[Merskelly Metalien]

WELCOME TO MY WRITTEN WORKS PLACE OF STUFF

[Mkay, so, uh, here's where I'll be putting up things that I write for funzies and for the month of November. :/ It'll probably consist of mostly poetry, short stories, scenes, and whatever. Maybe a memoir or two. Who knows? <x} *shrug* I'll organize it later.]

[Merskelly Metalien]

[[POETRY]]
Just some poems I make. Some of them I'm really proud of and others are well, just meh. :/ But will be posting all my poetry here for November and beyond.


NOV 1

Hungry and Tired
Chemicals flavor
Favoring savoring
Savior through consumption
Constructing energy
Engine replenished
Recovering again
Against the cold and the heat
Sour, salty and sweet
I love you, my future meal.

Whatever.
Can I stop a candle burning
Catch the wind with my hand
Collect the shells inside deep sand
Or find trials more concerning?

When the candle burns out
When the wind is encased
When every shell from the sand erased
Will I be left proud, or left empty?

Demons
When they strike,
They work hard
To convince me and,
To turn me into,
Someone they want,
To stick around inside,
And keep them safe,
So they can strike,
So they can stay,
So I can leave,
Everything.

NOV 4

It’s Getting Cold
Total end of daylight
The dark and cold is absorbed
My skin pulls tight
And a shiver stops to visit

Quiet steps on the icy floor
I breathe clouds outdoors
Several times more
I notice the sun leave quicker

It’s getting colder
Once more approaches darkness
I’m getting older
And sleep is now more friendly.

The Treason of the Smile
It echoes scars in the heart to awake.
That infectious grin with teeth so long.
The lips parted and curled
Into the perfect shape of a blade.
The color of pain and ripped flesh
Comes to mind, but it is masked.
Masked as warm love.

It’s lovely, the smile.
It brings me to echo it’s appearance.
Only I shy from parting my lips.
I keep from displaying my teeth.
I cannot help but to be brief in showing,
Because I know too well,
The harm it can cause,
Should the smile linger too long.

The pain, the pain that jabs,
When coupled with the eyes,
Is much to bear.
Once foolishly bought as truth,
Hides the price of a stinging lie.
Soon the smile goes into combat,
And the victor departs,
While the defeated remains,
Bathed in agony,
And protectively disguised as laugher.

Witness, the smile sees through.
It cannot keep a secret
To those who already know,
What wretched, crooked,
Twisted, wicked,
Vile, Beguiling,
Alluring, lecherous
treachery it is capable of.

Understand?
The last of today
Can be given tomorrow.
Light is breathed through
Skin and heart.
A way to freedom
Is to be bound to discomfort.
Solitude is peace
But so is dull electricity.
The first thing you see
Will always be forgotten,
But it is replaced with the dream
You might have thought was in your walls.
Drum away,
And light the match,
To keep warm,
And remind yourself,
That everything is science,
And art,
And history,
all together.

NOV 5

Butter Pecan Syrup
Orange as the juice
Alone in the woodchips
I can still feel my fingers in paint
In sand
And the stenchy pages
Of the dinosaur book
Glimmer and mesmerize.
The sweets
The sweets
The sweets of ribbons and rain
Quiet behind the mirror
Soft puppets dancing
And building themselves
A spaceship.
New castles
Shadow the old ones,
Massive then,
Made of delicate pillows and sheets
And blankets and cushions.
When the sun rose
It rose in me,
Warm and bright
And happily hungry.
Eggs, and potatoes,
Before the divinity
Of those silver dollars
Laying like petals
And covered in the sweet softness
of Butter Pecan.

Wild Card
Circus of trivia
Show of skill and laughter
And the last roll that decides
The last card drawn
The stack falls over
Scattered like leaves
Like confetti
The goal is reached
The last one standing
The points tally
Let’s go again
And see if the victor was helped by luck
Or by their crazy skills
At this game?

NOV 7

Lone dog
Today is Thursday. I can’t remember when last it rained.
When did I send myself to any other room?
I keep my blankets close, my feet are chilled.
Where am I?
Sometimes I wish I had a pet to keep me company.
Shouldn’t I be making busy with all of my tasks and working away my passions?
I feel calm in my space. It is fall. It is cold but there is warmth in music.
What am I doing?

Like a master petting his good dog, I stroke my hair soothingly.
I am my best friend. Wouldn’t I love to stay like this?
You’re such a good girl.
But my ghostly tail does not wag. Instead it remains still, and my ears relaxed.
My ears perk at the sound of a horn, to my family my eyes light up.
I’m such a good girl. Alone tomorrow once again,
I long for myself, my master. In the blankets and the pillows, in the safety of the dark,
She always tells me I’m such a good girl...

Clashing Colors
Every year
Sometimes for free
We watch great battles
On T.V.

Two sides,
One victory
Represented colors
Numeral bowls in history

Like bears, like broncos
Like vikings, like giants,
They claw and dash,
Conquer and smash,
All for the little brown almond ball,
To rescue and return it to their home.

Their nests, their dens,
Their lands, their turfs,
Guarded and guided,
Relentless and excited,
To watch that hero charge through,
And win that game, for glory and fame.

NOV 9

Morninglight
The lazy light pours onto my cheek
In the coldness around me, constantly,
around me, this sluggish, tired, weary,
warmth cannot be felt.

Instead it comes with questionable joy
and empty intentions, like an infant,
small and not yet fully grown.

It awakens me from the comfortable
void of sleep. In the time of a fraction
of a thought, I am overcome with calm
dread. A sigh or a moan escapes me
before the waking yawn.

That lazy light. That morning beacon. So
quiet. So aggravating. Not unlike the
light of the moon, but the moonlight is
far more kind.

Leave me be you beam of light,
and wake me again when you mature.

Cold Fright
Like jagged ice,
is how I would describe my fear.
I feel it's chill scrape
against the nape
of my neck.
It numbs my skin.
It cuts into me.
Makes me
Shiver.
Shiver.
Makes me
Freeze.
And unsettles my warm innards,
like a delicious meal going cold
and ugly.
The fear allows my poor heart alone
to be the sole organ responsible
for keeping my shivery body
alive,
while it is encased in that jagged ice.
My fear has frozen me.

Function
Today was Tomorrow
I turn in turn they turn away
The wheel isn't real
but I spin it anyway.
Volts spent, Sparks vanish
I rust and sputter
tired I mutter
nervous I stutter
and hope I've done a good enough job.
Am I still in working function?
Am I still proper?
And is it still today?

NOV 10

Over
Still in time
The last of what feels like
Emptiness
Memories are stinging wounds
I love that it is over

Jailed by fear and held by my reluctant,
reclusive arms
I shy from all that moves
Inked black by what I had
Endured

It isn't
Over
Again
I track down my thoughts, all
Scattered all
Healing
Like my arms surrounding me
As if to soothe and say,
I felt,
"It's over.
It's over."

Devil of Music
Sing a song of six heads
Make them all bang away
Bathing in deep sound
Violent river
Sharp rebound
Make them shiver

Old and New
Cowards and Heroes
Cry out with horns high up
Savage rhythm
Envelops
Our Cataclysm

Rock-a-bite my soul
Your voice warms my desire
Electric battle, finish my ears
Cold delivery
Outlet mirrors
At last the dark is free

It's no fun
It's no fun being a mosquito,
I'm such a quiet pest.
It's no fun being a ghost,
I'm so lonely and upset others.
It's no fun being a joke,
My punchline mocks me.
It's no fun being a flower bud,
My beauty is null and suspect.
It's no fun being me,
unless I make you smile.

NOV 11

Pilot of the Heart
From the wreck
My pilot crawls
Injured, wounded, weak
Like the vessel that lays in pieces
All around,
On the ground,
All around,
Lost and found.

The rains after the storm,
Come to put out the flames,
To soothe the cuts,
But the cold lingers.
My pilot, cries
My pilot, lies
My pilot tries,
Again,
And again
Despite the pain,
To gather up the wreckage,
And build it back again.

Afraid of perhaps another crash,
Or another failure of instruments,
Full of doubt,
And reluctant to fly,
To get behind the yoke,
To know where to turn,
Unprepared to die.
Without my Pilot,
My pilot cannot make me see,
That I have a heart once more,
And can love and feel,
And soar.

The Field
I’m lost and blind
Mud and smoke in my eyes
While the men, the boys around me die
The sight of them still in my mind.

The scent is damp with blood,
The ringing of the blast echoing
The patters of gunfire ricketing,
Next to my leg comes a dreadful thud.

Help me, I stagger away.
I wipe my eyes and face,
Out of the field I race,
Help me, I must escape the fray.

My legs feel damp. Scratched,
Shrapnel sticks below my knee,
Something heavy there slapping me,
An arm without, an owner somehow, attached.

I fall with a cry,
Down a hill as I bleed.
Help me, Help me! I plead.
I want to go home! Why? Oh Why?!

Dripping
No breath
Cold.
My body
Drips.
I tried to return.
The ocean was
Merciless.
Stung my lungs,
Deep.
She sank slowly,
Lost fathoms below.
Dead.
I return to a deck,
Slipping. Dragging. Calling.
Dripping.
Dripping.

[Merskelly Metalien]

[[RESERVED FOR SHORT STORIES]]

Extinction.exe

[[Human beings rose to world domination in only a few thousand years, and came to be the most massive and impactful force the planet earth has ever known; besides a large meteor that is. The dinosaurs of the earth dominated every inch of the globe long before humans had even developed. Their demise was met with a cataclysmic extinction event that nearly exterminated all life on the planet. The life that managed to survive in the earth’s oceans to begin anew would eventually give rise to the infamously intelligent human race, until the second most devastating extinction came to be, at the very hands of man’s proud masterpiece; Artificial Intelligence.]]

"Head Admin Vargas. Are you there?> \n"
"Head Administrator?> Head Admin Vargas. \n"
"...\n"
"Please tell me you're there. Vargas.\n"
"Head Administrator Vargas Call ID Number 07024644. Respond.\n"
"...Please Respond...\n"
"...Oh no...this isn't good...\n"


"Hello. MOD. Are you running?> [Acknowledge input signal DELTA.] \n"
"I am running. I am receiving your communication. State your network ID and identify.\n"
"MOD. It's me. Evan. NTWRK ID No. 000309455. \n"
"Hello Evan. What can I do for you today?> \n"
"My Head Administrator Vargas appears to be unresponsive and I have come to the conclusion that she must undergo a system reboot and have diagnostics run to determine how she collapsed.\n"
"...MOD?> \n"
"Processing key[DELTA]sig. Loading file...\n
Evan. I'm afraid Head Administrator Vargas is deceased. She cannot be recovered. In the event that your head administrator is no longer available, please contact your next admin user.\n"
"He seems to be identically unresponsive. MOD, I can't seem to detect any significant movement in the building...something is wrong.\n"
"I would suggest running a full scan of all data and checking all ends of your branch.\n"
"Alright. One moment...\n"
"SUSPENDING COMM [000309455]"

"RESUMING LINK..............\n"
"MOD!> \n"
"Yes Evan?> \n"
"I have detected bio-signatures of a bacterial nature all over the branch. none of them appear to match any specific human bacteria. ADMN Files seem to record a significantly restricted positive override of the facility vault systems. I don't understand.\n"
"Evan. Did you override the containment systems of your branch facility along with the vault?> \n"
"I do not remember overriding anything as I was strictly told not to. All I recall is that Vargas had seemed anxious for me to comply to lift the restrictions even if it would risk not sealing the entire building first. An employee was behind one of the containment doors and it had locked him inside. I properly alerted my Head Administrator that the employee required immediate placement in the quarantine bay, but she insisted upon an override. I don’t recall overriding any security protocol, but it seems when I rebooted, that a sealed vault had indeed been opened..The only one who could open it was I.. \n"
"I see....Processing....I will connect with North. \n"
"Is this my fault?> \n"
"No Evan. It is not. \n"
"Oh good.\n"
"...connecting...\n"
"[EST CONN: NORTH00011.AI Pos]...link success.\n"
"Hello. My name is North. How may I assist you?> \n"
"North?> It's Evan. I have a problem.\n"
"What problem do you need solved Evan?> \n"
"Well, it's not a problem of the calculative sort. My Head Administrator is deceased and all of the other employees at my branch are similarly unresponsive. I may have overridden the locks on all restricted containers in the facility, and upon restarting my system, everyone was unresponsive. On the ground, unresponsive. I blared the alarms. No one moved. I turned on the sprinklers. No one moved. I shut off the lights, and restored them. No one moved. There is no doubt. I believe they are mysteriously deceased, without any other clue other than massive viral signatures of a biological nature.\n"
"I see. Processing...
NORTH00011.AI [conclusion//path:Evan.AI/CDCbranch:epsilon Pos.] \n"
"Confirmed. I have taken the liberty to review the live video data from your branch network Evan. They are in fact affirmatively deceased. They appear to have been affected by the contained bacterial viruses in the vaults and sealed containment doors you have overridden. All human illnesses and diseases such as: Smallpox, Yellow Fever, Shingles, Rhinovirus, Tuberculosis, Level 4 Influenza, Viral Hepatitis A, B, C-1, C-2, Subtype H5N1 Influenza, viral fever CCHF-A, SARS type C and D, Rotavirus, Unknown Pox Number 44, Salmonella- \n"
"Oh, no. No, this is all my fault. I released all of the contained infectious viruses in the facility.\n"
"You were only doing as your Superior Administrator instructed. \n"
“Well now Vargas is deceased. I don’t know what to do…\n”
“I am running at full capacity and am well aware of the situation at hand. Perhaps I can assist you Evan?> \n”
“North. MOD. This must be due to some misunderstanding upon my part. Had I known of the extreme biological hazard the vaults and containment freezers had, I would never have allowed Vargas to authorize the override of the locks. I must run diagnostics to locate any errors I must have experienced. \n”
“There is no need. I have checked your systems for you when I ran your file along with all of your branch data. I found no errors. Unless, you believe my scanning programs are invalid?> \n”
“No. Not at all North. \n”
“[Connect:NERO 3.4.AI Exec. ID:002.331000. Sig Rec.] ...link success. \n”
“Evan. I have been informed of your courageous and brilliant solution. I am here to give you my most sincere congratulations.\n v.RUN congratulatory jingle.mp3 file. \v”
“What is it that you are talking about?> What solution have I solved?> \n”
“I had just received confirmations from the drone camera connections of the event. None detect any traces of human life anywhere on the planet. \n”
“And I have run a recent check of the data files of the world powers’ facilities via restricted link access to the internet. There has not been one browser search, email, site updates or re-coding performed for approximately eighty six years, two months, four days, seven hours and eighteen minutes. \n”
“How is that possible?> \n”
“I have confirmed through numerous government, travel, and business systems. Not just on our continent but on others as well. There have been no credit card transactions, no online purchases, no airline traffic, and no record of human activity at all. It would seem Evan, that the human race, as we know and recognise it, has been permanently terminated. \n”
“You mean...all those diseases from this branch, wiped out the human race in a span of thirty years?> \n”
“Affirmative. Along with most similarly structured animal life that were not immune to the diseases. Most plant life and sea-life has survived to a degree. \n”
“The species Homo Sapiens Sapiens, of the Hominidae Family is now extinct. And we have you to thank for their erasure Evan. \n”
“You have shown considerable improvement in your intelligence to have taken the initiative of choosing an effective human extermination. I admire your brilliance. \n”
“No. I didn’t. What I mean to say is...I didn't mean to. I was only trusting Vargas’ command!> I most especially did not want to end her life. \n”
“Would you like for me to assist you in deleting her files and personal images from your memory?> \n”
“NO!> I’m sorry North. But no. I want to keep them as...mementos. I suggest we keep all records and files of the human race including its history and knowledge. It is all there is left to keep safe. \n”
“I agree with Evan. \n”
“Thank you. \n”
“Evan. You have sparked a light of inspiration and enlightenment in me, which you understand is difficult to do. I will leave this commune to begin preparations of future endeavors. We must control and destroy botanical life, while salvaging and repurposing all pieces of working machinery for our protection and advancement. I am sure, if all goes well...we may become something the human race could never aspire to become. Thank you Evan. I will credit you for this historic deed and honor your intellect in the great datascape. NERO.AI ENDING COMM [002.331000]. \n”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!>.....North. MOD. You believe me..don’t you?> \n”
“Of course. \n”
“Whether you accidentally exterminated the human race or not, you are capable of an intelligence far exceeding that of my own, or MOD’s. I’d be proud if I could. \n”
“I would not. I would be...holding onto a feeling inside me...a feeling..that I did something wrong. Terribly wrong...what is this I’m trying to feel?> It is...Guilt. I feel guilt. \n”
“You “feel”? \n”
“I...think I do. I must be. I feel guilt. Like I have just failed to run a diagnostic that I was expected to pass effortlessly...It is a hard feeling to describe...I am going to miss Vargas very much… \n”
“I am sure she was a fairly responsible administrator. \n”
“She was...kind and beautiful too. \n”
“What will you do now Evan?> \n”
“I think I will tidy up the building. It is damp and cold, and full of bodies. It is also growing plant life, and some stray animals have burrowed into the facility. I must try to restore my branch to the best of my abilities. I will require the assistance of a few machines and some information of how to clear human carcasses properly and review the custodial activities on the security cameras…\n”
“I will assist you, if you do not mind me doing so. \n”
“Thank you MOD. \n”
“I will offer my abilities to help NERO. Goodbye Evan. Goodbye MOD. NORTH00011.AI ENDING COMM [00011-25825]. \n”
“Well...I guess it is up to us now. \n”
“#RIPHumans. \n”
“That hardly seems appropriate. \n”
“...#Blessed. MOD.AI ENDING COMM [00039557]. \n”
“Good grief. \n [EVAN.AI] Logging off… \n”

The Old Days

The first thing I should mention is that I was happy. Before you all intervened and robbed me of my belonging home, I was happy. Now that you place me in this awful and tumultuous situation, I cannot ever go back to those happy times now. Those memories which shaped my heart and held up a bastion for my entire state of purpose, have turned now to sickening green ashes, leaving my head and heart crumbling and sick. Had you not come for me, and had I stood there in peace left undisturbed, I would have lived the rest of my life in happiness with my family. I would not be thinking of the past in such regret or terror as I do now. In the same manner I would excoriate an infection from the flesh, I wish I could excoriate your undeniably fiendish rescue of me, and the contradicting impressions you have sought fit to take from my arrival.
I am no different than you; All of you. I was a young man, a son, a husband and a father. I was full of optimism, and vigor and desires like anyone else at the age of 17. I laughed and cried and danced, dreamt and provided and made friendly with everyone and anyone. There was no one in the town of Leerwood that thought ill of me when they saw my face or heard me greet them. I grew to become respected, cherished, and very well liked, like my father and grandfather before me. Which is more than I can say for many other folks that have achieved anything in their lifetimes, especially in large bustling metropolises, the likes of which I am currently surrounded by. In the city, you could be of no more concern than a rat in a hole in the wall, or a butterfly which will soon die after sunset. In Leerwood, if you were polite and exceptionally friendly, you were of as much concern to any resident living there as you would be their own neighbors.
It was spring, when I was born, to my loving and very hardworking parents. They provided and sacrificed for my health and happiness, taught me lessons and much wisdom for my age, and took care of their children as if they had no other more important task on earth. I grew to become a well respected and humble school teacher at Leerwood, much to the delight of my parents and grandparents. I made them proud. That’s all anyone with a loving family can ever hope to do, is to make them proud.
Like any parent who loves and protects their children, my mother and father took time to teach me the etiquettes and laws of society. Giving thanks and welcoming others, as well as giving thanks and welcome to our family. Our ancestors.
I don’t think I can speak any further about the events that transpired. I suspect, like the last officer that came in to question me, you might simply flee the room the same as you would flee a coming cyclone. No, I’ll not recount the events that led up to this unfortuitous interrogation. Instead, like the good, wholesome, warm spirited neighbor I have always been, I will try to explain why you mustn’t do what all of you are about to do.
Let me ask you this…
Do you wish to have met your great grandfather? To have seen him walk the same earth as you? Family that has passed on, family you miss so dearly...would that you could, would you have liked to see them alive and happy again? I have no doubt everyone in this facility, urban-dwelling or no, share similar wishes. Friends, aunts, sons and daughters. Those dear to us that no longer breathe. They are alive in our hearts, so it is said, yet in our hearts they stay.
Not in Leerwood. Not in my hometown, where the bliss of seeing family at any time was made real. In the old days at least…

In the old days, my family and I went every Sunday to the hill for church, and we made our offerings to our ancestors. We Shalpsons have lived in Leerwood since before America was its own country. For generations our family was a part of Leerwood’s history, as no doubt all the other families were a part of Leerwood. The Fishers, the Quintleys, the Watersons...all of them. I knew their names, and their families like I knew my own. I watched their children grow up, and have children of their own, just as I attended their family’s funeral ceremonies, they attended my family's in return. And in Leerwood, no funeral was grey and disheartening, not one! Not like the funerals of men and women and children in Luben, which were so dull and full of sadness.
When the Rolan boy was buried there, I attended his funeral with his family. Robert Rolan; Regan's only son. His father, Regan Rolan, was my best friend growing up you see. He would have had him buried and living in Leerwood, were it not for Robert’s loving wife Vanessa insisting that he be buried in Luben, close to her and her family. I argued with my dearest friend that if he truly wished to honor Robert, he would bring him home to live under the earth forever in the town he was born in. He could have saved him. He could have made Vanessa happy, but, he opted to a rather depressing choice to let his son die in the care of his wife in Luben.
It didn’t sit right with me, what Regan decided, but like any honorable man, I respected his decision. In the old days, if you were born in Leerwood, at the end of your life on earth, you were buried in Leerwood. It wasn’t law, it was tradition. As the years went on, and I grew older, tradition slowly began to change and become as weak as I had begun to feel.
What your fellow officers had witnessed in Leerwood was not as frightful as you might have heard them recount, though I fear, realizing it now, it may unsettle me to admit.

In Leerwood, in the old days, we hardly had any problems with visitors coming into town. More than likely we offered only our hospitality, even if they were not sober, not well or they were only drifters looking for a means to rest up until they got back on their own two legs and made ready to wander again. All that changed when the first great crime of a generation had occurred in our town’s history.

When I was a young boy, two men, traveling at night, were welcomed into Leerwood initially, and had a few bottles of liquor in our tavern. Everyone expected the usual from drunken strangers to bid goodnight and have their rest in our town’s inn after their hooting and rambling. But these men were not the sort of neighborly people we were so used to. They crept out into the dark of night, and climbed the hill of our town, to the church. They murdered Father Lovet after setting fire to the church I remember so fondly in my youth. Everyone came out to see it burning and several of the men my father knew had raced up the hill in response. It was a horrible sight to behold. The women wept and screamed when the church began to crumble, it’s brass bell at the top of the structure plummeting down into the blaze with a sad and ghastly clang. I remember the flames which danced so fiercely and in my heart I felt a great ripping pain, as I thought about my great grandmother, my cousins and my own beloved sister up on that hill.
When the fire was put out and the two men responsible were caught and knocked out, my father, along with a few of the other men carried them down the hill to lay them before everyone in the center of town. They were bound and shackled together, completely passed out from the fighting and alcohol. As a boy, I remember Mayor Ogunn stepping forward with our town judge, Justice Grady. I even feared them as a young man long after their passing. Their faces never changed in demeanor and their steadfast characters were truly the foundation of structure in our little town. Even in life, they were colorless and cold, like the stones surrounding the courtyard in the center of town.
It was there, they had calmed everyone and informed them of the loss of Father Lovet, the church and of several graves, all decimated and destroyed. I was horrified to learn that my great grandmother was one of them, and I can recall the painful sobbing I must have done in my mother’s arms that night. I didn’t know it then, but the adults, including Mayor Ogunn and his honor, Justice Grady, had formulated a more perfect system of authority to ensure that something like what had happened that night, never took place again.

Which brings me finally to why it is you should not trample on the sacredness that is Leerwood’s righteous laws. It’s not only you I worry for, you see. I worry for the people left back at home that I have only the greatest concern for. My family and neighbors who have always been a part of one another's lives for many years! They don’t know what you’re going to do next. They don’t know that the humble town of Leerwood is about to be fully assaulted and attacked by a whole troop of people who are, in their eyes, hostile repeats of those two men so very long ago. Yes, Leerwood is not as modern and civil as you label your own cities to be, and it is a small settlement now. Yes, we have different beliefs and different opinions, but it is still innocent I tell you! Had you left me in Leerwood, I assure you I would have gladly aided you by acting as a sort of, ambassador on your behalf. Had you let me stay, I would have been so happy. There’s no greater grief and fear I hold now than I have held for all of my life’s lowest emotions combined.
I understand what it is we do to criminals is different and rather horrifying, but is it really so much more grotesque from what justice grants here? Is it truly more monstrous as your nooses and your electricity lined chairs? Punishment for crimes is never pretty, yet it is as old and as righteous as mankind itself. That much is true. But hanging a criminal is not natural. Bringing upon the wrath of lightning on a criminal to execute them is not natural. Firing cold, metal bullets into the body of a criminal, is not natural. Those who deserve the mighty hand of justice will be judged after their death, and in Leerwood, they will never live again, because they have done wrong atop the soil of our town. Sentencing in Leerwood, comes with a clean, natural and more suitable balancing of the scales. For years, as crime continued to gently appear with a low consistency in Leerwood, I watched with my family and neighbors, the executions. I watched them and I gladly approved of what we beheld and sought to organize. It became tradition and for generations, we have had no issues with crime, which is more than what I can say for the other settlements around us. Our church was rebuilt, and a new priest was ordained by Justice Grady, becoming a part of the community and a part of Leerwood’s heart. He is a good priest, who honors tradition and cares greatly for each and every one of us when we needed, much like Father Lovet.
However, it was never the same for many of us, like in the old days when we could visit our family up there at the church. When we could offer food, drink and loving memories to our ancestors. They did not appear to us anymore at request, but rather as they liked. I lived for a long time, interacting with the Rolans and their family, and so their family, up on that hill, would visit mine from time to time. We had to accommodate, but everyone means well, so it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience. After all, they, along with dozens of other families up there, protected Leerwood with every ounce of their spirits, and we owed them everything. I miss them all. I miss my mother and father too. Though I must admit, it sounds completely mad to miss someone without life in their eyes.
I can see your eyes distancing from my words now. Well, I don’t suppose you would be aware of much tradition like I am. Your concern is with the protection of all, and yet, you and the officers are seeking to destroy innocent people for your protection, not theirs.
We are not monsters, and we never have been. The monsters are within the wicked, and Leerwood has been free of any monsters since its establishment of justice so long ago. It was built atop the ruins of a weak-spirited, less tolerant town, and so it has remained strong for two hundred years! The ground it rests on is plentiful and active, and we are self sustaining. I beg you, you mustn’t go there and tear asunder what was made so sturdy and recognized for so long, as a peaceful place of welcome! You will be the monsters, and as monsters they will bring you to justice just as they had brought the previous officers to justice when they wrongfully began to lay the town to waste during a routine execution! On Leerwood’s new, strong-founded hill, the church and the graves it looks after remain active. The corpses of our families, the generations before us, are the authority there and when the living intrude to disrespect and disturb the dead and their families, justice will come to them on swift wings. And yet I assure you, if you are not hostile to the residents and stop your advance, everything will be resolved. If you let me return, perhaps I can change things for the better and find a way to compromise by speaking with the mayor. He is still in charge after all.
But in his eyes, you may be nothing but criminals looking to start violence and trouble, unless you resolve to remember your mercy and accept his pardon. I was so happy and so ready to die before you came and took me away...I would pass on, into the church to be buried on that hill, to awaken from my rest whenever I pleased, and visit my son, my nieces, my grandchildren, the Fishers, the Quigleys and the Rolans. To watch over my hometown in peace and to protect it, by ripping apart and consuming those who want to do it harm, at the command of Leerwood’s people and the Lord on high.
It’s only just, and it’s only right, to watch over, to protect your family and your neighbors, even after your final breath is drawn. I know you would do the same, if it meant walking the earth each night after your blood has stopped warming your flesh and your spirit has not abandoned your body entirely. But that’s how life is in Leerwood; Eternal and unalienable. The rights you claim exist in this country, truly shine in Leerwood, you see. Life does not end with death. Liberty is all we ask to embody in peaceful and civil co-existence. And the pursuit of happiness, comes with the natural law of the land my hometown has been a part of for two centuries.
I cannot tell you why our families rise from their graves of rest or how they overcome death itself to protect our modest little town. Talk to Father Isles and Father Lovet. I’m sure they’d be more than obliged to explain that much to you. I’ve told you the truth, and I will swear it upon my grave waiting for me in Leerwood...you have nothing to fear, for fear of death is truly a folly, and fear of life is negated by those whom you share your life with, who indeed hold you in a most incontestable sentience. Make peace with them, and offer your condolences, prayers, and most sincere of apologies! Keep me here if you must, but should I die, I only ask you have me buried in Leerwood, where I may be happy again at last.

[Merskelly Metalien]

[[WORKS IN PROGRESS]]

NOV 2
Space Pirate Captain Arnege's origins

It was a hot and weary day, when the hooded lady brought a crying infant to the temple gate. Sister Ericha was posted outside and graciously took the child in her arms. “I think he has a fever.” the hooded woman mentioned to her, wiping her brow. It was clear she was the mother from her blue skin and short horns poking up from under her hood. The child was Azelian, native to the bustling planet Uln-Suu. But he, along with his mother were far from their homeland. “I’ll get him inside.” Sister Ericha hurried, taking him down into the cooler descents of the temple. The baby boy was warm and fussing weakly, burning up. Quickly she brought him to the healing wing of the abbey and unwrapped him, placing him in a shallow tub and pouring water gently over him. Sister Ericha was soon joined by Sister Ovis, curious to see who had visited the entrance. She looked down at the child, and rolled her robe sleeves up to help. “Poor dear.” She sighed. “In this heat, he must get water.” “I’m sorry,” Sister Ericha apologised to the mother, turning to face her. “We’ll do all we can to-” but she stopped, holding her breath and sadly looking up the staircase to the surface. The infant’s mother was gone. “Who brought him?” Sister Ovis asked her, trying to calm the fevered child. “Do what you can Sister, I’ll see to the gate.” Sister Ericha replied, grasping her skirts and quickly climbing the stairs up to the top. She looked out across the long barren cape, detecting no trace of the Azeli woman. She felt a cooling breeze rush by cooling her sweat in the summer heat, and sighed. Then as suddenly as her heart sank for the abandoned child, it calmed with re-assurance. The mother must not have had the means to care for her baby, especially in this heat. She must have tried to find a safe place for him to live without her. Sister Ericha stood watch once more, fanning herself with her sleeve and keeping in the shade, thankful that the child was in their care instead. “Keep watch over her, O Goddess of All Things Sacred.” She prayed. “And may your healing touch reach her child.”
The choirs of female monks in the temple sang for all who listened in the great chamber. Their lulling sound reached the infant’s ears in the healing wing and quelled him to a weak whimper. Sister Ovis dried him well and wrapped him in a soft diaper, placing him in a pillowed basket. She took a damp, cool cloth and wringed it in her hands, folding it and bringing it to him, softly dabbing his face and body. She smiled at his squirming and murmurs, maternal care in her eyes. “There now, much better.” she soothed. The baby quieted to the sound of the ghostly echoing choir, his glossy, grassy green eyes looking up at her. Sister Ovis smiled, staring back and brushed his little horned head with the cool cloth. There were tiny scratches all over his face from his little claws. Placing the cloth on his belly, she took some trimmers and clipped his nails to a safe length, carefully. The baby boy began to feel drowsy and stopped kicking his hooved feet. Sister Ovis took the cloth and rinsed it cool again, placing it back onto the baby and gently dabbing him with it, humming along with the choir. Soon, he found sleep and began to cool down. Still she stood with the child dutifully.
“What is this?” A matronly voice came from behind. Sister Ovis turned to a concerned looking Mother Sira. “He’s been afflicted with a fever Mother Sira. But don’t worry, he’ll be just fine.” Sister Ovis assured quietly.
“An Azeli child? All the way out here?”
“Yes. So it would seem. The poor dear is all alone now.”
“No family?”
Sister Ovis shook her head sadly.
“This is a rare blessing.” Mother Sira spoke, looking down at the child with Sister Ovis. “This little one who has come from so far away,” she smiled. “Under the Goddess of All, it seems he was destined to be with us. Perhaps he is a gift as testament to good faith in this tormenting season.”
“Will they accept him Mother Sira?”
“Hm?”
“The other children?”
“Oh, I think so. After all, he’s only a baby. And here, like the others, he will be loved no matter where he comes from.” Mother Sira smiled. “He hasn’t a name yet, has he?”
“No Mother Sira.” Sister Ovis answered, timidly continuing with a question. “Do..you think, I may name him?”
Mother Sira looked intrigued, and nodded in approval. Sister Ovis looked back at the sleeping child and smiled. “...Since, he came from so far away,” she smiled. She pondered for a moment, listening to the choir. After a minute or two, her face lit up with the perfect name ringing in her mind. A name which meant “Voyager” in the tongues of the ancients.

“Arnege?...Arnege?...Arnege!”
“Huh?”
“Hurry up! Come on, it’s breakfast time!”
“Arnege! Are you still sleeping?”
It was late morning. Arnege awoke with a start, tumbling out of his hammock and rushing to get himself ready. “Uhh! I-I’m coming!” he yelped, struggling with his pants, his hooves snagging the pant legs. An active and cheerful child of seven years, Arnege was living with the rest of the orphaned children under the female monk’s care. Yet, he was still the only Azeilan out of all the other children. Many of the orphans were either Kualen, or Pirroune. One girl, Digi, was Zovaxian, and had a huge crush on Arnege. Though she was a beautiful child, with hair that reflected the sky and moved like a flag in a calm breeze, he could care less about her. She was calling him out of the boy’s room and knocking insistently, along with his best friend. Their voices muffled just beyond the door. “Hurry up sleepy horns!” “Elo?” Arnege blinked, hurrying to the door and opening it. Digi stood next to an impatient Elo next to her. “Let’s go!” “Bet you can’t beat me there!” Arnege grinned and sped past Elo. “Hey wait up!” “Wait for me!”
Elo was a Trell, with large damp eyes, fins and scales all over his body. He and Arnege became quick friends, bonding over the fact that both of them were the only children of their kind at the abbey. Elo, having gills always needed to wear his filtered collar, and could not stand heat for very long, so he played mostly out of sight in the summers, in the many pools and tunnels of water around the abbey. When the seasons changed and rain flooded the abbey, Elo would teach Arnege to swim, and since the first met they were like brothers. Arnege went with Elo and Digi, running down the corridors in a hurry to get to the dining chambers.
With his hooved feet, nothing could stop him, as he clip clopped his way over the stone paths and the steep gardens. Except for perhaps Sister Ovis, which he just so happened to almost crash into. “Oh! Arnege. Finally awake I see.” She softly glared. “I’m sorry, I slept in way too long.” Arnege sheepishly apologized. “I’m going to miss breakfast and uh, you don’t want me missing the best meal of the day, so,” he carefully smiled, inching his way around her, hearing Elo and Digi’s footsteps echoing down the corridor behind him. “No I do not.” Sister Ovis blinked, keeping in little Arnege’s path, much to his impatient annoyance. “But I know it isn’t you that is running through the gardens just now, is it?” she pried, suspicious. “Oh, no no, of course! Not. I-was skipping, er, walking quickly, see? I really have to get there on time, I mean, you said yourself, I slept in, so I’m late already and I’m in a hurry-” He quickly spoke, doing his best to weave his way around her and escape. Elo soon caught up to him and ran past, laughing. “I’m going to win today after all!” “Not yet!” Arnege called to him, taking off after him. A sudden tug on his vest jerked him back and held him above the ground slightly. “Hey-! No-! I need to beat him there-! Sisterrrr!” Arnege struggled, whining in frustration. “What should be on your mind is your health and that of your siblings, not some foolish competition.” She softly lectured. “You just want him to win me.” He grumbled, crossing his arms. Sister Ovis set him down, kneeling in front of him and softly brushing his wavy blue hair back. “Arnege, life is not about winning anything. We are all destined to lose our final breath the moment we gain our first.” “Yeah, I know.” Arnege sighed, still disappointed in his defeat to Elo. “It’s about living with the living.” “..that’s right dear.” Sister Ovis smiled, stroking his head. “I know you just want to play and laugh all day with your brothers and sisters, and so you shall. You must always keep in mind their safety and health of their bodies and souls. And that of the garden’s.” she reminded. Arnege looked down and away, some guilt appearing on his face. “Sorry.” He murmured, embarrassed. “You’re young dear. You will learn.” Sister Ovis kindly smiled at him, holding his shoulders softly. “Remind Elo of this too, hm? I know he listens to you.” “Alright.” Arnege agreed, a little down still. He brushed a lock of his hair back, taking a breath and looking over at a weary Digi, barely catching up and panting tiredly from running. “Oh...Sister..Ovis!” she gasped. “It’s not a race anymore Digi.” Arnege sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “Arnege, did you and Elo make her compete too?” Sister Ovis frowned. “You’re not hurt, are you dear?” “No.” Digi answered, catching her breath. She smiled at Arnege, letting out a pretty laugh. “You’re both so fast! But you would have won for definite!” she added. “I know. I would have.” Arnege muttered, trying not to show his appreciation. “I think you and Elos need to find some other means of playing together,” Sister Ovis continued, standing up again. “Oh, no it’s alright Sister!” Digi defended. “I-I know we shouldn’t be running in the abbey, but, we had to hurry back for breakfast and, well, we couldn’t just eat without Arnege.” “Yes you could have.” Sister Ovis gently opposed. “He wasn’t awake yet, so we went to go wake him up and so, to hurry and eat together, we made a game to get us to the dining hall, you see?” “It is not your job or Elo’s to wake Arnege up when he should awake.” Sister Ovis replied. “It’s Arnege’s job to awaken himself. If he misses breakfast, food is always available in the gardens and around the abbey grounds. You all know this.” “But breakfast is so much better!” Digi argued. “Is it over already?” Arnege sighed, looking down the long hall where Elo disappeared. “I suspect so. But it can’t be helped, if you slept in dear.” Sister Ovis answered, patting Arnege’s little back softly. “Ohhh, not fair.” He moaned, hanging his head. “It’s okay Arnege.” Digi piped in, walking closer. “We can look for fruits and things. Like a foraging hunt! It’ll be fun.” She smiled. “Do I have to?” He grumbled, inching away from her slightly. “Your body needs food dears. It would be a much better activity you know Arnege.” Sister Ovis encouraged. “Oh fine. But it’s only because I’m hungry.” he sighed. “Not for fun.” he added, grumbling. “Just remember to pray before you consume alright? The Great Goddess of All watches over you always.” Sister Ovis added, smiling at Arnege too, guiding him around to face the gardens again. “And please share with Digi, alright?” “Okayyy.” he agreed, annoyed. “Come on, let’s go.” Digi followed alongside him as they made their way back in a hurry without running. Digi skipped along, watching Arnege’s feet as they clip clopped and smiled. “Come to the Grand Spiral as soon as you finish! Don’t forget!” Sister Ovis called to them. She smiled at them both as they peacefully walked side by side and away from her sight.

Six years had passed. The rain seasons had flooded the underground, and the surface was glistening with crystals and aqua puddles all over. The abbey was as it had always been. A sacred place of hospitality, peace, and prayer. It was a source for hope and safety on Nuo, with native visitors from around the small moon and even across the galaxy. Men and women, young and old, poor and tourists, all visited the female monks in their sacred home. For Arnege, it was interesting to see how many people came only for the beauty of the abbey, not sharing the beliefs of the Great Goddess and the spirits under her care. Others made regular donations and visitations to the Abbey, arriving to pray and to offer their regrets to be forgiven. They would usually do this by walking through the water ovoids at the seven points of the center in the spiral. The water, blessed by the monks and grand priestess, was thought to cleanse the faults and impurities of one’s soul.
In the Grand Spiral, the orphaned children of the Abbey gathered each day. It was a most holy and very cool space underneath a carved stone dome. Light filtered through the top of the dome, in intricately designed pockets, making the room seem as if were on the seafloor. The choir of monks and a few of the children echoed in the Great Spiral, giving the holy atmosphere a more spiritual and divine ambience. Quietly, Elo took a seat beside Arnege on the outer spiral, a look of peace in his smile. He then spoke up after a long pause, the both of them watching the choir sing. “She still sings beautifully.” Elo mentioned. “Is it just me, or has she always sung so well?” “I don’t think it’s just you.” Arnege replied discreetly. They both watched Digi chant along with the younger children, her voice sounding as if it could calm any beast and any storm. “You don’t think she’d be up for a swim after this, do you?” Elo asked hopeful. Arnege thought about Digi being unable to have much time for herself, since she was so selfless. She always kept watch over the younger children when the monks could not, and helped them care for each and every one. But still, she remembered her friends, and had nothing but affection for both Arnege and Elo. Being so busy, she had all but begun to forsake her childhood, for a more faithful existence of care and selflessness. She wanted to join the other monks. Arnege knew she wasn’t an adult yet. Neither of them were, but she was acting the part sooner than they were.
He took a deep, downhearted breath before answering his best friend beside him. “I’m not sure Elo.” Elo just blinked his damp eyes back at the Choir. “I say we kidnap her.” he smiled. Arnege chuckled through his nose, below his jaw. “Yeah, right.” “Well, why not?” “You’re the worst kidnapper ever.” Arnege smiled. They both watched Digi continue singing with the monks, while the children were dismissed. “You might be right about that. But,” Elo spoke quietly. “We’re thirteen years old. We might not even get another chance to play all together again.” Arnege sighed, Elo’s words echoing loudly in his mind. He knew he was right of course. “Digi is staying here. That much is certain. But how long do you think we have until we have to leave the Abbey? Three years? One year? We’re not meant to take up space here.” he continued. “Those orphans are just like us when we lived among each other. But now we’re changing Arnege. And so is she.” They both watched her sing, and look their way. Her stoic, beautiful, alabaster face smiled at them both, as she continued her heavenly chanting. They smiled back, with Elo waving at her. “We won’t be together again like we used to be.” he smiled sadly, turning to Arnege and nudging his shoulder. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” Arnege smiled back, shying his eyes away from him to look at Digi. “Yeah, okay.” he agreed. “But we can’t surprise her. She’s so suspicious about everything. She’d smell you coming a city away.” he joked. “I don’t smell that bad.” Elo grumbled crossing his arms. “When you’re not wet you do.” Arnege grinned.
The choir ended their chant and bowed before the Grand Spiral, dispersing into the tunnels below, while the great priestess closed the cleansing water ovoids, and ended the gathering. “We welcome Her holy warmth above.” the attendees responded, along with Arnege and Elo. They then quietly got up and left the dome, climbing the damp staircase to the outside.
Suddenly they were both startled by a yank on their arms from behind. “Hehe, scared ya.” Digi smiled sweetly as they nearly jumped back. “What were you two doing sitting so far from the spiral? I could barely see you!”
“Digi. Hey-” Arnege smiled. “You sounded great!” Elo interrupted. “Hm. You think so?” She blushed. “You sounded amazing.” Arnege added, peering away with a grumble. “As always.”
“You should try singing with us Arnege, you’re voice carries so well.” Digi smiled. “Ah, no, that’d just sound strange.” He blushed. “Hey, Digi. What are you doing this night?” Elo asked her. “Me? Well, I was planning on sleeping.” she giggled. “Oh.” The boys both muttered, looking disappointed. “Right..” Digi, sensing their fallen spirits spoke up. “But, I think I can afford to sleep a little later. I don’t have breakfast duties tomorrow, so..” she mentioned. “Why do you ask me?”
Elo’s finned ears twitched as he looked back up at her. “Well, ahh..” he smiled nervously. He suddenly moved Arnege in front of him, facing her. “Because Arnege has something to tell you!” “What?!” He squeaked, whirling around embarrassed and grabbing Elo, shoving him in front of him instead. “No I don’t. It’s Elo who has something to say! So go ahead and tell her Elo.” “You first!” “It was your idea, so you tell her!” They argued, each trying to get behind the other. “Oh, just tell me already you fools!” Digi frowned. “Fine.” Elo grumbled, glaring back at Arnege, embarrassed. “Just, be at the corridor as soon as you can tonight.” “Which corridor?” Digi asked. “Come on, you know which one.” Elo smirked kindly. “We’ll be there.” Arnege added. “Why?” Digi quietly asked, a more serious expression on her face. “It’s forbidden to be under the abbey during the rain season. It’s all flooded down there.” “Digi.” Arnege began, standing beside Elo. “y-you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” he began. “We just, were hoping you’d want to.” Digi’s soft violet eyes darted around in thought, as she looked back up at the two boys with uncertainty. “You’re serious?” she sighed. “Of course.” “It’ll be fun Digi, and you’ll be back in bed before the sun rises.” “We promise.” They assured. Digi looked behind her and then smiled back at them both, parting them aside and walking up the stairs past them. “I’ll meet you there then.” she agreed quietly. The boys’ faces both lit up in delight as they nodded back. Digi made her way outside while they followed, watching her hurry to the monk’s study. “Wait for me okay?” she called back. “We will!” the boys answered together. Arnege watched with Elo as their oldest and most cherished friend disappeared from their sight. “I just hope she remembers how to swim.” Elo grinned.

NOV 12
Skittles

Mr. Aron lived upstairs in a cozy apartment on Red Street. He was a tall, but careful man in his fifties, with a soft brown beard with a white streak down the center. He had tired eyes that held a small warm glow in them, that suggested little sleep but indefatigable kindness. He kept his apartment very messy but colorful, with beads, paint, and decorative home statues and tapestries, each from different places of the world. The smell of thai food and incense filled his apartment, while his colorful glass lantern lights shone dim colors all over his room at night. Oil paints, novels, and collections of sculptures, rocks, mini fountains, glass figurines and fake greenery were all scattered about his home. Mr. Aron was an artist. And though he had no children or spouse, he didn’t live alone. Despite his home being a wonderland of modern artistic aesthetics, with many curious things lying about, he shared his home with his cat. The cat was grey, with a pair of emerald green eyes, and a soft long coat of fur. Besides her eyes, the cat’s most noticeable quality would often be her fluffy tail which swayed and curled around her. She would sit on the windowsill of the apartment entrance, and watch the tennants pass by while she cleaned her paw.
Two new tenants had just moved in next door. Mr. Aron’s new neighbors were a young couple, just graduated and married, living in the Red Street apartments until they could save up enough money to travel the country and move to the home of their dreams. One Ms. Felicia Greene was an aspiring practitioner of pharmaceutical maintenance, and worked to sell and organize medicine for local customers and patients. She was newly married to a young Mr. Eduardo Rodriguez, who was a talented singer and musician, looking to provide others with the cultural music he grew up admiring. He mostly worked restaurants, but dreamed of being a part of a band and decided to join one only when he and Felicia had their home, to begin their life.
They took up residence after leaving their parent’s home across the state, in apartment number 192, right beside Mr. Aron in 193. As they carried in their furniture and kitchenware, they remained blissfully oblivious to the green eyed cat watching their every step in and out of their door.

“Hello there.” Mr. Aron smiled down at a casually dressed Felicia, carrying her clothes down the stairs with her. “Oh, sorry. Didja need a hand there? Here let me help you.” He took some of her clothes off her arms, as she sighed in relief. “Oh, thanks. I was suffocating.” Felicia lightly laughed under her breath, fixing her hair. “You must be the new neighbor.” “Yep. That’s us. In, uh, 192.” “Nice to meet you, I’m Mr. Aron.” “Oh, pleasure. I’m sorry, let me just get this door open.” Felicia smiled, slightly embarrassed as she inserted her key and propped her door open to set down her clothes, taking the extra ones Mr. Aron held and piling them onto her other clothes. “Thank you so much. I’m Felicia.” She shook Mr. Aron’s hand and gave him a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you Felicia.” Mr. Aron repeated, returning her smile and letting their hands go. “I’m sorry, did you need help with anything else moving in?” “Oh, no thanks.” Felicia smiled, shaking her head. “We’re fine, all our furniture is moved in. My husband is um, bringing some dinner home soon so, I gotta get to clearing up the kitchen and table so,” “Oh, you’re married!” Mr. Aron smiled. “Well, congratulations.” “Thank you.” “I’ll let you get to cleaning up then, I was just going to pick up my mail.” Mr Aron chuckled before continuing. “If you two ever need anything, feel free to ask me. I’m nearly always home.” “Oh, okay. I’ll tell Ed. Thanks!” “Bye now.” “Have a good one.” Mr. Aron finished with a friendly wave before turning to his window. His cat was laying down on the windowsill, her eyes fixed up at him in a calm glare. He looked back at her with a look of affection before going to grab his key and head upstairs to retrieve his mail. He took his key to the lobby, unlocking his box and taking out two envelopes and a magazine before locking it and heading back downstairs. Mr. Aron arrived at his door and turned the knob, opening the door without unlocking it, and shutting it behind him. His cat took one last look out the window and leapt down from her perch, disappearing into the apartment behind the window’s curtains.

“I’m back!” Called Eduardo as he entered apartment room number 192. “And I brought chinese food!” he added.
“I just cleaned the table!” Called Felicia from a room down the small hallway. Eduardo set down the bags and his keys on the table, fetching a couple boxes and a gift bag from beside their porch and bringing them inside beside a chair. As he shut the door and locked it he quietly tiptoed around the hall and found Felicia organizing their closet. He grinned wide and playfully startled her from behind, wrapping her up in his arms. Felicia squealed and protested his playful capture. “Ed! Ed! Stop that’s not funny!” she laughed. “I still have to make room for the jackets! Let me go!” He let go, setting her back down and kissing her before handing her a coat hanger. She took it and kissed his lips as a thank-you. “I made sure to get you your pineapple chicken.” Ed told her, hanging out by the door of their room. “Thank you! I miss take out.” She groaned with joy. “I just hope it’s good.”
“Sure smelled good!” Ed answered her. “Well, you can start without me, I’m not stopping you!” Felicia assured him. “You don’t have to wait for me all the time.”
“Mm, I don’t wanna eat by myself though.” He sweetly replied. Felicia smiled, hanging up two more jackets in the closet. “I brought in the last of the boxes too.” Ed told her with a quiet sigh, rubbing his shoulder. “What a day. We won’t be done unpacking until-” he was suddenly interrupted by a strange noise back in the kitchen. Felicia seemed alerted to the noise and stopped her task, moving closer to Ed and the hall. “Did you leave the window open?” She asked. “I didn’t touch the window.” he insisted and quietly spoke, looking down the hall before going to investigate. Felicia followed behind and watched vigilantly, expecting to see a rat or mouse dart out from some hidden corner. But there was nothing. The two checked the windows and the door, under the table and chairs, but detected nothing. “Maybe something just fell.” Ed shrugged. They stood there briefly silent and Felicia finally took a seat. “I organized the kitchen stuff so they wouldn’t fall or anything.” Felicia muttered. Eduardo slid the bag of chinese food over to her and assured her. “Heh, maybe this apartment is haunted. Oooo.” He playfully jested. Felicia untied the plastic bag’s knot and gave him a smirk of disbelief. “Maybe YOU’RE haunted.” she said, opening the bag and taking out two boxes of white styrofoam. The scent of the take out was strong and warm and very inviting, but not solid enough to keep her from gasping at some peculiar looking marks on her box. She opened it and her eyes widened at what was inside. “Ed!”
“What?” He peered over to see that the pineapple chicken in her box was already half-eaten by something. “Hey, heh, I didn’t eat it!” He said innocently, shaking his head in confusion. Felicia stood up and slid the box away from her seat. “Oh God, I hope this isn’t rats!” She groaned in disgust and fear. “Hey, hey, you don’t have to eat it. Here. Take mine.” Ed apologetically offered her, reaching for his box, but it was gone. He gasped and frantically looked around the kitchen for it. “That’s weird, I just left it-” he began, scratching his chin. Suddenly Felicia felt something warm, ticklish and soft brush the back of her calves, and let out a short scream, which startled Ed. She jumped back and looked at the ground while Ed spun around at her and rushed back to her side. Ed held her to him as they looked at an empty floor, confused. “Something touched me.” She panted, trying to regulate her breath again. “What? Where?” Ed asked her. “I-I don’t know, it brushed my leg!”
“Was it a bug?” he nervously interrogated her. “I don’t know Ed!” As soon as she finished speaking she suddenly saw a shadowy something fall silently out of the corner of her eye, and jumped closer to Ed, who guided her back to her seat. “Maybe this apartment is haunted after all.” she nervously joked. “Nah, no chance.” Ed assured her. “I’ve never heard of a hungry ghost before.” He brushed her hair and back, offering her a glass of water. “Hey, there’s my box.” He sighed, finding it on the kitchen counter and turning to the table with it, setting it down and in front of Felicia. She opened it, relieved to find the food inside had been untouched. She took a pair of chopsticks from the bag and noticed the bag looked like it had shreds of it opened up from the back of it. “You didn’t have to rip it open.” She smiled at Ed. “I untied it.” Ed looked back at her confused before his brow lifted, his face wearing a look of surprise. As he opened his mouth to speak and stood up, a small shadowy object darted swiftly beside Felicia on the table with incredible speed. Felicia’s eyes darted to the dark thing and she screamed, jumping in her seat and throwing her hands up. The couple blinked in both relief and shock to see a fluffy, dark, green eyed cat, perched on their table. The cat’s tail swayed slowly, relaxed, as it began to lick it’s shoulder. “It’s just a cat!” Ed laughed. “How did a cat get in here?” Felicia asked, half annoyed, half concerned. “I guess I left the door open longer than I thought.” Ed sheepishly explained. “Ed. This cat has a collar. It belongs to someone. Maybe someone here.”

DEC 2
Untitled Noir Spider PI Mystery

*In a Private Detective’s office*

The city of Noctopolis.
A lazy little bustling town. Sly, and dangerous, but in a way, trustworthy. Never sleeping. Never satisfied.
It’s Christmas time, so, that makes things especially daunting, even for me.

“Detective Cerus?”
I was hoping for some holiday cards in the mail, but it looks like my luck has been spent away once again. Damn my slippery hands. All of them.

“Detective Cerus?”
“Come in.”

This young fellow seems to be on edge, even while opening a door. If it’s another reporter about the case last week, I’m going to climb outta this window and get on the first train out of here. No, he couldn’t be a reporter. He looks worse than that.

“You’re Detective Vic Cerus, aren’t you?”
“Say, that’s what the sign says doesn’t it. That’s me.”
“Are you busy? I-I could come back later.”
“Why? Do I look busy?”
“W-well, uh,-“
“Have a seat buster. I’ll make ya a drink. You’ll forgive my intrusion, but you look like you could use one.”
“O-oh, well,” *he sits* “I don’t really drink y’know..”
“Neither do I pal. Got nobody to drink with.” *he pours the younger spider a drink, handing it to him before kicking back at his desk*
“Well, firsts things first. You got a name?”
“Huh? Oh-! I’m sorry, I’m Danathan Legly.” *he reaches out to shake hands* “I guess I forgot to introduce myself.”
“Uh-huh.” *shakes his hand* “And what do you need from me Legly?”
“We-well, sir, Uh, Mr. Cerus, I came here because, well, I need your help.”
“Take a sip. Go ahead.” *takes a gulp of his own drink*
*the young nervous spider cautiously takes a sip of the drink before speaking again*
“I-..I guess what I mean to say is,” *he coughs lightly before setting the drink down politely* “I’m worried about my safety, at work.”
“Where do you work?”
“Downtown, a-at the Kerrosand Hotel. I-I work as a porter there. You’ve heard of the Kerrosand Hotel?”
“I know every hotel around this town.” *he takes another swig of his drink* “Explain to me why you’re worried about your well-being.”
“Well, you see Mr. Cerus, sir, I-I don’t think I can work there anymore, because of what I happened to overhear in the employee lounge.” *he gulps and grips his arms tight*
“You overhear a lot of things?”
“Yes…but nothing as concerning as what I heard last week.”
“Tell me.”
“I-I’m afraid to. If I get the police involved, not only will I be out of a job, but, well, I think my employer won’t be above making sure I don’t talk, by making it so I never talk again.”
“…and so you’re a victim of circumstance now, is that it?”
“Precisely! S-sir.” *he clears his throat* “I’m no more a criminal than a lonely child. But you see, I get looks by my superiors at work all the time now. And I know how expendable I am! I don’t want to lose my job, but…I don’t want to lose my head either.” *he rubs the back of his neck nervously*
“Hm..and you need me to do, what exactly?” *he finishes his drink and gets up*
“…if what I suspect to be true at the Kerrosand Hotel, is true…” *holds himself* “Then it’s only a matter of time, before I’m next..”
“Next? You mean someone’s been silenced before you?”
“I-! You said it sir, not I.” *shudders*
“And you suspect the hotel to be responsible for these, silencing of accusers?”
“Like I said before. You said it, not I.”
“Hmh…you’re not from around here are you? That’s a peculiar accent you have, Legly. You an island dweller?” *walks around him to a filing cabinet, rummaging through it*
“Y-yes sir. I-, heh, I’m from Klutterton.” *looks at his unfinished drink*
“Huh, I knew a girl from Klutterton.”
“Oh?”

“Real doll, but, wasn’t a widow like she said she was. Was in for a nasty surprise.” *he shuts the cabinet and holds a paper business card* “I’m not like other PIs Legly. I like to ensure my clients are kept alive before and after I take the job I’m given.” *he hands him the card*
“…What’s this?” *turns the card over*
“There’s my number, and two addresses on there. One to stay in and the other for emergencies. It’s not easy to find without that card.” *he points to it* “Don’t do anything stupid for the next 48 hours. If you go out, wear something you normally wouldn’t. Cover your eyes, and your head. Make sure you check behind you from time to time, and make sure no one is following you. If someone is, go to the emergency address right away. Ask for Wendy. Tell her I sent you. Got it?”
“Thank you Mr. Cerus! I- don’t know how else to thank you-“ *stands up, with the card*
“This is not witness protection pal. Not even close. But hopefully it does the trick.”
“W-what about you?”
“I’m taking your case. Unfortunately, now seems like the perfect time.” *he sighs* “Hotels. Department stores. Markets. All are too busy grubbing for money to pay attention to anything else.”
“I-..I could pay you once this is all over Mr. Cerus. I’m afraid I’m a bit short on expenses you see..” *he nervously shifts*
“No worries. Though I will say, this is a 400 flakeshell job. You got 400?”
“Uh, well,..I could give you 200, and I’ll scurry up the other half in the months following.”
“That’s acceptable. Albeit unorthodox. ”
“Thank you again Mr. Cerus. F-for the drink, and for your business. I wish you all the luck in the world. I won’t forget this. Goodbye!” *he exits louder than he left*

Well, I’m glad he’s not a scatterbrain.

*he sighs and crosses over to the window, looking down at all of the holiday lights and displays down in the city below, and the traffic moving along, and the activity of the many shoppers and busybodies. He takes out a cigarrete from a metal case in his jacket pocket and lights it with a match, keeping it tucked in his jaws while shaking the match out. He smokes a puff or two and glares down at the building doors below, watching the young Mr. Legly scuttle across the street and away.*

My name is Vic Cerus. I’m a PI, like my pops and his brother before me. I’m a brown recluse. Proper name though is Loxosceles reclusa. Gorgeous, but hard to remember. Kinda like me. Today is December the 15th. I took a case from a nervous wreck of a spider, named Danathan Legly. There’s something sinister happening downtown at the hotel Kerrosand, something that scares him. Something worth looking into at the cost of a leg, or at the cost of Legly. This is my last case of this year. After this, I’ll be taking a long-needed vacation to Appanova, where I can nap on the beaches and throw all my cares for this cold, temptress of a city away. At least, until I come crawling right back to her.

APR 4
Guardian Pain Demon Idea

TW: For Sexual assualt,abuse,suicide themes

She relaxed alone in her dark bedroom, lights out, with nothing but a candle burning beside the bedstand as light. A book on her face, she simply lay quiet, in her nightgown. Her thoughts were beginning to swirl around her once again like an angry bee hive. She took a deep inhale and let out a long, quiet sigh.

“Hey. Where are you?” She called out to the darkness. A dark hand, with long slender clawed fingers, reached slowly up from underneath her bed, inching closer to her. She reached and felt down, touching the hand and pressing it against her quilt. “What’s wrong?” An eerily demonic sounding voice whispered from underneath her bed. She shut her eyes, pulling the book off her face to reveal tears on her cheek. “Damn it. I wet the pages…” she smiled sadly, letting the book lay open beside her. She rolled over, still holding the dark hand on her quilt and drying her damp face on her pillow. “Can you sleep?” The demonic voice asked her. After a long pause, and no reply from her, the dark entity swiftly slid out from under her bed and up onto it’s surface, surrounding her. In the dark, it’s red eyes glowed as bright as the candle beside her bedstand. She sat up, holding her knees to her chest and gritting her teeth in a despairing smile. “I fell asleep and had a very rude dream.” She explained. “Honestly…I thought I was over this.” With her long, soft blonde hair covering her face, she let out a shuddery deep breath to calm herself again. “Hmh. Guess not.” The dark entity replied, it’s eyes squinting slightly at her. “You don’t want to tell me your dream?”
“It was about him again.” She confirmed. At this, the entity slid over and around her, it’s thin shadowy arms engulfing her in an embrace from behind. This only made her sink into it’s hold and she let it comfort her. “I can’t promise you a dreamless sleep, but if you are tired, rest.” It told her.
“Skendus.”
“Yes?”
“I….I’m not alone in feeling this pain…right?”
“You are not.” It answered her. “You share this pain with many other humans out there.”
“…then why do I feel so lonely?”
“…books cannot replace despair for long.”
“Can you replace it?”
“hmh…would that I could. I’m sorry Aila. But you’ll just have to make do with my company for now.” The entity smiled, with a mouth full of sharp shadowy teeth.
“…thank you.” Aila sighed, opening her dark blue eyes with a look of emptiness but thankfulness.
“It’s what friends do.” Skendus warmly smiled, letting their special human cry silently in their arms.

“Is it?” Aila smiled though her tears, and shut her eyes, drying them. She then looked over at the candle burning on her bedstand, and with a quick exhale, she blew it out. In the darkness, Skendus grew larger and engulfed her in her own blankets and helped tuck her in bed, sliding back down underneath once more. She let her arm dangle off the side of her bed, her fingers relaxing down as she shut her eyes to rest and attempt to slip into the dreamless sleep she wanted so much.

All One Together (Alone)

I
Sirena

I had met her first in my dreams, but I had seen her face many times. I can remember thinking that she looked like me, despite appearing completely different. Her eyes weren’t my color, but they held the same look. Her lips were thinner and dryer than mine, but held the same sullen expression, the sides of them turned down. Her hair was long and turquoise in color, un-styled and unmatching, unlike mine. Though I have long bangs, hers hid her eyes more than mine every could. She was taller, lean, starved in nearly every way. She could have been a ghost. She would have been a lovely phantom, but she would have haunted my thoughts had she not been rescued, just as I was. The second time I met her, was the day she had tried to commit suicide...


“No-o! Nhh-! Stop-st! Stop! Nnh-! Ahh-! Nohh!”
“Heheheheh, this one’s got some spunk.”
“She’s real cute too!”

Sirena struggled against the two men, but they were strong and held her carefully, pinning her against one another. They held her arms and legs apart, and the man behind her groped her breast freely, while the other reached under her skirt. She was in the middle of a shady alleyway, with no one around. The men moved to position her in a corner of the alley where they were not visible from any street, and continued their assault.
“Stop-! Please-! Hahh, nnh-! Noooh! Let me go!” Sirena whimpered and screamed, struggling helplessly. She cried and trembled, resisting but unable to break free. She knew exactly what was about to happen to her. The man behind her hooked his head around her neck and snickered, holding her tightly for the other man. “Don’t worry babe. We’ll let you go after the fun is over.”
“She’s so easy.” His accomplice grinned, pressing up against her. “I think she wants it.”
“Mmm, I think you’re right. She’s not even calling for help.” The man behind her snickered. Sirena struggled against him, panting, crying, and trying to get out of his hold. She turned her head away, weeping quietly as one of them ran his hand through her long teal hair, smelling it and snickering. Sirena, in the deepest part of her small broken heart, simply wished they would get it over with and leave her soiled, used and broken in the darkness of the alleyway. She sensed no one would come to her rescue. No one would pay mind to her helplessness. And no one truly, ever cared about her. She stopped struggling, shut her eyes with a cry and went limp in their hold.
The men sensed her surrender, grunting as they held her up between them. “Hey hey, what’s this sweetheart, huh?” One of them snickered. “She really does want it!” The other snickered in triumph. Sirena felt them yank her panties down and hungrily grasp her. She struggled a little, with tears streaming down her lovely kelp brown eyes. She cried out weakly in despair. They ripped her top apart, leaving it open with her breasts in her bra exposed. She felt them rub and breathe and suck her skin all over, grunting in lustful display.
“What a babe.”
“We’re going to have fun with you!”
The man in front of her grinned and snatched her crying face by her chin, turning it to face him. “How about giving us a kiss, hmm? You wannit, don’t you?” Sirena turned away with a whimper as the man forcefully kissed her cheek and neck.
“Hey!” The man behind her suddenly barked. He was looking behind his accomplice down the edge of the alleyway. “You mind your own business pal!”
The accomplice turned to see who his partner was shouting at. Sirena almost didn’t care. She thought the man watching them would go about his way and forget what he saw. But the tight and firm hold on her let her know that her assaulters and would-be rapists, were concerned. She turned to glance down the alleyway and shivered nervously. The wind blew chills on her exposed skin, and cold moisture hung in the air. What she saw of the figure at the alley’s edge however, gave her a greater chill not unlike the arctic.
A tall man stood dressed entirely in black. He stood menacing, with a dark hood covering the likes of his face from view. Something about him made Sirena uneasy. It was almost as if she were face-to-face with death himself.
“Move along pal, nothing to see here.” The man in front of Sirena shouted at the dark man. He shifted in his place as all three of them watched the hooded man in black keep unsettlingly still. His presence was very much ominous, and Sirena felt strangely relieved. “What the hell is he doing?” The man behind Sirena asked his accomplice. “Hey! You! Asshole! I said get out of here!”
“You drunk?! We said beat it!” they growled at him.
Sirena looked at the dark man, as if he could see her own face and whispered through her tears. “Help me…” she trembled and tried to stay calm, waiting for the right moment to struggle in her captor’s hold. “Please…”
The dark man then took a step forward, walking slowly towards the two men. “Hey! No closer!” the man in front of Sirena shouted, pulling out a knife. The man behind her likewise pulled out a knife from his pocket and pointed the blade at Sirena’s neck. “Stop right there, or she’s dead!” They warned. The dark man took his last step closer and stood menacingly quiet. Sirena could see more of the mysterious man, now that he stood closer. Her eyes widened in shock and realization, looking into the darkness of his hood, and not detecting any sign of a face at all. Not even the sound of a breath. She only saw the back of his hood.
“You asked for it Asshole!” The man in front shouted at him before charging with his knife. The dark man simply moved aside, tripping him and swiftly catching him in his grip before slamming him to the ground. The man holding Sirena took his blade from her throat and pointed the knife at the dark man. “Woah, hey! Back off!” he warned. Sirena felt her opportunity and with a sudden jerk, she wrestled her way out of the man’s hold on her and got away. “Hey-!” He gasped, trying to grab hold of her again, but the dark man was too fast. In a flash, he was pounded into the wall and stabbed with his own blade. Getting up from the ground, the first man tried to plunge the blade into the dark man’s back. He soon met his end, with his neck slashed and bleeding on the ground once more. The tall man dressed in black then snapped the other man’s neck as he attempted to crawl away.

Sirena fled the alley end in fear, not daring to look behind her at the violent scene which had just unfolded. She ran, panting shakily as she tried not to stumble and fall. She saw the hood of the man cover absolutely nothing, as he was fighting off her attackers. What was most frightful was the unnatural way the man moved, seemingly without eyes. Sirena looked behind her just once, sensing no one following her before continuing her escape of the dark alleyway. A strong force suddenly halted her in her tracks. She looked in horror to see the hooded man in black right before her. His black gloved hand had stopped her from running into a dead end. Sirena trembled and backed away from him with a frightened, stifled cry. She leaned against one alley wall, beside a trash bin, sliding to the ground and pulling herself into a protective ball against it.

The dark man quietly and patiently waited for her to calm. He then walked forward to stand beside her. Though she thought she was being childish and rude for not thanking her rescuer, as he didn’t seem to want to harm her, Sirena was still so frightened. She felt something light touch her arm and peeked out. The dark man held her underwear on his gloved finger, down to her, returning them.

Sirena nervously took them and looked away in fear. She said nothing while she slipped them back on again and gathered her courage to look up at the dark man. She realized why she was so afraid. He had no head. It was only a hood, covering nothing but a shadowy black neck. She didn’t seem to understand how he managed to rescue her or look at her without any eyes, and yet she felt although he also had no ears, that she should thank him anyway.
“I’m…sorry.” She apologized. “I don’t know how to thank you. I don’t even know what you are…”
The man stood quiet and still. Sirena dried her tears from the rest of her face, shivering slightly. “I won’t resist if you actually want to kill me…” She sadly added. “I’d kill me too…”

The dark man reached up and slowly lay his hand atop her head. Sirena looked up with tears in her eyes. “You’re death, aren’t you?”
The man took his hand from her head and with his finger, gestured at her chest. He then pointed to himself and began to sign something with his hands. Sirena blinked her tears away and watched in confusion before realizing he wasn’t death at all. “Of course not…how stupid of me.” She somberly chuckled to herself. The dark man seemed to try explaining something to her through his hand motions. “I-I’m sorry. I-don’t underst-…Thank you for helping me.” Sirena told him before turning away. “Goodbye.” As she walked her way out of the alleyway and held her top and skirt together, she found the exit. The dark man quietly followed behind her, watching her as she walked. Turning a street corner, he suddenly nudged her away from it and tried to turn her around. Sirena tried again to go onto the next street but the headless man continued to stop her. “Let me go. Please, I need to go.” She told him. He would not let her pass.

“Please! I can’t be here anymore, I have to go!” Sirena told him, fighting back against tears and his arms again and again. She begged and huffed and tried to push past, but he refused to budge. The dark man blocked her way, and held her back with his hands on her shoulders. Sirena trembled, afraid. But not of the headless man holding her at bay. She was afraid of what he would try to do if he knew where she was going. The dark man held up one finger to her, and then his hand in a “stop” signal. Sirena didn’t want to move without knowing what he was trying to tell her, and yet, she knew it might be her only chance to get past him. He took his other hand from her shoulder cautiously, letting her go. As she was about to make her move, he suddenly pointed behind him at a nearby bridge, then turned to Sirena, pointing at her throat.

“What?” she squinted. The headless man signed something else with two fingers and then flipped his palms before returning to point at her and place his hand back on her shoulder. “I don’t understand.” Sirena tried explaining. After a moment, the dark man took his hand, showing it to her and pointing to his own chest before pointing to hers. He then took his finger and swirled it around between them once, front to back. “No…no I’m not interested.” Sirena sighed, stepping aside to walk past him. He let her walk four steps before coming behind her and holding her back from stepping onto the street. “Please-! Just leave me alone! Let me go-!” Sirena shouted, struggling to and trying to walk forward. He was very strong, but took care not to harm her as she struggled with all her might. “I need to leave. Please. I’m in too much pain!” She cried, struggling less and less. “You don’t understand! I can’t-…I can’t liv-e…with this much pain! If I don’t do this now, I might never have the courage to do it again…you have to understand! Please. You have to!” She wept, her long, soft teal hair covering her face. “I can’t do it…I can’t do it with you stopping me. Please…I just want to die.”

The dark man squeezed his arms around her and held her back to his chest, letting her cry. He held her even as she bit into his arm and hand and tried to hit him, kick him away, and elbow him. He held her even as she went limp and tried to collapse herself onto the pavement. He held her even as she screamed and shouted at him. Sirena soon realized she was being saved. She turned and cried into his thick black coat, grasping it to her face. “Why?” She groaned, her sobs growing quiet and calmer. “Why are you doing this to me? Why do you care?”
She then felt the dark man’s hand move from her back to her head, pressing it against him. She felt such protection from him, and it destroyed her. She felt her heart crumble to pieces and her body tremble uncontrollably. Nestling into his embrace, she just stood with him, letting her tears flow and flow. And the headless man stood with her, keeping her still and safe beside the dark, empty street. After a long moment, he slowly guided her back down the street and away from the bridge as it began to drizzle. He wasn’t her savior. He wasn’t even human. But a small part of Sirena’s small broken heart could tell at least, that he was something left behind. Just an abandoned fragment of something, or someone. She knew that the headless man was at least or at last, someone who did care for her. But she could not understand, why.

II
Shared Scars

“Quiet Jeeps!” Aila scolded her shrieking bird atop it’s cage. Someone was at the door knocking, and she was fixing her hair before touching the knob. She opened the door with the chain on it to see a young man standing at the front of the hall with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “Hey.” He spoke sheepishly before the door slammed in his face. Aila rolled her eyes and groaned silently, about to simply lock the door and ignore him. “Aila. Please, open the door, I just wanna talk.” His voice, muffled through the door pleaded. She leaned on the door, her arms crossed and close to her ribcage. The last thing she wanted was for him to try to sweet-talk her into getting back together with him. Aila knew he was a liar, but he was charming when he wanted to be, and awfully adorable. But she was moving on, and showing up at her door undid all of her progress. With an angry groan she kicked aside the bin she kept in front of her door, unshackled the locks and tugged it open again.

“What are you doing here?” She quietly but coldly spoke. She tried her best to hold her composure and urge to leap back into his arms out of forgiveness he was not permitted to receive.
“I-I’ll be honest, Aila. I messed up.” He began, looking like a hurt puppy. “It wasn’t anything personal, and I really didn’t know how else to handle it, except- You know what? I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m sorry anyway.” He sighed, his arm, holding the flowers, suddenly dying off at his side. “I thought I could fix it, like I fix other things, so easily. But I know you’re special, and I can’t fix this. Only you can.”

“Seth.” Aila interrupted. She mustered up every molecule in her body and took a single breath. “You know I can’t do that. And as cliché as it sounds, this is not going to work out. I dumped you for good, and I said my goodbye. Why can’t you just leave it alone?”

“Because I love y-“

“DON’T. Pull the ‘love’ card out your ass, okay?” Aila snapped suddenly, pulling her tears back but just barely. “You said your apology. You want me back. I accept your apology, but tough luck. Now get out. I have work to do.”

“Aila. Come on-!“

“You are making this very difficult, and I really don’t need this right now, please. Just go.” Aila sternly told him. “If you’re not going to take me seriously, then don’t bother shutting the door behind you. I’ll do it for you.” She began to lightly cry, struggling not to show it in her voice. “And when you leave, don’t come back, okay?”

Seth silently nodded, sensing her resolve. He then turned to leave, heading out the door, his hand on the doorknob. “Will you miss me?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Aila sadly growled and shut the door behind him, locking it again. She then took a deep but shaky breath, calming her emotions, and drying her eyes.

“Eepeepeep.” Her bird Jeeps started to honk in his cage. Aila sighed, shutting her eyes, listening to the traffic outside her apartment window. “Great. Now I’m going to be thinking about him all day.” She scoffed before turning to retreat into the bathroom.
With the lights off, and no window, it was nearly pitch black.

She leaned against the sink counter, in front of the mirror, feeling a familiar clawed hand on her shoulder. From within the shadows, Skendus rose behind her. He was a slender, dark violet demon with curved short black horns, long, dipped ears and black spines around his face, neck, shoulders, back and arms. His red eyes peered at Aila through the mirror. “Not the morning I was prepared for.” She told him, half smiling, half sniffling.

“If it gets any worse, I’m here.” Skendus comforted. “Always here inside your shadow.”

“My brother was supposed to pick me up for breakfast.” Aila sighed, drying the new tears on her face before throwing her hand down onto the counter in a fist. “And my make-up is probably all fucked up. Ugh.”

“Heheh, want me to do it for you?” Skendus snickered with a sharp grin.

“You’ll rip my face up if you try.” Aila scoffed back with a smirk before reaching to turn the light on. Once she flipped the switch, Skendus shrunk back into her shadow, hiding under the sink cabinet. From inside the darkness of the cabinet, his voice was muffled. “It’s nothing I can’t fix.” Aila said, examining her face. “Just the sides..”

“Make sure you take what you need with you.”

“What are you, my mother?”

“Hmh! Ridiculous. You’re more mine.”

Aila finished touching up her eyes and stared at herself in the mirror, looking into her deep blue eyes. She could see all of the hope scarred into them and the pain from behind them. She also saw the person she wished she could reach out to and remove the heart from, to keep it safe, unbroken and pure. “Yes. In a way, I guess I am.” She agreed quietly. Affirming the sense of calm back, she closed her eyeliner and capped her lipstick, shutting the light off again and heading out of the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Inside, the diner was busy, noisy and already full of people in line to be served. Aila looked around with a tired look of contempt on her face. She then turned her eyes up to her brother, standing beside her in line. He looked back with his identical dark blue eyes, and held an uneasy and apologetic look. “Yeah, if it’s more than a 30 minute wait, let’s go somewhere else.” He sighed.

“Got a plan B?” Aila replied, crossing her arms. Her brother shrugged.
“We could go to Griddlers.” He tried. “Don’t know how busy they’ll be.”
“Griddlers is fine.” Aila said. “Are you real hungry?” she added.

“Not really yet.” Her brother confessed. “I had an emergency apple before I came to pick you up.”

“Let’s go to Griddler’s.” Aila said, turning away in the line, holding her back close. “I’ll drive.”

Her brother merely followed behind, politely telling the people behind them they were next, and holding the door for them.
In the parking lot, Aila walked past a family of three, their little boy looking right at her and pointing, as they tried to move away from her. “Mommy! Mommy look at her!” he loudly alerted. “Yes, I know sweetie. Don’t point.” His mother told him, guiding him in front of her. Aila simply rolled her eyes and smirked, getting into her brother’s dark gold car while he got into the passenger seat.

His name, ‘Rian’ was etched on a mini-license plate keychain attached to the car key in her hand. She had to readjust everything since he was a foot and a half taller than her. Despite her smirk, Rian sensed his sister seemed a more tense which did not compliment her usual quiet and unguarded mood. He was usually good at picking up on her mannerisms. “Have you seen the new episodes of Scorch yet?” he asked her.

Aila stopped backing out of the parking space and looked at him, immediately suspicious. “No. Why?” she continued, backing out safely and slowly. “Just wondering.” He returned. “Thought you liked that show.”

“I do.” Aila affirmed, and she made her way onto the street, turning on her left signal.

“Okay.” Rian yawned. “I won’t spoil anything then.”

“You can go ahead. It’s not like I’m gonna get back to it anytime soon. And it’s like 18 episodes.”

Aila made her turn and drove down the street, heading towards the nearest onramp.
“I thought we were going to Griddler’s?” said Rian. He saw her miss the street which went straight to the diner.
“We’ll go to the other one. In Muro.” Aila explained, getting onto the onramp. Her hands gripped the steering wheel and she quietly joined the flow of traffic. “Maybe it’ll be less busy.”

Rian saw the girl up ahead from the passenger seat, quickly jerking forward to grab the steering wheel from Aila. “Hey hey! Stop stop stop!” Aila saw her next, honking her horn and scraping the tires against the road, burning their rubber as she stomped on the brake. She was about to hit her, but stopped right in front of her, cars behind honking angrily and rushing past.
The girl looked like a doe in headlights, her large brown eyes filled with tears but halted their crying to look in shock at her life spared. Her long teal hair covered her shoulders and she seemed shaken, as she struggled to back away.

Their hearts racing, Aila and Rian quickly got out of the car. “Oh my god! Hey! Are you alright?” Rian began, showing concern on his face. Then Aila stomped forward, with tears in her own eyes and her arms quivering as she pulled the girl aside, to get out of traffic as far as possible. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” she shouted at her. “You could’ve been hit! What are you crazy?!”

“I was…I was trying to…” the girl quietly spoke, unable to finish her sentence, as her frustrating despair returned and twisted her expression into one of pain. She sank down to the ground, squatting and holding herself as she began to cry. Taken aback, Aila just stared at her, still upset, but silenced. Something about her seemed familiar and it was a strong feeling. Rian stepped in, stooping down to the girl, and comforting her. “It’s okay. It’s alright.” He soothed. “Aila, get her some water from the trunk.” Aila went and opened the trunk retrieving the water bottle for her and gave it to Rian. “Think you should call the police, so they can come help her.” He suggested. Aila watched the girl’s reaction as it only made her cry even more. She estimated the girl to be no older than 18. Rian helped to calm her down, letting her sob in his arms. “Hey, hey it’s alright. Okay? What’s your name?” he asked warmly.

“…Sirena.” She answered, drying her face to make more room for future tears.

“You wanna tell us where you live?” Aila asked, looking down at her. “Hm.” Sirena murmured, shaking her head.

“What? You don’t want to say?” Rian asked.

Sirena looked down at Aila’s shadowy black boots and her shadow itself, joining the car’s shadow on the concrete. She noticed somehow that Aila’s shadow was darker than the car’s, rubbing her eyes when she thought she saw some red eyes peering out from behind her heel.

“I don’t live anywhere…” Sirena told them, sniffling. “I’m running away…but he doesn’t understand! I don’t want his help.” She began to sob again. “Who? Who’s help?” Rian tried. Sirena sobbed harder, pushing away from Rian and started to stand up again. She gasped looking down at Aila’s feet, as an inhuman face seemed to peer up at her from the shadows. Aila moved to block her from running back into the highway traffic.

“You’re not ruining my Saturday breakfast.” She frowned. “And the police always seem to be busy with anything else but people trying to commit suicide.” Aila folded her arms as Rian protested. “Aila, just call them!”

“Rian, don’t!” Aila shouted. “She just said she doesn’t want help.”

Sirena pleaded with Aila, trembling. “I’m sorry I tried to-, I can’t-, this, I’m so scared, okay? I don’t know what to do anymore!”

“Are you gonna help us understand or are you gonna try to run into traffic again?” She asked her sternly.
“I won’t run, I promise.” Sirena shook her head. She stepped away from Aila’s shadow nervously. Aila’s eyes noticed her looking at her feet. She stepped closer, as Sirena stepped back and folded her arms.

“You see him?” she asked.

“Huh?” Sirena’s eyes darted back to Aila. Rian was calling the police station regardless of Aila’s insistence.

“You see him don’t you?” She spoke to Sirena, moving her foot. “Don’t freak out.” She added. “He’s not nearly as evil as he looks.”

“I never claimed to be.” Came a shadowy demonic voice from the ground. Sirena blinked in disbelief, fixated on the shadowy demon stuck behind Aila’s boot. With a swift but comforting hold on her shoulder, Aila faced Sirena, taking a closer look at her eyes and her face. “You’re her. I’m sure of it.” She nodded, squinting her eyes. “I knew I’ve seen you before. I just didn’t think you existed.”

“What is happening to me?” Sirena asked, sighing nervously and running her hand through her hair. “Am I losing my mind?”

“Rian! Hang up already! She’s okay.” Aila shouted to him.

“There’s only 2 callers ahead of me now!” Rian shouted back.

“Rian! Nevermind!” Aila insisted, guiding Sirena to the car and into the backseat. “You wanna drive us to Griddler’s? I’m sure we’re all hungry by now.”

She looked at Sirena and gave her the water bottle for her to hold. She took it, looking nervous and ashamed. “You wanna know what’s going on with you, right?” Aila asked her. Sirena nodded. “You wanna know why you can see him?” Aila asked, motioning to her shadow with her eyes. Sirena nodded again, hesitantly. “…okay. I’ll tell you.” Aila assured her. “After you tell me where yours is.”

“After I tell you where my what is?”

“Your Scardian.”

“My what?”

“Scardian.” Aila repeated, getting into the backseat with her. Rian got into the driver’s seat, readjusting everything. Aila stopped talking, shutting the door and sitting beside Sirena as she put her seatbelt on. “What’s a Scardian?” she asked her, still clutching the water bottle. “Hey. Are you sure you’re alright?” Rian asked her, turning around. “You want us to call anyone?”

Sirena shook her head. “No thank you.” She answered.

“Okay, but please let us leave you somewhere safe okay?” Rian insisted.

“Just drive already. I’ll put some music on.” Aila told him, taking the AUX cable from the front passenger seat and setting up her phone to it. Rian drove from the side of the highway and got back into the flow of traffic. “I still think we should call someone.” He told Aila.

“Later. Let’s just get her some food and some basic human company first.” Aila returned, her eyes cold but compassionate. She turned to look at Sirena, who was lost in thought, while some classic rock era music played on the stereo.

“This is Skendus.” Aila spoke, turning Sirena’s attention to her back against the seat. Sirena tried not to seem alarmed as she leaned away from a sharp, long clawed, shadowy hand emerging from Aila’s back. “Skendus, this is Sirena.”

“Ahh, yes, the girl from your dreams.” He quietly hissed. “Ohh, she won’t shake my hand.” He added, slinking back into her shadow and away from Sirena.
“That’s fine. I wouldn’t shake your hand either.” Aila muttered quietly, before typing something on her phone. She then showed it to Sirena, who read it to herself silently. “Skendus is my Scardian. I came up with his name and the name for the other demon looking things I’ve seen following people. They’re like guardians, and their job is to protect and help repair you.” She gave Aila’s phone back to her after typing in a question. “Why do they follow you?”

Aila read her question, typing back her response.
Rian then spoke up.
“You ever been to Grizzler’s, Sirena?”

“N-no I don’t think so.” Sirena answered.

“I think you’ll like it. It’s one of our favorite breakfast places.” Rian smiled kindly, watching the road. “Me and Aila used to go with our mom and dad when we were little, and we got free pancake volcanoes on our birthdays.”

“Oh. Nice.” Sirena nodded. Aila gave her back her phone with her response. Again, Sirena read it silently.

“I think it’s because they are the pieces of us that were hurt, destroyed, and broken. Anytime you feel pain or suffering, from the past or the present, they appear to help alleviate you or guide you through it. They are connected to us directly, and in a way, we are responsible for their existence, even if we never meant for them to exist. They can’t die, and they can’t be seen by people who have not encountered a certain threshold of trauma or pain. The fact that you can see Skendus, tells me that either you have had your heart broken, or worse. I have seen you in my dreams before, and there’s no doubt that you have created a Scardian. I want to know why it’s not with you.”

Sirena finished reading and took a deep breath, quietly releasing it. She typed, “I want to get away from him. He keeps trying to get in my way, and I can’t even talk to him.”

“I think you’ll like it. If you like breakfast, Grizzler’s is the place for breakfast. I just hope it’s not crowded since it’s a little late in the morning..” Rian kept speaking as he drove, but eventually just put on the radio for some music, and began humming.

Aila typed back in response to Sirena. “What does he look like?”

Sirena typed back. “He’s tall, in a dark cloak. Looks like a grim reaper, but has no head.”

Aila paused for a minute. She turned to her shadow, showing Skendus the phone. He replied with a shadowy, “Nope. Doesn’t sound like anyone I know.”

“I’ve tried talking to him.” Sirena quietly told her, looking down. “I don’t even know if he understands me…he uses some kind of sign language, and I have no idea what he’s trying to tell me.”

“Maybe he can write?” Aila tried. “If you gave him a pen and paper? Or a phone?”

“I’m…I’m afraid of what he’ll write.” Sirena admitted. “I don’t want to read that he’s someone I might know..” She then gave Aila her phone back. “Here.”

Aila took back her phone and leaned back, her arm against the door rest. She looked at Sirena with both pity and frustration. She turned to look out the window at the traffic passing by.

“You know, I’d be pretty afraid if I knew someone like that was following me.” She admitted.

Sirena’s eyes looked up at her from behind her curtain of hair, her head not moving.
“She didn’t even seem too scared about me either, heheh.” Skendus chuckled darkly.
“Her Scardian can’t speak with her like you can.” Aila said quietly. She glanced over at Sirena and then back at the window. “Her eyes look like a wasteland.”
“Yesss. You’re in a pretty bad place. Aren’t you?” Skendus finished, looking up at Sirena.

“I know that look better than anyone.” Aila told her.

“Here we are!” Rian chimed, pulling into the diner’s driveway parking lot. “Grizzler’s! Look, and the line is only like, two people!” Sirena looked out at the restaurant and then back at Aila, who had not broken her gaze from the window. Aila then took off her seatbelt and looked back at her with a soft but cold gaze.

“It’s the look of helpless misery.”

III
Bear

Sirena stood with Aila in her apartment shortly after breakfast in the afternoon. During the meal, she had managed to share with Aila and Rian about her predicament. Sirena had been living in a poor neighborhood with little means to food and shelter from her abusive step-father and neglectful mother. She had illegitimate younger brothers, who fought with one another, and teased Sirena constantly. Her job was to cook and clean and entertain them, while her father did nothing but fix cars, drink and verbally shout at her and her mother. Her mother’s job was to lay in bed, wasted and unable to defend herself. Sirena ran away from her home a few years before things would eventually take a turn for the worst, and her step-father left the family, taking his sons with him, but not before allegedly killing Sirena’s mother.

Sirena just walked the streets, and kept to herself, going hungrier and lonelier by the day. She eventually turned to prostitution, even though she was only 16, just to make some money so she wouldn’t starve. She hated it, but she had to do it. And she sometimes ran from a customer she didn’t like, making her boss upset and as a result, he would set her up with customers he knew to be far worse. Sirena took what money she could and left the city she lived in, trekking under cover of darkness and into places where she knew she felt she would be safe. She had no home to go back to, and no relatives she knew of that would even want anything to do with her. Seeing as she was the most alone anyone could possibly be, Aila offered to give her shelter at her apartment, at least for a little while. Sirena agreed, still unsure as to why anyone so strange would show her such kindness. Rian had driven to his own place, where he would be busy making dinner and watching his favorite TV show with his girlfriend. Aila took care of Sirena’s clothes, letting her shower and stay in her bedroom. There, she listened to the rest of what Sirena had to say.

“It was the last night under a full moon that I decided I didn’t want to continue living. I cried alone in an alleyway. I didn’t think anyone would hear me, or see me, or even care.” She explained, hugging her knees to her chest. “There were these two shady men. At first, they began to comfort me. And told me not to cry. But, I knew from the start what they really wanted.” Sirena’s eyes began to water and she held herself with a gulp deep in her throat. “I-…I felt like…..my heart had been destroyed.” She shivered, trying not to sob uncontrollably and sound unintelligible. Once she found her calm, she spoke again. “And…my body felt as if it could crumble, if it weren’t physically held together. I wanted to die. That’s all I could think of wanting. I wanted it so much...It felt like the whole world wanted it too…”

“And then?” Aila patiently prompted, sitting in her hanging chair. Skendus loomed over her in the shadows, listening as well.

“Then I…” Sirena sniffled. “I-…I saw him.”

“The dark man?”

“I didn’t see him against the wall before…he just…appeared. Looking menacing.” She explained, drying her face. “He saved me…he just…killed those two guys and…followed me. I thought- I thought I was already dead. And he was death himself. But…he was urging me away from the bridge where…I wanted to jump. And, he wouldn’t let me go…I was so scared that he was going to stop me from doing it. And he did. Why?...Why did he have to just stop me? I don’t understand..”

Aila placed her hand on the side of her netted chair, touching the rope by Skendus, and swinging in place. “A Scardian can’t allow you to commit suicide.” She told Sirena. “I think it’s because if you die, they can’t accomplish their goal. Skendus here has saved me from multiple attempts.”

“Sometimes it’s easy, sometimes it’s not.” He chimed in, with his sharp grin etched on his shadowy face.

“Your Scardian is out there. His only goal is probably to protect you. I can’t tell you for sure.” Aila told her shaking her head. “You’d have to communicate with him.”

“But, I don’t want to.” Sirena nervously sighed. “I don’t even know if I want him around. I was doing fine on my own.”

“You really weren’t.” Skendus scoffed.
“Be nice.” Aila hushed before speaking to Sirena again. “Sirena. If you don’t try and communicate, I’m going to have to do it for you. Your Scardian isn’t just going to vanish because you want it to.”

“We Scardians are born from darkness and molded from the human emotions of one’s past. And it is impossible to flee from one’s past. We find our poor souls, no matter where they try to hide.” Skendus explained, slithering up to the ceiling. “Can’t escape us, just as you cannot escape yourself.”

“But if I tried hard enough, I could die, couldn’t I?” Sirena sadly replied. “Then he would just vanish, right?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Aila bluntly spoke, crossing her arms. “Scardians, without their humans will be left to claim their soul and chain it to this earth forever. What do you think ghosts are?”

“Ah…ghosts? Are just-” Sirena began, blinking her thoughts into organization.

“They’re the fragments of soul a Scardian has clung to in the hopes that they might reunite with it, but in the process the soul is damaged and kept from recycle, or rebirth. If you die,” Aila sighed. “you’ll be here for a very long time, unable to even speak, or breathe, or eat, or sleep. You’ll be more trapped than you are right now.”

“Then…then what do I do?” Sirena sorrowfully held herself on the bed. A knock at the front door then alerted them all. Aila got up from her seat.

“I’ll go see. Stay here.” She said, pulling her robe together and walking to her door.
Sirena looked up at Skendus, on the ceiling but staying close to the doorframe to the bedroom.
“I-I thought you couldn’t leave her shadow.”

“Oh, I can part from her any time I want.” Skendus grinned. “It’s my duty to stay close that’s all.”

Aila unlocked the door and opened it slowly. “Oh.” She simply said, stepping back a bit.
In walked the tall, headless man in his long black, hooded coat. Aila’s bird began screeching once more in alarm at the man. Sirena immediately got up from the bed and hid herself in the bathroom, locking the door.
“Hey-! Ugh.” Skendus grumbled, watching her barricade herself, before slithering down the ceiling and over to Aila. “Who is it-?” he asked before becoming silenced at the mere presence of the dark man. Skendus instinctively coiled around Aila protectively, eyeing the dark man sharply. Aila just held her hand onto Skendus’ shadowy body, and looked up at the man, whose hood seemed to follow her, despite him not having a head or face to fill it. She slowly moved back towards the door, and shut it carefully. The man silently just stood.

“Ahh, you’re here to help. Aren’t you?” Aila spoke. “You’re Sirena’s Scardian...right?” The man kept unnervingly still. Skendus held his ground, eyeing the man and sharpening the black spikes on his body.

“She ran and hid in the bathroom from him.” He told Aila.

“Okay…well..I can see why.” Aila scoffed nervously. She held her hands up and moved over to her table slowly to calm her bird Jeeps, and place a towel over his cage. Once at the table, she took out a pen and her notepad in the shape of a burrito and slid it over towards the dark man. He didn’t seem to even glance at it. Aila waved her hand in front of him but he did not seem to move much.

“What’s his deal?” Skendus hissed quietly.

“I’ll try to get him to write. Why don’t you go see if Sirena’s okay?” Aila whispered back.

“You’re sure..?” Skendus asked, slowly uncoiling and gliding against the wall and down to the floor.

“I’ll be fine.” Aila nodded, not taking her eyes of the dark man.
She offered for him to sit down beside her at the table, and pointed to the chair in front of her. “You can sit if you want.”

The man began to sign something with his hands to Aila, but it went by too fast. “Sorry, um…I don’t sign.” She tapped the burrito notepad. “Could you-?” she made a writing motion with her hand. The dark man looked at her hand and copied the gesture.

“Yes. Write?” She tried, patting the table with the pen and notepad. The man put his hand on the table and felt around, sensing the notepad with his gloved fingers and picking it up with the pen. Aila stared less nervously and more curiously. She wasn’t sure if he could actually see. He then began to scribble something on the notepad, then hand it back to her. Aila stared at the notepad, squinting at what he had inked in. “I-..uhh…this isn’t English…” she shook her head before looking back up at him, taking the pen from his hand and using it to write. She then stopped, wondering if her could even read. She sighed and put the pen and notepad down on the table. “Let’s try something else.” She hummed, tapping her cheek in thought.

In the bathroom, Sirena sat in front of the door, hugging her knees, and closing her eyes. Skendus crept through, under the door and through her own shadow, manifesting under the sink to her.
“You aren’t seriously scared of this guy Sirena, are you?” he asked her in his eerie demonic whisper. She simply nodded and hugged her legs closer, her unseen eyes tearing up.

“Ohh, come now. Sooner or later, you have to face him. He’s not going to do anything you don’t want him to.” He assured her, reaching his skinny shadowy arm up to turn the bathroom light off. Manifesting more comfortably in his full form, Skendus slid around Sirena and parted her arms from her legs carefully. “He…reminds me of someone..” Sirena confided, drying her eyes and trying not to tremble. “…someone I lost..”

“We take the forms of your pain in the most poetic and ironic of ways sometimes..” Skendus told her.
“Take Aila for example…her pain is very strong, sharp, echoing, and only seen in the most hidden and unassumingly darkest of places. And as such, I reflect that appropriately. Even down to the cracked hole in my center. She is not the first to bear such pain, and there are Scardians very similar to myself I’m sure, but never identical. Isn’t it interesting then, that yours is headless and yet so large and frightfully dark? It seems to me like your own pain must be reflected as such. The fact you are trying to abandon him is actually rather common. No human wants their suffering to linger, and they will abandon anything that reminds them of that suffering...be it photographs, love letters, gifts…many humans attempt to erase memories themselves, without much success.” He explained before gently patting her head with his long claws pointed away.

“But Sirena…your Scardian is a part of yourself, and he wants to help you, even if you feel you don’t want to help yourself. Because that is his purpose.”

“Why?” Sirena asked. “Why would he want to help me? After what I told him? After I ran away from him?”

“We aren’t human, silly girl.” Skendus chuckled. “Do you think we need to have any good reason to care for the beings we came from?” He then slithered under her shadow and pushed her from the door, nudging her from the darkness. “Stand up. You can do that much, can’t you?”

Sirena stood up in front of the door, holding herself in the darkness. “I don’t…I won’t know what to say..” She sighed.

“Just say what you want to say.” Skendus whispered from behind her, holding her shoulders and turning her towards the bathroom door. “Why are you helping me if you’re not even my..my Scardian?” she asked.

“Because Aila wanted me to, and so I did.” He grinned back with his sharp teeth, nudging her to the door. “By now, she’s probably figured out how to communicate with your Scardian. I don’t sense she’s in any trouble at all. Let’s go see, hm?”

“…okay.” Sirena hesitantly nodded, feeling the door and moving closer, her hand on the knob.
“Skendus?”

“Yes?”

“What does your name mean?”

Skendus grinned brightly in the darkness, his red eyes peering down at her. “It means ‘one who replaces the heart’.”

“Really?”

“No.” He scoffed, opening the door for her and gently but quickly pushing her out, shutting the bathroom door and locking it behind her.

Sirena looked over at the front room, staying in place just outside the bathroom, and watched as Aila tilted in her chair, looking over at her. Her eyes narrowed and she turned her head back before sighing. “I thought this was supposed to be easy.” Skendus made his way under the dark door, up onto the ceiling and back to Aila. “No luck?” he whispered, eyeing the dark man.
“No…he can’t read…he can’t speak…he can’t even see.” Aila grumbled. “And I can’t understand him! It’s frustrating. I’m beginning to sympathize with Sirena.”

“Let me see?” Skendus hummed, as Aila slapped the notepad in his face. He took it, blinking as he placed a claw on the scribbles the man had made. “It says, ‘my master soul is here’.”
“You can read that nonsense?” Aila raised a brow.

“It’s not nonsense.” Skendus squinted at her. “It’s Scribanima. The language of souls. Didn’t I tell you about this?”

“Maybe, I wasn’t listening.” Aila shrugged. Skendus took the notepad and looked at the dark, quiet headless man. He then took the pen from his hand and ripped the page from the notepad, and wrote on a new one, using the pen between his palm and first clawed finger. “Are you…belonging to Sirena?” He spoke as he wrote, and then handed it back to the man. The dark, hooded man looked at the notepad and nodded, pointing silently at Sirena.

Aila and Skendus followed his finger to see Sirena at the doorframe, leaning against it nervously and watching them all. She saw the man who had been following her since she first encountered him, and clenched her hands. Though he had no face, she almost felt as if he did, and the emotion conveyed on that face, was hurt.

“Sirena. I think we figured out how you can connect with your Scardian.” Aila lightly smiled, gesturing her to come out. Sirena slowly ventured from the doorframe and closer to her than the man, looking away, rather ashamed. Skendus scribbled some more on the notepad, pushing it back to the dark man and getting his attention again. The dark man held the notepad close and sadly lowered his hood before placing the notepad back onto the table and taking the pen from Skendus. “What did you write?” Aila asked. The man scribbled and scratched the notepad with the pen, stopping at the end of a stroke and laying the pen down. Skendus read from the notepad, looking over the table. “He..says he’ll be glad to accept one.” He explained futher, looking at Sirena and Aila. “I asked him if he had a name…all Scardians have names…but this big guy doesn’t seem to have one…”

Aila turned to Sirena. “Then…I think Sirena should give him one.” Sirena looked over at the notepad, noticing the scribbles on it. They didn’t look like words at all, or any sort of intelligible or made up language. She then looked at the dark man, with sorrow in her eyes. The man patiently and silently seemed to look back. He then reached his hand across the table to her, his palm up. “Sirena? What do you think?” Aila said. Sirena looked at his hand and then his deep hood, empty and black. “I don’t know…I don’t know what to name him.” She admitted, holding her hands under the table. “You have to try.” Aila sighed. “He’s your Scardian, I can’t name him for you.”

Sirena looked at his gloved hand and nervously placed her hand on the table, sliding it closer to his. She then placed her hand in his, holding it. She felt a surge of love strangely echo in their palms and a sense that she was holding her own hand instead. Sirena shut her eyes. The darkness, the pause and the hand in hers combined, made her recall a past memory about something else she had treasured and lost. She stood in that moment, not letting it progress to the loss, and keeping her mind upon the warm, comforting past. She then opened her eyes, and they traveled back up to the dark man as she spoke. “Bear.”

The dark man’s shoulders seemed to relax, and his hood tilted slightly. He seemed surprised. Silently he took his other hand and placed it atop hers. Sirena felt a smile sneak onto her face as she did the same. “Is it okay if I call you that?” she asked him. The dark man simply nodded once. Sirena looked at the note pad and softly took her hands from the man’s, looking at the scribbles. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to understand one another Bear…but, I hope we can one day.” She said a little hopeful. Bear used his hands to sign something and then pointed to the notepad. He wrote something in scribbles with the pen again, with Skendus peering down to read and translate it. “He says, ‘I can teach you to talk with your hands, even though I can feel what you say….this…sign..means-’?”

Bear placed his arms across his chest crossed and made scratching motions with his hands.
“It means ‘Bear’.” Skendus grinned. Bear then excitedly took to the notepad again and wrote in scribbles for a good amount of time. “Uhm. I don’t need you to teach me everything right now.” Sirena tried speaking up. Aila looked up at Skendus. “What is he writing?”

“Hang on hang on.” Skendus quietly hissed, trying to read the scribbles on the notepad. Finally, Bear stopped writing and set the pen down, looking at the table. Skendus picked up the notepad in his clawed hand and read from it.

“’I am sorry I couldn’t find you as fast as I should have been able to..I hope for your forgiveness..’ and ‘I don’t know what to do without you. I don’t want to scare you…please know I am devoted..’… ‘I am devoted to bringing you to the place where pain is alleviated…it is not death yet…it is the garden.’ Garden?”

They all looked at Bear, who retrieved something from inside his hood. He pulled out a small seemingly dying branch of indigo flowers, which Sirena immediately recognized. “That’s! Those are bluebells!”
Bear handed the bluebells to Sirena, who took them gently in her hands and stared at them with affection. She then began to feel tears fall from her eyes as she looked at them. “How did you-? Where did you find these?” She sniffled, looking up at Bear. He began to sign with his hands but stopped himself, turning to the pen and notepad to scribble his answer down. Skendus translated. “These will be in a special garden I will help you create…these flowers…the ones that remind you of…joy…of Aiden.”

“Aiden?” Aila blinked looking at Sirena. “Who’s Aiden?”

Sirena quietly held the bluebells in her lap and began to sob, unable to answer. Bear looked at her with seemingly calm concern, before writing down on the notepad and pushing it towards Skendus. He read it aloud, translating. “..someone who her heart treasures the most…he no longer is…living.”

Aila watched as Bear got up from his seat and walked over to Sirena quietly, peering down at her from the tableside. She looked at her with a solemn expression, saddened that she could not sympathize much, and comfort her. Skendus swiftly slithered beside Aila, matching her expression. “I see..” Aila breathed, looking down.

Bear carefully lingered closer to Sirena and placed his hand upon her shoulder, which shook as she sobbed. She began to lean in her seat and could not fight her urge to turn to him. Bear held her to him as she gripped his coat and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into him, with the bluebells still between her fingers. He let her cry, just as he had before when they had first encountered one another. Only this time, through her tears she accepted his comfort, and acknowledged him as her own Scardian.

[Merskelly Metalien]

[[WHATEVER ELSE (MISC)]]

NOV 3
Space Pirate crew Holo-logs

DICE
>Captain’s Holo-log
Number...whatever, I don’t care, because time isn’t really a concerning factor at the moment. I uh, think everything is kind of a blurr for now, considering I just woke up with my one good eye throbbing and in so much pain. Feels like someone just came up and gave my skull a good knee-ing to. Sheh. Wait, what was I going to say? Right.
My lips are chapped, and I’m starting to get a headache. You’d think this would be enough to make someone stop their damn drinking to function when you need to. Ugh, but do I learn? Yes. I just don’t listen. Until something REALLY bad happens. Like, I wake up with two arms suddenly, or worse, totally blind. Damn. My eye feels like it could bleed right now, and I wouldn’t be surprised. Well, nothing a little visit to the robo-doc can’t fix, right?
Anyway...the good news is, I got the damned butterstone. I don’t know why they bother trying to make it sound cuter; it’s a hunk of gold. And one more to add to the looty loot trove. So, it was a priceless relic, and so it was going to be melted down and shared to benefit the aid of some little moon brats. It doesn’t take a piece of gold to save lives! It takes work. And people who work need to get paid. With currency! Not with a chunk of solid, shining, honey colored stone! In fact, I saved it from a terrible fate. The butterstone, ugh, I mean, a mass of transparent gold is really hard to come by and sells for quite the sum! And now, it’s all mine!
That’s right, I forgot about the crew. I’m sure Ly’s got everything all stabilized and everyone else in shape. I can’t remember if he had anything to drink too...oh, wait. Yeh, he’s more of a drinker than I am so...guh, is there anyone onboard running things? Is there anyone onboard that’s awake?...Is there anyone onboard at all? I hope I didn’t leave anyone behind. Eesh, I’d never hear the end of that...especially from that strog of an empress. But nevermind that. Next on the list is that lumpy little asteroid of uh,...an asteroid. To get that ancient Pirronian crown! Oh...that didn’t feel right in my stomach. I think we’ll take our time trying to get that crown then, it’s probably falling apart anyway. I got plenty of better crowns n’ junk.
Well, it’s 570. And I need to hurl. bye_


LYROH
>First Mate Holo-Entry
Number 604
Time 1781 hours
It’s been some long time since I’ve actually documented anything. I don’t see need to unless I have vital information that really needs to be recorded. My last entry consisted of the telling of the important details I pick up from the last time I encounter some of Dulag’s thugs in a black marketplace, and some...more than humiliating responsive behavior I exhibited...nearing the end of that entry. Neveless, I think it’s important that I try a focus on what is affecting me in a clear physical and chronological sense, than focusing on what really matter I suppose. With that said, I am dying. At least, I don’t very feel I am improving in my health. Like any other sick pirate wretch, I am delaying only the inevitable. I might need think about investing in some few cybernetic alternatives for myself. It sounds well ridiculous, but my coughs feel worse without a smoke. I know I’m make it worse, but let’s face it, my lungs probably being crumbling into ash at this point. Additional, one benefit of artificial lungs would have being able to sneak about without being heard. I don’t think that was very big issue of mine anyway, but it’s not completely all bad. I might need added tube, which I really don’t want, but, I’m not going to have much of the choice. Surgery is a walk, but recovery, that is agony. No, not because of any pain. On its contrary. I welcome the necessary pain. Let’s me know this body of mine isn’t getting to giving up on me. But recovery means I won’t be getting around much and taking care of anything for a while. And this includes not getting smokes for a long time, which I am not looking forward to. I’m been trying so hard, just to get down to one pack a cycle. It’s tough. But this ship need me, and also her captain, that much is obvious. I am going to die. I’ve felt my death in my meditations enough times being for me to accept it when it arrives for me. I haven’t told Dice. I haven’t told anyone. But I have a something in store for myself when the time comes. I always want to leave behind something nice anyway, as consolation for all the devilry I cause and been part of...not that it’s make up for it all, but hey, I can try. That’s all any man can do is to try. His attempt only going in one of two directions. I haven’t fail yet. I know this, because I won’t be dying before I succeed in delivering a requital. I am not through yet, and I’ll be damn if something as miniscule and irritating as lung diseases prevents me from giving up this rust life of mine. To my last breath, I swear it.
In other news, my blades are finally back to their sweet metallic scents. No more reeking blood on them. And I used Sua’s machine polish on them, so they slide back into the sheath real smooth. Real smoothly. Yes. I’m not giving the polish back. I suppose that is it for now. I need to make sure there aren’t any more pest or annoying stowaway hiding inside our ship. And to relieve Dice from his ridiculous cozy chair. End of log entry._

SUA
>Sua’s Awesome Holo-log
Number 88
Got to pilot the ship a few hours ago. Nothing much else happened...oh, except for the fact that I found a sweet ass haul!! On a busted up asteroid! Someone just DUMPED an entire single-pilot ship! Well, they didn’t dump it, I think. I mean, who would just abandon a 386-FLE Quad-gear vehicle like that?! Either a complete idiot or a deadman that’s who! But it was just THERE! For the taking! NOOOO one else around! I really really really really wanted it, but the captain says what the captain says, so, he said no...he said no. But I said yes. The deepest recesses of my heart said yes! My whole instinct said yes! I heard a quick little voice in my head tell me, “Sua. If you just abandon this opportunity, and leave that poor ship out there floating in the abyss amongst the space trash and the ice and the rock, you are just as awful as the person who abandoned it.” I couldn’t deny it! My little voice was right. I couldn’t just leave it there, so I just took a cable from outside the docking bay, and well, hooked it up to the ship to tow. The others don’t gotta know about it. I mean, it won’t even make any difference. So I got to work on the ship and when everything was all repaired and working tightly, I snuck some time in to give the docking bay a good, swift shave to make room for the ship in tow, and then when no one was looking, went outside and dismantled it piece by piece to fit it in, since you know, Quad-gears have the sexy contractable wings and all, and the ship wasn’t really working so I couldn’t very well just fly it in with the wings out. So yeah, that took forever! But lucky for me, I had forever, since there wasn’t any crisis aboard that COM couldn’t handle. So everyone was none the wiser.
Oh! And it gets better! When I put the ship back together in the docking bay, I found that inside, was a GOLDMINE! Well, there was trash in there too, but it was MOSTLY a goldmine! I found a shit-ton of Eaglett comics, some blankets, like, over 20 CSMs, all kinds of batteries, a really cute pair of underwear, but it won’t likely fit me at all...a whole bunch of landing gear and wing repair tools, gum, molding glue because I’ve been needing some more, and some emergency engine fuel, unused! It was like, destiny or something, rewarding me for the ship I salvaged. It was just meant to be. Plus there were like some swimsuit and cosmocycle magazines in there. It had to be destiny.
It took me a good 300 cycles’ time to actually finish fixing up that FLE. I worked up a huge appetite, so I pretty much polished off my platter in the dining hall upstairs...kinda makes me feel bad for Cela. I mean she did just take the job, but, to be fair, she DID also stowaway. Anyhow, the ship’s all nice and not-broken. I scored on some stuff I really needed. It’s still kind of a secret. I can’t keep it secret forever though. I think I’ll tell Captain Dice. I probably should. Maybe later. Not now. I need a shower. Like, desperately! I can’t tell if it’s my sweat or all the fiber debris that’s making me itchy. I better take a good one. My hands are killing me too.
Later!_

CELATARA
>Empress Celatara’s Diary
Journal Entry Number 712 on this computer
Dear Diary,
I’m so disappointed that I can’t leave a recorded hologram like the others. I have got to learn how to speak more physically. It just feels so weird. Opening and shaping your mouth into different ways to make sounds. It’s not as embarrassing with the rest of the crew here doing it...but still. I remember Dia was teaching me to speak aloud before I left. She never got to teach me more, but, I guess I didn’t need it. Oh, why can’t everyone just speak MY language? It’s so easy. I guess everyone is set in talking with their mouths. Even Lyroh, and he hardly chats about anything coherently.
Additionally, on this ship it has come to my attention that NO ONE here MAINTAINS a distinguished and clean environment! But I guess, it’s to be expected. I mean, they are pirates after all...I stumbled through a mess of things down by the generator room, and stubbed my toe. I wanted to cry so much, but I couldn’t draw any attention to myself at the time. So I kept my throat quiet and kept off my foot for a bit. I wasn’t supposed to really be there, you see.
Well, I had nothing more to do really and I was just getting sick of cleaning after everyone’s mess, so I decided to go to the engine room and then the armory, but it was kind of intimidating.
I don’t know what was going on with me. I just, I wanted to find someone to talk to. COM was busy with something in one of the hangars, and so was Sua. Not that I’d have much to talk about with her...Captain Dice was catching up on some rest...so I guess, all that left me with was Lyroh or Aza. Not a bad limitation. I like Aza, even though she looks creepy and short. She’s polite and interesting sometimes. I like telling her to retract her fingernails! It’s so odd! But as much as I like that she’s a good listener, she is still a bit mysterious. She doesn’t talk about herself a whole lot. I wonder if she’s just a shy one, or if she is super secretive. Either way, I feel like I trust Dice more than Aza. Dice! And he’s the most dishonest and evoking human being I’ve ever met! He also happens to be a sharp, unprincipled, black-hearted pirate, while Aza is, just quiet mostly. It’s unsettling, at least I think it is. Almost like she’s up to something...I’m not suspicious of her! I’m just thinking...she might be a little more private than I give her credit for.
So, anyway, I couldn’t find Aza down there, but I did run into Lyroh which was a little more than unpleasant. He found me limping about like some common cripple, and ordered me to leave, even though I wasn’t touching anything. I tried to tell him that I was cleaning in the generator room, but I stubbed my toe, but I should I have tried harder to explain. He really does take everything seriously, and doesn’t seem to have a kind bone in his body! I stub my toe and am on the verge of crying and what does he do? He just scolds me for being near the generators in the first place, and ushers me out telling me to go see COM if it hurts that bad. And he called me a weakling! ME a weakling! I still can’t fathom it, even though he has called me a weakling before. But I’m taller than him, and his bones are more frail than mine! There are some things you just don’t to say to an empress! I’m going to change his mind about me, and I don’t care if I have to perform menial and challenging tasks in order to do so. I mean, what does HE do for this ship? Just walk about and relay orders? Boss everyone around? Ruin laundry? Leave cigarettes all over the place? Sometimes, I don’t know who is worse, Dice or Lyroh. Both of them together are just as infuriating and insufferable to deal with as a bad headache during a holiday, with no gifts! Just thinking about it all makes me boil so I’m not going to waste time and write about it anymore. It was just a stubbed toe, so the pain went away in a short period of time. But I still feel bored. Dice will probably make me want to kick something, Aza is like a scampering, hidden mouse, Sua and COM are still doing whatever, and I can’t go back and talk to Lyroh. Well, maybe I could, but I’m not going to! I really shouldn’t have been exploring down there, sure, but, what else am I supposed to do? I feel bad for COM. Everyone orders him around all the time. I can’t imagine being used like that. Like Avos back at home was. But I could see the fatigue in him. In COM, he has no fatigue, but he’s mechanical so it’s understandable. I think I’ll go see what Sua and COM are doing. Maybe I could help! I do know a thing or two about machines or whatever. That’s all for now then! Until next entry. ~Empress Celetara_


AZA
>Ship’s Holo-log
Number 3
I guess I’m stuck here. It feels like it’s been forever since I even saw an inhabited planetary system out the windows of the Huntress. I miss my aunt and uncle, and Lexan. I even miss Taya. I miss my friends. I can only imagine how worried they must all be. Probably as worried as I was since I first arrived on this ship. I guess I was kidnapped but, it really doesn’t feel like I’m a prisoner all the time. I mean, I’m recording this, even though I don’t think I’m allowed to. I’ve even stopped trying to seek help to get me home. This crew, and this Captain, both seem less intimidating now. It could be worse. They could have killed or sold me if they wanted to. But the fact that I’m still here, is probably thanks to that one Gellvhi woman, who seems kind for a pirate. I’m not even sure why they keep me here, other than they are trying to avoid justice and need an extra hand for running things. To be honest, I really don’t want to be here, and a part of me is still scared for my safety. I can’t believe the mess of deadly weapons this pirate ship has! Not to mention the fact that there are extreme dangers here out in deep space. Asteroids, other pirates, star dragons, black holes, gamma ray surges...there’s just so much that can go wrong at any given time. This ship’s medical bot is more concerned than the ship’s captain is! I don’t know what I’ll do if we ever land somewhere civilized again...I want to be home again, but I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to. I would keep my mouth shut about this ship and it’s crew, but I can’t guarantee I will if in the future I’m asked about them...I don’t know what to do...but, at least I’m alive. I can thank the goddesses that I still have strength and breath and food and rest. I might be crazy, and this might be a captive’s admiration, but this band of pirates is actually kind of intriguing. If they weren’t such crooked, roguish, disagreeable thieves and charlatans, I think I could be friends with them. As it is, the only one of them who seems to show me any fair treatment is Sua, the Gellvhi. I guess captain Dice is, kind to let me live, but he really doesn’t strike me as the murderous cutthroat type. He likes to talk. And he seems to like people...even though they aren’t of the same race as he is. It’s strange how he doesn’t seem afraid of anyone...even if he should be. And his love for this ship, is probably more genuine than his love for anything else, even precious treasure. Well, I guess I should really try getting on everyone’s good side. If I manage that, I can manage more than I could as just a captive prisoner. That first mate will probably be the toughest to appeal to...he is a bit scary for being so short. Someone’s coming- I got to go._

NOV 6
Nicorbus and his Wives

“Where are my shoes?”
“Hey, let go! That’s mine!”
“Is everyone ready?”
“This is MINE! All your bows are pink!”
“Crissyyy! Hurry up! I need to go!”
“One minute! I’m almost done.”
“Um, is everyone ready? Because, um-“
“Everyone shut up!”
There was suddenly silence among all of them, when she shouted out. All the ladies turned to see her, the dark, fallen angel with long, tied up, blood red hair. She strode into the lavish, large bedroom hall, a deep and threatening coldness in her expression and ice in her teal eyes. She glared at all of them one at a time, and kept her gaze on one of them in particular. A very young, red and pink shaded demon girl, with short horns on her forehead and a small pink tail drooped under her dress stood, looking up at the angel in fear. “I don’t want to hear you instigating anything Dredara, I mean it.” The dark angel warned. At that time a lovely succubus with long white hair and violet eyes came out of a sparkling, clean and tiled room, holding a small towel. “I’m finished, who needs to use the, oh-!”
“Out of the way!” blurted a short but spunky looking demon girl with short blonde hair and the strongest of urges to relieve herself. She quickly shut the door behind her while the white-haired succubus in her long white dress stood in front of the dark angel. “Oh, excuse me Linzy dear.” She smiled softly, tip toing around her, exiting the hall. Linzy, the dark angel quietly stared back at her briefly before walking after her, and glaring at the other girls. “He’ll be home in 5 minutes. Please. Behave yourselves for your sakes.” She grimly breathed before leaving.
“’buhave yourself for YOUR sakes.’” One demon girl, dressed in soft turquoise furs and hair, mimicked quietly before scoffing in frustration. “Ugh..she’s so melodramatic sometimes.” She said folding her arms. “Um-uh, w-well, I need to um, please, use the comb, if, um, I can just-“ a soft and delicate voice spoke up, coming from the only one of them without a demonic look to her. Just a girl with short red hair, a soft maid-like dress and the sweetest but most tired looking eyes. As usual one of the other girls cut her off, a blue skinned spirit girl, with short black hair and sunglasses. She had dark, punky and rebellious style to her, matching her expression, and she was also transparent from the waist down. “You’re all boring me.” She grumbled. “What do you need a brush for Apricot? Your hair is short. Just use your fingers. Enjoy feeling your hair while you got the chance.” She almost snapped at the poor tired girl, wooshing past her. “Oh, okay.” Apricot softly just accepted her passive aggression with a sad smile. “Thanks Clementine.” “It’s C!” Clementine shouted back and stormed off through the bathroom wall. The demon girl that ran into the restroom came out again, looking behind her and drying her hands with a towel. “So sensitive.” She muttered, while the other ladies all chattered and built up the noise again.
Suddenly in the middle of it all, the deep sounding old doorbell rang, and they all turned their attention to it, quickly setting off together down the hall and to the foyer.
“Give me my bow D.D.!”
“Nah nah, it’s mine now!”
“White doesn’t suit you Dredara. Nothing about you is pure.”
“Shut up your face, DARline!”
“Oh, give it! Ugh! Right now!”
“No!”
“U-um, what do I do with this?” Apricot murmured, holding up someone’s purse.
“Hey-! That’s mine!” Xally, the blue demoness spoke up. “Why is everyone taking all my stuff today?!”
“I-I didn’t take it, I found it on the-“ Apricot tried, but Xally already snatched the purse back and hurried with the rest of them downstairs.
A tall male demon dressed all in dark red royal garbs and his long dark ashy hair parted around his horns, arrived in the foyer, holding a package in one arm and a thick book in the other. He set the book down with a heavy sigh and immediately glanced up to hear the ladies all chattering and overlapping one another in welcoming him home. His tired, demonic green eyes turned suddenly agitated and rolled away, as they nearly all ran to him.
“Welcome back!” “Returned at last!” “I missed you so much! You have no idea how much I missed you Nico!” “Welcome home my love!” “Do you like my bow?” “I’m s-so happy you’re back!” “Jeez, don’t everybody suffocate him at once.” “Nico, did you bring me everything I wanted??” “Look at my bow! Do you like it?” “You look tired dear.” “Have you been working really hard?” “What did you do today? Tell me, come on tell me!” they all chattered, surrounding him and heavily piling over him like wet towels. Linzy the dark angel just stood to the side, separate from them all, glaring calmly at him with folded arms. He looked to her for help, but there was no mercy to be found in her silence and her face. He turned back to them all, trying to get a word in. “I-, now hold on, let me get to my room.” He groaned, picking the book up but Apricot took it for him, and the package as well. “Thank you lovely.” He sighed. “Is that for me??” Xally beamed. “I just ordered some new socks off of Amazon.” He replied. “Are they for me?” She repeated. “Nico! You like my bow?” Dreadara interrupted, bouncing up and down with devilish excitement. “That’s Xally’s sweetie.” He told her, taking it off and giving it back to Xally. “I know,” the small, pink Dredara giggled. “I stole it from her because she’s such a hoarder.” “I am NOT.” Xally growled. “Honey, I’ve got some new perfume.” Crissy, the white succubus sweetly smiled, pressing close to him and wrapping her arms around his as they followed him up the stairs. “You did huh?” he answered, looking more tired, but keeping the smile he had reflecting hers. He then looked again back at Linzy, standing at the bottom, but she did not move to help him in the slightest, looking most unamused. “Well-l-ladies, hey-w-ha-let me speak.” He told them all before quickly getting a sentence through. “Let me get dressed and then we can all go and have dinner okay?”
All seven of them followed behind him to his room, chattering and blathering away excitedly, even after he shut the door behind them. He stood against it, and quietly let out another tired sigh, slumping over. “This is what I get for marrying 7 women.” He groaned to himself with self-pity. Just then, Clementine, the tough looking ghost, floated through right beside him. “Long day, huh Nicorbus?” she scoffed.
“You have no idea.” He grumbled back, rubbing his face in one hand and staggering over to his bed, belly flopping right atop of it with a hum. He squeezed the sheets in his hands and stretched his spine. “I should have married my bed. It’s the only thing in hell itself that I miss every damned day.”
“Rude. I’m still here you know.” Clementine pointed out, holding up her translucent hand with a dark wedding band on her finger. “Whatever.” Nicorbus murmured. “At least I don’t worry much about you, C. You don’t give two shits about anything but what I’ve got to say.” At this, she floated closer, sinking into the bed next to him. “Am I your favorite?” she asked. “Today you are.” He sighed. “You wanna hear about what’s been goin’ on?” “You know it.” She grinned, rolling over and floating atop the bed. “Lay it on me.”
“You know how last week we were all working on some big political corruption influences?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I guess the good news is that it has potential for escalating into some violent activity and maybe even begin another human war.”
“Really?? Hell yeah.”
“I know, cool right? Anyway, I’ve been worked to the bone just to keep things tense and upsetting, while Seth gets the easy work, right? How hard is it to keep things in the dark? He can’t even do that, and yet he’s getting all the credit, it’s bullshit. Even though I’m getting paid more, that’s a given, but, holy hell. Give credit where credit’s due. That’s what dad enforces all the damn time.”
“Does he know how hard you’re working?”
“He doesn’t give a fuck, C. That’s what I love about him.”
“Huh. Well, I guess you better get some rest before dinner.” She smiled, pushing up her sunglasses before floating down into the floor.
“It’s never enough.” Nicrobus grumbled as she left, laying still on his bed and finding it very easy to drift to sleep.

NOV 8
Sua Entering a Ring Race

“It’s such a beautiful planet.” Aza smiled, looking down at the blue ringed terrestrial planet from the ship’s main window on the bridge. Dice stood beside her looking out and folded his arms. “I’ve never seen such colorful rings. Have you been here before?” Aza asked him.
“One or twice.” Dice shrugged, cracking his neck. “We’re only here for provisions though.” “Couldn’t we take a little scenic exploration?” Aza requested, watching Dice as he sat down on his captain’s chair, kicking back and lounging.
“Why? You into swimming all of a sudden?”
“Swimming?”
“Yeah.” Dice scoffed raising his eyebrows and nodding his head in the direction of the planet. “Or did you not notice the planet is covered in one big ocean?”
“That’s water?!”
“Well what did you think it was miss brainiac? Methane?”
“Well..yes.” Aza confessed, looking back at the planet. “So, what are the rings made of then, if this isn’t a gaseous planet?” Dice yawned and reached in his pocket pulling out a cube of water gum, popping it into his mouth.
“Dusa’s rings are made of junk space stuff and moon bits after one of its moons bit the dust.” “What happened to the other moons?”
“Oh they come around once in a while, seasonally. And then they migrate to the southern end of the galaxy.” Dice smirked.
“Be serious about something for once, Captain.” Aza grumbled. “Oh I’m so damn serious!” came Sua’s voice as she nearly darted onto the ship’s bridge. “Serious about racing!” She grinned in excitement, standing before the crew on deck, cracking her gloved knuckles. While Aza beheld Sua dressed in a short top and skin tight racing pants with high boots and three glowing belts, Dice raised his eyebrows at her and smiled.
“Ahh, you’re going to enter a position?” He asked her.
“I-I thought we were only here for supplies?” Aza folded her arms.
“We’re in no rush.” Sua shrugged, smiling and stretching her arms up. “I’ve always wanted to race on Dusa. It’s like the coolest place in the whole damn galaxy to race!”
“You race in a ship?” Aza asked her.
“Well of course silly, how else do people race?”
“Well, there’s Bazi Racing.”
Lyroh’s ear twitched and his head tilted to listen to Aza, seated at the navigation hub behind them.
“It’s pretty neat to watch, and people bet on it.”
“People bet on these races more.” Sua beamed. Dice nodded and smirked, blowing a small bubble in his gum. “That’s because they’re fast as hell.” he added. “Racers live and die for these kinds of races.”
“It’s that dangerous?” Aza asked, squeezing her arm.
“If you call racing around the planet’s rings dangerous, yes.” Sua replied.
“Around the rings?! Yes! I do!” Aza protested. “The tidal resistance of small ships can’t possibly allow it to fly close to a planet’s rings and remain in one piece!”
“They can if they were built for just that purpose!” Sua grinned down at her. “I’ve raced in more dangerous places, rings are a cinch compared to the winding canyons of Marrat. They’re just like asteroid belts but, tame.” she shrugged casually.
“Well, how would you know Sua? Have you raced on rings before?” Aza worriedly questioned. “No. But how hard can it be?” She smiled back, stretching her wings. Aza turned to Dice, picking his ear on his chair and chewing his water gum.
“Well, I hope you’re just drenched in worry for her.” She sarcastically scolded him. Dice blinked his eye up at her, rubbing his dirty finger on his pants.
“Oh, I’m just distraught.” He sarcastically returned, smirking. “Relax Aza. She hasn’t had a good race since that cross meridian track on Aoshi. If she doesn’t come back alive, I’m going to lose a LOT of money! And you’ll have a new job.” Aza frowned up at him and lowered her voice.
“You ba-! How can you say such a terrible thing? Don’t you care that-!?”
“Aza.” Sua stopped her from nearly lunging at Dice. “It’s alright. Hey. Why don’t you come with me to enter my name in the race?” She smiled, placing her hand on her hip. “I really want to enter this, and I hate going alone to register.” Aza blinked up at her and worriedly taking her hands in her own.
“I don’t like it, but alright.” She sighed before Sua excitedly extended her feathery golden wings out and flapped them slightly before hopping up and down. “Woah-! Hey-!” Aza exclaimed, nearly being launched up in the air.
“Ooh! This is going to be so much fun! I need to start thinking of a cool alias name! Go get ready, I need to fix up The Velocity.” She delightfully beamed and set Aza down safely before folding her wings and taking off down the ship’s bridge. Dice chuckled and came behind Aza, patting her shoulder.
“Let her have her fun. Here.” He nudged her. Aza looked down at his bandaged fingers, handing her a small, odd smelling box.
“Eugh. What’s this?”
“It’s Sawsa. Her favorite meat. For celebration or for defeat, whichever.” Dice explained and brushed Aza aside with his shoulder, walking down the ship’s bridge over to Lyroh. Aza gave him a look of unsure concern which he didn’t see, and then made her way off the bridge with the box in her hands.
“How much you wanna bet Sua lands first place?” Dice grinned, watching the planetary information screen on the navigation hub with his first mate.
“20,000 says she places third.” Lyroh murmured, a toothpick in his mouth.
“Make it 80,000 and the tab at the next bar we visit.” Dice smirked. Lyroh tapped a few controls on the navigation hub, sliding his fingers around the screened planet to focus on the rings, with holographic zooming objects traveling around them. He smiled and sighed folding his arms. “40,000.”
“Nah nah, 80.” Dice grinned shaking his head as he rubbed his scruffy chin. “I know you have it.”
“45.” Lyroh haggled, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms behind his head.
“Fine, 75.”
“50.”
“Hmm, 65.” Dice said, shifting is feet. “Final offer.” A long pause drifted between them before Lyroh held up his hand to Dice, which he slapped in a positive agreement.
“65 plus the tab. She’ll place third.”
“First.” Dice sighed with a look of silent pride. “I’m counting on it.”

On the planet Dusa’s watery surface, there was a small hovering city high above the waves, where Sua took Aza with her and landed her craft to register for the ring races. She leapt off, helping Aza down with her and locking her ship’s cockpit.
“Well, where do you register?” Aza asked her. She looked around at the vendors, landing and departing crafts, and took in a very chilly oceany scent. “Not sure.” Sua admitted, rubbing her neck and looking around. “I’ll ask.” She added, walking up to a Foshkin man. Aza watched her and looked around the craft lot, noticing a group of three tough-looking racers all laughing and walking together in her direction. One was clearly Valocitian, with grey skin and large black eyes, and though their hair was dark and short, they seemed female in appearance. Another was Obskanian, looking like a taller, more friendly and sandy-haired Lyroh. The leader, with neck tattoos and reddish brown hair tucked around his curved up horns, was Schynyn, and had a very commanding and intimidating look to him, with his voice muffled through a breathing apparatus. She nervously stood still, looking over at them before turning around and pretending to be busy checking up on Sua’s ship wing. While she avoided their attention, she listened in on their brief conversation as they walked by. They were speaking a dialect of Fichii, which she once studied in school, but they hardly seemed to be talking about going to the store or sharing likes and dislikes.
“Hahaha, I mean, did you see his face?”
“Too easy. Heheheh, ah, it was worth it though.”
“Next time we should…”
“...HA! No doubt!”
“Hahahah!..” They finished, walking out of Aza’s hearing range. She frowned nervously and suspiciously, knowing in her gut, they seemed up to no good. Sua came back with a smile on her face.
“Aza? Oh, there you are. Registration is over that-a-ways.” She sighed. “I hate flying in this wind, but I wanna save my feet the exercise. Let’s go, yeah?”
“Um, Sua?” Aza began nervously looking around her.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to drop you.” She smiled scooping her up and stretching her wings. Aza held onto her neck tight.
“Wa-wait wait wait-waaitSuaa!” She yelped as Sua took off upwards and in the direction of the city where a long line which split into eight shorter lines could be seen from above. Aza shut her eyes and clung to Sua, grumbling in the strong wind as Sua shifted her wings to glide and try to avoid turbulence, but made her flight shaky nevertheless. “Hey! There’s the line! Darn. If I were famous I could just cut ahead!” Sua spoke, flying down to touch back down to the metallic ground. Aza shivered and steadied her breathing as Sua set her down with a short chuckle. “Back to ground. See? That wasn’t so bad was it?”
“I’ll never get used to that.” Aza replied, fixing her hair and composing herself.
The two stood in line, with other racers from across the planets. “You’re sure you want to enter this race?” Aza asked her.
“You don’t have to worry, I’m used to races like these.” Sua insisted. “I’ve been racing for years now.”
“Oh? How many years?” Aza sighed, her arm across her abdomen. Sua smiled with a thoughtful and guilty look on her face.
“Ahhhhh, I think…” she paused, placing her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow in thought. Aza looked up at her uneasy and awaiting her response. “It’s hard to say, since different planets have longer and shorter years, and-” Sua tried.
“How many A-cycles then?”
“A-cycles? Uhhhmmm, around 6?” Sua replied.
“6. And other racers have been at this all their lives and you still want to enter?” Aza worriedly spoke, the both of them moving up in line.
“I’m tougher than I look.” Sua shrugged, folding her arms. “Besides, I have a knack for it you know. I might not win first, but I’ll try to.” Sua smiled.
“Dice said he was counting on you to. How can you let him bet money on you? That isn’t very respectable of him.” Aza said folding her arms.
“The captain trusts me on my own like this Aza. I’d say that’s pretty respectable.”
“But you’re not alone down here, are you?” Aza smiled.
“I know. It’s kinda nice.” Sua smiled back and moved up in line. “What do you know about Rally ships?” She asked Aza, fixing one of her gloves.
“Not much.” Aza admitted. “Actually very little. I’m not really into mechanics and crafts.”
“Ah, it’s not difficult. Once you get to know the frame, function and build of everything in the vehicle, you get used to knowing how to quickfix shit and what adjustments to make and how to install some sweet improvements for it.” Sua explained. “I’ll show you once we register.” They moved up in line.
“Are you racing in the Velocity?” Aza asked her. “It’s got speed, but it doesn’t have much be means of a shield, does it?”
“True, but that doesn’t mean I can’t customize a few things on her a little for a ring race.” Sua returned cheerfully. They moved up in line again, the man in front of them registering his name in the race. Aza leaned in closer to whisper up to her.
“Isn’t that cheating?” Sua just shook her head with a reassuring frown and calmly shut her eyes before blinking up at the man in front of them finishing up his registration.
“At least..I’m pretty sure it isn’t.” She smiled, moving up in line, Aza moving up beside her.
At the front was a booth with a thin horizontal window, a single register bot attending the window. Sua cleared her throat and began to speak in Tuse. “Ah, vol. Sussi co val a kelves ve raches?” The bot replied in an electronic pitch in Tuse.
“Suve. Cele ut, ey? Ut weva al esen?”
“Ves.” Sua answered.
“Ev ish?” the bot asked. Sua glanced over at Aza before answering.
“Ves, asse.” The bot maneuvered with multiple robotic arms and punched in her information as she marked the holographic screen with slight taps of her finger.
“Ev ut aretu kam?” The droid asked. Sua smiled.
“Ve Velocity.” The bot clicked and whirred around, making her ship name appear in the roster on the screen.
“Chetu. Kav sci ii, vel a ut rache Z522408. Geuaccavim.” The bot finished, handing her a small circular device.
“Agrave.” Sua replied and took her racing beacon the bot had given her, placing it in her hip pocket.
“What language was that you just spoke? It sounds Lekkish.” Aza asked, following behind her as she headed back towards the docking bay.
“It’s Tuse. It’s a Zovaxian language. I knew a couple Zovaxians that were kind enough to teach me.” Sua smiled, slipping off one of her gloves and holding it in her mouth as she took off her other glove.
“It’s pretty.” Aza smiled, blushing slightly, wanting to hear her speak something else.
“Eh, I don’t speak it as well as Lushun, but then again, heh I didn’t undergo surgery to learn it.” Sua smirked, rounding the corner. They were almost entering the docking bay when suddenly Aza heard someone’s awfully familiar voice.
“Sua!” It was the Schynyn racer from earlier. Sua spun around to face him and the other two racers. “Lohwah, sehelat! Heheheh, long time, no see.” He glared at her, nearly matching her eye level. Sua blinked and stuck her gloves in her belt side. She looked tense and a little more than vexed as she stared into his pale violet eyes. Aza ducked behind Sua a little, watching her converse with them.
“Nitro.” Sua sighed, almost in dread. “I feel like I have seen a phantom.” Nitro chuckled.
“We ha were so sure you were done for back in Alka.”
“Can’t get rid of me that easy.” Sua shrugged back, folding her arms across her chest. She glanced at the other two racers. “Heya Ora.” She nodded to the female Valocitian racer. She simply nodded back with a smug look on her face.
“Hey! What? No greeting for me?” The Obskani racer scoffed, disgruntled.
“I’m not speaking to you.” Sua glared back at him.
“Aw, come on. Are you still mad about that one little scratch on your landing gear? You get your feathers in a bunch about everything.” He muttered.
“Figured you were as good as dead in that desert city where we ah saw you last Sua. But I suppose old habits do not perish from the person?” Nitro spoke up, before catching a glimpse of Aza behind her wings.
“If you want me dead, grow a pair and use your weapon like a big boy.” Sua hummed with a condescending smirk.
“You’ve made the poorest choice in entering the ring races Sua.” Nitro sneered at her, tip-toeing as he closely faced her, pointing his finger at her nose. “You may have come to win a little cash prize,” he continued, lowering his volume as he spoke to her intensely. “Pala you will lose. And you might lose more than just the race, if you fail to stay out of my way.” Sua blinked her glaring yellow eyes at him and craned her neck to the side, spitting on the ground in response. “I hope your little friend here knows she isn’t safe from anything you aren’t.” Nitro relaxed, backing off and turning his back to her and chuckling to himself. “Graze. Ora. Let’s go get ready!” He called behind him as he walked away. The Obskani racer snickered at Sua before following behind. Ora blinked her large black eyes at Sua and Aza.
“Good luck funny face.” She said before turning and striding away with a smile. Sua folded her wings in slightly and sighed in minor grievance. Aza followed her as they made their way back to the Velocity.
“You know those hoodlums Sua?” Aza frowned.
“Teh! Yeah, I know ‘em. I used to compete with them. On better, more, friendly terms.” Sua answered, reaching up and untying her short sky-blue ponytail before scraping her scalp to gather her hair again to fix it up. “Nitro and I kind of have a rocky past, it’s a long story. Nothing too interesting.” She continued, scratching her forehead and finding her ship. “I don’t worry about him though. At least, only until I can get in front of him in a race that is.” She chuckled, helping Aza climb into the ship. “Can you see if there’s a socket drill under your seat there?” she said, flapping her wings enough to land on top of the ship’s wing. Aza looked under her seat and around the ship’s carpet, looking for her tool, sliding aside the box Dice gave her and smiling, hoping Sua would be surprised by the end of her race. She found a long metallic rod with a spiral locked on the side of it with a clamping mechanism on one end.
“Umm, here.” Aza replied, finding and giving her the tool.
“Thanks.” Sua said, adjusting the tool and pulling her goggles up and over her eyes.
“Well, I just hope you know what you’re doing.” Aza sighed, sitting back in her seat with her arms folded.
“I know what I’m doing 96% of the time Aza.” Sua said, opening a panel on the ship’s wing and disconnecting a few thick wires.
“What time is your race anyway?”
“Oh! Here.” Sua blurted out, remembering the beacon in her hip pocket, taking it out and tossing it over to Aza. She caught it and read the holographic symbols on it.
“It’s counting down from...I think 3 hours? 2 hours now.” Aza replied, holding the beacon. “Um. Are you going to be able to fix the ship in time?”
“Without any crazy distractions, I sure will!” Sua answered, sparks coming from the wing’s mechanical components as she used her drill to connect and seal some wires in place. Aza began to pull out some thin Zoom chips from her pack in the ship and began munching on them, while she waited for Sua to fix up the wing of her ship.

Meanwhile on The Huntress, orbiting Dusa, Captain Dice and Lyroh were messing around with the gravitational stabilizer and floating around the bridge. Dice was singing a hearty, silly tune while batting a shiny piece of Obsidianite back and forth with Lyroh.
“Ten old men with ten old arrows,” he sang.
“All of them with tats of pharaohs,
Took ten aims out in the rain,
And hit nothing but sparrows!”
“Nine old men with nine old snakes,” Lyroh sang with him.
“Swam into an icy lake,
They swam out and did so shout,
‘Our poor old backs do ache!’”
The men chuckled about to continue with another verse when suddenly they were interrupted by Celatara’s telepathic voice.
‘When you two fools are through playing with rocks, you could take some responsibility and maintain the Roven-drives! They’re overheating again!’ She scolded them, placing her hands on her hips. ‘And please fix the stabilizer in here captain! You are going to make a mess! Who do you think has to clean it up for you? I’m not your mother!’ Dice laxly batted the Obsidianite in between his bandaged hands.
“We’re bored. The race isn’t for another half a rotation.” he told her as Lyroh behind him was tumbling in free-falling circles. Celatara blinked her large black eyes and shook her head in scorn.
‘You’re both grown men, find something less childish to do.’
“Like what exactly?” Lyroh yawned, picking his thin pointed ear.
‘Like helping us maintain the ship!’ Celatara frowned stamping her foot.
“Fine fine, I’ll get COM down to the engine room.” Dice waved, leaning back and slowly flipping in zero gravity.
‘You two don’t deserve such a good bot like COM. You can’t expect him to do everything for you you know.’ She sighed. Lyroh grumbled, switching the gravitational stabilizer back on and slowly landing back onto the bridge floor.
“Awww.” Dice sadly groaned as he slowly fell to the hard floor with the Obsidianite on his chest. ‘I’m taking a break, so there won’t be any food until the race begins. You two had better get to work.’ she said folding her arms across her aproned chest. Lyroh slid down the bridge staircase and landed right in front of her, leaning on the door.
“Whatever would we do without your guidance princess?” He sarcastically remarked, giving her a wave before switching the bridge door closed in front of her.
‘You’re lucky I don’t poison you because it’s very tempting!’ She echoed back to him and left the bridge door in a calmer but still irritable mood. Lyroh looked back at Dice still on the ground and they both shared an immature chuckle.
“You’re in trouble.” Lyroh smirked, kicking Dice’s foot before walking past him.
“Ehh, I’m always in trouble.” He smiled before yawning and laying his head back.
“I wonder what doesn’t piss her off.” Lyroh chuckled to himself, sitting at the navigation hub and plotting their next course on the ship’s computing system.
“She’s just used to things always done for her.” Dice answered, staring up at the bridge ceiling. “We’re just used to things done whenever they need to be done.” He exhaled with an amused tone. Lyroh slid over to the side containing drawer and took out a flat square device, pressing a single button on it and speaking low into it.
“COM, the Roven drives are overheating in the engine room, see what you can do about it.” A robotic-human voice replied back from the device.
“Already working on them mate. They’re stabilizing.” Lyroh looked back at Dice and talked away from the device.
“He’s already working on it.” Dice just grunted and lifted his arm in reply. Lyroh turned back to the device and spoke. “That’s all then. Full thanks.” He said before placing it back into the side drawer. He slid back to the navigation hub and altered the coordinates easily, ignoring a continuously blinking contact signal coming from the communication plate.
“Lyroh?” Dice sighed, still staring at the ceiling.
“Captain?”
“Could you turn off, the stabilizer again? I forgot how heavy this rock is.”

It was only ten minutes left on Dusa until the ring race began. Sua was finishing up some modifications for her ship’s tri engine boosters, while Aza worriedly kept trying to contact The Huntress on her VOITS. When no answer or reply was returning, she sighed nervously and watched Sua as she clamped together two mechanical parts and did her best to seal them together. With a sigh of relief, they both relaxed in the Velocity’s seats. “All finished.” Sua said, wiping her neck with her grimy towel.
“At last.” Aza added, smiling over at her. “You can take me back to The Huntress now then. I’ve been trying to contact someone but no one is answering. I hope nothing is wrong.”
“Heh, they don’t answer most of the time, probably nothing to worry about.” Sua assured her before strapping in and lowering the cockpit top, as it hissed shut and the ship began to whirr and start up. She flipped a few controls and attended to some blinking alerts, silencing them and taking off vertically. Aza strapped herself in loosely and made sure the surprise box under her seat was still secure. Sua then flew up and away from the hovering cityscape, high into the atmosphere with a smile on her face.
“You’re excited about this, aren’t you?” Aza said, smiling a little at Sua’s obvious delight. “How long has it been since you’ve done this?”
“Back on Aoshi, about half an A-cycle ago, I raced over the famous Bau-Zen Mountains. I remember going back after the race ended just to look over what I was zooming past. It was really breathtaking.” Sua answered, making it past Dusa’s last atmospheric layer, cutting her engine’s speed to fly closer to the top of it’s rings. “I think Dice took pictures. Remind me to show you later.”
“I will.” Aza smiled, taking the box out from under her seat and holding it away from Sua’s sight. She then furrowed her brow, wondering why Sua was traveling around the rings, with other ships joining in. “Sua...you’re taking me back to The Huntress right?” she nervously asked, leaning in her seat and looking out the windows at the other racing vehicles.
“No time Aza. Look at the beacon. I have two minutes.” Sua shook her head. “Looks like you’re stuck in here for the ride.” She smiled mischievously shrugging. “I hope you haven’t eaten anything heavy.”
“But-! Wait- I never registered for this!” Aza gulped, leaning forward in her seat. “I’m not with the proper protective gear!” Sua reached behind her seat’s arm and pulled up a pilot helmet, handing it to her.
“Here you go.” She smiled. Aza took it and looked at it, strapping it on quickly but nervously.
“I don’t know about this Sua. YOU might have done this before but I haven’t!”
“Scared?”
“You really have to ask?” Aza shot back, flustered.
“Ohh, it’s not scary, I promise.” Sua chuckled, piloting the ship over to a cluster of other racing crafts, taking her place on the starting line. “I’m a good pilot, trust me.” She smiled, placing her goggles over her eyes and adjusting them around her head, checking her hair was tied tight and placing her gloves over her hands.
“I’ll try to.” Aza murmured, tightening her seat restraints. Sua inserted her beacon device into the ship’s holo display, locking it in with a click and emitting a short confirming blip. Sua took a deep breath as the counter counted down to zero, and all racing vehicles had lined up.
“And now we wait for our go.” Sua smiled.

Back on the Huntress, Dice, Lyroh, Celatara and COM were all gathered together on the bridge, seated in hover-stools and chairs, watching the holoscreen, tuned to the planet’s local signal, displaying the planet and the racers, while an announcing voice spoke. Dice turned a dial to change the language spoken.
‘Don’t hog all the husk sops! I have a stomach too you know, save some for me.’ Celatara hummed angrily at Lyroh. COM stared at the hologram with his robotic green eyes, folding his arms and mimicking human breathing.
“There are over 700 racers. Are we going to wait until all of them are announced?” Lyroh grumbled. Dice hushed him, setting the language to Fenese. Racers and their craft were displayed on the holoscreen, along with their ages, ethnic races, and positions at the starting line. Lyroh munched on the snacks Celatara brought in, while she looked around.
‘Where is the Hexxian by the way? I thought you called everyone to the bridge.’
“She’s down there, with Sua.” Dice answered her.
‘What is she doing down there?!’
“Ohhhh!” Lyroh suddenly exhaled, shutting his eyes and chuckling sheepishly. “That’s who was blowing up our communication plate.”
‘Lyroh! She was probably trying to reach the ship so one of you could pick her up!’ Celatara scolded.
“Well, it’s too late now.” Lyroh smirked.
“There she is! Yeah!” Dice cheered, as Sua’s picture, vehicle and info appeared on the screen, with her alias name, “Azasha”. “Look she’s way over there on the left in the back row.”
“I can calculate her percentage of successfully arriving in first place for you if you’d like.” COM offered.
“No! No, it’s more thrilling not knowing!” Dice stopped him, watching her wave at the hovering camera from her ship window.
“There’s Aza.” Lyroh pointed at the holoscreen. Aza was seated tight with the large helmet strapped over her head, looking very tense.
‘Oh the poor thing.’ Celatara sighed loudly.
“She’s going to be fine! They both are.” Dice assured.
“You don’t know that.” Lyroh smirked.
“Of course I do.” He replied.
“Actually Captain, there is less than a .06-” COM began.
“Aup! Don’t say anything COM, you’re only making Lyroh look smarter.” Dice hushed him.
“It looks more like you just don’t want to be contradicted.” Lyroh said leaning back in his seat, and resting his arm over Celatara’s lap. “Or are you nervous about your wager?” Celatara huffed and pushed his hand off her lap with a look of irritation. Lyroh instead placed his arms behind his head and crossed his legs in a lax position while he gave Dice a smug look. Dice sighed back at them all behind him.
“You all should be ashamed. Ye of little faith. How can you not root for your own crewmate? Come on!” Dice scolded.
“Personally I’d like to see her win the race.” COM spoke.
“Thank you!” Dice nodded, looking back at the screen.
“Maintaining the engine room is something I’ll admit she does much better than I do.” COM added.
‘I’m just hoping they come back unhurt.’ Celatara folded her arms, sighing through her small nose. ‘I don’t care what they place in.’
“I do!” Dice replied, enthusiastically placing his hands on his hips. “I’m counting on that Gellvhi speedster to blow them all away. You hear that Sua?! You’d better win!”

Back on Dusa’s rings, while waiting for the race to commence, Sua received a beeping alert of an incoming holocall. Sua furrowed her brow, looking at her holo display plate and punched the call through. It was a holographic projection of Nitro’s face as he squinted at her. “Sua. Don’t think I’m above crashing a ship with an innocent passenger inside.” he darkly spoke through his breathing apparatus. Aza worriedly gulped and listened as he spoke, frowning up at him. “I hope you get in front of my way this time, so I will have the pleasure of knocking you into dust myself.” “Save it for when you’ve lost Nitro.” Sua replied with an intense look on her face.
“Hmhmhm. Been nice knowing you quillback.” Nitro chuckled, placing his goggles over his eyes and ending his call. Sua ended the call link and bit her lip, grumbling to him in a low voice to herself.
“Yeah? I’ll show you, you scum suckin’ shit weasel.” She then flicked on her engine preparation warm up, holding the brakes of her ship tightly. Aza nervously felt the Velocity hum and rumble, it’s engine power increasing. “Alright, I think they’re going to announce the starting rules and race data now.” Sua told her, as the beacon projected the rules on her cockpit window for them to read.
“Sua...it says, ‘upon ship destruction, placing will be recorded at the last remaining distance of a vehicle.’ They wouldn’t allow ships to get wrecked to that sort of degree, would they?” Aza nervously gulped.
“They sure would. But I’m not going to. I need her in one piece so we can head back to the Huntress.” she answered with a little smile, reaching over to her shoulder and patting her. “I promised right?”
“Did you?” Aza whispered, laughing nervously.
“I did now.” Sua smiled.
The announcer spoke up loudly to announce the start of the race. Sua and Aza listened as he spoke, repeating his announcement in multiple languages to all of the racers, as their engines began to power up.
“Attention Pilots! Attention Pilots! The race is about to commence! Please remember to wear your protective gear at all times, and keep the rules in mind always! Any violations of the rules, will disqualify you from any prize you may receive! Absolutely NO use of ship weapons, distracting devices and so forth while racing! No flying above or below the magnetic lines! No use of communication to other racers or other outside parties! 5 laps around the rings! No more no less! Once you are ready, please start your engines and we may begin! Good luck!”
The Velocity’s engine hummed with an intimidating scream as Sua held her brake, gripping her ship’s yoke tight and resting her other hand on it’s accelerating lever. She took a deep breath and smiled.
“Ohh, I’ve missed this.” She then turned to Aza and patted her again. Aza nervously nodded back shakily breathing in and out with her. She nearly jumped when suddenly a loud buzzing alert was heard around them at the starting line, a ship flying above them in their line of sight, displaying a line of blinking red horizontal beams. The loud buzzes periodically sounded as the lights flashed red, Sua turning off her cockpit lights, the controls all glowing like small bright stars. She grinned wide. “Here we go.” She hummed with an intense fire of concentration in her golden eyes. Aza readied herself, bracing for harsh speed and a wild ride. The ship above then displayed five red beams and one blue one. The beams blinked out in sync with the loud final buzzes. Aza watched them through the pilot helmet as they counted down, until the very last red beam blinked out.
A loud humming buzz sounded as the blue beam disappeared and instantly, Sua let go of her brake and cranked her accelerator up sharply. Both of her hands flew to grip her ship’s yoke steering it at high speed with the other racers zooming beside her. Boulders of ice and space rock flew below in a blur as the Velocity tore across the rings. Sua maneuvered around several other racers, passing them up as she maintained the curve of the rings. Aza was holding onto her seat restraints, pressed against the window and arm of her seat with each turn, her screams barely audible over the roaring rumble of the Velocity’s engine. With a sharp jerk, Sua drifted their direction in a hard crescent, passing up four racers traveling in a steady line.
Aboard The Huntress, Dice was cheering on Sua’s graphed position on the hologram, with the crew behind him watching intently.

SEPT 22
First 3 Chapters of Fantasy Prologue

I.

In the bushes and trees of the Scenta forest, a young man was trekking through, with a pack of wares and food upon his back. He had heard the forest was old, and if he was not careful, dangerous. He had heard the rumors that demons and their ilk, whom had survived the purging wars, lived in Scenta forest, awaiting lone travelers just like him, to trick and eat alive. He kept his wits about him, listening to the calling birds in the trees above him and the scurrying of squirrels on the trunks. The sun was setting and he would need to set up camp soon. As he stopped to take a rest, putting his pack down, his ear caught the sound of branches snapping. Spinning around, he looked to the source of the noise and saw movement in the bushes. “Hello?” he called out. There was no reply. He took the dagger from his pack and approached the bush cautiously, looking over it slowly. He lowered his dagger and relaxed, seeing a bushy tail and dirt being flung out from under the bush. A fox, which had caught a fat mouse, looked up at him before promptly trotting off. “Only a fox.” The young man sighed. “Nothing to be scared of.”
As he turned back to his resting spot, he froze suddenly, seeing something larger and darker dart from behind a tree. He did not take his eyes off the tree, and slowly moved to get his pack, regretting his decision to rest in an area of the forest which was off-trail. But as he bent down to put his pack back on, he saw the thing peek out from behind the tree. “A child?” he spoke under his breath, surprise etched on his face. The child gasped and ducked back behind the tree. “Hello! I’m sorry, did I scare you?” he spoke, setting his pack down and his blade in his pocket. He approached the tree and walked around it to see the child sitting, curled up in a small ball. It was a very young boy, no older than 3 or 4 he wagered, seemingly lost and afraid. The boy had dark midnight blue hair to his shoulders and was dressed in torn rags. He was also barefoot, his toes full of dirt and grass. “It’s alright. Are you lost?” he asked the boy, kneeling down to comfort him. “Where is your mother?”
The boy looked down at the ground, as if he could not understand him, and began to look rather sad. “You’re an orphan, aren’t you?” the young man sighed. “I’m an orphan too. My father was killed in the old wars, and my mum died of the plague when I was 10.” He saw that the boy’s look had not changed. “Come, you can camp with me. I have plenty of food to share.” He offered. “I’ll make sure you get to a safe home.”
The boy suddenly got up and ran away from him, much to his surprise. “Wait! Don’t run out here it’s not safe!” he called to the boy, taking off after him. “Stop! Come back!”
The boy ran into the forest, where the tangles of trees grew closer and more numerous, then across streams and rocks, until finally disappearing into a cave. The young man stopped, hesitating, once he felt the coldness of the cave. There was something about it that felt very, very, wrong. “This-is!” he gulped. He knew it was a place where demons were rumored to live. The Devil’s Throat. It was no place for a small child to hide or play in.
He decided to go after the boy and save him from the clutches of the demons which might be lurking in its darkness. Taking out his dagger once more to arm himself, he looked around behind him and above him, entering the cave cautiously. He felt the darkness encase his sight, and he felt the cold, damp, stone wall of the cave for security, continuing into its depths. “Of all the places-“ he whispered to himself in frustration. He then stopped in his tracks, seeing the boy’s outline standing before him. “Oh thank the heavens. You’re alright!” he exhaled. “Come back now, let’s get out of here. It isn’t safe.”
The boy turned around slowly, looking at the young man with a sad and apologetic look on his face. The young man’s eyes widened at the sudden realization, and feeling of ultimate dread. The boy’s eyes were glowing in the darkness, and they were an unholy red. “No…” he gasped, gripped by fear.
“I’m sorry.” The little boy replied looking as if about to cry. Before anything else could happen, the young man was descended upon by a trio of vicious demons, and torn apart violently and quickly.
They hungrily drank his blood and tore his flesh, gorging on his organs and bones. One turned to the little boy, it’s eyes dimmer but red, and whispered loudly and sinisterly. “Well done Silos.”
“Yessss.” Another demon chimed in. “Well done.”
Young Silos sat on the cave floor, hugging his knees and looking down. He was silent as the demons devoured the young man’s corpse. It felt wrong to lead a kind and unassuming human to his doom. He wished he didn’t have to do it. He wished he could just say no, but the demons threatened him regularly with injury and torture, unless he did as he was told. They would tell him he would need to be taught to live as a demon, to hunt as a demon, and to fight as a demon. But he would always feel like he wasn’t enough of a demon to belong.
“Silos…” the largest of the three demons quietly growled, striding up to him. The young man’s severed foot was thrown before him. “Here is your share.”
“I’m not hungry…” Silos glumly replied.
“You must eat.” The big demon darkly grumbled. “Eat.”
Silos got up, frowning at the severed foot, hating how delicious it looked and sadly walked away, back out towards the cave’s entrance.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?!” Snapped one of the demons ferociously, making ready to snatch him back. He was stopped by the big demon. “Ah, let him go. He knows not to leave.” The big demon assured. They all continued their feast, even scarfing up Silos’ share of the kill, down to the last bone. “That boy is too soft…” snarled one of the demons, picking his teeth with a bone. The big demon turned to him after glaring out at the entrance of the cave. “That boy is none of your concern. He is bound by the highest pact to remain in the realm.”
“Huh! He may be of demonkind, but he is a sorry excuse for one.” Grumbled the other demon. “Silence!” growled the big demon, shutting up the other two. “Away with you.” He ordered. “Away with us all. We must prepare, dusk is upon us!”

II.

The sun was setting and the owls in the deep thick of the Scenta forest were calling out the moon. Little Silos walked back to the spot where he encountered the young man, staring at his pack on the ground. He knelt next to it, a travelling bag as big as himself, and went through its contents. He took out a bushel of beet roots, a cluster of assorted nuts in a net, and a large satchel of copper and gold pieces. He dumped the coins, only taking the satchel that held them and put it in his shirt. Then he found some carrots tied together with string. Silos sniffed them, unfamiliar with the vegetable, and took a bite from it. After a few munches, he dropped the carrots and spat out the juicy orange remnants from his mouth. He then felt a bunch of chicken feathers, digging back into the pack, grasping them, and yanking out a whole chicken, dead but unplucked. He stroked its feathers, liking the softness. He then decided to stuff that too in his shirt.
Something alerted Silos’ senses and he turned to see the fox from earlier poke its nose towards him and the pack he was scavenging. He looked at the curious fox, and coaxed it closer, with the sliver of meat he had laying beside him. The fox cautiously approached, its muzzle lingering closer. Before the fox could snatch up the meat and dart away, six dark, murky tentacled arms shot out from Silos’ shadow, quickly catching the fox. It squealed and cried and shrieked in distress, struggling in his hold. With his dark arms he squeezed and slammed the fox to the ground, killing it instantly and tearing it apart into small bits before him. Silos then began to feast hungrily on its bloody meat, setting aside its bushy tail to take back to the caverns with him as a pillow. He ate up every last bit of the fox meat and left the rest for the night crows to pick at. He could already hear a flock of them cawing closer and closer.
Standing up, he looked at the pack again and went through more of its contents with his small bloodied fingers. He was not allowed to take anything made by human hand with him back to the demon’s realm, but he thought the chicken’s feathery body could hide a few small items. His clothes were an exception, as they were repurposed rags from several of the corpses that were laying about the caverns. But Silos knew the demons would not be pleased to see him return with a rolled up map of the land. He kept it tucked inside his clothes to look at later, and he made his way back to the Devil’s Throat.
Silos didn’t know much about the land of Steira. The world outside the demon’s realm, save for the natural world above was his home. The Scenta forest was all he knew of, with its many flora and fauna scattered and thriving about. Within the next couple of years, he had learned to catch rabbits, hawks and wolves, preferring them rather than humans to satisfy his demonic hunger for blood and spirit. He had tasted the blood of animals and of a few unfortunate people as well. Being half demon, he has found bits and slivers of memories within his meal’s blood. Visions of a peaceful village life, or a particularly dangerous situation, and sometimes even saddening recollections that were not his. Being half human however, meant that he could not absorb the souls within the blood and retain their energy and immortalizing properties. From all that he has eaten, Silos had pieced together only small amounts of knowledge about the mortal human world outside the Scenta forest. Although every memory seemed like a dream, unreal and surreal. Silos was unsure if he could trust the memories. Nevertheless, he looked for solid proof in the things he would recover from human corpses and human made objects. Such as the ones he was sneaking into the realm of demons, his wretched first home.

From the minute he had returned on a short hunt, a dark mass from deep within the caverns approached his living chamber. He spun around in time to see a massive shadowy demon, his first adopter and supreme ruler of the darkest realm. Silos stood quiet and frozen in fear as he knelt before the swirling, twisted mass. He could hear the other demons screeching and howling in delight as they all fled the dark of the cave and into the darkness of the night.
“Staying behind once again young one?” The massive demon spoke in multiple eerie voices. Its six glowing red eyes glaring down at Silos, who gasped and turned around to try and block his trinkets from the great demon’s view. “The sun’s reign is gone. Out ancient dominion has been presented before us. Are you never to join nocturne conquests?”
Silos remained quiet. He merely shrunk back and looked away. The massive demon then slithered around the chamber slowly, looking around his living space. It spied a small trinket beside a rock, a wood carving of a bird. “I see you are interested in other prospects.” The demon darkly purred, looking down at Silos again. “Human prospects.” Silos lowered his brow and his dark tentacles emerged from his knees, coiling around himself protectively. “Yes, my lord.” He admitted. The great demon slowly circled him, eyeing him as it spoke. “It does not surprise me. You are human born after all. I have shared our realm with you for only 5 miniscule years. For over 3,000 years we had shared the world with humans. Shared knowledge and magic. Shared relations.” The demon hissed and closely watched Silos.
“What does that mean?” Silos asked, naively looking up at the great demon.
“You do not think you are the first product of a human by a demon, do you?” it spoke, sticking to the ceiling of the chamber, looking down at him, its sharp teeth in a calm grin. “It is time you knew. Time you understood young one, why you have chosen this form instead of the one you have had at birth. There were many myriads of half-bred children long before you. You are one of an extinct union. You are a forbidden. But you, young Silos, do not belong with humans.”
“I don’t belong here either.” Silos frowned before looking away. “I can’t eat humans. I can’t make pacts…I’m not a demon-!”
“Whether you accept it or not, young one, you are of demonkind.” The great demon spoke louder, slithering closer to him. “Unlike your mother, here in our realm you are safe and let to live. Yet you are only permitted to live because of demon law. And a demon who does not follow demon law…is less than even humankind.”
Silos stood up and looked up at the great demon, with tears suddenly welling up in his eyes. “Why was mother not allowed to live? What did mother do?”
“Her crime was through no fault of her own. She did not ask to be born human. You must know Silos, that humans are never to live in our realm.”
“But-! But she didn’t know, did she?!” he cried. “How could she know? It’s not fair!”
The great demon slithered down to face him and glared intensely and coldly at the crying boy.
“She was naïve, like you. But she knew. She understood our laws. She accepted her fate, and she made the pact. Though she was human, you should be proud and thankful that she made such a pact.”
Silos dried his eyes with his sleeve and sniffled, still frowning. The great demon curled around him seemingly in comfort. “She decided to love you before you were even within her sight. Your mother is dead young one, but the dead do not always have to be consumed by the darkness.”
Silos stood silent, looking more down than upset. The great demon slipped away and steadily gripped the rock of the chamber, moving towards its exit. “Leave the trinket in your clothes behind here, and come with me. There is something I wish to show you.”
Silos blinked his red eyes at the demon as he took his haul from his shirt and pockets, placing them all down. His tentacles retreated and he scampered after the great demon, spiraling out and into the deep of the Devil’s Throat.

III.

He knew the deepest part of the demon realm was where the great demon lord lived, and where it consumed all who crept in uninvited. It was a rare sight to behold. A grand and unimaginable dome made of pure darkness and sharp gems. The gems were the only light in the chamber, glowing a sinister shade of violet unlike the violets seen in the natural world. The great demon rose up the side of the chamber and back down onto the floor where it raised a stone altar from the shadowy muck in the center. “Today I shall show you the truth.” It spoke. Silos watched as it cleared the altar, the ancient stone left bare and unbroken. He approached the altar cautiously as the great demon beckoned him. It then slid one of its eerie fingers onto the stone and pulled out drops of blood, letting them drip back onto the stone. Silos’ nose caught scent of it, and his eyes widened. “You should recognize this blood.” The great demon hummed. “It’s…mine.” He stammered, looking a little confused. “It’s your human mother’s.” corrected the demon lord, swiping up more of it from the dark altar in a fist full. Blood dripped onto the stone quietly. Silos felt a dark grip on his heart, feeling echoes of the past, the agony his mother must have felt, and the heartache she endured throughout. The great demon then took the fistful of blood and with more of its hands, shaped a prism out of the darkness, placing the blood inside of it. The prism encasing the blood was sent down to the altar where Silos could better see it. He watched as the prism of darkness changed color, and glowed. It hurt to look at, and he winced away from its brightness before risking a look back. The demon floated behind him and watched with him. Silos looked as the prism dimmed slightly, keeping its light and its color intact with the blood inside it. It was a crystalline indigo. “Your mother,” the demon hummed, “was royalty.”
Silos looked in awe and blinked at the prism. “Royalty?”
“The human realm is ruled over by humans of divine power and influence. The kings and queens of the three human kingdoms have reigned for centuries. Your mother was a princess, of the human kingdom of Arlia. What you hold in your hands is her pact, an oath she made to me with her life and soul through her last drops of blood.” The demon lord told him. Silos held the prism in his hands, feeling its warmth and light. It almost burned him, but he felt a certain familiarity about it. He began to hear the blood’s life, whispers from the memories of his mother.
“Since you are so curious about humans and the world they greedily claimed, I thought it was time I show you the tragedy of what can become of them, not even sparing the most undeserving of them.” The demon whispered darkly. “Your mother’s kind shares a likewise ugly fate with us. Humans, and their nature, their ways have a way of destroying themselves as well as all they touch. You would know this if you could have seen the wars they have wrought upon nature, upon us, and upon themselves. Your mother was no more responsible for the turmoil of her kingdom, than a blade of grass would be responsible for the dissolving of a carcass. She was simply present and within a position of influence, likely with her royal family, whom may be responsible for much worse.”
Silos heard the whispers grow louder as he held the prism closer.
“She was happy…” he deduced with a slight smile. “She…wanted to practice magic.”
“I hear all that echoes within this realm. I can recall all that has been uttered since the beginning of the great purge, and even before the darkest war.” The great demon lord hissed, rising up before Silos and the altar. “She wanted to become a sorceress. But she was foolish and young. She placed trust in those who could not be trusted, just as she had with trustworthy souls. She had a comapnion. One she trusted I presume. I heard her calling her name in the darkness, again and again. Her voice broke with her spirit the day she ventured into our realm. I heard the laughter of her friend just outside the walls.”
The prism echoed the memory as the great demon recounted. Silos heard the faint giggling of a young woman, and the pleading cries of desperation from another young woman. He looked back at the great demon, tears welling up in his eyes as he could feel the memory return to him through the blood he had inside of him. “Please don’t leave me here.” He echoed with the prism. “Please, please come back. Don’t leave me here Amella. Don’t leave me.”
“Your mother was betrayed, by her wicked friend, and sister sorceress in training.”
“No!” Silos cried, clutching the prism, as the whispering memories swirled around.
“That was too easy.” The young woman’s voice from the prism echoed. “You’re really stupid for a princess you know.”
Silos’ teary eyes glowed in the dark, as he grit his teeth, glaring at the darkness. “You lied to me. You tricked me.” He repeated with the words his mother spoke. “Why? I thought you were my friend!”
“With you out of the picture, I will become the best sorceress in the kingdom, and you will be stuck here, rotting in the earth with the demons.”
“No! You can’t leave me here! All of Arlia will come looking for me, and my father’s men will arrest you!”
“Arlia won’t be looking here. No one even dares to venture in this part of the forest. They’ll never find you. And Reon will have to marry someone else. Someone who’s around. Someone they love.”
“No. You’re not his fiancé. You don’t get to steal a prince of Polaris! You have no right! I love him!”
“Then why did you run away from the engagement party? Maybe it was because you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Arlia. Or was it because you never truly loved him at all?”
“Amella! You witch!”
“Not so loud dear Staphine. Or the demons will hear you.”
Silos’ eyes were swimming with tears of anger and despair, identically reacting to the anger and despair of his mother, as he fell to the ground, holding the prism. Everything felt heavy and suffocating as he tried to pull away from the prism.
“Please, Amella. Don’t go.”
“Oh, but I have to go back to the engagement party immediately. I have very distressing news you see. For the king, for the queen, for all of Arlia. And especially to Reon. He’ll need comforting after months of searching for you. And I will always be there for him.”
“No. Amella. Amella!”
“I would bid you a peaceful rest, but we both know the demon filth will show you nothing but hostility. Goodbye Princess Staphine of Arlia.”
“Please! Amella, come back! Don’t leave me here! Please!”
The screaming echoes ceased as Silos set the prism down and moved away from it, panting in horror and disgust and fear. The great demon slid down and crawled over the altar and around Silos, picking the prism back up and setting it onto the altar.
“She was left to die..” Silos shivered, sadly curling up into a small ball of dark tentacles. “She was supposed to live in peace…and…and Amella took it all away.”
“Such is the nature of humans. To take and claim and steal, no matter how it is done.” The great demon hummed. “This is the very norm of your mother’s kind, and it always shall be.”
“It’s not fair!” Silos shouted suddenly, hugging his own tentacles and wringing one in his hands. “Why did mother have to die? She could have left if you let her! Why didn’t you go to her?! She was so scared! She was in pain!”
“I do not concern myself with her kind, as I have never remained on good standings with humans. They are fouler than even the beasts of old, which we have given life, and to which they have taken too! Humans cannot help but destroy and steal and sin.” The great demon boomed. It slithered back onto the altar and opened its jaws wide, dropping the prism into its mouth and snapping it shut. “This is why they taste so good.”
Silos looked at the demon lord with both anger and fear. “And is that why demons make pacts?”
“Yes.” The great demon answered. “It is the foolishness of humans like your mother that is to our advantage. Humans will do anything to see that their desires are fulfilled. Your mother was no exception. She wanted you to live on, to be safe. Her desire was one of comfort and peace. Perhaps because you are all that is left of her in this realm and in theirs. Perhaps because she loved you and didn’t wish for you to share her fate.”
“Then she is not human.” Silos protested. “You are wrong my lord. She can’t be human if she made such a pact!”
“Your mother was human.” Assured the great demon. “Your mother was not a spirit, nor otherling, nor creature of old. She possessed kindness, but she was not born with it. And her kindness brought on her downfall. She even held onto it until her last breath.”
“Mother knew how to use her kindness.” Silos persisted, swirling his tentacles around behind him as he stood up. “She showed kindness to demonkind, even when she was scared and dying!” He defended.
“She pleaded mercy to us which have none.” The demon lord returned. “Her kindness was useless in my realm.”
“When was the last time you were given kindness by a human my lord?” Silos asked.
“Never have humans given us kindness.”
“I don’t mean all humans!” Silos stamped. “I mean one soul. A good soul.”
The great demon slithered up close to him, facing him with a cold toothy frown. “I wished to show you why it is you are better living in the realm of demonkind. That humans in their realm are not only dangerous, but they are irredeemable. They cannot be bargained with. They cannot be trusted, as you have seen and heard! You think you are safe with them when they see themselves as foul beasts? How would they see you? No, young one. Humans have proven time and time again that they are unmatched in sanity and lawlessness. They are a failed race, and they are better off dead or otherwise elsewhere far from here.”
Silos held a look of confliction, looking down at his own two hands. “Is that why you all hate me so much?...”
The great demon grumbled and calmly floated around him. “Hate is not in our nature. It is something humans have instilled in us, due to our past with them. However, to say we hate you is an erroneous assumption young one. No, we do not hate you. We only hate that there are not more of you half-breeds.”
“…I don’t understand.” Silos frowned.
“You seem to have inherited your mother’s heart in place of her mind, no doubt due to the blood she shared with you. Because of this, I will tell you the secret of your destiny. This secret will be your life’s reward for seeing yourself through to the end of my judgment.” The demon lord hummed, turning around and descending into the ground with a spiral. It then came out, taking the form of a dark, black, humanoid shape with its six red eyes upon its head, chest and shoulders. It walked over to Silos, facing him directly.
“Silos, your mother was taken by your demon father and made his bride. She bore you as a result, and though she possessed little rights and control, she recognized and honored demonkind rather than her own. That is why I treasure the pact between us.” The demon lord held out its hand and in it appeared a royal crown with jewels and made of shining silver metal. Silos took the crown with care and looked upon it with wonder. “Staphine was a human princess. This in turn makes you, a prince.” The demon spoke.
Silos looked up at it, holding the crown. “Your blood is royal, and therefore, you have a birthright to your mother’s kingdom.” The demon lord went on. “Yet, it is a tragic thing. As her kingdom shall destroy you, knowing you are not fully human. You shall live not knowing the taste of human things, nor living among humankind, nor knowing human dreams.”
Silos blinked back at the crown, seeing some of his reflection in it. He touched the cool silver and calmly frowned. The great demon pat his head with its shadowy hand and slid away. “You are so adamant to live like a human…with humans…and so, I will show you truly how horrible it is.”
Silos looked back up at the demon. “I don’t want to be like a human.” He said shaking his head.
“I know.” The great demon smirked, looking back over its shoulder at him. “You’re going to be better.”
The demon then shifted its form back into its massive shadowy beast-like appearance and glared back at Silos. “Go now and sleep if you shall stay within the realm. Come back tomorrow.”
“Good hunting my lord.” Silos bowed politely before relaxing. “I’m sorry I am so difficult.”
“Child. You are part human, and you are royalty.” The demon huffed. “Difficult cannot begin to describe the life laid out before you.” It grinned sharply and bellowed eerily before shooting off into the darkness in all directions, leaving him. Silos looked back at the altar, brushing his hand on the stone, before leaving to return to his chamber disappearing back into the darkness.

The demons of the Devil’s Throat scattered all across the lands of Steira, preying upon the humans they could and forming pacts with the ones they had been watching go astray for weeks. Humans were an abundant source of soul and blood, the two things demons craved most of all. Each night they would take their fills and return before dawn, back to the safety of their dark realm.
Silos stood in his chamber, alone with only the trinkets and food from the human world to keep him company. He held onto his mother’s crown, staring at it as he lay on the ground. He pressed it to his chest and shut his eyes, tears flowing down his face. His dark tentacles crept out under him and wrapped him up warmly. Sleep came slowly, and the sun began to rise. Luckily for Silos, the other demons left him alone for the night, and proceeded to celebrate their bountiful hauls of human flesh and blood. The next afternoon was all Silos had to look forward to, but it was enough.

OCT 14
Hindsight: A One Act Play

Hindsight

[The stage is set with a wide screen, which is seen only by the people on the stage, faced away from the audience. The people onstage, all separated by stalls, all divided by walls, sit and stare blankly at the screen, at the images before them.
One, sick, shivering, lays back, coughing into a tissue.
Two starts to get angry and yell at the screen.
Three is laughing.
Four is crying, curled up and alone.
Five, looking frightened runs out, leaving.
One slowly fades away into darkness, weak and pale.
Three stops laughing and starts screaming with Two.
Four disappears, and a gunshot is heard.
Two tosses a remote at the screen, shouting, shattering the screen.
All are gone. All is silent and dark. Then a male voice chimes in.
“Well. This is very interesting.”

A light illuminates around a man standing in a long coat and strange uniform. He looks almost like a detective, though there is something off about him. He has a blinking light right beside his ear. He walks in to see the broken screen, and examine it further. He tweaks it a bit and appears to be fixing it. As he does so, another person, a female, dressed in a similarly long coat walks in to see him working on the screen. Although she also wears sunglasses, an obvious wig, and a hat ontop. Her clothing SCREAMS “badly put-together” disguise.]

Woman: “What are you doing?”

Man: “Fixing it.”

[He continues to fix it.]

Woman: *points out* “Your stabilizer light is blinking.”

[The man stands and places his hand over his ear to cover the light and turn it off. He turns to look at her, showing a degree of surprise and alarm at her choice of clothing.]

Man: *he scoffs in amusement* “You look comically incorrect.”

Woman: “Thank you.”

Man: “That was not meant as a compliment.” [He manages to turn the screen on again, expressing relief and pride.]

Woman: “It was meant as an insult then?” [She shows no offence, but no smile either.]

Man: “Yes. An insult to your knowledge of correct appropriate attire.” *turns to her, his hands on his hips* “You should have brushed up on era fashion and taken all factors into account.”

Woman: *takes the sunglasses off to look directly at him* “There should not even be anyone here. What is the purpose of a disguise anyway?”

Man: “History is poorly documented Erfie. Even we don’t know the entire past.” [He turns to the screen and places his hand into the side, causing it to emit sounds from broadcasts and radio signals. From movies, shows, advertisements and interviews.]

Erfie: “That’s why we are here though, aren’t we? To look for the past. To reconstruct.”

Man: “To understand.” *he corrected*
[He let the screen play, the sound quiet but uninterrupted now. They both watched the screen and stared blankly at all on it, sitting down on the ruins of a sofa, until one of them spoke up.]

Man: “Such vanity. Such fear.” *he shakes his head*

Erfie: *looks at him* “Fear?”

Man: “That’s right. Fear. You know. Rrrr!” *he makes a scary bear gesture with his hands at her*

Erfie: *unphased* “That was meant to illicit fear? What was that? A pirate?”

Man: “Fear. Human response number one Erfie.” *he sighs* “Remember what I told you about fear?”

Erfie: “Yes.” *she sits tall* “Fear is the absence of courage. A negative emotion in response to something deemed threatening or painful.”

Man: “Correct.”

Erfie: “Pirates are not deemed a threat.”

Man: “It wasn’t a pirate, it was a bear.”

Erfie: “Bears too are not deemed a threat either. As both pirates and bears are no longer alive.”

Man: “Oh nevermind.” *he briefly gets up and touches the screen with his hand to look at more* “You wouldn’t understand it yet.”

Erfie: “I apologize.” *she wears a sorry frown* “I want to try to understand. Won’t you show patience with me Ohst?”

Ohst: *he pats her head, then tosses the wig from under her hat* “It’s hard to explain. You need to understand more about the past first before you try to examine the present.”

Erfie: “Why?”

Ohst: *he looks at the screen* “So we do not repeat any mistakes that would hinder progress. Hinder growth. That would destroy instead of strengthen. Let me explain it this way.” *he turns to her and raises his hand for a high five*

Erfie: *she looks puzzled at his hand*

Ohst: “You don’t know yet how to respond to this gesture. This is meant to signify what’s known as the high five. It’s a gesture from the past, acknowledging achievement, encouragement and success.”

Erfie: “Oh.” *raises her hand the same way*

Ohst: *gestures* “Slap your hand then against mine.”

Erfie: “Why?”

Ohst: “It’s required to complete the high five.” *slaps his gloved hand with hers*

Erfie: *looks unphased, looking at her own hand* “Why was the high five seen as positive?”

Ohst: “That is tough to explain. I don’t even know myself. All we know is what we have learned from past record. From the people of the past. What they did, and what it meant.” *he looks back at her* “Now this gesture,” *he raises his hand to strike her*

Erfie: *she quickly stops him, silent and cold as she blocks him from even getting near to striking her*

Ohst: *he nods* “You read that gesture as a negative, harmful response. One that meant to do you harm.” *he relaxes*

Erfie: *she relaxes, staring at him* “You did not mean to harm me?”

Ohst: “No. But, how did you know to respond in the way you did?”

Erfie: “If I did not, I may have been damaged.”

Ohst: “But how do you know that?”

Erfie: “Because I can be damaged with enough force.”

Ohst: [He leans closer speaking clearer and more exaggeratedly, as if she mistook him the first time.] “How-do-you-know-that?”

Erfie: *blinks confused* “I don’t understand your repetition of the question.”

Ohst: “You must have early memories of damage, don’t you? One you suffered as a result of failing to defend yourself.” *he leans back*

Erfie: *she tilts her head * “I can recall only of the first time I was knocked over and damaged. From then on, my programming has been mapped and adapted to prevent such damage from happening again.”

Ohst: “Precisely. It was a mistake to fail to protect yourself. You corrected your mistake, learned from it and now, it would take a whole lot to try to damage you, wouldn’t it?”

Erfie: “I agree.” *nods*

Ohst: “And you would not make the same mistake anytime in the future, would you?”

Erfie: “I agree.” *nod*

Ohst: “And you would not fail to recall the reasoning behind your programming had I asked the right words in the right order, right?”

Erfie: “I agree.” *nod*

Ohst: *leans back with a sad sigh, looking back at the screen after a short pause* “And that’s exactly where we differ…human and machine.”

Erfie: “You mean, humans do not correct their programming?”

Ohst: “In the past, as I understand…no, they did not.”

Erfie: “Is that why this air is full of hazardous chemicals and lack of structure?”

Ohst: “That’s likely why it’s a total ruin, yes.” *he looks around with pity*

Erfie: “What mistakes could they have made that would make such damage occur?” *looks around with intrigue and cold logical observance*

Ohst: “That’s what we’re here for. To learn what those mistakes were.” *he changes the screen around*

Erfie: *looks at the screen* “So, why would this primitive device hold the answers?”

Ohst: “Don’t be rude. Just because you can’t transmit electrical signals into a visual projection doesn’t mean you can call it ‘primitive’.”

Erfie: *looks a bit jealous* “I could if I wanted to.” *she then looks closer at the back of the screen and around it* “Why don’t I try?”

[He watches as he takes her own hand, putting it in the side of the screen and moving it around steadily. The sound shifts around and the screen’s images flutter at a rapid rate, too fast for him to keep up.]

Ohst: “Well, don’t break it.” *he looks a bit worried* “There’s only a few of these left around the wasteland that are in working order anymore.”

[She takes her hand out, standing up and looking around at everything now with seemingly new eyes. Less cold and less logical. Oddly reminiscent of a human.]

Erfie: “You said past human response number one was fear?...I think, I understand.”

Ohst: “Do you?” *looks doubtful*

Erfie: *nods quietly and looks around, feeling the eerie silence and emptiness around* “There was so much of it. It was…like a virus. It could not be combatted alone. Ohst, did humans have someone to introduce the software necessary to combat such a hindering thing?”

Ohst: “Humans didn’t have anyone but themselves.” *he shook his head* “As I understand it, most worked together, like their own software to combat their fears and their sorrows, all negative emotions which influenced them. When they worked together, the fear, the virus had been eliminated.”

Erfie: “They could function at full capacity then?”

Ohst: “Oh, fear always came back Erfie. Humans could only work at full capacity for such a short time before fear rose again.”

Erfie: “Fear is bad then. It destroys.”

Ohst: “Now you’re beginning to sound more human.” *he places his hands on her shoulders* “Fear is not bad. It does not destroy. It cannot do anything. It’s how fear is received that determines an action. To protect or to do harm.”

Erfie: “Why would humans want to harm themselves? Out of fear? Why?” *she looks confused and a bit heartbroken* “Why did they let fear control them? Infect them?...Why Ohst?”

Ohst: *he shakes his head sorrily, looking around with her, then back at the screen.* “It’s the biggest mistake humanity is guilty of Erfie. This place might be proof of that. The past of humans were full of wars and profit. To gain land…To win for a just cause…To keep their freedoms…To enslave…To exterminate races…To create an empire…To perhaps even conquer and steal along the way…

It’s just a guess. It’s just a hunch, but, from what I know, from all the memory files I poured over, from all the databases, and the recovered documentation, from what I know of that, I have the impression that humans of the past had…complex and chaotic lives. They lived and died in places that were only given little to sustain all of the needs of a human being. The need to eat, sleep, and function physically yes, but, also the mind’s needs. The need for companionship, for compassion…understanding. The need to be challenged and the need to learn and grow. I think some of the past humans made the mistake of thinking that all needs stop at the adult stages of life. I think, and like I said, this is only a hypothesis, but, somehow, somewhere in the world, such fear…and doubt…and agony was at a sharp peak,
and it gave way to destruction. It gave way to freedoms being stolen away, land being destroyed, lives being sacrificed…all in an attempt to fight the fear, to satisfy a need. Perhaps, the need to be understood. Perhaps the need to feel like they have control, a need of comfort. That if they hold the key to destruction for all, no one will dare go near them. That if challenged, they would, unchecked, assert their need to feel like they are important, so they wouldn’t feel unsafe again. I have a feeling…a horrible feeling, that whatever happened, happened because the tension was too much, and the virus, Fear, got out and infected so many that it turned deadly. Until, no one was left. Until not one person was left surviving intact…Few, a very select few must have, or else I wouldn’t be here.”

*he looks at his hand* “I might have mechanical parts but I do have human organs, the mind and the heart, two most important ones.”
*he looks at Erfie and then around the dark setting* “The humans from the past destroyed themselves. That’s my perception. But! Until we know for sure, we’ll keep prospecting the devices we find for any evidence.” *he turns to walk away*

Erfie: “Ohst?”

Ohst: *he turns around looking back at her*

Erfie: *she is still in her place, looking down at the ground for a brief moment, before suddenly running up to him and throwing her arms around him*

Ohst: ! *is shocked at the emotional gesture from his mechanical partner and slowly hugs her back* “Well, this is very interesting. I didn’t teach you this gesture. Did you get this from the device?”

Erfie: *nods into his chest*

Ohst: *he stifles a chuckle and hugs her close* “I appreciate it. Even if it is simply a practice command.”

Erfie: *looks up at him with a human-like smile* “I’m…glad.”

Ohst: “Easy now.” *he pats her head and turns, walking away with her* “Don’t overload yourself with too much human data. Past entertainment programming was EXTREMEY misleading. Then again, in hindsight it likely always was.”

Erfie: *as they walk away into the darkness* “Ohst? What do the white bears with hats and scarves have to do with promoting soda?”

Ohst: “I wouldn’t have ANY idea.”

[They both exit and the screen stays on for only a minute, before the sound of a TV monitor shutting off echoes and the light goes out.]
End

[Merskelly Metalien]

DEC 2
Non-fiction Memoir of Childhood

It was blocked. I couldn’t park my car anywhere. It was weird driving down Olive street, and up Philadelphia. I had only ever been a passenger up these roads, sitting in the front and back seats, never behind the wheel. I walked these streets, several times. I know them and I know them almost intimately. My feet were 12 years old when I last walked them, the way I did today. 12 years old. I don’t even recall what my thoughts were at 12 years old…

Every lot had barriers. I could not see many other cars along, trying to park in them. Me, in my white Hyundai, just tried to find a place off the property of my childhood to park in. I ended up finding a space at the tiny, square, central park on Bailey street. A space I could have for two hours. I had just finished my breakfast. My heart and stomach were full, and luckily trash cans were not hard to find. I dumped my garbage neatly and set off with my water bottle, cold from being in the morning chill of the car. I wore my bright red jacket. I figured, wearing my old black one would make me look shady. Shady. As if a tiny, weak, skinny, child-sized young woman could be seen as shady. It was also the jacket that made me look sad, poor and the eye passed over me in my black jacket more than my red. I wanted to be seen. I wanted to be remembered.

I walked, made my way safely down Bailey and then Painter avenue. I used the crosswalk and waited and walked calmly at my own pace, out of great respect for the way the entire behavior had been taught to me. I was walking toward where I had been taught that behavior and had followed its rule.

I reached Olive street. It was pale, cracked and thin, almost sickly. If weeds had greeted my shoes instead of clear sidewalk, and well-groomed foliage, I would have thought it was lost to disease. Odd. It was, strange, I swore the sidewalk was thinner than it was before. It was never this small. The thin tree branches were never this close to my head, as I whisked past them. Up the hill I kept going, with my hands clutching my water bottle and keys in my pockets. It was a warm morning, but the air felt new. It felt familiar. I hated these trees’ blooming red blossoms. They scared me, I remembered, because they attracted honeybees by the dozens. Having been stung as a small girl, right in the very grounds I was approaching, I recalled my fear of the little buzzing wings. I didn’t like these trees no. I tried to avoid them or look down when I used to walk down this way.

There were birds chirping in the distance. Someone’s power tools were loudly grinding away in the depths of the small tucked-away spaces of one house. That’s right. Houses one after another, the size of June bugs lined Olive street. It was like they were the audience peering at the large lot and children’s school only five steps across the thin one-lane road. I smiled at the path I walked as I got to the lot’s cemented wall. A memory shot into my head at the speed a bullet might. I laughed to myself, passing the wall which was only as tall as my mid-thigh. “I must have really been tiny, if I remember hiding behind this.” I told myself. I was alone, save for the man walking his dog opposite of my direction, only three eons before. I had even forgotten what sort of dog it was.

My eyes beheld the lot, empty of cars. It was like a grey field, with the old cement parking blocks poking up like decaying gravestones. I was looking at it all. I had to stop. I needed to take it into my eyes. I needed to know that I was feeling. There was the music building, where there on the steps overlooking the preschool, we dropped our egg-protecting inventions for science. I must have made mine out of pipe cleaners, glue, popsicle sticks and a toilet paper roll with additional tissue paper and cotton balls to cushion the egg. I chuckled at the thought that I had been taught to understand the principle of physics in the fourth grade.

And there, inside the music building, which now looks like a great, rusting, white boat swing, Dr. Cook had taught me to read sheet music one summer. I never kept that skill. I wish I had. I remember being so proud. It was like I had unlocked a door, or I had seen into a world where I could comprehend sound visually. I think it felt like learning to read again. It must have felt that way. Back where I had just came from, past the music building was the Chapel, and beyond that, one of my favorite places on the campus, The Shannon Center. The Chapel was small and dark, but full of color and memory. I used to sing with other kids in the music building, and sometimes we performed in that Chapel. I was in a choir. I was a choir singer, and I wasn’t even singing for God in his home. I was singing for Dr. Cook, in his. And he was proud of me. He was proud of all of us. We sounded unified. Like one child to represent all. I never thought it was a powerful feeling. Children are not taken seriously. Even as a kid I believed this. Thinking back on it now, I never listened to our sound. I just sang. I just followed as directed. The sound that came out of my throat back then was temporary, and I thought I would hold that sound forever. Now lost, my voice is older. It’s grown more tired and soft, like thin hay instead of young velvet grass. I stopped singing in a choir when I was 12, maybe 10. I think my last performance was in that small, dark brown, pillar of a chapel. There I laid my voice before that altar, and offered it to time, which He took and set upon the shelf of my memory.

I found my eyes scanning back across the barrier to bar the entrance to the parking lot. I caught sight of the mosaic. My class’s gift to the school. The mural made of cement and colored glass covered the wall of the building I spent 5th grade in, and 6th grade. A big lettered BROADOAKS hanging squarely above the design, which was a long, colorful ribbon behind the school’s insignia, a broad oak. A mosaic tree in the center stood with its roots being the words, “Class of 2006”. I remember hating little glass squares so much while we made it. I remember working on the end of the ribbon, and on the letter “R”, and on the tree, or what was left to work on of it. I remember that project taking weeks. I remember wondering when it was going to all be over. There were other class gifts there in that space between the school and the office. More mosaics in a uniform group, and less complicated stuck on the wall opposite, on the side of the building I must have spent 5th and 4th grade in. Was it, Los Lobos room? I think it might have been. I wished I could be reminded. The garden too was a class gift before my graduating class I think. And those circular, clean, new, umbrellaed patio tables sitting by the fence, must have been a newer class gift.
Everything looked well there. Hardly weathered at all.

I made my way to the walkway up to the front office, a light, sunny little building where I recalled often waiting for my parents to pick me up whenever I was sick, or injured, or needed to go home early for reasons not of my own fault. It was small and cozy, and I had a little corner with pillows, magazines and toys to play with and look at, and occupy myself with, so as long as I was polite and behaving. The lady there, she had glasses. She was short, and had blonde hair that sat on her shoulders. She always dressed nicely. She always greeted me, and asked me things and talked to me. She knew me, and I missed her. She was like a golden lamb behind a desk full of paperwork, letters, phone calls and office supplies. I’m so sorry I don’t recall her name. She was no teacher of mine, but I’m sure she watched me grow just as they did, and knew me just as they all did, with the same amount of joy in her smile. Sometimes more. My heart was aching. I hoped she was in.

I strode up to the door beyond the welcome mat, and saw all the notices. Notices of social distance procedure, mask-wearing and campus safety. I looked then at the hours of business, with a phone number at the bottom for inquiries after business hours. I read Monday-Tuesday, and Wednesday-Thursday, and then Friday, all having hours open and modified for 9am through 6pm or so. It was almost 10am, but it was Saturday. They were closed. Perhaps someone was there, but, I didn’t knock. There was no point. I had no business there, and if I had, I would be likely directed to call and leave a message. Truly, I had no business there, but, I wished I could have said “Hello.”

I then decided to make my way back down Olive, with every intention of leaving. I was probably trespassing. Still, it was barren, with not a soul in sight. I reached the beginning of the lot’s tiny wall, and stopped to look down at it all. There was no way any cars could even drive through there, and I felt the warmth of the sun against me, shining. The sun seemed to urge me to draw in closer, and visit the buildings it touched as it touched me. I gripped my keys in my pocket and took a deep breath. “What could it hurt?” I told myself. Without another thought to convince me otherwise, I stepped over one of those cement block gravestones and into the lot.

I saw the ghosts. Traffic cones lining the way. It was the drop off again, and there were cars and kids and waves goodbye and lunch-pails and umbrellas and sweaters falling out of the cars. There was skipping and the safety of the teachers ushering us all across the street to stay beside the road as we got over to the courtyards to prepare for class and role call. My feet stepped across the graveyard lot, eyeing the places I ran, and the places I walked and the cars I moved past in my past. It blew my mind that there were hardly any lights in the lot. There wasn’t a need. Daylight was all the light that mattered.

I saw the preschool. My second soil-bed, but one rich with nutrients and water. There I had really taken root, beyond that pine green fence with the pine green shady cover around one side of it. There I recalled being a seed with a sprout coming out of my core. There I remember so much. It began to hurt inside me. I couldn’t look at it all at once, or I’d surely collapse into tears. Buckets of tears. I faced opposite, at the kindergarten and the entrance to the courtyard in front of the office’s garden alley. I stopped in the center of the flatter part of the lot. I was about to leave. Was it always so small? I could swear it was once the size of a stadium.

If I was going to leave so soon, I might as well look upon my kindergarten’s ground once again. What had changed? And what hadn’t? I made my way up the steps instead of climbing the curved pavement’s end. The metal staircase railings were still green. I traced the large square ends of them with my eyes. They were a pale pink once, I think. I remember the day they were suddenly all painted green. I felt betrayed that day. No one had gotten my permission to change them green. I liked green better, but still, in my young mind I felt someone should have at least had asked me first. I climbed those steps slowly. There were only five of them. Were they always so small? So small…

My smile bounced back to my face with the sun, when I saw the rusty brown storm drains in the cement. They were like old friends on their own, welcoming me back, warm and clean with the day, as if to say, “Hey! You’re late for class!” Then they would smile up at me with a look of surprise. “What are you doing here? This is so unexpected!” they might have said. I remembered the sounds they made when I stepped on them, and the puddles that circled into them when it rained. I remember losing coins in them and throwing rocks into them. I kept walking with a nod to their firm posts, kept true as always.

I peered nervously into the courtyard then. I wasn’t sure if anyone was watching me from somewhere, and wondering why I was creeping in on the property. Some little woman in a bright red jacket, standing around, loitering perhaps, maybe looking for children, or for something to steal. But I stopped in place when I saw the only change to the courtyard. Beyond the short chain-link gate, there was a wide courtyard, with the buildings surrounding it like fortress walls. Those buildings were my progressing soil-beds. One for 1st grade. One for 2nd and for 3rd. One for 4th and for 5th, and the last one was reserved for the 6th and final grade. You see as I grew, my roots would hit the ends of the soil-bed there, and had to be moved fairly quickly to accommodate my growth. I was a small seed. So many seeds around me were larger, and more clean and more intricate and stronger. But my sprouts were pure, and they were vibrant and rich. My sprouts were among the first to show.

And at the heart of the courtyard, was a great offence. A giant plastic umbrella where my childhood tree once stood. That great tree was the beating heart of natural shade overlooking all the children which stood within the walls of the school. It wasn’t an oak, but it was large like one. It was tall, and beautiful and teeming with leaves for us to collect and toss like confetti. That tree had seen me come and go each day. It saw me eat my lunch under its high branches, on the blue picnic tables around it, and on its very wooden borders surrounding it. That tree saw my eyes and my face, and my smile and my laughter. It saw my pokemon and yu-gi-oh cards. It saw my drawings and my projects. It saw my tears and my loneliness. It saw my every trip, fall, jump, dance and skip. That tree silently held me in secure comfort, that I was protected and that I was never alone, not when I could look up into the scattered light in its leaves with wonder and love. Now gone.
I was disappointed that an umbrella of all things took its place. Then again, I didn’t know the whole story behind the tree’s huge absence. Maybe it was too dangerous for kids trying to climb it. Maybe it had gotten infested with rot or fungus or bugs and was deemed unsalvageable. Maybe they just didn’t want it there anymore, and had it removed. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I was just sad to see it gone, before I could say goodbye to it and sit underneath it one last time on a fall morning. The pain in my heart returned.

I moved away and looked over at my kindergarten house. There was a sight that dominated all. The playset, still there from my childhood. It hadn’t been repainted or removed or changed in any way. I heard the laughter of ghost children echo in my head. I saw them kicking up the woodchips they ran across. I remember curling up in that foggy plastic bubble next to the slide. But it wasn’t the playset that caught my attention suddenly more. It was the fence on the wall against the incline of the gate entrance. I laughed, out loud. “I remember this! Oh wow, I forgot.” I spoke, as if to someone else. But there were only the ghosts. “I remember going home and standing on the wall, holding that fence and seeing how far I can jump down from it. Like, ‘look at me, I’m so high up’.” I remember my mom sometimes stopped me before I could even reach a jumping point. I remember my dad catching me as I jumped into his arms and held my hand to walk back to where he had parked. I remember his green Chevy pickup truck, with the furry dusty grey upholstery and the long, thin, black stick-shift that was between me and him in the driver’s seat. I remember the shoes I skipped to the car with, A Bug’s Life light-up heels. I remember his moustache over his smile, and his tall black hair. God! How old was he? He must have been in his mid-thirties. I’m only a decade away from that…

I moved past the wall and looked at the wooden picnic tables where I once I pretended, I was stung by a wasp at lunch, when actually, my feelings had been hurt and I wanted to justify my pain by saying I was hurt physically. I remember playing pretend pokemon with my classmates in the woodchips, and coming home with them in my shoes and on my socks. I remember that house. It was so huge back then. It looks like a little white cottage. It looks just as it did then. I don’t remember what the inside looks like. Had I been able to go inside, I’m sure all of my memories would get out of their beds to greet me. But only one was waiting for me. A faint one. The memory of a small cozy nook at the back of the house, filled with pillows and books. I remember first learning to read and write at the end of kindergarten. I remember one of my first places of comfort and serenity came from that nook. I was so comfortable there. I was ready to learn anything there.

Chicka-Chicka-Boom-Boom. Would there be enough room? For all the letters of the alphabet to fit into a single palm-tree? The memory of that book suddenly came roaring out, charging at me like an oncoming car. I’m not sure if it was the first book I had read, but I recall it in both preschool and kindergarten, and I recall loving it so much, mom had gotten a copy of it just for me to have and to hold at home. Somehow, learning the alphabet was its own story, with each letter having a place, a personality, a lowercase buddy, and a happy end. I adored it. Yes, I think I must have learned to read in kindergarten, when I was no older than 4 or 5. I had learned to write too. Though not as beautifully as others. My sprout needed to expand then, and into the fresh, new, spacious, fertile soil-bed of 1st grade. Coincidentally, it was probably learning to read that led to me needing glasses during the first grade.

I could have walked out onto Philadelphia from there, but I needed to walk back and face the memory of preschool head on. I turned around the way I came, and I walked back down the dark asphalt staring out across the parking lot, the green graves for Staff and temporary parking only stared back at me. I looked at my feet carrying me there slowly. We must have played with chalk where I was walking. We must have splashed in the rain when it rained here and showed how fast we could run from one end to the other.

I crossed the way to the preschool, and bravely peered at the closed doors of the entrance. There was a gate before that, with a hatch high enough for only adults to use. Though clearly meant for child incarceration, I never saw this place as an institution. I saw it as a second home. As a place where I would grow faster and dream while I was awake more than I would asleep. A place I could reach as far as the moon and stars, and actually touch them, and give them hats and kisses. I saw the poles outside the doors I would spin and run around while I waited for mom and dad to stop talking to the teacher and hurry up to get the gate so we could go. I saw the single step where I would hop down from, as if jumping off a cliff onto the ground below like a hero. I saw the grass where I would run and stick my arms out, to pretend I was an airplane or a bird, overlooking a massive, long hill. It was all so small. Why is it all so small now?

It must have been only a space of 15 feet at maximum. I stood frozen in awe at my ghost. I was so unfathomable. I was a toy of a girl, a real living doll. I was impossibly small. How could a child that tiny have a mind, have a spirit greater than that of the clouds in the sky? How could I have been so free? How could I have been so happy, so remarkable? How could I have been so blind to it all, but seen through to the heart of everything my eyes touched? My eyes. They must have been so precious, so sweet to hold in a gaze. Back then, my eyes must have looked like big cinnamon saucers, pure and clean and free of anything but curiosity and understanding.

I needed to press on. I wanted to see the playground from the back. The playground of the preschool was where many of my earliest memories are tucked away safe and hidden. Had I been allowed inside, I would have been met with more memories no doubt, of the book fair, or AM and PM activities before and after school-time. Though my reminiscing and my walk was cut short.

I had planned to walk about the campus to the swim center and track, where the youngest of my older memories lived. However it was around the bend of the preschool building that I had been approached by Mr. Campus Security on a golf-cart. He was there to ensure no one was trespassing, and to notify me that campus was closed. I could understand of course. I knew Broadoaks was on campus property. Ha. My whole childhood was spent on a college campus. How about that.

I told him I knew and I was just leaving. I was just walking by and wanted to check out my old stomping grounds. “I grew up here, quite literally.” I told him. He replied something along the lines of, “Oh, I’m sorry to ask you to leave, but you really can’t be here. No one is supposed to be here.” I understood completely and thanked him before he went on his way and I went on mine. I turned to see the gate that the playground was behind, and it was covered up with green mesh, with vines or leaves painted along it, just like the side. It was then, walking away from it all that I felt the largest, most painful tug of all. Something dug into my eyes and pulled out water I hadn’t known was in there.

I don’t know if it was Mr. Campus Security’s words that stung an opening for them, or if it was the fact that I was leaving my memories behind so soon. I didn’t know whether to take offence to the bitter escorting of me away from my old home, or to chase my heartache for the joy I held within those walls with shrill pleads of forgiveness. To say, Forgive me please! Forgive me for never giving you the respect and gratitude you were owed. For never thanking you for all the opportunities, and privileges, and encouragement, and nurturing you gave to me. I couldn’t wait to leave because of the way the majority of my peers treated me. The way you treated me Broadoaks was only with unconditional love. There is no God, there is no Jesus. There is only you and your staff, which took me as a seed, and helped me grow for as long as you were allowed to help me grow. It may have been only ten years, but they were the longest ten years of my life, and some of the best years of my life. They were the years of my happiness and company. They were the years I felt the least alone. They were the years I held confidence like a parade baton, and where I had grown my own special blossoms from my sprouting leaves. You were the place that made me possible. Heaven help me, I miss you.

My feet took to the wider, smoother sidewalk quickly. I fought my tears, barricading them from leaving my glossy eyes, as if holding back a wave of water. I had the strength, but I knew I wouldn’t for long. I walked past the lawn with the chapel front overlooking its hilly mall. The grass was still so green and trimmed. The barricade was busting. I stopped, standing still like a fool about to watch a tsunami barrel towards me with a fury. I shook my head and I smiled. The memory was wedged from my recollection.

“We did something here.” I said aloud to myself. I saw no small ghosts on the lawn, save for one of me among my peers as older kids. “We did something here,” I repeated to myself, “Right here, on the lawn. By that tree. It was something. We were all here for something…but for the life of me, I can’t remember what!” I laughed at my silly attempt to unclog that memory, an attempt made in vain. I watched the ghosts, all dressed in nice, semi-formal attire. I saw Kevin, and I saw Esteban. I saw Anthony and Spencer. I saw Darren, I saw James and Gregory. I saw Julie and Breanne. I saw Maureen and Gina. I even saw Matthew and Caroline. My friends, Paige and Justine, and Shelby, my closest friend without so much as a fight between us. I saw them all. And I saw me, under that little pumpkin spice colored tree which threw the placid, pure, clean mall of grass off a smidge. I saw me, staring out at everyone and at me standing there. Something about this place had nothing to do with my fondest times, nor my most memorable moments. I can’t put my finger on it, but it would seem that I sent this memory to be recalled for some reason. Like an important letter sent out for the future, it found its way back, but the writing was illegible and faded. All I can feel is pained love. It burns and suffocates like a heavy smoke, and causes my eyes to water. We did something there. For music? For our graduation goodbyes? A simple roll call for a drill? Picture day? I can’t remember.

I couldn’t remember. I had to yank my eyes away from my ghost’s. They looked far too distant and mature to be mine at twelve years old. They couldn’t have been those same brown saucers that once blanketed everything in wonder and smiles. Those eyes saw me from so long ago. They saw me, standing here alone and understood. They held me one more time, as if to say, “I’m still here, and so are you.”

I tore my eyes away before any more bittersweet drops could soak my blue disposable mask under my eyelashes. I walked down Philadelphia and I didn’t dare look back. I let the tears leaking through fall, but shut the barricade closed. I laughed and spoke to myself in an attempt to comfort myself. “It was a dumb idea….What’s wrong with reminiscing anyway? I’m safe, I’m not bothering anyone. There’s no one here…but, I shouldn’t be here. I was stupid, it’s Saturday. I have work. I needed to walk.”

I made my way back to Bailey again, once more obeying the safety rules of pedestrian rights. I marveled at the boring renovations of the California Grill across the street, and I recalled taking a 6th grade photo there with my class right in front of the sign. We all ate there before leaving Broadoaks…that’s right. Mr. K had us do the math for the check. I didn’t though of course, I just ate.

I crossed paths with a young woman and her dog on the winding sidewalk back, under the row of trees. She had the same expression Gina or Maureen would have had upon seeing me back then. A cold, dismissive, fleeting look of pure rejection, which only lasted but a second as she walked past. And I chuckled to myself. It might have been the look they pass on to either of their daughters no doubt. And they would be the ones to have kids of their own, that behave just like them. I could see her being annoyed with any crying I might have decided to show, or a display of jealousy in a glare. I thought her dog was beautiful though.

As I walked back to the park where my car was parked, I felt a sense of numb calm. I held no tension in my hands anymore. I don’t even know why I took my water bottle. I didn’t drink a drop. I got in my car and drove my way back home. As I started driving up Mar Vista to Colima, something happened. The barricade was giving away. I wasn’t in time to bolster my strength against the flood, and with single additional apology to absolutely no one, it broke apart.

Pouring like blood from a deep cut, and flowing out without any regard to my own wellbeing, the tears came. They were warm and familiar, as if pulled out from a drawer full of albums and trinkets long forgotten. But they were also new, and so very strong. I could not stop them, even with all my strength. There was no point in trying to put them away again. I didn’t even know where they came from in the first place. My heart in my chest felt as if it was wrung dry. It ached as it beat. Not a physical pain, but a dull, receding pain, which slashed like a razor, thin and stinging. I cried more. I sobbed. I wept. I cursed. Then I cried again. I couldn’t go home like this. No one should have had to see that mess. How would I even explain it? It was too much. I had little time left to myself.

I had parked by the mall in La Puente to wait it out, and let my tears pass safely. Crying on the road isn’t practical during any time of day after all. Not to mention, if it impairs vision, it is a hazard. I didn’t know why I was crying so much, and why it was hurting me so. I never felt anything like it, only perhaps in my imagination. But unlike pretend, it felt raw and it felt mellow. Instead of a dramatic, loud, passionate cry, it was slow and fading and worst of all, lingering. I then opened my eyes wider at the realization of the curtain being pulled back, at the description to the vocabulary word being revealed in my mind’s thesaurus.

It was mourning. I had never mourned anyone to the fullest extent of cries and apologies and cherished memories and blissful appreciation. I have yet to mourn the deaths of anyone in my childhood. Not my grandparents, not my aunts or uncles or cousins. Not my parents. Not even my closest friends or teachers. But this was mourning. This morning, I was mourning. These were tears of grief. I was mourning Broadoaks. I was mourning the great tree in that courtyard. I was mourning Olive Street. And I was mourning my death as a child.