Wings

By: Megan Finsel

 

The beep of the heart rate monitors were as reassuring as her heartbeat in his ear, which he pressed to her chest. He focused on that.

“Colby?”

“Yeah?”

“I wish I could fly.” Her voice was barely a whisper. He pulled away and looked up at her pale face.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, I wish I could just fly away from here.”

His eyes gravitated down her arm to her hand, the IV taped to her skin and her fingers entwined in his. He hugged her closer. “You would want to leave me?”

The oxygen tank sighed. “No,” she said, “I would take you with me, of course.”

“Of course,” He pulled the blanket up and tucked it tighter around her body. Never had he seen her so thin before. He kissed her brow. She sank into his embrace; her head cradled between his shoulder and chest as she pressed her face to his neck.

“When someone dies…” Her voice was so soft that it didn’t even startle him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think they get a pair of wings in Heaven?”

His throat was clogged with tears and he almost couldn’t answer. “I think so.” He felt her cheek on his collarbone; it was moist.

“Maybe if I die, I’ll be able to fly.”

Don’t say that, he wanted to scream, don’t you dare say that! Every fiber of his being wanted to get up and do something to save her. Instead, he held her tighter, as if he could protect her from the disease raging within her body, slowly stealing her life.

“If we could fly,” she continued, “anywhere in the world, where would we go?”

“I would take you far, far away from here.” He said. Back home to our apartment, back in our own bed, with your kitten between us. He closed his eyes to shut out the medical equipment, to hide from the truth of where there circumstances were taking them. Maybe if he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t happening. A tear slipped down his cheek.

She tipped her head back and looked up at him. “Hey.”

He met her large, brown eyes. “Yeah?”

She reached up and wiped away the tear, her hand chilly on his unshaven cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m not flying off yet.”

He tried to smile but his lips were trembling, so he just pulled her closer to him. She felt small and fragile in his arms.

“Wren?”

There was a long moment where she didn’t answer him, and her head was heavy upon his arm. For a moment he couldn’t wake her. Then, her eyelids fluttered open and she looked at him. “Yeah?”

“I love you.” he said.

She gave him her little smile. “I love you, too.”

They tried to get some sleep and he dozed off to the sound of her heart beating.

He woke with a start and couldn’t understand why, until he realized that he lay alone in the bed. Her IV, monitor wires and oxygen tubes lay useless on the mattress beside him.

That was when he saw a little, brown songbird standing on the bed railing. It looked at him with soulful eyes, and he felt his heart constrict.

“I see you got your wings after all.”

She blinked at him, aren’t you coming?

“Yeah.”

With that she took off across the room and out the window he had not realized was open.

 

Bio: I’m a Special Education major with a love for books. Writing is my passion; it is how I connect with the world and share my thoughts and emotions. To get to know me more you need to read my stories because I put a piece of my heart into each one. My goal is to inspire at least one person through my work; then I know I’ve done my job. ​

 

Sincerely, Love

By: Megan Finsel

 

The sun beat heavily upon her shoulders as she walked to the end of the driveway, but she didn’t see him. A stray breeze whispered through her light cotton skirt, brushing her knees. She stopped at the mailbox, long blades of grass poking up between her toes as she opened the little door with a creak.

Inside was the yellowed envelope, just where she knew it would be.

She sat down with her back against the wooden post and her legs crossed at the ankles. Opening the envelope carefully, she pulled out the piece of creased stationary and unfolded the letter. Long, masculine script unrolled before her eyes like ripples in the pond down in their south pasture. She smiled at his familiar handwriting. The letter read:

 

My love,

Not a day goes by that I do not think of you or what we had, and I want you to know I still love you as I did on the day we said “I do”. I am sorry I left you so soon; it was never my intention. But I am with you every day. Never doubt that I am watching over you still, that I am here with you. I love you, Rachel; even though death did we part.

Sincerely yours,

Thomas


She blushed, tucking a stray curl behind an ear. As she held the letter to her heart, she felt tears nipping the backs of her eyelids, so she shut her eyes against the sunlight.

“I miss you,” she whispered.

#

 

He stood there at the end of the driveway, watching as she walked toward him. She was just as beautiful as when she walked through the Church dressed in white. But her expression was worried, like when she had adjusted the collar of his uniform. He could see the sadness in her eyes, much as when they said goodbye in the doorway on the last day they were together.

He watched as she went to the mailbox, as she did every morning, and removed the letter he had written to her.

When she sat down, he went and knelt beside her. A curl of hair fell into her face, as it used to when they were dating. He resisted the urge to reach out and push it behind her ear, aware that he could do no such thing. He saw her eyes filling with tears, as she hugged the letter to her heart, and he swallowed past the tightness in his throat.

Sitting down with his back to the mailbox post, he could hear her breathing, her heart beating, and remembered what it felt like to hold her in his arms.

He looked at her from over his shoulder and replied, “I miss you, too.”

 

Bio: I’m a Special Education major with a love for books. Writing is my passion; it is how I connect with the world and share my thoughts and emotions. To get to know me more you need to read my stories because I put a piece of my heart into each one. My goal is to inspire at least one person through my work; then I know I’ve done my job. ​

 

The Intervention

By: Megan Finsel

 

“So what’re you gonna do with the gun?”

Her voice startled him. He had run into her as they both came around the corner, and he had turned away to hurry past. Now he stood staring down into her face.

“What gun?” he tried to keep his voice from shaking, but the nerves were finally getting to him. Her smirk said she saw right through him.

She gazed across the intersection. “It’s a bad idea, you know.” she said.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Yeah,” she popped a bubble with her gum, “it kinda is.”

He looked at her, from her powder-blue pixie cut, to her red converse sneakers. Never before had he seen a skinnier young lady, and never before had he seen such wildness shining in someone’s eyes. He thought she could fight lions and win.

“Go home,” she said, “you know this is wrong.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know more than you think.” she said. “This is not gonna make your situation better.”

Later on he wondered why he hadn’t just pushed past her. Why he kept talking to her, while the streetlights changed color and the wind bullied the papers in the nearby newsstand. Why hadn’t he continued with his original plan? But he stood there, hands in his pockets, one wrapped tightly around his gun.

“You don’t know anything about my situation.”

She crossed her arms and stared at him. “You need the money for the engagement ring you want.” Her Marilyn Monroe T-shirt slipped off a shoulder. “But it doesn’t matter, because her parents don’t like you.”

He gaped. “How…?”

She licked her lips and the diamond stud in her tongue gleamed. “You have a stack of bills on your coffee table you’ve put off paying for weeks. You haven’t had work for months. You’ve been dating her for two years, and you’re scared you can’t support her.” She grinned.

He started to back away from her. “How do you…?”

“You can’t marry her from a jail cell, Walter.” she said. “Take the gun, go home.”

He looked across the street at the Wells Fargo, and his throat tightened with dread.

“Do you want to continue this relationship with her?”

“More than anything…”

“Then just go home.”

His palm was sweating. The girl reclined her head to look up at him, the sunlight catching in her hazel eyes. “Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

“Then love will find a way.” She brushed past him and he saw the little bow-and-arrow tattoo tucked behind her ear.

“Wait, how do you know?”

“I know a lot about love.” She gave him a wink. “Who said Cupid was a little boy in a diaper?” Then she walked away and disappeared around the corner.

He stood there a long minute, thinking of what she had said. It took him a while to realize that his fist was clenched around, not the barrel of his gun, but something else. When he pulled his hand out, he realized it was a diamond ring.

 

Bio: I’m a Special Education major with a love for books. Writing is my passion; it is how I connect with the world and share my thoughts and emotions. To get to know me more you need to read my stories because I put a piece of my heart into each one. My goal is to inspire at least one person through my work; then I know I’ve done my job. ​

Obsidian

By Sean Henry

A hero is what he thought, watching the Asoles from a safe distance.

“Awesome, they are blessed,” said Clay.

He took a deep breath and made such a serious face that Iris giggled in amusement. He had become a master of mimicry.

”Things aren’t always what they seem Clay,” Said Iris.

Clay was still somewhere between constipation and concentration.

“Clay knock it off, you look like you’re gonna shit yourself,” said Iris.

“Shhh Iris,” said Clay ducking back behind the corner. He would be mortified if anyone from his waste station heard her.

“I have to work here,” said Clay.

“I want you home soon. I have something for you,” said Iris.

“They’re having the initiation ceremony at the courts and I wanted to go see,” said Clay

Clay was obsessed with the Asoles. They had power, status and nobody fucked with the Asoles.

Asoles were guards, a warrior caste hand selected by the pyres. The seven Pyres were a mystery. At the age of twenty it was mandatory that people entered into a lottery where if one was chosen they would be initiated into the sect. After initiation they give their soul to the pyres in which it is said that they grant the initiate with immortality. The Asoles wore elaborate helmets that covered them from the shoulders up able to morph into the shape of facial characteristics of whatever beast they chose and never showed their face.

“Stay away from the courts,” said Iris. She loathed the Asoles, cursed them under her breath anytime she could. Clay just chalked it up to her being a little crazy.

“Maybe we could have story night tonight,” said Clay. She immediately perked up. Clay knew how to make her happy.

“Dear boy you are going to become a great one,” said Iris

As a boy Iris would tell him stories of the world before the pyres. Clay loved the stories but Iris would sometimes tell stories in parables or riddles which annoyed the hell out of Clay.

“The resistance is close and I need you at my side tonight,” said Iris. Her eyes were pulsating and wild, constantly twitching and spookier than usual.

“I will be home soon Iris,” said Clay.

“I know,” said Iris, “ashes to ashes.” She smiled and walked away.

“Fuck that, I’m trying to live forever,” said Clay

He wanted no part in the resistance. On his way to the courts he arrived at the courtyard where Iris had told him a secret design had been etched into a mosaic wall. He had been intrigued by this story for quite some time. All the walls were marked with geometrical lines and shapes, no logos or living creatures were pictured on any of the markings. The pyres outlawed logos or idols or anything pertaining to living creatures of the outside world. Clay sat staring at that mosaic wall for what seemed to be an eternity, but it was only a few hours.

Before Clay could make out any form from the multitude of lines in the wall, his breath was knocked out of him by a large explosion a hundred or so yards away. Shards of alloy and stone rained all around him as a shower of sparks fell from the dome above, followed by the sounds of lasers and a plethora of deafening crackling from the Asoles’ weapons.

“Terrorist,” Said one of the Asoles. “Heresy,” said another

Body’s scattered all around Clay, scurrying away from the violence. Ten yards away an Asoles pounced on and completely devoured one resistance fighter alive, tearing him apart and leaving only a pile of bile where he stood.

Clay had never seen or heard of anything like this. He balled up cowering in the corner waiting for a time to escape, once he finally had the opportunity he darted for the shaft that lead for the tunnel which lead back to the pits. When Clay got back to Iris he could barely breathe. Iris looked pale with fright.

“Goodness Clay, where did you go? Did anyone follow you back here?” said Iris.

“No I took the tunnels.” said Clay.

“Here I have to give you something,” said Iris. Iris handed him a black glass cube. “This is an obsidian cube, Take this back to the mosaic and find that lotus carved in the lines,” said Iris.

“I didn’t see no lotus in the design, I looked for hours,” said Clay. “I can’t go back you wouldn’t believe what I saw. I will die for sure.”

“Look harder and take this cube and insert it into the middle, you will see the red ruby glow and when you do push the button,” said Iris.

“What’s going on? I don’t understand,” said Clay.

“There’s no time to explain. I wrote a letter and I put it in your coat, take the obsidian and go,” said Iris.

Just as he reached the tunnels he could hear Iris’s screams echoing down the halls… a terrifying shriek that rattled his bones and gave him shivers. Clay’s heart was in his stomach, but he ran as fast as he could. When he made it to the mosaic he did just as Iris instructed. The red stone illuminated upon touching it and the wall unraveled at the lines like the untying of a knot. He ducked into the dark crevice and slid down underground tubes which lead him to a spiraling staircase. After reaching the top of the staircase he could see it, the eye gloriously ablaze massive in size like a doorway with a fixed stare on Clay. Clay was drawn to the spherical phenomenon. The center looked as if it were liquid gold. Clay was so frozen with fear that he forgot to breathe. The seven pyres came out of the shadows and towered over him. They must have been 9 feet tall and didn’t make a sound. Something about the pyres told Clay that they were just as scared of him as Clay was of it. There was nowhere else to go accept through the eye. Instantly Clay bolted past the tall demonic creatures towards the mercurial eye, chucked the cube into the center, closed his eyes and leapt.

Clay was blinded, flashes of white and red light exploded around his face. He could feel his hair getting singed a burning sensation throughout his entire body followed by an aching cold.

Iris he screamed, over and over he screamed for her but to no prevail. He knew that she was dead and now so was he. In a millisecond a life time of woes he cried. He thought of his failure and shame. He will never know the truth and he had let Iris down and how pathetic his whole existence had been such a waste. His body kicked and flailed in agony and pain as torturous images flickered in his mind.

###

Clay was embarrassed when he realized he was still alive. His body was not used to the atmosphere and the sun. What began as his violent death became an orgasmic overload of the senses. His eyes began to adjust enabling him to see the multitude of hues he never knew existed, colors so vibrant it electrified his mind. All at once, new and exotic textures surrounded him with warmth as aromatics tickled him to his loins.

There where trees everywhere and the sky was stunning. Clay was on his knees in awe. He looked around and right in front of him was the black cube. He crouched forward and placed his forehead on the cube then whispered something softly to himself before he got up and began to walk, wandering aimlessly into a small opening in the forest where it dipped into a valley. On the other side he could see a crevice in the side of a mountain, so he ran there in fear of the Asoles. Clay followed that canyon until it came to an opening so he decided to rest, and remembered the letter in his jacket.

###

Dear Clayborne,

The seven pyres are seven evil spirits that haunt men from times of old. There is a great war to resist them for they are only inspired by fear. The Asoles are the lifeless, those without a soul. They have cast a spell on men so that they may cultivate a weapon made of the souls of men, to rule the world and live forever, but they have already lost, though they don’t know it. The Vile creatures imprisoned our kingdom long ago. Most will try to appease them but their thirst is unquenchable. I have painfully held this from you while I watched you grow, watch you secretly lust for the evil that lies waiting like a viper to snatch you from the way to truth. This realm like the next is an illusion. You have the key to all the doors don’t be afraid. Find our kin you will know them by their armor. They will help you on your way. You are not alone. I love you.

Sincerely, Iris

PS. If that doesn’t piss you off, they have been feeding us recycled human waste.

Clay didn’t even have time to take it all in before he was startled by dark figures closing in on him. Clay leapt to combat action mode with a murderous spark of rage in his eye.

“Asoles been feeding me shit my whole life,” said Clay.

Clay raised the obsidian cube above his head in a striking stance ready to wage war on the Asoles. The figures wore black obsidian scaled armor with gold trim. The armor was so magnificent that it would have put the Asoles to shame they looked glorious shimmering in the setting sun all the colors of the sky trapped like a rainbow in an obsidian prism.

The men were gracious recognizing the black box Clay held in his hands.

A faint buzz slowly escalated into a roar as a swarm of Asoles came out of the earth the sound vibrated all the bodies of the men in obsidian. They were fearless. They all lined up ready for the inevitable slaughter. Some even had grins.

“Welcome home brother,” said one man in jest. He offered up some armor to Clay but Clay fashioned himself a cloak made of some linens and wool he found. Clay then stepped to the front of the men.

“Ashes to ashes,” said Clay. Then he laughed an uncontrollable howl and led the charge.

The thunderous clash of opposing forces shook the planet to its very core and with a flash of light the Asoles were vanished like vapors in a light breeze.

Clay turned toward his brethren.

“A figment of my imagination,” said Clay

The Obsidians were astonished, in hysterics having never witnessed such a miraculous feat; they accredited Clay with being of royal bloodline. The tribe shouted and began to celebrate and dance around. They praised Clay for his escape and bravery called him a hero.

Clay just sat on his legs with his hands clenching the earth, eyes on the horizon, hypnotized in thought.

1911

By Daniel Cadogan

I never killed a man before and I didn’t plan to when I woke up on the seventeenth of June, but sometimes things don’t go as planned. I woke up that morning with every intention of going to my first ever family reunion and having a nice time getting absolutely plastered, yelling at the fat bitch who identified herself as “Auntie Carole”, and making some horrible mistakes regarding my genitalia and a distant cousin or two.

I dragged myself out of bed the morning before and got in the shower with a bottle of Guinness to loosen myself up. Everyone needs a little pre-game before the super bowl, right? I dragged myself to my closet and picked out a decent outfit for the day. I rummaged past Armani suits and tuxedoes for every occasion. I tossed aside thousand dollar loafers and managed to find a pair of oxfords I didn’t mind getting a little dirty. The click-clack of the sole against my hardwood floors made my heart flutter. I checked my phone and saw 37 missed calls from my business partner about an increase in our investments and I just smiled while he was probably running circles around his house screaming at the top of lungs about the extra five hundred thousand we made off with. Chump change if you ask me.

I’d never been to a family reunion before even though we had them yearly. My family consisted of good decent country folk and backwoods hicks alike. I liked the country folk, I hated the hicks. But this year was the first year we’d have a reunion without a grandpa and I felt it would only be respectful for me to show up at least.

I would catch my flight at 12:30 and then drive into the countryside from there. My bags had been packed the night before by Julia and everything was in order. I grabbed the last bit of paperwork and stuffed it into my carry-on bag alongside a couple notebooks and a deck of cards. I walked downstairs and Julia greeted me as she was cleaning.

“Calvin, everything is ready to go. I left your suitcase by the door last night so you can grab it on your way out,” she said. Her eyes twinkled in the morning light. Julia had been staying with me for two years as a live-in maid and she is an absolute angel. Her cooking is fit for kings, she never leaves a spot of dust anywhere in the house, and on occasion, she puts out. But this morning I didn’t have the time to spare for a quickie on the kitchen counter.

“Thank you, Julia, I’ll be back in four days. The house is all yours until then. Live like a queen,” I said. I kissed her on the cheek and she giggled. I ran out the door and into my car and drove to the airport, mentally preparing myself to see my family in just a few hours.

###

“Look here, the safety’s on the right side, just above the trigger. Just click it in and you’re ready to fire. You see red on the safety? You’re good to shoot,” Jimmy said, showing me his brand new 1911 pistol.

“Sure is something, Jimmy. How she shoot?” I replied. Home for just a couple hours and my backwoods drawl was coming back to me already.

“Shoots just fine, especially for a handgun. Nailed a bowling pin at 50 yards. You really like her, huh?” Jimmy said with a smile across his face.

“Yeah, it’s a beautiful gun. You’re almost getting me back into my old fascination for them again.”

“Well,” Jimmy started, “I missed your birthday last year and I was just thinking about how you and me used to go hunting up on pap’s old land in the hills and, well, I got you one just like it.” Jimmy reached back onto the couch behind him and pulled out a box and opened it. Inside was an identical gun with a belt holster just like his.

“My god Jimmy, you really didn’t have to do this. This had to cost a fortune.”

“Hey, it ain’t nothing. After pap died, I was just thinking about how we haven’t really talked much in a while and I thought it might be a good way open that door again.” I almost started tearing up.

“Thanks Jimmy. This really means a lot to me.” I strapped the holster to my belt and shoved the gun inside. “So, how’s it look on me?”

“Pretty damn weird. Not many people around here are carrying a handgun in their dress slacks and a nice tie.” Jimmy started laughing. “Man, we have to work this rich boy shit out of your system by the time you head back home.” Some of my family seemed to resent me for leaving our hometown and actually making something of myself, but Jimmy was always proud of me. He was my older cousin by three years and he always looked after me.

###

The next day we went out to the farmhouse about two miles away where grandma was living and we would meet up with the rest of the family there. I had my new gun strapped to my hip, just like Jimmy. When we arrived, I saw all the usual people there. Aunts, uncles, cousins, all sorts of people I never really cared about. And arriving a little late to the party was a man with graying hair and a younger girl about mine and Jimmy’s age.

I turned to Jimmy and said, “Hey man, who’s that? I know we got a big family, but I know I don’t recognize that guy.”

“Well,” he said, “you haven’t been home in a good while so you missed some things. The guy is apparently pap’s third cousin or something. Long lost for some reason, but he found out he was related to us and asked if he could meet us all. We welcomed him to the family. He’s a decent fellow if not a bit stuffy. Say, you might just get along with him great.” Jimmy laughed at his own wit and I couldn’t help but chuckle as well.

“So who’s the girl? His daughter? Granddaughter? Prostitute and he’s her sugar daddy?” I asked.

“Granddaughter, I think. They’re very religious folk, she’s supposed to go off to a convent next summer. Not sure if it’s true, but the rumor amongst kin is that he’s forcing her to go and she don’t want to.”

“You don’t say. She’s pretty. I’d go chat her up if she wasn’t my cousin.”

“Hey now, she’s your fifth cousin at best. Now, take this with a grain of salt as I am just some incestuous hick, but as far as I’m concerned, she’s fair game.”

“You’re right, you are an incestuous hick. But you make a good point.”

I walked over to introduce myself to our new family members. As I approached, the girl seemed to move back while her father sized me up and greeted me with a shit-eating grin.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve met you before,” he said, “my name’s Andy and this is my granddaughter Jessie.” Jessie reached out her hand and curtseyed like we were in the Antebellum South.

“Pleased to meet you two, my name’s Calvin. Always nice to have more family coming in.” Jessie eyed me from behind her father. He never lost that grin all night.

###

The rest of the party went well. We got drunk, we sang around a bonfire, I even found my old guitar in grandma’s attic and played some songs. And yes, at some point during the duration of the night, I yelled at Auntie Carole for being a lazy bitch with a disability check every month just because she’s fat. As the party was winding down, everyone seemed a bit too hammered to notice much of anything, but I noticed Jessie staring at me from across the fire. She was sitting next to Jimmy. She turned to him and whispered something in his ear. He smiled and she giggled. He stood up and walked over to me.

“Listen man,” Jimmy said, “Jessie says to meet her in the barn behind grandma’s house in five minutes. Don’t worry, her dad’s in the house bullshitting with the older guys. He won’t know a thing.”

“Keep him occupied if you can. I’ll make every second count.”

“You got it, Cal.” Jimmy walked toward the house to keep Andy inside. I waited for Jessie to slip away and I followed after. We ran into the barn and slid in through the doorway. We didn’t even exchange words and she pushed me onto a pile of hay and shoved her tongue in my mouth. She began unbuttoning her very conservative blouse as I tried to take off my shirt as well.

And then my phone rang. My goddamned phone rang. I grabbed it out my pocket. It was Julia. Before I even had a chance to answer, Jessie snatched it and threw it into the hay next to us and proceeded to act in a way that a prospective nun definitely should not. Just as she grabbed my pants, there was a pounding at the door.

“Jessie,” Andy said from the other side of the door, “you in there?” Jessie nearly jumped out of her skin and placed her hand on my mouth.

“Who the hell’s in there? I heard something and Jessie ain’t out by the fire.” The pounding grew heavier and more frantic. “Goddammit, you let me in right now.” Andy was shouting by this point. The door flew open and Andy stood there with a revolver in his hand.

“What the hell is going on here?” he said. He grabbed Jessie by her hair and threw her to the ground behind him. “I knew it, you’re a whore just like you’re goddamned mother.” He pointed the gun at me. “Kiss your ass goodbye, boy.” Andy cocked the revolver and walked closer to me and the barrel almost touched my forehead.

I didn’t even think about it. I pulled the 1911 out of the holster and shot Andy three times in the chest. He tumbled backwards, lifeless. Jessie began to sob uncontrollably. Smoke poured out of the end of my gun.

In the Library

By Megan Finsel

She stanched the bleeding with a piece of silk torn from her skirts and looked into his eyes. They were shining like stars in the darkness cast by the forest canopy.

“You’ve saved my life,” he whispered and touched her cheek.

She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. “Well, far be it from me to miss an adventure. You’re insane, thinking you could fight him alone.” she chided.

He began to sit up but she stopped him, afraid the movement would worsen the bleeding. His bewildered gaze was fixed upon her. “Margaret,” he began, but she kept her face turned away and refused to look at him. “I am indebted to you.”

“Rubbish.” She shook her head. “You owe me nothing. It was a lucky shot.”

“Right, a direct shot from between two trees and over my shoulder,” he said, “indeed, that was quite lucky.”

She tried to ignore the body lying nearby, bearing an arrow identical to those in her quiver. Instead she focused on applying constant pressure to his wounded arm, where the ogre’s sword had slashed him below the elbow.

“I did what any friend would do.” she said simply.

He touched her lips. “You know, you are more than a friend to me, my darling.”

She looked up at him then and felt her heart pinch inside her, causing her actual pain. It took all her focus to tie the two ends of the makeshift bandage to his arm. It was already beginning to bleed through.

“You need a physician.”

“I think I’ll survive. You’ve kept me alive for this long already.” As his lips traced her earlobe she turned and pressed her face against his neck, aware of his fingers following along her spine.

“Maggie!” The voice was distant but she still startled at it.

“What is it?”

“They’re calling me back.” She told him and felt a sob rising in her throat.

“You have to leave now?”

She groaned and laid her forehead against his chest, drawing him closer to her. “I wish I could stay.”

He pulled her into his lap. “But won’t you consider it?”

She knew she could always come visit him, but she could never stay for long. After all, I do not belong here in his world, she thought. I belong out there, in the real world, where life is hard and happily ever after isn’t guaranteed.

Lifting her face to look into his own he rested his forehead against hers and wisps of his hair brushed her skin. “I understand.”

“Do you?” She searched his face for any hints of sadness or disappointment.

He showed both of these, as he returned her gaze, and his fingertips traced the curve of her cheek. But he said, “Yes, I understand.”

“Are you upset?” she asked, finding she feared upsetting him more than the thought of leaving.

“I hate to see you go,” he admitted, “but I could never be upset with you. I am as much a part of you as you are a part of me. It would be difficult to separate us forever.”

She accepted the first of his kisses and tried to ignore their calls. But as their voices grew louder, she felt herself growing fainter in his arms. Finally she drew away and gazed down at his chest, tracing the intricate emblem of his kingdom embroidered upon his vest.

“I have to go now,” she said softly.

He sighed. “If you must leave me then I shall say farewell.” he whispered, “but not goodbye, for goodbye is final. Farewell means we will meet again.”

Tears choked her throat as she rested her chin upon his shoulder. “Farewell, Prince Leif.” she whispered. “I will return when I can.”

“Maggie, where are you?”

Reluctantly she closed the book, caressed the cover, and placed it upon the shelf, his kisses still lingering on her lips. “I’m in the library.”

 

 

Bio: Words have a great power to me. They can evoke emotions, thoughts, and ideas. They can start and end wars, and they can paint pictures. When I learned I could use words to express myself, I realized I had found my passion. Writing is my way to communicate the complex emotions and thoughts that we all tuck away in the recesses of our hearts. And if I can make at least one person aroused through my writing, then I know I have done my job 🙂

How to Avoid Heartbreak

By Moriah Luiz

Don’t tell anyone that you like him. Hide the fact that you like him. Put on a fake smile and force a laugh if necessary. Do keep yourself guarded. Don’t let him know the truth. Don’t think about him. Don’t look at him. Stop day dreaming about him. Find a hobby to keep you busy so you don’t think about him. Don’t let your mind wander. Stay away from his girlfriend. Don’t talk to his friends. When he talks to you act nonchalant. Laugh at his jokes but only a little. Avoid him in the halls and in the lunch room. If you see him in the halls or in the lunch room look the other way or look busy. Don’t make it obvious that you are avoiding him. Don’t become friends with him. Stay away from events where he might be there. Don’t to go to any events. Don’t go to the football games or the bonfires. Don’t meet his parents. Don’t date him. Don’t date any of his friends. Don’t become friends with his girlfriend. Do focus on school and other things. Do stay home on weekends or have other plans. Do always be busy or have an excuse if he asks you out. Do spend lots of time with your friends and make plans with them. Do spend lots of time with your family. Don’t confront him. Don’t let him confront you. Don’t get a job where he works. Don’t go to the place where he works. Do get a job that’s far away from where he works. Don’t work up front where he can see you if he walks by. Don’t hang out with him. Don’t hang out with his girlfriend or his friends. Don’t get excited when he calls your name. Don’t give him your number. Don’t let him give you his number. Don’t call him. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about not thinking about him and just let it go. Think of something else. Do forget about him. Do move on. Don’t develop a crush on someone else. Don’t talk to anybody else. Don’t look at anyone else. Don’t think about anyone else. Don’t become friends with anyone else. Don’t date. Don’t hang out with anybody. Don’t think about dating anyone else. Do find other things to take up your time and to keep you really busy. Do find another hobby. Do be busy all the time. Don’t let your mind wander. Do focus on other things. Do take harder classes with lots of homework and other assignments. Do keep your guard up. Do Follow all of these instructions and do exactly as they say. Don’t forget these instructions. Do make copies and keep one with you at all times. Do prepare for the worst. Do all of this and you might just avoid getting your heartbroken and having your world turned upside down.

Breaking Promises

By Megan Finsel

When he broke through the morning mist I cocked my gun, ready and waiting. But the first rays of pre-dawn light split the gloom and fell upon his face, and I knew I couldn’t shoot him. Now I was as good as dead.

“We’re going to survive this, I promise.” he had said to me, and I had clung to his words like I did to his hand as we ran, trying not to make a sound. It was one of the first days after this nightmare began; we had been hiding in the trailer park. We had tried to keep in the shadows, but the bonfires they had started made it difficult. Everything had been deserted, the sky dark and the ground burning. They were coming; I could hear their screams in the silence.

When we were curled up inside one of the dark campers with his rifle across our legs, we listened to the wails and howls piercing the quiet.

“Can we afford to make promises?” I had asked him with my head nestled upon his shoulder.

His arms tightened around me, and he turned and put his lips close to my ear, his breath warm and comforting on my skin. “Yes, we need to.” he whispered, and it had been enough to satisfy me.

Days passed like this, the two of us becoming suburban scavengers, warriors in this horrific war. As humanity disintegrated around us, we hung on to one another. That is why we survived for so long.

But when we crept into grocery stores, stealing what we could from the nearly barren shelves, I anticipated the decaying faces that could stumble from around the corners. Fear of them always followed us and I was thankful for it, for it kept us alert and alive. However fear can kill as well as any plague.

We stayed on the move in the camper we’d stolen, never spending two nights in the same place. One evening, somewhere outside of Arizona, I had asked him, “Do you think we’re the only ones left now?” We hadn’t encountered another living human being in almost three weeks.

“I don’t know,” he had replied, and I stifled a sob. Taking me into his arms, he cradled me in his lap and held me against his chest. I listened to his heartbeat, the steady pounding of another living soul, the sign that he was still mine. I cherished that sound.

“If anything happens to either of us,” he said, “I want you to know that I will love you until the world ends.”

“But the world is ending,” I had begun to cry.

“No it hasn’t, not yet,” he said, “Because you are still here. You are my world.” and he had kissed me through my tears.

Crossing the country together, hiding from them and from the fear within us, wasn’t nearly as difficult as it had been at first. We were together, a small family, but a family nonetheless.

That was, until, our little family fell apart.

We had made promises to one another, all probably foolish, but meaningful at the time. He promised me the house on the lake I had always wanted and I promised him children with eyes and hair as dark as his. We also promised to shoot each other, if either of us became infected. But that was a promise I desperately hoped I wouldn’t have to keep.

Now I knew that I couldn’t, even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t keep that promise. Now that the time had come I could only lean against the tree and watch as he stumbled toward me, shrieking and crying, his eyes dead, his mouth hanging open.

There were large bald spots on his head where his beautiful hair had been ripped out, and what was still intact was clumped with mud and debris. His face was ashen and spattered with dark blotches, probably blood; it was most likely not his. His veins bulged, swollen beneath translucent skin, like blue spider webs crisscrossing his body. His arms, which always held me so close, swung limply at his sides. His fingers, which had always touched me so tenderly, twitched abnormally. His shirt hung on his body in tatters; could he remember me buying it for him last year?

Deep inside that decaying body, could he remember who he was? Who I was? I watched as he began to run to me and I tried to pretend that he recognized me and my heart gave a tiny jolt of hope, which quickly died. There was wildness in his eyes which I had never seen, desperation; hunger much different than how he used to look at me, before all of this happened. Before our world fell apart.

I watched him turn his head in an unnatural angle, his stride jerking sharply. This was not the man I had fallen in love with in high school; the man who I had given my heart to or the man I was destined to marry.

He was coming, closer and closer and in that moment I knew I wouldn’t kill him. I pressed myself against the tree and slowly let my shotgun slip through my fingers. It landed in the grass by my foot. He shrieked. My heart pounded. I felt his hands grab me by the shoulders, slamming me into the trunk; he had never been rough with me before. I looked into his bloodshot eyes and realized he would never recognize me again. His mouth opened; a stench of rotting flesh on his breath.

I wondered, in the last moments, if it was weak of me to not have been able to shoot him. No, this is not weakness, I thought, and took comfort in the fact that if I turned out as he had at least we would be together again. I only felt guilty for breaking my promise.

Pain blossomed in my neck, as the infection spread slowly through my veins. I sank against him, falling into the arms of the undead man I had chosen to love instead of kill.

These are the last things I remember from being human, from being alive. What came next I cannot recall. Perhaps he helped me up, took my hand, and together we stumbled off through the woods. Or, perhaps he ate me. I really don’t know.

 

 

Bio: Words have a great power to me. They can evoke emotions, thoughts, and ideas. They can start and end wars, and they can paint pictures. When I learned I could use words to express myself, I realized I had found my passion. Writing is my way to communicate the complex emotions and thoughts that we all tuck away in the recesses of our hearts. And if I can make at least one person smile through my writing, then I know I have done my job 🙂

Hide & Seek

By Douglas Kolakowski

 

It always ended up that way, her on the floor and my fists being the cause of it. I never predicted I’d be this kind of person, or that we would
have this kind of marriage and though we were once united with love, we fought often. Our issues by morning would be “resolved” and nothing would have
appeared to have happened, but her face would still show the truth. Every day our marriage would fall a tiny bit more and by the end of each night we’d be
back in the same place, the only hope for a happy life was just an image to appease our son: Daren.

Ten years old, strong and healthy– Daren was certainly a daddy’s boy, always wanting to go on adventures, take naps and come to work with me. He
was certainly the perfect son and certainly my pride and joy.

The night had started off bland. I had returned home from work, sat myself down on the couch and went about my evening. My son, sitting in the
front of me; It wasn’t until my wife entered the room that I could sense something was wrong.

“Honey, Daren decided to go through our closet again– not only that but I saw him near your office! I don’t want him anywhere near there! Where you keep all your police officer crap!” her voice bringing an uproar to my ears.

“Listen, when I’m not home, all I can do is lock the doo–”

“That’s not good enough!”

Anger filled me and within moms I was up, standing in front of her and she was on the floor. Her voice was quieted and my rage was powering
through my every pore and pounding through my veins, but then I stood, looked around and my eyes met my sons. I hated how this was for him, he didn’t need to be subjected to my anger or my irresponsibility.

“Son, it’s time for bed…” was all I could mutter out as I picked him up and carried him to his room. Tucking him in, kissing his forehead and walking out was all this failure of a father could do.

The next few days were quiet, my wife and I held no conversation and Daren’s attention was primarily focused on the television.

“Son, I think it’s time we went out.”

The smile across his face was the only response I needed before scooping him up and taking him to the car. Driving for a few minutes under an
uncomfortable silence was new to the two of us, often he was tinkering with the radio or I was lecturing, but now, it was just unsettlingly quiet.

I, so, wanted to bring to his attention that nothing was his fault, that our failing family was primarily my issue and nothing more– but
bringing that to the attention of a child could be no easy feat and I wasn’t completely sure he could handle it.

“Daren, I need you to listen– this whole thing at home, it has nothing to do with yo–”

My sentence was cut short by his words.

“Daddy, what’s it like to kill someone?”

I stopped speaking, shocked and overwhelmed to the point where I pulled over. I turned towards him with a nervous smile.

“Well, I haven’t really killed anyo–”

“You shot that robber and he died that one time, Daddy.”

“Well, that’s true Daren, but he was a bad man. He was only bringing bad things. I guess, the point is, killing someone is wrong and shouldn’t be done, unless absolutely necessary… He tried to kill Daddy… so Daddy killed him.”

My eyes never left his and in return the same smile he always had never left his face.

That evening I found myself contemplating the earlier conversation I had with him. He was a happy child, but lately he seemed distant. There were
no games to be played, there was just Daren, his t.v and the fights that would sometimes overpower it. I wasn’t even paying enough attention to realize my boy had grown and changed. My mind wandered and before the night was over, he and my wife were asleep in their rooms and I was resting on the couch.

Sleep took me slowly, my thoughts pulled me into an abyss that could only be shown as true relaxation in my current stage of life, all at this time, finally felt right.

That’s when I heard the bang.

My eyes opened quickly, fear hit me as the blood rushed to my head from the quick motion of jumping off the couch.

It was a gunshot.

I ran down the hall towards the sound heading in the direction of the room my wife slept in; only to find her on the bed and my son standing
beside it.

The smell of gunpowder and shellings were still in the air as I noticed the bloodily and broken cranium that was once my wifes face. Her torso
was twisted in such a way that could only be part of some hellish nightmare and the tool and person responsible for this was– my gun and Daren.

I ran to her side ignoring the cause of her death as I tried to revive her from the state she had quickly and unknowingly been thrown into, my
full concentration was on her, my wife– the mother of my child. It was his laugh that snapped me out of my state.

“Oh Daddy, silly, silly Daddy. You just don’t get it do you?” my face was filled with horror as I saw his cute smile twist into a grin I had never seen bestowed on him.

“She was a bad guy, Daddy. She was in the way, always was and always would’ve been– but now she’s
gone, Daddy! She’s gone!”

Anger filled me as I ran over to him, grabbing his shoulder and shaking, his face surprised and for a moment scared.

“No! No Daren! You can’t just– You can’t just kill people! When I killed that man, he was bad! Your mother wasn’t bad! She was your mother! Your fucking mother!” I let him go dropping to my knees as my own pride and joy had taken our problems into his own hands.

“We can live happily ever after without her… We can! We can! We can!” a tantorum coming into place as he swung his arms, the gun going off firing into the ceiling.

“I did this for you, you ungrateful bastard! I did this for us! We can be happy!” his words of pent up aggression thrust into me like the venom of a snake. As tears filled my eyes, the only thing I could think of was her. I stood up and rushed towards the bed again, bringing my arms around the limp broken corpse.

“You still pick that deranged bitch over me!? How could you!? You think you’d appreciate it! This is so unfair! Unfair! Unfair! Un–” His speech stopped as he took a step towards the bed, anger aside and a grin forming on his face yet again.

“Everyone knew of your fighting, Daddy. They all knew how you and Mommy didn’t get along. They would never know it was me– they could think that you killed Mommy and then yourself!” the moment those words hit my ears I turned to face him, my lip quivered, my mind raced and in that moment, I knew that anything I did was futile.

“I’d be the victim, Daddy. The victim of a crazed man and a mean woman– I’d be the little boy who got away.” The end of his sentence was influenced by a slight laugh.

I was a failure to my wife, a failure of a Police officer and as the father of this young boy, an even bigger failure. My own child, my son, he
had changed and been affected by me, his own father, this whole time and what could I had done to stop him? Probably nothing. My fate had been sealed and my love for him unconditional as he lifted the cold barrelled weapon that I had respectively used to enforce the law towards my head and pulled the trigger.

Love Bites

By Raine Inozori

 

Her eyelashes curled like African grass blowing in the wind.

He had been sitting in a restaurant while he waited for her, and the wait had been well worth it. The creature that now sat before him was the most beautiful he had ever seen. She had full, red lips, an angular face, and eyes that shone like emeralds. Her platinum blond hair fell down her back in gentle waves.

A woman such as her didn’t belong on this shabby date, with such an average man like him. She didn’t belong in this gilded restaurant that made onlookers think it was fancy until they walked inside. She deserved a handsome, successful man who could take her to the Ritz every two weeks.

He had a slim face, high cheekbones, short cut brown hair, and blue eyes. He wasn’t exactly unattractive, but seeing her walk into the room, he felt unattractive.

“Samuel?” She asked him across the table. He must have looked funny, just staring at her and not saying a word.

“Oh! Um… Sam. You can call me Sam. Everybody does.” He told her with a nervous smile.

She smiled back. he had been expecting a wide, brilliant smile. But it wasn’t. It was small, shy, even demure.

“Ok, then. I’ll call you Sam. I’m Victoria.”

A beautiful name to match a beautiful lady. He wanted to say that to her, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. It would be weird.

He never should have let Kevin talk him into this blind date thing. Sam had known it would go bad. But, it was the strangest thing: She didn’t seem put off by him at all, even though he was probably sweating buckets, and all he seemed to be doing was gawking at her. He was all too aware of the people around them, casting glances in their direction every now and again. They were probably wondering how a loser like him, managed to hook a girl like her

But he hadn’t. It was just a blind date.

A few more minutes of awkward, clipped conversation ensued before a waiter came by to take their orders.

“Ladies first.” The waiter said, with a wink to Victoria. She gave him one of those shy smiles of hers.

“I’ll have the steak. Rare, please.”

The waiter nodded. “And you, Sir?” He asked Sam.

“I’ll just get the same as her.” The waiter nodded again before heading off. He must have been good at his job, because Sam hadn’t seen an order pad or
anything.

It seemed like an eternity of even more awkward conversation before the waiter came back with both of their plates. Sam was pretty hungry by now, so he picked up his knife and fork, and started cutting. As he ate, he would occasionally glance up at Victoria.

She would cut up a piece of steak, nice and small, put it in her mouth, and suck on it before taking out the now grey piece of meat, and setting it off to the side on her plate.

Sam was significantly confused. Why order a steak if you weren’t going to eat it? The strangest part was, she was doing it like it was completely normal. She
showed no signs of being embarrassed at all. In fact, when she looked up and saw him staring, she met his eyes and smiled. Smiled! it was baffling.

Of course, from that point forward the entire date was even more awkward. What was he supposed to say about that? However from this point forward Victoria was a lot more talkative.

“I’ve always found it fascinating how people act in groups.”

“Did you know that when it rains, Turkeys will stare at the sky with their beaks open until they drown?”

“My grandmother used to make the best chocolate chip cookies.”

No matter how uninteresting her words, Sam couldn’t help but be entranced. And it seemed like she never stopped talking. Sam was vaguely aware of the waiter taking their plates.

It was around midnight when she stopped talking. And as if someone released him from some sort of spell, he became aware of his surroundings again.

The restaurant was empty.

Where had everybody gone? Surely there was another couple out this late, right? This was the city after all. There had to be more people out.

When he looked back to Victoria, he found she was gone. Where had she gone now? What was going on? Suddenly, he felt a strong hand grip him by the back of the neck, and slam his face into the table in front of him. Sam struggled against his unknown assailant, but the person didn’t relent. At one point, he thought he felt an arm buckle, but he still couldn’t get away. Then he heard a voice in his ear:

“Just relax, Sam. it will be over soon.”

It was Victoria’s voice.

This made his stop struggling, mostly out of confusion. There was no way she was this strong. Then he felt something at his neck that made him gasp. It was a sharp pain, like she had stabbed him with something, but it also came with warmth. He wasn’t sure what she was doing, but he felt himself growing weaker and weaker with each passing moment. He stared at the analogue clock on the wall until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, and he felt himself slip away into the dark.