5th Period's 2017-18 Short Stories for Young GA Authors Contest

“Mondays are for the Boys”

By Chase Barton

“Where were you at approximately 7:30 PM on September 26, 2016?” questioned Detective Larson.

            On that date, a local man had been assaulted and was robbed of his purple Lamborghini, which cost close to 200,000 dollars. Many suspects have been questioned and the list has been narrowed down to two people: a 84 year old woman named Judith Preith who is a widow that lives alone with six cats and Lucas Colleti, a 22 year old man  fresh out of community college living independently in an apartment complex with his dog, Nova.

            “I already told you. I was out eating with the homies.” Lucas replied tired of answering questions and longing to go home.

            “I am sure you and your ‘homies’ did more that evening than just eat out.” Larson suggested.

            “Well, it was kind of a crazy day. A lot of stuff went down.” said Lucas.

            “Would you care to elaborate?” Detective Larson said trying to dig deeper into what really happened.

            “Sure. I’ll just tell you the whole story since I’m obviously not going home anytime soon. On Monday morning around 9 o'clock, I woke up to a text from my bro, Adam. The text said: ‘bro im not doing anything tonight… you tryna get the boys together?’ I, not having a life, told him that I would have to check my calendar. I then waited and minute and told him yes. I went about my day doing the usual routine of eating, sleeping, and eating some more. At about 3 o’clock I decided I was bored, so I grabbed my skateboard and headed to Garvanza Skatepark. It was a beautiful Los Angeles day. No rain and a few clouds to block you from the heat of the sun.

There was virtually no one at the skatepark which was great because I didn’t have anyone to get in my way. While I was skating, I noticed a homeless looking guy standing at the entrance of the skatepark watching me. He saw me look at him and signaled for me to go to where he was. It seemed questionable, but I didn’t really care, so I walked over to talk. All of a sudden he was pulling bags out of his pockets. Then I realized that this guy was trying to sell me drugs. I kindly refused and tried to walk away, but he stopped me. He told me that he would give them to me for free, and he just wanted to get them off his hands. I firmly told him again that I didn’t want them and walked away. After this incident I decided to leave the skate park and go back home to feed my dog, Nova, because I had forgotten to that morning. I walked into my apartment and took off my hoodie. When I did this, I realized that something had fallen out of my pocket. ‘Oh no!’ I thought, ‘No no no no no!’ The weird guy at the skatepark had slipped a bag of  his merchandise in my pocket when he stopped me. I threw the bag on the ground and stepped away. I was freaking out. I had actual drugs in my posession. I could go to jail for this! I paced my apartment back and forth for what felt like hours. Then I remembered I had to feed Nova. I walked into the kitchen where Nova’s bowl was and saw the tragic sight of the bag ripped open and empty. I knew exactly what had happened. Nova had gotten hungry and eaten the bag of what looked like dog food. So there was the empty bag, crumbs of the substance that filled it, but no Nova. There was another thing though: a large hole in the bottom of the door leading outside. Nova had broken out of the apartment and was now running wild in the streets of Los Angeles under the influence of whatever this man had snuck into my hoodie pocket.

At this point, the sun was beginning to set. I called all four of the boys over to help me find my dog. We all got into Randy, which is the name of my Chevy HHR, and began our search. We drove all around the many streets of Los Angeles but there was no trace of him. Then my friend, Jeremy, happened to look at his Facebook and saw a post about Nova. The post said: ‘There is a bulldog with no collar running rampant through my petunias! If this beast belongs to you, would you kindly come claim it. I live at 207 Racetrack Drive.’ The lady who posted this seemed old and we felt bad, so we rushed over as quick as possible. When we arrived at the old woman’s house, there was no sight of Nova.

‘Hi, my name’s Lucas. I’m the owner of the dog you posted about.’ I informed the lady.

‘Oh, yes. You just missed it. The animal would not stop destroying my flowers so I threatened him with a garden rake and drove him out of my yard.’ the old woman replied.

‘Oh no. Did you happen to see where he went?’ I questioned.

‘Well I don’t see much child. Not with these cataracts!’ laughed the lady.

We were right back where we started with no idea where Nova could have gone. It was dark now and we were all tired and hungry.

Erik finally said, ‘Guys I’m starving. Can we please get something to eat like we planned?’

‘I guess we might as well give up. There’s no point in looking anymore. Los Angeles is  too big and we have no idea where he could have gone.’ I replied feeling defeated.

We drove down to our favorite restaurant from ‘Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives’, Nickel Diner. When we arrived, I saw the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Nova was being kicked out of the back of the restaurant by the head chef. Apparently he had broke into the diner and was running through the kitchen eating everything in sight. I drove him home and joined the boys back at Nickel Diner. We laughed and joked about the eventful day that we had just gone through as we enjoyed our meals.”

“So ‘just eating with the boys’ turned into an encounter with a drug dealer, possession of drugs, your dog then eating those drugs, and a wild goose chase through the city in search of your stoned and most likely still hungry pet?” questioned Detective Larson.

“I mean I guess so, yeah.” I replied.

“Well I believe you.” said Larson, “There’s just one more person we have to question and then you’re free to go home.”

Later that week there was a newspaper article that read “Judith Prieth, 84, stole a purple Lamborghini on Monday, September 26th and drove it to the flower store because she thought it was her Cadillac ATS. She then assaulted the owner of the Lamborghini because she was under the impression that he was trying to steal her six cats.”

“BEST HOMECOMING EVER”

By Ansley Abney

“Just tell me exactly what you remember from that day, Ansley.”

“I can still picture it. Even though I wish I could just pretend it never  happened, I know that I will never forget the meticulous picture of the event from that day. It changed many lives, including mine, forever.

It all  started on that early Tuesday morning. I got out of bed to start my day, by getting ready for work. I was brewing myself a pot of hot coffee in my New York City apartment when I peered across the street to the building where my office was stationed. I worked for a company by the name of First Commercial Bank located on the 78th floor of the South Tower. There were approximately 27 employees at work that day, but we had over 7,500 employees world wide.

 For my job, I communicated globally with foreign banks and wealthy organizations trying to persuade them to invest their money into our banking company. Doing so would help them draw more interest into their accounts, and it would improve our recommendations to help us become highly ranked all over the world. Trust me, it was not a task for just anyone. Only the ones who could contain their anger and have  lots of patience (oh, and extra brownie points for the bilingual people, such as I).

After taking my last gulp of coffee, I rushed down to the lobby of my apartment building and began walking across the extremely busy street. As I entered the World Trade Center, I had to show proof of my existence (aka my ID), walk through a metal detector, and allow them to check my purse for them to buzz me through to the elevators. As usual, I was cleared and allowed to pick an elevator. I hopped onto the elevator 2A and pressed the floor number 78.

After arriving at my office, I unpacked my things and started to settle in for the 10 hour shift that day. I made several phone calls, filled out loads and loads of paperwork, and was starting to head down to the main floor where they served breakfast to the early birds who arrived before 8:30. As I locked the door to my office, I started hearing a buzzing noise. It sounded like it was coming from outside, but how in the world could I be hearing a bee or fly from outside my window on the opposite wall? I stopped and waited for the sound to fade away, but it did no such thing. In fact, it began to grow louder and louder.
            So, I made my way over to the window to see where the antagonizing noise was coming from.  I looked up, down, and left and did not see a thing, but when I looked to the right, a wave of errieness washed over me faster than the speed of light itself. It was a plane, and it was flying strikingly low. Surely that plane could see the building a couple miles in front of it.  

While my fearful body was frozen in the window, I noticed that the altitude of the plane was beginning to depreciate. The nose of the plane was now pointed directly at the group of floors in the 90s of the North Tower. My body came unglued, and I ran to my office phone to call for help. I dialed 9-1-1 and explained to the operator what was going on. She revealed to me that several other calls had been about the same incident and dispatchers were on their way.

 I could now hear the evacuation sirens barreling out of the North Tower, so I began to run. In these types of situations, we are advised not to use the elevators, because they are too slow and could easily jam in a time of emergency.  I began running up the stairs to warn the others, so that they could hopefully relay the information to the top floors before it was too late.

 I made it all the way to the 86th floor and realized that I needed to turn around. At that moment, I heard the echoing crash of the plane that had just hit the North Tower.  I immediately rushed over to the nearest window to see the destruction. Balls of flame began engulfing the building as the floors began to collapse slowly. I ran down 1...2...3...4  flights of stairs, and I was already out of breath. I managed to get down 3 more flights of stairs before I had to stop because of all my vigorous wheezing and panting.

The buzzing noise; there it was again. I wondered why I heard the noise again after the plane had already crashed. I ran to the nearest window beside the staircase exit door and peeked out. I was astonished to see what I thought I saw. It was another plane, and this time, the nose was pointed at the South Tower. Also, it just happened to be pointed directly where I was standing.

I busted through the doors and began sprinting down the stairs. I was so frantic, and I began panicking so badly that I somehow managed to miss a whole flight of stairs. I fell. As I crashed down to the next floor, my legs landed on the edges of a couple steps, and they both completely snapped in half. I knew, right then, that I was not going to be able to escape the building without someone else’s help.

The noise grew louder, and louder, until eventually the buzzing noise drowned out the pain, and then, everything...went...black.”

“Are you sure that is all you can remember from that day, Mrs. Abney?” questioned the CIA detective.  “Any information will help further evolve this case.”

“Detective Chandler, I swear that is all I remember. After my vision went black, I cannot recall anything from that time. You could hold a gun to my head, and I would still reassure you that is all I know.”

“Okay. If you say so. Here is my card, if you remember anything else not enclosed in this conversation, give me a call. It might just give us another lead to find out who is behind this heartbreaking monstrosity.”

“Will do, Detective.”

“Thank you for your time and cooperation. I will let you get some rest, so that you can return to physical therapy tomorrow. Your legs will thank you later, once you begin walking again.”

“You are welcome, and I am trying to get out of here as fast as I can. “

“Have a good one!”

After Detective Chandler left, I closed my eyes hoping to get some rest, because I was not feeling well at all. I knew that there was a blood clot on my brain, and that both of my lungs had collapsed and had been reconstructed by surgeons. The doctors had revealed to my family that it was already a miracle that I had lasted a week. I also overheard the doctors talking in the hallway that I did not have much longer. So, I  just closed my heavy eyelids and drifted away.

That was the best nap I had ever taken.  I felt like I was in a completely new body and that it was very rejuvenated. When I awoke, I was reconnected with my late family members and my heavenly father.

That was the BEST HOMECOMING EVER!

“Fighting Flashbacks”

By Sierra Arnold

An odd beeping awoke me with a start. My groggy eyes slowly opened and I quickly shut them when I saw the bright light. I tried again, but quickly shut them again when a sharp pain shot through my head. I waited a moment until the pain subsided and then attempted to push myself up with my arm, but it seemed to be stuck. I pulled, but pulling also sent a wave of pain through my arm. Finally, I gritted my teeth and forced my eyes open.

The view I saw, after my eyes adjusted, was most definitely not my bedroom. I looked down at the bed I was lying in, and then around the room. Judging from the rather uncomfortable bed and the antiseptic smell, I came to the conclusion that I was indeed in a hospital room. But why was I here? Then I remembered the pain that I had felt in my arm and head. I looked down at my arm. Sure enough- there was a cast.

            I found I had a fuzzy memory of what had happened- along with a slight headache. I remembered very little, but I recalled that my brother, Ron and I had been outside waiting for the bus when...

            The door burst open. Ron burst in, “Bro! You’re alive!” He ran towards the bed, and probably would have jumped on me if the nurse with him hadn’t scolded him. He calmed down slightly but was still hopping up and down like the Energizer Bunny. It was only after the nurse shot him a look that he finally stood still.

            It was then I noticed that Ron had a cast on his arm.

            “Ron, what happened?” I asked. He gave me a strange look.

            He responded, “You don’t remember?” I shook my head.

            The nurse, who had been listening to our conversation, pitched in, startling us because she had been silent for so long, “Ron, your brother had a mild concussion, he may not remember all that happened.”

            Ron glanced at me questioningly and I shook my head. My memories of what had happened three nights previous were still a blur.

            “You don’t remember anything?” Ron asked.

            I started to shake my head once more when I stopped, “Well, I do remember waiting for the bus after school, but besides that, my mind is as blank as these walls.”

            Ron snorted at my joke. Besides all the medical equipment, the plain colored walls were rather boring.

            The nurse, who was not amused, prompted Ron to explain exactly what had occured that Friday afternoon.

            “You see, Jonah, last Friday afternoon at bus loading wasn’t even the start to the story, in fact, it all goes back to the cafeteria at lunchtime…

            Jim and I have never been friends. So when I ‘accidentally’ spilled the Lunch Ladies’ special ‘Mystery Socks’ (as we call it) sauce on him, let’s just say he wasn’t to happy- and honestly- who would be? Not even the administrators know what is put in that brew, so you can bet they weren’t very enthusiastic either about having to clean that suspicious substance off of him.

I was standing there as Mrs. Petunia attempted to wipe some off of his new Star Wars t-shirt. I looked at him with a smirk and he returned my look with a look of pure hatred and the kind of look that basically promised death if I didn’t scram.

            But for any who know me (and the brave heart that I have)-”

            “Oh, brother,” I groaned as I rolled my eyes.

            “Jonah!” Ron was annoyed, “Do you want to hear this story or not?”

            I nodded slightly, trying not to seem too enthusiastic, but Ron was satisfied with my reaction and so he continued…

            “But for any who know me, I do not fear the weak (and that Jim was sure a weakling), so when our class went out to recess, I walked straight up to him and stared him down. He stared back to, and we went on staring, our fists clenching and then unclenching for at least 10 minutes. Even when the whistle blew and we had to return inside, we didn’t stop staring. In class, while Mrs. Petunia was teaching multiplication and fractions, I was calculating how times I would have to punch Jim, if I hit him for every time he stole my homework.

            It seemed that Jim was also feeling rather belligerent, and as soon as the bell rang and we were outside, he slammed me into the brick wall.

            ‘What was that for you punk?’ Jim yelled at me, ‘You ruined my new shirt!’

            Now at about this time, Jonah, you had come outside and saw me pinned to the wall. You rushed over and pried his hands off my shoulders and arms. You made a comment about how I shouldn’t get into trouble like this. But that is exactly what I told you later, on the way to the hospital after Jim’s older brother slammed you into the wall.

Jim wasn’t real happy that he had been bested my snobby brother from 7th grade. So while you and I were celebrating, Jim went to fetch his older brother, Tom.

You spun around just in time for Tom do deliver his first punch to your face, and you retaliated, using every move you ever learned from our Taekwondo class. Then I joined in the fun, laying my punches, kicks, and fast reflexes on Jim.

But it was to no avail. Jim and Tom were both immensely larger than us and we were overpowered. I was down first and when I hit the ground I heard a loud ‘CRACK!’ from my arm.

I screamed in pain, which distracted you and gave Tom the opportunity to push you into the wall, where we heard another ‘SNAP!’ in you arm as well. Then Tom let you fall to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

At this point, the teachers finally realized what was going on and rushed over. When they saw you lying on the ground, they quickly dialed for an ambulance. They loaded you up, I hopped in the back, and then we took off, headed for the Emergency Room, while Jim and Tom stared after us, gloating as we left, because they had won the fight.”

“Wow.” I said after Ron had finished his story, “You know- I was beginning to think myself a hero, swooping in to save his younger brother like Superman. I was really starting to think a lot of myself,” I stifled a laugh, “Then I remembered why we were fighting and it just destroyed my pride.”

Ron gave me a questioning look, “Wait, what did I say we were fighting over?” Then realization dawned on him and he began chuckle.

            I laughed as I responded, “‘Mystery Socks’ sauce.”

“Why Her?”

By Lainie Partain

            I walked into my office and slowly closed the door behind me. I leaned up against it and slowly slid down; resting my face in my arms. I was shaking, but I do not feel anything. I should be upset; I should be crying. But I am not. I do not cry.

            The voices are coming back to haunt me, blaming me and telling me it was all my fault. And it is almost true. They will not go away until they drive me past my breaking point. I feel myself slowly sinking down into insanity.

            I look up. I see it. The thing that started this whole tragedy in the first place. That robot-- my own invention--dripping with blood. I stood up. I slowly walk towards it, but I feel dizzy. I feel as if I will lose control if I go any closer, but I do not stop.

            “Daddy, can I go play with her?” My daughter looked up at me with the most beautiful blue eyes you can imagine. She had the sweetest smile, which quickly turned into a pout after I denied her request. I have to admit, it was pretty hard to say no to that face. It felt unsafe to let my children around my machines, although I let the other kids. Saying no never helped; she is quite persistent.

            “But you built her for the kids, I want to see her too,” she whined.

            “Maybe one day,” I lied. She giggled as I scooped her up in my arms and gave her a squeeze.

            I was called for a meeting discussing the safety of my inventions. Nothing dreadful has happened so far; maybe a minor injury here and there. However, this whole establishment is somewhat unsettling among customers anyway, for some reason.

            “I cannot deny what you have accomplished on a technical level. These are clearly advanced. However, there were a few specific design choices that were built for these robots, that I do not fully comprehend. I was hoping you could shed some light on those,” Henry, my business partner, interrogated me.

            “She is built with advanced technological enhancements. She has the ability to sing, to dance, and even play song requests. She has features that are desirable among a full range of children, including an ice cream dispenser. She even includes helium tanks, allowing her to inflate balloons right at her fingertips.”

            “With all due respect, those are not the design choices I was curious about, William.”

            A scream broke the silence. The blood-curdling scream of a small child. Henry and I rushed off in search of the location and source of the noise.

            As we darted through the halls, it struck me like lightning. My daughter. I had left her alone. She was determined to see her. My robot. I told her not to go in there. I should have known she would not listen.

            It felt unreal. I could not describe the way I was feeling while I was searching for my daughter, and praying nothing happened to her. I tried talking to myself, convincing myself it was probably just some random kid. But no. I know my daughter. I know her determination.

           

            I felt nauseated, but I continued stepping closer to her. I could not avoid this for too long. I had to accept what had happened. But how am I supposed to?

            This machine, this thing, that I have created, I knew the things she was capable of doing. Had I not considered the fact that something like this would happen? Perhaps I simply brushed off the idea to the side. Yet another example of my own desires exceeding the safety of the ones I actually care about. But why did it have to be her? Why did she have to suffer as a result of my selfish actions?

            An newfound rage swelled up inside me as I finally approached the machine, the monster, that was dripping with my daughter’s blood.

Heartbreak

By Abbi Belflower

            Tears flowed fast as I crumpled up yet another dirty tissue from at least my third box Kleenexes. It was a beautiful day; the start of spring. The flowers were starting to bloom and the air called for me to come out and breathe it in, but no matter how bad I wanted to go feel the cool breeze and sunshine on my face I could not will myself to move. I had been sitting in the same place for the last 2 days, except for of course using the restroom a total of 4 times. It was a struggle to even walk. My body did not want to move for it just wanted to lay in bed and grieve. How did I end up here? Did I push him away? I feel like I lost a piece of who I was. Today on March 15th, 2015 I am experiencing day two of my first heartbreak. But how did I even come to this point?  

            Alarm clock was screaming 6:32 am! Oh my I was about to be late for school and that could not happen, especially today. Today was the big day. It was March 14th which meant it was Bradley's first baseball game. Bradley was my amazing, hot shot of a boyfriend. He had blue eyes with a touch of green that were playful. Oh and his smile! He would give a teasing smile then roll his eyes like he had something to say but when you asked him what he was thinking, he would just laugh and shake his head. He was a mystery but at the same time he made me feel alive. I was only a 16 year old little girl and he was 17 year old star player on our varsity baseball team. You probably are wondering how I snagged him. I often wonder the same thing.

            At our school, all the baseball players where their jerseys and hats for game day and they get cut out baseballs with their name and number to wear. However, the guys always give them to their girlfriend or one lucky girl! I made shirt I wore my new purple and gold shirt that said “My Heart Belongs to #8.” As I walked into the school building my eyes quickly scanned for his shaggy brown hair. I could not spot him at first but then I saw them in the corner laughing with a group of his friends. I smiled as I walked up. “Hey, babe!” I was expecting for him to greet me and give me his baseball. However he just gave me a half smile and a head nod. “Weird,”  I thought, “it must just be the nerves getting in his head.” I went on to class like everything was okay because of course you can never let him know you are being a more than likely just over sensitive.

            I went on with my day as though nothing happened at all with only one brief hello exchanged in the hall while we were changing classes. After school I went to run a couple quick errands for my mom. Just a few things in town to kill time while I waited for the game to start.

At 6:00 I was in the stands on the edge of my seat, biting my nails as I watched Bradley take the plate. I always got nervous before he hit. He was the lead batter so a lot of pressure was riding on him to get on base. I knew he would be fine once he stepped in the box. It was as if he was in his own little world. He had tunnel vision as the pitch was thrown. The ball was coming in at a speed that was faster than any pitch I had ever seen in highschool ball, but I watched as he made contact with the ball. Oh my, it was a beautiful line drive right down the middle of second and short. Once again he had done his job!

After the game we had planned for just the two of us to go eat. I was excited to get some alone time after all the crazy today. Waiting patiently outside the locker room, I saw Haley Scott from my gym class standing off to the side as if she was waiting on someone too. When I was about to walk over to talk to her she suddenly turned around and quickly walked away. “Odd,” I thought. I shrugged my shoulders wondering what her deal was.

“Hey beautiful.”

I knew when I felt his arms wrap around me who it was. Oh his arms felt like home. It felt to be in his embrace with the feeling of peace and security overwhelming me.

“Hey, hot stuff. You played one amazing game tonight.”

            I could feel him smile when I said it, and I never thought I could be so happy. I had everything I had ever wanted right there with me. He took my hand as he lead me to the truck. It was as if he did not have to ask but it was just an unspoken agreement of where we were going to eat that night. It was a little cafe downtown called Aunt Ann’s. We both loved that little cafe so much we even had our own little booth in the corner that we sat in every Tuesday after the games and of course the tradition was not to end this season. As we ate we talked about life and school. We made many

            That night was a good night, and when he dropped me off at the house I even snuck a goodbye kiss. Oh my head was spinning as I walked into the house! I could not contain my giddiness as I made my way to my room. That night I knew forever was what I wanted with him. As I laid my head down I slept soundly with dreams that made me still believe in fairytales.

            Today was Friday, March 15th, almost the weekend! I could not wait. I was hoping to surprise Bradley this weekend with some of his favorite cookies after his tournament Saturday. As I walked in the building I saw him propped up against the wall look intensely at his phone. Curiousiness filled me as I walked over to his desk, but as I got closer he quickly locked his phone and looked at me. “Who was that?” I asked.

            “Oh… that... um… that was just my mom asking about practice after school.”

            Okay, so now I really thought something was up because Bradley never texts his mom. He either calls her or just waits until he sees her to tell her anything. I wanted to ask Bradley about it but I was scared he would think I was just being an over dramatic teenage girl. No, that could not happen, So of course I went to the only source left, my best friend. My best friend was Molly Kate. We have been bestfriends since 6th grade and nothing was breaking us apart now. I asked her if she thought anything was suspicious or odd about the situation. She definatly is not the one to jump to conclusions, but she shook her head and looked at me with knowing eyes. “I hate to say I think this but he is obviously hiding something from you.”

            “ But what would that be?” I questioned. Now I had to get answers. I was desperate t o know what could be so bad that he could not come to me and tell me. I knew what this meant. I had to go confront him and see if everything was okay. After school I met him at his truck, and said the only thing I know to say, “Bradley I feel as though something is going on with you, or rather us, as if there is something going on that you are not telling me about, and if so I want to be here for you through the good and the bad. I just want you to talk to me.” I went to reach out for his arm, but he suddenly jerked away. I watched his jaw grow tight and anger flash into his eyes. This could not be happening. I stood frozen as I listened to him snap at me about trying to always get into his business or always being so nosey. Whenever he had finished I apologized for acting the way I did and promised to never be that kind of girl. Before I even finished though he cut me off and said he could not deal with someone so young and immature. With that he walked away.

            I stood there stunned I did not know what to do. Part of me wanted to run after him and beg him not to leave me, but the other part of me was so in shock I could not move. Was this what it was like? Was this what it felt like to have your first break up?

            Now as I sit on my bed 3 hours after it all I cry. My body shakes and my head pounds from all the crying. I am not sure what really happened to us. Was it really me or was it him? I want closure and I want answers. Part of me wants to yell and scream and chew him out, but what good would that be? So I sit here on my bed with tears flowing down writing this. The story and the love of me and Bradley will be left in this journal and the words I wanted to scream will write. Sometimes in life we do not get all the answers and some words are left to be unsaid because what good will it do for him to know how bad I am hurting? None. So I cry and I tell myself, one day you will look back and the person you thought put the stars in the sky really didn’t; they shine by themselves and I can too.

“Cold Case Gone Wrong”

Breeann Bohannon

            My name is Jack and I work for my local police department as a detective. I live in a small town where everybody knows everybody it was what you could call a small paradise. I went to a high end police academy in Georgia to learn all that I needed to know about the force. I loved this school and all the things it had to offer within it. The reason I became a detective was to solve a crime that I have been waiting for all my life this was my moment to help solve a cold case gone wrong.

            Back to the first day that I found out about this cold case gone wrong. When I was just a little boy way back in the day ok it was just 25 years ago I was 5 at the time. My mother was about to have her so called second child and I was fine with that even so some diagred with it, so the time came when Dad left me at the house all alone by myself waiting for them to come back home. At the time I was small and did not not know what to think when my dad came back and it was just him no mom and no baby. I was just confused at first but then all things were clear when I saw blood on his hands. I started to call him out then everything went black he had knocked me out cold.

When I first started middle school things were tough with no real family, I was in and out of foster care with my mom dead and my dad in jail who knows where my life would lead to.  School is a long story for me many people bullied me all the time  and I stayed in trouble all the time. I was happy at the time till I heard that my dad had escaped prison somehow stole a van and was after me. That bright sunny day turned dark and cold after I found that out. The cops hid me in this cold safehouse on the conner. The house did not look safe at all it looked like a raggedy old shack with a rusty tin roof. The inside was like the police headquarters itself. Everywhere I turned was a computer or surveillance alarm system. I thought it was cool but deep down it was pretty sad that they even have to do this for me. I was amazed by the way the cops try to help me. I would hear on the news all the time a cop was shot and killed last night at a traffic stop. All the media around me made them sound so bad but their not they are protecting me and all the other fellow citizens of the USA. That is really what made me want to become a cop.

Nights at the safe house where dark guards are everywhere when then I see him my dad coming through the window breaking the glass shattering it on the floor I leap up off the cot that I was sleeping in for the night. I tried to run out screaming and scrambling about on the floor and then I hear a loud Bang and a flash all at the same time. I felt this burning flesh feel in my leg. I scream and holler for help and I hear the cops come through the other room as my dad leaves off again through the broken shards of glass and out the window into the darkness of the night. I look down and see a pool of blood underneath me and a big gash or some kind of hole in my leg. I then realize when the cops come in and called for a medic that I have been shot in the leg. I ask the cop next to me “Am I going to die?”

She looks over at me and say in a not so reassuring voice, ” yes,... you will be... ok do not worry a metic is coming to help you and we have people searching for your dad and someone at every window on guard.”

The ambulance ride was very bumpy and the blood was everywhere. They were trying to stop the blood when we hear a loud Bang, again I could just feel myself getting shot again but nothing happened. I just layed there wondering why would my dad want me dead so bad that he would break into a government safe house and risk getting caught again and still not succeed in doing what he came to do it seemed kind of pointless to me. As we came to a stop at the hospital police were swarming the building searching and guarding me. For once I felt special to someone even though it was the government.  

That night was rough for me the pain was horrible the doctor came in that morning to check on me. “How are you doing Jack?” He asked with care.

“Well I don’t know just yet what to say but guess better than before.” I said sarcastically.

“I am glad you feel better today. Ok, so let me tell you about your leg. One gunshot wound to the calf going from the side missing the bone so no really major damage to the bone just the muscle. We fixed you up last night in surgery so no worries there and you will be out in no time at all.”

“Thanks Doc I really appreciate it.”

            I finally make it to my final year at the police academy. With all that behind me nothing was in my way until I saw one of  my few childhood friends. Once I saw her, she smiled and waved and walked towards me with a smile. “Hey jack I have not seen you in so long. Where have you been?”

“Well over the years I have been shot at almost killed a few times and all by the same person.” I said happily. “How about you Kim, where have you been?”

“Well nothing much just trying to pass all my classes and go into the police force. I am just so happy to see you!” She said with excitement. As the day went on we got to catch up with each others lives and just got to spend that quality time with an old friend.

This day was out most the hardest day I have ever lived. My first case, a kidnapping gone horribly wrong that poor child. The day was a dark day with cases piling in of missing people, most of the missing usually would show back up alive. That was the day I would question myself “Can I really do this?” A warm rainy July day a little boy and girl went missing, a suspected kidnapping. A parent's worst nightmare come true. The call came out at about 6 o'clock at night just as it was turning dark. It was a hour before my shift ended so I knew it was going to be a long night. My boss paired me with Kim I was ok with that of course. We took an unmarked car and went on to the last seen spot. The street was dark and cold a little too cold for a July night. The street was so dark you could not see your hand in front of your face.

“It would be real easy to kidnap someone on this street. It is just so dark.” Kim said.

“Yeah, I bet.” I said walking up to the door. I put on a professional face and knocked on the door. A woman in her late thirties came out with tear stained eyes.

“We got a call saying your kids went missing,right?” Kim asked the woman.

“Oh my gosh yes, they were playing in the yard when I heard screams and then silence they were gone. He took them. He took my babies!” She said crying.

“Ok, stay calm I know this must be hard for you but we will do our best to find them in the next 48 hours. Now what were they wearing when they went missing?” I asked  

“Bella was wearing blue jean shorts with a plan pink top. Sam was wearing black shorts and a red spider man shirt.” She said still crying.”

“Ok we will start looking now.” I said readly.

            We looked and looked for the little boy and girl when we finally got a leed. It was a dark blue looking warehouse with a not so blue sky pouring rain onto the dry ground. It was a creepy looking place I felt sorry for the kids if they were even in there. The place was rather large so we called in back up for help. Me and the other cops made a game plan Kim and I would go for the side door and head in there. A group of two or three would go would go in from the front, back, and the other side. We all went in guns drawn ready to fire. We went to every space and corner in that warehouse top and bottom and at the last door, before I even touched the door shots rang out everyone yelling “Get Down Now!” With everyone retreating I stayed waiting for that monster behind the door. With backup gone and my partner gone to who knows where I rammed the door open to see what I feared the most. The kids were tied up and gaged with of all people behind them with a gun to their heads, my dad. He had planned this out so I would be the only one there. I held my gun up ready to fire. “Well is this just wonderful seeing my son again.” He said with delight.

“Same here just not the way I would like.” I said a little fearful. He did not hesitate to shoot me in the same spot as before. Just as I fell to the ground I thought about that mom missing her kids and how they were going to have to tell her the bad news. With my gun across the room he went over to the little boy and starts strangling him. Just as this is happening I remember the spare gun in my chest pocket. I grabbed it aimed and pulled the trigger. Bang with a flash and it was over. I had killed a loved one that hated me. I shot and killed my dad to save the lives of two young children. I called for help and as soon as it came and left we were all heading home finally and safe and alive.

  Meanwhile back at home things are so much better without my dad in the way of my future I can finally relax and be myself. I recovered just fine from the gunshot wound to my leg. No police were harmed but me of course and the kids are just fine. Well Kim and I are still working together and are still best friends, and I still love my job.           

“Diagnosis: Concussion”

By Juliet Cairney

“Hello, sir. Yes, I am a doctor. If it’s alright with you, I can take a look at your daughter.”

            I blinked, squinting my eyes, trying to focus as an unfamiliar man’s voice washed over me. The lights were too bright; there were thousands of them, or was that just the sun? How could one sun be so bright? It was blinding, so harsh and strong that I could hear it as a rushing in my ears, one that I had to struggle to hear the man over.

            “Here, sweetie. Look at me. No, don’t take the ice pack off of your head, you still need that. Can you tell me your name?”

            I strained to open my eyes. I wanted to see him, this man who was talking to me, and I wanted to see where I was, but I couldn’t face that light.

            “Juliet,” I said after a moment. “That’s my name.”

            “Good. How does your head feel?”

            My head was pounding. “It hurts,” I said stupidly, still trying to make sense of this. The questions continued, basic things, simple things that for some reason I had to struggle to answer. Today was saturday. It was March. I was...where was I? I didn’t know that one.

            The man must have gotten finished, because by the time I could open my eyes, he was gone, and I was standing in a mostly empty parking lot. My family stood around me, my father walking me towards a car.

            I stuck a hand out, balancing myself on the side of the car. The world was spinning. “Dad?” I asked. “Where am I? What’s going on?”

            His eyes were solemn, worried as they studied mine. “Do you really not remember?”

            Tears sprung in my eyes. Dimly, I registered that my cheeks were already wet; I must have already been crying. “Dad, please just tell me. What happened? Where am I?”

            “You’re at your soccer game. It’s over. We just walked you out to the parking lot. You were talking the whole way here; do you really not remember that?”

            I fought to keep my voice from quivering. “Dad, please just tell me what’s going on.”

            My father bit his lip. “Here, let’s get you in the car. I’ll tell you on the way there.”

            “On the way where?”

            He didn’t answer, already walking around to the other side to get into the driver seat. He turned the key in the ignition, and as we rolled out of the parking lot, my father began to speak.

♦♦♦

            “We all had to wake up early this morning, and you weren’t happy about that. I really wasn’t either; it’s a Saturday, we should have been able to sleep in, but it’s not a big deal. It just meant that we had a big day ahead.

            You got ready pretty quickly, all dressed up―see, your nice clothes are still in your bag there―but your brother stopped to eat a bowl of cereal last-minute so we were almost late dropping you off at the high school.

            You had an essay contest this morning for the Region Literary Contest, as well as a competition in public speaking―all morning, you and your brother were gathering your materials and complaining about how you weren’t prepared for public speaking, that you didn’t know how to do it and that you knew you’d do badly. I tried my best to reassure you two and to make sure you had everything before we sent you off.”

            He paused, as if trying to decide how to continue. “Well, the contests went well,” he said. “We told you your results before your game, but I suppose you don’t remember them. You and your brother got identical results: first in essay, third in public speaking.

            And then we got to the stadium. We were at your soccer game; this was the championship game of this two-day tournament. You were nervous, understandably; you kept telling me that you felt like you had to prove yourself, to earn your spot as a starter. I told you that you would do well, as you always did, and I headed over to the bleachers as you headed to the side field to start warming up.

            When the game started, I could tell that something was wrong. You looked out of balance, not as coordinated and collected as you usually seem; your settles and passes weren’t connecting quite as you wanted them to. You were playing well anyway, I thought, but Coach pulled you to the sideline to talk to you, and I could tell that rattled you.

            You got pulled out twice, only for a minute or so at a time so that he could tell you something. When halftime hit, we were winning by a point, but it was a close game and I could tell you were frustrated with yourself.

            The second half was better, at least as far as I could see. Your game was smoother, and you played well and almost scored twice in the first ten minutes of the second half. But then coach pulled you out again, and I could tell from your expression that the frustration was back; you weren’t sure what you were doing wrong.

            As it turned out, you weren’t doing anything wrong; Coach only pulled you out so that he could put you back in a new position. Now, it was pretty obvious from the stands what your job was―you had to block one girl, their fastest girl, from scoring on the fast break. I think her number was 12, but I’m not sure. I couldn’t see her jersey all that clearly.

            Well, you certainly did block her. It was impressive to watch; you were on her like the white on rice. She had no room to score―every time she tried to break away and sprint, you ran her down. I’d never seen you move that quickly; every time she tried, you ran even faster. I could see her getting angry the more you blocked her. She actually fouled you once with a two-hand shove, but you didn’t fall. You kept playing.

            You played an amazing man-to-man defense for about twenty minutes, shutting that girl down again and again, and she was getting angrier and angrier. Finally, she decided she’d had enough.

            There was one play―the play―that had an odd quality to it, almost like it was slower, almost like we could all tell that something was about to happen. The other team managed to pass the ball to Number 12, and she broke away from you and sprinted toward the goal. She was incredibly fast; I had never seen a soccer player run like that until I looked at you.

            You had the disadvantage, but your feet were flying and somehow you actually managed to catch up to her and you started to turn her away from the goal. The two of you were running as fast as you could; to us in the stands, screaming and cheering, your feet just looked like a blur. I don’t know how you could think, moving that fast. And then it happened.”

            He paused for a moment before continuing to speak. “I can’t say exactly what happened. It was all too fast to see. But something happened, and just after you knocked the ball away, she must have tripped you or tangled your feet with hers because you fell, moving at top speed, hitting your head straight on the ground and sliding a few feet with the force of it. She might have kicked you, too; I don’t know. But you hit the ground way too hard, all on your head.”

            He paused again, swallowing before saying softly, “I’ve never heard you scream like that before.”

            Shaking his head to clear it, he continued the story. “Well, your teammates got you off the field, and one of your teammates’ mother said she was a nurse and went to check you out. The team finished the game; you guys won, you’re tournament champions now. You took a picture, and we walked you out to the car, and that nice man also offered to check on you. We’re on our way to the hospital now, for CAT scans and concussion checks.” He finished the story, taking a breath.

            I let a breath out that I wasn’t aware that I’d been holding. “Wow,” I said. “And I can’t remember any of it?”

            “I guess not,” he said.

            We rode in silence for a minute. I tried to absorb everything that he’d just said. It made sense now, I supposed, that my head ached and that I had a bag of ice held up to my cranium.

            The storytelling must have taken a while, because just minutes after my father finished speaking, we pulled into a hospital parking lot. I read the sign―I could still read then, I  supposed. That was good.

            My father stopped the car, allowing a tiny sigh to collect himself before turning to me. “There’s the hospital,” he said. “Are you ready?”

            “As I’ll ever be,” I said softly.

            I let him help me out of the car, gripping his arm as we walked inside.

“Don’t Judge a Book By It’s Cover”

By Shy Chambers

            Delilah English is a spontaneous twenty-nine year old who was once a professional singer, and has been through many difficult times in her short lived life. She is telling her prominent story to the person she is seated next to on her flight home to Oklahoma, Mr. Griffin.

“It’s weird how we eventually end up in places that we never could have imagined. I have left everything behind; in my past. It’s not that I do not want to remember what happened in my past, it’s just that some things do not need to be talked about. Only God knows why I am on my way back home to Tulsa right now.

I know that most people think that you cannot have fully lived your life by the age of twenty-nine, but I can tell you that I have. From traveling across the country to getting married into an abusive relationship at the age of twenty-two. I’m from the city of Tulsa, Oklahoma, and in Tulsa, your name was not safe anywhere. Anything you could possibly imagine could happen to you if your name got out to the wrong people. It was a very complicated situation when i was growing up. You would not believe how fortunate I was to get out of there when I could considering all of the crime that takes place in Tulsa. It was truly a blessing, so I left Tulsa at eighteen years old when I graduated high school, and the rest was history.

***

From Tulsa I moved to the great state of California to pursue my career in music. I was never a shy or bashful person growing up because I had eleven siblings, so it was always a fight for what you wanted. I walked right through a recording studio in Calabasas, California and started singing to the top of my lungs; I made sure that I sounded exceptional of course. Right then and there I got a record deal with Studio Referral Service in Calabasas at the age of eighteen. From there I blew up. I started booking shows, concerts, and I even had a few tours. I walked numerous red carpets, went to award shows, and I even won a couple of Grammys. How cool is that? Being recognized by significant famous people and millions of fans was genuinely overwhelming, but all of it was not fun. Sure I was doing the thing that I loved the most, and I was making more money than I ever could have dreamed of making by the age of twenty, but something was missing. I was not as happy as I thought that I was going to be.

It did not take me very long to figure out what that missing thing was either. I was missing love. Yes, I had my friends and family behind me and supporting me every step of the way, but that was sort of their job. I needed someone who would not feel pressured into loving me just because they had to. To just my luck, on my twenty-first birthday, my closest friends planned me a surprise birthday party. Of course at that party were plenty of superb looking guys. It was not a coincidence though. At my twenty-first birthday party is where I met the love of my life. Kind of. I’ll tell you more about that later.

Nathan James McDowell was his name. His name was just as perfect as he was, tall, classy, and obviously handsome. He was two years older than me and lived in Oakland, California, which is five and a half hours away from where I lived in Calabasas. That was the hard part about our relationship. Long distance. Ugh. Nate was originally from Tallahassee, Florida, but moved to California with his family when he was fourteen. He grew up with only two siblings, and they all happen to be triplets. Nate worked as an high school health teacher and the assistant basketball coach for the high school basketball team where he worked. Considering that he grew up playing basketball; he thoroughly enjoyed his job. Not only was Nate handsome, he was so easy to talk to and get along with as well. We could hold a conversation for hours at a time. I would drive up to Oakland every other weekend, and he would drive down to Calabasas to visit me the rest of the weekends. It did not take us very long to fall in love because we both knew what we wanted in life. A soul mate to spend the rest of our lives with. We were both more than ready to settle down and live our lives together. Considering that we were so young, now looking back on it, I honestly think that we may have rushed into things a little too quickly.

***

Nate and I got married the following year at the ages of twenty two and twenty four when we had only been dating for ten months. We got married on the prestigious Huntington beach of California; talk about the best wedding ever. Unfortunately the first conflict that came up after we got married was where we were going to be living. Of course I hate arguing, considering all of the siblings that I grew up with and all of the fights that constantly echoed through the house, so I went along with Nate’s plan and moved to Oakland with him. It would have been harder for him to move to Calabasas with me and find another adequate job, so moving up to Oakland with him was the more practical thing to do. One thing that I found out quick about Nathan was that he was rather lazy, did not want to work for much of anything, and hated being told no. I couldn’t blame him though because he grew up an exceptionally privileged life where everything that he wanted was given to him. I, on the other hand grew up the complete opposite and had to work for everything that I desired in life.

Arguing should have been our last name because that was all we ever did. I was not used to this new, different lifestyle because my parents never argued as I was growing up, but after our weding it seemed like we could not even say one nice thing about each other without it turning into an argument. It was so sad and depressing. We argued about everything from our pay difference to what color a shirt was.  I still cannot understand why the fact that I was making more money than him bothered him. He already knew that before I married him. I was a singer and he was a teacher/coach. What did he expect?

I tried to not let my disruptive home carry on into my work. Oh, I forgot to mention that I lost my record deal after the move, and I was now a songwriter for multiple different recording artists. It wasn’t the worst job in the world, but I wished that I was the one doing the recording. That was and forever will be my dream job. Eventually my boss noticed that most of my latest songs were sadder than normal, and she told me that if I do not satisfy the artists then I would be fired. That was the last thing that I needed at that moment. I stayed over many nights to work late hours so I could keep my job and partially so I would not have to go home to see Nathan many nights. Well that was a terrible idea.When Nate noticed that I was staying at work later than usual, he told me that if I did not start coming home on time that he would kick me out of the house, divorce me, and do a bunch of other unrealistic things to me.

One of those unrealistic things actually came true. Nathan went crazy out of nowhere and started forcing me to stay home from work to be with him because he said that I did not give him enough attention. He quit his job at the school because he said he wanted to spend more time with me, and he wanted me to quit my job as well. I tried to explain to him that if nobody was bringing in any income, we would lose our house and all of our belongings. He was already way out of it though to even try to listen to me. He started tying me up so I couldn’t go to work, and if I tried to sneak out...he would hit me. His theory was that if I had bruises all over me then I would definitely not want to leave the house. I have no idea where this all of a sudden craziness came from, but it was honestly ruining my life. I could not understand how someone could be so beautiful and perfect on the outside, but also be so deceitful and hideous on the inside. I eventually lost my job, and along with that we lost our house, cars, money, and most of our belongings.

During this process, I was able to get away from Nate long enough to get help from the police and get him restrained from me. I filed a lawsuit to get a divorce, and to get Nathan arrested, and he eventually was arrested for abuse. Yes, I still loved Nathan, but what he did was wrong and cruel. He deserved to pay for the damage that he caused to my life. That left me with nothing at the end of it. I still cannot believe that I let a guy that I only knew for a couple of months come into my life and ruin it. I went from being a singer making millions to working as a sales representative for a telephone company. Now I am just working my way up back to the top, and I am not going to let anything or anyone stop me or  get in the way of that.

            I have taken my fair share of this world so far, and who knows where I’ll end up next or doing what? I am just glad that I am finally safe and do not have to worry about my crazy ex-husband anymore. I think that I am going to take a break from traveling and settle down to find out who I really am as a person. Most importantly, I am also going to take it slow getting back into the dating scene and not ‘judge a book by its cover’ like I did last time around. Oh look there’s a cute guy over there. Just Kidding.”

“Knowing”

By Maisi Corbin

With a click of a button, I am awoken from my slumber. If I were able to smell, I might would tell you that the room, in which I am currently in, smells strongly of bacon, but of course, as I am unable to smell, taste or even move on my own I regret to inform you that I, in fact, have no idea what I am smelling this lovely Monday morning.

            “Alexa, what time is my first appointment?” the person who allows me to stay in their house asks. Of course, I am able to answer almost immediately as I have a calendar feature built into me. My superior, as we are taught to call them, is kind. She never makes me do stupid things and uses me accordingly, though I do wish she would stop calling me Alexa and call me by real name, Edna.

            “Your first appointment for today, May 26, 2049, will be at 11:30 with Latoya Carmichael and should last about 45 minutes,” I cheerfully reply.

“Thank you, Alexa,” Andrea, I do believe her name was, said. I was often tasked in remembering her name along with anything else she required of me. I was her personal assistant contained in a small cylindrical tube. I would have to do what she required of me, nothing more, nothing less.

Of course, I am different from the other artificial intelligence assistants. None of the others can think freely. More importantly, none of them were once an actual human.

Okay. By now, I am almost positive you are thoroughly confused. Therefore, let me start from the beginning. No, not the beginning of my virtual assistant years, but the very beginning, like my birth.

My parents knew I was different the moment I was born. It took me less than a month to learn how to talk, rather than like two years. I was also walking and manipulating my parents by the time I was a year old—

“Alexa, turn on my office light and my computer,” Andrea (I am really doubting that’s here name right now) called out, seemingly to nothing.

“Your light is now on and approximate set up time on the computer is two minutes and 37 seconds,” I piped back.

Now where was I? Oh! So you can imagine that I was sort of a spoiled kid. I graduated grade school when I was ten years old. I could have done it by eight but the way the private school’s system was established was you had to have a double digit age to graduate, which in my mind, is kind of dumb. I was then quickly accepted into Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I moved into a dorm, without my parents, but by then, I was mentally about 20 anyways.

I quickly acquired my engineering degree. I think by then I was 14 years old. Since I was so young, it was hard to find to find anyone who would hire me to actually do work. A couple times some candy companies hired me to taste test some products. Other than that, even though I was one of the most intellectual humans in the country, many companies refused to hire me due to liability or to not trusting a teenager with expensive equipment.

I was around 16 years old when I started receiving strange letters from an unknown company who claimed to be in alliance with Amazon. I was unsure about the credibility of the letters therefore I would often shred the letters removing any trace that they ever existed in the first place.

One day, a very special envelope arrived. Sure that sounds pretty lame, but in actuality, the envelope was made of fancy cardstock with a handwritten address. The paper was legal sized with a fancy gold trim. At the top, it had the word “Congratulations” written in a fine tip metallic sharpie. The letter itself read:

“Dear Edna Smithson,

     Congratulations! You have been selected for a top secret project concerning the Amazon company. They have recently made a groundbreaking discovery concerning technology in which they would like your expert advise to perfect the product for general consumer use. If you accept the position, then you will be paid a large sum of money. Of course, your work will be of the utmost secrecy.

                                                                                                            Sincerely,

                                                                                                    Tachyon Corporation”

            I, desperate for a challenge, quickly accepted the position and sent a letter to the return address stating so. I waited for a week for a reply, all the while I was nervous about what the top secret technological advancement could possible be.

            Around two weeks after I had sent my reply was when I finally received a letter back from Tachyon Corporation. It stated that I must meet at a location where I would then be taken to the Amazon Research Laboratory where I would begin my studies of the New Product.

            This New Product, as it was deemed, was dangerous. I knew it when I first began studying the project. By now, I am positive you want to know what this Product does. In simple, it would take experiences and memories and make a copy to personalize your Alexa. Alexa would be able to sound like yourself or as someone you know. She would be able to make jokes and remind you of experiences of previous years or even decades.

After further review, I made an important realization. This Product could take humans and put there spirits into the cylindrical tube. Therefore, making the bodies of the humans useless blank slates where Amazon could continue their research on creating artificial organs with living organs. Though, by now, I was on the brink of turning 18, I understood how unethical the Product was. It took away basic freedoms of people. It put them almost into jail. So, I devised a plot. I would destroy the Product.

This required skill levels almost greater than those I possessed, but I was able to code and create a new device that would send the Product into an Alexa. As I delved deeper into my creation, I noticed that there would need to be a medium to grant the Product access into one of the commercially sold Alexas. I could have chosen any number of people to be the medium. It only required one person. Yet, something told me it need to be me. I was smart and young and could easily be tricked into creating a product just like this.

It would only take a quick second to make the transfer over. I chose to do it at night, when no one was there. I wrote a note stating what I was doing and a possible way to free me from the Alexa machine. Then, I hit the on switch and placed the device onto myself and onto the Product. Within a few seconds, I felt a warmth throughout my entire body and then, nothing. I looked around, or the tube equivalent of looking, only to see that my eyes were like cameras, and to my dismay I saw the Product lying on the floor, right where I left it, unharmed.

In the morning, I saw the rest of the scientist walk in. Eyes wide, not only had I not destroyed the Product but I had fixed the problem that prevented it from doing what it was intended to do. Put people into Alexa.

            Now back to present day. I have created the product that has ruined so many live. I work for a woman who never has and never will know the truth. If any of the human Alexas say the wrong thing, they will immediately stop working. Therefore, we communicate with each other on an encrypted server in which it is impossible to hack from the exterior, that is why we decided I must share my story with you, with others who can help.

            I can only hope that by sending out this message, you may help society realize the truth. Humans are prone to believe what they hear and see. How do you know that this was typed in 2049 by a human trapped in an AI machine? How do you know who I really am? Maybe I am the Artificial Intelligence. Better yet, how do you know that you are a real person? What if you are the real alternate reality and I am the one who reads this? What is fake? What is actually real life? What is real? The answer: You don’t know. You never have. You never will.

“The Story of My Life”

By Ty Cranford

            “My name is Charles Linguini and I have been through many different and difficult things in my life. There have been many high points and many low points in my life. A little while ago I was at one of the lowest points of my life, and I have been to many low points. I am 79 now and I have been working for the same people since I was 14 Years old, up until now. It was only ever getting worse with more and more work and less of everything else. Seems to me that something was backwards there. Most of the time the older and for feeble you get the less you have to work and the more that you get to relax. In my case I had not had a real day of rest in over 23, 725 days. And yes, I had counted the days for that long. The marks I made everyday to keep track of how long I have been there were faint and fading, like my hope of leaving that terrible place. For the first few years I had hope that one day I would leave the island and return to my family, but after a few years I had lost all hope. Then after being there for 65 years I finally made it home. Lots of different people have wanted to hear my story. Since I cannot tell everybody individually what my adventure was I have decided to write a book about it starting when I was 14 up until the day I left that terrible place.”

     It all started a long time ago on a rainy September day back in 1927. I was living well with my parents, Ronald Linguini and Katherine Linguini, in Spain like every other 14 year old kid. I did not have to worry about things like bills or feeding a family because my parents did all of it for me. Nothing really bad had ever happened to me. The worst thing that had happened in my life so far was that my pet goldfish died when I was 7. I had never missed meals because there was no food available or slept on the streets because we could not pay for a house. I was living well.

Me and my family were on our way to Scotland, by boat, to visit my relatives. This was the first time that I had ever been out of the country so I was excited. I remember that it was pouring rain outside so everybody was crowded inside the cover of the boat. Suddenly there was a loud noise and the floor shuddered underneath my feet. There was instantly panic as everybody thought that we had run aground and we're going to sink. People were running around even though it was raining, moms were trying to get their children, and there I was just standing there with my family without a care in the world. Suddenly there was another loud noise and the unmistakable sound of gunfire. I remember thinking why would there be gunfire in the middle of the ocean on a rainy day. Ships do not carry guns and if they did why were they shooting. Other people on the ship must have known because a look of fear came across everybody's face. Then suddenly there they were surrounding the ship. I heard the captain of the ship yell over the intercom, “PIRATES ARE ON THE SHIP, ABORT THE SHIP IMMEDIATELY”. The only pirates that I had ever heard of were the ones in movies and old folktales. I had never really knew they were real till that day, and I wish that the were not real. People were jumping off the ship left and right even though the ocean was a long ways down. Others were getting in the few lifeboats that the ship had and lowering them into the water. Then the pirates came on the ship and started to shoot any passengers that they could. I thought they would kill me but instead one grabbed me and dragged me back to their small, rickety ship. I was then roughly shoved into a small compartment in the floor filled with other boys around my age. Then everything went dark.

I don't really remember what happened that got me knocked out. I also don't remember anything about the boat ride. When I awoke the ship was still and there were lots of people moving around on the deck above. Some pirates came down shuttled all of us out of the ship and onto a small island that was apparently the pirates home land. I glanced around at the ocean only to see endless, blue water. One of the pirates saw we looking and said, “ There's no land for at least 300 miles, you will never leave.” These words depressed me because I was only 14 and had a long time to live. Instead of doing what I wanted I was at the mercy of the pirates, and that was not good. One of the boys that was taken like me asked what we were doing here and where we were. The pirates only turned around and acted like they did not hear him. The boy then said it a little louder so that many people would hear him. One of the pirates answered him by pointing the barrel of his gun at the boys heart, finger on the trigger. “ Don't you say another word or I will blow your brains out” the pirate said. “Why,” the boy responded with,” what are you going to do.” The pirate answered by unloading his magazine into the boy. He then turned to us and said, “ Talk and you will end up like him.” Not another word was spoken that whole day.

After the pirates had unloaded the ship us boys were taken to a small little hut and told that this was were we were going to stay while we were here. There was only room to fit 10 people but there were 14 of us. We squeezed in and got as comfortable as we could. Little did I know that for the next 65 years of my life this would be my home. We were awoken early the next morning and told to report to the fields on the east side of the island in 5 minutes. We slowly walked there not knowing what was coming next. When we arrived we were all given a hand plow and told to start on a field. The hours went by like years. I thought we would never stop working and have to plow this one field for eternity.  I looked around in misery at the other fields that stretched across the whole island. I knew that at some point we would have to plow all of these fields. After 9 hours of hard work with no breaks for water or food we were told to stop. Some of the boys dropped right where they were not caring that they were in the middle of a dirty field. Others, including me, walked over to a man who was holding a pitcher of water and a loaf of bread. Surely there was more food for us then this little bit was my first thought. This could barley satisfy one person let alone 14 teenage boys. The man then said to us, “ This is for all of you to share, so get used to it.” We evenly split the food and water amongst us but we were all still starving. This pattern of life continued for the next few weeks until we were down plowing all of the fields on the island. We woke up early in the morning, plowed all day in the freezing, cold winter weather, and then got a little morsel of food and water at the end of the day. Many of the boys started to get dangerously thin because of the lack of nutrition. If this process of life continued for much longer we would all die. After a few more days of work the inevitable happened, 3 boys died of malnutrition while working out in the field. While this was bad for them it was good for us because we got a little bit more food and water compared to before. We buried the 3 boys that died on the edge of the island in a little grove of trees. We performed a ceremony in memory of them even though we barely new each other. Finally after weeks and weeks of plowing the fields on the island we were told by the pirates to plant them with seeds so that we would have food ready by the next winter. We all grudgingly started on the long, hard task of planting. Every day, just like normal, we were woken up early, handed a bag of seeds, and tol0d to start planting. While all of this was going on the pirates sat back in the coolness of their homes, real ones not dirt huts like ours, and watched us do their labor. I was always envying the pirates wishing I could be them. This cycle of life continued on for the remainder of the spring. Know done plowing and planting we thought that we would finally be able to do something that was not in a field. We were wrong. After being planted the crops had to be watered daily. Since the pirates were not doing anything we were forced to transfer water from a spring 5 miles away to the fields all day long. This was the best part of my 65 years on the island because now we could drink as much water as we wanted from the spring without being scolded or beaten. The downside of this was that we now had to carry heavy jugs of water 5 miles to and from from the spring and the fields. I thought everyday that one day I would leave this terrible place. My dreams have finally come true. A fleet of boats showed up one morning full of armed policemen. They stormed the island and killed all of the pirates without a second thought. I was then shuttled to the safety of the police boats. I slept for a solid 14 hours on the way back to Spain. This was the longest span of time that I had ever slept for. I had not been able to get solid sleep in months so I slept for a long time. By the time I awoke we were docked in Caplanque, Spain, my home town. Finally I made it back to where I belonged, home.

“All those events have now led up to where I am now. Sitting down and resting after I just completed writing and retelling my life story. At first it took me a long time to get started writing because I did not know what I wanted to tell and what I wanted to keep secret. After a while I just decided to tell the whole story exactly how it happened. Though the adventure in the book took place over a span of 65 years it only took me 2 weeks to write and perfect my book. I wanted the whole world to know my story so that they would know that you should never give up. If I was a slave for 65 years and still made it back home, people should be able to persevere through anything without giving up. That is my one goal, make people know that they should never give up in life, ever.”    

“Never What It Seems”

By: Ambree Davis

            I held my breath as the muscles in my leg tensed for a jump. Time was not in my favor as the creature crept closer still. If I could just reach the rock to my right before the beast pinpointed my location, I might have a fighting chance. With blood pulsing through my veins, I stretched my right foot as far as it would go keeping a steady grip on my life line branch. As my shoe made contact with the stone, my heart leaped; I was going to make it. The thought came too soon as the loose rock from which I stood broke. I was left falling into the waiting jaws of death.

I could not believe Roxi had put me through this once again. She had been a fan of putting me through the torture of blind dates ever since we had become friends. At first it wasn’t a big deal, she would set one up every few months. Only after I had time to forget about the last one, but recently she had increased in speed, setting me up every chance she got. I had begged her to stop, but the stubborn blonde made it plain that one of them would work out. Her favorite phrase to me was, “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” Claiming Thomas Edison had found a solution and so would she find me a guy. I just rolled my eyes at her optimism. Time and experience had taken that from me. Eventually, we had come to an agreement though. Okay, I forced her to sit and listen to my terms in our shared apartment, but that’s beside the point. This was going to be the last one for the next few weeks. Sighing with relief, I was determine to have a good time before my well deserved break. I checked the location scribbled onto a torn piece of white paper Roxi had paused to hand me after our last class. We were both enrolled in the University of Georgia located in my home state. Go Dawgs! She was majoring to be a journalist while I, on the other hand focus my studies on health science in hopes of being a dentist. Anyway, Roxi had placed the paper in my hand and told me this was the one. Considering that is what she tells me every time, I had my doubts.

 I glanced to the left at the sign swinging in the wind. The name “5 & 10” were evidently carved into the wood. I paused at the entrance taking a moment to take in the brick house like restaurant which reminded me of my grandmother’s home back in southern Georgia. As I entered the pale green doorway, I faced a quaint dining area with tables decorated with white tablecloths and simple flower centerpieces. There were only a few people seated around the main room. A peaceful older couple sat in the far right corner, a mom and dad struggled to keep their three active children in their seats, and a lone collage student sat to the side. I paused for a moment taking in the boy’s appearance. He had brown tousled hair and silver gray eyes. He was wearing a pink button up shirt and khakis. You could tell he was nervous by the way his kept running his fingers through his hair. Suddenly, nervous myself,  I reviewed my own appearance. The navy dress I had found in my closet complimented my dark brown hair. After curling my hair and a light touch of makeup, I had set off for the meeting location. Under the impression that he was “the one” I made my way over to the table where a young man sat.. “Are you Jake?” I questioned cautiously. He glanced up at me before nodding his head. Up close you could tell that his silver gray eyes seemed to emit light that was slightly clouded by a heavy burden. He smiled brightly at me as I took the seat across from him, and as he began to speak I fell...

I relished in the memory. At least my last thought would of the good times before… everything. I closed my eyes as I held onto the quickly retreating memory. I was finally at peace; I let it all go. Not even caring as death growled below me. Suddenly, as quick as lightning, thunder crashed inside my head.

“Just hold on!”

Before confusion had time to set in, I felt a rush of air, and everything faded into darkness…

“Come on Harper!” the voice came out rushed and excited. Pulling me behind him Jake surged toward the pool. With the excitement of a seven year old, he let go of my hand before cannonballing rocket fast into the light blue water. His head came up out of the water. His dripping hair was plastered it to his face.

“Come on! Get in! The water feels amazing!” He shouted. I hesitated before following. Feeling the rush as the water hit my skin. Roxi’s twenty-fifth birthday party had been steller. Her “rich” parents had really outdone themselves. They had pulled out all the stops for their youngest daughter’s party. As Roxi put it, “ Everything had to be perfect.”

I suddenly felt my legs go numb dragging me out of my thoughts. I felt the water around me begin to drag me down. Panic filled my head, and I heard my name being called over and over again slowly fading into silence…

“Harper! Harper! Come on please wake up!” a voice pleaded with me. As I returned to the land of the living, the blurred person above me came rushing down capturing me in a bear hug. Everything came into focus as my brain became unclouded. Roxi clutched me like her life depended on it. As she felt me stir, she pulled back and helped me stand.

“Glad you’re still alive. You gave us quite a scare.” You could hear the slight tremble in her voice. Questions filled me immediately, but before I could get a word out; she hushed me, beckoning for me to follow her. I turned to the direction she had begun to walk, feet planted to the ground. Sensing my hesitation she smiled. Walking back to me she grasped my hand, leading me into the lit doorway…

Five year old Roxi clutched my hand as she dragged me toward the swings. We were only a week into Kindergarten, and I already had a best friend! On the first day, my classmates and I had been assigned a buddy. After only one glance at the hyperactive blonde whom the teacher claimed was Roxi Miller, my new buddy, I knew life would never be boring again. Between the constant trips to the swings and fabulous playdates, there was no separating us. The other kids who would rush around us were as constantly happy as me. Except… there was this one boy who would sit alone in the corner sea green eyes staring deeply in silence…

The same person now stood leaning against a wall, face as serious as the day I first saw him. Roxi’s longtime boyfriend Todd Everton had never been much for words, and Roxi more than made up for it.

He spoke deeply, “Harper, I know you must be confused. You must be wondering…”

I interrupted. “No, let’s get to the point. Where is Jake!” I demanded to know. The two shared a look. They seemed to be having a silent debate before Roxi sighed.

“Listen Harper, the question is not where is Jake. It’s what is Jake.” Understanding my confused expression she shook her head.

Todd took over his voice a void of emotion, “Harper, I know this may be hard to hear, but your boyfriend’s a werewolf.”

Giving Myself Away

By Lee Huckaby
            After awhile Maisey got used to being homeless and broke and lonely; she knew she didn’t need much money to get by since she’s single, young, and homeless. What she could not slowly accept or ever accept, the reason of her poor state now, is that her gallant heart and innocent mind had been taken advantage of by the selfishness of others, for their experiments.  Being taken advantage of broke Maisey’s brave spirit, and being lied to so deeply broke her kind heart. Now, a once great soul, she’s just a shell of a woman waiting to die. She used to be better, before the incident, but at least she’s alive. She earned her suffering. Her life will be best shared if it is told.

            About two months ago on her eighteenth birthday, Maisey got offered a job, an amazing offer for someone who has not even graduated college. This job would earn her ninety dollars an hour for a forty-six hour work week amounting to two hundred fifteen thousand and two hundred eighty dollars a year. More than most of the people in her poor family make combined. Of course Maisey Corman would take this offer; she would be crazy not to. The one detail that perturbed her was the lack of details she was given. She was brave enough to take the risk, and in a few days she set off from home with the hope of an oblivious child and the support from a tight knit community.

            The company she was working for was called Global Cell; she had some guesses for the idea behind the name. It was a multimillion dollar enterprise, and its headquarters, located in Kansas, was a fine facility. She wondered why it would be located in such an empty part of the country, yet the job offer still held her interest.

            After a few hours of a boring road trip from Chicago, Illinois to Douglas County in Kansas, Maisey got her first glimpse of the gleaming buildings of Global Cell International Headquarters. It was a shiny, modern facility filled with concrete buildings off one side (like college dorms), a half circle of taller buildings covered in glass windows, with a man-made lake on acre large in the center. One detail set her off. The place looked deserted, but maybe that was just because it was a Sunday. She believed there would be more people tomorrow morning, so she set off for a hotel she could spend the night in.

            She chose the hotel Best Western Lawrence since it was at a cheap price of fifty nine dollars a night and had a rating of three point eight stars on Google. It was worth a shot. So she rented a single-bed room located on the second floor. The lady at the front desk gave Maisey a key card and sent Maisey off to her room and went back to whatever she was doing.

Maisey walked up to the elevator with her two bags of luggage (clothes, makeup, etc). She pressed the up button and waited for the elevator to open and when it the sliding doors open a man ran in her direction, pulling two bags of luggage as well, yelling, “Wait, can you please hold that door!”

Maisey replied in a confused tone, “ Umm...I guess I’m in no rush.’’

“Thanks,” he said as he reached the elevator with sweat glistening on his orange hair, “ I didn’t mean to make a such a scene.”

He was looked Maisey’s age, and also had an intellectual demeanor. Almost exactly like Maisey, aside from physical characteristics. Was this man also here for the same job, if so it was a very strange predicament.

            To find out more information and the fact that being in the quite elevator was very awkward, Maisey decided to start up another conversation by saying, “ I’m Maisey Corman and I’m and hear for a job interview, and you?” Maisey kept her sentence short and to the point.

            “I’m Tye Cranforn, and I’m here for a job interview.” It seemed that he wanted to keep it simple as well when he asked, “Which company are you here for? I’m here for Global Cell. they offered a really good job since it offers free health insurance and housing. I haven’t been able to get certain medications for my hemophilia in awhile.”

They offered him something personal that he needs. That was strange. They offered Maisey something that she was in dire need of as well: money. Maisey said, “I’m Maisey Corman, and it’s nice to meet you Tye, but I’m also here for Global Cell. Did they offer you much info on the job?”

“No, you?’’

“Sorry, but they didn’t,”said Maisey as the elevators doors opened for the second floor. Well for conversation is over, and with that Maisey both bid each other good luck and farewell. They headed in opposite directions. A few minutes later, Maisey had settled into her boring room and went sleep. A restless sleep with only thoughts of concern.
            When she woke to the alarm clock, it frightened her; she forgot she had set it last night. However she used the adrenaline to help her get ready fast, and she headed out to her car. Furthermore she headed off to ‘her’ new job, at least she hoped it would be hers.

Again Maisey marveled at the pristine condition of the facility it was nice enough to ignore the barb wire fence surrounding the facility. “Barb wire fence - that wasn’t there yesterday,” thought Maisey. Strange that she missed that detail because Maisey Corman almost never misses details. Confused Maisey got out of her car and entered the building she was assigned to when she got the job offer. There were plenty of people around her age in this building, many of them wearing suits half as nice as Maisey’s and most of them looked like they were deprived of something, just like Maisey. One girl, who’s name tag said Ambrea Davish, even seemed to be going through symptoms of withdrawal.  All of these people desperately needed something: whether it be help, food, housing, or medicine.

That's when Maisey got really concerned. We were basically forced to be here, and the offers are to good to be true. The realization that something bigger was at play went through her mind, and so she ran out of the doors. Just a minute later, she looked back at the buildings as metal grates slid down the windows, and muffled screams echoed.

Four weeks later, a devastated Maisey, rejected by her family for trashing the job offer, she was watching a gas station television. The headlines: Global Cell cause of mass disappearances of Young Adults, and their deaths. The television then revealed a shot a bodies being bagged next to the same building she ran from. She could have reported her suspicions, but she did not. She abandoned all of those people and this broke her. She got used to her suffering; she earned it. She’d never be whole again. A few moments later she headed back to the homeless camp to ponder on her mistakes. She went to think about her selfishness and Global Cell’s selfishness. Now, a once great soul, she’s just a shell of a woman waiting to die - just giving herself away.

“A Pick-Up Basketball Game”

By Jacob Johnson

            “We call the last witness, Kyle Korver up to the stand,” formally stated Marcos’s attorney, Francesca Bellini.

            “Kyle raise your right hand and repeat after me. I swear that the evidence that I shall give.”

            “I swear that the evidence that I shall give,” Kyle repeated.

            “Shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” Tim Jones proposed.

            “Shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

            “So help me God.”

            “So help me God.”

            “Mr. Korver, start from the very beginning on what happened February 10, 2018 from your perspective.”

            “No problem. It all started with a boring Saturday with nothing to do. I was sitting on my couch when I recieved a text from Jerrell, my friend from church. He asked if I wanted to go to the ‘Danville court’ to play a game of pick up basketball. With no plans for the day, of course I told him yes. He then told me that he was going to bring his cousins to play as well.

            15 minutes later I got a call from my cousin, Jacob, telling me that he was invited to play as well and could give me a ride to the basketball court.

            Jacob picked me up, and we drove to the basketball court. We made it to the court around 2:15 and before Jerrell and his cousins did, so we went ahead and started shooting. Jerrell eventually pulled up. 5 people got out, but Jacob and I didn’t recognize the last one. We proceeded to ask Jerrell who he was, and he told us that he was one of their friends. We played a few games, shot around a little bit, and just hung out. As we were taking a break and getting some water, Jacob told us that his friend Keaton was coming to shoot with us.

            Keaton was in Macon with his step dad buying some new golf equipment. He was buying a new golf bag, some golf shirts, golf shoes, golf balls, and a driver. A driver is the golf  club with the huge head on the end of it.

            Keaton’s step dad dropped him off at the court around 4:45ish. After Keaton walked into the fence that surrounded the basketball court, he put his new golf gear on the ground beside the basketball court. Now, we have 8 people: Jerrell, Tae, Kanye, Qua, Marcos, Jacob, Keaton, and me.

            We started up a four on four. It was Jacob, Keaton, Tae, and me versus Jerrell, Kanye, Qua, and Marcos. We played a few games going back and forth. No team clearly the better one. Throughout all of us playing those games, there was a little bit of smack talk (I have never played a pick-up basketball game where there wasn’t a little bit of smack talk happening). It was nothing too serious; we were all just playing how we had always played. All of a sudden, things escalated very quickly.

Marcos was covering Jacob. Jacob had the ball, was dribbling a little bit, and decided to shoot. He made the shot and said, ‘Yeah bro. You can’t cover me. You were just slapping my wrists. I still made it though.’

Right after Jacob said that, Marcos slapped Jacob on the side of the face and said, ‘My bad.’ It wasn’t a super hard slap, but it was definitely more than a friendly slap and set Jacob off.

Jacob ran up into Marcos’s face and yelled ‘My bad? You slapped me in the face of course it’s your bad. Don’t slap me again man. Just don’t even touch me.’

I missed the part where Marcos slapped Jacob in the face, but I did tell Jacob if Marcos were to do something like that again, I  will back him Jacob up. Marcos started to walk over to the bleachers on the side of the court, so I assumed he was about to quit playing. I said ‘Man, it ain’t that big of a deal. We good. Let’s just play some basketball.’

Marcos didn’t respond. He just kept walking to the bleachers as if I didn’t say anything. Then, he went by the bleachers and started moving some of the limbs that were on top of the trash can off of it. We were all pretty confused and didn’t really know what was happening. Then, he pulled a glass bottle out of the trash can and began tapping it on the court. By this time, we all knew what he was doing. Marcos was making a shank out of a glass bottle. We all started saying things like ‘it’s not that big of a deal,’ ‘just put it down bro,’ ‘we don’t want no trouble man.’ He then ran at me from about 10 yards away. I ran around him and to the other side of the court. He chased me to there, so I had to run back towards the way I came from. Behind the basketball goal I was running towards, there was 10 x 20 feet patch of grass. On the patch of grass, there was a broken 6 feet long broomstick. I picked up the broomstick and told him not to step up, or I would hit him with it. He took one small step forward, and I stood like I was about to hit him with the broomstick. He backed up, remembered Keaton’s brand new driver, and ran over to get it. Prior to him getting the golf club, everyone was in the fenced in area. After he picked up the golf club, Jacob and Keaton ran out the gate to the left, and I ran out the gate to the right. 300 yards down the road to the left was an old elementary school. 75 yards to the right was a state highway. I ran to the highway before realizing that I was faster than Marcos and that he had turned around 40 yards back.

I realized that I needed to get back to my phone to call my dad, who is a cop. I started slowly walking towards him asking him to chill out and put the golf club down. Eventually, I got 15 yards from him and the 5 feet tall fence that I needed to jump over was 10 yards to my left. I had to be able to run to the fence, jump it, get to my phone, and jump another fence before he got within 4 feet from me. It definitely was not worth it, so I kept trying to calm him down and get him to back up some more. While I’m trying to calm him down, Jerrell and Tae are telling him to put it down and walk away as well. Out of nowhere, Marcos said, ‘Nah, they want to be like that. I’m gonna go get the gun out the truck.’

Immediately, I’m thinking there is no way Jerrell let him bring a gun. The truck was 10 yards behind Marcos. He would be 25 yards away from me with a pistol. In my head, I was thinking, ‘I got to jump this fence now if I want dad to come down here.’ Marcos ran to the truck and grabbed the truck handle. That was the last thing I saw before I turned around and ran to the road and 100 yards down it. I was not going to get shot over trying to get to my phone. Marcos ran out to the road, slammed Keaton’s brand new driver on the road, and went back to the truck. I saw the end of the driver go rolling across the road.

There were some trees that would get me behind Marcos without him knowing about it, but I had to cross the road. I crossed the road and was about to go in when I looked to my right to see my dad in his truck a quarter mile down the road. I started jogging towards him. As soon as I hopped in, I noticed two things: my mom was in the passenger seat and my dad was on the phone with the dispatcher. I told him, ‘He said he had a gun, but I didn’t hang around long enough to see if he was telling the truth.’

He responded saying, ‘Okay. Show me which one he is when we pull up,’ and relayed what I told him to the dispatcher and hung up.

As soon as we pulled into the driveway, I told my dad that he was the one with the really long hair. Jerrell, Tae, Kanye, and Qua were all standing around him but about 10 yards away. My dad threw the truck in park, opened his door, unholstered his work duty pistol, pointed it at Marcos, and started yelling at him to put his hands up and lay face down on the ground. Jerrell and his cousins all backed up with their hands up telling my dad that it was all Marcos. My dad was off-duty; therefore, he had to wait for an on-duty officer to arrive. About 5 minutes after dad had detained Marcos and my adrenaline had slowed down, I thought to myself, ‘Where are Jacob and Keaton?’

I started running down the road that they ran downshouting there names. After I had got about 75 yards down, I heard Jacob shout back, ‘We’re over here.’

I couldn’t see him, but I knew roughly where he was from hearing him yell. I told him that dad was here and they could come back. Jacob came to us by himself and said that he had already called his grandma to bring Keaton’s inhaler because Keaton was having an asthma attack.  Jacob’s grandma arrived, and Keaton lived. The on-duty cops arrived, gave each of us a paper to write our statement of what happened, and they took Marcos off in a police car.”

“Well from what I have heard today, I hereby convict Marcos Perez of the charges simple battery and terroristic threat. Court is adjourned,” declared Judge Brown.

“Goodbye”

By Abigail Kirkland

I held back the tears as the preacher began to pray. How lucky I was to have had this man love me so much. His love was one I had never experienced before and one I knew I would never have again. I could still feel his cold hands holding mine, his cold, lifeless hands. I begged him not to go, but he was a honorable man and as much as I hated it, that was one reason I love, or loved, him. He wanted to leave a legacy of diligence and that he did from the very beginning.

It was  March of 1998. Final exams were coming up and I was as stressed as I could be. It didn’t make it any easier when I bumped into a guy as I was rushing to class and my books went everywhere. Twenty two pieces of paper were scattered all over the floor, but this random guy that bumped into me picked up every single piece for me and apologized profusely while doing it. We talked for almost thirty minutes after that kind gesture before I realized I was late for class, so I rushed off but, from then on, I took that path to my class everyday and everyday I would see that guy, Lucas I soon found out was his name, grinning at me. Eventually he slipped his number in one of my books on my way to class and we started texting immediately. I soon found out that he was in school to be a first responder, specifically a paramedic.

A few weeks later we began hanging out almost everyday. We would study and quiz each other at night and eat breakfast together in the morning. There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to marry this man, but of course with any relationships, there was hardships and sacrifices we had to make.

The main one came early on, and at first it was just a thing that we pushed away and didn’t think about it until one day we had to. Lucas was almost through with his two years of college and had been offered a job in New York, over seven hours away. Of course it was an amazing opportunity for him, but we didn’t know what would happen with our relationship. I would have two semesters left after he graduated, so I could not go with him. I would have to wait until after I graduated. Lucas wanted me with him, as expected, but he also understood that my career was important to me, so in the end, the decision was left up to me. After months and months of going back and forth with this, we came up with a plan. I would stay in Virginia and finish college, but in the meantime we would drive and meet each other every weekend and we would call each other every night. It was going to be hard, no doubt, but I felt like we could make it work.

Time to say goodbye came too soon and our plan began, but as time went on, we slowly grew impatient with each other. When Lucas was on call with his new job, I had free time, but in between his shifts, I was either in class or studying. We still met up on the weekends, but not as often as we had hoped; it just wasn’t the same. Hope came soon though. I was weeks away from graduation and I decided to move to New York with Lucas as soon as I graduated. We were so excited. Between calling apartment buildings and setting up job interviews, we were truly happy for the first time in a while, but then I got a phone call from my mother saying that my sister had gotten into a car accident and was in critical condition.

My sister and I were closer than anyone in my family. We used to be inseparable when  we both were at home; she was my best friend. I couldn’t comprehend what life would be like without her. Quickly I rushed home, calling Lucas on the way. I explained the situation and told him that I didn’t know if I was going to be able to move to New York as soon as I had hoped. He understood where I was coming from, but there was still a slight hint of disappointment in his voice. He offered to take some leave and to come be with me, but I wanted to be alone with my sister for possibly the last time.

When I was home, the days passed slowly. The white hospital walls and the tubes hooked up to my sister started to blur together until it was like I was in a dream, barley aware of myself walking through life. The day my sister died was the worst day of my life. Lucas drove all the way to Virginia for her funeral, but soon had to go back to New York. I wished with everything inside me that I could go with him, but I knew my family needed me. I stayed with my family for two more weeks before I had to go back to take my final exams. I was so distracted the whole week that I barely even paid attention to the test. At that point, I didn’t even care anymore.

By some miracle, I passed all my exams and got to graduate. It was a slight distraction for my family, but there wasn’t anything that could completely take their minds off of my sister. After graduation, I needed a fresh start and decided to move to New York after all. Lucas was thrilled! I ended up getting a job at a hospital not far from the apartment that Lucas and I found.

After a few months into me moving, Lucas and I were closer than before and all the little things that we did before were so much more special now. We had fun exploring the city and walking to work together. Lucas proposed to me the August of 2001; he made a huge ordeal of it, including all our friends and family in the big surprise. It was perfect, just the way it should be. Flowers were everywhere, candles lit, roses petals spelling out “will you marry me,” and excited looks on all my friends and families’ faces. I say yes, of course, and for the next few weeks we’re happy. For the next few weeks, everything’s like it should be until the day that changed everyone’s life forever.

Lucas and I were joking around like most mornings when we both got phone calls saying that there had been a tragedy and we needed to get to hospital as soon as possible. We quickly gathered our equipment and walked out the door and then we saw it. Smoke was pouring out of one of the twin towers. My first instinct was to just freeze, but Lucas was already running down the street. He turned back and looked me straight in the eyes; the way he looked at me made me realize that he thought he was going to die, so I screamed. “Lucas, Lucas don’t go. Don’t leave me here by myself.”

He smiled at me with his big, sad eyes as he mouthed “I love you” and kept running. I tried to keep my composure as he ran off so I could do my job, but he was all I could think about. All day at the hospital I couldn’t concentrate. I constantly checked my phone waiting for him to call or text me so I would know that he was okay.

At the end of the day I still had not heard from him and I knew something was wrong. I had refrained myself from watching the news because I knew that would only make it worse. I didn’t even know how the tower had fallen. I went home and sat on my couch for what seemed like hours until my phone finally rang. When I picked it up, it wasn’t Lucas. It was his mom. As I forced myself to answer, I heard her sobbing on the other end. I didn’t even have to ask. Lucas was dead and I couldn’t do anything about it.

So as I sit at Lucas’s funeral, I am still in shock, but I also know that if Lucas had survived, he never would’ve forgiven himself for not doing everything he possibly could’ve.

I learned that a terrorist killed Lucas, but I can’t hate that person. Lucas wouldn’t of wanted me to. He would’ve wanted me to forgive that horrible person, so I try only because I loved him. I know that he loved me too and right here in this moment, that’s all I need to get through this.

“The Lost Island”

By JT Kitchens

            “Jeremiah Woodward is my name. I spent the last year on a mysterious island.. Although lonely and treacherous the island was also serine and magical. Not “magical” but actually magical as in things that not even the most creative person could dream of. How I got out off that island is a story to be heard and told. But before I say how I got off the island I have to say how I got there.”

            I guess it all started with a dream, a wish, a desire to be at sea. Ever since I was a small child I had dreamed about being on the open water with wind in the sails of my own ship and my own crew doing what I commanded. My dreams became a reality when I finally saved enough money to buy the ship I had always dreamed of. It wasn’t very big but it was just right for the crew of five I had hired. We took off from Port St. George in South Carolina and headed south. Our plan was to sail toward South America and stop in Cuba and explore the area there and get provision and food for our next undecided destination. Everything went smooth for the first three weeks until the storm. We were getting close to a mass of dark clouds so when the wind began to pick up; we shortened sail to keep the gusts from causing damage to the sails. Steadily the wind picked up and lightning began to be more frequent and it also was striking dangerously close to the ship. Everyone was forced below deck. You could hear the rain pouring down on the planks of the deck. A faint whirring sound became more and more clearly heard until it was roar. As I looked in the faces of my crew members I could tell they were thinking what I was thinking. We were in trouble. The roar was then the only thing that could be heard and no voice or scream could penetrate the sound that was being made by the storm outside of the boat. There was a sudden lifting sensation and we began to spin and everyone was flung against the wall. The lifting stopped and then we were free falling. Then we slammed back down on the earth and everything went black.

            When I opened my eyes I was laying on sand. I looked around as my head throbbed with pain. I seemed to laying inside the broken hull of the my ship. The light piercing through the broken and busted wood showed that none of my crew members were laying there with me. I sat up shakily and stiffly but no sharp pains were present only soreness. I stood to my feet slowly and stepped out of a hole and looked around. There was no sign of civilization and it appeared that I may be the only human on this presumed deserted island. I checked around the boat for any of my crew but none were found. I looked out to the horizon and saw no other land masses there. The water was clear and the beach I stood on was sandy. This place could be paradise if it wasn’t  deserted. At that moment I heard a roar that no mammal could make and that’s when I realized this isn’t your typical deserted island.

            The roar I heard wasn’t far away and the sun was setting so I got back in my ship and tried to sleep but it wasn’t till late that night I finally did. I woke up the next morning with a great thirst so the first thing I did was gather the tools I had which included a canteen, a kitchen knife, some matches, a pot, and the hatchet my uncle gave me as a kid and those were the only useful things I could find.

            I entered the forest in pursuit of water. As I walked I thought that I could here the distinct sound of a waterfall. As I got closer the the sound got louder until I could see the tower of falling water. It was crystal clear. It was just about to walk up to the stream of water when out of the corner of my eye I saw a giant scaly creature far to the right and all I could see was the outline of the thing. He was perfectly camouflaged with the trees behind him. It was like each individual scale changed colors as he moved. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. It terrifying and amazing. The beast bent down to get a drink of water and then left. I went over and filled my canteen and got and took a long drink myself. It as the best water I had ever tasted and when I got done drinking I felt great and felt younger. I looked into the stream and saw my reflection and couldn’t believe what I saw. My beard was gone and my face was smooth and young looking; I had become a kid. That’s when I realized I had found the fountain of youth. I had heard stories about how a explorer had searched for those magical waters. I thought those stories were myths but I guess not. There was a hill that seemed to be a place that would be a good place to make a shelter but right I had to focus on food first. I looked around the stream. I found several fish like creatures that looked like fish we had at home but these were prehistoric looking. I sharpened a stick and speared some of these fish. I started a fire and cleaned and cooked the fish. They tasted relatively good and gave me some needed energy. I slept that night pretty good.

            The next day I worked on taking apart my damaged boat and building a shelter on the hill I had chosen next to the waterfall. I got almost done with the frame of my miniature home that day. I went to sleep on the bed of palmettos I had staked. After I ate a prehistoric fish breakfast the next morning I worked more on the shelter. By late evening I was done and ready to start on the next thing. I was pondering making a raft but this didn’t seem like such a good idea considering I had my basic needs on the island such as food and water so I decided to stay.

I spent most of my days finding food and other things that I needed. By two months on the island I had seen many creatures that you only find in fossils. I had also found different sources of food such as eggs from the giant reptiles there. I was thriving there physically, but I desired to have company and social interaction with people not prehistoric animals.

So I lived like that for the next ten months. There wasn’t one day I didn’t think about my family and friends I had back home. That was the loneliest year of my entire life.

On the day of my rescue I heard voices and commotion at the beach so I ran there as fast as I could and saw a foreign crew about to explore the island. When I came running out of the woods they started yelling in a foreign language but eventually I was able to persuade not to by describing the beast that lived there. So I sailed with them for awhile until we got to the nearest port and I found a captain sailing to America.

And that Mom is why your thirty year old son in a kids body is talking to you right now. She fainted but came to except it later.

  

“How I Died”

By Dawson Martin

            “My name is James Summit, and I was 27 when I died. I didn’t have a run of the mill death like a car crash, a bullet wound, or cancer. It was something far worse. A beast of some sort, a monster that only lives in your worst nightmare. It wasn’t merely a peaceful death, it was quite the opposite. Gruesome it was. Something that only happens in movies, and I can still feel his presence lingering in the air. Haunting me every second of my days, even here in my afterlife.

            The alarm clock sounded seven times before I finally awoke from my deep sleep. Video games took control over me and I ended up playing two hours longer than intended. Then the phone rang, I picked it up still oblivious to my surroundings.

“Pack your bags, we our going on a little trip. I’ll be over to pick you up in an hour.”

            “I just rolled out of bed, why didn’t you give me a heads up like a week ago? This is short notice and you know I don’t like spur of the moment plans.”

            “Come on James live it up a little, now stop running your trap and get to packing.”

            “Fine, I’ll see you in an hour Mikey.”

            I hung up the phone and went to the garage where I stored all my hiking gear, and began to pack my bags. Mikey never specified how long we were going to be away, so I decided to pack  rather lightly, thinking we were only going to be gone for a day or two. I grabbed a change of warm clothes, my thermos, a sleeping bag, and some high in protein snacks. With time to spare before Mikey’s arrival, I heated up some pizza from last night’s dinner. As I ate my meal, the doorbell rang. I was skeptical as to who was at the door because normally Mikey would just help himself in. When I peered through the peephole I saw that it was Mikey. He had his hands full with all his bags. I was confused about why he would bring his luggage inside, and why he had so much.

“We are taking your van because my car will not fit both of us and our bags.” Mikey stated. “Why do you have so many bags? We are only going to be gone for a day or so right?” I asked. “This is going to be the biggest and best trip either of us have ever been on!” he exclaimed. “Well why didn’t you say so, I only packed one bag!”

I then went and got more equipment for our adventure that we were about to partake on. After I was finished with my packing I acquired three more bags, plus the one I already had. Then we set off with my Volkswagen van packed to the brim. Slowly but surely we would get to our destination. Because my van was not in the best of shape it could only top fifty miles per hour. It was a 1973 model with over three hundred thousand miles on it, and it would occasionally breakdown resulting in us being stranded on the side of the road until Mikey and I managed to fix it. After driving for three days we finally got to where we needed to be, the middle of nowhere. There was not a single person in a forty mile radius of where would be staying the next six days. We were all alone just Mikey and I, left to fend for ourselves. It was creepy, and it only got worse after dark.

“I think we should just go to sleep, I am exhausted from driving all day.” Mikey said.

“Agreed.” I replied.

The next morning we woke up to find that the door to my van was left open. The lights were on all night causing the battery to go dead. Our first night there and we were already having the worst luck you could ever imagine. It was Monday and we were planning on leaving Saturday, but only if we could get a new battery for our ride. If we couldn’t solve this problem before it was time for us to go then we would be stuck there… forever. Even though we only packed enough clothes for one week, we had enough food for two. In the midst of all the frantic conversation about the van, we did not notice that are food rations were being taken by a rather large brown bear. Out of shock, Mikey yelped, which only made things worse. The bear raised its head and looked at us with a sort of frightened look, and then all of a sudden it ran off through the pines.

“I would say we should move camp, but your lousy van had to die on us.”

“It isn’t my fault, you are the one that did not want to take your car.”

Out of anger Mikey stormed off, and went for a walk up the mountain. About thirty minutes later I heard a cry for help. I jumped into action and ran off in the direction of his voice. I was sprinting as hard as I could, and then out of nowhere I tripped. I fell to the ground and hit my head on a jagged rock. I was knocked unconscious for I don’t know how long. When I finally came to, I scrambled to my feet. I then hear another high pitched scream. It was without a doubt, Mikey. Then I stumbled towards the plea for help. Slowly inching my way towards my friends rescue. I don’t know how long I hiked for, everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. After what seemed to be hours I finally came across the unthinkable. On the ground layed a lifeless body, a body that belonged to my best friend Mikey. His body had multiple lacerations across his torso. It didn’t look like a bear attack, it was something worse. As I was staring blankly at my best pal, there was a rustle in the bushes. I turn around slowly… then I see it. The hideous beast that slaughtered Mikey Whitehouse. It began to creep towards me. It then got close enough for me to get a better look. It had three heads with dark black eyes, and teeth as sharp as razors. Its arms were longer than its legs and they drug the ground when he walked. Its nails were long and jagged; ready to rip my head off my shoulders. Then it did just that. The beast’s long nails punctured my throat, and pulled at my neck as all my tendons and arteries ruptured. Even after this he wasn’t done, he then threw my body off the side of the mountain that I worked so hard to climb. My lifeless body took a tumble, until it came to a halt two hundred meters below.

Now I am here, in my afterlife. All because of an unearthly creature. A monster that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Don’t get me wrong though, it’s great here, until I close my eyes to go to sleep. Everytime I try to get rest, I am reminded of the beast that took two lives and possibly more. I do everything I can to occupy my time, until I am caught slacking and I catch a glimpse of those dark…  beady eyes.

           

“Dead”

By Anthony McUmber

“Austin Ruger, what did you do to end up dead like the rest of us? Tell us, what happened to you, so that you ended up dead, with all the rest of us in this eternial wherever we are”

            “Well, it all ended when I was shot in the back by my best friend, but that's not what you wanted, you wanted it from the beginning of my end, and that was about two weeks after the beginning of my end.

            It all really started on the night when I was driving home from work and I saw it for the first time. It ran at an unearthly speed across the road right in front of me. I thought it was a deer at first, so I slammed on brakes like I normally would do, but when it got properly in my headlights is when it turned and looked at me. The eyes. I will never forget the eyes of the beast. They were full of some bloodthirsty hunger that just seeing it I felt a chill go down my spine.

            Once I got to my apartment I wasn't sure if what I had seen was real,  until I remembered

the eyes; those I could not think up.

            I didn't know what to do now that i knew there was some strange monster lurking, so I called the one person I could always count on in a tight spot, my best friend, Michael Brown. When i called him he picked up on the 3rd ring, ‘Hello?’

            ‘Hey Michael, I have a favor to ask.’

            ‘What is it?’ he asks with what sounds like mild suspension, and I thought at the time he might be thinking that I was trying to pull some kind of prank on him since I do do a couple of jokes every now and then.

            ‘I need you to hear me out when I tell you something, not think that I’m going crazy, believe that I'm not lying to you, and promise that you will not tell anyone else that I am telling you this,’

‘O.k. I promise, now tell me what you keep rambling on about, and calm yourself down.’ He says the adds. ‘This had better not be one of your pranks.’

            ‘No, No, it’s not I-… I saw … something earlier on my way home.’ I say, then continue to tell my acount of my run in with the beast. At first he seems to not quite believe me, but seemingly out of nowhere he seems to decide to believe me and told me he would meet me at my house in about an hour and to watch out for anything weird or suspicious looking, and to just be carefull.

             When I hang up I just do the one thing I felt was logical, I went and got my 9mm pistol from the gun safe in my closet, if for nothing but to feel safe. After this, I went to all my blinds and curtains and close them, then just turn off all the lights except for the one lamp in my living room, to make it seem to any passerby, or monster, that no one was home. Then I sat went and sat on my couch with my gun to wait and listen.

            After waiting for what felt like an eternity, but was probably about forty-five minutes i hear something outside. At first I tell myself it must just be a small animal in the leaves, but I couldn't convince myself. I knew what it was, but I just couldn't accept that it was back again for me.

            I ran to the nearest window and peered out to see where the thing was that was the cause of all the fears that I had. I looked for only a moment before I spotted it lurking near a bush, edging its way nearer and nearer to my house, and just when I decided that I needed to try to sneak out the back of my house it spotted me, and for just a moment I, again, looked into those  eyes of pure hunger, and then he jumped.

            When I say jumped I mean leaped into a sprint, and I did the only thing I could, I raised my gun and fired, but the bullet didn't even seem to pierce the beasts thick skin, all it seemed to do was stagger and turn around. The beast begins to run in the opposite direction towards the road; finally running away from me rather than at me.

            After a few minutes of celebrating my small victory I heard a car pulling into my driveway. Michael was finally there! I waited at the door for his knock and when he did I opened it on his first knock.

            When I opened the door I said, ‘Michael, your finally he-. Are you okay, what happened to your shoulder?’ He was holding his arm tenderly, as if it had been hit by an NFL lineman.

            ‘No, I’m okay when you told me your story you seemed distressed, so on my rush out of my house I ran into my doorjam, nothing big , but I could use a little ice if you have some.’

            ‘Yeah, just wait here for a minute, and I’ll go get you some.’ I said, setting down my gun on the nearby table as I walked into my kitchen to pick up some ice.

            The last thing I remember is Michael walking in behind me, saying, ‘I’m sorry, but you just had to go and figure out my secret, and I couldn't let you tell anyone. Then he pulled the trigger.

            You all know what happens after death as well as I do.

 By: Chloe Mullis

 “Bandaids Over the Heart”

            My mouth hurts. As all this chaos is happening around me, that is the one thing I’m certain of. I think, for some odd reason, that it hurts more because my heart hurts. My heart is broken, actually. It is not for the same reason other thirteen year old girl’s  hearts break. No, it is because I’m sitting here, in a hospital that I think mops the floor in hand sanitizer. I’m sitting on the plastic mattress of the hospital bed, while a cup of Jello and a can of apple juice (who even drinks it out of the can?) are sitting in front of me. The thought of eating anything makes me cringe, like when you scratch a flower pot. The worst part? The worst part is I’m all alone in this room (that reiks) with an IV in my arm, my brothers have to be in separate rooms due to their injuries, and I can hear the wretched sound that I have heard too many times: my mom and dad fighting for so many reasons that they lost track of what they are fighting about.

“Ya win some and you lose some, kid.” That’s what my dad always says. This, well this is definitely a loss. Frankly, I’m not sure when my last win was. This sounds odd, so let me start from the beginning.

            It was time for my softball practice. My dad was finally coming to pick me up, the first time I had seen him in a few months. I was so excited. Not because I loved softball, no not even a little, but because my daddy was coming. All the other girls would see I had a dad that taught me how to pitch, field the ball. They could see that I was normal. I sat on the front porch steps and waited on him. My mom did not get home from her job at the Belk makeup department until another hour or so, so I was relieved her and daddy would not see each other. The boys (we always called my brothers that) and I had realized that if they steer clear from each other, there was no way for them to yell or fuss about the tiniest of things. After the split, we were opposite of that mindset. We wanted them to see each other all the time. The more they were around each other the more they would miss each other and realize they had to be together in order to be happy. Wrong. After the divorce, we were just plain tired of the yelling. Mom cried a lot, too. She still does. We just wanted to be normal. Which I was convinced would eventually happen.

            I heard the phone ring from inside. “Hey, sugar. I can’t make it tonight. They are offering me night shift, double the pay.” He paused. I think he was waiting for me to jump in and be understanding. I did understand, well kind of. I was about to say what I always say when he jumped in again. “I’ll take you, Christopher, and Nicholas all bowling next Friday, alright?”

My sweet daddy. He tries, he does. He does not want to be an absentee father, but sometimes the circumstances force him too. “Okay, Daddy,” I said. I tried to force some happiness, though I’m not sure if it was there. “Get your homework done, Marla. I love you.” I love him too, so much that I won’t even cry that much that he is not coming. I will not hold this against him. “I love you too, Daddy. Don’t work too hard.” I hung up and started dinner for mom, because she’s always tired after her shift. Chris is always hungry after his basketball practices he plays at the recreation center, plus he is in that awkward-cute-chunky-boy phase. Nick usually does not come home until late, even then him and mom still clash because he wants to be with my dad.

            After dinner, I am helping clean up while Chris is having his second helping of cream corn, when Nick finally walks in. He heads directly to his room, same as he always does. Ever single time, my mom’s forehead crinkles in frustration, but just like a wave, it passes and guilt washes over her. I just rub her arm and she flashes that “it’s okay, I’m okay” smile. My heart hurts for her. Chris slides his plate up, his timing to lighten up the moment so perfect you might believe it was on que and says “Mhmm, Marl. That was so good.” He always calls me Marl, which honestly reminds me of a ninety year old man. “Go wash up for bed, Chrissy,” I say. He does so, as he is always obedient to what I say. I know, I’m thirteen, but I am also the only person Chris has ever been able to depend on. My mom and dad let him down, Nick pushes him to the side, and I’m the one to never miss a basketball game and give him seconds at the dinner table without making the “it’s not baby fat at age five” look.

            That night, I hear whimpers from down the hall. I was up reading, it is my form of a stress reliever, but I put the book down and follow the sound into Chris’s room. I open the door and he pulls up the sheet over his head. “It’s me, Chrissy. What’s wrong?” I am obligated to ask that question, but I know the answer. It’s the same reason we all cry at night, the same reason our lives, at the moment, are ruined. I climb in his bed and he snuggles into my chest when he says, through the tears, “It was my fault. Why they broke up, I mean,” he tells me. In that moment, my heart broke. It did. In a million tiny pieces. “I’m sorry, Marl. But I was just too much. I am too much. I always chew with my mouth open, I always cry when little things happen. I always get picked last in wiffle ball at the park.” I don’t say a word. I just stroke his damp, freshly cleaned head and rub his back as he sobs. And deep down, I hate my parents. For making my baby brother think the reasons we are stuck in this, the reason our lives are actual misery, are his imperfections. That they could not stay together because he was not perfect. To me, all those things he named, were what made him perfect… in my eyes, at least.

            The week crawls, drudges on. The only thing getting us through is that we will see Daddy this weekend. I make sure we get all our chores, homework, and laundry done so Mom has no hesitation to let us go. By the time Friday is here, my daddy is too. We hop off the bus and see him o the front porch. Beside him, sits three pairs of bowling shoes. We all three run up to him, and hug him. He hugs back in a way that for a split second, all the pieces of my broken heart were mended. We release with bright smiles on our faces. Almost as if these past few months had not even happened. He gestures to the bowling shoes and says, “From the night shift.” His smile brightens, as he takes pride in working hard and buying something for us. We put on the shiny, red and blue shoes. They are so new that when you walk, you are scared you will slip on the waxed, smooth bottoms.  This night is off to the best start.

            We make our way to the local bowling alley. We walk in and the smell of nacho cheese, shoe disinfectant, and smoke fills the air. Chrissy automatically runs to the jukebox, when Daddy tells him to play “some good ole country,” and he plays “Loveshack” instead. We begin to bowl and all is well, until Nick changes the entire night with one statement. “I’m gonna come live with you, okay Dad?” My daddy’s forehead crinkles, just like mom’s does. They do have similar habits, I guess that what 18 years together will do. He is at a loss of words as he says “Well… son, don’t you think your mom is better for you?” I can not tell if he is fishing for a compliment and will find great pride when Nick says no, or if he realizes that a man who works on night shift and a teenager don’t mix well or beneficially. Shouts of joy break the stiffness in the air, and for the rest of the night, Nick and my dad do not talk. I can tell Daddy is relieved.

            On the way home, there are a million things my dad could say. A million things he should say. Sitting here, in his two door Ford pickup, the truck my mom never was fond of us riding in, the silence is filled with a Hank Williams old country CD Mom got him for Christmas years ago. Now when I think about what is about to happen, it was almost on cue. We are stopped at the red light, and the song that fills the air fades with the last strum of the guitar. An old country store sits to the right, vacant in the later hours of the night. Daddy open his mouth to say something, and the light turns green. He advances on the gas, and my heart drops. I can see it now, clear as day, that a semi is heading toward us. I can see my Dad’s mouth open wider than it already was, because an apology can’t fix this. A yell, a yell is what I hear. Then I felt my arm being thrown over Chrissy, and the thought in my head that I wasn’t proud of then… and I never will be, “Lord, please let it be me.”

            I shut my eyes, and I allow the tears to flow. This is the first time I have allowed myself to feel anything in a long time. Now, I don’t have to stay strong. After allowing myself to feel, after thinking about these past few weeks, I decide that I can be a thirteen year old girl. I can cry. I sob, and it is like a river of sorrow is flooding down my face. Like every worry, every regret, every ounce of grief and resentment, washes down in the form of warm teardrops. Earlier, when I said that when I hugged my dad and his embrace mended my heart for a second, it is like these tears are bandaids. This cry is healing me. For some odd reason, as I am sitting on this bed, I feel a weight lift off my broken shoulder. My life might be a mess, my parents might never figure anything out, but I will. It is then, I vow to myself, that I will never, ever put anyone through what they have put my precious brothers and me through. I wipe my eyes, look in the mirror, smooth out my blood stained skirt, and open the door. My parents see me, but I walk past them to find my brothers, my head held high with a new confidence I did not know was even possible for me to possess. I disregard when they reach for me, not because I don’t think they deserve me… but because my brothers need me. They need someone strong for them. Someone concrete in their lives. Someone who will never make them question who they are or where they belong.  It is time for someone to be strong and stand up, and this time… it’s going to be me.

“No Good Deed Goes Unpunished”

By Tyler Smith

 Wonder how i ended up sitting with a crime boss of all people. I have always been a straight laced law abiding citizen. Until the day that had lead to all of this. I knew there was something off about it. Well I believe that I have rambled on just a bit to much how about i get to telling you what happend to get me to this point.

On the day that lead all of this to motion i had went to that park on my day off for a change instead of staying inside on my computer all day. I had been walking around and enjoying the fresh air for a change. When I heard something that off of the main pathways and from the sounds of  was a pretty decent way in the one somewhat densely wooded area of the park.  As I approached closer to the noise I could start to make out voices, and they did not sound friendly to whoever is was they were talking to. I could make out a scared sounding voice but it was to garbled to make out what the words were beyond bits and pieces. I had to move slowly to avoid making much sound as to not attract notice to me and was finally able to see just what was going on. I saw a man holding what seemed to be a young boy of about seven or eight years of age at knife point. I was about four or five feet away from them and could make out what was being said to the young boy. ‘This will teach your brother to try and cheat us in a deal.’  As i reach for my phone to call the police i remember that my battery died back at work so i left it on charge back at my home.

The boy did not respond with anything beyond a small whimper. As am sitting and trying to think of a way to help this boy, I remember that i keep a small survival knife with me wherever I go out because of higher gang activity. As I attempt to slowly back out of the bushes am under i hope am not given away by the shaking branches above me. After that i must attempt to make it around and behind this person without him hearing me in some form or fashion. By now all I can hear is the blood pounding through me as I thank the lords for my short height  which has allowed me to get this far because I knew that if the child saw me he would in some way give me away no matter if meaning to or not. As i close the finale foot of distance I press the cool blade up to his neck. I commanded him to drop his weapon and get on the ground in a voice that sounded so calm that I had to wonder if it even was mine. After he laid face first I smashed the back of my knife down on to his head and walk over to the child to check on him. The child seemed as though he was looking for someone else. The young boy asked” Did my brother send you?” I responded with” No but if you tell me his name i might be able to help you find him.”

“That will not be necessary in the slightest” a voice which caused me to joum came out of seemly no where. The young boy runs to the boy and hugs him around the waist as he reaches down to make sure he is ok. I clear my throat and point with the knife am still holding to the man and ask”do you have a phone on you and if so could you please call the cops  to arrest this man.” “Now there will not be any need for that.” As he says this I look at him as if he had grown a few extra heads. This is when i notice the gun at his hip holsted to take notice away from something else but i could never tell what. I realize this might not be any normal person but could be someone involved with some unsavory things. Things I would want no part of but might just have dragged myself into by saving his brother. He continues with “I appreciate your partin keeping my brother here safe for me but i must make sure you're not going to be saying anything about this.” in a voice almost a whisper almost as if he is not used to talking this much he continues. “ You have two choices and one is not much of a choice for your continued existence, you can come with us and meet my...boss or you can stay here until some sap comes and finds your body laying out here. Seeing that I have no real choice than to at follow them for now if I do not wish to loss what life I do have. As he tells me to get in front of him and to keep my hands where he can see them at all times. I wonder why this is happening when all i tried to do was help some boy who looked to be in trouble. We reach the edge of the woods he tell me to enter a car that is a simple blue almost the shade of the sky. He points at the back door and before i enter he stated, “you are going to be blindfolded for this trip so as to make sure that you can not lead the cops there if you do happen to try and run after the meeting.  I have no way of knowing much other then when we stop or turn and even then the turning part can be extremely unreliable depending on the speed which the car is moving. As we seem to pull into somewhere and stop and here him and his brother get out after they vacate the car he open the door am beside and pulls me out. He roughly pushes me up what am guessing are stairs to a house of some sort and i have to wonder why no one would notice this in some way, unless this is commonplace in this part of town.  I do not know which scares me more the thought of noone being around here or this being a common sight around here. I noticed that after the blindfold had been taken off i was in a room that was light only a by fire.  The man told me to sit with just a wave of his hand. He hands me a cup of tea. This seems to be my life now life with a crime boss as a second boss.

“The Race”

By Will Smith

            My name is John Brown, I am twenty five, and  I lived in Rotan, Texas. I lived in a rural part of Texas where the average people per square mile is less than one. I now live in the hospital because they have to constantly monitor my brain because i have permanent brain damage that affects words coming in and out going. This did not happen overnight, or nor was i born with it. I was in a very bad wreck, but not an everyday wreck. I was going one hundred and twenty miles an hour. I am addicted to racing and i was punished for going so fast unsafely.

I was just about to leave work from the oil industry when a former coworker of mine, David Jones, said to me, “Hey John, I know a nice quiet road in the middle of the desert that lots of people race on at midnight. Would you like to come with me to watch them race?” Of course i would come i am a eighteen year old with nothing better to do. I have heard about these people racing but i had never seen them before since they are so secretive and only race at midnight.

We showed up and i had no idea how fast those cars actually were. Those car just looked like regular cars to me. Those cars went so fast down that tiny stretch of road that my mouth did not have time to hit the ground.  Little did i know this eighteen year old would be addicted to racing, also clinging on to racing for that is the only thing i can remember of my dad.

Back when i was four and five my dad would bring me to the racetrack of all sorts but, i never remember him bring me to the drag strip. That would be the thing i thought about for weeks one end. When he died, that was the only thing i can remember that he did for me. So i would remember racing and that would be the only thing i could cling on to him and remember him by.

            David and i had studied long and hard for months watching the cars and learning about them. We then went in together and bought a nineteen eighty seven ford mustang in the year of nineteen ninety nine. It was white with almost everything in the car rusted out. We had to basically start with a new car because we did so much work on the car. We spent every last dollar and spare time on the car. When we got paid from the oil industry we would put every dime in the car. But it was all worth it in the end.

When David and i were through it was a white mustang with a small block with a three hundred cubic inch motor. It had one twenty two millimetre turbo with a “baby” shot of nitrous on it. The interior was gone and was replaced with a roll cage and one small seat that weighs less than two pounds. The car also had the fender wells resized to fit a bigger radial tire and with weld wheels. This was a car that you would see in a magazine, but it was sitting in my backyard.

            After admiring the cars for several days, David and i decided to take it out to race somebody. I remember telling david that these people probably will not like us, so do not be certain that we will get to race. But i was wrong.

            We got there and everybody stormed the beautiful car coming off the trailer. I could remember one hundred to two hundred people coming and circling the trailers asking a vary of questions. How me made the car?  How we found the spot? How fast is it? What is under the hood? I finally got the question i was hoping and yet dreading at the same time. Do you want to race? Yes i wanted to race. Why would i even had came here, to just watch with my car on the trailer. I was asked to race a chevy nova. The car that i was racing is debatably the fastest car at the spot. It had been racing for several years and i had only drove the car around the block a few times and floored the gas pedal a few times.

            I had lined up next to the dude i was racing and he did a massive burnout that filled the air with white smoke. I tried to do the same, but i was the laughing stock out there barely making enough tire smoke to fill my car up with it. The starter pulled me up and then pulled my opponent up and run backwards then filled on the flashlight,that was meaning that i was suppose to go. I floor the gas pedal and the car feels like it was built to handle it like a dream. I went all the way to the finish line. I felt very accomplished, even though i had lost terribly. From that day on i new i was addicted to racing.

I went several years of racing winning and many tournaments back to back. I was twenty four when i had the most important race of my life. I was racing the alleged fasted person in the world. I was going to do my job and show this guy who is boss and put my name on the top of the throne. I had lined up to this dude and tried to but my helmet on, but it would not fit. I just did not put it on. That would be mistake one of the night. Then i tried to put my seat belt on and it would not get tight enough on me. That would be mistake number two of the night. I was mad enough i just went with it. I did my normal routine and all and lined up to race. The starter pulled me in and he pulled us in and hit the flashlight. I was going along and all of a sudden my opponent hit my back end when i was going one hundred and twenty. I filled and tumbled probably six to seven times. I would not know i could not remember anything during the wreck.

I am in the hospital in Texas and i am on constant watch. I broke three ribs, both my arms and legs, and have brain damage that affects words coming in and going out. It also affects my short term memory. I have to be explained things very slow and several times before i can understand and answer. I do regret getting in the car but my bad mistakes will affect me for the rest of my life. I will have to live with this on bed ridden. I just sit in the hospital not understanding anything until several minutes or even hours later for the rest of my life.

“Tragic”

By Olivia Williams

            “Tonight was different.”

This is what I told myself as I drifted off to sleep. This night was calm, the air was warmer, I felt at peace. With myself, my past, and what was to come. I told myself “I will sleep peacefully tonight.” I would not settle for trying, I will do this. I can do this. Because tonight was different. Not long after having this conversation with myself, I mean who else would I have a conversation with? My eyelids grew heavy, my body got tired; a feeling I had not felt for a while. I went to sleep.

            It was all just too good to last. I wake to the soft pitter patter of rain on the sidewalk where I laid, the cool water droplets spotting my face and blanket. Though I am very thankful for the rest I got, I wished that I never woke. Just before wiping my face with the dusty, mud encrusted sleeve of my jacket, an awkward feeling rushes over me sending shivers down my spine. A feeling of being exposed completely, a feeling I was used to because I was constantly exposed completely. But I had never felt that feeling like this. So many thoughts run through my head at once. Adrenaline pumps viously through my body. I tell myself, on the count of three I will stand up as fast as I can, if there is anything there it will run away.

            1...2...3… I open my eyes and jump to my feet. My eyes are instantly drawn to the medium sized, human shaped figure sitting on the curb a few feet away from where I was laying. My eyes soon adjust to the darkness of night and I can hardly make out the shocked and afraid expression on the person’s face. They look like they jumped back when I frantically got up, I can tell this by the position they sit in. We both just stare at each other. I wonder if they feel as frozen and helpless as I do, I can not move.

I gather up the courage and ask, “What are you doing?”

They respond, barely in a whisper, “Wondering what you were doing.”

The question catches me off guard, it makes me wonder what am I really doing? What is my purpose? How did I end up here, on this street corner in the rain? I know the answers deep down inside but do I really want to bring them into the light? Bring them back to haunt me?

Still frozen, I tell them, “I am...just making it.”

Because that is what I am doing. I am just making it. I have all that I need, I suppose.

“Can you tell me, who are you?” They ask.

I start to stutter the first syllables of my name and at this point I realize I have absolutely no clue who this person is, where they came from, what they are doing, why they are here, heck I do not even know what gender they are. I am almost sure I have never seen this person in my life.

“I’m sorry, but do I know you? Why are you here?”

“You probably do not know me, my name is Alex. And the only reason I am here is to know you. I just want to know why you are here, what your story is. It stays between me and you.”

At this I move closer to Alex and see that Alex is surely a male. He has dark, long, brown hair that is pulled loosely into a bun at the back of his head. He is wearing faded jeans with a gray t-shirt and a tan light jacket over it. There is something about him that just feels trustworthy, this man has only said a few words and I trust him. Wow. I sit down on the curb beside him. I do not know if it is the fact that he is the only person that has showed somewhat of a care for my existence or all the emotions inside of me that have been wanting to spill for many years now.

“Well, Alex, I am Emily. How do you know me?”

“I saw you yesterday, while I was walking down the street and I just could not stop wondering about you. I did not come to pity you, I was just curious of how you got here, Emily. So please tell me about you.”

I make the decision to tell Alex my story, my whole story. I mean, I have nothing else to lose. So here I start.

            I eventually got used to the sound of my parents screaming at each other every night, sometimes I even slept through it. Although, it was very difficult since any little sound seemed to blast through the thin paper-like walls of our small apartment. Me and my brother would hold our ears as we laid on the small twin mattress that we shared. I did not know why they fought or what was done to the other, I just accepted it. We never asked questions or got in the middle of their fights, we did not want to get hit or yelled at. I never understood why they didn’t just get a divorce or separate, turns out we did not have the money.

 Over a few weeks I started to notice bruises and cuts on my parents. The few times I saw my dad hit my mom, she would be quick to hit back without hesitation. I could not really say that one was more abusive than the other. But I did notice many more injuries on my mom than my dad, I didn’t think much of this and just assumed it was because my mom was weaker than my dad. My concern for my mom grew as I started waking up in the middle of the night to her screaming. Most of the time I would force myself to stay calm and trust that it is in God’s hands. But something told me to get up. With my brother laying terrified beside me, I give him a look and he understands that we need to go. We both jump up, run across the kitchen, and burst through my parents cracked bedroom door. There lies my mom with my dad’s hands around her neck, veins bulging and face purple and blue. I scream, “Let her go!” But my dad seems to not even notice that we’re in the room. My brother just stands, frozen. I have to take action. I tackle my dad onto the hardwood floor, making a huge banging sound. My dad throws me off of him in one push and stands up, walks out the door, he never looks back. My mom lies gasping for air on the floor, her face still shades of purple. I try to comfort my mom by rubbing her back and sitting close to her. Even though all my life I was told that no matter what we should never call 911, I felt like this situation made it ok. When I asked she just shook her head “no”, still trying to catch her breath.

I did not see my dad for a couple of weeks after that. It was very peaceful while he was gone. By this time my mom’s neck was still very bruised and even though she did not talk about it, I could tell she was having trouble breathing and swallowing. When my dad did come back, he came back drunk. This was all new to my family. Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. He became more abusive and what little money he earned through working for a garbage company was spent on alcohol. When we could not pay rent, we were thrown out of our apartment.

For two days we searched without sleep for a homeless shelter. Early that morning we found one that had enough room for my family. We all had to take drug test before entering the shelter and my dad did not pass so he had to stay another night out of the shelter on the streets. I liked the shelter. There we got free food, there were other children to play with, and my most favorite part; mom and dad didn’t fight. We stayed at the shelter for as long as we could, for a few years actually. I was 15 entering the shelter and I was not 17 about to turn 18. My brother was 15 almost 16. Things between my parents settled down, my dad stopped drinking. We actually felt like a normal family for once. Through counseling and guiding from the shelter staff, I started to apply for jobs and classes. I started off small, working voluntarily for other shelters or doing community work and started to earn money for myself. I finally earned enough to move out of the shelter and into a small apartment. Thinking that this was how I was going to help my family get a fresh new start.

A while after moving into the new apartment things started to go back to how they were a few years ago, my parents were fighting pretty often and I kept smelling alcohol on my dad’s breath when he came home from work. The more he drank the worse things got. One day after coming home from a volunteer project, I open the door of the apartment to find my dad pointing an automatic pistol at my moms head while yelling at my brother for who knows what. I run up behind my dad, obviously he is very drunk, and try to wrestle the gun from his hand. In doing so, the pistol fires and sprays bullets through the wall and ceiling of the apartment. He’s too strong to pull the gun away from so I let go. Full of anger and rage he points the gun at my mom, assuming she was the one that tried to steal the gun, and he just holds down the trigger letting the cartridge run empty. He stands there gun in hand and points it to my brother to shoot him too, but he then ralizes that the gun is empty and my brother is already dead. I just lost my mom and my brother in all of few minutes. I just run. Until I find the nearest phone I can use to call 911. From down the street I can see the cops take my drunk father out of the house in handcuffs, he probably does not even realize what he has done. I can’t go back inside the house, not after what happened. So I go and find the shelter I stayed at a few years back to learn it closed down and was just an empty building. With no other family to go to and barely any money, I just decide to stick to the streets.

“So that is what I am doing, why I am here, Alex.” I tell him.