Category: Short Story

Up until the year of 2021, it was normal for a baby to be born and live a long life to an average of 90 years old. All was normal for Mr. and Mrs. Coupe until the summer of 2021 when they decided to have a baby in which they would name John.
John Eversteen Coupe was born on March 13th, 2021, and appeared to be a healthy baby, except his physical features were far different than any doctor had ever seen before. Mr. Coupe yelped to the nurse “This is not my baby, he looks like my own father with the wrinkles in his skin”. The nurse replied “Mr. Coupe you just saw me deliver this human. I know this is your son”. Mr. Coupe was still in awe as he saw his son with his eyes closed resting in Mrs. Coupe’s arms. As the nurses and doctors conversed they noticed another feature on John they had never seen before. There was a series of illuminated numbers on his wrist. The numbers on John’s wrist were counting down each minute, each hour, and eventually each day. The doctors and nurses finally concluded that the numbers on his wrist were a countdown to the day of his death. This explains why John had many features that resembled the physical age of an 85 year-old man the day he was born. Mr. and Mrs. Coupe were shocked when they heard the news from the doctor, but they decided to keep John to move on with their lives with him.
The Coupe family headed home from the hospital after a week of tests on John with no diagnosis of disease or health issues. The Coupes lived on a 5-acre lot on Lake Austin near the wealthiest of homes in Westlake Hills. Mr. Coupe had started his own landscaping business at the age of 25. Over time, this landscaping company became one of the best in Texas. Mr. Coupe decided to sell his company for 7 million dollars leaving John with a nice inheritance. When Mr. Coupe carried John into his room to put him to sleep for the first time, John quickly stood up in his crib saying his first words “Dadda”. John had only been out of the hospital for hours and could already stand up and talk to his parents, Mr. Coupe knew something was different about John. Over the next couple of weeks, John grew immensely. He was about 4-feet tall and his back was as arched as a hill. The young old man took interest in Bingo and watching the sunset at the age of one. Mr. and Mrs. Coupe would finally tell John about his condition at this age and the meaning behind the numbers on his wrist which read, “83 : 364: 15”. The news caused little shock in John. Instead of bringing him down it actually encouraged him to make the most of his life and condition even more.
John was 6 when he first enrolled in kindergarten at his local elementary school. Despite getting weird looks initially from the faculty and students, John became a very popular kid due to his friendliness and outgoing personality. At recess, John would show his friends his countdown on his wrist, fascinating every 6 year-old’s brain with the thought of life and death. Every day seemed to be consistent with one another for John. He would wake up, go to school, show his friends his countdown, do homework, and go to bed. This cycle would continue every day of the school year until John turned the age of 13. At 13, John’s countdown read “72: 00: 00”; yet his wrinkles were disappearing weekly and he was becoming far less stiff than usual. John had taken interest in social media accounts and youtubers that supported exploring nature and adrenaline. When John was 15, he got a job as a skydiving instructor and would take people skydiving daily. John would become what some people knew as an adrenaline junky, always seeking adrenaline in every situation. At the age of 18, John would leave this job to attend college at The University of Texas at Austin where he studied business. While staying in Austin, John became a social media influencer with his posts inspiring kids of all ages to explore all the world had to offer. John would take weekly visits to his parents to check in on them as they would soon go through what he went through at a young age.
After attending UT for 4 years, John decided to take his lifestyle around the world, traveling and speaking out about his condition and how he made the most of it. John would first travel to Australia where he explored the Outback and the Great Barrier Reef. In Australia, John taught the Aussies the meaning of life beyond their own bubble, encouraging them to expand their knowledge and take chances on once in a lifetime experiences. John would travel from Australia to Japan, and from there to Europe before coming back home to the United States. John had devoted 18 years of his life traveling around the world and speaking out about his condition and countdown. Now, at the age of 43, John was feeling better than ever but soon realized he had reached the “midpoint” in his life. Taking this into consideration, John wanted to achieve things that had always been a goal of his life. To start, getting married was one of those. John stumbled upon a lady by the name of Jackie Smith while attending a speaker conference. Jackie, born a year after John, was also single and looking to marry. The two caught interest in one another immediately, and their relationship took off from that day on. The two dated for two years, attending conferences with one another where John would speak out about the importance of living life to the fullest. One evening John sat Jackie down to talk about starting a family together and the precautions that came with his life ending within the next 40 years. Jackie replied with “If our kids can’t take care of themselves within the next 40 years that’s their own problem”. With that being said, John would propose to Jackie the next week while on a hike in California. A year after the proposal, the couple had their first child by the name of John Jr.
The Coupe family of John and Jackie was growing; yet a part of the Coupe family was lost. John’s parent’s, Mr. and Mrs. Coupe, passed away together at the age of 90 years old while in the hospital. The death of his parents put into realization to John how precious life truly is. After inheriting his family’s trust, John settled down in his childhood home where he spent time with his family with little travel. By the time John’s timer read “20: 144: 14” he realized that the aging could cause Jackie to have to take care of another child. Jackie supported John in every way possible and promised to watch over him until the day he died. John Jr. had gone off to attend Georgetown University in the nation’s capital where he studied law, leaving John with pride knowing that he would do big things one day.
Eventually, John’s countdown read “9: 23: 07” forcing John to realize that his life would be over in an instant. John spent his life traveling the world, influencing others, and seeking the adrenaline of life while battling an unknown condition. John became a husband, father, and influential figure during this time all while preaching the importance of life. In the next few years John would enter a retirement home with Jackie where the two would spend the rest of their lives together. John would leave the world as expected when his wrist read “0: 00: 00”. John Coupe would inspire the next generation of youth about the importance of time and relationships. John Jr. would go on to follow his father’s footsteps in public speaking and forever withhold the family legacy in the namesake of Coupe.

His eyes were bigger than ever before, and his heart pumped, the loud roar of the restless crowd had my heart pounding hard against my chest as he looked from behind the curtain. Suddenly, the velvety red fabric slipped through his sweaty shaky palms and a loud, “CLICK!” fills the whole auditorium as a light shone on himself when the audience had let out a massive scream in excitement. Eric Lee was your typical 5’5 teenage loner from high school, unmotivated, bored with the simple things in life, and believing that he was wasting himself away in a classroom solving math equations because he was told to. He sat in a dimly lit classroom while the class went over a topic in his physics class. His teacher dressed in business suit and black slacks looked over at him while writing out equations on the board looked at Eric spacing off while one of his classmates had read from their textbooks, “Mr. Lee, could you please read?” Interrupting the student already reading. Like someone tased Eric, he jolts up and rips through his backpack, grabbing a thin yellow book and opening it up. Desperately flipping through it and remembering the word his classmate had last read, “For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo!” He says with a clear voice yet stumbling over some of the words due to the pressure put on him when told to suddenly read. “I would agree, but that’s not the correct textbook Mr. Lee.” The physics teacher had said with a small smile while the class erupted in a laughter due to Eric’s careless mistake. Eric looked down at the textbook and a scarlet blush soon crept onto his cheeks when he realized that he grabbed his British Literature textbook. After that small incident, that final class period of the day was quite long and excruciating in the sense that it felt like it would never really end, like he was trapped in weird scientific nightmare. “BEEP!” The bell rung throughout the school and the students from the high school had scattered out of their classrooms to begin their adventurous weekend, Eric had pushed the two earbuds into his ears and the soft melody of a Spice Girls song had filled his head while he pushed his hands into his spacious warm Levi jeans pockets. He had begun to walk to the side of the school to locate his little yellow 1985 Volkswagen Beetle before a light tap on his shoulder made him jump slightly and spin around to meet the face that startled him; Eric’s face had went pale when Kimberly Rose, the well known popular girl that was known for her beauty and her intelligence, but also Eric’s old childhood friend had appeared right in front of him. Her voice was soft and full of color when she had said, “Hey! Long time no see, huh?”. “Yeah. What’s up?” Eric had responded a bit taken back at her presence, since they had not talked for years. “I was wondering if you were free tonight. I’d love to hang out at the Mo’s.” She said hopefully. Eric had felt a lump in his throat and his stomach got butterflies in it, knowing that Mo’s wasn’t the best place to be, especially at night. “Mo’s? Sure.” He had hesitantly agreed and fidgeted with the key to his car. Kimberly had smiled happily and nodded, “Perfect! I’ll see you there at 6:30! Don’t be late! We’ve got to get the seats up front!” She said and walked off in the other direction. Eric sighed slightly and sent his mom a call that he’d be a bit late coming home tonight, but to his surprise, she was quite accepting of this and gave him the approval to stay out. He had hopped into the yellow gumdrop of a car and made his way to the downtown area of the city of Austin, the rock capital of the United States. He looked around at all the billboards the 90s style adult advertisements around and took in the sight of the city before finding a parking garage and making his way into the concrete jungle on foot. He passed many bars and kept his head down; this setting was new to him and he wasn’t quite used to it. His knees were a bit shaky with every step and his eyes were glued to the pavement as he shyly walked through some people that were passing by, the area not yet busy because of how early it was. Eric had stopped and looked at a set of concrete stairs that went into the ground, he looked around anxiously for Kimberly and listened to the muffled melody of a guitar playing a classic rock tune. He didn’t pay much attention to it because of the adults passing by and the smell of cigarette smoke filling his mind as the afternoon transitioned to the evening. A girl dressed in a The Who shirt and blue jeans soon came into sight, and Eric’s mind began to calm down a bit more. He smiled and waved, exchanging greetings with each other before walking down the stairs into a dark tunnel filled with the echo of a rock song, they were greeted by a man with a box full of cash that reeked of pot. Eric pulled out a $10 dollar bill and payed for them both, making their way into a crowded venue while a band played a head banging tune. They sneaked their way to the front and got a clear view of the band playing their set, the music was loud enough to make his ears feel like he was on a plane ride. The feeling of the drums was a new sensation for him, the feeling of every single note and beat coursing through his body. The singer had gave him goosebumps and his heart began to pump when he began to cheer with the crowd; the lead guitarist had a black Gibson SG style guitar with two horns and an hourglass figure style body, there was a white pick guard that had followed one of the horns of the guitar and to Eric’s surprise, there were 7 bullet holes marked on that guitar. The lead guitarist raised up the beaten up guitar to his mouth and began to pluck the strings with his teeth while his fingers swiftly waltzed up and down the neck of the guitar before aggressively striking the guitar with the pick he pinched in his right hand. Soon the song came to an end and the singer of the band had pointed at Eric, “Get up here kid” he said and offered his hand to him. Eric took his hand and the singer had instructed him to go to the back of the stage behind the red curtain. He did as he was told and grabbed a cherry sunburst Les Paul guitar, the guitar tech getting him all set up before Eric took a peek outside of the curtain.

Kate

John was one of the best known dads in the neighborhood. Aside from his slight addiction to alcohol, John was recognized by the neighborhood families for taking excellent care of his daughter, Kate. Kate was a high spirited child with gorgeous blue eyes and a smile that could turn the world upside down. She was lively and always on the move. Kate was most definitely a daddy’s girl, always tagging along with John to go to the grocery store, movies, parks, bowling alleys, you name it. Kate would sprint to the back of John’s BMW and hop in her booster seat with such excitement and wonder on what plans were in store for today.
“Where are we going today, daddy?” Kate exclaimed.
“Well, I need to make a quick grocery run and I also need to fill up on gas.” John said. “If you behave, maybe we can stop by the park on the way home.”
“Really? Sounds good to me!” Kate said with excitement.
As John is driving, he looks in his rearview mirror to see his ecstatic daughter, and, as usual, she’s smiling with joy. Words can’t express his love and gratitude for her. A few days later, John packs up the car for Kate’s soccer game.
“Kate! Are you ready to go?” the father shouts.
“Yes sir, I’m coming.” says Kate. “Where is my game today?
“It’s at Spring Creek.”
“Oh, really? I like playing there. The fields are really nice, they are really even and have barely any bumps.” Kate explained.
“I agree,” John said. “The drive to the fields is also nice, I love being able to take you every weekend.”
“And I love riding with you, Daddy. More than anything!” says Kate.
The referee walks to the center of the field and the game kicks off with Kate scoring her 3rd goal of the season. Her teammates were quick to swarm her and express their happiness and excitement for her.
“That’s my girl!” shouts John.
Kate looked at him and smiled. This sent butterflies into John’s stomach. Her smile never failed to amuse him. During the trip home, John endlessly complimented Kate’s great successes during this evening’s game. Kate blushes.
“You know I do it for you, Dad.” says Kate. “Right?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
It’s Friday night and the family decided they wanted to go out to dinner. John is the first to finish getting ready, so he grabs the keys to the car, starts it, and waits for the
others. He cracks the windows down about halfway in order to feel the cool, evening breeze. He hears the front door open, close, and then sees his daughter run to the vehicle and hop in the back. She climbs in her booster seat and begins to talk with her Dad. She is extremely excited for tonight’s dinner. After all, they’re going to her favorite restaurant; Chuy’s. As they are talking, John notices some of the neighbors out on a walk. When they pass by the vehicle, they notice John talking and exchange confused looks with each other. John notices this but doesn’t make anything of it.
“What do you think you are going to eat tonight?” John asks politely.
“A bean and cheese burrito with some rice!” says Kate. “With a Dr. Pepper and some chips and queso.”
John giggles. “I should have known, you do love your bean and cheese burritos.”
As John and Kate continue to conversate, Lilly, John’s wife, and Kate’s mother, shuts the front door and locks it. As she is walking to the car, she notices her husband talking about their daughters favorite food. She approaches the open window of the driver’s seat and looks at John.
“Who are you talking to?” Lilly exclaims.
“What do you mean?” says John.
Lilly takes a deep breath and sighs. “John,” she says. “It’s been 2 years. I know that you were drunk and that you have a hard time remembering, but you have to move on.”
John blinks his eyes rapidly and shakes his head, as if he was waking up from a trance. He looks down at the steering wheel to see the Ford logo. He picks his head up and turns around to look at the backseat. There was no booster seat and there was no Kate.

The Reflection
“Mom!” Mikah called, already fed up with the arguments; it hadn’t even been five minutes since they had started unpacking.
“What?!” came a shrill response from the next room over.
“Where did you put that mirror?” Mikah replied. He had specifically told his mom not to touch the mirror because he knew where he wanted it, but of course, she always had to get in the middle of everything. She couldn’t help it.
“What are you talking about, I never touched your mirror!” Mikah’s mother called, peeking her head around the corner.
“Well it didn’t just move itse–” he was cut off abruptly as he turned around and walked straight into the mirror, knocking it over and shattering it on the hard tile floor. “Goddammit!” Mikah was tired. Tired of fighting with his mom. Tired of being alone.
“Oh god- Mikah I’m sorry- I guess I forgot that I took it out of the box,” Mikah’s mom frantically stammered.
“You know, Mom, can you please just go? You’re making it harder, and I really need to be alone right now,” he lied. He needed company more than anything, but would never have admitted it, especially to his mom. She already made a fit about him moving to the other side of the country, and if he admitted that he was already lonely, she would never leave him alone.
“Mikah, I flew all the way here to help you move in- I’m not just going to leave you-”
“Just get out, Mom!” Mikah interrupted, immediately flooded with guilt.
Mikah’s mother quickly covered her hurt expression with one of understanding. “Okay, well that’s alright. It looks like you just want to be alone, and I could go for some food anyways,” she turned towards the door but stopped before leaving. “I love you, Mikah.”
No response. She walked briskly into the hallway, shutting the door behind her. Mikah could tell she was crying, and he felt bad, but he couldn’t help it. Something had been off between them these last few months, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. They always fought and could never get on the same page. Taking some space from each other would probably end up being a good thing. He was trying to be more independent, after all.
Mikah sighed as he turned to face the broken glass, and slowly stooped down to start picking them up. He was nearly finished when one of the pieces sliced his hand open. “Shit!” he exclaimed while trying not to let any blood drip onto the carpet. He couldn’t remember how long he’d had the mirror, and was quite annoyed that he now had to go buy another. Nothing in LA was cheap, especially the rent.
By the time he got the glass cleaned up and his hand wrapped, it was easily 9:00 pm, but he couldn’t be bothered to actually check the clock. He started to worry about his mom, of course they fought, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about her; she should have been back by now. She probably got her own hotel room in order to give Mikah some space, she would come back in the morning once the air had cleared.
Mikah knew he probably needed stitches for the cut on his hand, but he decided that it could wait until the morning. He sat alone on his bed, taking it all in. The off-white walls, the mold growing in the top corner of his bedroom, the leaking faucet in the bathroom, the dark stain on the carpet that he really didn’t want to think about. Just as he was thinking through what he would say in his job interview for a tech company the next day, the light flickered out.
“Of course”, Mikah muttered to himself. “Nothing else in this stinking building works, so why should the electricity.” He dragged himself out of bed to check the fuses, when a hair raising voice stopped him in his tracks.
Where are you going, Mikah? it said.
Mikah was frozen in horror. The voice was nothing like he had ever heard before, yet it seemed so familiar, like a very old friend. “Who is that? Where are you?” Mikah muttered while trying to keep his voice as level as possible.
You don’t recognize me? The voice sounded sad.
Mikah didn’t want to piss off whoever was talking to him so he decided to go along with it, “Maybe I could recognize you if I could see you.”
Fine, then. Have it your way. The intruder stepped out of the shadows, and Mikah nearly fainted at the sight. Whatever it was, it was clear that it wasn’t human. It had the general shape of a human, but it looked like it was made of shadows. It had no eyes or nose, but a very large mouth that stretched from ear to ear, that would be if it had any ears. Wisps of black smoke curled from its body, and its very presence gave off a cold feeling that made Mikah’s skin crawl. It radiated bitterness and fear.
“What are you?” Mikah whispered, surprised that he could muster up any voice at all.
Don’t you know, Mikah? It’s lips curled into a smile that reflected all the evil of the world. I’m you.
“What?”
Isn’t it obvious? We’re practically identical. The Thing then giggled a shrill sound which turned Mikah’s blood to ice. The high pitched laugh quickly dropped to a deep-throated snarl.
“How are we the same person, that isn’t possible,” Mikah stammered; he was just trying to keep the conversation going because as long as the Thing was talking, it didn’t seem like it was interested in killing Mikah. Yet.
Oh, Mikah, we always did have a bad memory didn’t we, hmm didn’t we?
“You’re right, I- I don’t remember. Can you please remind me?”
Mikah, you’re so silly, so silly hmmm. The Thing hunched over itself and turned halfway toward the wall, muttering to itself.
“Um, wh- what do you mean-”
SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! Spit flew from the Thing’s mouth as Mikah shrunk back against the wall. YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO US! YOU KNOW WHAT SHE DID!
“What-”
It was her. It was Mother. When we were two, we were in the bathtub. She left us there and we drowned. She brought you back, but I died. I got stuck in that mirror in the bathroom, but you set me free. The Thing’s voice was shaking with rage, spit was flying in all directions. Mikah watched as it bared its teeth, rows of sharp razors; it vaguely reminded him of the clown from that Steven King movie his friend made him watch.
You cried, and I died. I died and watched you grow hmm. I was waiting in that mirror, watching you live and grow, but now I’m out, and we never have to be alone anymore hmmmm.
“But- but how is that possible?”
Oh, come now, Mikah. You had to have known that part of you had died that day, hmmm? But it doesn’t matter because now I’m here, and we never have to be alone ever again hmmm.
“So you’re not going to kill me?”
Why would I want to kill you, Mikah, that would take all the fun away hmmm.
“Alright, well- um, I should go check on Mom and make sure she’s doing okay, I kind of yelled at her earlier-” The Thing nodded along enthusiastically. “I should go check on her.”
Oh you don’t need to do that Mikah. I already made sure of that.
Mikah froze at his words. “What?…”
Oh yes, I saw you get mad at her once I escaped, and of course I was angry as well, so I killed her force us hmmmm. The Thing grinned wider than before, clearly very proud of itself. You know, she didn’t even recognize me at the end. Her own son. She killed me and POOF. Forgot all about us hmmm.
Mikah was frozen, his feet rooted into the ground. He didn’t know what to say. What to do. “You… what- I,” he suddenly forgot how to form a complete sentence. The feeling of darkness that he felt when the Thing first spoke came rushing back as the gravity of what had happened settled in.
Hmmmm, yes. Ah, well now that she is out of the way, you and I can do whatever we want to and we never have to be alone. We have each other now hmm.
“No… what- no!” The Thing looked taken aback. “You killed my mom, the only one who was there for me, and you expect me to be, what? Happy?!”
I expect you to be free, it snarled. I expect you to be grateful.You freed me, so I freed you!
“This isn’t freedom! You aren’t me, you’re a plague- you’re a monster!”
The Thing rushed forward and pinned Mikah against the wall before he could even blink. You should be careful about what you say or I’ll have to put you in a cage. Like a dog. The Thing licked its lips, and Mikah could feel it stare deep into his soul despite its lack of eyes. Mikah got a surge of bravery from somewhere inside him and spit in the Thing’s face. With tears streaming down his face, partly from fear and partly from grief, he muttered, “Screw you. We are not the same and will never be.”
The Thing let out an outraged cry as it rushed backwards standing over the broken mirror frame. Fine. You say both of us cannot be, then so be it. The last thing Mikah remembered was the Thing rushing up to him, and slamming his head hard against the wall.
When Mikah came round, he was looking through some kind of broken window that had been hastily repaired. Standing on the other side was… him? It was like looking in a reflection, but something was off about it. Mikah looked around to see where he was and all he saw was darkness. Through the window was his bedroom. His body had black vine-like marks everywhere, like he was transforming. He looked up and made eye contact with his reflection, only it wasn’t a reflection. It was the Thing, it was taping and glueing the mirror back together, and Mikah was stuck inside. “No,” he whispered to himself, but his voice sounded different. It was like a distant echo.
“Oh yes,” the Thing replied, smiling with Mikah’s face. Talking with Mikah’s voice. “You said that I could not exist, so I became you, and now you will become me hmmm. A shame, too. We could have had so much fun together, Mikah. But you had to draw the line, you just haaaaaad to flip out on me.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m living now, it’s all I’ve ever wanted since that bitch left me to die all those years ago.”
Mikah remembered his mother, and a sob forced its way up his throat. “Don’t talk about her that way!”
“Ohhh, no no no, Mikah. You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore. See, I own you. You are never coming out of that mirror, and trust me, you would not believe what that place can do to your mind. It’s crazyyyyyy hmmmm,” the Thing giggled. As it put the finishing touches on the broken glass, the Thing picked it up and gently set it down in the closet.
“Well, now that Mother has tragically passed away, I can’t imagine that anybody would come looking for you, especially when I show up to your job interview, sleep in your bed, and live your life,” the Thing drawled with mock sympathy.
“You won’t get away with this- someone will find you out- you’re not going to win-”
“Oh sweetie,” the Thing cooed. “I already did. Ta ta!” Mikah watched with horror as his freedom turned around, and closed the door.

. . .

27 Years Later

Anthony Ramierez and Roselyn Parker had been assigned to clean out the apartment of a man named, what was it? Michael Leafblad? Mason? Something like that. Apparently the man got in a car wreck and died while drunk driving. Anthony was always rambling on about the dangers of driving, and he was certainly not going to pass up this opportunity to tell Roselyn about it.
“Look, Rosie, all I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be driving around at night when people like this guy are drivin’ like a bat out of hell s’all I’m sayin’.”
“Sure, Anthony, I’ll be extra careful. Hey,” she teased, “maybe you can take me home!”
“You wish, Rosie,” Anthony replied, hiding his red face from his partner. “Alright,” he announced, changing the subject. “Bedroom’s next I guess.” There really wasn’t much in the room; this guy had no taste whatsoever.
As Rosie started taking things off the nightstand, Anthony moved toward the closet, and to his surprise, the only thing other than a few bland t-shirts and an old suit was a broken mirror. Well, at least it used to be broken. It looked like this Mark guy had put the mirror back together.
“Hey, Rose!”
“Yeah?”
“Come check this out!” Rosie made her way over and looked just as surprised as Anthony. “You’d think he’d just buy a new mirror, no?”
“Not our job to wonder, my friend,” Rosie sighed. She made her way over to the mirror and started pulling it out. Anthony, trying to help Rosie, made a lunge to grab the other end, but he just knocked it out of her hand, causing it to shatter on the ground. “Ah damn,” Anthony muttered.
“Don’t sweat it,” Rosie said. “This thing was garbage anyways, nobody would buy this thing. She was then interrupted by a dark figure that ran past them, knocking both workers over. The shadowy figure came to rest in the opposite corner, face turned away from them. Both Rosie and Anthony were too stunned to speak, and instead just listened to the thing mutter to itself.
The shadowy figure whipped it head around, revealing a face with no eyes or nose, just a large, gaping mouth. Where is he? the figure questioned hastily.
“I- uh- wh-” Anthony stammered before being slammed against the wall by the figure, making Rosie yelp and shrink away in fear.
I said, where is he! The Thing who lives here, where is he!
Rosie finally spoke up, “Th-there was a man who lived here, b-but he died. We’re just cleaning the place out. Oh god, please don’t hurt us, we didn’t do anything!”
This made the dark figure step back in surprise. He never expected the Thing to die again.
Dead? So… I have waited years, decades for revenge, and now, it is taken from me, the figure snarled, articulating each word carefully.
“Look, we’ll give ya whatever you want, I swear. Just, please, let us go! We’ll leave this place, we’ll leave it alone, I promise,” Anthony cried.
The figure stepped back, calmer now, a look of resolution plastered onto its face. You may think he’s dead, but he won’t be. He wanted me to escape, and now he’s waiting for me. To join him. This is all he ever wanted, for us to be together. Hmmm isn’t irony cruel, he stated matter-of-factly while glancing toward the terrified workers on the floor who vigorously nodded their heads in agreement.
Hmm, you never realize it until it’s too late, but life can drown oceans of obstacles, yet it is finite. If I could only make him see.
And with that, the figure was gone, dissolved in shadow, never to be seen by another soul again. At least a living soul, that is.

Good Deeds

Have you ever realized how big of a factor, competition plays in your life? There used to be a time whenever competition brought out the absolute worst in me. When I went to the gym I was always competing with the person that was on the treadmill next to me. They were not knowingly a part of this competition, but in my mind if I didn’t run more than them, I wasn’t doing good enough. If I pulled into the school parking lot in a car that wasn’t the newest and better model then the one parked next to me, my car wasn’t good enough. If I showed my test grades to the girl sitting at my table in class and she scored higher, I wasn’t smart enough. There’s something about life that makes us immensely stressed about our worth. People go to extreme measures to meet extreme standards that society has set. Humans are known to have a competitive culture, especially with a society like the one we live in today. But why do people constantly feel the need to measure up, to be “the best version of themselves”?
Whenever it comes to these moments that feel like failures, the embarrassment and insecurity would overcome me. The thought of “you’re not good enough” was on repeat in my mind. Those 4 words replayed in my head all. day. long. And with every task I did, I was competing to be the best. It was like this unhealthy obsession. Even if there was no one else to compete with, I tried to one up myself. There’s something about the satisfaction of winning that people can’t get enough of. It’s the same idea of when you do something good for someone else. When you donate, help a friend out, serve in your community, the win that you get out of that experience is self glorification. When we do things that make us feel better about ourselves, whether it’s winning or doing a good deed, we feel good enough.
If someone asked me what the most influential moment in my life was, I would honestly tell you the moment I found church. I very strongly believe that everyone is allowed to have their own beliefs, that’s not to say that I don’t want everyone to believe in god, because i truly do but I think it’s important for everyone to believe what they want. In high school I found myself going to youth services at church with my friends. Every sunday night we would all go to service together and then go to small group. At first it was just another reason to hang out with my friends but it slowly became more than that. Whenever I was in middle school, I remember religion being this sort of competition. People were so passionate about the church that they went to, they believed it was the “best” church and that the only way to be loved by God was to be a part of church. I even had someone tell me that I wasn’t a christian because I didn’t even go to church. There was something that sparked in me whenever they said that to me. Suddenly i had wanted to be a part of church and devote myself to a church because I so badly wanted to be this amazing christain like everyone else. It was like if i didn’t follow the rules, like going to church every single sunday, I would never be good enough for God.
After being at this church for a few months I started to serve in the elementary school ministry areas. It didn’t last long because a few weeks after I started, covid happened. Whenever churches opened back up again I was asked to be a part of this church youth leadership team. It was basically just a group of students who met once a week to come together and create the best environment for the other youth programs at my church. I really enjoyed it because I felt like I was doing something really good for the students that were attending the church as me and I liked being a part of something so big.
The crazy part is that after being on that team for 5 months I was asked to be on staff at my church and run all of the online and social media for our middle school and high school environments. I felt so good about myself. I couldn’t believe that they would have picked me. I hold myself to such a high standard. I never viewed myself as a ‘good’ christian or someone that would be able to work in a church. This almost felt like one of those “good deeds” I was doing to feel good about myself. I even found myself competing with the person that had done this job prior to me. I fell into this unhealthy habit once again and was really just embarrassed that I felt like I had to do all of these good things to be viewed as a good person.
Why do people have to do good things to be a good person? Whenever we do good things, we feel confirmation in ourselves. For many people they feel like to be closer to God they have to do good works and be a good person. But that’s not always the case. It’s not about doing those good acts anymore, it’s about faith and belief in jesus. God is extending an invitation to everybody to stop carrying the burden you are carrying, wondering if you’ll ever be enough and come into his presence. When Jesus entered this world, and arrived sinless at the cross, willing to exchange his innocent life for yours, when he got to his last breath he didn’t say “I hope I’ve done enough”. He did not say “I hope it was good enough” “I tried my hardest”. When he got to the end and exchanged his life for you… he made the greatest statement of all time “It is finished”. And him coming back to life 3 days later proved he is who he claimed to be. Because I went to church with my friends my freshman year, to feel like I fit in, I now have the forever right standing with God and I know I will always be the best version of myself.

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.