Fall 2024 | Final Project - Long Form Narrative

[JocelynHop:3]

Jocelyn Hopkins

"Lost in the Abyss of the Past"
By Jocelyn Hopkins

I was seven the last time we had a family outing. My parents never really had the time to do family adventures like we used to once they got their big fancy jobs. It’s either “I’m too busy,” or “I can’t today, I have a meeting.” My grandma scolded them the other night about them ignoring me, so from what they told me they used their “vacation days” to go to this Lantern Walk, whatever that means. Grandma paid for it, they didn’t want to spend their money on such a “futile trip.” Either way, I’m glad we get to have a family trip like we used to.

The car begins to slow down as they arrive at their destination. The brisk air hits the boy’s face as he hops excitedly out of the car. “Loch Ard Sculpture Trail,” the arched sign reads, at the entrance of the gathering area. Quickly, he joyfully grabs his bags and runs toward the gathering area where he sees a tall, skinny, man holding a sign saying “Tour Guide,” and a large group of people. Families, couples, and friends all together admiring the lush nature and the still, obsidian lake.
The boy visually explores the area, looking onto the empty and unsettlingly calm lake. The reflection of the first stars lighting the dusk, clear sky as the sun begins to set. He looks up to get a clearer view of the stars, the chilled breeze slightly brushing his cheek and the smell of dirt and pinewood filling his senses. Looking at his parents, these natural scents and views reminding him just how much he admires nature and is excited to go on this hike.

In the distance behind his parents, he spots a small luminous blue light in the middle of the lake. Like a fire on the candle, it dances on the smooth water, seemingly waving for him to come closer. Enchanted by this flickering dance, he makes a few steps toward it but is stopped by the tour guide giving him his lantern. After the intruding distraction, he stares back at the spot, with no flame in sight.

The lights of the lanterns begin to illuminate the area as the dusk transitions to night and they start their walk into the forest along the bank of the lake with the boy and his family following in the back. A small cautionary sign at the entrance of the trail lights up as each lantern passes by, “113 Total Deaths. Be Cautious, Be Vigilant, And Stay On The Path!”

“Agh, we’re finally at the first turn! I feel like we’ve been walking foreeeeever.” The boy was exhausted. Despite loving this hike along the edge of the lake, he’s ready to see the forest portion of the trek. As they enter the forest, he sees a variety of rocks, “two little gray rocks, ooooh those big ones have green fuzzy moss! And that rock has….a blue fire?” A blue, little fire, dancing on a round mossy rock, just like the one he saw earlier on the lake.

Curious and excited about the new discovery, he slowly walks over, but as he gets close, it flies quickly past him and stops on the path he just came from. As he’s studying the interesting creature, more begin to pop into existence leading a trail back to the lake. In the distance, he can see many of the little blue wisps playing in the water. Eagerly, he drops his bag, throws off his coat, places his lantern down on the floor and follows the paths the flickering flames had created for him, and jumps right into the lake to play with these wonderful and beautiful forms. But as he surfaces, there’s none to be found.

Everyone in the group whips around, wondering what the commotion is about. The boy in his state of confusion searches for the wisps, but is yanked out of the lake by his parent. Confused but thrilled, the boy tries to explain to his parents about the dancing blue flames, however, they disregard his stories, criticize him, and harshly drag him back to the group, ordering him to pick up his stuff.

Disheartened, drenched, and cold, the boy tries to use a blanket he packed to dry himself off. Continuing down the trail, he drags behind the group wondering where the wisps could have gone. “They were there and then they were not! I swear I saw them, right?”

Deeper and deeper into the forest they went, he starts to admire it, and all its lovely sounds. The crinkle of gravel and dirt as each person steps. The smooth and peaceful wind blowing through the trees. As he’s cherishing these moments, he spots a blue flame once again on the left side of the path. He walks past it, interested but doesn’t want to get in trouble again, and yet he sees another on the right side of the path. This flame, however, is different from the last, it’s bigger and brighter, waving toward the boy as if it’s signaling, “Come on, get closer.” Intrigued by this new spectacle, the boy hesitantly walks over to the flame. This one, though, doesn’t disappear, it remains bright and beautiful.

“What a beautiful light! Maybe my parents would like to see it?” The boy turns to see his parents walking off with the group. “Should I yell for them? They may just get mad. But now I know I saw the wisps earlier, they’d love to see it too!” As the boy was about to yell out, the wisp jumps in front of the boy's view, startling him. Disoriented and regaining his focus, he no longer sees his parents down the path, instead, he sees them deep in the forest and a path of blue flames flickering toward them.

Hurriedly, he gets up from the floor and races to catch up with his parents. To his surprise, they greet him warmingly, signaling for them all to play tag, the boy being it. As he chases them through the forest, he suddenly trips on a root of a tree he didn’t seem to notice, hurts his leg, and “wakes up.” “Ow…..ugh that hurt…wait, Where did Mum and Dad go?” He stumbles to his feet, nervously searching for his parents. “Maybe this way, no…that way, maybe back that way? Where am I?” Realizing he’s lost, he frantically searches for his parents, the path, or even the dim glow of a lantern. After what seems like an eternity of searching, injured and alone, he gives up and curls into a ball with his lantern in hand as he weeps into the ground.
After he’s calmed down a bit, he turns his head and opens his eyes to see a wisp inspecting him. The same large wisp on the gray mossy rock. He quickly sits up to see many blue flames surrounding him, watching him. Confused and scared he shuffles away keeping his eyes on the wisps, but a tree stops him in his backward path. Staring at them, he notices they begin to make another path, the large one changes into the form of his parents, and gestures to follow the path. Impelled by the possibility of them leading him to his parents, he is consumed by relief and stubbles up, following, as they illuminate his path, leaving behind his belongings and the lantern.
As quick as his injured leg can take him, he rushes to find his parents, excited to see them again. As he hobbles, his surroundings begin to change. He finds himself at the back of his home. A large lake covered this area; he and his family, his friends, and their neighborhood would all enjoy their days swimming and playing to their heart's content in the past. Confused but delighted to see this image, his parents in the lake wave for him to join them. As though in a trance, he makes his way to the water. It’s cool and still at the lake's edge. He hops in.

Joining his friends and family in the fun, they laugh and play as though they’ve been here the entire time. Forgetting his previous escapade, he enjoys this time with his parents, a time he’s been treasuring and grasping to have once again. Everyone suddenly dives down into the water, the boy following close behind. As he makes his way down, he goes deeper and deeper, but slowly the figures grow farther and farther from view. A flash of the wisps swimming down taking the place of his parents and friends, covers his vision. Air. You Need AIR! He wakes up gasping for a breath but only water fills his lungs. He struggles desperately to swim to the top of the lake. He’s too deep. His leg hurt. He fades out of consciousness, taking in water and sinking into the darkness of the lake.

The black abyss of water is as still as it started. No sound can be heard, no life can be found. A wisp appears atop the lake. A little flame, one of a little boy it makes out to be. The flame doesn’t keep the figure long and changes to be identical to the wisps seen throughout the forest. It disappears, like a flame on a candle being blown out, as we see a group of lanterns wildly hurrying toward the lake, searching for the little boy.

[MontseNavarro]

Montse Navarro
WATERCOLORS

The water is freezing, so cold it seems to cut my skin like a thousand sharp needles. Every part of my body hurts. But I have to keep swimming. I have no choice. The weight of the water presses down on my chest and each stroke feels like a battle against an invisible force that pulls me down, as if it wants to drag me to the bottom. It is an immense, dark sea, whispering to me with its cold voice to give up, to stop fighting. Sometimes, I feel that is what I want to do. Just let me win. Let the water swallow me whole, wrap me in its icy embrace so I don’t have to face anything else.

When I finally finish, my body is exhausted. I get out of the pool shivering, my muscles aching, and grab the towel I left on the bench. I sit, out of breath, and stare at the screen of my cell phone. It is already midnight. I see a ton of messages from my girlfriend and friends, most of them filled with complaints. They are upset again that I didn't go out with them. I never seem to have time for them. Sighing, I realize that I lack time for myself as well. I wish I could have more hours in the day, time for the ones I love, but also time to think, to figure out what I'm doing with my life.

I heavily get up, exhausted, and leave the swimming pool. The cold night air greets me. The next day I get up when my alarm goes off, leave the house still sleepy, head to the swimming pool, and swim. I swim until every muscle in my body burns and screams for a break. I get home at midnight, tired and empty. The cycle repeats. I get up in the morning to my alarm, leave the house, get to the swimming pool, swim until every muscle in my body burns, leave at midnight, go back home. The cycle repeats
How I hate swimming. It's the only thought I have as I stand on the edge of the pool, and dive in. Over and over and over.

That night, when I leave the pool and check my phone, I see a text from my girlfriend. She wants to break up with me. I stop dead in my tracks, as if the ground beneath my feet is falling away. I knew our relationship was strained, but… break up? I try to call her, but she doesn't answer. My heart is racing, and my shaking hands can barely text her. I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't even notice the car coming toward me until it's too late. The white lights of the headlights flood my vision, blinding me just before the hit.

I wake up disoriented, my body in pain, in a hospital bed. I look around and everything is white and cold. I try to move, but something is not right. I try to get up, but my legs… they don’t respond. Panic engulfs me when I realize I can’t feel them. I can’t speak, I can’t process what’s happening. Everything happens so fast, a nurse pushes me in a wheelchair down the hospital hallway and before I know it, I’m back in my room, alone, surrounded by a gray silence that suffocates me.

In my room, I sit not knowing what to do. I have my goggles in my hand and I stare at them, a lump in my throat. The memories of training, of hours in the pool, seem so far away now, so empty. But I can’t stop thinking about what I’ve lost, what I can no longer do. My legs, my ability to walk… all of that is gone. Suddenly, I need a distraction, so I slowly move my wheelchair and start going through the drawers in my room. Nothing interesting until I get to the bottom drawer, where I find old papers and drawings I made when I was a kid. I had forgotten how much I loved to draw.

A memory comes to mind: I would spend hours drawing and coloring my drawings, it was something I did enjoy doing. But my parents never understood. I remember one time when I made a drawing I was proud of, only to have it snatched from my hands and given some goggles, rushing me to the pool for training. That memory leaves me pensive, holding in one hand the drawings from my childhood and in the other the goggles that now seem a symbol of everything that has consumed me.
Why not try drawing again? I have nothing to lose. I throw the goggles into the trash can, take a deep breath, and grab a pencil and a piece of paper. My hands shake at first, but as I begin to draw, I feel a strange calm, as if for the first time in a long time I am doing something for myself, something I really enjoy. I spend hours drawing, filling sheets after sheets that pile up on my desk and on the floor.
Over time, I decide to take it a step further and start painting on a canvas. I don't know exactly what I'm doing, but I like it. It relaxes me. I feel free from the pressure, from the expectations of others, from the exhausting routine that had trapped me. Now it's just me and my colors, my canvas, my world. Little by little, I get better, and one day, I move away from the canvas to see the final result: a huge painting full of life, vibrant colors that seem to dance in front of my eyes. I don't remember the last time I truly smiled, but in front of that painting, I do.

[allyomelet]

Decay and Grow - Allison Maldonado



Beneath the sweeping arms of the oldest oak trees 3 witches convened in the center of the ancient elder Grove forest for sun streamed through a canopy of bright green leaves this was no typical woodland there were hints of magic and the soft murmur of the natural world all around leora was a tall elegant girl with flowing Auburn hair who could put plants into blossom with just a gentle touch. Less tall and stockier than the others Celine walked through the undergrowth, a girl whose power is to heal injured birds and tending. To the animals of the forest Agna the youngest watched her companions grow while her own abilities remained stubbornly dormant. She stood to the side her dark locks framing a face furrowed with concern and a hint of shame. Weeks stretched into days while the witches worked on their craft helping the forest flourish while Agna could only sit back and watch. Liora's hands converted barren places into brilliant color filled gardens while Celine. Wandered the forest treating the animals in need. The forest prospered under their care but Agna felt increasingly lonely as if she were an outsider in a world of enchantment. One fateful afternoon the surrounding plants began to wither around agna blooms drooped and leaves became brittle the brilliant colors fading to gray. Agna stood back in terror, staring up at her once encouraging friends Liora and Celine, their faces distorted into looks of fear.

They recoiled instinctively terror engraved on their features as the once thriving force witnessed the impending devastation caused. By Agnes unexpected magic. Liora and Celine grew apart from agna instantly motivated by fear they immersed themselves in their powers and began to nourish the forest even more they thickened the trees they strengthened the animals and began to make the forest grow uncontrollably.

. The originally stable Eldergrove has devolved into an untamed wilderness, with wild vines growing closer, obstructing pathways and suppressing light. Agna walked the forest's fringes, longing for friendship yet plagued with self-doubt. Meanwhile, Liora and Celine relished in their burgeoning abilities, despite the mounting strain of the overcrowded forests. Their efforts to control the rapid growth were unsuccessful, and terror gripped them as the dense forest closed about them, closing in like a prison.

One sun-drenched afternoon, as they walked deeper into the forest, they became entangled in a maze of roots and branches. Their eyes darted wildly in desperation, and their faces reflected their rising fear as they realized they were stuck. With hearts beating, they looked for a way out, but the heavy foliage appeared to shut in on them.Agna, sitting in a nearby clearing, caught a glimpse of confidence in the distant noise. She stood, her pulse racing as she moved into the thickets, determination propelling her onward. She arrived to see Liora and Selene trapped in the wild foliage, fear in both of their faces. Memories of past heartache poured over her, but she gathered herself and walked forward.

Agna extended her arms, feeling the rhythm of the jungle surrounding her. As she concentrated her efforts, she felt the power within her stir. With determination, she summoned her energies, murmuring a silent prayer for balance. The tangled plants began to wilt at her instruction, revealing previously hidden paths and allowing sunshine back into the dense foliage. Liora and Selene stared in astonishment as the chaos subsided. With each flick of Elara's hand, the brilliant greens fell into a more harmonic condition. As the suffocating thickets dissipated, relief flooded over them, and a shared understanding sparked their spirits. Liora and Selene realized the might of their united powers and formed a circle with Agna. Each witch used her magic: Liora's blossoms burst into vibrant colors, Selene's healing light glistened around them, and Agna’s shadows weaved through the patchwork of growth. They invoked the delicate balance of life and decay. As the forest changed, they sensed an old rhythm, a beating heart that echoed in the soil. The air became fresh and energizing, with the pleasant perfume of blossoming plants and the earthy scent of fertile soil.

Following their teamwork, the witches danced around the restored woodland, laughter echoing through the trees. Birds sang happily overhead, and butterflies flew around them like living gems. The earth beneath their feet hummed with life, with worms and mushrooms flourishing in the restored soil, intertwining emblems of decay and regrowth. Agna experienced a tremendous sense of belonging. The three witches' friendship had grown deeper as a result of their shared experience with the darkness. They recognized that their once-feared abilities were now an essential part of the forest's cycle—a never-ending dance of death as well as life, a ballet of growth and decay. They accepted their duties as protectors of Eldergrove, determined to preserve its delicate balance. The forest sung their praises with every wind whisper and leaf rustling, a monument to the strength of forgiveness and the harmony of connection with one another. And so the group of witches of Eldergrove danced together, permanently linked to the powers of the forest they treasured.

[ChefBriller]

Making Friends

In a small town nestled between rolling hills and whispering trees, a little girl named Lily found herself staring out her new bedroom window. She had just moved to a different state, leaving behind the familiar streets of her old neighborhood, where every face felt like a friend. Outside, the laughter of other kids echoed like a distant thunderstorm, but to Lily, they looked like monsters—wild and unpredictable, their faces stretched into exaggerated grins that filled her with dread. They leapt and bounded across the yard, their arms flailing as they chased one another. To her eyes, their laughter sounded manic, like a pack of mischievous creatures from a storybook. Their colorful clothes transformed them into fantastical beings—bright red t-shirts and neon shorts made them appear as if they were clad in gaudy armor. One boy’s curly hair seemed to bounce like a wild creature, while a girl with pigtails swung her head so forcefully that it looked as though she might take flight.

For hours, Lily sat on her bed, the soft quilt wrapped around her like a protective cocoon. The vibrant colors of the quilt, which once brought her comfort, now felt like a barrier between her and the frightening world outside. Her toys, once cherished companions, lay scattered around her—a porcelain doll with a frayed dress, a stuffed rabbit with floppy ears, and wooden blocks that had long lost their shine. They were silent witnesses to her isolation. As the sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, something strange began to happen. The plush bear on her nightstand blinked its button eyes. The wooden blocks started to stack themselves, forming a small tower that teetered and swayed.

Lily’s heart raced, her pulse quickening with both fear and curiosity. “Hello?” she whispered, the word barely escaping her lips. Suddenly, her toys sprang to life, bouncing and tumbling across the floor. The bear began to dance, while the blocks cheered in a cacophony of joyful noise. For a fleeting moment, her room was filled with laughter, and she felt a flicker of hope. Here, were friends who didn’t judge, who wouldn’t run away. Lily watched in wide-eyed wonder as her toys sprang into action. The bear danced across the floor, twirling and spinning as if it were on a grand stage, its laughter ringing out like bells. “You can’t catch me!” it teased, darting just out of reach of the rabbit, who leaped in a series of comical hops, chasing after its fluffy friend. The wooden blocks, once mere building pieces, began to stack themselves into a towering fortress. They formed walls and ramparts, a castle fit for a queen, while the bear and rabbit pretended to be brave knights defending their realm from imaginary foes. “Defend the kingdom!” the bear shouted, brandishing an invisible sword. “We shall not let the dragons in!”

Lily giggled as she watched them, her earlier fears momentarily forgotten. “What kind of dragons?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“The scaly kind, with fiery breath!” the rabbit declared, puffing out its chest. “They’ll try to steal our treasure!”

With that, the bear and rabbit launched into a playful battle, darting around the room as if fending off imaginary creatures. They rolled over the edge of the bed, giggling as they pretended to dodge fireballs. The blocks, now formed into a labyrinthine castle, became their battleground. As they constructed the castle, the atmosphere of the room changed. The shadows danced along the walls, flickering like candlelight, and for a brief moment, Lily felt like a queen in her enchanted kingdom. “We did it!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with triumph as they finished their masterpiece.

But as the shadows lengthened and the light in her room began to fade, the atmosphere shifted. Lily’s heart raced as the toys’ playful energy morphed. The blocks began to rearrange themselves into sharp, jagged shapes, casting long shadows across the floor. The bear and rabbit, once her allies, now seemed to loom larger, their laughter becoming an echoing cackle. A chill crept into the air, and Lily felt a tightening in her chest.

“I think we should hide!” the bear said, its tone suddenly conspiratorial. “What if the dragons are really out there?”

Lily’s panic surged as she backed away, the once-friendly toys now feeling like unpredictable shadows. She could almost see the imaginary dragons lurking beyond her door, waiting to swoop in. In her mind, the room felt claustrophobic, and her safe haven became a prison. With her heart pounding, she bolted from her room, leaving the toys behind in a flurry of plush limbs and clattering blocks. She needed to escape the fearful play that had turned on her. She raced down the stairs, her feet pounding against the wooden steps, her mind swirling with thoughts of escape. The world outside still felt terrifying, but the threat from her toys was too much. She flung open the front door and burst into the evening light, gasping as the cool air washed over her.

Bursting into the evening light outside, she felt the cool breeze wash over her, bringing clarity. The world beyond her home was still daunting, but it was no longer overshadowed by the playful yet sinister energy of her toys. As she stepped onto the porch, the laughter of other children cut through her lingering fears. Outside, the scene was far less monstrous than she had imagined. Kids were playing tag, their laughter ringing out like sweet music, but to her eyes, they still appeared strange and overwhelming. Their movements were frenetic, their faces animated, and even the way they smiled seemed exaggerated, almost cartoonish. Tentatively, Lily stood on the porch, her breath coming in quick gasps. She felt small and vulnerable, a tiny speck in a big world, but something inside her stirred—a flicker of courage.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped off the porch and onto the grass. Instantly, a group of children noticed her. They paused their game, their expressions curious yet intense, like a band of wild creatures sizing up a newcomer. “Come play!” one of them called, a boy with a mop of curly hair and an enthusiastic grin.

Lily hesitated, the memories of her toys’ sinister transformation flooding her mind. The kids still looked like monsters in her eyes, their bright clothing and energetic antics amplifying her fear. But she took another step forward, then another, until she was standing among them. “What are we playing?” she asked, her voice small yet brave, the words carrying a hint of curiosity.

“Tag! You’re it!” a girl shouted, her laughter ringing like bells as she darted away, her pigtails bouncing behind her. Without thinking, Lily chased after her, laughter spilling from her lips as she ran. The initial fear began to dissolve, replaced by the warmth of acceptance and camaraderie. They were just kids, like her, eager to play and share stories, despite how intimidating they seemed at first.

As the sun set, casting golden rays across the yard, Lily realized that the children weren’t monsters after all. They were just children, eager for friendship and fun, their exaggerated expressions and wild movements nothing more than the exuberance of youth. At that moment, she understood that her new home could be a place of adventure, connection, and laughter.

[NearSharp]

Confidence in the face of laughter

In a small theater a packed audience excitedly sits and waits for the show to begin. Above the stage hung a colorful banner, reading “The Amazing Noodle!” in bright, swirling letters. As the lights dimmed, a spotlight flickered on the wooden stage, casting a golden glow. A hush fell over the audience, their eyes drawn to the curtain that concealed the star of the show.

Backstage, Noodle, the clown, stood behind a heavy curtain, his heart racing like a drum. Peeking from behind the curtain, he caught a glimpse of one eager face in the front row—a child beaming with excitement.

Taking a deep, steady breath, Noodle stepped out into the harsh spotlight. For a moment, the light shrouded him, and he stood like a statue painted in vivid colors. As waves of insecurity washed over him, threatening to drown out the joy he had always sought to share. But as he looked out at the sea of faces, he focused solely on the child’s bright expression. In that moment, the audience faded away, and it was just him and that one hopeful gaze shining through the darkness.

With renewed determination, Noodle began to juggle the colorful balls he had practiced countless times. Each toss felt lighter, the rhythm flowing through him as he locked eyes with the child. Laughter bubbled up from deep within, and soon, the sound echoed off the theater walls, filling the space with warmth. The simple joy in the child’s eyes ignited something within him—an energy that propelled him forward, like a spark catching a flame.

As he became bolder and tossed the balls higher, a few gasps resonated in the audience. An instant of panic gripped him when he let a ball slip through his fingers and fell to the ground. Yet, as he quickly smiled at the child, who giggled in delight, he gathered the balls with a flourish, resuming his juggling with a bounce in his step. The child’s laughter became his lifeline, drawing him deeper into the performance. It was as if the laughter wrapped around him like a warm blanket, melting away the chill of self-doubt.

With newly gained confidence, he reached for a balloon. He twisted the bright balloon into the shape of a dog, working diligently to create a masterpiece. Presenting it to the child with a grand gesture, he felt a surge of joy as the child clapped in excitement, his eyes sparkling with delight. But just as he finished, the balloon popped with a loud bang, shattering the moment like glass. Noodle flinched, and for a heartbeat, he feared he had lost the child’s laughter.

To his surprise, the child only laughed. The sound rang clear and bright. The laughter was infectious. A sweet melody filled the theater, and Noodle found himself chuckling along, the tension in his shoulders easing. Emboldened by the child’s reaction, he transformed the moment into a comedic bit, pretending to mourn the loss of the balloon while dramatically wiping away fake tears. The audience roared with laughter, and Noodle felt the spotlight become a stage, not a prison.

He danced and pranced around the stage, his movements fluid and playful. With each laugh from the child, he felt his confidence swell, transforming his nervous energy into a joyful celebration. The once-heavy weight on his spirit lifted, and he felt like the true star of the show, basking in the warmth of shared joy.

In that moment, he wasn’t just performing; he was connecting. As the audience laughed, a symphony of happiness reverberated throughout the theater. Noodle realized that if he concentrated on that one shining face, he could both bring joy to himself and the child. The world outside the theater ceased to exist; there was only the magic of the moment, a dance of laughter and light that united them all.

As the curtain fell, choruses of laughter lingered in the air, a reminder of the joy they had shared. Noodle left the stage with his heart full, feeling lighter than he had in years. In that small theater, under the glow of the spotlight, he had discovered that by embracing vulnerability and focusing on the joy of connection, he could create magic—not only for his audience but for himself as well.

[JoshR]

Josh Rodriguez



We live in a society overrun by creatures of darkness, the only thing keeping us safe are a series of symbols around the border of the village creating essentially a shield from the supernatural. People in the village don't really know where the symbols came from or how long ago they were made, the leading theory is that they were given these symbols by a fox spirit, some believe it watches over us, grandma would tell me stories about how she would be visited by it when she was a kid, these stories fascinated me as a child, made me want to see it, as i grew older these stories just became fairy tales for kids, however the curiosity always lingered in my thoughts.


I awoke one night, it was still dark out, the moon was bleeding light through my window, giving the room a bluish hue. I tried to to return to my sleep, but no matter how much i tried i simply couldn't, so i decided to go for a walk around the village, i lived on the outer edge of the village, i decided to go walk in the forest where i would play as a child, normally these woods would be calming, the relaxing bluish hue of the night, and the cool air blowing against my face, but tonight felt off, different, a sense of dread lingered in the back of my mind, was this feeling of dread the thing that awoke me? Then all of a sudden i hear a rustling in the ahead, i approach trying not to make any noise whatsoever, when I'm close enough is see a man holding an ax and in front of him one of the symbols that keeps us safe from the demons beyond, the man has a crazed look in his eye, he move to side a bit and aligns his ax with the symbol and strikes, the symbol flashes and eventually stops glowing causing part the shield to vanish, and when i thought things couldn't get worse, STOMP…STOMP…STOMP, a massive beast slowly enters our safe haven.

[fellowghoul]

Trinity Torres



The Little Dragon Prince


Once upon a time, there lived a poor, young boy, in the confines of an enormous castle. Who rules this castle? Why, the king of course. Yet some might more accurately describe this devil of a man as a dictator. His tall, lean stature and piercing gray eyes struck fear into any who gazed upon them. For it was also this very king who is keeping our poor boy captive with his parents, torturing them everyday. Most find this to be cruel and unusual, and without reason for it. But little did the citizens of this kingdom know, the king was after something the boy had. A long forgotten tale from over a thousand centuries ago foretold a child would be born with the mark of the dragon, enabling him the power to transform and use powerful abilities. The king would keep him trapped forever, until he found a way to extract his gift and use the power for himself to take control of the whole world!


The boy awoke one day, damp and dirty. The king had given them tissue paper as blankets, and rags for clothes. The boy's parents comforted him and tried their best to warm him up. Yet the comfort was short lived when the family suddenly heard a loud bang on the metal bars of their cage. The boy turned sharply, wide eyed and afraid as a stocky figure peered in at them. He stood hunched and dangerous, like a lion stalking its prey. The thing that caused the noise was his long, bloody meat cleaver. The boy recognized this figure as the king's personal butcher. He peered down at them through his metal mask that only showed his eyes, and slowly started to raise his free hand until it was pointing directly at the boy. In response, the boy puffed out his chest and stood up, holding his ground against the big mean man. However was taken aback when the man suddenly whipped his arm around to point at a room not far from their prison home. The boy understood that he wanted him to do chores for the king. A task that he'd been having to do time and time again for years. This time however, was different.


The boy looked back at his parents and gave a reassuring nod. The proud mom and dad nodded back. They had prepared him for this day. For this was the day that he finally escaped the hell of a kingdom and lived his life peacefully with his parents.

The butcher unlocked the giant plated door, and as it creaked open, out came the boy still trying to keep up his brave manner. The butcher led him to a dark, dusty room. The second they entered the butcher lit a lantern and illuminated the large room. Much to the boy's dismay, hundreds of rats scattered to the light's touch and retreated to various holes and cracks in the stone wall's surface. He started to itch nervously. The butcher held still, unwavering to the uneasy environment. He stomped in the room, his large boots echoing throughout the space. He grabbed a pitchfork and shoved in against the boy’s chest, causing him to stumble back a bit. The boy glared up at him and gripped the tool, wanting to pierce the butcher's heart with the sharp object. The butcher chuckled lowly and exited the space, leaving the boy with his grueling task of shoveling the hay for the horses. He sighed heavily and started to take scoops of hay with the fork. He did this until he heard the butcher’s footsteps fade off into the distance. He checked over his shoulder to make sure he was gone and then sprinted to a door in the corner. Pulling a key out of his pocket and snickering. He had finally managed to steal a key from the butcher! And with that key he could finally get closer to escaping with his parents and finding help outside. He carefully stepped inside and peered around the dimly lit room. He tiptoed in and found another key, the key to the cells. The boy gripped the rusty key in his hand tightly and shoved it into his pocket. As he turned to leave he ran into a tall solid object, and fell back a bit.

He rubbed his head and looked up. His eyes widened and his heart wrenched, creating a lump in his throat. The butcher had come back. His eyes gleamed through his mask, emanating his murderous intent. He picked the boy up by the collar and dragged him out of the room. The boy’s heart started to pound violently. He scratched and clawed at the butcher's large, fleshy forearm, but it seemed to have no effect on such a beast of a man.


The boy was thrown into another room but this one was unfamiliar. It was fancy looking and had satin red and gold fabric all over the walls. He turned around quickly and readied himself to fight, expecting the butcher to hurt him again. But to his surprise the butcher turned and left. Confused, the boy got up cautiously, but then felt another looming presence that was more bloodthirsty than the butcher’s. The boy whipped his head around quickly but was met with a shoe to the cheek. His head spun and his body was thrown back. He held his face tightly and glared up at the mysterious figure. The one standing over him was none other than the king. The boy’s eyes widened but then narrowed with hatred. He felt something swelling up inside him that he couldn’t understand. The king was stoic, but then progressively generated a sick twisted smirk, then motioned for someone behind the boy to come in.


In walked the butcher holding two prisoners on chains. The boy instantly recognized them as his parents. The butcher forced both of them to sit and pulled a big heavy ax from behind his back. The parents had a terrified expression yet still tried to comfort their child. The boy’s mind was racing, and his heart felt like it was going to blow. He didn’t know what was going on, or why. Why did he have to be locked up his whole life? Why did him and his family have to be tortured? What was so wrong with him that he deserved all this? It wasn’t fair. The boy lunged at his parents in a panic, deathly afraid of what was going to happen, but the king held him back by his shirt and laughed at his futile attempts.


Just then the boy's vision started getting cloudy. Not just from his tears, but from his vision changing. He screamed out for his family to be saved and in a burst of rage his cries turned into roars as he transformed into a formidable beast. With large spiked horns and amber wings and red hot eyes of flame, he set the butcher ablaze, killing him instantly. The king was on his back staring at the huge red dragon in front of him, and immediately began to plead for his life. The dragon’s jaw was gaped open, baring the dangerously razor sharp teeth. He bowed his head down to the king's eye level, his eyes leaving a burning trail behind. The boy felt no remorse in his heart for the man who was desperately begging to live so badly he peed himself. With a deep bellow and a burst of cinder and ashes, the king was gone.


The boy liberated the entire kingdom with his actions. And found out something about himself that nobody was expecting. The kingdom decided that the boy should be praised as the new royalty, due to the immense pain and suffering he was put through. His father and mother took the place of king and queen and the little dragon boy became a little dragon prince. Who became the new protector of his kingdom.

[Meg Villanueva]

Meg Villanueva

Victory in Defeat

Everyone knew that the most talented runners ended up in the high school track team. They were the fastest, most popular, and most accomplished among the young athletes. However, there were limited spots and the team was only accepting two more of the best runners in the school. Cassie knew there were only two chances for her to succeed, but she was determined. Ever since middle school, it had become her dream to join the team and continue improving her track running skills. She had excelled in the middle school track team, her room brimming with trophies and medals. Cassie was excited to begin high school, especially since all of her friends were going to be at her school as well. Cassie loved her friends, spending loads of time with them during the summer and constantly talking to them online while they weren’t physically present. With school beginning and the chance of a lifetime arising, she knew she had to put in the extra work to succeed. In order to make the team, she had to win a race against all the other girls who wanted her dream for themselves. Cassie had declared that she would win by eating better, working harder, and training herself to have a stronger mindset that would allow her to win.

Initially, the way she wanted to improve and train started simple. To keep her mind relaxed and composed, she decided to remove the clutter from her room and clean up a bit to start. She wanted to design a space for comfort after working hard all day, and had accomplished this by opening her windows for more natural light along with dusting and washing various items in her room. Deciding to be healthier to the leadup of the race, Cassie had made extra effort to eat healthy and meal prep. A majority of her day was looking for recipes, preparing the ingredients, and cooking the meals for herself. The other half was her physical training, going to the track at her school and running laps as fast as she could. She was consistent with this schedule, but had begun failing to interact with others and surrounded herself with her practice. Her friends had begun worrying about her, texting and calling to no avail. It’s not that Cassie didn’t want to talk to them, as all the training had become lonely, but she felt as if she couldn’t get distracted whatsoever. Any time she was supposedly wasting on her friends or anyone else could be extra time her opponents had over her. Therefore, she had decided that until she won, she would go no contact and focus solely on her practice.

The big day came where she’d be racing against everyone. The sky was overcast, a cool breeze whirling around the track. Upon entering the area where the race was going to be held, Cassie felt nervous. Despite having loads of practice under her belt, she felt isolated and alone. Since she had declared she was ignoring everyone until the final results of the race, no one had shown up to support her in her cause. This was no fault of theirs, as Cassie had ignored all contact and failed to inform them she was racing today. Cassie shook it off believing that having others there to back her up would distract her during the race. However, a part of her wished she hadn’t self isolated too much. She had wished her loved ones were there, but she believed she had to do it alone and aimed to continue focusing on just the race at hand. Cassie didn’t have much time to process her feelings as the race was starting soon. Everyone who was competing lined up at the starting line, including Cassie, and prepared to begin.

RING!!

The buzzer went off and everyone began sprinting. Cassie ran as fast as she could, but noticed her breathing was sharp and her body felt tense. No longer was she at ease like she was while practicing, and didn’t perform as adequately. Regardless of how she was feeling, she kept pushing. The finish line was right there!

And...

She was second place to another girl who had beat her by a hair. Cassie was so wrapped up in winning that she had failed to see the other girl pass her. She wasn’t as upset as she thought she’d be, but she was mortified, putting in hours upon hours of work for it to result in nothing. In a fit of despair, Cassie took her things and left the event as soon as possible.

Following the loss, seeing as none of her efforts provided results, Cassie quit altogether. No longer was she concerned with training, now concerned with her Ben and Jerry’s pint and which trashy Netflix show she was going to view next. In her defeat, she couldn’t bring herself to take care of herself, opting to lay in complete darkness and continue scrolling through tv shows. In comparison to her once clean room, the space had become an unwelcoming mess. She had wondered why all of her effort was for nothing, why it didn’t work out the way she imagined, and then she had a realization..

Her friends! She had forgotten the one reason she was motivated in the first place. In an effort to achieve her goal, she had lost herself in her ambitions. She had failed to speak with her friends as she usually did, choosing to dedicate all her time to training rather than taking time to relax and be with them. They had offered their continuous support, and had shown concern when they realized Cassie had gotten wrapped up in her goals. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that throughout everything, despite ignoring them, that they were still there for her. Seeing as she wasn’t quite as achieved as she’d like to be, something had to be done about it, and she knew her friends had her back. However, the rest of the day was for moping and awful drama shows. Tomorrow would be the day she got back on track.

Although her friends didn’t have the same goals, Cassie had asked them to accompany her in her training starting from here on out. She wasn’t going to continue being a stranger, and she knew she could use the extra support. No longer was she alone in preparing meals, instead asking her friends for recipe ideas and calling them while cooking for some company. Some of her friends were able to attend her training sessions with her, obviously not able to keep up, but we’re present and encouraging. Most of all, Cassie allowed herself to rest. The notion that working yourself to death will reap the most reward simply didn’t work, and she accepted that certain days she’d need to relax in order to continue improving.

And so the final day had arisen and her last chance of achieving her dream was upon her. She found herself back at the previous track meet location, a bleak reminder of her previous attempt and the failure associated. Cassie was beyond nervous, sweating before the actual competition had begun. She knew everything rested on this moment, but in her dread she had remembered her new training. She remembered how she had been able to practice and train with her friends, how she wasn’t alone in her efforts this time around. Her friends had shown up to support her, letting Cassie know they’d be waiting at the finish line for when she inevitably won. Cassie walked up to the starting line for the last time, anxious it wouldn’t pay off. But for the moment, she was able to shake it off. She knew she could do this.

RING!!

The buzzer went off and everyone began sprinting. Cassie ran as fast as she could, but this time, she felt lighter. Her breathing was rhythmic, in sync with her strides. No longer was she tense, but felt free and relaxed. She remembered what her training was for, and she remembered her friends and all the support they’d be willing to provide. Regardless of how she was feeling, she kept pushing. The finish line was right there!

And…

She crossed the finish line. With anxiety over being second place once again, Cassie frantically looked around to verify she was first. After confirming she was the only one, she began cheering as her friends ran to her. Finally, she had achieved what she could only dream of. Although the effort she put into her goal was a reason for her success, she couldn’t do it without her friends' support or without taking breaks when necessary.

[Adham Aatiq]

ENDLESS SEARCH

Anesa walked through the bustling streets of a medieval city, her towering height casting long shadows in the evening light. She approached a modest building with wooden bars on the windows. It was an outpost where travelers could rest. As she ducked under the doorframe, her height seemed to shrink the room. The middle-aged attendant at the front desk looked up, his eyes widening at the sight of her imposing stature.

"Not often do we see your kind around here," he remarked, leaning on the counter.

“Must be important.”

Anesa’s expression was calm, though there was a faint edge of weariness in her voice. “I’m only here because I’m looking for someone.” Her tone was distant, like she had uttered those words countless times before. She approached the counter, her presence commanding attention.

“I’d like a room. I’ll be gone by morning.”

The attendant raised an eyebrow. “What name should I put down for the room?”

“Anesa Fezura,” she answered.

The man nodded, pausing. “Fezura, huh? I assume you’ve got the Icon to pay?”

Anesa’s eyes narrowed slightly as she reached into her cloak, pulling out a diamond-shaped coin and placing it on the desk. “This is all I have. But…” She produced a shimmering red gemstone from her pouch and placed it beside the coin. The man stared at the stone, his fingers twitching with interest.

“This is Red Alumite. From the Auraglades up north,” she said softly. “It should cover the rest.”

As the transaction wrapped up, a small figure peeked from behind the curtain at the back of the room. A young girl, no older than seven, watched curiously from behind her father’s legs. Her eyes lingered on Anesa, wide and fascinated. The attendant cleared his throat, pocketing the gemstone.

“I’ll get your room ready.” he said, trying to regain his composure.

That night, Anesa rested in her room, seated by the window. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting shadows across the floor. There was a knock on the door. When Anesa opened it, she found the attendant’s daughter standing shyly.

“Hi... my father said I could bring this to you.” she said, holding a small cup of tea.

Anesa took the cup with a nod. “Thank you.” She watched as the girl lingered in the doorway.

“May I... sit with you for a while? I don’t meet travelers often.”

Anesa hesitated, then gestured toward the small table by the window. The girl’s face brightened as she quickly settled into a chair. They sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the soft clink of the teacup as Anesa set it down.

The girl eagerly broke the silence first. “Where have you been? What kind of places have you seen?”

At first, Anesa’s responses were brief, almost mechanical, as if recounting these stories brought her little joy. But as the girl continued to ask with wide-eyed curiosity, Anesa’s tone gradually softened. She spoke of vast landscapes, harsh climates, and the monsters she had fought in lands the girl could hardly imagine. The girl hung on every word, her pure fascination stirring something in Anesa, a reminder of the innocence she had long since lost.

“You’re so strong,” the girl whispered, staring up at Anesa with awe. “Like a hero from a story.”

Anesa glanced at the small woven charm on the girl’s wrist, the simple band dressed with a tiny gemstone. For the first time that night, a faint smile came across Anesa’s lips.

“I’m not special," she said quietly. "You might grow up to have your own adventures one day.”

The girl beamed and, after a moment of hesitation, removed the bracelet from her wrist. She handed it to Anesa with both hands. “My mom made this for me… before she passed. It’s for protection. I want you to have it.”

Anesa stared at the offering, a rare flicker of emotion passing through her. She took the charm, nodding in gratitude. “Thank you.”

The next morning, Anesa departed the outpost as planned. The wind caught her sash as she walked down the path, the town receding into the distance. As she passed a buried giant turtle, it stirred and unearthed itself as she continued by.

With a quiet whisper, she invoked a spell. “Gust En Spire.”

The wind lifted her gently off the ground, and she floated down the cliffside, her figure shrinking to a dot against the wide expanse of the valley below.

Time passed, and battles came and went. In one, she stood in the middle of a battlefield, her hand raised as spires of ice shot through the ground, impaling monsters with lethal precision. “Ars Verglas II,” she chanted, and three more ice spikes erupted, piercing through her enemies.

As the last of the monsters fell, their bodies scattered around her, she blinked, her face blank and unfeeling. The carnage before her was just another scene in an endless life of battles.

Yet, every night, by a fire beneath the trees, she would glance down at the small charm on her wrist. It reminded her of the girl’s kindness. Despite her strength and the endless battles, there was always a moment of pause. Beneath the canopy of trees, beside a crackling fire, she remembered a brief connection that grounded her in a life that had otherwise become distant, immortal, and endless. It reminded her to check the outpost on her return journey.

Years passed, and Anesa’s path finally led her back to the outpost. The city that had once been lively and bustling was now quiet, overgrown with vines. So much had changed since she had visited a mere thirty years ago. The overgrown trees and plants had nearly swallowed the buildings. Standing at the front desk was now the young girl from before, grown into an older woman. Her eyes, bright with recognition, lit up when she saw the tall figure before her.

“You… you’re Anesa Fezura, aren’t you?” the woman asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Anesa froze, taken aback. “How do you know my name?”

The woman smiled, stepping closer. “Years ago, a traveler paid my father in Alumite and told me that I might one day have my own adventures to tell.”

Anesa’s gaze softened as realization dawned. “The little girl…”

“I’ve grown, but I never forgot the day you visited. You said you were looking for someone… Did you ever find them?” the woman asked, her eyes locked onto Anesa’s face.

Anesa’s expression was as unchanging as usual. “I’m still searching,” she said, her voice heavy with the weight of endless years.

The woman nodded, she smiled. “My late father said you would be.”

Anesa placed a blue Alumite gemstone on the counter, its surface gleaming faintly in the dim light. “It seems more time has passed than I thought…”

The woman’s gaze drifted to the woven charm still attached to Anesa’s bracelet. Her eyes filled with warmth. “You kept it?”

Anesa looked down at the charm, her heart stirred by the simple object. “It’s seen me through more than I expected.”

The woman smiled, her voice filled with emotion. “I’m glad.”

“I’ll get your room ready, ma’am.”

Anesa turned toward the stairs, ready to retreat to her room, but something stopped her. She glanced back, watching as a small boy ran up to the woman, tugging at her dress.

“Perhaps you could visit me later,” Anesa said softly. “To tell me about your adventures.”

The woman’s eyes brightened. “I’d like that.”

As Anesa ascended the stairs, her mind drifted back to all the encounters she had had over the centuries. All brief moments of connection in a life that felt infinite. Yet each one, in its way, left a mark. The search continued, not for someone, but for the fleeting connections that made her immortality bearable.

[CSooks]

Chris Sooksawat

Nine
Once on a hot summer's day, Death strolled down a narrow alley going about his usual business. He had always been fond of animals, but they would always run away from him. As he passed by a few cats, he reached out to pet one, but they ran away as per usual.

As he was leaving, he felt a tug on the hem of his robe. He looked behind him but saw nothing in sight. But then there it was again, another tug. He quickly looked, and in the corner of his eye, he saw the flicker of a tail. As he moved, the cat jumped at the slack of his robe. Amused, Death swishes his cloak around the ground and plays alongside this curious cat.

For the first time, a creature had not been afraid Death. He reached out, and to his surprised, she rubbed against his hand and purred. Hidden behind the darkness of his hood, Death, was smiling. Fond of this creature, he decided to give her a gift; Nine lives. He wanted to see what this curious cat could do with them.
---
The cat, from then on was named Nine. She got into all sorts of trouble. She would often wind up in dangerous situations, curiosity, leading to her demise. Each time she met with Death, he'd remove a mark of life from her soul and brought her back. Throughout the years her lives slowly dwindled until only one remained.
---

One evening, Death notices crows circling above in the distance. As he approaches the site, he notices a young girl fighting amongst the crows and Nine lying motionless nearby. Before he could intervene, the girl grabs Nine and dashes home. No longer needing to claim Nine's final life, he watched as the girl nursed the cat back to health.

Nine having one life left, stayed with the girl as she grew older, fell in love, and was with child.
---

Late in her pregnancy, the woman who had saved Nine, fell ill. The woman in a cold sweat wakes up and notices Nine meowing at seemingly nothing. She patted the cat and went back to sleep. Unknowingly, Death was there near her bedside. This time, he wasn't there for Nine, but for the unborn child. As he reached his hand out to claim the child's life, Nine swatted it away. The cat then put her head out forward and offered her final mark. Death paused, and gestured as if asking, Are you sure? Nine responded with a faint meow.

After a moment of hesitation, Death accepted and removed her final mark.

The woman eventually gave birth to a healthy baby, but Nine, now out of lives, quickly grew weak and soon passed away.
---

The family mourned Nine and buried her in the garden. Her spirit stayed nearby and Death was there to guide her into the afterlife. But Nine did not follow, she wanted to stay and watch over the family of the woman that once saved her life. Death respected Nine's wishes and would often visit to play alongside her spirit.
---

Many years later, the woman grew old and lay on her deathbed. Surrounded by loved ones, she passed away with a final blink of her eyes. As she reopened them, she found Nine sitting on her bedside just like when she was young. Death stood nearby, watching as the two of them reunited. Together, Death guided them along to their new journey in the afterlife.

From then on, out of fondness for that curious little creature, his longtime friend, Death gave the gift of Nine Lives.

[DanielCabang]

Daniel Cabang
Wilted Mind, Wilted Heart
Rows of flowers flooded Penelope’s vision from every side. Assortments of hydrangea and orchids found their way cramming their way into wherever she looked. The aroma of the plants permeated outwards, merging the brisk summer air with a wonderful floral scent. Penelope sprinted forwards, taking in each and every plant, letting herself get lost in the moment. Penelope loved visiting botanical gardens. She could get lost for hours and hours wandering about the plant life and getting lost in them. But unfortunately for Penelope, she doesn’t have time for that. She took a glance at her watch and realized just how late it’s gotten. A quick sigh escaped her mouth before she took one last look at the flowers behind her. “I’ll be back for the rest of you later!”, she exclaimed out loud. An eccentric one, Penelope was. Always talking to flowers that don’t talk back.
Soon a new day arrived and Penelope was stuck in an office. The sea of beige and gray everywhere was nauseating. The offset drumming of phones ringing and papera printing made for a cacophonous symphony. Just being in her made her sick. “Maybe focusing on the task at hand’ll make this easier”, she thought. She situatea herself into her cluttered cubicle and finally takes a look at the dreadfully tall pile of papers on her already cluttered desk. Nonsense. The entire paper’s filled with nonsense. All this technical jargon just didn’t make sense to her. She had to get out of here, and quickly. Her boss came over and reprimanded her for staring at the flower pot and not working. Penelope’s hazy eyes sharpened and refocused onto the clock on the wall. “Nine o’clock…”, she muttered. It’s going to be a long day for her. Penelope could only sink into her chair and groan.
After a long day at work, Penelope hobbled her way back to her house. The walls were dingy and stained a dull and dirty off-white color. To resist the same coloration of her house and her office job, a pot of sunflowers sat at her nightstand, becoming a beacon of color amidst a sea of eerily similar shade of beige. That shift took everything out of her. She was cold and nervous at the thought of coming back to work, but she could only swallow her doubts. She tried chatting up the sunflowers for advice. “Listen to me for a sec, okay?”, she affirmed to the pot. “It makes me money and I have nothing else, so it’s fine, right?”, she asserts. The flowers jab back at her with the scathing sound of silence. That’s right. No matter how vile that place may be or how sickening the atmosphere may be, it’s her job. It’s not like she has anything else she’s good at. That thought lingered in Penelope’s mind before her consciousness grew weak as she succumbed to her body and fell asleep.
The next day was excruciating. Penelope had walked into the office expecting something to change, but it didn’t. The same old walls, the same old sounds, the same old work. Her boss got onto her case again for the flowers. One more day of lazing around staring at flowers and she’ll get written up. Absolutely nothing about this wretched job was exciting or enjoyable. She found more enjoyment counting paper clips than doing any of the work. “How am I going to keep doing this?”, she thought. “How was she ever going to enjoy herself with a forsaken job like this?”, she pondered.
The park she had decided to visit after work was vast and empty.
Underneath the pale moonlight, she took a deep breath. The open air was so freeing, unlike that office building. She was left to collect her thoughts amidst a small symphony of crickets and gusting wind. What was she going to do? She can’t go back to that building, she hates it there. She can’t just quit, she needs the money. It seems like she just couldn’t get a nice, simple answer. Penelope shifted her gaze downwards, to the horizon stretching out in front of her. And there she saw it. A field of flowers, all dyed in a light hue of ivory by the moonlight. A smile shot across her face. The vivid vista of plant life lifted her spirit as it was weightless
This is what she lived for. That floating feeling of elation and joy when she saw those flowers. Right then and there, she decided. It was time to take a risk and follow her passion. She was no gardener, but those flowers made her happy. That was enough for her to try and take the leap of faith. There was no doubt in her mind about it anymore.
Penelope wakes up to the soft light of the morning sun. Her house has become lined with an impressive amount of flowers. Each pot and bouquet is a little explosion of color and wonder. Penelope briskly strutted out of the house and down the street. She fiddled with her keys and opened the door to her new workplace. Immediately, she was greeted with hundreds of beautiful petals everywhere she looked. She was the owner of this flower shop. Just the thought of it brought a grin to her face. She may have had a rough spot in her work life, but she decided to follow through with her passion, and it gifted her this. Her own space to enjoy herself. Her very own sanctuary. She gave her gratitude to the flower, and they answered back, as a harmony carried through the wind.

[Leopoldo]

Leopoldo Esquivel

Borderline Christmas

The sun hung low over the town in rural Mexico, casting a golden haze across the landscape, and Jack's car was just one among hundreds in an endless line of vehicles. He leaned against his steering wheel; eyes bleary from staring at the barely moving taillights ahead. His car, a dusty blue sedan, sat baking under the warmth of the late afternoon sun. The heat, though bearable, made the air shimmer and his skin feel sticky. He could hear the hum of distant engines and the occasional honking of horns from impatient drivers. The reason for the delay was no secret—one of the two bridges to the U.S. had been blocked off for Christmas the weekend, forcing everyone onto the one remaining crossing.

Jack's phone buzzed again on the dashboard. Another call from his family. They were expecting him for Christmas dinner, the usual cheerful chatter spilling through the speaker when he answered. His sisters were laughing about last year’s chaos, his mom reminding him about the turkey they were preparing. Jack smiled weakly as he listened, his mind far from the festive joy. He glanced up again at the line, which seemed to inch forward at a glacial pace, and then out the window. To the left, dry, empty land stretched for miles, the barren earth glowing in the sunset. To the right, expansive golf fields rolled into the distance, their green artificial against the desert backdrop. The Rio Grande flowed beneath the bridge, a sluggish, murky line separating two worlds.

As he finally reached the midpoint of the bridge, his stomach tightened with a sense of foreboding. The American checkpoint was just ahead, and he suddenly remembered he had not double-checked for his passport. Panic clawed at his chest. He fumbled through the glove compartment, under the seats, inside his coat pockets. Nothing. No passport. No ID. Nothing. His pulse quickened. The thought of being stuck on this side of the border for Christmas made his hands shake as he rummaged through the car. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios: would they detain him? Arrest him? What would happen to the presents carefully wrapped in the backseat?

As Jack neared the end of the line, his anxiety had reached a boiling point. The guard at the American checkpoint was a stern, square-jawed man with tired eyes who looked unimpressed as Jack scrambled to explain his situation. Jack could feel his face flush with frustration and embarrassment as he spoke. “I… I must have left my papers back in Mexico,” he stammered. The guard stared at him in disbelief, his silence heavy and judgmental. Jack’s throat felt dry as the officer waved for additional security, and the next few moments blurred into a series of protocols Jack had never expected to face. Fingerprinting. Questions. A barrage of inquiries about his age, his birthplace, his family.

Time seemed to stretch as he stood there, helpless under the relentless scrutiny. His thoughts flickered between the humiliation of being held up like this and the crushing disappointment of missing Christmas with his family. Would they think less of him for this mistake? He imagined the disappointed looks on their faces when he was not there to hand out the gifts he had so carefully chosen.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the guard returned, his expression softening ever so slightly. “You’re free to go,” he said, handing Jack his release papers. Jack let out a breath he did not realize he had been holding. His legs felt weak as he walked back to his car, his heart still pounding in his chest. He slid into the driver’s seat and immediately reached for his phone, dialing his family to let them know what had happened. His voice was calm, though inside, he felt drained, as if all the excitement for the holiday had been wrung out of him by the ordeal.

As he was about to pull away from the checkpoint, Jack squinted against the sun now glaring directly into his eyes. He reached up to flip down the passenger sun visor—and that is when he saw them. His documents. They tumbled out onto the passenger seat, crumpled but unmistakable. Jack’s breath caught in his throat, and he froze, staring at them in disbelief. Of all the places he could have checked…

For a moment, Jack just sat there, dumbfounded, staring at the papers. A slow, disbelieving laugh escaped him. He could not help but shake his head at the absurdity of it all. The one place he had not looked—right there, the whole time. His passport. His ID. They were right in front of him. With a sigh of both relief and exasperation, Jack leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes briefly, and let out a long breath. Then, with a wry smile creeping onto his face, he put the car into drive and continued down the road, the distant lights of home calling him forward.

[Venerable_Wolf]

Dreaming of Sandcastle’s

By: Nicholas Wolf


Act I

“Alice, you know if you keep on pursuing these hobbies. Eventually, they’ll come back to bite you.”

Alice Weaver was on her porch enjoying a popsicle when her Mom came out to tell her of her worries for her future if she continued to be wishy-washy about what she wanted to do with her life. She saw her Mother’s worries about her quitting all of her so-called “Hobbies” and focusing on just one thing that she wanted to do and was shocked.

“Wait, you’re saying I have to quit everything and just pick one hobby?”

Never had Alice ever been told to just ‘pick one’ as she was told that she could do anything, so why not strive to do everything? Alice was speechless that her mother would betray her like this and tell her to not pursue her dreams.

“I’ll have to think it all over, I don’t want to quit doing the things I love.”

Mary Weaver looked at her daughter with a complicated expression of parental worry for her daughter.

“I only worry for you to ensure you end up not regretting it all in the future.”

However, since Alice knew that her mother just wanted the best for her, decided to think about it and head over to the park to think it over.


.....


The luscious hues of green and gray played out in front of her eyes as Alice walked along the sidewalk to the park. The emerald trees lined the suburb's sidewalks, and the darkened asphalt and concrete created a contrasting scene as Alice walked along the sidewalk to her local playground.

Her deep green eyes sparkled at the scene as these hues changed to yellow and brown as she entered the playground with a troubled expression evident on her face.

Once she arrived on the playground Alice sat on a wooden bench facing the park. As Alice was thinking of her future and what she would do now she spotted two children playing in the Sandbox not too far away from her. The boy and girl pair played in the sand using stencils and molds to make their castles, cars, and houses out of the same sand they sat on. The most eye-catching of them all was a mighty castle that towered above the rest.

Alice fell into deep contemplation as she considered Engineering as Sunberry offered courses on it. While Alice had never considered it, all of the subjects that she enjoyed doing were the main principles of Engineering and she felt that-

Alice’s thoughts were interrupted by two older teens the same age who walked over and began to harass the two children for disturbing them with their loud playing in the sandbox. Alice was annoyed by the two as they were just picking on the children for the sake of bullying them.

Alice as quickly as she had sat down got up to confront the two would-be bullies as they were growing increasingly more hostile towards the two little children.

Alice walked towards the two bullies, who, seeing as she didn’t seem friendly, sulked off to go pick on someone else as they didn’t want to deal with a busybody.

Alice saw the ruined sandcastle, a shadow of its former self, and considered helping the children. However, she didn’t want to ruin their work and so simply said that the two children could “build it bigger and better” without her help and that she would only build something that would not be the children's own work and that they could not be proud of.

The children were thankful for Alice’s help in diffusing the situation with the bullies with smiles all around, though they had weird expressions on their faces with Alice’s refusal to help them rebuild and her willingness to have them rebuild it themselves.


Act II

Sunberry High School was a school that boasted a wide array of fine subjects that entranced and educated its students into becoming respectable members of society with a prestigious history. Its white-walled exterior reflects the school's clean track record over the years of teaching students and instilling in them the traits of a lifetime learner.

It is however a shame that Alice Weaver paid no attention to these subjects as she was going to be an engineer and could not be distracted by sidetracking herself for greatness. How could she allow herself to be distracted by such unimportant subjects as P.E., Algebra, Chemistry, and English? Alice’s excitement for her high school adventure was evident on her face as she grinned ear to ear as she thought of the possibilities of what she would do in class.

As the first bell of the day rang out, all of the students flooded begrudgingly into their respective classrooms, though the Introductory Engineering Class held a particularly familiar student. Alice Weaver had been studying and learning the basics of engineering over the summer in preparation and was ready for whatever may come as she was prepared.

Being more prepared than anyone in this class put a smirk on her face as she thought of all the cases in which she could show off her knowledge to her less proficient classmates. Though Alice knew that she’d never actually undertaken an Engineering project, with herself at the helm nothing could go wrong.

After introductions had taken place and greetings had been had, the class's first project was assigned to make a stable house that would withstand an earthquake. The project would take place over several days and would take the combined efforts of a full team of 5 people to succeed and make a sturdy house that would pass.

In the case of Alice Weaver, however, she supposed that she alone would be able to finish the project with minimal outside help from her teammates who she aptly named Classmates A through D. Though Alice was able to become a team leader and her team was able to begin working on the house, problems began to arise.

In Alice's mind, any idea that was put forth was good, but not as good as her ideas as she had a wealth of experience that she assumed would be good enough for her team to pass the in-class assignment. However, there was one small problem that Alice had not thought of, the fact that in the assignment the teacher provided two materials for the students, dry noodles as the frame, and masking tape as the connectors to hold the noodles in place. This led to the inevitable occurring as the noodle structure collapsed in on itself to a resounding snap.

Words could not describe the absolute embarrassment and shame that coursed through Alice’s brain as she was forced to realize that she may have overestimated her abilities when it came to applying them to engineering. Especially embarrassing for Alice when she thought of how she not only disregarded her teammate's opinions but in hindsight, they’d made just as good suggestions that may have even helped her succeed.

However, the workshop teacher was not cruel as he would allow anyone to fully re-do the assignment at the cost that the highest grade would be a B, and that the teams included had to be the same people as before.

Alice’s teammates were very visibly opposed to working with Alice as her attitude made her a walking nightmare to deal with, in addition to her pride getting in the way of actually getting decent progress done in time. So surprised to say, an apology was in order from Alice. Although Alice would rather do anything else than admit her faults, a simple ‘sorry’ from her was enough to quell any real animosity from her teammates, and they didn’t expect to get anything else because all things considered Alice only went on a minor power trip which only caused minor annoyance.


Act III


However, this would not be the end of Alice’s troubles as she would soon come to find out. While Alice was focused mainly on doing engineering assignments, she had been severely neglecting her studies in other classes in the following weeks allowing her grades to plummet to her detriment. Alice’s parents only told her that so long as she was passing they would love her all the same. Which allowed Alice to work her hardest in fixing her grades.

The need for Alice to play catch-up before report cards came out made her sleep-deprived, making her more and more snappy as the days passed to the point where Alice was forced to go cool off at the park before she blew up. Alice’s once vibrant green eyes had now dulled as she walked along the sidewalk with the now bright colors blinding Alice to the point of needing to look away from the fear of blinding herself.

Once Alice made her way to the Park she was met with a relatively barren playground as the school had started and the children had already gone home for the day except for two little children playing in the sandbox. While Alice had barely taken notice of the two children, their loud squeals of joy, as they laughed, filled the playground, and slowly made it unbearable to the point that Alice had reached her breaking point. She walked over to where the children were playing and kicked the sandcastle, destroying it, which made Alice feel better and calm down to the point where she could recognize the two children. They were the children who Alice had once defended against the bullies, except now she was the bully and there was no one to protect the children.

This destroyed Alice as she fell to her knees profusely apologizing for what she had done to the poor children and how she’d ruined all of their hard work for her selfish enjoyment.

The children became increasingly worried as Alice lowered her head lower and lower like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, mourning the loss of their castle and telling them that. ‘But it’s just a Sandcastle’ they said at the same time, ‘We can rebuild it’, why was this lady so sad over something they could make again? The children’s deadpan answer stunned Alice into realizing how silly she was for worrying about all the work she had before her, ‘it will eventually’ get done. And found that she now had a ray of sunshine that showed her the path to improvement and success.

Now with her goal set in place, Alice Weaver began her journey to fix her grades. Instead of working at five hundred percent at all times or in short bursts, she started working at only a hundred percent at a long pace over the following weeks slowly getting all of her assignments in before report cards came in.

Finally, on the day that she would receive her report card, she slowly peeled open her report card, anticipation running high to reveal; she had passed. There was possibly not a happier person in the world than Alice at this moment and her parents were even more relieved that their daughter could finally rest after seeing all the struggles that she went though to pass her classes.


The End

[bmlugo]

To Hiss or To Purr
By
Bianca Lugo

Chester is an aging tabby cat with fur as warm as the color of fresh baked cookies. For the past 10 years, Chester has only ever known one companion: Esme, an eccentric, creative young woman. Together, they have been inseparable. Chester has watched Esme go through many different stages in her life since she adopted him. Puberty, high school graduation, holidays, changes in fashion, boyfriends, breakups, and now her college journey. Through all the changes in Esme’s life, Chester remains her one constant. With Esme’s college journey, they both moved out of her parents’ home into a small apartment that was near her campus. The apartment is much smaller than her childhood home, a bit run down and rough around the edges. It took two years for Chester to call this place home. With the help of his owner’s decorative skills, endless barrage of treats, toys, places to scratch and sleep, and lots of love, it has become his kingdom. His main domain in the apartment is the living room. Within this room stands his mighty castle: a cat tower that stands beside a large window outlooking the college campus, his grand feasting spot where Esme fills his bowls with fresh water and delicious kibble every day, his fuzzy mice and crinkle ball toys, and his litter box for private business.

Every day started off with the same routine that he was used to. At the break of dawn, he would be awakened by the screeching of Esme’s annoying alarm clock. It was so hard getting out of bed when they were both so warm and comfortable snuggling under the blanket, but nevertheless, Esme has to go to school. As she got ready, he always made sure to remind her that it was breakfast time and that he required his daily dose of petting and attention. Mornings were always a source of conflict in Chester’s mind. On the one hand, mornings meant fresh food and warm sun to bask in, on the other, Esme would leave, and he would be left with nothing but the void of her absence. She always gave him a big kiss and scritched the top of his head before leaving for school, and he would spend the next hour crying at the door begging for her to come back. To cope with this, there was nothing for Chester to do except partake in his favorite activities: sit atop the cat tower and stare outside, bathe, stare outside and torment any birds that dared to get too close, bathe, sleep, wake up, eat, bat around a toy, sleep, stare outside some more, anything to make the time go by. When the loneliness was becoming too unbearable, Chester would make his way to the bedroom and lay on her pillow where her lingering scent would bring some form of comfort. Later, in the afternoon, he would hear the familiar clicking of keys being fumbled around outside the door. Esme is home! Overjoyed, he swiftly runs towards the door, meowing with glee, and jumping into Esme’s arms. The day can often feel like an endless loop of boredom, but all is right again when she returns home. School seems to always come home with her though as Chester has had to be content with laying on her lap while she types away at her laptop, but any place with her is better than being without his beloved companion. As night approaches and all starts to quiet down in the apartment, both Chester and Esme prepared themselves for bed. Once she was situated, she always lifted the covers, saving a spot next to her for him to lay. There was nothing left to do now but to drift off to sleep and start the routine all over again.

Today was unspectacular just like any other day, the same old routine and activities to pass the time until Esme got home. As afternoon approached and those same jingling keys could be heard outside the door, Chester got up from her pillow and briskly walked towards the door to greet her. As he walked out from around the corner and into the hallway that lead towards the front door, he comes to a sudden stop. His eyes begin to bulge, his back curls up, and his fur fluffs up. In front of the door at the end of the hallway sits a strange looking box, one he has never seen before. The box was plain brown cardboard with holes along its sides and two flaps on top. Chester was fearful of this box, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to investigate. As he walked slowly towards the box, he could hear Esme in the living room speaking on her cellphone with a friend. “…right outside the burger restaurant near the school…I couldn’t leave the poor thing behind” were the only words he could hear as his focus remained on this strange box. Pulling right up to it, he examines its seemingly boring exterior, nothing to note. He begins to sniff around it, not noticing anything on its exterior. As his nose approaches one of the holes on top, a small paw reaches out from the hole swiping at his muzzle. Chester swiftly jumps back, curled up in a defensive pose while hissing at whatever creature dared to swipe at him; whatever’s inside this box is clearly a threat. At that moment, his owner walks to the entryway and sits beside the dangerous box. Chester wants his owner to get away from whatever monster is being contained inside, but he’s too paralyzed with fear to save her. She begins to undo the flaps that keep the box closed, his heart racing as he knows the end is near and death has finally come for him. Then, sitting in her hands in front of him, he sees that it’s no monster ready to feast upon his flesh, but a small grey and white kitten. His fur is dirty, his nose crusty with mucus, and he looks no older than a few months old. Chester cannot believe what’s sitting before him, a kitten, an animal just like he is, but younger. His heart sinks, and a rush of anger and fear wash over him. He wishes it actually was a monster; a kitten is so much worse. “It’s okay Chessy, look who I found...isn’t he adorable? He’s going to be your new best friend.” Esme says softly as she places the kitten in front of him. He remains motionless, still holding his defensive pose, warily watching as the kitten stares at him with his big green eyes. The kitten excitedly begins to walk towards him to greet him with the common gesture for friendship in the cat world: a head butt. Deeply offended, Chester hisses and aggressively smacks the kitten’s head with his paw. Although a little taken aback, the kitten shakes off the hit and attempts to get close to him again. In a flash, Chester runs away to the bedroom and hides under the bed to escape. Hours go by and night falls upon the household. Esme walks into the room and tucks herself in to bed. Chester, still angry, decides that he would at least like to sleep in his usual bedtime spot; maybe a bit of the old routine will help calm him down. Jumping onto the bed, he is horrified to see that, laying on top of his owner’s chest, is that scraggly little kitten. He can’t help but feel betrayed and disgusted that this little gremlin has come between him and his only companion. “Come here Chessy, it’s alright.” Esme says while patting the bed. With a low growl, he swiftly turns his head, scoffing at both of them, and leaves. Without the comfort of his owner’s loving embrace and warm blanket, Chester has no choice but to sleep in his cat tower tonight; he is king of the apartment after all, sleeping anywhere else would be an insult. Sulking into the cushion at the top of his tower, Chester processes what he did wrong in his life to deserve this tragedy. Is it because he’s old? Scratched up too many pieces of furniture? Refused to eat that one very expensive can of cat food Esme spent her allowance money to get? Whatever the reason, this kitten was bringing about new anxieties that he’s never felt before. All of this stress and worry made Chester very tired, there was nothing more to do during this late-night hour but to drift off to sleep and dream of better days.

The light warmth of the early morning sun danced across Chester’s face. As he began to wake up, that familiar sound of kibble being poured into an empty food bowl could be heard from the kitchen. Food, in his favorite bowl, in his favorite spot, this will wash away the horrors of yesterday for sure. As he walked to his feeding spot, there sat the kitten, just looking at him with those big green eyes. A deep desire to attack him washed over Chester, but it’ll have to wait as Esme approaches them with food bowls in hand. As she places the bowls down, something felt off. These aren’t his bowls, and this isn’t his kibble. What’s going on? Esme walks to a different part of the living room, “Over here kitty!” she yells as she shakes one of his bowls. The torment doesn’t end. First his spot on the bed, and now his feeding spot have now been taken over by this little furball. Before he could muster up a growl, the most intense itch he has ever experienced crawls up from the base of his tail to his neck. The itching is so unbearable that he has no choice but to scratch, and scratch, and scratch some more. “Uh oh!” she exclaims as she watches both cats scratching themselves, “It looks like your new buddy has brought over some unwanted guests. You’re both getting a bath!”. Fleas, the bane of any animal’s existence, a pest that Chester has never had to worry about his whole life; this kitten is proving to be more trouble than he’s worth. Bathing is another touchy topic for a cat. Most will fight you to the death before getting a drop of water on their fur, but when it comes to a flea infestation, a cat has no choice. The kitten took a surprising liking to the warm bath water and the gentle cleaning done by Esme, while Chester used every bit of strength he could in his old body to escape the tub. It was a losing battle however; he may be strong, but Esme is much, much stronger. As the weeks went by, Chester was forced to deal with the kitten alone while Esme was off at school during the week. Esme, through careful consideration, had finally given a name to chaos incarnate: Peanut. Chester was used to the unsettling, yet peaceful silence that came during Esme’s absence, but having a moment of peace was now becoming a luxury. Any time he tried to sit and watch outside the window, Peanut would attack and bite his wagging tail. His toys were being torn to shreds. He would be chased all around the apartment as Peanut made consistent attempts to play. He would use his needle-like baby claws to tear up his scratching posts; all he could hear was the terrible rip, rip, ripping of his hideous claws. When nap time came around, Peanut wanted to squeeze in with Chester on top of the cat tower. As the tower was his castle, the only thing he could do was kick him off when he reached the top. No matter how much he hissed, swatted at, or ran away, Peanut seemed to only want to be around him more and more. The moment of Esme’s return home from school has also lost its magic as well. Gaining her attention became a competition now with Peanut as he too desired her affections, and Esme is, after all, only one person. Chester started to grow very envious of Peanut as time went on. How can he compete with a kitten that has soft fur, round cheeks, big floppy ears, a charming sense of naivety, and lots of energy for cuddling and playing? He had thought that being left alone for a few hours each day was isolation, but now, even with a fuller house, he feels more isolated than ever.

Through the sulking, anger, and overall unhappiness of being forced to live with a new kitten, Chester’s mental stress started to take a toll on his physical health as well. It started off with little things like running away less and losing bits of his appetite each day. Esme noticed this as time went on but thought nothing of it as she had seen him act this way when they first moved into the apartment. Chester has always been a cat of routine; any major change causes him to experience these sorts of long-winded tantrums of refusing to play or eat all his food. Tantrums wouldn’t last though, and he would still beg for attention and walk around. However, today was different. Something was deeply wrong. He didn’t want to eat, he didn’t want to fight or snuggle, and he never got up from his cat tower. Over the past couple of months, there had always been some slight stomach discomfort when it came to mealtimes, but they were easy to push through. This time, however, the stomach pain is so bad that he can’t bear the thought of food entering his mouth. Esme knew what a usual tantrum looked like, but the fact that Chester refused to move from his tower was very unusual. When she’d tried to give him water, he’d refused to drink it. When she tried to pick him up, he would cry out in pain. No matter what circumstances came about, Esme never missed a day of school. The fact that she was still home means that this is serious. Esme brought out her pink plastic carrying crate, something Chester always hated as the crate only ever meant one thing: the Vet. Normally, Chester fought being out into the crate like a warrior in battle. This time, though, he was too weak to resist. The vet office specialized specifically in cats only, and the doctors there always been very knowledgeable and friendly towards Esme and Chester; having a trusted vet that she knew could give her answers and care brought some amount of relief. There was always a period of having to wait in the heavily cat-themed decorated waiting room when it came to his usual appointments; one of Chester’s favorite things to do was stare at the aquarium full of colorful fish that sat in the lobby. There was no waiting today though. As Esme and the vet talked over his condition, Chester couldn’t think of anything else but the pain. While laying on the examination table, he could only make out three words from the doctor’s mouth: “lump”, “cancer”, and “surgery”. He of course didn’t know what these words meant, but he wondered if it was finally his time to go. He had a great life, and cats only live for so long, maybe this is just what the end looks like for an old cat. It was difficult to ponder one’s life when you’re so hungry, so tired, and are in so much pain. All Chester wanted to do was sleep.

It had been a few days before Chester returned home. Peanut, while he was gone, felt the emptiness of his absence from the apartment and wondered if his new friend would ever return home. Seeing Esme walk through the door with that pink crate brought him much excitement, but it quickly turned to confusion when she opened the crate door. Chester didn’t look like his usual self; he was haggard, his stomach was shaved of fur with a big scar running across it, and most noticeable of all, a big plastic cone was wrapped around his head. Chester didn’t bother doing the old hiss and scoff when he noticed Peanut’s presence, he just slowly waddled past him and laid down on the living room floor. Peanut made attempts at getting his attention, whether it was meowing next to him or swatting at his tail, these always got a reaction from Chester, but this time, nothing. Chester was weakened from his surgery, fighting off Peanut was the furthest thing from his mind, he just wanted the pain to end. Slowly, as time went on, little bits of strength returned and moving around wasn’t such a chore, but the medications and plastic cone made the usual tasks very difficult. Anytime Chester attempted to jump onto his cat tower, he would slip and fall to the floor. He couldn’t bathe himself as the cone made it impossible to reach various parts of his body. Instead of being given delicious treats, his mouth was now forced to swallow pills that tasted of bile. The only thing Chester could do was sulk, he missed his old life, he missed his vigor and health of his youth, more than ever, he is at the lowest point he’s ever been. One night, while particularly depressed, instead of heading to the bedroom to cuddle with Esme, Peanut decided to do something he was never successful with. As he came into Chester’s view, Chester began to let out a weak growl. Peanut didn’t let this discourage him though, he continued forward, started to purr and gently rubbed his head against Chester’s cheek. Then, he started to lightly lick his face, an area that he hadn’t been able to bathe because of the dreaded cone. To Chester’s surprise, this felt…comforting. The intense fires of envy and hatred he had towards him started to melt away as he couldn’t help but feel…loved. Instead of running or swatting him away as he normally would, he accepted the gesture and let Peanut continue. It had been so long since he was able to cleanse his face, and he was too weak to conjure the soothing vibrations that a cat’s purr can bring. For the first time in weeks, he finally felt true comfort. The fact that this kitten, a presence he always found deeply annoying, chaotic, and a disturbance to his routine, would spend this time being compassionate and caring towards him when he has been nothing but cruel and dismissive towards Peanut his entire time here became a revelation for him. He could be in the bedroom right now being pampered by Esme’s endless affections, but he is here with him during his most vulnerable state. Chester only ever solely relied on Esme for his every need as his caretaker and companion, but something was always missing in his life. Perhaps, he reflected, it isn’t fancy cat towers, endless bounties of toys, or the best kibble that was going to fulfill his life. Perhaps, all along, having a kindred friend was what he needed to fill the void the whole time. Peanut, after cleansing most of Chester’s face, moved to his side, plopping down and curling up right against him, continuing his soothing purrs. As the warmth of Peanut’s fur embraced his shaved stomach, he placed his head by his, and they both drifted off to sleep.

As the days went by, Chester was slowly getting back to his old self. He could eat normally again, the stomach pain was gone, and the fur finally started to grow back. Peanut continued to be a source of comfort for him as he continued his recovery, bathing him, providing him warmth and soothing purrs, and bringing him toys to play with. Things felt different around the apartment. Where Esme’s absence while at school used to bring a sense of emptiness, with Peanut by his side, he no longer felt alone. They would spend the hours watching birds outside the window together, curling up on the cat tower for naps, chasing each other around the house to see who could catch who, play fighting and sharing toys. There was still the battle of who could get the most attention from Esme whenever she got home, but that is a fight that neither of them could ever win. When bedtime came around, Chester no longer shut himself out by sleeping alone on the cat tower. Through understanding and acceptance, he and Peanut were able to make room for each other at Esme’s side in the bed. Together, in each other’s embrace, they drifted into a peaceful sleep, comforted in knowing that this new routine would start over again tomorrow.

[BSmith01]

Blake Smith



Critical Error

Hank rounded corridor after corridor of the labyrinthine facility, swiping his keycard at each juncture. The chime of the readers as they accepted his id brought Hank a feeling of deep satisfaction. The other workers dreaded their trek, but for Hank, it only signified how important he was. He had done the math multiple times. Of all the rooms in the facility, his destination lay the deepest in its hallowed halls. As if on timers, office doors closed either side of him in sequence as he walked past. They were jealous, all of them. Finally approaching the last leg of his journey, that signature look of smugness plastered across his face, Hank reached out, gilded card in hand, to that sacred door that greeted him every morning. This door only responded to the highest security clearance. This door only opened for him. This door was his door, and behind it, his server room. Hank left the harsh white fluorescence of the hall behind him and sank into the inky black of the room, peering behind himself one last time before allowing the door to close.

Dancing between the rows of server racks, which seemed to herald his arrival with their harmonious hum, Hank glided to the back wall of the room where his desk awaited him. He gently twirled down into his swivel chair, spinning around to meet his terminal which pulsed an exquisite emerald green, as if in greeting. Hank leaned back in his chair, stretching like a contented cat, and cracked his knuckles above his head. Reaching over the terminal to the wall behind his desk, he carefully adjusted his most recent “Employee of the Year” plaque: one of five venerating his stellar work. His morning routine completed, Hank took a sip of old coffee before launching into work.

Time seemed to become fluid when he was working. When Hank was focussed, and he always was, hours could pass in an instant. A problem would come in, he would solve it, and then he would move on to the next one. It was all second nature to him, no more complicated than breathing. That’s why he was in here, and everyone else was out there. He was simply better. Hank lamented that he could not be here always, completely undisturbed by the outside world, entirely engrossed in his work. There was no way of knowing how long he had been at work, and frankly he didn’t care. Hank reached into his desk, producing a blue floppy disk, and bringing it up to the port on his terminal, began to push it inside. In an instant his trance was shattered by a startling “HIIIISSSSS”. Hank jolted to his feet throwing his head in every direction in search of the source. Peering down slowly, Hank saw that just beside his desk a vacuum cleaner whirred away, and behind it, a portly man short in stature pushed. Apparently, Hank had forgotten to check his calendar that morning. The last Friday of the month was designated as cleaning day; a day he dreaded as it was the only time where the room was not solely his own. Hank kept things tidy enough, if a bit dusty. What right did the janitor have to encroach upon this sacred space? He certainly hadn’t earned it like Hank had. The janitor, vacuum screeching in his hand, stared up at Hank. He apparently expected him to move out of the way. Hank wanted to yell at him to get out, but recalled that he had been recently disallowed from doing so with threat of being moved to a different office the next time it happened. So, he gritted his teeth and begrudgingly stepped back, allowing the janitor to pass.

When Hank turned back to his terminal, he was horrified to see a harrowing sight. The screen glared blinking red. A critical error. Hank gasped and flew back to his seat, immediately punching in a torrent of commands. “Error Code- RE:002A7F” flashed across the screen. Of course, Hank had never memorized error codes because he had never made errors. Hank rattled through every series of commands he could invoke. The debug logs were useless. Try as he might, for the first time, he was at a loss. Hank slowly turned to his right, his eyes settling on a door at the far side of the room. The maintenance closet, where he had been told on his first day that he would find the service manual. At the time, he had scoffed at the very notion that he might be so inept as to need a book to tell him how to do his job. Hank trudged towards the metal door. It seemed to impose on him. He slowly outreached his shaking hand to turn the knob, and hesitantly pushed the door open. Its unused hinges let out a terrible creak. At the center of the dark closet, on a stool beneath a flickering lightbulb, sat the manual, caked in a heavy film of dust. Carefully, Hank held up the tome and blew across the cover, enveloping the closet in a haze. He returned to his desk, slumped down in his chair, and began to read.

Page after page Hank skimmed through the book, which was at least a foot thick by his measure. Time had slowed to a crawl, and the index offered him no guidance as to where he might find the information he needed. After what seemed like hours with no development, Hank let the boo, drop to his lap and began to rub his eyes in exhaustion. When he opened them, he was startled to find that the janitor had returned to his desk, now holding a mop. The small man pointed at the malfunctioning terminal. Was he taunting him? Hank felt the anger welling up inside him and stood to berate the man, thrusting his fist in the air. Before he could say anything the janitor shrugged and walked away. Hank had had enough. He was getting nowhere with the book and so, decided to toss it into the trash.

Clearly, whatever the cause of this error was, it was by no mistake of his own. The janitor must have disconnected a cord or caused a circuit trip with that damn vacuum or created a short with his mop water! Yes, that was it! It was a hardware issue! In a flash, Hank jumped to his feet and ran to the server racks, their harmonious humming replaced by a discord of strained beeps and pained whines. He would pour over every connection, check each cord for frays, count every blinking indicator light, reconnect each drive, and whatever else he could think of. Something had to work. He tore up wires of every color, tracing them back to their start points and reconnecting each one; he threw open racks and examined each drive; he pushed servers across the floor looking for disconnected cables. Clearly whatever damage the janitor had done went much deeper. The red flash of the screen permeated the dark room even with his eyes closed. The servers seemed to scream at him. Hank was tearing out his hair at this point, going in and out of fits of laughter, and at the same time sobbing. Amidst all of this chaos, the janitor once again approached the terminal and whistled to Hank. Hank threw his gaze towards the janitor who had put down his mop and was standing on his toes , trying to reach the terminal. Hank panickedly rose to his feet and began sprinting towards the man. He had to be stopped before any more damage was done. Hank lurched forward as the man’s finger connected with the terminal. He reached out desperately to stop him, but it was to late. The man gently pushed on the floppy disk drive. With a click, the screen flickered for a moment before returning to its usual green. Hank fell to the floor in front of the terminal. He hadn’t fully inserted the floppy disk. That was the problem. The cause of all this commotion, something so trivial. After a momentary pause, he janitor picked up his mop and left the room. Apparently, his job was done. Hank got up from the floor and sat dumbfounded in his chair. In the midst of the commotion, the plaque on his wall had become crooked. Hank looked up at it just in time to watch it fall to the floor.