3rd Period's 2017-18 Short Stories for Young GA Authors Contest

“This Town, I Remember”

By: Susan Gareis

            Ohh, where is my journal? I could have sworn I put it in my desk drawer. So old. My memory just isn’t what it used to be. Ah, okay. My bag. I’ve got it. I sit. Pen, pen, pen, pen. Ok. Ready to roll.

Dear journal… No. Ok. I begin to write, pressing ink on paper as thoughts flow through my brain and out on to paper.  Here, it begins.

“Seven years ago. Time felt still, it feels like. Looking back on it, everything static. Nothing ever really happened in the little barren… No not barren. More like simple. The simple town of Limmerse. There was just enough there to survive: your own house, a few neighbors for when you got lonely, a small grocery store that got restocked at the very beginning and end of each month,  and a gas station with its various snacks that our grocery store didn’t hold. It was quiet. Everyone knew everyone and it was quite enjoyable. We never had visitors, never had citizens of this town leave.

The date specifically: September 16, year of 1978. It was quite chilly. The air, I remember, was crispy. The town, I feel as though, had a strange effect on those who lived there, including me. Before living there, you had your moments of being paranoid, anxious. Owning a house and living there calmed your mind, eased your worries. But back to the crispy air and chilly weather. Yes, it was usually quite chilling in the fall in Limmerse, but this was different…”

            Ahhh. No. My pen ran out of ink. This was my favorite pen. Alright let’s get another one. Ya know this really sucks. It’s like looking for a certain flavor of ice cream at the parlor but realizing they’re out of your favorite kind. *Sigh.* Alright, this’ll have to do, let’s keep going…

            “...Someone left Limmerse. Yeah, I know. Big deal. No, not sarcasm. They were gone gone. Like… dead type of gone… Murdered. But how? Everyone knew everyone. Everyone knew every body’s personality from inside out, on good days and bad days, on rainy days and sunny days, and how their attitudes changed from Monday through Thursday. There was Miss Limmerse, the owner of the town, who was very kind. She woke at 6:30 every morning to take an hour stroll around town to make sure everything was ship-shape before everyone woke up. There was the married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Clentine. A very lovely couple, very generous in their own way and were always smiling or laughing. One other person, other than me, lived in Limmerse. His name was Jasper. Jasper Neil. Odd name in my opinion, yet very unique. I admired this kid. Well… teenager. His parents left him in this town when he was very young, maybe around ten months if I remember correctly. He grew up never knowing who they were or why he was living in a simple town with four other people. He never questioned it though. He woke up at 9:00 every morning and would draw. Very talented. He worked at the grocery store and after his shift, he would walk back home and wouldn’t come out. Everyone expected he was sketching…”

            I smirk. He was so lively. I miss him. I imagine he’s off somewhere sketching at some field, people walking by as they admire his sketches. Gee. What a lovely thought.

            “...Normal routine, as usual, that day of September 16. Miss Limmerse got up and walked around town to check the gas station to make sure everything worked properly. Next, she made her way to the store and confirmed the store was neat and tidy: no food in the wrong spot, no bread turned backwards or to its side, etc. Afterwards, she took her normal stroll around town just admiring the sun rise. Mr. and Mrs. Clentine awoke and made breakfast, breakfast that could be smelt all over town: bacon, eggs, biscuits, tea, sausage, grits, and hash browns. It was their normal breakfast every morning. While they’re cooking, it’s around 8:50 am and Jasper is waking up to the awaited smell of delicious breakfast next door. Where am I in all of this? In my home watching all of this happen. I wake up before everybody. I sleep at 9 pm and wake at 5:30 am. As I rise out of bed, I wait for this routine to begin and admire this town for its routinely mornings. It’s quite calming…”

*Yawn.* Wow. I’m tired. I look at the clock to see that it’s past my bedtime. 9:30? Goodness. No wonder my eyes feel heavy. I must finish this. Keep going, Linear.

“... Hours pass and the sun is setting. Miss Limmerse is taking her nightly walk around town to turn off street lights and to wave goodnight to her Limmerse citizens.

“Good night, Jasper. Sleep well, see you tomorrow. Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Clentine. Lovely seeing you today, have a wonderful night. Linear, sweet dreams,” is what Miss Limmerse always says. Jasper responds with a smile, Mr. and Mrs. Clentine give a wave as they’re walking into their home, and I give a light hug. Except, that night was not the usual routine. Miss Limmerse forgot to turn off the lights, did not wish us a good night, and was not around. Despite the strange occurrence of that night, Mr. and Mrs. Clentine entered their home waving, without looking behind them and Jasper walked in smiling as usual. Where was I? I was walking around town looking for Miss Limmerse. I said her usual goodbyes to everybody that night and stated I’d walk around for a little to look for Miss Limmerse to make sure she hadn’t gotten ill or anything. Once everyone was inside, I took off. I checked her home first, of course. Empty. Gas station was perfectly normal. The only place left was the grocery store. Lights were on and door was unlocked. I walked in quietly, checking my surroundings cautiously. Isle 3 by the meats where Mrs. Clentine comes every other morning to buy her bacon, Miss Limmerse is laying there with bruises around her neck. No pulse. Dead.”

I breathe heavily, nearly regretting putting this story down on paper. It’s fine. It’s a journal for a reason, right? Private. It’s all private. I finish the entry with this:

“I conclude this story with a confession. I am Mr. Limmerse. Except… I wasn’t known as Mr. Limmerse in this town. My wife had a crash, completely wiping out her memory. She had no idea who I was, so I built this house beside hers and informed her that I would be her new neighbor. I introduced myself as Linear Anther. Ever since then, she’s made this town and began her routine. It’s been seven years… Seven long years. But now, I have recorded the story, the town, my name, and my confession. No going back now. Did your accusation match up? I killed Miss Limmerse on the 16th of September, year of 1978. No more routines, no more town of Limmerse. No more worries.

Signed,

Mr. Limmerse

September 16, 1985”

“Journal #49”

by Emma Hill

It was not often that you would see the jokester of Douglastown upset or down. But whenever she happened to let it show, it was not to many people, for then you could see how much it really consumed her. Most often, when she needed to let it burst out, she waited until the patrons of her favorite diner dwindled, and it was just her and the owner. She didn’t want to worry her brother, Joshua. Josh had enough on his plate already.

And so the hours grew late and the patronage thin. When the last sentryman had left for the night, Benjamin gave up the pretense of wiping down the bar and came around to sit next to his friend.

“What’s eating you, Olive?” he said in his perpetual quiet, gentle voice. Olive could listen to it for hours.

Olive laid her head on the bar and shrugged. “It’s not like you’ll even believe me anyway.” She tried for a smile but it looked like she was trying not to cry more than anything else.

“Of course I will. I always have before, haven’t I?”

“This is just.. different, okay? I know you’re gonna think I’m weird but it- I need to tell you.”

“I’m all ears, Ollie,” Ben replied and smiled that soft, warm smile Olive loved the most.

            Olive took a shaky breath and started, his voice muffled by the bar. “ I, uh, o-ok. You remember when we first met each other, in high school. Sophomore year, right?” Benjamin nodded. “ I ran into you after school and knocked all your books out of your hands. You were too flustered to say anything, but we picked them up and I ran off again. I was running b-back home so I could.. Our dad, mine and Josh’s, was kinda, um, awful. He was just a-angry or y-yelling or drunk all the time. He was always like that a little. But do you remember when I, uh, went out with Derrick for a w-while?” Benjamin nodded and frowned a bit. Derrick was always a bit too.. possessive of Olive. “He was.. worse after th-that. D-didn’t want me to run off and leave h-him alone to ‘take c-care of J-josh.’ I was running back to the house so Josh wouldn’t have to be alone with h-him. But, uh, back to the main point: the next day I apologized and we sorta just gravitated towards each other..”

            Realization dawned on Benjamin’s face, and his gentle tone became harsher. “So that’s why you always brought Joshua with you when you came over to the house. And why I never went over to your place. I- I just thought you were a little stir crazy, but never anything like tha- Oh God, Ollie, what about the time you fell down the stairs? Was that him? What else did he do to you?”

            Oliver pales. “... Yes. U-um can we not talk about t-this p-part?”

            Benjamin acquiesced, but his concern only grew. He could always tell that Olive had a bit of a stutter, just from her speech patterns and pitch and a lot of listening, but it had never been this pronounced before. And were her hands shaking or was it just a trick of the light?Ben drew his seat a bit closer.

            Olive, now trembling a bit, continues. “So, kn-knowing this, p-please don’t be cr-creeped out by what I’m about to t-tell y-you. You got ridiculous, cheesy l-letters and presents every year in h-highschool for.. b-basically any major holiday ever, and little n-notes almost every w-week in your locker.. I kn-know because I s-sent them. A-after you f-found the first one you l-looked so happy.. I j-just.. I don’t kn-know, it m-made me happy, too, I guess.. I j-just couldn’t t-tell y-you in p-person or you might th-think I’m g-gross or weird or..” Olive’s voice trails off, and she pushes her face into her arms, cutting off further conversation.

            Benjamin sat there, stunned, mentally rereading the last note he’d ever gotten from the anonymous sender. No, Olive, he amended. There wasn’t anything on it really, not like the usual notes with cheesy pick-up lines and words of encouragement. Just five little words, written in simple script. “I love you. Bye, Benjamin.” And a small stain at the bottom where it looked like some water had been spilled on it. The last note had arrived the day he’d gotten serious with Marie, and while he loved his daughter Adara, he could have done without all that splitting up business.

            Even after all this time, and all the things Marie had done, Ben truly thought that she had been the one giving him all the notes and letters. Looking back on it, how could he have been so blind? The little jokes and quips fit Olive’s type of humor flawlessly, and not once did anything Benjamin received feel over-the-top or insincere. Marie, however, was not so driven by emotion as he had thought when they met. Her only desires were out of selfishness. How had he been such a fool?

            Ben thought of all the times Olive had been there for him, always saying or doing the right thing to cheer him up. He thought about all the times she had been there to look after Adara, simply so he could get some sleep. But the instance he thought most about was the day Marie had left him, leaving behind only her baby and a short note. For a while, he’d sat there, numb, mechanically taking care of his child. When he’d put Adara down for the night, it was like a dam had broken, and all of his composed demeanor disappeared.  He had called Olive, and immediately, she had been there for him, doing everything he needed, and many things he hadn’t.

But when had he ever truly been there for her? He had been a selfish friend, taking what he needed and never once thinking she might want something in return. Ben had never even realized she’d needed him to be there for her. Excepting a few times in the past year or so, she had always seemed so stable, so grounded. But now, looking back on his memories of Olive, and seeing her so fragile now, he saw how fragile she truly was. Quickly, Ben tried to gather himself, knowing he had been silent for far too long.

            When he turned to Olive, or where she was sitting rather, he was surprised to find her already half out the door, mumbling a “See ya.” Before Ben could even think to move, she was gone. That seemed to be her way of dealing with things she couldn’t handle. Ben briefly indulged a thought that maybe they could just forget about all this mess, and then everything would be like it always had been tomorrow. Benjamin stumbled up to his apartment above the diner. It was time for Ben to tell Olive how dear she was to him, and how much Ben really cared for her. But that could wait until the next morning, and a clearer mind. Now, however, he needed to sleep.

            Benjamin awoke the next morning with a clear sense of purpose, his mind itching to do one thing and one thing only: convince Olive not only that he loved her. but that she was worth every moment he spent with her. And so he closed his diner for the da and left his daughter in the hands of a capable enough babysitter, hoping the villagers of Douglastown would understand, and set off for Olive’s home determined to win her heart.

            When he arrived at the small house in the middle of town, Josh was already at the door expecting him. Benjamin started to say something, but Joshua cut him off with a few words and a pained smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Olive’s upstairs. If you can’t get her to come out, no one can.”

            With that grim declaration, Ben strode up the stairs and knocked softly on Olive’s door. “Olive?” he called out softly. “Can I come in, please..?” Hearing no response, he nudged the door open and recoiled. Hanging from the ceiling was.. Olive.

            Benjamin just stood there, frozen. He barely heard Joshua come in and run back out, gagging. Olive is dead and it’s my fault, was the only thing running through his mind as the events of the past few days swirled in his psyche. Olive is dead because of me.

            There was no doubt among the citizens of Douglastown that this was the reason Benjamin had drowned himself in the river shortly afterward, practically orphaning his child.

But the true nature of his death was not revealed to her, at least not until she found a transcript of events, written by Benjamin himself, and which she decided to adapt into the short story you see here.

           

           

           

           

“Saturday”

By: Kevin Jessup

            Me. Just me living this life I call my own. I sent my girlfriend “hey” like I do every morning. I check my Snapchat and find nothing new. She still did not respond. I walk into the kitchen and eat my food, happily to have something digesting. Today is Saturday, so I get ready for the day and leave with my mom. I check my phone once again and only see a still silence staring back at me. I walk into the mall and go to my my favorite section: the video games. After a few hours, everything became just as boring as all of the other days of the year.

            I finally get to my mom at the checkout, and sit with my phone to wait out the last minute of my time. After a few minutes of the droning noises, a specific sound caught my attention. This sound was unique, for it is not heard often. This time, of all of my life, is louder than it had ever been before. My ears rang, for the sound had a very tangible feeling. Everyone around me, including my mom, ran to the exit and out of the door, leaving just me and two others in the same proximity.

            I saw that one of my friends was pointing the pistol at the corpse of a woman. Right as the fire alarm screeched, the friend walked over to me, with her gun put in her purse, and said, “Come with me.” I immediately followed, intrigued by her choices so far. She led me with a stunning serenity as we proceeded towards to the back of the store.

I was in some kind of spell, with my legs moving along with the rest of me wherever she went. When we got around the clothes section, we went and hid in one of the dressing rooms. She the laid the pistol down and told me to sit on the ground. She took off her small, monogrammed purse and set it beside the gun. After a few moments, sitting on the floor, her tranquil express morphed into tears upon tears.

She started speaking to me, and I was trying to make sense of it, but she could tell I was hearing unintelligible murmurings from her mouth. My friend cleared her throat, more forcefully than before, and tried her best to explain herself:

“James, before I tell you my reasons, know that I have always been the same person.  Please do not let this affect our friendship, you are my only friend. I do appreciate that you haven’t hurt me yet for what I have done. I’m sorry that we haven’t seen each other in months, but know that I did what I did for a reason.”

“Amanda, it’s okay, I forgive you. But why today? Why do something so malicious to that woman? What has she done to you?”

She stood up, looking up into the lighting for the answer long awaited. Then Amanda looked back at me and spoke.

“At the start of summer, when all was well, I wished my parents would let me hold more responsibility, and they said no. When I wanted to go to a friend’s house, they said no. When I asked to go to a camp with my church and my friends, my loving parents still disagreed. Even when I wanted to eat somewhere, both of them held close to their vegan ways.

My father would often remark, ‘Amanda, what have I told you before with eating non-organic food from these fast food places? I have made very clear that those types of food are BANNED in this household!’ and I would always just roll my eyes and reply, ‘Whatever.’ No matter what I said to them, they only continued telling me the norm. Then a evil whim came over me: What would my friends do?

So, one day, we put our heads together and I decided to run away. I know it was stupid of me to even try, but I really felt like i needed to escape in order for me to be happy. So I did, and it turned out that my friends told my parents that I was staying at their house (we all live on the same street). After a week of me being out there by myself, my parents started getting nervous that I was not there, and when they went to my friend’s house, I wasn’t there either. My parents, having Type B personalities, have known I did this from time to time. To be honest, the last time I tried to run away, they saw through my superficial courage and knew I would return soon.

After a week or two, I continued walking through the towns I knew. My friends called me regularly and told me everything. My friends even admitted to me that they had lied to their parents and everyone else that they did not know what happened to me. When I pondered on that, I started feeling hatred for my friends instead of my parents. I never told my friends, for they always said things like ‘Why haven’t you run away sooner? Everyone at school knows your parents don’t care about you.’ They were the whole force behind my rebelliousness. To me, I have gone so far, I don’t even know how to I could get home anymore.

            Walking on the street, all raggedy as I was, no one was around to show me comfort. Everyone who showed genuine kindness was gone. Most of my money had disappeared by then, limiting what I could further purchase. When I stopped, it was around the side of a store. I didn’t know what I could do next, so I slept. When the morning had come, I noticed there were clean clothes nearby with a toothbrush. I took them into the store with me and fixed myself up. I felt just slightly better, knowing that someone was helpful. The next morning, I found some shampoo and used it to wash my hair in the store’s bathroom sink. The morning after that, I received some fruit and water.

            Each and every morning, I had more and more brought to me: food, money, and soap. Then one day, I received something very unforgiving: a gun. I thought to myself, Why would someone give me a loaded gun? I am never going to need it. Since then, I always carried the gun around. About a week after, when I was in the store, there was a news report about a missing child. I heard just those two words and I looked a little closer. The picture of the missing person was a girl, and that girl was me.

I hastily looked around to see if anyone else noticed it, and I started speed-walking to the exit at the front. I must have looked suspicious, but when I walked out of the door, the parking lot was full. I turned around and went into the store, hoping to wait for no one to see me as I went back outside. I looked like a mess. I continued to the one of the food aisles and sat on the ground. I was a little shook and scared; I didn’t want to be found. I eventually stood up, and there my mom was, staring right at me.

My body lurched into fight-or-flight mode, and I took off. I can remember my mom yelling, ‘Amanda, please! I love you so much! Come back! We miss you!’ I have told myself, along with my friends behind me, to never listen to my parents. It was worked so hard into my skull, I knew nothing else. I ran into the mob of people, and I could see my mom was chasing after me. My mind was so situated on not wanting my mom, I did the only thing I could do.

Once the bullet hit her, and everyone but you left, I then knew that I should tell you everything. When I shot her, it felt wrong. It felt as if I had become one of my friends. I was then filled with a feeling that everything would be okay. While I led you to this dressing room, I texted my friends what I did, but they were horrified, and called the cops.

            So, that is everything, and please help me out, James. I need you.”

            Around this time, even from the back part of the store, I could hear police sirens at the front of the building. I looked at her. She looked back. I remember my own girlfriend doing the same thing, but with her, it felt different. I turned away, then looked back and said, “I will help you, but I will be torn in the process.”

            Amanda started with tears, “You know tha- that I might… die.” Tears started coming from my eyes too, sliding down my face. “They will kill me, like I.. like I killed my mom.” She started looking blurry, and my face produced larger, unending streams.

            We hugged. I whispered into her ear, “I love you very much. When I used to see you, I would always stare at your beautiful eyes, and wish you were mine.”

            Neither one of us noticed when the dressing room door opened and beheld a police officer with a gun. Only at that moment did I realize that I said the right things at the right time. The officer saw the sitting pistol on the ground and took both of his shots.

            I have never said my life was something I enjoyed, but in that moment, I truly felt alive. Thank you world, for letting me see the light.

“How To Find Your Soulmate”

By: Anna Johnson

            “It’s alright for you guys,” Carter grumbles, picking at his food as they sat at one of the tables in the cafeteria. He glanced around the table, seeing the worried faces of his friends. Over the past year, Carter’s group had expanded rapidly, turning from his high school trio into his college sixteen.

            However, Carter’s mind was not on college as he poked at his wrist, the numbers dormant for seven years now. Everyone carried these numbers, a countdown to when you would meet your soulmate, and Carter had no idea who his was. His best friends sat across from him, without realizing that their joint hands were causing him even more stress. “Carter,” said James. “I know it’s tough, but, well…”

“What kind of idiot doesn’t pay attention to when their timer runs out?” Carter supplied, and James looked sheepish.

            “I think what James is trying to say,” Natalie reassured, “Is that are you completely sure you don’t even remember a little more detail of when you noticed?”

            It was easy for you guys, Carter thought to himself, unable to be bitter at his friends’ luck, but at the same time they didn’t understand. They had known since James had run into Natalie in the hall freshman year, knocking all the books from Natalie’s hands. James had been leaning down to help pick up what she had dropped when he noticed the usually changing numbers had stopped and had ever since remained at zero. Even if it taken them a few years to finally accept the idea.

            By that point though, Carter’s clock had already run down. “I’d just found out that I would be living with my Uncle Teddy, it was my thirteenth birthday.” he said with a sigh, explaining to them for what seemed like the millionth time how such an important thing had possibly slipped his mind. “He took me around town, and Juniper was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. Teddy took me to almost every landmark and made him meet about a hundred people.” He poked at the food in front of him, before giving up and dropping his fork. “By the time I thought to check, it was already at zero, and I’d spent the day with hundreds of people. It could be any of them.”

            Natalie drummed her fingers on the table, and he knew what she was going to say before she even said it. “But you must have met with someone, someone who was paying attention and realized it was you they were destined to meet.”

            “Then why didn’t they say anything? A soulmate is a pretty important part of your life, why would you give that up on purpose? I would give anything to know.” Carter countered, and James shrugged, looking around at the bustling hall full of chattering students. “Fifteen is a pretty young age to meet your soulmate… maybe they were scared?” he said. Carter leaned his head on his hand.

“It worked for you guys.” he said, trying not to look grumpy. They shared a knowing look.  

“It hasn’t always been like that y’know,” James explained, “We used to fight like cats and dogs.” That managed to get a smile out of Carter at least.

 “Yeah,” he said. “But you two were always annoying like that.”

“No argument there,” came a new cheerful voice. Carter looked to his left to see Victoria Marseille swing her leg over to sit next to him, putting down her plate. “Even though in my opinion, you three have always been insufferable.”

“Hey!” James said angrily, and Natalie laughed. Maybe the most surprising turn of events since they had all returned to school this year was Victoria’s complete turn in her attitude towards, well, everything. She had found Carter on the very first day of the semester to apologize for her rude behavior in high school, and once Carter had accepted (in a state of shock) she went about doing the same to Natalie and James. Sometimes Carter still wondered if she was genuine, but the months had gone by and Victoria had, against all odds, become actual friends.

Carter still felt something strange when Victoria was around, and he blamed it on the fact that they had been rivals for so long, fighting to be top of class, top runner of the school, and the fact that their aggressive and ambitious  nature made everything into a competition.

“So, what are we talking about?” Victoria asked cutting to the point, just like she always did.

“Carter’s soulmate,” James said, getting up to get another plate of food. “He managed to miss meeting her.” Carter caught the slight way Victoria's body flinched.

“Really?” she said, eyes following James as he left

“It could’ve been anyone he met on his first day in Juniper.” Natalie said.

Victoria nodded, eyes on her plate. She looked anxious, but Carter wasn’t sure why. James returned, plate full of food. “It’s strange though, why wouldn’t the other person say anything?” He supplied.

Maybe they did,” said Victoria, placing her unused fork on the table. “And you didn’t notice?” She only glanced at Carter as she spoke, a small smile on her face. Carter realized what she meant.

Carter and his Uncle Teddy walked down the streets of Juniper, California. They came to small bookstore, and Carter opened the door with an audible ‘click’. The place smelled of musty books and wood. Filled with wonderment at the massive shelves, he wandered around the store, fingers tracing the dusty spines of the thousands of books all around him. He rounded the corner and ran into a red haired girl, her books falling to the floor. He scrambled to pick them up and handed them back to the awestruck girl. “Hey, my name is Victoria, what’s yours?”

“Victoria?” he said, pulling himself out of his thoughts. Victoria had already left though, not even bothering to throw away her plate. Carter jumped to his feet and took off in a run, not caring how many people were watching, he knew he just had to get to Victoria. He knocked on her dorm room door, but the only response was silence. He took off towards the lake, one of Victoria’s places. Sure enough, Carter spotted a figure down by the dark water, head down as she picked blades of grass from the ground.

He’d been such a fool. All those fights they had, the way he couldn’t seem to keep away from her, it all made sense. He set off in a run again, sprinting down the sidewalk. Victoria didn’t even see him coming until he took her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him. “You knew,” he said, his stomach twisting into knots with a mixture of happiness and disbelief. “This whole time, you knew it was me.”

Victoria stood still, her eyes wide and shining. “And you had no idea?” she said, her voice small. His astonishment must have been obvious because Victoria’s face softened. “I thought you didn’t want me. I thought you rejected me.”

“Why would I reject the one person made for me, Victoria.” he said, feeling guilty, but incredibly happy at the same time.

He found his soulmate.

By Caden Maxwell

I was fourteen years old, and my hair was already falling out. My family didn’t know that it would happen so quickly. We were only a week and a half into the treatments. Things were glooming in my house. The chemo was slowly withering down my body. The sickness and fatigue were killing me. Well, they weren't actually killing me. What was really draining my life away was the stage three cancer in my colon.

My family tried to stay hopeful that this curse inside me would be cured. I wasn’t so positive. I overheard a conversation between my parents. Mom was crying her eyes out; Dad was trying to stay strong for her, holding back his tears. Dad reassured her everything would be ok, but you could hear it in his voice. Even he didn’t sound totally convinced of what he was saying. Mom argued that there was only a thirty percent chance of survival for her sweet boy. She cursed at the sky for the hardships being put on her family.

I knew the chances of survival were slim to none. At the beginning of my journey I was terrified. Most nights I cried myself to sleep. The thought of death consumed me. I was not ready to die. I was only a child. My parents comforted me, but they were scared too; I knew that. As time went on, I became more and more numb to the world. Everyday was a challenge for me to get through. My will had left me. Depression had grasped my soul with an iron fist.

Finally the day came when I had my epiphany. I could not live the rest of my life incarcerated in the prison that was my home. My last days would not be spent wollering in my own misery, confined in the walls of my house and eventually a hospital bed. I understood that the thread that was my lifespan was quickly unraveling. I knew I was going to die, but I was not scared. Death was a locomotive and I was tied to the tracks, but I did not fight against my bonds. I was going to embrace the inevitable.

            I packed my things. I had to get away, run away.

 It was the dead of night. I slipped into my parents room. They laid asleep in on their king sized mattress. Dad’s wallet was on their dresser. I tiptoed over, grabbed the wallet and, very quietly, withdrew his credit card. I turned and looked at my parents for one last time, then I left the room.

 As I walked out, I put the card in my own wallet, then back into my pocket. I headed for the fireproof safe at the end of the hall. It was where we stored our most valuable possessions that we needed to keep protected. Knowing the code, I turned the dial and twisted the handle. I grabbed a stack of ten one hundred dollar bills, and secured them inside of my backpack.

             I went out the front door and made sure to lock it behind me. My lightly packed bag and the clothes on my body were the only things I brought with. I didn’t plan on being on my trip for very long. I lived on the outskirts of Cedar City, Utah, so the walk to town wasn’t bad. I had already purchased a bus ticket beforehand. The bus I was on left for Los Angeles at five in the morning.

It was a long ride, but I stayed awake for the entire thing. The Earth was so beautiful, so different. We went through cities, small towns, and expanses of desert. I absorbed everything that we passed, the people, the animals, the sights, the sounds, the smells. I thought about my family, about my life before the cancer. Everything was so precious.

Finally, we made it to Los Angeles. As we rode into the city, I was amazed. The big buildings, the beautiful mansions that celebrities called home. My small-town mind was amazed.

We pulled up to our stop and lumbered off the bus. The smell of the beach filled my nostrils. The saltiness, the fishiness, it was the greatest smell ever. The first thing I did was walk up to a street vendor and buy a footlong sausage dog with mustard, my personal favorite. I sat down at a table and watched the people walk by. It was so fascinating to think about how different all of these people were. None of them looked exactly the same, and they all had such different stories. Each one had their own families, there own lives. They all come from such different walks of life, but are all heading to the same destination.

I coughed into my napkin. When I looked down at it, I noticed that it was covered with blood. I couldn’t hold on much longer.

 It was getting late afternoon, so I decided to take my stroll down the beach. I probably walked for an hour, just enjoying my surroundings. The sand beneath my bare feet, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. It was beautiful.

I reached my final destination, and sat down on the soft sand. I sit here now, watching the sun set over the endless blue horizon.. The sky is a mixture of pink and orange. The clouds look soft and colorful. This has to be the most beautiful place on the planet. As I’m watching all of this, I am thinking about my family, about you guys.

Mom, you are the most kind-hearted, caring woman I have ever met. Don’t let anything that happens to you change that. You are amazing. I love you so much.

Dad, you have taught me more than than anybody else I have ever met. You are the wisest person I know, and the greatest friend anyone could ask for. Keep on keeping on. I love you.

The sunset is gorgeous; I wish you guys could see it. I’ve had a great life, but I think I am ready to let go now.

Goodbye.

“The Gladiator’s Tale”

Jackson Paulk

My blade shined brightly as I walked proudly from my chamber. My first opponent stood just yards away from me. He had never lost a single fight. His confidence was almost exploding from him as he walked around the arena excitedly for his next “Victim.” I stayed calm and collective as we were about to begin. I was not going to be intimidated by his attitude. The Emperor commenced the fight. The crowd cheered for my opponent not a single person wanted me to go on from this arena. I was not going to let this happen. We walked forward circling each other very slowly. We stared blankly into each other's eye. I hated him and he hated me. One person would lose.

I swung my blade straight for his head. With ease the challenger dodged it. He returned with a stab that connected with my arm. This made a clean cut on my tricep. I would not let this small wound phase me. The crowd grew louder and louder as the fight became more intense. Clashing of blades continued for what seemed like forever the final seconds of this fight were upon us. One of us would soon become exhausted and it was sure to not be me. I swung with all the might I had. The blade connected with his body making a deep gash on his body. The man fell back onto his back; his blade clattered away from him,” Please don’t do this” the man said to me. I knew many men he had slain had probably said similar things to him right before he had taken their lives. This enraged me. I looked to my emperor for guidance. The wide eyed man glanced to me with a thrilling look. He held his arm out, then he held his thumb up. It slowly went to down. I turned to my opponent who was still laying upon his back. He whimpered, but before he could say anything else. I drove the blade deep into his body.

My chamber is where I returned to soon after the fight. I nursed my wound with bandages. Suddenly I heard a knock on the door. I walked carefully to the door. I listened for a moment before swinging the door open quickly with my blade at the ready. There stood the emperor. His men grabbed me and i was escorted closely behind the emperor. I was seated at a long narrow table in a large stone room. I was at one end while the emperor was at the other. “ That was such a beautiful fight” he stated, but all I did was stare blankly at him. “ Not much of a talker I see, well that can change.” “ why am I here” I said to the emperor. He replied,” In exactly 3 days time you will be fighting one of our best opponents we can offer. This will bring in great money for our cause , and myself. If you win that then you will fight Ovidius. He is the best Spartan soldier and is said to be a demigod.” Without another word I was guided back to my chambers where I would stay until my next battle.The days leading up to my second battle I trained harder than I ever had my entire life. That was my first battle I had ever done. My opponent had never lost up till that point. I was for sure made for this. I could not let my cockiness get to me. As specially when I fight Odivius.

My fight would begin very soon. Armed with just a small blade and a light shield I would go into the middle of the stadium where I would face my second opponent. We would fight to the death of that i'm sure. No matter the situation I will not lose.

My gate swung open. Screams from the crowd exploded. Standing in front of me was a brute of a man. He was truly huge he walked around with so much pride and cockiness. It radiated off of him like the sun did the white sand where I feet stood. It was disgusting. For that I would make him pay dearly. Engulfed with focus I stood staring at my opponent. I looked for any open spots where  could easily swing with my blade making direct contact. The fight began. Looking back at this fight I knew this man would be slow and easy to overtake unlike my upcoming opponent. We inched closer and closer to each other. I thought it was amazing how fast my opponents expression had changed. He swung his long blade. I side stepped the blade with ease. The man was off balance from trying to swing so hard. I took my chance, and began swiping away at him. I sliced him multiple times along his back. Seemingly unphased he was I knew that he was definitely hurt and that if he tried his last attempt again it would cost him his life. So we sat staring at each other again. It was almost like he had gained a respect for me. Which he did not show me before our fight. “How funny” I said to him with a smile. Our blades clashed together with a violence. He was becoming exhausted. After more clattering the man just fell onto his back. He had had enough. I placed my blade on his neck. He showed no emotion. He just stared at me blankly. I looked at our emperor and he had already had his thumb pointed down as I made visual contact with him. With that I swung my blade with a single swing I beheaded the big oaf.

So here I sit right as i'm about to face Ovidius the Spartan Demigod. Dazing off thinking about the stories of my previous fights. This fight was not going to be an easy one for me as did the past ones I had been thinking about moments earlier. The future was unknown for me it seemed. RIght now is the first time I have ever been afraid. I truly am scared about the outcome of this. I stopped that right there. I smiled to myself as I silence looking out onto that arena. “No more thinking just my actions and myself”,I said aloud to myself.  The crowd had been roaring for minutes. It was unending. The gates slowly opened. I picked up my shortsword and walked directly out.

Ovidius stood there in his shining gold and red spartan armor. I was not to be intimidated. Neither of us showed emotion to one another. We sat, blank expressions on our face. We were just here to kill one or the other. I looked around thousands of people were filled into this stadium not a single inch of space could be spared for any newcomers. I lost my focus for seconds. Ovidius took advantage of me. He swung several times connecting with each. I was bleeding profusely from every new wound. It hurt it hurt alot. I would not let this happen again. I had all intentions set on winning even against all odds. We clashed for what felt like an eternity. His swings slowed after while. He was burnt. I charged forward slashing at all areas I could. I had wounded him badly across his body. My body tensed up as he regained his balance. Ovidius was angered. He came at me like a charging bull. He shouted a warcry. It was all or nothing. He swung with everything he had. It made a large gash across my entire body. I jabbed forward with my blade. The blade went deep into his chest cavity. Ovidius sank to the ground with a loud thud. I snatched my short sword out of him. Then, I held my blade into the air and looked into the bright blue sky. The crowd was roaring in the background. My vision became blurry as I looked around. I  analyzed at my body and noticed the extensive amount of slices and wounds on my body. My sight faded even more and I blacked out.     

                                   

      

“She’s Here”

Kathereyne Purser

I know what you may be thinking about me. Yeah, I may sound crazy in the way that you hear me like everyone else that’s listened to my story. I am not one to judge though for I may not even believe myself as this story will make you question everything you might believe or maybe you’re a skeptic. Either way you need to sit down because this story is about to make you believe.

It all started on October thirteenth when my husband and I decided it was time to buy our first home only ten days after we got married. That house was absolutely perfect. Everyone wanted the beautiful house with the lovely garden and long white porch. About two weeks before we bought the house I had driven past it and noticed that there was a for sale sign by owner. This occurred often and I really didn’t know why every other week there was a new owner and then it was getting resold again. Well this particular day that I drove past it I decided that that house needed to be mine and mine only. It was almost like it was calling my name.

“ Wait hold up. It was calling your name out. This is so stupid I really shouldn’t even be believing this junk”. The girl said with such anger.

“ No!”, I screamed, “Please sit down. Thank you, now back to the story.”

That day we bought the house was one of the most magical days of my life. The thought of being able to design this place to my husband and I’s liking really made me happy to call this place our own. My first impression of the walkthrough of the house was why would anyone move out of this place? It was gorgeous and a historical building in our town that was built in the 1850’s. I heard these rumours around town about the house being creepy and the reasons why everyone that lived here was moving out. It all seemed like a bunch of malarkey to me and I was positive that the owners that moved out had a plausible reason. Little did I know what that reason was at the time.  

After about a week I had already unpacked all the boxes and was settling into the house when I got a call from the doctor. When I picked up the phone the only sounds that were coming through the line were deep breaths of  a man. This was very strange to me because my doctor was a woman. As soon as I said, “ Hello?”, there was a high pitched scream that left my ears ringing and the phone was completely singed. I tried calling back but it didn’t work. Once Clay came home I told him that the phone did not work because it had fried itself, but when he called my mother it worked perfectly fine. Maybe people were right about the house, but it was most likely my imagination that led me to think this since there was no other incident that occurred for a few months.

Over the past couple months the atmosphere of the house has been great and I decided to start gardening in the backyard since spring was approaching. Normally the air felt light and warm, but today was different. The air was heavy, dark, cold, and gloomy once I started digging I couldn’t stop. I kept going until I was four feet down. How I managed to this? I do not know because only twenty-five minutes had passed and I managed to dig that far down. I honestly can say in twenty-five minutes I can’t dig a whole foot in the ground, so as any normal person I found this to be extremely strange especially once I hit a hard object. I set my shovel aside and started to dig around the object so that I wouldn’t puncture it. Once I had gotten it loose I picked it up and it was a gorgeous box with gold finishes on the outer edges. There was a lock but it had been so decayed and rotten that all I had to do was lift it just a little bit and it would open. After opening the beautiful box a very rancid and rotting smell creep slowly out hitting me right in the face. At first, I didn’t understand why that smell was coming out of the box because all I could see was old newspapers of an accident. Then I saw it…

“ Saw what? A rotten onion? An old pair of gym socks? This story is unbelievable and the fact that I’m still sitting here listening to this fictional story is also unbelievable. I have business to take care of ”, I don’t know what it was that was making this girl mad, but she seems to have hatred towards me as she was replying to me. Something is not right and I cannot let her leave.

I know that she has a purpose here and I know I was meant to tell her this story just like I was supposed to experience the series of events that happened in that house to me and my family. So, I have to lie and say I know who she is. That always gets someone’s attention right?

“ I know who you are and why you’re here darling,  so don’t leave yet or you’ll miss the details that I know you’re here for.” , I have never had so much fear saying that because you never know how someone will react to this. Surprisingly she sat down with calmness for someone who seems to have a lot of hatred and anger towards people especially me for no reason, “ Okay shall we continue? Good I’m glad you agree by not saying anything.”

What I saw in that box is something that no one should ever see. After I lifted the old newspapers up I saw a mummified little girl with a small, light brown, bear with a note. The note read, “ Here lies Lylie Rose. If you have found this then you shall read the newspapers in the box if you haven’t already. Now everything will change in your life, so I wish you the best of luck with your journey. Now you will know the dirty secret that goes along with this very special house. ~ Love Momma.”. I remember have this horrible feeling as if I couldn’t breathe and was choking and fell to the ground gasping for air. All of a sudden I was released from my grasp as a newspaper flew and floated right in front of me.  The Death of Lylie Rose was the article name and I did not understand why she was buried with newspapers of her death let alone why she was buried in a box under a random piece of grass and not in a cemetery which was very odd. Before I read the article I decided to call the police and notify them. Within five minutes they were already at my doorstep knocking on my door. They did their basic duties and removed the little girl with all of her belongings except the newspaper since they already had multiple copies of it in their system. Once they had left there was this feeling of relief that I had, but yet there was a much heavier air that I have never felt before. I didn’t think anything of it and sat down to read the article about Lylie Rose’s death. It turned out that the seven year old little girl had been brutally murdered in the house by her father who had a psychotic past and he ended up committing suicide a week later. These two events took place in the kitchen and in the second floor bedroom I would later learn from reading. As I continued to read on it was said that the girl was buried in the cemetery a few miles away which was strange since I had just found a body that would forever change my life.

It was only a few months later that I had brought home a baby girl that I had just given birth to when the major incidents started happening. First, objects would suddenly shift and be moved out of place when I had set them down. The second thing was that I would hear footsteps and weird noises all the the house, and I would also hear a little girls laugh often. I started to get very paranoid and would stay awake at nights hearing and seeing horrible things in my mind while my husband lay beside me peacefully like nothing was going on. Something was going on though and it was nothing that should be in this world.

“Like what?”, the girl seemed very intrigued with my story at this point and was oddly paying much more attention now than she has the whole story. I decided to ignore the question and continue on.

Even after little things like  footsteps and the voices kept occurring I just blew it over until I had reached my last and final straw when this “thing” started to mess with my little girl. My daughter Blake started to cry at the exact same time every night and would look at the corner and would hide from it. Then one day it was just too much. Blake started to talk to Lylie Rose and said that we were her enemies and she needed to stay away from me. She said that I had taken Lylie away from her rightful resting place and that I would pay for it. Hearing those words coming out of Blake’s mouth scared me to death because this possessive spirit or whatever it was is taking over my daughter’s mind and influencing her. My first reaction to this was to immediately grab her and leave this place forever, so that’s exactly what I tried to do. When I tried to do this I failed miserably because there was a force preventing her from leaving. When I tried to walk out with her she would scream in pain and have these horrible marks on her body. Her head would fall back and she would return back up in either a man’s voice or a different little girls voice that wasn’t hers. Since I couldn’t take her I left her with my husband and told him I’d be right back so I could get help. After I went out and couldn’t find any help I went back to the house and found out the fate of my husband and daughter. Turns out Blake had been brutally murdered like Lylie by my husband and my husband had hung himself like the father of Lyle. Ever since that day I haven’t gone back to the house and never will. Some say I was lying and some say Blake came back to life, but at this point I don’t know where she is and never will. With a laugh the girl I was telling my story to tilted her head with a smirk to say, “She’s here”.

“Derek’s Journal”

By Dominic M. Sasser

            Tim and Stephanie pull into their miniature driveway with streams of tears running down their faces. Their four-seat Cadillac feels more empty and deserted than ever before, now that their Derek is gone. Step by step, they relive the last moment they had shared with him, the last time they said “I love you, son.” They have to live with the fact that after his funeral just a few hours earlier, he will be nothing but a memory to the outside world; however, he will always be “mommy’s little man” and “daddy’s trooper.”

The dense, oak door swings open with a groan and a squeak, as if the home is mourning as well. A few day’s worth of mail lies pristine and untouched on the thrifty carpet that covers the tile floor. Sitting there in one another’s embrace is when they notice the package. The large emblem of some shipping company grabs the attention of the solemn couple. Grabbing the knife from the kitchen drawer, they open the box with the uttermost caution, as they have no earthly idea what could have been sent. After digging through a plethora of useless packing peanuts, Tim finds a journal with the inscription on the front reading, “Property of Derek.”

It was blatantly obvious that this was carved by a knife or other sharp object into the thinly pressed leather cover, and even more so to the parents of the owner that this was indeed their child’s journal. Derek was never one to ask for the flashiest, newest, or best; he was not materialistic in any way, shape, or form. He always seemed to settle on the necessities rather than any desire for something more. That’s just the kind of boy he was and kind of man he would become.

Stephanie doesn’t bother to wipe away the tears of joy; she is elated to have a tangible remnant of her precious child’s life back into her trembling, clammy hands. The journal feels old and worn, yet it gives her hope and joy once more. Stephanie doesn’t know where to begin, and as if he had read her mind, Tim laid his hand on top of hers as a sign of support. The cover flips open with a scent arising from it that is similar to the smell of damp wood; the crisp pages of the journal bring forth memories of their lost son, as it reads:

May 8, 2005,

All throughout junior high and on into high school, I have never fit in. Always the outcast of my peers, I was shunned in a way no one had ever thought imaginable. I have never had a best friend, normal friend, or even an acquaintance. The doctors, as a child, told me that I wasn’t going to be like most kids… that I was “special,” but it “wouldn’t affect anything major”. Not once did I fall for any of those little white lies. I was going to be seperated and disowned by the majority of the population, and there was nothing I can do about it. However, when I say the majority, I mean all but one. As this is my first journal entry, I dedicate it to Shirley, the only girl that has ever loved me. We met back in freshman year as I was attempting to dry the toilet water out of my stringy, brown hair (thanks to none other than the jocks). Late for class, once again, I was running through the hall step by step, then WHAM! I end up sprawled on the floor next to this other poor victim, as we had rounded the corner at the same time. Picking my head off the cold tile, my heart skips a beat; this is the moment when we first made eye contact. She introduced herself as, “Shirley!” and I, being the antisocial boy that I was, said, “Cool,” and walked away. Not exactly the best first impression, but nevertheless, it seemed to work just fine.

Since spring break starts in a few days, that will mark our fourth year of dating, as this is our senior year. She always keeps my head held high when it gets too hard on my own. She swears to me that we will get married and move out of this boring town. I nod and smile every time because if there is one thing that you will learn about Shirley, it is that nothing can stop her when she sets her mind on it. I mean nothing.

*     *     *

August 17, 2007,

Shirley finally got that promotion she had been striving for at the hospital! Her determination and motivation never ceases to amaze me. I, on the other hand, am still hopping from one measly, part-time job to another. Just as the rest of my life has played out, no one seems to want me to intrude their stabilized, social environment,and trust me, that does not go over well with my Shirley. She comes home every day with a fire and intensity in her heart towards those “weak minded, white collared jerks” that can’t find a spot for her husband. I tell her not to worry about me and that I am fine, but that hasn’t fooled her in over six years and won’t fool her today. There is not a second that goes by that I don’t think about how differently my life would be without her impacting it with her ginormous heart.

*     *     *

November 23, 2009

Something has been different in Shirley’s attitude these past few weeks. She tells me all about her patients at the hospital, but she seems to linger a little more on the cases with detrimental effects instead of the miracles and heart-warming stories. She pities their grief as she stays up later and later into the dark, encapsulating night. It is almost as if the fire in her has diminished like the fading sunset.

*     *     *

January 2, 2010,

Sometimes Shirley has to work night shifts due to a complication in her schedule or if there is an emergency. She always leaves a message on the landline of our home ahead of time because she knows that I don't do well in stressful situations. She has never forgotten to call before, ever; everyone makes mistakes sometimes, right? However, the fact that this would be the third night in a row leaves a sinking feeling in my core.

*     *     *

            January 9, 2010,

            For one week, I have sat by my shirley’s side as she lays unconscious in this dimly lit, gloomy hospital room. With hardly anything to eat or drink, I feel worse than ever, like I am being torn apart from the inside out. The doctor, just a few days ago, took me out into the hallway to inform me of her fatal brain cancer. It won't be long before its just me.

            I’ve never been too fond of speaking, that was always her niche. However, in this melancholy room I begin to ramble on and on about the times we had, from finding a stray dog and keeping it for a month, all the way to visiting her brothers up north (and the 10 hour drive along with it). Even back to when we first met. She has been my main source of joy in this world, and there is nothing and no one who could ever replace the impact she has made on my heart. I love her more than all the stars in the sky, where she will soon roam without me.

*     *     *

            February 4, 2010,

            To see all her suffering come to an end is both a blessing and a curse. It is a blessing because God has called her back home, and a curse because I shall never see her car pull up into that driveway anymore. Her radiating smile still shines through the darkness to this moment in time, but a memory can’t heal my wounds. A heart that is broken is a heart that has been loved, and that could not be truer in this scenario.

            She was laid to rest earlier this week. Her funeral was comprised solely of her family members and loved ones. I never wanted all the attention, so I kept the invites made for my side of the family at home. They never knew what all she meant to me, no one ever will. I don’t even know what do do with myself anymore. She was my rock, my foundation that I relied on. Now that she is gone, I feel empty and unmotivated to do anything other than cry and think about her. My soul has been shattered, and her death was the sword that pierced me. I know you are waiting for me, Shirley. Our souls will be joined once more...

            Speechless and stunned, Stephanie drops the book so that it lands and catches the rays of light coming from the lamp on her bedside table. Tim wraps his arms around her as she begins to sob. They sit like this for hours, thinking about how his life, their relationship, and the rest of it has come to an end. There are countless thoughts of regret and guilt that run their course through the grieving parents’ minds. They think of all the reassuring phrases they could have comforted their sweet, innocent child with if they had only known. Nothing can bring back their precious Derek, and so the memories have been released through the flood gates. Overwhelmed, they lay back in their beds to attempt to get some rest, but Tim and Stephanie both know that no sleep shall be coming to their doorstep any time soon.

“The Indian Curse”

Connor Senters

            Why are you here. “ Because I saw you walk in here with that mark on your arm, are the stories true?” the reporter said.  You can bet on it ,and the story is as true as the machine depot that we are in right now. “ So what's your name?” he said.  I don't go by one anymore after … after you know. I come from a long line of frontiersmen, fighters, but I don't think that would matter much when I tell you about my story.  I guess that this story might change your mind about out west then since your a reporter in all; let me tell you.          

I was the son of a poor family who sadly I will never know. I was just a small boy at the time and we had just settled in a heavily wooded valley in Wyoming when I was born and I  think that we were here just to be away from everything. You could say it was a simple life but it was very hard we had to worry about everything out there especially animals;wolves bears cougars. Even with this threat around I was still allowed to roam free by myself, as long as I was close to the house though. At this time in my life I couldn’t help out much so a just did whatever I felt like.   Looking back this might have saved me. Because one day I was walking through a creek looking for crawfish when I heard a loud crash back in the house’s direction. This got me worried because we only used a gun if a predator was around. Frantically,  I ran back toward the house and to my surprise everything was as it should have, nothing was out of place. Until I heard the voice of my father beckoning me to the house, “ Run! Get inside the house quick”. But it was to late, I felt large hands wrap around my ankles and before I knew I was in a muddy drainage ditch. If I was shocked before my troubles were only beginning because a man rose out of the mud above me and pulled me to my feet. This was only temporary though as I was soon being dragged quickly away from my home and everything I knew.              

Pretty soon we stopped and I then felt myself being loaded onto a horse then I was tied onto it. As the man jumped on ready to go I heard my father screaming and there were more gunshots. At this attempt the man drew a large arrow accompanied by an even larger bow and shot back, an Indian. Luckily It missed but but soon he skillfully turned the horse down a path and with a quick slap I was moving deep into the unforgiving wilderness, with I was sure of my kidnapper and soon to be murderer.

After this terror died away a strange since overtook me, it was getting dark and if he was going to kill me he was taking his time. “Maybe he wasn’t going to kill me after all”, I thought. With this I let out a long, relieving sigh,but I was soon jolted back to reality when we took an abrupt turn down toward a cave. One would have thought that this would mean doom but it wasn’t. From what I could see this was home of some kind, large primitive paintings decorated the outside, and a warm inviting glow danced across and lit the brown dirt walls of the cave on the inside. However as we neared, I heard voices and up to ten shadowy silhouettes shown in the cave mouth.

 Afraid at what I thought was about to come, I pretended to be asleep so that maybe they would have to wait to get the full satisfaction of torturing me. In my false sleep state the Indian easily took advantage of me and through my narrowly slit eyes we moved away from the horse and the cave and toward a loud gushing sound down back from the cave… water. Before I knew it I was face first in it its chilling shock I abandoned my pretend sleep and began thrashing wildly. I felt like an eternity, with only a few seconds of air left he, the Indian, hoisted me out of the water and sat me on dry land. I was relieved at this but dred soon overtook me as those silhouettes from the cave became thirty or more indians. As they crowded around me they stared blankly at me until an older indian emerged from the back  with a large white hot arrow in his hand. Once I saw this a few indians jumped on and restrained me.

My eyes watered as the indian with the arrow knelt down and and violently and quickly pressed it into my skin. If I thought that was bad, the smell of burning flesh was worse and promptly gagged and threw up. Why, I asked the savages, had they done this to me. Startlingly the gave a reply in near perfect english; They said only two words as their reply, follow us. Then the indians quietly got up off of me and led me back to their cave. As I gazed down into it through the mouth I realized what fortune they had, jewels, gold, silver, and any other possible treasure you could imagine were laid all across the floor and stairs leading down toward the den at the bottom.

There was more treasure here than before as it was piled up to the ceilings, and many modern inventions were about too. As I gazed at the lucrative surroundings I was brought to attention by the old indian as he spoke at the head of the group. His voice was quiet and raspy which mad it hard to here but I did learn from him as best as a  young boy could. He stated simply that they were cursed and that I was the only one who could save them. How were you cursed I asked him and he said their gods gave them access to a cave with all of the riches their mind could fathom.

However as time dragged on, they watched their families perish while they stayed the same age as when they accepted the curse. Then his face changed to a sinister grin, we have been trapped here for centuries will you lift this burden from us so we could leave he told me creepily while finishing with a grin. Looking around the room  it was a hard choice to make given the lavishness of their current situation. Ultimately though, I declined as I told him I wanted to just go back to my family. Angered at this,  he pounced on me and while I was laying on my back he said softly, i’m sorry. Then he pressed his arrowhead burn against mine and with a loud crack he and the others were all gone. For once in my life I was surrounded by great treasures, and yet I was all alone.

But why should I tell you this long story of a treasure cave reporter. Instead I would much rather show you myself but just don’t take anything personal.I’m very tired of seeing the centuries tick by.

           

By Molly Sims

As I lay in my bed each night I think to myself of the wonderful days of my childhood. The days where it seemed as though nothing ever went wrong. When everyone was your friend and no one ever hurt anyone else, but those days are long past. As I’ve moved into the next stage of life it seems as though so has everyone around me. Oh how I long for those days with the ones I used to know, when everyone talked to everyone and not a single lie was spread about someone else. But oh how that has changed. People have gone their separate ways. The new groups have been made. And it seems as though I was left in the middle. Alone. A drifter floating in the wind. Where in those small chances of free time I just stand in the group and observe, not talking, just there listening and acting as though I belong. When did everything change? Why did everything change? I guess as the time changes so do people, but who says that it has to be that way. A group so strong, been together through thick and thin, stood by each other for 10 years, yet everything came to an abrupt halt that one instant. The day we walked through those doors was the day everyone and everything changed. We had a new view of life. One filled with chaos and destruction. High School.

“Sarah! Get up! Your going to be late for school if you don’t hurry and get ready!” My mom always had the sweetest wake up calls. Moaning filled the air as I rolled out of bed. It was my first day of high school and I was already sick of it. A full school year of waking up at 6 a.m. and staying up until 10 doing homework. Can’t wait! Nevertheless I got up and started to get ready, my outfit had been picked out for over a week now, and I already had the perfect picture in my head of what I was going to look like. I guess you could call me OCD but I like to think of myself as always being prepared. I slipped on my pale lavender dress shirt and my favorite pair of jeans, I was dressed to impress, ready to make a great first impression. Hurriedly I grabbed all my books and got into the car with my older sister, only the most gorgeous, popular, outgoing, and athletic girl in the school. Me being her sister, was the exact opposite, I did not talk a lot, did NOT like to go to parties, and loved to read. The only thing we had in common was the athleticism, and enjoying to dress up. Although our fashion sense was quite different, I still considered myself a lover of the fine arts of fashion.

As we pulled into the school parking lot, I felt a slight tingle in my stomach. Like one where an elephant is trying to kick its way out of your gut? Yeah that's the one. Walk in with confidence, act like you belong, no one will ever doubt you as long as you stay confident in your success. I often have to give myself these pep talks, it doesn't mean I’m crazy, it just means I like to lift myself up when I feel nervous. There is a fine line between myself and insanity. Walking through those doors for the first time was when I finally realized that one, walking through a single door probably won’t change your whole perspective in life, and two, that my whole life had just gone from quiet middle school hallways to chaotic hallways filled with burly football players that don’t mind bumping you to the side so they can make it to class on time. I searched for my friend group for quite a while until finally, I spotted someone familiar, only, she was not with everyone else, she was with 2 of my other classmates and one person I did not recognize at all. I walked towards them, longing for a friendly face to calm my nerves, but something was wrong, as I approached the small group, they all went into a dead silence. A weird sensation filled my body, one of not belonging, one of not being wanted. Slowly, I turned in a different direction, that’s okay I thought to myself, I was never really close to them anyways, I will just find the rest of my class and hang out with them. And at that very moment I realized the terrible outcome of highschool. There I stood, in the middle of it all, the demolition of what used to be a class so strong they were considered family. The monster that you had only heard about but never actually seen. Cliques.

Now, back to reality for a little while, I know you are probably wondering why cliques is the worst thing to ever happen to me, and why cliques are the reason I can not sleep at night. I must be one of those over dramatic teenage girls who loves to bring attention to myself, right? Well you could not be any more wrong, did you forget about the part when I told you I was the ANTI-social butterfly of the family? Just in case you did, here is a little refresher, anti-social people do NOT like to bring attention to themselves. So what is the reason I lie awake at night?  Well the fact of the matter is that cliques is NOT the worst thing that has ever happened to me and it is NOT the reason I lie awake at night, that’s just where it all began.

Finally, the first period bell had rung, time to get to class. First period: Advanced Mathematics. All the way to the end of the farthest hall in the school, quite a journey just to get to an algebra class, however, I was, in a way, glad to get to have some alone time to myself to recover from that embarrassing predicament this morning (being rudely turned away in front of a large number of people). With only a few minutes to spare, I had finally made it to my class, a classroom filled with so many familiar faces, yet they no longer felt familiar anymore. Everyone had changed, they had all made new friend groups, they had all moved on, without me.

The day felt as if it had taken a century, six periods have never felt so long, and I was one of the few students who actually enjoyed school! But it wasn’t the school work that drew out the day, it was the constant giggles and glances that were pointed towards me. Why me? What were they talking about?  I thought that I could just push it all away, but it only got worse. The more I pushed away, the more frequent it became. Thoughts swarmed my head, I did not know what was happening, what to do, who to talk to.

That’s why I am here. Sitting on this couch in front of you, I was hoping you could help me get through this. No one knows the amount of days I have lied awake in my bed or cried myself to sleep, I seek shelter in this storm that people call high school. As a well trained therapist, I figured you could give me this refuge that I desire. A way out of the constant pain growing inside me.

“Bang”

By: Adalyse Smetzer

            “Um… Ow! I can not believe you just shot me!” I fall onto the ground, bleeding, obviously. I think I am dying. Oh, wow. That is a lot of blood. “Hey. Since you shot me and all, Can I at least have the answers? What were my parents doing?”

            “ I would tell you, but then I would have to kill you. Oh, wait, I already did.”

            Things are going white. I am starting to feel numb. What is going on!? I remember everything. I can not leave now. I can not leave my parents. I can not leave without answers. It may seem like I am taking it well, but dude! I am dead! You never think you are going to go until you are gone. Just turned seventeen years old. Most people think that this is when your life is going to start, but mine just ended. No going back. I am angry! But what can you do. People who are… well, actually alive, say that you should not stress about something you can not change. But in reality that is all a lie. Truth is people are going to stress anyway. But I am thinking that I should take the advice this time around. Better start learning the ways of the ghost or whatever. Besides, the way I died makes you accept that this is just how it is going to be for you. I was murdered after all.

            I get it. You want to know how I died. More importantly, who killed me. Well, I will tell you. Cue the flashback people!

            “I am Jessy Williams. I walk these halls with grace and power. No one can stop me. Except maybe the counselor if she decides I need mental help for talking to myself. But that is not important. You do not have to take what that girl Makayla is dealing you. You have your own cards. Just because she is the vice principal’s kid does not mean you can not stand up to her. Well it kind of does, but a little passive aggressive never hurt anyone… too bad. Okay? You do you. Maybe your sarcastic wittiness will come in handy for once.” Speak of the devil. Makayla and her group.

 Makayla is not your typically mean girl. I mean sure, she is rude, but the facts are no one  really plans on ruining somebody else's day. That is weird. They just want to live a happy, fun life, but if your not really like them, they can get unintentionally nasty. Or maybe it is intentional and I am all wrong, what can I say I am an optimist. Oh! Right. Flashback.

So Makayla starts strutting down the hallway like she just suddenly became the most famous model ever, when in reality, it is just an empty hallway.

“Hey Girl! We all missed you in first period. Where were you?” That is code for: Where was your homework that I needed to steal from you?

“Sorry. Nurse’s office.” Code for: None of your business. That is right. I can play nice girl too.

“Well, I hope everything is alright. Do not miss fifth period.” So she walks away with a giggle. And out walks Zack. Yes, this is part of the highschool cliche where we all find out that this girl has been crushing on the popular, hot guy for a while. She has no chance and turns out he was not that cool anyway. So psych! She actually fell in love with the boy next door and they lived happily ever after. Nope! Zach walks past Makayla like she does not exist because he has me in his sights. You heard correctly. Zach is my boyfriend. If you thought this was the story of how the girl got the guy, your reading the wrong one. I died remember.

Zach drives me home after we pick up some food, as always, but this time he wants to come inside and hang out. So we watch a movie and wait for my parents to get home. They have weird hours sometimes. Zach and I hear a car door open in the front yard when I get the text from Mom. Your father and I will not be home until late. There is food in the fridge. Do not forget to lock the doors. So I go check out the noise, but see nothing. Must have been a neighbor.

I open the fridge doors and get hit by the cool air. I heard a noise behind me so I turn around and everything goes black. Cool air was not the only thing that hit me.

            I wake up on the couch, as if me and Zach were still watching that movie, but he is not here. Mom and Dad are though.

            “Hey, what are you guys doing here? I thought you had to work late.” It hurts to talk. Or think. Or breathe.

            “Jessy, I sent you that text three days ago. Someone tried to kidnap you. You have been out for a while. Honey, the water.” Dad hands me a glass.

After I finish it, I ask,” Someone tried to kidnap me? What happened?” To me, them, and Zach.

            “Well, we decided that since this was the last weekend before mine and Dad’s big trip that we should spend as much time with you as possible. So, we were pulling up into the driveway when we heard something in the house. We rushed inside, saw you passed out, and the others must have ran off. You have been in a coma-like state for a few days now. Do not worry we changed the locks,” Explains my mother.

            “What about Zach?” I ask, still pretty dazed.

            “Zach. What about him?” I told them all about how he took me home, we watched a movie, heard that car door, and then I got hit in the back of the head. They looked pretty freaked out. More about that than the fact that I was almost kidnapped a couple days ago. They told me to head to my room and take it easy and then rushed off into the craft room, I am assuming to talk about me. I peer into the doorway, listening, “This could be bad. Really bad. How could we not have seen it? We have to tell the council right way.”

“No. We can not. It will just put everyone in a panic and tell him we are on to him. We have to find rock hard proof to get him cut.” What is my father even saying right now?

            “Maybe you are right but this has to be quick.” I run as quickly and as quietly as I can, but I only make it into the kitchen. I walk at a steady, slow pace and try not to breathe heavy as my parents leave the room of secrets.

“I know. I know. I am only getting water.” I say casually to make it all the more realistic.

“Ok. Sleep well. We are off to run some errands.” I nod my head in their direction, but they are already out the door by the time I turn around. I rush to my room, call Zach, and tell him to come over.

I hear a ring at the door and let Zack in, “It is about time. I think my parents are keeping things from me. And I think you and my family are in danger. Some guys tried to kidnap me or something and I ended up in coma for three days, or something.”

“Oh no! I can not believe someone would hit and try to take you like that. Are you ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am fine… But I never said anything about them hitting. Weren’t you in the living room?”

“... Why did you have to go meddle into mine and your parents business. This did not concern you.” Zack is really creeping me out here. Especially when he pulls out the gun.

“Woah. Hey, aren’t you the guy who pretended to be my boyfriend to get close to my parents and the guy who tried to kidnap me?!”

“You always were the smart one… Sorry Jessy. Liking you was not a total lie.” That was almost sweet for a guy who has been lying to me since the day I met him. And the guy who has a gun pointed at me, but then there was a bang (and I am not talking about my heart).

            “Um… Ow! I can not believe you just shot me!” I fall onto the ground, bleeding, obviously. I think I am dying. Oh, wow. That is a lot of blood. “Hey. Since you shot me and all, Can I at least have the answers? What were my parents doing?”

            “ I would tell you, but then I would have to kill you. Oh, wait, I already did.”

And, well, we all know the rest.

“Rush”

by Nick Smith

I sit in that strangely comforting couch that oddly enough made me want to tell him everything. I began to explain the events to Dr. Clark, my psychiatrist that I have just begun to visit. He told my family that he will most definitely take care of the “voices” that have been controlling my life ever since the event. Now we are in his office and it looks very unusual to me. It is unusual but very bland with the room being a complete square of blank whiteness, and the only things in here are the couch and his chair along with a few plaques on the walls. It feels familiar but I have never seen this room in life. He seems kind but shifts his eyes when he asks about my background as if he questions my mental stability.

I begin to tell him everything, “I knew I never should have gone to that fraternity party. I should not have even went to that college. I knew the college had bad reputation for students being reckless, but of course I did not listen to the people telling me no to go. I wanted to have fun. Plus, this fraternity seemed classy, and all of the students in it had good grades, so I chose to rush. I was sitting in my dorm room when someone abruptly interrupted my meditative music session by knocking on my door. I opened the door and a random boy handed me an envelope that was an invitation of some sort. I opened the envelope and it read ‘Huge party at Phi Omega Phi. There will be a meeting for students who want to join. Come for the fun, join for the brotherhood.

Now was my chance to join the fraternity. All I had to do was go to the meeting and see what I must do to join. I wa stoked to go, but it was two weeks away, I could not wait. As my anxiousness grew, I could see the eyes of many other students staring as if they were watching me. I realized that they all had a Phi Omega Phi logo pinned to their shirts. They must have been the scouting me out for the meeting. How did they know I was going the meeting? I had not told anybody that I wanted to join, but they had to have known something because they sent me an invitation to the party.

The next few days went by slowly as I waited in anticipation. The chilling feeling of people watching me still lurked in the air. This feeling was haunting, and I tried to push past it and I said to myself that it was nothing but butterflies in my stomach. Though I tried my hardest to convince myself that no one was actually watching me, I noticed more and more people’s eyes beaming at me. There would be people walking into my dorm and then immediately walk back out once I entered my room. I had to do something about this or at least talk to someone about my anxiety, if that's what it was.

It had been a week since the invitation, so there was only one more week until the party. I could not stand the eerie feeling I experienced the previous week. It kept me up at night how everyone was watching me. I decided to do tell someone about it. The college had a counselor on campus. I sat down with her and told her about the people staring at me. She told me that it was all just in my head. I did not believe her because that is what I had been telling myself. I had not realized this right away, but I thought about it later and I put two and two together. The counselor was acting just as peculiar as everyone else at the college. Maybe the fraternity had something to do with the counselor. There was nothing that I could do so I just decided to wait it out. After a few days or so, I started feeling better. I began to ignore the haunting eyes.

There was only one more day now until the party. As I was walking back from a class, one of leaders of the fraternity greeted me. He wanted to sit down to ask me a few questions about me and was eager to find out if I really wanted to join the fraternity. He asked very basic questions about my interests, hobbies and sports. Then something odd that he said struck me. He asked about my home life, that question alone was kind of odd, but then he proceeded to talk about my family that I had not mentioned to him before. He started talking about them as if he had known them personally. I chose not to ask how he knew my family because I was too shocked to say much. When we finished talking, he stood and said that he hoped to have a good time at the party tomorrow. I then went on with my day as usual except for the thoughts lingering around my mind.

The next day I began to start my morning like any other. I got dressed and walked down the road to the coffee shop to get breakfast. As I left my dorm, I scanned the roads for any people. There are usually crowds of people walking up and down the street. Now there were only a few people who were too far out of sight for me to recognize them. I went and got coffee and the barista was a brand new worker. I had to tell her what I wanted instead of saying I wanted the usual. The day went on fairly usual except for the fact that the mysterious eyes were not staring at me anymore. I found it also weird that there were not many people at the college at all. I just went along with it because it was a relief  from all of the people watching me. My day was nearly over and now I just had to go to the party.

I walked down to the fraternity. I looked at my watch, I was a little late. I arrived at the house and knocked on the front door. The person that had talked to me the day before opened the door with a big smile. He told me to come in and I was a bit confused as I entered. There was no one there. The house looked normal and not at all what I expected a frat house party to look like. He asked if I wanted a drink and I said yes. He back came with some punch. We drank and I asked why there was no one there. As he started to answer, I began to feel really nauseous, like my mind was being pulled from my body; there had to be something in my drink. Before I knew it, I could not move. His happy grin immediately turned to an evil smirk. As he talked slowly, his words began to scramble themselves like I was trying to find words in a word search. It took some time to adjust to this transcendent feeling.

I could finally understand the words coming from his mouth. He said that the fraternity needed a pure blood. I did not know exactly what this meant but I could do anything to ask him. He then said the they have been watching my behavior for the past two weeks. They also did research on my entire life. After he told me all of this he asked if I wanted to get started with some kind of ritual. He laughed because I could not say no. He carried me down a hidden set of stairs into a dark room. All of a sudden, the room was lit up by candles held by several people. I noticed a table that looked like an altar. He laid me out on it. The altar was very cold and solid. I could only move my eyes around, and I did so looking at each person holding a candle. I recognized many of them. In my mind, I was screaming in terror, but on the outside, my body was limp and lacking any response.

I still could not fathom the reason they were holding me captive. After a few minutes of silence in the room, another leader of fraternity stepped out of the crowd. He said that I was a rare specimen and had a special blood, and that my special blood was the only way that they could release a demon that would help them in many ways. I thought that was absurd and foolish to want to summon demons. Him and a few other leaders stepped closer to me. In each hand they held golden chalices except for the one that had just spoken. He held a syringe. He said that in that syringe was a potion that would allow the demon into my body and then once my blood was ready, they would cut make slits for the blood to run into the cups the held. They were going to drink the blood so the demon’s power would be fused with them.

I was terrified for my life, but there was nothing that could do except watch and feel the pain. The main leader walked towards me, and he was chanting indiscernible words under his breath. His grabbed my arm and proceeded to insert the syringe into my vein. He said that it would take at least thirty minutes for it to flood my bloodstream. Everyone that was in there started to leave through little hallways that I assumed lead to other parts of the college.

 As the serum pulsed through my veins, feeling started to come back into my body. I could move! I strained every single muscle to get the feeling completely back. The problem was that I was strapped onto the altar. I waited until one the leaders came back. He slapped me to make sure I was alive. I noticed his knife was holstered on his his hip. He said he needed to take a blood sample to see if it was ready. As he reached down to draw my blood, I grabbed his knife and killed him with it. I cut myself loose from the ropes and then felt my way along the walls  found the stairs. As I left, I heard voices screaming in my head. They resonated through my skull. It was not a natural voice. I fled from the college knowing they would chase me. I would have thought they would have found me now, or maybe they just did not want me anymore.

Ever since that day I have been hearing those voices. I believe that I am lucky that the demon did not fully possess my body, but sometimes I feel I am not in control. I have come to an expert in the field for help because it all feels so unnatural like it was not real. Maybe Dr. Clark can help me or at least assign an exorcist to rid my body of this demon. Or will he want to help me at all? As I ponder his sincerity, I look up to see a plaque hanging on his wall that says, “Phi Omega Phi Alumni”.

“Scars”

by Seth Arnold

            Do you truly wish to know how I got these scars?

-

            “C’mon sweety, your father will be home soon. We don’t want him to get upset now do we?” said my mother, as she came into my room.

“No mommy.” I responded, noticing her almost teary eyes.

“Neither do I, so pick up your toys, ok?” she said, almost sniffling

“Ok”

“Laura!” my father yelled as he slammed the door.

“Yes sweety?” she responded timidly.

“Wh-where i’ ma money!?”

“You spent it all honey”

“Wha-wha no I dint’! You’re lying! You spent all ma money!” he yelled as he stormed over to her, slapped her.

“Where is it! Where is it!”

I heard a dull thud as she slipped and her head hit the corner of the table.

“Waste” he said as he stepped over her.

            “Whassa matter son? Are you sad? Well we can fix that now can’t we? Let's put a smile on that face!” he said, looming over me with a steak knife from the kitchen drawer.

 -

            “Haha! Look at him! He’s wearing makeup!” said the prick that was my middle school bully.

            Makeup was the only way I could hide the scabs. No matter how hard i tried, i was still a monster. My father was in prison, but he left a mark that would keep me from ever forgetting him. The day that i was released from the hospital, was the same day that the foster system took me in, but no one wanted me. At night the other kids forced me off my bed and make me sleep on the floor. They took what things i still had and either destroyed them or took them for their own. They took my food and wouldnt let me have my turn in the showers. I stole the makeup from the women who worked their. I didnt feel bad, they hated me too. At school they beat me up and even threw rocks at me.

            I got tired of being pushed around, abused, and disfigured. At lunch the next day, i put a butter knife in my coat, at every night i stayed up,  sharpening it against the cold concrete floor until it was sharp enough to cut the skin on my wrists. I stole one of the workers lighters, and a bottle of whiskey that i knew one of the older kids hid under his bed. Next time they hurt me, they would hurt too.

-

            Antonio was in the hospital, it was only a matter of time before they found out it was me. It wasnt my fault he had hit me, he dserved what he got, a gash across his stomach. I still had a little blood under my nails and the knife was on the road somewhere. They hadnt found his body until sfter the buses started loading to take us home for the day. If anyone asked why my hands had an odd red tint, i said that i got too messy at arts and crafts. After we had ridden far enough, i opened my window and dropped the knife out, careful to fling it far enough so that the bus didnt run over it and pierce the tire.

            So i stood there, lighter in hand. I poored the whiskey around the beds of each of my biggest tormenters. Maybe they would finally feel the pain i was in everyday. The home was designed to keep would-be run-aways in, but the building was in disrepair, the metal around the windows was rusted. The day before as everyone rushed to the school bus I busted the hinges and left one, only to keep it in place.

“You deserve this.” I said aloud as I dropped the lighter and watch the flames spread.

As I bashed the window out, they started to wake. But I was prepared for that, the door was locked and barricaded from both sides.

I slipped out of the window into the night. As I ran I heard the screams behind me, music to my ears.

-

“...oh” said the prison psychiatrist.

“Happy?” I asked.

“I think I understand now.” He said, almost to himself.

“No, no you don’t.” I said as I head butted him and stabbed his throat with his own pen. Can’t let my story spread after all.

The security guards would normally have seen all of that on camera, but over the years I’ve learned that most things, and people, can be bought. Now to finally get out of this wretched hole. I hear the footsteps of  my escort as he opened the door.

“Sir, you copter is waiting.” He said as he handed me a gun.

“Good, do you have the gas?” I responded.

As we flew off, I turned back to see the place burning, and the sign read Arkham Asylum.