was one of the strongest and most potent forms of recreation. He thought about a lot of things when the world around him was quiet. His ruminations often included people, sex, past occurrences, the more trivial aspects of life. Jay sometimes entertained the thought that he was insane. Constantly navigating through the dark, featureless void of space and staring into nothingness for hours, days, or weeks sounded like something a crazy person might do. He remembered when he used to look up at the stars when he was young. Jay could stare at the stars for eternities, burying himself in thought.

Now he was sick of stars.

“See that?” The captain asked.

“What?”

The old man used his empty drinking flask to casually gesture to something beyond the windshield, “Debris.”

Jay looked curiously at the weightless collection of scrap metal drifting aimlessly amongst the stars. He glanced at his captain, “What’s it from?”

“Satellite, maybe,” the elderly man paused briefly, “Or a ship.”

“A ship?”

“Yeah, probably got too friendly with an asteroid. Something like that.”

Jay nodded, reclining a bit in his seat. He watched as the debris slipped away from sight. It was interesting to consider that the bits of metal would float endlessly in space. Inanimate objects had never appeared so lonely.

A new voice entered the room, “You two playing nice?”

The captain and his copilot turned simultaneously, both gazes settling on a crewmate, Ada. He stood in the doorway with a hand resting casually on each hip, they stayed there as he walked further into the cockpit. The ponytailed man gave Jay a nod before giving his attention to the captain, who had already returned his focus to the stars.

“What is it, Ada?” The captain spoke toward the windshield.

Ada jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “It’s about the girl.”

Jay blinked, shifting his gaze between the captain and Ada. The girl. It was such a broad label, though Jay knew who his crewmate was referring to: Eliza Ledoux. They kidnapped her a few days ago. Now the crew was on their way to collect the ransom. It was a large sum of cash, more than they had ever earned from any other delivery. Jay couldn’t remember whose idea it was to abduct her, but that didn’t matter now. What mattered was that it was a good idea, a profitable one.

The Ledoux Family were owners of EDE-9, a dwarf planet with several moons. They were amongst the first to break into the business of interplanetary trade. The investment quickly proved to be a lucrative one. Within a few years, the small mining planet transformed into a flourishing enterprise. Eliza was to inherit the family fortune upon her father’s passing. Bianca Ledoux, her mother, was killed in an explosion at one of the compounds. Eliza’s brothers, Arthur and Brenden Ledoux, were murdered in a bar fight on one of EDE-9’s moons a few years after. The girl was the only remaining successor to her father’s corporation. As expected, her father offered a generous amount of money for his daughter’s safe return.

While Eliza was in captivity, Jay would do little things to make the beginnings of the voyage easier for her. He’d sneak her a little extra food or keep her company. She seemed like she could use someone to talk to. Eliza usually didn’t respond, at least, not for the first two days.

It was the third night that things changed. Jay entered the smallish dungeon and slid the girl a tray of leftovers from that day’s dinner; A small fork followed. He smiled and took his usual seat on the floor. A row of thick metal rods separated the two.

The room was dimly lit with a yellowish glow. Eliza’s lengthy hair hung in her face, concealing her features. She managed a slow shuffle as she gripped the edge of the tray and started eating. Jay spoke quietly, “Do you like being alone?”

Eliza stopped, the only indicator that she was listening.

The co-pilot paused before continuing, “I was alone a lot back home. And usually, when you’re alone, the world’s real quiet around you. I liked it. I like to think about things and it’s always easier to do that when everything’s quiet.”

The girl shifted a bit.

“But when you deliver cargo, you end up working with others,” he added, “Back when I was a rookie, I had already decided that I liked being alone, so I didn’t spend much time with the crew or talk to them much or anything like that.” Jay sighed, tracing his fingertips along the hard floor panels, “Eventually, they invited me to drink with them after a job. I didn’t really want to at first--I figured that I wanted to be alone--but they convinced me and I went and drank with them…”

An audible whoosh was heard as the ship accelerated a bit. “I had fun, a lot of fun. More fun than I ever had by myself. So, I started thinking about that. And you know what I found out?” He raised his head as if he expected Eliza to respond, then lowered it as he finished his story, “I didn’t like being alone. I hated it all along. I liked other people and their company and I didn’t know it. What I actually liked was quiet… I like quiet. It suits me. So, that’s why I asked if you like being alone... because I’m still wondering what that’d be like.”

There was a lingering silence. Jay shrugged, seeming to fail once again in making conversation with the girl. He started to stand when he was interrupted by a small voice, “I want to see you.”

“What?”

“Come into the light. I want to see you,” she elaborated, “You always stay in the dark when you visit.”

Jay stood, taking a few steps forward and into the faint glow that poorly illuminated the room. The girl raised her head. Their gazes met for a few moments.

Eliza smiled, “Thank you.”

“You too,” Jay spoke tentatively. He exited soon after replying.

Jay was removed from his trance-like state of reflection as Ada continued to inform the captain, “She killed herself.”

The captain grumbled. His eyes were still fixed on the windshield, “How’d she manage that?”

Ada gestured to his throat, “Found her with a fork in her neck.”

Jay blinked, surprised at the sudden twinge in his heart. He stood and made his way to the door. The captain raised an eyebrow and turned toward him, “Where’re you going?”

“Bathroom,” Jay replied. The mechanical clicks of the doors were heard as he passed through them.

Jay started down a narrow corridor. His movement audible due to the weighted clatter of his boots on the metal flooring. Without a thought in his mind, he headed toward the lower levels, where Eliza was held, to check if her body was still there. It wasn’t. All that remained was a blood stain and an empty cell.

By the time Jay was out of there, it had already been decided: the crew would get their money. He didn’t know how much time had passed since he left the cockpit, but it was apparently long enough for an assemblage of delivery men to confer about the fate of their cash. The copilot was unaware of the meeting until he was approached by Ada in the hall afterwards, “You take hour-long shits, now?”

An hour. Was he in there for that long? Maybe Ada was exaggerating. Jay looked to his crewmate, “No.”

“You go to the emergency meeting?”

“No.”

“Well, we’re still getting the money. Figured she costs the same dead as she does alive, as long as daddy thinks her neck is forkless. Captain says it’ll be a few hours before we get to EDE-9.”

“Okay.”

“You alright?”

“Yes,” Jay ended the exchange. He knew monosyllabic words were effective when defending against conversation. It wasn’t that he specifically didn’t want to talk to Ada, Jay was somewhat fond of his crewmate, but he wanted to avoid the topic of Eliza’s fate. From what he remembered of her features, the girl just seemed too pretty to commit suicide. However, despite her looks, she stabbed herself to death with a fork that Jay had given her. He watched her take it. It broke his heart to think about that and he had no idea why. She was a stranger to him. A stranger who he grieved for. A stranger who had died alone.

* * *

EDE-9 had notoriously vivid mornings, the unwavering glare of the sun pervaded the interior of the cargo ship as it settled onto the dirt. Jay stared at the seemingly endless yellow fields and flourishing plant life. They had arrived. Butterflies seemed to be thrashing wildly within Jay’s stomach. The captain took a swig from his drinking flask, standing. Jay followed suit. The two made their way down to the exit. All of the crew members were gathered around the large metal door.

“Jay and Kaleb are going with me, the rest of you don’t take a step off the ship until we’re back home,” the captain announced, “Give us two hours. Shouldn’t take too much longer than that. If it does, there’s trouble.”

Kaleb stepped forward from the small crowd. The man silently took a place beside the captain. He was hard-faced and strong-bodied, making it easy to see why the captain wanted him tagging along. Jay was quite unfamiliar with Kaleb and so were most of the others. The large man always maintained a certain degree of indifference when onboard.

The three exited the cargo ship and made their way into the wilderness of EDE-9. It was a quiet walk. The mixture of scenery and sunlight came together to compose a beautiful display of nature, untouched by man. Bright colors produced by the unique flora faded as the group grew closer to the Ledoux manor. Compounds, quarries, and all types of machines began appearing. Past all of them, a large house could be seen. It seemed too spacious for a family of one.

“Here,” the captain extended a hand to Jay, his fingers were wrapped around a small firearm, “Take this.”

Jay nodded. The gun felt heavy in his hands. He carefully slid it into his jacket and continued walking.

The trio approached the manor. They started to make their way across a large, open yard, but halted as the front door was opened; Someone had been waiting for them. A man stood, motionless in the lavish doorway. He was dressed in formal, noticeably-wrinkled clothing. His eyes were lifeless and zombie-like, as if he hadn’t slept in years. Mr. Ledoux stared at the three men. An enduring silence developed during which the group simply matched his gaze. His voice was monotone, it had a distinct hesitance to it, “Come inside.”

The three men paused before entering the mansion. Vibrant wallpaper, shimmering wooden flooring, expensive furniture, and even more expensive-looking art coated the interior. This was as close as any of them had ever gotten to living in luxury. It seemed like a glance into their future; This would be their lifestyle by the time they left the planet. They couldn’t help but be distracted by all the happiness money could buy. They looked forward to such happiness, but first they needed the money. It seemed so close. None of them knew that Mr. Ledoux had no intention of paying them anything.

Jay let his eyes wander around the manor. There was an abundance of art, but no photographs of family members save for Eliza. A few small portraits of the girl were scattered around the room, staring at Jay. His gaze moved to each image. They were all wrong. None of them looked right. She didn’t look real, not like she did on the ship.

“Where are the others?” Mr. Ledoux inquired, leading the men into another room.

The captain spoke before anyone else could, “Just us three.”

“Just three men? A smaller crew than I thought... Three men,” Mr. Ledoux sat down at a table, the captain took the seat opposite him. Jay and Kaleb stood firm behind their superior. They weren’t cognizant of the gun under the table, wielded by Ledoux. He had carefully removed it from his pants when he was sure no one would take notice. The man rested the firearm on his thigh and kept it out of sight. He maintained an open shot at the captain’s stomach.

“I made tea,” Ledoux proposed, slowly putting his index finger to the trigger, “It’s in the kitchen. If you want some, you can get it.”

The captain spoke for the rest of them, “We’ll be okay.”

“I insist. We don’t have to make this so… how it is. You’ll get your money, but first, have some tea.”

The captain paused, then nodded to Jay, who returned the gesture and ventured into the kitchen. It was spacious, clean. Jay looked around for the tea, but he couldn’t find it. It would’ve been on the counter, right? Jay shrugged. He was hesitant to return empty-handed and look like a fool. Maybe there were two kitchens. The thought wasn’t absurd, the house was most definitely big enough to include two kitchens, it just seemed strange that the man would say “the kitchen” if there were multiple. Jay was then startled by an earsplitting blast, followed by three more. There was no tea.

It felt as though he could hear nothing, like his senses had abandoned him. All of them except for his vision. Jay could see everything.

Red. The captain laid in an expanding pool of his own blood

Science Fiction Part III

A Beginning for Humans
by devi
hen you’ve been gone from your home-planet for many years? Can you guess? A watch, that only works on your home-planet. Completely useless, considering that I’m not going back home for god knows how long. Bet they did this just to spite me, they’re enjoying home while I’m off working off world.

I mean I didn’t have much of a choice in the first place, earth nowadays has become a place only for the super rich or the super poor, my family has managed to find a cozy place somewhere in the middle, but they live in fear that they’re job might not be enough to keep them afloat. Oh my bad, did I say “they’re job”? I meant to say my job; they sent me to this space station so I could work as a SCO just so they can cozily float on the rivers of Earth.

Bah, no use complaining, I willingly volunteered when my parents asked me to, of course I didn’t have much choice considering I was the only one able to work. Mother was pregnant, and the law doesn’t let pregnant people work for some stupid reason. Father had a diseased leg, what the disease was he never told me, suspicious right?

So here I am, stuck in my stall. Naturally, it’s not much of stall; it’s got three walls, no roof, and a bench that is up to my chest. Do I have a chair? No. People with stall duty aren’t given chairs because the higher ups don’t think that it’s worth the money, of course their excuse is that it makes officers lazy. Assholes, am I right?




“Urm exerce me miste?” I hear a slimy voice say, must be an alien, the universal translator can translate words, but that doesn’t always means it works with shit like grammar

Job calls I suppose. I probably shouldn’t get distracted by the watch, don’t want to get fired. I turn around, snapping myself back to reality and taking my elbow from my bench. I’m reminded of how weird aliens here are. Before me I got this weird humanoid octopus, and that’s an understatement. Imagine a bald pink human, but shorter, and with tentacles dangling from the jaw and who’s shining because of that it’s body is covered in slime. That’s basically it.

“Oh sorry, how can I help ma’am?” I hope to hell that is a ma’am, otherwise I won’t hear the end of it from my anti-racism-sexism and whatnot colleges.

“I lik te fiel ah misign preosn.” She replies, her tentacles dangling as her head moves with what she says. Her voice sounds… slobbery somehow, yeash. Guess it was a she, dodged an inevitable bullet there. She seems to be wearing some sort of metal clothing, like armor if you will. I think she’s one of those trade guild people, what was their name again? I know it started with Mae, can’t remember the rest

“Okay, please sign this form then” I can’t imagine how I sound to her right now, since my speech is translated to her language. I take out the file for missing person and put it down on the bench in front of her. She grabs a pen from the pen-can, with her tentacle hand, by the edge of bench and starts writing. Her hand is weird to say the least, imagine a glove for the winter, one of those that has all fingers attached instead of free, and now imagine it pink and with octopus suckers.

Holy shit she writes slow, it’s gone 20 points now, I’m hoping I’m going be able to read what she says, since the paper is covered in slime. Ugh, I hate dealing with octopus races.

She hands me the paper with her right… tentacle-arm. I hesitantly take it, and boy did I wish I had gloves. The slime was sticky, feeling much like some weird organic paste, and it slowly dripped onto my hand as I pulled it closer to read it.

“Peas finds hems!” I look up to reply to her, but she’s already gone. Leaving behind only slime footsteps, which are immediately cleaned by a janitor drone, quickly whooshing by, leaving only the sounds of whirring. Or if you are annoyed by nicknames, Droned Intensive Cleaning Killer. I’d make a sexual euphemism, but I don’t want to ruin the perfectness of the name.




Why does it have killer at the end? That’s because of that the drone is literally made of convicted murderers, sounds grotesque right? You wouldn’t think it was if you only saw it, it looks like a big green square with a large red lidless robot eye.

The body part is inside the drone itself; the fleshy bit is what keep it all together. Since any other material to keep it together costs money, the company that makes the drones, “borrow” the left over bodies of convicts in graveyards. Humans have been fighting against it for god knows how long, but they can’t do anything against the Scrappers. One reason being that any judge and jury are very pragmatic, since there’s a huge benefit to selling these drones and to cleaning the space station. Second being that the Scrapper Congregation owns this station, so they can do what they want.

It’s such a weird galactic law I find, I mean I’ve been out in space for many years but it’s still so foreign to me. The intergalactic council, for whatever reasons, meaning that any race could do whatever the heck they want with their space stations, created the Species Station law. As long as it doesn’t break one rule, murder is not to be allowed on any station. I guess you can be happy that they aren’t okay with outright murder, I suppose.

Oh Jesus, I’ve completely lost track of time, I gotta read this paper and report to the Mother before I’m late. Him and me are already on a very thin line of cooperation, I’d rather not make it worse than it already is.

Seems like a classic case, a missing teen that never came home from education camp, glad the translator kicks in quickly so I can understand what it says. I’m guessing the octopus lady was the mother, since the picture on the paper looks related to her. All aliens looks pretty much identical, with some differences of course, though I bet they think the same for humans. One difference I can spot between the mother and son is their eye color, she has red eyes and he has green eyes, another being that his tentacles seem a bit shorter to hers.

Luckily enough for me, she left a plastic bag of his slime (take how that sounds as you wish), so we can easily identify him when we’re investigating. Seems his sch- I mean education camp, is the one in hub 43. From what I’ve heard, it is a pretty bad school with disgruntled students, oh boy.




I would have continued my current thought if it wasn’t for the violent knocking I suddenly heard, I quickly looked up from the paper, only to see the Mother himself. What a “nice” surprise.

“Oh hi sir, what a pleasure to see you here.” I quickly react, being slightly terrified by how he’s staring right into my eyes with his metal eyes. Oh, did I mention? My boss is a Scrapper; Scrappers are a robotic race that looks like large round metal fluff-balls (If fluff-balls had creepy spikes protruding from their backs, and the metal looked rusted beyond repair), around half the size of a human. They have this strange ability to make just about anything from scraps, hence the name, which is why they are usually seen as scavengers in most stations, other than their own ones naturally.

“Spere teh plasanties, homan.” Well, if I couldn’t tell that he was being serious before, I can now. It seems so strange that he’s so serious, he’s usually very laid back and relaxed, when compared to other Scrappers anyway. He’s grumpy by human standards though. “I hag sumehing to ell yo, is a mesge freem une of teh higer urps.”

“Why didn’t they just sent it to my WCO?” I ask, slightly confused to the reason for the current situations. What could the higher ups ever want from me? This feels awfully conspicuous.

“WCO too public said they, is for your earyes oly.” I assume that’s what he said, kinda hard to hear through the sounds of the mechanical whirring from his body as his makeshift mouth moves with what his words. This is becoming weirder and weirder by the second; I feel a bit nervous inside, which in turn causes my leg to start bouncing up and down.

I guess he noticed this and grunted, reaching inside his robotic body, and taking out a black box like object. I would assume it’s a recording box, not many people use those nowadays. I would joke about him being a hippy or something, but I’m too scared to do that right now.

He doesn’t continue the conversation, he just quickly waddles away from the stall, and I keep staring at him until he turns the corner. I quickly push myself over my bench and start to walk back home, slimy paper and recording box in hand. Since this box was so important, the privacy of my home might be the best to listen to it.




I open the door to my room with my keycard; it silently slides open and closes as I go through. I place the slimy paper in my freezer, so its becomes more solid than jelly of course, and sit down on my sofa. It’s a nice sofa, despite it being so cheap, the rustic color really fits in with the room, since pretty much every building on this station looks like it has never been taken care of.

I place the recording box on my lap, I would have pressed play, if it wasn’t for that I was so stuck I thought. Why? What is it they want with me? It was a terrifying feeling; you know that feeling you get before you present something to a huge amount of people? Imagine it being like that.

Bah, I won’t get anywhere if I just keep thinking, I press the record button slowly, because of dramatic effect. I was always told I was bit of an actor, so it comes naturally to me. The box starts to vibrate as gears start to grind inside.

“Hello Human” The voice sounds metallic, so it must be a Scrapper that’s talking, the strange thing being however that he speaks surprisingly clear. There aren’t many other robotic races on this station. Of course, I’m annoyed at how NO ONE EVER SAYS MY DAMN NAME. I mean come on, I sometimes make an effort to say other alien’s names because I want to be respectful. Why can’t they do the same for me?

“We are contacting you right now, because the station is in grave danger.” Who’d have thought? “As you probably already know, gangs have been taking control of many sectors and hubs and our police force have been unsuccessful in doing so.”

“So I’m assuming you guys want me to do something about it? The hell am I suppos-“

“So we contacted you, we need someone who’s not one of us to help us fight against the current crime wave.” I don’t know why I expected it to answer me; it is a recording box after all.

“Now listen very closely now, you will have received a piece of paper from on of our associates from the Maephelos Traders Guild, he will have disguised it in a missing persons report.” Wait what? I quickly jump out of the sofa and run towards my freezer, pealing it open. I grab the now frozen paper and head towards my sofa, concentrating on the paper and what the message says.

“He told us to tell you to read the first letter in each row, but we have one warning for you before this recording ends. Do not come to the office and try to tell any higher ups about this.” Higher ups? I don’t understand, isn’t this guy a Higher up? He better start to answer questions before this ends.

“Thank you, the Human Republic is relying on you, John.” So wh- wait a minute, did he just say my name? This stuff is just getting weirder and weirder. I mean, crazy things happen on this station at times, like this one time some robotic guy tried to rob me with a burrito. No I’m serious, he thought the burrito was a human handgun. Well, he was unpleasantly surprised when I took a bite out of his “gun” and took out my cuffs with my right hand and my TRD in my left. He knew he was sorta kinda actually screwed so he didn’t resist.

Okay, since the recorder guy thanked me so nicely, I’ll do as he says. Lesse see here, hopefully I’ll be able to properly make out the words, but conveniently, the handwriting isn’t wacky and such. H…U…B…F…O…U…R. Okay, Hub four is pretty close, hopefully the paper specifies the sector too while its at it. S…E…C…T…O…R…S…E…V…E…N…T…E…E…N. Ask and you shall receive I suppose. But wait, there’s more! P…O…R…T…T…W…O. Oh boy, better get there now.




It’s only now when I’m trying to get a ride to Hub four that I realize that I have no clue about what I’m supposed to do when I get there. Nine cogs on that “I’ll find out when I’ll get there.” This is starting to sound more and more like a stereotypical and cheesy person becomes a hero story, and I’m in it.

I snap out of my thoughts at the sound of a hover window opening, to see a hover rider right in front of me, I crouch so I can see inside. Oh boy, it’s a Scrapper as a driver, he’s probably going to attempt to milk me of any of my cogs, and probably a bit more than I have.

“Were te ser?” It asks to me merrily, I assume it has a smile, I can’t quite tell however.

“Are you able to take me to hub four, sector seventeen, port two my good friend?” God I hope he just says yes, some of these drivers are so picky with who they drive, excuses like “Don’t know way”, the assholes just want to get as much cogs as possible. Of course you can’t blame them, they’re just trying to make sure they have enough cogs to get through the day. Gear cleaners are progressively getting more expensive. Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.

“Sere I take yo, hup in.” It answers me enthusiastically, opening the door closes to me with the press of a button by the steering holes. Sound funny, it is pretty funny. The driver just sticks their hands into two glowing holes and it allows him/her/it/other to move and turn the car. I’m told it’s fairly easy, though I have never felt compelled to try to learn how to use it.

I sit down on the seat, the door slides closed as I put my last leg in. The seat is surprisingly comfy; most tend to be hard like a rock, and as spiky as one too. Guess this guy understands that just because his race doesn’t care for nice seats, doesn’t mean everyone else doesn’t too. I think I already like him.

The engine starts to vroom softly, in contrast to the loud sounds of the outside of the hover. Of course, that sound disappears as the window slides shut, and before I could say “Let’s go”, the hover enters Hub travel speed.

I would have talked about the trip more, if I hadn’t fallen asleep. I got extremely tired for some reason, must have been the extreme time zone changing. The driver was reasonable, I paid him 20 cogs for the trip and I exited the hover, god I wish I had more taxis like this.

Aaah, feels nice to stand again, just need to stretch out my bac- aaah, that’s the stuff. I swear that it feels better the more your back cracks. I open up my slightly tired eyes only for me to have a surprise. There was literally a big mech guy right up in my face, I couldn’t help but fall to the ground in reply to this sudden appearance. What’s creepier is that I didn’t hear it approach, it must be very light on its feet, which is strange considering how it’s like twice my size.

“Are you the SCO named John?” It asks me robotically, staring deep into my eyes with three blue shining eyes, centered on a ru

Action/Adventure Part I

Clark
by KamirooWolf
rackle around his midnight orange fingertips, pockets of air fleeing the stasis as bubbles pop off in the heat of combat. The sword gently nestled into its scabbard clink's incessantly against the metal as he shifts his stance backwards before the earth gives to his godly decree. It obeys swiftly and the earth before the man roars, rising from its slumber to form a bastion between he and his adversary. At his side kneels a female, her jade colored skin and ruby hair a drastic contrast from the dull rock they suddenly hide behind. In her rugged hands rest a single double-edged blade, dull and basic as blind faith in its own right. Her eyes match her skin, and are crystalline in appearance, but to those who know her know all too well that nothing precious lies beyond the deceitful veil.

“I see things differently..." The man mutters underneath his breath, the boiling water springing wildly in his palms. Through a slot in the stone he launches the heated stream of liquid. It travels, maintaining its scalding temperature, before dropping to below zero degrees fahrenheit as it approaches the eye socket of the third party. Another man, his body maroon and especially lanky, takes the icicle through his pupil, not so much as faltering in the slightest as the spurting blood stiffens mid-flow to form a sturdy mask of crimson nearly blending with his complexion. Next come the hounds; one for every scar, our first man recalls, his black gaze shifting slightly to the crown of the maroon man's skull. Imp-like creatures, grotesque and perverse, claw through the bone just as they had before, screeching in an unintelligible dialect whilst their host tiredly regenerates the damage as he watches their pathetic charge. A new one is among them, his skin ripe and red, with a trio of horns protruding from his own, misshapen cranium. The imps charge with zeal and blades of bone, only to be thrown aside by vines tearing through the earthen mantle just below their webbed feet. The vines split apart and waste no time as their individual tendrils seek out the incapacitated enemies, piercing through their bodies with no remorse as imp blood stains the verdant plant life.

“Clark! You can't keep this up forever! Just give me the OK and I'll make this bastard a Hellspawn himself!" The jade woman beside our midnight orange man rings out, her voice as if it had just gone through a rusted cheese grater. Her accomplice cringes, thrown off by the sudden sound of her shrill voice in his delicate ears.

“First off," Clark begins, taking advantage of the grace period provided by his plants. “Inside voice is best voice. Second, I'm not your damn handler nor are you my subordinate. You're free to engage as you wish."

The man on the other side of the barrier roars, and both Clark and his compatriot embrace one another as a burst of light shaves a couple inches off the stone shield.

“You're right, Clark, you aren't my handler, but you're the only voice of reason I have in this existence. I don't make a move without your consent, remember?" She recites his seemingly ancient rule in an attempt to tug at his heart strings, only to have her nose slapped delicately by a dandelion extending out of her partner's hand.

“Niza...sometimes I swear your only purpose in life is to keep me in check. Fine, just try to keep it chill, will you?"

“Ditto to that, friend. Let's move."

In a flash of jade and amber the two emerge from cover, their bodies suffering minimal damage as the light from their assailant fades into a dull flicker coming from his heart. It doesn't take long for blood to erupt from his throat and onto the rock beneath him, and both Niza and Clark wince as more and more of the devil's children climb from his cranium. Lung damage and several organs, most likely. The midnight orange character provides cover fire for the female equipped with the boring blade, keeping imps at bay with air, fire, stone, plants, ice, and water alike. His vision blurs and his heart slows, for mother nature does not tolerate such abuse without proper atonement. The jagged stones in his body sink ever deeper, gently pricking into vital organs and veins as our protagonist crashes into the the dirt beneath him, the brown staining his orange hue.

Meanwhile, Niza rushes into the maroon man with bloodlust in her emerald eyes. The boring blade wedged into her vice like grip pleading for mercy as the and woman's legs spike, signalling to the rest of her body that the vessel is going airborne. Her heartbeat sky rockets as she leaps over any imps not delayed by Clark's efforts, their bone blades just beneath her as she soars overhead, releasing her trademark howl.

Her muscles tense and the grin on her face cracks a couple inches wider as she brings her wide blade down into rugged terrain torn asunder through sheer force. In an instant the twilight of sunset overhead becomes energized, traces of light blue emitting from the earth below in defiance of the night's oppressive presence. The imps are blinded and the maroon man covers his face lazily as Niza erupts a mad chuckle at the sight of her Grid expanding throughout the battlefield; her very figure in the center of the ethereal, but visible neon-blue space.

“A-4!" She commands the heavens, and after a short delay her wish is granted. A slender beam of piercing light runs the dull night through, its brilliance shattering the approaching shadow as it dusts the desired grid square absolutely. The clump of imps who once stood not too far from their creator had been deleted; stricken down by a devastating smite far from holy in the blink of an eye. No blood. No bone. No ash.

“B-2! C-1! D-4! A-3!" The four-by-four grid is a festival of deadly strobe lights, and Niza does her best to contain her excitement, but how can anyone just keep a boring, straight face in light of such a spectacle?! Her laugh strains, and the jade girl's humanity teeters precariously on the edge of sanity as the entire field surrounding her is reduced to, well, nothing. All that remains is her, a couple unsightly stains, and the slightly less maroon man not totally far away; all color drained from his figure out of rattling terror.

“Emotion is something I had long forsaken to better control the demons inside of me...but holy fucking shit, lady...what in the actual fuck..." His grey pupils are as wide as the various craters peppering the mountain's surface and his body shakes uncontrollably. A-2.5 is where he stands, and he could turn and flee the range of the beams if he wanted, but the dread of his failure climbing over his body melds him to the ground in unshakable forlorn depression.

Clark rises to one knee, a proud smile etched into his pain-stricken face as Niza's mad laughter slows to a calm and collected sigh. She is improving, slowly but surely. The jagged stones stabbing his insides recede, and Clark huffs a reluctant sigh towards the maroon man as his feet drag along the rocks beneath him. He narrowly sidesteps a crater, brushing past a quietly panting Niza as her neon grid fades into nothing. Impatient, the dark night rushes in behind its absence, claiming its dominion over the region before anything else can oppose its omnipotence. As he walks, Clark draws the blade at his side. The metal clinking one last time as it is freed from its scabbard.

“Do you understand WHY it is that we are not yet truly accepted as citizens of this world, Tzen?" Clark questions, approaching the defeated maroon man with blade lazily swaying with his motion. Niza winces at his tone; sophisticated and educated with a dash of undeserved politeness... she knows what is coming better than any body on the planet. “It is a simple answer, brother, and all of us know it well. It's an answer that they know too, and an answer they have for so long strived to achieve. The answer, my equal, is power and power alone. Simple, was it not? Where did we get these powers? Who can say, friend...who can say? One thing that keeps us at peace with the native men and women of this world, however..." Clark stops just in front of his adversary with ebony eyes locked into the maroon man's soul, his blade making a small incision is Tzen's throat as the midnight orange man brings the tip just under his captive's chin.

“Is our ability to use our power for the greater good. We, as a people, are good and kind. We have a strong sense of community and love one another as best to our ability. That is- and you are going to love this- until the humans decide they want a pet to please their bloodthirsty little children." The blade drops, and a hollow sigh escapes Tzen's throat, only to have incoming air choked as Clark's blade runs him through the center of his stomach. Clean splitting the face of his belly-button and tearing through any organs that dare resist it as vines sprout from the ground and take hold of his wrists. Stone pillars accompany them, and Tzen can only cry out in vain as the merciless elements hold him in place.

“When I, the first Stick Figure, spawned on this planet, my mind was so muddled. Where had I come from? What was my purpose? Was I alone? All of these questions plagued my mind for years as I wandered, avoiding any sight of modern civilization until I simply could not bear hiding any more. I met humans. They tried to cut me open, you know, and I killed so many of them that day that I almost felt as if I were their God. But then another Stick spawned before my very eyes, and I knew then that I wasn't any more special than the people you kill every day, Tzen. The newborn Stick, the same height as I stand right now, stood before me and defended the monsters with heart. I couldn't help but back down. From then on we fled from man, seeking out subsequent Spawns and marking Spawnpoints, and before we knew it we were a roaming nation in our own right. We swore AS A PEOPLE, to maintain peace and uphold tranquility with humans, and ever since then we have been able to live together in harmony for the few centuries we have breathed their air. Then we get bad apples like you who ruin the bunch."

Clark twists the blade to lock it in place and steps back before his entire body shifts. Before he knows it, Tzen has a wide variety of teeth decimated by a flaming roundhouse kick to the jaw. Niza covers her eyes for this; never before has punishment from Clark been as severe as this. Most Sticks, such as herself, get off with a slap on the wrist or are forced into a duel they are bound to lose, but this is something different altogether. The area around her is enveloped in pitch-black shadow, and it takes Niza a moment to realize that she has been sealed in a thick cone of pure stone. She makes no struggle to escape, and silently thanks Clark for the soundproof blindness.

On the outside Clark cracks his knuckles, his expression grim and serious as his gritty voice picks up for the last time.

“We Sticks are not born with a purpose, brother. The life of a Stick Figure is complicated indeed. We are drawn into existence by some unknown force, and often times we have to fight just to survive. But slaughtering countless of our kind and theirs alike just because the humans give us treats to do so... is something I CANNOT forgive. Those of us who fight do it for a cause, those of us who kill, do it for the greater good, and those of us who refuse to uphold peace and threaten coexistence with these people will be terminated. No exceptions. No second chances."

Clark pulls an open palm back and allows boiling water to hug his fingertips, the scalding liquid tickling his senses and he wraps his wide hand around Tzen's blood dribbling lips. The water's temperature drops just as it had before, and the maroon man's bloodcurdling shrieks are silenced as Clark removes his blade and digs into the open wound in Tzen's abdomen prior to allowing mother nature to cleanse the wannabe demon.

“Death by fire is your punishment."

His bare hands stained, Clark turns and drops the stone barrier surrounding Niza. She may be his age and slightly insane, but nobody should have to witness such a violent end. Her jade eyes widen at the blazing inferno just as she strokes her matching hair, and her head feels uncharacteristically light as she rises to her feet and follows Clark back to the city, not a word spoken between the two.
[/Spoiler]

Blood on the Dollar
by Boomerang
earable heat, the cloudless sky granting no reprieve. Rain hadn't fallen in the region in nearly two months now, nearly evaporating the riverbed as shallow waters crashed against small, jagged rocks. The river was surrounded by an area with virtually no shade to be had and grass that was turning to a rotten brown. The Rocky Mountains rested on the horizon, looming menacingly next to the sun.

Even in the merciless heat, there was a man at the shore of the shallow riverbed, crouching among the rocks. His brown skin had darkened from his time in the light, his straw hat only serving little comfort as sweat ran down his face. In his shaky hands rested a pan filled with water and smaller rocks. He exhaled--He'd been crouching down in this position for hours on end, and still found nothing to show for it. The rumors of copious gold in this area seemed to be nothing more than a myth.

He turned over his shoulder, glancing at the angle of the sun and cursing himself quietly. He didn't have much time before the sun went down, and by then he'd have to retreat back to his cave and wait for his tribe to return with food for the night. He had told his tribe of this spot, and told them that it would give them the riches to mount an offensive against the Americans and take back what was theirs. However, without the profits to buy sufficient weapons, they were sitting ducks.

He went through the pan one more time with little hope, and suddenly found the jackpot--A nugget of yellow, entrapped between two much larger chunks of eroded rock. His lips curved into a grin, and in his head he jumped for joy.

"Yes," He spoke quietly to himself, "Yes!"

The celebration hit a sour note, however, as he heard a familiar click. A heated barrel was pushed into the back of the native's head, "I'm gonna need you to put that pan down."

The man didn't dare turn his head, suddenly obedient under the gun of the American bandit. He set the pan down before him and stayed still, breathing in and out softly, "We're not making any trouble."

A low scoff, "That's kinda funny, see, cuz...I think you are," The man cringed in discomfort, "The prospectors want this land, and you've been refusin'. It's like you wanted me and my boys to come up here."

The man shut his eyes tightly, waiting with baited breath. The bandits had come to California on the railroads about six months prior, around the time the euphoria of the Gold Rush died down and the hardships of life in the West began to set in. These days, the only ones who make it big are the mining companies and the occasional rich eastern man. As gold became more scarce, Americans grew more desperate and began to blame anyone that wasn't white--That's where the bandits found their profit.

"The mining companies are paying some big dollars to see your tribe's heads on their wall," The man began to notice the white folks that were suddenly surrounding him. All of them held dusty revolvers in their hands, their scruffy beards shadowed by a brown leather sun hat that rested above their brows, "And I ain't one to turn down cold, hard cash."

A burst of anger resided in the native, a burning heat in the pit of his stomach, "You--American Jackals," He turned his head, glaring at the ringleader, gun now pointed at his forehead, "You took the children away from their homes and made them your own. That, you will pay for."

The bandit known simply by his first name, Jackson, looked down at the brown-skinned man with greedy hazel eyes, a chuckle

Action/Adventure Part II

Turtle Run
by Tsar Bombathe air, trailed by an abrupt crash that brought the car to a halt. The distant ring of sirens made a slow crescendo as a man staggered out of the passenger side. He jerked back the slide of his pistol until the click affirmed readiness to kill.

The man glanced over his shoulder, then again, running to the opposite side of the vehicle. Within a moment, he wrapped his fingers around the handle and yanked the car door open.

“C’mon, Jimmy, get the fuck out of the car!” He gripped his brother’s shoulder. Jimmy rolled his head back sluggishly, producing a guttural groan. The man shifted his grasp to his sibling’s collar, hauling him out of the driver’s seat and onto the ground. A gunshot wound marked his arm. Sirens grew louder, nearer.

“Get up!” He hadn’t released his firm hold on Jimmy’s clothing. In a desperate attempt to steady him, the man pulled his brother upward and slapped him across the face.

Jimmy wobbled to a standing position. He stared his brother in the face, slurred words seeping from his lips, “I crashed the car, man… I crashed the car…”

“Don’t worry about it, Jimmy,” heavy panting slowed the man’s speech, “We gotta go! C’mon!”

The man slung a governing arm around his brother’s shoulders; his remaining hand wielded the small firearm. The two made their way toward the end of the alley. Guiding his sibling, the man could only manage a hurried jog. His gaze continually shifted in a perpetual frenzy. The piercing tone of a nearby siren seemed to echo harshly within the inner-walls of each man’s head. It was all they could hear. The police cruiser pulled into the alleyway, only to be met with gunfire. Each bullet met its mark. The windshield splintered as it was simultaneously splattered with liquid crimson. The man stood firm, a smoking barrel at the end of his extended arm. He lowered the gun and ushered his brother as they kept moving.

The pair moved from the shaded alleyway and fled down the street. Jimmy had recovered from his daze, allowing them to move at a quicker pace. The sirens persisted from afar. The weighted steps of the two brothers came to a stop as both took concurrent notice of another car, a convertible, heading in their direction. They stood, unmoving, waiting for an opportunity. It came. The vehicle eased to a halt. The duo brandished their firearms, causing the driver to cower behind the instrument panel and jerk his hands above his head.

“Get out of the car! Get out of the fucking car!” The barrel of the man’s pistol was inches from the driver’s face. The driver did his best to keep his head down as he frantically shoved the door open and staggered out from the convertible. Jimmy had already climbed into the passenger seat, his own blood soaked his arm and side. His brother sat firmly behind the wheel. The engine roared as the man slammed his foot on the accelerator. He clicked a button, causing the roof of the car to slowly slide into place.

After a few lengthy minutes of speeding, the enduring silence finally broke. Jimmy turned his head, his eyes settling on his brother. He imitated his sibling’s voice, “ ‘How’s your arm, Jimmy?’ Oh. It hurts like a motherfucking bitch, Roy. Thanks for asking.”

Roy looked straight ahead. His fists tightly wrapped around the wheel. He exhaled.

“Did you just huff?” Jimmy’s voice was sharp.

“What?”

“Just now, you huffed. You just huffed at me.”

“I was just breathing.”

“No, you weren’t just breathing. You huffed at me. As in, ‘Shut the fuck up, Jimmy.’ As in, ‘You’re getting on my nerves, Jimmy.’ ”

Roy said nothing.

“If I annoy you, tell me I annoy you. You don’t have to huff and puff until you blow me away. Is it because I got shot? It is, isn’t it? Well, I’m sorry, Roy. I got shot! I’m sorry that I got shot driving your ass away from the cops!”

“Motherfu-- I can’t fucking breathe now?!”

Jimmy clenched his teeth, his expression changed, “Why’d you say it like that?”

“Because I have a lot on my mind right now...” Roy shrugged, looking between his brother and the road, “We gotta call Uncle Boone.”

“What? No! Why?!”

“Where the fuck are we gonna go, Jimmy?!” The man slammed his fist on the wheel, then quickly reclaimed his composure, “We can’t stay here. We have to go away, far away, and lay low for awhile.”

Jimmy didn’t produce a response. He just sunk further into his seat with a pout, his eyes wandered to the window.

The sirens were gone.


* * * *

“Lance, you like boobies?”

The boy looked up at his uncle, who matched his gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. The bearded man smiled, comfortably reclined in the passenger seat of the van.

“Well…?” He persisted.

The driver spoke up, “He’s too young to be into all that, Sid. His answer won’t mean anything.”

“What’s the matter, Bill? Scared your son’s into boys?”

“Let him be. He’s trying to play his game.”

As if on cue, the beeps and boops of Lance’s gameboy resumed. His eyes and attention were captured by the tiny glowing screen; they had been for the majority of the trip. The family had been driving for hours now. Grasslands had given way to desert. Lance barely noticed the transition, however, his sister did. The flat, parched land was all that was visible beyond the half-cracked window. Sarah watched it roll by, her headphones provided an unfitting accompaniment to the seemingly boundless yellows. Nothing ahead, save for blank, asphalt roads paired with the immensity of day.

Sid huffed and shifted a bit in his seat. They had been driving for awhile and he needed something to entertain himself. Unlike Lance, he didn’t have the luxury of a gameboy, he was far too old for one. He turned against his seatbelt, looking at Sarah, “Did you get anything besides clothes?”

Sarah perked up, taking off her headphones and letting them sit on her collar, “Huh?”

“From the mall, did you get anything besides clothes?” Sid repeated, nodding to the bag beside her.

The teenager nodded as she started digging through the plastic bag. It was stamped with a smiley face along with the phrase: ‘Have a nice day’. She had acquired it during her weekly mall trip. Since he was in town, Sarah invited her uncle to come along before they left to go on their mini-vacation. It was filled with outfits mostly, but she also had gotten a VHS tape of the second episode of Star Wars. She’d already seen the first and third and was always curious what happened in between. She presented it to her uncle.

“Empire Strikes Back?” Sid nodded in approval, “That’s the best one.”

Bill cut the conversation short, “We’re here.”

The car pulled into the motel parking lot. It wasn’t much to look at, especially considering it was in the middle of nowhere. ‘Turtle Run Motel’. That’s what the sign read. Bill glanced at his children, who both looked appalled. He shrugged, “We’re only staying here the one night. C’mon, let’s settle in.”

Bill got out first, then Sid. The kids exchanged glances before hopping out of the car. The plastic bag swung from Sarah’s forearm as she trotted beside her uncle. Lance tucked his gameboy away, trailing behind his father.

The room was as the family expected it to be, smallish and unkempt. Two beds, two lamps, one bathroom, one armchair, one TV. The men hurled their suitcases onto each bed, unzipping them and taking out what they needed.

Sid turned to the kids, whose eyes wandered around the space, “Why don’t you two get in your swimsuits? I could go for a dip.”

“There’s a pool?” Lance asked, a bit of surprise in his tone.

“No idea,” Sid smirked, “But if there is we’re jumping right in.”

“Shouldn’t we look for one first?” Sarah said, setting her CD player and headphones on the chair, “Like, before we get in our bathing suits?”

Sid crossed his arms, “Where’s the fun in that? C’mon, Sarah, where’s your sense of adventure? And if there’s a pool and we find it, we could hop in right away.”

“Yeah!” Lance shouted in agreement. Sarah just nodded and grabbed her shopping bag. She went to the bathroom to change into her swimsuit, she had bought a new one at the mall. The boys dug for their own in their suitcases.

* * * *

The pitter-patter of metal on metal followed as Roy shoved the quarter into the slot. He pressed each numbered button and waited. Jimmy was outside of the phonebooth, leaning against the hood of the convertible. A bandage was neatly wrapped around his limb. He fanned himself with his good arm; the heat of the desert sun seemed especially cruel today.

The recurrent ringing was finally interrupted by a click. Someone had answered. “Yeah?” A gruff voice spoke on the other end.

“Uncle Boone, it’s Roy.”

A second click was heard as the man hung up.

“Son of a bitch…” Roy dug searched his pockets until he found another quarter, he placed it in the slot and waited. The ringing lasted for significantly longer before he answered again.

“Listen, you old fuck, we need to talk,” Roy gripped the phone tightly.

Indiscernible grumbles came from the other end. Eventually, the voice returned, “What do you want, Roy?”

“Jimmy and I need help.”

Silence.

“Big help…” Roy paused, “We need you to get us out of the country.”

The old man waited about a minute before responding, “...What’d you get yourself into? What’d you do this time?”

“The usual… just didn’t go so hot this time.”

“Your brother’s with you?”

“Yeah.”

Another silence.

Roy lowered his voice, speaking in a hushed tone, “Uncle Boone, we need this.”

The line was quiet for a long moment. “I’ll send someone,” the old man said.

Roy released a silent breath.

“He’ll meet you at the Turtle Run Motel, just like we always said. Remember where it is?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Well, get there and stay quiet until they pick you up. And don’t do any more stupid shit.”

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me a quarter, asshole,” Roy hung up, stepping out from the booth. He made his way to the car. Jimmy walked to the passenger side. He stared at his brother for a moment before entering the convertible. The car started. The initial rumble of the engine settled into a low mechanical hum.

“What’d he say?” Jimmy was looking at his brother with big, hopeful eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s gonna help us out.”

“Did he ask anything about me?”

“No,” the car began to make its way along the road.

Jimmy squirmed a bit in his chair, then looked to his brother once more, “Did you tell him I love him?”

“You didn’t say to.”

“Yes, I did. I said it like five fucking times,” He retorted, defensive.

Roy kept his eyes on the road. Clearly frustrated, he raised his voice a bit, “No. You didn’t say anything. I would’ve heard you if you said something, but you didn’t. We haven’t said anything since we left the city.”

Jimmy clenched his teeth and glared toward the window. They didn’t speak for the rest of the drive.

* * * *

“Brothers Roy and James Palacio fled from the scene, leaving three officers wounded and two dead. The two suspec--”

The image switched to animal planet, then a viagra commercial. Bill grumbled, setting the TV remote down. The man stood and walked out of the room. He figured he should spend some time with the others, it was a family vacation afterall. Traveling cross-country hadn’t been such a strenuous task thus far, however, they were only halfway to their destination.

Bill squinted as he stepped into the sunlight. It was mid-day and everything was still bright. It wasn’t long before he found the pool, the playful shrieks and giggles of the kids was enough to locate it. Bill entered the fenced-in area and stood near the spot where concrete turned to water.

Sid made monster sounds, chasing a laughing Lance around the shallow end. Sarah emerged from the depths of the deeper side, grabbing onto the edge and looking up at her father, “Hey, dad.”

“Hey there,” Bill smiled, glancing down at her.

Sid put his hands on his submerged knees, panting.

Bill looked over, “Tired, Sid?”

“I would be if I were your age,” Sid chuckled and took in a deep breath, “I could do this all day.”

The monster sounds resumed and Lance swam away, ecstatic. Bill wandered over to the nearest chair and settled under the umbrella. He watched them play. The smile hadn’t left his face.

* * * *

“Do they have a pool?”

“Maybe. I don’t fucking know,” Roy brought the car to a gradual stop, not bothering to look at his brother as he responded. He stepped out of the convertible and stretched a bit.

“Do they have cable?” Jimmy asked, hopping out of the car.

“We’ll get a room and find out,” A beep was heard as Roy clicked his keys. The doors of the vehicle locked.

Jimmy gandered at the motel for a moment, “This place is a shithole.”

“Sure is,” Roy agreed dismissively, starting toward the lobby. Jimmy followed close behind, his eyes wandered around. There was nothing besides the motel, asphalt, and desert. His expression projected disgust. Roy picked up on it, turning to his brother before entering, “Why don’t you go and try to find the pool?”

“What if there isn’t one?” Jimmy tilted his head a bit.

“Hope there is,” Roy wiped sweat from his brow to emphasize his point, “It’s hot as fuck out here.”

“You’ll get the room and all?”

“Yeah, Jimmy. I’ll handle the room.”

“Okay,” he nodded, venturing off in search of the pool.

Roy entered the lobby. He stepped to the vacant front desk, resting a forearm on the countertop. The man waited a moment before ringing the service bell.

* * * *

Lance was the one that noticed him. The man was standing by the pool entrance, watching the family swim. The boy waved at the stranger, who did nothing in return. Bill looked at his son curiously before noticing him. Jimmy was just standing there, staring. He almost appeared hungry, ravenous. He watched them as a vulture would. An abrupt hush pervaded the space.

“Hey,” Sid called, an attempt to break the awkward tension.

Jimmy clenched his teeth and slowly walked away from the pool area. The family exchanged quick glances.

“Creepy guy…” Sarah muttered, treading water.

They waited a moment before carrying on with their fun. It wasn’t long before Bill stood, announcing that he was going back to the room. Lance and Sid were preoccupied with their game, however, Sarah acknowledged him with a goodbye. Bill disappeared beyond the fence, catching a glimpse of Jimmy before entering the room.

He wasn’t discreet at all, but he wasn’t trying to be. Jimmy’s eyes followed Bill until he escaped behind the numbered door

Horror Part I

Silence of the Man
by devi
sn’t all fun and games, at least that’s what Jeffery thinks. Sure, most of the time his job can be interesting, examining and dissecting strange creatures of unknown origin, discovering futuristic technology possibly left behind by someone more advanced than humans, the list goes on. However, this job isn’t one of those interesting jobs.

His current job is to examine the decrease of local wildlife in Africa. Most people would assume that it was just over-hunting, but according to the reports from the local governments, there are no carcasses. Take the elephants for example, they are hunted for their tusks, and when the hunters have the tusks they just leave the elephant behind to rot away.

But there are no traces of anything, footprints from animals abruptly disappearing with no sign of any other life having done anything to affect the animal. Sure it’s weird, but nothing too fun. Right now, Jeff is stuck investigating a possibility of some sort of virus in the air, and he’s stuck in a makeshift lab until he’s done with his work.

To say the lab was makeshift would be to compliment it, they just found an abandoned shack in the area and just started to shove science equipment in it. Funnily enough, they weren’t supplied with gas masks and body suits for chances of virus.

Looking behind him, Jeff took a look at the people that were to work with him the next few, god knows how long, time units. James Cumberback, a UK scientist with a Master in biology, also the very definition of a nerd. Which is funny considering that people these days count scientists as nerds, so, I suppose you could class him as a nerdy nerd or something. Supposedly, some bully during his childhood had hit James so hard in the back of his head that his teeth started to stick out. He’s never wanted to get it fixed because he says that it’s a scar that he wants people to see to be able to understand the danger of bullying.

Next up is Sven Okerson, his last name doesn’t actually start with an O, its one of those weird letters the Scandinavians have. He’s a pretty ballsy guy, willing to try things others don’t. Apparently he has a Masters in Icetology, so I assume it’s a Nordic people thing. Willing to bet he just has vast knowledge of nature, whatever they call that these days. A lot of things have changed since Jeff started as a government scientist.

And last but probably least, Xinsen Pan. Some Chinese scientist, that likes to think that any scientist that’s not Asian is inept at his job. You can probably guess that he’s the least likeable of the three.

And then there was Jeff himself, Jeff had graduated from university at the age of 18 and was believed to be a boy genius. Of course, Jeff didn’t care, he just cared about getting the job done and done well. Much other than that is unknown, and his colleges’ were quite nervous around him.




“So Jeff, is there anything you could tell us about yourself? I mean, none of us know anything about you.” James asked Jeff, his voice sounding as wimpy as he looked, he sounded as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible, like a mouse.

“Sorry dude, not allowed to talk about that.” Jeff replied casually, put down the petri dish and faced the smaller James. Jeff was much larger than his fellow scientists, towering over the tallest (Sven) with about 50 centimeters, and also much more muscular than them with his muscles stretching out his lab coat. “I’m actually interested in what all you guys have to do with this. I have reports about you guys, but I’d rather hear what you guys have to say.”

“You get reports on people you work with? What are you, higher up than we are? We never got any reports about each other.” Sven butted in, slightly annoyed to hear that Jeff had information about him without his consent, angrily scratching his stubby brown beard. His beard had been cut much shorter than what he had originally intended, since the people who had employed them had hygiene as a first priority, understandable in their current predicament.

“Its something that is required to be able to have me on a science team of any sort, I like to know what I get into.” Jeff answered politely, seeming to be unoffended by such a rude interruption. “So can you tell me about yourself? I’d love to hear about you too, Sven.”

“Why the fuck would I say, you already know everything about me you dickwad.”The words getting slowly less understandable as more of Sven’s accent started to show itself, of course you wouldn’t need to understand him to understand that he wasn’t interested in talking about himself. He swiftly turns back to his work. “Don’t try to be funny."
“Fine then, Mr Angry head.” Jeff retorted, shooting a strange look at Sven. “So how about you James?”

“Well I suppose I can tell you.” James replied nervously, a bit nervous after seeing an exchange between two of the people he’s going to work with. “I was born in London to a pretty poor family, they barely managed to earn enough money for me to go to university when I graduated from high school. University was a welcomed change, as it wasn’t very much fun for me in my school as you probably know.”

“At university was where I learned everything I know now and helped me get a Masters in biology, and that’s how I ended up here. Anything else, I’m sure that your report says in much more detail than I can.” James finishes with a quiet ending, giving a pretty brief summary of his own life

“Well isn’t that lovely, you’re a bit of a warrior aren’t you.” Jeff says with a large welcoming smile on his face, giving a thumbs-up with his left hand, keeping his right hand hidden under his coat arm. James took no mind and smiled back with a huge stupid grin, appreciating the sentiment from Jeff. “You seem like a very nice guy James, I’m sure that we will work well together”

“Oh I’m sure we will Jeff, you seem like a very nice guy too!”

“Will both of you stop dicking around, and just get back to work” Interrupted an even grumpier Sven, angrily staring at them.

“All three of you are stupid white idiots, don’t even bother working.” Another voice butted in, this voice was much more sharper and grumpy than Sven, and the voice was none other than the not so friendly Xinsen. “I can do more work better than all of you combined. Just let the real scientists do this”

“So Mr. Xinsen has decided to grace us with his dickheadness? Oh we are truly blessed.” Sven answered sarcastically, facing the smaller and thinner Xinsen. Xinsen was of light brown hue of skin, having black glasses on with many black spots on his face, presumably something he’s had since birth.

Before Xinsen could formulate a reply, there was a heavy knock at the door, snapping all the scientists’ attention to the door and forgetting their current qualms. The door slowly creaked open, making that sharp sound that rusty hinges make when not properly oiled. Through the door came, no one actually, as if someone had just opened the door but never used it.

As the scientists were trying to process it, they all started to fall. The floor beneath them just disappeared as they plummeted down. As they fell, the way they came shut itself, and so they were surrounded in thick darkness, slowly drifting away from each other as the shouting and screaming died out, swallowed by the cold shadow.




James awoke slowly, feeling incredibly groggy and stiff in his body. How long had he fallen? He didn’t know, he had however landed on an incredibly soft material, which cushioned his long fall. In fact, it reminded him of his mothers lap. During the days when he would come home from school after he had been bullied, he would rest his head on his mothers lap to comfort himself.

He quietly got himself up from his comfortable position and looked around, he seemed to be in a barely lit room, the only light being focused on him, anything else that could be in the room was shrouded in darkness. He couldn’t even see the wall, so he wondered where he was in the room, since it seemed he wasn’t by the edges of it. Looking back at where he had sat, the soft thing he lay on was Jeff. He was also asleep, the only sound in the room was James’ and Jeff’s breaths.

James quickly got down on his knees and started to shake Jeff violently in hope of waking him up. Jeff woke up immediately and stood up in an instant, breathing fast and heavily and his eyes filled with terror, as if he just woke up from a nightmare. Jeff getting up so fast startled James and he fell down with his back on the floor.

“What happened?” Jeff asked, barely able to get his words through his heavy breathes.

“T-the floor below us opened and we fell down here. I don’t know where everyone else is.” James replied quickly, stuttering with his words as a reaction to the tense atmosphere.

“And where is here then?” Jeff asked loudly, and as if by queue, the lights snapped on, revealing the whole room. The room was filled with seemingly unending rows and columns of huge tanks, filled with strange creatures and a red colored liquid, the creatures just gently floating within their tanks. The creatures had all different shapes and forms, some looked like humans with large trunks, some looked like over-sized scorpions with a snake like head instead of a tail and arms of humans instead of pincers, all looked like the creations of some sort of vile experiments. Just the way they looked was horrifying enough, but some of them actually started to twitch and move inside their tanks as they seemingly started to stir.

Jeff and James slowly backed away from the tanks in terror, only to bump into something, they turned around, and right in front of them was just one giant unblinking eye staring at them. You could see the veins in the eyes, it was a large brown eye, staring right into their souls. They fell back to the ground in fear, grabbing each other and holding each other close. James was close to tears, grabbing tighter to Jeff who just stared in awe and fear of it all. Both of them sat there in silence as all the eyes and otherwise slowly faced towards them.

Then the silence broke with a muffled scream, both men faced the sound and got up.

“Should we go check it out?” Whispered Jeff to James, as he tried to hide his face from all the abominations staring at them. James didn’t answer, just continued to cry. Jeff patted the smaller James like a child and held onto him as they slowly walked towards the scream, with the monsters tracking them.




They walked for a while until they seemingly reached the source of the screaming, and what they saw was quite an unpleasant surprise. It was Sven, he was stuck in one of the tanks, hitting the walls of his prison and screaming. James immediately snapped out of his fear and tried to break the walls as well, to free his friend from his possible doom. Sven turned and faced James and a huge smile grew behind his oxygen mask. But before Sven could do anything to show his appreciation however he saw something that scared him. He started to shout.

“Get out of here! Run! He’s coming for you!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, hitting the walls even harder and with more ferocity than before. James was so confused, he didn’t understand what his friend was trying to say but he continued to try to open the tank. But then the screams came back.

James fell back in surprise of the scream and looked upon his friend, Sven screamed louder and louder. Then a loud crack was heard. Sven’s body started to move in violently grotesque ways as more cracking noises came, in sync with the movements.

Sven’s head started to grow and grow like a balloon, the screams only continuing its ascent in volume, the skin on him started to rip from the expansion. His head exploded, red gore and body parts covered the see-through walls, making it impossible to see through. James just continued to stare at this terrifyingly disgusting scene, tears trickling down his eyes.

After a while, the blood-curdling screams stopped, and silence resumed. Slowly, James got up from the ground and approached the tank. He slowly inspected it, trying to understand what happened, but as he got close to the glass, a face popped out of the red water and crashed into the wall, sending James to the ground again. This however looked like no face that James has ever seen, it was if someone had morphed the head of a human into a spiky worm head with a massive mouth at the tip with razor sharp teeth. The head attempted to break the glass by biting it, but couldn’t get its teeth stuck in the glass to break it. Yet it continued its futile attempts to escape its prison, scraping the walls with its honed teeth.

James just broke down, slamming his fist into the ground. It hurt so much, but he didn’t care, he just watched someone he knew barely a few minutes ago die violently in front of him. A warm hand grabbed him by the shoulder and comforted him.

“Shh, its okay. I’m here for you.” It was Jeff; James felt cold tears fall onto his head as Jeff hugged him with his arms, shushing James so he would stop sobbing. “We can’t stop here, we have to continue onwards. He is beyond our help.”

James nodded, as the worm headed monster continued its attack on the walls of its confinement. Jeff got James up slowly, comforting him the whole time, as they started to walk towards a door on the far side of the room.

As they went through the doorway, they entered a long and dark hallway, with the only light coming from behind them and in a room right on the other side of the hallways. The two decided to just continue to the other room, instead of exploring in complete darkness. They swiftly sprinted to the other side, both in fear of whatever may rest in the darkness.

They entered the light into another room, this room was painted black, the materials of the wall sticking out with the texture of some crude metal. It was a unwelcoming room to say the least, the parts that sticked out looked like the teeth of a huge beast’s mouth. Nevertheless, our two hero’s continued onwards, through the mouth of the beast so to say.

After a while of walking, they approached a large vat of a red liquid, possibly the same liquid as before.




“What is with all this red liquid? What is it used for?” James asked, drying some of his tears and calming himself, now he understood that he and Jeff has to get to the bottom of this.

“I don’t know, we’ll find it out, James. Together” Jeff answered with a stern but soothing voice. They both smiled to each other and continued. As they reached the edge of the huge vat, they noticed that there was a big platform overlooking the vat. There they also saw some sort of person, stuck to a chair? They couldn’t quite see, but both knew sub-consciously that they had to investigate. So without discussing it, they both continued onward.

It was a steep walk up to the platform, as there was a huge ramp up towards it. They continued through this obstacle and reached the platform. There they saw that the chair was right on the edge of the platform, and that there was indeed someone sitting on it. They cautiously approached with complete silence in movement and in speech. They quickly jumped in front of it and saw who it was.

It was Xinseng. He was tightly restrained to that chair, with silver tape all over his mouth. James was overjoyed to see another of them, and quickly got to getting the restraints off. Jeff immediately followed in James steps. Initially Xinse

Horror Part II

Nyctophobia
by SpacePunk
se things live in the dark. The darkness is its own world full of evil and monsters. You must think I’m a child, but have you been in the dark recently? Have you walked down your hallway at night, having that feeling that someone’s watching you? That flicker of movement in the corner of your eye? It’s not your mind playing tricks on you. No. It’s something much worse.
***
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m on my way home, I got stuck closing out the register…I’m in the Macy's parking garage right now…Yes, I’ll bring home something for dinner…I love you too. Okay. Bye.” I hung up my cell phone and continued walking towards my car. It was about 9:30 at night here in Manhattan. Luckily, spring had just arrived, so it wasn’t too cold out. However, everything in the vicinity was closed for the night, so it was pretty desolate and quiet. For the city that never sleeps, it sure was fucking dark. I hated the dark. I never liked it, even now, as an adult. Especially in the city, where crime was high. But it wasn’t muggers or rapists that made me uncomfortable, it was the fact that I had no idea what was out there. And that was when my mind began to go into imagination mode. I’d create things in my head that would come out to get me, and make myself paranoid. I shook my head. There was nothing out there.
I reached my car and took out my keys. Since I was broke at the moment, I couldn’t afford a newer car with the keys where you just press a button and the door unlocks. Nope, I was stuck with a 2006 Chevy Cobalt. It was a good car with good mileage and it got me to and from work every day. I dug my hand in my pocket and grabbed my keys. But when I pulled my hand out, my wallet decided to come along with it. It fell to the ground and I sighed. I bent over and picked it up. However, out of the corner of my eye, something moved. I quickly straightened up and spun around, trying to catch whatever it was I saw moving. Of course there was nothing, but now I was uneasy. I turned back to my car and put the key in the door, the metal scraping against metal echoing through the silence of the night.
“Jordan…”
I spun around, trying to figure out who said my name. “Hello?” I called. “Who’s there?”
I got no response.
I let out a shaky breath and quickly got into my car. I put on my seatbelt, checking my mirrors for signs of movement. I shook my head. “Get it together, Jordan. No one’s there.” I pulled out of the parking garage and headed down 34th street.
I found a Chinese food restaurant down on 14 East. I found a parking spot a little way down the street. I sighed. Great. Out in the dark again. I got out of my car and walked down the sidewalk, the only illumination was from the streetlamps lining the streets. I shivered, though it was 60 degrees outside. It suddenly felt like 30. “It’s just your head playing tricks on you,” I told myself.
“You can’t run, Jordan…” I spun around in a circle, looking for the source of the voice. This wasn’t funny anymore. Actually, it was never funny. Fuck, I hate the dark. I looked around and noticed something weird. The shadows seemed to be moving. They were swirling around, licking and flicking the air. I blinked, and they stopped. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and hurried over to the restaurant.
I placed my order and since it was only me and some drunk college kids, I was out pretty quickly. As I headed to the door, I heard one of them call out to me. “Hey man,” said one of the boys, his words slurred. “There is some freaky shit going on outside, man. Some freaky. Shit.” I nodded to him and left. I headed down the sidewalk to my car, the streetlamps above me flickering. My heart started beating faster. I walked a little quicker, held my bags a little tighter.
“Jordan!” I yelped and turned around. Nothing. Whoever was out there was getting far too close for comfort. I ran to my car, not giving a shit about my seatbelt at this point. My tires screeched, disrupting the silence of the city and I sped off into the night.
“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay…” I kept repeating those words to myself, hoping that if I said it enough, it’d be true. I kept glancing in my backseat, every now and then seeing a silhouette of a person. “There’s no one in your car but you, there’s no one in your car but you…” I was trembling now, my hand sliding down the steering wheel from the sweat. I swallowed hard. Only ten minutes left until I got home. Then I’d be safe with Sam, and we’d go to sleep together, safe. Safe.
I reached my apartment and dashed out of the car, slamming the door behind me. I locked the car door out of habit. Not even fear can mess up your brain’s routine.
“Jordan.”
“Jordan.”
“Jordan.”
Someone was whispering my name. I turned around for the billionth time that night and saw the shadows moving again. Only this time, they were coming towards me. I heard my name whispered over and over again. My heart skipped a beat as I ran up the stairs to my apartment door. I grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it, but it was locked. “Shit,” I mumbled. I fumbled for my keys, looking back again and again, each time the shadows getting closer, my name getting louder.
“Jordan.”
“Jordan.”
“JORDAN.”
“JORDAN.”
“JORDAN!!!” My heart was beating a mile a minute, my hands soaked in sweat. I got the key in and turned, the beautiful click the door being unlocked was music to my ears. I yanked the door open and slammed it shut, just in time. Breathing heavy, I walked up the stairs. I unlocked the door to my apartment and stopped in my tracks.
The lights were off.
It was pitch black.
It was dark.
“Sam?” I called out. No answer. I put the food on the kitchen counter and took off my shoes. “Sam?”
“Sam’s gone, Jordan.”
“Sam left.”
“No more Sammy!” Laughter filled my ears but I couldn’t find the source. It grew louder and louder until the deafening noise was the only thing I heard.
“Stop…stop it…Leave me alone. STOP!”
“Jordan?” I looked up, tears streaming down my face. Sam was standing there, concerned. “Babe, are you alright?”
“There’s someone in the apartment. Call the cops, now.”
“What? It’s just me. There’s no one else.”
“DO IT!” Sam flinched and went to grab the phone. Once it was done, I nodded approvingly. However, the laughter hadn’t stopped. Shaking, I went to turn on the lights. Once I flicked the switch, the bulb exploded, and once again, we were blanketed in darkness.
“No, no, no, no, NO!” I ran over and grabbed Sam by the shoulders. “We have to get out of here, we need to go find some light, quickly!”
“Jordan, what the hell is wrong with you? You’re freaking me out.”
“Light, we need light!”
“Jordan…Jordan…” I stiffened at the sound of the melodic voice. The shadows. They found me. They were in my home. “We’re here, Jordan. We’re heeeeerreeeeee.”
“How did you find me!?!” I screamed. “Leave us alone!!!”
“Jordan, what the hell? Are you okay?” I turned to Sam.
“You can’t hear it? They’re calling me. They’re saying my name. They’re here.”
“Who’s here? What are you talking about?” I opened my mouth to further explain, but no noise came out. Instead, pitch black bugs came crawling out. My eyes widened and I tried to scream, but I only spit up more bugs. Sam backed away from me.
“Jordan, what the fuck!?! I’m calling an ambulance!”
“JORDAN. YOU’RE GOING TO DIE, JORDAN.” Tears streaming down my face, bugs crawling out of my mouth, I didn’t know what to do. The dark, it was the darkness doing this to me. I needed light, I NEEDED LIGHT.
I searched for a flashlight frantically, but I had trouble breathing, and my skin began to itch. I scratched it, but the sensation never went away.
“Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance, now.”
I looked down at my arm. There was something moving beneath my skin. I fell to my knees, gaging on the bugs. I scratched and scratched until my fingers were bloody. Suddenly, the skin on my arms ripped open, blood splattering everywhere, and tendrils made of shadows erupted from my flesh, swirling around. I screamed, choking on the bugs. Sam was staring at me terrified and not sure what to do.
I crawled over to Sam, shadows spewing from my arms, bugs pouring from my mouth. The last thing I remember before everything truly went black was the door bursting open, and light pouring in.
I opened my eyes. No bugs, no shadows, nothing. I looked around, confused. Where was I? White walls, and a single fluorescent light bulb. I tried to move, but my arms were restrained. I frowned and looked down. A…strait jacket? I tried to get out, struggling, but it was no use. I gave up and sighed.
Then it happened. The light began to flicker. My heart sped up and my mind began to spin. “No, please no…” Flicker, flicker, gone. The light, my only saving grace, was gone.
“Jordan…You can’t escape us Jordan…” I struggled, fighting against my restraints, screaming.
“HELP! PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP ME! THEY’VE COME BACK, THE DARKNESS IS BACK, HELP ME!!!” The shadows danced and lingered around my feet. Soon I couldn’t see my toes. Then my legs were gone. My torso was next, then my head. Next thing I knew I was shrouded in darkness once again.
***
I am alive. But every night, the darkness comes. Every night, I fight for my life, I scream for help, but no one comes. That’s the thing about the dark: you can’t see. And if you can’t see, you don’t know what’s truly happening. So let me ask you again. Why are people afraid of the dark? It’s because the dark isn’t afraid of you.

[/spoiler]

Meaning in Nothing
by Kamiroo Wolf
o me and say that you don't, now. I know you do. I can see it in every shift your eyes take, every huddled breath your mouth makes, and even feel it in the clammy blood running through your veins. It's more than that, though. It isn't just your body- it's your soul, isn't it? Doesn't it just feel fantastic?

The way the frozen needles prick with precision into the goosebumps lining your skin? The way they divide and snake throughout your bloodstream; freezing the crimson struggling for warmth within? It feels amazing doesn't it? It's tingly and tempting, is what it is. I can't even begin to imagine the intense pleasure rushing through you as the thin spines prick your bones. Euphoric, is it not? It's creeping, creeping, creeping; assassinating your nerves one by one... oh how I long to feel it once again...

They have just entered the lining of your stomach, haven't they? Oh, I can see it in the widening of your delicious pupils! Yes! Yes! I love this! You love this too! You're on the verge of climax as the acid inside of you is slowly chilled and crumbled to a base?! I think I may love you. I think I may love you, indeed. It's working now towards your liver, and next your pancreas, and on to your spleen, your urinary bladder... all the way up the stalk of your spine until- finally! It pricks your precious little heart. But before that it must make a brand new cage for your lungs, for your old ones will have shattered beneath the frost, would they not?

But not yet! No! It cannot finish you yet! You need to stay as turned on as possible! Allow it to quench your sexual desire! Allow it to sate your self-destructive hunger! This is what I want to see! Your shaking now!

...How delightful...

You can't feel your toes, can you? You can't feel the spines barreling down your urethra? You cannot feel the frozen thorns protrude from your genitalia? Let me assure you that they are, child. And deep deep down you are roaring with satisfaction, moaning and grunting heavily within as the very root of your reproductive organs are taken to a whole new level. I think, I just really think, I may be in love with you.

You'll be able to let it all out soon enough, my dear. The deafening numbness, the gripping cold... it will all be over soon. You're...not...relieved, are you? Not in the slightest? Promise? On your life? No?! Merely excited?! WONDERFUL! I could not be happier! You're body is welling with anticipation as it pokes through the skin lining your neck, the blood trying to flee freezing alongside the subzero spines as more and more holes in your throat allow my stagnant breath to breach your body. You are just about ready aren't you! I love you, indeed I do! I love you, I know it is true! You love me too, right? You want to be one with me!

First, my dear... I want you to have a slight taste of heaven. It will only be... a little bit longer.

It's in your head now isn't it? Rooting along the bones in your cranium, weaving throughout the skull as hair follicles fall stiff to the ground beneath us? You are almost there! I can see it in your dulling eyes... so lustrous I may need to acquire a pair of shades the next time we make love like this! It's in your brain, now. It's enriched the fluid. It's overtaken the hypothalamus. It's in complete and total control. Are you ready, my dear. It is just about time for your to experience the greatest release your body will ever know. You can stop thanking me. You can stop fearing my divine absence. I wish to make love to you like this once more!

“And nobody will stop us. Not Ralic, not Dexter, not Clark, not even Sencarn will be able to intervene."
----------------------------------------

Jare's eyes light up and his heart skips it's third beat since he first entered the frozen cellar, and even with the flames at his back the private eye is no match for the gripping frostbite clinging to his under-protected person. He checks the revolver locked in his grip and makes sure to count the remaining 3 bullets several times over as the various meats strung to the ceiling rustle in anticipation of his next move. The door behind him invites even more cold, and the snow cascading through the cracks beckon he return to it's safety, but the blind man can not simply back out of his mission just yet. One of his trademark crimson eyes stretches out across a thin, rotted hunk of lamb, and in that split moment Jare thanks his unknown God as a lifesaving perspective grants him vision of a man wielding some kind of twisted needle. He stands straight and stiff behind a rack of butchered cattle, his massive weight and bulk fitting in perfectly as his naked body blends to the exposed bovine flesh.

“WHERE IS SHE!" Jare calls to the man's location, and before Jare knows it his crimson eye has been shut down. Several more white ones spawn in compensation as the procedure follows, only to have their vision painfully obscured by the quickly clambering frostbite. A headache creeps along the back of Jare's cranium and his P.I. trench coat vigorously shakes off gathering ice as he shifts 85 degrees to release a deafening shot into the cold darkness.

2 bullets left, he reminds himself repeatedly, mustering a shaken breath from his throat as another crimson eye spawns, this time spread across the burning wings attached to Jare's back. Behind him stands the same man, nude and stiff as before, gazing down on Jare's relatively tiny size

Tragedy Part I

James
by RichardLongflop


Boomerang - Our Oak Tree

s from when I was 10, the time he found me hiding at the top of the oak tree.

He was 17, and for a while we never really talked. We were from different generations--He made top marks in school and was the popular jock, while I was small, skinny and never really knew how to hold my own. My parents didn’t help matters at all. They weren’t around to teach me to be a man, and when they were I was smacked around and told I was nothing but dirt. John dealt with same torment on a daily basis, but he had learned the remedy to deal with emotions...something I hadn’t mastered. I looked up to him even then, but he never noticed.

It was a sunny spring day, the rough bark was warm against my bare arm. I sat at a particularly large branch and looked up to the blue skies, allowing myself to be washed in warmth. The oak tree was the height of my house and thick around the base, but I had always been an agile kid. I could make it to the top of the tree in 30 seconds flat. The tree was a few blocks from my house, and I always came up here. Partially because I loved the sun in my face, and partially because I wanted my parents to search for me. I wanted to know that they cared enough to come find me.

When I saw the figure walking toward me, I hoped that it was my mother or father. It turned out that it was John. He looked up at me, narrowing his eyes as a scowl formed on his face, “Matt?”

I said nothing and stared back down at him, and John continued with an exasperated sigh, “What are you doing up there, Matt?”

I was still too surprised to speak. I never expected John to come look for me--Much less notice I was up here. I looked down at the ground and stood up from the large tree branch, “Get down from there right now!”

As quickly as I could, I descended the tall oak tree and looked up at him. He was at least a foot and a half taller than me, and he had a larger, more muscular build. There was a furiousity in his eyes as he stared down at me. He opened his mouth to say something and I flinched; I’ve dealt with my father enough to know that after a yell comes a vicious backhand. John seemed to notice this, and instead of yelling, he let out a sigh, relaxing his shoulders and running a hand through his hair.

He placed a firm hand on my frail shoulder, “Matt, you can’t run off like that, okay? You could...you could really hurt yourself,” John shook his head, “You know mom and dad aren’t gonna come looking, and this is the first time I actually saw you leave. Next time you might fall...or get kidnapped or, I don’t know, something!”

My shock had worn off and I nodded, swallowing hard, “You came looking for me?”

John scoffed, “Of course I did, you’re my brother! I have to look after you, in fact…” His frown turned into a small smile, “Why don’t you stick with me? From now on, I mean. At least then I know you’ll be safe.”

My eyes lit up. I never thought I’d ever hear those words from him--He seemed to be such a far away mystery to me. He was always like a celebrity, someone you wanted to know but never got a chance to. I nodded feverishly, “Okay!”

John turned, putting an arm around me and guiding me down the road, “Let’s get home, I’ll make you something to eat.”

****

It was from that moment on that I came to my brother with any problems that I had. He would wipe my tears when kids made fun of me, and make me laugh after dad would smack us around or mom would call me a disgrace. I spent sleepless nights in his room, just talking about random things--Girls, school, video games, you name it.

Further down the line, John became the one who made sure I ate. He made sure I was okay, and that I had clothes on my back. When he turned 19 and graduated (He failed 7th grade), he made sure I was able to sit in the audience to watch the ceremony. By this point, mom and dad barely were around in the morning before running off to get drunk, high and party, so I was the only one in my family that watched him get his diploma. When he moved into his new home, I still came to his house every day to eat and shower considering we had no food and no hot water.

Eventually, our neighbors finally figured out about my parents. Whether it was me walking out of my house every day and not returning til the morning, their drunken tirades, or the bruises on my face, child protective services were eventually knocking on my door. At first, I did what any 12 year old abused kid would do; I lied. But, also like any other 12 year old abused kid, I told the truth pretty quickly. They told me that I wasn't allowed to be with my parents anymore, and that I was to be put in a foster home, effective immediately. Before they do any of that, however, they look for family members to take in. I had nobody, except for my big brother John.

He later told me that there was no thought into it. He immediately said yes, no matter the stress it would put on himself. He made the spare room in his apartment into my very own bedroom, and bought all types of different sheets and furniture for me--Also all the food I could eat. During the days he was in college, and during the nights he was working at McDonalds to make a decent living for us. I didn't know then how much we were truly struggling from the very beginning, he had never told me.

The house was pretty decent compared to the shack I was living in with my parents, who had decisively left the picture after my brother took me in. They didn't even try to work to get me back, they probably thought it was more freedom to them. I looked around John's house and saw cleaned floors, bright lights and comfortable carpets and furniture. It was complete contrast to the lack of hot water and hot food, mangy carpets, torn apart furniture and floors I couldn't even see. I felt like I was in a better place there.

****

The worst decision I had ever made in my life was made under that very same oak tree that John had found me in. One of the kids in my grade had begun hanging around me in Sophomore year. I didn't have many friends, and I was feeling particularly upset. My 16th birthday marked three years since my parents had ever spoken to me, and after John got out of college he began working a full time job at a business firm. He no longer had time for those sleepless nights, or the patience for my complaints. It left me with a not-so-old reminder of my parents, and how they had neglected me. Even though in the back of my mind I knew John's reasons were pure, it still hit home and left me vulnerable. I had felt irreversibly alone when that he sat with me in my class and was friendly toward me.

Turns out, he was a rich kid who was popular. I suddenly began to have more 'friends', if you could call it that. When I wasn't stuck in my house, I was in his. This became a routine thing, either I'd be at his house or he'd be in mine, which incidentally wasn't too far away from my old house. I started to wonder why John didn't give me all the things that Troy got--It never crossed my mind that Troy's parents were just in a better position than us financially. It began the slow process of me taking things for granted because I liked to look at what others had in envy.

We had been walking down the block when I came across that oak tree. It was winter, so the tree had been left completely barren. The sun had begun to set and gave the sky a bright orange-red hue. The kid eyed me closely, hands in his pockets, "Listen, Matt...I know you've been stressed, with your brother being busy and all," His eyes darted around the empty street as he exhaled, puffs of smoke emerging from his mouth as hot air met bitter cold, "I think you should just let go of that stress--Have some fun, y'know?"

I raised an eyebrow as my friend shifted back and forth, looking straight at me as he ran a hand through his greasy black hair, "What do you mean?" I asked.

He dug around in the hand still in his coat pocket. He pulled out a bottle of prescription pills, handing them to me. I stared at them in my palm for a long time--Oxycotin, something typical a spoiled rich kid could get. He spoke once again, "When my mom broke her arm they gave her these--I started taking them. They really mellow you out."

"Troy, this--" I clenched them in my hand, shaking my head, "This is a really bad idea."

"Aw, come on!" He grinned mischievously, patting me on the shoulder, "Just take two of em and see how great you feel. You won't even have to buy the pills, man,

Tragedy Part II

Enduring
by TheOrganization -
let you or any stupid monsters get in my way, ya hear! I ain’t afraid a nothing!”

“Anything,” corrected Yusef with a smile, handing the young apprentice her sword.

“Whateva!”

Rudely, the young woman snatched her sword and spun around to face the large dragon headed beast. Her fiery hair blazed down to her neck and bounced cutely as she did so, but her boiling blue eyes burned with intensity. Her armor, a light mail over a tightly wound cloth corset adorned with hinged metal plates, was simple yet practical. It had belonged to her mother and her mother’s mother before that. With her family crest emblazoned on its chest, she wore it with unyielding pride. Yusef on the other hand was dressed in a very simple white shirt with brown suspenders holding up his spotless wool slacks. He too wore the family crest on a silver necklace although he was not of the Azra bloodline. Yusef himself never spoke about his own family. Perhaps, they were slaughtered in one of the wars across the sands. She knew he had come from the deserts of the East, his dark skin and hair cut short save for his beard, told of a cruel hot sun. She had the courtesy not to pry though.

Squeezing the grip of her sword, she stood across from the beast waiting for it to approach. The beady-eyed fiend barred its fangs, two sets of razor sharp rows of teeth lined its gaping maw as its furry scales shifted across its body. It was like a large bear, but for a head it had the long snout of a crocodile. While she wasn't found of bears, she was absolutely terrified of crocodiles, so this abomination was the stuff of nightmares for her. But she couldn't let Yusef know that.

"Go on Miriam, I'll be right here," patting her shoulder confidently.

“Yah yah, I’m fine old man…” she growled, brandishing the sword widely. Shining through verdant leaves of the forest, the sun caught the tip of her blade. The powerful beam hit the monster square in the eyes and it howled in agony as it tried to cover its eyes. Dumbfounded, Miriam stared at the spectacle. She had prepared her self so much for the fight that she had no idea how to respond. Or so it seemed. With steely resolve, she exhaled and holstered the sword to her back.

“What are you doing? Now’s your chance!”

Miriam simply shook her head and walked towards another path.
“I wanna fair fight…”

The large man of dark thick hair held his breath. It had been such a long time that he had forgotten what is was like to be dumbfounded. Blazing, her crimson locks bounced as she turned back towards him.

“Well, what are yah waiting for?”

Overtaken with a feeling he could not recall, he chortled heartily. Rocking back and forth as he did so, the fronds of the palm he leaned against shook widely. Coconuts softly plopped into sand below.

“Mr. Yusef… why are you laughing?”

“Ah…sorry, Maria,” apologized the large man, bowing his head, “It was nothing…”

His crimson haired mistress lay perched upon the sand like a mother hen. Pouting, she complained even more, “Honestly, you would do well to be more careful…unless of course you we’re trying to hurt me.”

“Never, my lady.”

A smile full of sadness drew across her pale face, “Well you can’t right? Not until Maram is born of course.” Rubbing her round belly, she chuckled as well.

Like a troubled child, Yusef held his hands behind his back and glanced at the fallen coconuts beside her. Most of them where green and sandy, but one had been completely sliced in two. Sparkling blue particles of light seemed to evaporate from the edges of the fallen nut. Both halves were on either side of her.

Pouting once more, she crossed her arms and looked across the beach. The sun was shining.

“Why are you acting so sad? You’re the one who told me. Don’t you remember?”

She sighed and rubbed her belly once more as a small bright blue and black bird landed square on her head.

“You don’t hate me?”

Maria laughed in response, the small bird hopping on her bouncing locks, but refusing to leave entirely. A warm breeze blew past.

“I’ve always known you. What you are...Even before you had told me. I’ve always known so…"

His fiery mistress brooded upon the sand. Yusef could feel her intensity radiating from her. In his long time on this land, he had never met someone as furious as her. Whether it was magic or sheer passive aggression that caused the sand to ripple across the beach back into the water, but it certainly was frightening. The small blue bird on her head, remained but somehow seemed to quiver in fear.

“So?”

“So, why are you still lying to me Mr. Yusef? What were you laughing about? I won’t ask you again…”

Defeated, Yusef scratched his shaven head and sat down next to his serene mistress. Even then, he towered over her. It was strange, seeing the two of them together. The large man with huge arms and legs, skin radiating like hot sand. Maria on the other hand was small and frail. Her pale skin and flowing red hair spilled down her back. A bear protecting a doll.

“It was Miriam…”

Maria perked up at the mention of mother.”

“You loved her too didn’t you?”

Yusef nodded solemnly, his eyes tracing across the burning horizon. The setting sun lit the pastel sky a brilliant fuschia.

“How did she die?”

The large man heaved, rocking to and fro, shaking the fronds of the palm once again. Maria giggled softly and began to sneer. She always had her mother’s devious side. Although, Miriam always wore her heart on her sleeve.

“I’m joking of course Mr. Yusef don’t fret. You’re supposed to be the strong one remember?”

Closing her eyes, Maria leaned into him and grabbed onto his arm, wrapping it around herself. She always enjoyed doing this, although Yusef always suspected that she did for his sake rather than her own.

“Just tell me about her…ok?”

"She was a quiet yet passionate soul...Even as a child, she had an astounding level of vision...Just like you. But she...she would see through you, your faults and your failures. Your ambitions and your dreams. Even before I told her, she knew that I loved her and the only way I was able to release her was to tell her the truth. Believe you me, I was astounded when she reacted. It was though she knew from the very beginning...That's why I've told you know...Miram."

The crimson haired knight smiled and sighed in relief, though her bow did not drop at all.

"Yosef...Thank you..."
[/spoiler]

New Lungs
by Tsar Bomba
Altimari was incarcerated on January 5th, 2006. He pleaded guilty to 43 RICO predicates for a reduced sentence of 15 years and a fine of $3.8 million — effectively ending his position as boss of the Altimari Crime Family. It was all over the news. It seemed as though hundreds of American people breathed a collective sigh of relief. Only a few months afterward, it seemed as though no one gave a shit.

The doctor wore one of those button down shirts, the kind that belonged under a blazer, but he wasn’t wearing a jacket. Just the shirt and a tie. “Mr. Altimari, good to see you.”

“Bullshit.” A nasal cannula was coiled around Marv’s features, running down the front of his torso and into a portable oxygen generator. The chemotherapy had not been kind to him. Of his symptoms, the weight loss was most noticeable. He wasn’t a bodybuilder or anything, but he used to be a big guy, heavyset. During treatment, he lost over 20 pounds. It made him feel so frail, vulnerable even. It was like if he tripped and fell he might break into a million little pieces.

“How are you feeling today?”

Marv reclined in his chair, his arms snugly crossed, “You’re supposed to tell me that.”

“Well, I wish I had better news…” the doctor rested both hands on his desk, folding them, “The cancer has continued to metastasize from the lungs. The latest photos now show masses in both kidneys, the mediastinal lymph nodes, and the brain.”

The ex-mobster’s body was unmoving, wearing a stoic expression. He let his eyes wander to the photograph that hung on the office wall.

The oncologist continued, “We’re looking at stage IV small-cell lung cancer.”

The picture detailed the doctor and his family. Him, a wife, and two kids, all dressed up. The man even wore a blazer that day, it looked nice over his button down.

“Mr. Altimari?”

Marv blinked, his cold stare settling on the man across from him.

“Do you understand what I’ve just told you?”

A few silent moments passed. Marv let out a heavy sigh, “How long?”

“...I’d estimate about three months, give or take, but it’s difficult to say. I’ve seen some cases where--”

Marv stood, nodding to the doctor, “Thank you.” Two Marshals, who had accompanied him to the appointment, escorted the convict out of the office and into the parking lot. They all had a long drive ahead of them.

* * *

Everything was so flat. The walls were adorned with a dismal grey. The tables, chairs, and people that littered the visiting room did nothing to dull the suffocating emptiness that pervaded the space. Not even the windows. They may have been the worst part. He could see the sun, but he couldn’t feel its warmth on his face. He could imagine fresh air, but he couldn’t taste it, not with the window there. A glass barrier separating him from the reminder of everything he’d lost.

Marv was seated at one of the tables, his eyes watching the window.

“Uncle Marv!” A young voice called. A young body followed, its mother in attendance.

The man glanced over to his nephew. Now standing, he wrapped a tired arm around the boy, and turned toward his mother.

“Hey, Marv,” the woman approached, smiling delicately. She appeared to be in her late 40s, a bit younger than Marv himself. With age, her hair had become grizzled and her had body lost its shape. “You look like shit.”

Marv kissed his sister on the cheek, taking her hand, “Always with the compliments… Sit down, Diane, if your ass can fit in the chair.”

Each of them took a seat at the table. Diane set her purse in her lap, her boy settled beside his uncle. The woman’s smile faded as she looked to her brother, “What did Dr. Gordi say?”

Marv patted his nephew on the shoulder, grinning, “You got big. How’re you doing, Leon?”

“I’m good!” The child asserted, then frowned, “I miss you…”

The man’s expression softened, “That’s nice. I miss you, too. But that’s why you’re here to visit me, right? So we won’t miss each other so bad?”

Diane cleared her throat, getting the man’s attention, “Marv.”

He turned his head.

“What did Dr. Gordi say?” She repeated.

Marv’s smile faltered as he shook his head, “He, uh… he said...” The man took in a quick breath and glanced at his nephew for a moment. His eyes met Diane’s once more, his words were tight, strained, “I… I don’t know, Diane… I’m really sick.”

“Oh my god…” The woman slowly brought a hand to her mouth.

Marv shrugged, trying to console his sibling as she began to whimper, tears swelling in her eyes. “C’mon. C’mon now, don’t cry,” he wrapped his arms around Diane, “Don’t worry about anything...” The man closed his eyes as his sister cried into him. They gripped each other tightly, no consolation.

“No physical contact, please,” the guard called. He had been standing beside the window.

* * *

Even during the day, any light that crept into the room seemed almost hesitant.

“So, why are you here?” The older man asked, another inmate who had wandered into the room minutes before. His hair was entirely grey. An unkempt beard marked his jawline. He stood beside the stranger’s hospital bed, minding the medical equipment.

“I was accused of being associated with a certain Italian-American subculture,” replied Marv, who stared up at the ceiling. Half of his torso was concealed by white, featureless sheets.

“I know that. It was just all over the news awhile back. Marv Altimari. Pleaded guilty, right?”

“I had to.” He snarled.

“How’s that?”

Marv turned his head, an edge to his voice, “I was facing a massive asset seizure. Know what that means? It would have left me and my family fucking destitute.”

“Family? You mean a wife and kids…?”

“No.” Marv grumbled, “My sister and her son live with me.”

The man nodded, “I meant why are you here. What’s wrong with you?”

“...Cancer.”

“Mind if I look at your chart?”

“I don’t give a fuck…” Marv sighed.

The bearded man plucked the documents from the edge of the bed, quickly flipping through them, “Dr. Gordi…?”

“He was recommended.”

“What was his prognosis?”

Marv shifted a bit, “Three months.”

The man’s face contorted to show confusion.

“...What?”

“It’s just that,” the man flipped through the pages again, “With the treatment you’ve had, you should have a window of one to three years.”

Marv blinked, shaking his head, “But what about the masses? My kidneys, my head, it’s all fucked up. The metastasis--”

“You went through all of this, right?” The man presented the page to Marv, detailing his treatment history.

Marv glanced over the information and nodded.

“You think all that did nothing? Buddy, any cancer inside you has slowed way down.”

“But I talked to the oncologist, face-to-face. Said three months.”

The man smiled, “Doctor tells the patient three months, then he lives a year… Makes the oncologist look like he can walk on water. I’ve seen tons of people come in and out of here, cancer patients, living longer than their doctors told ‘em.”

Marv’s brow settled into a furrow, he slowly nodded. A sense of ease washed over him.

“Take care, Marv.” The man turned to leave.

“Wait,” the ex-mobster looked over, “What’s your name?”

“Shit, sorry, this fucking brain, huh? You forget things like manners when you get old.” The man held out a hand, “Tommy Colombo.”

After Tommy left the room, Marv returned his gaze to the ceiling. It looked different now.

* * *

“Marv?! What the hell are you doing?!” Diane called, entering the visiting room.

Marv was seated at one of the tables, a cigarette between two fingers. He sluggishly repositioned himself to face his sister. “What?”

“You’re smoking.” She scolded.

“So?”

Leon’s small head peeked from behind his mother’s side, “Uncle Marv, you said you were going to quit.”

“You’re on oxygen.” Diane reminded, still glaring at her brother.

The ex-mobster glanced between the two of them. He dropped the cigarette on the tile flooring, crushing it under his shoe, “Hey, Leon.”

Leon waved.

Diane put her hands on her hips, “Diagnosed with lung cancer and you still

Mystery Part I

Sam Alec
by SpacePunk
first call. I was attempting to help my daughter Sam with her trigonometry homework. I hadn’t done that shit in years, so I wasn’t much help. In the middle of my trying to figure out what fuck a parabola was, my phone went off. When I hung up, I hurried and grabbed my jacket.
“Is there a murder?” she asked.
“I’m assuming so. Could be a kidnapping, could be drugs, who knows?”
“Murder is the easiest out of those options.” I chuckled and shook my head, grabbing my detective badge off the table. “Alright, get your jacket. It may be March, but it’s still chilly outside.”
“Wait, I’m going?”
“Yeah, I can’t leave you home by yourself, Mom’s away on business, remember?” Sam grinned and scrambled up off the floor. Once she had her jacket we were out on the road, speeding down the street.
We arrived at the scene in ten minutes. Police lights lit up the night and police tape was wrapped around whatever was the problem. At this point I figured out it was in fact murder. Sam and I walked up to one of the police officers and she turned to face us.
“Hey Sam, what’s up?” she greeted.
“Nothing, just doing some trig.”
“I hate math. Its why I became a cop. No trig involved.” I chuckled at the statement, grabbing her attention.
“Alright, Stacey, what’s going on here?”
Stacey started towards the body and I followed, Sam at my heels. “Her name’s Sarah Jones, 26, and worked as a barista for a small coffeehouse about a block from here. Stab wound through the heart, bled out and died.”
I put on a pair of latex gloves and handed a pair to Sam. We walked over to the body and I squatted down next to her. It was a damn shame she died so young. But when you’ve been a police officer for four years, and a detective for another two, you get desensitized to these things. As for Sam, well, she loved this shit. Sam was a weird kid, and I say that with love. She loved dissecting things and puzzles and so she decided that she was going to be a forensic scientist. So I took her to crime scenes whenever I could, even though I could get into a hell of a lot of trouble for it.
I looked at the body, taking in all the details: the disheveled brown hair, the wide brown eyes, and the dried blood coming from her nose. “Well she put up a fight.”
I wandered a little way from the crime scene and found a bloody knife. I scoffed. “Okay, that was easy.” I picked it up and walked back to the scene. I walked back over to Stacey and Sam brandishing the sullied knife.
“That can’t be the murder weapon,” she said. “That’s such a rookie move!”
“Well, let’s bring it back and find out. And get this body down to the morgue.” The clean-up crew (that’s what Sam and I called them) came and took the body while I talked to some witnesses. I glanced back and noticed Sam was just standing there. I finished up with the person I was talking to, who only discovered the body, and walked over to her.
“Sammy? You okay?”
“What—? Yeah, it’s just…didn’t she look familiar?” I thought about it for a moment. She did remind me of someone. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Yeah…C’mon, kid, I gotta go file a report.”
***
“Yo, Dad, I have some gossip for you.” I looked up from the kitchen table and waited for Sam to appear around the corner.
“Gimme the deets, kid,” I replied when she arrived to my spot.
“Okay, so there’s this sophomore called Andrew who has a crush on me and he came up to me today and asked me out on a date.”
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. Dad-mode activated. “Oh really? And what’d you say?”
“Well, I said yes, he’s kinda cute.”
“Hmph. Well, let’s see if he meets my standards.”
Sam rolled her eyes and sat down across from me. “So did you catch the murderer?”
I let out a sigh, going back into detective mode. “Yeah, some guy named Allen Clark.
“Sounds like a murderer.”
“Heh, yeah. You hungry? Or are you gonna wait for your date?”
“Dad, it’s not until Friday.” I chucked.
“I’m just teasing.”
Thursday night. That’s when I got the second call. Sam was picking out outfits for her date the next day and showing them to me. She was wearing a nice blouse and skinny jeans when my phone rang. After I hung up I grabbed my badge and headed for the door.
“Get your coat, Sammy.” She smiled and hurried after me. We arrived at the scene in about five minutes, since it was right down the road. When we got out of the car and walked over to Stacey, Sam gasped and put her hands over her mouth. “Oh my god.”
“What?” I asked.
“Andrew, that’s Andrew’s body!”
I turned and walked over to it, grabbing a pair of gloves on my way. I put them on and observed the body. His throat was slashed and he was soaked in blood. And the murder weapon was right next to him. I frowned and picked it up. “Something’s wrong here…” I put the knife in an evidence bag and interviewed the kid’s parents. They didn’t really have any useful information, since they didn’t see anything but a black figure outside the house. I sighed. I thanked them and went over to Sam.
“Sammy, you okay?”
She was just staring at the body getting put in a blue body bag, entranced.
“Sam.” She snapped out of her daze and looked at me.
“Sorry, he was just a kid. He didn’t deserve to die.”
I pulled her into a hug. “I know kiddo. And I’m gonna catch the bastard who killed him.”
***
The week after the second murder, the killer was a guy named Luke Penn, I went to buy Sam a new cell phone. I got her a Samsung Galaxy, because iPhones are shit. We walked out of the Verizon store, Sam in a much better mood.
“Now remember to call me if anything happens, okay?”
“What if I just need like, food or something?”
“Then text me. With these murders happening, I want to be sure you’re safe, got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” I ruffled her hair.
“Good.”
Tuesday afternoon was when I got the last call. Sam was in school, so she couldn’t be there. However, while I was observing the body, a man by the name of Mark Smith, I got a text from Sam. I took out my phone and read it. “That first victim that looked so familiar? That was the barista that works at the café I get my coffee from before school. It just came to me in the middle of class. Also, I need flash cards.” I replied to her with, “Really? I knew she looked familiar. And I’ll stop at Staple’s on my way home.” I pocketed my phone again and put the knife in an evidence bag. I sighed. These murders were connected. How, I didn’t know, but they were.
The next day, I decided to interrogate the last killer. He sat across from me, cuffed to the table in a steel box with a giant window panel on the wall. We sat there for a moment, staring at each other, sizing one another up. He smirked at me, and I glared back at him. The mental battle going on was of epic proportions.
“Alright, Eric, enough of the mind games. I’m gonna ask you questions, and you damn well better answer them.”
“So, I guess you’re the bad cop then?” I rolled my eyes. The whole “good cop, bad cop” thing was just some movie bullshit.
“I’m the cop that’s gonna throw your ass in prison for life if you don’t answer my questions.”
The man shrugged his shoulders, still smirking.
“Allen Clark. Do you know him?”
“Sounds familiar. Is he a country singer? You look like the kind of guy who likes country.”
“I actually hate country.”
“Too bad. I love it. My favorite is Sam Fox. Great girl. Too bad Sam’s dead.” I frowned a little.
“I bet…Murder out in broad daylight, though. That’s pretty stupid.”
The man leaned forward as best he could and folded his hands. “Look, you know why I’m here? Because I want to be here. You know why you’re here? Because we all wanted you here. Allen, Luke, me, and Chris. We all wanted you here.” My frown deepened.
“Chris?” He leaned back, his smirk returning.
“I’ve said too much.”
I tried asking him more questions, but he stayed silent the whole time. After a while, I gave up and sent him back in his cell to rot.
I left the station, taking out my cell phone. I dialed Sam’s number and prayed she picked up. After three rings, my heart started to race. “C’mon, pick up…”
“Hello?”
A sigh of relief escaped my lips. “Oh thank god, you’re okay.”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? You know who’s not okay? Mrs. Smith. Her husband got murdered. You probably looked at the body. She wasn’t in school today.”
“I did look at the body. But your home, right? Doors locked?”
“Yeah...Dad, is something wrong?”
“No,” I lied. I didn’t want her to worry. “I’m gonna grab something for dinner. You want Pizza or Chinese?”
“C’mon Dad, I’m Sam Alec, what do you think?”
I chuckled, feeling a little better. “Pizza then. I’ll see you when I get home.” I hung up and headed for a pizza parlor.
While I waited for the pizza, I wrote down the names of the victims on a napkin, in the order I found them, their ages next to the names. Sarah, age 26, Andrew, age 16, Mark, age 38. I stared at the napkin. I rearranged the letters, trying to form sentences, but nothing worked. I was about to give up when I got a text from Sam.
“We need soda.” It read. Suddenly, something in my brain clicked. The pieces were finally put together, and I had my eureka moment. I lined up the names from top to bottom and circled the first letters. S. A. M. My eyes widened. Sam knew every single victim in some shape or form. I lined up the murders’ names, just to be sure. A. L. E. C. I sat back in my chair, running a hand through my hair.
“Holy shit…” I paused for a moment before I realized Sam was home. Alone. Without warning I jumped out of my chair, knocking it over. I ignored the strange looks the other customers gave me and ran out of the door, completely forgetting about the pizza.
I sped down the street, my sirens blaring. I raced towards home, my heart pounding faster than the speed of my car. Once I reached the house, I slammed on the brakes, lurching forward. The only thing keeping me from flying through the windshield was my seatbelt. I jumped out of the vehicle and ran to the door, gun at the ready. I noticed the door was slightly ajar and the lights were off. I swallowed hard and softly nudged it open with my foot. I walked in and went up the stairs quietly. As I ascended, I heard a muffled scream. Abandoning subtly, I dashed up the stairs and pointed my gun. “FREEZE!”
A man looked up at me, a knife in his hand. He loomed over Sam who was tied to a chair, duct tape over her mouth. Her eye was starting to swell and her nose was bleeding. He smirked at me and rammed the knife into Sam’s chest. She screamed and I opened fire. The booming noise filled the air. Chris’s body fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. A loud thud could be heard.
Tears streaming down my face, I ran over to my daughter, praying to every god in existence that she was going to be okay. I took off the tape and undid the knot. I picked her up bridal style and hurried to the door.
“Dad…”
“Don’t worry Sammy, everything’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna get you to the hospital in no time.” Sam smiled weakly.
“Okie dokie…”
***
The monotonous beeping of the heart monitor rang in my ears. I stared at Sam as she laid in the hospital bed. After the trauma doctors had taken care of her, Sam turned out to be okay. It was a miracle she didn’t die. They said the knife only scrapped her heart, so it wasn’t punctured.
As I sat there and watched her chest rise and fall in her sleep, I sighed. That was a close one.
“Hey Dad?”
I looked up, tears in my eyes. I smiled as she stared back at me, her eyes heavy.
“Yeah kid?”
“How are we gonna explain this to Mom?”
I chuckled, a tear of joy rolling down my face.
“I’ll think of something.” [/spoiler]

Storm Of The Decade
by Tsar Bomba
rked frantically from side to side, shoving aside the relentless showers, backed by blistering winds. A hurricane. It had been a while since the town last saw one. Now, the sky’s stretch of silence could be attributed to the theory that it was preoccupied brewing the storm of the decade.

“What if we crash, you die, and I don’t? Do I get off?”

“Shut. Up.” Russ kept his eyes on the road, trying to maintain complete awareness of his surroundings.

Miles Hackman, who sat in the back of the police cruiser, raised his cuffed hands, “What about these? If there’s an accident, handcuffs could keep me from getting to safety.”

“There won’t be any accident if you shut up.” The officer demanded once more.

Miles reclined in his seat, huffed, and looked out the window. The outside was distorted by streams of rainwater rushing down the glass. It wasn’t the first time he’d been arrested, but it was looking to be his last.

“I get it. I have to go to jail and all,” Miles returned his attention to Russ, “I just don’t get why you have to be so quick about it.”

The officer ignored him. A semi-silence passed. The only kind of silence that the world would allow: the rough pitter-patter of rain accompanied by sharp winds.

A pair of lights shined amongst the foggy curtain of precipitation. Russ narrowed his eyes and slowed down. It was another car, parked on the side of the road. As the police cruiser approached, a series of frantic honks emanated from the other vehicle. Russ pulled up beside it and brought his own car to a gradual halt.

“Why’d you stop?” Miles asked, his voice dull.

Russ nodded toward the outside, “There’s someone in that car.”

“So?”

“So, they probably didn’t get stuck out in a hurricane on purpose. Might need help.”

“You’re just gonna pick up some stranger off the side of the road? Fuck that, man.”

“Shut up.”

A woman dashed from the stationary vehicle, sprinting to the passenger side of the police cruiser. Russ unlocked the door, allowing her to enter. The woman slammed the door shut as she hopped into the front seat, drenched.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” She had a thick accent, however, neither one of the men could distinguish it. A grotesque scar ran across her otherwise delicate features. “My car stopped working and I got stuck on the side of the road,” she spoke through chattering teeth.

“Guess you’re lucky we came by then. I’m Officer Russ Callow,” he held out a hand.

She shook it, “Nadia Eckhardt.”

“Nice to meet you, Nadia. Back there is Miles Hackman,” Russ jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “I’m taking him down to the police station.”

Nadia turned in her seat, glancing at the ma

Mystery Part II

Mask Thy Sins, Speak Thy Lies
by Boomerang
cold night when the man woke abruptly from a loud bang. He sat upright, rubbing his eyes and yawning loudly. The moonlight shimmered onto him as he looked from side to side. On his left, he noticed the digital clock that read 2:35 AM; On the right he looked to see if anyone was occupying the other side of the bed. Realizing his wife wasn't in bed, he threw the blankets away from him and stood. The feeling of bare feet against cold wood stung as he wobbled to his feet, "Honey?" When his call went unanswered, he repeated himself, "Honey? You okay?"

He figured that the bang was the sound of the front door, seeing that she had been out late for the third time this week. He continued the treacherous walk along the cold floor, opening the door and looking out into the hall. It's true that she had been out late before, but never before had she been out this late. Silently wondering what kept her out into the middle of the night, he turned on the lights to the hall, closing his eyes to the burning sensation that came out of the brightness. Using the wall to support his night time daze, he ventured down toward the kitchen, "Mandy? You just coming in?"

He stepped into the kitchen, forgetting about the lights as the moon and hallway illuminated the room enough for him. He walked toward the counter, opening his mouth again, "Mand--"

His words caught in his throat, the rest of it becoming a sharp inhale.

The woman's blonde hair covered most of her face, although her mouth was opened wide in utter surprise. Her hands were lathered with blood, her clothes suffering the same fate as multiple stab wounds made a variety of small puddles of crimson. She was sprawled on the kitchen floor as if she had been thrown on the ground in a hurry. He bent over, shaking her, "Come on, wake up WAKE UP!" He yelled, and after a few shakes he eventually gave up, sitting on his knees and breathing heavily.

He looked over, gripping the phone on the counter and dialing 911. Turning to his left, the light drenched onto a previously unnoticed man that carefully walk through the living room. In all of his shock, the man still found his voice, "Hey! S-Stop!"

The slender figure stopped at one of the windows. They turned abruptly to the man, a mask on their face. It was all white with the exception of its mouth and eyes. The mouth portion was drawn to look like lips painted in black, while the eyes had black stars surrounding them. The man stood still in shock, but it was replaced by an undying rage as he ran after the figure, who proceeded to jump out of the window in a blaze of shattering glass. By the time the man ran to the broken window and looked outside, the figure had already sprinted down the street, sticking to the shadows.

He exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for a long time, the breath turning into a sharp cough as he sat down on the couch. He put the phone to his ear, "Sir--Hello? Are you alright?"

There was a long silence. As he sat there and stared at his deceased lover in the moonlight, he allowed himself the chance to cry, "my wife--she's dead."

****

The man, Walter Robinson, didn't sleep that night. All he was able to think about was his beautiful wife, reduced to nothing but a mess. The thought of that figure stabbing her, violating her--it gave him a chill.

They had met in high school, freshman year in biology. A budding friendship transformed into a blooming love, eventually leading to a young marriage just after they had both finished college. Ever since then, their love seemed to never run out. Then, a few months ago, Mandy had grown increasingly distant; staying out until ungodly hours, denying his touch, and going as far as avoiding him even when she was in the house. Walter had written it off as a rough patch--but maybe she was worried, paranoid about that figure.

Now, at the age of 25, Walter was a widower.

"Mr. Robinson?"

Walter blinked, turning to the detective that sat at the opposite end of the kitchen table. One of his calloused hands were flexed on the surface, the other wrapped around a pencil as he scribbled notes onto a piece of paper. Walt visibly shook off his daze, "Yes?"

The detective slapped the end of his pencil against the table, "You talked about a figure with a mask with star shapes around the eyes--was he holding anything?"

Walt thought for a moment, shaking his head in response.

"Did he attack you?"

Walter shook his head once more with a sigh.

The detective cleared his throat, reaching into the pocket of his winter coat, "Well, we took a look through your wife's phone as you asked. For the most part, we found nothing. All we saw was a text message from an unknown number."

Sliding the phone over, Walter looked the message over as his stomach dropped. It was within the bright green bubble, written in thin black font, "On my way". He slid the phone back over, resting his head into one of his open palms.

The man adjusted his coat, shifting in his seat. The distraught expression on Walter's face told the story. He placed his head in both hands. Losing his wife was something that had been haunting him, but the knowledge that he had metaphorically lost her a long time ago would haunt him for much longer.

The detective leaned forward, placing a hand on Walter's shoulder and softly prodding him, "Are you sure that there's nobody you know who could do this?" After a moment of silence, he continued, "No possible leads whatsoever?"

Walter slowly lifted his head up, looking the man in his chocolate eyes. The bags under his eyes and wrinkles on his face told the story of a detective with a harsh life, someone who just wanted to go home. "No." He replied, his voice hoarse and filled with venom.

They locked eyes for a moment, and the detective stood, sliding the phone back into the coat pocket while simultaneously laying a card down at the center of the table, "We'll be in touch, Mr. Robinson. I'll try to trace the number and see if we can get any DNA from your wife's body..." He cleared his throat, "I'm...sorry for your loss."

Walter simply nodded as the detective walked out, and it was only then that he realized that he didn't even remember the detective's name. Grabbing the card, he checked the name--Detective Hank Rodriguez, "Hm."

****

It wasn't long before he watched a familiar person walk in. The woman's sea green eyes met Walter's as she ran over to him, hugging him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. She sat down next to him, "Hi, Walt."

He smiled faintly, "Hey, Alyssa. I'm happy that you came over."

She frowned, "I wanted to check on you. I heard about Mandy..." She placed a hand on her mouth, "God, I'm so sorry."

Walter ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm...I'm getting through it," He looked over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow, "Where's Rob? He's usually with you."

Her expression hardened. She leaned back against the chair, "I haven't seen him since last night!" She scoffed, "He said he'd be home tonight, though. I mean, you'd think he would have come to check on his best friend, y'know?"

He waved a hand in dismissal, "It's okay...really."

"No, it's not!" She exclaimed, "He should be here with you! You know, he's been doing this a lot lately. Staying out late, distancing himself from friends and even me...He even got a different phone for God's sake! 'For work' my ass."

She wiped a tear away with her finger, "I think he's cheating, Walt, I really do."

As she began to cry, Walter had trouble remembering whether she was trying to help him or vice versa. With a defeated expression, he gripped her shoulder and squeezed softly, "Now, Alyssa..." She scoffed, however he prodded still, "You don't know that for sure!"

"Heh.." she glanced at him, her shoulders relaxing as she granted him a faint smile, "I just don't know, Rob's been acting really weird lately. I hope I'm just overreacting."

Alyssa looked at the clock on the wall and jumped a bit, standing up, "I have to go!" She reached over, hugging Walter again, "I'll see you soon, Walt. Feel better okay?" Walter nodded, smiling as she walked out the door. Once she closed it, the smile faded and he went back to what he was doing before--staring at the wall. Only this time, the things Alyssa had said about Rob began to creep into his head.

****

For the rest of the afternoon, Walter walked around the house with the sudden, palpable feeling of grief in his heart. His wife had been killed for seemingly no reason at all, and the only lead he had was a vague text message that said 'on my way'. She had been going to meet someone all those times she was out late, but who would have had a reason to kill his wife? Was it out of hatred for her, or out of spite for Walter himself?

He thought about the former mailman. Walter had filed numerous complaints about him once their checks had begun to go missing, however he always noted that Mandy seemed to look at him fondly--she seemed to think he could do no wrong. The complaints had led to his termination, and the possibility existed that he could have started talking to Mandy in an orchestrated plot to get back at Walter.

No, it was too far fetched. Mandy felt sympathy for any workers, even the most malicious of them. Not to mention, the mailman could have just gotten a different job. He turned to their neighbors, the Torcheks. They had never been the best of friends, and yet Mandy continued to invite them to family barbeques and parties. Mr. Torchek seemed to have a glancing eye, and it was directed toward Mandy. There was always the possibility that Mr. Torchek wanted Mandy, and when she refused he murdered her.

Another very outrageous thought, considering the Torcheks were happily married with two toddlers. Walter shook his head, sitting up in his bed. It felt empty without her next to him, but his mind was filled with thoughts and impossibilities. He scoffed, gripping the bed sheets in an attempt to stabilize himself.

He jumped at the sound of his cell phone from just beside his pillow. Turning around, he answered by the start of the second ring, "Hello?"

A deep and smooth voice came from the other side, "Hey, Walt!" His shoulders relaxed, recognizing the voice of Rob, "Listen, bud...I'm sorry I couldn't make it earlier today, had some business to attend to. But, since I'm home now, why don't you come over for dinner? We'd love to have you, and Alyssa's making her famous chicken alfredo."

Walter sighed, "I don't know, Rob..."

"Aw come on!" His words were slightly slurred--it was clear that he had already grown tipsy from a few beers, "You need to get out of the house for a bit, man. The game's on tonight, we can eat and just talk."

Rubbing his forehead with his free hand, Walter finally conceded, "Alright, man, you're right."

"Awesome, okay!" There was a bit of incoherent conversation on the other line before Rob came back to the phone, "Alright, I gotta help Alyssa with dinner. I'll see you in a few hours?"

Walter nodded, "Yeah."

"Cool, I'll see ya then bud."

Walter hung up, placing the phone in his pocket. He moved to his open closet, and began the daunting task of finding clothes that weren't trashy.

****

Rob was right; Alyssa's chicken alfredo was famous among the community, and he was always reminded why when he came to dinner at their house. Luckily for Walter, he had found a semi-formal collared shirt and pants--just enough so he didn't seem like a slob in grief over his late wife. He took another forkful, enjoying the explosion of tastes in his mouth. The home made sauce, chicken and noodles all came together to make an amazing combination. After finishing his second bowl, he pushed it more toward the center and sat back against his rickety chair, "Mmm," After letting out a sound of satisfaction, he nodded to Alyssa, "This might be your best batch yet."

Alyssa grinned, "Well thank you, Walt, only the best for my guests."

Rob swallowed a mouthful, jabbing his fork toward her, "I swear, man, she's the reason I gained five pounds."

Alyssa pushed on his shoulder playfully, the both of them chuckling. Walter felt a sudden pang of grief return to him. He gave the both of them a faint smile as he stood up, "I'll be right back, gotta go to the bathroom."

Alyssa and Rob both pushed their chairs in, Alyssa putting some of the dishes together, "I'll get everything cleaned up, then."

Rob grabbed his beer can, clenching it for dear life, "I'll be in the living room, come on in when you're ready, the game's on."

Walter nodded, walking down the long hallway quickly. They weren't quite wealthy, but the two of them were definitely upper middle class. The house was gigantic, nearly mansion size, and the three bathrooms among three different floors only gave emphasis to the fact. However, Walter only went to the bathroom to calm himself. He stared at the mirror, wiping away a few tears. Grief has a funny way of making its way into a person's system at the most inopportune times. He exhaled shakily, turning the faucet on as he washed his hands. However, in a search for soap, he began to look through the drawers below the sink. The middle drawer yielded both a filled soap dispenser and something else--a phone.

Curiosity got the best of him as he quickly finished washing and drying his hands and grabbed the phone, pressing on the top-most button. The phone was not only on, but it had no password, either. Sliding to unlock the phone, what he found opened was something he didn't even process at first. It was a text message, aimed toward the number 845-645-8320.

Mandy's number... He thought to himself, and with only one message that had been received. He dropped the phone on the counter, staring at it in complete shock.

'On my way'.

****

It was only a few minutes later that Rob sat on the couch next to Walter. A beer can was clasped in his hand as his eyes were glued to the TV that had become white noise to Walter. He stared at the floor, sitting at the other end of the couch away from Rob. The phone he had found in the bathroom seemed to burn a hole in his pocket.

Rob gulped, breathing a satisfied exhale before placing the can down on the table, "That's some good shit," He looked over to Walter and silently cursed himself, "Listen--buddy...I'm sorry I couldn't make it with Alyssa before. You know how it is."

Walter nodded, and he felt a heavy grip on his shoulder. He grit his teeth--too many times lately had he been subjected to the hand on the shoulder, a sign of pity and sympathy. Looking up, he stared at Rob's chiseled face. He noticed that he was clean shaven. "Walt, I'm sorry about Mandy," His voice sounded sincere, depressed, "She was a helluva woman...When I heard about what happened, I didn't know what to think."

Walter sucked his teeth, however allowed himself a faint, forced smile, "Yup...sure is a tragedy," He looked away toward the television, staring at the football game; the Colts were up on the Giants, 20-14, and the Giants were marching down the field for a last-minute touchdown. He heard Rob turn and cheer for a moment as a deep pass sent them to the 10 yard line. Walter cleared his throat, sitting up straighter, "We've been friends a long time, huh?"

Rob looked at him again, raising an eyebrow as he took another sip of his beer. He placed it back on the table, "Yeah man...of course!" He was a bit taken aback by Walt's random question, "Heh, we were at each other's weddings!"

A knowing smile crossed Walter's lips. He didn't look at Rob, still staring at the television. 3rd and Goal at the 1 yard line, "I still remember the way you looked at my wife..."

The ball is dropped at that same 1 yard line as a defender grabs it, and the Colts run off of the field, celebrating a hard fought win. Rob frowned, shifting a bit in his seat. Walt took that as an oppurtunity to strike first, turning to him, "I never thought of all those looks you gave her--I always thought they were innocent."

Rob cleared his throat, "Walt..." He scoffed, "Come on, man."

Reaching into his pocket, he unlocked the phone and threw it at the center of the couch, dropping it scree

Romance Part II

Von and Andrea
by Smile
tness? The question that Von routinely thought to himself every Sunday came to his mind right on schedule.

Exactly six months have elapsed since she first knocked on his door. When he was asked from the other side if he could spare five minutes to hear about the one and true Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, he was already trying to remember the line from the movie Kingsman: Secret Service in the church scene about hailing Satan. This was going to be his first time having to deal with a door-to-door “missionary”, so he couldn’t hold back his grin. He didn’t even get the chance to say that he’s a Catholic whore when he saw the vividly hazel eyes of the woman standing on his porch.

The only thing he remembered about her introduction was that her name is Andrea. Her head reached only the height of his shoulders, but even with her small stature, her voice still sounded slightly deep and smooth. The silky sound of every word she uttered felt almost tangible as if it enveloped his whole body in cashmere, her striking gaze served as the thread and needle, and her entire presence gave him a feeling of wearing a sweater made of pure warmth and love.

Then out of the stream of indistinct sounds that poured out of the woman’s mouth, the woman he let into his home and sit on his couch and drink his tea, was a phrase he couldn’t ignore. It would be a shame if your soul perishes in the Armageddon…

Like a scissor, the woman cut apart Von’s fantasy. It didn’t take long for him to interrupt the lecture and profess his lack of belief. He knew then, as he still knew six months later, he didn’t want the foolishness that is religion polluting his life, and nobody can change that.

-------------------------------------


“Okay so I’ve done more research and I can now properly answer you as to why God is different from your Flying Spaghetti Monster.”

Von couldn’t reply with anything but a subtle chuckle. It’s been like this every time. Conversations that begin with how the last one ended. Conclusions that were arrived at from something completely different. To be fair, she was more well-informed than what he imagined, but it wasn’t really that extraordinary of an achievement. Had this session been from the first couple of months, Von would have had his arms crossed, had his shoe tapping on the floor, and had his eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t realize how, somewhere in the middle, he started looking forward to the 3PM of every Sunday and talk about a topic that he so passionately despises. After all, who wouldn’t hate that which has caused multiple conflicts and war? He guessed it was more fun to mess with a zealot than he anticipated, especially someone this attractive.

“But that’s my point! How can your God even claim to have given free will when everyone’s required to use it in a certain way? That’s completely missing the point of giving free will in the first place.” Von said, the conversation having entirely moved on from Pastafarianism.

“We’re not required to use it in a certain way. He just has a plan for us that will make us happy, and as a form of appreciation for his benevolence, we celebrate him. Don’t you thank a person and give her deserved praise when she helps you generously in a time of need?” Andrea wasn’t going to back down from Von’s tone, akin from one that a chess player says when he says “checkmate.”

“So basically, fate?” Von leaned back on the backrest of his couch, raising an eyebrow as he replied.

“So you don’t believe that fate exists too? What do you believe?” Andrea spoke out of genuine incredulity and curiosity.

“I believe only in logic,” Von said with pride.

“I can’t imagine being happy believing only in logic”, Andrea supposed, a sound of pity now coated the woman’s words.

Von didn’t know what to say; he was stunned at the statement. It was an incredibly stupid sentiment, he thought, and yet he felt like it had some truth to it. What he thought and what he felt usually coincided, but this time, they didn’t, and with a lack of words he just sat there and looked at her. The silence that occurred seemed to have stopped the passage of time in the room. During perhaps this couple of seconds of nothing happening but him looking at her, and her looking at him, were a couple of seconds too much until Von fell into the world of what-ifs. What would she have looked like had she not been raised in a family of what he assumes to be a bunch of ignorant radicals? Would she still sport hairbands that expose her face more? Would her long, black hair still end on her thighs and would she still have it go over her right shoulder and on her lap every time she sat? Would she still look in the eye the person who loathes a big majority of everything she believes in and, whenever she can, still flash him the hearty smile that Von hates to love?

Andrea, on the other hand, seemed to have spent this pause thinking about what she said, since with a tone of immediate regret, she broke the silence by saying, “Oh no I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound patronizing. I’m sure you’re able to be happy. I just mean like… I think it’s just not for me.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I can’t believe you’d think I’d be offended by that, after all the things we disagree on,” Von snickered as he spoke. “Why do you think you won’t be happy when you’re completely logical?”

“Well I mean obviously, the fact that many things that I believe in, things that make me feel a certain empowerment, aren’t exactly observable through the scientific process means that I don’t really have an option to be completely logical. It’s good to be logical in a lot of things, but for me to claim that I’m completely logical would be hypocritical of me.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said.” Von was fascinated that, unlike many other religious people, she realized how those two things, logic and faith, would be consistent with each other.

“Hey! I know you think I’m just some bible thumper that functions only as someone to spread what you call ‘poison to the mind’…”

“Haha! Yes I do, actually.” Von interrupted with a laugh.

“But I do other things, things where I have to apply logic. I wouldn’t have made it to my last year in my university if I argued the existence of the soul to my Biology instructor.”

There haven’t been any other Jehovah’s Witness that he’s ever talked to except Andrea, so Von didn’t know if she was actually a more liberal kind, or they’re just not as brain dead as he thought. He didn’t even know she went to a university.

“I think this isn’t something that I should say, but I don’t dedicate all of myself to being religious because I think that personally it wouldn’t make me as happy as I am now. So I guess it just kind of surprises me that someone else dedicates himself fully to being logical.” Andrea continued, sound much less than what she used to.

“Well to be completely honest, I think you’re right.” Von responded, surprising Andrea. It was the first time he told her she was right. He bowed his head and looked at the floor, contemplating past experiences. “I mean, I’m not saying I’m actually a really sad person, but I don’t think I’m as happy as I could be because of my faithfulness to logic. A lot of things don’t really function completely logically, and the best example is people. I’ve had many relationships ruined by how I expect others to see the world as I do, and I guess I admit that this made me kind of alone.”

For the first time, Andrea saw something more from the man whose she had been visiting more than some of her closest friends. The man who donned an impenetrable armor of complete reason, has now shown her his vulnerability. She got off her seat and walked across to where Von was, and she sat next to him.

“I can’t pretend that I know how you’re feeling; I don’t. But I do know that you’re a person capable of finding companionship. I mean, I’m pretty sure you hate me but you’re been nothing but hospitable to me. Sure you’re a little snarky and some people might not like that, but really all you need to do is put yourself out there and I’m sure you’ll find someone that would be willing to know you better despite whatever faults you might have.” Andrea consoled the worldly man with words that stemmed from something deeper than her faith, but from her affection for the man.

Von didn’t think he needed a pep-talk, but he smiled when he realized that he did indeed felt more cheerful.

He caught a glimpse of the watch he’s wearing, and realized that the hour is almost over.

“Why do you keep coming here? You’re never going to convince me”, Von blurted; whether to keep her from leaving too soon, or he’s legitimately curious, or for another matter, he didn’t exactly know. “Well because God wouldn’t want me to give up on you”, Andrea replied after a moment of thought, punctuating her sentence with a shy smile.

They were now both looking at each other, the distance between them being smaller than ever before; not only in physical distance but also in their feelings for each other. There sparked a connection, much like a magnet to metal, as the gaze of the former wouldn’t pull away from the gaze of the latter. The mutual attraction between the two people from two far sides of the spectrum seemed to have an effect on their senses as everything else seemed to vanish and they could see only the person they’re facing. The ticking of the clock faded away and was replaced by the sound of the single beat of the two hearts in the room that found each other and understood. Gravity began to fail as they both floated in the mostly unknown, but begged to be understood universe inside each other’s eyes. Their lips began to signal the other, and moved in a synchronized manner.

“I should go.”

“You should go.”

The sentences began and ended at the same time, a coincidence that surprised neither Von nor Andrea. The former, trying to salvage the situation, said, “It’s almost four and I wouldn’t want you to be late for…” Von didn’t know if she actually had to do anything, much less late for it.

“Yes of course. I have to go do the… umm… go back to church.” Andrea, trying to disguise her emotions with hurry, a disguise that wouldn’t have fooled an old blind man, stood up and took her handbag and an envelope she had with her.

The clock struck 4:05 when Andrea was on Von’s doorstep, saying her goodbye and thanking him for taking the time to listen. Von’s hour-long weekly entertainment was done for today.

He looked at her as she walked away from his porch. Before that Sunday, they followed a routine. Andrea would come, they would disagree, Von would walk her to the door, and then she would leave. Often times, Von would then stare at her back, watching the scrunchie that joined the ends of her hair strands together dangle from left to right across the width of her buttocks. He would then tell himself the same half-joke half-fear that she was actually a psychologist, and he was in a constant state of hypnosis induced by the swinging of her hair.

Sometimes, there was no scrunchie, sometimes she showed herself out, but it was mostly a consistent routine. Von knew, however, that after the afternoon, it would no longer be the case. Yet, knowing that, he still finished the routine by feeling a pang of loneliness when he got back inside his house and closed the door. It was the most constant part, and also the most recent addition to the sequence. For a brief moment, he looked around and imagined everything surrounding him moved further away to gossip about him, as if they’ve gained consciousness and are completely aware of everything he’s thinking and feeling.

-------------------------------------

A few meters away from Von’s residence walked a woman possessing a refined gait that gives an air of nobility. This grace she had with her movement, however, was betrayed by the expression on her face, one which clearly tells of an inner turmoil. In her eyes is a storm of confusion; pointing straight but focusing on nothing.

Andrea was in a whirlwind. She had committed an unholy trinity. The first of which is that she, again, felt like Von had pulled her closer to his world. For six months, she was slowly losing the threads that bound her to her faith. Researching deeper into the religion to address Von’s concerns has given her a new level of comprehension, not only with faith but also the religion itself and its history. And the more profound her understanding became, the more her beliefs began to slowly turn abstract. The arguments against her beliefs that she once easily dismissed as the confusion caused by the venom of the devilish serpent gradually garnered foundations in her mind and in her heart, enough that she simply can no longer turn a blind eye to it. Her faith that bridged her to God has started to shake; its steel beams now show spots of rust and the whole structure began swaying with the wind.

The second of the trinity is how she cannot bring herself to hate the one who shook up her belief. The one who she was trying to convince, who has been mostly pleasant company, is doing something that she would normally attribute to the work of the devil – and yet, try as she might, she wouldn’t feel any contempt or even a slight irritation. Nothing Von uttered were deliberately offensive, he never resorted to insults nor use condescending tone, and was very patient in listening.

Half a year was a long time, and the span of time was long enough for Von to inflict some damage to the religious side of Andrea. So as Andrea paced further away from the house that she once called a church for the damned, she again felt a heavy throb in her heart. The conflict of what she should feel, to what she is feeling, made her almost want to never return. In fact, she thought she shouldn’t have returned after many of her visits.

It was what completed the unholy trinity, however, that kept her coming back. Before, she wouldn’t admit it, but what happened in that session confirmed it – she wanted to be closer to him. Being friends with a non-believer is not something she should be doing if she doesn’t want to be excommunicated, but she took it further and even had an almost romantic moment. What stopped her, however, is that while she was looking at him, she could read what Von was thinking. She knew that Von didn’t feel the same way, and she only said she had to go because she had to save herself the embarrassment of even going further. The fact that she was willing to kiss him was enough for her to cover her face with her hands as if to hide from whatever it was that made her feel shame. Shame, however, is an internal enemy that cannot be escaped from.

But she was right when she said that God wouldn’t want her to give up on him. All she had to do was stop thinking about it, research more arguments that would convince Von that God wouldn’t let him feel alone, and that would be that. So it can only be imagined how she felt when, one week later, she knocked on the door and saw someone else open it. She got extra prepared for this meeting, only to hear that the house has been bought for a few months now but it was just last Monday that this stranger and his family moved in