

Thoughts from the Rock

By the Fall 2013 Creative

Writing Class of UW-Rock County
Copyright © 2013

All rights reserved.

THE AUTHORS

LeeAnn Severson

Becca Tracey

Jeremy Brooks

Heather Barker

Derek Wettstein

Judas White

Courtney Gies

Emily Polglaze

Joshua Buroker

Collin Wise

Cory Winters

Laini Medina

Leah Jackson

Kenneth Tessman

Danielle Wilson
"All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know."

\- Ernest Hemingway
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The authors would like to graciously thank their teacher, Ken Brosky, for pouring his blood, sweat and tears into the publication of this project.

Life Starts Now

by Laini Medina

Tomorrow holds great expectations. All of my hopes and dreams will unfold

in the Next four years.

Life starts now, this moment that I've waited years for.

It's happening, there is no stopping it.

Some will cry tears of joy. Some will cry because they are leaving

all they know.

Some will be lost without the usual crowd, but most

will find themselves, spread their wings and learn to fly alone.

This moment I've achieved it on my own, I've worked and waited

I prayed to be here and now that I am.

I feel nothing but sincere self-pride. High school graduation, a moment of joy.

My life starts now.

new plan

by Laini Medina

The life I planned, the plans I made, are now completely changed.

There is no going back, it has been taken away.

Replaces with a life time of responsibility, worry, fear, pure joy and true love.

Pitter patter of tiny feet, and a cute button nose.

Little hands that fit in mine.

A little piece of me to love for all of time.

"My Life" it's changing now, the plans I made and all of the goals I set are being replaced.

My wants, my needs no longer belong to me.

Your well-being, your happiness, your life is what my goals will be.

My baby girl, a gift from god, brought into my life at a moment when

My life had really just begun.

I love you more than anything, you mean more to me than I mean to myself.

I haven't met you but I love You.

You are my life now.

Ruthy

by Laini Medina

I've waited nine months for this moment.

I tried to picture it in my dreams and I tried to prepare myself.

It was impossible.

A moment like this can never be re-lived.

It happens only once but it will say with me forever.

I loved you before I met you.

And now I can't picture my life without you.

Love at first sight, true unconditional love.

My daughter, My love, My world.

All mine

by Laini Medina

I have watched you grow

From a tiny little baby to my perfect little lady.

The way you smile when you're happy and the way your eyes glitter when you laugh

Brighten my world.

The way you curl your tiny big toe and the super cute way you crinkle your nose

Make you so special, so unique.

I love you peanut, you're perfect, and you shine.

I can't imagine life without you; you make the rainy days fade away.

When I'm with you nothing in this world matters.

I look at you and I see pure perfection.

A perfect baby girl with crazy hair and big bright eyes.

An angel sent to me from heaven, you're perfect, you're beautiful,

You're all mine,

grow

by Laini Medina

I dread the day you grow up and move away.

The day you no longer need me to wipe your nose.

When you're too big for me to sing you to sleep.

When you don't want me to kiss your boo-boos.

When mommy's hugs are no longer the best.

I dread the day that I'll hear you say "I got it mom thanks anyway"

I plan to raise a strong and independent, self-confident, amazing woman.

A woman who won't need anyone else.

Who will take pride in standing on her own two feet.

A woman who is proud and who has come a long way and has herself to thank.

I dread the day you'll drive away, with your bags packed and a college freshman brain.

I dread the day you graduate, when you walk down the aisle, when I'm forced to give you away.

My perfect baby girl will grow into an amazing woman, who won't always need her mommy.

Who won't want to spend the day cuddling and watching Barney.

I dread the day my little girl walks away and comes back a woman.

So for now I cherish the silly moments I put down what I am doing so you and I can play.

I treasure these days because soon they will be gone, never to return.

My baby girl will sadly grow; you won't always fir on my lap.

But I will always be your mommy and you forever my little perfect Peanut Boo.

I love you honey and no matter how much time may pass

My love for you will only grow.

I love you Natalie that is something you should always know.
"The Story of the SOn"

by Kenneth Tessman

"Tommy!" Ian said quickly into the phone. "I need your help."

"What is it?" Tommy asked. It was easy to sense the urgency in Ian's voice. "Are you in trouble?"

Ian stood in silence as he looked at the horrible scene before him– the scene he had caused. "I– I fucked up," he managed to choke out.

"Shit, man," Tommy cursed. "What did you do and what do you need?"

"I can't tell you here. If anyone digs up this phone call tomorrow it'll be worse for me."

"Shit, it's that bad," Tommy mused. "How about we meet at the usual spot," he suggested.

"Yeah, that'll work."

"Good. I'll see you in twenty minutes."

"See you there," Ian said before hanging up.

He avoided looking at the floor. Because of what lay there, Ian knew he would never see his home again. This was the price he paid for his choice. It was a once-in-a-lifetime sacrifice that he could no longer take back. Now all that was left was for Ian to retain his freedom, as well as his life.

Come to my office. I want to speak with you, the message read. Just a short text on Ian's phone from his father. For some reason it seemed strange, but the boy could not figure out why. His father sent him serious texts often enough, even from a short distance like this one, telling him to remember to do this or that or asking if he was busy at a certain time. Ian read the message over and over for several minutes and repeatedly checked the details of how and when his phone received it. Nothing looked strange, but the unusual, ominous feeling persisted. Finally Ian decided that he had done enough worrying and the only reasonable thing to do would be to comply and see his father to ask what he wanted.

Before meeting with his father in the study, Ian took a trip to his bathroom to make himself more presentable. He washed his face and combed his black hair into neat waves. Finally he leaned over the sink to look at himself as he always did.

As a mix of four ethnicities, Ian Imagawa was truly a "Child of Terra." His Hmong and Caucasian mother along with his Japanese and Hawaiian father left him with honey-colored skin and a motley of features that still somehow compiled into a handsome face. It was people like Ian that led ethnologists and others to theorize that one day, most people on Earth will have races and ethnicities so mixed, they will only be reasonably able to consider themselves as "Terrans: the original peoples of Earth," much like how not long before, European-Americans had become so mixed that it became futile for individuals to trace any heritage back to one or two main countries, and acquiesced to being referred to as simply "Yankees."

Ian didn't mind being called a Terran; it was what he primarily considered himself to be. It was awkward and annoying to list his four ethnicities every time he was asked, so he found ways to avoid it and dodge the question. Besides this, he spoke the Terran language at school– a constructed language intended to be based on English but much easier for the world to learn, but was so heavily modified from the original it was almost as different from English as German.

Realizing he had drifted off into thought, Ian recomposed himself and left the bathroom for his father's study. His father worried him sometimes. Mr. Keisuke Imagawa was a radical activist for Terran superiority and the expansion of the Terran Empire. He had previously called decreased relations with the Hearth Alliance to allow Earth and its colonies to grow and thrive through independence. Recently, the man had changed his stance and now called for a rational war against Hearth, stating that it was the only way to keep the old Hearth Alliance in check and allow Earth to advance and take over the position of the primary interstellar empire in the known galaxy. Ian had even heard rumors that his father was on terrorist watch lists in the USA. It was reasons such as these that led Ian to the decision to keep some distance from his father in recent years.

All of these thoughts were remembered as Ian opened the door. His father sat behind the great stained-wood desk facing Ian. Tall bookshelves stood regally against almost every wall. They were filled with official records of census data, transcripts of court hearings, and law codes, but also novels and other literature. Against the wall on Ian's left, however, there were no shelves and no books. Only a beautiful katana that was given to the Imagawa family more than two hundred years ago and crafted by the legendary Masamune family of swordsmiths hung there in its scabbard with the sharpened edge of the blade facing upward.

His father's desk was unusually bare. Ian was used to seeing drafted speeches and similar papers strewn about its surface as well as the computer screen brightly lit and displaying either a written work in progress or an internet source to be studied. But today, the computer was shut down and all documents were neatly filed away. Mr. Keisuke Imagawa sat with folded hands and perfect posture, completely undistracted during the short wait for his son to arrive.

"You needed to speak with me, Father?" Ian said as he closed the door behind him.

His father sighed. "Son, you are not talking to an alien. Speak to me in English, or even Japanese."

"Oh, yes, Father," he said, complying and now speaking English. His father never spoke Terran, but often tolerated Ian's use of it, even when talking to him. Over time, conversations where each of them spoke a different language to each other became more normal. But once in a while his father would say he's had enough of universal assimilation and demand Ian would speak one of his two native tongues.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Ian repeated his question, now to his father's standards.

"I think you know something," he said with conviction. This, along with the sentence's direct ambiguity, gave Ian an ominous feeling that made his back tense in anxiety.

"What do you mean, Father?"

"I think you have recently discovered a secret, but are hesitant and confused about how to act on it," the man said. Ian wished his father would proudly look away– look everywhere except at him just like a mighty father would look at his son in a movie. But Mr. Keisuke Imagawa's gaze held firm on Ian and made him feel extremely exposed and uncomfortable. The man could have been reading his son's thoughts as they pulsed right under Ian's sweating skin.

"What secret would that be?" Ian asked, knowing he could not conceal his terror.

"Do not try to lie to me." His father's face showed complete calmness. Unlike Ian's, it was an unreadable face that could intimidate the most skilled poker players into surrendering their cards in shame. "Do not try to lie to me when I have the answers. Today, I know everything important that you know."

Ian said nothing; he just sat in scared silence. His father spoke again, "Since you aren't going to, I will be the first to say it." Ian had the impression of his father leaning in closer to his face even though he did not budge an inch. "I know you've discovered the bombing plots."

Ian wished he could run. He wanted to run out the door and down the stairs and escape into the streets and alleys and shops of the city he knew by heart. But he could not. He was trapped in the study with his father who knew all the secrets that mattered. Even if he ran he could not escape and nothing would be solved or made better.

"Yes," Ian admitted sheepishly. "I know." It started yesterday with a casual remark by one of his friends in a complicated context, but it raised a question that haunted Ian: was his father a terrorist waiting to happen? Later that day Ian entered his father's office while he was out and snooped around the papers. Such an act was so forbidden to Ian, that his father never even declared a punishment to him. As he searched, he found some political hypothesis his father had saved as well as a few personal reminders and a map with some architectural data of a certain public building in China. No matter how hard Ian looked at it, all the evidence pointed to the planning of a solo project by his father for an act of terrorism with political consequences. Among the papers Ian also found a gun. It was a black handgun which Ian had never seen before. Possessing this was a heinous crime in Japan, one which by itself would surely land his father in prison. But the terrorist plot would have worse consequences. If revealed to the police, his father would face certain execution.

Ian had spent most of the night which he found the terrible discovery awake in bed, terrified about the choice of either betraying his father to the law to be hanged, or letting possibly hundreds of Chinese citizens suffer the fate of being buried alive in a collapse of rubble, which of course could possibly lead to a war where millions or more would die. Ian spent every hour he had trying to find a third solution, one where both his father and the civilians he intended to kill would all be safe. By the time his father sent the text message the following evening, Ian had still found none.

"Father, you have to stop." Ian pleaded.

"Why?" his father asked severely.

"Because you are going to get yourself killed."

"A suicide mission is an honorable way to die."

"No!" Ian interrupted. "Not like this! Both China and Japan will want to see you hanged."

"I don't think you understand, my son. I will not be alive to be hanged."

Suddenly Ian understood. His father had known all along the consequences for himself and had found a way to negate them.

"They must never know who caused the destruction," the man continued. "This will place doubt in men's hearts and fingers of blame will point to the sky. Hearth and their alien allies will face threats of war, and even if war does not come, they will be forced to surrender some of their power to appease us. Either way, we win. Nations in the past have been pushed to the brink of war and beyond by similar incidents. Just look at what the sinking of the Lusitania did, or the assassination of Franz Ferdinand."

"The world was different then."

"Yes, it was. But I understand what it is now. All of my studying has led up to this climax, and you will not stop me."

"You can't just murder people!" Ian exclaimed.

"It is a sacrifice," his father said with calm conviction. "They will not know they are making it, but they will die so the rest of us can be free. If they could see the results themselves they would be proud to have made it."

Ian knew there would be no swaying his father. Perhaps he had known all along. The man knew so much and had thought long and hard about his actions. But even so, knowledge does not equate to ethics. Earth and Hearth were at peace, and a prosperous peace at that. Ian's father dreamed of ambitious conquest, for prosperous peace was not enough for him. He may be right that advancement and expansion of Earth's power would grow stronger with a war with Hearth, or at least with an uneasy peace, but that did not mean that it was fair, or even right.

"I can't let you do that, Father," Ian said.

"What will you do? Call the police?" He opened the drawer under his desk and produced the documents, blueprints, and pistol. "The only evidence that exists is right here. It can disappear in minutes. I haven't even purchased the explosives or plane tickets, and you'll find no accomplices either." Any other man but Mr. Keisuke Imagawa would have smiled at his own cleverness and the advantageous position he held.

"In fact," he continued, "why do I even need these?" He withdrew from his pocket the book of matches he commonly used to light the incense on his late wife's altar. His hands crumpled the pages and dropped it into the aluminum wastepaper can beside the desk before carefully placing the match in a strategic location within. The edges and wrinkles of the paper quickly spouted flames and an orange glow reflected from the inside of the metal walls.

"I've memorized all that is important, and I've since realized I don't even need the gun. I can be rid of it soon if I want. Either way, there's not enough evidence to convict me of any grand crime." He leaned in close to Ian. "I've thought long and hard about this. I've even taken you and your actions into consideration. Even..." He looked over Ian's head at the katana on the wall. It was almost credible that most people who have met the man have said that Mr. Keisuke Imagawa could read minds, for Ian was just thinking about the sword too.

He could kill his father. He had no accomplices. His plan would be ruined. No one would die in China. No war would start with Hearth. It would definitely be the logical choice: trading one life for hundreds, thousands, or tens of millions. But still, to Ian one life lost was still too many. Not even to mention that the man was his father. He was the only family member still in contact with Ian. No one else was family to him. If he killed him now, he would be alone.

No. Ian made himself remember what was fair– what was right. If killing his father was the only way to stop the destruction, he would do it. He would clear his mind completely, take up the family sword, and kill a man to protect his home, just like the samurai who walked this land before him. The romantic allusion did not last long, though. This was real, and Ian was choosing to become a murderer.

"Even if you wanted to kill me, you could not." He gave a nod to the katana which hung being Ian. "That sword has never been used since the day it was forged, and you cannot kill me with it either. It's too far away, and I have a gun."

Ian knew this, and he tried his best not to let his frustration show on his face, but he was foolish if he didn't think he was failing. A thought rushed quickly into Ian's mind, but he would have to act fast on it before his poor poker face gave away his intentions, or a wave of emotion made him hesitate. He stood up in the chair, rather unexpectedly for his father, who sat up straighter and aimed his pistol. It was a short range, and the man did not need to look down the sights; he kept his armed hand barely hovering over the empty desk. Ian left a pause to show his father this was not an attack, but changed that intention as he swept his hand in an arc in front of him and batted the pistol in his father's hands. The man lost control of the weapon and it tumbled onto the floor behind the desk, far out of Ian's reach, but accessible to his father.

Ian did not control his body; he let it move from a mysterious instinct which he could not locate. Perhaps it was an evolutionary adaptation that allowed ancient fighting men to survive in battle, or maybe a muscle memory passed down from a warrior of many generations ago. Whatever it was, it controlled Ian as he turned about, grasped the sword by the hilt, and drew it, leaving the scabbard lodged in its place on the mount. A curved sword like this was meant to attack in the same movement as it was drawn, and that is exactly what Ian did. From its sheath he swung downward, adding his second hand to the hilt and he completed a diagonal, downward slash just as his father was beginning to stand up having retrieved his gun.

Mr. Keisuke Imagawa stumbled until he impacted the bookshelf behind him. He then slid his back down its face until he sat on the floor. The pistol remained in his hand, but that hand lay on the floor, pointing harmlessly away. His other hand crossed over his body to touch and cover the red, bleeding wound on the right side of his neck. He looked up at Ian, who held the stained sword ready with both hands, panting from adrenaline.

"You beat me." His father spoke slowly but with only a very slight weakness of tone. Ian said nothing.

"I am finished, it seems. There is no surviving a wound like this," he said, resuming a normal speaking pace but adding noticeable pauses between his sentences. "I think that inside, maybe I hoped that this would happen. I wanted you to stand up for yourself. I just wish I didn't have to die for it."

After saying this, Ian noticed his father growing weaker by the second. His breathing slowed, his muscles relaxed, and his eyes began to close. A few seconds later, his father was dead.

Ian wiped the blood off of the blade on a polishing cloth that hung near the weapon's mount before returning it to its scabbard. Just like his family, he wanted to leave his family's prized sword with as little blood as possible. Ian drew his phone from his pocket. He needed to call Tommy before enough realization and emotion set in to paralyze him.

The usual spot was a certain corner inside of a video arcade. The wide room was noisy with teenagers playing the newest video games that were too big for home use. The corner was a convenient location for any sort of secret discussion. The noise made it impossible to be overheard from a distance, and anyone approaching would be spotted before they came too close. Tomoya Shikimori was already waiting when Ian arrived. Ian was thankful that he didn't arrive first; he might stick out if he was fidgeting nervously in the corner by himself.

"Tommy," Ian called out.

"Ian," Tommy said, "what's happened?"

"I need to get away somewhere and hide."

"Hide? Well, I can get you a ticket to Hearth or another Alliance world."

"Hearth isn't good enough. I need a place where the government won't find me, even if it's still on Earth."

"From the government?" Tommy asked confusedly. "Why is the government after you?"

Ian swallowed hard. "I killed my father."

Tommy ran a hand through his hair. "No shit..."

"He was planning a terrorist attack in China‒ something to blame on Hearth and start a war with the Alliance," Ian explained. "I had to kill him; there was no other way. He destroyed all the evidence. There would never have been enough for the police to use until he had already done it."

"Alright, well, I don't think you're here for my sympathy."

"No," Ian said, "I want a solution."

Tommy thought for a few more moments, covering his ears and staring at the floor to lessen the outside distractions of the loud and flashing arcade. "Okay," he said, looking up once more. "Do you know of the planet Garden?"

"Yes," Ian said quickly.

"Well, Garden isn't part of any empire or alliance, and they're not really speaking to either Earth or Hearth. I also know that the nobility there likes taking foreigners as servants, and treats them rather well. This means that a lot of people who need to run away head there. Now, I know a guy in China who has his own spacecraft, and he uses it to smuggle all sorts of things into Jade and Gaia. Garden isn't too far away, and if you pay him enough, I'm sure he will smuggle you into there too. Once you're there, I don't think anyone from Earth will be able to touch you. The government of Garden won't negotiate with them, and the noble families won't want to give up one of their servants. They're weird people, especially when that's their diplomatic policy, but you'll be safe there."

Ian took a deep breath and gave a relieving sigh. Tommy's plan seemed like it would work. "Okay, thanks, man, he said. He spent a moment just looking at his friend. "I think this will be the last time we see each other," he said.

"Hey, don't get romantic on me," Tommy joked.

"Well, anyways, thank you." Ian said before giving Tommy a hug. "I better go and get all my money from the bank before anyone finds my father. I have tickets to buy and strangers to meet."

"Yeah. See you never," Tommy said with a smile.

"See you never," Ian returned.

Ian left the arcade and headed down the street to the bank. He did not think himself a hero for what he did, even though many others would. The choice to kill his father to prevent terrorism may have looked noble from a distance, but Ian felt none of that. But neither did he feel like a murderer. All he knew was that he was a scared boy who needed to run. Not just from the law either. Deep inside himself, Ian knew he was running away for his own reasons as well, although he could not say quite what they were. Hopefully after this, he thought, he could live a life of safety in a mansion on the planet Garden.

"D3V10U50N3"

BY LEAH JACKSON

Some time twelve years ago we met in a yahoo pool game, D3v10u50n3. There was something about his sarcastic attitude that drew me in; perhaps it was just the young, naïve girl in me longing for a friend. Whatever it was, I was hooked. I gave him my email address and we began emailing back and forth. Next we switched to instant messenger and of course we exchanged phone numbers. For these twelve years, we spoke almost daily.

My feelings for him grew with every conversation we had, although most of them were relatively pointless. He would tell me about himself and how his life was going and at the time it wasn't going well, but neither was mine. Perhaps there was a reason we had found each other. He divulged his secrets to me, and I divulged mine to him. Some traumatic things had happened to the both of us, but we had nobody to tell but each other. I was to the point where I would cut myself just as a release to all the stress and the hurt. I wanted to die. But something about him had made me want to keep going, keep pressing on with my life. He began drinking, and heavily at that. He, too, was also a cutter but more extreme than me. Maybe our purpose was to save each other.

The more we spoke, I realized that my life was worth living, and I had quit cutting. He on the other hand only gotten worse. The drinking kept escalating to the point where he was drinking almost a liter of vodka on days when he was really depressed. The cutting became more frequent, and I wasn't sure what to do. We talked about it for days on end, and I told him how much it broke my heart to see him so miserable. I explained that he was my saving grace and that I wanted to do the same for him and finally things began to settle down, the drinking went from a daily thing to maybe once or twice a week and the cutting had ended. I felt great.

After about three years of talking, he confessed that he had fallen for me. I was speechless. I thought I was the only person crazy enough to actually have a crush on someone via the internet. It seemed so strange. I discussed the situation with my parents who were none too happy that I was talking to a stranger from the internet let alone the fact that I had given him my number. Their only real concern about it was what if he was a serial killer? I then had become paranoid, and when we spoke, it was all I could think about. But finally, I stopped caring about it. I figured if he was going to kill me, he probably would have at least made an effort to try to get together with me.

Much to my surprise, about six years into the friendship, we actually discussed the possibility of us hanging out. My fears had then come back, what if we do hang out? Is he going to murder me? Am I going to be raped? What should I expect? He told me that he was going to come here and that he was looking into plane tickets and that he would try to be down within a month but he ended up not being able to come. I was actually disappointed.

Time had passed, and he got a decent paying job and had again said that he was going to come down. This time he had promised. No more than two weeks later, he texted me telling me that he had bought a plane ticket. I was ecstatic. I told my parents who, at this point, weren't really concerned about it. My mother actually considered him part of our family. My parents had seen him on Skype and talked to him via telephone so the worries of him being a killer subsided. He would be arriving at the end of July of 2013. I took off of work as soon as I knew the exact dates, and I began to countdown the days.

The day finally arrived- the one I've been waiting to come for years. I was nervous and excited at the same time. The night prior, I couldn't sleep. I had friends over since I didn't want to go to the airport alone in case anything were to go awry and everyone had gone to bed around midnight, but I had only slept for an hour or two at the most. We were up at the crack of dawn getting ready to leave. My friends were astonished at how beautiful I looked since they had rarely seen me dress up. That was the moment they had realized all of the anxiety and fear that I had been bottling up for weeks. I was paranoid that I didn't look good enough, I couldn't stop talking, I was shaking and I kept asking them the same questions over and over again. What do I do? What do I say? Do I hug him? Do I kiss him? Do I act like this is just another day of the week?

We arrived at the airport about forty-five minutes early, because I refused to be late and had preferred to be early anyways just in case the flight was early. But it was quite the opposite; it had been delayed about fifteen minutes. The closer it was to his arrival, the more anxious I had become. I was pacing around the airport as my friends tried to get me to relax.

The plane landed. I was thrilled and my friends we're as nearly excited as I was. This was the moment we would finally meet. He walked into the airport, and we all said hello and went to retrieve his luggage. He was thin, I didn't know he lost weight, last I knew he weighed two hundred and fifty pounds now he hardly weighed more than me. I hardly recognized him. It was apparent he was nervous, he laughed quietly at nearly everything. It was an awkward greeting, but it wasn't as bad as I had anticipated it to be. We left the airport and walked around parts of Milwaukee; we had talked and laughed for about an hour, then decided it was time we would do something else. We went to a Tibetan museum which had been fascinating. I figured it was something he'd be into, and I was right. After the museum we went for lunch and drove around, it was relatively quiet.

When we finally got back to my place and the friends who had accompanied me on my trip had left, he was more at ease which was to be expected. He finally met my parents who had been eagerly waiting for our arrival. After all was said and done, I took him to the place where he would be staying which was a bed and breakfast near downtown. He had dropped off all of his belongings and we had gone back to my place. We sat around watching movies and just talking when another friend of mine, Samantha, showed up. We decided that we would take him to Frostie Freeze and then around town. We had played the same repetitive country songs until he finally started to sing along. Then we took him back to the bed and breakfast.

The next morning, I picked him up and we went to McDonald's for breakfast. Then we went back to my house for a bit and watched a movie. We had then decided we would go to the mall because we truly had nothing better to do. He had been amazed at how cheap everything was here compared to where he lived, a rich suburb in Canada. After mindlessly wasting the day, Sam came back over and had suggested that we go four wheeling. We did just that. My friend, he had never been on one and was not too thrilled with the idea. Reluctantly, he went and much to his surprise had a blast. So much so that Sam and I could not get him to stop driving around.

For most of the week we had done the same exact things since there isn't much to do in the area besides get wasted. We did go out to the bar one night with some of my friends who had wanted to meet him. The night after we had gone out to the bar, had been a beautiful one. A sky full of stars and no clouds didn't get to much better than that. So we had sat out on my deck and talked and he told me that he loved me. I was shocked. Me, being the emotionless person I am, didn't know how to respond. I knew exactly how I felt in my heart, but I just couldn't vocalize how I had felt. I didn't say anything except to acknowledge the fact I heard everything he had said. Then he asked me how I had felt about him. I simply replied "you know, I don't really talk about my emotions." I could tell that he had been hurt by what I said and there was an awkward silence before he said that he was tired and wanted to go to bed. I could not have hated myself more at that moment.

The next day was the day he had to go back home. I felt miserable. I wasn't ready for the week to end, and I had been regretting not saying that I loved him. We got to the airport and said our good-byes, hugged and he was on his way. Tears filled my eyes as he had walked away. How could I have been so stupid? Why didn't I say anything before he walked away? Maybe at heart I was still that young naïve girl.

He has texted me once he had arrived home saying that he made the trip safely and that he was glad to spend the week here. After months had passed we were beginning to talk less and less. After a while I had asked how come we didn't speak as much, and he told me about how he was really hurt about the night he had confessed his feelings to me, and I didn't respond. I understood. I apologized and explained something I never told anyone. He felt guilty for being upset about the situation after hearing this, and we had been speaking more frequently again. But this only lasted a short while until he had completely stopped talking to me again.

I have accepted the fact that we no longer speak, although it still hurts me every day because of all the regret I carry I feel like I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. So now, Aman is again just D3V10U50N3.

Poetry by Jeremy Brooks

Every night,

I run away.

I run outside.

I never pack any bags.

I run to downtown Chicago.

Nobody ever knows that I left,

I run to Cairo.

There's no need for a jacket.

I run across oceans.

I'm weightless.

I run to the sun.

I'm finally free.

I run into war.

I've never felt more at peace.

And after a long night of running, I close my eyes and

wake up.

Heroes fight wars with a sword, and

I write poems with a pen, but

while they use their tool to slice everybody else open;

I only use mine to open myself.

I guess I've never donated blood before, but

I would like to pretend that

my thoughts are my veins-

the ink swimming through the pen is

my blood rushing through an I.V.-

this journal is a plastic bag labeled "Type 'O'"-

because;

the words inside are as selfless as

Gandhi, and I would

love if they

could help

anybody.

I know we just met tonight but,

baby,

let me show you how to love me.

Forget taking off your clothes,

I'd rather fondle your phrases between my ears

than your breasts between my fingers.

And I'll have you know that the man in me wants to seal the gap between your

lips with my own, but

the poet in me wants to pray that they stay open and moving for as long as possible.

The way you talk to me has my mind

throbbing,

aching to be pleased, to

explode and

release a load of

creativity.

Now baby,

I'm not with you to make you moan

no-

I want you to speak a different kind of English to me,

the kind where you scream "Oh" when it's simply another vowel in another word in your poem,

and the circle that your lips become when you use those vowels can make me

shiver in pleasure without being around my

dick.

And I might be a pro at unhinging bra straps but with you

I'd rather unhinge mind straps,

so that the padded holster over the bosom of your thoughts can come loose and

I can stare in awe at what falls out.

You are so beautiful.

Don't ruin it by shoving a polaroid of your naked self with untamed hair into my pocket "for later",

I'd rather have a crumpled up piece of lined paper with your naked ideas jotted down in untamed ink.

And I hope we'll go on a second date and I can take you out to dinner at the nicest place,

But,

when I walk you to your front door and you invite me in,

just remember: if you want to pretend, we can simply have sex

but if you want real love

you can fuck me with your words.

I should not have taken it with you.

The tabs that melted our tongues and made us come unglued.

When the trains to outer space stopped in my backyard, we both boarded.

Our eyes were massive black- lenses from which all your feelings were recorded.

We visited different planets that day

and when our trains came to pick us up, you decided to stay.

I miss you so much, I really do.

I should not have taken it with you.

I've decided that it was stupid of me to think of you as a fallen star-

that you are actually a flower and that's exactly what you've been.

Why? -you might ask

Because people think flowers are beautiful.

Because flowers are either visited by bees and wasps with stingers, or by flittering butterflies-

but either way they are only visited briefly, and then they are alone again;

beautiful, and confused.

And most of all because I love flowers, I truly do.

And you are my favorite flower. And if I found you along the sidewalk outside of my heart, I would never dream to seperate your roots from the earth.

"The curtains that divide us"

by heather barker

______________________
PART I

"Annie?" a tiny whisper came from the bed next to her. "Annie, are you awake?" Annie rolled over to face Tommy.

"I am now, what's the matter?" She tried to adjust her eyes to the darkness surrounding them. A tiny silver slit of light peeked through a hole in the makeshift curtain over the window. It was an old flame-retardant blanket nailed to the window frame. During the day you could see the cloth had stains and wear and tear, but at night it did the room justice by keeping the majority of the gleam of the street light not more than six feet from their bedroom window at bay.

"I thought I heard something. Did you hear it? I think there's a monster," Tommy uttered. His hot breath wrapped her face and she winced.

"Tommy, there's no such thing as monsters, remember?" She buried her face into the pillow and closed her eyes shut.

"But Annie, I heard something!"

She knew he wasn't going to go back to sleep unless she investigated, which meant she wasn't going to get any either. Best to at least put on a show and pretend to check, hopefully reassuring her little brother that everything really was alright.

"Alright Tommy. I'll go look. You stay here and don't you worry. Let's make a bet," she spoke quietly as she sat up and pulled her pant leg down. The pants were too short on her to begin with, as was the case for most all of her clothing. If it wasn't too tight or too short, then it was too big or too long.

"If I find any monsters, we'll eat chocolate donuts for breakfast in the morning." By now, her eyes had adjusted just enough to the shadows and could clearly see her six year old brother's eyes widen and a smile spread across his cheeks.

"But if I don't find any monsters and I get up for no reason, you have to wash the breakfast dishes. I know how much you hate washing dishes." At this, the smile disappeared.

"Do you still want me to go look for that monster?" She knew there was only a tiny chance he'd actually change his mind, but she wanted sleep so badly, it was worth the shot.

As luck would have it, the sound of breaking glass came from outside just then. Tommy nodded his head instantaneously and brought the thin sheet up to his chin as if to protect him. She sighed heavily as she stood up. She knew the sound likely came from some crocked patron from the bar below their apartment; such things weren't exactly uncommon during the night.

Still, she knew she had to reassure Tommy if either of them were to be expected to get up and ready for school on time. The digital read-out of the clock that sat on a milk crate next to the bed they shared revealed that it was 2:48 in the morning. She didn't understand why they referred to it as morning; it was clearly dark outside. But such things weren't really worth her curiosity. Right now, she had a job to do. 'Annie to the rescue,' she thought to herself. She walked to the window and pulled the blanket to the side to take a look out at the street outside their bedroom. Their apartment resided on the intersection of a busy street with a concrete divider and another not-so-busy street that lead into a more residential area of town.

Down below she could see a couple embraced against the brick building that shaped their home. They were oblivious to her watchful eye, doubly confirmed when the man's hand pulled down the woman's blouse, revealing a dark lace bra. The man bent down and nuzzled the woman's breasts, groping and feeling her up and down. The woman's head fell back in ecstasy; her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure.

"Do you see anything?" The question from behind her jolted Annie back to the moment.

She quickly let go of the blanket and let it fall back into place, hiding the couple from her view. Their actions remained fixed in her memory though, and she blushed in embarrassment. She knew she shouldn't have spied on the two; she was much too young to understand. Even still, she'd seen far too many similar situations already in just the eleven years of her life. Shaking her head she paced towards the door of their bedroom.

"No monsters out there. Let me check this way." She reached for the brass doorknob, glanced back at her little brother.

"Stay here and stay quiet. We don't want to wake up Mom." He nodded and lay back down.

She took quick inspection of the rest of their tiny apartment. The floors creaked below her feet and she felt the dust and sand catch on her bare feet. In the kitchen she could hear the hum of the refrigerator and the plop-plop-plop sound of the leaking faucet. On the counter there were several glass bottles ranging in size and color, some half full, some empty, scattered around empty glasses. One glass had the red imprint of lips along the rim, likely her mother's. Annie sighed.

Her mother had friends over the night before and forgotten to clean up after herself, another frequent occurrence. She put the half full bottles in the freezer and the empty ones in the large black trash bag in the corner that served as their garbage. They never had an actual trash can, just these giant black bags. One day, when she was old enough to have her own house, Annie thought to herself, she'd have a trash can. And curtains. And nightstands and dressers and her own bed. A queen sized bed with a thick white comforter, maybe even one filled with feathers. She'd never touched one, but she imagined they were divine.

In the living room she found a man sleeping on the orange couch that took up almost an entire wall of the room. She didn't recognize him, or at least she didn't think so. There wasn't much light for her to see with, so it was hard to tell. He snored loudly, with each breath he made, there was such a long pause before letting it back out. So long, that Annie was convinced that at any moment, he might actually stop breathing and die right there on their couch.

She took another step into the room, causing the floor to release a loud squeal, protesting her weight. The man jerked his leg out and Annie ran out of the room. She did not want to wake this stranger... she knew that not everyone woke up friendly. She silently crept back down the hallway, passed the bedroom she shared with her brother and peered into her mom's room.

Her mother had one of those lava lamps, the ones where when left on long enough, neon green bubbles would float from the bottom to the top in this yellowish liquid, then they would fall back to the bottom, where the bubble would liquefy and regroup, then repeat the cycle. The light from the lamp gave the room a dull lime green glow. Her mother lay in bed, fast asleep, with another man Annie was positive she had never seen before. Men didn't seem to stick around here.

Her mom often exclaimed that had she never had children, she'd be able to find a good man worth keeping around. But alas, Annie and Tommy were bloodsuckers and sucked all the fun out of their mother's life. Annie didn't care much that the men didn't stick around. They weren't usually that nice anyways. They yelled at her and her brother all too often, or they simply pretended they weren't there. There were a few nice ones in the past.

One guy, Nick, would bring them new movies to watch on the television. He'd play cards with them and tell Tommy jokes. He told them he loved them, especially Annie. He told Annie that she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, and if she acted just right and could keep a secret, he'd show her what love really was. What it was like to be a woman. But he stopped coming around one day after their mom came home and found Nick locked in her bedroom with Annie.

Annie didn't understand what the big deal was. It was the first time a man told her he loved her. She blamed her mom for being jealous because he loved her more. When the cops came to talk to Annie about it, she kept her word and didn't tell them anything. She knew that if she told them their secret, he would never love her again.

Annie turned back towards her bedroom. When she came back to bed, Tommy had already fallen back to sleep. She crawled into the bed next to him, careful not to wake him. She grabbed the corner of the sheet and tried to pull it over herself. She realized Tommy had completely wrapped himself in it; if she tried to pry it from him so she could have some for herself, she would wake him again. So she turned back over, stared at the hole in the blanket covering the window and thought of the two lovers she had seen below. That night she dreamed of growing up and having a husband like Nick and her own two children. They would love each other and have a house that felt like home. They would have a yard outside and not a parking lot. They would have trash cans and real curtains.

______________________
PART II

"I'll be home by six. The Shedlocks and Mr. McCartney should be arriving shortly afterwards. Have our best bottle of Shiraz ready." Richard's smooth voice rang through the receiver. "You should put

on that black dress I brought you last week? The one with the long sleeves?"

"Yes. Everything will be ready. Don't worry Hun, I won't disappoint you." Anne anxiously glanced at the clock on the overhead microwave. She had three more hours to work with. "Anything else?"

"No, that'll be all. I'll see you at six. Do not forget how important this dinner is. I need this deal."

Click.

Anne set the phone back in its cradle and washed her hands to prep dinner. Everything was going to be alright. She had everything planned out and would not let her husband down. She couldn't. Get dinner started, clean, freshen herself up, and set the table. Simple enough. She opened the cabinet closest to the oven to remove a large sauté pan and set it on the stovetop. She then pulled out her measuring cups and spoons from the utensil drawer and placed those on the large marble countertop she had to work with. Blowing a stray piece of hair out of her eyes she glanced around her kitchen. It really was a lovely space.

The room was designed with rich, warm tones that gave easy elegance and clean lines. The cabinetry was made of a beautiful English Yew, similar in color to American Cherry. Butt-board paneling on the walls gave the room a signature look for the low-country style she and her husband wanted and the cabinetry's flat panel door style blended right in. A 48" range took the center stage beneath the mantle while the Sub Zero refrigerator was set back into paneling. Symmetrical doors to the left and right of the refrigerator opened to either the walk-in pantry or the laundry room. In the center of the room was an island painted the color of antique linen white that kept the room feeling light and airy. Counter-height bar stools made of rich brown leather complete the kitchen design and added a welcoming feeling, though she had no friends or family of her own to share the space with.

Getting back to the task at hand, Anne gathered the ingredients she needed for the stuffed lobster she was baking for tonight's big dinner. She began to melt the butter in the sauté pan and added the shallots over a medium heat until they began to soften. She added the garlic and the sherry and let it simmer for a minute or so before removing from the heat. She added the crabmeat, crumbs and seasoning. She turned the dial on the oven to 350˚F so that it could preheat while she prepared the rest of the lobster. After carefully selecting a large knife, she placed the lobsters on a cutting board and split them in half, removing the sand sac from the head and the black intestinal vein. She took off the claw bands and cracked the claws with a cooking hammer and placed the lobsters on a large baking sheet and sprinkled the stuffing mixture from the sauté pan over the tail and bodies then finished them off by drizzling with melted butter. She opened the oven, careful to avoid the blast of heat that escaped, and delicately placed the baking sheet on the center rack. She set the timer on the oven for thirty minutes and washed her hands in the deep sink.

Anne let out a deep sigh, glancing back at the microwave's clock. Two hours left. Time to walk through and make sure the house was in the most presentable state possible. Any sign of dust or something out of its place would be noticed by Richard, and she could not afford to take that chance. The living room had a contemporary yet comfortable feel to it. Two long lush gray couches sat on either side of the room facing each other, separated only by a large chic glass coffee table. The table displayed a large vase of roses that complemented the two burgundy arm chairs that took up the far wall. Anne always kept a fresh copy of The New York Times and a small variety of business magazines for her husband's reading pleasures. She checked the glass to make sure there were no prints or streaks or any imperfections. Behind the two arm chairs were built in shelving units that housed a variety of knick-knacks and family photos. The largest photo was of her and Richard on their wedding day, nearly seven years ago.

He had been a loving man then. She and he had met the year prior at Aspen Marketing. She had been interning for a position with the company, hoping that someday she would make it to creative director. Richard had been the company's advertising campaign manager, having been there for three years already. She occasionally had to sit in on meetings and had caught Richard's eye. Richard used to tell her that seeing her in the offices brightened his days and made each workday worthwhile. She fell in love with him almost instantly. He made her feel like the most beautiful woman alive and would shower her with attention and gifts – far from the lifestyle she had growing up. She no longer had to work and instead could spend her days doing whatever it was that pleased her. Richard claimed it wasn't right of him to expect her to work when it was his responsibility to care for them.

The first hit had come eight months into their marriage. Her brother Tommy had gotten into a horrible car accident. He had been drinking and had crashed his car into a traffic post, practically wrapping the entire front end around the post. Anne wanted to help her brother get better medical treatment since he had no insurance at the time, but Richard said that it was Tommy's own fault he hadn't taken better care of himself and his actions. When Anne protested, claiming that it was hardly his fault considering the way the two of them were raised, Richard had slapped her clear across the face.

"Your brother is a good for nothing drunk that will never rise to become anything. You grew up in the same circumstances, and look at you! You managed to snag me, ME of all people! Don't you dare compare yourself to that worthless little shit!"

Anne grabbed the small framed photo of her and Tommy from the shelf before her. It was her graduation day from The Illinois Institute of Art. Tears threatened to spill as she studied her brother's smile. He had been the only family she had left at the time and had been the only person at her ceremony. Their mother had died when Anne was nineteen, Tommy only fourteen. They never knew their father or any other extended family, if they had one. Anne had to work two jobs and go to school on scholarship just to make ends meet. Tommy eventually moved out when he was seventeen, claiming he was only dragging her down to support him. Eventually, he had started to go down the same path of their mother – drinking, fighting, drugs, and he never once tried to settle down with a woman. Anne had often wondered how they ended up so different. But she had Richard to thank for most of that. She had everything she could ever dream of, right here with him. Things weren't perfect, but she couldn't imagine a life without him.

She placed the photo back on the shelf, while thoughts of where her brother was then rolled through the back of her mind. Most of the other photos depicted her and Richard's lavish lifestyle – vacations in Italy, Bahamas, France, and even Japan. To any outsider, they appeared to be the happiest couple of all time, one who had it all. There were a few photos of Richard's family. In one silver frame was a portrait of his mother and father who had died before she had met him. Richard had told her that his father had abused him and his mother when he was a child, which Anne had long since realized was likely why he had problems expressing his own anger. The difference, Richard explained to her, was that his father never felt sorrow for what he had done to them, whereas he was a better man because he did. He explained he was never taught how to properly deal with his anger and it was a natural reaction, one that he was going to fix someday. She had faith that he could and would become a better man – he succeeded at everything else. He just needed time and support and she would help him overcome this obstacle.

Realizing she was getting carried away with reminiscing the past, she did a quick dust job of the shelves. She lit a few rose scented candles to give the room a fresh floral aroma that would appeal to her husband's tastes. She pulled the rich burgundy curtains back and pulled the blinds up to allow the natural light from outside to shine in. They really were quite lovely curtains. Far from what she ever had in any of the homes she grew up in. Richard preferred the curtains be drawn at all times though, claiming they needn't give their neighbors any reason to gossip about how they spent their days in the house. Really, she knew it was because he feared someone might be watching when she messed up or angered him and he couldn't control his reaction. But on special occasions like this, she knew he liked them open. It did make their home all the more welcoming. As she drew the blinds of the last window, she glanced peered through at the surrounding neighborhood.

They lived in a suburb just outside Chicago, on a cul-de-sac with other large family homes, similar to theirs. The difference was those homes were filled with families. It was only Richard and her sharing this large house. There were several bedrooms, currently being served as guest rooms as they had no children. She had always imagined having two children, a boy and a girl. She didn't know if she were ever going to be lucky enough to have children now though, the timing had never seemed right, Richard said. He was too busy with work and thought that having children would only complicate their marriage. Anne had long ago quit taking her birth control hoping that if she surprised him with the news of her carrying it would change his mind. She didn't think of him as a cruel enough to have her end the pregnancy and he and her would just make the best of the circumstances. After all, she wouldn't need too much of his time being as she would focus on doing all the heavy parenting necessary, requiring only his love and support. But even that didn't seem likely; they hadn't had many intimate encounters that could result in pregnancy. He worked late most nights, coming to bed long after she had fallen asleep and would wake and leave for work early. Work was the most important thing in Richard's life, and she had to constantly remind herself it was for the best, so that they could continue to live the way they did.

Anne watched as a car pulled into the driveway across the street. The Garrison's, she thought was their name. They were one of the smaller families in the neighborhood – wife, husband, and two boys, both under the age of ten she supposed. She didn't know them well; she didn't know any of their neighbors very well as she kept to herself most of the time. A man got out of the car, opened the back door and leaned in, withdrawing a bouquet of what appeared to be white lilies. As he approached the front door of the home, a woman opened the door and greeted him by throwing her arms around him. Just then a dog ran out from behind the woman, with one of the boys trailing right behind him. The husband laughed and called to the boy and dog, and they all returned inside, kissing the woman on the forehead as they went in. Anne smiled. That could be her and Richard someday.

A buzz came from the kitchen to her right.

"Shit! The lobster!" Anne rushed into the kitchen and flung the oven door open.

"Thank the heavens!" The lobster was fine, almost baked to perfection. She lowered the temp on the oven to keep it warm while she finished getting ready. Glancing at that clock, she realized she only had about forty minutes left to finish up. Where had the time gone? She rushed up the stairs to their bedroom and into their closet to search for the dress Richard had requested. She found the black dinner dress and laid it upon their bed. She then quickly showered and dried her hair, pulling it all into a long braid down her back. Richard liked it like that. She sat on the white duvet filled with down that covered their bed and pulled sheer stockings up her legs. She stood and watched herself in the mirror as she stepped into the little black dress. She could see bruises on her upper arms from the other night where Richard had grabbed her too tightly. She had forgotten to change the timer on the sprinklers in their front yard to accommodate his coming home later than usual. When he had gotten home, he had just barely gotten out of the car when they went off, nearly soaking him and his briefcase.

This must have been why he had requested this specific dress. Of course she couldn't host a dinner for her husband's potential business partners whilst having bruises of that nature scattered along her arms. They would ask questions, and it would embarrass Richard. Zipping the dress up she sat at the vanity in their room and rummaged through her jewelry collection to find something appropriate for tonight's occasion. She worried about whether or not she'd pick out something too flashy or too simple. She finally settled on a pair of tear-drop diamond earrings and a matching necklace, hoping her choice would please her husband. She gathered her heels and carried them downstairs with her, leaving them in the kitchen until she had to put them on.

Anne quickly set the dining room table, using their fine china and best wine glasses. She even brought the vase of roses from the living room and placed them in the center of the table, giving the setting a more formal feel. Just as she was looking through the wine rack for the Shiraz Richard had requested she heard the front door open and her husband call out her name.

"I'm in the kitchen! How was your day?" Anne called out.

Richard came into the kitchen a few moments later, loosening up his tie.

"Hey Babe. Smells good in here. Work was, well, work. You remember me telling you about that Johnson girl that we just transferred in from Milwaukee? She's going to be the death of me, I tell ya." He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a cold Diet-Coke from within, cracking it open and downing nearly half the can at once.

"Why do you say that?" Anne asked, still searching for the wine, "Hey, do you if the Shiraz is in the basement?"

"Shiraz? Didn't you make lobster? Come on Babe, you know better. You shouldn't serve a red wine with lobster, pick a white. Do we still have that bottle of Peter Michael chardonnay?" Richard set the soda down on the counter and peered into the oven. "And you should probably take this out before it burns. I won't be able to impress these guys if they're too busy wondering why they're eating burnt lobster."  
Anne grabbed the bottle of chardonnay he mentioned, deciding it best not to mention he was the one who had requested the Shiraz when he knew she was making lobster. Just be thankful you couldn't find the Shiraz, otherwise it might have been too late. She placed the bottle in a wine bucket and added ice from the dispenser to chill the bottle.

"Anyways, you were saying? The Johnson girl?"

"Ah, yes, Margo. Margo Johnson. I'm pretty sure she's after my title. I'll be damned if I let some young thing, a woman at that, come in and take my job! Who does she think she is anyways? God, the things I have to put up with at Aspen. You, my dear, have it made. You don't have to deal with these fools who come in fresh out of college thinking they own the place. The audacity of some people..."

Anne slid her shoes on and began bringing the food to the table in the other room. He continued his conversation right up until their guests had arrived. The dinner went flawlessly, the food was delicious, and the house was immaculate. Yet, Anne couldn't help but stare out the window, past those beautiful burgundy curtains, at the house across the street. The Garrison's house. She could make out blurry forms of the family through their open curtains. They were likely getting ready for a dinner shared together where they would laugh and joke and talk about how each of their days went. Someday, that would be her and Richard, and hopefully a child or two. Then things would be perfect. And they would always leave the curtains and blinds open. The neighbors would know they were the perfect family. Someday.

______________________
PART III

No one can predict the moment of death. Throughout life, Anne had often imagined she'd die of old age. Never had she thought she'd be living in some low run hospice facility at the age of forty-three, dying of acute renal failure. Yet, here she was. She knew any day now could be her last – she would take her last labored breath, exhale, and cease to take another. Hell, she nearly embraced the thought of dying. It would put an end to her misery. She would feel no more pain. No more dehydration. No more disorientation. Just – no more.

She had been living at the Seasons Hospice and Palliative Care center for almost two years now. It was the cheapest, most poorly staffed center in the area, but it was all she could manage to afford on the miserable amount of alimony she received from Richard after their divorce seven years ago. She hadn't lived in much better conditions prior to her diagnosis, and then even worse conditions while she began dialysis. When she began losing the ability to care for herself, she had no other choices but to move to a hospice center. At that point, she still had hope. Not much, but some. How had she gotten here? Why her? Why now?

She had been diagnosed with kidney failure four years ago after repeat visits to the doctor due to frequent kidney stone recurrences. She was only thirty-nine years old. The doctors had told her that the damage to her kidneys likely began because of the amount of physical abuse she had endured during her marriage to Richard, and had urged her to take legal action to compensate for the medical and emotional distress the abuse had since caused her. She refused, knowing Richard would fight to the end to keep his name clean and deny this part of their history together. And she knew people would believe him. No one would ever know what kind of man Richard truly was.

Anne didn't know if Richard even knew what sort of condition she was currently in. He had cut all ties to her completely after the divorce. She had been sitting at the couch in their living room, watching some primetime network drama when Richard came home from work. He hadn't said a word to her when she asked him how his day had been at work. It was unusual for him to be home so early, but she was hopeful it meant they could finally spend some time together. She had followed him up the stairs and found him in their walk-in closet attached to their bedroom. He pulled two suitcases off of the top shelf, walked out of the closet, placed them on the bed and opened them, and returned to the closet. Anne, confused, had asked him what was the matter, if he had a last minute business trip again or something of that nature. Those had become regular conditions of his job; he was often gone for a week or so at a time.

"No, Anne. I'm not going anywhere. It's you who's leaving." She remembered how cold he sounded. He had begun throwing clothes of hers into the suitcases. She begged him to explain himself but he said no more. He called a taxi and twenty-eight minutes later she was gone, no idea what was going on.

She had used their joint account to pay for a hotel for the first few nights, but on the fifth night, the man working the front desk explained to her that none of her cards would go through. Richard had cut her off. The kind man handed her an envelope, apologetically stating that another gentleman had dropped it off earlier that day and had informed the hotel that the cards were no longer valid. She had opened the envelope right there. It contained divorce papers and a brief letter from Richard himself.

"I am so sorry things have come to this point. I realize this might come to a shock to you, but I am no longer happy with our marriage. I believe it is within both our best interests to admit that our marriage has failed and we no longer love each other. We are no longer what the other desires or needs in life if we each wish to remain happy and have prosperous lives. Neither of us needs to waste another year, we've wasted twelve already."

She had sat in the hotel lobby, reading those four lines over and over until the concierge told her that unless she had another form of payment and had intentions of remaining at their establishment, she would need to leave the property. She had spent the next several weeks at a homeless shelter where a kind heavy set African American woman, Janelle, tried to help her locate Tommy, her brother. She hadn't spoken to him in nearly three years, but she knew he wouldn't have his only sister living on the streets if he could help it. Weeks had gone by without any progress when finally the woman had regrettably informed her that he has passed away only six months before then due to a drug overdose. Tommy had only been thirty-one years old. Anne was broken. She had no one in life. Not a single friend or family member she could call upon to help her. Because of her relationship with Richard, she had never felt comfortable having close friends, afraid that someone would someday catch on to the physical abuse and she would lose everything.

Janelle eventually helped Anne find work at a small café not too far from the shelter. It didn't pay much, but once the alimony started coming in after the divorce was finalized, she was able to afford a tiny efficiency apartment to call her own. She picked up another job at an Italian restaurant and soon that became her life. Work, home, nap, work, home, sleep, work, home, nap... so on so forth. Since she was the oldest employee at both her jobs – besides her bosses whom rarely came in – she didn't make any close friends. But for her, that was alright. She was struggling to keep herself out of depression or to trust anyone after what had happened with Richard. That was the way things had continued for nearly three years. Up until she was diagnosed.

Anne would lose energy quickly, becoming sleepy and lethargic and finding it difficult to sleep at night. This caused her to lose her job at the café because she could barely perform the simple tasks she was responsible for. Her boss at the Italian restaurant was a bit more understanding, but had no choice but to give her shorter shifts and fewer hours per week. When a year had passed, Anne began having hallucinations which caused disorientation and confusion on a daily basis. Her doctors started her on dialysis in hopes that it would reduce the amount of waste buildup in her blood since her kidneys could no longer work properly. She had surgery to enlarge a blood vessel in her arm so that a catheter could easily be inserted for the hemodialysis process. For three to four hours each week she would be hooked up to machine that filtered out the waste product and returned the blood via another catheter. She took handfuls of medications multiple times per day. And yet, progress was slow coming. Each treatment got harder and harder.

Anne had moved into the hospice center shortly after quitting her job at the Italian restaurant because she was not able to complete her duties, let alone take care of herself. Since moving, she had no appetite at all. The nurses would fight for her to eat, but Anne had resisted and refused – swallowing was unbearable. Because she was so weak, she rarely ever came out of bed. She slept the majority of the day and night as her metabolism slowed down and the she became prone to dehydration often. Breathing had become raggedy. There would be a loud, deep inhalation – followed by a pause that would sometimes last up to a minute – and finally a slow exhalation. On top of that, she had an increased amount of phlegm, adding even more stress to her breathing. She began to lose bladder control and had to have a catheter inserted so that she would have fewer accidents.

Occasionally, the nurses would have to move her so they could change the bedding. They would place her in a mauve chair that sat next to the only window that occupied her room. The window was quite large, covered by white blinds and a generic floral patterned curtain. Each time the nurses move her to the chair, they would try to open the curtain as to allow Anne to watch whatever activity took place outside. At first, Anne enjoyed sitting in that chair, watching the birds flock together and the squirrels play with one another in the small courtyard that was just outside her room.

But soon, the scenery only brought on further depression. Some of the other patients were well enough they could take strolls outside or have visitors who would sit and have picnics at the few tables provided. This made Anne feel lonelier than she ever had ever felt in her lifetime. She had no visitors. She had no friends. She had no family. Hell, even the nurses around the hospice center came and went, so there was never a familiar face. Anne despised the window. Almost a year had gone by since she had last allowed the nurses to open the curtains. She didn't need a constant reminder of how horribly wrong her life had gone. She just wanted to pass a long, move on to another life. She no longer dreamt about her future and how it could be. Instead she was haunted by the past.

As Anne sat there, she stared at the curtains. Every time she studied them, she swore she discovered a new flower she hadn't before. Today, she noticed a small pink budded rose just along the edge of the curtain. It seemed to bloom in direction of the sunshine trying its hardest to shine in through the edge of the window where the curtain didn't quite fit to fully close out the light. As she admired the rose for some time, a nurse came in to let her know it was time for her to be moved back to her bed. Anne made eye contact with the nurse, the first time in months. She managed to mumble something that sounded similar to the word 'please' and pointed to the curtain.

The nurse, clearly shocked, smiled and brushed her hands on her jersey knit pants. "Well of course! And here I thought you would never see the light of day again!"

Anne knew it was time. The nurse pulled back the curtains, and a bright ray of sunshine immediately flooded the room with light. Anne smiled, closed her eyes, and let the warmth embrace her. She took her last breath... In. And out.

______________________

THE END

IN ITS OWN SWEET TIME

by Becca Tracey

Verse 1:

She said, Grandma

I've been waiting for what seems

Like forever

And it feels like

I'll never

Have a boy who can

Call me his own

Oh, Grandma

I keep going to all

My girlfriends' weddings

And no boy has asked me

To take his name

Oh, Grandma

Her grandma said

Chorus:

Honey child, it'll happen

In its own sweet time

Ain't gonna happen

A Day before

Ain't gonna happen

By you prayin more

Honey child, it'll happen

In its own sweet time

Verse 2:

Grandma looked at her and said

Honey child, I'll tell you it'll happen

When it'll happen

I wish I had a better answer for you

But sometimes the best things

Are the things that you don't plan

Oh honey child, it'll happen

When it's supposed to

Just trust that is its own sweet time

It'll happen, honey child

In its own sweet time

*Chorus

Verse 3:

Grandma said, you know some

Get love sooner than others

Then they wish that it didn't happen

Quite so fast

And here you

You are longing for it and

When it finally comes maybe

That'll help you make it last

Oh sometimes it'll feel like

You're waiting forever

Oh sometimes it'll feel like it will never come

Honey child, it'll come when

You least expect it

It's gonna happen

In its own sweet time

*Chorus
Off my drugs

by Becca Tracey

Verse 1:

I wanna have your baby

I take pills to help me be less crazy

And I'm scared because if I wanna have your baby I can't be on all my drugs

Chorus:

Would you hold my hand

So I can go off these drugs I take

I might be a different woman than the one you fell in love with

Could you stand the me

That gets crazy

Having part of you

Growing in me might help me stay sane

Would you still love me

Even if you had to hold

The part of me that's crazy

Verse 2:

My doctor told me

Pregnancy might keep me from losing my mind

But I'm still scared because I've been out of control at times

*Chorus

Verse 3:

Before you and me

I almost died doing some dangerous things you see

And I'm worried what if I fell again into madness or despair

Bridge:

I want a healthy baby more than anything I wanted before and I'll try to be strong but I don't want to do it alone

*Chorus

painting her dreams

by Becca Tracey

Verse 1:

She was down

She could barely eat

All she wanted to do was sleep

People talked she hardly heard

What they said

Her heart was heavy

Her muscles ached

And she knew

She didn't want to feel that way

She tried to think and asked herself

When was the last time I felt happy and free

She thought back until she was in high school

In art class

And she was painting

Painting her dreams

Verse 2:

She was painting shimmering snow

And glistening waters

She was painting flowers

And green grass

She was painting smiling children

And fruit that was too good to eat

On the table with flowers

And she was painting

Painting her dreams

Verse 3:

Other times she painted black on the canvas

And she painted purple and brown

And baby blue

She painted any color that came into

her mind and got it out there for all to see

Oh she was painting

Painting her dreams

Verse 4:

So she got paints and a canvas out

She felt better and she let her emotions

Out on the canvas

And she said I never want to put my paints away

No I never want to put my paints away again

Cause she was painting her dreams

Out on the canvas

Painting what she saw

Out on the canvas

Oh she was painting

Painting her dreams

The sun and the moon

by Leeann Severson

The sun

And the moon

The moon

And the sun

Two hearts

That beat as one

Torn apart

By time and space

They'll never be

Face to face

Bodies dancing in the sky

Torn by the day and the night

They cast their lights

On their faces

Fastened in

To their places

The moon

And the sun

The sun

And the moon

They'll never be

They'll never be

They'll never be

But they'll wait

Patiently

Patiently

Bodies dancing in the sky

Torn by the day and the night

They cast their lights

On their faces

Fastened in

To their places

Cast their lights

On their faces

Fastened in

To their places

Cast their lights

On their faces

Fastened in

To their places

You and I

Dancing in the sky

The moon

And the sun

The sun

And the moon
THE CAGE

BY LEEANN SEVERSON

Your hands

Your hands

They open

All that was closed before

Your hands

Your hands

They're knocking

Knocking on my door

Your feet

Your feet

Walk on

Mysteries of war

Your feet

Your feet

They're treading

Softly on my floor

Your finger-tips

Brush

The hair 'round my

Neck

Your finger-tips

They break

The bones inside my chest

The cage has been opened

And you control the fate

Of all that lies within

My heart

My heart

It's lying

Lying on the ground

But your ears

Your ears

Don't like it

When they hear that pumping sound

The cage has been opened

And you control the fate

Of all that lies within

So don't let me down

So don't let me down
THE FLARE

BY LEEANN SEVERSON

Do you believe in ghosts?

I'll tell you that I most

Certainly do not

Though God knows that I have tried

I've been charged with the homicide

Of the person I dream to be

So when I'm on the stand

And I raise my right hand

And swear on the Bible and God so help me

Should I tell the truth?

I'll continue this confession

Of my long lived depression

Though God knows it all too well

I have quite the obsession

I'm possessed by my possessions

But not so much that you could tell

So when I'm on the stand

And I raise my right hand

And swear on the Bible and God so help me

Should I tell the truth?

Should I tell them what I've done,

Pick up my pieces and run

Should I tell the truth

Should I tell the truth?

Temporary

I'll tattoo it on my forehead

So I won't lose and I won't forget

Who I am inside

The numbers on your back

Don't mean that you'll go far

You can wear a thousand jerseys

And still not know who you are

Oh the time of our lives

Will slip by before we know it

Oh the time of our lives

Is slipping by

And we don't notice

The time of our lives

Will slip by before we know it

The time of our lives

Is passing by and we don't notice

I'll tattoo it on my forehead

So I won't lose and I won't forget

Who I am inside

The money that you've made

Doesn't mean that you've gone far

You could spend a million dollars

And have no clue who you are

Leeann Severson's songs can be downloaded for free at the following web addresses:

 https://soundcloud.com/leeann-severson/the-cage-original

 https://soundcloud.com/leeann-severson/sun-and-the-moon-original-take

https://soundcloud.com/leeann-severson/flare-original

non-fiction by emily polglaze

When you're 18, you're supposed to feel like an adult with the world ahead of you right? And you go off to college, start your own life and become an independent person, isn't that the way? Well what happens when your plans don't work out and you're only left with one option: moving back home?

My college experience started out as more of a nightmare than anything. Less than 24 hours after moving in, I was calling my parents telling them how lost I felt, and that despite my feeling like an idiot for thinking so, I needed to come home. This has got to be one of the worst decisions some kids have to make. I was supposed to be doing my own thing, finding myself, being a real adult. However I found myself back in my bedroom, amidst all of my childhood memories, feeling like an overgrown kid riding a carousel of uncertainty.

Needless to say, my parents were not entirely happy about the move either. They thought I was off to the college of my dreams and that the last thing I would want to do was come home. They had moved nearly all of my belongings two hours away only to move them back in the blink of an eye. Even though they only wanted me to be happy, and were thrilled to be saving on the hefty $40,000 tuition, they thought I was too smart and capable to be spending my precious time in my less than productive hometown.

My semester home has been filled with its own ups and downs. Unfortunately when I applied to colleges, I thought that the one I chose was an absolute fit for me. So much so that I did not even apply anywhere else. This was my first mistake. Had I actually applied other places I probably would have been able to attend for the fall semester, but instead I was stuck, three days before classes at most colleges started, with nowhere to go.

I was given two choices, go to school or get a job. Even though I could use the extra money now, I opted to take classes at the college I am at now. It's a good school, but the limited availability at the time of my enrollment meant little class selection, and I'm only able to attend part-time. I'm taking three classes that I like a lot, but seeing everyone from high school I hoped to never see again in the halls is a little irritating. I'm definitely not in the most ideal situation when it comes to schooling, but it's good enough for now. My family has supported me throughout the semester, and I feel better knowing than I won't have extreme debt for at least one college semester that I attended.

At home, it has been quite the learning experience. Even though I'm living at home, I'm trying to be independent, and do things that I didn't do in high school. I've found a happy medium in it all. I try to help my parents out around the house as much as I can, and I do my own laundry and cleaning to save them the hassle. However, my inner adult is beginning to come through. Even though I'm more than grateful to my parents for letting me come home, I'm starting to realize that it's time for me to leave the nest. I love my parents, but sometimes as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Even though I respect my parents' wishes, I feel 12 again, constantly being asked to clean my room and do chores. Even though these are things I will always have to do, no matter where I live, a part of me just really wants to have my own space, to make as messy as I want, without anybody having anything to say about it.

Nearing the end of the semester, my feelings are pretty mixed. I don't really want to stay, but at the same time, being at home comes so easily. The calm of familiarity is a lot simpler to deal with than the craziness of the unknown.

As much as I tend to get annoyed with being treated like a kid at home, it's an experience you could never replace. Sometimes the last place I want to be is at home, but this has given my parents the ability to trust me and respect me in a way they couldn't before. I think in some ways I have become even more independent than I could have if I were away. The house is all my own while they're working, so I have had to do a lot more to take care of it and keep it the way they would want. In high school, I was gone all day, so I had little chance to do things for myself around the house. Also, I get to spend time with others members of my family that I wouldn't get to if I were away at another college. These are memories you could never replace. And even though my hometown is less than appealing to me most days, this is where everything is comfortable for me. My friends are here, my family is here, and as long as they're around, anything seems better than before. Without their support throughout this difficult period in my life, I don't know how I would have made it. One call from my grandparents or a lunch date with my friends makes it all seem worth it.

More and more students are coming home, whether it be after graduation, or for a semester to ease their mind from the pressures of school. In my experience, though, I wouldn't tell anyone not to do it. There's a bit of shame that comes with moving home. Kind of like, "I really can't take care of myself at 18? Really?" But there's nothing to be ashamed about. Coming home is one of the more independent things one can do. It says you know yourself well enough to know that you need help, and aren't afraid to say so. If I would have stayed in that small, blank dorm in Chicago, I'm fairly certain I would've had emotional breakdown by now. I did, and still do feel like a bit of a failure, but I know that there's nowhere else I should, or would rather be at the moment.

The best thing about home is that it is the most permanent, or least permanent place, depending on how you choose it to be. But it's always home. You can always go home and know that everything is the same as you left it. You can stay one semester, or for several years, but it's still the same place, with probably the same people.

I know it's time for me to move on, and I'll probably be leaving home for good in a couple months, but that doesn't make it any easier. I'm more ready than I was before. I feel like I could actually take care of myself if I was on my own, but my semester at home has shaped the rest of my educational career. I had a little extra time to prepare, to explore, and to adjust. I know I'm going to be just fine.

"The chosen one"

by Courtney Gies

I woke up in a daze, familiar to this feeling since I had been getting little to no sleep the past few months. My senior year of high school was dwindling down and the stress of finding the right college next year was weighing heavy on my conscious. I looked at my phone and sprung out of bed, 7:45! Shit, I thought, I'm going to be late again. Mr. Evan had been on my case lately about being late, even though I had a decent grade in his class apparently coming in two minutes late is a huge disruption.

I walked over to my wooden dresser, still rubbing last night's sleep from my brown eyes. I pulled out one of my favorite sweaters, a white one my Nana had bought me from New York last Spring. I had this thought that every time I wore this sweater my day had to go perfectly.

I pulled out some dark denim jeans, slipped on my moccasins and quickly went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I even had five minutes to spare. Not too bad, I thought to myself. I made my way downstairs, and took a quick glance in the mirror to assure my appearance was at least presentable. "Mornin' mom!" I yelled, but received no response. Before getting offended I noticed she was on the phone. "So you haven't seen her at all? She didn't come home last night," I heard her say. Great, my sister Olivia was out gallivanting all night with her boyfriend again. Ever since she got kicked out of college she's been doing nothing but causing headaches for my family.

I decided to avoid the conflict and head out without a goodbye. My mother has constant stress. She's an accountant, and I swear it has been at least ten years since I've heard her say anything positive about her job. What I never understood was why she dedicated her life to something she hated. Every morning she would get up, put on the same boring black office outfit and pour herself a cup of coffee. She always had bags under her eyes that she tried to cover with makeup. I'd never tell her the makeup made it even worse. She was a dedicated type of person, the type you know you could always count on. Even at the last minute. Naturally, I looked up to her. She worked harder than any other person I'd met but I'd never end up like her. I was more of a dream chaser. I knew no matter where my life would take me, I just wanted to be happy.

I walked outside to see my car had been either moved from the side of the street or to the terrifying thought that my sister took it the night before. I walked over and opened the garage before jumping to any conclusions. No car to be found. I shut the garage and walked with anger back to my front door the way a three year old would act when their mother took away their favorite toy. "MOM! Olivia took my car again!" I yelled. She didn't respond. What the hell, I thought, has my mom suddenly gone deaf? "Whatever, I'm taking yours then," I snarled.

As I walked over to the counter to grab my mom's keys the TV caught my eye and I stopped dead in my tracks. My body went numb, my knees were weakening by the second. All I saw was my car in ruins on the side of the busiest highway in town.

"Olivia's dead" was all that was running through my mind. I ran upstairs to grab my mom but my hand went right through her as if it were thin air. I'm dreaming, I have to be dreaming. What is happening to me? Just as I went to grab for her the second time the phone rang and she answered immediately. She fell to her knees, "This can't be true," she sobbed into the phone. I tried to embrace her but just as the first time I went straight through her body.

I sat on my mother's bed watching as she grabbed a handful of things from her dresser and shoved them in a bag. The next few minutes went by in a blur. I felt as if my life was moving in slow motion, I tried to calculate every move my mother was making but my eyes became heavy. I felt like I hadn't slept in weeks, like I had just finished reading the longest, most boring book imaginable. My head wouldn't stop spinning, I closed my eyes to try and gain some sense of balance. Am I a ghost, I thought to myself. This is the worst nightmare I have ever had.

"Emma" is all I heard.

I opened my eyes in panic and jumped to my feet. "Who the hell are you?" I said to the boy that finally woke me from my horrible nightmare.

"I'm Jake" he said, slowly standing to his feet. He had piercing blue eyes, the kind you would pick out in a crowd. His sandy blonde hair was cut just above his eyebrows and his lips curled under like he hadn't had a drink of water in ages.

"How do you know me? Where's my mother? How did you get in here?" I said barely taking a breath between each question.

"Before I explain to you why I'm here I think you should sit." Is all he said back. Without questioning I sat down next to him. I had never met this guy and somehow I felt an undying need to listen to him. "You are the chosen one, Emma."

"The chosen one, what does that even mean?" I said getting a little annoyed.

He stood up, walked over to the window and put his head down. "You didn't chose this life, none of us did. Your life as you know it is about to change drastically," he said, finally turning towards me. "The car accident you were in last night, it left you in critical condition."

I then remembered what I thought had been my dream. The car I saw on the news, my car, I had been driving it. "None of this is making sense," I said to him still trying to pinpoint the last thing I remembered from the night before. "Follow me." Is all he said in reply.

He took me to the hospital where I saw my mother's car outside parked next to my father's truck. He lead me inside where I finally saw my parents, I wanted so badly to run up to them. I wanted to hug them and ask what was going on. I knew better, I knew I wasn't a human anymore.

I examined the looks on my parents' faces. My mother had been crying, her dark mascara dried on her rosy cheeks. My father was fiddling with his thumbs. I could tell he was nervous by his constant movement. "They can't see you," Jake said to me as he walked over to the front desk. Tears began to form in my eyes. I was unsure if I was more scared or pissed off at the fact that my life was in pure confusion.

I smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in my favorite sweater and turned away from Jake. "Emma," he said, in a soothing voice. "It will all make sense soon."

Make sense? How was this supposed to make sense. If this is what death is like, it is a hundred times more horrid than I ever imagined.

I watched Jake as he watched me. We stood in silence for what felt like an eternity until he finally spoke again. "I've never had to tell someone their meaning in life, I just found out mine five months ago," he said matter-of-factly. "Mine was much different. I'd suffered from depression for as long as I could remember. It all got too much to bare and I took my own life. It went slow, and I was in pain before I felt relief. Peter is my mentor like I am for you. He came to me in what I thought was my sleep much like I came to you. It took me days to wrap my head around why I, Jake, a guy who couldn't even save his own life would be much like an angel for other people."

An angel, I thought to myself; so this is heaven. I am in heaven, and heaven wasn't as great as I'd hoped for. "Emma, please listen to me." He said breaking my thoughts, he must have noticed how distant my eyes were from his. "You have a choice, one I never got. Although I would have picked this life over mine any day, you have a family that loves you and a future ahead of you. I was assigned to you a month after my death and I've been watching you ever since. You aren't dead, Emma." He took a long breath before continuing. "You have a choice to make. You are strong enough to keep fighting and heal yourself or you can join me." he finished. What the hell did he mean join him? Join him doing what?

A part of me still felt like this was dream. I hoped it was. "We angels were born with a specific purpose in life. You know that saying about the devil and angel on your shoulder? Well, turns out that's actually real. I was assigned to be an angel, I alter thoughts in criminals. I change their decisions." He got serious, his eyes narrowing in on mine as if he was trying to read my mind. "I know this might not be making a lot of sense to you, but you were born with a gift." he said.

Yeah, no shit it wasn't making sense. I was an average girl, I tried hard in school to make something of myself. I wasn't born with a gift. It wasn't fair that this could all be taken from me. This isn't a blessing at all. "Let me show you." he said, and we were off.

I wasn't sure where I was. From the looks and sounds of it, it seemed like I was in a large city, much like New York. There were people hustling about, like I look in the morning running late for school. Some hailing taxis others speaking on their phones. "Follow me," Jake said. I walked a few steps behind him, still people watching. He took me to a dark ally. Even if people couldn't see me, I'd never go in here alone. He walked over to a man in dark clothing.

"Can he see us?" I muttered to Jake.

"No," he replied.

I watched closely as Jake narrowed his eyes just like he did to me earlier. If the man could see us he made no signs of it. Although nothing was happening but Jake's eyes being fixated on this unknown person I couldn't stop watching him. A few seconds later Jake took his eyes off the man. The man then put his arm into his dark jacket and pulled out a gun. With no thought I immediately stepped back from him. The man walked to the end of the ally and dumped the gun into a dumpster.

"Do you understand now?" Jake said, still watching the man. "I won't tell you what he was thinking, it's too disturbing," he said. "But I stopped it. That is my gift, this is your gift."

"So you are trying to tell me that I have the ability to change the thoughts of random creepy dudes in big leather jackets?" I asked. It came out more sarcastic than I wanted. "You've watched one too many CSI shows," I said, still sarcastic.

I knew by the way his jaw clenched that I shouldn't of tried to joke with him. "You're not ready," he said. "You may never be."

Maybe I wasn't taking this as seriously as I should have been. I suddenly knew this wasn't a dream like I'd hoped, this was my destiny. "I'm sorry, Jake," I said, as if we had been friends for years and I hurt his feelings. "I'm not sure how to take all of this in, I don't know why I would ever be chosen to do something like this."

"None of us know exactly Emma, but the reality of it is that you have been. We out of the billions of people in the world have been chosen to help. To save people's lives, to be much like super heroes," he said with a smile on his face. I laughed at the thought and so did he. "Emma." I looked up at his face. "You don't have to have this life, you can go back to your old life." and suddenly I wasn't sure if that's what I wanted anymore.

Twins

by Derek Wettstein

Alone, now and forever

Not by choice; one of two

To reunite above the clouds

To meet the other shoe

Socks come in twos

Salt and pepper a pair

They carry the same code

Yet one no longer there

A while has passed

The days go by

Still a longing remains

For the one in the sky

His absence not strange

For he never came to be

But family he is

We shall always decree

Of each other they never knew

A tragedy pre-birth

Surprised to find another

Brought abundant mirth

It's hard now to imagine

Another one of him

How would life be today

Had we the other twin

I once was blind

by Derek Wettstein

The desert scorches all who pass through

To this boy that fact was nothing brand new

All of his life he lived in this place

Though solemn and broken, a smile on his face

His home was uncared for; by the holes in the roof,

No money to help it and much other proof

Streets made of sand, coarse, tough and dirty

Buildings and houses were far, far from sturdy

The economy was foreign for men to find work

At night it was spooky, for criminals lurk

The government harsh, not a word spoke against it

For surely your deeds would reap the death sentence

Sorrow and gloom seemed to pester the town

Yet no one carried a grudge or a frown

Happy to live and thankful for family

Trying their best to avoid all calamity

Though things were rough, the boy always tried

To be grateful for all despite his poor eyes

The colors of the desert, red, orange and yellow

Faded in sight, making him mellow

His mother had taught him to read and to write

But further away he struggled with sight

His eyes had failed him he thought to himself

For I can't even glimpse at what's on top of that shelf

Then one day a new man came into the city

Young and fat and way over giddy

The boy had passed by him that day in the street

Squinting he looked and tried to perceive

This troubled the man that the boy could not see

So he bought some materials to set this boy free

Late into the night he worked on a present

One he would give to that boy in the desert

The sun had come up, offering vision

The man now awakened, time for his mission

The trouble was now to find the boy again

Perhaps he could find and ask one of his friends

'Twas lateday by now that the man had been searching

Up every street, by now he was lurching

Alas he had found him under a tree

Wishing so badly for the sunset to see

Hello my young boy, said the man to the lad

I have something for you; I hope you'll be glad

From behind his body he brought out the donation

Wrapped in newspapers, those of the small nation

Excited to open this strange, precious gift

He tore into the package ever so swift

A new piece of eyewear for the boy to display

An act of kindness that went a long way

The boy was ecstatic and shouted with glee

Thank you, oh, thank you, for now I can see

The sunset is beautiful, its colors so vivid

I've longed for a while to see every image

But why have you done this special deed for but me

I love you my brother, and now you are free

AUTUMN

BY DEREK WETTSTEIN

Warm

October

November

The rain falls from the sky

A cold breeze brushes past

A chill runs up my spine

The leaves crunch under my feet

The colorful array lines the horizon

Soon to be a dismal sight

Dormant and brown for the foreseeable future

I shuffle past the orange holiday gourds

And open the door to enter my home

An aroma fills my nose, pumpkin spice and cinnamon

A scent wafts through the air

A

Leaf

Leaf

Leaf

delicious apple pie rests upon the counter

T

Leaf

Leaf

urkey and

Stuffing

Thankfulness

Leaves fall

Colors fade

Cold creeps in

Winter is nigh

The seasons they change and time passes by; to cherish the moment is ever so wise.

Wind Whipped

by Derek Wettstein

The sun had just come up,

Peeking over the fields

The white, puffy clouds were dispersed abroad

Like are the sheep of a rich, green pasture

All had seemed to be perfectly normal

Except an overwhelming eerie feeling

Today was going to be different

Claps and flashes off to the west

Get louder and closer

Sirens blare out, piercing the stillness

Underground we hid

Trains

Clasped hands, white knuckles, heads tucked between knees

Only seconds

Life changing seconds

Silence

Emergence

Wailing. Pieces. Lives. Gone. Never the same. Forever. We will be okay. Stronger.

"the great liberation"

by judas white

In the year 2040 the United States voted in a conservative majority. This conservative revolution fueled one of the biggest events in American history. Being liberal in any sense was outlawed. All social welfare programs were taken and scrapped. There was massive persecution of anyone even suspected of holding liberal values. During this movement called "The great liberation" all people suspected of holding any meetings promoting liberal values were convicted of treason, held without a trial and most of them were sent to reeducation camps to instill conservative values in their minds. This is a story of some survivors of the great liberation and their experiences while being held in the Ronald Reagan Liberty Camp (RRLC).

Jeff and Suzanne were heads of a local chapter of the ACLI in Minnesota for just a few years before the liberation. They had tried to run north to Canada to escape the persecution, but they were stopped just one hundred yards from the border and brought to the RRLC. Jeff had not seen Suzanne since that day as men and women were separated and had their own sides of the camp. When Jeff was brought into the camp he quickly became a leader in the resistance group that started to form. Many members of the resistance had been taken away to solitary confinement. When they returned from the solitary they were never the same they had been changed and barely distinguishable from the captors that held them. No one knew what was actually happening in the solitary section and everyone was afraid of what might await them inside.

Jeff and I were a couple of the exceptions to the rule. We were secure in our convictions to fight our oppressors at any cost. As a union leader in Chicago I was near the top of the list of people to incarcerate. Due to an inside source in Washington D.C. I knew that the Liberation was coming and took great care to get most of my family to Canada before the borders were officially closed. I sent my wife and my son to a sympathizer group in Toronto where I knew that they would be safe. I received word that they were safe and sound and sat and waited to be taken away, as to stand in solidarity with my workers. In two days' time they came for me. They burst into my office while I was burning incriminating documents and lists of members in my offices fireplace to protect my members, if only for a little while.

"Mr. White, Department of Homeland Purity, open the door now, we will not ask you a second time" yelled an officer on the outside of the door. "We have a warrant." Then I heard a man say "do it" and my mahogany door was splintered and men in black military garb burst in to my office and held me at gunpoint.

The one who seemed to be in charge walked up to where I was sitting and said "Mr. White you are under arrest for violations of The Liberty Act." He sneered at me as they put a black bag on my head and led me to a truck outside. I was knocked out in the truck but what I assume was the butt of a rifle.

I awoke in a dark cell on a concrete floor. My hands were still bound and my head was aching from the nasty blow I had suffered earlier. The door to my cell opened and the light hurt my eyes, I could see the silhouette of an imposing man.

"Well look whose awake, I've been looking forward to interrogating you, Mr. White. You union boys are always such a pleasure for me, I like to watch you eventually crack and give me every bit of information I want just for a bullet in the head or a sip of water."

"You will get no such satisfaction from me you fascist fucking pig." I replied, I am not really sure how long they tortured me. I no longer had a sense of time every last bit of my consciousness was being centered on keeping my sanity and not giving in to my captors demands. Finally another man came to me and told me I was being sent to the RRLC for reeducation and repatriotization.

Jeff and I met my 15th day inside of the camp. We were both put on the same work detail constructing new barracks for the ever expanding camp. On our "lunch breaks" we would all start to chat a little and Jeff and I quickly found that we had a lot in common, both being from liberal families and being captured and treated in the same manner. "Boy I would love to escape this place" Jeff said.

"Yeah me too" I replied. "How do you suppose we do that?" I asked. "Well my grandfather made me watch a movie when I was a child of a situation much like this, the people were locked in a Nazi prison camp and bound by their duty as officers were determined to escape their captors at all costs." "How did it work out for them?" I asked.

"Not too good they were almost all caught and shot, but they did make it out of the camp." He replied. "Ok, so where do we begin?" "We need to start finding the other revolutionaries and start organizing people and weed out the ones that will not be loyal to the cause." With our mutual talents and experiences in our former occupations we were naturally the prime candidates to start the revolution.

I began to put my organizing skills into action. I found every former revolutionary I could find; union members, liberal clergy, former military, foreigners who had not been allowed to go home, mostly Canadians, and Norwegians. I would tell them of our plan to dig tunnels out of the camp and most of them jumped at the chance, especially the union coal miners who were thrilled to get back underground where things made sense to them. The clergy were watched very closely, especially the Catholics who were oppressed by the new conservative protestant regime. They spent most of their day praying with the dying prisoners trying to console them and preparing them for the afterlife. I remember walking by one and heard him praying a Muslim prayer to a dying man; I was shocked and filled with hope for our future.

The tunnels were being started and all was going good, well as good as it could go inside of a prison camp. Then one morning they cut off our food. A voice came over the loud speaker "Today we begin a 30 day fast for purity. Those of you who wish to turn from your wicked ways will be fed, and those of you who will not, will perish." With that we knew we had to speed up our efforts and escape was now our only chance of survival.

In a secret meeting I got in front of everyone and said "Comrades the time has come for us to double our efforts, our captors seek to starve us out. Do not succumb to their wickedness take not one bite of their food. We need to continue to dig. Our food will be the sustenance of freedom when we escape these walls and are reunited with our loved ones." The clergy doubled their efforts of finding scraps of food to give to the weakest ones among us.

It was one week into the liberty fast when the same voice came over the loudspeaker "The liberty fast continues inmates, turn from your wicked ways and you will be given all of the food you can eat." We lost 15 men that day who crossed the line to get their food but no one talked of the plan to escape. I asked one of the miners "how long until we have these tunnels done?"

He replied "Two days"

"Thank you, I will spread the word." Two days later the exodus started.

The men of 6 bunkhouses began to shuffle into the tunnels. Each one had high expectations of escaping the camp, of getting out of the country, to our neighbor to the north. Collins had been the only one getting messages out of the camp and back in. He was able to contact a sympathizer who had come up with a plan to help some of us to escape in a couple of semi-trucks.

Everything was going well. We had about 200 men out of the camp when the alarms came on. The night officer started the nightly check on barracks 5 about an hour before usual. He noticed that there was nobody inside and sounded the alarm.

The spotlights started looking all over the camp. There were dogs running and starting to head in our direction. We needed a distraction to keep them off of us for just a few more minutes.

Jeff snuck along the tree line to the other side of the camp and ran out drawing their attention in the opposite direction, he sacrificed himself and any chance of ever seeing his wife again (Crack, Crack) the sound of the guns rang out and Jeff fell to his knees clutching his chest where the bullets had penetrated his chest, we were given enough time to get the last man and myself on to the sympathizers truck and escaped into the night thanks to the courage of my dear friend and comrade. Now every time I look upon my wife's face I am reminded of my brave comrade who sacrificed his own life to save so many others.

One year later the conservative regime fell due to the help from the United Nations the camps were liberated and the people who made it through were released. Suzanne was among them, I told her of the courage that her husband had and of how he had saved so many lives. Not all of us made it out but the ones that did owe our lives to the brave ACLI leader who gave his life for our freedom.

"It's never too late"

by Danielle Wilson

I stood there and watched him walk away. I felt the tears stinging in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not here, not in front of all my friends. Drew was my life. He was my rock and my loser in tin foil. He had my heart locked away so that even I couldn't find it. I truly and honestly believed he was my soul mate. But none of that mattered now. He was leaving and we'd barely gotten to explore what was between us. It hadn't even been three months since we finally admitted to each other that we had feelings for each other and we were losing it. Everything was falling apart right before my eyes, but I couldn't be the reason he lost an opportunity.

I looked around to my friends. Sarah of course looked sympathetic. She wanted to hug me and tell me that I'd find another guy, a better guy, but she knew better. Kyle looked anxious, but he stood there holding Sarah. Collin was hard to read for most people, but I barely glanced at him and knew he was pissed. He was assuming Drew had left because of me, which in all honesty, might be completely true. He never did give me a full answer as to why he was leaving. He sort of just sprang it on me that he was.

I turned away from my friends. I walked right past them all not saying a single word. I walked through the gate in Sarah's fence that separated her back yard from the Country Club golf course. I felt numb. Like someone had slapped me a million times over and over. Not even bothering to stop and rest their hand. I wandered through the dark golf course. Although I didn't realize it, my subconscious had led me to one of the greens. I stood for a minute staring at the Country Club. It looked eerily similar to the way it looked just a couple months back. The fog settled around the building looking just like Boo's Castle from Mario Kart. Realizing this similarity to that night hit the mark. I dropped to my knees at the very same spot I stood with him a couple months ago and broke down.

Whether it had been minutes or hours, I didn't know. No one had come looking for me yet, which made me think it hadn't been that long. However, if I knew my friends at all, they wouldn't come looking for at least three hours. Sarah probably knew exactly where I was anyway. She probably knew where I was headed before I even knew. I sat on the green hugging my legs to my chest with my head sitting on my knees. I felt the tears dry on my face. My nose was stuffy and I knew if I looked in a mirror my face would be blotchy and my eyes red and puffy. I wiped my eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie. With his haste to leave after our argument he forgot to take it back. Secretly, I was glad he forgot it. I needed something, something more than my memories of him. Something that would remind me he was real and alive and very much part of my life.

After staring at the building for what felt like another hour, I stretched my legs out. I was planning on getting up and walking back to Sarah's house, but the position I sat in for so long made that impossible. My legs had fallen asleep. It was then that I realized exactly where I was. I thought I was going to cry again, but I didn't. Instead I laid back feeling the cool grass against my skin in much the same ways I did that night. I laid there watching the stars with a sad smile on my face. I hated myself. I hated that I forced us to argue before he left. I wanted him to have a better life, and I knew it was going to be hard, but I did it anyway. I forced him to leave so he wouldn't back out. Even though it meant losing him, I knew he was better off without me holding him back. I knew this was what he wanted.

I heard him walking towards me, but I didn't bother moving. He came to a stop next to my head and looked down at me blocking my view of the sky.

"Hey."

I laid there staring at him for a few seconds. Then I sat up, "Hey."

He sighed, "I don't know what happened between you two, but you know I'm always here. No matter what it's about."

The entire time he looked at the ground and pulled the grass up. I felt the tears come to my eyes and knew I wasn't going to be able to force them back or blink them away. Although I had considered Collin my best friend for about two years now, he had never seen me cry. I let the tears spill over without saying anything. He looked up at me and seeing the tears roll down my face he pulled me to him, hugging me as close as he possibly could. I cried even harder than I had when I sat there by myself.

After a while he stood up, pulling me with him. When I gave him a puzzled look he looked at me like I was crazy.

"Steph, it's almost 3 am. We're going back to my house and you're going sleep."

Almost 3 am. I sat out here for almost 5 hours. I didn't argue with him and let him lead the way back to Sarah's house. When we got there Sarah hugged me tight.

"It'll be okay," she whispered. "I know what you did. I know it was hard for you, but maybe it was for the best. He doesn't want to hurt you. He told me that."

"I know he doesn't. And I don't want to hurt him either, but he has to find out if that's what he needs to do. He has to see if it's worth it, without me holding him back."

She just hugged me again and promised that we would talk more later. She went inside and Collin and I walked to the front. I didn't even argue with him when he took my keys from me and got in the driver's seat. I just silently climbed into the passenger's seat. When we pulled up to his house I got out and walked over to the driver's side. I gave him a silent hug then reached to take the keys, but he pulled them away.

"Nope, you're staying here for the rest of tonight."

"Collin, I'm fine. I can go home."

He stared into my eyes and for the first time I saw why he was so adamant about me staying and why he was extremely worried about me going home.

"I'm not going to relapse, Collin. I promise, I will be fine."

"I would feel much better if you stayed here. Please."

He was begging me.

I sighed. "Okay. I'll stay here, but I'm going home in the morning."

He smiled and pulled me inside. "That I can agree with."

While Collin fed his cats and did a couple other things, I went down to his room. I slipped my jeans off and changed so I was just wearing Drew's hoodie. When Collin came down I was laying on the bed staring up at the ceiling.

"I know it's the last thing you want to hear, but it will be okay. Sarah and I are here for you and we'll make sure you get through this."

I didn't reply to him. I just cuddled up close to him when he lay down and cried myself to sleep.

*7 years later*

"Awwh. Sarah, you look gorgeous. I love your dress. I cannot believe you're getting married," I gushed as I hugged Sarah.

"I know. I'm so scared. What if it doesn't work out? Kyle and I aren't like you and Brad. You guys are so cute together."

"No. You're not like Brad and I. You guys will never be like Brad and I."

If only she knew the truth about Brad and I. There was no way they would ever be like us. They were truly in love.

"You guys are perfect for each other. You guys are more than just cute, you're frickin' adorable together."

She ran her hands down the front of her dress smoothing out wrinkles that weren't there. I grabbed her hands and she looked up at me with her big, round eyes. "Stop. You look perfect, like you stepped right out of a bridal magazine. Besides you could walk down the aisle in jeans and a t-shirt and Kyle wouldn't care."

She looked away from me. "What if he changes his mind?" she whispered, and then she looked back up at me. "What if he stops loving me?"

"Oh, Sarah. That'll never happen. Kyle loves you for you and he's never going to leave."

"I second that," came a voice from behind. "He was just telling me he's scared you're going to get smart and disappear."

I froze, but Sarah screamed. "YOU'RE REALLY HERE!?" She ran up to him and hugged him, not caring about her dress now. My back was still to them, but I knew who it was. I knew his voice, even if I hadn't heard it in 7 years. It was a voice that was forever ingrained in my mind.

I stood up from the chair I had been sitting in and turned around. If they noticed, they didn't show it. She was gushing over him showing up because she hadn't expected it and he told her he wouldn't miss it for the world. It wasn't until Ema ran up and pulled on his pant leg that they came out of their own little world.

She batted her eyes up at him. "Who are you?" she asked in such a cute little kid voice that he smiled and crouched down to talk to her.

"My name is Drew. What's yours?"

"Ema," she announced proudly, as if it was the most important name in the world. I couldn't stop the grin that came onto my face. "Ema-Lyn Rose Anderson," she continued. It was pretty impressive for a 4 year-old to talk as well as she did. I noticed Drew's eyes flick to Sarah questioningly. It was only then that she glanced at me. He followed her gaze over to me and froze.

"Drew," Sarah started, probably trying to prevent any awkwardness, "this is Ema-Lyn. She's my flower girl and Steph's daughter."

Drew's eyes hadn't left me. He slowly stood back up. I almost stopped breathing. I couldn't believe he was here. After 7 years of silence. Not once did we talk. I felt the tears in my eyes already.

"I-I'm going to go, um, check and make sure they have JJ ready. Come on Ema."

"But mommy, I want to stay here with Aunty Sarah."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, mostly to try to stop the tears.

"Steph," Sarah whispered, then waited until I looked at her. "She's fine here. I promise."

She looked sympathetic. She didn't realize how I was feeling. I just nodded and gave her a look that said we would talk later. I walked right past Drew without saying a word and avoiding eye contact. I knew if I looked into those deep beautiful eyes of his I would lose it. I walked out the door and stood against the wall, trying to calm myself.

After a minute I just barely heard Drew ask, "JJ...?" He left it an open ended question, but Sarah knew what he meant.

"JJ is her son. He's 6, almost 7, the ring bearer,"

"Well," he said. I could hear the bitterness in his voice, "I guess she's got her perfect little family."

I could just picture him pacing around the room. He always did that when he was upset or pissed off.

"Drew you can't blame her for moving on. Well trying to. She's still in love with you. No matter how much she denies it she is. I can see it in her eyes whenever your name is mentioned. The hurt, regret, sorrow, and the love she still has for you. She doesn't really want to be married to him. I think she only did it because she felt like she had to after she got pregnant. And he's horrible and treats her like crap."

She knows?

"What do you mean he treats her like crap?" I was surprised to hear the warning tone in his voice.

"Well, he, uh," I could picture her playing with her hands and looking at the floor, a tall tale sign she knew she said something she shouldn't have.

"Sarah. Tell me," I knew he was standing right in front of her then.

"She says the marks are from work. Maybe they are. I mean she does climb around a lot on the rocks and stuff when she's taking pictures, but the bruises just don't seem right. She had a bruise on her arm a few weeks ago. She said she ran into a door frame, but it looked like a handprint."

I could hear his intake of breathe. I couldn't listen anymore though. I couldn't believe she had noticed this much. I thought I was doing better at hiding this. I decided to really check on JJ and everyone else. We only had an hour until the ceremony was supposed to start.

When I got to the other room everyone was just finishing up last minute touches. I fixed JJ's tie and helped a couple of Sarah's bridesmaids with their makeup. Then Kyle pulled me away.

"Hey, is everything okay with Sarah?"

"Yes she's fine. She's with Drew." I gave him a pointed look that clearly told him I was not happy about not being informed that he was invited. "A little heads up would have been nice."

"We really didn't believe he'd actually show up." Kyle still looked away, though. "Speaking of him, I need to tell you something."

I automatically got suspicious, "What?"

"Drew's kind of going to be my best man."

"WHAT!?" I practically screamed. "What do you mean he's going to be your best man? You didn't even know for sure he was going to be here but you gave him one of the most important roles in the wedding? And I thought your friend Aaron was the best man?"

"He was only the best man if Drew didn't show.

"Why, on earth, would you make Drew your best man? The makes no sense. And torture me making me walk with him. Oh Jesus. And now I'll have to dance with him for the wedding party dance. Oh god, and the solo dance! Why do you guys hate me?"

"Steph, we don't hate you." He replied with an exasperated sigh.

"Well you guys have a funny way of showing it." Then I realized it. "No. Absolutely not. You guys are not doing this. You're not going to set me up with him."

Kyle tried to look surprised, but failed miserably. "What?" he laughed nervously. "We're not setting you up. I've got stuff here covered. Go take care of Sarah. It's almost time." With that he walked away before I could reply.

"You're a terrible liar!" I yelled to him. If he heard me he didn't show it.

I grumbled all the way back to the room Sarah was in, they really were not thinking this through. I was just about to walk in when I heard Drew.

"I do. I do still love her."

"YES! I knew it!" Sarah yelled, probably even doing a happy dance. I just rolled my eyes.

"BUT," he said loud enough to get her to stop. "I'm still living in Ohio. I'm only here for a couple weeks. And she's married, Sarah, with kids. I can't break up a family like that."

"No." She sounded like she was pleading. "What happened to kicking his ass for hurting her? What happened to showing her you still love her?"

"Oh I will be kicking his ass when I see him. And I will show her that I love her, or try to anyway. But don't pull any of your attempts to help."

She didn't reply and I took this opportunity to make my entrance. I started to say something but stopped. Sarah was biting her lip looking nervous. And Drew was about to question her but stopped when they saw me.

"Oh I know that look. What are you up to, Sarah?" I put my hands on my hips and gave her a look that clearly said that I already knew what she was up to and she was in big trouble. I knew she understood my message because her eyes widened for a fraction of a second and then she looked away. Drew looked a little confused. Did he know?

"Mommy," I felt Ema pull on my dress and smiled at her. I bent down and swooped her up, spinning around as I did and she burst into a fit of giggles. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Drew watching me with a smile. He looked away blushing when Sarah caught him. I chuckled a little and turned my attention back to my daughter.

"What is it, baby?"

"Can I walk with him in Aunty Sarah's wedding instead of you?"

She caught me off guard with her question and I blushed, a little. "Sweetie, mommy has to walk with Drew and you have to walk by yourself to throw the petals out."

"But I want to walk with him, you throw the petals out."

I wasn't sure how to answer that, but Drew did it for me. I only jumped a little when his voice was right next to me.

"May I?" he was holding out his hands to Ema.

I was a little hesitant but handed to him. She went right to him willingly with a huge smile. I walked over and took his place next to Sarah.

"Absolutely amazing," she whispered.

"I know. She never takes to new people like that. Usually she screams." She gave me a look as if to say 'see even your kids love him.' I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the smile coming to my face as I watched him with her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sarah smirk.

"I have to walk with mommy," he was telling her. "But I promise you will be the first girl I dance with, okay?"

"Even before mommy and Aunty Sarah?" she asked with her adorable little voice.

He smiled, "Even before them," he agreed, smiling.

He flashed a smile at Sarah and I and I got those same butterflies that I used to get 7 years earlier. 7 years apart and it made no difference. I was still totally and completely head over heels in love with him.

"Okay," I sighed. Sarah and Drew looked at me a little confused. I stood up and held my hand out to Sarah. "It's time."

Her nervousness came back, but she was happy and excited she took my hand and stood up. I gave her a hug and whispered in her ear "I'm happy for you and you guys will be perfect together, but I'm going to kill ya both."

I leaned back and fixed a piece of her hair. She just laughed. "No, you'll thank me."

With that we made our way out with a chatty Ema and a confused Drew following behind us. We walked down the hall and found chaos at the entrance to the chapel area.

"Oh dear lord. I leave for 5 minutes and everyone breaks into chaos," I muttered.

Sarah tried and failed to hide her smile but walked away when I glared at her. I turned to Drew, but my words caught in my mouth. I looked into his eyes and lost myself.

He gave me his trademark smirk, "What? Cat got your tongue?"

I snapped out of my daze. "No," I whispered. "Will you watch Ema while I get everyone in order? Then I'll get her when I need her."

"Of course." He smiled.

I turned and walked away. I couldn't help but wonder if he knew about this plan of theirs? Was he in on it? Or were they going behind his back too? I didn't have time to think about it then. I started lining people up and making sure proper pairs were together. I walked back over to Drew. He had moved so he and Ema were now standing by Sarah. He didn't look mad per say, but I could tell he was having a heated conversation with Sarah. I gave an exasperated sigh and walked right up cutting Drew off mid-sentence.

"You know I can't. You're just going to-"

I grabbed both their arms and pulled them away.

"I don't know what you two are arguing about. And I don't care right now." I looked at Sarah. "You are getting married today, stop trying to meddle in my love life and worry about your own." Sarah flushed, while Drew looked surprised. "Now get your asses in place. Kyle's waiting."

I picked Ema up and walked away leaving them stunned. After I placed Ema in her position, I went and talked to the guy they had in charge of the music. I stood at the door as Ema walked down the aisle throwing the petals to the floor. Then I watched as JJ walked, careful not to drop the rings. Finally I took my place in line next to Drew. I could feel his eyes on me, but I ignored him. I wasn't dealing with this reunion right now. I had too much going on as it was.

Drew and I walked down the aisle at what seemed like the pace of a snail. All the while, I could feel my heart beating a million miles a second. By the smirk on his face, and the way he kept sneaking glances at me, he could feel it too.

"Nervous?" he whispered.

And I was. I was nervous for Sarah and Kyle. I knew how much work went into this wedding; I helped plan it after all. I was nervous that the kids wouldn't behave. I was nervous to be seeing Drew and have all these feelings coming back so strongly. But most of all, I was nervous because I could see Brad in the audience and he was not happy about the choice of who I was walking with. I looked away from Brad and focused on walking. But always quick to pick up on small details, Drew noticed.

"What's wrong?"

Although I couldn't look at him, I could hear it in his voice he was genuinely concerned and trying hard not to stop walking, but at this point we reached the alter and had to part.

"Later." I whispered. He smiled and kissed me on the cheek before taking his place. I took my place and looked out to the audience. I met Brad's eyes and he was furious. I flinched slightly and looked away. I caught Drew staring at me. He had followed my gaze after noticing my flinch. I could tell it took a lot for him not to beat the crap out of Brad right there and then. Just then the music changed and my frown turned into a smile as Sarah appeared in the doorway. It was hard to see her face through the veil, but there was no hiding she was nervous. Her dad patted her hand and whispered something to her. I know it helped because she visibly relaxed.

They reached the alter and Kyle stepped down to receive her from her dad.

"Who gives this beautiful woman to this handsome man?"

"Her mother and I."

Sarah gave her dad a kiss on the cheek and when she handed me her bouquet, I could already see the tears in her eyes. I smiled at her knowing there was no way I wasn't crying now. The priest gave his sermon and Sarah and Kyle said their vows. It truly was a beautiful ceremony. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Drew. He wasn't watching them like everyone else was. He was watching me.

For a moment, our eyes locked. Every feeling I had been trying to push down since he had gotten here today exploded inside me. The events from that night flew across my vision. The fire, being so comfortable in his arms and then the fight; the yelling and the names. The feelings of being broken and lost, hating myself for him not leaving on better terms. Crying myself to sleep every night for pretty close to a year. Hoping he would write or call, but never receiving anything.

I tore my eyes from him, turning my attention back to Sarah and Kyle just in time to see their kiss. I was crying, unfortunately this wasn't a happy 'I'm so glad they finally got married' cry. Sarah turned to me and took her bouquet. She caught a glimpse of my eyes. It took her a second but she realized what was happening and she gave me a quick hug, whispering in my ear "We'll talk when we get to the banquet hall." I couldn't force myself to object, so I just nodded.

I took one step and Drew was beside me in an instant. We walked back down the aisle and as soon as we were out of the chapel he pulled me to the side.

"It's later. What's going on?" He sounded like he was about to beg. His eyes bore down into mine; filled with worry and concern I never thought I'd see in his eyes again. I opened my mouth, but was interrupted.

"Stef, what the hell is going on?"

My eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and then I forced myself to stay calm. I turned around and Drew placed his hand on my arm, pulling me back towards him.

"Nothing is going on."

"That's a lie. What the hell is he doing here?"

"Obviously, attending a wedding,"

Brad took a step towards me and out of instinct I took a step back causing me to be standing right in front of Drew, with no room between us. Brad noticed this and instantly was furious. He reached his hand out to grab my arm, but Drew was faster. Spinning me around, Drew put himself between Brad and I. Then he turned to face him.

"You have exactly ten seconds to walk away, before I beat you for even thinking about hurting her, let alone actually doing it."

I froze. No. He did not just say that. Brad's eyes darted to me and I knew that next time I was alone with him it was going to be more than a handprint left. I felt myself backing away before realizing I was. He glared at Drew one more time then walked away. Drew turned around not realizing until then how truly terrified I was.

He walked up to me and hugged me. "Hey. It's okay. He's not gonna hurt you."

"Why?" I whispered, into his chest.

He pulled away and looked at me. "What?"

"Why? Why would you say that to him?"

Realization crossed his face. "I just told him that people knew, and he thinks you told."

Then I broke. We were the last two standing in the church yard. I stood there bawling into his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," I sobbed.

"Hey," he grabbed my face with both hands and stared into my eyes. "Do not be sorry. None of this is your fault."

"That's not it. I'm sorry for everything else. For making us fight before you left. For ruining everything; for causing all these problems."

"You have not caused any problems. And it's just as much my fault for not realizing what you were doing sooner. I know you only did it to push me to leave so I wouldn't back out. I'm glad you made me go, but at the same time I wish you wouldn't have done it that way. I was going to ask you to come with me."

I stood there staring at him. I had no idea what to say. He had left me speechless, and this time it was from his words, not his looks. So I said the only thing I could say.

"JJ's yours."

Last meal

by joshua Buroker

There are many ways to execute a convict:

you can make him tie his own noose

and hang him with it. To do this correctly

you need a crowd of people wearing cowboy boots,

a sheriff, a black hood, a trap door to fall

through, and a judge to pull the lever.

In an age of science, you may discreetly inject

him with the press of a button. All that is

needed is one way glass for people to watch, a judge

and jury, a warden, a three drug concoction created

by Nazi's, and a doctor to pronounce him dead.

Or you can take a rifle.

Loaded and aimed in a military manner,

and strive to hit his heart with one shot. But for

this you need a soldier who has done wrong,

a chair with bindings, a squad of sharpshooters,

a commanding officer to give the final order.

Finally you may, if the power company allows,

send a surge of electricity through him. But you need

a chair with a metal helmet, a wet sponge, a wrongly

accused black man, two-thousand volts, and a

prison guard played by Tom Hanks.

There are, as I stated, gruesome ways to execute

a convict. Old fashioned, scientific, honorable, and

something a little more electrifying. But what would

have been interesting is to know what he had as a last meal.

FIRST MEAL

BY JOSHUA BUROKER

Now more then ever are ways to lose weight:

You can binge eat just to purge yourself of life's

fuel. To do this correctly you need more food then a sumo

wrestler eats, an empty bathroom, a clean porcelain bowl,

a finger with sores and scares, and no problem with vomit.

In fashion a disorder slaughters like a plague; causing extreme

fear of gaining weight. These people see a distorted

body image in the mirror, use bad diets, exercise

more then Arnold Shwarzenegger, have a subscription to

fashion magazines, and the end is the same as Isabelle Caro.

Or you can just eat nothing at all.

Hoping this will make your pageant dress fit a little snugger,

not realizing it actually slows your metabolism, for this

you need your name replaced with a state, a fake smile,

a growling stomach, and fast food waiting in your hotel room.

Eventually you can pretend to eat healthy, but take it

too far. All that's needed is an obscure obsession, foods that

don't cut it, deprivation of fats, a poor excuse of a meal made

up of two peanuts and a glass of milk, and a diet that takes

over your life; controlling everything.

Here are just a few ways to lose weight the incorrect way.

Nauseatingly, socially constructed, deficiently, and eventually

with misguided education. But in order to fix the disorder

we should all start fresh, and have the first meal of our new life.

SUNNY SIDE UP

BY JOSHUA BUROKER

Ways to fall asleep vary from person to person:

You can take an Ambien, but take to many and

you'll never wake up. To do this all you need is a

prescription, a doctor in a lab coat, bags under your

eyes, an addiction to pills, and a job that keeps you

up all night.

Or you could go for a car ride.

A nice long drive in the middle of the night causes

truck drivers to fall asleep. All you need is an open road

or a busy one if you want to make the news, an empty

cup of gas station coffee, your foot on the gas pedal, the

loud vibrations from the shoulder of the road, and a

dream that you will never wake up from.

The oldest way in the book takes place in the bathtub.

As cliché as them come, all you need is warm water,

a razor blade, scars from past attempts, an empty

bottle of liquor, and desperation mixed with a little

determination.

Finally you can, if you have the time to commit, spend

the evening in the garage with the car on. All that's needed

is a car, enough fuel to get the job done, a taste for

carbon monoxide, a nose that doesn't mind the smell,

and a garage door that seals tight.

Unfortunately as listed above are a few way to fall

asleep forever. Very pill-fully, at the wheel, engraved,

and a little toxic. They say food is the way into a person's

heart, maybe they just needed to start there day with a good

breakfast to deter there mind.

LUNCH BREAK

BY JOSHUA BUROKER

Many ways exist to shoot a man:

Your own men can mistakenly shoot you.

To do this incorrectly you need a civil involving

north fighting south, the nickname Stonewall,

cover of darkness, trigger happy troops, and

some bad luck.

In time of our nation's racial liberation you

may be shot for forcing change. For this you need

a King of a man to stand for what's right, a coward

of a man who wants to be famous, a Remington .30-06,

training from the US Army, and a hotel balcony in Memphis.

Or you could shoot yourself.

This entails a Nazi leader with no where left to go,

acknowledgement of defeat, the cowardly way out,

a Walther PPK, and a gunshot to the head.

Eventually you may assassinate someone if the

circumstances are just right. But you need a taller then

average president, attending a play in Ford's theatre,

a confederate spy, a balcony to jump from, and a unfortunate

change in his schedule.

These are just a few ways important men have been shot.

By blunder, terribly, cowardly, and by elimination. These

men have left this world with knowledge some used for good

and some for bad. Imagine what you could learn from

these men over lunch.

"LOK"

by collin wise

Chapter 1

It was late, and the hunting party was getting tired. But still, they were not ready for sleep. While they barely found enough to keep them going for the day, they did have an encounter with a very vicious bear. It attacked many members of the party. Only one was injured. Luckily, he will recover, but in the meantime, he has a very large and bloody wound on his leg.

The injured man was named Thimoro. And while the hunters are having a very hard time finding food because of the drought, Thimoro is slowing them even more. And worse, all of the bloody rags will draw the attention of more bears, or perhaps worse.

Now there was a man in the group whose name was Lok. He was very short. He wore a traditional garb of a Scutta partially woven skirt-like clothing made from banana leaves). And he had a headdress made of wood and bone. Lok was unaware at that time that he was about to go on a great adventure.

"Kuppa tu kusta!" Lok said in his native language. But to us, it the words would be "They were everywhere!" He was telling a story about one time he went out hunting- as he often does- alone. Lok usually did things alone. Not because he was unsocial; in fact, he was quite eccentric. He was so eccentric and spontaneous that he had a hard time keeping focus and remembering his partners are there with him, which is why, as was already said, he prefers to hunt alone.

"I mean, everywhere!! And I just found myself surrounded by them as I slept!" Lok used many exaggerated hand gestures as he talked, almost flailing about, using his entire body to try to add to the story. "When I woke up, I tried to sneak away, but I woke one of young rams, and it made a loud noise. Suddenly, ALL of the rams around me were awake. And they watched me as if I was a--"

Lok stopped. He saw something, out of the corner of his eye. A blue blur, about half the size of himself. Without thinking, he slowly walked over to the bushes. He knew he saw something moving in that area.

He went toward it to investigate. He walked past the tree line that surrounded the small camp, and then past the bushes, putting him just at the edge of view from the camp. From there, he did not see the small blue animal.

He smelled smoke. He sniffed the air, and found the smell coming from just past the tree line in front of him. Lok ventured just beyond that point. On the other side of the trees, was a cliff, from which Lok stood and saw the torched ground below.

The grass was all broken, and turned to blacks, browns and yellows. There were hardly any trees left that were not burned.

Lok heard a rustling in the tall grass next to him. He turned and threw his weapon- a stone on a rope or twine- into the grass. There was a squeal, and the stone which he had thrown into the bush came back to him when he tugged on the twine. He caught it in his hand.

Lok walked over to the tall grass, and pulled out the blue animal he had killed. His party ate it that night with him. That is where the story begins.

The next day was slightly better, as far as the hunting went. They still did not catch much, but they were able to bring something back: a wild boar- which was likely food enough for half the village... for the rest of the day... maybe. They returned home with it.

Chapter 2

The next day, Lok and a few others from the tribe were invited to dinner with chief elder Vhu. During the meal, Lok made mention of what he saw while he was out hunting just days ago. He talked of the scorched Earth.

"There must have been a fire there just days before we arrived." said Geo, another of the chief's guests. "No doubt because of the drought. The earth is hard, and the trees have dried, and become good for burning."

"That may be so," said Thimoro, the third guest, "but what could have started the fire? Thunderbolts? It hasn't stormed around here for many moons."

"There are legends of great beasts of fire that live in the woods."

"In the woods which surround our village?" asked Geo. "What do you tell us?"

"Just how great are these beasts?" asked Thimoro.

"They are as tall as a man, perhaps taller. And they are as long as three or four men." said the chief elder.

"I have never seen such a beast!" Geo insisted.

"Neither have I," said Vhu, "What I tell you is what I have heard form master Urrukahma before me."

"If these creatures live in the woods just outside our village, why have none of us ever seen one?" Geo demanded.

"Are you questioning the veracity of the late elder chief Ohay Urrukahma Matahi-e?"

"Perhaps." said Geo.

"Do you think that she could have contrived? Do you think that she was named chief on error?"

"Perhaps. But I do not doubt her loyalty to her people. I remember when she presided." he told them, "No... in fact, I do attest to her truth. She was the most adept of the chief elders. Even though some of our leaders may be less worthy."

Everyone was stunned by what he said.

"I believe he just said that you are not trustworthy, High Chief." said the previously silent Loka Tai, the chief's coadjutor.

"Geo... why do you say these things?"

"I am most sorry, respected chief. I meant nothing by it. Besides, would you think of me as the type to break bread with one he does not trust?"

The chief was silent for a long time before changing the subject. "Does anyone know where Lok has gone?"

Everyone looked at Lok's seat and were surprised to see that he was not there.

Vhu left the dining hall in search of his guest. Soon, Thimoro joined. Then, Geo started to stand up, but Loka Tai began to stand over him in a way that seemed to say 'you had better stay there.'

Chapter 3

Soon enough, Vhu and Thimoro went outside and saw Lok. He was shouting; he was telling the people about the creatures, which he had apparently decided were to be called Shu Pa, which in his tongue meant 'fire harbinger'. He was telling all the people of the village who would listen of how the creature was burning the forest, and that it was the reason why he and the other hunters did not find any food (which actually could have been true.) He told them that he would go into the forest to fight the Shu Pa, and he invited anyone to come who wished it.

"Lok, you speak without knowing." said Vhu. "I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to hunt this beast." He turned to the crowd and announced, "This creature is not to be hunted, and is not to be bothered. I have once heard Urrukahma call it a dragon."

"Why shouldn't we?" asked one of the villagers. "If this man is telling the truth, then the Shu Pa is why all of the animals are leaving our part of the forest by burning it down. If it were gone, perhaps we could find food again."

"You say we should hunt this creature because it changes the land? Then what shall we do with the beaver? What shall we do with the elephant that tears up trees to get to food? And what of us, for we have done the same, clearing land to grow our crops and to build our houses and our boats.

"And you say that hunting the dragon will bring the food back? Are any of you weak with hunger? Have any of you even gone without eating recently? The gods have given us food enough to live on, as they always have. We just have to work harder to find it."

Lok did not accept Vhu's answer, and began to rally for the hunt again. The crowd sided with him, and joined in chants and began to ready themselves to go in search of the beast.

"No!" Vhu warned them, "You do not what you wish to do. Dragons are larger than even the mighty elephant, and much more powerful, too. They have wings on their back, and can travel amongst the clouds as the birds do. Blades run the length of its back, and on the tip of its tail, which contain poisons that could kill a warrior in only a couple of moments, and they can turn their bodies to fire, setting ablaze everything around."

"Do you fear for the lives of us who will go?" asked another from the crowd.

"No, I fear for the lives of every one of us if someone were to anger this otherwise peaceful monster. I forbid you all from going near it!"

Everyone seemed satisfied with the chief's argument and dispersed, trusting in his judgment. That was, at least, until that night.

"Nyrrrrrrraaaah!!!!!" some of the villagers heard this noise late that night. Lok had a house that he had built high in a tree top, and he went outside of it to see if he could find what made the sound. It came from above him, in the sky. He quickly climbed the tree, jumping from branch to branch, until he was at the very top (and flimsy) branch of one of the two very trees that his house was built around. It swayed extensively while he held onto it, looking as though it might break. From the branch, he was able to see the large black figure in the sky. Surely, he thought this must be the Shu Pa. and he was determined to kill it. He snuck away that night.

Chapter 4

Traveling by night through the forest can be very dangerous, especially if you don't know where you are going. Lok was determined to get to get to where the Shu Pa was and vanquish it. He just didn't know where it would be. His red potato-colored skin hardly appearing visible in the dark of that night. Only his headdress could be seen. That night, he added a wooden mask to his outfit, to help protect him.

As he ran, his feet barely made a sound, splashing powerfully against the wet ground. You could still hear him coming, because of the clank of his bow hitting his slingshot. His other weapons were a shiv and a rock tied to a twine which was wrapped around his shoulder five or six times. He chose his weapons carefully, preferring those that were lighter. Lok was known to be very nimble, and didn't want weapons that would weigh him down. You could see his strength and agility as he gracefully leapt over large jungle roots like a deer, swerved to avoid branches shrubs and trees like a fox and avoided sharp terrain or small gutters like a mouse, at a spectacular pace of a cat.

He was pushing himself harder than he ever had before, because he was never so determined to get something done before. He felt that he needed to slay the dragon- the Shu Pa- to honor his tribe. All his life, he felt like an outsider in his own home, like he didn't belong. He didn't have many friends because everyone thought he was annoying. If only he could do this for them- if he could prove to them what he could do- perhaps something would change.

He knew that the best place to start looking for something would be in the last place you saw evidence of it. That is why he decided to go back to the site of the scorched earth which he had seen the day before.

There, he also saw foot prints. They were no doubt left behind by the Shu Pa. The prints may have been as large as Lok's torso. He thought that it would be best to follow the tracks, and see where they led him.

Lok found other evidence of the beast. If it wasn't tracks on the ground, there were burned branches, or the distinct smell of its flame. There was actually so much evidence of the creature, Lok suspected maybe it wanted to be found. He wondered how something so evident could have gone so long without being noticed.

He had a lot of time to think of this, for his journey was quite long. Before the break of day, he had already crossed the greater river, and passed the moss grove by dawn. Going farther than most men from his tribe had ever gone, he got to the edge of the forest. No one had ever had a reason to venture past the edge of the forest... until now. By this point, Lok was convinced that the Shu Pa was hiding somewhere in the mountains. Now at the edge of the forest, he could see all of the mountains clearly. He had decided to be the first from his tribe to go there, which he would do so that he could find his dragon.

But he wasn't ready just then. He had been up all night, and needed rest. He climbed into a tree and slept.

While Lok ahad begun to get into sleep, his fellow tribesmen had just finished awakening. Already, someone had noticed that Lok was not there. In fact, everyone noticed it. Lok always makes such a presence, that it felt strange not having him around, especially when there wasn't a hunting party out.then. He had been up all night, and needed rest. He climbed into a tree and slept.

ss grove, and going farther than

Chief Vhu was as concerned as he was angry, for he knew where Lok was and what he had gone to do.

Chapter 5

Lok slept for half the day. He climbed down, and continued his adventure. After only a few steps, he found himself out of the forest, and in the vast prairies. He went through it. The grass and shrubs were very long, and some were sharp and cut him. He couldn't see through the grass to avoid them, unless he was very careful. So he slowed down as he walked the plain, until he discovered a brook, which he followed all the way to close to where the mountains were. It took him a little off course, but still got him to the mountains sooner. There were berries along the side of the water that were good to eat. He picked them as he trekked. At one point, he killed, cooked and ate a rabbit.

As he got closer, he found more evidence of his Shu Pa. He eventually found what looked like a cave in the side of the mountain which he suspected was certainly the site of the dragon. He went that way. As he kept going, the ground began to be less and less grass, and was covered with gravel, dirt and rock; this was a sign that he was getting higher up the mountain. That, and the fact that the ground was getting steeper. It was dusk when he had reached the point where he had to start climbing up the crag. Soon after, it was dark. Lok couldn't see his handholds apart from loose rock, so he determined to rest for the night. He found a small nook and crawled inside. Making sure it was free of any dangerous creatures, he lay down to sleep.

He woke early the next morning, just before dawn. He was awoken by the sound of the dragon! His suspicion was correct! The dragon was just a small ways away, and it would be waiting for him in its den farther up the bluff.

He wasted no time. Lok continued climbing higher- and once the greater light orb rose off the ground behind the mountain- Lok went faster as it illuminated the land more. As he lifted himself over one last small summit, he found the mouth to a large cave. It was the very cave he went in search of! The greater light orb was still behind the mountain, and its rays shone and glistened on the sides of it, portraying the cave as the divine splendor that Lok attributed it to be.

Inside the cave there was some light, most likely sunlight through a small hole on the other side somewhere.

But as he stood bravely in front of the cave, Lok could see the light was disrupted by a large shadow that moved on the wall as loud noises echoed from inside at a savage ferocity. Lok braced himself, put down his headdress over his face, and readied his slingshot, aiming it into the cave. But the shadow on the cave wall grew smaller and smaller as the sound became clearer. Soon, a figure came within sight. Lok saw the face of what looked to be a very large lizard. Its skin was as black as the piercing midnight, and large horns adorned its head. The beast had a very long snout with long jags of teeth that looked like razors.

The Shu Pa lowered its head suddenly to the ground. It did not move.

Lok was then aware that a head was all of the creature that was before him, and that it was now lying at the feet of what looked the shape of a man. Lok was not sure what was going on. This 'man' that carried out the Shu Pa's head was made of silver! At the end of its arm was a large blade. It held up the blade, looking ready to attack.

"Greetings, native villager! My name is Sir William Kelvin of the distant kingdom of Brittania. Fear thou not, for I have vanquished the wyvern." said the knight.

Lok did not understand a word of what the metal man said, but before he said it, he cast aside his weapon- Lok was still not sure if the man was to be trusted.

William raised both his hands and took off his helmet. Lok realized that what he saw was not necessarily a man made of metal, but perhaps a man covered in a metal suit.

Lok started to trust the man a little more, but still not enough to lower his weapon.

Then, William walked over to a sack near the entrance of the cave. Lok didn't even notice it before. William reached inside and pulled out an apple for himself, and took a bite. Then, took another, and tossed it to Lok. Lok dropped his weapon and caught the apple, then scrambled to get out his shiv.

Eventually, he warmed up to William. He sat and ate next to him. Neither of them could understand each other, but they enjoyed each other's company, both of them having gone several days without seeing another person.

Later that night, after the lesser light orb was high above them, they started to prepare places to sleep just inside the cave. They would go home safely in the morning, parting ways. Lok was happy that the Shu Pa was gone.

Both men were eager to see what would await them once they got home.

The End

Except it wasn't the end! While the men were deep in their sleep in the very early morning, they were awakened by a loud noise. "Nyrrraaaahhh!!!"

The men rushed to the mouth of the cave.

They saw big flames high in the sky. The dragon could not be seen because it was too dark, but they knew that it was another dragon.

Immediately, William began to put on his armor. Lok watched to see if he could see the creature in the air, or where it was going. He saw flames looking as if they were headed straight toward them. He too prepared for an eminent attack. Lok took out his bow. In his tribe, no one carried arrows in a quiver on their back. They have clips of arrows that attached straight onto the bow when it was not in use, so they don't get in the way. While in combat, the arrows can be attached to a band which an archer always has wrapped around his arm or leg. Lok preferred to put his on his leg.

In the time it took you to read about Lok's funky arrows, the dragon had already reached the cave. Before they even saw it coming, it landed on the edge of the tiny plateau just outside. It landed with such force, that the two men could feel the cave shake. Lok and William could both hear it inhaling deeply. William hid behind a ridge to protect himself. However, Lok had never seen a living dragon before- he did not know that they exhaled fire. He just stood there with his bow in hand, ready to attack with his bow and arrow.

Quickly, William jumped at his friend, and tackling him to the ground behind a large boulder. Both men were safe from the flames, but the heat did burn them still.

Immediately after the flames stopped, Lok poked out from behind the rock and fired two consecutive arrows at the beast. It recoiled. William charged at it with its sword, and began slashing at it while Lok shot at the creature with pebbles from the ground, via his sling shot. This caused the dragon to fly away.

William and Lok went outside, to see if they could see where the beast had gone. They could not. They could see a little by that point, for it was twilight. But the dragon seemed to disappear. They didn't look behind them, and see the Shu Pa perching above the cave's mouth. It stretched out its long neck, over William. It lunges at him, and before he knows what is happening, the wyvern sank its long, sharp teeth down around his head, and rips off his... helmet. It sure is a good thing that William was wearing armor.

The Shu Pa began to fly away, but Lok had the stone which had the twine attached to it, and he threw it at his enemy. It looped around the Shu Pa's leg , and Lok intended to pull at it and cause the creature to lose balance and stumble to the ground. However, when Lok pulled at the rope with all his might, the beast wasn't even phased. Instead, it kept going, and tugged on Lok, taking him into the air with it. As soon as he started to move, he was too high up to let go. All of Lok's weight was enough to throw the dragon off balance for a mere second, but then it recovered. It also started kicking, trying to get Lok off of its leg.

Lok held on tight, and he slowly and carefully started to climb. From the top of its leg, Lok was able to hold onto the creature's right wing, and use it to push it onto its back. The Shu Pa tried to stop by flapping its wings really fast, and swerving, turning, and leaning in the air. From his distance, William saw the wyvern flying like a mute baby bat on hallucinogenics.

When Lok got on the back of the monster, he strattles it, and began stabbing it with his shiv. The dragon did whatever it can to get rid of him; nosediving, flying loops rolls, but Lok held on too tight. When it tried to fly a summersault, Lok was finally loosed. He fell forward, and took hold of the beast's neck. It got disoriented, and began to rapidly fall out of the sky.

Chapter 7

As the Shu Pa fell, it flailed about, it tried to stead itself and return to a normal pattern of flight, but, unfortunately, that was very hard to do upside down.

It crashed into the side of the same mountain where the battle began. It hit it right where the entrance to the cave was. In fact, Lok was thrown inside it. He tumbled, skidded and rolled until he stopped abruptly from hitting a wall.

The dragon began to slide down the side of the mountain. It had caused a landslide! And falling rocks and dirt started piling up in front of the cave. Lok had to run to get out before he was trapped in there for good. He ran out quickly, and jumped onto the dragon. At some point, he lost his shiv, so he got out his bow. All of his arrows were broken except three. As he stood on the belly of the beast, he struggled to keep his balance. It was even harder still to try to aim the bow, even at such a short distance.

The Shu Pa extended its neck and snapped its jaws at Lok. He dodged to avoid the attack, but nearly fell off. He regained balance just in time to be lunged at again. This time, Lok did not dodge the attack. He saw the Shu Pa begin to close its mouth around him. But then, he fired his arrow, straight down the beast's throat. It threw its head back, and hit the ground hard. Finally, they had reached the bottom, and stopped.

William unburied himself from under the pile of fallen earth and rock. His armor was dented and pieces were missing. Already without a helmet, now he was missing a gauntlet, and armor for his left leg up to his knee. When he was fully recovered- with his sward clenched tightly- he ran at the wyvern. With his left arm's armor so mangled and bent, he couldn't even move it. He began to thrust his entire body repetitively at the wyvern so he could slash it with his weapon.

It quickly snapped its jaws at him, snatching him by the arm. He dropped the sword as he was flung far into the distance. While this was happening, Lok ran, he went straight through the sharp plants which cut him all along the way. The Shu Pa rose high into the air and went quickly toward him. It picked him up with its talons. The beast carried him straight into the air, all the way into the forest. It dropped him from a height as high as the mountains. It followed him, breathing its scorching fire breath at him. It did burn Lok's skin, though just a little. However, some of the trees were caught in it a little worse, and that part of the forest began to wither in flames matching the redness of the light in the horizon.

When the Shu Pa landed in front of Lok, it moved at him. It walked slowly, for it seemed like the type of beast that was unable to walk quickly on the ground. It inhaled deeply, readying its fire breath again. Lok shot it with his last two arrows. It screeched so loud, it scared away all the birds from the nearby trees. It even made Lok feel dizzy.

When it snapped at Lok again, he did a summersault, and rolled forward, going straight under the beast. He was much faster and more agile than it, but its large, strong tail took him by surprise, and hit him, throwing him straight into the firy forest where he was stopped by a very solid tree. Lok was surrounded by flames to all sides, and the dragon in front of him. He was weak all over, and bewildered from the impact.

Chapter 8

The Shu Pa came through the flames, Lok with nothing left to fight with but a sling shot.

Lok was backed against a tree. Branches were falling down in front of him, some almost on him, because they had been burned through. Lok, however, was unable to move. The Shu Pa charged and lunged at him. He dodged, and barely missed being flattened between it and the tree.

Amazingly, the tree snapped and fell just on top of the dragon's back, pinning it to the ground. Unfortunately, a large branch from the same tree fell over Lok, pinning him by the leg. As he struggled to get free, the Shu Pa struggled to clench him in its jaws. It was close, but mere inches away. As it squirmed abut, it slowly loosened itself from the trap, getting closer and closer to Lok. Yet, as Lok struggled, he felt that he was no closer to becoming unstuck.

When finally the monster loosed itself, it took three steps nearer to Lok, and lunged at him. Lok was able to avoid being snatched yet again. This time, he held onto one of the Shu Pa's horns, and wouldn't let go. Because he was pinned, and he held on so tight, the Shu Pa couldn't move either, until the Shu Pa moved so with such force that it loosed Lok once and for all. The Shu Pa fell back, right into a tree. This one too fell on it, this time pinning it for good. Lok was able to get away while the beast lay snagged under a trap of its own devices.

Lok returned to his tribe, bruised, burned, broken boned, bleeding, and imbued with a sense of pride, a smile on his face, and accomplishment. Finally he would be able to feel at home in his tribe.

"Lok," said Chief Elder Vhu, "What have you done?"

"But..."

"I have specifically warned you NOT to trifle with the dragon, and what have you done?"

"But I killed it!"

"That may be so, but look at the price."

Lok looked behind him and saw the forest, shaded with clouds, yet illuminated by the fires in the distance.

"Lok Maka... for your folly, I hereby exile you from this tribe. You are no longer welcome here."

Lok stood shocked. "Surely you can't do this..." he turned to some of the other tribesmen around "He can't do this, right?"

They turned and walked away.

"Lok!" said Vhu sternly, "They turn their backs on you, just as you must now do. Leave this land at once."

Reluctantly, Lok walked slowly into the woods as it began to rain.

The (Actual) End
"the great things in life"

by Cory Winters

Willis was a teenager who had always been the center of attention, usually in the wrong way. He stood 4'5 inches tall, had jet black hair and piercing green eyes that change color in unison with his mood. He was rather skinny for a 14 year old and had a life full of pain, suffering and misfortune. All caused by his elder brother and father because of his small frame, and feminine face. Although he lived during the hard times of the Great Depression, he never hated life. All he had to keep him afloat during these times was a caring step mother, and an adoring younger half-brother. Sometimes you will find that the smaller things in life are what make it such a beautiful thing.

Willis was woken up by a kick. He thought he was dreaming and closed his eyes again. After another kick, he sprang up in a vain attempt to attack his assaulter. He was immediately slammed back on to his floor.

"What the hell Cyrus?" He blurted while trying to shield his eyes from the relentless sun that pierced through the tethered blinds of his bedroom.

"It's time to eat, you furry-browed four-eyed freak!" Cyrus shouted before he generously hands out a few more punches and kicks.

One of the kicks nailed Willis in the stomach and left him breathless and unable to stand up for a few moments. Willis squirmed in pain as he formed a puddle of tears beneath himself. Once he regained his breath and was able to stand, he picked his blanket up from the floor and folded it. He put the blanket away and grabs his glasses. Painfully, he waddles into the kitchen.

"Dad! Cyrus hit m-"

"Boy! You are late for breakfast again! How many times have I told you to go to bed earlier?"

"But dad, Cyrus-

*A sound cracked through the tense air, resembling the sound of a whip breaking the sound barrier, followed by a loud thud*

"Don't interrupt me when I am speaking to you, you ungrateful, filthy heathen!

"Ok Steve. Whatever you say, it does not like I'll ever have the chance to talk..."

"Steve? I am your father, and as long as you are living under my roof, you will address me as dad! Since you like to act like an adult, you can find your own breakfast!" Steve shouted at Willis, who was lying face down on the kitchen floor, recovering from the blow his father had dealt."

"Sweetie, don't you think that was a bit too m-"

"Dammit Grace, another word from you and you'll get the same thing! If you didn't baby him so much he wouldn't have such a hard time finding a job."

Willis didn't bother picking himself up. He knew that his father would see it as an act of defiance and strike him again. Instead, he chose to lie there, forcing himself not to cry or whimper until his father and brother left. During these events, Cyrus sat at the table eating his food as if nothing happened. He even let out a faint giggle when his father struck Willis. After his father and Cyrus leave for work, Grace Scrambles to Willis' side.

"Wake up! Oh god, please wake up!" she screamed as she shook his seemingly lifeless body. She rolls his body over and sees his crimson-green eyes staring back at her.

"Mother of Christ... I thought that mad man had killed you! Please don't be upset with me honey. Tried to step in and defend you but he threatened to... Here, I made you a plate and stuck it in the oven before Steve and Cyrus woke up. Luckily I did too; Cyrus tried scarfing down all of the leftover food to make sure you didn't eat... You have to grow big and strong so you can defend yourself from your brother and that pig of a father.

Mentally and physically exhausted from the unjust beatings he had just received, Willis ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. He glared at his reflection in the mirror, and his eyes began to dart back and forth as if there was something he was searching for, but couldn't find. He closed his eyes and sighed in relief that he hadn't found what he was searching desperately for but couldn't find.

The door opened behind him and he braced himself for impact. Grace flung herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around him and nearly toppled him. Grace stood about 6'inches taller than Willis. She has blond hair, a face full of freckles and deep sapphire eyes that could win over any man. They stared blankly at each other's reflection in the mirror and Graces' face frowns in preparation of the tears that would apparently follow.

"I'm sorry honey... I wish I could take you and Ethan and disappear."

"Yeah and we would get caught just like last time. The bruises on your back are probably starting to heal. Let's not give him a reason to give you more. I don't want you to relive that again... Besides, he has his entire gang of mobster buddies watching us after the last incident. We wouldn't make it far if anywhere at all. We can't do anything but endure until something comes up."

"Not just that honey... He threatened to hurt my sister and her fiancé's children if we tried to run away again. This damn recession caused my bakery to sink under. I would move back with my parents down south but at their age, having three extra mouths to feed, especially during these dark depressing times would be far too much for them to handle.

"Three mouths? Don't worry about me... I'm not even your real child. If you ever get the chance to escape, take Ethan and run as fast as you can from this hellhole. You two would have a better chance without me."

"Enough of that nonsense honey. I would never leave either of my boys under this god forsaken roof. Now let's go eat, I'm starving and I'm sure you and Ethan are too. No matter what your father said, I refuse to eat without both you and Ethan!"

They both began crying. In just a few moments, Willis had a puddle of tears forming in his head. Some made a quick escape from his head to his forehead, trickling their way down his forehead and merging with his own tears, where they then began their journey to the floor. Through Willis' tear obstructed vision; he saw a tiny head poking from behind the door. He wiped his eyes and glasses to see Ethan wearing only a diaper, smiling as if he were modeling the four teeth in his mouth. He ran up to them, pried his way in-between their legs and hugged them both at the knees. Ethan apparently mistook their stuttering sobs as laughter. After wiping their face, they proceeded into the kitchen to eat.

Grace preheated the over to warm up their food. They waited patiently while listening to the radio. They over hear that Al Capone, an infamous mobster leader was being sent to serve the remainder of his 10 year sentence in Alcatraz.

"Good, for him. He got exactly what he deserved," Grace grunted. She outs on an oven mitt and grabs a plate of food from the oven. Her back is turned to Willis and Ethan, but it is quite apparent that she was loading up plates with food. She placed two plates on the table, one in front of her seat and another in front of Ethan's and walked back to the stove. She turned around and shocked Willis.

"Surprise! Happy birthday honey! You didn't think I would forget about your big day did you?" Grace shouted enthusiastically.

Willis' eyes filled with tears again once he realized that he himself had forgotten that it was his birthday. Grace had made his favorite breakfast; bacon, eggs, grits and pancakes all from scratch. She sat the plate in front of him and he blew out the single candle that had obviously been used before. Sometimes it is the smallest things in life that make it so beautiful.

ABOUT THE AUTHORs

The authors of this work are the students of the UW-Rock County spring 2013 Intro to Creative Writing class. They enjoy writing and long walks on the beach.

