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	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	The front door of the old farmhouse opened with a loud creak, and my childhood living room greeted me as if no time had passed. This was clearly not the case. The plaster was missing from the wall in large chunks, some of it to be found on the dusty brown sofa sitting against the staircase to my right. Graffiti littered the walls, covering up what was left of the brown striped wallpaper. I stood there for a full minute, taking it all in. Come in, my old home eventually seemed to say. I hesitated, and took the first step. Broken glass crunched against the wooden floor underneath my boot. The sound was startling after the minute of silence. The proceeding footsteps were nearly as abrasive as I walked past the old couch and around the corner to my right. The dark staircase looked up at me. I knew my old teddy bear would be down there. I took a deep breath, clipped my flashlight to the inside of my zipper, and walked down the stairs. The unfinished basement was even dustier than the upstairs. Around the corner and past the support beam was the door to my old room, slightly ajar. This is ridiculous. Why am I even here? Dad is insane. There's no way this will help Sam's nightmares. I stepped over and between the piles of junk in a hurry, practically wading through all of the beer bottles. I reached the door and paused. Looking through the cracked opening, I saw a glimpse of the closet. My heart sunk. I pushed the door open. A wave of nostalgia poured out from behind it and washed over me. I could still make out the faded red propeller airplanes on the wallpaper that I'd outgrown by a few years by the time we vacated. To my left was that damn closet. I didn't want to look at it, so I looked over to the right side of the room. I saw my old bed, cluttered with pieces of the ceiling. Straight ahead was my toy chest, its wooden lid up and some of its contents strewn about the floor in front of me. Stepping over one childhood memory after another, I made my way toward the chest. I looked into it, and there it was staring up at me. A faded brown teddy bear, with so many patches and stitch jobs that I wondered how much of the original fabric was actually there. It looked like it could be centuries old. Maybe it is. It had black beads for eyes, one of which was hanging loosely by a thread. The other one looked up at me, as if it was wondering where I'd been. Written down the inside of its right leg was “ALBert.” My grandfather's name. He told me once that he got the bear from his dad. I got it from mine. I heard a clang from the closet as I reached down to grab it. My hand lunged down for the bear, and I backed up two steps once I had it in my grasp. Clutching the bear to my chest, I looked towards the source of the noise. I saw my soccer ball that I kept on the shelf in my closet slowly rolling towards me, past a pile of beer bottles. That was enough to make me bolt out the door and back upstairs. I looked back at my old living room one last time and shut the front door behind me. I walked towards my rental Honda. I needed to catch my plane to get back home. * Dad called me at the airport. "Hello?" "Did you get the bear?" "Yes, I got the bear..." "Good. It helped me, it helped you, and it will help Sam." "This is crazy." "If it's so crazy then why did you fly 200 miles from home just to get it?" I had no answer. "Just give him the bear." Click. * I opened the front door of my home, and my dark living room greeted me warmly. "We're downstairs." I heard Linda say. Gently guiding the bear into the inside pocket of my jacket, I made my way towards the stairs and went down. The low-volume TV illuminated my smiling wife sitting on the couch with Sam curled up in her lap. "Hey, Dane." She said. "How was your trip? Did you close the sale?" "No. Gordan blew it. It's okay, though. We didn't really need it." I looked a Sam. "How are you doing, buddy?" "He won't sleep in his room." Linda said. Sam looked up at me with sleepy eyes and frowned. "Still having the nightmares, huh?" "It's not a dream! It's real!" Linda smiled. I didn't. Alright, Dad. Fine. "I'll tell you what, Sam." I said. "I've got something that will help you during the night time. It's in the storage room." I walked into the storage room on the other side of the basement and closed the door behind me. I waited a minute to make it seem like I was looking for something, and then pulled the bear out of my jacket. I'll be terrified if this works. I left the storage room and held the bear out in front of me as I walked back towards Sam. "Take this. It used to be mine." Linda looked at the bear, a puzzled expression on her face. I'll make up a story later to tell her how it got here. "When I was a kid, I used to have bad dreams, too. This bear kept me safe. Here, take it. He'll keep you safe like he did for me." Sam took the bear and looked at it for a moment, then gave it a loving embrace. Linda looked at me with big eyes and let out a silent "Aww!" I was afraid Sam would squeeze it too hard and break it. "You've gotta be careful with it, Sam. It's very old. Even older than Great Grandpa was!" Sam pulled the bear away from him and held it up, looking at it like it was a mystical relic. "I'm ready for bed," he said, his gaze still locked on the bear. Linda leaned forward and hugged him from behind. "My brave little man." I scooped up Sam and walked him upstairs to his room, which is right next to ours. Once he was all tucked in, I kissed him on the forehead and told him goodnight. "Yell for me if you need me, alright?" "Okay," he said, snuggling the bear against his chest. I exited his room, leaving the door open, and went into mine. *** In my sleep I was four years old again. I was in my bed, the bright red propeller airplanes on my wall slightly visible through the darkness. Only my head stuck out from under the covers. A sense of dread filled me. I was not alone in my room. I smelled something sour and harsh. It almost smelled like rotten eggs. I would recognize it two years later when I visited Yellowstone and smell the sulfur. I heard a wheezing cough coming from my closet. Between two hanging jackets I saw the vague outline of a pale face. "I need water," the wheezy voice moaned. "You, give me some water. There's none here. There never is." It coughed and wheezed some more. "Please, I haven't had any in so long." "I gave you water last night!" I said in my tiny voice. "YES! PLEASE GIVE ME MORE! I KNOW YOU HAVE MORE!" "I- I don't have any!" "LIAR!" A brief silence. A white hand appeared from behind the clothes. Its fingers sprawled out as it reached for me. "Come here." Ever so slowly, I started to see more arm appear as it stretched out from the closet. I began to cry. With every sound I made, the arm extended faster. I managed to quiet myself down, and the hand's speed returned to a crawl. After a life time of quivering in my bed, the hand was reaching about eight feet out from the closet. The outline of the white face stayed where it was. "It's so hot here. Please! I just need water..." I was frozen in my bed, watching the hand get closer and closer to my feet. The tips of its fingers grasped within a couple feet of my covered toes. I plunged my head under the covers. The muffled sound of wheezing became the only thing accompanying me in the hot, stuffy darkness. And the teddy bear snuggled up against my left shoulder. I feel a light squeeze on my big toe. "Are you in there?" I felt a grip on my ankle and broke out in sobs. "Please... I need it so bad... Just give me a little bit." I was pulled a little further down to the foot of my bed. "So dry here..." The grip on my ankle released, and I felt individual fingers working their way up my leg and onto my stomach. It paused there. "I'll never stop. I last forever. No, no, no..." The hand lifted off my stomach, and I felt the covers start to pull up and away from my head. I tugged them back down with all the strength my little arms could muster. "Let me in!" The covers jerked up and away from my face, and I could see four deathly white fingers holding the sheets above me. I screamed. "MOM! HELP! MOM!" The teddy bear began to vibrate, and the hand let go of the covers. They landed on my mouth, and I saw the hand hovering above my face. "No, not again, no..." The vibration intensified, and the hand clenched into a fist. It trembled, and then, with a gruesome crack, snapped backwards so that it smacked the top of its wrist. "No..." It darted back into the closet. The pale face remained. "The next one... I'll be back for the next one..." The face disappeared. The bear stopped shaking. My bedroom door opened, and my mom came through. "It's okay, Dane. You were just having a nightmare." I awoke and I was thirty five years old. Jesus. I sprung out of my bed and rushed into Sam's room. I found him sitting up, a look of excitement beaming off of his face. "Dad! It worked! The bear worked!" "The man with the long arm visited again?" "Yeah, but the bear saved me! He was reaching for me, and then the bear went like this." He put his arms out and jiggled them around along with his head. "Then the man went away!" Christ. It's real. It's all real. "Glad to hear it helped, Sam... Just make sure you hang onto that bear. Someone else might need it some day." "Uh huh, that's what the man with the long arm told me. He said he'd be back for the next one."	Took this one a bit to heart, took the artistic liberty of changing it to baby brother instead of son. "You sure about this Jacob?" Haffa asked, looking at his friend doubtingly. a tall bulky figure with a small gift bag stood outside, taking a bit to think about a reply. "Yes, I'm definitely sure." Jacob took a long drag out of his cigarette as he stood outside in the cold winter air. Inside he saw his baby brother with brand new gadgets and sparkling toys. He took a deep breath and grabbed something from the trunk of Haffa's car. "hyunga I missed you!" Isaac exclaimed, the 4 year old hasn't seen his brother in months, he missed being able to see him, especially with all the things happening lately. Jacob placed the small giftbag with the rest of the new gifts, his worn face showed signs of age, and weariness, he smiled at his brother and combed his hair with his fingers. "What's in the bag hyunga?" "I'll show it to you when you're in bed, and it's good to see you too, Merry Christmas little buddy. " Jacob looked at the pile of presents he's gotten, from family, and friends. The newest edition of the robo raptor, obviously a lavish gift from his sister, a measly semi used book that Jacob's younger brother gave, an obvious half assed gift, he saw the various dinosaur and train toys, and books that were given to Isaac with cards. Isaac looked at each gift and beckoned it to Jacob. "Look hyung! Look at all these toys!" Isaac exclaimed excitedly Jacob laughed at his excitement, the boy was so young, and yet so pure, the naivete allowed him to forget, to only have flashes. Isaac ran up to him and hugged his leg, he looked up to see the cuts on his hands, and the bandages covering his arms. Isaac didn't understand what those meant and gingerly rubbed his hands on one of the cuts "it hurt?" Isaac asked curiously, he knew that cuts meant aya or hurt, Jacob shook his head, "No, I'm fine my little dongsaeng" and picked up his baby brother, a task that used to be so easy but has seemed to get harder and harder every year he came to see him. The brothers had fun, they played outside, and watched cartoons, Jacob read him a book, gave him a bath, and finally tucked him in bed, his mom out and about with his sister and brother, having a little alone time to bond with them a bit more. "hyung, you didn't forget that you'd show me what's in the bag right?" Isaac asked, his droopy eyes showed signs of obvious sleepiness, Jacob did not want to keep him awake any further, "give me a sec, I'll be right back okay?" Isaac nodded and Jacob ran down to grab the bag. That's when they started to emerge. The demons, the voices, the nightmare, each of them came in it's own voice, slowly whispering and raking their fingers in the boy's hair, Isaacs sleep started to overtake him, and with it, so were the demons. "WHERE IS ISAAC? GIVE HIM TO ME" the loud, drunken voice yelled for him, Isaac sat in the room with his older brother, his hyung. Jacob looked at him reassuringly as he saw his younger, and youngest crouched together in the master bedroom. "Everything will be fine." Hyunga was never wrong, he always said the truth. "Joseph, keep him safe, don't argue with him, I'll be right back." Isaac's older brother Joseph held him tight, despite their bickering, and Isaac's obvious dislike for him, he held onto his arm a bit tighter. Clatters in the kitchen, a knife being drawn, skin hitting skin. A gasp of air. Silence. A wiggle of a doorknob. Jacob sat at the edge of the bed, in his hand was a teddy bear, it was used, and worn, but was maintained and taken care of with pride. He felt the small patch on the side of it's ribs, and felt the bandages on his. He kissed the teddy bear and left it at Isaac's side. The troubled, uneasy face relaxed, and Isaac went into a deep peaceful sleep. Jacob emerged from the door, his face bloodied, blood tripping down from his arms, and his shirt stained. He came up to Isaac and Joseph, knelt down and smiled. "Everything is gonna be fine now." Isaac woke up, Jacob was gone, but in his stead was a teddy bear, for the first time the monster went away, and for the first time he felt safe. He saw a little card on the chair where Jacob was sitting. 잘이서, 사랑헤. Be good, I love you.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	"Daddy can you bring me Sir Stuffington?" "Of course" John always had to stifle a laugh at Sir Stuffington. His son had a Medieval phase that had seemingly grown into genuine historical interest. But he could not laugh out loud, it seemed to greatly upset his son. So, he walked over to the Bear's place of honor on his son's dresser and carefully picked up the bear. He felt like he had to be incredibly careful as it had seen great wear and tear in its time. But, ever since hie had given the son the bear the poor child's night terrors and bed wetting were seemingly over. The psychologist said that anything that helps was a good thing at this point even if it was a little childish. The loss of his mother was of course devastating and he would far rather the boy have a bear a little too long than be on the antidepressants already. He gently placed the bear next to his son, kissed his son's forehead and left. The boy fell fast asleep, a miracle just a few months ago. The dead of the night crept in. A voice cackled in the dark. "He is MINE" Sir Stuffington carefully pulled himself out of the child's grasp. His silent growl deepening in his throat. The boy was his charge. While a single stitch held him together none would pass. The many eyed demon skittered forward, lit by the dim violet nightlight. The two enemies stared from across the toy filled room. The dance began. The monster was in perfect form tonight, the boy was nervous about the upcoming school year. The first time the bus would take him away without his mother to make him banana pancakes. The first time his mom would not be able to pack his lunch so he would have to wait in the line and pay the lunch lady. The first birthday his mother would miss. The monster's chitinous limbs tore into Sir Stuffington's arms, and the little warrior could barely hold on to keep them from sinking deeper "He's growing older Stuffington, he won't want you much longer, you are a baby's plaything, not a grown boy's" Anger welled in the bear. "SIR Stuffington" he spat with rage. With a scream of hate and pain he tore his arms free and lunged at the thing's neck. The monster back peddled and wrench back and forth. But the bear would not be denied. Weakened and weeping its invisible life's blood into the carpet, the Monster gurgled "YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM FOREVER!" Sir Stuffington stepped forward and bared his teeth. The monster left. After he was sure it was safe, Sir Stuffington left the boy and walked carefully past the room where the poor boy's father wept bitterly over his wife's picture. He carefully cracked opened the door to the late mother's sewing room. Everything in it was kept just so. It was as sacrosanct. So Sir Stuffington always knew where the needle and thread were. He gingerly packed the stuffing back into his wounds and trudged tenderly back into the boys arms. The monster was right and wrong. One day he couldn't save the boy because one day the boy wouldn't need him anymore. But until that day, or the bear's last day, he would fight	Took this one a bit to heart, took the artistic liberty of changing it to baby brother instead of son. "You sure about this Jacob?" Haffa asked, looking at his friend doubtingly. a tall bulky figure with a small gift bag stood outside, taking a bit to think about a reply. "Yes, I'm definitely sure." Jacob took a long drag out of his cigarette as he stood outside in the cold winter air. Inside he saw his baby brother with brand new gadgets and sparkling toys. He took a deep breath and grabbed something from the trunk of Haffa's car. "hyunga I missed you!" Isaac exclaimed, the 4 year old hasn't seen his brother in months, he missed being able to see him, especially with all the things happening lately. Jacob placed the small giftbag with the rest of the new gifts, his worn face showed signs of age, and weariness, he smiled at his brother and combed his hair with his fingers. "What's in the bag hyunga?" "I'll show it to you when you're in bed, and it's good to see you too, Merry Christmas little buddy. " Jacob looked at the pile of presents he's gotten, from family, and friends. The newest edition of the robo raptor, obviously a lavish gift from his sister, a measly semi used book that Jacob's younger brother gave, an obvious half assed gift, he saw the various dinosaur and train toys, and books that were given to Isaac with cards. Isaac looked at each gift and beckoned it to Jacob. "Look hyung! Look at all these toys!" Isaac exclaimed excitedly Jacob laughed at his excitement, the boy was so young, and yet so pure, the naivete allowed him to forget, to only have flashes. Isaac ran up to him and hugged his leg, he looked up to see the cuts on his hands, and the bandages covering his arms. Isaac didn't understand what those meant and gingerly rubbed his hands on one of the cuts "it hurt?" Isaac asked curiously, he knew that cuts meant aya or hurt, Jacob shook his head, "No, I'm fine my little dongsaeng" and picked up his baby brother, a task that used to be so easy but has seemed to get harder and harder every year he came to see him. The brothers had fun, they played outside, and watched cartoons, Jacob read him a book, gave him a bath, and finally tucked him in bed, his mom out and about with his sister and brother, having a little alone time to bond with them a bit more. "hyung, you didn't forget that you'd show me what's in the bag right?" Isaac asked, his droopy eyes showed signs of obvious sleepiness, Jacob did not want to keep him awake any further, "give me a sec, I'll be right back okay?" Isaac nodded and Jacob ran down to grab the bag. That's when they started to emerge. The demons, the voices, the nightmare, each of them came in it's own voice, slowly whispering and raking their fingers in the boy's hair, Isaacs sleep started to overtake him, and with it, so were the demons. "WHERE IS ISAAC? GIVE HIM TO ME" the loud, drunken voice yelled for him, Isaac sat in the room with his older brother, his hyung. Jacob looked at him reassuringly as he saw his younger, and youngest crouched together in the master bedroom. "Everything will be fine." Hyunga was never wrong, he always said the truth. "Joseph, keep him safe, don't argue with him, I'll be right back." Isaac's older brother Joseph held him tight, despite their bickering, and Isaac's obvious dislike for him, he held onto his arm a bit tighter. Clatters in the kitchen, a knife being drawn, skin hitting skin. A gasp of air. Silence. A wiggle of a doorknob. Jacob sat at the edge of the bed, in his hand was a teddy bear, it was used, and worn, but was maintained and taken care of with pride. He felt the small patch on the side of it's ribs, and felt the bandages on his. He kissed the teddy bear and left it at Isaac's side. The troubled, uneasy face relaxed, and Isaac went into a deep peaceful sleep. Jacob emerged from the door, his face bloodied, blood tripping down from his arms, and his shirt stained. He came up to Isaac and Joseph, knelt down and smiled. "Everything is gonna be fine now." Isaac woke up, Jacob was gone, but in his stead was a teddy bear, for the first time the monster went away, and for the first time he felt safe. He saw a little card on the chair where Jacob was sitting. 잘이서, 사랑헤. Be good, I love you.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	"He asleep yet?" I watched from the entrance of his room and nodded. "Yeah, I think he's okay for now." I closed the door and looked at my husband. "How are you feeling?" He rubbed his eyes and smiled a weary smile. "Tired. I had hoped that after a few years the night terrors would stop, but I guess we'll just have to cope with it." He rubbed my belly. "You just take care of the two of you hun. It'll be alright." Come morning, Dan was already gone when I woke up. By the time I had made breakfast and woke up Allan, he'd returned with a wrapped box. I smiled. "Well sport... Look what I found waiting outside for you!" Allan jumped away from the table and raced towards his father. "Is that for me? Why?" He didn't wait for an answer though: as soon as he got his hands on the package he ripped through the packaging to reveal a pretty large teddybear. Allan was in heaven. As soon as he was done unpacking, he took the bear with him to the table and positioned him on the empty chair next to him. It was his everything: he kept talking to it, about what I had made him for breakfast and what he was going to do today and how he would give him a spot in his bed. Dan sat down beside me and pinched my leg under the table. "I'd almost swear his face just got a few tints less pale, wouldn't you agree?" I nodded while I peeled my egg. That night, when I tucked Allan and Brody in (that's what he named his bear), I gave both of them a hug. "You take good care of my boy, Brody. Allan, your bear is important! If you protect him, he'll protect you. Don't you forget that!" Allan nodded his head from half under his blanket. "I know! Brody told me so." I smiled and after a "good night" turned off the light and closed the door. Dan was standing in the hallway. "Brody? Seriously? Where'd he get that from? And please don't fill his mind with that nonsense. If it helps him sleep though..." I grabbed his arm and took him back downstairs. "I don't think I heard you ever talking that way about Celia, huh?" Dan smirked. "That battered old bear of yours was actually what got me thinking. I figured that having a stuffed animal might help him." When we settled down behind the TV, with me leaning against his arm, I couldn't help but smile. It wouldn't have worked if I gave a bear; I knew. But Dan, from his own love, gave it to Allan and that... Yeah, that would work. I gave Celia a pat on the head before going to bed. "And so the circle begins anew," I whispered to her. Celia just smiled, like she always did. ***** Fun prompt. If you like it, [take a look at my personal sub too](/r/TheAlcove) :-)	Took this one a bit to heart, took the artistic liberty of changing it to baby brother instead of son. "You sure about this Jacob?" Haffa asked, looking at his friend doubtingly. a tall bulky figure with a small gift bag stood outside, taking a bit to think about a reply. "Yes, I'm definitely sure." Jacob took a long drag out of his cigarette as he stood outside in the cold winter air. Inside he saw his baby brother with brand new gadgets and sparkling toys. He took a deep breath and grabbed something from the trunk of Haffa's car. "hyunga I missed you!" Isaac exclaimed, the 4 year old hasn't seen his brother in months, he missed being able to see him, especially with all the things happening lately. Jacob placed the small giftbag with the rest of the new gifts, his worn face showed signs of age, and weariness, he smiled at his brother and combed his hair with his fingers. "What's in the bag hyunga?" "I'll show it to you when you're in bed, and it's good to see you too, Merry Christmas little buddy. " Jacob looked at the pile of presents he's gotten, from family, and friends. The newest edition of the robo raptor, obviously a lavish gift from his sister, a measly semi used book that Jacob's younger brother gave, an obvious half assed gift, he saw the various dinosaur and train toys, and books that were given to Isaac with cards. Isaac looked at each gift and beckoned it to Jacob. "Look hyung! Look at all these toys!" Isaac exclaimed excitedly Jacob laughed at his excitement, the boy was so young, and yet so pure, the naivete allowed him to forget, to only have flashes. Isaac ran up to him and hugged his leg, he looked up to see the cuts on his hands, and the bandages covering his arms. Isaac didn't understand what those meant and gingerly rubbed his hands on one of the cuts "it hurt?" Isaac asked curiously, he knew that cuts meant aya or hurt, Jacob shook his head, "No, I'm fine my little dongsaeng" and picked up his baby brother, a task that used to be so easy but has seemed to get harder and harder every year he came to see him. The brothers had fun, they played outside, and watched cartoons, Jacob read him a book, gave him a bath, and finally tucked him in bed, his mom out and about with his sister and brother, having a little alone time to bond with them a bit more. "hyung, you didn't forget that you'd show me what's in the bag right?" Isaac asked, his droopy eyes showed signs of obvious sleepiness, Jacob did not want to keep him awake any further, "give me a sec, I'll be right back okay?" Isaac nodded and Jacob ran down to grab the bag. That's when they started to emerge. The demons, the voices, the nightmare, each of them came in it's own voice, slowly whispering and raking their fingers in the boy's hair, Isaacs sleep started to overtake him, and with it, so were the demons. "WHERE IS ISAAC? GIVE HIM TO ME" the loud, drunken voice yelled for him, Isaac sat in the room with his older brother, his hyung. Jacob looked at him reassuringly as he saw his younger, and youngest crouched together in the master bedroom. "Everything will be fine." Hyunga was never wrong, he always said the truth. "Joseph, keep him safe, don't argue with him, I'll be right back." Isaac's older brother Joseph held him tight, despite their bickering, and Isaac's obvious dislike for him, he held onto his arm a bit tighter. Clatters in the kitchen, a knife being drawn, skin hitting skin. A gasp of air. Silence. A wiggle of a doorknob. Jacob sat at the edge of the bed, in his hand was a teddy bear, it was used, and worn, but was maintained and taken care of with pride. He felt the small patch on the side of it's ribs, and felt the bandages on his. He kissed the teddy bear and left it at Isaac's side. The troubled, uneasy face relaxed, and Isaac went into a deep peaceful sleep. Jacob emerged from the door, his face bloodied, blood tripping down from his arms, and his shirt stained. He came up to Isaac and Joseph, knelt down and smiled. "Everything is gonna be fine now." Isaac woke up, Jacob was gone, but in his stead was a teddy bear, for the first time the monster went away, and for the first time he felt safe. He saw a little card on the chair where Jacob was sitting. 잘이서, 사랑헤. Be good, I love you.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	I wrote this previously, but it fits this prompt so thought I would share: ** Her Best Friend** Slowly the light faded, disappearing with the sound of the door closing, and darkness was left in its wake. The wind whispered outside, shaking the leaves of the overhanging trees, and casting ominous shadows on the walls. A quick intake of breath was followed by the rustling of sheets and the patter of feet on hardwood as they raced across the room. With a click stars illuminated the dark, sparkling on the ceiling and walls from their socket outside the darkened closet door. The nightlight chased away the dark and brought into focus the room’s inhabitant. Her small face was cast in shadows, dark hair tumbling over petite shoulders, and unicorns in all colors decorating her pajamas. She reached out slowly, a small finger tracing the closest star, before the creaking of floorboards sent her scurrying back into bed, into the safety of her sheets and covers. Over her head they went, for bed was safety, a haven against the monsters that lurked under it and deep within the dark corners of the closet. Small hands began feeling out around her, searching the length of the bed for Felix. She dived deeper into her covers, until she had reached the foot of her bed without sight or touch of the bear in question. Her head poked forth from under the blankets, her hair messed, as she peered around the room. Sleep, no matter how hard she fought, would elude her until Felix was found. Placing both hands on each of the bed posts, she pulled herself forward, until she was able to peer cautiously over the bottom of the bed and into the dark beneath it. No glowing eyes or growl met her inquiry, and so she placed one palm on the floor and, bracing herself, reached into the depths. A groan of displeasure filled the quiet space. Withdrawing her hand after having no luck, she attempted to right herself back on the bed when she fell from it in a heap of small limbs. Her blanket settled around her on the ground, but she made no move to get up, her ears listening for the distant sound of footsteps, her eyes trained on the dim light shining forth from under the door. After several moments of holding her breath, she stood and replaced her blankets on the bed. At a loss, she sat down on the edge, her toes skimming the ground as she swung them back and forth. Felix had been with her when they had went shopping, and he had been allowed to ride in the front seat afterward, so Felix had certainly made it home. They had watched a movie together while mommy had cooked dinner, and had both refused to eat their peas, which meant they had not been given dessert, but they had decided that not eating peas was worth not eating ice cream. They came up stairs to play after dinner, and then it had been bath time, and Felix couldn’t take a bath, because the last time he had tried he had nearly been ruined, so he had to stay in the bedroom by himself. The little girls’ eye’s flicked to the closet. Felix and her had been playing dress up, and Felix had needed a pair of shoes to match his coat and tie, so they had gone into the closet in search of his loafers, when they had been interrupted by bath time. She had not seen Felix since then, meaning only one thing; Felix was still in the closet, which was now closed because both of them hated the closet at night. Breathing in a deep breath, she climbed onto her bare feet and slowly crossed the distance between her bed and the closet, her heart rate climbing as she grew closer. “Felix,” She reached out, touching the closed closet door, her small voice wavering with fear. Felix did not answer. Her small hand crept toward the door handle, but stalled as her bedroom door was opened, lighting the room with the hall light. She turned into it, and the sight of her mother standing in the doorway greeted her. Hands on her hips, she was shaking her head as she spoke. “Molly! You’re supposed to be in bed, asleep.” “I forgot Felix in the closet,” Molly replied, and brave in the presence of her mother, pulled the closet door open and found Felix, still dressed in his tie and jacket. She reached for him, and it was almost as if he reached for her as she scooped him into her arms and darted back to bed. She settled back into her pillow as her mother recovered her with blankets. Soothing back the now tangled mess of hair, she kissed her forehead before issuing a warning. “Stay in bed, or Felix will be spending the night with me.” Her mother crossed the room and closed the closet door, checked the nightlight, and then, with a final look at her daughter, closed the bedroom door. Her footsteps sounded on the hardwood as she moved down the hallway. Molly waited several moments before she turned to Felix, who was sitting on her pillow, and gave him a slow smile. “Your sword and shield are under the pillow, in case you need them, Felix.” She gave his foot a small squeeze before she closed her eyes, her head sinking farther into her pillow. Several minutes passed, and as her breathing slowed and she fell into sleep, the closet door creaked open. Felix sat a little straighter, his sword at the ready and his shield poised for action, as he prepared to protect his most precious possession.	Took this one a bit to heart, took the artistic liberty of changing it to baby brother instead of son. "You sure about this Jacob?" Haffa asked, looking at his friend doubtingly. a tall bulky figure with a small gift bag stood outside, taking a bit to think about a reply. "Yes, I'm definitely sure." Jacob took a long drag out of his cigarette as he stood outside in the cold winter air. Inside he saw his baby brother with brand new gadgets and sparkling toys. He took a deep breath and grabbed something from the trunk of Haffa's car. "hyunga I missed you!" Isaac exclaimed, the 4 year old hasn't seen his brother in months, he missed being able to see him, especially with all the things happening lately. Jacob placed the small giftbag with the rest of the new gifts, his worn face showed signs of age, and weariness, he smiled at his brother and combed his hair with his fingers. "What's in the bag hyunga?" "I'll show it to you when you're in bed, and it's good to see you too, Merry Christmas little buddy. " Jacob looked at the pile of presents he's gotten, from family, and friends. The newest edition of the robo raptor, obviously a lavish gift from his sister, a measly semi used book that Jacob's younger brother gave, an obvious half assed gift, he saw the various dinosaur and train toys, and books that were given to Isaac with cards. Isaac looked at each gift and beckoned it to Jacob. "Look hyung! Look at all these toys!" Isaac exclaimed excitedly Jacob laughed at his excitement, the boy was so young, and yet so pure, the naivete allowed him to forget, to only have flashes. Isaac ran up to him and hugged his leg, he looked up to see the cuts on his hands, and the bandages covering his arms. Isaac didn't understand what those meant and gingerly rubbed his hands on one of the cuts "it hurt?" Isaac asked curiously, he knew that cuts meant aya or hurt, Jacob shook his head, "No, I'm fine my little dongsaeng" and picked up his baby brother, a task that used to be so easy but has seemed to get harder and harder every year he came to see him. The brothers had fun, they played outside, and watched cartoons, Jacob read him a book, gave him a bath, and finally tucked him in bed, his mom out and about with his sister and brother, having a little alone time to bond with them a bit more. "hyung, you didn't forget that you'd show me what's in the bag right?" Isaac asked, his droopy eyes showed signs of obvious sleepiness, Jacob did not want to keep him awake any further, "give me a sec, I'll be right back okay?" Isaac nodded and Jacob ran down to grab the bag. That's when they started to emerge. The demons, the voices, the nightmare, each of them came in it's own voice, slowly whispering and raking their fingers in the boy's hair, Isaacs sleep started to overtake him, and with it, so were the demons. "WHERE IS ISAAC? GIVE HIM TO ME" the loud, drunken voice yelled for him, Isaac sat in the room with his older brother, his hyung. Jacob looked at him reassuringly as he saw his younger, and youngest crouched together in the master bedroom. "Everything will be fine." Hyunga was never wrong, he always said the truth. "Joseph, keep him safe, don't argue with him, I'll be right back." Isaac's older brother Joseph held him tight, despite their bickering, and Isaac's obvious dislike for him, he held onto his arm a bit tighter. Clatters in the kitchen, a knife being drawn, skin hitting skin. A gasp of air. Silence. A wiggle of a doorknob. Jacob sat at the edge of the bed, in his hand was a teddy bear, it was used, and worn, but was maintained and taken care of with pride. He felt the small patch on the side of it's ribs, and felt the bandages on his. He kissed the teddy bear and left it at Isaac's side. The troubled, uneasy face relaxed, and Isaac went into a deep peaceful sleep. Jacob emerged from the door, his face bloodied, blood tripping down from his arms, and his shirt stained. He came up to Isaac and Joseph, knelt down and smiled. "Everything is gonna be fine now." Isaac woke up, Jacob was gone, but in his stead was a teddy bear, for the first time the monster went away, and for the first time he felt safe. He saw a little card on the chair where Jacob was sitting. 잘이서, 사랑헤. Be good, I love you.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	"Is it time?" said Bogdan and waited for an answer which didn't come. The wind in that chill night came through the crack in the ceiling and sounded like it was repeating the same question in a whisper. "Vasily, is it time?" asked Bogdan again. "Yes" came the tearful answer out of Vasily quivering lips. Vasily couldn't believe that the time had come to do the unthinkable, yet necessary. Three months ago Vasily's father bought him a gift for his sixth birthday. Both father and son had an obsession with bears. Vasily fathers worked for the WCS (Wildelife conservation society). His job was to protected them. His job was to protect what he loved. Vasily had the biggest collection of books, posters, and figures a kid ever had. He collected what he loved. But it was at December 12th when Vasily's collection, for the first time, loved him back. He called him Bogdan. Which is a curious name for a teddy bear. But who can blame Vasily who started to run out of names after naming the other dozen he got before him. But Bogdan was different. Bogdan was alive. As Bogdan told it, he was the trapped spirit of the Kamchatka bears. He barely escaped the massacre that was after all wildlife spirits two years ago. But ever since Yaga, the witch who started the hunt, failed to catch him on that dreadful night, Bogdan had been trying his best to lay-low till the surviving spirits like him regained their strength to fight her back. And to get rid of her once and for all. But at the very first night he was gifted to Vasily, the lay low plan wasn't an option anymore. The dark spirits of the wildlife, who were once innocent before they were bewitched by Yaga, found Vasily. When the portal twirled into existence and manifested itself inside the kid's room like a black rose from hell, Bogdan was ready to fight back and was sure that Yaga finally found him and sent her dogs after him. But it wasn't the case. Baba spell was perfect; the shaman who hid Bogdan inside the teddy bear. As the monsters crawled out of the portal, they didn't as much as smell Bogdan. They were after the kid, which was crazy, as Bogdan thought. "Why would they go after a sixth years old?" was a question that Bogdan didn't have the luxury of time to ask even inside his head. The monster leaped at Vasily bed like hungry hyenas. Bogdan could have let them get the kid. It was the smartest decision. There were too much at stakes hanging on the lay-low plan he agreed on with the other surviving spirits. And Vasily was just a kid like any other kid Bogdan ended up in his room as a gift before he got there. But Bogdan was a Kamchatka spirit, and Kamchatka knew that some times you have to be smart, and sometimes you just have to kick ass. P.S. It's 23:25 here. I'm dog tired. I'll finish it if it gets just 5 upvotes. ;-)	Took this one a bit to heart, took the artistic liberty of changing it to baby brother instead of son. "You sure about this Jacob?" Haffa asked, looking at his friend doubtingly. a tall bulky figure with a small gift bag stood outside, taking a bit to think about a reply. "Yes, I'm definitely sure." Jacob took a long drag out of his cigarette as he stood outside in the cold winter air. Inside he saw his baby brother with brand new gadgets and sparkling toys. He took a deep breath and grabbed something from the trunk of Haffa's car. "hyunga I missed you!" Isaac exclaimed, the 4 year old hasn't seen his brother in months, he missed being able to see him, especially with all the things happening lately. Jacob placed the small giftbag with the rest of the new gifts, his worn face showed signs of age, and weariness, he smiled at his brother and combed his hair with his fingers. "What's in the bag hyunga?" "I'll show it to you when you're in bed, and it's good to see you too, Merry Christmas little buddy. " Jacob looked at the pile of presents he's gotten, from family, and friends. The newest edition of the robo raptor, obviously a lavish gift from his sister, a measly semi used book that Jacob's younger brother gave, an obvious half assed gift, he saw the various dinosaur and train toys, and books that were given to Isaac with cards. Isaac looked at each gift and beckoned it to Jacob. "Look hyung! Look at all these toys!" Isaac exclaimed excitedly Jacob laughed at his excitement, the boy was so young, and yet so pure, the naivete allowed him to forget, to only have flashes. Isaac ran up to him and hugged his leg, he looked up to see the cuts on his hands, and the bandages covering his arms. Isaac didn't understand what those meant and gingerly rubbed his hands on one of the cuts "it hurt?" Isaac asked curiously, he knew that cuts meant aya or hurt, Jacob shook his head, "No, I'm fine my little dongsaeng" and picked up his baby brother, a task that used to be so easy but has seemed to get harder and harder every year he came to see him. The brothers had fun, they played outside, and watched cartoons, Jacob read him a book, gave him a bath, and finally tucked him in bed, his mom out and about with his sister and brother, having a little alone time to bond with them a bit more. "hyung, you didn't forget that you'd show me what's in the bag right?" Isaac asked, his droopy eyes showed signs of obvious sleepiness, Jacob did not want to keep him awake any further, "give me a sec, I'll be right back okay?" Isaac nodded and Jacob ran down to grab the bag. That's when they started to emerge. The demons, the voices, the nightmare, each of them came in it's own voice, slowly whispering and raking their fingers in the boy's hair, Isaacs sleep started to overtake him, and with it, so were the demons. "WHERE IS ISAAC? GIVE HIM TO ME" the loud, drunken voice yelled for him, Isaac sat in the room with his older brother, his hyung. Jacob looked at him reassuringly as he saw his younger, and youngest crouched together in the master bedroom. "Everything will be fine." Hyunga was never wrong, he always said the truth. "Joseph, keep him safe, don't argue with him, I'll be right back." Isaac's older brother Joseph held him tight, despite their bickering, and Isaac's obvious dislike for him, he held onto his arm a bit tighter. Clatters in the kitchen, a knife being drawn, skin hitting skin. A gasp of air. Silence. A wiggle of a doorknob. Jacob sat at the edge of the bed, in his hand was a teddy bear, it was used, and worn, but was maintained and taken care of with pride. He felt the small patch on the side of it's ribs, and felt the bandages on his. He kissed the teddy bear and left it at Isaac's side. The troubled, uneasy face relaxed, and Isaac went into a deep peaceful sleep. Jacob emerged from the door, his face bloodied, blood tripping down from his arms, and his shirt stained. He came up to Isaac and Joseph, knelt down and smiled. "Everything is gonna be fine now." Isaac woke up, Jacob was gone, but in his stead was a teddy bear, for the first time the monster went away, and for the first time he felt safe. He saw a little card on the chair where Jacob was sitting. 잘이서, 사랑헤. Be good, I love you.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Samuel was the light of my life. When I held his precious body for the first time, I knew it. I was irrevocably, endlessly, in love. Money was tight, many days, but I would find ways to scrounge up money enough for birthdays and Christmases, giving my Sam the presents on his wish list every year, without fail. There was was exactly one year I couldn't get him his birthday wish list, not a single present. He was three years old. He wanted a set of Lego's and some Batman accessories. I could barely get us fed. Thanks to a hand-me-down bear from a thrift store - it cost a dollar - and a woman from our church, I had a cake and a present. Sam didn't mind. The bear had soft, soft fur, even after years of use. One glass eye had fallen out to be replaced by a neatly sewn button. He had a little bite mark in his ear, from a cat or a dog. From Samuel's birthday onwards, he and the teddy bear were best friends. On his first day of kindergarten I helped hide Bear - a simple name, a fitting and exact name, the sort of name any three year old could come up with - in his backpack, beneath books and crayons and paper. And every day for the rest of the year, Bear hid in Sam's backpack and went to school with him. I was first alerted to something... unusual... about Bear during that same year. I woke up to hear sounds of fighting, coming from Samuel's room. We didn't have a video game console - not until Sammy was ten - and the only TV was in the living room. I crept in the room, and saw... Everything was in its place. Sam was asleep, Bear settled neatly in his arms. And yet - there was a single paper, having fluttered to the ground. It was a drawing, crude and in the style of a five year old, of Bear standing up to strange shadowy creatures I couldn't make heads or tails of. At the time, I dismissed the entire incident, and the paper, to imagination. But as the year passed, more unusual things happened. Keys would be lost, only to narrowly dodge accidents. Sammy's room would be clean at night, only for there to be a small mess in the morning. Even Bear would go missing, only to show up some time later along with something important - the electricity bill, his field trip form, a letter from family or friends. And sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night to hear the sounds of fighting. When Sam was seven, I finally saw what was happening. I don't think Bear or his enemies realized I was awake. But I crept to Sam's bedroom and peered in the door. Bear stood strong and tall - stood, a teddy bear without a wire in him! - facing shadowy creatures. I remembered the drawing then. With Bear, Sammy and I are safe. And now that he's going off to college, I won't let him leave without Bear. But you try convincing an eighteen year old who thinks he knows everything that his stuffed Bear will protect him. It isn't easy. So I dust Bear off - and he isn't very dusty - from the old closet and smile at him. Sam may say he's too old for old Bear, but I know better. He has two button eyes now, and his ear is in half, but his fur is still as soft as ever. "What do you say to a road trip, buddy?" After all, I can't let my boy go off without his best protector.	Took this one a bit to heart, took the artistic liberty of changing it to baby brother instead of son. "You sure about this Jacob?" Haffa asked, looking at his friend doubtingly. a tall bulky figure with a small gift bag stood outside, taking a bit to think about a reply. "Yes, I'm definitely sure." Jacob took a long drag out of his cigarette as he stood outside in the cold winter air. Inside he saw his baby brother with brand new gadgets and sparkling toys. He took a deep breath and grabbed something from the trunk of Haffa's car. "hyunga I missed you!" Isaac exclaimed, the 4 year old hasn't seen his brother in months, he missed being able to see him, especially with all the things happening lately. Jacob placed the small giftbag with the rest of the new gifts, his worn face showed signs of age, and weariness, he smiled at his brother and combed his hair with his fingers. "What's in the bag hyunga?" "I'll show it to you when you're in bed, and it's good to see you too, Merry Christmas little buddy. " Jacob looked at the pile of presents he's gotten, from family, and friends. The newest edition of the robo raptor, obviously a lavish gift from his sister, a measly semi used book that Jacob's younger brother gave, an obvious half assed gift, he saw the various dinosaur and train toys, and books that were given to Isaac with cards. Isaac looked at each gift and beckoned it to Jacob. "Look hyung! Look at all these toys!" Isaac exclaimed excitedly Jacob laughed at his excitement, the boy was so young, and yet so pure, the naivete allowed him to forget, to only have flashes. Isaac ran up to him and hugged his leg, he looked up to see the cuts on his hands, and the bandages covering his arms. Isaac didn't understand what those meant and gingerly rubbed his hands on one of the cuts "it hurt?" Isaac asked curiously, he knew that cuts meant aya or hurt, Jacob shook his head, "No, I'm fine my little dongsaeng" and picked up his baby brother, a task that used to be so easy but has seemed to get harder and harder every year he came to see him. The brothers had fun, they played outside, and watched cartoons, Jacob read him a book, gave him a bath, and finally tucked him in bed, his mom out and about with his sister and brother, having a little alone time to bond with them a bit more. "hyung, you didn't forget that you'd show me what's in the bag right?" Isaac asked, his droopy eyes showed signs of obvious sleepiness, Jacob did not want to keep him awake any further, "give me a sec, I'll be right back okay?" Isaac nodded and Jacob ran down to grab the bag. That's when they started to emerge. The demons, the voices, the nightmare, each of them came in it's own voice, slowly whispering and raking their fingers in the boy's hair, Isaacs sleep started to overtake him, and with it, so were the demons. "WHERE IS ISAAC? GIVE HIM TO ME" the loud, drunken voice yelled for him, Isaac sat in the room with his older brother, his hyung. Jacob looked at him reassuringly as he saw his younger, and youngest crouched together in the master bedroom. "Everything will be fine." Hyunga was never wrong, he always said the truth. "Joseph, keep him safe, don't argue with him, I'll be right back." Isaac's older brother Joseph held him tight, despite their bickering, and Isaac's obvious dislike for him, he held onto his arm a bit tighter. Clatters in the kitchen, a knife being drawn, skin hitting skin. A gasp of air. Silence. A wiggle of a doorknob. Jacob sat at the edge of the bed, in his hand was a teddy bear, it was used, and worn, but was maintained and taken care of with pride. He felt the small patch on the side of it's ribs, and felt the bandages on his. He kissed the teddy bear and left it at Isaac's side. The troubled, uneasy face relaxed, and Isaac went into a deep peaceful sleep. Jacob emerged from the door, his face bloodied, blood tripping down from his arms, and his shirt stained. He came up to Isaac and Joseph, knelt down and smiled. "Everything is gonna be fine now." Isaac woke up, Jacob was gone, but in his stead was a teddy bear, for the first time the monster went away, and for the first time he felt safe. He saw a little card on the chair where Jacob was sitting. 잘이서, 사랑헤. Be good, I love you.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Eyes of Glass How I miss my eyes of glass. Originally, I had button eyes. Little black ones about ½ an inch wide, with 4 holes to hold them in place. Nonna Maria gave me then after making me for Master Gianni. Her love and kindness had infused my being with every stitch she made as she made me. And had she been my only Maker, a simple Teddy I would have remained all my days. But we can’t pick our makers anymore than we can pick our parents. For all their well wishes and kind feelings, it is their whispered words and muffled curses that sometimes shape us most of all. I can’t complain though. I’ve had a wonderful life. Little Gianni became Johnny and passed me on to his daughter, who passed me on to her son, John Jr. I was sentry to their dreams, absorber of their tears, and cuddler of their coughs and illnesses. Even memories of being chewed and buried by my fellow guardians brought a wave of melancholy if I’ve been exiled to a shelf long enough. It didn’t matter though, because I knew that while I rested, I would be called upon again to watch over the next child. It was the way of things and as my Makers had intended. So it was with surprise and hurt that I was tossed in with the rest of the “miscellaneous possessions”. Rudy had come to the old house, and as Nonno’s executor, donated me along with the rest of the “stuff”. While I never met this Good William, I was treated well there. I was re-stuffed, re-stitched, and given my eyes of glass. More importantly, she did it properly. First giving me my new one, and then replacing my old one with Sky-blue circles around a black centre. Oh how I would have smiled if I had a mouth, but aside from my nose, that was nothing else on my face. No matter. I had always been a keeper of secrets and I kept them all. People don’t understand that is why we were never given mouths. A child’s fears are not bound by rationality. Children live in a world where monsters are as tall as the sky, or have a billion mouths with a billion teeth. This is the dark side of a sense of Wonder. And why every child needs a Guardian. Oh yes, my eyes of glass. Up until then, all I had seen of the world was black and white, night and light, evil and good. But with my new eyes, I could see all the colours and happiness in-between. After leaving the House of Good William, I saw the world anew. Sitting at a table with the rich red of raspberry jam sandwiches. The speckled-green of a frog as it hopped across a room while momma chased it too and fro. Even stars on a ceiling! Modern life is filled with such amazing toys! And I was able to see then all with my eyes of glass. Oh how I loved them! In all my years as a Guardian, I had lost one eye, but it had hurt so much. But worse, had been knowing that I did not have a spare eye. That if I had lost my other eye, I would have been lost. For when both eyes are gone, we Guardians lost our abilities. Dani (imagine that! A girl named Dani!), bought me for her son, and gave me someone to watch over. His name was Caleb, and I like to think that I was his favourite. Caleb took me everywhere and together we saw beaches and mountains but no matter where the chauffeur took us, we always slept together. Until that night. It turns out that the chauffeur was not a friend of the family. Ironic too since he was of the old blood. Like other-Nonna had been. Nonna Red-Fox. Nonna Red-Fox had known the old ways. How scarecrows could be made to keep birds away. How war-paint could give someone heightened senses. And how blood added to thread, could make a ward that lasted beyond the death of the caster. Nonna Maria had stitched me together out of love, but Nonna Red Fox has added her blood to the lanolin in the threads. Together, I was made to protect children. So when chauffeur came for Caleb, Caleb cried out for me, and we went together. We were kept in a house, somewhere. Caleb grew hungry, but was fed. He was tired, and was allowed to rest. But I knew that something was wrong. So I waited until Caleb went to sleep, and I used to magic. Guardian Magic is not the same for every one of us and it is not without a price. People say that eyes are the window to the soul, but it also the gateway to magic. Unfortunately, using magic destroys the gateway. Still, an eye is a small price to pay, to save Caleb. I knew that chauffeur had a phone, and that Caleb could use it, so all I needed to do was get it. But chauffeur saw me. It was the last thing he saw. As pain stabbed into my head, I unleashed the fears. Lifetimes of it. The one time I had done it before, it was of the dark, and things that lurked in it. Of the loneliness of a child. Of the angry voices of parents hurting each other. Of thunder and lightning flashes on moonless nights. Of childhood fears unleashed. Children are stronger than most adults realize. I know because when faced with childhood fears, adults cannot handle them. Chauffeur certainly couldn’t. As I recovered and made my way back to Caleb, I heard another noise. Chauffeur had not been alone. And as I turned to face chauffeur’s partner crime, I felt several thoughts pass through my mind. I hoped that Caleb wouldn’t notice that a spark had left his Teddybear. That while I would still be at his side, I would be less than I had been all his days. I hoped he wouldn’t stop talking to me, sharing with me his fears. I hoped we would still have our adventures, and that his dreams would be joyful again. But, to be honest, my last thought was a selfish one. That my final sight, would not be of his beautiful face, but rather of some nameless monster who had taken him from his family and home. How I miss my eyes of glass. As darkness comes for me.	Took this one a bit to heart, took the artistic liberty of changing it to baby brother instead of son. "You sure about this Jacob?" Haffa asked, looking at his friend doubtingly. a tall bulky figure with a small gift bag stood outside, taking a bit to think about a reply. "Yes, I'm definitely sure." Jacob took a long drag out of his cigarette as he stood outside in the cold winter air. Inside he saw his baby brother with brand new gadgets and sparkling toys. He took a deep breath and grabbed something from the trunk of Haffa's car. "hyunga I missed you!" Isaac exclaimed, the 4 year old hasn't seen his brother in months, he missed being able to see him, especially with all the things happening lately. Jacob placed the small giftbag with the rest of the new gifts, his worn face showed signs of age, and weariness, he smiled at his brother and combed his hair with his fingers. "What's in the bag hyunga?" "I'll show it to you when you're in bed, and it's good to see you too, Merry Christmas little buddy. " Jacob looked at the pile of presents he's gotten, from family, and friends. The newest edition of the robo raptor, obviously a lavish gift from his sister, a measly semi used book that Jacob's younger brother gave, an obvious half assed gift, he saw the various dinosaur and train toys, and books that were given to Isaac with cards. Isaac looked at each gift and beckoned it to Jacob. "Look hyung! Look at all these toys!" Isaac exclaimed excitedly Jacob laughed at his excitement, the boy was so young, and yet so pure, the naivete allowed him to forget, to only have flashes. Isaac ran up to him and hugged his leg, he looked up to see the cuts on his hands, and the bandages covering his arms. Isaac didn't understand what those meant and gingerly rubbed his hands on one of the cuts "it hurt?" Isaac asked curiously, he knew that cuts meant aya or hurt, Jacob shook his head, "No, I'm fine my little dongsaeng" and picked up his baby brother, a task that used to be so easy but has seemed to get harder and harder every year he came to see him. The brothers had fun, they played outside, and watched cartoons, Jacob read him a book, gave him a bath, and finally tucked him in bed, his mom out and about with his sister and brother, having a little alone time to bond with them a bit more. "hyung, you didn't forget that you'd show me what's in the bag right?" Isaac asked, his droopy eyes showed signs of obvious sleepiness, Jacob did not want to keep him awake any further, "give me a sec, I'll be right back okay?" Isaac nodded and Jacob ran down to grab the bag. That's when they started to emerge. The demons, the voices, the nightmare, each of them came in it's own voice, slowly whispering and raking their fingers in the boy's hair, Isaacs sleep started to overtake him, and with it, so were the demons. "WHERE IS ISAAC? GIVE HIM TO ME" the loud, drunken voice yelled for him, Isaac sat in the room with his older brother, his hyung. Jacob looked at him reassuringly as he saw his younger, and youngest crouched together in the master bedroom. "Everything will be fine." Hyunga was never wrong, he always said the truth. "Joseph, keep him safe, don't argue with him, I'll be right back." Isaac's older brother Joseph held him tight, despite their bickering, and Isaac's obvious dislike for him, he held onto his arm a bit tighter. Clatters in the kitchen, a knife being drawn, skin hitting skin. A gasp of air. Silence. A wiggle of a doorknob. Jacob sat at the edge of the bed, in his hand was a teddy bear, it was used, and worn, but was maintained and taken care of with pride. He felt the small patch on the side of it's ribs, and felt the bandages on his. He kissed the teddy bear and left it at Isaac's side. The troubled, uneasy face relaxed, and Isaac went into a deep peaceful sleep. Jacob emerged from the door, his face bloodied, blood tripping down from his arms, and his shirt stained. He came up to Isaac and Joseph, knelt down and smiled. "Everything is gonna be fine now." Isaac woke up, Jacob was gone, but in his stead was a teddy bear, for the first time the monster went away, and for the first time he felt safe. He saw a little card on the chair where Jacob was sitting. 잘이서, 사랑헤. Be good, I love you.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	First post here, so I'd love to receive some feedback! -------------------------------------------------- "Hey, Mike, come here!" On his way back home, John walked in front of a store and saw something that caught his attention - it was the perfect gift. Mike, his little son, rushed to the door and his jaw dropped as he stared at the toy, a teddy bear. Not a common one, this bear was dressed like a knight from the stories of King Arthur, something he had been into since John started reading those tales for him during bedtime. "Thank you so much, dad!" Little Mike hugged his father, and squeezed the bear even harder. "Can I call it Arthur?" His joyful eyes darted to his father's, but he did not even wait for the answer before running back to his bedroom. -------------------------------------------------- "So the knights really killed the dragon?" Mike was amazed by the tale. "Yes, they did! King Arthur was the bravest one, and his sword saved them from the bad dragon." "Can Arthur kill dragons too?" The kid held his bear into his father's direction. "Well, we don't have dragons nowadays, but if we did, I'm sure he would slay them all!" John rose up and made a victorious pose as he spoke. "But now, it's time for the heroes to rest. Good night, son. Good night, Arthur." He kissed both his son and the toy before leaving the room. "Arthur is so awesome." The kid whispered to his toy and hugged it tight. The minutes passed, but Mike could not sleep. He was too excited with the tales and his imagination was flying through all the scenes his father had read for him. Not only that, there was this unquieting sound now, slowly getting higher, slowly approaching. He reached for the lamp besides the bed, turning it on to reveal nothing. "Fear not, child, I shall protect you." A voice came from his side. Half scared, the boy turned and saw Arthur standing on its own. "The enemy is close, hide now." The toy said in a low tone, and Mike, frightened and awed, covered himself with his blanket, leaving a small space so he could watch Arthur. The bear jumped from the bed, scanning the room. "Still inside your cave, huh?" It stared to the dark space below the bed. "Come, monster, and feel the weight of my blade!" And fire was spilled from the dark. Arthur quickly raised his shield before being engulfed by the flames. Mike feared for his new friend, but no harm had come to it, just like in the tale. "You can't hide forever, dragon!" The taunt worked, and a 'teddy dragon' made his way to the lit area. The toys exchanged blows, roars and grunts filled the room, as well as the sound of the heavy claws bashing the shield and sword hitting scale. A heavy blow send Arthur down, and Mike gulped. The dragon heard the strange sound and turned to face the boy. It roared and started flying around the room, spitting more flames in the direction of the knight to distract him and finally heading for the bed to burn the kid. "You will not hurt him!" Arthur shouted, and threw his sword with all his might into the flying monster. It pierced the dragon's throat, making it dive head first into the ground. Arthur rushed to grab his weapon and slashed his enemy dead. The bear sat on the floor, exhausted. "Arthur..." The boy stared at his toy, who feared the worse from his new owner. "You... You are amazing..." Mike was still in shock, but watching the tales right in front of him brought a smile to his face. The bear approached the bed and the boy took it, hugging Arthur. "Thank you for protecting me." -------------------------------------------------- "Good morning, sleep head." The sunlight filled the room as John opened the curtains. "Breakfast is almost ready. Grab Arthur and come eat with me and your mother." He turned to leave, stepping on something strange. "What's this?" He picked the 'teddy dragon' up. "Mike, I just had an idea! How about we play with Arthur and this dragon after eating?" The half-awake kid nodded and smiled, remembering what happened last night.	Took this one a bit to heart, took the artistic liberty of changing it to baby brother instead of son. "You sure about this Jacob?" Haffa asked, looking at his friend doubtingly. a tall bulky figure with a small gift bag stood outside, taking a bit to think about a reply. "Yes, I'm definitely sure." Jacob took a long drag out of his cigarette as he stood outside in the cold winter air. Inside he saw his baby brother with brand new gadgets and sparkling toys. He took a deep breath and grabbed something from the trunk of Haffa's car. "hyunga I missed you!" Isaac exclaimed, the 4 year old hasn't seen his brother in months, he missed being able to see him, especially with all the things happening lately. Jacob placed the small giftbag with the rest of the new gifts, his worn face showed signs of age, and weariness, he smiled at his brother and combed his hair with his fingers. "What's in the bag hyunga?" "I'll show it to you when you're in bed, and it's good to see you too, Merry Christmas little buddy. " Jacob looked at the pile of presents he's gotten, from family, and friends. The newest edition of the robo raptor, obviously a lavish gift from his sister, a measly semi used book that Jacob's younger brother gave, an obvious half assed gift, he saw the various dinosaur and train toys, and books that were given to Isaac with cards. Isaac looked at each gift and beckoned it to Jacob. "Look hyung! Look at all these toys!" Isaac exclaimed excitedly Jacob laughed at his excitement, the boy was so young, and yet so pure, the naivete allowed him to forget, to only have flashes. Isaac ran up to him and hugged his leg, he looked up to see the cuts on his hands, and the bandages covering his arms. Isaac didn't understand what those meant and gingerly rubbed his hands on one of the cuts "it hurt?" Isaac asked curiously, he knew that cuts meant aya or hurt, Jacob shook his head, "No, I'm fine my little dongsaeng" and picked up his baby brother, a task that used to be so easy but has seemed to get harder and harder every year he came to see him. The brothers had fun, they played outside, and watched cartoons, Jacob read him a book, gave him a bath, and finally tucked him in bed, his mom out and about with his sister and brother, having a little alone time to bond with them a bit more. "hyung, you didn't forget that you'd show me what's in the bag right?" Isaac asked, his droopy eyes showed signs of obvious sleepiness, Jacob did not want to keep him awake any further, "give me a sec, I'll be right back okay?" Isaac nodded and Jacob ran down to grab the bag. That's when they started to emerge. The demons, the voices, the nightmare, each of them came in it's own voice, slowly whispering and raking their fingers in the boy's hair, Isaacs sleep started to overtake him, and with it, so were the demons. "WHERE IS ISAAC? GIVE HIM TO ME" the loud, drunken voice yelled for him, Isaac sat in the room with his older brother, his hyung. Jacob looked at him reassuringly as he saw his younger, and youngest crouched together in the master bedroom. "Everything will be fine." Hyunga was never wrong, he always said the truth. "Joseph, keep him safe, don't argue with him, I'll be right back." Isaac's older brother Joseph held him tight, despite their bickering, and Isaac's obvious dislike for him, he held onto his arm a bit tighter. Clatters in the kitchen, a knife being drawn, skin hitting skin. A gasp of air. Silence. A wiggle of a doorknob. Jacob sat at the edge of the bed, in his hand was a teddy bear, it was used, and worn, but was maintained and taken care of with pride. He felt the small patch on the side of it's ribs, and felt the bandages on his. He kissed the teddy bear and left it at Isaac's side. The troubled, uneasy face relaxed, and Isaac went into a deep peaceful sleep. Jacob emerged from the door, his face bloodied, blood tripping down from his arms, and his shirt stained. He came up to Isaac and Joseph, knelt down and smiled. "Everything is gonna be fine now." Isaac woke up, Jacob was gone, but in his stead was a teddy bear, for the first time the monster went away, and for the first time he felt safe. He saw a little card on the chair where Jacob was sitting. 잘이서, 사랑헤. Be good, I love you.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	"Hello, this is Old Roosevelt customer service. How may I help you?" I heard a woman tell me over my cell phone as I stared at the bear I had bought for my son. "Hey, there's something up with the bear you guys sold me. You know, the Oso Muerte?" I said. "And what would that be?" "Well, it's got a six pack." I said. Right now, the stuffed, brown bear was laying on my son's bed and it mostly had fur covering its body except where its abs were, which looked like he was an olympian or something. "I don't know what happened, but it did not have anything like this, but now he's got a six pack, I'm uncomfortable, and I want my money back." There was a moment of silence. For a second, I thought the woman had hung up on me, but then she said, "Well, sir, if there were any additions made to your bear, it might have been someone else who added these changes. Is it possible your son made these enhancements?" "I guess it is possible." "Well, sir, maybe you should talk to him." She told me before I hung up. "Wait, enhancements?!" I looked down at the stuffed bear one last time, feeling more and more uncomfortable as I did so. The look on its face reminded me a whole lot of people returning back to society after being in jail for a few years. I walked over to the living room where my son was playing Call of Duty. "Yeeeaaaah, suck it!" I heard the five year old scream at the top of his lungs. "Son." I said. "Oh, sorry. Yeeeaaaah, suck it, sir." He said more calmly. "No, it's not that. It's about your bear." I paused, not sure how to continue. "It has... did you put abs on it?" "Why's it matter?" "It makes me uncomfortable." I answered. "No. The bear's alive and he lifts like a madman. He used to use roids, but he said he quit them." My son said as though this was completely normal. "He's also been protecting me from monsters at night." "Look, I understand having an imaginary friend or something, but it's kind of weird." I thought for a moment. "I mean, are you gay? It's okay if you are, but this is not how you handle it." "What? No. How about this, you can stay at my room tonight. If nothing happens, I'll throw Kevin out and we can pretend this never happened." My son said, calmly. I agreed. That night, as I came into my son's room, I could see that part of the stuffed bear's arm had been shaved to reveal a new tattoo of a polar bear in a bikini. I sat in my son's bed as he lie down and eventually went to sleep. I waited another five minutes, but nothing happened. I was about to get up and call a child's counselor when I heard two sounds fill the air. There was a squishing sound like someone continuously throwing a wet rag against a wall and a loud, scraping sound like a violin being slowly cut by a knife. A smell filled the air, much like rotten cheese. Suddenly, my son's door flipped open to reveal an eight-footed creature with the neck made from a green jello like substance and the head that was just a dog's skull with eight eyes like a spider has. It had seven short stubby legs like a millipede, but also two very long ones with knives on the end like a praying mantis. Its gaze caught mine and I could feel urine start to go down my leg. "What the hell? Are you peeing yourself?! Your five-year-old didn't even do that, you wuss!" I looked to my side to see that the bear was, in fact, talking to me. In his left arm, he held a long spear with a sharpened candy cane on one side and in his other hand, he held a machine gun. In the thing's mouth was a cigar, which created as much smoke as four would normally make. He aimed the spear at the monster and threw it. The spear caught the monster in one of its giant arms. Before it could do anything, the bear began shooting with the machine gun. The machine gun fired out what looked like cottonballs, but when they made contact with the beast, they might as well have been bullets because they tore it apart. "God, is it over?!" "Almost." Kevin said as he began laughing. "Now we'll be cleaning it up. And by we, I mean you. I'm tired and kind of want to work out, and kind of want something to eat. Go to the store and get some bleach, I already have the rest, and also pick me up a pizza covered in pepperonis. Can you do that?" "Uh." I began stuttering before finally blurting out, "Yeah." "Good." He paused. "How have you not heard this every night? I've literally torn apart vampires with a spork." "I drink." I replied. "Oh, God, me too!" And that's how I met my best friend.	Took this one a bit to heart, took the artistic liberty of changing it to baby brother instead of son. "You sure about this Jacob?" Haffa asked, looking at his friend doubtingly. a tall bulky figure with a small gift bag stood outside, taking a bit to think about a reply. "Yes, I'm definitely sure." Jacob took a long drag out of his cigarette as he stood outside in the cold winter air. Inside he saw his baby brother with brand new gadgets and sparkling toys. He took a deep breath and grabbed something from the trunk of Haffa's car. "hyunga I missed you!" Isaac exclaimed, the 4 year old hasn't seen his brother in months, he missed being able to see him, especially with all the things happening lately. Jacob placed the small giftbag with the rest of the new gifts, his worn face showed signs of age, and weariness, he smiled at his brother and combed his hair with his fingers. "What's in the bag hyunga?" "I'll show it to you when you're in bed, and it's good to see you too, Merry Christmas little buddy. " Jacob looked at the pile of presents he's gotten, from family, and friends. The newest edition of the robo raptor, obviously a lavish gift from his sister, a measly semi used book that Jacob's younger brother gave, an obvious half assed gift, he saw the various dinosaur and train toys, and books that were given to Isaac with cards. Isaac looked at each gift and beckoned it to Jacob. "Look hyung! Look at all these toys!" Isaac exclaimed excitedly Jacob laughed at his excitement, the boy was so young, and yet so pure, the naivete allowed him to forget, to only have flashes. Isaac ran up to him and hugged his leg, he looked up to see the cuts on his hands, and the bandages covering his arms. Isaac didn't understand what those meant and gingerly rubbed his hands on one of the cuts "it hurt?" Isaac asked curiously, he knew that cuts meant aya or hurt, Jacob shook his head, "No, I'm fine my little dongsaeng" and picked up his baby brother, a task that used to be so easy but has seemed to get harder and harder every year he came to see him. The brothers had fun, they played outside, and watched cartoons, Jacob read him a book, gave him a bath, and finally tucked him in bed, his mom out and about with his sister and brother, having a little alone time to bond with them a bit more. "hyung, you didn't forget that you'd show me what's in the bag right?" Isaac asked, his droopy eyes showed signs of obvious sleepiness, Jacob did not want to keep him awake any further, "give me a sec, I'll be right back okay?" Isaac nodded and Jacob ran down to grab the bag. That's when they started to emerge. The demons, the voices, the nightmare, each of them came in it's own voice, slowly whispering and raking their fingers in the boy's hair, Isaacs sleep started to overtake him, and with it, so were the demons. "WHERE IS ISAAC? GIVE HIM TO ME" the loud, drunken voice yelled for him, Isaac sat in the room with his older brother, his hyung. Jacob looked at him reassuringly as he saw his younger, and youngest crouched together in the master bedroom. "Everything will be fine." Hyunga was never wrong, he always said the truth. "Joseph, keep him safe, don't argue with him, I'll be right back." Isaac's older brother Joseph held him tight, despite their bickering, and Isaac's obvious dislike for him, he held onto his arm a bit tighter. Clatters in the kitchen, a knife being drawn, skin hitting skin. A gasp of air. Silence. A wiggle of a doorknob. Jacob sat at the edge of the bed, in his hand was a teddy bear, it was used, and worn, but was maintained and taken care of with pride. He felt the small patch on the side of it's ribs, and felt the bandages on his. He kissed the teddy bear and left it at Isaac's side. The troubled, uneasy face relaxed, and Isaac went into a deep peaceful sleep. Jacob emerged from the door, his face bloodied, blood tripping down from his arms, and his shirt stained. He came up to Isaac and Joseph, knelt down and smiled. "Everything is gonna be fine now." Isaac woke up, Jacob was gone, but in his stead was a teddy bear, for the first time the monster went away, and for the first time he felt safe. He saw a little card on the chair where Jacob was sitting. 잘이서, 사랑헤. Be good, I love you.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	The front door of the old farmhouse opened with a loud creak, and my childhood living room greeted me as if no time had passed. This was clearly not the case. The plaster was missing from the wall in large chunks, some of it to be found on the dusty brown sofa sitting against the staircase to my right. Graffiti littered the walls, covering up what was left of the brown striped wallpaper. I stood there for a full minute, taking it all in. Come in, my old home eventually seemed to say. I hesitated, and took the first step. Broken glass crunched against the wooden floor underneath my boot. The sound was startling after the minute of silence. The proceeding footsteps were nearly as abrasive as I walked past the old couch and around the corner to my right. The dark staircase looked up at me. I knew my old teddy bear would be down there. I took a deep breath, clipped my flashlight to the inside of my zipper, and walked down the stairs. The unfinished basement was even dustier than the upstairs. Around the corner and past the support beam was the door to my old room, slightly ajar. This is ridiculous. Why am I even here? Dad is insane. There's no way this will help Sam's nightmares. I stepped over and between the piles of junk in a hurry, practically wading through all of the beer bottles. I reached the door and paused. Looking through the cracked opening, I saw a glimpse of the closet. My heart sunk. I pushed the door open. A wave of nostalgia poured out from behind it and washed over me. I could still make out the faded red propeller airplanes on the wallpaper that I'd outgrown by a few years by the time we vacated. To my left was that damn closet. I didn't want to look at it, so I looked over to the right side of the room. I saw my old bed, cluttered with pieces of the ceiling. Straight ahead was my toy chest, its wooden lid up and some of its contents strewn about the floor in front of me. Stepping over one childhood memory after another, I made my way toward the chest. I looked into it, and there it was staring up at me. A faded brown teddy bear, with so many patches and stitch jobs that I wondered how much of the original fabric was actually there. It looked like it could be centuries old. Maybe it is. It had black beads for eyes, one of which was hanging loosely by a thread. The other one looked up at me, as if it was wondering where I'd been. Written down the inside of its right leg was “ALBert.” My grandfather's name. He told me once that he got the bear from his dad. I got it from mine. I heard a clang from the closet as I reached down to grab it. My hand lunged down for the bear, and I backed up two steps once I had it in my grasp. Clutching the bear to my chest, I looked towards the source of the noise. I saw my soccer ball that I kept on the shelf in my closet slowly rolling towards me, past a pile of beer bottles. That was enough to make me bolt out the door and back upstairs. I looked back at my old living room one last time and shut the front door behind me. I walked towards my rental Honda. I needed to catch my plane to get back home. * Dad called me at the airport. "Hello?" "Did you get the bear?" "Yes, I got the bear..." "Good. It helped me, it helped you, and it will help Sam." "This is crazy." "If it's so crazy then why did you fly 200 miles from home just to get it?" I had no answer. "Just give him the bear." Click. * I opened the front door of my home, and my dark living room greeted me warmly. "We're downstairs." I heard Linda say. Gently guiding the bear into the inside pocket of my jacket, I made my way towards the stairs and went down. The low-volume TV illuminated my smiling wife sitting on the couch with Sam curled up in her lap. "Hey, Dane." She said. "How was your trip? Did you close the sale?" "No. Gordan blew it. It's okay, though. We didn't really need it." I looked a Sam. "How are you doing, buddy?" "He won't sleep in his room." Linda said. Sam looked up at me with sleepy eyes and frowned. "Still having the nightmares, huh?" "It's not a dream! It's real!" Linda smiled. I didn't. Alright, Dad. Fine. "I'll tell you what, Sam." I said. "I've got something that will help you during the night time. It's in the storage room." I walked into the storage room on the other side of the basement and closed the door behind me. I waited a minute to make it seem like I was looking for something, and then pulled the bear out of my jacket. I'll be terrified if this works. I left the storage room and held the bear out in front of me as I walked back towards Sam. "Take this. It used to be mine." Linda looked at the bear, a puzzled expression on her face. I'll make up a story later to tell her how it got here. "When I was a kid, I used to have bad dreams, too. This bear kept me safe. Here, take it. He'll keep you safe like he did for me." Sam took the bear and looked at it for a moment, then gave it a loving embrace. Linda looked at me with big eyes and let out a silent "Aww!" I was afraid Sam would squeeze it too hard and break it. "You've gotta be careful with it, Sam. It's very old. Even older than Great Grandpa was!" Sam pulled the bear away from him and held it up, looking at it like it was a mystical relic. "I'm ready for bed," he said, his gaze still locked on the bear. Linda leaned forward and hugged him from behind. "My brave little man." I scooped up Sam and walked him upstairs to his room, which is right next to ours. Once he was all tucked in, I kissed him on the forehead and told him goodnight. "Yell for me if you need me, alright?" "Okay," he said, snuggling the bear against his chest. I exited his room, leaving the door open, and went into mine. *** In my sleep I was four years old again. I was in my bed, the bright red propeller airplanes on my wall slightly visible through the darkness. Only my head stuck out from under the covers. A sense of dread filled me. I was not alone in my room. I smelled something sour and harsh. It almost smelled like rotten eggs. I would recognize it two years later when I visited Yellowstone and smell the sulfur. I heard a wheezing cough coming from my closet. Between two hanging jackets I saw the vague outline of a pale face. "I need water," the wheezy voice moaned. "You, give me some water. There's none here. There never is." It coughed and wheezed some more. "Please, I haven't had any in so long." "I gave you water last night!" I said in my tiny voice. "YES! PLEASE GIVE ME MORE! I KNOW YOU HAVE MORE!" "I- I don't have any!" "LIAR!" A brief silence. A white hand appeared from behind the clothes. Its fingers sprawled out as it reached for me. "Come here." Ever so slowly, I started to see more arm appear as it stretched out from the closet. I began to cry. With every sound I made, the arm extended faster. I managed to quiet myself down, and the hand's speed returned to a crawl. After a life time of quivering in my bed, the hand was reaching about eight feet out from the closet. The outline of the white face stayed where it was. "It's so hot here. Please! I just need water..." I was frozen in my bed, watching the hand get closer and closer to my feet. The tips of its fingers grasped within a couple feet of my covered toes. I plunged my head under the covers. The muffled sound of wheezing became the only thing accompanying me in the hot, stuffy darkness. And the teddy bear snuggled up against my left shoulder. I feel a light squeeze on my big toe. "Are you in there?" I felt a grip on my ankle and broke out in sobs. "Please... I need it so bad... Just give me a little bit." I was pulled a little further down to the foot of my bed. "So dry here..." The grip on my ankle released, and I felt individual fingers working their way up my leg and onto my stomach. It paused there. "I'll never stop. I last forever. No, no, no..." The hand lifted off my stomach, and I felt the covers start to pull up and away from my head. I tugged them back down with all the strength my little arms could muster. "Let me in!" The covers jerked up and away from my face, and I could see four deathly white fingers holding the sheets above me. I screamed. "MOM! HELP! MOM!" The teddy bear began to vibrate, and the hand let go of the covers. They landed on my mouth, and I saw the hand hovering above my face. "No, not again, no..." The vibration intensified, and the hand clenched into a fist. It trembled, and then, with a gruesome crack, snapped backwards so that it smacked the top of its wrist. "No..." It darted back into the closet. The pale face remained. "The next one... I'll be back for the next one..." The face disappeared. The bear stopped shaking. My bedroom door opened, and my mom came through. "It's okay, Dane. You were just having a nightmare." I awoke and I was thirty five years old. Jesus. I sprung out of my bed and rushed into Sam's room. I found him sitting up, a look of excitement beaming off of his face. "Dad! It worked! The bear worked!" "The man with the long arm visited again?" "Yeah, but the bear saved me! He was reaching for me, and then the bear went like this." He put his arms out and jiggled them around along with his head. "Then the man went away!" Christ. It's real. It's all real. "Glad to hear it helped, Sam... Just make sure you hang onto that bear. Someone else might need it some day." "Uh huh, that's what the man with the long arm told me. He said he'd be back for the next one."	Evelyn watched carefully as the nurse closed the door to her room. Within seconds the darkness was total expect for the few blinking lights on monitors and screens. The corners were the worst. They seems to soak in the darkness, to compress and then expel it through the rest of the room. The constant beeping of the monitor seemed far away. She closed her eyes and squeezed the Fox's paw. The white fur slipping between her small fingers and caressing them. A warmth filled her and she opened her eyes again. There she stood, the white fox, in beautiful and majestic grace. Her fur seemed to glow ephemerally, and her orange eyes lit like globes in the darkened room. The warmth grew stronger in her as she looked into the fox's eyes and she smile. "Its ok Fox, no hurt." The fox nodded back and turned, trotting with soft paws to the end of the bed. The homemade quilt did not cover the bed in total, and the foot of the bed was covered in the scratchy and coarse linens that most patients had. Yet the fox was unperturbed. She sat willfully away from the girl, her body poised as if a bowsprit through rough waters. For a moment it seemed as if the darkness had decided against haunting Evelyn today. Sometimes her parents stayed with her and kept it at bay with songs and stories. She especially loved the fairy tales and myths her father told her. Yet not tonight. Tonight she was lone. Tethered to the machines through her elbow. The darkness suddenly moved, convulsing and spreading to the floor. It swallowed the tea set and her coloring pads that lay nearby, leaving her bed isolated in a sea of black. She considered calling out to the nurses, but decided against it. They never stayed with her, they never understood. She was alone. Yet there stood the fox. Un-moving at the foot of the bed still. Its orange eyes casting themselves over the growing blackness, poised as if in calm repose. Evelyn had a moment of uncertainty, the pale glow of the fox's fur seemed to dim. Then she remembers the Selkie, who can turn to a seal, and the shapeshifters who can transform into wolves and bears to fight monsters. She looked to the fox again and suddenly she was gone. The white glow vanishing into the air. She scrabbled at her covers but had nothing else. She had only brought the fox with her to bed today and was now defenseless. The walls disappeared now, closing in tightly as the darkness brought everything together. In the distance she could hear the beeps on the monitor speeding up and occurring faster and faster. She closed her eyes and thrust the warm fleece blanket over her head and squealed, knowing full well that the darkness intended to take her. Then there was nothing. The loud and off putting silence of the darkness was gone. She slowly lowered the blanket and her mouth dropped open when the fox once again sat before her. She could see it clearly nestled int he covers of her lap, yet she felt no weight. She smiled and gripped the fox tightly, feeling the warmth flow through her once again. When her eyes opened she saw the room as it was before. Her crayons, the tea set. Monitors dimly lit and beeping. The room was as it was. All that remained of the terrible darkness was the faint glow coming from the fox. Like a gently reminder it soothed Evelyn and she gently laid back down into her bed. Propping the fox beside her she turned on her side and cuddled up, feeling confident and safe all at once. She patted the fox and whispered as her eyes closed and thoughts of hospitals and cancer fled from her small mind, "Good night sweet fox." And she quickly fell asleep. The fox sat beside her all night, its orange eyes watching the room like a beacon. Its fur coat glistened with beauty and grace as it did before. And on its paw was a small bandage that matched Evelyn's. Yet the fox was not bothered by the wound, for she had a friend to keep her safe. ------ Based on true events.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	"Daddy can you bring me Sir Stuffington?" "Of course" John always had to stifle a laugh at Sir Stuffington. His son had a Medieval phase that had seemingly grown into genuine historical interest. But he could not laugh out loud, it seemed to greatly upset his son. So, he walked over to the Bear's place of honor on his son's dresser and carefully picked up the bear. He felt like he had to be incredibly careful as it had seen great wear and tear in its time. But, ever since hie had given the son the bear the poor child's night terrors and bed wetting were seemingly over. The psychologist said that anything that helps was a good thing at this point even if it was a little childish. The loss of his mother was of course devastating and he would far rather the boy have a bear a little too long than be on the antidepressants already. He gently placed the bear next to his son, kissed his son's forehead and left. The boy fell fast asleep, a miracle just a few months ago. The dead of the night crept in. A voice cackled in the dark. "He is MINE" Sir Stuffington carefully pulled himself out of the child's grasp. His silent growl deepening in his throat. The boy was his charge. While a single stitch held him together none would pass. The many eyed demon skittered forward, lit by the dim violet nightlight. The two enemies stared from across the toy filled room. The dance began. The monster was in perfect form tonight, the boy was nervous about the upcoming school year. The first time the bus would take him away without his mother to make him banana pancakes. The first time his mom would not be able to pack his lunch so he would have to wait in the line and pay the lunch lady. The first birthday his mother would miss. The monster's chitinous limbs tore into Sir Stuffington's arms, and the little warrior could barely hold on to keep them from sinking deeper "He's growing older Stuffington, he won't want you much longer, you are a baby's plaything, not a grown boy's" Anger welled in the bear. "SIR Stuffington" he spat with rage. With a scream of hate and pain he tore his arms free and lunged at the thing's neck. The monster back peddled and wrench back and forth. But the bear would not be denied. Weakened and weeping its invisible life's blood into the carpet, the Monster gurgled "YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM FOREVER!" Sir Stuffington stepped forward and bared his teeth. The monster left. After he was sure it was safe, Sir Stuffington left the boy and walked carefully past the room where the poor boy's father wept bitterly over his wife's picture. He carefully cracked opened the door to the late mother's sewing room. Everything in it was kept just so. It was as sacrosanct. So Sir Stuffington always knew where the needle and thread were. He gingerly packed the stuffing back into his wounds and trudged tenderly back into the boys arms. The monster was right and wrong. One day he couldn't save the boy because one day the boy wouldn't need him anymore. But until that day, or the bear's last day, he would fight	Evelyn watched carefully as the nurse closed the door to her room. Within seconds the darkness was total expect for the few blinking lights on monitors and screens. The corners were the worst. They seems to soak in the darkness, to compress and then expel it through the rest of the room. The constant beeping of the monitor seemed far away. She closed her eyes and squeezed the Fox's paw. The white fur slipping between her small fingers and caressing them. A warmth filled her and she opened her eyes again. There she stood, the white fox, in beautiful and majestic grace. Her fur seemed to glow ephemerally, and her orange eyes lit like globes in the darkened room. The warmth grew stronger in her as she looked into the fox's eyes and she smile. "Its ok Fox, no hurt." The fox nodded back and turned, trotting with soft paws to the end of the bed. The homemade quilt did not cover the bed in total, and the foot of the bed was covered in the scratchy and coarse linens that most patients had. Yet the fox was unperturbed. She sat willfully away from the girl, her body poised as if a bowsprit through rough waters. For a moment it seemed as if the darkness had decided against haunting Evelyn today. Sometimes her parents stayed with her and kept it at bay with songs and stories. She especially loved the fairy tales and myths her father told her. Yet not tonight. Tonight she was lone. Tethered to the machines through her elbow. The darkness suddenly moved, convulsing and spreading to the floor. It swallowed the tea set and her coloring pads that lay nearby, leaving her bed isolated in a sea of black. She considered calling out to the nurses, but decided against it. They never stayed with her, they never understood. She was alone. Yet there stood the fox. Un-moving at the foot of the bed still. Its orange eyes casting themselves over the growing blackness, poised as if in calm repose. Evelyn had a moment of uncertainty, the pale glow of the fox's fur seemed to dim. Then she remembers the Selkie, who can turn to a seal, and the shapeshifters who can transform into wolves and bears to fight monsters. She looked to the fox again and suddenly she was gone. The white glow vanishing into the air. She scrabbled at her covers but had nothing else. She had only brought the fox with her to bed today and was now defenseless. The walls disappeared now, closing in tightly as the darkness brought everything together. In the distance she could hear the beeps on the monitor speeding up and occurring faster and faster. She closed her eyes and thrust the warm fleece blanket over her head and squealed, knowing full well that the darkness intended to take her. Then there was nothing. The loud and off putting silence of the darkness was gone. She slowly lowered the blanket and her mouth dropped open when the fox once again sat before her. She could see it clearly nestled int he covers of her lap, yet she felt no weight. She smiled and gripped the fox tightly, feeling the warmth flow through her once again. When her eyes opened she saw the room as it was before. Her crayons, the tea set. Monitors dimly lit and beeping. The room was as it was. All that remained of the terrible darkness was the faint glow coming from the fox. Like a gently reminder it soothed Evelyn and she gently laid back down into her bed. Propping the fox beside her she turned on her side and cuddled up, feeling confident and safe all at once. She patted the fox and whispered as her eyes closed and thoughts of hospitals and cancer fled from her small mind, "Good night sweet fox." And she quickly fell asleep. The fox sat beside her all night, its orange eyes watching the room like a beacon. Its fur coat glistened with beauty and grace as it did before. And on its paw was a small bandage that matched Evelyn's. Yet the fox was not bothered by the wound, for she had a friend to keep her safe. ------ Based on true events.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	"He asleep yet?" I watched from the entrance of his room and nodded. "Yeah, I think he's okay for now." I closed the door and looked at my husband. "How are you feeling?" He rubbed his eyes and smiled a weary smile. "Tired. I had hoped that after a few years the night terrors would stop, but I guess we'll just have to cope with it." He rubbed my belly. "You just take care of the two of you hun. It'll be alright." Come morning, Dan was already gone when I woke up. By the time I had made breakfast and woke up Allan, he'd returned with a wrapped box. I smiled. "Well sport... Look what I found waiting outside for you!" Allan jumped away from the table and raced towards his father. "Is that for me? Why?" He didn't wait for an answer though: as soon as he got his hands on the package he ripped through the packaging to reveal a pretty large teddybear. Allan was in heaven. As soon as he was done unpacking, he took the bear with him to the table and positioned him on the empty chair next to him. It was his everything: he kept talking to it, about what I had made him for breakfast and what he was going to do today and how he would give him a spot in his bed. Dan sat down beside me and pinched my leg under the table. "I'd almost swear his face just got a few tints less pale, wouldn't you agree?" I nodded while I peeled my egg. That night, when I tucked Allan and Brody in (that's what he named his bear), I gave both of them a hug. "You take good care of my boy, Brody. Allan, your bear is important! If you protect him, he'll protect you. Don't you forget that!" Allan nodded his head from half under his blanket. "I know! Brody told me so." I smiled and after a "good night" turned off the light and closed the door. Dan was standing in the hallway. "Brody? Seriously? Where'd he get that from? And please don't fill his mind with that nonsense. If it helps him sleep though..." I grabbed his arm and took him back downstairs. "I don't think I heard you ever talking that way about Celia, huh?" Dan smirked. "That battered old bear of yours was actually what got me thinking. I figured that having a stuffed animal might help him." When we settled down behind the TV, with me leaning against his arm, I couldn't help but smile. It wouldn't have worked if I gave a bear; I knew. But Dan, from his own love, gave it to Allan and that... Yeah, that would work. I gave Celia a pat on the head before going to bed. "And so the circle begins anew," I whispered to her. Celia just smiled, like she always did. ***** Fun prompt. If you like it, [take a look at my personal sub too](/r/TheAlcove) :-)	Evelyn watched carefully as the nurse closed the door to her room. Within seconds the darkness was total expect for the few blinking lights on monitors and screens. The corners were the worst. They seems to soak in the darkness, to compress and then expel it through the rest of the room. The constant beeping of the monitor seemed far away. She closed her eyes and squeezed the Fox's paw. The white fur slipping between her small fingers and caressing them. A warmth filled her and she opened her eyes again. There she stood, the white fox, in beautiful and majestic grace. Her fur seemed to glow ephemerally, and her orange eyes lit like globes in the darkened room. The warmth grew stronger in her as she looked into the fox's eyes and she smile. "Its ok Fox, no hurt." The fox nodded back and turned, trotting with soft paws to the end of the bed. The homemade quilt did not cover the bed in total, and the foot of the bed was covered in the scratchy and coarse linens that most patients had. Yet the fox was unperturbed. She sat willfully away from the girl, her body poised as if a bowsprit through rough waters. For a moment it seemed as if the darkness had decided against haunting Evelyn today. Sometimes her parents stayed with her and kept it at bay with songs and stories. She especially loved the fairy tales and myths her father told her. Yet not tonight. Tonight she was lone. Tethered to the machines through her elbow. The darkness suddenly moved, convulsing and spreading to the floor. It swallowed the tea set and her coloring pads that lay nearby, leaving her bed isolated in a sea of black. She considered calling out to the nurses, but decided against it. They never stayed with her, they never understood. She was alone. Yet there stood the fox. Un-moving at the foot of the bed still. Its orange eyes casting themselves over the growing blackness, poised as if in calm repose. Evelyn had a moment of uncertainty, the pale glow of the fox's fur seemed to dim. Then she remembers the Selkie, who can turn to a seal, and the shapeshifters who can transform into wolves and bears to fight monsters. She looked to the fox again and suddenly she was gone. The white glow vanishing into the air. She scrabbled at her covers but had nothing else. She had only brought the fox with her to bed today and was now defenseless. The walls disappeared now, closing in tightly as the darkness brought everything together. In the distance she could hear the beeps on the monitor speeding up and occurring faster and faster. She closed her eyes and thrust the warm fleece blanket over her head and squealed, knowing full well that the darkness intended to take her. Then there was nothing. The loud and off putting silence of the darkness was gone. She slowly lowered the blanket and her mouth dropped open when the fox once again sat before her. She could see it clearly nestled int he covers of her lap, yet she felt no weight. She smiled and gripped the fox tightly, feeling the warmth flow through her once again. When her eyes opened she saw the room as it was before. Her crayons, the tea set. Monitors dimly lit and beeping. The room was as it was. All that remained of the terrible darkness was the faint glow coming from the fox. Like a gently reminder it soothed Evelyn and she gently laid back down into her bed. Propping the fox beside her she turned on her side and cuddled up, feeling confident and safe all at once. She patted the fox and whispered as her eyes closed and thoughts of hospitals and cancer fled from her small mind, "Good night sweet fox." And she quickly fell asleep. The fox sat beside her all night, its orange eyes watching the room like a beacon. Its fur coat glistened with beauty and grace as it did before. And on its paw was a small bandage that matched Evelyn's. Yet the fox was not bothered by the wound, for she had a friend to keep her safe. ------ Based on true events.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	I wrote this previously, but it fits this prompt so thought I would share: ** Her Best Friend** Slowly the light faded, disappearing with the sound of the door closing, and darkness was left in its wake. The wind whispered outside, shaking the leaves of the overhanging trees, and casting ominous shadows on the walls. A quick intake of breath was followed by the rustling of sheets and the patter of feet on hardwood as they raced across the room. With a click stars illuminated the dark, sparkling on the ceiling and walls from their socket outside the darkened closet door. The nightlight chased away the dark and brought into focus the room’s inhabitant. Her small face was cast in shadows, dark hair tumbling over petite shoulders, and unicorns in all colors decorating her pajamas. She reached out slowly, a small finger tracing the closest star, before the creaking of floorboards sent her scurrying back into bed, into the safety of her sheets and covers. Over her head they went, for bed was safety, a haven against the monsters that lurked under it and deep within the dark corners of the closet. Small hands began feeling out around her, searching the length of the bed for Felix. She dived deeper into her covers, until she had reached the foot of her bed without sight or touch of the bear in question. Her head poked forth from under the blankets, her hair messed, as she peered around the room. Sleep, no matter how hard she fought, would elude her until Felix was found. Placing both hands on each of the bed posts, she pulled herself forward, until she was able to peer cautiously over the bottom of the bed and into the dark beneath it. No glowing eyes or growl met her inquiry, and so she placed one palm on the floor and, bracing herself, reached into the depths. A groan of displeasure filled the quiet space. Withdrawing her hand after having no luck, she attempted to right herself back on the bed when she fell from it in a heap of small limbs. Her blanket settled around her on the ground, but she made no move to get up, her ears listening for the distant sound of footsteps, her eyes trained on the dim light shining forth from under the door. After several moments of holding her breath, she stood and replaced her blankets on the bed. At a loss, she sat down on the edge, her toes skimming the ground as she swung them back and forth. Felix had been with her when they had went shopping, and he had been allowed to ride in the front seat afterward, so Felix had certainly made it home. They had watched a movie together while mommy had cooked dinner, and had both refused to eat their peas, which meant they had not been given dessert, but they had decided that not eating peas was worth not eating ice cream. They came up stairs to play after dinner, and then it had been bath time, and Felix couldn’t take a bath, because the last time he had tried he had nearly been ruined, so he had to stay in the bedroom by himself. The little girls’ eye’s flicked to the closet. Felix and her had been playing dress up, and Felix had needed a pair of shoes to match his coat and tie, so they had gone into the closet in search of his loafers, when they had been interrupted by bath time. She had not seen Felix since then, meaning only one thing; Felix was still in the closet, which was now closed because both of them hated the closet at night. Breathing in a deep breath, she climbed onto her bare feet and slowly crossed the distance between her bed and the closet, her heart rate climbing as she grew closer. “Felix,” She reached out, touching the closed closet door, her small voice wavering with fear. Felix did not answer. Her small hand crept toward the door handle, but stalled as her bedroom door was opened, lighting the room with the hall light. She turned into it, and the sight of her mother standing in the doorway greeted her. Hands on her hips, she was shaking her head as she spoke. “Molly! You’re supposed to be in bed, asleep.” “I forgot Felix in the closet,” Molly replied, and brave in the presence of her mother, pulled the closet door open and found Felix, still dressed in his tie and jacket. She reached for him, and it was almost as if he reached for her as she scooped him into her arms and darted back to bed. She settled back into her pillow as her mother recovered her with blankets. Soothing back the now tangled mess of hair, she kissed her forehead before issuing a warning. “Stay in bed, or Felix will be spending the night with me.” Her mother crossed the room and closed the closet door, checked the nightlight, and then, with a final look at her daughter, closed the bedroom door. Her footsteps sounded on the hardwood as she moved down the hallway. Molly waited several moments before she turned to Felix, who was sitting on her pillow, and gave him a slow smile. “Your sword and shield are under the pillow, in case you need them, Felix.” She gave his foot a small squeeze before she closed her eyes, her head sinking farther into her pillow. Several minutes passed, and as her breathing slowed and she fell into sleep, the closet door creaked open. Felix sat a little straighter, his sword at the ready and his shield poised for action, as he prepared to protect his most precious possession.	Evelyn watched carefully as the nurse closed the door to her room. Within seconds the darkness was total expect for the few blinking lights on monitors and screens. The corners were the worst. They seems to soak in the darkness, to compress and then expel it through the rest of the room. The constant beeping of the monitor seemed far away. She closed her eyes and squeezed the Fox's paw. The white fur slipping between her small fingers and caressing them. A warmth filled her and she opened her eyes again. There she stood, the white fox, in beautiful and majestic grace. Her fur seemed to glow ephemerally, and her orange eyes lit like globes in the darkened room. The warmth grew stronger in her as she looked into the fox's eyes and she smile. "Its ok Fox, no hurt." The fox nodded back and turned, trotting with soft paws to the end of the bed. The homemade quilt did not cover the bed in total, and the foot of the bed was covered in the scratchy and coarse linens that most patients had. Yet the fox was unperturbed. She sat willfully away from the girl, her body poised as if a bowsprit through rough waters. For a moment it seemed as if the darkness had decided against haunting Evelyn today. Sometimes her parents stayed with her and kept it at bay with songs and stories. She especially loved the fairy tales and myths her father told her. Yet not tonight. Tonight she was lone. Tethered to the machines through her elbow. The darkness suddenly moved, convulsing and spreading to the floor. It swallowed the tea set and her coloring pads that lay nearby, leaving her bed isolated in a sea of black. She considered calling out to the nurses, but decided against it. They never stayed with her, they never understood. She was alone. Yet there stood the fox. Un-moving at the foot of the bed still. Its orange eyes casting themselves over the growing blackness, poised as if in calm repose. Evelyn had a moment of uncertainty, the pale glow of the fox's fur seemed to dim. Then she remembers the Selkie, who can turn to a seal, and the shapeshifters who can transform into wolves and bears to fight monsters. She looked to the fox again and suddenly she was gone. The white glow vanishing into the air. She scrabbled at her covers but had nothing else. She had only brought the fox with her to bed today and was now defenseless. The walls disappeared now, closing in tightly as the darkness brought everything together. In the distance she could hear the beeps on the monitor speeding up and occurring faster and faster. She closed her eyes and thrust the warm fleece blanket over her head and squealed, knowing full well that the darkness intended to take her. Then there was nothing. The loud and off putting silence of the darkness was gone. She slowly lowered the blanket and her mouth dropped open when the fox once again sat before her. She could see it clearly nestled int he covers of her lap, yet she felt no weight. She smiled and gripped the fox tightly, feeling the warmth flow through her once again. When her eyes opened she saw the room as it was before. Her crayons, the tea set. Monitors dimly lit and beeping. The room was as it was. All that remained of the terrible darkness was the faint glow coming from the fox. Like a gently reminder it soothed Evelyn and she gently laid back down into her bed. Propping the fox beside her she turned on her side and cuddled up, feeling confident and safe all at once. She patted the fox and whispered as her eyes closed and thoughts of hospitals and cancer fled from her small mind, "Good night sweet fox." And she quickly fell asleep. The fox sat beside her all night, its orange eyes watching the room like a beacon. Its fur coat glistened with beauty and grace as it did before. And on its paw was a small bandage that matched Evelyn's. Yet the fox was not bothered by the wound, for she had a friend to keep her safe. ------ Based on true events.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	"Is it time?" said Bogdan and waited for an answer which didn't come. The wind in that chill night came through the crack in the ceiling and sounded like it was repeating the same question in a whisper. "Vasily, is it time?" asked Bogdan again. "Yes" came the tearful answer out of Vasily quivering lips. Vasily couldn't believe that the time had come to do the unthinkable, yet necessary. Three months ago Vasily's father bought him a gift for his sixth birthday. Both father and son had an obsession with bears. Vasily fathers worked for the WCS (Wildelife conservation society). His job was to protected them. His job was to protect what he loved. Vasily had the biggest collection of books, posters, and figures a kid ever had. He collected what he loved. But it was at December 12th when Vasily's collection, for the first time, loved him back. He called him Bogdan. Which is a curious name for a teddy bear. But who can blame Vasily who started to run out of names after naming the other dozen he got before him. But Bogdan was different. Bogdan was alive. As Bogdan told it, he was the trapped spirit of the Kamchatka bears. He barely escaped the massacre that was after all wildlife spirits two years ago. But ever since Yaga, the witch who started the hunt, failed to catch him on that dreadful night, Bogdan had been trying his best to lay-low till the surviving spirits like him regained their strength to fight her back. And to get rid of her once and for all. But at the very first night he was gifted to Vasily, the lay low plan wasn't an option anymore. The dark spirits of the wildlife, who were once innocent before they were bewitched by Yaga, found Vasily. When the portal twirled into existence and manifested itself inside the kid's room like a black rose from hell, Bogdan was ready to fight back and was sure that Yaga finally found him and sent her dogs after him. But it wasn't the case. Baba spell was perfect; the shaman who hid Bogdan inside the teddy bear. As the monsters crawled out of the portal, they didn't as much as smell Bogdan. They were after the kid, which was crazy, as Bogdan thought. "Why would they go after a sixth years old?" was a question that Bogdan didn't have the luxury of time to ask even inside his head. The monster leaped at Vasily bed like hungry hyenas. Bogdan could have let them get the kid. It was the smartest decision. There were too much at stakes hanging on the lay-low plan he agreed on with the other surviving spirits. And Vasily was just a kid like any other kid Bogdan ended up in his room as a gift before he got there. But Bogdan was a Kamchatka spirit, and Kamchatka knew that some times you have to be smart, and sometimes you just have to kick ass. P.S. It's 23:25 here. I'm dog tired. I'll finish it if it gets just 5 upvotes. ;-)	Evelyn watched carefully as the nurse closed the door to her room. Within seconds the darkness was total expect for the few blinking lights on monitors and screens. The corners were the worst. They seems to soak in the darkness, to compress and then expel it through the rest of the room. The constant beeping of the monitor seemed far away. She closed her eyes and squeezed the Fox's paw. The white fur slipping between her small fingers and caressing them. A warmth filled her and she opened her eyes again. There she stood, the white fox, in beautiful and majestic grace. Her fur seemed to glow ephemerally, and her orange eyes lit like globes in the darkened room. The warmth grew stronger in her as she looked into the fox's eyes and she smile. "Its ok Fox, no hurt." The fox nodded back and turned, trotting with soft paws to the end of the bed. The homemade quilt did not cover the bed in total, and the foot of the bed was covered in the scratchy and coarse linens that most patients had. Yet the fox was unperturbed. She sat willfully away from the girl, her body poised as if a bowsprit through rough waters. For a moment it seemed as if the darkness had decided against haunting Evelyn today. Sometimes her parents stayed with her and kept it at bay with songs and stories. She especially loved the fairy tales and myths her father told her. Yet not tonight. Tonight she was lone. Tethered to the machines through her elbow. The darkness suddenly moved, convulsing and spreading to the floor. It swallowed the tea set and her coloring pads that lay nearby, leaving her bed isolated in a sea of black. She considered calling out to the nurses, but decided against it. They never stayed with her, they never understood. She was alone. Yet there stood the fox. Un-moving at the foot of the bed still. Its orange eyes casting themselves over the growing blackness, poised as if in calm repose. Evelyn had a moment of uncertainty, the pale glow of the fox's fur seemed to dim. Then she remembers the Selkie, who can turn to a seal, and the shapeshifters who can transform into wolves and bears to fight monsters. She looked to the fox again and suddenly she was gone. The white glow vanishing into the air. She scrabbled at her covers but had nothing else. She had only brought the fox with her to bed today and was now defenseless. The walls disappeared now, closing in tightly as the darkness brought everything together. In the distance she could hear the beeps on the monitor speeding up and occurring faster and faster. She closed her eyes and thrust the warm fleece blanket over her head and squealed, knowing full well that the darkness intended to take her. Then there was nothing. The loud and off putting silence of the darkness was gone. She slowly lowered the blanket and her mouth dropped open when the fox once again sat before her. She could see it clearly nestled int he covers of her lap, yet she felt no weight. She smiled and gripped the fox tightly, feeling the warmth flow through her once again. When her eyes opened she saw the room as it was before. Her crayons, the tea set. Monitors dimly lit and beeping. The room was as it was. All that remained of the terrible darkness was the faint glow coming from the fox. Like a gently reminder it soothed Evelyn and she gently laid back down into her bed. Propping the fox beside her she turned on her side and cuddled up, feeling confident and safe all at once. She patted the fox and whispered as her eyes closed and thoughts of hospitals and cancer fled from her small mind, "Good night sweet fox." And she quickly fell asleep. The fox sat beside her all night, its orange eyes watching the room like a beacon. Its fur coat glistened with beauty and grace as it did before. And on its paw was a small bandage that matched Evelyn's. Yet the fox was not bothered by the wound, for she had a friend to keep her safe. ------ Based on true events.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Samuel was the light of my life. When I held his precious body for the first time, I knew it. I was irrevocably, endlessly, in love. Money was tight, many days, but I would find ways to scrounge up money enough for birthdays and Christmases, giving my Sam the presents on his wish list every year, without fail. There was was exactly one year I couldn't get him his birthday wish list, not a single present. He was three years old. He wanted a set of Lego's and some Batman accessories. I could barely get us fed. Thanks to a hand-me-down bear from a thrift store - it cost a dollar - and a woman from our church, I had a cake and a present. Sam didn't mind. The bear had soft, soft fur, even after years of use. One glass eye had fallen out to be replaced by a neatly sewn button. He had a little bite mark in his ear, from a cat or a dog. From Samuel's birthday onwards, he and the teddy bear were best friends. On his first day of kindergarten I helped hide Bear - a simple name, a fitting and exact name, the sort of name any three year old could come up with - in his backpack, beneath books and crayons and paper. And every day for the rest of the year, Bear hid in Sam's backpack and went to school with him. I was first alerted to something... unusual... about Bear during that same year. I woke up to hear sounds of fighting, coming from Samuel's room. We didn't have a video game console - not until Sammy was ten - and the only TV was in the living room. I crept in the room, and saw... Everything was in its place. Sam was asleep, Bear settled neatly in his arms. And yet - there was a single paper, having fluttered to the ground. It was a drawing, crude and in the style of a five year old, of Bear standing up to strange shadowy creatures I couldn't make heads or tails of. At the time, I dismissed the entire incident, and the paper, to imagination. But as the year passed, more unusual things happened. Keys would be lost, only to narrowly dodge accidents. Sammy's room would be clean at night, only for there to be a small mess in the morning. Even Bear would go missing, only to show up some time later along with something important - the electricity bill, his field trip form, a letter from family or friends. And sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night to hear the sounds of fighting. When Sam was seven, I finally saw what was happening. I don't think Bear or his enemies realized I was awake. But I crept to Sam's bedroom and peered in the door. Bear stood strong and tall - stood, a teddy bear without a wire in him! - facing shadowy creatures. I remembered the drawing then. With Bear, Sammy and I are safe. And now that he's going off to college, I won't let him leave without Bear. But you try convincing an eighteen year old who thinks he knows everything that his stuffed Bear will protect him. It isn't easy. So I dust Bear off - and he isn't very dusty - from the old closet and smile at him. Sam may say he's too old for old Bear, but I know better. He has two button eyes now, and his ear is in half, but his fur is still as soft as ever. "What do you say to a road trip, buddy?" After all, I can't let my boy go off without his best protector.	Evelyn watched carefully as the nurse closed the door to her room. Within seconds the darkness was total expect for the few blinking lights on monitors and screens. The corners were the worst. They seems to soak in the darkness, to compress and then expel it through the rest of the room. The constant beeping of the monitor seemed far away. She closed her eyes and squeezed the Fox's paw. The white fur slipping between her small fingers and caressing them. A warmth filled her and she opened her eyes again. There she stood, the white fox, in beautiful and majestic grace. Her fur seemed to glow ephemerally, and her orange eyes lit like globes in the darkened room. The warmth grew stronger in her as she looked into the fox's eyes and she smile. "Its ok Fox, no hurt." The fox nodded back and turned, trotting with soft paws to the end of the bed. The homemade quilt did not cover the bed in total, and the foot of the bed was covered in the scratchy and coarse linens that most patients had. Yet the fox was unperturbed. She sat willfully away from the girl, her body poised as if a bowsprit through rough waters. For a moment it seemed as if the darkness had decided against haunting Evelyn today. Sometimes her parents stayed with her and kept it at bay with songs and stories. She especially loved the fairy tales and myths her father told her. Yet not tonight. Tonight she was lone. Tethered to the machines through her elbow. The darkness suddenly moved, convulsing and spreading to the floor. It swallowed the tea set and her coloring pads that lay nearby, leaving her bed isolated in a sea of black. She considered calling out to the nurses, but decided against it. They never stayed with her, they never understood. She was alone. Yet there stood the fox. Un-moving at the foot of the bed still. Its orange eyes casting themselves over the growing blackness, poised as if in calm repose. Evelyn had a moment of uncertainty, the pale glow of the fox's fur seemed to dim. Then she remembers the Selkie, who can turn to a seal, and the shapeshifters who can transform into wolves and bears to fight monsters. She looked to the fox again and suddenly she was gone. The white glow vanishing into the air. She scrabbled at her covers but had nothing else. She had only brought the fox with her to bed today and was now defenseless. The walls disappeared now, closing in tightly as the darkness brought everything together. In the distance she could hear the beeps on the monitor speeding up and occurring faster and faster. She closed her eyes and thrust the warm fleece blanket over her head and squealed, knowing full well that the darkness intended to take her. Then there was nothing. The loud and off putting silence of the darkness was gone. She slowly lowered the blanket and her mouth dropped open when the fox once again sat before her. She could see it clearly nestled int he covers of her lap, yet she felt no weight. She smiled and gripped the fox tightly, feeling the warmth flow through her once again. When her eyes opened she saw the room as it was before. Her crayons, the tea set. Monitors dimly lit and beeping. The room was as it was. All that remained of the terrible darkness was the faint glow coming from the fox. Like a gently reminder it soothed Evelyn and she gently laid back down into her bed. Propping the fox beside her she turned on her side and cuddled up, feeling confident and safe all at once. She patted the fox and whispered as her eyes closed and thoughts of hospitals and cancer fled from her small mind, "Good night sweet fox." And she quickly fell asleep. The fox sat beside her all night, its orange eyes watching the room like a beacon. Its fur coat glistened with beauty and grace as it did before. And on its paw was a small bandage that matched Evelyn's. Yet the fox was not bothered by the wound, for she had a friend to keep her safe. ------ Based on true events.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Eyes of Glass How I miss my eyes of glass. Originally, I had button eyes. Little black ones about ½ an inch wide, with 4 holes to hold them in place. Nonna Maria gave me then after making me for Master Gianni. Her love and kindness had infused my being with every stitch she made as she made me. And had she been my only Maker, a simple Teddy I would have remained all my days. But we can’t pick our makers anymore than we can pick our parents. For all their well wishes and kind feelings, it is their whispered words and muffled curses that sometimes shape us most of all. I can’t complain though. I’ve had a wonderful life. Little Gianni became Johnny and passed me on to his daughter, who passed me on to her son, John Jr. I was sentry to their dreams, absorber of their tears, and cuddler of their coughs and illnesses. Even memories of being chewed and buried by my fellow guardians brought a wave of melancholy if I’ve been exiled to a shelf long enough. It didn’t matter though, because I knew that while I rested, I would be called upon again to watch over the next child. It was the way of things and as my Makers had intended. So it was with surprise and hurt that I was tossed in with the rest of the “miscellaneous possessions”. Rudy had come to the old house, and as Nonno’s executor, donated me along with the rest of the “stuff”. While I never met this Good William, I was treated well there. I was re-stuffed, re-stitched, and given my eyes of glass. More importantly, she did it properly. First giving me my new one, and then replacing my old one with Sky-blue circles around a black centre. Oh how I would have smiled if I had a mouth, but aside from my nose, that was nothing else on my face. No matter. I had always been a keeper of secrets and I kept them all. People don’t understand that is why we were never given mouths. A child’s fears are not bound by rationality. Children live in a world where monsters are as tall as the sky, or have a billion mouths with a billion teeth. This is the dark side of a sense of Wonder. And why every child needs a Guardian. Oh yes, my eyes of glass. Up until then, all I had seen of the world was black and white, night and light, evil and good. But with my new eyes, I could see all the colours and happiness in-between. After leaving the House of Good William, I saw the world anew. Sitting at a table with the rich red of raspberry jam sandwiches. The speckled-green of a frog as it hopped across a room while momma chased it too and fro. Even stars on a ceiling! Modern life is filled with such amazing toys! And I was able to see then all with my eyes of glass. Oh how I loved them! In all my years as a Guardian, I had lost one eye, but it had hurt so much. But worse, had been knowing that I did not have a spare eye. That if I had lost my other eye, I would have been lost. For when both eyes are gone, we Guardians lost our abilities. Dani (imagine that! A girl named Dani!), bought me for her son, and gave me someone to watch over. His name was Caleb, and I like to think that I was his favourite. Caleb took me everywhere and together we saw beaches and mountains but no matter where the chauffeur took us, we always slept together. Until that night. It turns out that the chauffeur was not a friend of the family. Ironic too since he was of the old blood. Like other-Nonna had been. Nonna Red-Fox. Nonna Red-Fox had known the old ways. How scarecrows could be made to keep birds away. How war-paint could give someone heightened senses. And how blood added to thread, could make a ward that lasted beyond the death of the caster. Nonna Maria had stitched me together out of love, but Nonna Red Fox has added her blood to the lanolin in the threads. Together, I was made to protect children. So when chauffeur came for Caleb, Caleb cried out for me, and we went together. We were kept in a house, somewhere. Caleb grew hungry, but was fed. He was tired, and was allowed to rest. But I knew that something was wrong. So I waited until Caleb went to sleep, and I used to magic. Guardian Magic is not the same for every one of us and it is not without a price. People say that eyes are the window to the soul, but it also the gateway to magic. Unfortunately, using magic destroys the gateway. Still, an eye is a small price to pay, to save Caleb. I knew that chauffeur had a phone, and that Caleb could use it, so all I needed to do was get it. But chauffeur saw me. It was the last thing he saw. As pain stabbed into my head, I unleashed the fears. Lifetimes of it. The one time I had done it before, it was of the dark, and things that lurked in it. Of the loneliness of a child. Of the angry voices of parents hurting each other. Of thunder and lightning flashes on moonless nights. Of childhood fears unleashed. Children are stronger than most adults realize. I know because when faced with childhood fears, adults cannot handle them. Chauffeur certainly couldn’t. As I recovered and made my way back to Caleb, I heard another noise. Chauffeur had not been alone. And as I turned to face chauffeur’s partner crime, I felt several thoughts pass through my mind. I hoped that Caleb wouldn’t notice that a spark had left his Teddybear. That while I would still be at his side, I would be less than I had been all his days. I hoped he wouldn’t stop talking to me, sharing with me his fears. I hoped we would still have our adventures, and that his dreams would be joyful again. But, to be honest, my last thought was a selfish one. That my final sight, would not be of his beautiful face, but rather of some nameless monster who had taken him from his family and home. How I miss my eyes of glass. As darkness comes for me.	Evelyn watched carefully as the nurse closed the door to her room. Within seconds the darkness was total expect for the few blinking lights on monitors and screens. The corners were the worst. They seems to soak in the darkness, to compress and then expel it through the rest of the room. The constant beeping of the monitor seemed far away. She closed her eyes and squeezed the Fox's paw. The white fur slipping between her small fingers and caressing them. A warmth filled her and she opened her eyes again. There she stood, the white fox, in beautiful and majestic grace. Her fur seemed to glow ephemerally, and her orange eyes lit like globes in the darkened room. The warmth grew stronger in her as she looked into the fox's eyes and she smile. "Its ok Fox, no hurt." The fox nodded back and turned, trotting with soft paws to the end of the bed. The homemade quilt did not cover the bed in total, and the foot of the bed was covered in the scratchy and coarse linens that most patients had. Yet the fox was unperturbed. She sat willfully away from the girl, her body poised as if a bowsprit through rough waters. For a moment it seemed as if the darkness had decided against haunting Evelyn today. Sometimes her parents stayed with her and kept it at bay with songs and stories. She especially loved the fairy tales and myths her father told her. Yet not tonight. Tonight she was lone. Tethered to the machines through her elbow. The darkness suddenly moved, convulsing and spreading to the floor. It swallowed the tea set and her coloring pads that lay nearby, leaving her bed isolated in a sea of black. She considered calling out to the nurses, but decided against it. They never stayed with her, they never understood. She was alone. Yet there stood the fox. Un-moving at the foot of the bed still. Its orange eyes casting themselves over the growing blackness, poised as if in calm repose. Evelyn had a moment of uncertainty, the pale glow of the fox's fur seemed to dim. Then she remembers the Selkie, who can turn to a seal, and the shapeshifters who can transform into wolves and bears to fight monsters. She looked to the fox again and suddenly she was gone. The white glow vanishing into the air. She scrabbled at her covers but had nothing else. She had only brought the fox with her to bed today and was now defenseless. The walls disappeared now, closing in tightly as the darkness brought everything together. In the distance she could hear the beeps on the monitor speeding up and occurring faster and faster. She closed her eyes and thrust the warm fleece blanket over her head and squealed, knowing full well that the darkness intended to take her. Then there was nothing. The loud and off putting silence of the darkness was gone. She slowly lowered the blanket and her mouth dropped open when the fox once again sat before her. She could see it clearly nestled int he covers of her lap, yet she felt no weight. She smiled and gripped the fox tightly, feeling the warmth flow through her once again. When her eyes opened she saw the room as it was before. Her crayons, the tea set. Monitors dimly lit and beeping. The room was as it was. All that remained of the terrible darkness was the faint glow coming from the fox. Like a gently reminder it soothed Evelyn and she gently laid back down into her bed. Propping the fox beside her she turned on her side and cuddled up, feeling confident and safe all at once. She patted the fox and whispered as her eyes closed and thoughts of hospitals and cancer fled from her small mind, "Good night sweet fox." And she quickly fell asleep. The fox sat beside her all night, its orange eyes watching the room like a beacon. Its fur coat glistened with beauty and grace as it did before. And on its paw was a small bandage that matched Evelyn's. Yet the fox was not bothered by the wound, for she had a friend to keep her safe. ------ Based on true events.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	First post here, so I'd love to receive some feedback! -------------------------------------------------- "Hey, Mike, come here!" On his way back home, John walked in front of a store and saw something that caught his attention - it was the perfect gift. Mike, his little son, rushed to the door and his jaw dropped as he stared at the toy, a teddy bear. Not a common one, this bear was dressed like a knight from the stories of King Arthur, something he had been into since John started reading those tales for him during bedtime. "Thank you so much, dad!" Little Mike hugged his father, and squeezed the bear even harder. "Can I call it Arthur?" His joyful eyes darted to his father's, but he did not even wait for the answer before running back to his bedroom. -------------------------------------------------- "So the knights really killed the dragon?" Mike was amazed by the tale. "Yes, they did! King Arthur was the bravest one, and his sword saved them from the bad dragon." "Can Arthur kill dragons too?" The kid held his bear into his father's direction. "Well, we don't have dragons nowadays, but if we did, I'm sure he would slay them all!" John rose up and made a victorious pose as he spoke. "But now, it's time for the heroes to rest. Good night, son. Good night, Arthur." He kissed both his son and the toy before leaving the room. "Arthur is so awesome." The kid whispered to his toy and hugged it tight. The minutes passed, but Mike could not sleep. He was too excited with the tales and his imagination was flying through all the scenes his father had read for him. Not only that, there was this unquieting sound now, slowly getting higher, slowly approaching. He reached for the lamp besides the bed, turning it on to reveal nothing. "Fear not, child, I shall protect you." A voice came from his side. Half scared, the boy turned and saw Arthur standing on its own. "The enemy is close, hide now." The toy said in a low tone, and Mike, frightened and awed, covered himself with his blanket, leaving a small space so he could watch Arthur. The bear jumped from the bed, scanning the room. "Still inside your cave, huh?" It stared to the dark space below the bed. "Come, monster, and feel the weight of my blade!" And fire was spilled from the dark. Arthur quickly raised his shield before being engulfed by the flames. Mike feared for his new friend, but no harm had come to it, just like in the tale. "You can't hide forever, dragon!" The taunt worked, and a 'teddy dragon' made his way to the lit area. The toys exchanged blows, roars and grunts filled the room, as well as the sound of the heavy claws bashing the shield and sword hitting scale. A heavy blow send Arthur down, and Mike gulped. The dragon heard the strange sound and turned to face the boy. It roared and started flying around the room, spitting more flames in the direction of the knight to distract him and finally heading for the bed to burn the kid. "You will not hurt him!" Arthur shouted, and threw his sword with all his might into the flying monster. It pierced the dragon's throat, making it dive head first into the ground. Arthur rushed to grab his weapon and slashed his enemy dead. The bear sat on the floor, exhausted. "Arthur..." The boy stared at his toy, who feared the worse from his new owner. "You... You are amazing..." Mike was still in shock, but watching the tales right in front of him brought a smile to his face. The bear approached the bed and the boy took it, hugging Arthur. "Thank you for protecting me." -------------------------------------------------- "Good morning, sleep head." The sunlight filled the room as John opened the curtains. "Breakfast is almost ready. Grab Arthur and come eat with me and your mother." He turned to leave, stepping on something strange. "What's this?" He picked the 'teddy dragon' up. "Mike, I just had an idea! How about we play with Arthur and this dragon after eating?" The half-awake kid nodded and smiled, remembering what happened last night.	Evelyn watched carefully as the nurse closed the door to her room. Within seconds the darkness was total expect for the few blinking lights on monitors and screens. The corners were the worst. They seems to soak in the darkness, to compress and then expel it through the rest of the room. The constant beeping of the monitor seemed far away. She closed her eyes and squeezed the Fox's paw. The white fur slipping between her small fingers and caressing them. A warmth filled her and she opened her eyes again. There she stood, the white fox, in beautiful and majestic grace. Her fur seemed to glow ephemerally, and her orange eyes lit like globes in the darkened room. The warmth grew stronger in her as she looked into the fox's eyes and she smile. "Its ok Fox, no hurt." The fox nodded back and turned, trotting with soft paws to the end of the bed. The homemade quilt did not cover the bed in total, and the foot of the bed was covered in the scratchy and coarse linens that most patients had. Yet the fox was unperturbed. She sat willfully away from the girl, her body poised as if a bowsprit through rough waters. For a moment it seemed as if the darkness had decided against haunting Evelyn today. Sometimes her parents stayed with her and kept it at bay with songs and stories. She especially loved the fairy tales and myths her father told her. Yet not tonight. Tonight she was lone. Tethered to the machines through her elbow. The darkness suddenly moved, convulsing and spreading to the floor. It swallowed the tea set and her coloring pads that lay nearby, leaving her bed isolated in a sea of black. She considered calling out to the nurses, but decided against it. They never stayed with her, they never understood. She was alone. Yet there stood the fox. Un-moving at the foot of the bed still. Its orange eyes casting themselves over the growing blackness, poised as if in calm repose. Evelyn had a moment of uncertainty, the pale glow of the fox's fur seemed to dim. Then she remembers the Selkie, who can turn to a seal, and the shapeshifters who can transform into wolves and bears to fight monsters. She looked to the fox again and suddenly she was gone. The white glow vanishing into the air. She scrabbled at her covers but had nothing else. She had only brought the fox with her to bed today and was now defenseless. The walls disappeared now, closing in tightly as the darkness brought everything together. In the distance she could hear the beeps on the monitor speeding up and occurring faster and faster. She closed her eyes and thrust the warm fleece blanket over her head and squealed, knowing full well that the darkness intended to take her. Then there was nothing. The loud and off putting silence of the darkness was gone. She slowly lowered the blanket and her mouth dropped open when the fox once again sat before her. She could see it clearly nestled int he covers of her lap, yet she felt no weight. She smiled and gripped the fox tightly, feeling the warmth flow through her once again. When her eyes opened she saw the room as it was before. Her crayons, the tea set. Monitors dimly lit and beeping. The room was as it was. All that remained of the terrible darkness was the faint glow coming from the fox. Like a gently reminder it soothed Evelyn and she gently laid back down into her bed. Propping the fox beside her she turned on her side and cuddled up, feeling confident and safe all at once. She patted the fox and whispered as her eyes closed and thoughts of hospitals and cancer fled from her small mind, "Good night sweet fox." And she quickly fell asleep. The fox sat beside her all night, its orange eyes watching the room like a beacon. Its fur coat glistened with beauty and grace as it did before. And on its paw was a small bandage that matched Evelyn's. Yet the fox was not bothered by the wound, for she had a friend to keep her safe. ------ Based on true events.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	"Is it time?" said Bogdan and waited for an answer which didn't come. The wind in that chill night came through the crack in the ceiling and sounded like it was repeating the same question in a whisper. "Vasily, is it time?" asked Bogdan again. "Yes" came the tearful answer out of Vasily quivering lips. Vasily couldn't believe that the time had come to do the unthinkable, yet necessary. Three months ago Vasily's father bought him a gift for his sixth birthday. Both father and son had an obsession with bears. Vasily fathers worked for the WCS (Wildelife conservation society). His job was to protected them. His job was to protect what he loved. Vasily had the biggest collection of books, posters, and figures a kid ever had. He collected what he loved. But it was at December 12th when Vasily's collection, for the first time, loved him back. He called him Bogdan. Which is a curious name for a teddy bear. But who can blame Vasily who started to run out of names after naming the other dozen he got before him. But Bogdan was different. Bogdan was alive. As Bogdan told it, he was the trapped spirit of the Kamchatka bears. He barely escaped the massacre that was after all wildlife spirits two years ago. But ever since Yaga, the witch who started the hunt, failed to catch him on that dreadful night, Bogdan had been trying his best to lay-low till the surviving spirits like him regained their strength to fight her back. And to get rid of her once and for all. But at the very first night he was gifted to Vasily, the lay low plan wasn't an option anymore. The dark spirits of the wildlife, who were once innocent before they were bewitched by Yaga, found Vasily. When the portal twirled into existence and manifested itself inside the kid's room like a black rose from hell, Bogdan was ready to fight back and was sure that Yaga finally found him and sent her dogs after him. But it wasn't the case. Baba spell was perfect; the shaman who hid Bogdan inside the teddy bear. As the monsters crawled out of the portal, they didn't as much as smell Bogdan. They were after the kid, which was crazy, as Bogdan thought. "Why would they go after a sixth years old?" was a question that Bogdan didn't have the luxury of time to ask even inside his head. The monster leaped at Vasily bed like hungry hyenas. Bogdan could have let them get the kid. It was the smartest decision. There were too much at stakes hanging on the lay-low plan he agreed on with the other surviving spirits. And Vasily was just a kid like any other kid Bogdan ended up in his room as a gift before he got there. But Bogdan was a Kamchatka spirit, and Kamchatka knew that some times you have to be smart, and sometimes you just have to kick ass. P.S. It's 23:25 here. I'm dog tired. I'll finish it if it gets just 5 upvotes. ;-)	Alabaster didn't recognise his face anymore. Eyes sunk back in to the sockets, unkempt fur sprouting from his chin. Scanning downwards his once taut gut now a rotund barrel. He smudged the condensation from the mirror to focus in on his complexion. "Christ alive” he thought. Tugging on the unwelcome bags under his eyes, Alabaster sucked in a gulp of air and silently prayed the fog ensconcing his brain would clear. The piping hot shower had done nothing for his throbbing head, his mouth still metallic in taste. He glanced at his bowtie, loose and sagging, he gripped each side and tightened it, the once vibrant red hue now a burnt orange. He span the knob on the cold tap, bent down and splashed his face. Rising back up, Alabaster watched keenly as the droplets scaled their way down his long greying whiskers. Moderately satisfied that he no longer looked as though he had been sucking back scotch until 4am, Alabaster turned from the sink, reached for the copper door handle, turned it southwards and entered his sleeping quarters. BZZZZZZZZZ….BZZZZZZZZZZ…. He could hear the vibrations of his phone, left on silent, in the hope that he would sleep through the morning, undisturbed. He never slept through any more. Pulling back the bed sheet, the screen bright white, his worst fears confirmed. SECURI-TED HEADQUARTERS, the display read. Alabaster swiped across the screen and raised the phone to his flea-bitten ear. Clearing his throat with a guttural cough, he answered, “Ally here, I’m up, what’s happening?” "New case for you Ally… sweet kid, called Arthur, the Dawn-Breakers have moved in, tormenting the kid from his cupboard, real heinous behaviour…clean yourself up Ally, you're next on the rota…need your experience on this one….the kid is, well….the kid is vulnerable.” "Yeah yeah.” Alabaster snarled. They were all vulnerable now, no-one can care for themselves anymore. "Ally, goddam you, I can smell scotch down the goddam phone, clean yourself up and be here for 10am sharp…trust me, I thought there were better goddam options than you but Doug was adamant.” "Alright Oscar, I appreciate the pep talk. Easy for you sitting there, retirement job, civilian role sat behind a reception desk, no more call outs — “ Oscar interrupted, “Ally, I’ll see you in the office at 10am.” CLICK. Alabaster grabbed his grey flat cap, swung his black leather bomber on and fumbled through his pockets for a pack of Lucky Strikes before cracking open the solid oak door, the chill of the December breeze slapping him square in the face. Raising his paws to his face, Alabaster puffed out a jet of hot breath in to his cupped paws and began walking in the direction of HQ. Clouds of cigarette smoke trailing as he went. ------------------- First entry here ladies and gents, any and all feedback appreciated. I kind of moved slightly from the brief but there you go.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Samuel was the light of my life. When I held his precious body for the first time, I knew it. I was irrevocably, endlessly, in love. Money was tight, many days, but I would find ways to scrounge up money enough for birthdays and Christmases, giving my Sam the presents on his wish list every year, without fail. There was was exactly one year I couldn't get him his birthday wish list, not a single present. He was three years old. He wanted a set of Lego's and some Batman accessories. I could barely get us fed. Thanks to a hand-me-down bear from a thrift store - it cost a dollar - and a woman from our church, I had a cake and a present. Sam didn't mind. The bear had soft, soft fur, even after years of use. One glass eye had fallen out to be replaced by a neatly sewn button. He had a little bite mark in his ear, from a cat or a dog. From Samuel's birthday onwards, he and the teddy bear were best friends. On his first day of kindergarten I helped hide Bear - a simple name, a fitting and exact name, the sort of name any three year old could come up with - in his backpack, beneath books and crayons and paper. And every day for the rest of the year, Bear hid in Sam's backpack and went to school with him. I was first alerted to something... unusual... about Bear during that same year. I woke up to hear sounds of fighting, coming from Samuel's room. We didn't have a video game console - not until Sammy was ten - and the only TV was in the living room. I crept in the room, and saw... Everything was in its place. Sam was asleep, Bear settled neatly in his arms. And yet - there was a single paper, having fluttered to the ground. It was a drawing, crude and in the style of a five year old, of Bear standing up to strange shadowy creatures I couldn't make heads or tails of. At the time, I dismissed the entire incident, and the paper, to imagination. But as the year passed, more unusual things happened. Keys would be lost, only to narrowly dodge accidents. Sammy's room would be clean at night, only for there to be a small mess in the morning. Even Bear would go missing, only to show up some time later along with something important - the electricity bill, his field trip form, a letter from family or friends. And sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night to hear the sounds of fighting. When Sam was seven, I finally saw what was happening. I don't think Bear or his enemies realized I was awake. But I crept to Sam's bedroom and peered in the door. Bear stood strong and tall - stood, a teddy bear without a wire in him! - facing shadowy creatures. I remembered the drawing then. With Bear, Sammy and I are safe. And now that he's going off to college, I won't let him leave without Bear. But you try convincing an eighteen year old who thinks he knows everything that his stuffed Bear will protect him. It isn't easy. So I dust Bear off - and he isn't very dusty - from the old closet and smile at him. Sam may say he's too old for old Bear, but I know better. He has two button eyes now, and his ear is in half, but his fur is still as soft as ever. "What do you say to a road trip, buddy?" After all, I can't let my boy go off without his best protector.	Alabaster didn't recognise his face anymore. Eyes sunk back in to the sockets, unkempt fur sprouting from his chin. Scanning downwards his once taut gut now a rotund barrel. He smudged the condensation from the mirror to focus in on his complexion. "Christ alive” he thought. Tugging on the unwelcome bags under his eyes, Alabaster sucked in a gulp of air and silently prayed the fog ensconcing his brain would clear. The piping hot shower had done nothing for his throbbing head, his mouth still metallic in taste. He glanced at his bowtie, loose and sagging, he gripped each side and tightened it, the once vibrant red hue now a burnt orange. He span the knob on the cold tap, bent down and splashed his face. Rising back up, Alabaster watched keenly as the droplets scaled their way down his long greying whiskers. Moderately satisfied that he no longer looked as though he had been sucking back scotch until 4am, Alabaster turned from the sink, reached for the copper door handle, turned it southwards and entered his sleeping quarters. BZZZZZZZZZ….BZZZZZZZZZZ…. He could hear the vibrations of his phone, left on silent, in the hope that he would sleep through the morning, undisturbed. He never slept through any more. Pulling back the bed sheet, the screen bright white, his worst fears confirmed. SECURI-TED HEADQUARTERS, the display read. Alabaster swiped across the screen and raised the phone to his flea-bitten ear. Clearing his throat with a guttural cough, he answered, “Ally here, I’m up, what’s happening?” "New case for you Ally… sweet kid, called Arthur, the Dawn-Breakers have moved in, tormenting the kid from his cupboard, real heinous behaviour…clean yourself up Ally, you're next on the rota…need your experience on this one….the kid is, well….the kid is vulnerable.” "Yeah yeah.” Alabaster snarled. They were all vulnerable now, no-one can care for themselves anymore. "Ally, goddam you, I can smell scotch down the goddam phone, clean yourself up and be here for 10am sharp…trust me, I thought there were better goddam options than you but Doug was adamant.” "Alright Oscar, I appreciate the pep talk. Easy for you sitting there, retirement job, civilian role sat behind a reception desk, no more call outs — “ Oscar interrupted, “Ally, I’ll see you in the office at 10am.” CLICK. Alabaster grabbed his grey flat cap, swung his black leather bomber on and fumbled through his pockets for a pack of Lucky Strikes before cracking open the solid oak door, the chill of the December breeze slapping him square in the face. Raising his paws to his face, Alabaster puffed out a jet of hot breath in to his cupped paws and began walking in the direction of HQ. Clouds of cigarette smoke trailing as he went. ------------------- First entry here ladies and gents, any and all feedback appreciated. I kind of moved slightly from the brief but there you go.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Eyes of Glass How I miss my eyes of glass. Originally, I had button eyes. Little black ones about ½ an inch wide, with 4 holes to hold them in place. Nonna Maria gave me then after making me for Master Gianni. Her love and kindness had infused my being with every stitch she made as she made me. And had she been my only Maker, a simple Teddy I would have remained all my days. But we can’t pick our makers anymore than we can pick our parents. For all their well wishes and kind feelings, it is their whispered words and muffled curses that sometimes shape us most of all. I can’t complain though. I’ve had a wonderful life. Little Gianni became Johnny and passed me on to his daughter, who passed me on to her son, John Jr. I was sentry to their dreams, absorber of their tears, and cuddler of their coughs and illnesses. Even memories of being chewed and buried by my fellow guardians brought a wave of melancholy if I’ve been exiled to a shelf long enough. It didn’t matter though, because I knew that while I rested, I would be called upon again to watch over the next child. It was the way of things and as my Makers had intended. So it was with surprise and hurt that I was tossed in with the rest of the “miscellaneous possessions”. Rudy had come to the old house, and as Nonno’s executor, donated me along with the rest of the “stuff”. While I never met this Good William, I was treated well there. I was re-stuffed, re-stitched, and given my eyes of glass. More importantly, she did it properly. First giving me my new one, and then replacing my old one with Sky-blue circles around a black centre. Oh how I would have smiled if I had a mouth, but aside from my nose, that was nothing else on my face. No matter. I had always been a keeper of secrets and I kept them all. People don’t understand that is why we were never given mouths. A child’s fears are not bound by rationality. Children live in a world where monsters are as tall as the sky, or have a billion mouths with a billion teeth. This is the dark side of a sense of Wonder. And why every child needs a Guardian. Oh yes, my eyes of glass. Up until then, all I had seen of the world was black and white, night and light, evil and good. But with my new eyes, I could see all the colours and happiness in-between. After leaving the House of Good William, I saw the world anew. Sitting at a table with the rich red of raspberry jam sandwiches. The speckled-green of a frog as it hopped across a room while momma chased it too and fro. Even stars on a ceiling! Modern life is filled with such amazing toys! And I was able to see then all with my eyes of glass. Oh how I loved them! In all my years as a Guardian, I had lost one eye, but it had hurt so much. But worse, had been knowing that I did not have a spare eye. That if I had lost my other eye, I would have been lost. For when both eyes are gone, we Guardians lost our abilities. Dani (imagine that! A girl named Dani!), bought me for her son, and gave me someone to watch over. His name was Caleb, and I like to think that I was his favourite. Caleb took me everywhere and together we saw beaches and mountains but no matter where the chauffeur took us, we always slept together. Until that night. It turns out that the chauffeur was not a friend of the family. Ironic too since he was of the old blood. Like other-Nonna had been. Nonna Red-Fox. Nonna Red-Fox had known the old ways. How scarecrows could be made to keep birds away. How war-paint could give someone heightened senses. And how blood added to thread, could make a ward that lasted beyond the death of the caster. Nonna Maria had stitched me together out of love, but Nonna Red Fox has added her blood to the lanolin in the threads. Together, I was made to protect children. So when chauffeur came for Caleb, Caleb cried out for me, and we went together. We were kept in a house, somewhere. Caleb grew hungry, but was fed. He was tired, and was allowed to rest. But I knew that something was wrong. So I waited until Caleb went to sleep, and I used to magic. Guardian Magic is not the same for every one of us and it is not without a price. People say that eyes are the window to the soul, but it also the gateway to magic. Unfortunately, using magic destroys the gateway. Still, an eye is a small price to pay, to save Caleb. I knew that chauffeur had a phone, and that Caleb could use it, so all I needed to do was get it. But chauffeur saw me. It was the last thing he saw. As pain stabbed into my head, I unleashed the fears. Lifetimes of it. The one time I had done it before, it was of the dark, and things that lurked in it. Of the loneliness of a child. Of the angry voices of parents hurting each other. Of thunder and lightning flashes on moonless nights. Of childhood fears unleashed. Children are stronger than most adults realize. I know because when faced with childhood fears, adults cannot handle them. Chauffeur certainly couldn’t. As I recovered and made my way back to Caleb, I heard another noise. Chauffeur had not been alone. And as I turned to face chauffeur’s partner crime, I felt several thoughts pass through my mind. I hoped that Caleb wouldn’t notice that a spark had left his Teddybear. That while I would still be at his side, I would be less than I had been all his days. I hoped he wouldn’t stop talking to me, sharing with me his fears. I hoped we would still have our adventures, and that his dreams would be joyful again. But, to be honest, my last thought was a selfish one. That my final sight, would not be of his beautiful face, but rather of some nameless monster who had taken him from his family and home. How I miss my eyes of glass. As darkness comes for me.	Alabaster didn't recognise his face anymore. Eyes sunk back in to the sockets, unkempt fur sprouting from his chin. Scanning downwards his once taut gut now a rotund barrel. He smudged the condensation from the mirror to focus in on his complexion. "Christ alive” he thought. Tugging on the unwelcome bags under his eyes, Alabaster sucked in a gulp of air and silently prayed the fog ensconcing his brain would clear. The piping hot shower had done nothing for his throbbing head, his mouth still metallic in taste. He glanced at his bowtie, loose and sagging, he gripped each side and tightened it, the once vibrant red hue now a burnt orange. He span the knob on the cold tap, bent down and splashed his face. Rising back up, Alabaster watched keenly as the droplets scaled their way down his long greying whiskers. Moderately satisfied that he no longer looked as though he had been sucking back scotch until 4am, Alabaster turned from the sink, reached for the copper door handle, turned it southwards and entered his sleeping quarters. BZZZZZZZZZ….BZZZZZZZZZZ…. He could hear the vibrations of his phone, left on silent, in the hope that he would sleep through the morning, undisturbed. He never slept through any more. Pulling back the bed sheet, the screen bright white, his worst fears confirmed. SECURI-TED HEADQUARTERS, the display read. Alabaster swiped across the screen and raised the phone to his flea-bitten ear. Clearing his throat with a guttural cough, he answered, “Ally here, I’m up, what’s happening?” "New case for you Ally… sweet kid, called Arthur, the Dawn-Breakers have moved in, tormenting the kid from his cupboard, real heinous behaviour…clean yourself up Ally, you're next on the rota…need your experience on this one….the kid is, well….the kid is vulnerable.” "Yeah yeah.” Alabaster snarled. They were all vulnerable now, no-one can care for themselves anymore. "Ally, goddam you, I can smell scotch down the goddam phone, clean yourself up and be here for 10am sharp…trust me, I thought there were better goddam options than you but Doug was adamant.” "Alright Oscar, I appreciate the pep talk. Easy for you sitting there, retirement job, civilian role sat behind a reception desk, no more call outs — “ Oscar interrupted, “Ally, I’ll see you in the office at 10am.” CLICK. Alabaster grabbed his grey flat cap, swung his black leather bomber on and fumbled through his pockets for a pack of Lucky Strikes before cracking open the solid oak door, the chill of the December breeze slapping him square in the face. Raising his paws to his face, Alabaster puffed out a jet of hot breath in to his cupped paws and began walking in the direction of HQ. Clouds of cigarette smoke trailing as he went. ------------------- First entry here ladies and gents, any and all feedback appreciated. I kind of moved slightly from the brief but there you go.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	First post here, so I'd love to receive some feedback! -------------------------------------------------- "Hey, Mike, come here!" On his way back home, John walked in front of a store and saw something that caught his attention - it was the perfect gift. Mike, his little son, rushed to the door and his jaw dropped as he stared at the toy, a teddy bear. Not a common one, this bear was dressed like a knight from the stories of King Arthur, something he had been into since John started reading those tales for him during bedtime. "Thank you so much, dad!" Little Mike hugged his father, and squeezed the bear even harder. "Can I call it Arthur?" His joyful eyes darted to his father's, but he did not even wait for the answer before running back to his bedroom. -------------------------------------------------- "So the knights really killed the dragon?" Mike was amazed by the tale. "Yes, they did! King Arthur was the bravest one, and his sword saved them from the bad dragon." "Can Arthur kill dragons too?" The kid held his bear into his father's direction. "Well, we don't have dragons nowadays, but if we did, I'm sure he would slay them all!" John rose up and made a victorious pose as he spoke. "But now, it's time for the heroes to rest. Good night, son. Good night, Arthur." He kissed both his son and the toy before leaving the room. "Arthur is so awesome." The kid whispered to his toy and hugged it tight. The minutes passed, but Mike could not sleep. He was too excited with the tales and his imagination was flying through all the scenes his father had read for him. Not only that, there was this unquieting sound now, slowly getting higher, slowly approaching. He reached for the lamp besides the bed, turning it on to reveal nothing. "Fear not, child, I shall protect you." A voice came from his side. Half scared, the boy turned and saw Arthur standing on its own. "The enemy is close, hide now." The toy said in a low tone, and Mike, frightened and awed, covered himself with his blanket, leaving a small space so he could watch Arthur. The bear jumped from the bed, scanning the room. "Still inside your cave, huh?" It stared to the dark space below the bed. "Come, monster, and feel the weight of my blade!" And fire was spilled from the dark. Arthur quickly raised his shield before being engulfed by the flames. Mike feared for his new friend, but no harm had come to it, just like in the tale. "You can't hide forever, dragon!" The taunt worked, and a 'teddy dragon' made his way to the lit area. The toys exchanged blows, roars and grunts filled the room, as well as the sound of the heavy claws bashing the shield and sword hitting scale. A heavy blow send Arthur down, and Mike gulped. The dragon heard the strange sound and turned to face the boy. It roared and started flying around the room, spitting more flames in the direction of the knight to distract him and finally heading for the bed to burn the kid. "You will not hurt him!" Arthur shouted, and threw his sword with all his might into the flying monster. It pierced the dragon's throat, making it dive head first into the ground. Arthur rushed to grab his weapon and slashed his enemy dead. The bear sat on the floor, exhausted. "Arthur..." The boy stared at his toy, who feared the worse from his new owner. "You... You are amazing..." Mike was still in shock, but watching the tales right in front of him brought a smile to his face. The bear approached the bed and the boy took it, hugging Arthur. "Thank you for protecting me." -------------------------------------------------- "Good morning, sleep head." The sunlight filled the room as John opened the curtains. "Breakfast is almost ready. Grab Arthur and come eat with me and your mother." He turned to leave, stepping on something strange. "What's this?" He picked the 'teddy dragon' up. "Mike, I just had an idea! How about we play with Arthur and this dragon after eating?" The half-awake kid nodded and smiled, remembering what happened last night.	Alabaster didn't recognise his face anymore. Eyes sunk back in to the sockets, unkempt fur sprouting from his chin. Scanning downwards his once taut gut now a rotund barrel. He smudged the condensation from the mirror to focus in on his complexion. "Christ alive” he thought. Tugging on the unwelcome bags under his eyes, Alabaster sucked in a gulp of air and silently prayed the fog ensconcing his brain would clear. The piping hot shower had done nothing for his throbbing head, his mouth still metallic in taste. He glanced at his bowtie, loose and sagging, he gripped each side and tightened it, the once vibrant red hue now a burnt orange. He span the knob on the cold tap, bent down and splashed his face. Rising back up, Alabaster watched keenly as the droplets scaled their way down his long greying whiskers. Moderately satisfied that he no longer looked as though he had been sucking back scotch until 4am, Alabaster turned from the sink, reached for the copper door handle, turned it southwards and entered his sleeping quarters. BZZZZZZZZZ….BZZZZZZZZZZ…. He could hear the vibrations of his phone, left on silent, in the hope that he would sleep through the morning, undisturbed. He never slept through any more. Pulling back the bed sheet, the screen bright white, his worst fears confirmed. SECURI-TED HEADQUARTERS, the display read. Alabaster swiped across the screen and raised the phone to his flea-bitten ear. Clearing his throat with a guttural cough, he answered, “Ally here, I’m up, what’s happening?” "New case for you Ally… sweet kid, called Arthur, the Dawn-Breakers have moved in, tormenting the kid from his cupboard, real heinous behaviour…clean yourself up Ally, you're next on the rota…need your experience on this one….the kid is, well….the kid is vulnerable.” "Yeah yeah.” Alabaster snarled. They were all vulnerable now, no-one can care for themselves anymore. "Ally, goddam you, I can smell scotch down the goddam phone, clean yourself up and be here for 10am sharp…trust me, I thought there were better goddam options than you but Doug was adamant.” "Alright Oscar, I appreciate the pep talk. Easy for you sitting there, retirement job, civilian role sat behind a reception desk, no more call outs — “ Oscar interrupted, “Ally, I’ll see you in the office at 10am.” CLICK. Alabaster grabbed his grey flat cap, swung his black leather bomber on and fumbled through his pockets for a pack of Lucky Strikes before cracking open the solid oak door, the chill of the December breeze slapping him square in the face. Raising his paws to his face, Alabaster puffed out a jet of hot breath in to his cupped paws and began walking in the direction of HQ. Clouds of cigarette smoke trailing as he went. ------------------- First entry here ladies and gents, any and all feedback appreciated. I kind of moved slightly from the brief but there you go.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	"Hello, this is Old Roosevelt customer service. How may I help you?" I heard a woman tell me over my cell phone as I stared at the bear I had bought for my son. "Hey, there's something up with the bear you guys sold me. You know, the Oso Muerte?" I said. "And what would that be?" "Well, it's got a six pack." I said. Right now, the stuffed, brown bear was laying on my son's bed and it mostly had fur covering its body except where its abs were, which looked like he was an olympian or something. "I don't know what happened, but it did not have anything like this, but now he's got a six pack, I'm uncomfortable, and I want my money back." There was a moment of silence. For a second, I thought the woman had hung up on me, but then she said, "Well, sir, if there were any additions made to your bear, it might have been someone else who added these changes. Is it possible your son made these enhancements?" "I guess it is possible." "Well, sir, maybe you should talk to him." She told me before I hung up. "Wait, enhancements?!" I looked down at the stuffed bear one last time, feeling more and more uncomfortable as I did so. The look on its face reminded me a whole lot of people returning back to society after being in jail for a few years. I walked over to the living room where my son was playing Call of Duty. "Yeeeaaaah, suck it!" I heard the five year old scream at the top of his lungs. "Son." I said. "Oh, sorry. Yeeeaaaah, suck it, sir." He said more calmly. "No, it's not that. It's about your bear." I paused, not sure how to continue. "It has... did you put abs on it?" "Why's it matter?" "It makes me uncomfortable." I answered. "No. The bear's alive and he lifts like a madman. He used to use roids, but he said he quit them." My son said as though this was completely normal. "He's also been protecting me from monsters at night." "Look, I understand having an imaginary friend or something, but it's kind of weird." I thought for a moment. "I mean, are you gay? It's okay if you are, but this is not how you handle it." "What? No. How about this, you can stay at my room tonight. If nothing happens, I'll throw Kevin out and we can pretend this never happened." My son said, calmly. I agreed. That night, as I came into my son's room, I could see that part of the stuffed bear's arm had been shaved to reveal a new tattoo of a polar bear in a bikini. I sat in my son's bed as he lie down and eventually went to sleep. I waited another five minutes, but nothing happened. I was about to get up and call a child's counselor when I heard two sounds fill the air. There was a squishing sound like someone continuously throwing a wet rag against a wall and a loud, scraping sound like a violin being slowly cut by a knife. A smell filled the air, much like rotten cheese. Suddenly, my son's door flipped open to reveal an eight-footed creature with the neck made from a green jello like substance and the head that was just a dog's skull with eight eyes like a spider has. It had seven short stubby legs like a millipede, but also two very long ones with knives on the end like a praying mantis. Its gaze caught mine and I could feel urine start to go down my leg. "What the hell? Are you peeing yourself?! Your five-year-old didn't even do that, you wuss!" I looked to my side to see that the bear was, in fact, talking to me. In his left arm, he held a long spear with a sharpened candy cane on one side and in his other hand, he held a machine gun. In the thing's mouth was a cigar, which created as much smoke as four would normally make. He aimed the spear at the monster and threw it. The spear caught the monster in one of its giant arms. Before it could do anything, the bear began shooting with the machine gun. The machine gun fired out what looked like cottonballs, but when they made contact with the beast, they might as well have been bullets because they tore it apart. "God, is it over?!" "Almost." Kevin said as he began laughing. "Now we'll be cleaning it up. And by we, I mean you. I'm tired and kind of want to work out, and kind of want something to eat. Go to the store and get some bleach, I already have the rest, and also pick me up a pizza covered in pepperonis. Can you do that?" "Uh." I began stuttering before finally blurting out, "Yeah." "Good." He paused. "How have you not heard this every night? I've literally torn apart vampires with a spork." "I drink." I replied. "Oh, God, me too!" And that's how I met my best friend.	Alabaster didn't recognise his face anymore. Eyes sunk back in to the sockets, unkempt fur sprouting from his chin. Scanning downwards his once taut gut now a rotund barrel. He smudged the condensation from the mirror to focus in on his complexion. "Christ alive” he thought. Tugging on the unwelcome bags under his eyes, Alabaster sucked in a gulp of air and silently prayed the fog ensconcing his brain would clear. The piping hot shower had done nothing for his throbbing head, his mouth still metallic in taste. He glanced at his bowtie, loose and sagging, he gripped each side and tightened it, the once vibrant red hue now a burnt orange. He span the knob on the cold tap, bent down and splashed his face. Rising back up, Alabaster watched keenly as the droplets scaled their way down his long greying whiskers. Moderately satisfied that he no longer looked as though he had been sucking back scotch until 4am, Alabaster turned from the sink, reached for the copper door handle, turned it southwards and entered his sleeping quarters. BZZZZZZZZZ….BZZZZZZZZZZ…. He could hear the vibrations of his phone, left on silent, in the hope that he would sleep through the morning, undisturbed. He never slept through any more. Pulling back the bed sheet, the screen bright white, his worst fears confirmed. SECURI-TED HEADQUARTERS, the display read. Alabaster swiped across the screen and raised the phone to his flea-bitten ear. Clearing his throat with a guttural cough, he answered, “Ally here, I’m up, what’s happening?” "New case for you Ally… sweet kid, called Arthur, the Dawn-Breakers have moved in, tormenting the kid from his cupboard, real heinous behaviour…clean yourself up Ally, you're next on the rota…need your experience on this one….the kid is, well….the kid is vulnerable.” "Yeah yeah.” Alabaster snarled. They were all vulnerable now, no-one can care for themselves anymore. "Ally, goddam you, I can smell scotch down the goddam phone, clean yourself up and be here for 10am sharp…trust me, I thought there were better goddam options than you but Doug was adamant.” "Alright Oscar, I appreciate the pep talk. Easy for you sitting there, retirement job, civilian role sat behind a reception desk, no more call outs — “ Oscar interrupted, “Ally, I’ll see you in the office at 10am.” CLICK. Alabaster grabbed his grey flat cap, swung his black leather bomber on and fumbled through his pockets for a pack of Lucky Strikes before cracking open the solid oak door, the chill of the December breeze slapping him square in the face. Raising his paws to his face, Alabaster puffed out a jet of hot breath in to his cupped paws and began walking in the direction of HQ. Clouds of cigarette smoke trailing as he went. ------------------- First entry here ladies and gents, any and all feedback appreciated. I kind of moved slightly from the brief but there you go.
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	"Is it time?" said Bogdan and waited for an answer which didn't come. The wind in that chill night came through the crack in the ceiling and sounded like it was repeating the same question in a whisper. "Vasily, is it time?" asked Bogdan again. "Yes" came the tearful answer out of Vasily quivering lips. Vasily couldn't believe that the time had come to do the unthinkable, yet necessary. Three months ago Vasily's father bought him a gift for his sixth birthday. Both father and son had an obsession with bears. Vasily fathers worked for the WCS (Wildelife conservation society). His job was to protected them. His job was to protect what he loved. Vasily had the biggest collection of books, posters, and figures a kid ever had. He collected what he loved. But it was at December 12th when Vasily's collection, for the first time, loved him back. He called him Bogdan. Which is a curious name for a teddy bear. But who can blame Vasily who started to run out of names after naming the other dozen he got before him. But Bogdan was different. Bogdan was alive. As Bogdan told it, he was the trapped spirit of the Kamchatka bears. He barely escaped the massacre that was after all wildlife spirits two years ago. But ever since Yaga, the witch who started the hunt, failed to catch him on that dreadful night, Bogdan had been trying his best to lay-low till the surviving spirits like him regained their strength to fight her back. And to get rid of her once and for all. But at the very first night he was gifted to Vasily, the lay low plan wasn't an option anymore. The dark spirits of the wildlife, who were once innocent before they were bewitched by Yaga, found Vasily. When the portal twirled into existence and manifested itself inside the kid's room like a black rose from hell, Bogdan was ready to fight back and was sure that Yaga finally found him and sent her dogs after him. But it wasn't the case. Baba spell was perfect; the shaman who hid Bogdan inside the teddy bear. As the monsters crawled out of the portal, they didn't as much as smell Bogdan. They were after the kid, which was crazy, as Bogdan thought. "Why would they go after a sixth years old?" was a question that Bogdan didn't have the luxury of time to ask even inside his head. The monster leaped at Vasily bed like hungry hyenas. Bogdan could have let them get the kid. It was the smartest decision. There were too much at stakes hanging on the lay-low plan he agreed on with the other surviving spirits. And Vasily was just a kid like any other kid Bogdan ended up in his room as a gift before he got there. But Bogdan was a Kamchatka spirit, and Kamchatka knew that some times you have to be smart, and sometimes you just have to kick ass. P.S. It's 23:25 here. I'm dog tired. I'll finish it if it gets just 5 upvotes. ;-)	The front door of the old farmhouse opened with a loud creak, and my childhood living room greeted me as if no time had passed. This was clearly not the case. The plaster was missing from the wall in large chunks, some of it to be found on the dusty brown sofa sitting against the staircase to my right. Graffiti littered the walls, covering up what was left of the brown striped wallpaper. I stood there for a full minute, taking it all in. Come in, my old home eventually seemed to say. I hesitated, and took the first step. Broken glass crunched against the wooden floor underneath my boot. The sound was startling after the minute of silence. The proceeding footsteps were nearly as abrasive as I walked past the old couch and around the corner to my right. The dark staircase looked up at me. I knew my old teddy bear would be down there. I took a deep breath, clipped my flashlight to the inside of my zipper, and walked down the stairs. The unfinished basement was even dustier than the upstairs. Around the corner and past the support beam was the door to my old room, slightly ajar. This is ridiculous. Why am I even here? Dad is insane. There's no way this will help Sam's nightmares. I stepped over and between the piles of junk in a hurry, practically wading through all of the beer bottles. I reached the door and paused. Looking through the cracked opening, I saw a glimpse of the closet. My heart sunk. I pushed the door open. A wave of nostalgia poured out from behind it and washed over me. I could still make out the faded red propeller airplanes on the wallpaper that I'd outgrown by a few years by the time we vacated. To my left was that damn closet. I didn't want to look at it, so I looked over to the right side of the room. I saw my old bed, cluttered with pieces of the ceiling. Straight ahead was my toy chest, its wooden lid up and some of its contents strewn about the floor in front of me. Stepping over one childhood memory after another, I made my way toward the chest. I looked into it, and there it was staring up at me. A faded brown teddy bear, with so many patches and stitch jobs that I wondered how much of the original fabric was actually there. It looked like it could be centuries old. Maybe it is. It had black beads for eyes, one of which was hanging loosely by a thread. The other one looked up at me, as if it was wondering where I'd been. Written down the inside of its right leg was “ALBert.” My grandfather's name. He told me once that he got the bear from his dad. I got it from mine. I heard a clang from the closet as I reached down to grab it. My hand lunged down for the bear, and I backed up two steps once I had it in my grasp. Clutching the bear to my chest, I looked towards the source of the noise. I saw my soccer ball that I kept on the shelf in my closet slowly rolling towards me, past a pile of beer bottles. That was enough to make me bolt out the door and back upstairs. I looked back at my old living room one last time and shut the front door behind me. I walked towards my rental Honda. I needed to catch my plane to get back home. * Dad called me at the airport. "Hello?" "Did you get the bear?" "Yes, I got the bear..." "Good. It helped me, it helped you, and it will help Sam." "This is crazy." "If it's so crazy then why did you fly 200 miles from home just to get it?" I had no answer. "Just give him the bear." Click. * I opened the front door of my home, and my dark living room greeted me warmly. "We're downstairs." I heard Linda say. Gently guiding the bear into the inside pocket of my jacket, I made my way towards the stairs and went down. The low-volume TV illuminated my smiling wife sitting on the couch with Sam curled up in her lap. "Hey, Dane." She said. "How was your trip? Did you close the sale?" "No. Gordan blew it. It's okay, though. We didn't really need it." I looked a Sam. "How are you doing, buddy?" "He won't sleep in his room." Linda said. Sam looked up at me with sleepy eyes and frowned. "Still having the nightmares, huh?" "It's not a dream! It's real!" Linda smiled. I didn't. Alright, Dad. Fine. "I'll tell you what, Sam." I said. "I've got something that will help you during the night time. It's in the storage room." I walked into the storage room on the other side of the basement and closed the door behind me. I waited a minute to make it seem like I was looking for something, and then pulled the bear out of my jacket. I'll be terrified if this works. I left the storage room and held the bear out in front of me as I walked back towards Sam. "Take this. It used to be mine." Linda looked at the bear, a puzzled expression on her face. I'll make up a story later to tell her how it got here. "When I was a kid, I used to have bad dreams, too. This bear kept me safe. Here, take it. He'll keep you safe like he did for me." Sam took the bear and looked at it for a moment, then gave it a loving embrace. Linda looked at me with big eyes and let out a silent "Aww!" I was afraid Sam would squeeze it too hard and break it. "You've gotta be careful with it, Sam. It's very old. Even older than Great Grandpa was!" Sam pulled the bear away from him and held it up, looking at it like it was a mystical relic. "I'm ready for bed," he said, his gaze still locked on the bear. Linda leaned forward and hugged him from behind. "My brave little man." I scooped up Sam and walked him upstairs to his room, which is right next to ours. Once he was all tucked in, I kissed him on the forehead and told him goodnight. "Yell for me if you need me, alright?" "Okay," he said, snuggling the bear against his chest. I exited his room, leaving the door open, and went into mine. *** In my sleep I was four years old again. I was in my bed, the bright red propeller airplanes on my wall slightly visible through the darkness. Only my head stuck out from under the covers. A sense of dread filled me. I was not alone in my room. I smelled something sour and harsh. It almost smelled like rotten eggs. I would recognize it two years later when I visited Yellowstone and smell the sulfur. I heard a wheezing cough coming from my closet. Between two hanging jackets I saw the vague outline of a pale face. "I need water," the wheezy voice moaned. "You, give me some water. There's none here. There never is." It coughed and wheezed some more. "Please, I haven't had any in so long." "I gave you water last night!" I said in my tiny voice. "YES! PLEASE GIVE ME MORE! I KNOW YOU HAVE MORE!" "I- I don't have any!" "LIAR!" A brief silence. A white hand appeared from behind the clothes. Its fingers sprawled out as it reached for me. "Come here." Ever so slowly, I started to see more arm appear as it stretched out from the closet. I began to cry. With every sound I made, the arm extended faster. I managed to quiet myself down, and the hand's speed returned to a crawl. After a life time of quivering in my bed, the hand was reaching about eight feet out from the closet. The outline of the white face stayed where it was. "It's so hot here. Please! I just need water..." I was frozen in my bed, watching the hand get closer and closer to my feet. The tips of its fingers grasped within a couple feet of my covered toes. I plunged my head under the covers. The muffled sound of wheezing became the only thing accompanying me in the hot, stuffy darkness. And the teddy bear snuggled up against my left shoulder. I feel a light squeeze on my big toe. "Are you in there?" I felt a grip on my ankle and broke out in sobs. "Please... I need it so bad... Just give me a little bit." I was pulled a little further down to the foot of my bed. "So dry here..." The grip on my ankle released, and I felt individual fingers working their way up my leg and onto my stomach. It paused there. "I'll never stop. I last forever. No, no, no..." The hand lifted off my stomach, and I felt the covers start to pull up and away from my head. I tugged them back down with all the strength my little arms could muster. "Let me in!" The covers jerked up and away from my face, and I could see four deathly white fingers holding the sheets above me. I screamed. "MOM! HELP! MOM!" The teddy bear began to vibrate, and the hand let go of the covers. They landed on my mouth, and I saw the hand hovering above my face. "No, not again, no..." The vibration intensified, and the hand clenched into a fist. It trembled, and then, with a gruesome crack, snapped backwards so that it smacked the top of its wrist. "No..." It darted back into the closet. The pale face remained. "The next one... I'll be back for the next one..." The face disappeared. The bear stopped shaking. My bedroom door opened, and my mom came through. "It's okay, Dane. You were just having a nightmare." I awoke and I was thirty five years old. Jesus. I sprung out of my bed and rushed into Sam's room. I found him sitting up, a look of excitement beaming off of his face. "Dad! It worked! The bear worked!" "The man with the long arm visited again?" "Yeah, but the bear saved me! He was reaching for me, and then the bear went like this." He put his arms out and jiggled them around along with his head. "Then the man went away!" Christ. It's real. It's all real. "Glad to hear it helped, Sam... Just make sure you hang onto that bear. Someone else might need it some day." "Uh huh, that's what the man with the long arm told me. He said he'd be back for the next one."
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Samuel was the light of my life. When I held his precious body for the first time, I knew it. I was irrevocably, endlessly, in love. Money was tight, many days, but I would find ways to scrounge up money enough for birthdays and Christmases, giving my Sam the presents on his wish list every year, without fail. There was was exactly one year I couldn't get him his birthday wish list, not a single present. He was three years old. He wanted a set of Lego's and some Batman accessories. I could barely get us fed. Thanks to a hand-me-down bear from a thrift store - it cost a dollar - and a woman from our church, I had a cake and a present. Sam didn't mind. The bear had soft, soft fur, even after years of use. One glass eye had fallen out to be replaced by a neatly sewn button. He had a little bite mark in his ear, from a cat or a dog. From Samuel's birthday onwards, he and the teddy bear were best friends. On his first day of kindergarten I helped hide Bear - a simple name, a fitting and exact name, the sort of name any three year old could come up with - in his backpack, beneath books and crayons and paper. And every day for the rest of the year, Bear hid in Sam's backpack and went to school with him. I was first alerted to something... unusual... about Bear during that same year. I woke up to hear sounds of fighting, coming from Samuel's room. We didn't have a video game console - not until Sammy was ten - and the only TV was in the living room. I crept in the room, and saw... Everything was in its place. Sam was asleep, Bear settled neatly in his arms. And yet - there was a single paper, having fluttered to the ground. It was a drawing, crude and in the style of a five year old, of Bear standing up to strange shadowy creatures I couldn't make heads or tails of. At the time, I dismissed the entire incident, and the paper, to imagination. But as the year passed, more unusual things happened. Keys would be lost, only to narrowly dodge accidents. Sammy's room would be clean at night, only for there to be a small mess in the morning. Even Bear would go missing, only to show up some time later along with something important - the electricity bill, his field trip form, a letter from family or friends. And sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night to hear the sounds of fighting. When Sam was seven, I finally saw what was happening. I don't think Bear or his enemies realized I was awake. But I crept to Sam's bedroom and peered in the door. Bear stood strong and tall - stood, a teddy bear without a wire in him! - facing shadowy creatures. I remembered the drawing then. With Bear, Sammy and I are safe. And now that he's going off to college, I won't let him leave without Bear. But you try convincing an eighteen year old who thinks he knows everything that his stuffed Bear will protect him. It isn't easy. So I dust Bear off - and he isn't very dusty - from the old closet and smile at him. Sam may say he's too old for old Bear, but I know better. He has two button eyes now, and his ear is in half, but his fur is still as soft as ever. "What do you say to a road trip, buddy?" After all, I can't let my boy go off without his best protector.	The front door of the old farmhouse opened with a loud creak, and my childhood living room greeted me as if no time had passed. This was clearly not the case. The plaster was missing from the wall in large chunks, some of it to be found on the dusty brown sofa sitting against the staircase to my right. Graffiti littered the walls, covering up what was left of the brown striped wallpaper. I stood there for a full minute, taking it all in. Come in, my old home eventually seemed to say. I hesitated, and took the first step. Broken glass crunched against the wooden floor underneath my boot. The sound was startling after the minute of silence. The proceeding footsteps were nearly as abrasive as I walked past the old couch and around the corner to my right. The dark staircase looked up at me. I knew my old teddy bear would be down there. I took a deep breath, clipped my flashlight to the inside of my zipper, and walked down the stairs. The unfinished basement was even dustier than the upstairs. Around the corner and past the support beam was the door to my old room, slightly ajar. This is ridiculous. Why am I even here? Dad is insane. There's no way this will help Sam's nightmares. I stepped over and between the piles of junk in a hurry, practically wading through all of the beer bottles. I reached the door and paused. Looking through the cracked opening, I saw a glimpse of the closet. My heart sunk. I pushed the door open. A wave of nostalgia poured out from behind it and washed over me. I could still make out the faded red propeller airplanes on the wallpaper that I'd outgrown by a few years by the time we vacated. To my left was that damn closet. I didn't want to look at it, so I looked over to the right side of the room. I saw my old bed, cluttered with pieces of the ceiling. Straight ahead was my toy chest, its wooden lid up and some of its contents strewn about the floor in front of me. Stepping over one childhood memory after another, I made my way toward the chest. I looked into it, and there it was staring up at me. A faded brown teddy bear, with so many patches and stitch jobs that I wondered how much of the original fabric was actually there. It looked like it could be centuries old. Maybe it is. It had black beads for eyes, one of which was hanging loosely by a thread. The other one looked up at me, as if it was wondering where I'd been. Written down the inside of its right leg was “ALBert.” My grandfather's name. He told me once that he got the bear from his dad. I got it from mine. I heard a clang from the closet as I reached down to grab it. My hand lunged down for the bear, and I backed up two steps once I had it in my grasp. Clutching the bear to my chest, I looked towards the source of the noise. I saw my soccer ball that I kept on the shelf in my closet slowly rolling towards me, past a pile of beer bottles. That was enough to make me bolt out the door and back upstairs. I looked back at my old living room one last time and shut the front door behind me. I walked towards my rental Honda. I needed to catch my plane to get back home. * Dad called me at the airport. "Hello?" "Did you get the bear?" "Yes, I got the bear..." "Good. It helped me, it helped you, and it will help Sam." "This is crazy." "If it's so crazy then why did you fly 200 miles from home just to get it?" I had no answer. "Just give him the bear." Click. * I opened the front door of my home, and my dark living room greeted me warmly. "We're downstairs." I heard Linda say. Gently guiding the bear into the inside pocket of my jacket, I made my way towards the stairs and went down. The low-volume TV illuminated my smiling wife sitting on the couch with Sam curled up in her lap. "Hey, Dane." She said. "How was your trip? Did you close the sale?" "No. Gordan blew it. It's okay, though. We didn't really need it." I looked a Sam. "How are you doing, buddy?" "He won't sleep in his room." Linda said. Sam looked up at me with sleepy eyes and frowned. "Still having the nightmares, huh?" "It's not a dream! It's real!" Linda smiled. I didn't. Alright, Dad. Fine. "I'll tell you what, Sam." I said. "I've got something that will help you during the night time. It's in the storage room." I walked into the storage room on the other side of the basement and closed the door behind me. I waited a minute to make it seem like I was looking for something, and then pulled the bear out of my jacket. I'll be terrified if this works. I left the storage room and held the bear out in front of me as I walked back towards Sam. "Take this. It used to be mine." Linda looked at the bear, a puzzled expression on her face. I'll make up a story later to tell her how it got here. "When I was a kid, I used to have bad dreams, too. This bear kept me safe. Here, take it. He'll keep you safe like he did for me." Sam took the bear and looked at it for a moment, then gave it a loving embrace. Linda looked at me with big eyes and let out a silent "Aww!" I was afraid Sam would squeeze it too hard and break it. "You've gotta be careful with it, Sam. It's very old. Even older than Great Grandpa was!" Sam pulled the bear away from him and held it up, looking at it like it was a mystical relic. "I'm ready for bed," he said, his gaze still locked on the bear. Linda leaned forward and hugged him from behind. "My brave little man." I scooped up Sam and walked him upstairs to his room, which is right next to ours. Once he was all tucked in, I kissed him on the forehead and told him goodnight. "Yell for me if you need me, alright?" "Okay," he said, snuggling the bear against his chest. I exited his room, leaving the door open, and went into mine. *** In my sleep I was four years old again. I was in my bed, the bright red propeller airplanes on my wall slightly visible through the darkness. Only my head stuck out from under the covers. A sense of dread filled me. I was not alone in my room. I smelled something sour and harsh. It almost smelled like rotten eggs. I would recognize it two years later when I visited Yellowstone and smell the sulfur. I heard a wheezing cough coming from my closet. Between two hanging jackets I saw the vague outline of a pale face. "I need water," the wheezy voice moaned. "You, give me some water. There's none here. There never is." It coughed and wheezed some more. "Please, I haven't had any in so long." "I gave you water last night!" I said in my tiny voice. "YES! PLEASE GIVE ME MORE! I KNOW YOU HAVE MORE!" "I- I don't have any!" "LIAR!" A brief silence. A white hand appeared from behind the clothes. Its fingers sprawled out as it reached for me. "Come here." Ever so slowly, I started to see more arm appear as it stretched out from the closet. I began to cry. With every sound I made, the arm extended faster. I managed to quiet myself down, and the hand's speed returned to a crawl. After a life time of quivering in my bed, the hand was reaching about eight feet out from the closet. The outline of the white face stayed where it was. "It's so hot here. Please! I just need water..." I was frozen in my bed, watching the hand get closer and closer to my feet. The tips of its fingers grasped within a couple feet of my covered toes. I plunged my head under the covers. The muffled sound of wheezing became the only thing accompanying me in the hot, stuffy darkness. And the teddy bear snuggled up against my left shoulder. I feel a light squeeze on my big toe. "Are you in there?" I felt a grip on my ankle and broke out in sobs. "Please... I need it so bad... Just give me a little bit." I was pulled a little further down to the foot of my bed. "So dry here..." The grip on my ankle released, and I felt individual fingers working their way up my leg and onto my stomach. It paused there. "I'll never stop. I last forever. No, no, no..." The hand lifted off my stomach, and I felt the covers start to pull up and away from my head. I tugged them back down with all the strength my little arms could muster. "Let me in!" The covers jerked up and away from my face, and I could see four deathly white fingers holding the sheets above me. I screamed. "MOM! HELP! MOM!" The teddy bear began to vibrate, and the hand let go of the covers. They landed on my mouth, and I saw the hand hovering above my face. "No, not again, no..." The vibration intensified, and the hand clenched into a fist. It trembled, and then, with a gruesome crack, snapped backwards so that it smacked the top of its wrist. "No..." It darted back into the closet. The pale face remained. "The next one... I'll be back for the next one..." The face disappeared. The bear stopped shaking. My bedroom door opened, and my mom came through. "It's okay, Dane. You were just having a nightmare." I awoke and I was thirty five years old. Jesus. I sprung out of my bed and rushed into Sam's room. I found him sitting up, a look of excitement beaming off of his face. "Dad! It worked! The bear worked!" "The man with the long arm visited again?" "Yeah, but the bear saved me! He was reaching for me, and then the bear went like this." He put his arms out and jiggled them around along with his head. "Then the man went away!" Christ. It's real. It's all real. "Glad to hear it helped, Sam... Just make sure you hang onto that bear. Someone else might need it some day." "Uh huh, that's what the man with the long arm told me. He said he'd be back for the next one."
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Eyes of Glass How I miss my eyes of glass. Originally, I had button eyes. Little black ones about ½ an inch wide, with 4 holes to hold them in place. Nonna Maria gave me then after making me for Master Gianni. Her love and kindness had infused my being with every stitch she made as she made me. And had she been my only Maker, a simple Teddy I would have remained all my days. But we can’t pick our makers anymore than we can pick our parents. For all their well wishes and kind feelings, it is their whispered words and muffled curses that sometimes shape us most of all. I can’t complain though. I’ve had a wonderful life. Little Gianni became Johnny and passed me on to his daughter, who passed me on to her son, John Jr. I was sentry to their dreams, absorber of their tears, and cuddler of their coughs and illnesses. Even memories of being chewed and buried by my fellow guardians brought a wave of melancholy if I’ve been exiled to a shelf long enough. It didn’t matter though, because I knew that while I rested, I would be called upon again to watch over the next child. It was the way of things and as my Makers had intended. So it was with surprise and hurt that I was tossed in with the rest of the “miscellaneous possessions”. Rudy had come to the old house, and as Nonno’s executor, donated me along with the rest of the “stuff”. While I never met this Good William, I was treated well there. I was re-stuffed, re-stitched, and given my eyes of glass. More importantly, she did it properly. First giving me my new one, and then replacing my old one with Sky-blue circles around a black centre. Oh how I would have smiled if I had a mouth, but aside from my nose, that was nothing else on my face. No matter. I had always been a keeper of secrets and I kept them all. People don’t understand that is why we were never given mouths. A child’s fears are not bound by rationality. Children live in a world where monsters are as tall as the sky, or have a billion mouths with a billion teeth. This is the dark side of a sense of Wonder. And why every child needs a Guardian. Oh yes, my eyes of glass. Up until then, all I had seen of the world was black and white, night and light, evil and good. But with my new eyes, I could see all the colours and happiness in-between. After leaving the House of Good William, I saw the world anew. Sitting at a table with the rich red of raspberry jam sandwiches. The speckled-green of a frog as it hopped across a room while momma chased it too and fro. Even stars on a ceiling! Modern life is filled with such amazing toys! And I was able to see then all with my eyes of glass. Oh how I loved them! In all my years as a Guardian, I had lost one eye, but it had hurt so much. But worse, had been knowing that I did not have a spare eye. That if I had lost my other eye, I would have been lost. For when both eyes are gone, we Guardians lost our abilities. Dani (imagine that! A girl named Dani!), bought me for her son, and gave me someone to watch over. His name was Caleb, and I like to think that I was his favourite. Caleb took me everywhere and together we saw beaches and mountains but no matter where the chauffeur took us, we always slept together. Until that night. It turns out that the chauffeur was not a friend of the family. Ironic too since he was of the old blood. Like other-Nonna had been. Nonna Red-Fox. Nonna Red-Fox had known the old ways. How scarecrows could be made to keep birds away. How war-paint could give someone heightened senses. And how blood added to thread, could make a ward that lasted beyond the death of the caster. Nonna Maria had stitched me together out of love, but Nonna Red Fox has added her blood to the lanolin in the threads. Together, I was made to protect children. So when chauffeur came for Caleb, Caleb cried out for me, and we went together. We were kept in a house, somewhere. Caleb grew hungry, but was fed. He was tired, and was allowed to rest. But I knew that something was wrong. So I waited until Caleb went to sleep, and I used to magic. Guardian Magic is not the same for every one of us and it is not without a price. People say that eyes are the window to the soul, but it also the gateway to magic. Unfortunately, using magic destroys the gateway. Still, an eye is a small price to pay, to save Caleb. I knew that chauffeur had a phone, and that Caleb could use it, so all I needed to do was get it. But chauffeur saw me. It was the last thing he saw. As pain stabbed into my head, I unleashed the fears. Lifetimes of it. The one time I had done it before, it was of the dark, and things that lurked in it. Of the loneliness of a child. Of the angry voices of parents hurting each other. Of thunder and lightning flashes on moonless nights. Of childhood fears unleashed. Children are stronger than most adults realize. I know because when faced with childhood fears, adults cannot handle them. Chauffeur certainly couldn’t. As I recovered and made my way back to Caleb, I heard another noise. Chauffeur had not been alone. And as I turned to face chauffeur’s partner crime, I felt several thoughts pass through my mind. I hoped that Caleb wouldn’t notice that a spark had left his Teddybear. That while I would still be at his side, I would be less than I had been all his days. I hoped he wouldn’t stop talking to me, sharing with me his fears. I hoped we would still have our adventures, and that his dreams would be joyful again. But, to be honest, my last thought was a selfish one. That my final sight, would not be of his beautiful face, but rather of some nameless monster who had taken him from his family and home. How I miss my eyes of glass. As darkness comes for me.	The front door of the old farmhouse opened with a loud creak, and my childhood living room greeted me as if no time had passed. This was clearly not the case. The plaster was missing from the wall in large chunks, some of it to be found on the dusty brown sofa sitting against the staircase to my right. Graffiti littered the walls, covering up what was left of the brown striped wallpaper. I stood there for a full minute, taking it all in. Come in, my old home eventually seemed to say. I hesitated, and took the first step. Broken glass crunched against the wooden floor underneath my boot. The sound was startling after the minute of silence. The proceeding footsteps were nearly as abrasive as I walked past the old couch and around the corner to my right. The dark staircase looked up at me. I knew my old teddy bear would be down there. I took a deep breath, clipped my flashlight to the inside of my zipper, and walked down the stairs. The unfinished basement was even dustier than the upstairs. Around the corner and past the support beam was the door to my old room, slightly ajar. This is ridiculous. Why am I even here? Dad is insane. There's no way this will help Sam's nightmares. I stepped over and between the piles of junk in a hurry, practically wading through all of the beer bottles. I reached the door and paused. Looking through the cracked opening, I saw a glimpse of the closet. My heart sunk. I pushed the door open. A wave of nostalgia poured out from behind it and washed over me. I could still make out the faded red propeller airplanes on the wallpaper that I'd outgrown by a few years by the time we vacated. To my left was that damn closet. I didn't want to look at it, so I looked over to the right side of the room. I saw my old bed, cluttered with pieces of the ceiling. Straight ahead was my toy chest, its wooden lid up and some of its contents strewn about the floor in front of me. Stepping over one childhood memory after another, I made my way toward the chest. I looked into it, and there it was staring up at me. A faded brown teddy bear, with so many patches and stitch jobs that I wondered how much of the original fabric was actually there. It looked like it could be centuries old. Maybe it is. It had black beads for eyes, one of which was hanging loosely by a thread. The other one looked up at me, as if it was wondering where I'd been. Written down the inside of its right leg was “ALBert.” My grandfather's name. He told me once that he got the bear from his dad. I got it from mine. I heard a clang from the closet as I reached down to grab it. My hand lunged down for the bear, and I backed up two steps once I had it in my grasp. Clutching the bear to my chest, I looked towards the source of the noise. I saw my soccer ball that I kept on the shelf in my closet slowly rolling towards me, past a pile of beer bottles. That was enough to make me bolt out the door and back upstairs. I looked back at my old living room one last time and shut the front door behind me. I walked towards my rental Honda. I needed to catch my plane to get back home. * Dad called me at the airport. "Hello?" "Did you get the bear?" "Yes, I got the bear..." "Good. It helped me, it helped you, and it will help Sam." "This is crazy." "If it's so crazy then why did you fly 200 miles from home just to get it?" I had no answer. "Just give him the bear." Click. * I opened the front door of my home, and my dark living room greeted me warmly. "We're downstairs." I heard Linda say. Gently guiding the bear into the inside pocket of my jacket, I made my way towards the stairs and went down. The low-volume TV illuminated my smiling wife sitting on the couch with Sam curled up in her lap. "Hey, Dane." She said. "How was your trip? Did you close the sale?" "No. Gordan blew it. It's okay, though. We didn't really need it." I looked a Sam. "How are you doing, buddy?" "He won't sleep in his room." Linda said. Sam looked up at me with sleepy eyes and frowned. "Still having the nightmares, huh?" "It's not a dream! It's real!" Linda smiled. I didn't. Alright, Dad. Fine. "I'll tell you what, Sam." I said. "I've got something that will help you during the night time. It's in the storage room." I walked into the storage room on the other side of the basement and closed the door behind me. I waited a minute to make it seem like I was looking for something, and then pulled the bear out of my jacket. I'll be terrified if this works. I left the storage room and held the bear out in front of me as I walked back towards Sam. "Take this. It used to be mine." Linda looked at the bear, a puzzled expression on her face. I'll make up a story later to tell her how it got here. "When I was a kid, I used to have bad dreams, too. This bear kept me safe. Here, take it. He'll keep you safe like he did for me." Sam took the bear and looked at it for a moment, then gave it a loving embrace. Linda looked at me with big eyes and let out a silent "Aww!" I was afraid Sam would squeeze it too hard and break it. "You've gotta be careful with it, Sam. It's very old. Even older than Great Grandpa was!" Sam pulled the bear away from him and held it up, looking at it like it was a mystical relic. "I'm ready for bed," he said, his gaze still locked on the bear. Linda leaned forward and hugged him from behind. "My brave little man." I scooped up Sam and walked him upstairs to his room, which is right next to ours. Once he was all tucked in, I kissed him on the forehead and told him goodnight. "Yell for me if you need me, alright?" "Okay," he said, snuggling the bear against his chest. I exited his room, leaving the door open, and went into mine. *** In my sleep I was four years old again. I was in my bed, the bright red propeller airplanes on my wall slightly visible through the darkness. Only my head stuck out from under the covers. A sense of dread filled me. I was not alone in my room. I smelled something sour and harsh. It almost smelled like rotten eggs. I would recognize it two years later when I visited Yellowstone and smell the sulfur. I heard a wheezing cough coming from my closet. Between two hanging jackets I saw the vague outline of a pale face. "I need water," the wheezy voice moaned. "You, give me some water. There's none here. There never is." It coughed and wheezed some more. "Please, I haven't had any in so long." "I gave you water last night!" I said in my tiny voice. "YES! PLEASE GIVE ME MORE! I KNOW YOU HAVE MORE!" "I- I don't have any!" "LIAR!" A brief silence. A white hand appeared from behind the clothes. Its fingers sprawled out as it reached for me. "Come here." Ever so slowly, I started to see more arm appear as it stretched out from the closet. I began to cry. With every sound I made, the arm extended faster. I managed to quiet myself down, and the hand's speed returned to a crawl. After a life time of quivering in my bed, the hand was reaching about eight feet out from the closet. The outline of the white face stayed where it was. "It's so hot here. Please! I just need water..." I was frozen in my bed, watching the hand get closer and closer to my feet. The tips of its fingers grasped within a couple feet of my covered toes. I plunged my head under the covers. The muffled sound of wheezing became the only thing accompanying me in the hot, stuffy darkness. And the teddy bear snuggled up against my left shoulder. I feel a light squeeze on my big toe. "Are you in there?" I felt a grip on my ankle and broke out in sobs. "Please... I need it so bad... Just give me a little bit." I was pulled a little further down to the foot of my bed. "So dry here..." The grip on my ankle released, and I felt individual fingers working their way up my leg and onto my stomach. It paused there. "I'll never stop. I last forever. No, no, no..." The hand lifted off my stomach, and I felt the covers start to pull up and away from my head. I tugged them back down with all the strength my little arms could muster. "Let me in!" The covers jerked up and away from my face, and I could see four deathly white fingers holding the sheets above me. I screamed. "MOM! HELP! MOM!" The teddy bear began to vibrate, and the hand let go of the covers. They landed on my mouth, and I saw the hand hovering above my face. "No, not again, no..." The vibration intensified, and the hand clenched into a fist. It trembled, and then, with a gruesome crack, snapped backwards so that it smacked the top of its wrist. "No..." It darted back into the closet. The pale face remained. "The next one... I'll be back for the next one..." The face disappeared. The bear stopped shaking. My bedroom door opened, and my mom came through. "It's okay, Dane. You were just having a nightmare." I awoke and I was thirty five years old. Jesus. I sprung out of my bed and rushed into Sam's room. I found him sitting up, a look of excitement beaming off of his face. "Dad! It worked! The bear worked!" "The man with the long arm visited again?" "Yeah, but the bear saved me! He was reaching for me, and then the bear went like this." He put his arms out and jiggled them around along with his head. "Then the man went away!" Christ. It's real. It's all real. "Glad to hear it helped, Sam... Just make sure you hang onto that bear. Someone else might need it some day." "Uh huh, that's what the man with the long arm told me. He said he'd be back for the next one."
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Samuel was the light of my life. When I held his precious body for the first time, I knew it. I was irrevocably, endlessly, in love. Money was tight, many days, but I would find ways to scrounge up money enough for birthdays and Christmases, giving my Sam the presents on his wish list every year, without fail. There was was exactly one year I couldn't get him his birthday wish list, not a single present. He was three years old. He wanted a set of Lego's and some Batman accessories. I could barely get us fed. Thanks to a hand-me-down bear from a thrift store - it cost a dollar - and a woman from our church, I had a cake and a present. Sam didn't mind. The bear had soft, soft fur, even after years of use. One glass eye had fallen out to be replaced by a neatly sewn button. He had a little bite mark in his ear, from a cat or a dog. From Samuel's birthday onwards, he and the teddy bear were best friends. On his first day of kindergarten I helped hide Bear - a simple name, a fitting and exact name, the sort of name any three year old could come up with - in his backpack, beneath books and crayons and paper. And every day for the rest of the year, Bear hid in Sam's backpack and went to school with him. I was first alerted to something... unusual... about Bear during that same year. I woke up to hear sounds of fighting, coming from Samuel's room. We didn't have a video game console - not until Sammy was ten - and the only TV was in the living room. I crept in the room, and saw... Everything was in its place. Sam was asleep, Bear settled neatly in his arms. And yet - there was a single paper, having fluttered to the ground. It was a drawing, crude and in the style of a five year old, of Bear standing up to strange shadowy creatures I couldn't make heads or tails of. At the time, I dismissed the entire incident, and the paper, to imagination. But as the year passed, more unusual things happened. Keys would be lost, only to narrowly dodge accidents. Sammy's room would be clean at night, only for there to be a small mess in the morning. Even Bear would go missing, only to show up some time later along with something important - the electricity bill, his field trip form, a letter from family or friends. And sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night to hear the sounds of fighting. When Sam was seven, I finally saw what was happening. I don't think Bear or his enemies realized I was awake. But I crept to Sam's bedroom and peered in the door. Bear stood strong and tall - stood, a teddy bear without a wire in him! - facing shadowy creatures. I remembered the drawing then. With Bear, Sammy and I are safe. And now that he's going off to college, I won't let him leave without Bear. But you try convincing an eighteen year old who thinks he knows everything that his stuffed Bear will protect him. It isn't easy. So I dust Bear off - and he isn't very dusty - from the old closet and smile at him. Sam may say he's too old for old Bear, but I know better. He has two button eyes now, and his ear is in half, but his fur is still as soft as ever. "What do you say to a road trip, buddy?" After all, I can't let my boy go off without his best protector.	"Daddy can you bring me Sir Stuffington?" "Of course" John always had to stifle a laugh at Sir Stuffington. His son had a Medieval phase that had seemingly grown into genuine historical interest. But he could not laugh out loud, it seemed to greatly upset his son. So, he walked over to the Bear's place of honor on his son's dresser and carefully picked up the bear. He felt like he had to be incredibly careful as it had seen great wear and tear in its time. But, ever since hie had given the son the bear the poor child's night terrors and bed wetting were seemingly over. The psychologist said that anything that helps was a good thing at this point even if it was a little childish. The loss of his mother was of course devastating and he would far rather the boy have a bear a little too long than be on the antidepressants already. He gently placed the bear next to his son, kissed his son's forehead and left. The boy fell fast asleep, a miracle just a few months ago. The dead of the night crept in. A voice cackled in the dark. "He is MINE" Sir Stuffington carefully pulled himself out of the child's grasp. His silent growl deepening in his throat. The boy was his charge. While a single stitch held him together none would pass. The many eyed demon skittered forward, lit by the dim violet nightlight. The two enemies stared from across the toy filled room. The dance began. The monster was in perfect form tonight, the boy was nervous about the upcoming school year. The first time the bus would take him away without his mother to make him banana pancakes. The first time his mom would not be able to pack his lunch so he would have to wait in the line and pay the lunch lady. The first birthday his mother would miss. The monster's chitinous limbs tore into Sir Stuffington's arms, and the little warrior could barely hold on to keep them from sinking deeper "He's growing older Stuffington, he won't want you much longer, you are a baby's plaything, not a grown boy's" Anger welled in the bear. "SIR Stuffington" he spat with rage. With a scream of hate and pain he tore his arms free and lunged at the thing's neck. The monster back peddled and wrench back and forth. But the bear would not be denied. Weakened and weeping its invisible life's blood into the carpet, the Monster gurgled "YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM FOREVER!" Sir Stuffington stepped forward and bared his teeth. The monster left. After he was sure it was safe, Sir Stuffington left the boy and walked carefully past the room where the poor boy's father wept bitterly over his wife's picture. He carefully cracked opened the door to the late mother's sewing room. Everything in it was kept just so. It was as sacrosanct. So Sir Stuffington always knew where the needle and thread were. He gingerly packed the stuffing back into his wounds and trudged tenderly back into the boys arms. The monster was right and wrong. One day he couldn't save the boy because one day the boy wouldn't need him anymore. But until that day, or the bear's last day, he would fight
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Eyes of Glass How I miss my eyes of glass. Originally, I had button eyes. Little black ones about ½ an inch wide, with 4 holes to hold them in place. Nonna Maria gave me then after making me for Master Gianni. Her love and kindness had infused my being with every stitch she made as she made me. And had she been my only Maker, a simple Teddy I would have remained all my days. But we can’t pick our makers anymore than we can pick our parents. For all their well wishes and kind feelings, it is their whispered words and muffled curses that sometimes shape us most of all. I can’t complain though. I’ve had a wonderful life. Little Gianni became Johnny and passed me on to his daughter, who passed me on to her son, John Jr. I was sentry to their dreams, absorber of their tears, and cuddler of their coughs and illnesses. Even memories of being chewed and buried by my fellow guardians brought a wave of melancholy if I’ve been exiled to a shelf long enough. It didn’t matter though, because I knew that while I rested, I would be called upon again to watch over the next child. It was the way of things and as my Makers had intended. So it was with surprise and hurt that I was tossed in with the rest of the “miscellaneous possessions”. Rudy had come to the old house, and as Nonno’s executor, donated me along with the rest of the “stuff”. While I never met this Good William, I was treated well there. I was re-stuffed, re-stitched, and given my eyes of glass. More importantly, she did it properly. First giving me my new one, and then replacing my old one with Sky-blue circles around a black centre. Oh how I would have smiled if I had a mouth, but aside from my nose, that was nothing else on my face. No matter. I had always been a keeper of secrets and I kept them all. People don’t understand that is why we were never given mouths. A child’s fears are not bound by rationality. Children live in a world where monsters are as tall as the sky, or have a billion mouths with a billion teeth. This is the dark side of a sense of Wonder. And why every child needs a Guardian. Oh yes, my eyes of glass. Up until then, all I had seen of the world was black and white, night and light, evil and good. But with my new eyes, I could see all the colours and happiness in-between. After leaving the House of Good William, I saw the world anew. Sitting at a table with the rich red of raspberry jam sandwiches. The speckled-green of a frog as it hopped across a room while momma chased it too and fro. Even stars on a ceiling! Modern life is filled with such amazing toys! And I was able to see then all with my eyes of glass. Oh how I loved them! In all my years as a Guardian, I had lost one eye, but it had hurt so much. But worse, had been knowing that I did not have a spare eye. That if I had lost my other eye, I would have been lost. For when both eyes are gone, we Guardians lost our abilities. Dani (imagine that! A girl named Dani!), bought me for her son, and gave me someone to watch over. His name was Caleb, and I like to think that I was his favourite. Caleb took me everywhere and together we saw beaches and mountains but no matter where the chauffeur took us, we always slept together. Until that night. It turns out that the chauffeur was not a friend of the family. Ironic too since he was of the old blood. Like other-Nonna had been. Nonna Red-Fox. Nonna Red-Fox had known the old ways. How scarecrows could be made to keep birds away. How war-paint could give someone heightened senses. And how blood added to thread, could make a ward that lasted beyond the death of the caster. Nonna Maria had stitched me together out of love, but Nonna Red Fox has added her blood to the lanolin in the threads. Together, I was made to protect children. So when chauffeur came for Caleb, Caleb cried out for me, and we went together. We were kept in a house, somewhere. Caleb grew hungry, but was fed. He was tired, and was allowed to rest. But I knew that something was wrong. So I waited until Caleb went to sleep, and I used to magic. Guardian Magic is not the same for every one of us and it is not without a price. People say that eyes are the window to the soul, but it also the gateway to magic. Unfortunately, using magic destroys the gateway. Still, an eye is a small price to pay, to save Caleb. I knew that chauffeur had a phone, and that Caleb could use it, so all I needed to do was get it. But chauffeur saw me. It was the last thing he saw. As pain stabbed into my head, I unleashed the fears. Lifetimes of it. The one time I had done it before, it was of the dark, and things that lurked in it. Of the loneliness of a child. Of the angry voices of parents hurting each other. Of thunder and lightning flashes on moonless nights. Of childhood fears unleashed. Children are stronger than most adults realize. I know because when faced with childhood fears, adults cannot handle them. Chauffeur certainly couldn’t. As I recovered and made my way back to Caleb, I heard another noise. Chauffeur had not been alone. And as I turned to face chauffeur’s partner crime, I felt several thoughts pass through my mind. I hoped that Caleb wouldn’t notice that a spark had left his Teddybear. That while I would still be at his side, I would be less than I had been all his days. I hoped he wouldn’t stop talking to me, sharing with me his fears. I hoped we would still have our adventures, and that his dreams would be joyful again. But, to be honest, my last thought was a selfish one. That my final sight, would not be of his beautiful face, but rather of some nameless monster who had taken him from his family and home. How I miss my eyes of glass. As darkness comes for me.	"Daddy can you bring me Sir Stuffington?" "Of course" John always had to stifle a laugh at Sir Stuffington. His son had a Medieval phase that had seemingly grown into genuine historical interest. But he could not laugh out loud, it seemed to greatly upset his son. So, he walked over to the Bear's place of honor on his son's dresser and carefully picked up the bear. He felt like he had to be incredibly careful as it had seen great wear and tear in its time. But, ever since hie had given the son the bear the poor child's night terrors and bed wetting were seemingly over. The psychologist said that anything that helps was a good thing at this point even if it was a little childish. The loss of his mother was of course devastating and he would far rather the boy have a bear a little too long than be on the antidepressants already. He gently placed the bear next to his son, kissed his son's forehead and left. The boy fell fast asleep, a miracle just a few months ago. The dead of the night crept in. A voice cackled in the dark. "He is MINE" Sir Stuffington carefully pulled himself out of the child's grasp. His silent growl deepening in his throat. The boy was his charge. While a single stitch held him together none would pass. The many eyed demon skittered forward, lit by the dim violet nightlight. The two enemies stared from across the toy filled room. The dance began. The monster was in perfect form tonight, the boy was nervous about the upcoming school year. The first time the bus would take him away without his mother to make him banana pancakes. The first time his mom would not be able to pack his lunch so he would have to wait in the line and pay the lunch lady. The first birthday his mother would miss. The monster's chitinous limbs tore into Sir Stuffington's arms, and the little warrior could barely hold on to keep them from sinking deeper "He's growing older Stuffington, he won't want you much longer, you are a baby's plaything, not a grown boy's" Anger welled in the bear. "SIR Stuffington" he spat with rage. With a scream of hate and pain he tore his arms free and lunged at the thing's neck. The monster back peddled and wrench back and forth. But the bear would not be denied. Weakened and weeping its invisible life's blood into the carpet, the Monster gurgled "YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM FOREVER!" Sir Stuffington stepped forward and bared his teeth. The monster left. After he was sure it was safe, Sir Stuffington left the boy and walked carefully past the room where the poor boy's father wept bitterly over his wife's picture. He carefully cracked opened the door to the late mother's sewing room. Everything in it was kept just so. It was as sacrosanct. So Sir Stuffington always knew where the needle and thread were. He gingerly packed the stuffing back into his wounds and trudged tenderly back into the boys arms. The monster was right and wrong. One day he couldn't save the boy because one day the boy wouldn't need him anymore. But until that day, or the bear's last day, he would fight
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Samuel was the light of my life. When I held his precious body for the first time, I knew it. I was irrevocably, endlessly, in love. Money was tight, many days, but I would find ways to scrounge up money enough for birthdays and Christmases, giving my Sam the presents on his wish list every year, without fail. There was was exactly one year I couldn't get him his birthday wish list, not a single present. He was three years old. He wanted a set of Lego's and some Batman accessories. I could barely get us fed. Thanks to a hand-me-down bear from a thrift store - it cost a dollar - and a woman from our church, I had a cake and a present. Sam didn't mind. The bear had soft, soft fur, even after years of use. One glass eye had fallen out to be replaced by a neatly sewn button. He had a little bite mark in his ear, from a cat or a dog. From Samuel's birthday onwards, he and the teddy bear were best friends. On his first day of kindergarten I helped hide Bear - a simple name, a fitting and exact name, the sort of name any three year old could come up with - in his backpack, beneath books and crayons and paper. And every day for the rest of the year, Bear hid in Sam's backpack and went to school with him. I was first alerted to something... unusual... about Bear during that same year. I woke up to hear sounds of fighting, coming from Samuel's room. We didn't have a video game console - not until Sammy was ten - and the only TV was in the living room. I crept in the room, and saw... Everything was in its place. Sam was asleep, Bear settled neatly in his arms. And yet - there was a single paper, having fluttered to the ground. It was a drawing, crude and in the style of a five year old, of Bear standing up to strange shadowy creatures I couldn't make heads or tails of. At the time, I dismissed the entire incident, and the paper, to imagination. But as the year passed, more unusual things happened. Keys would be lost, only to narrowly dodge accidents. Sammy's room would be clean at night, only for there to be a small mess in the morning. Even Bear would go missing, only to show up some time later along with something important - the electricity bill, his field trip form, a letter from family or friends. And sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night to hear the sounds of fighting. When Sam was seven, I finally saw what was happening. I don't think Bear or his enemies realized I was awake. But I crept to Sam's bedroom and peered in the door. Bear stood strong and tall - stood, a teddy bear without a wire in him! - facing shadowy creatures. I remembered the drawing then. With Bear, Sammy and I are safe. And now that he's going off to college, I won't let him leave without Bear. But you try convincing an eighteen year old who thinks he knows everything that his stuffed Bear will protect him. It isn't easy. So I dust Bear off - and he isn't very dusty - from the old closet and smile at him. Sam may say he's too old for old Bear, but I know better. He has two button eyes now, and his ear is in half, but his fur is still as soft as ever. "What do you say to a road trip, buddy?" After all, I can't let my boy go off without his best protector.	"He asleep yet?" I watched from the entrance of his room and nodded. "Yeah, I think he's okay for now." I closed the door and looked at my husband. "How are you feeling?" He rubbed his eyes and smiled a weary smile. "Tired. I had hoped that after a few years the night terrors would stop, but I guess we'll just have to cope with it." He rubbed my belly. "You just take care of the two of you hun. It'll be alright." Come morning, Dan was already gone when I woke up. By the time I had made breakfast and woke up Allan, he'd returned with a wrapped box. I smiled. "Well sport... Look what I found waiting outside for you!" Allan jumped away from the table and raced towards his father. "Is that for me? Why?" He didn't wait for an answer though: as soon as he got his hands on the package he ripped through the packaging to reveal a pretty large teddybear. Allan was in heaven. As soon as he was done unpacking, he took the bear with him to the table and positioned him on the empty chair next to him. It was his everything: he kept talking to it, about what I had made him for breakfast and what he was going to do today and how he would give him a spot in his bed. Dan sat down beside me and pinched my leg under the table. "I'd almost swear his face just got a few tints less pale, wouldn't you agree?" I nodded while I peeled my egg. That night, when I tucked Allan and Brody in (that's what he named his bear), I gave both of them a hug. "You take good care of my boy, Brody. Allan, your bear is important! If you protect him, he'll protect you. Don't you forget that!" Allan nodded his head from half under his blanket. "I know! Brody told me so." I smiled and after a "good night" turned off the light and closed the door. Dan was standing in the hallway. "Brody? Seriously? Where'd he get that from? And please don't fill his mind with that nonsense. If it helps him sleep though..." I grabbed his arm and took him back downstairs. "I don't think I heard you ever talking that way about Celia, huh?" Dan smirked. "That battered old bear of yours was actually what got me thinking. I figured that having a stuffed animal might help him." When we settled down behind the TV, with me leaning against his arm, I couldn't help but smile. It wouldn't have worked if I gave a bear; I knew. But Dan, from his own love, gave it to Allan and that... Yeah, that would work. I gave Celia a pat on the head before going to bed. "And so the circle begins anew," I whispered to her. Celia just smiled, like she always did. ***** Fun prompt. If you like it, [take a look at my personal sub too](/r/TheAlcove) :-)
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Eyes of Glass How I miss my eyes of glass. Originally, I had button eyes. Little black ones about ½ an inch wide, with 4 holes to hold them in place. Nonna Maria gave me then after making me for Master Gianni. Her love and kindness had infused my being with every stitch she made as she made me. And had she been my only Maker, a simple Teddy I would have remained all my days. But we can’t pick our makers anymore than we can pick our parents. For all their well wishes and kind feelings, it is their whispered words and muffled curses that sometimes shape us most of all. I can’t complain though. I’ve had a wonderful life. Little Gianni became Johnny and passed me on to his daughter, who passed me on to her son, John Jr. I was sentry to their dreams, absorber of their tears, and cuddler of their coughs and illnesses. Even memories of being chewed and buried by my fellow guardians brought a wave of melancholy if I’ve been exiled to a shelf long enough. It didn’t matter though, because I knew that while I rested, I would be called upon again to watch over the next child. It was the way of things and as my Makers had intended. So it was with surprise and hurt that I was tossed in with the rest of the “miscellaneous possessions”. Rudy had come to the old house, and as Nonno’s executor, donated me along with the rest of the “stuff”. While I never met this Good William, I was treated well there. I was re-stuffed, re-stitched, and given my eyes of glass. More importantly, she did it properly. First giving me my new one, and then replacing my old one with Sky-blue circles around a black centre. Oh how I would have smiled if I had a mouth, but aside from my nose, that was nothing else on my face. No matter. I had always been a keeper of secrets and I kept them all. People don’t understand that is why we were never given mouths. A child’s fears are not bound by rationality. Children live in a world where monsters are as tall as the sky, or have a billion mouths with a billion teeth. This is the dark side of a sense of Wonder. And why every child needs a Guardian. Oh yes, my eyes of glass. Up until then, all I had seen of the world was black and white, night and light, evil and good. But with my new eyes, I could see all the colours and happiness in-between. After leaving the House of Good William, I saw the world anew. Sitting at a table with the rich red of raspberry jam sandwiches. The speckled-green of a frog as it hopped across a room while momma chased it too and fro. Even stars on a ceiling! Modern life is filled with such amazing toys! And I was able to see then all with my eyes of glass. Oh how I loved them! In all my years as a Guardian, I had lost one eye, but it had hurt so much. But worse, had been knowing that I did not have a spare eye. That if I had lost my other eye, I would have been lost. For when both eyes are gone, we Guardians lost our abilities. Dani (imagine that! A girl named Dani!), bought me for her son, and gave me someone to watch over. His name was Caleb, and I like to think that I was his favourite. Caleb took me everywhere and together we saw beaches and mountains but no matter where the chauffeur took us, we always slept together. Until that night. It turns out that the chauffeur was not a friend of the family. Ironic too since he was of the old blood. Like other-Nonna had been. Nonna Red-Fox. Nonna Red-Fox had known the old ways. How scarecrows could be made to keep birds away. How war-paint could give someone heightened senses. And how blood added to thread, could make a ward that lasted beyond the death of the caster. Nonna Maria had stitched me together out of love, but Nonna Red Fox has added her blood to the lanolin in the threads. Together, I was made to protect children. So when chauffeur came for Caleb, Caleb cried out for me, and we went together. We were kept in a house, somewhere. Caleb grew hungry, but was fed. He was tired, and was allowed to rest. But I knew that something was wrong. So I waited until Caleb went to sleep, and I used to magic. Guardian Magic is not the same for every one of us and it is not without a price. People say that eyes are the window to the soul, but it also the gateway to magic. Unfortunately, using magic destroys the gateway. Still, an eye is a small price to pay, to save Caleb. I knew that chauffeur had a phone, and that Caleb could use it, so all I needed to do was get it. But chauffeur saw me. It was the last thing he saw. As pain stabbed into my head, I unleashed the fears. Lifetimes of it. The one time I had done it before, it was of the dark, and things that lurked in it. Of the loneliness of a child. Of the angry voices of parents hurting each other. Of thunder and lightning flashes on moonless nights. Of childhood fears unleashed. Children are stronger than most adults realize. I know because when faced with childhood fears, adults cannot handle them. Chauffeur certainly couldn’t. As I recovered and made my way back to Caleb, I heard another noise. Chauffeur had not been alone. And as I turned to face chauffeur’s partner crime, I felt several thoughts pass through my mind. I hoped that Caleb wouldn’t notice that a spark had left his Teddybear. That while I would still be at his side, I would be less than I had been all his days. I hoped he wouldn’t stop talking to me, sharing with me his fears. I hoped we would still have our adventures, and that his dreams would be joyful again. But, to be honest, my last thought was a selfish one. That my final sight, would not be of his beautiful face, but rather of some nameless monster who had taken him from his family and home. How I miss my eyes of glass. As darkness comes for me.	"He asleep yet?" I watched from the entrance of his room and nodded. "Yeah, I think he's okay for now." I closed the door and looked at my husband. "How are you feeling?" He rubbed his eyes and smiled a weary smile. "Tired. I had hoped that after a few years the night terrors would stop, but I guess we'll just have to cope with it." He rubbed my belly. "You just take care of the two of you hun. It'll be alright." Come morning, Dan was already gone when I woke up. By the time I had made breakfast and woke up Allan, he'd returned with a wrapped box. I smiled. "Well sport... Look what I found waiting outside for you!" Allan jumped away from the table and raced towards his father. "Is that for me? Why?" He didn't wait for an answer though: as soon as he got his hands on the package he ripped through the packaging to reveal a pretty large teddybear. Allan was in heaven. As soon as he was done unpacking, he took the bear with him to the table and positioned him on the empty chair next to him. It was his everything: he kept talking to it, about what I had made him for breakfast and what he was going to do today and how he would give him a spot in his bed. Dan sat down beside me and pinched my leg under the table. "I'd almost swear his face just got a few tints less pale, wouldn't you agree?" I nodded while I peeled my egg. That night, when I tucked Allan and Brody in (that's what he named his bear), I gave both of them a hug. "You take good care of my boy, Brody. Allan, your bear is important! If you protect him, he'll protect you. Don't you forget that!" Allan nodded his head from half under his blanket. "I know! Brody told me so." I smiled and after a "good night" turned off the light and closed the door. Dan was standing in the hallway. "Brody? Seriously? Where'd he get that from? And please don't fill his mind with that nonsense. If it helps him sleep though..." I grabbed his arm and took him back downstairs. "I don't think I heard you ever talking that way about Celia, huh?" Dan smirked. "That battered old bear of yours was actually what got me thinking. I figured that having a stuffed animal might help him." When we settled down behind the TV, with me leaning against his arm, I couldn't help but smile. It wouldn't have worked if I gave a bear; I knew. But Dan, from his own love, gave it to Allan and that... Yeah, that would work. I gave Celia a pat on the head before going to bed. "And so the circle begins anew," I whispered to her. Celia just smiled, like she always did. ***** Fun prompt. If you like it, [take a look at my personal sub too](/r/TheAlcove) :-)
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Samuel was the light of my life. When I held his precious body for the first time, I knew it. I was irrevocably, endlessly, in love. Money was tight, many days, but I would find ways to scrounge up money enough for birthdays and Christmases, giving my Sam the presents on his wish list every year, without fail. There was was exactly one year I couldn't get him his birthday wish list, not a single present. He was three years old. He wanted a set of Lego's and some Batman accessories. I could barely get us fed. Thanks to a hand-me-down bear from a thrift store - it cost a dollar - and a woman from our church, I had a cake and a present. Sam didn't mind. The bear had soft, soft fur, even after years of use. One glass eye had fallen out to be replaced by a neatly sewn button. He had a little bite mark in his ear, from a cat or a dog. From Samuel's birthday onwards, he and the teddy bear were best friends. On his first day of kindergarten I helped hide Bear - a simple name, a fitting and exact name, the sort of name any three year old could come up with - in his backpack, beneath books and crayons and paper. And every day for the rest of the year, Bear hid in Sam's backpack and went to school with him. I was first alerted to something... unusual... about Bear during that same year. I woke up to hear sounds of fighting, coming from Samuel's room. We didn't have a video game console - not until Sammy was ten - and the only TV was in the living room. I crept in the room, and saw... Everything was in its place. Sam was asleep, Bear settled neatly in his arms. And yet - there was a single paper, having fluttered to the ground. It was a drawing, crude and in the style of a five year old, of Bear standing up to strange shadowy creatures I couldn't make heads or tails of. At the time, I dismissed the entire incident, and the paper, to imagination. But as the year passed, more unusual things happened. Keys would be lost, only to narrowly dodge accidents. Sammy's room would be clean at night, only for there to be a small mess in the morning. Even Bear would go missing, only to show up some time later along with something important - the electricity bill, his field trip form, a letter from family or friends. And sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night to hear the sounds of fighting. When Sam was seven, I finally saw what was happening. I don't think Bear or his enemies realized I was awake. But I crept to Sam's bedroom and peered in the door. Bear stood strong and tall - stood, a teddy bear without a wire in him! - facing shadowy creatures. I remembered the drawing then. With Bear, Sammy and I are safe. And now that he's going off to college, I won't let him leave without Bear. But you try convincing an eighteen year old who thinks he knows everything that his stuffed Bear will protect him. It isn't easy. So I dust Bear off - and he isn't very dusty - from the old closet and smile at him. Sam may say he's too old for old Bear, but I know better. He has two button eyes now, and his ear is in half, but his fur is still as soft as ever. "What do you say to a road trip, buddy?" After all, I can't let my boy go off without his best protector.	"Is it time?" said Bogdan and waited for an answer which didn't come. The wind in that chill night came through the crack in the ceiling and sounded like it was repeating the same question in a whisper. "Vasily, is it time?" asked Bogdan again. "Yes" came the tearful answer out of Vasily quivering lips. Vasily couldn't believe that the time had come to do the unthinkable, yet necessary. Three months ago Vasily's father bought him a gift for his sixth birthday. Both father and son had an obsession with bears. Vasily fathers worked for the WCS (Wildelife conservation society). His job was to protected them. His job was to protect what he loved. Vasily had the biggest collection of books, posters, and figures a kid ever had. He collected what he loved. But it was at December 12th when Vasily's collection, for the first time, loved him back. He called him Bogdan. Which is a curious name for a teddy bear. But who can blame Vasily who started to run out of names after naming the other dozen he got before him. But Bogdan was different. Bogdan was alive. As Bogdan told it, he was the trapped spirit of the Kamchatka bears. He barely escaped the massacre that was after all wildlife spirits two years ago. But ever since Yaga, the witch who started the hunt, failed to catch him on that dreadful night, Bogdan had been trying his best to lay-low till the surviving spirits like him regained their strength to fight her back. And to get rid of her once and for all. But at the very first night he was gifted to Vasily, the lay low plan wasn't an option anymore. The dark spirits of the wildlife, who were once innocent before they were bewitched by Yaga, found Vasily. When the portal twirled into existence and manifested itself inside the kid's room like a black rose from hell, Bogdan was ready to fight back and was sure that Yaga finally found him and sent her dogs after him. But it wasn't the case. Baba spell was perfect; the shaman who hid Bogdan inside the teddy bear. As the monsters crawled out of the portal, they didn't as much as smell Bogdan. They were after the kid, which was crazy, as Bogdan thought. "Why would they go after a sixth years old?" was a question that Bogdan didn't have the luxury of time to ask even inside his head. The monster leaped at Vasily bed like hungry hyenas. Bogdan could have let them get the kid. It was the smartest decision. There were too much at stakes hanging on the lay-low plan he agreed on with the other surviving spirits. And Vasily was just a kid like any other kid Bogdan ended up in his room as a gift before he got there. But Bogdan was a Kamchatka spirit, and Kamchatka knew that some times you have to be smart, and sometimes you just have to kick ass. P.S. It's 23:25 here. I'm dog tired. I'll finish it if it gets just 5 upvotes. ;-)
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Eyes of Glass How I miss my eyes of glass. Originally, I had button eyes. Little black ones about ½ an inch wide, with 4 holes to hold them in place. Nonna Maria gave me then after making me for Master Gianni. Her love and kindness had infused my being with every stitch she made as she made me. And had she been my only Maker, a simple Teddy I would have remained all my days. But we can’t pick our makers anymore than we can pick our parents. For all their well wishes and kind feelings, it is their whispered words and muffled curses that sometimes shape us most of all. I can’t complain though. I’ve had a wonderful life. Little Gianni became Johnny and passed me on to his daughter, who passed me on to her son, John Jr. I was sentry to their dreams, absorber of their tears, and cuddler of their coughs and illnesses. Even memories of being chewed and buried by my fellow guardians brought a wave of melancholy if I’ve been exiled to a shelf long enough. It didn’t matter though, because I knew that while I rested, I would be called upon again to watch over the next child. It was the way of things and as my Makers had intended. So it was with surprise and hurt that I was tossed in with the rest of the “miscellaneous possessions”. Rudy had come to the old house, and as Nonno’s executor, donated me along with the rest of the “stuff”. While I never met this Good William, I was treated well there. I was re-stuffed, re-stitched, and given my eyes of glass. More importantly, she did it properly. First giving me my new one, and then replacing my old one with Sky-blue circles around a black centre. Oh how I would have smiled if I had a mouth, but aside from my nose, that was nothing else on my face. No matter. I had always been a keeper of secrets and I kept them all. People don’t understand that is why we were never given mouths. A child’s fears are not bound by rationality. Children live in a world where monsters are as tall as the sky, or have a billion mouths with a billion teeth. This is the dark side of a sense of Wonder. And why every child needs a Guardian. Oh yes, my eyes of glass. Up until then, all I had seen of the world was black and white, night and light, evil and good. But with my new eyes, I could see all the colours and happiness in-between. After leaving the House of Good William, I saw the world anew. Sitting at a table with the rich red of raspberry jam sandwiches. The speckled-green of a frog as it hopped across a room while momma chased it too and fro. Even stars on a ceiling! Modern life is filled with such amazing toys! And I was able to see then all with my eyes of glass. Oh how I loved them! In all my years as a Guardian, I had lost one eye, but it had hurt so much. But worse, had been knowing that I did not have a spare eye. That if I had lost my other eye, I would have been lost. For when both eyes are gone, we Guardians lost our abilities. Dani (imagine that! A girl named Dani!), bought me for her son, and gave me someone to watch over. His name was Caleb, and I like to think that I was his favourite. Caleb took me everywhere and together we saw beaches and mountains but no matter where the chauffeur took us, we always slept together. Until that night. It turns out that the chauffeur was not a friend of the family. Ironic too since he was of the old blood. Like other-Nonna had been. Nonna Red-Fox. Nonna Red-Fox had known the old ways. How scarecrows could be made to keep birds away. How war-paint could give someone heightened senses. And how blood added to thread, could make a ward that lasted beyond the death of the caster. Nonna Maria had stitched me together out of love, but Nonna Red Fox has added her blood to the lanolin in the threads. Together, I was made to protect children. So when chauffeur came for Caleb, Caleb cried out for me, and we went together. We were kept in a house, somewhere. Caleb grew hungry, but was fed. He was tired, and was allowed to rest. But I knew that something was wrong. So I waited until Caleb went to sleep, and I used to magic. Guardian Magic is not the same for every one of us and it is not without a price. People say that eyes are the window to the soul, but it also the gateway to magic. Unfortunately, using magic destroys the gateway. Still, an eye is a small price to pay, to save Caleb. I knew that chauffeur had a phone, and that Caleb could use it, so all I needed to do was get it. But chauffeur saw me. It was the last thing he saw. As pain stabbed into my head, I unleashed the fears. Lifetimes of it. The one time I had done it before, it was of the dark, and things that lurked in it. Of the loneliness of a child. Of the angry voices of parents hurting each other. Of thunder and lightning flashes on moonless nights. Of childhood fears unleashed. Children are stronger than most adults realize. I know because when faced with childhood fears, adults cannot handle them. Chauffeur certainly couldn’t. As I recovered and made my way back to Caleb, I heard another noise. Chauffeur had not been alone. And as I turned to face chauffeur’s partner crime, I felt several thoughts pass through my mind. I hoped that Caleb wouldn’t notice that a spark had left his Teddybear. That while I would still be at his side, I would be less than I had been all his days. I hoped he wouldn’t stop talking to me, sharing with me his fears. I hoped we would still have our adventures, and that his dreams would be joyful again. But, to be honest, my last thought was a selfish one. That my final sight, would not be of his beautiful face, but rather of some nameless monster who had taken him from his family and home. How I miss my eyes of glass. As darkness comes for me.	"Is it time?" said Bogdan and waited for an answer which didn't come. The wind in that chill night came through the crack in the ceiling and sounded like it was repeating the same question in a whisper. "Vasily, is it time?" asked Bogdan again. "Yes" came the tearful answer out of Vasily quivering lips. Vasily couldn't believe that the time had come to do the unthinkable, yet necessary. Three months ago Vasily's father bought him a gift for his sixth birthday. Both father and son had an obsession with bears. Vasily fathers worked for the WCS (Wildelife conservation society). His job was to protected them. His job was to protect what he loved. Vasily had the biggest collection of books, posters, and figures a kid ever had. He collected what he loved. But it was at December 12th when Vasily's collection, for the first time, loved him back. He called him Bogdan. Which is a curious name for a teddy bear. But who can blame Vasily who started to run out of names after naming the other dozen he got before him. But Bogdan was different. Bogdan was alive. As Bogdan told it, he was the trapped spirit of the Kamchatka bears. He barely escaped the massacre that was after all wildlife spirits two years ago. But ever since Yaga, the witch who started the hunt, failed to catch him on that dreadful night, Bogdan had been trying his best to lay-low till the surviving spirits like him regained their strength to fight her back. And to get rid of her once and for all. But at the very first night he was gifted to Vasily, the lay low plan wasn't an option anymore. The dark spirits of the wildlife, who were once innocent before they were bewitched by Yaga, found Vasily. When the portal twirled into existence and manifested itself inside the kid's room like a black rose from hell, Bogdan was ready to fight back and was sure that Yaga finally found him and sent her dogs after him. But it wasn't the case. Baba spell was perfect; the shaman who hid Bogdan inside the teddy bear. As the monsters crawled out of the portal, they didn't as much as smell Bogdan. They were after the kid, which was crazy, as Bogdan thought. "Why would they go after a sixth years old?" was a question that Bogdan didn't have the luxury of time to ask even inside his head. The monster leaped at Vasily bed like hungry hyenas. Bogdan could have let them get the kid. It was the smartest decision. There were too much at stakes hanging on the lay-low plan he agreed on with the other surviving spirits. And Vasily was just a kid like any other kid Bogdan ended up in his room as a gift before he got there. But Bogdan was a Kamchatka spirit, and Kamchatka knew that some times you have to be smart, and sometimes you just have to kick ass. P.S. It's 23:25 here. I'm dog tired. I'll finish it if it gets just 5 upvotes. ;-)
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	Hello, everyone. My name is Gingham. I fight monsters for a living. Now, I bet you're thinking that I'm some super macho, male protagonist who has women falling at his feet. Some overly ripped superhero who spends every free hour in the gym pumping racks of iron up and down. But I'm not. I'm actually a teddy bear. Please don't walk away! I know I don't look like much but . . . . . I swear I can help! I swear this isn't the first time! I swear I've done stuff like this before! I'm not new! And I know. All those nightmare you're having - all those fears and those irrational thoughts and those depressing episodes you have - those are all very real monsters. I won't deny it like others sometimes do. They laugh it off as tricks of the dark, as shadows and an overactive imagination, as too many drinks before bed. But trust me: this is not just in your head. These are real monsters. Very real monsters that want to devour you whole if they could get their talons on you. Luckily, I'm here. Gingham the teddy bear. That's me! I fight monsters. Those monsters. For a living. No, I'm not paid for it. I'm a teddy bear; what are you going to give me anyway? In fact, hardly anyone acknowledges the hard work I put into my job. Not that what I do is noticeable. I usually prefer doing things out of sight. Never out in the open: what would people even say? No, I work at night. At night, when the shadows are extra dark. When the tree branch won't stop tapping at your window. When deep, dark thoughts start to crawl into your mind. When the nightmares come. When the monsters rear their ugly heads. That's when I stand tall. That's when I show my true face. That's when I am able to finally do something worth living for. And I fight those monsters. Those nightmares. I fight them back, keeping you safe, standing loyally by your side. I would never back down. Never in a million years. I have to protect you. Keep the monsters from getting you. Why, you ask? Because I'm a teddy bear. That's what teddy bears do. You thought we were just some mindless stuffed toy that sat at the end of your bed? That was just some warm thing to cuddle on cold winter nights? That was pointless and unneeded once you were no longer scared of the dark? I'm sorry, my friend, but you are wrong. Teddy bears are the most important thing you own. We protect you. We've pledged our loyalty to you. We would die for you. In order to stop those monsters from eating you, brains and all, we fight. When you're asleep, we fight. When you turn your back, we fight. When you aren't looking, we fight. When you think nobody is there for you, we fight. Because, darling, there are some horrible things after you. The monsters and darkness that creep under your bed aren't just pointless rumors. Every night when you lay down, they sharpen their claws and gnash their teeth and whisper. I hear them whisper. The horrible things they whisper to each other. "This time," they say. "This time we'll get her! This time we'll get him! This is the night, oh yes! When he closes his eyes, this is the night we get him!" And when you shut off your light and pull up your blankets, you shut your eyes thinking everything is right with the world. Or maybe you think that everything is wrong. Either way, you close your eyes and slowly let yourself go until sleep takes you. Then the monsters come. Then I fight. It's gruesome usually. Fighting monsters is hardly ever a clean hobby. Those horrible nightmares twirl around your head, cackling and giggling to themselves while I stand guard. "Just one little bite," they promise me. "Just one little bite and we'll leave her alone. We'll leave him all alone, and that will be that." But I know. I know better than to be tricked. Than to fall for their lies. They won't stop at just a bite. They would never. Once they got a taste of you, nothing could stop them from eating you up in one snap. I've seen it happen. Other teddy bears. Something happens to them. They get tired perhaps, I don't know. And they fall for the monsters' lies. They think that the child will be alright with a small bite missing, and nothing will ever bother them again. But they are wrong. The monsters eat them up and then the child wants to die. And the teddy bear can do nothing to stop it. The teddy bear can only watch as the child slowly becomes interested in sharp surfaces, knives and table edges. How they trip and fall more. How they grow up with a dark side that no one else understands. Until. They die. For real. They take their lives and everything is over. I feel sorry for the teddy bears that get tricked by the nightmares and monsters. I vow to never let that happen to you. I will always stand guard. Will always fight hard. Will always keep the monsters away from you so you can keep fighting for yourself. I can't do all the work. You have to fight too. I can only fight the monsters at night. You have to worry about the day time. But don't fret. Monsters and nightmares don't like the day. At least, not all of them. The harsh light exposes them for what they are. It shows their true faces: ugly, disfigured, the actual monster side of them. Not all monsters are so black and white though. Some have learned to disguise themselves from the light. How to be pretty when viewed from the right angle. I am scared of these monsters. They look nice but aren't. They act nice but aren't. They act like they don't want to eat you but they do. Even I have a tough time fighting back these monsters. I understand that it is even harder for you. But you can't give in. You can't die yet. I won't let you. Every night, I fight. Every day, you fight. We are a team. If you die, I will crumble along with you. And I will never stop fighting those monsters until they leave you alone. It might take months. Years even. But I will never stop. I am Gingham the teddy bear, the one the monsters fear.	"My Teddy bear is unhappy. " "Why, Tommy?" "I don't know. It just has a sad look in its face." "Well, what did you do to make him happy?" "I knitted him some patches." "And what else?" "And I glued black his eyes so they don't dangle anymore." "What else?" "And i shampooed it and combed its fur nicely. It is still missing fur in a lot of places though. " "What else did you do?" "And I gave it half my crayon?" "And you say it is still unhappy?" "Yes." He said, despondently shaking his head. "Well, you didn't give him the most important thing." "A new coat?" "No." "A new fur?" "No." "What's more important than a good fur and coat?" "Love. " "Love?" "Yes, you need to give him love. Its the most precious thing you can give to anyone in the world." "Really?" "And its more precious than a new coat?" "Yes." Gleefully, he went back into his room. That night I found him happily snuggled with this Teddy that I'd gotten him at a yard sale. ------ We had fallen on hard times. I'd fallen back on my mortgage payments. The foreclosure was imminent. I couldn't even think of where I'd go with my son; the prospect of moving in at a place with drugs and bad influences around made me shudder. I made a trip to the bank with my latest pay receipts to persuade them to allow me more time. There was a flutter all over. "What happened?" I asked the receptionist. "Sorry, this is not a good time." She snapped back and returned to the phone. I was swept away by a throng of angry people who were rushing in with their queries. "Strange, huh?" "Excuse me?" I turned. There was an old man standing away from the crowd. "They say there was a major network hack that selectively took down a lot of their credit records." "Really?" "Yeah. It gets stranger. There was no evidence that the criminal left behind. Except a tattered old soft toy left at the mainframe. They're calling it the Teddy virus."
	[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.	"I love you sweetheart," Sally whispered into her son's ear. She pulled the blanket up to his to chin and kissed him softly on the forehead. It was a warm kiss. "I don't want you to go mom," begged Thomas as he stifled a tiny yawn. "The monsters come out when you're not here. Please stay. They're afraid of you. Pleassssse." "It's just for two weeks, honey." Sally replied, blinking back her tears. Work called, and she had to answer. It was for her son, after all. She had to go. For the millionth time she wished Christopher was still alive. "I don't like uncle James," the boy protested quietly. "I've got you an early Christmas present," Sally said, leaning over the bed to pull out a large rust coloured bear from a plastic bag. It was soft to touch and its short hair was very ruffled. It wore a red bow tie. "This is Frederick," she said passing it to Thomas. "He has no home and he needs looking after. I told him you'd take care of him until I got back." Thomas' eyes lit up and his sadness was forgotten as quickly as a dream upon waking. "Can you be brave for him?" "Yes," whispered an almost breathless Thomas, hugging his new friend tightly. "Yes. I'll look after you always." The boy smiled at the bear. The bear smiled at the boy. The bear made a promise of its own. --- Three nights after Sally left, the monster came to visit Thomas. He knew it would sooner or later -- it always came when mom was away -- but that didn't make it any better. A vile stench of alcohol and tobacco reached his nose long before his bedroom door crept open. The monsters' skin was slimy to his touch, and when his little red lamp came on he could see just how pale and vile the creature looked. It was wretched. It smiled at him, or at least attempted to. Red lips, teeth stained dark with blood. It sat down on the bed next to him. The creature's smell made Thomas' stomach turn. "Please, don't," Thomas whimpered. He knew it wouldn't listen -- it never did. He hugged Frederick tightly, determined not to let the monster hurt his best friend. He'd promised his mom. He'd promised Frederick. "It'll be OK," Frederick seemed to say. He hugged the boy back tightly. --- It was Frederick that told Thomas who the monster really was, and that Thomas had to tell his mom what had happened; to not listen to the monsters' threats; to be brave! It was Frederick, who still reeked of alcohol and tobacco, and who still held a tiny amount of the sticky evidence that was ultimately responsible for the conviction. And three months later it was Frederick that was washed and cleaned and returned to Thomas. Sally smiled at the sleeping boy, and the bear tucked up tightly in his arms. Wiping tears away from her eyes, she lay down next to them and made a promise that nothing would hurt either of them again. --- Alternative ending on my sub /r/nickofnight Edit: Thank you for the gold, anon.	"I think you may be hugging Teddy a bit too tight." Natalie turned the soft, brown bear over in her hands. It was less than a year old, given on Wyatt's sixth birthday that July, but already it was patchy and compressed, one ear missing and... were those scorch marks along the back of its head? "No," said Wyatt mildly. "Teddy doesn't like tight hugs. He prefers handshakes for a job well done." Natalie snorted. "Where'd you hear that? That's a very grown-up thing to say." Wyatt shrugged. "Teddy says it all the time. Teddy H. Bear, reporting for duty, he says right before bed. Upon initial inspection, the perry-meader is secure, but I will continue to patrol as you sleep. He says that. And then in the morning he tells me alllll about all the monsters who tried'ta get me in the night." Natalie considered the teddy bear a bit more closely. She briefly fantasized about offering to wash the thing and then saying it had disintegrated, but that wouldn't do much for Wyatt's dark imagination. He'd just be upset and then assign his binder of Pokemon cards to closet-monster duty. So instead she simply handed the thing back. "You know, your father and I don't have a teddy and we pretty much never run into any monsters at night." "Well, you're not special," said Wyatt, as brutal and matter-of-fact as you please. Natalie frowned. "That's a way of putting it..." "Teddy protects me," said Wyatt. "The monsters know how special I am, and so does Teddy. So they try'ta get me and Teddy gets them instead. See?" Natalie puffed out her cheeks. She needed to get dinner started. At least her son didn't appear to be lacking in self-esteem. "Well, thanks for a job well done, then," she said, taking the stuffed bear by the paw and giving it a quick handshake. "This is precious cargo over here, so you keep him safe." Wyatt took back the bear. "He says he's offended you felt it necessary to say that. But also thank you." Natalie kissed her son on the forehead. "Dinner in 40 minutes. Love you." "Love you," said Wyatt, almost absently. The door closed. The temperature in the room immediately dropped ten degrees. The walls began to groan, ever so slightly. There was a distant clicking of steel-tipped claws and hissing of long, forked tongues. Wyatt lay back in the bed. "They're coming, Teddy. Do you need me to fight with you this time?" The window rattled. A picture frame toppled off the wall. "Okay," said Wyatt. "I'll just close my eyes. Tell me when you're done." The lamp above the bed flickered and died. The bed itself began to vibrate. Voices whispered kill the boy killlll the boy kill the boooooy. The room smelled of smoke and oil and sulfur. The boy on the bed smiled as he slid peacefully into sleep, a well-worn teddy bear perched upright and alert in the crook of his arm.
	[WP] 'They said they'd return when the world needed heroes again. They lied.'	It's been almost 3 years now. I never understood why they left. I've been thinking about them, a lot. Almost every day. It has been really tough since then. The world is just darker. I can feel it. They said they'll be there when we need them. But I've been calling for them everyday. I never got a response. I guess they're not coming back. I guess... they lied. My brother doesn't really understand. He's too young. I don't even know if he remembers them, he was only 2 years old when they left. But I do. They used to be around, they helped a lot. The world seemed to be a better place with them. It never got this dark, there was always someone caring for us. There was always hope. Of course they weren't perfect. But they were our heroes. Some days they just made it worse, but in the end, we needed them and we loved them. It's been really hard for me without them. Going through puberty, struggling with depression and bullies... Stupid nursery school. Suicidal thoughts, mental breakdowns... Ugh... I didn't have anyone to count on. And yet I had to be brave and strong for my brother. He's busy growing up, making friends and he might not notice, but he sometimes feels their absence too. I miss them, Yeah I really miss my parents.	Sliding back through, eyeing the scenery as all the memories crawled back. Life existed in segments, moments contained tucked away in other worldly seconds, each seemingly separated by a lifetime of agony. Life became hard, the proses and verses preaching an overwhelming victory evaporated from the pages as I read on. A world I did not recognize replaced my scenery with a withering winter. Not knowing what comes next. Your death a lesson of age, riding by once more as I eye the homestead, despite not living here in years. Each inch of yard harbored a memory, an entire existence wiped away in a seconds notice, yet somewhere left behind in the mist we survive inside the haze. Letting the smoke trail away, I inhale again on my cigarette and roll on. The old neighborhood taking me back, the spring wind bringing back a cold tinged aroma. Unable to quite examine the feeling, the hopelessness that becomes all consuming, a void consumed by a crashing misery swallowing any semblance of a personality. I speed away the demon takes my wheel, guiding me back down the moonlit streets. Tossing away my cancer I strike up again as I brass check my weapon, ensuring what I already knew. --- I arrive at your house, while you sleep soundly inside. Tonight my debts forgiven in a blaze, no longer the relic I once was, the icon built to be. Hoping you'd always remember me, hate to arrive uninvited, but even you knew it wasn't over. Living a hero wasn't what it is made to be, the life of a heretic has always called me, tonight I answer. After this I become something else...
	[WP] 'They said they'd return when the world needed heroes again. They lied.'	It's been almost 3 years now. I never understood why they left. I've been thinking about them, a lot. Almost every day. It has been really tough since then. The world is just darker. I can feel it. They said they'll be there when we need them. But I've been calling for them everyday. I never got a response. I guess they're not coming back. I guess... they lied. My brother doesn't really understand. He's too young. I don't even know if he remembers them, he was only 2 years old when they left. But I do. They used to be around, they helped a lot. The world seemed to be a better place with them. It never got this dark, there was always someone caring for us. There was always hope. Of course they weren't perfect. But they were our heroes. Some days they just made it worse, but in the end, we needed them and we loved them. It's been really hard for me without them. Going through puberty, struggling with depression and bullies... Stupid nursery school. Suicidal thoughts, mental breakdowns... Ugh... I didn't have anyone to count on. And yet I had to be brave and strong for my brother. He's busy growing up, making friends and he might not notice, but he sometimes feels their absence too. I miss them, Yeah I really miss my parents.	A reporter stands in front of an old building, a screaming crowd behind him. He gestures vaguely at the marble steps and columns. "This is history in the making, Pat. Whatever happens here today." The sound of his voice is drowned out by the roar of the crowd as a car drives up and a man, once known as a hero, is led out. There are cries of hatred and disgust as the crowd reacts to his presence. The reporter continues, doing his best to be heard over the chaos. "After numerous allegations of sexual misconduct including rape and harrasment, William Borcsy is rumored to be pleading guilty to all charges today. "This is not the first hero to be brought to court. We all remember the scandal of Sword Strongarm and the fallout in the hero community that followed it. We have seen heroes become villains before, but this case will quite possibly expose just how prevalent villainous acts are in the hero community, and how so many heroes were complacent in the face of said evil." --- "What a story, Steve," the camera man says as he puts away his equipment. "Did you ever think this was possible, you know, back in the golden era?" "Back then I would have believed it was some villains evil plan rather than any of this being true." "Crazy how things change. All right, I'll send the footage in along with the Hannah Dakota goes Wild bit, should make for a good double feature." --- "As reports of the dead grow in the aftermath of the bombings, we send our thoughts to those affected by this tragedy. While police are hesitant to state a reason for the individuals actions, we must start to question whether Muslim ideals can live alongside Western progressivism." Steve looks at his watch and sighs. The cameras power down and he turns to his aide. "I'm going to be late for my flight to the Vatican. Make sure you email me those questions and send me everything you can find on that paedophile." His aide nods and the camera man grabs Steve's arm. "Hey, you know you're saying some stuff that's pretty problematic. I know it's not my job, but-" "Look, Dave, there's a story here, an exciting and riveting one, and there's another story that's sad and depressing. Which one do you think attracts viewers?" Dave sighs,"But shouldn't we just say the truth?" "What's the truth, Dave? We live in a new age, the age of information, and information, by its very nature, is subjective. I can't know everything that happens, I have to hear most of it second hand, just like everyone else. Who's to say how many times the story has changed from point A to point B. The point isn't to tell the truth, the point is to tell a good story." --- Dave signals to Steve and the charming man smiles as the cameras start to record. "We're here with historian Molly. Molly, America has celebrated Columbus Day for a long time, why only now are truths about his actions calling question to the validity of the holiday?" "Well, Steve it's a complicated answer. To start off with, times change. What was heroic in his day and age are less savory now. In addition, there's this story that is told. Sometimes the story sticks, and sometimes it doesn't. I'd wager that many historical figures have something they've hidden from the rest of the world. Some things eventually come to light, while some never do." --- "I still think we should be focusing on different things," Dave says as he winds up the extension cord. "Dave, I don't have time for this. I like you. You're a good camera man, but we're reporters, not saints. Speaking of which-" "I don't want to hear it. Look, I know it's business and all, but what am I supposed to tell my daughter? I mean, when I was a kid we had Lincoln and Ford and all these people to look up to. Who's my daughter supposed to look up to?" "He'll if I know Dave, but what kind of example would I be if I ignored the truth? You wouldn't want that would you?" Dave sighs, "It's just so hard, I mean did you hear about that guy on that one show, Green's Hints? How am I supposed to explain that to my daughter? What happened to all the heroes?" "There never were any heroes, Dave. Just humans who thought they could fool the world."
	[WP] 'They said they'd return when the world needed heroes again. They lied.'	It's been almost 3 years now. I never understood why they left. I've been thinking about them, a lot. Almost every day. It has been really tough since then. The world is just darker. I can feel it. They said they'll be there when we need them. But I've been calling for them everyday. I never got a response. I guess they're not coming back. I guess... they lied. My brother doesn't really understand. He's too young. I don't even know if he remembers them, he was only 2 years old when they left. But I do. They used to be around, they helped a lot. The world seemed to be a better place with them. It never got this dark, there was always someone caring for us. There was always hope. Of course they weren't perfect. But they were our heroes. Some days they just made it worse, but in the end, we needed them and we loved them. It's been really hard for me without them. Going through puberty, struggling with depression and bullies... Stupid nursery school. Suicidal thoughts, mental breakdowns... Ugh... I didn't have anyone to count on. And yet I had to be brave and strong for my brother. He's busy growing up, making friends and he might not notice, but he sometimes feels their absence too. I miss them, Yeah I really miss my parents.	I simply could not stay away from Earth. Their culture, their food, their women, their fancy tuna was too much to leave behind. That was my reason at least. However after a grandiose speech and celebration after we defeated does pesky Zorgosese, it was my duty to leave in a similar grandiose fashion. The thing is, unlike the uptight asses, who actually left, I took the Houdini approach, made a distraction, blended with the crowd and simply walked toward the horizon. _____________________ Hi /u/ioriyukii here. I'm quite new to creative writing.
You try desperately to survive, having only the resources and capabilities of the ISS and your crew.	[WP] You are halfway through your four month mission on the International Space Station when suddenly, a meteorite the size of the moon collides with earth, destroying all life known to man, except for you and your fellow astronauts.	We never saw it. The object struck Earth on the far side from us. We were on the nightward side, over Asia. The first thing to happen was that Earth went dark. The lights all went out at once across India. Sergei and I were in the Zvezda Module, so we saw that. The next thing to happen was us going dark, too, about thirty seconds later. We figured later that the impact must have sent and EM pulse across Earth, and it caught us too. The familiar humming of the lights, the equipment, the ventilation systems, all gone. Only the groans of the metal accompanied the sound of our own breathing. Sergei and I were in the dark except for the little bit of light that came through the windows. We ran into Arnaut on our way to the Zarya Command Module. Literally. Not even the flashlights were working, so we were blundering around in darkness, relying on memory to guide us. Holding his nose while I massaged my sore jaw, we drifted through a small cloud of blood as Arnaut told us that comms were down with Houston and Korolyov, and that he couldn't get the power back on. He went on to the Zvezda module while Sergei and I tried to restore power. The ISS orbited at 17,200 miles per hour, making a complete circuit of the Earth every 92.65 minutes. Approximately eleven minutes and ten seconds after Earth went dark, we heard Arnaut shouting for us to come look at something. We groped our way back to the Zvezda to see what he was talking about, and saw Hell. A band of light on the horizon, not like the warmth of a sunrise, but angry red, and moving very fast. As we watched, the debris came into view, silhouetted against the false dawn. The EMP was fast on Earth, but once free of the atmosphere, it became almost instantaneous. Without power to fire thrusters, satellites fell into decaying orbits around us. Without our instruments, we couldn't tell yet, but we were in one too. And all those decaying orbits led to collision courses. Sergei suddenly yelled, pointing at something. Arnaut and I weren't fast enough to see it, but we all felt the impact. Something tore through the forward solar panels, shredding them and sending us into a spin. We tumbled about like popcorn, suddenly thrown back into a situation with gravity. By the time we stopped bouncing around, we were starting to hit the thicker parts of the atmosphere. The shockwave wasn't the only thing glowing anymore, as the remaining solar panel arrays heated up. As we stared in stupefied horror, we entered the debris field. Whatever had struck the Earth had thrown bits of itself and its target screaming into the atmosphere. You might have thought that it would sound like rain at first, but we were moving much too fast for that. Force equals Mass times Acceleration, F=MA, and even low-mass things like dust grains hit hard when they move fast enough. The ISS began to disintegrate almost immediately, spinning through the shards of Earth. Something punched clean through the Zvezda, and through Sergei, without even slowing down. In retrospect that was probably for the best. The module decompressed, tearing apart as all the oxygen in the station blasting its way out through the pinball-sized holes left on either side by whatever had gotten Sergei. Arnaut and I tumbled away from each other, debris shredding us to ribbons before we could react. Our remains were pulverized beyond recognition as organic matter as we moved further into the debris field. Soon the ISS was nothing more than dust hurtling through the tortured bits of Earth thrown up by the impact. What was left of it, and us, caught fire long before hitting the tsunami of molten rock blasted out of the mantle, and what bits survived the initial heat - the buckle on Sergei's watch, a grommet from one of the EVA suits, the needle from one of the pressure gauges - joined the wave in its destructive journey across Earth, becoming instruments of the annihilation of life as we knew it. Pieces from the collision were shot into the Solar System. Some burned up in Venus' atmosphere, some in Jupiter or Saturn. A good number caught the Sun. A handful made it out of the Solar System entirely, spinning through the void of space for millions and billions of years before striking something. One, about the size of a baseball, made a slow journey down the spiral arm. The gravitational pull of a class K3V star caught it, dragging it into a spiral like those coin funnels they used to have in shopping malls. It spun towards the star, almost making it before a planet got in its way. Most of the fragment burned off in the CO2-heavy atmosphere of the planet, but a piece roughly comparable to a golf ball splashed down in the shallow, mineral-rich seas. It was still hot enough to send up a little trail of steam that, just for a moment, created a tiny rainbow over the rippling waters of the young world.	"Well, that was really lucky," why the heck am I talking, I shouldn't be speaking at a time like this. The impossible had just happened, a second moon entered Earth's orbit. "Yes, but why is the other moon flying away!" "Do I really need to explain the three body problem to you now?" Must be autopilot, why else would I be talking? "You're suggesting such a thing, now?" "Wait, what do you... Never mind." I really hate Chad, why couldn't he have been in the group to work on the satellite, and not Dave? "We've got bigger problems right now," Shanna called from the other side of the station. "What, did the other object gloriously crash into the Earth, causing seismic waves so intense, the crust is slowly upturning leaving an Earth covered in lava in its wake?" You know what would be good right about now, silence. "Now I don't know about the two of you, but I'd rather go out plastered." "What are you..." Chad's a little slow on the uptake, fortunately Shanna took care of it for me. "An object that massive, that close to Earth, would destabilize our orbit as well as doing everything Mark said." Chad looked dumbfounded for a moment, how does a guy like him even get this gig. "So about the three body problem?" "Bugger off!"
You try desperately to survive, having only the resources and capabilities of the ISS and your crew.	[WP] You are halfway through your four month mission on the International Space Station when suddenly, a meteorite the size of the moon collides with earth, destroying all life known to man, except for you and your fellow astronauts.	Day 2 "Houston? Houston, are you there?" It was lost hope now. "Houston?" "Charlie, get off the mic. We saw what we saw. They're dead. They're all dead." "Damn you Tyler, someone has to be down there. Someone has to be-", Charlie rambled until Tyler set his hand down on his shoulder. Charlie hasn't slept since the accident earlier. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands were shaking. He couldn't even blink without fear of pain. "We're the only ones left. Me and you. If there was someone down there, they would've contacted us by now.", Tyler spoke, his voice cracking in the middle. Charlie put his hands to his face and cried. It was the first time he's cried in awhile. "Why... why leave us... Martha, Sam, Parker.... oh god, my family's down there.... momma... oh momma, where are you...." *** Day 7 Tyler and Charlie ate in any part of the ship they wanted with the remains of their rations. They were starving for something new, but that would be impossible now. All they had was the frozen shit. Tyler began biting down on his food when Charlie tapped him on the shoulder. "What's our plans when the rations run out?" "We'll get there when we get there, Charlie", Tyler responded in an annoyed tone. Charlie had been bugging him about his worries for days, and it was getting on his nerves. He worried too, but he'd rather enjoy his time now instead of getting panicked. *** Day 14 "CHARLIE! STOP HUMMING DAMN IT, I CAN'T SLEEP!", Tyler yelled from his bunk. The humming noise stopped, and all was silent again. He was getting annoyed everyday he was stuck here. Charlie was getting on his nerves so much now. God, he just wanted some peace and quiet. Peace and quiet... *** Day 19 The muffled noises were much better then the humming. Tyler had taped Charlie's mouth shut and tied him to his bunk. He was almost like a pet now. He could make him do anything he wanted now. If he needed noise, he'd rip the tape off and make Charlie sing. If he wanted silence, he'd tape his mouth shut and sometimes forget to take it off by morning. If he wanted pleasure, he'd force Charlie to the wall. Tyler was never about that lifestyle, but being stuck in a ship with no one else and magazines, your mind had to do something. He heard Charlie moan and cry every night when he slept. Tyler wondered if he was getting sick. *** Day 26 Charlie was getting worse. He wouldn't even speak anymore when Tyler tore the tape off. He was just silent. Tyler would hit and scream at Charlie, but he just laid there quietly. This began annoying Tyler, but he tried living with it. After all, he still got his silence and his pleasure. That was a good thing. *** Day 33 Oh god, he needed noise again. "Charlie... Charlie, speak." Charlie did not speak. "....Damn it Charlie, speak." Again, no noise came from his mouth. Tyler got aggressive. "Charlie!" Nothing. "CHARLIE!" Nothing again. Tyler felt like he was going mad. Hopefully he'd feel fine by morning. *** Day 38 Charlie wasn't breathing. He was dead, god know how long. He must've died in his sleep. Tyler was all alone now. *** Day 44 HelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelpHelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelpHelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelpHelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelpHelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelpHelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelpHELPHELP *** Day 49 Tyler was dead by a knife wound to his forearms. The ship was silent now, except for the humming noise of the electronics.	"Well, that was really lucky," why the heck am I talking, I shouldn't be speaking at a time like this. The impossible had just happened, a second moon entered Earth's orbit. "Yes, but why is the other moon flying away!" "Do I really need to explain the three body problem to you now?" Must be autopilot, why else would I be talking? "You're suggesting such a thing, now?" "Wait, what do you... Never mind." I really hate Chad, why couldn't he have been in the group to work on the satellite, and not Dave? "We've got bigger problems right now," Shanna called from the other side of the station. "What, did the other object gloriously crash into the Earth, causing seismic waves so intense, the crust is slowly upturning leaving an Earth covered in lava in its wake?" You know what would be good right about now, silence. "Now I don't know about the two of you, but I'd rather go out plastered." "What are you..." Chad's a little slow on the uptake, fortunately Shanna took care of it for me. "An object that massive, that close to Earth, would destabilize our orbit as well as doing everything Mark said." Chad looked dumbfounded for a moment, how does a guy like him even get this gig. "So about the three body problem?" "Bugger off!"
	[WP] Humanity has discovered how to download information directly to our brains. In our haste to learn all there is, we forgot about one thing. Viruses.	**First one, a little rusty I’m afraid. Edit minor spelling and grammar I should have known. I think I could have done something to stop her if I’d really considered what she was turning into. It was funny at first, placating her insane theories and ideas...I seriously never thought it could actually be done. She always loved power, I always knew she’d abuse it. But, she wasn’t always like this, she had a soul before. She was brilliant and passionate and so very very fun. Everything changed when she was picked to guinea pig the newest tech from her group at MIT, this was before it was tested and distributed widely, of course. I can say I’m pretty sure she was first to receive an info dump, before it was confirmed to be safe...before they put the restrictions on what can be learned. She was fine for a while, if not more brilliant than anyone else in the world. But they kicked her out, I think she scared the shit out of them. I can see why. I watched her cut off from her supply of information and she was "off"...like a drug addict seeking some kind of fix that she was afraid to admit to herself she needed. She’d buried herself in her work and I thought she started to get better. I really did. She’d retained most, if not, all of the knowledge she’d gained from the info dumps and it opened her life to an insane amount of opportunity. She’d made a few apps which became popular, played and won in quite a few poker tournaments, made a fortune traveling the world between casinos playing blackjack, wrote a ton of papers on the morality of the very tech that had given her this obscene level of intelligence. And a kind of intelligence that didn’t make her too unrelatable. She had a wonderful personality..for a walking wiki on almost anything in the world. I really thought she was going to be okay. Or I swear I’d have done something. This was before they announced the release of the software to the public. ‘ANYONE CAN BE AN EXPERT!’ Signs went up and ads started running boasting a more intelligent society living in the new Age of Enlightenment. Of course the dumps were ungodly expensive and heavily moderated and overseen. Her papers on morality helped shape the laws on what could and couldn’t be learned by people. She was invited to chair the ethics board for the company. And since they felt bad about how they treated her, a fellow founder, in the beginning they gave her a ton of power. Too much power, We forgot to account for what she learned before the learning was regulated. I’m surprised she hadn’t snapped or shown her true intentions earlier…. But she was too smart for that. The next phase of her plan, (now that I can see that this was her plan all along) was the chips. She owned the company that owned the company that created them. I’m sure her interest in that project wasn’t as far removed as she’d made it seem publicly. And selling off the company to avoid “a conflict of interest” was a brilliant move. She didn’t want the profits from the company, she wanted the company to succeed. Suddenly the chips were commonplace; AUGMENTED REALITY CHIP MAKES THE INTERNET A TANGIBLE PLACE WE CAN ALL LIVE. Information at our fingertips, experience social media in a new way. Instagram moments in time -- stream your first person view to your followers from your eyes! Totally safe!! There were of course, places the chips couldn’t work. There were very expensive machines that temporarily shut off all chips in the area. Funny that the only people not effected for the most part were in prisons, courtrooms, testing facilities, and schools. And those who didn’t have chips. There were more than I thought thank god. We actually may be able to stop her. Or maybe let her see reason. I’m not a hundred percent sure how she’d done it, but she was contracted to code the info dump for what we called the ‘presidential dump’ a massive worldwide peace and perspective dump for every world leader and highest level clearance cabinet member. Everyone had agreed and gotten together to committee the thing. She represented the company, passed all the psychological and lie detector tests, the background checks and interviews. I don’t know how it was done, though the limits of her intelligence are still, I’m sure, unknown. The planted the virus in the dump some how. It was so well written no one detected it. We had no idea, even after it was done, that anything was wrong. They had no idea she could control them through their chips. She waited to strike. Took to subtle manipulations and alterations that worked for her. I should have known. We all should have, we opened ourselves up to it.	They eached climbed in their pods in the black of night, the blue lights of each twinkling in an otherwise dead night. No birds sang, no beasts crawled, and all of man was in dreamless sleep, incubated equally within their own mind and each others. The collective web sprouted deep roots, and each successive wave of new information downloaded to each individual left a more lasting, harder to remove mark. - "Come here," she said. The child looked into her eyes and knew her intentions, so she followed. Her small footsteps were matched by the woman, each of them darting glances at each other when the other wasn't looking. Awaken me, it whispered in the air. The chill permeated their bodies, but they each chalked it up to weather patterns, knowing each tumultuous clouds path. They continued onward on the shanty path, the stones growing more mossy and chipped till it dissolved into earth. The cave stood in front of them, each side macabre with red smears sliding to the ground. The two girls looked at each other once more, this time meeting eyes. And unspoken trust was there, not from friendship or love for each other, but from cruel calculation, and knowledge of each other's in's and out's. An unspoken word resonated within each of them. Come. - Gotta end it right here for now :O Really sorry, but I've gotta go out. If you like what I've written so far, shoot me an upvote, and I'll return to this if enough people want more.
	[WP] "Do you still think about what you did?"	######[](#dropcap) He turned and paused to glance at her, his green-gray eyes scanning her up and down. He always did that, Faith realized, no matter the person. It was as if he were a starving wolf in winter, hungry and wary against all signs of danger. He had a lean, cold air about him, like a coming thunderstorm or blizzard. His green cloak was stained by mud and frayed by the careless whisk of many a mountain breeze. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder, its barrel and buttstock wrapped in worn hessian burlap. "Think about what?" Hilary Flint asked, his voice flat,and slightly nasally in the accent typical of those from the lands around the Inner Seas. Faith shrugged. "They say you massacred three hundred Regulars at the Battle of Fort Velienieau after they had surrendered. Is it true?" "Of sorts," admitted Flint, easing himself down against a fallen log to take a drink of water. "I shot them, yes. But only after one of those surrendering Regulars killed my Lieutenant with a knife hidden in his boot. I killed that murdering bastard myself, spilled his guts out onto the ice and slush of the parade ground with my sword. For his perfidy I had no choice but kill his comrades." "For the crimes of one, you punished hundreds? What kind of justice is that?" asked Faith. "You seem to be under the illusion that war can be just," snapped Flint. "There's nothing just about it, it's dirty and poisonous, corrupts every it touches. There were fifty of us Rangers. Fifty to watch over three hundred. There was no way we could've looked after six times our number, even with automatic weapons. We had no food, were four weeks from the nearest outpost. It was almost a favor that that fucker killed my officer; saved us the trouble of having to march them a hundred and eighty miles across mountain and rivers. "This isn't some noble tournament or chivalrous battle: this is war. People die, Faith. And it doesn't matter how they die be it from bullets, blades, or bombs. If you think I have trouble sleeping at night because of what I've done, you're dead wrong. It's only because of what I've done that I'm able to sleep at night."	"Do you still think about what you did?" she asks me. I know Marge has been waiting to ask me for years, but as we stand on the hilltop under the crimson sky, I can't help wish that she would enjoy the sunset in peace. "No," I told her. "There is nothing to think about in the past. It has happened, it is gone and there is nothing that can change it." I sat down on the grass as the last rays of sun faded on the horizon. She huffed. I knew what was coming. "Nothing to think about? There is everything to think about. A great deal of people want to see you dead. Are you going to tell them to just not think about the past and pretend everything is okay? They won't accept that." "Well they should," I said. "How else would we be here today? They'd still be squandering, looting, running amok at some stupid End of the World Party. I gave them focus. I saved their lives." "And you took many to save them. Some of them were people they loved." "You think I didn't lose anyone?" I asked, picking some grass and throwing it into the wind. "Of course, I know exactly who you lost. I've been here the whole time. We can't forget about them, though. You may be zen and collected, but they are not. They were not anything, other than thieves and madmen until you gave them a cause to join." Marge threw her rifle on the ground and sat down next to me. "When we leave here, the war is over. We won, but freedom can drive men crazy as well." She lay down, her auburn hair, a dark blanket against the grass. I sat back to join her. The night was slowly rolling in while the day came to an end. "So what am I supposed to do now," I asked, "vet everyone boarding the ships? Tell them, 'thanks for fighting, but we can't trust you on the new planet. You're going to have to stay here and die.' I'm sure that will go over well." Marge turned her head towards me. "All I'm saying is that you can't assume we're all united now. We're leaving Earth together, but it's more out of necessity than choice. When people have a choice again on this new planet, you can't assume we'll stay united." I sat up and looked over the plains below. The people were readying supplies on the ships. The lamps of the tents slowly flickered on and the makeshift city came to light. Tomorrow we would all be gone and what remained would be blasted into oblivion. "Do you already have a plan?" I asked. Marge smiled. "Of course," she said. "We're going to make sure our allies are always close. All the ships with them we'll keep together, so when we land, we won't have to worry about any instant revolts." "Revolts? We won't even have a government yet to revolt." "But you're still seen as the leader. The great man that led his people to a brave new world. Once you're gone, anyone with a sharp tongue could take over. We're all still human after all." "And you know who our allies are?" I asked. "I have ideas, and that's the best we can do right now. I can work through the night and try and organize everything for the departure tomorrow. But I won't if you do not want me to," Marge said. She grabbed her rifle and began to collect her bags for the walk back to the camp. "'We are still human after all'," I sighed. "I'll trust you on this one." I gathered my bag and gun, taking out my flashlight now that the night had almost taken over. From the camp came three gunshots. Marge turned to me. "Perhaps they decided not to wait until we landed. Remember what I said if anything should go wrong." We ran towards the camp, 12 hours left before humanity's departure from Earth.
	[WP] "Do you still think about what you did?"	"Do you still think about what you did?" I don't know how to answer. I don't know if she wants me to say yes and I'm so sorry and I was in a bad place and I regret it so much. Or if she wants a no and for me to tell her I've moved past it, that I've closed that chapter and I'm a better person than before. I don't know if she wants me to dwell on it or if it'll be better to act like I'm not the same man. "What?" "Don't do that. You heard what I said. I know you heard me." "What do you mean?" "Do you regret anything?" "Like what?" "Please. Please don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about." I can't look at her. I stare at the drops of water trickling down my glass, staining the table. "Do you want me to spell it out for you? Do you really want me to say it? We both know you're not a fucking idiot. You know what I'm asking." I fight the urge to get defensive, to deflect this conversation so we can pretend to forget the point of meeting. "Please just answer me." I manage to glance up, only to see tears trickling down her face, smearing her makeup. I take the breath to start telling her what I hope is the right answer but she keeps her monologue going. "I know I do. I think about what you did every day. Every fucking day. Whether I want to or not, I'm reminded of you by everything I see. Every song I hear, I think of you. Every time I eat, I think of whether or not you'd be too picky to try it. Every movie, every show I watch, I think of lying on your lap on the couch. When it's cold, I think of your jacket, your hand around mine. Literally every fucking thing in my life hurts because of you." I'm crying. Eyes closed, head down, trying to hide my shame. "So you know what, I don't want you to answer. I don't know why you agreed to meet if you were just going to be like this again. Maybe this is what I needed, to see you doing the same shit as before, not being able to talk to me about anything." "Im sorry." Im surprised my voice still works. "I don't really care. I don't care if you think about what happened." She gets up, thinks about saying something else, but changes her mind. I watch her walk away, out of the restaurant. I wish I knew how to talk to her. I wish I had the courage to apologize. I'd tell her that I do think about it. I think about what I did as much as she does. But now I'll have something new to regret, something else to haunt me. I'll think about what I didn't do tonight.	"Do you still think about what you did?" she asks me. I know Marge has been waiting to ask me for years, but as we stand on the hilltop under the crimson sky, I can't help wish that she would enjoy the sunset in peace. "No," I told her. "There is nothing to think about in the past. It has happened, it is gone and there is nothing that can change it." I sat down on the grass as the last rays of sun faded on the horizon. She huffed. I knew what was coming. "Nothing to think about? There is everything to think about. A great deal of people want to see you dead. Are you going to tell them to just not think about the past and pretend everything is okay? They won't accept that." "Well they should," I said. "How else would we be here today? They'd still be squandering, looting, running amok at some stupid End of the World Party. I gave them focus. I saved their lives." "And you took many to save them. Some of them were people they loved." "You think I didn't lose anyone?" I asked, picking some grass and throwing it into the wind. "Of course, I know exactly who you lost. I've been here the whole time. We can't forget about them, though. You may be zen and collected, but they are not. They were not anything, other than thieves and madmen until you gave them a cause to join." Marge threw her rifle on the ground and sat down next to me. "When we leave here, the war is over. We won, but freedom can drive men crazy as well." She lay down, her auburn hair, a dark blanket against the grass. I sat back to join her. The night was slowly rolling in while the day came to an end. "So what am I supposed to do now," I asked, "vet everyone boarding the ships? Tell them, 'thanks for fighting, but we can't trust you on the new planet. You're going to have to stay here and die.' I'm sure that will go over well." Marge turned her head towards me. "All I'm saying is that you can't assume we're all united now. We're leaving Earth together, but it's more out of necessity than choice. When people have a choice again on this new planet, you can't assume we'll stay united." I sat up and looked over the plains below. The people were readying supplies on the ships. The lamps of the tents slowly flickered on and the makeshift city came to light. Tomorrow we would all be gone and what remained would be blasted into oblivion. "Do you already have a plan?" I asked. Marge smiled. "Of course," she said. "We're going to make sure our allies are always close. All the ships with them we'll keep together, so when we land, we won't have to worry about any instant revolts." "Revolts? We won't even have a government yet to revolt." "But you're still seen as the leader. The great man that led his people to a brave new world. Once you're gone, anyone with a sharp tongue could take over. We're all still human after all." "And you know who our allies are?" I asked. "I have ideas, and that's the best we can do right now. I can work through the night and try and organize everything for the departure tomorrow. But I won't if you do not want me to," Marge said. She grabbed her rifle and began to collect her bags for the walk back to the camp. "'We are still human after all'," I sighed. "I'll trust you on this one." I gathered my bag and gun, taking out my flashlight now that the night had almost taken over. From the camp came three gunshots. Marge turned to me. "Perhaps they decided not to wait until we landed. Remember what I said if anything should go wrong." We ran towards the camp, 12 hours left before humanity's departure from Earth.
	[WP] "Do you still think about what you did?"	"Do you still think about what you did?" I don't know how to answer. I don't know if she wants me to say yes and I'm so sorry and I was in a bad place and I regret it so much. Or if she wants a no and for me to tell her I've moved past it, that I've closed that chapter and I'm a better person than before. I don't know if she wants me to dwell on it or if it'll be better to act like I'm not the same man. "What?" "Don't do that. You heard what I said. I know you heard me." "What do you mean?" "Do you regret anything?" "Like what?" "Please. Please don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about." I can't look at her. I stare at the drops of water trickling down my glass, staining the table. "Do you want me to spell it out for you? Do you really want me to say it? We both know you're not a fucking idiot. You know what I'm asking." I fight the urge to get defensive, to deflect this conversation so we can pretend to forget the point of meeting. "Please just answer me." I manage to glance up, only to see tears trickling down her face, smearing her makeup. I take the breath to start telling her what I hope is the right answer but she keeps her monologue going. "I know I do. I think about what you did every day. Every fucking day. Whether I want to or not, I'm reminded of you by everything I see. Every song I hear, I think of you. Every time I eat, I think of whether or not you'd be too picky to try it. Every movie, every show I watch, I think of lying on your lap on the couch. When it's cold, I think of your jacket, your hand around mine. Literally every fucking thing in my life hurts because of you." I'm crying. Eyes closed, head down, trying to hide my shame. "So you know what, I don't want you to answer. I don't know why you agreed to meet if you were just going to be like this again. Maybe this is what I needed, to see you doing the same shit as before, not being able to talk to me about anything." "Im sorry." Im surprised my voice still works. "I don't really care. I don't care if you think about what happened." She gets up, thinks about saying something else, but changes her mind. I watch her walk away, out of the restaurant. I wish I knew how to talk to her. I wish I had the courage to apologize. I'd tell her that I do think about it. I think about what I did as much as she does. But now I'll have something new to regret, something else to haunt me. I'll think about what I didn't do tonight.	"Sure I do." Jamie said. She scratched idly at her chin. "But what's the point of dwelling on it, you know?" "Sure." Chris said, taking a gulp of his beer. "Sure." "What?" She said. "I don't know. It just seems a little cold, to just move on like that. It was a special time for us." Jamie laughed. Chris was always sentimental. "Baby, you know it meant the world to me, but we've done so much since!" She smiled at him, kissed his cheek. "Yeah...yeah you're right." He said. "I guess my first meant a bit more to me is all." He finished the beer. Jamie looked at him, a slight frown forming. She reached out and gently held his arm. "Let's go make some more memories baby, okay?" She said. He looked at her and smiled. "Okay". They went down to the basement, where the family were tied up. The kids started screaming and the mother cried. "Which one do you fancy?" Jamie asked, kissing Chris on the cheek again, playfully biting his bottom lip. Chris looked at them all, crouched down, smelled them. He reckoned the mother was at her prime. "Let's have her tonight," he said.
	[WP] "Do you still think about what you did?"	"Do you still think about what you did?" I don't know how to answer. I don't know if she wants me to say yes and I'm so sorry and I was in a bad place and I regret it so much. Or if she wants a no and for me to tell her I've moved past it, that I've closed that chapter and I'm a better person than before. I don't know if she wants me to dwell on it or if it'll be better to act like I'm not the same man. "What?" "Don't do that. You heard what I said. I know you heard me." "What do you mean?" "Do you regret anything?" "Like what?" "Please. Please don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about." I can't look at her. I stare at the drops of water trickling down my glass, staining the table. "Do you want me to spell it out for you? Do you really want me to say it? We both know you're not a fucking idiot. You know what I'm asking." I fight the urge to get defensive, to deflect this conversation so we can pretend to forget the point of meeting. "Please just answer me." I manage to glance up, only to see tears trickling down her face, smearing her makeup. I take the breath to start telling her what I hope is the right answer but she keeps her monologue going. "I know I do. I think about what you did every day. Every fucking day. Whether I want to or not, I'm reminded of you by everything I see. Every song I hear, I think of you. Every time I eat, I think of whether or not you'd be too picky to try it. Every movie, every show I watch, I think of lying on your lap on the couch. When it's cold, I think of your jacket, your hand around mine. Literally every fucking thing in my life hurts because of you." I'm crying. Eyes closed, head down, trying to hide my shame. "So you know what, I don't want you to answer. I don't know why you agreed to meet if you were just going to be like this again. Maybe this is what I needed, to see you doing the same shit as before, not being able to talk to me about anything." "Im sorry." Im surprised my voice still works. "I don't really care. I don't care if you think about what happened." She gets up, thinks about saying something else, but changes her mind. I watch her walk away, out of the restaurant. I wish I knew how to talk to her. I wish I had the courage to apologize. I'd tell her that I do think about it. I think about what I did as much as she does. But now I'll have something new to regret, something else to haunt me. I'll think about what I didn't do tonight.	######[](#dropcap) He turned and paused to glance at her, his green-gray eyes scanning her up and down. He always did that, Faith realized, no matter the person. It was as if he were a starving wolf in winter, hungry and wary against all signs of danger. He had a lean, cold air about him, like a coming thunderstorm or blizzard. His green cloak was stained by mud and frayed by the careless whisk of many a mountain breeze. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder, its barrel and buttstock wrapped in worn hessian burlap. "Think about what?" Hilary Flint asked, his voice flat,and slightly nasally in the accent typical of those from the lands around the Inner Seas. Faith shrugged. "They say you massacred three hundred Regulars at the Battle of Fort Velienieau after they had surrendered. Is it true?" "Of sorts," admitted Flint, easing himself down against a fallen log to take a drink of water. "I shot them, yes. But only after one of those surrendering Regulars killed my Lieutenant with a knife hidden in his boot. I killed that murdering bastard myself, spilled his guts out onto the ice and slush of the parade ground with my sword. For his perfidy I had no choice but kill his comrades." "For the crimes of one, you punished hundreds? What kind of justice is that?" asked Faith. "You seem to be under the illusion that war can be just," snapped Flint. "There's nothing just about it, it's dirty and poisonous, corrupts every it touches. There were fifty of us Rangers. Fifty to watch over three hundred. There was no way we could've looked after six times our number, even with automatic weapons. We had no food, were four weeks from the nearest outpost. It was almost a favor that that fucker killed my officer; saved us the trouble of having to march them a hundred and eighty miles across mountain and rivers. "This isn't some noble tournament or chivalrous battle: this is war. People die, Faith. And it doesn't matter how they die be it from bullets, blades, or bombs. If you think I have trouble sleeping at night because of what I've done, you're dead wrong. It's only because of what I've done that I'm able to sleep at night."
	[WP] Autocorrect changed your sentence from "I'm good" to "I'm God" an angel appears and says "There you are!"	"There you are!" Mother.... I figure it's best not to complete that thought. I silently curse my phone before letting out a heavy sigh. It does not surprise me that the technology of my creations would bring about my downfall. "Uriel." I reply without looking up from my coffee. "We have been searching for you for who knows how long. It took an entire choir listening to find you. It's like you didn't want to be found." "Imagine that." Uriel sits down across from me at the diner and I realize I'm forced to look up at my son; I'd be a terrible father if I denied him and I've only made that mistake once. He's grinning ear to ear and I can't help but feel sorry for the boy. He was always an optimistic soul and here I am debating on bringing his world crashing down by telling him I'm not interested in going back. "We could really use your help." I took a long sip of my coffee, "You've been doing fine without me these past few hundred years. I did put in a good checks and balances system for my son to follow." Uriels nods, "He's doing really well to but its not, you. We miss you father." He's so genuine it makes me hurt a little bit. I pay for my coffee and touch the waitresses hand momentarily. In an instant I see her life flash in front of me. A child with stage one cancer, a alcoholic husband, and more debt than any girl her age has right to have. I have to blink away a tear but let her go on about her buisness. Uriel stares at me dumbfounded. "What?" "Aren't you going to help her?" "I did, I gave her a twenty dollar tip on a cup of coffee." I reply gathering up my coat. Uriel jumps to his feet to follow me and I am not going to tell him no. The streets of this small town are never busy and thats why I liked it. As I watched my creations grow and shape the world I felt myself pulled towards these places. It's the slice of life that is as close to my design as it could be. Everyone here knows everyone and no one seems bothered by me which makes it even better. "I mean you could really help her. I know that you've asked us to avoid too many miracles but they lady is suffering." he said. I shrugged, "She is but she is also working hard to make things better. This is her third job, before the diner she works as a bookkeeper at the farm and she's a janitor at the hospital so she can spend more time with her son." "But the husband." "Is a terrible man but all men are terrible and good at the same time. When he's not drunk he does right by her. He has his demons, he goes to AA, he tries." I snapped. "That is all we can ask of them Uriel is that they try." Uriel, sweet Uriel, is incapable of understanding the deep nature of humanity. I can see it in his golden eyes and it makes me regret not giving the other Angels just a small spark of understanding. But again, I only make those kind of mistakes once. "Her son will be dead soon." "Maybe, maybe not. I could intervene directly and cure him of his cancer. I hear her prayers every night and it takes every last bit of strength in me to not simply sweep away the hideous thing that is inside that poor boy." I ball up my fists, " He is innocent, children are innocent, and yet still this world creates things that will utterly destory them. Am I to cure every ill, am I to forgive every sin and fix every problem in this world!" A lamp light bursts over head and I let out a long breathe trying to put away the wrath I felt building in me. "That is what they want." Uriel said, "That is what they pray to us for." I smile, "Do you give it to them?" Uriel pauses, "Well no." "Exactly. My child this world was a perfect place once. When I first formed it into existence there was peace. Creatures great and small evolved and died before my eyes while I crafted the very essence of man, in my image, so they say. The truth is I crafted an idea. I breathed the first spark and from there I let the fire go where it will." I put my hand on his shoulder, "I did not create cancer, I did not create sickness and illness, they exist because they must exist. It is a cycle that the world has put in place not soon after I shaped it. If I were to cure every sickness what kind of God would I be." "A loving one?" Uriel quips. I can't help but laugh, "Maybe. But I love them for their ability to soldier on. To do good deeds in my name. I love the ones who worship others because that to is okay, I love those who do good deeds simply because it is right to do. I hate those who take life, who spit evil in the faces of other men and yet I choose to do nothing because intervening would mean changing the way of things." "You did once. You flooded the world." The smile falls from my face, "A mistake I swore I'd never make again. My son is good at what he does, he guides and teaches and those who listen to his wisdom would realize they are good tales that all men of any faith can follow. Uriel, do you know what the one and greatest truth that I wish I could give to man is?" Uriel shakes his head. "Don't be a dick." I smile patting him on the back, " Be good and kind to others, do not kill and most of all do not be afraid to make mistakes. I've not abandoned them, or you. I simply came to watch them grow and if you took the time to do so. You would see that they need very little help after all." Uriel nodded and said nothing. I could see he was trying to wrap his brain around the concepts I'd given him as we walked down the street. I let him join me for a drink at the local bar where everyone knows my name and together, for a brief moment, we were just men.	Responding to a simple question of How are you, resulting in an autocorrect of I am god; I was just way too tired to actually reread what I sent... My eyelids fluttered open, when I felt as if I were not alone.. A dark figure staring at me from the corner of my bed.. The closer he got, the more I saw the features of him as he glowed.. He was basically a living breathing glow stick of a person.. I tried to scream but nothing came out even though he put his finger onto my lips in an effort to shush me.. I looked at him, beckoning onto him to provide me reasons as to why this being came to me as I was trying to fall asleep at three am after watching a few movies due to a lack of needing slumber.. I wore normal pajamas set in light periwinkle blue, with white stars dotted upon them.. His garments were weird.. He has a long flowing high collared shirt that buttons down the middle with long flowing sleevesand very tight Jean like pants.. And sandals.. I can't figure out the hue of this trespassers skin due to his ability to shine like a star.. He told me, "You are god" "Haha, I wish.. I'm not that special" I responded. "Aha, but you are indeed special.. Don't doubt yourself god" he almost shrieked in a level sounding voice, continuing " if you, yourself, doubt.. Then how will us , followers, be able to have belief in ourselves?" I stared at him, not blinking, "This is a dream.." He shook his head no. I closed my eyes pretending to sleep.. "I know you are awake.." he seethed as the words slipped out of his mouth. I sat up in bed, annoyed and perturbed.. I spat out "WHAT!!! If it's not a dream or an illusion, then I'm able to do anything I desire? That's all you wanted to say ?? Then you will leave me alone so I can sleep???? " He shook his head yes, then noted "if you need anything then just call me, for my name is Q3aD.." I closed my eyes and slept restlessly.. The next morning, I yawned as I tumbled out of bed.. I decided to watch another nice bollywood flick but my eyes closed before intermission due to my exhaustion.. BEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeppppPppppPpP I awoke to the sound of horns honking, flabbergasted as to how I got to the side of the roadways instead of the couch. I heard foreign accents and words.. Holy cow!! I can teleport !!! I was simply happy with being able to walk around India although I teleported back home to change into a nice clothes.. And grab some American bills, so I can pay for awesome trinkets.. I decided that I would use this power that I was granted in small ways that would go unnoticed by others..
	[WP] Autocorrect changed your sentence from "I'm good" to "I'm God" an angel appears and says "There you are!"	"There you are!" Mother.... I figure it's best not to complete that thought. I silently curse my phone before letting out a heavy sigh. It does not surprise me that the technology of my creations would bring about my downfall. "Uriel." I reply without looking up from my coffee. "We have been searching for you for who knows how long. It took an entire choir listening to find you. It's like you didn't want to be found." "Imagine that." Uriel sits down across from me at the diner and I realize I'm forced to look up at my son; I'd be a terrible father if I denied him and I've only made that mistake once. He's grinning ear to ear and I can't help but feel sorry for the boy. He was always an optimistic soul and here I am debating on bringing his world crashing down by telling him I'm not interested in going back. "We could really use your help." I took a long sip of my coffee, "You've been doing fine without me these past few hundred years. I did put in a good checks and balances system for my son to follow." Uriels nods, "He's doing really well to but its not, you. We miss you father." He's so genuine it makes me hurt a little bit. I pay for my coffee and touch the waitresses hand momentarily. In an instant I see her life flash in front of me. A child with stage one cancer, a alcoholic husband, and more debt than any girl her age has right to have. I have to blink away a tear but let her go on about her buisness. Uriel stares at me dumbfounded. "What?" "Aren't you going to help her?" "I did, I gave her a twenty dollar tip on a cup of coffee." I reply gathering up my coat. Uriel jumps to his feet to follow me and I am not going to tell him no. The streets of this small town are never busy and thats why I liked it. As I watched my creations grow and shape the world I felt myself pulled towards these places. It's the slice of life that is as close to my design as it could be. Everyone here knows everyone and no one seems bothered by me which makes it even better. "I mean you could really help her. I know that you've asked us to avoid too many miracles but they lady is suffering." he said. I shrugged, "She is but she is also working hard to make things better. This is her third job, before the diner she works as a bookkeeper at the farm and she's a janitor at the hospital so she can spend more time with her son." "But the husband." "Is a terrible man but all men are terrible and good at the same time. When he's not drunk he does right by her. He has his demons, he goes to AA, he tries." I snapped. "That is all we can ask of them Uriel is that they try." Uriel, sweet Uriel, is incapable of understanding the deep nature of humanity. I can see it in his golden eyes and it makes me regret not giving the other Angels just a small spark of understanding. But again, I only make those kind of mistakes once. "Her son will be dead soon." "Maybe, maybe not. I could intervene directly and cure him of his cancer. I hear her prayers every night and it takes every last bit of strength in me to not simply sweep away the hideous thing that is inside that poor boy." I ball up my fists, " He is innocent, children are innocent, and yet still this world creates things that will utterly destory them. Am I to cure every ill, am I to forgive every sin and fix every problem in this world!" A lamp light bursts over head and I let out a long breathe trying to put away the wrath I felt building in me. "That is what they want." Uriel said, "That is what they pray to us for." I smile, "Do you give it to them?" Uriel pauses, "Well no." "Exactly. My child this world was a perfect place once. When I first formed it into existence there was peace. Creatures great and small evolved and died before my eyes while I crafted the very essence of man, in my image, so they say. The truth is I crafted an idea. I breathed the first spark and from there I let the fire go where it will." I put my hand on his shoulder, "I did not create cancer, I did not create sickness and illness, they exist because they must exist. It is a cycle that the world has put in place not soon after I shaped it. If I were to cure every sickness what kind of God would I be." "A loving one?" Uriel quips. I can't help but laugh, "Maybe. But I love them for their ability to soldier on. To do good deeds in my name. I love the ones who worship others because that to is okay, I love those who do good deeds simply because it is right to do. I hate those who take life, who spit evil in the faces of other men and yet I choose to do nothing because intervening would mean changing the way of things." "You did once. You flooded the world." The smile falls from my face, "A mistake I swore I'd never make again. My son is good at what he does, he guides and teaches and those who listen to his wisdom would realize they are good tales that all men of any faith can follow. Uriel, do you know what the one and greatest truth that I wish I could give to man is?" Uriel shakes his head. "Don't be a dick." I smile patting him on the back, " Be good and kind to others, do not kill and most of all do not be afraid to make mistakes. I've not abandoned them, or you. I simply came to watch them grow and if you took the time to do so. You would see that they need very little help after all." Uriel nodded and said nothing. I could see he was trying to wrap his brain around the concepts I'd given him as we walked down the street. I let him join me for a drink at the local bar where everyone knows my name and together, for a brief moment, we were just men.	"There you are!" Quivering I attempted to respond but my voice box failed to cooperate. What seemed like years went by as I tried to summon any kind of retort. Then suddenly a man in black stepped forth. Dressed as a preacher yet wrinkled and tired. "Here I am!" Shouted the down trodden man of God. "I am Jesse Custer hear me" bellowed from him in a voice that was beautiful, like song birds singing on a brisk spring morning. Yet deep and dark as the blackest night. Equally wonderful and melancholy. As the figure seemed to shrink it tried to scream back "I am the..." But in that moment reddit got too real and I really gotta go to bed. Not my best but fuck it I'm tired. Down vote the shit out of this I earned it.
	[WP] Autocorrect changed your sentence from "I'm good" to "I'm God" an angel appears and says "There you are!"	You have barely hit the 'send' button when you hear a lyrical voice exclaim behind you "There you are!" You are not proud of how high pitched your scream is. Or that you fell of of your chair. "What the shit!" You scream, crawling away from the winged, teleporting man with a jawline that could cut diamonds. He frowns, and you want to weep, suddenly, for no good reason. You caused him sadness. (He, you remind yourself, caused you a minor cardiac arrest, so now you're even.) "My Lord," he says, "such words are beneath You." You open and close your mouth. "I'm not a boy," you finally manage. "I apologise, Your Grace." The ridiculously beautiful man says. You nod dumbly, still staring. You don't know what to focus on - his perfect face, his golden wings, or the fact that he just teleported into your office. "I think," you stutter, trying desperately to remember what you were saying. He must have an amazing plastic surgeon, you decide. And the wings will be a prop. And the teleporting... you're still working on the teleporting. "I mean... I'm not who you think I am." "Your Grace, there's no need to pretend," he clucks in a chastising voice, "I've seen your admission." You swallow. "Ad-admission? I really think there's been a mix up-" The... being? Angel? Shakes his head sadly. "I've seen the tee-ext, Your Grace." For a moment, you have no idea what he's referring to. "The- the text?" You stutter. He snaps his spotless white gloves. "That's the one, My Lady. How clever You are." He holds out your iPhone - you have no idea how he got it as you hadn't seen him pick it up. But none of this is making much sense. On the screen is your boss asking if you want the intern to pick you up some coffee on the Starbucks run. You're sure you wrote 'I'm good'. You'd already had an espresso this morning, and too much caffeine makes you all jittery. But the screen shows a reply of 'I'm God.' "Autocorrect." You blurt. The angel blinks once, twice. "What?" "Give it here." You say, finally standing up from your backwards crab position. Dumbly, he lets you take it. "Look," you say, and type omw. You press the enter button and suddenly it becomes a grammatically correct sentence - On my way! Suddenly, the angel looks very embarrassed. "Ah," he says, his cheeks a deep bronze. "Right. Sorry about that." You open your mouth, ready to ask what happens now, but you blink, and you're alone. You take a deep breath, and slide back into your chair as a text comes through from your boss. "Typo! No coffee?" You type back your reply, shaking. "Changed mind. Get me an Irish coffee. Stat." The next thing you do is disable autocorrect. Then, you begin gently thunking your head against your desk. "What," you say to nobody, "the fuck?"	"There you are!" Quivering I attempted to respond but my voice box failed to cooperate. What seemed like years went by as I tried to summon any kind of retort. Then suddenly a man in black stepped forth. Dressed as a preacher yet wrinkled and tired. "Here I am!" Shouted the down trodden man of God. "I am Jesse Custer hear me" bellowed from him in a voice that was beautiful, like song birds singing on a brisk spring morning. Yet deep and dark as the blackest night. Equally wonderful and melancholy. As the figure seemed to shrink it tried to scream back "I am the..." But in that moment reddit got too real and I really gotta go to bed. Not my best but fuck it I'm tired. Down vote the shit out of this I earned it.
	[WP] Autocorrect changed your sentence from "I'm good" to "I'm God" an angel appears and says "There you are!"	Predictive text manifolds reveal the Truth of the world, the angel says. Reveal intention. It is wheels within wheels within wheels, the rims of it lined with blazing eyes, every revolution bringing with it a dizzying change in perspective. I am held in its gaze, pinned to the axes of an ever-rotating world. My eyes are dragged irresistibly up into my skull. I want to throw up. You Who are Holy and Righteous above all things. You have been found. "A-a-a-a mistake," I stutter. My fingers twitch as if they are still tapping at the screen. My body is trembling like a leaf in the wind. Is this what a seizure feels like? There are no mistakes, says the angel. The world is Data, expression of Divine intent. Would a benevolent God have allowed E̡X̵̶̛͢͡ children to suffer? There is a shuddering glitch in its voice, the wheels grinding together, brass against brass. It continues, unperturbed. Expression follows standard character sets, constraint models, cardinalities. You have fat-fingered the phone of life. Free will is the totality of the externally-imposed defects of a physical frame. Its eyes swivel onto me. They are like burning coals. We see only Your Soul. "I-I-I-I-I-" and then my voice is being modulated out of my throat. The air molecules align. I am speaking with a new voice. "I'm good." You are Good, the angel confirms. Its wheels are shifting apart, unlocking. Within, there is nothing but the fire. You are God. All error now falls aside. You have been Corrected. "And why me?" I say. There is no distinction between my voice and the natural vibrations of the air, between that and the tenor of the world. Language has been reduced to birdsong. I am staring into the sun. You are a Word, says the sun, the angle, the tilt between the wheel and the flame. An arbitrary assemblage of characters intended to communicate Meaning. Your Truth is only realized by a fellow User, one who shares your language. Concepts are falling apart. Language is dissolving. I cannot think of the word I mean. Typos are irrelevant. Misspellings are irrelevant. Communication is achieved not through Correctness, adherence to validation rules. It is achieved through the impulse towards contact between two human souls. I nowlonager kno ho wto spaek how tto rite howto spelel We Understand what You mean.	I have been torturing the poor bastard for two days now. The first thing I did when I was bestowed with God's power was have my brother run over by a car. Oh, he didn't die. All of his limbs were just ripped off. Did you know, there's a certain medical anomaly where you can stay conscious even though you are detached from most of your body. The doctors didn't either. It's not possible, they said, as they tried to redirect his gaze away from his bleeding stubs. But those are the kinds of things you can when you are God. And that's the kind of pain you go through when you seduce my girlfriend. Michael was oddly fine with my actions. The angel only watched with his stern, carved-out-of-marble face. "Our Father has given you power for mysterious reasons," he told me. "You may do as you please. He does suggest you use it for the good of the world." "It's a beautiful thing that suggestions are not requirements," I had told him. And now he waited quietly behind me in my brother's hospital room. I caressed my brother's hair. In one gentle tug a waft of his bouncy, blonde hair came off his scarred head. Harold woke with a sudden start, groaning through the oxygen mask. His eyes darted around the room as he convulsed. Whatever was left of legs crashed against the bed, his chest heaved up and down, and his mouth frothed. "What's wrong, Harold?" I asked him. "Did someone turn off your morphine?" His wild eyes found me in the white room. I made sure he could fully sense my presence amidst the pain. I made sure he knew I was the cause of it. "I wonder who would do such a thing?" I slapped the stump at the end of his right arm. He almost launched himself from the bed, and his howl was loud enough to burst even my godly ears. "Do you know who would take away something so precious from someone else, Michael?" The angel turned his bored eyes, and barely shook his head. His halo following the motion of his head. I turned back to my dear brother. "Do you know anyone who would be so wretched as to STEAL something that brought someone else so much happiness?" I spit at him. As soon as the liquid his chest, it bore through his flesh. Smoke rose from where the acid entered his dying body. "I do, Harold. In fact, I know two." "He is in this room," said the doctor, as he opened the door. Behind him was a girl with red lips, long brown hair, and a heart that was blacker than Satan's. Normally, the hospital wouldn't allow visitors for a patient in Harold's position. But my dear brother had made a miraculous recovery, and the hospital was feeling unexpectedly sympathetic towards his situation. "Oh my god," Willa mumbled, her voice cracking at the sight of poor Harold. He had stopped convulsing now, but his eyes remembered the pain. The doctor left the room. "Baby, are you ok?" she asked the man with no limbs, kneeling beside him. That's what she asked me after I found out. Four words was all she could after a week of no contact. Through text no less. But that text was the best thing to happen to me. And it would be the worst thing to happen to her. Willa gently placed a hand of his chest, where the acid wounds used to be. "I will be here for you, Harold," she said. "I will be here with you forever." "Ha!" I cried. "That's easy to fucking say when he's clearly got a day left at best. Always making the easy promises aren't you, bitch?" She couldn't hear me, but Harold could. "And I hope your brother can put all of this behind him. For you." Unbelievable. She slept with him once. ONCE. And now she's in love with him. They were barely finished by the time I had walked through the door. But I guess that's all it took for Harold to completely seduce her. The bastard. Willa grabbed a pillow lying by Harold's side. Her quivering fingers closed around the sides as she placed it over my brother's face. A small moan escaped her as she shoved down harder against the pillow. She wasn't allowed to scream. She wasn't allowed to let out the agony. For once, she had to know what it felt like to have everything you loved slip out of your fingers. I would make sure she remembers the violent convulsions of Harold's body, as the last of his left him. If I had any say in it, he would be going to Hell. I was yet to explore that region of my newfound powers. Willa's lips bled, tearing from the pressure of being pushed together. The drops fell on the white pillow, spreading quickly over the fabric. Harold's shaking was coming to a stop. In those last moments, Willa put more of her weight on the pillow. Harold had lost his breath a long time ago, the oxygen mask was removed before the pillow was on him. His heart stopped and I fainted. The pressure was like the weight of a thousand mountains. Everything was black. I was shaking just like Michael, but it felt as if I was put in a coffin three times too small. When the pressure was removed, I took in lungfuls of air. Michael stood over me, a bloodstained pillow in his hand. Beside him was a man that was eerily similar to him, with the same stern face, white hair and golden eyes. But his halo was red. "I knew he would end up here!" said the man with the red halo. We were in a cavern from what I could gather, with the room lit up by a distant orange light. I was paralyzed on the hard floor, too busy with breathing to look around. "Yes, yes," said Michael. "You have invested well, Lucifer. It's very rare to find someone who can fail the test this badly." "How did Father pick this one?" "A text he sent was autocorrected from 'I'm good' to 'I'm God'" Lucifer laughed. "Father really makes it harder for you to track these down, doesn't he?" He laid a hand on Michael's shoulder. Michael moved his hand away. "It's no matter. There aren't many experiments left. We are almost done recruiting." Lucifer sighed. "We are. I won't get to see you anymore, dear brother." "Yes. I have to take my leave. I'll send over 100,000 unbroken souls to you by today." "And don't forget our personal wager." "I won't." "It's always nice seeing you, Michael. Say hello to Father for me." Michael nodded. He sprouted wings and vanished. Lucifer picked me up by collar, bringing my face next to his. "Welcome to Hell, Harkan Rumsfeld."
	[WP] Aliens find us and think we are so tiny and adorable that they treat us like little pets, but for whatever reason we all love it	When I think about it in retrospect I would say that this all started with the cats. I'm fairly certain that history will report that the cats were the first earth beings to be contacted by the cozy ones. About a month before the cozy ones came to earth the cats started speaking the same languages as their owners. It was a nice time. After a few days all parties adjusted to the change in communication and realized that it changed absolutely nothing about our relationships. In fact it only strengthened our preconceived feelings about our cats' personalities. A lot of them are just sarcastic assholes, it made watching tv together less lonely. By week three most cat owners were spending more time with their cats than they ever had before. By week four cat owners were more or less completely isolated from their peers. The cats still meowed sometimes. Any cat owner, who had long since memorized the different meows and what they mean would tell you that the meows that occurred after speech was obtained were entirely different than before. Some would argue that they didn't mean anything at all. My theory is that the cats were communicating with the cozy ones, relaying information about how we do things here on earth. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that cats were always spies sent by the cozy ones when they initially found earth in ancient times and they've just been bidding time for their true masters to return. I have no way of knowing who else agrees with my theory about the cats. I have been more or less isolated from the other humans since the arrival of the cozy ones. That is why I'm hoping these blog posts get views. Unfortunately, from what I understand the cozy ones communicate with each other telepathically and thus have no use for having wifi or internet connections in their homes. I must say that I don't miss my old life all that much. I spent all of it working crazy hours in a tiny desk before picking up some fast food and cozying up with my cat and some HBO. Now, I spend about 50-70% of my day in bed. My cozy one, who I call Carl for lack of any ability to understand what he calls himself, feeds me a smoothy in the morning and a burrito at night like clockwork. Sometimes, if he's feeling generous or if he leaves me alone for a long time he'll give me chocolate and/or weed as a treat. I never want for anything. When he is in the house, Carl likes to watch me sleep, stroke my hair, and sing what I assume are songs in his native language. I am greatly amused by this. At night we snuggle together and I feel like I am being protected. I don't have to work, I won't go hungry, and I've very comfortable. Overall, I like that a cozy one has brought me away from the politics and hardships of earth living. I do feel lonely though. I wish I had someone who I could talk to, someone who understands me, who I can share my experiences and my dreams with. I wish I was able to keep my cat, princess fluff.	Six weeks ago they had landed, declared themselves delegates from some intergalaxial UN that had so happened to hear one of our broadcasts. It took a few days to figure all this out because they had landed in the Milwaukee comic convention and only spoke Portuguese. Once that was all sorted out various leaders from across the globe came to greet the visitors; visitors with twelve arm-like claws bristling from their sides and a penchant for Brazilian telenovelas. After a week or so of tentative, hesitant summits tensions began to mount on the human side of things. A great and noble Finish minister of state threatened one of the beings with a smuggled pistol. Surprised the being let out a charming squawk and unfurled its claws. The bone appendage reached rapidly behind both the minister and his Angolan interpreter. The assembled body descended into a panic. Guns were drawn by every guard and alarms sounded. It looked like humanity's first interactions with extraterrestrials were going to end a bit poorly. That's when the Finn moaned. The room as a whole paused. The Angolan moaned. The room took a cautious step forward. One after another the delegates wrapped their claws around elder statesman after elder statesman. The world was subdued not by force but we are subdued and the world is at peace. Why you ask? because they give great back scratches and if you'll excuse me I'm late for my walk.
	[WP] When your medical nanobot was sabotaged, the 'accident' left you immortal. The occult immortals of your city have reached out socially.	The first couple decades were the hardest. Once it was clear that I wasn’t aging beyond 30, the doctors and medtechs wanted to have a look at me. I spent nearly a decade in the best medhub on the continent as the top techs and doctors examined me and tested the limits of my immortality. The global immunobot hack that had led to several million deaths had left me immortal, and the final tests confirmed that with the combination of uniquely mutated genes and the way they interacted with the bot hack, I could now live through nearly anything. From the tests, we learned that decapitation and skull-crushing was about all that could presumably still render me dead—if you think of death as a lack of consciousness—but otherwise I was immortal. The only test that went a little wrong—the only time the bots didn’t do a kick-ass job at rejuvenating me—was when they (carefully) removed my right arm at the elbow. They wanted to know if it would grow back—and to be honest I did too—so after a pile of consent forms, we tried it. Well, it did grow back, but the bots seemed a little confused at what a human arm is supposed to look like. I can’t blame them, really; the normal limits of bots are patching burnt skin up to second degree burns and kicking viruses and bad bacteria in the ass—they weren’t made to regrow limbs, they shouldn’t even be able to. Now, my right arm is a bit funky; it has the same general shape and function as my left hand, but instead of nails I have claws—thick, black, curling claws. Nothing the programmers could do could reverse it, and they were hesitant to change my bots programming too much because they still don’t quite know what serendipitous lines of genetic and synthetic code led to me being immortal instead of dead. The hack that left so many dead simply reversed the bots’ sense of ‘enemy’ cells and bacteria; leaving millions of people whose bots were actively attacking them. In me, the combination of a serious illness, mutated genes, and bots who saw the ‘normal’ me as the enemy turned me into an immortal. My bots are focused on my own body as the enemy, much like others who were effected, but instead of killing me, they are in a constant state of re-making me. As far as anyone can tell, my genetic makeup was just unique enough to cast doubt on which parts of me were ‘normal’ before the hack and before the illness, and the combination with my illness rendered enough confusion that the bots focused on constantly reproducing the base code of my body. It honestly happened to some other small percentage of the human race as well—none of us are truly unique, after all—but I was the only one with medtechs and doctors constantly up in my physical space, and thus the only one on the radar. Anyone else who experienced this probably just thinks they’re aging extremely well—for now, anyway. After the decade in the hospital I tried to get on with a normal life, but as you might imagine that became impossible. Everyone wants a piece of an immortals life until they realize what that really means; I won’t grow old with them, I won’t age or change the same way, and they’re going to die long before me. It wears on a person after a while, and the weird claws on my right hand didn’t help much either. Now, I spend most of my time alone. I spent several years after the hospital doing all that stuff you might imagine you’d do if you had unlimited time. I traveled, I worked different jobs, I met strange and exciting people. I spent a good deal of time in the public eye, raking in the money you’d imagine you’d make just being immortal and willing to talk about it. I figured if I was going to live forever it’d help to be a millionaire, first, and it seemed like the public agreed. After the whirlwind of lost connections and the slow building realization that I was no longer a part of the time stream with everyone else, I retired to the pacific northwest for some time in quiet reflection. Life is a lot easier for an immortal if you’re alone; you don’t have to be constantly reminded of your immortality and you can feel more like a person than a god. I was fine for several years, living alone in the mountains and redwoods, feeling more at home surrounded by trees and rocks than I did surrounded by people. Being among things that had been alive for longer than I have and would continue to exist longer than the average human was comforting. Recently, however, I’ve been longing for connection with other conscious beings, and the letters and web contact with family and old friends wasn’t enough anymore. I had nearly made the decision to return to civilization for a while when I received the letter. It was addressed to me by name, which in itself wasn’t odd as nearly everyone knows my story. The odd part was that the letter was written on centuries-old paper. ... Note: That's all I've got so far. Apologies to the techs, doctors, and scientists out there--I'm completely making up something that sounds plausible to me even though I have no good understanding of how this all might work.	Surrounded by the beautiful, rich, and wise folk, I wonder what my place is here. I know what powers my immortality, science stealing away matter to a permanent perfect state, aggressively willing to destroy everything, a broken fundamental, the Three Laws bent to my unwilling advantage. But for these immortals, it is their will, faith, or pure divinity that gives them their infinity. Why am I here? To be gawked at? Mocked, pitied, "uplifted" to their perfection? Or am I here as an equal to them? --- Sorry, I don't have much. I know the story in my head, but not the words. The idea is that the immortal-through-science is given immortality because of the overly aggressive nanobots that actually make up his existence. If he would die, the nanobots would effectively grey-goo his surroundings to rebuild him, but the immortals he's surrounded by don't need such... well, harsh methods. Their immortality is sustained through more elegant means and he knows that while he is perfection among men, he is no longer surrounded by men. I'm not sure if I would have brought it to blows, to steal divinity, or to spend immortality with these folks. What's a few millennia of a head start when you have an Aleph-Zero infinity to live your life.
	[WP] When your medical nanobot was sabotaged, the 'accident' left you immortal. The occult immortals of your city have reached out socially.	"It's a problem called 'medibot persistence'," the doctor explained. "It will halt your aging at your physical peak, automatically heal diseases and injuries and work to prevent total brain death in the event of extreme trauma, such as decapitation. You'll need other medical treatment if something like that happens, like someone to stick your head back on your body." "Wait, seriously?" "Yes, seriously. It happens in about one in ten thousand cases, and you drew the short straw. In the front office the receptionist will give you the forms you'll want to fill out for filing for malpractice." "Wait. Malpractice? Why would I do that, this sounds awesome! Like I come in for an appendectomy and you gave me a superpower, like one of those Neo Olympics athletes!" I could feel it. I hopped off the table to do some jumping jacks, just to feel how healthy my body was now that the realization was starting to set in. "You don't understand, Mr. Josephson. Immortality is illegal. In accordance with local laws we have already reported you. We don't have the legal authority to detain you, so... if you don't want to lose what you just got, at the very least... you're going to want to start running." "What?" I asked. "I don't know what you're talking about." I walked, disoriented, out of the office, and when I opened the door and looked out I saw three black-suited men walking down the hallway. They were wearing ominous-looking sunglasses, and carrying rifles. I ducked my head back into the office. "Holy shit. Okay, I want to run now." The doctor opened up the window of the office. "Come over here, then," he said, beckoning me over. I ran to the window and shied away. "Doc, this is like the third floor!" I felt his shoe on my back as he pushed me out the window. The fall took only a second, and I landed on my back. I heard my spine snap, and my legs went limp as I flopped onto the ground. Everything in my body tingled except my back, which hurt, but I couldn't muster the strength for a scream. Within seconds, though, I heard another crack, and the feeling flooded back from my limbs, like a full-body case of pins and needles. I lept to my feet, my muscles twitching. "Holy shit! I... I guess I really am immortal. And I really should start running." I started to run towards my car, but stopped when I saw another pair of those agents standing by it. They spotted me, and I turned and ran the other way, down the street. I felt amazing. I hadn't run like this since I was in the track and field team in high school, only I think I was doing better than I ever did in that team. "Why don't they just give this to everyone?" I wondered aloud. Within a couple minutes, I heard sirens coming up from behind me. I hit a hard right into an alley, sprinting to a different road, then kept running into another alley when I saw another car with sirens - not a cop car though - coming down that road too. This alley was longer, and before I could reach the other side I saw another unmarked car pull up to the other side. I heard gunfire, and felt a burning sensation in my leg - I'd been shot. I dived for cover behind a dumpster as the 'cops' opened fire on me. "Oh god, I don't want to die!" I said, wondering if maybe I could surrender after all, but not terribly wanting to die of old age either, to go back to my shitty, middle-aged physique with my body slowly falling apart... Then I noticed there wasn't any more gunfire. I looked up to see a black woman standing over me, also dressed in a black suit, but this one had a number of red stains on it. Blood? She was carrying a smoking pistol. "You gonna get up and run, sugah?" The woman drawled in a creole accent. "I didn't kill them, and there'll be more." "Who are you?" "How about we share introductions at the safehouse, sugah." She offered her hand, and I took it. By the time I was standing, she was shot in the back of the head. She collapsed like a sack of potatoes, and I screamed. Before I even finished screaming, her arm lifted from the ground, aimed her pistol, and fired, downing the agent who had fired at her. She stood back up, the hole in her head closing, slowly - and I could see her brains in the meantime. "What... what the hell?" I said, in horror. "Okay, introductions then. I'm Mary, I'm a voodoo zombie, please don't stare. Now get yer cute butt running!" She pushed me, and I started running. She was beside me in a moment, directing me where to go, taking shots at people, often before they took shots at us. I was just so disoriented it took all I had just to follow her and stay alive, so I'm not sure how we ended up diving into a quiet, dark warehouse, or how she managed to enter that warehouse's basement, or why there was a second basement underneath that. But once there, I could hear... well it sounded like one of those old-school speakeasies, and it looked like one too, except crazy. Four werewolves playing poker around a table. A man with big red horns casually chatting with a man with the telltale seams around his joints betraying an artificial body. A guy with a long, pointed hat and a wand, like he was a storybook wizard, talking with a giant furry about Martian geopolitics. There was a piano there; I was able to see through the man playing it. Everyone was wearing the same black suits. "Welcome to the organization," Mary said. "I'm afraid your old life is gone at this point - the authorities have seized your possessions and told everyone you knew that you were dead. And they'll be watching them, so you're gonna want to stay dead as far as they're concerned, or you might get them killed." It was too much for me to take - and she could tell, because she offered me a drink. "Who are you?" I asked. "The organization's called Holder. Immortality's illegal these days, so we immortals gotta band together to survive. You don't have to join... but you're gonna wanna, if you want some of the world's scary immortals watching your back. Our founder's an ancient vampire!" She poured herself a drink and held up the glass. "To good health and a long life!" I clinked my drink against it. "To good health... and a long life."	Surrounded by the beautiful, rich, and wise folk, I wonder what my place is here. I know what powers my immortality, science stealing away matter to a permanent perfect state, aggressively willing to destroy everything, a broken fundamental, the Three Laws bent to my unwilling advantage. But for these immortals, it is their will, faith, or pure divinity that gives them their infinity. Why am I here? To be gawked at? Mocked, pitied, "uplifted" to their perfection? Or am I here as an equal to them? --- Sorry, I don't have much. I know the story in my head, but not the words. The idea is that the immortal-through-science is given immortality because of the overly aggressive nanobots that actually make up his existence. If he would die, the nanobots would effectively grey-goo his surroundings to rebuild him, but the immortals he's surrounded by don't need such... well, harsh methods. Their immortality is sustained through more elegant means and he knows that while he is perfection among men, he is no longer surrounded by men. I'm not sure if I would have brought it to blows, to steal divinity, or to spend immortality with these folks. What's a few millennia of a head start when you have an Aleph-Zero infinity to live your life.
	[WP] When your medical nanobot was sabotaged, the 'accident' left you immortal. The occult immortals of your city have reached out socially.	"It's a problem called 'medibot persistence'," the doctor explained. "It will halt your aging at your physical peak, automatically heal diseases and injuries and work to prevent total brain death in the event of extreme trauma, such as decapitation. You'll need other medical treatment if something like that happens, like someone to stick your head back on your body." "Wait, seriously?" "Yes, seriously. It happens in about one in ten thousand cases, and you drew the short straw. In the front office the receptionist will give you the forms you'll want to fill out for filing for malpractice." "Wait. Malpractice? Why would I do that, this sounds awesome! Like I come in for an appendectomy and you gave me a superpower, like one of those Neo Olympics athletes!" I could feel it. I hopped off the table to do some jumping jacks, just to feel how healthy my body was now that the realization was starting to set in. "You don't understand, Mr. Josephson. Immortality is illegal. In accordance with local laws we have already reported you. We don't have the legal authority to detain you, so... if you don't want to lose what you just got, at the very least... you're going to want to start running." "What?" I asked. "I don't know what you're talking about." I walked, disoriented, out of the office, and when I opened the door and looked out I saw three black-suited men walking down the hallway. They were wearing ominous-looking sunglasses, and carrying rifles. I ducked my head back into the office. "Holy shit. Okay, I want to run now." The doctor opened up the window of the office. "Come over here, then," he said, beckoning me over. I ran to the window and shied away. "Doc, this is like the third floor!" I felt his shoe on my back as he pushed me out the window. The fall took only a second, and I landed on my back. I heard my spine snap, and my legs went limp as I flopped onto the ground. Everything in my body tingled except my back, which hurt, but I couldn't muster the strength for a scream. Within seconds, though, I heard another crack, and the feeling flooded back from my limbs, like a full-body case of pins and needles. I lept to my feet, my muscles twitching. "Holy shit! I... I guess I really am immortal. And I really should start running." I started to run towards my car, but stopped when I saw another pair of those agents standing by it. They spotted me, and I turned and ran the other way, down the street. I felt amazing. I hadn't run like this since I was in the track and field team in high school, only I think I was doing better than I ever did in that team. "Why don't they just give this to everyone?" I wondered aloud. Within a couple minutes, I heard sirens coming up from behind me. I hit a hard right into an alley, sprinting to a different road, then kept running into another alley when I saw another car with sirens - not a cop car though - coming down that road too. This alley was longer, and before I could reach the other side I saw another unmarked car pull up to the other side. I heard gunfire, and felt a burning sensation in my leg - I'd been shot. I dived for cover behind a dumpster as the 'cops' opened fire on me. "Oh god, I don't want to die!" I said, wondering if maybe I could surrender after all, but not terribly wanting to die of old age either, to go back to my shitty, middle-aged physique with my body slowly falling apart... Then I noticed there wasn't any more gunfire. I looked up to see a black woman standing over me, also dressed in a black suit, but this one had a number of red stains on it. Blood? She was carrying a smoking pistol. "You gonna get up and run, sugah?" The woman drawled in a creole accent. "I didn't kill them, and there'll be more." "Who are you?" "How about we share introductions at the safehouse, sugah." She offered her hand, and I took it. By the time I was standing, she was shot in the back of the head. She collapsed like a sack of potatoes, and I screamed. Before I even finished screaming, her arm lifted from the ground, aimed her pistol, and fired, downing the agent who had fired at her. She stood back up, the hole in her head closing, slowly - and I could see her brains in the meantime. "What... what the hell?" I said, in horror. "Okay, introductions then. I'm Mary, I'm a voodoo zombie, please don't stare. Now get yer cute butt running!" She pushed me, and I started running. She was beside me in a moment, directing me where to go, taking shots at people, often before they took shots at us. I was just so disoriented it took all I had just to follow her and stay alive, so I'm not sure how we ended up diving into a quiet, dark warehouse, or how she managed to enter that warehouse's basement, or why there was a second basement underneath that. But once there, I could hear... well it sounded like one of those old-school speakeasies, and it looked like one too, except crazy. Four werewolves playing poker around a table. A man with big red horns casually chatting with a man with the telltale seams around his joints betraying an artificial body. A guy with a long, pointed hat and a wand, like he was a storybook wizard, talking with a giant furry about Martian geopolitics. There was a piano there; I was able to see through the man playing it. Everyone was wearing the same black suits. "Welcome to the organization," Mary said. "I'm afraid your old life is gone at this point - the authorities have seized your possessions and told everyone you knew that you were dead. And they'll be watching them, so you're gonna want to stay dead as far as they're concerned, or you might get them killed." It was too much for me to take - and she could tell, because she offered me a drink. "Who are you?" I asked. "The organization's called Holder. Immortality's illegal these days, so we immortals gotta band together to survive. You don't have to join... but you're gonna wanna, if you want some of the world's scary immortals watching your back. Our founder's an ancient vampire!" She poured herself a drink and held up the glass. "To good health and a long life!" I clinked my drink against it. "To good health... and a long life."	The first couple decades were the hardest. Once it was clear that I wasn’t aging beyond 30, the doctors and medtechs wanted to have a look at me. I spent nearly a decade in the best medhub on the continent as the top techs and doctors examined me and tested the limits of my immortality. The global immunobot hack that had led to several million deaths had left me immortal, and the final tests confirmed that with the combination of uniquely mutated genes and the way they interacted with the bot hack, I could now live through nearly anything. From the tests, we learned that decapitation and skull-crushing was about all that could presumably still render me dead—if you think of death as a lack of consciousness—but otherwise I was immortal. The only test that went a little wrong—the only time the bots didn’t do a kick-ass job at rejuvenating me—was when they (carefully) removed my right arm at the elbow. They wanted to know if it would grow back—and to be honest I did too—so after a pile of consent forms, we tried it. Well, it did grow back, but the bots seemed a little confused at what a human arm is supposed to look like. I can’t blame them, really; the normal limits of bots are patching burnt skin up to second degree burns and kicking viruses and bad bacteria in the ass—they weren’t made to regrow limbs, they shouldn’t even be able to. Now, my right arm is a bit funky; it has the same general shape and function as my left hand, but instead of nails I have claws—thick, black, curling claws. Nothing the programmers could do could reverse it, and they were hesitant to change my bots programming too much because they still don’t quite know what serendipitous lines of genetic and synthetic code led to me being immortal instead of dead. The hack that left so many dead simply reversed the bots’ sense of ‘enemy’ cells and bacteria; leaving millions of people whose bots were actively attacking them. In me, the combination of a serious illness, mutated genes, and bots who saw the ‘normal’ me as the enemy turned me into an immortal. My bots are focused on my own body as the enemy, much like others who were effected, but instead of killing me, they are in a constant state of re-making me. As far as anyone can tell, my genetic makeup was just unique enough to cast doubt on which parts of me were ‘normal’ before the hack and before the illness, and the combination with my illness rendered enough confusion that the bots focused on constantly reproducing the base code of my body. It honestly happened to some other small percentage of the human race as well—none of us are truly unique, after all—but I was the only one with medtechs and doctors constantly up in my physical space, and thus the only one on the radar. Anyone else who experienced this probably just thinks they’re aging extremely well—for now, anyway. After the decade in the hospital I tried to get on with a normal life, but as you might imagine that became impossible. Everyone wants a piece of an immortals life until they realize what that really means; I won’t grow old with them, I won’t age or change the same way, and they’re going to die long before me. It wears on a person after a while, and the weird claws on my right hand didn’t help much either. Now, I spend most of my time alone. I spent several years after the hospital doing all that stuff you might imagine you’d do if you had unlimited time. I traveled, I worked different jobs, I met strange and exciting people. I spent a good deal of time in the public eye, raking in the money you’d imagine you’d make just being immortal and willing to talk about it. I figured if I was going to live forever it’d help to be a millionaire, first, and it seemed like the public agreed. After the whirlwind of lost connections and the slow building realization that I was no longer a part of the time stream with everyone else, I retired to the pacific northwest for some time in quiet reflection. Life is a lot easier for an immortal if you’re alone; you don’t have to be constantly reminded of your immortality and you can feel more like a person than a god. I was fine for several years, living alone in the mountains and redwoods, feeling more at home surrounded by trees and rocks than I did surrounded by people. Being among things that had been alive for longer than I have and would continue to exist longer than the average human was comforting. Recently, however, I’ve been longing for connection with other conscious beings, and the letters and web contact with family and old friends wasn’t enough anymore. I had nearly made the decision to return to civilization for a while when I received the letter. It was addressed to me by name, which in itself wasn’t odd as nearly everyone knows my story. The odd part was that the letter was written on centuries-old paper. ... Note: That's all I've got so far. Apologies to the techs, doctors, and scientists out there--I'm completely making up something that sounds plausible to me even though I have no good understanding of how this all might work.
[WP] When you were born you were given a watch with a counter on it. Every time someone says your name or mentions you, it goes up by one. One day you look at your watch to see it counting up extremely fast.	[WP] When you were born you were given a watch with a counter on it. Every time someone says your name or mentions you, it goes up by one. One day you look at it to see it counting up extremely fast.	Tick The first few ticks hardly registered in Tyler’s seven-o’clock brain. Probably Aaron and Kyle at work, talking about who’s coming in later. Tick tick He rolled over and fumbled to find the mute switch on the FameWatch. He wondered why he still had the damn thing. It was a gift from five or six years ago, when he was obsessed with becoming a celebrity vlogger. One of those gifts your family buys you to show you they’re trying to understand your interests. A rate of four ticks per day, however, has more of a tendency to discourage an insecure teenager than anything. Tick tick tick tick Forty-seven. Eighty-nine. Two-hundred. By the time Tyler’s eyes had adjusted to the morning light, the counter reported that five hundred people had mentioned his name in the past hour. “Damn thing’s finally broken,” Tyler mumbled. He worked at a fucking pizza parlor. Unless the whole city was suddenly ecstatic about the two-for-one large pepperoni deal, the count couldn’t be accurate. Tick tick tick tick He muted the watch, moved across the room to his computer, and opened up Google. FameWatch counting haywire Nothing. FameWatch won’t stop counting Nothing. Two-thousand. Fuck it. It’s trash anyway. Tyler stood up and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen to start his morning ritual, so rudely interrupted by the watch’s defective chirps. Mug. Beans. Grinder. Kettle. Press. Timer: four minutes. He grabbed the remote from the kitchen table and pointed it at the Magnavox across the room. The horrifying headline of the day scrolled across the bottom of the screen. PRESIDENT COTTON ASSASSINATED DURING SCRANTON SPEECH Good. No. Fuck. The world spun around Tyler. All sound turned to static and his vision blurred. The president was dead. He didn’t need to hear any more—the president was dead. Killed, no doubt, for his crusade against low-income cities. Jobs, healthcare, public works, he slashed it all. Less for them, more for his rich friends. His friends. John Steinberg. Vice president Steinberg. President Steinberg. Steinberg was somehow even less suited for the office than Cotton was. He had run during the primaries, but didn’t catch on due to his near-daily meltdowns against his critics. “In a perfect world,” he once said, “anyone who talked like that would be dragged out into the streets and beat.” And that was the end of his run. When Cotton picked him up as VP, however, people didn’t seem to mind. No one bought into his rants, and they wanted that fire in the White House without the power to actually act on it. Fuck. Tyler pulled the watch out of his pocket. Three hundred-thousand. Tyler bolted down the hall and opened up Google again. Tyler Perez John Steinberg His throat closed. His heart pounded like a jackhammer. Thump thump thump thump thump The top result was his own stupid fucking face, smirking into the camera. A video he’d made five years ago, during the primaries. JOHN STEINBERG IS A FASCIST BABY \| VLOG 23 Thump thump thump Tyler scrolled down the page. The rest of the results were variations on the same headline. A headline which Tyler could hardly read through his deafening heart and blurred vision and the tick-ticking that had somehow found its way out of the watch and into the very base of his skull. PRESIDENT STIENBERG PUBLISHES LIST OF CRITICS, OFFICIALLY SUPPORTS VIGILANTE VIOLENCE Thump thump thump Someone was at the door.	The six-year-old girl looked down at her watch. "Mommy, what's happening?" "What?" Teresa looked down at her daughter's watch. Surely enough the numbers were climbing. Climbing rapidly. People were thinking about her daughter and thinking about her daughter a lot. Too much. "Ana, baby, come on, we have to go." She scooped her daughter up, leaving the basket of groceries in the aisle and hurrying as fast as she could to the car. She had to hurry. She had to. The five minute drive, Ana shivered in her seat. Mommy had never looked so pale. Her daddy greeted them in the driveway, confused, then he grew just as pale as mommy. Teresa unloaded what she had in the car and handed a bag to her husband. "Andrew, take Ana back inside. Get Amy. We have to go." Andrew shook his head. "It's not possible. I set the detonators myself." "It is. We have to hurry." Little Amy was in her Star Fleet officer uniform when daddy carried her down into the basement. "Mommy, what's happening?" Teresa sighed, opening the escape hatch. "Remember the white room? Then mommy and daddy were your mommy and daddy?" "Yeah?" Teresa kissed her daughter's forehead. "The people who put you in that room were not very nice people. Mommy and daddy stopped them." "And you adopted me 'n Amy!" "Yes, we did, sweetie," Andrew said, placing a warm hand on his daughter's back he picked her up and the went through the tunnels. "They were doing awful things." "What things?" Amy snuggled into her father's back in her carrier. Teresa and Andrew looked at each other, trying to find a way to explain what the lab had been doing, had been using their research to do. Genetic replicas of famous people, with a few tweaked genetics, for parents to own and raise. Their research was use to grow those children in bio-chambers so they could sell 12-year-olds, 16-year-olds, even adult replicas on the market. "Ana you would have been a toy." Ana stared. "But I'm a little girl and little girls aren't toys." "We think the exact same way, Ana," Teresa whispered into her daughter's hair as she passed. Andrew kissed his daughter's head. "My little Anastasia."
	[WP] You are an Elder God that has risen from the Oceans depths. The only problem is humanity doesn't really care...	Aaand it's 10 minutes past the hour here on City FM and we're ready for our first caller! Hello caller, this is Eddie Blake on City FM. What was your call about today? … Hello? Well, it looks like we're having some technical troubles here. Nevermind, let's go onto our sec... GREETINGS MORTAL. Oh. Oh...Hey! May I ask your name? I AM BLYTHT. Bly-tht? Well we don't hear that name on City FM often, ha ha! The line is quite rough, I'm struggling to hear you at the moment but I'm sure we can carry on through it. So why have you called us today Blyth...t? DO...DO YOU NOT KNOW MY NAME? WHAT HAS HAPPENED HERE? MY NAME SHOULD STRIKE FEAR INTO ALL WHO HEAR IT! Um...no? I'm afraid no-one here at City FM knows the name. CURSES! IT'S HIM ISN'T IT? AGAIN!? Sorry Blyth, you've lost me. IT'S BLYTHT! TEE...IT ISN'T DIFFICULT INSECT. HE USED TO TEASE ME TOO! O...K I think we've gone off on the wrong foot here. Me and everyone at City FM appreciates all of our callers, and we would never knowingly degrade or insult our loyal audience. So...apologies. Now, who is this 'he' you refer to Blyth...T? CTHULU. BLOODY CTHULU! Oh! Now that name is familiar to me! But...isn't he just a... HE'S A FRAUD, THAT'S ALL HE IS! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY AEONS I HAVE SPENT TRYING TO MAKE MY RETURN FROM THE COLD DEPTHS OF THIS DIMENSION!? YOU TRY IT SOMETIME MORTAL, THE PRESSURE ALONE WILL CRUSH YOUR PUNY SKULL LIKE A GRAPE! I GO THROUGH ALL THAT EFFORT AND WHAT DO I FIND. NO-ONE HERE KNOWS ME! NO-ONE IS TAKING ME SERIOUSLY! MEANWHILE THAT SELLOUT CTHULU IS EVERYWHERE! TV SHOWS, BOOKS, MOVIES...HE'S EVEN WORSE THAN THAT ATTENTION WHORE KARAKAL! Ha ha! OK friend, you need to calm down a little. I'm sure ah...Cthulu didn't do all this to spite you? YOU DON'T KNOW HIM LIKE I DO. HE'D SELL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF HIS CHIN TENTACLES IF THE PRICE WAS RIGHT! AND HE CALLS HIMSELF A GOD, HE HAS NO SELF RESPECT! I see. Well I'm afraid our time is nearly up, and to be honest this sort of situation is new to me and I don't have any real advice to give. WAIT, WHAT? BUT I'VE ONLY JUST CALLED! I HAVE YET TO INFORM YOUR LISTENERS THE UTTER DOO- And that was Blytht, certainly one of the more interesting callers we've had here on City FM! If you're story is even crazier than that call now on 0800 276 8900 and we'll talk! The time is now 12:35 and seeing as we're in “the depths” let's have a listen to a classic, Yellow Submarine by The Beatles!	I awaken naked and cold as my face crashes against the freezing oceans Atlantic shore. My lips are cracked from the constant moisture of the sea and the smell of that day reminded me of my first day on earth. Memories begin to flood my head and suddenly I remember I'm on a mission to save us from ourselves... Days pass and I'm not so sure anyone believes or understands the horror that is about to happen. Woman, children, and men of all ages and race will be wiped free from from planet earth. The floor below you will fall and the sky from above will begin to stretch into infinite space. The world as you know it will be nothing but pure emptiness. Memories won't even be a thought and hunger won't ever be an issue. Your species existence has become nothing but a joke and an embarrassment. My people believe we can grow stronger without your past and there will be no history of your failures as a race. I tried to warn you but maybe the human conciseness no longer lives but technology has risen past flesh.
	[WP] As the sole survivor of a downed fighter jet in the Pacific Ocean, you've managed to elude death for 2 months. It's only now you're realizing that the diet of rainbow colored sea life which has nourished you, is changing you	If I stared into the ocean for too long, the reflection of the sun would burn my retinas. I place my free hand over my eyes as my fishing line, improvised from parts in my survival kit, bobs in the current. As pins and needles invade my legs, I wiggle in the sand briefly before I feel a tug on my line. Urgently, I pull on it feeling whatever I caught on the hook. Without a proper reel, I pull on the line, winding it around my hand and battling with my adversary. When its shadow in the shallow water became clear, my heart soared as I lifted large fish dressed in multicolored scales from its home. Stoking the fire made from the vegetation of the island, I eagerly skinned the animal and dug into entrails. For two months, I repeated the process while stuck on the shore. The island itself had many sheer cliffs and inclines which made it both dangerous and difficult to explore the interior, so I built a shelter out of palm leafs and reeds on the shore, along with an eternal fire to glow as a beacon to the ocean. On a dark night, its gentle kindling could rival the reflections of the moon in the endless tides which surrounded my new home. I learned to loathe the ocean, yet without access to the interior of the island, I was forced to depend on the plentiful and beautiful fish it provided along with whatever vegetation and seaweed I could scavenge. I don’t remember when, though I dimly recall etching the sixtieth tally mark on a local tree, but I began to see strange shapes and figures in the ocean. I dismissed the idea as a gentle mirage or a fault in my desalination process, but even when I took refuge in the shade and checked my water supply using a basic chemical test included in my survival kit, the images still danced in the waves. Whenever I approached them, however, they disappeared into whatever depths from which they came, though I swear I could hear a faint laughter when it happened. I called to them in the night. I asked them who they were and why they spied on me. I laughed into the horizon and let the world around me melt. The stars in the sky would come crashing down upon the earth, creating ripples beneath my feet, but I never cared. Instead I lay on the sandy cay and admired the velvety black sky which smothered the earth as the sudden realization of the vastness of space invaded my mind. Whenever I endured these episodes, I often woke in the middle of the morning in a cold sweat with the nagging feeling that my dreams were more than dreams. Without a psychological evaluation in my survival kit, I fended off madness in the day as I fished and only succumbed to the visions under the moon. On my final night, the fish erupted from the tides of the ocean. Their beautiful scales sparkled in the moonlight, distracting me from their newly acquired humanoid forms. They tore me from my camp as I left behind fingernails in the bloody sand. When the waters swallowed me, the salt invaded my lungs, yet I found no lack of breath. Instead they dragged me into the abyss, slowly letting the daylight dwindle into sweet nothingness and the warmth fade into a frigid chill. Stalks of bioluminescent orbs emerged from their heads, but even with the light, only blackness consumed us. I recall the strange architecture of the city, though. Made from blackened stone, their angles defied conventional geometry as supplementary angles no longer summed to right angles. The triangles affixed to the roofs of the buildings refused to follow the theorem of an insignificant human. Instead bizarre angles ruled the inhuman shapes the built the most magnificent buildings to cross my eyes. They stretched to the surface without ever reaching it in every shape beyond imagination. In my awe, I barely caught the sight of the citizens of the city: more fish and squids carelessly mixed together by some benevolent god, they swam through the streets and alleys with the utmost urgency without much regard to my presence. When I reached the palace, the throne room housed a giant figure, at least seven stories, adorned in countless tentacles and wings on a vaguely humanoid figure which radiated the purest black I had ever seen. The fish spoke briefly with the figure who seemed to command their respect and adoration. Their language, however, as it grated against my ears, seemed to be constructed from grunts and squeals that I could make no attempt to replicate with my vocal cords. With a simple gesture, however, he commanded them as endless blackness filled the room. I wanted to stay in that terrible place with all my heart. I wanted to learn their language and swim among their kind, but he forbade it; he deemed me an unworthy servant. Instead they, my rescuers, found me floundering on the surface with a severe case of hypothermia in the hot humidity found near the equator. My case made the news and as new nutrients found my stomach, I slowly regained sanity, but on days when I stare into the sea for too long, I can still see figures and shapes dance along the shore. ***** More stories at r/Andrew__Wells	I looked out into the ocean around me seeing the waves tumble over each other and combine until they crashed into the white sandy shore. The sun was rising and it was almost time to hunt for more fish. All I had to eat was fish. Scaly, colorful, bland tasting fish. I hated eating it. I had always despised the taste of fish, and hated even having to touch one. Eating a fish for every meal, everyday made survival almost not worth it. No one would find me, if they could have found me they would have been here by now. I crashed months ago, I sent a distress signal, I made sure they had my location, I swam away form the wreck to this horrid island, I did what I had to. This whole time has been torture. I haven't spoken in two months, I don't know what my own voice sounds like anymore. I walked up to the water with my makeshift spear. After a short walk down the beach I came apon the lagoon. It was a large pond filled to the brim with salt water and one kind of fish. I didn't even have multiple options on the menu, just one kind of rainbow fish. They all looked the same, all small and round and swimming away from me. Their scales shown the suns light back at me, they tried to get away but I speared two. Enough for now. I walked back along the green sanded beach to my poorly maintained shelter. Just a hole in the ground. My firepit was covered in ashes and scales which made a nauseating fume when they burned. I stood in the middle and lit a match as the fire began to burn my feet making a sweet smell, the pain didn't matter. I dropped the fish into the fire, and ate them once the scales were mostly burnt off. After stepping out of the firepit to go lay in the orange sand for a while I brushed the extra scales of my feet, and picked the newly grown ones out leaving a trail of blue blood in the purple sand. The others would have enjoyed it here, nothing ever changes just like they say it should be.
	[WP] You open a door and see a creature incomprehensible to the mortal mind. This is how your brain interprets what you saw so it doesn't break:	I honestly dont know what i saw.. It made no sense.. For weeks after seeing it.. I just could not fathom what it was. I searched high and low.. I scoured wikipedia and my moms old Encyclopaedia Britannica, all i found there was a reference to a toy saxophone. I even went to the hoaxers sites and the moderator Sheb Wooley banned me saying i was tutti fruity and not to come back. So i sit in my short shorts sipping my tequila with you, and i tell you my friend... Your in danger.. Because of your skin tone because what i saw that night.... Was a one-eyed, one-horned, flying, purple people eater!	I can't express to you all enough how little I understood what I actually saw. Because I saw a lot of things. I saw what it wanted me to see: how it's been jumping from person to person frantically. I hadn't thought much of the panic that had started out of the blue downtown, but I guess some sort of sentient brain virus will do that to you. I saw the completely fucked way it's able to see through things, through people. And I don't just mean physically, I mean that in every sense of the word. I saw the life of a mother and her children, from her birth, to her pregnancy, raising the twins, dying, it was all there, and that was just when I made sense of the gory mess that was apparently what she looked like from the inside out. I could see and hear the thoughts of everyone near her during the blinding fast forward through her life. And then it took me through the phone in my hand. As if human brain weren't dizzying enough to path through when I didn't even know how mine fully worked, digital communications tech was like being thrown onto an assembly line. Whatever constituted our consciousness was packaged, shunted, unpackaged, and repackaged until we found a camera, on a car dashboard. It was the crash that killed the mother. Here's where my brain starts to give up. Because all I can think of between then and my last contact with...it, is paralyzing fear and the faces of those kids. And grinding. The sound of metal collapsing in on itself, and pain. Piercing unbearable pressure that took the air out of my lungs. Then: Crack. Nothing but numbness and blindness. And sobbing. A child's, maybe two. I can see again. But it's not my vision, not unless this little trip has taught me how to look at myself without a mirror. Back to bed. Aspirin. Right now. But as soon as I think it, I remember how to drive to the hospital the mother was taken to...but I've never even HEARD of this hospital. I take a breath, and think about how I'm going to phrase this. Apparently the point made it across before the words made it to my tongue, because a warm sensation crept over me, like i was being hugged. I sigh, and move toward my car, typing in an unfamiliar phone number. And I ask the nurse on the other end about the children.
	[WP] You open a door and see a creature incomprehensible to the mortal mind. This is how your brain interprets what you saw so it doesn't break:	"Look, it's very simple. The human brain is an organ that needs to have the right kind of input to make the connections correctly. It tries to make sense of what it can see. A brain and a consciousness that has trouble not tripping over its own feet on the best of days cannot expect to parse information from something that exists in fourteen dimensions. Frankly, if you'd been able to do so we would have been shocked." There was a long pause. They glanced uncomfortably at each other. I looked down and into the closet. The second one began talking, almost to fill the void. "The ramifications of our physical existence in this world and our crossing over into your sphere of awareness are something we are deeply concerned about. It could have dire consequences for your world and ours. We need to be taken to your highest authority of scientists and deep thinkers. The sooner, the better." I shook my head slowly, then reached down and grabbed the original speaker, slamming the closet door shut. Heading to the sink, I said to myself, "Talking dish sponges. I really, REALLY need to stop drinking so much on a Tuesday."	As he opened the door to the shitter, John encountered a goddamned bear. He froze. "Bears are just as sacred of me as I am of them", he thought. "Or maybe that's spiders." Either way it must have been working, the bear hadn't moved since he opened the door. John unfroze. "Well are you going to maul me or are you just going to stand there all day gawking?!"he inquired, quite annoyed that this spooked, stationary bear had proved such a roadblock for his anus. The bear seemed to phase right through the wall, and continue on it's bear business into the woods behind John's house. "Bout fooking time, my turtle head was starting to turn more giraffe", remarked John, who had no time for questioning reality whatsoever.
	[WP] You are Stan, a completely normal guy. People keep sending messages meant for both Santa and Satan to you. You aren't quite sure what to do.	The doorbell to Stan’s house blared loudly through the early morning fog; its shrill scream tore Stan away from his comfortable haze of sleep. Stan let out a groan, his eyes still bleary from sleep, and crawled slowly out of bed. The shrill blare of the doorbell continued to squeal away as Stan tore himself away from his bed. Stan stumbled towards the door, irritated. He had work off today, and had really been hoping to sleep in. The boring, average man let out a sigh; that was just his kind of luck. He lumbered over to the door, and opened it up. The bright light of the morning sun burst through the open doorway, shocking Stan’s still sleep weary eyes. “Hey Stan; got another round of mail for ya, big guy.” The mail man said, standing on Stan’s front porch. “Is it for Santa this time, or more of those cooky Satan letters.” Stan said with a sigh, accepting the massive bundle of letters from the mailman. “It’s looking like today is mostly Satan stuff. I spied a few Santa notes that must’ve gotten lost in the post and delivered late. Christmas was like four months ago.” “Yeah. Cool; real peachy.” Stan said absentmindedly, staring down at the mass of letters held in his hands. He shouldn’t be surprised; this had been going on for five years now. Stan looked up at the mailman, his eyes filled with weariness. “You think there are any other Stans out there that get this kind of mail?” Stan asked. The mailman though for a moment, staring at Stan. “Honestly big guy, probably not. I’ve never heard of it happening to anyone else before, and I just kind of get the sense just from looking at you that shitty things are kind of attracted to you.” Stan nodded glumly. He couldn’t argue with that. “Well, that’s all I’ve got for you today.” The mailman said with a smile. “I’ll catch you around Stan.” He said, giving a short wave and heading back to his mail van. Stan didn’t return the wave goodbye, but rather turned his back on the mailman and entered his home; the door slammed closed behind him. He dropped the bundle of letters off at a side table. They landed into a mound of similar letters, all bearing either the name Santa or Satan. Stan went over to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of scotch, and walked into his living room. He sat down on a chair, and it creaked under his weight. He sat there for a moment, sipping on his drink and thinking. The room was still, save for the mechanical ticking of a clock. Stan sat there, thinking, drinking, ruminating, planning, the clock ticking away, going slowly insane. A nasty scowl, something deranged and perturbed, fell across Stan’s face. He drained the rest of his drink, and stood up with renewed energy. Stan stalked over to a nearby closet, and flung the doors open. A red suit sat at the bottom of the closet, and red makeup was perched an a shelf. Stan let out a small laugh, and spoke quietly to himself. “Santa huh? Satan hey? Yeah, Stantana, yeah, yeah, I’ll give you all what you want.” In a flurry of movement, Stantana ripped off his clothes, and flung on the cheap santa suit. Next he grabbed the makeup, and quickly applied a heavy layer of dark red to his face and the rest of his exposed skin. Stantana laughed as he applied the makeup, and soon had finished his transformation. He took a quick peek in a nearby mirror, and nodded at his grotesque sight. A big grin filled his face. “Yeah. Maybe now they’ll stop sending those damn letters.” Stantana marched out the front door, a big grin on his face and a cackle leaving his lips. In the news that evening, it was reported that a man dressed up as Satan dressing up as Santa was arrested on 5th avenue; he’d been arrested for dunk and disorderly conduct. The video of the arrest had gone viral, and soon the majority of the internet became obsessed with Stantana’s antics. After Stan was released from custody on bail, he returned home. The next day, a whole new pile of letters arrived at his door; they were all addressed to Stantana, and were from his newest internet fans. Stan could only help but laugh at these letters, his mind slowly breaking and coming further undone. Stan once again reached for his Stantana costume, a madness filling his eyes and a crazed cackle escaping his lips. ---------------------------- Hope you enjoyed it! I've got a sub, r/ThadsMind, with more stories if you want to check that out and subscribe to it.	"God damn it!! Not again!!" I scream as I receive another text meant for Satan. "No wonder you're Satan, you're damning God left and right." I was getting really tired from all these stupid texts, I was Stan, S-T-A-N, not Santa, not Satan. So then I decided, well, that's it, I'm gonna use this confusion to have a little bit of fun. As regular old Stan, I sent messages to little kids and devout Christians as Satan and Santa, but being me, I managed to fuck it up. "You're not getting any presents this year little kids!!" Now, this wasn't really where I fucked up, the devout Christians still panicked since they wondered what they had done to deserve coal in their stocking, the next text was where it really went downhill.. "You're all going to hell!!!!!" This is where things went shitty. Kids were crying and worried, asking their parents what hell was and who Satan was, and that's when Satan himself came by to see me. "Well Stan, I have to say, I'm uh- I'm actually happy you're doing my job for me thanks!! You can take over, I'm taking a vacation until you die. Alright bye lmao" Woah, the devil just thanked me, shit, and I'd be doing his job for the rest of my life. Then, flying in on a sleigh, came Santa Claus. "Hoes, hoes, hoes. Stan you're a real hoe for telling people they won't get presents, but hey, that means less presents I have to deliver! Thank Stan! So keep up the good work I'm retiring, so tell everyone in the world that they're not getting presents, alright bye!!" Fuck, I'm now basically Satan and bad news Santa, how great. Oh well, Santa and Satan now are getting me texts as Stan, let's see how they're retirement/vacation goes." The first text that Santa and Satan receive... "STAN, YOU IDIOT, WHY HAVEN'T YOU ANSWERED MY CALLS OR MY TEXTS, I'M GOING TO USE LOCATION SERVICES ON YOUR PHONE TO TRACK YOU DOWN AND KICK YOUR ASS." Well, they can deal with my crazy ex-wife, I'll be terrorizing people and breaking bad news. The end. Alright so this was my first WP post/comment, let me know what you think, I thought of it as I went, hopefully you guys like it!!
	[WP] Write an angsty teen love poem about an inanimate object	Polar bear, polar bear. In a semisphere of captured air. Snow rains down as the world shakes round, And round and round and round. Yes. It's a snowglobe you idiot. That clear enough now Mr. Forester? Now I've paid the Piper's fee, Bump up my grade from a fucking B.	Transparent as glass, boasting rectangular sass, silently squealing "none shall pass"! You make me feel so, fly I will open you with a finger, easy! But now it's suddenly hard? Ugh! To open this.. cage Hey there, bird! Fall no further! Are crumbs all you're after? Swallowed your ambition Made a simple brick a piece of a clueless, animated tick ..tock, tick-tock.. What pointless part to play! Come join the skeletons of my soul idiot bird, Your broken flight, bitter and odd, Will be true again Once I open this, this.. thing!! I hear the dungbeetle rock I hear the heartache knock Waiting for relief A crying squeak, and now it's open! But I expected more? Come let me help you love, Let me give you my crumbs Hey, don't fly away bird, you idiot!
	[WP] Write an angsty teen love poem about an inanimate object	Life is blackness. You are light, shining through the night, sometimes too bright. I hate that I love you, love that I hate you. You smother my darkness. Are you heartless? My pain cuts deep, yet you help me sleep. Must you do so? Am I really that low? You don’t understand me, stupid nightlight. How could you, how could you? You’ve never lived my life. *** Funny prompt! I spent waaaay to much time making sure this was something cringy I would've written when I was younger.	Transparent as glass, boasting rectangular sass, silently squealing "none shall pass"! You make me feel so, fly I will open you with a finger, easy! But now it's suddenly hard? Ugh! To open this.. cage Hey there, bird! Fall no further! Are crumbs all you're after? Swallowed your ambition Made a simple brick a piece of a clueless, animated tick ..tock, tick-tock.. What pointless part to play! Come join the skeletons of my soul idiot bird, Your broken flight, bitter and odd, Will be true again Once I open this, this.. thing!! I hear the dungbeetle rock I hear the heartache knock Waiting for relief A crying squeak, and now it's open! But I expected more? Come let me help you love, Let me give you my crumbs Hey, don't fly away bird, you idiot!
	[WP] Write an angsty teen love poem about an inanimate object	I can't wait to come home where I will find you, where I left you on the nightstand The day has been so long, I hate school with every fiber of my being I can't wait to be grown When I live on my own I can replace you with a better version But I really don't want to talk to my parents about you or any potential replacement They wouldn't understand, they never do But I have needs just like everyone else But then they always ask, Why is your electric toothbrush not in the bathroom?	Transparent as glass, boasting rectangular sass, silently squealing "none shall pass"! You make me feel so, fly I will open you with a finger, easy! But now it's suddenly hard? Ugh! To open this.. cage Hey there, bird! Fall no further! Are crumbs all you're after? Swallowed your ambition Made a simple brick a piece of a clueless, animated tick ..tock, tick-tock.. What pointless part to play! Come join the skeletons of my soul idiot bird, Your broken flight, bitter and odd, Will be true again Once I open this, this.. thing!! I hear the dungbeetle rock I hear the heartache knock Waiting for relief A crying squeak, and now it's open! But I expected more? Come let me help you love, Let me give you my crumbs Hey, don't fly away bird, you idiot!
	[WP] It's the future. Brain transplantation is old news. Terminal ill people switch bodies with prisoners on death row on a regular basis. You wake up in your new body and notice that something is totally wrong.	They had specifically told me that patients were not allowed to meet their donors. It could cause a permanent separation between mind and body after the procedure, having met the person who previously inhabited it. They said that when I looked in the mirror, instead of coming to terms with the fact that I was seeing my new self, I would always perceive the woman of origin. I wish I hadn’t ignored their advice. ---- “You can sit up. Slowly, now.” Nerves sent information to my brain, explaining that a hand was being placed on the shoulder blade, coaxing me to sit up. The effort of moving into an upright position had altered. Even sitting down I had to find a sort of balance of where to hold the weight that I was now carrying. I put too much force into moving upright and erected too fast, almost touching my toes. “Slowly, slowly.” The nurse cooed, her hands on the shoulders, still pressing nerve stimuli into my brain. The muscles around the mouth felt stiff and tight, turned downward into a frown as I forced what felt like swollen lips into shapes to form sounds. “How did it go?” The tongue felt too big, pushing up against teeth. My words were inconcise, drawn out and malformed. It felt like I was drunk. Every movement had to be specifically thought about and recalculated. There was a miniscule delay in what I wanted to do and then how the body followed me. There was some strange pressure pushing at me from every direction inward. “Everything went smoothly. Dr. Reyon will be in in a moment to test your reflexes.” Dr. Reyon gave me a clean bill of health and sent me home the next day. He explained that adjusting would take some considerable time, but that as long as I maintained my weekly mental health check-ups everything would align and I would feel like a brand new woman. As I stepped outside, I was floored by the color of the sky. It was as if the spectrum had re-aligned. The blue of the sky was different hue, as was everything around me. My boyfriend took my hand. “How does it look?” he asked, watching the reactions of the face I was now wearing. “The same… but different. I don’t know how to describe it. They’re all the same colors… but they look different.” I had gotten better at the annunciation of my words, but my lips still felt like what I imagined Kylie Jenner Lip Challenge ontakers felt like after butchering their faces. “Come on, I’ll drive.” He pulled me to the parking lot. My eyes were still glued to the clouds passing across the sky. We had taken all the mirrors down in our apartment at suggestion of the psychiatrist. He explained it was more important to first feel like myself before I started grasping my new identity visually. When I caught glimpses of myself in the microwave oven door, or a reflection in the window, I would quickly turn away. If I inadvertently caught my own eye, there was a residual shock in my core similar to the feeling of watching someone in a video get seriously injured. Those eyes looking back haunted me. The first time my boyfriend and I made love after the switch was disconcerting. I found that our favorite routines lacked the same feeling. My body responded differently to his, and we stopped in the middle, frustrated and hurt. I had this unbearably insane notion that he was cheating on me…. With me. No matter how ridiculous I knew it was… I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling. I knew what he wanted, and his body was still the same I had come to love, but he had to learn an entirely new experience being with me and I tortured myself with the thought that he enjoyed it. That he liked the new body better than the last. Did I want him to? When it came time to replace the mirrors and start to embrace my body visually, that’s when things started to go wrong. I started having conversations with my reflection. It started with me talking to myself, to prove that it was still me inside this body. But it quickly evolved into something else. Responses start coming to me that didn’t feel like me. Instead of being able to claim ideas, to track their origin, they seemed to spawn from somewhere else and drop inside my brain, fully developed. I would suddenly, inadvertently and absolutely know things I hadn’t known before. I started to have blackout periods. My boyfriend became worried, understandably considering I couldn’t remember our last conversation. I couldn’t remember going to work the day before. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had sex. When I talked to my psychiatrist about this, he barely seemed concerned. He said that I was still adjusting and that in time, my blackouts would diminish until they were nothing. So I continued following his advice and confronting myself in the mirror. When I first saw it, the sign was inconspicuous, almost hidden. I think that’s what was drawing me to it. After walking by it the first few times, and it still drawing me in, I gave in. It simply said “SEER” in bold, Impact style font. The white paint underneath the red lettering didn’t seem to have dried before being painted on. Parts of the letters seemed almost foggy. The air inside was stale, infused with incense. The lady sitting at the front desk looked me up and down for a long moment without saying a word. “Hi. I-“ But she silenced me when her dead cold stare flew up to meet my gaze. She walked over to me, grabbed my hand and pulled me into the back room where hundreds of candles had already been lit. She had a lot of strength for someone so small and frail. She pulled on my shoulders to force me into a sitting position at one end of the table. She sat herself across from me and pulled her feet up so she was sitting cross legged. She still had not said a word when she closed her eyes and started a weird combination of humming and chanting, waving her body back and forth. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable, shifting in my chair, wondering if I should leave. She hadn’t asked me why I was there. I had never done this before, but I felt like this was odd. When she opened her eyes and looked at me, she had a mixture of fear and curiosity written on her face. “Your soul is dead.” “Excuse me?” I asked, incredulous. “The soul in that body does not belong to you. Who are you?” “What do you mean my soul is dead? I am me. How can I be here without my soul?” “Your soul was separated from you. It now dwells in the otherworld with the other souls that have passed on from this place.” She cocked her head at me. “Have you practiced Black Magic?” she inquired. “No, I needed a body transplant. I am me, this is just my new body!” I had begun breathing heavily. She was now looking at me with sadness. I couldn’t take it. She was scaring me. I stood up, but her gnarled hand snatched my forearm as I turned to leave. “Our souls are not confined to this time and place. If you move your ‘self’, and there is no place for your soul to follow, it passes on. Your soul is in the otherworld, waiting for you.” She released my hand then, and I tore out of the place. What she said stuck with me for weeks. Where, after all, is the line between physical self and soul? Right now I am looking down at his body. My boyfriends body. The mail opener had been sitting on the end table a moment ago. Now I watched as blood seeped between flesh and its edges, pouring onto the sheets and my hands. I looked up and could see her face in the reflection of the frame above the bed. It was her face, not mine. Somewhere in the back of my head I heard the maniacal laughter of the woman I had gone to meet on death row. The woman whose soul refused to leave her body. The woman whose body I now resided in. The cold metal of the prison walls reflected in the peripherals of my vision and in front of me I could almost see her screaming, leaning toward me. “I killed the cheating bastard! I’D DO IT AGAIN.”	You're on death row and the clock is ticking. You have 5 minutes left to dwell about what you did to that man. Your life will be taken from you but your body shall stay and be given to someone else. Uniforms hold your resistant body to the bed, strapping you in. They put a mask over your mouth, forcing you to inhale the fatal toxins that will kill you but keep your body from decomposing. Snippets of your life flash before your eyes before you black out. "It's an honour to be welcoming you back, Timmy. I'm also pleased to announce that the surgery was successful. Your new body is fully functional, too." You get a glimpse of the room with blurred vision. You aren't strapped into your bed anymore. Beside you stands flowers on the cabinet and pictures of unfamiliar faces. "Timmy?" You aren't Timmy, you're supposed to be dead.
	[WP] It's the future. Brain transplantation is old news. Terminal ill people switch bodies with prisoners on death row on a regular basis. You wake up in your new body and notice that something is totally wrong.	Everything is flesh. The brain itself is about three pounds of meat and fatty tissue, wired via meat to the rest of the human body. Suffering gets so that it's undifferentiated, like it's part of you and you can't imagine being free of it. Quick: where in the body-brain dichotomy is nausea located? Where do you cut into to excise chronic fatigue? Where is pain? Is it all in your head? Or if you just severed the nerve endings, popped out the brain and slotted it into a brand new body, would you still wake up wanting to die? "This is a standard procedure," Dr. Jessen told me, as I was wheeled into the operating room, imagining a convict's body waiting for me. All that pain slotted into a new body. Waste of time, I wanted to say, but the anesthesia was kicking in. "I've done it dozens of times. You'll wake up, and you'll be a whole new you." Everything went dark for a moment. I woke up. Imagine your body - I know it's right there, but close your eyes and recreate it. How high do you stand? What's your gait like when you walk, what's the pattern your teeth make across your tongue? How heavy are you? Where do you carry the weight? How far can you stretch and which positions make your muscles complain? You think about it, and that's all you are, the meat. That's the vantage point from where you view the world. Every breath you take, every blink, every swallow of saliva, every pulse and heartbeat, that's you, that's your body, that's all you are. And I was something totally different. I was without pain, sure, Dr. Jessen beaming down proudly at me. I stood and my feet were spread apart too wide, I was a few inches too high and got vertigo. There were muscles rippling over me that I'd never had. "We did the tattoo removal beforehand," Dr. Jessen cut in. "So that you wouldn't need to go through the trouble." I was looking down at a stranger's hands. My brain was bobbing in a stranger's head. "Oh my god," I said, and the voice came out wrong, reverberated the wrong way in my skull. The voice was on the verge of tears, pleading with me. "Please," I said, testing the words. "Please. I want to live." Dr. Jessen's brow furrowed. "Please, Mr. Keppler, you're absolutely fine." His hands came up, herding me back to the hospital bed, and the body stumbled along. "You're going to live! The operation was a complete success!" "Not that," I said, and buried my face in the hands. No. Not my face. None of it was mine. "How the fuck - Who is this? Why did he have to die?" I grabbed Jessen by the collar, shoving him up against the wall with a stranger's wrath. His eyes went wide behind his glasses. "You killed him! How many of them did you kill!" "Security!" Jessen squeaked. "Mr. Keppler, Mr. Keppler, I assure you, this man was a murderer, he was on death row, he absolutely deserved to " "Why are there so many on death row!" I said, and let him drop. The door burst open and two security guards came in, looking between us questioningly. "Mr. Keppler is having an adverse reaction!" Jessen said immediately. "If you'll please - If you'll restrain him for a moment -" "Sir," one of them said, moving towards me. "This is a standard procedure!" I yelled. There was new blood pumping through my brain, through the veins, filling the muscles. "Why the fuck are we executing this many people? We can cut out a brain-" "Sir. Sir, please -" "-we can switch it into a new body, thread the nerves together, and yet the only thing we can think to do to a murderer is kill him?" The world changes in a new body, the proportions are different. Everything was slowly warping around me, taking on a new form of sense. "I never questioned it. How could I? I was in pain! I just wanted the best chance of being free from suffering!" The body was me. The brain was me. We were both a dead man, someone else entirely. I was wearing his skin. I was wearing his flesh. "How many people does the state fucking murder? What did he do? What did he do? What do you do to keep the bodies flowing!" And then the barbs pierced my skin and the current flowed through me and the body was someone else's entirely again, joints locking and muscles spasming outside of my control. And then the guards were on me, pinning my arms behind my back, holding me down. "I'm very sorry," Jessen said, leaning down to face me. His face was flushed and his glasses were askew. "This is a - this is a transitory problem, Mr. Keppler. Your brain is the same. But the glands, the hormones regulating emotion - they're unfamiliar to you, of course. But don't worry. This is outpatient surgery. A few adjustments to the glands, to your internal temperature, to better suit the, ah, climate your brain is used to -" "Don't!" I shrieked, every part of my body retreating in terror, curling away from the men and their hands. "You'll kill him! You'll kill him for good! You didn't need to kill someone for me! I didn't want this!" My eyes were hot with tears. "My god, I didn't want this!" "It's all right, Mr. Keppler," Jessen cooed, as the guards wrestled me back onto the bed, tightening straps onto my wrists. "You're feeling irrational right now, this a symptom a certain percentage of brain transplant patients suffer, and I'm sorry I didn't adequately prepare you for the possibility -" "Please!" I babbled, straining against the straps. Where is panic? Where is fear? Where is pity? Where is regret? Where is the will to live and to not have to watch anyone else die? Is it located solely in the brain? Can you find it in your gut, in your skin, prickling, in every nerve and fiber that makes up your functioning body? "It's me! It's all me! There's no need to do this! There's no transitory period! It's me! I'm Carl Keppler! I'm all of it! You'll be lobotomizing me! You'll be killing another man for good!" Where does a man on death row carry his fear, carry his regret, carry his rage at the system that killed him? Can you cut him open and extract it? What's left of him when you're done? "This will be fine, Mr. Keppler," Jessen said, as the needle slid into my arm and I sank back onto the bed, body and mind dissolving and slipping into unconsciousness. "Just wait. Just you wait. You'll be yourself in no time."	I blinked. Twice. Vision blurry. Something was wrong. It wasn't the gun to my head and the doctor's trembling hand. There was something else. I just... Security question? There had been a few incidents before, where the brains were meant to be swapped but accidentally got put back in the original owner's body. Being my first time 'going over', I knew there would be a security question. It just didn't make sense to... be strapped down in bed with a shaking doctor holding a gun to my head. My mouth opened but the words were garbled. "Sek'witty qus'shun?" Strange. But expected. When you transfer the brain, nothing else comes with it. And your brain is specific to your body. Even my eyes were jittery and unfocused. Still, something was familiar about it, I just couldn't quite put my finger on it. Not yet. "Name?" The doctor demanded, a booming voice sending me reeling and my ears screeching in pain. My heart leapt to pounding. I writhed against the restraints and yelped out. In that moment of fear and panic, ears burning, he pulled back and my vision flashed into focus. Just a second, but I could see his dipped lips, his hilly brows and contorted features. Not enough to pin down worry, fear, anger or anything. Just negativity. "Afiz! Azish Awom!" I cried, my tongue flapping about as if blowing a raspberry. My mind clicked. When I was ill, I couldn't hear. And my voice, if I wasn't mistaken was a raspy whisper to him. At best. "Akes Umwum!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, causing him to step back and visibly twitch despite my pulsating vision. I grit my teeth, lungs burning in pain. It was as if I hadn't even left a lung cancer ridden body. I heard the hammer being thumbed and wailed. His hands shook. What did I do? Was the death row inmate a mentally ill person? My lungs burned, but I did my damndest to signify pain and innocence. "Insunt! Insunt!" He pushed the barrel to my skull. I shut up. "I know you're innocent," he thundered, "I know, I know, I..." His voice was... cracking? The cool metal left my head and blew a hole in the floor by the sounds of it. Rattling around and tearing up the tiles, my eyes screwed shut in wincing. "I know you didn't kill her, but..." he sighed. "I'm sorry." I swallowed the bundle of nerves, another bout of fire in my chest. Maybe I wouldn't die just yet. That'd be nice. "I'm sorry..." "Ik o!" I yelled in a normal person's ground shaking voice, trying to tell him it was okay. "No, I'm... I'm a professional. I know that you're not him. I know that you're innocent. I know, I know, I know. But each time I look at that face, I just want to strangle you." My vision was coming back, and I could see the redness of his cheeks, and the glimmers of tears bouncing back. I coughed, shattering my world. "C-come on, let's get you up, we need to put you through all the tests and care I denied that son of a bitch," he said, injecting his tone with as much cheer as he could manage before throwing up. I would have raised a hand to his, if not for the restraints. Another cough. My world went black. &nbsp; I woke up to blinding lights, gasping in air. "I think he's okay?" "He has to be." The doctor's voice. "...." I breathed, my voice not working when asking 'what happened'. Panic overtook me. What was wrong? Did the doctor poison me? Was my new body broken? "The body should be working now." Hot breath blasted my ears. "I'm sorry..." Him again. "I thought... I... I wanted him to suffer. I..." Lights adjusted and I smiled. "Ik o." My vision was blurry again. But at least I could breathe easy. **** Visit (and maybe even consider subscribing to) /r/AlexUrwin for more stories and bodies to inhabit! Sidenote: I see the ambiguity. I took 'brain transplants are old news' as Brain Transplants are the norm these days.
	[WP] you go to the shop for cigarettes, and return to find your wife has remarried, and your son and daughter have aged ten years.	I open my eyes and cast them around me. The sky is a bright blue, peppered with fluffy clouds and I feel oddly comfortable. My ease drops away swiftly as the smell of rotting garbage engrossed my mind and I realize I'm spread eagled in a garbage dump. Fighting down tremors of nausea I dig myself out of the pile and take my bearings. "What happened?" I ask myself out loud. My pockets are empty and my question seems to answer itself. I must have been robbed and they dumped me out here. They must not have expected me to survive. Think. What's the last thing you remember? The words pour from my subconscious and I think back. The last thing I remember... "I was at home, with Joan!" I cry out. "We were all in the living room, us and our two adopted boys." The image jolts forward from memory as if it intended to ram through my forehead and run singing into the world. I see her face as if she stood in front of me. Soft brown eyes, and hair that shimmered like dark honey in the sunlight. Her lips wrung themselves together as if they fought to master the words that came out. The words were simple though. "Dear, could you run down and pick me up some cigarettes?" She knew I disapproved, but I let it slide since it was only when she was stressed out. "I've got something I need to talk to the boys about, and I'm not sure how they'll take it." "Sure thing hon," I grinned back to her. Then I turns toward the door and there's nothing until waking up in the garbage pile. "I've got to get back!" I cry out. At this point it's hard for me to tell which dialogue is internal or not. Its unimportant as I feel the pressing need to return to my family. Looking around, I find the road that leads through the dump and start walking. I don't really notice until I've made it to the asphalt, but my ankles and knees have started clicking with every step. I write it off to waking up in garbage and press on. Four hours go by. Nobody picks up hitch hikers in this day and age. My pockets are empty, and I don't bother asking for change. Even if I did find a payphone, I would never remember the number. Another hit from modern consciences. I grin at this thought as I continue my mechanical stride. I'm almost there now. A knock at the door surprises Joan out of her reverie. She had finally gotten a real man to take interest in her, and they had married. She had two children of her own now, as well as the adopted two. This was probably one of them that had forgotten their keys. She placed her hands onto her knees and pulled herself erect. Walking briskly to the door she calls out, "Forgot your keys again, dincha Samuel?" Only to see a haggard face in front of her own. Joan is no slouch, but it takes almost a full minute for the face to click into place and the memories to flood back. I look onward hungrily as my wife opens the door. Or she should be my wife. Joan stares blankly at me for some time before a look of shock and horror squeeze her face into a rictus of chargrin. "It's been ten years!" She exults. "What are you doing here?" Ten years? My mind twists around itself in agony. "Ten years!?" I scream. My mind washes over everything I had been through this day, and all the years of previous devotion. How could she greet me like this? I turn and start to go back down the steps. Anything is better than being treated like this. Then there is only darkness. Joan looks down at the image in front of her and says stolidly to herself, "This time I'm taking the batteries out!"	Side note: This is my first attempt at one of these. Let me know what you think! In this moment right now, this is the best cigarette I have ever had. I came home to find Cheryl with another man. My eyes widened in on him. He was a man with such a familiar face. Such a strong cheekbone structure with a wavy complexion. His nose somehow pointed and rounded at the same time and jutting jaw, much like mine. She was sitting on the couch and snuggling up with him when I walked through the door. As I stared at her, unnoticed, I just imagined him embracing her warmth and memorizing the patterns of her neutral heartbeat, such as I have these past four years. I have never found such rage inside myself as I have in this moment. It's the moment I snapped. I didn't even give them a chance to explain. I ran to my office, passing Cheryl, the man, and two teenagers who slightly resembled my children but my peripheral was so focused on grabbing the gun that I barely noticed. My elbow spurting small silts of leaking blood from shattering the glass on my gun cabinet. The words 'this is it' just kept repeating through my mind in a stuttering fashion as I loaded and cocked my beautifully polished Beretta. I'd like to say that I was startled by the words coming out of his mouth as he stood in the doorway, but it all translated to scattered gibberish to me. My adrenaline kicked in. The hammer cocked back once. Twice. I don't know which echoed more, the screams coming from Cheryl, or the blood slopping against the halls of my ranch. My boots are drenched in blood and I felt it seeping through my toe cap. I guess water resistant isn't the same as blood resistant. She just wailed in tears in front of me, begging for her life in such a monotone and unusually deep voice. Her words were completely unrecognizable to any language that I have heard. The hammer cocked back once more. The sound pierced through my ears, almost completely disorientating me. A hand grabbed my shoulder and was met with an elbow in the stomach, a jab from my muzzle, and the sound of a high speed bullet ripping through bone and flesh. Then I saw a woman, one that I do not recognize, standing in the doorway looking at me in despair. She tried to run. I shot her... As I'm sitting in my car, smoking what will be my last cigarette, I realize two things: that the vehicle parked adjacent to my neighbors house resembles my brothers and that my cigarette is not filled with just tobacco. In fact, what my cigarette contains is small particles of a powdery blue substance. The last thing I see is a flash of white, and then everything is black.
	[WP] you go to the shop for cigarettes, and return to find your wife has remarried, and your son and daughter have aged ten years.	1. Have dinner ready when I get home. Have the table set, and have a new bottle of wine uncorked, but not poured on the table. 2. Make sure the carpet is vacuumed, the tables and counters are cleaned, and everything is where it's supposed to be. 3. If you have to go to the store, go only there. Talk to as few people as possible, and bring back the receipt. 4. Be in the bedroom. Have Emily and James in their cribs, fed, bathed, and quiet. DO NOT come out and greet me when I get home. Have your hair washed, your face shaved, and be in bed. 5. If I text you and tell you I am having company, go into the safe, take out some money, and go to the Residence Inn for the night. 6. Make sure there is a pack of Marlboro Extra Lights waiting on the counter. And Finally, 7. Be Good. Almost 10 years now. Almost 10 years now and the rules, each word, each letter are still ingrained in my brain. Don't get me wrong, I know that Cindy took pleasure in controlling my every waking moment. I know that it was her fetish. But I also know that it was what was best for me. I needed to have structure, to follow rules. She was protecting me. We made the best of it. If nothing else, I took care of my kids. Even though we were in that ratty double wide in that old trailer park, and we were barely given enough money to eat with, we had fun. Sometimes I wouldn't be good, and Cindy wouldn't come home for days. But mostly, it was okay. All these years and I still can't go to sleep at night without seeing their faces; my babies, lying there in their cribs. Laughing and giggling when I tickled their feet, or spitting on the floor and making a mess as I tried to feed them. We'd play that game where I'd scoop them up in the blanket and shake them all around, and they'd laugh and laugh until I lay down on the floor and they could crawl over me and smoosh my face. It was good, and someday, maybe when Cindy was a little happier at work, and things had died down a bit, we'd be like a real family. We'd go on vacation and go out to eat. We'd move out of the park to a nice neighborhood in the suburbs. Someday. But on that day, James just wouldn't stop crying. He'd been up all night, and he felt like he had a fever. He was okay the day before, but with the shuffling between the Hotel and home I think he'd gotten run down, and that day the fever was worse, and he wouldn't eat, and he wouldn't stop crying. I'd done my best, I'd cleaned the house and fed Emily, I'd prepared dinner. But I kept having to go back to James, and I hadn't slept. I was so tired. One moment I was taking out the bottle of wine, holding James in one arm, Emily asleep in her crib, and I remember that I just needed to rest. So I sat down on the couch, just for a moment, I still had an hour before Cindy came home, and everything was set, everything except... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cindy always was very secretive about her past, about her family, where she was from. But I knew about her husband, David. I knew what he'd done to her, and I knew how unhappy she was with him. Of course the rest was always sort of a game. In that place, that wretched hell hole of a place, our relationship wasn't allowed. So we had to be secretive, we had to keep it from everyone else, and if I did good, if I did exactly as she said, she promised to take me away from there. I was so vulnerable then, so willing to accept everything and anything she'd say just for her companionship, just to make her happy, and just to get out. I knew she was a little crazy too, just like me. And I knew we were meant to be together, she'd always told me so. If only there wasn't David. And then that night I'd gotten out. I hadn't been good. She was really nice about everything. We'd moved into the trailer park, and she'd said it'd just be for awhile, until she could figure things out, and until things died down a bit. And I was okay there, happy she was helping me. I always knew how much she'd wanted to help me. She'd get so anxious and freak out, but she cared so much. One day she came home and told me she was pregnant. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was the cigarettes. I'd awoken that day and looked at the clock: 5 minutes until she'd be home. It was okay, I'd thought, everything was set, I just needed to lay out the cigarettes and get to bed. I'd gone to the cabinet. It was empty. I remember the panic, how did I forget to restock? I'd run out. I didn't have a car, but the supermarket wasn't so far. So I ran and ran, I ran as hard as I could, until my lungs were exploding and finally, after what seemed like forever, I got there. I got the cigarettes. I rushed home. Cindy's car wasn't out front when I got there, and I thought maybe she was running late. I rushed in, set the cigarettes on the counter and went to the bedroom to check on the kids. I should have noticed that James hadn't been crying when I got back and how quiet everything was... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cindy was always smarter than me. She'd always lead the way. She'd changed her name, and so I changed mine. I grew a beard, put on some weight, and I searched. I searched for so long. After awhile I was able to get a job, and then another. I travelled across the country working, and looking. Sometimes, I wasn't good. I never gave up hope, though. And then, last week I found them. After all this time, wouldn't you know, they were in the suburbs across town. They live in a nice house, with a good yard. Emily and James are so Big! Emily must be an athlete, and James, well I bet he's the studious type. Cindy's new husband is tall, handsome guy. Good smile, full head of blond hair; he looks nice. I thought about barging in, about handing her the pack of cigarettes and doing to her husband what I'd done to David. But he looked nice, and she looked happy, even content. Cindy had always wanted to help me, but I'd broken the rules. She'd been right to leave. And now she's happy, and my kids are happy. I think that I'll leave them alone. I think that they deserve to be happy, even if I can't. So here I am, back in the trailer park across town, following those 7 rules, even though Cindy isn't coming home. I follow the rules, and I try so hard. I wonder every day if Cindy would maybe like to see me, and the kids, I'd love to meet them too, to talk to them. And everyday I struggle, and I wonder... ...how long I can be good.	Side note: This is my first attempt at one of these. Let me know what you think! In this moment right now, this is the best cigarette I have ever had. I came home to find Cheryl with another man. My eyes widened in on him. He was a man with such a familiar face. Such a strong cheekbone structure with a wavy complexion. His nose somehow pointed and rounded at the same time and jutting jaw, much like mine. She was sitting on the couch and snuggling up with him when I walked through the door. As I stared at her, unnoticed, I just imagined him embracing her warmth and memorizing the patterns of her neutral heartbeat, such as I have these past four years. I have never found such rage inside myself as I have in this moment. It's the moment I snapped. I didn't even give them a chance to explain. I ran to my office, passing Cheryl, the man, and two teenagers who slightly resembled my children but my peripheral was so focused on grabbing the gun that I barely noticed. My elbow spurting small silts of leaking blood from shattering the glass on my gun cabinet. The words 'this is it' just kept repeating through my mind in a stuttering fashion as I loaded and cocked my beautifully polished Beretta. I'd like to say that I was startled by the words coming out of his mouth as he stood in the doorway, but it all translated to scattered gibberish to me. My adrenaline kicked in. The hammer cocked back once. Twice. I don't know which echoed more, the screams coming from Cheryl, or the blood slopping against the halls of my ranch. My boots are drenched in blood and I felt it seeping through my toe cap. I guess water resistant isn't the same as blood resistant. She just wailed in tears in front of me, begging for her life in such a monotone and unusually deep voice. Her words were completely unrecognizable to any language that I have heard. The hammer cocked back once more. The sound pierced through my ears, almost completely disorientating me. A hand grabbed my shoulder and was met with an elbow in the stomach, a jab from my muzzle, and the sound of a high speed bullet ripping through bone and flesh. Then I saw a woman, one that I do not recognize, standing in the doorway looking at me in despair. She tried to run. I shot her... As I'm sitting in my car, smoking what will be my last cigarette, I realize two things: that the vehicle parked adjacent to my neighbors house resembles my brothers and that my cigarette is not filled with just tobacco. In fact, what my cigarette contains is small particles of a powdery blue substance. The last thing I see is a flash of white, and then everything is black.
	[WP] you go to the shop for cigarettes, and return to find your wife has remarried, and your son and daughter have aged ten years.	The door opened with a creak that was familiar, but I could not recognize the woman standing on the other side. “Um, So Sorry… I must have the wrong apartment”, I offered, and stepped back to look at the door number. At the same time that I saw the brass 12 that indicated that this was indeed my house, the woman fell to her knees, sobbing. “How could you do this to us?”, I heard, between her sobs. The realization hit me, and I was filled with dread, even though all this still made no sense to me. “Ir… Irene?”, I stammered, and knelt beside her, opening her hands that were still covering her face. It was her, but.. But it was not. I backed away from her with a jerk. Then, I heard nothing. I could only see her features contort, a popping vein in her forehead, spit flying everywhere as she screamed. Irene did not look like this, she was much younger, but somehow I knew she was in front of me. Suddenly, I saw a pair of arms on Irene’s shoulder, and looked up. There, leaning over her, was my daughter, but much older. I staggered back until I could manage to get on my feet, and just ran. My heart was beating faster than ever, and then everything went black. When I woke up, I was in a bed, in my bed. “What a wierd dream”, I sighed, and walked out of the room. I saw her, and was struck by a familiar feeling of despair. “After all this time… Why do you come here now?”, she said, holding back tears. It took me a while to find my voice. “Irene, I… What happened? I just went out and came back.. Why is everything so different? Why do you look so different?” “That’s what happens in ten years, asshole”, she retorted back.”You think I’m the one who looks different? You don’t look that great either”. I touched my face, and it felt foreign. I ran to the mirror, and saw a different man, an old man. “What happened?”. Irene stood at the door, a puzzled look on her face. She launched into a tirade about how I was a horrible man, how I could leave them without a word, no indication. Eventually, I found it in me to respond. “Irene, I don’t .. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just went out for a cigarette ten minutes ago.”, I managed to stammer. Irene’s face softened immidiately. She took my arm and sat me on the bed. She hugged me and started weeping into my shoulder. A few months have passed since the incident. It’s still quite puzzling. I’m still trying to figure out what happened, and why my wife removed all the calendars from the house.	Side note: This is my first attempt at one of these. Let me know what you think! In this moment right now, this is the best cigarette I have ever had. I came home to find Cheryl with another man. My eyes widened in on him. He was a man with such a familiar face. Such a strong cheekbone structure with a wavy complexion. His nose somehow pointed and rounded at the same time and jutting jaw, much like mine. She was sitting on the couch and snuggling up with him when I walked through the door. As I stared at her, unnoticed, I just imagined him embracing her warmth and memorizing the patterns of her neutral heartbeat, such as I have these past four years. I have never found such rage inside myself as I have in this moment. It's the moment I snapped. I didn't even give them a chance to explain. I ran to my office, passing Cheryl, the man, and two teenagers who slightly resembled my children but my peripheral was so focused on grabbing the gun that I barely noticed. My elbow spurting small silts of leaking blood from shattering the glass on my gun cabinet. The words 'this is it' just kept repeating through my mind in a stuttering fashion as I loaded and cocked my beautifully polished Beretta. I'd like to say that I was startled by the words coming out of his mouth as he stood in the doorway, but it all translated to scattered gibberish to me. My adrenaline kicked in. The hammer cocked back once. Twice. I don't know which echoed more, the screams coming from Cheryl, or the blood slopping against the halls of my ranch. My boots are drenched in blood and I felt it seeping through my toe cap. I guess water resistant isn't the same as blood resistant. She just wailed in tears in front of me, begging for her life in such a monotone and unusually deep voice. Her words were completely unrecognizable to any language that I have heard. The hammer cocked back once more. The sound pierced through my ears, almost completely disorientating me. A hand grabbed my shoulder and was met with an elbow in the stomach, a jab from my muzzle, and the sound of a high speed bullet ripping through bone and flesh. Then I saw a woman, one that I do not recognize, standing in the doorway looking at me in despair. She tried to run. I shot her... As I'm sitting in my car, smoking what will be my last cigarette, I realize two things: that the vehicle parked adjacent to my neighbors house resembles my brothers and that my cigarette is not filled with just tobacco. In fact, what my cigarette contains is small particles of a powdery blue substance. The last thing I see is a flash of white, and then everything is black.
	[WP] you go to the shop for cigarettes, and return to find your wife has remarried, and your son and daughter have aged ten years.	Imagine you’re watching a movie and 20 mins in you get a call from work making you leave the cinema hall for an hour until the issue is resolved and you come back to resume watching but now nothing makes sense anymore. The pair you thought were cousins are making out. That kind looking gentleman who reminded you of your dad is apparently the bad guy who killed strippers for fun. It makes you wonder what exactly happened in that 1 hour of the movie you missed. What if this happens in your real life? I ask because it did in mine. At first I thought it was a prank. Maybe she had put some makeup on to make her look 10 years older. And the whole “What the fuck are you doing here after all this time?” bit was a great way to begin the act even when I was gone for only 10 mins. It was only after I saw my kids who looked like familiar faces but had doubled in size did I realize something has gone wrong with the whole space-time continuum. How could my life fast forward 10 years? It was just like any other day. I had been smoking quite a lot since past few months because of the stress at work. So, like always I left home at around 6 pm to get a pack of cigarettes and came home at 6:10, which was apparently 10 mins and 10 years later. How could that have happened? My family thought I had abandoned them for 10 years and my wife’s or should I say my ex-wife’s husband manhandled me and kicked me out of the house. How could this have happened? If I had a penny for everytime I asked this question, I’d be richer than OECD’s combined GDP. At one point I thought I was a mental patient suffering from severe schizophrenia but I could remember everything else except for those 10 years. I have been living on the streets for over 12 years now. And I remember every single day. I even remember my past very vividly. Susie - the first girl I had kissed. Jane - the girl who broke my heart. And I also remember the entire periodic table which I learnt in my 4th grade. I had no answer. I had shared my story everywhere but no one believed me. They all thought I was some mentally challenged bum who has lost his grip with reality. Months passed by and so did my bickering. What else could I do? Go to the police and say what? I’m reporting a theft of 10 years of my life? My family didn’t want to do anything with me. So I basically had nothing. I had given up. The whole mystery would never be revealed to me and I had made my peace with it. All I was waiting for was my death. Until one day I met someone and everything changed. I couldn’t sleep in the cold NYC winter. I hadn’t eaten in 3 days. Just when I was about to jump into a trash can to look for leftovers, I saw a young gentleman walking in my direction. He had a good built. He was wearing an Armani jacket like I used to back in the old days. In fact as I looked closely - it was the exact beige colored Armani jacket which I had. It even had a missing button on its breast pocket. Just when I thought it couldn’t get weirder than this, the street lamp shone on his face and a familiar looking face emerged - mine. His blue eyes met mine and said, “I’ve come from the past. And we have some work to do.”	Side note: This is my first attempt at one of these. Let me know what you think! In this moment right now, this is the best cigarette I have ever had. I came home to find Cheryl with another man. My eyes widened in on him. He was a man with such a familiar face. Such a strong cheekbone structure with a wavy complexion. His nose somehow pointed and rounded at the same time and jutting jaw, much like mine. She was sitting on the couch and snuggling up with him when I walked through the door. As I stared at her, unnoticed, I just imagined him embracing her warmth and memorizing the patterns of her neutral heartbeat, such as I have these past four years. I have never found such rage inside myself as I have in this moment. It's the moment I snapped. I didn't even give them a chance to explain. I ran to my office, passing Cheryl, the man, and two teenagers who slightly resembled my children but my peripheral was so focused on grabbing the gun that I barely noticed. My elbow spurting small silts of leaking blood from shattering the glass on my gun cabinet. The words 'this is it' just kept repeating through my mind in a stuttering fashion as I loaded and cocked my beautifully polished Beretta. I'd like to say that I was startled by the words coming out of his mouth as he stood in the doorway, but it all translated to scattered gibberish to me. My adrenaline kicked in. The hammer cocked back once. Twice. I don't know which echoed more, the screams coming from Cheryl, or the blood slopping against the halls of my ranch. My boots are drenched in blood and I felt it seeping through my toe cap. I guess water resistant isn't the same as blood resistant. She just wailed in tears in front of me, begging for her life in such a monotone and unusually deep voice. Her words were completely unrecognizable to any language that I have heard. The hammer cocked back once more. The sound pierced through my ears, almost completely disorientating me. A hand grabbed my shoulder and was met with an elbow in the stomach, a jab from my muzzle, and the sound of a high speed bullet ripping through bone and flesh. Then I saw a woman, one that I do not recognize, standing in the doorway looking at me in despair. She tried to run. I shot her... As I'm sitting in my car, smoking what will be my last cigarette, I realize two things: that the vehicle parked adjacent to my neighbors house resembles my brothers and that my cigarette is not filled with just tobacco. In fact, what my cigarette contains is small particles of a powdery blue substance. The last thing I see is a flash of white, and then everything is black.
	[WP] you go to the shop for cigarettes, and return to find your wife has remarried, and your son and daughter have aged ten years.	"Don't do it Dad!" I looked at the small, round face staring up at me, her long pigtails flopping to either side as she hugged my leg. Her eyes were brimming with tears. 'I... I have to,' I muttered, looking at the far wall as I tried to avoid my daughter's gaze. "Dad, we don't know when you will come back this time!" my son pleaded. I flinched slightly and covered my ears, as his voice suddenly seemed amplified. I shuffled back a few steps, my daughter still clinging to my leg. I realized my hands were trembling, and I tried to rub them to stop the shaking. 'I have not had a stick for too long. I need one now. Don't worry, I won't take long.' I knew I did not sound convincing. I looked up for my wife's support, and realized she had been sitting on the couch, quiet all this while, with a look of resignation on her face. --- The government had stepped up its anti-smoking regulations by implementing a time-delay device for any purchases of cigarettes. Basically, you step into a machine, enter your purchase, and the machine warps you forward in time at random. It was their way of trying to disincentivize smoking. Did it work? For some people, they get lucky and only get warped forward a few hours. For my previous few trips, I've been usually warped forward only a few days, with my longest being 2 weeks. My kids did not like that too much - who would like it when your father disappeared for an unknown period of time? They didn't understand my struggle. Do they know how much I am dependent on the cigarettes? Do they know the pain I endure when I do not smoke? I can't concentrate, I have difficulties breathing, I feel cold even when the fan is turned off. I need my sticks. --- I entered the shop, and waved at the cashier as I declared my intent 'Cigarettes please.' The middle-aged man glanced at me with a look of skepticism. He signalled me to the machine behind the store. I grunted in thanks, as I made my way to the machine. God, please let this be a quick one. I stepped in, keyed in my purchase, and closed my eyes to wait for the familiar buzzing and spinning sensation. --- When is this? Everything looked different, as I made my way home. I walked past many unfamiliar shops, and some of the paths and roads were not what I recalled. When I arrived at my door, I realized the keys didn't work. What the hell. I rang the doorbell instead, and waited. The door opened, and I was greeted by a familiar-looking teenage girl. When she saw me, her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. She flung her arms around me in a tight embrace, as I stumbled back a few steps. Who is this? She released me after a few moments, and turned to the house. 'Mom!' she yelled. 'Mom!! It's Dad!' she repeated with urgency. I saw my wife appear around the corner, with a middle-aged man behind her. She had a similar reaction as the girl, but her face quickly twisted into a look of betrayal and disgust. "Ten years. You were gone for TEN YEARS," she spat out. The man behind her had a look of concern, and he put his arm around my wife, as if to comfort her. What's this man doing with my wife? I wanted to step in, but a burly-looking teenage boy came out from the kitchen and stood in front of me. Son? The girl who gave me a hug retreated hesitantly into the house, glancing at my wife. "Go away," my wife said with finality, her eyes burning with loathe. The girl's eyes swelled with tears. The man seemed smug, as he stood casually next to her. Before I could protest, the teenage boy closed the door on my face, as my mind was still reeling from what just happened. I rang the doorbell a few more times, but all I heard were muffled sobs from behind the door. I stepped out into the street, trying to make sense of what happened. Who is that man? Were those my children? Did I really warp ten years ahead? The questions swarmed my mind, as my fingers subconsciously found their way into my pocket and fished out a cigarette. Let me first take a puff.	Side note: This is my first attempt at one of these. Let me know what you think! In this moment right now, this is the best cigarette I have ever had. I came home to find Cheryl with another man. My eyes widened in on him. He was a man with such a familiar face. Such a strong cheekbone structure with a wavy complexion. His nose somehow pointed and rounded at the same time and jutting jaw, much like mine. She was sitting on the couch and snuggling up with him when I walked through the door. As I stared at her, unnoticed, I just imagined him embracing her warmth and memorizing the patterns of her neutral heartbeat, such as I have these past four years. I have never found such rage inside myself as I have in this moment. It's the moment I snapped. I didn't even give them a chance to explain. I ran to my office, passing Cheryl, the man, and two teenagers who slightly resembled my children but my peripheral was so focused on grabbing the gun that I barely noticed. My elbow spurting small silts of leaking blood from shattering the glass on my gun cabinet. The words 'this is it' just kept repeating through my mind in a stuttering fashion as I loaded and cocked my beautifully polished Beretta. I'd like to say that I was startled by the words coming out of his mouth as he stood in the doorway, but it all translated to scattered gibberish to me. My adrenaline kicked in. The hammer cocked back once. Twice. I don't know which echoed more, the screams coming from Cheryl, or the blood slopping against the halls of my ranch. My boots are drenched in blood and I felt it seeping through my toe cap. I guess water resistant isn't the same as blood resistant. She just wailed in tears in front of me, begging for her life in such a monotone and unusually deep voice. Her words were completely unrecognizable to any language that I have heard. The hammer cocked back once more. The sound pierced through my ears, almost completely disorientating me. A hand grabbed my shoulder and was met with an elbow in the stomach, a jab from my muzzle, and the sound of a high speed bullet ripping through bone and flesh. Then I saw a woman, one that I do not recognize, standing in the doorway looking at me in despair. She tried to run. I shot her... As I'm sitting in my car, smoking what will be my last cigarette, I realize two things: that the vehicle parked adjacent to my neighbors house resembles my brothers and that my cigarette is not filled with just tobacco. In fact, what my cigarette contains is small particles of a powdery blue substance. The last thing I see is a flash of white, and then everything is black.
	[WP] you go to the shop for cigarettes, and return to find your wife has remarried, and your son and daughter have aged ten years.	I'd gotten a raise. That was the start of it. Five years of no bonus. Five years of "Things are tight, Ray. You know how it is." Five of my best years of giving a damn. And finally - finally - Levenson called me into his office and patted me on the back. "It's been a good year, Ray," he said. "A real good year." And I said, "Good enough for a raise?" I said it every year, because every year had seemed like a pretty goddamn good year from where I was sitting on the bottom floor. Normally, old Gil Levenson hemmed and hawed and shook out his shaggy, white head. "Afraid not. Afraid not," he'd say. But not this time. "You're damn right it was," he said, eyes gleaming like a madman. "How's fifteen percent suit you? Only wish it could be more, after all these years." Fifteen was plenty. Hell, you could've flopped the decimal point around wherever you liked and I still would've been pleased as punch. Fifteen percent? Goddamn. "Go home early. Celebrate!" And old Gil kicked up his feet, stretched out like a pig on a spit. "Time to start livin'." I went home. But first, I stopped at the Quikpump on Lawson. I wanted something special. Something for me. Now, don't get the wrong impression. We'd bled as a family all those years. Scrimped and saved and struggled like baby turtles on the beach. Hardly a word of complaint, except once or twice from Joey and Sandy. And they're still kids, after all. It's only natural. So that money was for all of us. Me and Cheryl and Joe and Sand. But I needed something. Something just for me. Because as much as we'd all sacrificed, I was the one on the front lines. I did the work. I aged 20 years in five, working ungodly hours, listening to idiots, letting suited-up jackasses take all the credit. When I walked out of Levenson's office I was excited, yeah, but bone tired, too. Like I had half the blood I ought've. So I needed something for me. I'd earned it. I bought a six pack, but that wasn't the thing. In truth, I didn't know what the thing was until I saw it, hovering up above, leering down at me from over the cashier's head. "What's that black pack?" I asked. It was a pack of cigarettes. The box was jet black with faint, silver writing. I sometimes smoked when I drank, and suddenly I was craving both. "Kingshead Black," said the cashier. He didn't make a move to open the case. "They're kind of expensive. Never really sell any. Not sure why they're even up there, to be honest." "How expensive?" "Two hundred." I blinked. "For a crate?" The cashier shook his head, obviously embarrassed. "For the pack." "Why so much?" He shrugged. "Just...real good, I guess? I don't smoke." "Neither do I." I tapped the glass. "I'll take 'em." It took another three minutes to convince the cashier I was serious. By then I was getting agitated. "How much more of my time are you gonna waste?" I bought the cigarettes. Inside my car, I held the pack up under the dome light and tried to read the print. I could only make out one line: FOR THE MAN WHO'S THROUGH WAITING AROUND. What could be more perfect? I cracked the window and pulled out the first cigarette. The paper was gray. The butt was almost red. It was pretty, in its own way. It looked like a $200 cigarette ought to. I wasn't prepared for the taste. Almond and ginger. A sweet, burning spiciness that crawled down my throat like a drunken spider. I didn't cough, though. Usually, the first cigarette makes me cough, but not this one. Again, just how a disgustingly expensive cigarette should be. I smoked the whole pack in a sitting. Didn't feel sick afterwards or anything. Just invigorated. Alive. Like the life had come back into my limbs. The blood was back in my veins. Time to get back to living. I went home. And that's when it all went to shit. I almost kept going because I didn't recognize the cars in the driveway. Two cars, and neither was Cheryl's Jeep. Then my keys didn't work. The doorbell wasn't right either. I was just about to leave, convinced I'd forgotten my own house number, when the door opened. Cheryl came out. "Ray?" She looked wrong. Shorter hair, heavier, weird, thick eye make-up. She looked older. "What's going on?" I asked, trying to step through the door, only to find that Cheryl wouldn't move. Her face was drooping - settling down from surprise to one of her more familiar expressions: anger. "What the fuck kind of nerve do you have coming here?" I laughed. Not to be cruel or a shithead or anything. My brain just told me it was the cigarettes. I smelled like cigarettes. Cheryl hated me smoking, but she let it slide as long as the kids never found out. Can't have them knowing that Daddy's a hypocrite. "Sorry, I was celebrating," I said, trying to get around her again. "I'll chuck the clothes and take a quick shower. They won't know anything." She put her hands out protectively, holding her position in the doorframe. "I've got great news," I added, pretty pathetically. "I don't give a shit," she growled. "After all these years? Get the fuck out of here!" "What?" There was a kid in the doorway behind her then, a bulky, zitted-up teenager in a hoodie. "Dad?" "What the hell is this?" I said, louder than I should have. I was angry, though. Angry and confused. "Who are you?" The teen pushed past Cheryl. His eyes ran me up and down. "You haven't changed at all." I turned back to Cheryl. "Who is this kid in our house?" "It's Joey, asshole," said Cheryl. "Now get out of here before I call the cops!" "Joey?" The teen cocked his head. "Where the hell did you go?" "Go? Go? I went to work, goddamnit! I went to fucking work! What is happening here?" "Cheryl? Cheryl? Get in the house." Someone else was there. A man. He swung a sturdy lumberjack belly through the doorway and pushed Cheryl and the teenager back into the house. "Go call the police. And stay inside." "Who the fuck are you?" I bellowed. "Get the fuck out of my house!" The man looked like he has halfway through his transition into Santa Claus. He was doughy, but big enough where it counted to make me nervous. "You're Ray, I'm guessing?" I clenched my fists, ready to swing any second. "This is my fucking house and I'm getting tired of whatever this stupid, fucking game is. Now step aside so I can go home." Santa just shook his head. "No, Ray. Not anymore. This hasn't been your house for a decade now. Ever since you left." "Left? I went to work!" "I don't give a shit where you went," said Santa, taking one step forward. "But you left. Without a word. Without a dollar of support." He pointed toward the house. "They moved on. Don't do this." "This is insane!" I could see the neighbors, standing in their windows, clutching curtains in their little paws. None of them were gonna stand up for me. No one was gonna vouch for my life and my work and my fucking sacrifice. "I didn't leave," I hissed. "I went to work. Like I always do. I went to work and I put in my ten fucking hours and got nowhere." I circled past Santa, slapping the warped siding. "Small fucking house. No fucking savings. Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm dying, every goddamn day, and there's nothing to show for it. They're eating me alive." "That why you left?" said Santa, nodding towards the house. "'Cause they weren't good enough for you? They weren't worth the effort?" "I didn't leave!" I howled. "Don't you get it? That's the whole fucking point! I've been letting them eat my goddamn soul for the people in this fucking house! And I'd do it again! And again! And again! But it's pointless... I don't get what I deserve, and my family doesn't get what they deserve. And life... all of it... it just keeps draining away... draining away with nothing to show for it." Santa shook his head. I could see Cheryl in the window. And the boy... it was Joey. And there was a teenage girl there, too. It was Sandy, and she was beautiful and awkward and wonderful. And I realized how much Joey looked like his mother and how much of his size was muscle, and it made me wonder if he played football like he'd always wanted. And then I was terror stricken to think it was all real. That I'd missed it. That I'd lost it. The pee wee football games. The dance recitals. The successes and the failures and the ceaseless, unstoppable growth. I fell to my knees, stomach flexing and roiling. I could feel Santa standing over me. "Is that really what you think?" he said. I puked. I puked more than I think I've ever done. And when it was over, I felt a hand on my back. "Christ, buddy, what'd you eat?" I looked around and realized I was in the little alley behind the Quikpump. A heavyset trucker in overalls was patting my back. "Fuck. Just let it all out. Good as new in no time." I belched painfully. "Shit. Thanks." "You, uh... you done?" Things turned over in my mind. Righted themselves. Flipped like playing cards and revealed their true suits. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks." The trucker shook his head. "You need an ambulance or anything?" "No. Just overdid it a bit." The trucker nodded. "Celebration?" I spat out a wad of whatever remained. "No, no. Just... disappointing news today. I thought I might get a raise, but... I didn't." "Economy's shit," said the trucker, his empathy genuine. "But as long as we've got enough to get by, right?" "Exactly," I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "I think that's exactly right. What difference does a couple bucks make when you've got a good family at home?" "None at all," he said with a smile. "None at all."	Side note: This is my first attempt at one of these. Let me know what you think! In this moment right now, this is the best cigarette I have ever had. I came home to find Cheryl with another man. My eyes widened in on him. He was a man with such a familiar face. Such a strong cheekbone structure with a wavy complexion. His nose somehow pointed and rounded at the same time and jutting jaw, much like mine. She was sitting on the couch and snuggling up with him when I walked through the door. As I stared at her, unnoticed, I just imagined him embracing her warmth and memorizing the patterns of her neutral heartbeat, such as I have these past four years. I have never found such rage inside myself as I have in this moment. It's the moment I snapped. I didn't even give them a chance to explain. I ran to my office, passing Cheryl, the man, and two teenagers who slightly resembled my children but my peripheral was so focused on grabbing the gun that I barely noticed. My elbow spurting small silts of leaking blood from shattering the glass on my gun cabinet. The words 'this is it' just kept repeating through my mind in a stuttering fashion as I loaded and cocked my beautifully polished Beretta. I'd like to say that I was startled by the words coming out of his mouth as he stood in the doorway, but it all translated to scattered gibberish to me. My adrenaline kicked in. The hammer cocked back once. Twice. I don't know which echoed more, the screams coming from Cheryl, or the blood slopping against the halls of my ranch. My boots are drenched in blood and I felt it seeping through my toe cap. I guess water resistant isn't the same as blood resistant. She just wailed in tears in front of me, begging for her life in such a monotone and unusually deep voice. Her words were completely unrecognizable to any language that I have heard. The hammer cocked back once more. The sound pierced through my ears, almost completely disorientating me. A hand grabbed my shoulder and was met with an elbow in the stomach, a jab from my muzzle, and the sound of a high speed bullet ripping through bone and flesh. Then I saw a woman, one that I do not recognize, standing in the doorway looking at me in despair. She tried to run. I shot her... As I'm sitting in my car, smoking what will be my last cigarette, I realize two things: that the vehicle parked adjacent to my neighbors house resembles my brothers and that my cigarette is not filled with just tobacco. In fact, what my cigarette contains is small particles of a powdery blue substance. The last thing I see is a flash of white, and then everything is black.
	[WP] you go to the shop for cigarettes, and return to find your wife has remarried, and your son and daughter have aged ten years.	Imagine you’re watching a movie and 20 mins in you get a call from work making you leave the cinema hall for an hour until the issue is resolved and you come back to resume watching but now nothing makes sense anymore. The pair you thought were cousins are making out. That kind looking gentleman who reminded you of your dad is apparently the bad guy who killed strippers for fun. It makes you wonder what exactly happened in that 1 hour of the movie you missed. What if this happens in your real life? I ask because it did in mine. At first I thought it was a prank. Maybe she had put some makeup on to make her look 10 years older. And the whole “What the fuck are you doing here after all this time?” bit was a great way to begin the act even when I was gone for only 10 mins. It was only after I saw my kids who looked like familiar faces but had doubled in size did I realize something has gone wrong with the whole space-time continuum. How could my life fast forward 10 years? It was just like any other day. I had been smoking quite a lot since past few months because of the stress at work. So, like always I left home at around 6 pm to get a pack of cigarettes and came home at 6:10, which was apparently 10 mins and 10 years later. How could that have happened? My family thought I had abandoned them for 10 years and my wife’s or should I say my ex-wife’s husband manhandled me and kicked me out of the house. How could this have happened? If I had a penny for everytime I asked this question, I’d be richer than OECD’s combined GDP. At one point I thought I was a mental patient suffering from severe schizophrenia but I could remember everything else except for those 10 years. I have been living on the streets for over 12 years now. And I remember every single day. I even remember my past very vividly. Susie - the first girl I had kissed. Jane - the girl who broke my heart. And I also remember the entire periodic table which I learnt in my 4th grade. I had no answer. I had shared my story everywhere but no one believed me. They all thought I was some mentally challenged bum who has lost his grip with reality. Months passed by and so did my bickering. What else could I do? Go to the police and say what? I’m reporting a theft of 10 years of my life? My family didn’t want to do anything with me. So I basically had nothing. I had given up. The whole mystery would never be revealed to me and I had made my peace with it. All I was waiting for was my death. Until one day I met someone and everything changed. I couldn’t sleep in the cold NYC winter. I hadn’t eaten in 3 days. Just when I was about to jump into a trash can to look for leftovers, I saw a young gentleman walking in my direction. He had a good built. He was wearing an Armani jacket like I used to back in the old days. In fact as I looked closely - it was the exact beige colored Armani jacket which I had. It even had a missing button on its breast pocket. Just when I thought it couldn’t get weirder than this, the street lamp shone on his face and a familiar looking face emerged - mine. His blue eyes met mine and said, “I’ve come from the past. And we have some work to do.”	The door opened with a creak that was familiar, but I could not recognize the woman standing on the other side. “Um, So Sorry… I must have the wrong apartment”, I offered, and stepped back to look at the door number. At the same time that I saw the brass 12 that indicated that this was indeed my house, the woman fell to her knees, sobbing. “How could you do this to us?”, I heard, between her sobs. The realization hit me, and I was filled with dread, even though all this still made no sense to me. “Ir… Irene?”, I stammered, and knelt beside her, opening her hands that were still covering her face. It was her, but.. But it was not. I backed away from her with a jerk. Then, I heard nothing. I could only see her features contort, a popping vein in her forehead, spit flying everywhere as she screamed. Irene did not look like this, she was much younger, but somehow I knew she was in front of me. Suddenly, I saw a pair of arms on Irene’s shoulder, and looked up. There, leaning over her, was my daughter, but much older. I staggered back until I could manage to get on my feet, and just ran. My heart was beating faster than ever, and then everything went black. When I woke up, I was in a bed, in my bed. “What a wierd dream”, I sighed, and walked out of the room. I saw her, and was struck by a familiar feeling of despair. “After all this time… Why do you come here now?”, she said, holding back tears. It took me a while to find my voice. “Irene, I… What happened? I just went out and came back.. Why is everything so different? Why do you look so different?” “That’s what happens in ten years, asshole”, she retorted back.”You think I’m the one who looks different? You don’t look that great either”. I touched my face, and it felt foreign. I ran to the mirror, and saw a different man, an old man. “What happened?”. Irene stood at the door, a puzzled look on her face. She launched into a tirade about how I was a horrible man, how I could leave them without a word, no indication. Eventually, I found it in me to respond. “Irene, I don’t .. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just went out for a cigarette ten minutes ago.”, I managed to stammer. Irene’s face softened immidiately. She took my arm and sat me on the bed. She hugged me and started weeping into my shoulder. A few months have passed since the incident. It’s still quite puzzling. I’m still trying to figure out what happened, and why my wife removed all the calendars from the house.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	I still remember the day I met her. She was sitting by herself with a multigrain bagel on her lap. She just kept staring at it, like she could move it with her eyes or something. I later found out she was trying to count the seeds and map them to a circular grid in her head. Apparently, she had been planning on baking the best multigrain bagel ever, and she was experimenting with different recipes and seed proportions to create that perfect combination. "You really seem to be into that bagel," I had said to her. I remember how shaken she was when she heard a voice directed at her. To my surprise however, she had smiled. And then I remember feeling very awkward for some reason. But that awkwardness was immediately deluged by this strange sensation in my arms, going down to my legs. I felt like she knew me, everything about me. And funnily enough, I felt like I knew her too. We got along really well. She taught me how to make bagels. She even shared her "bagel maps" with me, which was kind of a big deal, I thought. I knew I was falling for her. I didn't want to, I knew I probably shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself. Maybe this was meant to be. I didn't believe in that stuff, but I was in a place in my life where I didn't really believe in anything, so I thought I should allow myself this one guilty pleasure. I was consumed by her. Her passion for bagels, the smell of her hair, the texture of her skin, the suppleness of her lips. I wanted to kiss her. I never thought I could want to feel anyone's lips so longingly on my own. Every moment I spent with her was a fight with myself and my insatiable urge. No, I had to stop myself. But maybe I should tell her. No, that would ruin everything. But maybe going on like this would ruin me. So I decided to tell her. How was it that every time she smiled at me, I felt that awkward feeling before a flooding sensation of unfathomable relief? Because that's what I felt yet again when I finally told her, and she smiled. "You're ready", she said. I was bewildered. She probably saw it on my face, and smiled that mystical smile. "I'm ready?" I asked, trying to jerk off that unexplainable relief I was feeling. "You're ready to be mine." And I died.	You were attracted to her in a way you've never felt before but when you confront her about this, she says that it's impossible because you'd have to pay an unusual price. Reluctant to be with the love of your life, you accept and the next day... You wake up - as Davy Jones.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	"everybody get's one," is all she said as she forcibly shoved me off the subway car just as the doors closed. .......... I didn't know then why the hell she had done it. I had managed to strike up a conversation with her station as the PA announcement said the train would be another ten minutes late, on top of the already five minutes late it had been. It was "Slippery Rail" season after all. SEPTA, am I right? But I digress. She was weird but I'd been in Philly long enough for weird to be normal. She was pretty normally dressed and had headphones in, like most people in big cities I'd imagine. What was weird was they weren't plugged in... So naturally when the announcement went off and she was standing next to me I started chatting her up, she was cute sue me. "You think with as much as they charge they'd keep these things on time," I asked. She just looked in my general direction smiled meekly and turned back to the tracks. "You know if you want people to NOT talk to you in public you should probably do a better job of hiding the other end of that headphone cord, or invest in some that could look like bluetooth ones," at this her face became the color of cherries as she fished the end and shoved it back into her pocket. "You know you look pretty cute when you aren't forcing yourself to have that "don't fuck with me face" all the time," she giggled and turned away. I heard the sound of the train coming. Had it really been ten minutes. "I know this is pretty sudden but I was wondering maybe you'd want to get a cup of coffee or something later...," she shot me a look I couldn't exactly explain. It was like anger and sadness something else. I was so confused I almost missed the subway doors and I barely made it before the sound for the doors to close. "Everybody gets one," she said as she pushed me back onto the platform. The subway took off and I knew I was going to be late that day. The fuck did that mean "Everybody gets one" quoting fucking spider-man from Family Guy at me and shit. In this situation that is pretty bitchy behavior so I hope I don't get too much shit for calling her one. Five minutes later the station I'm at gets shut down because the train I was supposed to be on derailed, hitting another train. The suspected death toll essentially everybody. I showed up to work like an hour late. My boss didn't give me shit when he heard that my normal train derailed but he made me stay an extra hour to make up for it. McDonald's sucks, 'nuff said. I'm on my way home, it's only like five in the afternoon at this point so I stop by Starbucks to indulge myself. I've had a pretty messed up day, a brush with death and followed up with a fucked up shift at McDonald's, I needed something. And there she was, like nothing had happened. Sitting there drinking a macchiato or as if she hadn't been involved in a derailment less than eight hours ago. I sat down next her. "Everybody get's one what," I asked her. She seemed confused that I was talking to her. "You can still see me," she asked her cheeks flaming. "What do you mean still?" Thus began the single most unusual relationship I'd ever had with a girl. Big surprise she was Death. I was supposed to die on that train. Apparently it was normal for people who were scheduled to die soon to be able to see Death so she hadn't been surprised but I wasn't supposed to continue to see her. From that day on I kept walking away from near-death experiences and weirdly enough find her a couple minutes later. Three months go by like this. "How do you keep surviving?" "I don't know you're the one who said "everybody gets one" I've gotten like 100 at this point." "I can't even see your clock anymore," she yelled. Crazy thing she could do was change people's perception of any situation so us arguing over how I should be dead didn't raise any eyebrows. Suddenly there was a bright light and we were in a court like room. "Good job Morana! You managed to create another Grimm. We needed another one of our own. You section is too populated for one person to handle." "Where are we? Who are you and WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!!?" "Simple enough you are currently dead. Little Morana here saved your dumbass which luck would have it was the right thing to do. Being saved by Death, as contradictory as that seems, made you one of us. So Marik welcome to the club." "How am I dead now, I've been avoiding Death for three months." "Lower Reapers can't kill each other, it's funny she kept trying though." "Who are you?" "Thanatos, Greek God of Death, I run you guys. Well most of you. Some religions have different set-ups but pick up the stragglers." I'm pretty sure I fainted after that. Woke-up in some room. Met Death, who turned out to be a chick. She apparently kept trying to kill me after I continued to be able to see her, again pretty bitchy, and eventually I became her peer. Fun times. Fun times.	You were attracted to her in a way you've never felt before but when you confront her about this, she says that it's impossible because you'd have to pay an unusual price. Reluctant to be with the love of your life, you accept and the next day... You wake up - as Davy Jones.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	(My friend wrote this) Eh, ever since I met her she'd always been a bit awkward, a little clumsy, and kinda out of place. She's sweet though, and that's why I like her. When she took my grandpa when I was a mere 8 years old, she had done it with a lot of grace. She told me not to worry, and was very gentle with him as she closed his eyes and slowed his heart. That was the first time we met. Even so, as she left his hospital room, she tripped over a cord and fell right to the ground. The point is, I can't remember a time when she took someone with her, and wasn't her usual clumsy self...that is, until today. She usually lets me tag along when I can, to help comfort the victim or the family. In this case, we entered the scene of an awful car accident. The car was in two pieces, and three bodies lay on the ground. She motions for me to keep my distance as she goes over to one body, a blonde woman. She quietly takes her breath away, and closes her eyes. But as she's about to take away her heartbeat, she falters. I frown as she stands and looks at me, and at that moment, with only three words... I knew Death and I were no longer old friends, but new enemies "I-It's y-your m-mom..."	You were attracted to her in a way you've never felt before but when you confront her about this, she says that it's impossible because you'd have to pay an unusual price. Reluctant to be with the love of your life, you accept and the next day... You wake up - as Davy Jones.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	“Hey,” I said, shutting the cab door behind me and catching sight of her. She was in her usual black overcoat. With handmade navy beanie over her temple, the rest of her sleek black hair was thrown over one shoulder. Her arms were crossed. The usual sullen face darkened by her furrowed brow. I found her in front of my apartment. She wasn’t doing anything but standing there as people stroll by. The busy, the tired, the old, none of them noticed her. But she was used to that. Her expression didn’t change as I came up to her. “Hey there,” I said, pulling her arms away from her belly and taking each hand in my own. “Aren’t you cold? Do you want to come upstairs?” She sighed, her eyes glancing down at the sidewalk. “You know I don’t feel cold.” “How about a drink?” I turned slightly towards the Irish bar on the corner. She shook her head. Then she grabbed me by the collar and tiptoed to press her lips to mine. I kissed her back. It was a shock every time. Kind of like submerging my face in a bowl of ice-cream. She was so soft, so sweet. It was too easy to forget that she was Death. I was about to cup her face when she broke away from me with a breath that turned into a sob before she could exhale. “What’s wrong?” I whispered, placing a palm against her cheek. My thumb felt her cold lips quivering, and I reached in to kiss her again but turned away. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. She just shook her head again. “Okay, that’s it.” I grabbed her hand and pushed the glass door. We stepped inside, made it up the stairs, and were in front of my door before her fingers squeezed mine and I turned back to look at her. The hat had come off, leaving her dark locks free to cover a side of her face. Her dark brown eyes were finally looking at me. And they looked… scared. Was Death even allowed to be scared? She bit her bottom lip. Then she dug into her pocket, and I followed the pale skin of her hand as she brought it back out and unfurled her fist to reveal a pregnancy test.	You were attracted to her in a way you've never felt before but when you confront her about this, she says that it's impossible because you'd have to pay an unusual price. Reluctant to be with the love of your life, you accept and the next day... You wake up - as Davy Jones.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	I'd be lying to you if I told you that I've paid much attention to her in the past. She was just there; someone peripheral. Maybe it was I who chose to ignore her, or she just chose not to be noticed. I saw her on my way home from work. I was not in the best of moods, for work had lost its luster that I once thought it had. I was brooding, pondering the nihilism of it all. It all happened so awkwardly, for she was beautiful. She was far more beautiful than I had ever noticed. As I stood there in admiration of her allure, I forgot that this was really happening. "Yo." she said plainly "Yo?" I asked, as if I had never really heard the expression, as if I was a stranger in a strange land. "you know, like, hi." she retorted " Oh! yes, hi!" I said louder than I meant to. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, a memory came to my mind. She looked familiar. Her face shifted from my peripherals into my sights. I knew her. I have always known her. Memories of my childhood rushed forth. She had always been a quite one living in the corner of my eye, never in full focus. "I know you don't I?" I asked, with my index finger on my lips, and a half smile on my face. "I don't know, do you?" she answered with a chuckle. "Yeah we went to school together!" I said, again, a little louder than I wanted to say. "YES!" She replied in a mocking manner, followed by a laughter, as if she was aware and understood my social anxiety. I was surprised. I didn't expect that kind of response, but I too followed along with the laughter. "We hung out once before, ya know?" She said after the laughter died out. " You came into the gas station I was working at. I believe you were on your on way back home from a date that didn't go as planned." She added as she looked straight into my soul. I stood there in amazement. She had dug up a memory that I'd thought to be forgotten. A painful night indeed. Now the focus of the night did not lie in the date, but more so on the moods that had made it a bad date. These moods came from something more insidious than the constant existential crisis that I had been, and am currently going through. This affect of pain came from constant years of abuse at home. Things that I would rather not mention. That night I remember a girl at the gas station that saw my pain. A girl who understood me with out the use of words, someone who knew me more than I knew me. " I am approaching you because I recognize that face. Not just the features, but the mood... the pain in your face." She said remembering that night so long ago. What was I supposed to say? I was at a lack of words, and thought for that matter. I just stood there not sure what to do with my hands, face, or feet positioning. Where do I look? Every time I stare back at her it's like looking down the barrel of a gun! She lays her hand on my shoulder and asks. "What are you doing tonight?" And with out giving me room to respond she she says. " I am going to go get a drink at this beautiful rooftop bar about two blocks away... I think you should come hang out." " Sure." I said, still taking in all the emotions whirling like a hurricane. Without ordering our drinks we leaned on the guardrails. Just like that night, I didn't need to say a word to feel the cumfort of her being near. We just stood there and a drop of water fell on my hand. It was a clear night, but more water dripped on my hands as I hovered over them. She just stood next to me rubbing my back, as I vented my moods with silence. "Shhhhhhh.... there, there." she repeated. There was that comfort that I felt so long ago. She proceeded to give me a hug, as she swayed me from side to side, leaning on the rail and away from the rail. My tears have stopped. She kisses me as we continue rocking from side to side. And with one last sway, we are propelled off the building into oblivion. I am reminded of something I read long ago, as we free fall. A poem in Spanish by Jorge L. Borges. It translates a bit like this. The Enigmas I who am singing these lines today Will be tomorrow the enigmatic corpse Who dwells in a realm, magical and barren, Without a before or an after or a when. So say the mystics. I say I believe Myself undeserving of Heaven or of Hell, But make no predictions. Each man's tale Shifts like the watery forms of Proteus. What errant labyrinth, what blinding flash Of splendor and glory shall become my fate When the end of this adventure presents me with The curious experience of death? I want to drink its crystal-pure oblivion, To be forever; but never to have been.	You were attracted to her in a way you've never felt before but when you confront her about this, she says that it's impossible because you'd have to pay an unusual price. Reluctant to be with the love of your life, you accept and the next day... You wake up - as Davy Jones.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	I sat on the couch, my arm around Death's shoulders. She fell asleep as we were watching Netflix, and I didn't want to wake her. You're probably wondering how this came to be. Well, it started when I was 8. My best friend had cancer. The bad kind. But, as kids, this didn't slow us down. But one day, while our parents were outside, she told me she was tired, and wanted to watch TV. So we did. She fell asleep halfway through the show, and I couldn't wake her up. I started to cry. My friend was gone. Then Death appeared. She was really nervous. She sat down next to me, and put her arm around me. She told me it was okay. And we'be been friends ever since. But recently, we've gone past a platonic relationship. It's funny, almost. I'm Death's girlfriend. How do I explain this to people? I can't just explain this. But I guess I can make this work. For now, though, I think I'm just gonna sleep. Death's shoulder makes a good pillow.	You were attracted to her in a way you've never felt before but when you confront her about this, she says that it's impossible because you'd have to pay an unusual price. Reluctant to be with the love of your life, you accept and the next day... You wake up - as Davy Jones.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	Polar opposites is what we are on most parts, both socially akward and social outcasts, but still best friends. We do almost everything together. She taught me that Death, Life, Love and Hatred aren't single people, they are titles, passed down from the first master to apprentice, and then passed on. Those who hold the titles aren't immortal, only gods are immortal, no, those who bear the titles only live longer and age slower. She said she was about my age when she earned the title of Death, when her master retired. The first life the apprentice of Death takes when they inherit the title is the life of their master. Her master was born in the 19th century, and he retired the same year I was born. "Rose, you know this isn't forced upon you. I know you to be the only one who have embraced the thought of Death, without understanding it all. You are a strong girl." Death only talks in whispers, but I can hear them like she was talking and sitting right besides me. We met when I was 8 or 9, I saw a boy who lived down the street die right in front of me. And when she arrived, all I said, was "You're... Death.... aren't you?" She had nodded, and given me a hug. She had stayed with me, wiped away my tears as the police, ambulance and his parents arrived. Noone questioned why Death was sitting next to me. But they probably never had seen her earlier. He had a really severe allergic reaction, to what I don't remember, and choked to death as his throat closed up. "I know, it's just... I didn't expect this to happen..." I felt it becoming harder to breathe. I broke my arm in the skiing slope yesterday, and I've got to stay at the hospital for at least a day. She was sitting on the bed, next to my legs. The second time we met was when my great grandmother had died, when I heard about her death, Death was there to support me and wipe away my tears. I've actually met Life as well, he makes sure that the newborns are taken care of properly. I saw him when I first met my little cousin. "Life has taken a liking to you as well, you know." Death likes to stare out of the window when talking, and so do I. Eyecontact is too much. Life saved me, if he hadn't made both my skis hop off, I'd be dead. Death told me that it wasn't time for my death yet, so she didn't argue. I've seen Hatred once too, but only from afar. She watched and fueled a fight between two of my old classmates, one almost got blinded on one eye. "I've noticed that. He has saved me from getting killed quite a few times now. But if I died, could I spend the rest of eternity with you? You didn't explain that part." She has told me alot about the 'demi-god' world, the Domains of Death, Lakes of Life, Hills of Hatred and Lands of Love. She starts explaining, the dead either get to send their first soul, the one that just acts as a paper for the story of the person, to be ereased before sending it to Life to give to a newborn, or they get to keep their first and second soul, and act as guides or helpers of whoever needs someone with their attributes. "So, yes. If you'd die, you could stay with me for the rest of eternity." Life sits down on the chair that is placed a few feet from the bed, his eyes are bright emerald green. "Good afternoon, Rose. Hello, Death." I just smile at him, too tired to talk much. "You really think this is a good idea? It could end in disaster, you know." Death asked Life, not me. I don't know what she is talking about. "I'm sure I've made the right choice. It can't wait much longer, or It'll be too late." Life sounds confident in what he's talking about. "What are you talking about?" I can't hold it, I'm too curious. "Tell her, Life. You said it's time, and I'm sure now is as good as any time." Life takes a deep breath, looks like he's thinking about something. 7 years later "I'll never disappoint you, I promise. But are you sure about not staying, a soul can stay as a helper." I tell him, he shakes his head. "I wan't to wander the halls of Death's Domain and dance with the young woman that was taken around the time I became an apprentice. I believe in you." Death, Love and Hatred stand beside me, as he wanders away through the halls. Death turns towards me. "I knew this day would come. I saw it in you, you are now truly the Rose of Life." Rose of Life, Azrael of Death, Lily of Love and Prim of Hatred, all standing as the first all-female group of Guardians before the Doors to Death's Domains.	You were attracted to her in a way you've never felt before but when you confront her about this, she says that it's impossible because you'd have to pay an unusual price. Reluctant to be with the love of your life, you accept and the next day... You wake up - as Davy Jones.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	All around me I could hear the slow pitter-patter of the rain as it fell on umbrellas and the soft squelch of shoes thudding against the pavement as people briskly made their way to wherever they needed to go in attempt to avoid the torrential downpour that would soon follow. I was in no hurry. I had no place I really needed to be and although I had quite a few things that I should have been doing, the smell of rain in the air had washed away any resemblance of thought. I’ve never been much of an outdoorsman, but something about the anticipation of rain beckoned me to take the two mile hike through an old trail a short distance from my house. I don’t exactly remember the first time I discovered it, but it had to have been when I first moved here almost 20 years ago. As I walked further down the trail, the sound of footsteps and umbrellas slowly faded away until the only sounds I heard were those of the rain rapidly falling on the leaves of the trees above and my own breathing. Nearing the halfway point of the first leg of my journey, I happened upon a large tree, beautifully ornamented with brightly colored leaves. Sitting at the foot of the tree was young girl, almost invisible among the shades of yellow and red around her feet. I took a deep breath – she couldn’t have been more than 23/24 years old. From a distance, I could tell she had bright red hair and wore large, bookish glasses. “Get your damn mind out of the gutter. She’s too young for you” I thought. “Well, it’s not like a pretty, young girl like that would ever look at an old man like yourself. If I only were a few years younger…” By now, the rain had really started to come down hard. For some reason, I had decided to take my umbrella with me when I left the house. For as long as I could remember, I had never used an umbrella when it rained. I enjoyed the feeling of being rained on too much. So why did I pack an umbrella? As I approached closer, I could see the girl was furiously scribbling in some sort of notebook, her hands awkwardly trying to protect her work from the rain. When she finally made eye-contact, her piercing green eyes were sharp enough to cut my soul. For the first time in a long time, I had no words. Without really thinking, I pulled out my umbrella and struggled it open. Before I realized, I was towering over her, carefully positioning the umbrella over her head. “Can I help you out of this rain miss” I said; my voice shaky as my brain struggled to process what the hell I was doing. The girl looked up and smiled awkwardly. “A little rain never hurt nobody. You of all people should know that”. I laughed. How did she know I like the rain? Guess it wasn’t too much of a stretch considering I was standing in front of her completely drenched. This was getting awkward really fast. “What are you writing about?” I asked, finally breaking the silence. “Oh, I’m just doodling to kill some time” she exclaimed. “In the rain? You’ll catch a cold! Can’t you doodle inside?” I said, my fatherly instinct kicking in. I didn’t have any children, but I suppose it’s what good fathers would say. Not that I wanted to be this girl’s father considering I was trying my darnedest not to imagine her naked. “Don’t worry, I have to leave pretty soon anyway. I don’t get much time off work and when I do, I like to come here. Now that you’ve interrupted my peace, you might as well sit down” she said. I took a seat next to her, still cradling the umbrella above her head. “What do you do for a living?” I asked. She peered at me over her glasses and chuckled “I work with the dead” she exclaimed. “So at a mortuary or a funeral home?” I asked. She smiled again. “Yea, something like that”. I could tell the girl was fairly shy. Her short responses had me feeling self-conscious. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk to me. Nevertheless, I was never one to back down. As I continued to ask her questions, she continued to answer them. She started to use more words and gradually her features softened. It was as if a wall had somehow come down. She told me about a young man she was interested in. How great he made her feel and how happy she was when they spoke. She told me it was impossible for them to be together because her job kept getting in the way and how he could never think of her as more than friends. As I listened to her tale of woe, I began to realize how much I’ve changed since I was her age. Was I ever this foolish? If my life has taught me anything, it was to never let anything you want now get away from you. Much like that damn flat screen I’ve been eyeing at Costco, it’ll be gone by the time I grow the balls big enough to buy it. “Don’t worry miss, you’re young. You have plenty of time to find love. In fact, I’m sure that idiot young friend of yours will come to his senses pretty soon and realize what he’s missing out on” I explained. She took one look at me and burst out laughing, tears welling up in her eyes. Her laughter echoed through the trail, reverberating amongst the trees. What was so funny? Did I say something that warranted such laughter? Kids these days. By now, the rain had since died down and the sun was slowly beginning to show itself behind the trees. As if on cue, the girl got up, dusted off her dress and looked down on me. “Time for me to get back to work. I really enjoyed talking to you. Will you meet me here again the next time it rains?” she asked. She wanted to see me again? She did look shy and kind of lonely. Maybe she just wants a friend. That’s right, she just wants a friend. “What is your name by the way?” I asked. “My name?” she laughed nervously. “My name is Death”. “Death!?” I exclaimed. “Yes, Death” she replied. I wanted to question her further, but I realized that it probably wasn’t my place. Who was I to judge people’s names? Hell, celebrities are naming their kids after fruit and the other day I was surprised to find someone whose name was spelled with three apostrophes. Times really have changed. “Death huh. I’m not great with names, but I’ll remember that.” I said. She smiled although I could tell it was forced. “No, no you won’t” she whispered. With that, she sprinted further down the trail and before long, she was gone. I slowly got up from the base of the tree and stretched my aching legs. I closed the umbrella and slung it over my shoulder. The rain was gone and with that, so was my motivation to walk. As I lay in bed that night, I thought about all that had crossed my mind throughout the day. I thought about the flat screen TV I’d been eyeing at Costco that I didn’t have the money to buy. I thought about celebrities and their stupid baby names. I thought about the man with three apostrophes in his name; I thought of my love of the rain and hatred of umbrellas. Finally, I thought about the hike. The same hike I’ve been going on every time there’s been a rainstorm for the last 20 years. As I closed my eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep, I realized that I could not remember for as long as I’d been here, one instance where I’d actually completed the hike. Oh well, there’s always next time.	You were attracted to her in a way you've never felt before but when you confront her about this, she says that it's impossible because you'd have to pay an unusual price. Reluctant to be with the love of your life, you accept and the next day... You wake up - as Davy Jones.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	My first meeting with death was strange, as you can imagine. Any meeting with an all powerful god would be. I didn't even know she was death at the time. And I later found out she wasn't the only deity of death, it was merely her job, like many other deities of the afterlife, to guide dead souls where they were needed. But anyway, after a few years things started getting weird... I noticed it at first after people started alienating me. I hadn't exactly been popular throughout my life but I always had a few good friend. Over time they all went their own way thougy, and left me because they didn't think I would fit into their new lifestyle. Then there were the deaths. I know not every death is directly influenced by her, but it wasn't long before I realised that she was taking care of me discretely. It wasn't too noticeable at first, but it started with my biggest rival at the company I worked in suddenly dying from unknown causes. It happened again when I found myself being mugged, but that didn't last long when the mugger suddenly keeled over. I didn't stick around long enough to find out what happened to him. Eventually it got too far after a police detective looking into corruption charges higher up in my company died of mysterious circumstances. I had to confront her. I had to. "Death?" I asked carefully, searching for her. "Joshua?" She responded, appearing beside me sat on my bed. She had a habit of doing that "Why do you influence those who could bring me harm by killing them? You know that isn't what I want." We'd had ethical arguments many times about whether it was ok for her to kill purposefully. Her eyes narrowed slightly and her brow furrowed into a confused expression "What do you mean? You know I wouldn't take a life unless it was absolutely necessary Joshua." No, it wasn't confusion. It was worry. "But everyone that could hurt me... that mugger, that rival, even that detective, they all just mysteriously died. Why?" I was worried now as well. "There are times when other beings take lives, but not in the way you described. Maybe..." She trailed off, looking ever more worried "What, what is it!!" I had to know now. Her face suddenly melted as a look of pure desperation came across it. But she was quick to cover it up with a neutral expression. Not quick enough though. "Tell me, please. If you don't-" I started. But she cut me off "There are times when... close proximity and a lot of time spent with a deity of the afterlife can have some adverse affects. It explains why your friends left, but..." she trailed off again, but the look she gave me explained everything. I should've known from the start. "Don't. I get it now" I responded. Because I did. It was obvious now. It was obvious from the start. I was just too blind to see it. "I've become one of you, haven't I?"	You were attracted to her in a way you've never felt before but when you confront her about this, she says that it's impossible because you'd have to pay an unusual price. Reluctant to be with the love of your life, you accept and the next day... You wake up - as Davy Jones.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	"Hey Death?" I sat on the edge of the crumbled bridge next to her, looking off at the sunset. "Hm?" She quickly turned off her phone's screen and stared at me as I turned to look at her. She was just slow enough or me to see that she'd been texting someone. Probably one of the fates, they were like family to her. "You've been acting a little off lately. Less like your usual morbid, somber self. What's up?" I asked, looking back at the sunset. She shifted a little bit, scooting a bit closer to the edge. I always found it funny when she'd put herself closer to danger to feel more comfortable, but I'd been over laughing about it for years. "I guess I've been watching a lot of human movies. People tend to imitate what they're surrounded by." I laughed a little. "Yeah, D. That's kind of the problem. The other day you left your Netflix signed in back at my apartment, and I saw the kind of movies you watch on your own." Death blushed. That was a rare sight. I continued, "I wanted to see the kind of movies you watch, see if any of them were adaptations and get you the book if I could find it. You know, with your Being Day coming in about a month." She started to stand. "Tom, I-" I gestured for her to sit back down. "I noticed one thing most the things you watch share. They're mostly romantic films about girls who woo their male best friend." She lay back on the pavement, only her legs dangling over the edge of the bridge. Her black hood slipped a little off her head, and her pitch black hair bounced out the sides. "Yeah," she sighed, "well, you wouldn't bring it up unless you feel the same way or you never want to see my face again until you die. I know how people are." I learned over and kissed Death on the cheek, then lay back on the pavement next to her. "Tom, do you like being alive? We've talked about it before, but you never decided. Most people would steer clear of confronting their mortality daily. Which is better, changing the world or being happy forever?" "I'm happy right here next to you. Are you alive or dead?" "Alive, technically. My "Being Day" is the day I became immortal. I'm the only one who can change the world and find happiness in it." "So... you really are a god." She laughed, one of the most natural things I had ever heard. "We'll talk about making you immortal later. For now, I'll have you know I'm also a sex god." It was my turn to blush now. "Metaphorically?" "Wanna find out?" I laughed, if only because the situation was so absurd. "Yeah." She wasn't wrong.	You were attracted to her in a way you've never felt before but when you confront her about this, she says that it's impossible because you'd have to pay an unusual price. Reluctant to be with the love of your life, you accept and the next day... You wake up - as Davy Jones.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	“Hey,” I said, shutting the cab door behind me and catching sight of her. She was in her usual black overcoat. With handmade navy beanie over her temple, the rest of her sleek black hair was thrown over one shoulder. Her arms were crossed. The usual sullen face darkened by her furrowed brow. I found her in front of my apartment. She wasn’t doing anything but standing there as people stroll by. The busy, the tired, the old, none of them noticed her. But she was used to that. Her expression didn’t change as I came up to her. “Hey there,” I said, pulling her arms away from her belly and taking each hand in my own. “Aren’t you cold? Do you want to come upstairs?” She sighed, her eyes glancing down at the sidewalk. “You know I don’t feel cold.” “How about a drink?” I turned slightly towards the Irish bar on the corner. She shook her head. Then she grabbed me by the collar and tiptoed to press her lips to mine. I kissed her back. It was a shock every time. Kind of like submerging my face in a bowl of ice-cream. She was so soft, so sweet. It was too easy to forget that she was Death. I was about to cup her face when she broke away from me with a breath that turned into a sob before she could exhale. “What’s wrong?” I whispered, placing a palm against her cheek. My thumb felt her cold lips quivering, and I reached in to kiss her again but turned away. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. She just shook her head again. “Okay, that’s it.” I grabbed her hand and pushed the glass door. We stepped inside, made it up the stairs, and were in front of my door before her fingers squeezed mine and I turned back to look at her. The hat had come off, leaving her dark locks free to cover a side of her face. Her dark brown eyes were finally looking at me. And they looked… scared. Was Death even allowed to be scared? She bit her bottom lip. Then she dug into her pocket, and I followed the pale skin of her hand as she brought it back out and unfurled her fist to reveal a pregnancy test.	I still remember the day I met her. She was sitting by herself with a multigrain bagel on her lap. She just kept staring at it, like she could move it with her eyes or something. I later found out she was trying to count the seeds and map them to a circular grid in her head. Apparently, she had been planning on baking the best multigrain bagel ever, and she was experimenting with different recipes and seed proportions to create that perfect combination. "You really seem to be into that bagel," I had said to her. I remember how shaken she was when she heard a voice directed at her. To my surprise however, she had smiled. And then I remember feeling very awkward for some reason. But that awkwardness was immediately deluged by this strange sensation in my arms, going down to my legs. I felt like she knew me, everything about me. And funnily enough, I felt like I knew her too. We got along really well. She taught me how to make bagels. She even shared her "bagel maps" with me, which was kind of a big deal, I thought. I knew I was falling for her. I didn't want to, I knew I probably shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself. Maybe this was meant to be. I didn't believe in that stuff, but I was in a place in my life where I didn't really believe in anything, so I thought I should allow myself this one guilty pleasure. I was consumed by her. Her passion for bagels, the smell of her hair, the texture of her skin, the suppleness of her lips. I wanted to kiss her. I never thought I could want to feel anyone's lips so longingly on my own. Every moment I spent with her was a fight with myself and my insatiable urge. No, I had to stop myself. But maybe I should tell her. No, that would ruin everything. But maybe going on like this would ruin me. So I decided to tell her. How was it that every time she smiled at me, I felt that awkward feeling before a flooding sensation of unfathomable relief? Because that's what I felt yet again when I finally told her, and she smiled. "You're ready", she said. I was bewildered. She probably saw it on my face, and smiled that mystical smile. "I'm ready?" I asked, trying to jerk off that unexplainable relief I was feeling. "You're ready to be mine." And I died.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	All around me I could hear the slow pitter-patter of the rain as it fell on umbrellas and the soft squelch of shoes thudding against the pavement as people briskly made their way to wherever they needed to go in attempt to avoid the torrential downpour that would soon follow. I was in no hurry. I had no place I really needed to be and although I had quite a few things that I should have been doing, the smell of rain in the air had washed away any resemblance of thought. I’ve never been much of an outdoorsman, but something about the anticipation of rain beckoned me to take the two mile hike through an old trail a short distance from my house. I don’t exactly remember the first time I discovered it, but it had to have been when I first moved here almost 20 years ago. As I walked further down the trail, the sound of footsteps and umbrellas slowly faded away until the only sounds I heard were those of the rain rapidly falling on the leaves of the trees above and my own breathing. Nearing the halfway point of the first leg of my journey, I happened upon a large tree, beautifully ornamented with brightly colored leaves. Sitting at the foot of the tree was young girl, almost invisible among the shades of yellow and red around her feet. I took a deep breath – she couldn’t have been more than 23/24 years old. From a distance, I could tell she had bright red hair and wore large, bookish glasses. “Get your damn mind out of the gutter. She’s too young for you” I thought. “Well, it’s not like a pretty, young girl like that would ever look at an old man like yourself. If I only were a few years younger…” By now, the rain had really started to come down hard. For some reason, I had decided to take my umbrella with me when I left the house. For as long as I could remember, I had never used an umbrella when it rained. I enjoyed the feeling of being rained on too much. So why did I pack an umbrella? As I approached closer, I could see the girl was furiously scribbling in some sort of notebook, her hands awkwardly trying to protect her work from the rain. When she finally made eye-contact, her piercing green eyes were sharp enough to cut my soul. For the first time in a long time, I had no words. Without really thinking, I pulled out my umbrella and struggled it open. Before I realized, I was towering over her, carefully positioning the umbrella over her head. “Can I help you out of this rain miss” I said; my voice shaky as my brain struggled to process what the hell I was doing. The girl looked up and smiled awkwardly. “A little rain never hurt nobody. You of all people should know that”. I laughed. How did she know I like the rain? Guess it wasn’t too much of a stretch considering I was standing in front of her completely drenched. This was getting awkward really fast. “What are you writing about?” I asked, finally breaking the silence. “Oh, I’m just doodling to kill some time” she exclaimed. “In the rain? You’ll catch a cold! Can’t you doodle inside?” I said, my fatherly instinct kicking in. I didn’t have any children, but I suppose it’s what good fathers would say. Not that I wanted to be this girl’s father considering I was trying my darnedest not to imagine her naked. “Don’t worry, I have to leave pretty soon anyway. I don’t get much time off work and when I do, I like to come here. Now that you’ve interrupted my peace, you might as well sit down” she said. I took a seat next to her, still cradling the umbrella above her head. “What do you do for a living?” I asked. She peered at me over her glasses and chuckled “I work with the dead” she exclaimed. “So at a mortuary or a funeral home?” I asked. She smiled again. “Yea, something like that”. I could tell the girl was fairly shy. Her short responses had me feeling self-conscious. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk to me. Nevertheless, I was never one to back down. As I continued to ask her questions, she continued to answer them. She started to use more words and gradually her features softened. It was as if a wall had somehow come down. She told me about a young man she was interested in. How great he made her feel and how happy she was when they spoke. She told me it was impossible for them to be together because her job kept getting in the way and how he could never think of her as more than friends. As I listened to her tale of woe, I began to realize how much I’ve changed since I was her age. Was I ever this foolish? If my life has taught me anything, it was to never let anything you want now get away from you. Much like that damn flat screen I’ve been eyeing at Costco, it’ll be gone by the time I grow the balls big enough to buy it. “Don’t worry miss, you’re young. You have plenty of time to find love. In fact, I’m sure that idiot young friend of yours will come to his senses pretty soon and realize what he’s missing out on” I explained. She took one look at me and burst out laughing, tears welling up in her eyes. Her laughter echoed through the trail, reverberating amongst the trees. What was so funny? Did I say something that warranted such laughter? Kids these days. By now, the rain had since died down and the sun was slowly beginning to show itself behind the trees. As if on cue, the girl got up, dusted off her dress and looked down on me. “Time for me to get back to work. I really enjoyed talking to you. Will you meet me here again the next time it rains?” she asked. She wanted to see me again? She did look shy and kind of lonely. Maybe she just wants a friend. That’s right, she just wants a friend. “What is your name by the way?” I asked. “My name?” she laughed nervously. “My name is Death”. “Death!?” I exclaimed. “Yes, Death” she replied. I wanted to question her further, but I realized that it probably wasn’t my place. Who was I to judge people’s names? Hell, celebrities are naming their kids after fruit and the other day I was surprised to find someone whose name was spelled with three apostrophes. Times really have changed. “Death huh. I’m not great with names, but I’ll remember that.” I said. She smiled although I could tell it was forced. “No, no you won’t” she whispered. With that, she sprinted further down the trail and before long, she was gone. I slowly got up from the base of the tree and stretched my aching legs. I closed the umbrella and slung it over my shoulder. The rain was gone and with that, so was my motivation to walk. As I lay in bed that night, I thought about all that had crossed my mind throughout the day. I thought about the flat screen TV I’d been eyeing at Costco that I didn’t have the money to buy. I thought about celebrities and their stupid baby names. I thought about the man with three apostrophes in his name; I thought of my love of the rain and hatred of umbrellas. Finally, I thought about the hike. The same hike I’ve been going on every time there’s been a rainstorm for the last 20 years. As I closed my eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep, I realized that I could not remember for as long as I’d been here, one instance where I’d actually completed the hike. Oh well, there’s always next time.	I'd be lying to you if I told you that I've paid much attention to her in the past. She was just there; someone peripheral. Maybe it was I who chose to ignore her, or she just chose not to be noticed. I saw her on my way home from work. I was not in the best of moods, for work had lost its luster that I once thought it had. I was brooding, pondering the nihilism of it all. It all happened so awkwardly, for she was beautiful. She was far more beautiful than I had ever noticed. As I stood there in admiration of her allure, I forgot that this was really happening. "Yo." she said plainly "Yo?" I asked, as if I had never really heard the expression, as if I was a stranger in a strange land. "you know, like, hi." she retorted " Oh! yes, hi!" I said louder than I meant to. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, a memory came to my mind. She looked familiar. Her face shifted from my peripherals into my sights. I knew her. I have always known her. Memories of my childhood rushed forth. She had always been a quite one living in the corner of my eye, never in full focus. "I know you don't I?" I asked, with my index finger on my lips, and a half smile on my face. "I don't know, do you?" she answered with a chuckle. "Yeah we went to school together!" I said, again, a little louder than I wanted to say. "YES!" She replied in a mocking manner, followed by a laughter, as if she was aware and understood my social anxiety. I was surprised. I didn't expect that kind of response, but I too followed along with the laughter. "We hung out once before, ya know?" She said after the laughter died out. " You came into the gas station I was working at. I believe you were on your on way back home from a date that didn't go as planned." She added as she looked straight into my soul. I stood there in amazement. She had dug up a memory that I'd thought to be forgotten. A painful night indeed. Now the focus of the night did not lie in the date, but more so on the moods that had made it a bad date. These moods came from something more insidious than the constant existential crisis that I had been, and am currently going through. This affect of pain came from constant years of abuse at home. Things that I would rather not mention. That night I remember a girl at the gas station that saw my pain. A girl who understood me with out the use of words, someone who knew me more than I knew me. " I am approaching you because I recognize that face. Not just the features, but the mood... the pain in your face." She said remembering that night so long ago. What was I supposed to say? I was at a lack of words, and thought for that matter. I just stood there not sure what to do with my hands, face, or feet positioning. Where do I look? Every time I stare back at her it's like looking down the barrel of a gun! She lays her hand on my shoulder and asks. "What are you doing tonight?" And with out giving me room to respond she she says. " I am going to go get a drink at this beautiful rooftop bar about two blocks away... I think you should come hang out." " Sure." I said, still taking in all the emotions whirling like a hurricane. Without ordering our drinks we leaned on the guardrails. Just like that night, I didn't need to say a word to feel the cumfort of her being near. We just stood there and a drop of water fell on my hand. It was a clear night, but more water dripped on my hands as I hovered over them. She just stood next to me rubbing my back, as I vented my moods with silence. "Shhhhhhh.... there, there." she repeated. There was that comfort that I felt so long ago. She proceeded to give me a hug, as she swayed me from side to side, leaning on the rail and away from the rail. My tears have stopped. She kisses me as we continue rocking from side to side. And with one last sway, we are propelled off the building into oblivion. I am reminded of something I read long ago, as we free fall. A poem in Spanish by Jorge L. Borges. It translates a bit like this. The Enigmas I who am singing these lines today Will be tomorrow the enigmatic corpse Who dwells in a realm, magical and barren, Without a before or an after or a when. So say the mystics. I say I believe Myself undeserving of Heaven or of Hell, But make no predictions. Each man's tale Shifts like the watery forms of Proteus. What errant labyrinth, what blinding flash Of splendor and glory shall become my fate When the end of this adventure presents me with The curious experience of death? I want to drink its crystal-pure oblivion, To be forever; but never to have been.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	All around me I could hear the slow pitter-patter of the rain as it fell on umbrellas and the soft squelch of shoes thudding against the pavement as people briskly made their way to wherever they needed to go in attempt to avoid the torrential downpour that would soon follow. I was in no hurry. I had no place I really needed to be and although I had quite a few things that I should have been doing, the smell of rain in the air had washed away any resemblance of thought. I’ve never been much of an outdoorsman, but something about the anticipation of rain beckoned me to take the two mile hike through an old trail a short distance from my house. I don’t exactly remember the first time I discovered it, but it had to have been when I first moved here almost 20 years ago. As I walked further down the trail, the sound of footsteps and umbrellas slowly faded away until the only sounds I heard were those of the rain rapidly falling on the leaves of the trees above and my own breathing. Nearing the halfway point of the first leg of my journey, I happened upon a large tree, beautifully ornamented with brightly colored leaves. Sitting at the foot of the tree was young girl, almost invisible among the shades of yellow and red around her feet. I took a deep breath – she couldn’t have been more than 23/24 years old. From a distance, I could tell she had bright red hair and wore large, bookish glasses. “Get your damn mind out of the gutter. She’s too young for you” I thought. “Well, it’s not like a pretty, young girl like that would ever look at an old man like yourself. If I only were a few years younger…” By now, the rain had really started to come down hard. For some reason, I had decided to take my umbrella with me when I left the house. For as long as I could remember, I had never used an umbrella when it rained. I enjoyed the feeling of being rained on too much. So why did I pack an umbrella? As I approached closer, I could see the girl was furiously scribbling in some sort of notebook, her hands awkwardly trying to protect her work from the rain. When she finally made eye-contact, her piercing green eyes were sharp enough to cut my soul. For the first time in a long time, I had no words. Without really thinking, I pulled out my umbrella and struggled it open. Before I realized, I was towering over her, carefully positioning the umbrella over her head. “Can I help you out of this rain miss” I said; my voice shaky as my brain struggled to process what the hell I was doing. The girl looked up and smiled awkwardly. “A little rain never hurt nobody. You of all people should know that”. I laughed. How did she know I like the rain? Guess it wasn’t too much of a stretch considering I was standing in front of her completely drenched. This was getting awkward really fast. “What are you writing about?” I asked, finally breaking the silence. “Oh, I’m just doodling to kill some time” she exclaimed. “In the rain? You’ll catch a cold! Can’t you doodle inside?” I said, my fatherly instinct kicking in. I didn’t have any children, but I suppose it’s what good fathers would say. Not that I wanted to be this girl’s father considering I was trying my darnedest not to imagine her naked. “Don’t worry, I have to leave pretty soon anyway. I don’t get much time off work and when I do, I like to come here. Now that you’ve interrupted my peace, you might as well sit down” she said. I took a seat next to her, still cradling the umbrella above her head. “What do you do for a living?” I asked. She peered at me over her glasses and chuckled “I work with the dead” she exclaimed. “So at a mortuary or a funeral home?” I asked. She smiled again. “Yea, something like that”. I could tell the girl was fairly shy. Her short responses had me feeling self-conscious. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk to me. Nevertheless, I was never one to back down. As I continued to ask her questions, she continued to answer them. She started to use more words and gradually her features softened. It was as if a wall had somehow come down. She told me about a young man she was interested in. How great he made her feel and how happy she was when they spoke. She told me it was impossible for them to be together because her job kept getting in the way and how he could never think of her as more than friends. As I listened to her tale of woe, I began to realize how much I’ve changed since I was her age. Was I ever this foolish? If my life has taught me anything, it was to never let anything you want now get away from you. Much like that damn flat screen I’ve been eyeing at Costco, it’ll be gone by the time I grow the balls big enough to buy it. “Don’t worry miss, you’re young. You have plenty of time to find love. In fact, I’m sure that idiot young friend of yours will come to his senses pretty soon and realize what he’s missing out on” I explained. She took one look at me and burst out laughing, tears welling up in her eyes. Her laughter echoed through the trail, reverberating amongst the trees. What was so funny? Did I say something that warranted such laughter? Kids these days. By now, the rain had since died down and the sun was slowly beginning to show itself behind the trees. As if on cue, the girl got up, dusted off her dress and looked down on me. “Time for me to get back to work. I really enjoyed talking to you. Will you meet me here again the next time it rains?” she asked. She wanted to see me again? She did look shy and kind of lonely. Maybe she just wants a friend. That’s right, she just wants a friend. “What is your name by the way?” I asked. “My name?” she laughed nervously. “My name is Death”. “Death!?” I exclaimed. “Yes, Death” she replied. I wanted to question her further, but I realized that it probably wasn’t my place. Who was I to judge people’s names? Hell, celebrities are naming their kids after fruit and the other day I was surprised to find someone whose name was spelled with three apostrophes. Times really have changed. “Death huh. I’m not great with names, but I’ll remember that.” I said. She smiled although I could tell it was forced. “No, no you won’t” she whispered. With that, she sprinted further down the trail and before long, she was gone. I slowly got up from the base of the tree and stretched my aching legs. I closed the umbrella and slung it over my shoulder. The rain was gone and with that, so was my motivation to walk. As I lay in bed that night, I thought about all that had crossed my mind throughout the day. I thought about the flat screen TV I’d been eyeing at Costco that I didn’t have the money to buy. I thought about celebrities and their stupid baby names. I thought about the man with three apostrophes in his name; I thought of my love of the rain and hatred of umbrellas. Finally, I thought about the hike. The same hike I’ve been going on every time there’s been a rainstorm for the last 20 years. As I closed my eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep, I realized that I could not remember for as long as I’d been here, one instance where I’d actually completed the hike. Oh well, there’s always next time.	A quiet series of knocks on the door drew my attention. I looked up from my laptop, my eyes barely over the top of the screen. The door slowly cracked open, and I saw her eyes peek in and scan the room, resting them on me, then veering over to the table to my right. She slowly pushed through the doorway and tiptoed across the carpet, trying not to make a sound. Her oddly forced gait and mistimed pauses to look about was more than enough for me to continue staring. She walked over to the table, on which a cage sat atop, with some bedding and a water container within. She opened the cage, scooped out one of my older hamsters, and turned around, slowly tiptoe-ing in the same manner she came in. With the hamster in one hand and the doorknob in the other, she gazed about one last time. A smirk and a half enthusiastic wave later, she left, door partially shut. I looked back at my laptop screen and continued to browse.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	My first meeting with death was strange, as you can imagine. Any meeting with an all powerful god would be. I didn't even know she was death at the time. And I later found out she wasn't the only deity of death, it was merely her job, like many other deities of the afterlife, to guide dead souls where they were needed. But anyway, after a few years things started getting weird... I noticed it at first after people started alienating me. I hadn't exactly been popular throughout my life but I always had a few good friend. Over time they all went their own way thougy, and left me because they didn't think I would fit into their new lifestyle. Then there were the deaths. I know not every death is directly influenced by her, but it wasn't long before I realised that she was taking care of me discretely. It wasn't too noticeable at first, but it started with my biggest rival at the company I worked in suddenly dying from unknown causes. It happened again when I found myself being mugged, but that didn't last long when the mugger suddenly keeled over. I didn't stick around long enough to find out what happened to him. Eventually it got too far after a police detective looking into corruption charges higher up in my company died of mysterious circumstances. I had to confront her. I had to. "Death?" I asked carefully, searching for her. "Joshua?" She responded, appearing beside me sat on my bed. She had a habit of doing that "Why do you influence those who could bring me harm by killing them? You know that isn't what I want." We'd had ethical arguments many times about whether it was ok for her to kill purposefully. Her eyes narrowed slightly and her brow furrowed into a confused expression "What do you mean? You know I wouldn't take a life unless it was absolutely necessary Joshua." No, it wasn't confusion. It was worry. "But everyone that could hurt me... that mugger, that rival, even that detective, they all just mysteriously died. Why?" I was worried now as well. "There are times when other beings take lives, but not in the way you described. Maybe..." She trailed off, looking ever more worried "What, what is it!!" I had to know now. Her face suddenly melted as a look of pure desperation came across it. But she was quick to cover it up with a neutral expression. Not quick enough though. "Tell me, please. If you don't-" I started. But she cut me off "There are times when... close proximity and a lot of time spent with a deity of the afterlife can have some adverse affects. It explains why your friends left, but..." she trailed off again, but the look she gave me explained everything. I should've known from the start. "Don't. I get it now" I responded. Because I did. It was obvious now. It was obvious from the start. I was just too blind to see it. "I've become one of you, haven't I?"	A quiet series of knocks on the door drew my attention. I looked up from my laptop, my eyes barely over the top of the screen. The door slowly cracked open, and I saw her eyes peek in and scan the room, resting them on me, then veering over to the table to my right. She slowly pushed through the doorway and tiptoed across the carpet, trying not to make a sound. Her oddly forced gait and mistimed pauses to look about was more than enough for me to continue staring. She walked over to the table, on which a cage sat atop, with some bedding and a water container within. She opened the cage, scooped out one of my older hamsters, and turned around, slowly tiptoe-ing in the same manner she came in. With the hamster in one hand and the doorknob in the other, she gazed about one last time. A smirk and a half enthusiastic wave later, she left, door partially shut. I looked back at my laptop screen and continued to browse.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	"Hey Death?" I sat on the edge of the crumbled bridge next to her, looking off at the sunset. "Hm?" She quickly turned off her phone's screen and stared at me as I turned to look at her. She was just slow enough or me to see that she'd been texting someone. Probably one of the fates, they were like family to her. "You've been acting a little off lately. Less like your usual morbid, somber self. What's up?" I asked, looking back at the sunset. She shifted a little bit, scooting a bit closer to the edge. I always found it funny when she'd put herself closer to danger to feel more comfortable, but I'd been over laughing about it for years. "I guess I've been watching a lot of human movies. People tend to imitate what they're surrounded by." I laughed a little. "Yeah, D. That's kind of the problem. The other day you left your Netflix signed in back at my apartment, and I saw the kind of movies you watch on your own." Death blushed. That was a rare sight. I continued, "I wanted to see the kind of movies you watch, see if any of them were adaptations and get you the book if I could find it. You know, with your Being Day coming in about a month." She started to stand. "Tom, I-" I gestured for her to sit back down. "I noticed one thing most the things you watch share. They're mostly romantic films about girls who woo their male best friend." She lay back on the pavement, only her legs dangling over the edge of the bridge. Her black hood slipped a little off her head, and her pitch black hair bounced out the sides. "Yeah," she sighed, "well, you wouldn't bring it up unless you feel the same way or you never want to see my face again until you die. I know how people are." I learned over and kissed Death on the cheek, then lay back on the pavement next to her. "Tom, do you like being alive? We've talked about it before, but you never decided. Most people would steer clear of confronting their mortality daily. Which is better, changing the world or being happy forever?" "I'm happy right here next to you. Are you alive or dead?" "Alive, technically. My "Being Day" is the day I became immortal. I'm the only one who can change the world and find happiness in it." "So... you really are a god." She laughed, one of the most natural things I had ever heard. "We'll talk about making you immortal later. For now, I'll have you know I'm also a sex god." It was my turn to blush now. "Metaphorically?" "Wanna find out?" I laughed, if only because the situation was so absurd. "Yeah." She wasn't wrong.	A quiet series of knocks on the door drew my attention. I looked up from my laptop, my eyes barely over the top of the screen. The door slowly cracked open, and I saw her eyes peek in and scan the room, resting them on me, then veering over to the table to my right. She slowly pushed through the doorway and tiptoed across the carpet, trying not to make a sound. Her oddly forced gait and mistimed pauses to look about was more than enough for me to continue staring. She walked over to the table, on which a cage sat atop, with some bedding and a water container within. She opened the cage, scooped out one of my older hamsters, and turned around, slowly tiptoe-ing in the same manner she came in. With the hamster in one hand and the doorknob in the other, she gazed about one last time. A smirk and a half enthusiastic wave later, she left, door partially shut. I looked back at my laptop screen and continued to browse.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	I sat at the train station, trying my best to ignore the question I had just been asked by my relatively new friend sitting beside me. It had been a few months since I met Dina and I had had some suspicions but nothing to cement what I thought. Could she actually BE death? It seemed like since we had started hanging out, weird things were happening everywhere we went. A man would jump off a high building into the street, or a car crash would occur a few lanes ahead of us. Events like these weren't too rare in New York, the city that never sleeps but since I had met Dina they had become far too common. I had always imagined death to be an all mighty being, capable of crushing the earth in their hand. But if my suspicions were correct, death was just a socially awkward girl who spilled her coffee on me at the Starbucks on 14th street. My friends thought I was crazy the day I told them I was going to ask out the girl who went out every day in dorky glasses and clothes that look like they could have been inherited from an older brother. They thought I was even crazier when I told them I thought she was death herself. I didn't care, though. I was wildly fascinated by Dina and I wasn't going to let my stupid friends get in the way of that. It was impossible to count how many relationships of mine they had already ruined. "How would you like to die?" The words she had said echoed in my brain and I didn't know how to respond. It seemed like such a dark question, even for Dina, who seemed so unbothered by any death we had witnessed over the past few months. Many thoughts raced through my head as I wondered what her underlying intentions were by the question she has asked. It seemed like there was always an underlying intention with her. She would ask me if I liked a shirt someone was wearing, only to give me that shirt the next day. Stuff like that didn't bother me, it was nice, it was who she was. This was eerie, though. Something about her tone of voice screamed that something was up. It was a week ago when she told me we had to get away somewhere safe. I thought she was crazy, New York is where I had lived my entire life. I went along with what she was saying though because she seemed genuinely concerned about something. It confused me though because everything seemed to be going great with her. That's what I thought at least. I could never be sure because there was always a sense of mystery about her. Whenever I tried to ask about where she was from, if she had a family, what she was doing in New York or anything else she would give me the same cold, hard answer. You don't want to know. It was the mystery of her life that had me worried and excited about her at the same time. I could spend eternity having a conversation with her, despite the fact that everyone I knew that had met her thought she was an absolute bore to talk to. I never saw that though, I was always just... Fascinated. That's the only word I could think of to describe my feelings towards her. So there we were. Sitting at the train station with tickets to Baltimore. We weren't going to Baltimore though. That's what she kept telling me. We were going to go somewhere special, somewhere we could be together forever. I didn't know what she meant but I could have cared less. I just wanted to settle down and start a life with her. The train started to pull into the station but something was up. The train started to screech and soon enough it began to fall off of the rails. Everyone around us started to run and scream. Just as I was about to follow suit, Dina's hand slammed against my chest in a way that made me compelled to stay right where I was amidst the chaos caused by the crashing train. As the train came rushing towards us, I felt a sense of calm. We were going somewhere safe. But maybe calling it starting a life together was the wrong way to say it.	A quiet series of knocks on the door drew my attention. I looked up from my laptop, my eyes barely over the top of the screen. The door slowly cracked open, and I saw her eyes peek in and scan the room, resting them on me, then veering over to the table to my right. She slowly pushed through the doorway and tiptoed across the carpet, trying not to make a sound. Her oddly forced gait and mistimed pauses to look about was more than enough for me to continue staring. She walked over to the table, on which a cage sat atop, with some bedding and a water container within. She opened the cage, scooped out one of my older hamsters, and turned around, slowly tiptoe-ing in the same manner she came in. With the hamster in one hand and the doorknob in the other, she gazed about one last time. A smirk and a half enthusiastic wave later, she left, door partially shut. I looked back at my laptop screen and continued to browse.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	All around me I could hear the slow pitter-patter of the rain as it fell on umbrellas and the soft squelch of shoes thudding against the pavement as people briskly made their way to wherever they needed to go in attempt to avoid the torrential downpour that would soon follow. I was in no hurry. I had no place I really needed to be and although I had quite a few things that I should have been doing, the smell of rain in the air had washed away any resemblance of thought. I’ve never been much of an outdoorsman, but something about the anticipation of rain beckoned me to take the two mile hike through an old trail a short distance from my house. I don’t exactly remember the first time I discovered it, but it had to have been when I first moved here almost 20 years ago. As I walked further down the trail, the sound of footsteps and umbrellas slowly faded away until the only sounds I heard were those of the rain rapidly falling on the leaves of the trees above and my own breathing. Nearing the halfway point of the first leg of my journey, I happened upon a large tree, beautifully ornamented with brightly colored leaves. Sitting at the foot of the tree was young girl, almost invisible among the shades of yellow and red around her feet. I took a deep breath – she couldn’t have been more than 23/24 years old. From a distance, I could tell she had bright red hair and wore large, bookish glasses. “Get your damn mind out of the gutter. She’s too young for you” I thought. “Well, it’s not like a pretty, young girl like that would ever look at an old man like yourself. If I only were a few years younger…” By now, the rain had really started to come down hard. For some reason, I had decided to take my umbrella with me when I left the house. For as long as I could remember, I had never used an umbrella when it rained. I enjoyed the feeling of being rained on too much. So why did I pack an umbrella? As I approached closer, I could see the girl was furiously scribbling in some sort of notebook, her hands awkwardly trying to protect her work from the rain. When she finally made eye-contact, her piercing green eyes were sharp enough to cut my soul. For the first time in a long time, I had no words. Without really thinking, I pulled out my umbrella and struggled it open. Before I realized, I was towering over her, carefully positioning the umbrella over her head. “Can I help you out of this rain miss” I said; my voice shaky as my brain struggled to process what the hell I was doing. The girl looked up and smiled awkwardly. “A little rain never hurt nobody. You of all people should know that”. I laughed. How did she know I like the rain? Guess it wasn’t too much of a stretch considering I was standing in front of her completely drenched. This was getting awkward really fast. “What are you writing about?” I asked, finally breaking the silence. “Oh, I’m just doodling to kill some time” she exclaimed. “In the rain? You’ll catch a cold! Can’t you doodle inside?” I said, my fatherly instinct kicking in. I didn’t have any children, but I suppose it’s what good fathers would say. Not that I wanted to be this girl’s father considering I was trying my darnedest not to imagine her naked. “Don’t worry, I have to leave pretty soon anyway. I don’t get much time off work and when I do, I like to come here. Now that you’ve interrupted my peace, you might as well sit down” she said. I took a seat next to her, still cradling the umbrella above her head. “What do you do for a living?” I asked. She peered at me over her glasses and chuckled “I work with the dead” she exclaimed. “So at a mortuary or a funeral home?” I asked. She smiled again. “Yea, something like that”. I could tell the girl was fairly shy. Her short responses had me feeling self-conscious. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk to me. Nevertheless, I was never one to back down. As I continued to ask her questions, she continued to answer them. She started to use more words and gradually her features softened. It was as if a wall had somehow come down. She told me about a young man she was interested in. How great he made her feel and how happy she was when they spoke. She told me it was impossible for them to be together because her job kept getting in the way and how he could never think of her as more than friends. As I listened to her tale of woe, I began to realize how much I’ve changed since I was her age. Was I ever this foolish? If my life has taught me anything, it was to never let anything you want now get away from you. Much like that damn flat screen I’ve been eyeing at Costco, it’ll be gone by the time I grow the balls big enough to buy it. “Don’t worry miss, you’re young. You have plenty of time to find love. In fact, I’m sure that idiot young friend of yours will come to his senses pretty soon and realize what he’s missing out on” I explained. She took one look at me and burst out laughing, tears welling up in her eyes. Her laughter echoed through the trail, reverberating amongst the trees. What was so funny? Did I say something that warranted such laughter? Kids these days. By now, the rain had since died down and the sun was slowly beginning to show itself behind the trees. As if on cue, the girl got up, dusted off her dress and looked down on me. “Time for me to get back to work. I really enjoyed talking to you. Will you meet me here again the next time it rains?” she asked. She wanted to see me again? She did look shy and kind of lonely. Maybe she just wants a friend. That’s right, she just wants a friend. “What is your name by the way?” I asked. “My name?” she laughed nervously. “My name is Death”. “Death!?” I exclaimed. “Yes, Death” she replied. I wanted to question her further, but I realized that it probably wasn’t my place. Who was I to judge people’s names? Hell, celebrities are naming their kids after fruit and the other day I was surprised to find someone whose name was spelled with three apostrophes. Times really have changed. “Death huh. I’m not great with names, but I’ll remember that.” I said. She smiled although I could tell it was forced. “No, no you won’t” she whispered. With that, she sprinted further down the trail and before long, she was gone. I slowly got up from the base of the tree and stretched my aching legs. I closed the umbrella and slung it over my shoulder. The rain was gone and with that, so was my motivation to walk. As I lay in bed that night, I thought about all that had crossed my mind throughout the day. I thought about the flat screen TV I’d been eyeing at Costco that I didn’t have the money to buy. I thought about celebrities and their stupid baby names. I thought about the man with three apostrophes in his name; I thought of my love of the rain and hatred of umbrellas. Finally, I thought about the hike. The same hike I’ve been going on every time there’s been a rainstorm for the last 20 years. As I closed my eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep, I realized that I could not remember for as long as I’d been here, one instance where I’d actually completed the hike. Oh well, there’s always next time.	I sat on the couch, my arm around Death's shoulders. She fell asleep as we were watching Netflix, and I didn't want to wake her. You're probably wondering how this came to be. Well, it started when I was 8. My best friend had cancer. The bad kind. But, as kids, this didn't slow us down. But one day, while our parents were outside, she told me she was tired, and wanted to watch TV. So we did. She fell asleep halfway through the show, and I couldn't wake her up. I started to cry. My friend was gone. Then Death appeared. She was really nervous. She sat down next to me, and put her arm around me. She told me it was okay. And we'be been friends ever since. But recently, we've gone past a platonic relationship. It's funny, almost. I'm Death's girlfriend. How do I explain this to people? I can't just explain this. But I guess I can make this work. For now, though, I think I'm just gonna sleep. Death's shoulder makes a good pillow.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	All around me I could hear the slow pitter-patter of the rain as it fell on umbrellas and the soft squelch of shoes thudding against the pavement as people briskly made their way to wherever they needed to go in attempt to avoid the torrential downpour that would soon follow. I was in no hurry. I had no place I really needed to be and although I had quite a few things that I should have been doing, the smell of rain in the air had washed away any resemblance of thought. I’ve never been much of an outdoorsman, but something about the anticipation of rain beckoned me to take the two mile hike through an old trail a short distance from my house. I don’t exactly remember the first time I discovered it, but it had to have been when I first moved here almost 20 years ago. As I walked further down the trail, the sound of footsteps and umbrellas slowly faded away until the only sounds I heard were those of the rain rapidly falling on the leaves of the trees above and my own breathing. Nearing the halfway point of the first leg of my journey, I happened upon a large tree, beautifully ornamented with brightly colored leaves. Sitting at the foot of the tree was young girl, almost invisible among the shades of yellow and red around her feet. I took a deep breath – she couldn’t have been more than 23/24 years old. From a distance, I could tell she had bright red hair and wore large, bookish glasses. “Get your damn mind out of the gutter. She’s too young for you” I thought. “Well, it’s not like a pretty, young girl like that would ever look at an old man like yourself. If I only were a few years younger…” By now, the rain had really started to come down hard. For some reason, I had decided to take my umbrella with me when I left the house. For as long as I could remember, I had never used an umbrella when it rained. I enjoyed the feeling of being rained on too much. So why did I pack an umbrella? As I approached closer, I could see the girl was furiously scribbling in some sort of notebook, her hands awkwardly trying to protect her work from the rain. When she finally made eye-contact, her piercing green eyes were sharp enough to cut my soul. For the first time in a long time, I had no words. Without really thinking, I pulled out my umbrella and struggled it open. Before I realized, I was towering over her, carefully positioning the umbrella over her head. “Can I help you out of this rain miss” I said; my voice shaky as my brain struggled to process what the hell I was doing. The girl looked up and smiled awkwardly. “A little rain never hurt nobody. You of all people should know that”. I laughed. How did she know I like the rain? Guess it wasn’t too much of a stretch considering I was standing in front of her completely drenched. This was getting awkward really fast. “What are you writing about?” I asked, finally breaking the silence. “Oh, I’m just doodling to kill some time” she exclaimed. “In the rain? You’ll catch a cold! Can’t you doodle inside?” I said, my fatherly instinct kicking in. I didn’t have any children, but I suppose it’s what good fathers would say. Not that I wanted to be this girl’s father considering I was trying my darnedest not to imagine her naked. “Don’t worry, I have to leave pretty soon anyway. I don’t get much time off work and when I do, I like to come here. Now that you’ve interrupted my peace, you might as well sit down” she said. I took a seat next to her, still cradling the umbrella above her head. “What do you do for a living?” I asked. She peered at me over her glasses and chuckled “I work with the dead” she exclaimed. “So at a mortuary or a funeral home?” I asked. She smiled again. “Yea, something like that”. I could tell the girl was fairly shy. Her short responses had me feeling self-conscious. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk to me. Nevertheless, I was never one to back down. As I continued to ask her questions, she continued to answer them. She started to use more words and gradually her features softened. It was as if a wall had somehow come down. She told me about a young man she was interested in. How great he made her feel and how happy she was when they spoke. She told me it was impossible for them to be together because her job kept getting in the way and how he could never think of her as more than friends. As I listened to her tale of woe, I began to realize how much I’ve changed since I was her age. Was I ever this foolish? If my life has taught me anything, it was to never let anything you want now get away from you. Much like that damn flat screen I’ve been eyeing at Costco, it’ll be gone by the time I grow the balls big enough to buy it. “Don’t worry miss, you’re young. You have plenty of time to find love. In fact, I’m sure that idiot young friend of yours will come to his senses pretty soon and realize what he’s missing out on” I explained. She took one look at me and burst out laughing, tears welling up in her eyes. Her laughter echoed through the trail, reverberating amongst the trees. What was so funny? Did I say something that warranted such laughter? Kids these days. By now, the rain had since died down and the sun was slowly beginning to show itself behind the trees. As if on cue, the girl got up, dusted off her dress and looked down on me. “Time for me to get back to work. I really enjoyed talking to you. Will you meet me here again the next time it rains?” she asked. She wanted to see me again? She did look shy and kind of lonely. Maybe she just wants a friend. That’s right, she just wants a friend. “What is your name by the way?” I asked. “My name?” she laughed nervously. “My name is Death”. “Death!?” I exclaimed. “Yes, Death” she replied. I wanted to question her further, but I realized that it probably wasn’t my place. Who was I to judge people’s names? Hell, celebrities are naming their kids after fruit and the other day I was surprised to find someone whose name was spelled with three apostrophes. Times really have changed. “Death huh. I’m not great with names, but I’ll remember that.” I said. She smiled although I could tell it was forced. “No, no you won’t” she whispered. With that, she sprinted further down the trail and before long, she was gone. I slowly got up from the base of the tree and stretched my aching legs. I closed the umbrella and slung it over my shoulder. The rain was gone and with that, so was my motivation to walk. As I lay in bed that night, I thought about all that had crossed my mind throughout the day. I thought about the flat screen TV I’d been eyeing at Costco that I didn’t have the money to buy. I thought about celebrities and their stupid baby names. I thought about the man with three apostrophes in his name; I thought of my love of the rain and hatred of umbrellas. Finally, I thought about the hike. The same hike I’ve been going on every time there’s been a rainstorm for the last 20 years. As I closed my eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep, I realized that I could not remember for as long as I’d been here, one instance where I’d actually completed the hike. Oh well, there’s always next time.	Polar opposites is what we are on most parts, both socially akward and social outcasts, but still best friends. We do almost everything together. She taught me that Death, Life, Love and Hatred aren't single people, they are titles, passed down from the first master to apprentice, and then passed on. Those who hold the titles aren't immortal, only gods are immortal, no, those who bear the titles only live longer and age slower. She said she was about my age when she earned the title of Death, when her master retired. The first life the apprentice of Death takes when they inherit the title is the life of their master. Her master was born in the 19th century, and he retired the same year I was born. "Rose, you know this isn't forced upon you. I know you to be the only one who have embraced the thought of Death, without understanding it all. You are a strong girl." Death only talks in whispers, but I can hear them like she was talking and sitting right besides me. We met when I was 8 or 9, I saw a boy who lived down the street die right in front of me. And when she arrived, all I said, was "You're... Death.... aren't you?" She had nodded, and given me a hug. She had stayed with me, wiped away my tears as the police, ambulance and his parents arrived. Noone questioned why Death was sitting next to me. But they probably never had seen her earlier. He had a really severe allergic reaction, to what I don't remember, and choked to death as his throat closed up. "I know, it's just... I didn't expect this to happen..." I felt it becoming harder to breathe. I broke my arm in the skiing slope yesterday, and I've got to stay at the hospital for at least a day. She was sitting on the bed, next to my legs. The second time we met was when my great grandmother had died, when I heard about her death, Death was there to support me and wipe away my tears. I've actually met Life as well, he makes sure that the newborns are taken care of properly. I saw him when I first met my little cousin. "Life has taken a liking to you as well, you know." Death likes to stare out of the window when talking, and so do I. Eyecontact is too much. Life saved me, if he hadn't made both my skis hop off, I'd be dead. Death told me that it wasn't time for my death yet, so she didn't argue. I've seen Hatred once too, but only from afar. She watched and fueled a fight between two of my old classmates, one almost got blinded on one eye. "I've noticed that. He has saved me from getting killed quite a few times now. But if I died, could I spend the rest of eternity with you? You didn't explain that part." She has told me alot about the 'demi-god' world, the Domains of Death, Lakes of Life, Hills of Hatred and Lands of Love. She starts explaining, the dead either get to send their first soul, the one that just acts as a paper for the story of the person, to be ereased before sending it to Life to give to a newborn, or they get to keep their first and second soul, and act as guides or helpers of whoever needs someone with their attributes. "So, yes. If you'd die, you could stay with me for the rest of eternity." Life sits down on the chair that is placed a few feet from the bed, his eyes are bright emerald green. "Good afternoon, Rose. Hello, Death." I just smile at him, too tired to talk much. "You really think this is a good idea? It could end in disaster, you know." Death asked Life, not me. I don't know what she is talking about. "I'm sure I've made the right choice. It can't wait much longer, or It'll be too late." Life sounds confident in what he's talking about. "What are you talking about?" I can't hold it, I'm too curious. "Tell her, Life. You said it's time, and I'm sure now is as good as any time." Life takes a deep breath, looks like he's thinking about something. 7 years later "I'll never disappoint you, I promise. But are you sure about not staying, a soul can stay as a helper." I tell him, he shakes his head. "I wan't to wander the halls of Death's Domain and dance with the young woman that was taken around the time I became an apprentice. I believe in you." Death, Love and Hatred stand beside me, as he wanders away through the halls. Death turns towards me. "I knew this day would come. I saw it in you, you are now truly the Rose of Life." Rose of Life, Azrael of Death, Lily of Love and Prim of Hatred, all standing as the first all-female group of Guardians before the Doors to Death's Domains.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	My first meeting with death was strange, as you can imagine. Any meeting with an all powerful god would be. I didn't even know she was death at the time. And I later found out she wasn't the only deity of death, it was merely her job, like many other deities of the afterlife, to guide dead souls where they were needed. But anyway, after a few years things started getting weird... I noticed it at first after people started alienating me. I hadn't exactly been popular throughout my life but I always had a few good friend. Over time they all went their own way thougy, and left me because they didn't think I would fit into their new lifestyle. Then there were the deaths. I know not every death is directly influenced by her, but it wasn't long before I realised that she was taking care of me discretely. It wasn't too noticeable at first, but it started with my biggest rival at the company I worked in suddenly dying from unknown causes. It happened again when I found myself being mugged, but that didn't last long when the mugger suddenly keeled over. I didn't stick around long enough to find out what happened to him. Eventually it got too far after a police detective looking into corruption charges higher up in my company died of mysterious circumstances. I had to confront her. I had to. "Death?" I asked carefully, searching for her. "Joshua?" She responded, appearing beside me sat on my bed. She had a habit of doing that "Why do you influence those who could bring me harm by killing them? You know that isn't what I want." We'd had ethical arguments many times about whether it was ok for her to kill purposefully. Her eyes narrowed slightly and her brow furrowed into a confused expression "What do you mean? You know I wouldn't take a life unless it was absolutely necessary Joshua." No, it wasn't confusion. It was worry. "But everyone that could hurt me... that mugger, that rival, even that detective, they all just mysteriously died. Why?" I was worried now as well. "There are times when other beings take lives, but not in the way you described. Maybe..." She trailed off, looking ever more worried "What, what is it!!" I had to know now. Her face suddenly melted as a look of pure desperation came across it. But she was quick to cover it up with a neutral expression. Not quick enough though. "Tell me, please. If you don't-" I started. But she cut me off "There are times when... close proximity and a lot of time spent with a deity of the afterlife can have some adverse affects. It explains why your friends left, but..." she trailed off again, but the look she gave me explained everything. I should've known from the start. "Don't. I get it now" I responded. Because I did. It was obvious now. It was obvious from the start. I was just too blind to see it. "I've become one of you, haven't I?"	There is a slight noise at the door and I sigh, it's past nine o'clock and the neighbors have probably seen this one already. The man's body is propped against my porch. A slight trickle of blood seeps out of his ear, one eyelid is open but the flicker of life is long gone. He's dead as shit and...yup she's crouched in the bushes across the street. "Thanny, you have to stop doing this!" I try to drag him into the house quickly, but the man seems over two hundred pounds and now I've gotten fingerprints on him. Do the police dust dead bodies for finger prints? My neighbor's curtain moves and far off I can hear the wail of police sirens. Thanatos' head whips around to the sound, she looks back to me and then she snaps open a giant switch-blade scythe. The sirens grow louder.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	"Hey Death?" I sat on the edge of the crumbled bridge next to her, looking off at the sunset. "Hm?" She quickly turned off her phone's screen and stared at me as I turned to look at her. She was just slow enough or me to see that she'd been texting someone. Probably one of the fates, they were like family to her. "You've been acting a little off lately. Less like your usual morbid, somber self. What's up?" I asked, looking back at the sunset. She shifted a little bit, scooting a bit closer to the edge. I always found it funny when she'd put herself closer to danger to feel more comfortable, but I'd been over laughing about it for years. "I guess I've been watching a lot of human movies. People tend to imitate what they're surrounded by." I laughed a little. "Yeah, D. That's kind of the problem. The other day you left your Netflix signed in back at my apartment, and I saw the kind of movies you watch on your own." Death blushed. That was a rare sight. I continued, "I wanted to see the kind of movies you watch, see if any of them were adaptations and get you the book if I could find it. You know, with your Being Day coming in about a month." She started to stand. "Tom, I-" I gestured for her to sit back down. "I noticed one thing most the things you watch share. They're mostly romantic films about girls who woo their male best friend." She lay back on the pavement, only her legs dangling over the edge of the bridge. Her black hood slipped a little off her head, and her pitch black hair bounced out the sides. "Yeah," she sighed, "well, you wouldn't bring it up unless you feel the same way or you never want to see my face again until you die. I know how people are." I learned over and kissed Death on the cheek, then lay back on the pavement next to her. "Tom, do you like being alive? We've talked about it before, but you never decided. Most people would steer clear of confronting their mortality daily. Which is better, changing the world or being happy forever?" "I'm happy right here next to you. Are you alive or dead?" "Alive, technically. My "Being Day" is the day I became immortal. I'm the only one who can change the world and find happiness in it." "So... you really are a god." She laughed, one of the most natural things I had ever heard. "We'll talk about making you immortal later. For now, I'll have you know I'm also a sex god." It was my turn to blush now. "Metaphorically?" "Wanna find out?" I laughed, if only because the situation was so absurd. "Yeah." She wasn't wrong.	There is a slight noise at the door and I sigh, it's past nine o'clock and the neighbors have probably seen this one already. The man's body is propped against my porch. A slight trickle of blood seeps out of his ear, one eyelid is open but the flicker of life is long gone. He's dead as shit and...yup she's crouched in the bushes across the street. "Thanny, you have to stop doing this!" I try to drag him into the house quickly, but the man seems over two hundred pounds and now I've gotten fingerprints on him. Do the police dust dead bodies for finger prints? My neighbor's curtain moves and far off I can hear the wail of police sirens. Thanatos' head whips around to the sound, she looks back to me and then she snaps open a giant switch-blade scythe. The sirens grow louder.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	I sat at the train station, trying my best to ignore the question I had just been asked by my relatively new friend sitting beside me. It had been a few months since I met Dina and I had had some suspicions but nothing to cement what I thought. Could she actually BE death? It seemed like since we had started hanging out, weird things were happening everywhere we went. A man would jump off a high building into the street, or a car crash would occur a few lanes ahead of us. Events like these weren't too rare in New York, the city that never sleeps but since I had met Dina they had become far too common. I had always imagined death to be an all mighty being, capable of crushing the earth in their hand. But if my suspicions were correct, death was just a socially awkward girl who spilled her coffee on me at the Starbucks on 14th street. My friends thought I was crazy the day I told them I was going to ask out the girl who went out every day in dorky glasses and clothes that look like they could have been inherited from an older brother. They thought I was even crazier when I told them I thought she was death herself. I didn't care, though. I was wildly fascinated by Dina and I wasn't going to let my stupid friends get in the way of that. It was impossible to count how many relationships of mine they had already ruined. "How would you like to die?" The words she had said echoed in my brain and I didn't know how to respond. It seemed like such a dark question, even for Dina, who seemed so unbothered by any death we had witnessed over the past few months. Many thoughts raced through my head as I wondered what her underlying intentions were by the question she has asked. It seemed like there was always an underlying intention with her. She would ask me if I liked a shirt someone was wearing, only to give me that shirt the next day. Stuff like that didn't bother me, it was nice, it was who she was. This was eerie, though. Something about her tone of voice screamed that something was up. It was a week ago when she told me we had to get away somewhere safe. I thought she was crazy, New York is where I had lived my entire life. I went along with what she was saying though because she seemed genuinely concerned about something. It confused me though because everything seemed to be going great with her. That's what I thought at least. I could never be sure because there was always a sense of mystery about her. Whenever I tried to ask about where she was from, if she had a family, what she was doing in New York or anything else she would give me the same cold, hard answer. You don't want to know. It was the mystery of her life that had me worried and excited about her at the same time. I could spend eternity having a conversation with her, despite the fact that everyone I knew that had met her thought she was an absolute bore to talk to. I never saw that though, I was always just... Fascinated. That's the only word I could think of to describe my feelings towards her. So there we were. Sitting at the train station with tickets to Baltimore. We weren't going to Baltimore though. That's what she kept telling me. We were going to go somewhere special, somewhere we could be together forever. I didn't know what she meant but I could have cared less. I just wanted to settle down and start a life with her. The train started to pull into the station but something was up. The train started to screech and soon enough it began to fall off of the rails. Everyone around us started to run and scream. Just as I was about to follow suit, Dina's hand slammed against my chest in a way that made me compelled to stay right where I was amidst the chaos caused by the crashing train. As the train came rushing towards us, I felt a sense of calm. We were going somewhere safe. But maybe calling it starting a life together was the wrong way to say it.	There is a slight noise at the door and I sigh, it's past nine o'clock and the neighbors have probably seen this one already. The man's body is propped against my porch. A slight trickle of blood seeps out of his ear, one eyelid is open but the flicker of life is long gone. He's dead as shit and...yup she's crouched in the bushes across the street. "Thanny, you have to stop doing this!" I try to drag him into the house quickly, but the man seems over two hundred pounds and now I've gotten fingerprints on him. Do the police dust dead bodies for finger prints? My neighbor's curtain moves and far off I can hear the wail of police sirens. Thanatos' head whips around to the sound, she looks back to me and then she snaps open a giant switch-blade scythe. The sirens grow louder.
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	My first meeting with death was strange, as you can imagine. Any meeting with an all powerful god would be. I didn't even know she was death at the time. And I later found out she wasn't the only deity of death, it was merely her job, like many other deities of the afterlife, to guide dead souls where they were needed. But anyway, after a few years things started getting weird... I noticed it at first after people started alienating me. I hadn't exactly been popular throughout my life but I always had a few good friend. Over time they all went their own way thougy, and left me because they didn't think I would fit into their new lifestyle. Then there were the deaths. I know not every death is directly influenced by her, but it wasn't long before I realised that she was taking care of me discretely. It wasn't too noticeable at first, but it started with my biggest rival at the company I worked in suddenly dying from unknown causes. It happened again when I found myself being mugged, but that didn't last long when the mugger suddenly keeled over. I didn't stick around long enough to find out what happened to him. Eventually it got too far after a police detective looking into corruption charges higher up in my company died of mysterious circumstances. I had to confront her. I had to. "Death?" I asked carefully, searching for her. "Joshua?" She responded, appearing beside me sat on my bed. She had a habit of doing that "Why do you influence those who could bring me harm by killing them? You know that isn't what I want." We'd had ethical arguments many times about whether it was ok for her to kill purposefully. Her eyes narrowed slightly and her brow furrowed into a confused expression "What do you mean? You know I wouldn't take a life unless it was absolutely necessary Joshua." No, it wasn't confusion. It was worry. "But everyone that could hurt me... that mugger, that rival, even that detective, they all just mysteriously died. Why?" I was worried now as well. "There are times when other beings take lives, but not in the way you described. Maybe..." She trailed off, looking ever more worried "What, what is it!!" I had to know now. Her face suddenly melted as a look of pure desperation came across it. But she was quick to cover it up with a neutral expression. Not quick enough though. "Tell me, please. If you don't-" I started. But she cut me off "There are times when... close proximity and a lot of time spent with a deity of the afterlife can have some adverse affects. It explains why your friends left, but..." she trailed off again, but the look she gave me explained everything. I should've known from the start. "Don't. I get it now" I responded. Because I did. It was obvious now. It was obvious from the start. I was just too blind to see it. "I've become one of you, haven't I?"	I met her a while ago, I'm not sure when, but it was when I was a child. At first, I didn't know that J was a grim reaper, I just happened to see her often, just a glimpse of her, mostly in the street. When my grandma died, I met J just around the corner of the street, she seemed surprised when I looked at her, but said nothing. I asked my father about her but he said that he didn't notice anyone, and I thought it was because he just lost his mother. Soon, my other grandparents died and I met J every time, and every time nobody noticed her. Seeing people was never a good thing so I stopped talking about her. I met her again often, but it rarely was when someone of my family died. One day, I saw her in a public park, waiting on a bench under a tree. For the first time, I approached her. She was a beautiful woman, with long blond hair in a ponytail, black eyes and wearing a black suit. She seemed happy to see me, and it seemed obvious to her, like she was waiting for this moment. She told me that she was a grim reaper, that it was the first time in the 3 centuries she did this, someone could see her, that there was, in fact, a lot of reapers, and each had a district where they operated. To her, there was a reason why I could see her, but it was no time to discuss about it, because it was time for her to go. I met J every 2 weeks after the park, she was awkward but I felt there was something between us, something strange. In the meantime, I thought that building a relationship between a human and a grim reaper was something hard, especially when you have been alone for the last 300 years. So I didn't press the subject. Last week, J showed just in front of my house, like she really wanted to talk so I invited her in. "Hey Nick, there's something I wanted to talk about for a while..." "What is it? Is it about our meetings?" "Yes, kind of. You know, it's not common for a human to see grim reapers, so I talked about you with my colleagues and hierarchy. I believe it's no luck if we met" "What do you mean?" I asked, fearing what could come up next. "I want to continue this relationship for the longest time ever. So I can tell you that you can become a grim reaper if you want to, that's probably why you can see me!" She seemed ecstatic telling that. I stopped the conversation here, telling her that I needed to think about it. There was pros and cons but it was no light decision
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	"Hey Death?" I sat on the edge of the crumbled bridge next to her, looking off at the sunset. "Hm?" She quickly turned off her phone's screen and stared at me as I turned to look at her. She was just slow enough or me to see that she'd been texting someone. Probably one of the fates, they were like family to her. "You've been acting a little off lately. Less like your usual morbid, somber self. What's up?" I asked, looking back at the sunset. She shifted a little bit, scooting a bit closer to the edge. I always found it funny when she'd put herself closer to danger to feel more comfortable, but I'd been over laughing about it for years. "I guess I've been watching a lot of human movies. People tend to imitate what they're surrounded by." I laughed a little. "Yeah, D. That's kind of the problem. The other day you left your Netflix signed in back at my apartment, and I saw the kind of movies you watch on your own." Death blushed. That was a rare sight. I continued, "I wanted to see the kind of movies you watch, see if any of them were adaptations and get you the book if I could find it. You know, with your Being Day coming in about a month." She started to stand. "Tom, I-" I gestured for her to sit back down. "I noticed one thing most the things you watch share. They're mostly romantic films about girls who woo their male best friend." She lay back on the pavement, only her legs dangling over the edge of the bridge. Her black hood slipped a little off her head, and her pitch black hair bounced out the sides. "Yeah," she sighed, "well, you wouldn't bring it up unless you feel the same way or you never want to see my face again until you die. I know how people are." I learned over and kissed Death on the cheek, then lay back on the pavement next to her. "Tom, do you like being alive? We've talked about it before, but you never decided. Most people would steer clear of confronting their mortality daily. Which is better, changing the world or being happy forever?" "I'm happy right here next to you. Are you alive or dead?" "Alive, technically. My "Being Day" is the day I became immortal. I'm the only one who can change the world and find happiness in it." "So... you really are a god." She laughed, one of the most natural things I had ever heard. "We'll talk about making you immortal later. For now, I'll have you know I'm also a sex god." It was my turn to blush now. "Metaphorically?" "Wanna find out?" I laughed, if only because the situation was so absurd. "Yeah." She wasn't wrong.	I met her a while ago, I'm not sure when, but it was when I was a child. At first, I didn't know that J was a grim reaper, I just happened to see her often, just a glimpse of her, mostly in the street. When my grandma died, I met J just around the corner of the street, she seemed surprised when I looked at her, but said nothing. I asked my father about her but he said that he didn't notice anyone, and I thought it was because he just lost his mother. Soon, my other grandparents died and I met J every time, and every time nobody noticed her. Seeing people was never a good thing so I stopped talking about her. I met her again often, but it rarely was when someone of my family died. One day, I saw her in a public park, waiting on a bench under a tree. For the first time, I approached her. She was a beautiful woman, with long blond hair in a ponytail, black eyes and wearing a black suit. She seemed happy to see me, and it seemed obvious to her, like she was waiting for this moment. She told me that she was a grim reaper, that it was the first time in the 3 centuries she did this, someone could see her, that there was, in fact, a lot of reapers, and each had a district where they operated. To her, there was a reason why I could see her, but it was no time to discuss about it, because it was time for her to go. I met J every 2 weeks after the park, she was awkward but I felt there was something between us, something strange. In the meantime, I thought that building a relationship between a human and a grim reaper was something hard, especially when you have been alone for the last 300 years. So I didn't press the subject. Last week, J showed just in front of my house, like she really wanted to talk so I invited her in. "Hey Nick, there's something I wanted to talk about for a while..." "What is it? Is it about our meetings?" "Yes, kind of. You know, it's not common for a human to see grim reapers, so I talked about you with my colleagues and hierarchy. I believe it's no luck if we met" "What do you mean?" I asked, fearing what could come up next. "I want to continue this relationship for the longest time ever. So I can tell you that you can become a grim reaper if you want to, that's probably why you can see me!" She seemed ecstatic telling that. I stopped the conversation here, telling her that I needed to think about it. There was pros and cons but it was no light decision
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	I sat at the train station, trying my best to ignore the question I had just been asked by my relatively new friend sitting beside me. It had been a few months since I met Dina and I had had some suspicions but nothing to cement what I thought. Could she actually BE death? It seemed like since we had started hanging out, weird things were happening everywhere we went. A man would jump off a high building into the street, or a car crash would occur a few lanes ahead of us. Events like these weren't too rare in New York, the city that never sleeps but since I had met Dina they had become far too common. I had always imagined death to be an all mighty being, capable of crushing the earth in their hand. But if my suspicions were correct, death was just a socially awkward girl who spilled her coffee on me at the Starbucks on 14th street. My friends thought I was crazy the day I told them I was going to ask out the girl who went out every day in dorky glasses and clothes that look like they could have been inherited from an older brother. They thought I was even crazier when I told them I thought she was death herself. I didn't care, though. I was wildly fascinated by Dina and I wasn't going to let my stupid friends get in the way of that. It was impossible to count how many relationships of mine they had already ruined. "How would you like to die?" The words she had said echoed in my brain and I didn't know how to respond. It seemed like such a dark question, even for Dina, who seemed so unbothered by any death we had witnessed over the past few months. Many thoughts raced through my head as I wondered what her underlying intentions were by the question she has asked. It seemed like there was always an underlying intention with her. She would ask me if I liked a shirt someone was wearing, only to give me that shirt the next day. Stuff like that didn't bother me, it was nice, it was who she was. This was eerie, though. Something about her tone of voice screamed that something was up. It was a week ago when she told me we had to get away somewhere safe. I thought she was crazy, New York is where I had lived my entire life. I went along with what she was saying though because she seemed genuinely concerned about something. It confused me though because everything seemed to be going great with her. That's what I thought at least. I could never be sure because there was always a sense of mystery about her. Whenever I tried to ask about where she was from, if she had a family, what she was doing in New York or anything else she would give me the same cold, hard answer. You don't want to know. It was the mystery of her life that had me worried and excited about her at the same time. I could spend eternity having a conversation with her, despite the fact that everyone I knew that had met her thought she was an absolute bore to talk to. I never saw that though, I was always just... Fascinated. That's the only word I could think of to describe my feelings towards her. So there we were. Sitting at the train station with tickets to Baltimore. We weren't going to Baltimore though. That's what she kept telling me. We were going to go somewhere special, somewhere we could be together forever. I didn't know what she meant but I could have cared less. I just wanted to settle down and start a life with her. The train started to pull into the station but something was up. The train started to screech and soon enough it began to fall off of the rails. Everyone around us started to run and scream. Just as I was about to follow suit, Dina's hand slammed against my chest in a way that made me compelled to stay right where I was amidst the chaos caused by the crashing train. As the train came rushing towards us, I felt a sense of calm. We were going somewhere safe. But maybe calling it starting a life together was the wrong way to say it.	I met her a while ago, I'm not sure when, but it was when I was a child. At first, I didn't know that J was a grim reaper, I just happened to see her often, just a glimpse of her, mostly in the street. When my grandma died, I met J just around the corner of the street, she seemed surprised when I looked at her, but said nothing. I asked my father about her but he said that he didn't notice anyone, and I thought it was because he just lost his mother. Soon, my other grandparents died and I met J every time, and every time nobody noticed her. Seeing people was never a good thing so I stopped talking about her. I met her again often, but it rarely was when someone of my family died. One day, I saw her in a public park, waiting on a bench under a tree. For the first time, I approached her. She was a beautiful woman, with long blond hair in a ponytail, black eyes and wearing a black suit. She seemed happy to see me, and it seemed obvious to her, like she was waiting for this moment. She told me that she was a grim reaper, that it was the first time in the 3 centuries she did this, someone could see her, that there was, in fact, a lot of reapers, and each had a district where they operated. To her, there was a reason why I could see her, but it was no time to discuss about it, because it was time for her to go. I met J every 2 weeks after the park, she was awkward but I felt there was something between us, something strange. In the meantime, I thought that building a relationship between a human and a grim reaper was something hard, especially when you have been alone for the last 300 years. So I didn't press the subject. Last week, J showed just in front of my house, like she really wanted to talk so I invited her in. "Hey Nick, there's something I wanted to talk about for a while..." "What is it? Is it about our meetings?" "Yes, kind of. You know, it's not common for a human to see grim reapers, so I talked about you with my colleagues and hierarchy. I believe it's no luck if we met" "What do you mean?" I asked, fearing what could come up next. "I want to continue this relationship for the longest time ever. So I can tell you that you can become a grim reaper if you want to, that's probably why you can see me!" She seemed ecstatic telling that. I stopped the conversation here, telling her that I needed to think about it. There was pros and cons but it was no light decision
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	I first met her during December of my 8th grade year. I was headed off to the lunchroom at 11:30, as usual, when I saw her sitting alone at the end lunch table. I remembered what my teacher, Mr. Santos, said about making new students feel welcome, so I did as he said and marched right over to her. "Hi, can I sit here?" I asked in the friendly tone I could manage. "Yeah," she mumbled, as she picked through her Caesar salad with her fork. I sat down across from her. She only glanced up at me, which startled me slightly. She was pale with dull, grey eyes and bags under her eyes that said "I haven't slept since birth." She was particularly thin, but you could only see that because of her bony hands since the rest of her body was covered up by an oversized black sweatshirt. Her hair was long, straight, and jet black. She didn't eat her salad, but merely continued to poke at it. I felt awkward and uncomfortable immediately. I cleared my throat nervously, and finally spoke up. "My name's Eliana. What's yours?" I asked. "De..." she mumbled too quietly for me to hear. "What?" "Delilah," she said, looking up a little bit, and then going back to stabbing her salad. "Oh, I like that name," I said. I took a deep breath. I knew this girl was not going to make friends and probably wanted some, but at the same time, I didn't want to be labeled weird, like her. I looked around the lunch room. People were glancing over and chuckling. Some were whispering as they stared. Delilah ignored me as she finally started to eat her salad. She glanced up and slightly jumped when she saw me. "You're still here?" she asked. I felt too awkward. "Yeah, I'm eating lunch here..." I said slowly. She smiled a sad, but genuine, smile. "Usually people don't stay this long." "Why not?" I asked, worriedly. "I don't know. People don't like me because I'm different," she shrugged. It was at that point that I put two and two together. She was just another middle schooler, like me, that was going through the typical middle school "emo phase." Almost everybody had one, but most were done by 8th grade. She was still in it, though, so I felt bad for her. "Oh," I said. "Well, do you wanna come over after school? We can hang out and do our homework." "Sure!" Delilah replied. "Great!" I exclaimed. Maybe I could introduce her to makeup and girly things so she could end her emo phase early. Later that day, after school, there was a knock at my door. It was Delilah. She was exceptionally pale in the light. "Come in," I said, opening the door. She walked in and looked around. "Your house is big," she remarked. "Thanks, my dad is a lawyer so he wants to show it off by buying nice things that we don't need," I replied. "I get it. My dad is a leader of the largest corporation in the universe," Delilah said. "What corporation?" I asked. Delilah choked slightly. "Erm... Giant Eagle," she said quickly. "Woah, we shop there all the time!" I exclaimed. "Yeah, it's a big deal. Let's go do homework," she replied, moving quickly to the living room. I followed her. We worked on algebra for about 20 minutes, when I finally asked, "what's it like to have family that owns a huge company?" She took a deep breath. "It's strange, I guess," she said. She looked away for a little bit, then looked back at me. "My dad doesn't really own Giant Eagle." "Oh?" I said. "Yeah, he owns something way bigger. But, I don't know if you really want to know..." her voice trailed off. "Yeah, I want to know!" I said excitedly. "Ok," she took another breath. "My dad is God. He owns the universe." I chuckled. "Yeah, sure," I replied. "He is," she didn't get upset. "I wouldn't expect you to believe me. But it's true. My dad is God, my mom is Heaven, and my sister is Life." "So what are you?" I asked. "I'm Death," she replied. My throat grew dry. "Is that real?" I asked. "I'll show you," she said. She held on to my shoulder. I tried to move away, but I couldn't. She looked me in the eyes, and everything disappeared. I awoke in a bright kingdom. I looked around. It was happy and peaceful. I couldn't believe any place could look so perfect. I already knew I was in the best place I could ever be. Then, Delilah appeared before me. "You see?" she said. "This is the Kingdom you live in after you die." "Am I dead?" I asked. "No, but you can be," she replied. "See, death happens when your body stops functioning. I come to the dead person, take them to the kingdom, and ask if they want to stay. They don't have to stay. If they choose to go to Earth, I simply put them back. But the thing is, almost all people choose to stay because it's so much better. Like, you know the stories of babies and people who die, and then come back to life? Well, those people aren't lying when they say they saw Heaven. They simply chose to go back." She looks me in the eyes. "So what do you want to do?" I looked back at her, and smiled. "I'll stay here." The Earth mourned the unexpected death of me, 14 year old Eliana. My parents blamed Delilah, and the police went on a search for her. But she was no where to be found. Soon enough, she appeared in another middle school across the country, at a lunch table, all alone. Not long after that did a 14 year old boy, named Nick, see her sitting all alone. He remembered what it was like to be the new kid at school. He approached her boldly. "May I sit here?" he kindly asked. Death glanced up at him with grey, dull eyes. "Of course," she replied.	I met her a while ago, I'm not sure when, but it was when I was a child. At first, I didn't know that J was a grim reaper, I just happened to see her often, just a glimpse of her, mostly in the street. When my grandma died, I met J just around the corner of the street, she seemed surprised when I looked at her, but said nothing. I asked my father about her but he said that he didn't notice anyone, and I thought it was because he just lost his mother. Soon, my other grandparents died and I met J every time, and every time nobody noticed her. Seeing people was never a good thing so I stopped talking about her. I met her again often, but it rarely was when someone of my family died. One day, I saw her in a public park, waiting on a bench under a tree. For the first time, I approached her. She was a beautiful woman, with long blond hair in a ponytail, black eyes and wearing a black suit. She seemed happy to see me, and it seemed obvious to her, like she was waiting for this moment. She told me that she was a grim reaper, that it was the first time in the 3 centuries she did this, someone could see her, that there was, in fact, a lot of reapers, and each had a district where they operated. To her, there was a reason why I could see her, but it was no time to discuss about it, because it was time for her to go. I met J every 2 weeks after the park, she was awkward but I felt there was something between us, something strange. In the meantime, I thought that building a relationship between a human and a grim reaper was something hard, especially when you have been alone for the last 300 years. So I didn't press the subject. Last week, J showed just in front of my house, like she really wanted to talk so I invited her in. "Hey Nick, there's something I wanted to talk about for a while..." "What is it? Is it about our meetings?" "Yes, kind of. You know, it's not common for a human to see grim reapers, so I talked about you with my colleagues and hierarchy. I believe it's no luck if we met" "What do you mean?" I asked, fearing what could come up next. "I want to continue this relationship for the longest time ever. So I can tell you that you can become a grim reaper if you want to, that's probably why you can see me!" She seemed ecstatic telling that. I stopped the conversation here, telling her that I needed to think about it. There was pros and cons but it was no light decision
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	It all started when I first saw her. I'm not gonna sugarcoat it. There was a rather nasty car crash just outside my tenant. I literally thought she was in that car accident, and should've saw the warning signs when everyone else seem to pass around her. I kept shouting over the huge throng of people if she was ok. Either she didn't hear me, or was flat out ignoring me. So... I reached out and shook her shoulder a little. You ever see the movie, "Rings?" Know the really creepy chick that kills you? That was her. Thin, small, hair like a black curtain, and absoultely drenched by the rain. When I reached out to touch her shoulder, it was like I hooked her up to a car battery. Arms flailed around, feet taking her backward, trip, and just like that, she fell into the mud. I recall apologizing like crazy and offered my hand to get her to stand. She simply stared. If I knew who she was then what I knew now, I may have still helped her up. Don't ask why. She stared at me like I was a freaking dkinny purple elephant man in clown shoes and a tank top. So I reached out and took her by the hand, and decided to take her back to my place. Got her in the door, and took her staright to the bathroom. It was a little cramped in there, but i sat her on the toilet lid and gave her a towel to dry off with. O found my really out of date first aid kit,and asked if she was hurt. Slight shake of her head. No. Ok... weird... I asked if she needed anything. She replied with a hesitant shake while drying out her hair. I said that she should probably get out of the wet... dress...? That she wore and warm up in the shower. Like a good hostess, I left her in there to grab some of my old high school stuff... I was smaller back then. I got worried when I didnt hear the water kick on aftee a minute, but I soon heard it a little later. I found for her, my old high school leggings, a pair of fluffy socks, and the old sweatshirt with a unicorn on it (god... high school was a different planet.) I snuck into the bathroom and took away her dress(?) And swapped it out for my stuff. Used to have a roomate that would prancw right in front of my line of sight when she forgot her clothes, so... yeah. Got used to doing that. After that, i yelled through the door that I'd be making some hot chocolate- well, I yelled hey and I heard what sounded like everything being dropped in the shower. I kept thinking she must've been catatonic or shellshocked or something. So I apologized for the umpteenth time and told uer she had fresh clothes in there, and it was ok to wear them. I decided to wait after not hearing a response. I was very worried. Eventually, the door opened and there she stood. Faded Neon green leggings, gray sweatshirt with a derpy rainbow unicorn plasted on it, and a pair of fuzzy socks pulled over the leggings being worn by a slouching horror film monster looking thing. It was absolutely ridiculous. I brought to my couch and she needed to be told to have a seat before sitting down. I left the room to get some cocoa on the stove, and returned to see her curled up, knees to chest. Didn't need that college dgree in human behavior to see something wasn't right. I sat down next to her and hesitantly put hand on her shoulder... kept telling her everything was going to be ok. Even tried doing that affirming squeeze, but there was not much to squeeze to be honest. It brought up the next question: food. "Did you eat? Are you hungry? Do you want me to cook you anything?" Silence. So, quietly we sat, and just when I think she was mute, she mumbled something. I didn't hear it and politely encouraged her to speak up. Now, say out loud in the flatest tone you can manage, and as fast as you can, "i like unicorns." That was her voice. I agreed with a small awkward laugh. Silence. ...I felt it was a good time to check up on the cocoa. Most of that night, she didn't say anything beyond a "yes." If she didn't want it, she didn't respond. I turned on the DVD player and played my pirated copy of Frozen. ...I think she liked it, because I looked at her once during the movie, and saw her head bobbing lightly. When i came for me to turn in, I offered her my couch. She mutters a thank you as I brought her a pillow and a blanket or two. I smiled. Said to not to think anything of it. It was then, she confessed. "... so, I'm Death." Do I even need to say how confused I was? "... that car carsh, that was me... it was Gary's time." "Who's Gary?" I asked. "Age 78. Alzhiemers. Revoked drivers lisence. Went for a drive. Forgot how to break..." "Was he your grandfather?" I asked worriedly. "You didnt kill him. These... these things happen its not your-" "I am Death." Her voice was a little stressed. I stared for a minute. It was hard to take her seriously, so I just agreed, and said to not worry about anything. That's how I got to be Death's friend. Yes. She still is that socially awkward. I feel like a cartoon character scaring the daylights our of her when I get her attention. Its very surreal to be honest. She still wears my old clothes. I managed to convince her to let me get her a bed instead of the couch. Not even two days after getting the mattress, and I saw her with one of those daki-thingies; the huge body pillow with the anime on it. It was cute and creepy at the same time seeing her snuggle up with it. It's not wven the weirdest thing. She told me that the Grim Reaper we all know ro be the angel of death is actually her "Oh-See, do not steal." She showed me her stories about him. I tried not being cringey. It was very hard. Recently, she's gotten into the habit of spending the entire day next to me and saying nothing. Ixm not even kidding. I'll be in the shower, go to pull back the curtain, BAM! Sitting next to the shower like a little, creepy, puppy. I had to explain boundaries... Her latest habit of following me around is telling me what she did when she wasn't with me. Listening to her talk about her job is like listening to your mother talking about how she found you a soul mate. She tries to make it wound better than it is. I can't fault her for that. Plus, she's opening up too. Now... I don't know if anyone could've seen this coming, but in the dead of night, she slipped into my bed with her weird pillow... naked. Once more, we had the talk about boundaries. Her excuse? She wanted to tell me something. She thought it'd be a great time to confess her love to me. ... ... ... I didn't turn her down, but I didn't exactly say yes... we don't hold hands, cuz whenever she tries to do it, she runs away to her bed and "hides" under the covers. She only ever hid under the bed once, and found a spider. Fun fact: even Death hates spiders. I don't know what to call ourselves anymore, so I'll keep sticking with best friends until I either die, or she works up the nerve to purpose... in which case I might die.	I met her a while ago, I'm not sure when, but it was when I was a child. At first, I didn't know that J was a grim reaper, I just happened to see her often, just a glimpse of her, mostly in the street. When my grandma died, I met J just around the corner of the street, she seemed surprised when I looked at her, but said nothing. I asked my father about her but he said that he didn't notice anyone, and I thought it was because he just lost his mother. Soon, my other grandparents died and I met J every time, and every time nobody noticed her. Seeing people was never a good thing so I stopped talking about her. I met her again often, but it rarely was when someone of my family died. One day, I saw her in a public park, waiting on a bench under a tree. For the first time, I approached her. She was a beautiful woman, with long blond hair in a ponytail, black eyes and wearing a black suit. She seemed happy to see me, and it seemed obvious to her, like she was waiting for this moment. She told me that she was a grim reaper, that it was the first time in the 3 centuries she did this, someone could see her, that there was, in fact, a lot of reapers, and each had a district where they operated. To her, there was a reason why I could see her, but it was no time to discuss about it, because it was time for her to go. I met J every 2 weeks after the park, she was awkward but I felt there was something between us, something strange. In the meantime, I thought that building a relationship between a human and a grim reaper was something hard, especially when you have been alone for the last 300 years. So I didn't press the subject. Last week, J showed just in front of my house, like she really wanted to talk so I invited her in. "Hey Nick, there's something I wanted to talk about for a while..." "What is it? Is it about our meetings?" "Yes, kind of. You know, it's not common for a human to see grim reapers, so I talked about you with my colleagues and hierarchy. I believe it's no luck if we met" "What do you mean?" I asked, fearing what could come up next. "I want to continue this relationship for the longest time ever. So I can tell you that you can become a grim reaper if you want to, that's probably why you can see me!" She seemed ecstatic telling that. I stopped the conversation here, telling her that I needed to think about it. There was pros and cons but it was no light decision
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	I sat at the train station, trying my best to ignore the question I had just been asked by my relatively new friend sitting beside me. It had been a few months since I met Dina and I had had some suspicions but nothing to cement what I thought. Could she actually BE death? It seemed like since we had started hanging out, weird things were happening everywhere we went. A man would jump off a high building into the street, or a car crash would occur a few lanes ahead of us. Events like these weren't too rare in New York, the city that never sleeps but since I had met Dina they had become far too common. I had always imagined death to be an all mighty being, capable of crushing the earth in their hand. But if my suspicions were correct, death was just a socially awkward girl who spilled her coffee on me at the Starbucks on 14th street. My friends thought I was crazy the day I told them I was going to ask out the girl who went out every day in dorky glasses and clothes that look like they could have been inherited from an older brother. They thought I was even crazier when I told them I thought she was death herself. I didn't care, though. I was wildly fascinated by Dina and I wasn't going to let my stupid friends get in the way of that. It was impossible to count how many relationships of mine they had already ruined. "How would you like to die?" The words she had said echoed in my brain and I didn't know how to respond. It seemed like such a dark question, even for Dina, who seemed so unbothered by any death we had witnessed over the past few months. Many thoughts raced through my head as I wondered what her underlying intentions were by the question she has asked. It seemed like there was always an underlying intention with her. She would ask me if I liked a shirt someone was wearing, only to give me that shirt the next day. Stuff like that didn't bother me, it was nice, it was who she was. This was eerie, though. Something about her tone of voice screamed that something was up. It was a week ago when she told me we had to get away somewhere safe. I thought she was crazy, New York is where I had lived my entire life. I went along with what she was saying though because she seemed genuinely concerned about something. It confused me though because everything seemed to be going great with her. That's what I thought at least. I could never be sure because there was always a sense of mystery about her. Whenever I tried to ask about where she was from, if she had a family, what she was doing in New York or anything else she would give me the same cold, hard answer. You don't want to know. It was the mystery of her life that had me worried and excited about her at the same time. I could spend eternity having a conversation with her, despite the fact that everyone I knew that had met her thought she was an absolute bore to talk to. I never saw that though, I was always just... Fascinated. That's the only word I could think of to describe my feelings towards her. So there we were. Sitting at the train station with tickets to Baltimore. We weren't going to Baltimore though. That's what she kept telling me. We were going to go somewhere special, somewhere we could be together forever. I didn't know what she meant but I could have cared less. I just wanted to settle down and start a life with her. The train started to pull into the station but something was up. The train started to screech and soon enough it began to fall off of the rails. Everyone around us started to run and scream. Just as I was about to follow suit, Dina's hand slammed against my chest in a way that made me compelled to stay right where I was amidst the chaos caused by the crashing train. As the train came rushing towards us, I felt a sense of calm. We were going somewhere safe. But maybe calling it starting a life together was the wrong way to say it.	I suppose the signs had really always been there. It was cold, rainy, and wet. You would think rainy and wet would be redundant, but out here, rain was pretty much standard fare. It took a real miserable day to get water through my thick boots, and today every step squished with a renewed wave of unpleasantness. Also, it was my brother's funeral. Funerals are weird. You would think the overwhelming feeling would be sadness. Everyone thinks that. And I was definitely sad. But was I acting the right amount of sad? Was it wrong for me to paying attention to how I was standing at the funeral? Was I wrong to be worrying about what I was doing wrong? The main feeling of funerals is actually awkwardness, and I guess that's how we found each other. I didn't notice until my back hit the giant oak tree twenty feet from the crowd that I had even left the front. It was nice though. A good tree, solid, and it felt good pressed against me, silent but not judging. Silent but not judging? What the hell was I thinking? Maybe mom was right and I was in shock. "It's the bark." She was sitting on the ground, maybe six inches from my feet. I had almost trampled her, but she either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared. "Something about the roughness of the bark is comforting. I'm still trying to figure out why." "Are... Are you here for the funeral?" "Sort of. I work here." She didn't look at me when she spoke. I liked that. I don't know why. "Not very hard, I guess." It was a joke. It wasn't good. Instant regret. "It's an easy job, but it pays accordingly. Passes the time though, and I seem to have an endless supply of that." "Ya, that makes sense." Of course it made sense. It wasn't very complicated. "So you live around here?" "No." "But you work here, for terrible pay?" "Obviously." "Right." Several long moments of silence. "I should go see what they're up to." If you asked me, I would have told you that that had gone awfully, and that I would never see her again. Apparently, no one was asking me. ------ (will return in a bit and continue in comments)
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	I first met her during December of my 8th grade year. I was headed off to the lunchroom at 11:30, as usual, when I saw her sitting alone at the end lunch table. I remembered what my teacher, Mr. Santos, said about making new students feel welcome, so I did as he said and marched right over to her. "Hi, can I sit here?" I asked in the friendly tone I could manage. "Yeah," she mumbled, as she picked through her Caesar salad with her fork. I sat down across from her. She only glanced up at me, which startled me slightly. She was pale with dull, grey eyes and bags under her eyes that said "I haven't slept since birth." She was particularly thin, but you could only see that because of her bony hands since the rest of her body was covered up by an oversized black sweatshirt. Her hair was long, straight, and jet black. She didn't eat her salad, but merely continued to poke at it. I felt awkward and uncomfortable immediately. I cleared my throat nervously, and finally spoke up. "My name's Eliana. What's yours?" I asked. "De..." she mumbled too quietly for me to hear. "What?" "Delilah," she said, looking up a little bit, and then going back to stabbing her salad. "Oh, I like that name," I said. I took a deep breath. I knew this girl was not going to make friends and probably wanted some, but at the same time, I didn't want to be labeled weird, like her. I looked around the lunch room. People were glancing over and chuckling. Some were whispering as they stared. Delilah ignored me as she finally started to eat her salad. She glanced up and slightly jumped when she saw me. "You're still here?" she asked. I felt too awkward. "Yeah, I'm eating lunch here..." I said slowly. She smiled a sad, but genuine, smile. "Usually people don't stay this long." "Why not?" I asked, worriedly. "I don't know. People don't like me because I'm different," she shrugged. It was at that point that I put two and two together. She was just another middle schooler, like me, that was going through the typical middle school "emo phase." Almost everybody had one, but most were done by 8th grade. She was still in it, though, so I felt bad for her. "Oh," I said. "Well, do you wanna come over after school? We can hang out and do our homework." "Sure!" Delilah replied. "Great!" I exclaimed. Maybe I could introduce her to makeup and girly things so she could end her emo phase early. Later that day, after school, there was a knock at my door. It was Delilah. She was exceptionally pale in the light. "Come in," I said, opening the door. She walked in and looked around. "Your house is big," she remarked. "Thanks, my dad is a lawyer so he wants to show it off by buying nice things that we don't need," I replied. "I get it. My dad is a leader of the largest corporation in the universe," Delilah said. "What corporation?" I asked. Delilah choked slightly. "Erm... Giant Eagle," she said quickly. "Woah, we shop there all the time!" I exclaimed. "Yeah, it's a big deal. Let's go do homework," she replied, moving quickly to the living room. I followed her. We worked on algebra for about 20 minutes, when I finally asked, "what's it like to have family that owns a huge company?" She took a deep breath. "It's strange, I guess," she said. She looked away for a little bit, then looked back at me. "My dad doesn't really own Giant Eagle." "Oh?" I said. "Yeah, he owns something way bigger. But, I don't know if you really want to know..." her voice trailed off. "Yeah, I want to know!" I said excitedly. "Ok," she took another breath. "My dad is God. He owns the universe." I chuckled. "Yeah, sure," I replied. "He is," she didn't get upset. "I wouldn't expect you to believe me. But it's true. My dad is God, my mom is Heaven, and my sister is Life." "So what are you?" I asked. "I'm Death," she replied. My throat grew dry. "Is that real?" I asked. "I'll show you," she said. She held on to my shoulder. I tried to move away, but I couldn't. She looked me in the eyes, and everything disappeared. I awoke in a bright kingdom. I looked around. It was happy and peaceful. I couldn't believe any place could look so perfect. I already knew I was in the best place I could ever be. Then, Delilah appeared before me. "You see?" she said. "This is the Kingdom you live in after you die." "Am I dead?" I asked. "No, but you can be," she replied. "See, death happens when your body stops functioning. I come to the dead person, take them to the kingdom, and ask if they want to stay. They don't have to stay. If they choose to go to Earth, I simply put them back. But the thing is, almost all people choose to stay because it's so much better. Like, you know the stories of babies and people who die, and then come back to life? Well, those people aren't lying when they say they saw Heaven. They simply chose to go back." She looks me in the eyes. "So what do you want to do?" I looked back at her, and smiled. "I'll stay here." The Earth mourned the unexpected death of me, 14 year old Eliana. My parents blamed Delilah, and the police went on a search for her. But she was no where to be found. Soon enough, she appeared in another middle school across the country, at a lunch table, all alone. Not long after that did a 14 year old boy, named Nick, see her sitting all alone. He remembered what it was like to be the new kid at school. He approached her boldly. "May I sit here?" he kindly asked. Death glanced up at him with grey, dull eyes. "Of course," she replied.	I suppose the signs had really always been there. It was cold, rainy, and wet. You would think rainy and wet would be redundant, but out here, rain was pretty much standard fare. It took a real miserable day to get water through my thick boots, and today every step squished with a renewed wave of unpleasantness. Also, it was my brother's funeral. Funerals are weird. You would think the overwhelming feeling would be sadness. Everyone thinks that. And I was definitely sad. But was I acting the right amount of sad? Was it wrong for me to paying attention to how I was standing at the funeral? Was I wrong to be worrying about what I was doing wrong? The main feeling of funerals is actually awkwardness, and I guess that's how we found each other. I didn't notice until my back hit the giant oak tree twenty feet from the crowd that I had even left the front. It was nice though. A good tree, solid, and it felt good pressed against me, silent but not judging. Silent but not judging? What the hell was I thinking? Maybe mom was right and I was in shock. "It's the bark." She was sitting on the ground, maybe six inches from my feet. I had almost trampled her, but she either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared. "Something about the roughness of the bark is comforting. I'm still trying to figure out why." "Are... Are you here for the funeral?" "Sort of. I work here." She didn't look at me when she spoke. I liked that. I don't know why. "Not very hard, I guess." It was a joke. It wasn't good. Instant regret. "It's an easy job, but it pays accordingly. Passes the time though, and I seem to have an endless supply of that." "Ya, that makes sense." Of course it made sense. It wasn't very complicated. "So you live around here?" "No." "But you work here, for terrible pay?" "Obviously." "Right." Several long moments of silence. "I should go see what they're up to." If you asked me, I would have told you that that had gone awfully, and that I would never see her again. Apparently, no one was asking me. ------ (will return in a bit and continue in comments)
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	It all started when I first saw her. I'm not gonna sugarcoat it. There was a rather nasty car crash just outside my tenant. I literally thought she was in that car accident, and should've saw the warning signs when everyone else seem to pass around her. I kept shouting over the huge throng of people if she was ok. Either she didn't hear me, or was flat out ignoring me. So... I reached out and shook her shoulder a little. You ever see the movie, "Rings?" Know the really creepy chick that kills you? That was her. Thin, small, hair like a black curtain, and absoultely drenched by the rain. When I reached out to touch her shoulder, it was like I hooked her up to a car battery. Arms flailed around, feet taking her backward, trip, and just like that, she fell into the mud. I recall apologizing like crazy and offered my hand to get her to stand. She simply stared. If I knew who she was then what I knew now, I may have still helped her up. Don't ask why. She stared at me like I was a freaking dkinny purple elephant man in clown shoes and a tank top. So I reached out and took her by the hand, and decided to take her back to my place. Got her in the door, and took her staright to the bathroom. It was a little cramped in there, but i sat her on the toilet lid and gave her a towel to dry off with. O found my really out of date first aid kit,and asked if she was hurt. Slight shake of her head. No. Ok... weird... I asked if she needed anything. She replied with a hesitant shake while drying out her hair. I said that she should probably get out of the wet... dress...? That she wore and warm up in the shower. Like a good hostess, I left her in there to grab some of my old high school stuff... I was smaller back then. I got worried when I didnt hear the water kick on aftee a minute, but I soon heard it a little later. I found for her, my old high school leggings, a pair of fluffy socks, and the old sweatshirt with a unicorn on it (god... high school was a different planet.) I snuck into the bathroom and took away her dress(?) And swapped it out for my stuff. Used to have a roomate that would prancw right in front of my line of sight when she forgot her clothes, so... yeah. Got used to doing that. After that, i yelled through the door that I'd be making some hot chocolate- well, I yelled hey and I heard what sounded like everything being dropped in the shower. I kept thinking she must've been catatonic or shellshocked or something. So I apologized for the umpteenth time and told uer she had fresh clothes in there, and it was ok to wear them. I decided to wait after not hearing a response. I was very worried. Eventually, the door opened and there she stood. Faded Neon green leggings, gray sweatshirt with a derpy rainbow unicorn plasted on it, and a pair of fuzzy socks pulled over the leggings being worn by a slouching horror film monster looking thing. It was absolutely ridiculous. I brought to my couch and she needed to be told to have a seat before sitting down. I left the room to get some cocoa on the stove, and returned to see her curled up, knees to chest. Didn't need that college dgree in human behavior to see something wasn't right. I sat down next to her and hesitantly put hand on her shoulder... kept telling her everything was going to be ok. Even tried doing that affirming squeeze, but there was not much to squeeze to be honest. It brought up the next question: food. "Did you eat? Are you hungry? Do you want me to cook you anything?" Silence. So, quietly we sat, and just when I think she was mute, she mumbled something. I didn't hear it and politely encouraged her to speak up. Now, say out loud in the flatest tone you can manage, and as fast as you can, "i like unicorns." That was her voice. I agreed with a small awkward laugh. Silence. ...I felt it was a good time to check up on the cocoa. Most of that night, she didn't say anything beyond a "yes." If she didn't want it, she didn't respond. I turned on the DVD player and played my pirated copy of Frozen. ...I think she liked it, because I looked at her once during the movie, and saw her head bobbing lightly. When i came for me to turn in, I offered her my couch. She mutters a thank you as I brought her a pillow and a blanket or two. I smiled. Said to not to think anything of it. It was then, she confessed. "... so, I'm Death." Do I even need to say how confused I was? "... that car carsh, that was me... it was Gary's time." "Who's Gary?" I asked. "Age 78. Alzhiemers. Revoked drivers lisence. Went for a drive. Forgot how to break..." "Was he your grandfather?" I asked worriedly. "You didnt kill him. These... these things happen its not your-" "I am Death." Her voice was a little stressed. I stared for a minute. It was hard to take her seriously, so I just agreed, and said to not worry about anything. That's how I got to be Death's friend. Yes. She still is that socially awkward. I feel like a cartoon character scaring the daylights our of her when I get her attention. Its very surreal to be honest. She still wears my old clothes. I managed to convince her to let me get her a bed instead of the couch. Not even two days after getting the mattress, and I saw her with one of those daki-thingies; the huge body pillow with the anime on it. It was cute and creepy at the same time seeing her snuggle up with it. It's not wven the weirdest thing. She told me that the Grim Reaper we all know ro be the angel of death is actually her "Oh-See, do not steal." She showed me her stories about him. I tried not being cringey. It was very hard. Recently, she's gotten into the habit of spending the entire day next to me and saying nothing. Ixm not even kidding. I'll be in the shower, go to pull back the curtain, BAM! Sitting next to the shower like a little, creepy, puppy. I had to explain boundaries... Her latest habit of following me around is telling me what she did when she wasn't with me. Listening to her talk about her job is like listening to your mother talking about how she found you a soul mate. She tries to make it wound better than it is. I can't fault her for that. Plus, she's opening up too. Now... I don't know if anyone could've seen this coming, but in the dead of night, she slipped into my bed with her weird pillow... naked. Once more, we had the talk about boundaries. Her excuse? She wanted to tell me something. She thought it'd be a great time to confess her love to me. ... ... ... I didn't turn her down, but I didn't exactly say yes... we don't hold hands, cuz whenever she tries to do it, she runs away to her bed and "hides" under the covers. She only ever hid under the bed once, and found a spider. Fun fact: even Death hates spiders. I don't know what to call ourselves anymore, so I'll keep sticking with best friends until I either die, or she works up the nerve to purpose... in which case I might die.	I suppose the signs had really always been there. It was cold, rainy, and wet. You would think rainy and wet would be redundant, but out here, rain was pretty much standard fare. It took a real miserable day to get water through my thick boots, and today every step squished with a renewed wave of unpleasantness. Also, it was my brother's funeral. Funerals are weird. You would think the overwhelming feeling would be sadness. Everyone thinks that. And I was definitely sad. But was I acting the right amount of sad? Was it wrong for me to paying attention to how I was standing at the funeral? Was I wrong to be worrying about what I was doing wrong? The main feeling of funerals is actually awkwardness, and I guess that's how we found each other. I didn't notice until my back hit the giant oak tree twenty feet from the crowd that I had even left the front. It was nice though. A good tree, solid, and it felt good pressed against me, silent but not judging. Silent but not judging? What the hell was I thinking? Maybe mom was right and I was in shock. "It's the bark." She was sitting on the ground, maybe six inches from my feet. I had almost trampled her, but she either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared. "Something about the roughness of the bark is comforting. I'm still trying to figure out why." "Are... Are you here for the funeral?" "Sort of. I work here." She didn't look at me when she spoke. I liked that. I don't know why. "Not very hard, I guess." It was a joke. It wasn't good. Instant regret. "It's an easy job, but it pays accordingly. Passes the time though, and I seem to have an endless supply of that." "Ya, that makes sense." Of course it made sense. It wasn't very complicated. "So you live around here?" "No." "But you work here, for terrible pay?" "Obviously." "Right." Several long moments of silence. "I should go see what they're up to." If you asked me, I would have told you that that had gone awfully, and that I would never see her again. Apparently, no one was asking me. ------ (will return in a bit and continue in comments)
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	>"Look," I said, "we need to talk." Since my earliest years, I've been friends with Death. I found her standing over my best friend at the age of seven, shaking her head and opening her arms. Being so young, I did not understand the implications of my actions and sprung to her with tears in my eyes. Locked in Death's embrace, I felt safe. >"Yes, Alex?" Death asked, tilting her head to the side. In those years of childish wonder and discovery, Death was my older sister. She sat on the porch when I played with friends. She sat beside me when no one else would. She gave me the chance to talk with the deceased, too young to have known great grandparents and great aunts or uncles. Death was kind, and in return I was her friend. For children, so innocent, do not understand. >"It's about..." I trailed off. "...my father." As we grew older and I shed off the body of a boy, we grew closer. Romantically. Death didn't age, and I found her beautiful. She liked me, and without words exchanged and confirmation sought, we sat together in pleasant company. We understood one another. And I understood that Death did not mean harm whenever she took another to the great beyond. The natural order of things needed to be kept. >"Hmm, what about him?" she asked, taking a step back. I guess we just weren't meant to be. Less kisses. Less hugs. More talks, and clashes. In my university years of studying medicine, my perhaps fickle heart sung out for another. Though we talked each day, I think Death felt uneasy at my attraction towards another. Yet I didn't blame Death when she was killed, drunk at the wheel on her 21st. But just like that, I was in Death's arms again, rambling through thoughts and holding her close. >"Well, not just him," I admitted, gritting my teeth. Over one of the holidays, I returned home to find my mother having fallen ill. Cancer. That was the first time I begged Death, calling on our friendship for just one favour. Alas, she could not, she told me, shaking her head. The natural order of things needed to be kept. With a heavy heart, I nodded and clung to the shreds of time left behind. My mother withered away, but still remains strong in pictures, in videos and in my memories to this day. >Death furrowed her brows, taking another step back. My father disappeared soon after, taking to alcohol to fill the void left behind. No matter how much he poured, the liquor could never fill that haunting hole. Struck by liver failure, I loosened my tongue and pleaded with my friend, Death. Once more she reminded me, the natural order of things needed to be kept. At the very least, she also said with arms around my head and clutching me close, it would not be my parents needing to attend my funeral. >"I want you to be honest, okay?" Our romance flared up after my father's death, a desperate grasping at any comfort that the world could provide. Death seemed happier in those times. I just survived. Grief came and went, and near the end Death's worried face had become her default again. I tried my best to reassure her, we would always be friends of course. She... I know she wanted more. >Death nodded, showing an emotion I didn't know she had. My first girlfriend, months after me and Death took to friendship over romance, died in a car accident. I blamed myself, not paying enough attention when a truck ran a red light and T-boned her side. At least, I had Death there to comfort me. >"Do you," I asked, pausing. Second girlfriend, also gone through an accident. An old lady had a stroke, her car killed them both on impact. My second dog managed to break out the house, he drowned in a lake on a cold winter's day. And through it all, Death stood by my side. >"Love me?" I winced at asking. She was still my friend, I think. Depression took hold somewhere in between it all. And though I had death, I wanted something more. The company of immortals is only sought out at the end of one's life, never near the middle. >Death didn't make a sound. Three attempts, all foiled through chance. I raised the gun to my head, and pulled the trigger. Death finally made a sound, shouting a powerful, "No!" The natural order of things need not be kept. Locked in Death's embrace, she would never let me go. ** Come and visit /r/AlexUrwin** for more stories.	I suppose the signs had really always been there. It was cold, rainy, and wet. You would think rainy and wet would be redundant, but out here, rain was pretty much standard fare. It took a real miserable day to get water through my thick boots, and today every step squished with a renewed wave of unpleasantness. Also, it was my brother's funeral. Funerals are weird. You would think the overwhelming feeling would be sadness. Everyone thinks that. And I was definitely sad. But was I acting the right amount of sad? Was it wrong for me to paying attention to how I was standing at the funeral? Was I wrong to be worrying about what I was doing wrong? The main feeling of funerals is actually awkwardness, and I guess that's how we found each other. I didn't notice until my back hit the giant oak tree twenty feet from the crowd that I had even left the front. It was nice though. A good tree, solid, and it felt good pressed against me, silent but not judging. Silent but not judging? What the hell was I thinking? Maybe mom was right and I was in shock. "It's the bark." She was sitting on the ground, maybe six inches from my feet. I had almost trampled her, but she either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared. "Something about the roughness of the bark is comforting. I'm still trying to figure out why." "Are... Are you here for the funeral?" "Sort of. I work here." She didn't look at me when she spoke. I liked that. I don't know why. "Not very hard, I guess." It was a joke. It wasn't good. Instant regret. "It's an easy job, but it pays accordingly. Passes the time though, and I seem to have an endless supply of that." "Ya, that makes sense." Of course it made sense. It wasn't very complicated. "So you live around here?" "No." "But you work here, for terrible pay?" "Obviously." "Right." Several long moments of silence. "I should go see what they're up to." If you asked me, I would have told you that that had gone awfully, and that I would never see her again. Apparently, no one was asking me. ------ (will return in a bit and continue in comments)
	[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...	>"Look," I said, "we need to talk." Since my earliest years, I've been friends with Death. I found her standing over my best friend at the age of seven, shaking her head and opening her arms. Being so young, I did not understand the implications of my actions and sprung to her with tears in my eyes. Locked in Death's embrace, I felt safe. >"Yes, Alex?" Death asked, tilting her head to the side. In those years of childish wonder and discovery, Death was my older sister. She sat on the porch when I played with friends. She sat beside me when no one else would. She gave me the chance to talk with the deceased, too young to have known great grandparents and great aunts or uncles. Death was kind, and in return I was her friend. For children, so innocent, do not understand. >"It's about..." I trailed off. "...my father." As we grew older and I shed off the body of a boy, we grew closer. Romantically. Death didn't age, and I found her beautiful. She liked me, and without words exchanged and confirmation sought, we sat together in pleasant company. We understood one another. And I understood that Death did not mean harm whenever she took another to the great beyond. The natural order of things needed to be kept. >"Hmm, what about him?" she asked, taking a step back. I guess we just weren't meant to be. Less kisses. Less hugs. More talks, and clashes. In my university years of studying medicine, my perhaps fickle heart sung out for another. Though we talked each day, I think Death felt uneasy at my attraction towards another. Yet I didn't blame Death when she was killed, drunk at the wheel on her 21st. But just like that, I was in Death's arms again, rambling through thoughts and holding her close. >"Well, not just him," I admitted, gritting my teeth. Over one of the holidays, I returned home to find my mother having fallen ill. Cancer. That was the first time I begged Death, calling on our friendship for just one favour. Alas, she could not, she told me, shaking her head. The natural order of things needed to be kept. With a heavy heart, I nodded and clung to the shreds of time left behind. My mother withered away, but still remains strong in pictures, in videos and in my memories to this day. >Death furrowed her brows, taking another step back. My father disappeared soon after, taking to alcohol to fill the void left behind. No matter how much he poured, the liquor could never fill that haunting hole. Struck by liver failure, I loosened my tongue and pleaded with my friend, Death. Once more she reminded me, the natural order of things needed to be kept. At the very least, she also said with arms around my head and clutching me close, it would not be my parents needing to attend my funeral. >"I want you to be honest, okay?" Our romance flared up after my father's death, a desperate grasping at any comfort that the world could provide. Death seemed happier in those times. I just survived. Grief came and went, and near the end Death's worried face had become her default again. I tried my best to reassure her, we would always be friends of course. She... I know she wanted more. >Death nodded, showing an emotion I didn't know she had. My first girlfriend, months after me and Death took to friendship over romance, died in a car accident. I blamed myself, not paying enough attention when a truck ran a red light and T-boned her side. At least, I had Death there to comfort me. >"Do you," I asked, pausing. Second girlfriend, also gone through an accident. An old lady had a stroke, her car killed them both on impact. My second dog managed to break out the house, he drowned in a lake on a cold winter's day. And through it all, Death stood by my side. >"Love me?" I winced at asking. She was still my friend, I think. Depression took hold somewhere in between it all. And though I had death, I wanted something more. The company of immortals is only sought out at the end of one's life, never near the middle. >Death didn't make a sound. Three attempts, all foiled through chance. I raised the gun to my head, and pulled the trigger. Death finally made a sound, shouting a powerful, "No!" The natural order of things need not be kept. Locked in Death's embrace, she would never let me go. ** Come and visit /r/AlexUrwin** for more stories.	She sat on the bench alone as usual, busy with her knitting. She was pretty, but not in the conventional sense: long, high cheek bones ran smooth as glaciers all the way down to her tiny chin; her eye sockets were deep and sullen, and covered curiously by old, thin framed spectacles. Athough she had no lips, she had beautiful long teeth, as white as a new born sheep. She looked up and saw me watching. She quickly flicked her head away and concentrated again on her knitting. I sat down on the bench, beside her. "Hello," I ventured. She shot me a curious look and nodded curtly, before returning to her labours. "What are you knitting?" I asked, genuinely curious. She seemed to only have one colour of wool. She paused for a moment before placing the needles down and looking at me. She pointed at the puddle of midnight on her lap, and then she tugged at the cloth she wore. "Oh, a new robe?" She nodded happily, and I made out a lipless smile. "Your name's Death, right?" I asked. She first frowned, then responded with a reluctant nod. "You can't speak, can you?" She opened her mouth and pointed to her missing tounge. Or more accurately, didn't point to it. "Oh. Well, there's a lot to be said for silence." She laughed. It was an odd sound, something between a pig being slaughtered and a rose blossoming. I smiled. "Some people are scared of you, you know. They think you're cruel." Her eye sockets widened and her shoulders sank; she looked painfully sad. "Not me. You only take people in great pain. People who shouldn't be living. You're kind. I think, I'd call you 'Autumn,' or something, not Death. Like how Autumn takes the leaves and plants that have had their time, and makes room for the new ones to come in Spring." She beamed, and placed a hand on my knee in a thank you. Her touch was cold, but not uncomfortably so. "You like Autumn? Then, Autumn it is." At that moment a tiny mouse scuttled out of a bush. It moved slowly and seemed unsure of itself; it was clearly old and I suspected it was blind. Eventually, it crept up to Autumn's skeletal foot, sniffed curiously for a moment and then keeled over onto its back. Autumn looked at me and fidgited nervously with her glasses. "It's OK," I reassured her, "It was probably my fault - I really need a shower." She smiled as she gingerly picked up the tiny creature. She stroked it tenderly with the back of a boney finger, and then popped it into the pitch black bag that rested near her feet. We were quiet for a moment, sitting in peace and enjoying the crisp night air. I broke the silence with another question. "Why do you come here every night?" She put a hand under her chin as she considered. Then she pointed up with a long thin finger. I followed her aim and looked at the clear night sky. A tempest of stars danced above us. For a while, I simply stared. "They're beauitful, and there are so many. To be honest, they kind of blow my mind." She made a fist and placed it by her chest. She then drew it away slowly, extending her fingers out as she went. She made a noise like a bomb exploding, and I laughed. "Hey, look, I know we've only just met, but... do you fancy grabbing a coffee? I know this nice litt-" She nodded happily. I don't think she'd ever had a friend before. She quickly packed up her knitting and we walked away together. Me, and Autumn. --- For plenty more stories come visit /r/nickofnight

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