Category: 2021 Entries

Luke, Wyatt and Pedro.
3 young men, each coming from different backgrounds and places.
Which one will ultimately succeed or fail in this task known as life? That’s for you to find out.
The American Dream
Outcome 1
Luke was born in Austin, Texas. One of the wealthiest states in the wealthiest country in the world, to two hard working parents. His mom is a neurosurgeon, helping patients with conditions such as brain tumors, seizures, brain damage, you name it. His father is the president of a world-wide technology company specializing in computer parts, smartphones, TVs, you name it. Growing up, Luke and his family never had to worry about not having food on the table, being able to afford groceries, appliances, nothing. Even vacations were covered. Luke would find himself in places like Paris, Dubai, New York, Bora Bora, and Las Vegas. Luke’s childhood was great. He attended a public school, as his mother thought a private school would make him stuck up. He was in a good crowd, got exceptional grades, and stayed out of trouble. As he got older, his father taught him how to succeed in the current world and marketplace. Luke eventually graduated and left for University, where he majored in computer science, and would eventually join his dad in improving technology in a variety of ways.
Outcome 2
Luke is born to two hard-working parents, in a wealthy state, in a wealthy country. His well-being is taken care of by his uncle, who he lives with. But you may ask, why not his parents? With his mother being a neurosurgeon, she’s always on the clock, and has no time to spend with her son and husband, apart from weekends and the weekday dinner every blue moon, and his dad is always trying to find the next best thing in order to keep the company at the top.Luke is sent to a private school paid for by his parents, and attends it with his two cousins. He has trouble fitting in, and often found himself alone. Eventually he meets this group of friends, who at the time seemed rather nice. He finds himself skipping school with them often, and gets into alcohol. His grades start to slip, and he breaks down. His uncle is too busy trying to make his own children happy, as they’re not failing school, and have a better chance of success. With a lack of support from his own family, and the addiction taking a toll on him, he falls into a depression. His parents eventually take him out of the school, so as not to waste money. He starts to attend a public school, and is more alone than ever. This goes on for a couple of years until he graduates. Rather than attending his university, Luke sits in his room. Not sure where to go in life from here, he hits a brick wall.
Declining Dream
Wyatt is born and raised in Detroit, Michigan. A poor city with a medium population of 675 thousand people. He lives with his younger sister in an apartment, and his mother, who tries her best to make ends meet as a waitress for an upscale restaurant. Wyatt does his best to attend school, but finds himself struggling as he tries to take care of his eight year-old sister while his mother is taking care of happy hour. Throughout his junior high years, he finds himself failing class after class, and barely manages to not be held back an entire year. The home situation isn’t good either. There are often fights and unrest on the streets every other day, leaving him worried for his own safety, and the safety of his sister and mother. One night, he experiences an encounter that almost changes his entire life. He’s walking home from school, the surrounding streets are empty, the only sound coming from the music in his earphones. Two older kids, one tall and frail, the other on the bigger side. They walk up to him, push him to the ground, and hold him at gunpoint. The frail boy tells him to give them anything he has, and he might leave unharmed. Wyatt complies. He takes out a 20 dollar bill he got for his birthday about a week ago, and his wireless earphones. The boys leave, and Wyatt runs home. After this scary encounter, Wyatt decides he has had enough. The summer of his eight-grade year, he finds a way to make money by doing yard work for his neighbors in Palmer Woods, a much richer neighborhood, and a well-paying one at that. He eventually saves up enough money to help his mom buy a used car, so that she won’t have to use public transport anymore, allowing her to come home earlier and take care of his sister. Wyatt starts his first day of high school, and the grind begins. He stays up late, making sure all his homework is done, and tests are studied for. After 4 years of hard-work and dedication, he graduates high school with flying colors, and goes to college. He eventually makes it out of Detroit, and moves to Utah.
Slightly South of Middle
Pedro lives in Rocinha, a favela in the Brazilian city of Rio. Pedro is 14 years old, and lives with his two parents, and 3 brothers. At such a young age, he’s had to grow up much faster than anyone else. Where he lives, drug trafficking is common, and the gangs that govern the favela are ruthless, willing to do whatever it takes to secure the dinheiro. Pedro doesn’t attend school, neither do his brothers. His parent’s try to make life good for their children. They both sell food on the streets, a relatively safe job. One day, Pedro finds himself among a group of older guys, all of them smoking a joint of some sort. He can’t help his curiosity and walks up to them, asking to try the substance. They oblige, and he takes a smoke. What seems like a harmless and calm encounter, quickly turns deadly. The group that Pedro stumbled upon is actually a rival gang, and he’s about to find himself in a shootout. Two men jump off a motorcycle and open fire on the group. One of the members immediately falls, Everyone else scrambles. One of the men tries to push Pedro to safety, but is hit in the leg in the process, and crawls to cover. Pedro tries to make a run for it, but to no avail. One of the rival gang members catches up to Pedro, and takes his aim.

At this point, you may be thinking, wow, that took a dark turn. You’re right, it did. Everyone you see comes from somewhere. That man you saw at the grocery store, or the little girl who waved at you, has a story to tell. Life is unpredictable, and it is a privilege to have the ability to succeed. In life, sometimes there’s a winner, and sometimes there’s a loser. And only some can choose which one it’s going to be.

Marty is a burn-the-house-down-and-die drinker, same as I was not so long ago. But he can hardly stay in recovery two months. Sobriety’s hard on Marty. He comes unglued, then disappears a thousand miles off in any direction for who-knows-how-long. Last time, he was out for most of a year before he turned up at a meeting, hating on himself. He had nothing but the smallest glimmer of maybe a purpose in life. He hoped he might finally tough it out in recovery and set an example for his brother Keith, who wanted none of that.

But I admire that about Marty. Normally, I wouldn’t have the time or energy to be friends with such a yo-yo. I ought to stop talking about Marty like that. I got the better end of this deal. Worrying he’s drunk and trying to off himself keeps me from testing one more time if I’m a real alcoholic. We relapse hard.

I saw him today strumming guitar on the northbound side of Manchaca, good as gold in his Johnny Cash pompadour. Too spacey to drive, he waits at a bus stop, serenading cars. Used to be, you’d never see him out in daylight. Psych meds have slowed his speech and rebuilt him heavier and round-shouldered. When he’s stable enough, he plays for happy hour at a dismal bar.

I dropped in once. A volunteer roadie from the treatment center helped Marty set up. I exchanged how-do-you-dos with his mom and stepfather, then shrank back to a table near the door. The place felt so deprived, and Marty’s songs so alienated and bleak, I had to leave or get blind drunk. That once, I went. The dimwit has thanked the crap out of me three whole times.

Last Friday afternoon he stood outside our big, modern church, facing the parking lot as if trying to remember how he got there. Last thing I wanted to do was make him feel dumb.

I walked up like, “Marty! How are you?”

“Not good,” he said. “My kid brother killed himself.”

“No way! Marty—when?”

“Day before yesterday. No this is Friday. That was Tuesday.”

I’d seen the kid—longhaired wise-ass punk, hard to like. “Fucker. How old was… Keith, right?”

“Yeah. Twenty-four. I thought if I straightened out, he might too. I guess he wasn’t ready.”

So then what?—I thought. He skidded off a cliff? A grackle swooped in for trampled Fritos. It squealed like the world’s rustiest door hinge. I said, “He must have gone on an all-out tear.”

“Might have been. I saw a half a fifth of whiskey. It wasn’t like he threw a party.”

“You saw him?”

“I wish. Already he was like made of wax—in Mom’s garage. Fucker.”

“Jesus! Did Keith do that to hurt her?”

Marty gazed past me, his eyes reducing the sky to blue ink drops. “He might have.”

“Did you drink from that bottle?”—I had to ask.

But no. He’s bone dry, doping out funeral arrangements, calling kin. “We thought my half sister might show up for us this once, but when I call, she yells malicious stuff and hangs up.”

“I wouldn’t take it personally, Marty.”

He said, “Sometimes you have to deal with shit. Sometimes you have to cut your brother off the end of a rope.”

I said, “Marty, Let me buy you lunch.”

We didn’t talk about Keith anymore. Whenever he’s ready. And I didn’t mention my own brother, but fore sure I need to call him.

My older brother has a younger brother an awful lot like Keith. But this longhaired wise-ass punk happened to not die. That seems long ago, but still, my brother needs to hear me say I’m sorry.

Blinded with glasses.
By, Ellie Ringo.
Have you ever met someone that completely captivates you? Someone that lifts you up everyday? I’ve met that person, her name is Sophia Walls. She is beauty beyond compare with wavy long brown hair that any girl dreamed of, tan skin that most girls wish to achieve and dark brown eyes that I could stare into all day. Sophia could reel anyone in with that smile, and her kind demeanor towards everyone. We met in the fifth grade, she asked me to play soccer with all the kids as I sat alone against the fence post, and we became friends ever since. I have always looked up to her, throughout middle school and even now as a senior in high school, but sometimes that visible parasite clinging onto her luxurious tan skin makes my gears turn the wrong way. I watch him pull her into a hug and tell her all these things that I’ve told her, “I love you.” Or, “want to come over tonight?” Sophia would smile and just giggle and tell him. “Of course.” She would then catch me after my 5th period and ask if we can cancel those Friday night plans we had, and I would smile and say, “sure! Another time.” I don’t know why those continuous words keep coming out of my mouth, I feel like I’m a repeating echo but she always ends up coming over anyway, sobbing on my front doorstep. As she crawled into my arms and sobbed, and I rubbed her back comforting her as she began to bawl about the parasite. “Why did he do that? I trusted him!”
“You can trust me.” I would say softly.
“I know I can trust you.” Sophia would respond. “But, I loved him!”
I was about to open my mouth, but shut it quickly, I should know my place as the best friend but the way she held onto me and cried made me feel as though I’m getting in too deep. We do this almost every week, and she still continues to chase that jackass who hurt her. I don’t understand, I don’t think I ever will. Sophia would always end up falling asleep in my room, I’d look at her tear stained face and put my smaller hand along her cheek bone and anxiously pull away as if she was awake. My heart would race, every time. Every time it started running I had to clear my head and tell myself that it could never be. Remember, don’t step out of line, you’re the best friend. I curl up onto the floor of my bedroom, letting the princess have the bed because once again, I’m the best friend. The next morning she would wake up and act like nothing ever happened, if it was a weekday, she would ask to borrow my clothes then walk to school with me. Eventually she would abandon me for the parasite who infected her the previous night. Weekends were no different, she’d tell me “thanks for letting me stay over!” I would smile and nod my head, as if it was nothing. She’d then get into the 1997 Corvette the Parasite drove. She would get in and kiss him before he drove away from my house. He makes me want to key that stupid car, I want to see that red paint scratched, I want to see his window shattered, like my heart. But stop, I’m the best friend. I can’t do that, I don’t want to anger her. Her goddess complexion would be ruined if I made her mad, and I don’t want that. I don’t think anyone does. I continue to spend the rest of my day curled up on my bed. It smelled like her, it smelled like a nursery of flowers after a spring bloom. I would melt away in that scent, if only I could be like that parasite that often got to touch the skin that possessed the smell. If only I got to hold it like him. I keep having to remind myself that I’m the best friend. Best friends don’t do that. I would spend the rest of those weekends alone, until she’d text asking me, ‘Can you pick me up?’ Of course I sprung up like a happy dog, willing to go to the ends of the earth for her. I would drive my beat up 2004 Toyota Camry to the location she sent me. It wasn’t the usual location, it was different. I pulled up and looked at the house, a party. I didn’t mind not being invited, but I saw Sophia from across the driveway, stumbling to get into the car. I raised an eyebrow, “are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” She would smile, her face was red and alcohol had filled her breath. I get it now, she was intoxicated. No wonder she needed a ride. I was on the way back to her house but she stopped me. “Stop.” She said. I figured she had gotten sick and needed me to pull over, so I pulled over against a curb in front of someone’s lawn. I turned my head, “yeah are you feeling okay?” I asked her.
“Can we go back to your house instead?” She said, softly smiling.
“You really need to get home though, you don’t seem well.” I responded, concerned. “I think it’s-” she stopped me and grabbed my skinny white face. She placed her lips against mine, I could taste the alcohol off of her. It was bitter, not my style. I don’t know why, why didn’t I pull away? Am I crazy? I stood there in shock, and let it happen and I did the one thing I shouldn’t have and that was take her to my house. She dragged me inside, knowing the layout of my house like a mouse looking for the cheeze in an 8th grade science project. Sophia started to undress herself, clinging onto me. I shook my head in disbelief, I knew I shouldn’t have but I did. I let myself get too far ahead and you know where that goes. Once again, she ended up falling asleep in my bed, but this time she was undressed. I put a hand on my head and sobbed into my hands, I’m the best friend and I have just committed a sin with a goddess. I wiped my stained eyes and fell asleep next to her. Usually she would wake up in a good mood, not that morning. She woke up and looked at me as if she was about to vomit. “Are you hungover?” I asked, handing her a trash can that I kept next to my bed. Sophia looked away from me and got up, getting dressed, I was getting ignored. I smiled, “Sophia..?” I said. Sophia turned her head and looked me dead into the eyes as if she was about to kill me. Her face shrunk into my veins and my body panicked.
“You’re disgusting.” She said to me. My smile slowly faded, I was so confused. Did she mean that?
“What do you mean..?” I asked, my voice was coarse, as if I was about to cry.
She laughed and put a hand on her head, pushing her long brown hair back. “Do you not get it, Belle?” Sophia asked, her eyes like slits and her face looked down on me. “You took advantage of me while I was drunk and I have a boyfriend!” She yelled, “also you’re a girl. Do you possibly think I would ever do something like that with a girl let alone love one?” I was about to open my mouth to defend myself but nothing was coming out. She continued, “you’re so disgusting. I should’ve listened to James, he was right about you. You’re a..” she said a word that I would’ve never thought would come out of a pure soul like her. I sat there, hopeless as she continued to degrade me and eventually left. I got up, shaken and looked into my bathroom mirror, hanging over the cold, white edge of the sinks countertop and cried again. Why would she say that about me? I thought she cared. She always was there, so why? Was it so wrong to be in love with her? I guess she is right though, we could never be because I was never in the picture to begin with. I was so blinded by this goddess beauty that I never opened my eyes to realize I was nothing but a tool in her hands. A tool that did whatever she wanted, something only a goddess could have. I looked up from the bathroom mirror and wiped my tears, staring at myself. My short bleached blonde hair, my pale white skin and blue eyes, my black glasses that stood on the bridge of my nose, my chest and skinny body. I smiled, realizing I never had a chance. Sophia was right, I am disgusting. I stood there and realized I was the parasite to her, but I was so blinded. Blinded by her beauty and how she talked, how she walked, dressed, did her hair, and appreciated me. But don’t worry, I’ll be okay from here, I’m going to get my vision checked again on Thursday so I can finally see what I’ve been missing.

Whoooooo! A collective cheer of shock, surprise, and ecstatic joy resounded throughout the bleak, storm-cloud gray halls of the Homicide branch of the Los Angeles Police Department. The source of the noise was from an overjoyed group of 9-1-1 operators, detectives, and other officers in the Homicide branch.
“I can’t believe he proposed,” said the incredulous operator Angela Beasley, which only brought another round of giggles and shrieks throughout the group.
“So… how’d he do it,” asked another anxious officer, a sentiment echoed by the rest of the officers. They all turned to stare at the newly engaged Detective Khanh Lacroix. Lacroix, pleasantly smiled with a look of knowing, as if she had been asked the question many times since the dramatic surprise proposal.
Detective Lacroix started to recount the tale of her proposal, enjoying the amount of attention she was receiving, “Elijah had been acting strangely recently; jumpy and paranoid. I had half a mind to think he was cheating on me,” Lacroix smirked when she said that considering how the night ended.
“He told me to meet him at the front of Echo Park and there he was on a beautiful white stallion. It reminded me of his family’s ranch horses out in New Orleans,” Lacroix said with hints of nostalgia and a smile.
“Then we went on a horse ride and stopped on the top of the hills. The view was beautiful, and he was so damn sweet. I told him he didn’t have to do all of this for a little date, but he was determined.
“He said it was the least he could do,” giggled Lacroix. “It was so cute and endearing.”
“When we dismounted, he gave me the whole speech, ‘I am a simple man from New Orleans, I rode horses, and I never lost my Creole drawl. But you have made me a man of culture and love. Hell, I have tried Vietnamese Bahn Mi and Ethiopian Injera all because of you. You have made me into the man I am today, and I want to make an honest woman out of ya. So would you please make me the happiest man this side of the Mississippi and marry me?’”
“Obviously, I embarrassed myself and squealed out of pure excitement. Without hesitation, I said yes and he spouted off his excitement in Creole.”
“‘Wi! Mwen renmen ou.’ That’s what he said. It means I love you in creole. By god, I love how that man switches to creole every time he gets excited,” Lacroix laughed to herself. Her smile stretched from ear to ear and it was clear that she was on cloud nine.
“Afterwards we took the horse to his restaurant, Bon Plat. It was so romantic. He had set up a candlelit dinner of traditional Kribich Nan Sos and Pikliz. The shrimp was mouth-watering and he was so cute about the whole dinner. Then we headed home. It was the best night ever.” As she recounted the story, she mimicked Elijah’s accent to a tee.
“He always has that nervous energy about him and his accent is so cute. He’s probably the only man who knows any Creole in LA. Also, you have to get me a reservation at his restaurant. I don’t know how I still haven’t been, ” responded the steely-eyed Detective Reyes. She was a wonderful detective but her emotions betrayed her face; Reyes just wanted to be her best friend’s maid of honor.
Unexpectedly, Detective Lacroix got down on one knee and turned to Reyes, “Would you please do me the honor of being my maid of honor?”
“Wi! Mwen renmen ou,” Reyes mimicked in a more than awful creole imitation.

“I am so glad that you finally asked. I have been dying since I saw the size of that ring,” smirked Reyes.
“I know. I just wanted to let you sweat a little bit,” Lacroix responded as she chuckled.
“Well, I love proposals as much as the next captain, but I believe that we should get back to work Detectives. But in honor of your news, I suggest we play some music for the precinct. No more than twenty minutes though, and I am turning it off the second we get a call,” Captain Daniels cut in with his strict but fair love.
“Thank you, Captain. I’m sorry we can get back to work,” Detective Lacroix responded with distinct respect. As all the officers headed back to their desks, precinct-wide music began to play. Both Reyes and Lacroix began to hum along to the Creedence Clearwater Revival. The deskmates turned to each other and sang the chorus in perfect harmony, “I see a bad moon arising… “
Suddenly, a call came in. The captain immediately cut the music and gave a glance towards the operator, expecting her to pick up the call. However, Angela was hesitant. She could feel that the call would bring nothing but trouble on its way. Nevertheless, she picked up the ringing phone if not to end its droning cry. Something about the call bothered Beasley, and she felt as though she shouldn’t be alone taking the call. Beasley gestured over to Detectives Lacroix and Reyes and put the call on speakerphone. The detectives looked at each other in confusion but still decided to walk over.
“Hello, is this the police?” came a quiet whimper whisper from the phone.
“Hello, this is the Los Angeles Police Department, can you please state the nature of you’re emergency,” replied operator Beasley with a steady voice, carefully alleviating the receiver’s tension all while reading off of the 9-1-1 operator script.
“Please, help me, I don’t know where I am— there is a man here. He drugged me and my friend’s drinks. I am scared and I don’t know what’s happening,” came the same whimpering whisper from the phone. The voice was both nervous and wary. As if she was dreading the chance of her captor arriving again.
“Look around is there anything that can help you identify where you are? We can trace the call and send officers over to your location immediately. Please stay on the line,” Beasley said in the same measured tone.
“I don’t see anything but there is something here. It feels wet and this whole place smells like seafood and pennies… oh my god that’s blood! Ahhhhhhhhhhh! Kira!” the woman’s voice was strengthened by her terror and her sadness. The phone call was finally traced but the location was vague, indicating it came from somewhere in downtown Los Angeles.
“Please stay on the line ma’am officers are being dispatched to your location presently. All officers please respond for a code 136 near downtown,” Beasley continued. Despite her request for them to stay, Detectives Ruiz and Lacroix immediately left the department in their squad car in order to get to the scene before the situation got any worse.
“Please, calm down ma’am, I have sent officers to your location. Can you tell me how you got there or any distinct features of who captured you,” asked operator Beasley. She was suddenly cut short by the loud slam of the door on the other side of the phone.
“He’s here — please — help me!” screamed the voice in utter desperation.
The voice went silent as the sound of clicking Southern bootheels became louder and closer to the phone.
A new voice sounded and it had a heavy, almost distracting Southern drawl, “I thought you were dead. I’m impressed but I’m glad. Mwen renmen — oh I’m sorry I’ll speak English. It’s the least I could do…”

I wear armor like the goddess Athena, but I wasn’t born with armor like Athena, I wasn’t born a warrior, I had to forge my armor and weapons, I had to go through years to come out on top, but I still fight, just as I fight now. My nose dripped red as I look up at Arachne, it wasn’t her real name, but just like Arachne she claimed she was stronger and better than me, and just like Athena I let her get to me, it only started as friendly arguing who was stronger, but it grew more in to a battle and just like Athena I started pulling the tricks of war on her. We fought everyday, we raced seeing who was faster, we compared our scores, seeing whose mind was as sharp as a blade, it kept up for months at a time until one day.
I had proved that my mind was as sharp and as quick as a lightning bolt, I didn’t get the chance to brag before I felt the fist in my face, I stumbled backwards, catching myself on the wall, it went silent as we watched each other, my nose bleeding as she glared as me, I began to cry before I felt my anger rise. I wiped my eyes as I stood up, our eyes leveled, the ones around us disappeared, I didn’t just see the red on my sleeves and hands from my nose, but in my vision it was just red, I ran towards her.
There was blood and clumps of hair as we fought, hit after hit and every angry word I could think of came out as I screamed, and she screamed back at me, it felt like years before we felt each other get pulled away from each other and red left my vision. We walked down the hall to the nurse and I felt my armor harden as I glared at Arachne and she glared at me, I felt nothing but anger as I looked at her, we were sat down and cleaned up and we were sent home, I was yelled at and sent away, but I only cursed Arachne, it was her fault all this happened, I felt as if my armor grew thorns as I passed back and forth in my room, I stopped once I saw myself. I had bruises and scratches and I looked pretty close to a mummy with the amount of bandages covering me, but I only thought of what I was going to do when I went back to school with Arachne.
I finally went back to school, but Arachne was nowhere to be seen, I felt relieved as I sat at my desk enjoying the peace from that girl, a week went by and still felt fine, but then it turned into two weeks and then four and then eight, and I felt angry. Where was Arachne?! Where did she go, did she wimp out on me?! I began searching around the school and no one knew where she was, I went home feeling pissed, and my armor felt so heavy as I walked home, until I saw her. She was standing in front of her mailbox grabbing something, I had been about to yell her name when I heard a high pitched voice yell at her from her house. “You better hurry with that mail this time, brat!”I had never seen Arachne cringed and look almost defeated as she walked into her house. I couldn’t help it as I walked closer to her window though, I peeked through and I wish I hadn’t.
Arachne was on the ground holding on to her cheek as the woman I guessed was her mother yelled at her “Of course your school is wondering where you are!” she yelled before going on “First it was grades and then the fight and now you slacking!”. I felt my armor harden as I heard her yell at Arachne, Her mother left and Arachne stood up, but stopped as she saw me. It almost felt like it did the day of the fight, when we started, I stood up and began to run before I heard the door slam open and her tackle me.
We wrestled on the grass, as I tired to get up, but someone she did over power me, I felt pissed as she pinned my arms on the ground as she used her whole weight to keep me on the ground, I felt my armor ready for a hit, kick or venomous words, but none came. Arachne only looked at me “What are you doing here?” she questioned me and I was about to yell at her, when I didn’t know why I came, how could I conspire myself the goddess of war and strategy, but have no strategy. We just stared at each other, I didn’t know what I said before it was said, “I was worried”, I didn’t see the red in my vision, but felt the red in my cheeks as I looked at my enemy or competition?
Arachne only looked at me before she let go and got up, I felt my armor grow heavy as I got up, but it grew lighter as I saw, the girl I considered a brat and enemy cry. I didn’t know what to say or do, I didn’t have a strategy for when your enemy crys, but I did for friends, I stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, I didn’t feel armor hit armor, but I felt a person touch another person, I didn’t understand what happened, but we just stood there, me hugging Arachne as she cried.
This girl, was not my enemy and wasn’t a bad person or a brat, well maybe a little bit, but she is person, she is a warrior, just like me, I couldn’t stop my own tears as we just stood there crying and hugging, I knew we must have looked crazy, Athena and Arachne, two beings who were not meant to be crying and hugging, but competition, that not the case now.
At some point Arachne and I made our way over to the school, we walked the whole way there until we stopped and sat down, we didn’t talk we didn’t even look at each other we just stood there until I felt my words again leave me before I could stop them “I’m sorry”, I didn’t know what I was saying sorry for, maybe for what her mom did to her or everything else that happened, but she only responded with “no I’m sorry”.
We only stood there waiting for something to happen, but nothing did until I sat down on the curb in front of the school and she joined me, I didn’t feel any armor or any blade at my side, I didn’t feel like I was at war, I felt at peace, she then looked at me and I looked at her “don’t say anything please” I knew what she meant, but I only shook my head no, I felt her own armor sharpen as she grabbed my wrist tightly, “you can’t tell anyone”. She was glaring at me and I felt my own armor harden, but I only smiled, “Maybe I won’t tell right away, but I will help, but only because it gets boring without you here”. I glanced her before I looked away and she let go and she began crying again and I hugged her again, “man I can’t believe my great rival is such a cry baby” she only laughed as she pulled away and punched me in the arm, I didn’t need to brace myself for it, I didn’t feel my armor harden, as we sat there, the sun was setting.
We made our way to are own homes and as we stopped in front of her house she glanced at me and I swung my arm around her shoulder, “we can have a sleep over at my house, but only for tonight, we can’t let anyone know we are getting all friendly” she laughed as she shoved me away and we made our way to my own house.
I had set up a sleeping bag for her with pillows and blankets surrounding her, but as the night went on and Arachne fell asleep, I couldn’t help, but think what would happen if Athena had just let Arachne be and let her brag about her spinning and weaving skills, but it made me wonder, what would have happened if I had let my own Arachne just be?
I don’t really know what would happen if I had let her just be as she was, but all I knew is that it felt good to know I wasn’t the only warrior anymore, it felt good to not have my armor on.

In the sweltering heat of a summer’s afternoon, Valeria melted into a puddle while sitting on the curb of a sidewalk outside the church. Sweat ran its way down her arms and legs making her puffy pink dress stick to her body like glue. She did not want to wear this dress, she wanted to wear the purple one, but Mama said she looked better in pink. The dress was itchy and the white fabric flowers scattered along the bottom bloomed enough she could pick at them until she had enough to fill her little pocket on her heart if her Mama let her.

Valeria looked up from her sandals and watched as her Mama a few feet away spoke to the priest about grown-up things like work and taxes and how her grandma was doing. She would have told the priest Grandma just didn’t come because Ms. Carole had insulted her cooking during the 4th of July, and she didn’t want to “be in the same space as that miserable old hag until she apologized” but good girls do not speak about the family’s business. Mama told the priest she had come down with sickness but should be better enough to come back next week.

Valeria did not understand a lot of things and one of those things was lying. She always said what she was thinking and asked a lot of questions. Papa finds it funny and answers every question as best as he can, but Mama says she needs to be polite, so she does not hurt anyone’s feelings. Grandma says lying is a sin and when you lie you must ask God for forgiveness, but she has watched everyone lie at least once in her life, she is watching Mama lie right now. She didn’t see a reason to lie, and she does not know why being polite means telling small lies. God did not count politely lying as a sin. Can you go to hell for politely lying? She will ask Mama on the drive home.

Mama knows a lot about God almost like she knows him, but she says she doesn’t. Nobody knows God but he left a book a long time ago with ideas to live by and Mama believes those ideas because she thinks that they can better our society. Papa says it’s a bunch of baloney, that there is no such thing as God and that humans created him so that people could fear something enough to follow the rules and live a good life. Mama and Papa do not agree on a lot of things, but they love each other enough to compromise. Papa stays at home on Sundays to work on stuff around the house like fixing the leaky faucet in the kitchen and she and Mama dress up to go to church. They stay a while after mass to talk to the priest and Mama’s church friends, and afterward, they meet Papa at their favorite pizza place. They didn’t talk to Mama’s friends today though.

Last week Mrs. White’s girls, Mary and Sally, interrupted Valeria while she was reading a picture book about beetles. Her Papa got it for her as a reward for helping around the house and getting good grades in the spring. Mama let her bring it on the condition that she could not read it during mass and once Mama started talking to Mrs. White, she plopped down on the grass to read and try to find beetles walking in the dirt. Mary and Sally had come up to her and started hollering in disgust at the diagrams of a beetle’s body and called her a freak for liking bugs. Valeria had tried to tell them they should not be disgusted or afraid of bugs, God put them on the Earth for important reasons like pollinating so pretty flowers and food can grow, but they had run off to their mom in tears. When they got in the car to go to the pizza place, Mama had asked why she could not like normal things like other girls do. Valeria had said that she did like some normal things and asked why she could not like the weird things. Mama just told her to not mention any of her weird interests at church, she could not introduce Valeria to other people unless she started acting like a proper lady that is polite, quiet, and likes things like baking, dolls, and pretty things. Valeria told her that she did like those things, she just did not like them as much as the other girls did. She asked why other girls could not like bugs, God made things for a reason, and hating God’s creations is a sin, isn’t it? Mama did not respond, only shook her head, and kept driving.

That night she heard Mama and Papa talking about it after she was supposed to have gone to bed. She could not sleep and wanted to get some water from the kitchen until she heard Mama asking Papa why they could not have had a normal daughter. Papa had said that Valeria was normal, she just liked different things from other girls and asked what was wrong with that? Mama had said that there was nothing wrong with that, but she could not take her out without getting embarrassed. Many churchgoers already judged her for being a young mother and at least if she had a normal daughter then everyone would think she is a great mother for raising such a beautiful and kind girl. Papa started getting angry as he asked Mama if she thought their daughter was not beautiful or kind, she may not be the politest but that does not erase the fact she always does as she is told and all the older women in the neighborhood have stories to tell them about how Valeria brought them freshly picked flowers on her way to school or how Valeria offers to help bring in groceries when they are struggling. Papa said that she should not be embarrassed by her daughter when she upholds better religion-related values than most adults and that’s when Mama and Papa started a hushed argument. Valeria had left to bed by then, eyes heavy and yawning quietly.

Another thing Valeria doesn’t get is “values”. She asked her Papa once what it meant and he said it’s the standards for people who believe in some sort of God. Different religions have different standards but most of them are about kindness, compassion, and helping others. She asked him why there is more than one religion if they are all sort of the same and he said it’s about the culture and the place. Valeria still doesn’t get it though. Why do you have to believe in something bigger than yourself to be nice to people? She likes being nice to people, it makes her feel good, and sometimes she gets gifts out of it. She doesn’t think she believes in anything bigger than herself. What can be bigger and more powerful than Mama and Papa or the president? She asked her parents once what to believe in. Papa said she could believe in anything she wanted, it’s her experience and life that will lead to a decision. Mama got mad at Papa for that and told her that she needs to believe in God so that she can lead a good life and get into Heaven. People who question their faith don’t get into Heaven. Valeria doesn’t understand Heaven or Hell either, it seems simple but what if someone makes a mistake and ends up in Hell? What if she lied and didn’t ask for forgiveness, will she go to Hell? She doesn’t think she’s done anything bad enough to go to Hell but it was scary to think about sometimes.

A yawn made its way out of Valeria’s throat making her eyes water. She was getting tired and looked again towards her mom and the priest. They were still talking and a few churchgoers were hanging out on the grass behind her. She looked to the end of the street where a man was selling popsicles to kids out of a cart and she thought about how nice it would be to have one. She’d keep it in the wrapper to hold against her forehead to cool down and when it starts getting warm she’ll drink the melted ice. Valeria stretches her legs out and her arms over her head. She looked over at the stained glass windows that made up pictures of Jesus and the Virgin Mary. She thinks they’re pretty but she still doesn’t know if she believes in them.

Papa doesn’t believe in anything but he’s nice and he likes to help others. He has a big family and not all of them have a lot of money so he helps them out sometimes. If Papa doesn’t believe in anything will he go to Hell? Would God keep him out of Heaven for not believing in him even if Papa is kind? Valeria doesn’t understand the afterlife either. If God loves all humans, shouldn’t everyone be in Heaven even if they don’t believe in anything? How bad do you have to be to go to Hell? Her grandma tells Papa he’ll go to Hell for not going to church every Sunday but she’s pretty sure God says to respect people as they are. Valeria hopes Papa doesn’t go to Hell.

She hears voices getting louder and she looks away from the windows to see Mama and the priest begin walking closer to her. “And I’m sure you know about my daughter Valeria. Sweetheart, say hello,” Mama introduced.

“Hello, priest sir.”

“Hello, little one. How are you doing? I hope today’s mass did not bore you too much today,” the priest said, crouching down and extending his hand out to shake.

Valeria stuck her hand out from her place on the curb ignoring her Mama’s whisper to stand up and greet the priest politely. “I’m doing alright, the mass was pretty boring though. It was very long and I did not get a lot of what you were saying.”

The priest laughed as Mama tried to apologize for her bluntness. “It’s alright ma’am. I can’t expect a child to be able to understand something so complex when they have other priorities in life.” The priest turned to face Valeria again and asked, “How old are you now?”

“I’m nine and three months old.”

“Wow, you are getting older every day. Have you decided what you might like to do in the future?”

“I want to study bugs, but Mama says I should tell people that I want to be a nurse or a teacher so that I can be more respectable.”

Mama turned red in the face and started stuttering out an “Ah she doesn’t mean that” before the priest interrupted.

“Why do you need to be more respectable? I think studying bugs is plenty respectable. You could make some important discoveries someday.”

“Mama says I need to be more respectable so that she won’t have to feel embarrassed when she talks about me to her church friends. She thinks that some of the things I like are weird and that I need to start liking things normal girls like so that her friends don’t think she’s a bad Mama.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re weird at all. You are very honest and respectful. I think your Mama did a great job raising you but you shouldn’t let her words get to you. Sure you might like different things than most girls, but that just makes you more unique. You are your own person and God loves every type of person especially you. Nothing is embarrassing about you and you don’t need to feel like you have to change for anyone. God is watching you right now and is proud of you for not letting anyone get in the way of your goals and mission on Earth.”

“How do you know that? I thought nobody knew God.”

“I may not know God personally but I have dedicated my life to passing on his words of wisdom to others and I know for sure that God says to love everyone as they are. As long as you believe in God, God will believe in you.”

“I’m not sure I believe in God mister priest.”

“And that’s alright too. One day your faith will be solidified and God will be there every step of the way to help you stay faithful.”

Valeria thought this over for a minute. “Alright then. I’ll try to understand the stuff you say in mass until that day.”

“That’s all I will ever ask of you.”

The priest got up and wished Mama a good day. Mama was too embarrassed to say anything back and quickly grabbed her daughter so they could walk to the car. When Valeria’s seatbelt was buckled, Mama looked at her through the rearview mirror in silence for a minute and finally asked “When we get done eating with Papa, would you like to go to the bookstore and get a new bug book? I know last week you finished your other one.” Valeria grinned in delight.

In the year 2014, my father found a job offering in the far-off state of Arizona. They were offering such a great sum of money that my mother and father swept up our family of four from our home in West Virginia, where my older brother and I had lived all our lives, to move to Relic End. It was a nice enough neighborhood. There was a park with a colorful assortment of playground structures to climb and an ice cream store further down the road that we become regulars at. The school my brother and I attended had wonderfully funded programs with plenty of friendly students for us to become acquainted with over the years. All and all you would assume that Relic End would be a picturesque place to spend one’s younger years and you would be correct, that is without one small detail. Every night, as the clock strikes midnight, something makes its way down the street by every house, starting at the street sign marking the start of Relic End down the street to the point where the pavement disintegrates into the woods beyond. With this phenomenon came one rule that was followed without question throughout the street: be in your home with the blinds shut and doors locked no later than 11:59. Because the moment the clock changes to 12:00 that creature will begin its trek to the woods or to whatever its goal is that resides at the end of the street. It will creep its way down the road dragging its limbs against the asphalt, groaning and wheezing in a grotesque manner that ensures me that this thing is not from this world.
When my family first moved to Relic End we were quickly informed of the strange nature of the neighborhood. The prospect terrified my brother and me even before the sunset while it unsettled my parents. Our first night in our new home I found myself unable to sleep due to what I had been told earlier in the day. I had no idea how my brother could be passed out on his sheetless mattress–one of the moving trucks had lost its way in Oklahoma according to my dad’s frustrated phone calls. Meanwhile, I was afraid to even shut my eyes. I crept out of my room at the late hour to find my dad hunched over a bowl of cereal. He was quick to hold me in his arms, still shoveling Cinnamon Toast Crunch into his mouth. One of the few pieces of furniture we did have at that time was my grandmother’s great grandfather clock and as the clock struck twelve like some cliche horror movie my father and I both heard it. Horrible, haggard, breathing coming from outside the house, opposite from the window we watched moonlight flow through now. We heard it make its way down the street, coming closer and closer to the window we faced looking out onto our front yard and the road beyond. Just before it reached our field of view I think my father sensed it, I sensed it too. A sinister presence, something so unspeakable evil that the human psyche would shatter at the mere sight of it. At that moment my father covered my eyes with his hand and whispered in a shaky voice “don’t look, Carrie, please don’t look”. I heard something then that scared me much more than that horrible presence. My father was afraid, I could hear it in his tone. My 6 ‘3 father, a veteran football player, was scared. Then as soon as it appeared it was gone, the breathing, the dragging of the limbs, and my father’s hand over my eyes.
The following day my father disappeared early in the morning and returned in the afternoon with burgers and a vast array of locks and heavy shutters. He spent the rest of that day installing them until every window had heavy blinds with complementary locks on them. I appreciated how thorough he was. You may wonder why on Earth would anyone want to share a neighborhood with such a thing and for that there is a strange answer. Relic End is blessed as my neighbor Ms.Marina would say. Strange, unexplainable miracles seem to plague the residents of this place. When this was told to my family those many years ago my brother and I believed it immediately, being just 13 and 9 at the time. My mother was open to the idea as well as she came from a family that was always open to the prospect of forces outside our control. My father on the other hand did not grasp the idea as well. He thought such a concept was the stuff of fairytales and while he was correct in that the creature that broods in the night was of similar fictional quality and my father had been presented with unwavering proof of that. He was presented with undeniable proof when my mother became incredibly sick a year following our arrival in Relic End. Doctors couldn’t explain it, some sort of mystery disease. We watched as she slowly deteriorated, growing weaker and frailer by the day. Until one fateful day, she began to get better. Within a matter of days, she was back to her healthy state she was in many months prior. The doctors couldn’t explain it, it was nothing short of a miracle they said. With that my dad knew, we all knew this was nothing random. It was Relic End and its many blessings.
The years passed and Relic End saw many people come and go. Some for other opportunities similar to ours while others simply couldn’t stand to share the same space as such an eldritch creature. Strangely, I had become used to the presence at night. I think it was the knowledge that in some way that thing had saved my mother. However, I did wonder from time to time many questions I believe were completely fair considering my family’s bizarre situation. How did the miracles work exactly? What does the creature–I never cared enough to actually dare to look at such a thing of course–look like? Most of all, what would happen if you were outside your home at midnight? I would receive the most awful answer to that final question.
In 2019 a new family moved into Relic End. This was especially exciting for me and my brother because they had a child, a boy of similar age to our own named Michael. Unfortunately, he ended up being quite the trouble maker, always having to go to the principal’s office and staying late after class to discuss his behavior. My brother and I were always more behaved so we did not often find ourselves in his company. However, we found him in our care one fateful night in November. His parents were on a trip to Nevada, family stuff my dad said, apparently they did not see it necessary to bring him along. While my brother and I were not close with Michael our parents were close with his so upon hearing of their incursion they offered to care for Michael for the duration of their absence. The first night he was with us just so happened to be a Friday so despite our previous lack of interest in Michael we were excited to have an additional viewer for our movie night. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that Frozen was the last thing on Michael’s mind. “Have you ever seen it? I’ve asked a lot of kids and they all seem to say no, what a bunch of babies! Do you think it’s big? By those sounds it makes it has to be at least eight feet tall!” He continued on and on, asking questions me and my brother did not even want to think about. “Can’t we just watch the movie?” my brother groaned. “Ugh, this movie is for kids!” Michael rebutted. “Well, we are kids after all” I replied, annoyed at his intrusion into Elsa’s ballad Let it Go. This back and forth continued for an hour until Michael slithered away to the bathroom, seemingly defeated. He returned with a smirk that made me uncomfortable but at least he was quiet now.
The clock on the oven glowed a dark red showing the time to be 11:55. I was filling up a glass of water from the kitchen sink when I heard my brother exclaim in shock. “Put it back!” he yelled at Michael. I made my way back to the living room to see what the fuss was about. Michael had his fist up in the air but as I neared closer I realized he was grasping something between his knuckles: a key. My parents had plans early tomorrow morning that found them in bed at an early hour tonight. Apparently, Michael had snuck into their bedroom when he went to the restroom earlier and stolen the key to the many locks my dad had placed on the windows and doors of the house. “Oh come on don’t lie to me and tell me you aren’t the least bit curious?” he said. I had to admit I was curious but I had felt that thing’s presence from afar and I never wanted to feel it any closer than that. “Come on just one little peak” he suggested. “No, our parents and your parents have never let us see it for a reason!” my brother exclaimed. Michael took in my brother’s stern face and my fearful one. “Oh alright” and with that he offered the key to my brother’s outstretched hand. Right as my brother was about to grasp the key Micheal pushed him aside and rushed for the door. “Michael, please, don’t!” I shrieked. I saw him shove the key into the hole twisting it with a satisfying “click” just as the clock began to ring with the sound of midnight. He thrust open the door and rushed outside just as my brother grabbed for his shirt. Micheal stood triumphant on our front lawn, fists punching the air in victory. Then it came just like it always does, the disgusting breathing, the dragging sound, and now, with the open door, a horrible scent like death. I watched in horror as Micheal turned his gaze from us to the street sign, far to the right. Because of the blazing full moon’s light, I could see the side of Michael’s face even in the darkness. While I could only make out half of his face, I was easily able to make out his expression: absolute, pure terror. Michael let out a blood-curdling scream that made my hair stand on end. Then in a moment I now understand was an act of desire to save me, my brother lunged for the door, slamming it shut, leaving Micheal out in the cool night to face that horrid being. Even with the massive reinforced door, I could still hear Michael’s scream. My brother held me then as I cried because I somehow knew what would follow, we both did. Looking back I think it only took a second, a single moment that will forever be seared into my mind. That thing stopped its horrible sounds just for a moment before letting out a shriek from another world, a horrible sound that the human vocal cords would never be able to fathom. One thing was disgustingly clear, however. Joy, it was a scream of joy. I deafening woosh followed, seemingly the creature moving at a speed unheard of. Then it stopped. The screaming, from either side, was silenced. My brother and I both knew what that meant: Micheal was dead or at the very least gone, gone from this place, this horrid street known as Relic End. This was it, this was the cost. A million blessings for one horrible curse.