Category: Fiction

A Failed Frankenstein

A young widower nobleman had nothing left. His late wife was gone too young in a tragic accident. Months later, his sister found him in their marital home, having shot himself in the head. I brought her back, he’d written in his note, but she isn’t the same. She searched the home, trying to figure out how he brought back the dead, until she found the rotted cadaver in their bed. She soon realized he’d never succeeded. He’d laughed with, danced with, and slept with his wife’s corpse, so distraught with grief he was convinced his love was alive again.

My Mother’s Dresses

As I’ve gotten older, my memories of childhood have gotten more and more vague. Very few things from before I was twelve still stuck out to me. Those couple of memories, however, had stuck with me for a reason. I wasn’t sure if I’d call them bad memories, but they were far from good either. They had shaped me into who I was now, the good, the bad, and the things I still struggled to accept about myself.

The earliest thing I could remember was when me and Dina were five. We were twins, my mom’s lucky break at getting a boy and a girl on the first try, and we, like all children, had no concept of privacy. While our father was at work and our mother was busy in the kitchen, we let ourselves into our parents’ room, continuing past the California king and into the walk-in closet. 

We were towered over by the white, gray, and black of our parents’ clothes: my dad’s suits and my mom’s blouses. They were all proper and stiff, ironed meticulously by my mother every Saturday. My eyes barely registered them, and Dina’s didn’t either. Instead, Dina resolved to climb the safe in the corner and peek up at a shelf above her. I watched her reach out onto the shelf trying to use her short arms to grab things in her tiny hands. No matter how far she tried to reach though, she couldn’t grab anything, only managing to swat at a large box. I think she had been about to give up, when her hand hit the box for a final time, and it fell to the ground.

When it hit the floor, the lid popped off the box, and a pile of silky fabric spilled out, in an assortment of bright, shiny colors. I bent down and picked up something dark purple, silky smooth underneath my short fingertips. It was a dress, sleeveless and adorned in silver beading. Back then, I had no idea why I’d never seen my mother wear it before. It was gorgeous. I remember feeling as if I was encountering a new magic for the first time, deep within the confines of this tiny bedroom closet.

I don’t know how long I stood there, awe-struck, before Dina climbed down, joining me in examination of our new treasure. She grabbed another dress off the floor, holding it up like it was a trophy. Hers was navy blue, with capped sleeves and a belt. Not nearly as pretty as mine but she seemed to love it. She looked over at me, beaming with her gap-toothed smile, “Come on, Val! Let’s try them on!”

At first, I hesitated. These were our mom’s clothes, not ours. The one Dina was draping over her body, which would have been knee-length on our mom, was more than floor length on her. Then, I looked back at the dress I was holding. Something about it was too beautiful for human hands. Yet, here it was. Something so beautiful was not only real, but right in front of me. I could wear it. Without a further thought, I yanked it down and draped it over myself, feeling the softness of the fabric as I pulled it over my arms and head. It dragged along the floor, like I was a princess in a ballgown.

Me and Dina had been transformed. We were no longer normal children living in a suburban neighborhood. We were royalty, the son and daughter of a king and queen. Our house was our castle and the living room was our ballroom. And, we ran down the stairs to that ballroom and danced. We twirled around to the music of the CD that had been left in the player. Dina was giggling as her navy blue skirt and jet black hair flew around her. And I was giggling too, staring down at the swirling of my silky purple gown.

Then, the queen appeared from down the hall. We saw our mom smiling and laughing at us, watching us dance in her clothes, with her old CDs playing in the background. My mom rarely smiled like that. She was a much more serious monarch. A tiny smirk was unusual for her. But she had a full grin spread across her face, teeth and all.

When we finished, she came over to us, kneeled in front of Dina, and, in her soft, maternal whisper, said, “You look beautiful, Dina.” And, she was right. Dina was glowing. I smiled at her too, playing with the skirt of my dress and awaiting my own compliment. But, when my mother finally looked at me, she laughed, “You’re a silly boy, Val.”

That one sentence was the reason this event was etched into my memory. That was the first time in my life I had been confronted with a terrible fact: most people considered me to be weird. My mother thought I was being silly. I wasn’t though. I just wanted to look beautiful too.

I didn’t point it out to her, though. Instead, I turned the music back on and we kept dancing, this time with my mother watching us from the couch. As we danced, she would praise my sister and laugh at me. It made me want to cry. I wasn’t a princess. I was a fool.

Suddenly, I was just Val again. A five year old boy, dancing with his twin sister in the living room. But, unbeknownst to myself or my mother and sister, I’d already gotten a taste for it. Something in me had shifted. I wanted to feel like a princess again. And I’ve spent the rest of my life trying to achieve that.

Author Bio

René E. Wilde is the pseudonym of an aspiring writer currently attending Cal State San Marcos and studying Literature & Writing. They are a writer of primarily paranormal and coming-of-age fiction and currently attempting to publish their first novel. 

The Long Road

Every day, he passed a single letter barricaded by junk, toys, and parts on his rickety
table. Beefy daily passes, which included footsteps and belly taps, inched the letter closer to its fate—one last nudge.

It fell face up, demanding attention.
He stood frozen upon rediscovering it. The neatness of the handwriting reminded him too much of his wife.

It read:

To Dad Love,
Tommy.

Heartache rediscovered.

He tried to pick it up, but his body refused. To feel the ink splotches, to find recovery. Each step felt like a mile until it rested between his fingertips.

He burned it.

Author Bio

Nicholas Nevarez (He/Him) is an undergrad in literature and writing at CSUSM. He enjoys writing short pieces of fiction and poetry and hopes to become a creative writing professor in the future. 

Horror With a Bit of Humor

As my reticent mother once told me a while ago, and I have been mulling it over within myself surreptitiously ever since, according to her, “my dear, we live in a dangerous world, and we must be equally, if not exceedingly so, in order to survive and thrive in it”. Before I could ask her where this was even remotely coming from, she then uttered, “be mindful, honey, that water is our greatest source, not only just for our survival, but for our most hidden and utmost strength”. As she nodded her head, I realized we live in a desert.

Author Bio

His name is Douglas, yet he prefers Doug, Harris. He is in his 5th year at CSUSM, and is pursuing his bachelor’s degree in literature and writing studies. He loves reading and writing as a way of expressing himself and exploring life, all at once. He is a proud 28yr old introverted and highly sensitive young man, with a mild case of autism. Overall, he is glad to have the opportunity to thrive at this wonderful school, and pave the way for himself to have a worthwhile life.

Broken

Author Bio

Donna Klocke (she/her) is a freshman at the University of Cincinnati.

She is studying English with a focus in Creative Writing, along with adding a minor in French and working towards a certificate in Screenwriting. She is a genre-bending author who writes primarily fiction but sometimes finds herself inspired to write free-verse poetry.

Linkedotter Creation Myth

IN THE BEGINNING, THE PEOPLE LIVED IN A GREEN WORLD.

They played and fought, won and lost, sang and cried, all around this colorful world. They had a deal with Sol and with Nyx. Sol would grow their trees, their plants. People could have these, sure, and so could all the other animals. Sol would grant them light, clarity, so the People could help the trees grow, the other animals to live.

Some said Sol gave us the fire, and some said we stole it from Sol. But we know now this was Nyx’s gift, that she had stolen from Sol. Nyx gave us fire to protect us from herself and from those creatures she armed. She said nothing as we praised Sol, who accepted the credit with stoicism.

Nyx would not encroach upon the People’s fire and her animal subjects did not either. The fire let the people play and cry and sing and fight outside the heavy gaze of Sol.

And Sol grew jealous. 

First Sol sent envoys- lost to Nyx. Sol sent assassins- lost to Nyx. Sol sent Kings, Kaisers, Emperors- lost to Nyx.

And then Sol commissioned the Lighthouse. The men who most feared Nyx and her monsters did as Sol bid- they quarried marble, they bartered for Gold, they stole sapphires. But then when Sol bid them throw their fires into the Lighthouse, their fortitude broke. Under cover of Nyx, out of Sol’s gaze, they snuck from camp, to village, to town, and stole the fire from those poor souls closest to Nyx’s domain, and the Keepers put their stolen fire at the top of the Lighthouse. 

Sol was displeased- this Fire was imperfect, would one day burn out, and so Sol demanded the Lighthouse be Kept. The Keepers told the People that Nyx had encroached upon their fires, and that only Sol’s Keepers could protect the People’s fire. They only must add their fire to the Lighthouse, and must remove no more than is necessary.

And so the Lighthouse grew, ever encroaching upon Nyx. 

And so the Lighthouse grew, consuming ever more fires.

And so the Lighthouse grew, lifting the Keepers to the sky.

The Lighthouse grew so vast it blocked Sol from bringing up trees, but the Lighthouse would not grow trees itself. Its cold marble would shut out all creatures that were not Keepers, and none could climb it, not even the goat. The Lighthouse grew so tall and wide and hot that Nyx was nearly vanquished– until she took refuge in the hearts of the People, providing a new, dark fire where her first gift was meant to be. In a desperate play, Nyx granted the power the People begged for– and they felled the tower.

Sol’s Keepers had made it so high that they took the fire they had amassed and made the short jump over to Mars. But that glittering spire did not go so gently. As it fell it tried to take with it everything it had built, all it had maintained, and all that it couldn’t use as well. And it nearly succeeded, splashing the oceans up onto the land, drowning near everything but hope.

But Nyx convinced Sol to raise some trees, and she returned some animals, and, in the End, the People strove for a green world again.

The Implacable Guard of Dis

Her gaze will pierce right through me, forever, neither of us seeing the other as we gaze into each other’s dead stares. They would have put me back into the burning bulls if they weren’t going to figure out this hell will be so. Much. Worse. She’ll keep staring, long after this infernal city will decay around us, long after dark will render my blindness moot. I will see her face long past when the world will end. The light will fade, but I will see her, me, who sees nothing, will see her, forever…

Author Bio

Jeremy is an aspiring educator, a conflicted veteran, an escaped Kentuckian, and a feral child, listed in reverse chronology. His work aligns itself against the light and its encroachment upon the dark, whilst still attempting to explore the dark himself. He also takes himself just a bit too seriously and should probably calm down. Someday.

The Stellarum Conflict

Prologue

​“Since childhood, my insatiable appetite for learning about the vast universe led me to the Pleiades—an open cluster star known as the seven sisters. My father, who, night after night, watched the stars in the distant night skies with me, fostered my curiosity. But what caught my eye the most was the constellation of Taurus(bull) because the Pleiades is known to be the bull’seye. My imagination of extraterrestrial beings living on the Pleiades still lives on. Maybe it’s a fantasy of mine, or maybe there is some truth to it. Who knows what secrets we will discover in the future?”

Love

​In a remote part of the universe, in a star system known to Earth as Matariki, existed an extraordinary planet named Korion. It was a truly stunning place, with tall crystal mountains, rivers of stardust that sparkled, and thick forests filled with beautiful flowers and lush green trees. Korion was home to a peaceful and advanced civilization. Living on this extraordinary planet was an alien named  Zara, and she belonged to a species called the Zorlans, renowned for their remarkable intellect and empathetic nature. They had spent many light years observing different worlds in the universe, captivated by the differences and marvels of each one. Zara was a unique Zorlan with glowing turquoise skin, long limbs, and eyes that sparkled. She had an important task ahead of her—to visit Earth to learn about humans. She waited eagerly for this moment in preparation for several light years. 

​Zara’s spaceship descended through Earth’s sky, and she was amazed by the vibrant colors and lush landscapes below. She had studied Earth from afar, but being here was overwhelming. The planet was full of life, with busy cities and a symphony of sounds everywhere. However, the Zorlans needed to be cautious and land their spaceship in a quiet spot to avoid drawing attention. They chose to land at night on the outskirts of Sedona, Arizona, in the small township of Jerome. Zara silently left the spacecraft and approached a small house at the end of a field. She turned the doorknob gently and entered. The door’s creaking blended with the nighttime chorus of crickets and frogs from the nearby marshes. The next day, Zara woke early and took in her unfamiliar surroundings. The house she stayed in intrigued and surprised her with its strange furniture and settings. Although the home was vacant, the Zorlans’ used it as one of their secretive hide-outs for their agents from time to time.

​Deciding to explore the bustling city, Zara knew she had to disguise her appearance. She used a unique device the Zorlans had given her—a temporary portal that transformed her into an Earthling. With her new appearance, nobody could tell she was an extraterrestrial. Feeling confident, Zara walked towards the city, observing the Earthlings from a distance. Their emotions, interactions, and displays of affection fascinated her. She made sure to blend in, although she couldn’t help but wonder if her disguise as an Earthling was truly convincing.

​On that particular day, amid a busy crowd, Zara’s eyes caught sight of a young Earthling, tall and handsome. The Earthling was none other than Alex Redding. She felt an instant connection, a force that pulled her closer to him. Zara watched as Alex interacted with others, witnessing acts of love and kindness that warmed her heart. Fueled by curiosity, Zara found a way to approach Alex and was not surprised when Alex welcomed the gesture of becoming friends. But she was nervous that her accent might reveal her identity while speaking in the Earthlings language.

​On the contrary, Alex Redding was a tall, handsome young man in his mid-twenties. He worked as the supervisor of a large factory in the small town of Jerome, on the outskirts of Sedona. Not only was Alex responsible for overseeing the factory’s operations, but was also a popular figure among the locals. People admired Alex for his warm smile and gentle nature, which reflected his kindness and compassion as he devoted himself to creating a positive and happy work environment for his employees. His colleagues and employees respected him very much for his management style at the factory owned by the Duke & Duke Brothers, whichmainly produces cell phone lithium batteries. Alex had worked as a supervisor in the factory for five years and loved his work. Besides his work, he found solace in the beauty of nature by hiking the canyons and capturing the scenery with his camera. Alex’s ultimate goal was to impact the lives of those around him positively. He believed in fostering a sense of community and well-being through small acts of kindness. By spreading joy and lending a helping hand to those in need, his vision was to create a better world for everyone he met in Jerome.

​As fate would have it, Zara’s decision to seek employment at the town’s factory brought her even closer to Alex. On her first day, filled with nervousness, she entered the office for her interview, unaware that the supervisor awaiting her was none other than Alex himself. His warm smile and friendly demeanor immediately made Zara feel comfortable as they sat across from each other. The interview became a pleasant conversation, and Alex recognized Zara’s potential.He offered her the job without hesitation, appreciating her talents and skills—her unusual beauty also struck him very much.

​Zara understood that her mission to develop a connection with Alex would be difficult.However, as their friendship grew, Zara discovered that Alex had a passion for nature and photography. Intrigued by this common interest, she wanted to explore their town’s beautiful landscapes. Alex, always open to new experiences, eagerly agreed, and they embarked on hikes and photography trips together, capturing the breathtaking scenery that surrounded them. ​

​Zara felt compelled to share her true identity and purpose on Earth with Alex, recognizing the importance of trust and honesty in their friendship. Although initially unsure, she mustered the courage to reveal her extraterrestrial origins to Alex. One evening, Zara found a quiet moment with Alex under a starry sky. With a mix of nervousness and determination, she began to share her story. She explained that she was not from Earth but from a distant galaxy—her home planet, Korion.

​In a gentle and soothing voice, Zara spoke about her mission to observe and learn about Earth, its people, and its incredible wonders. She described the immense size of the universe and how different civilizations exist among the stars, all interconnected in unique ways. Zara said the Zorlan elders chose her to visit Earth to study its diverse cultures, impressive technological advancements, and the breathtaking beauty of its natural landscapes. As Zara revealed her extraterrestrial identity, she observed Alex’s face transitioning from surprise to curiosity. He listened attentively, his eyes filled with amazement and understanding. Zara reassured him that her intentions were peaceful and that her time on Earth had deepened her love and respect for the planet and its people.

​But one day, Zara mustered the courage to reveal her true alien form to Alex. Uncertain of his reaction, she took a deep breath and showed him her authentic self, not knowing what to expect. Initially, when Alex saw Zara’s shimmering blue body with long limbs, he was at a loss for words. However, he soon grasped the significance of the moment. He understood the privilege of having someone from a different world confide in him and share their extraordinary experiences. As Zara and Alex spent more time together, they discovered they had much in common— enjoyed the same things, dreamed similar dreams, and shared similar values. Much of the days, they laughed together, shared captivating stories, and went on exciting tours to explore the amazing landscape of Sedona and the nearby cities. Every day, their bond grew stronger, going beyond the boundaries of their separate worlds.

​Although Zara and Alex continued their journey together, their relationship became more profound and significant. They faced the complexities that came with Zara’s extraterrestrial origins. Together, they tackled the challenges of keeping Zara’s true identity a secret from the rest of the people in Jerome while cherishing their unique bond. But Zara often yearned to introduce Alex to the wonders of her home planet, Korion. She longed to show him the breathtaking landscapes, the advanced technology, and the harmonious society that had shaped her into the person she was. In return, Alex shared with Zara the richness of Earth’s history, art, and music, opening her eyes to the beauty and diversity of her newfound home.

​When Zara pulled out a small ‘Quantroid’ from her bag to show the advanced technology of her people, Alex was astounded. The pocket-sized robot had many functions, includingspeaking in many intergalactic languages. It could also change into a walking bot at Zara’scommands. Through the Quantroid’s screens, Alex saw cities that seemed to defy gravity, with tall structures blending seamlessly with the surroundings. He witnessed the intricacies of the Korion transportation system, where vehicles floated silently through the air, and interstellar travel was the norm. However, it was more than just the impressive technology that captivated him. It was the harmonious society that Zara grew up in. She introduced him to the diverse cultures and traditions of Korion, where different species lived together in Peace, celebrating their unique qualities and fostering understanding among one another.

​As time passed, Zara and Alex’s love for each other grew stronger, going beyond the boundaries of their different worlds. Their relationship showed that love and understanding could bring beings from different species together, even across vast distances in the universe. Zara was amazed by the complex emotions humans could feel. She saw their ability to love, forgive, and stay strong in tough times and experienced these emotions herself. Zara’s love for Alex became more profound every day, and Alex felt the same way about her. Their love had no limits as they faced the challenges of being in an intergalactic relationship because it was time for Zara to return to Korion—her assignment on Earth had ended. The Zorlans wanted her back with all the information she gathered. 

​Zara and Alex were sorrowful because they realized their time together ended fast; the distance between their worlds seemed immense, and the challenges of traveling between galaxies seemed impossible. Still, they held onto their love and believed love could conquer all boundaries, even those as vast as the galaxies. But they were determined to find a way to be together, so they turned to the wise Zorlan elders for help. The elders recognized the depth of their love and devised a plan to bridge the gap between their worlds. Using their advanced technology, they created a portal, a unique gateway that allowed Zara and Alex to be together despite their distance.

​The portal was a groundbreaking invention that broke the rules of space and time. It was a sparkling archway filled with energy and decorated with intricate symbols representing the unity of two worlds. When Zara and Alex stepped through the portal, they were transported instantly to a special place between Korion and Earth. It was a realm where their love could thrive without being limited by physical distance. They could be together in this magical space, holding hands and exploring enchanting landscapes. They wandered through celestial gardens, danced among the stars, shared laughter and tender moments, and made heartfelt promises to each other that went beyond the boundaries of their separate worlds. The portal became a connection for their love, allowing them to communicate across galaxies. With the help of holographic displays and advanced communication systems, Zara and Alex could see and hear each other as if they were right there in person. They shared their successes, comforted each other in tough times, and found strength in the unwavering support they provided to one another.

​With the passing of every day, Zara and Alex became champions of unity and love across galaxies. They shared their incredible story with others using messenger’ Quantroid,’ inspiring beings from both Korion and Earth to embrace the boundless power of love. Their love became a beacon of hope, reminding the universe that connections and relationships can overcome any obstacle. With the portal bridging their worlds, Zara and Alex continued to flourish while preserving their strong bond. Zara shared her wisdom and knowledge from Korion, helping Earth progress harmoniously with nature.

​Meanwhile, Alex, drawing from their experiences together, promoted acceptance and understanding among the people of Earth. Together, they positively impacted, fostering unity and love wherever their journeys took them. Earth had evolved into a harmonious intergalactic hub in the distant future, welcoming various alien civilizations from far-flung corners of the universe. Zara, the graceful being from the mythical planet Korion, was a living enigma to Earthlings, and her union with Alex, an open-minded Earthling, fascinated many.

War

But Alex’s parents, Helmut and Marianna, strongly disapproved of their son’srelationship with an extraterrestrial being, disregarding the positive outcomes of the relationship.However, Zara’s father, the King of Korion, insisted that Zara and Alex be united in marriage, especially when Zara discovered she was pregnant with Alex’s child. Despite the opposition from Alex’s parents, They decided to have a grand marriage ceremony in Korion, where they would declare their eternal love for each other. Helmut, a scientist at NASA, believed he could stop the marriage by using the Zorlan multidimensional portal to reach Korion. Unfortunately, his attempt failed, and instead of ending up in Korion, they teleported to Astrionyx, a neighboring planet in the Matariki star system. 

​Astrionyx was home to a unique species known as Avenarthian centaurs. They were formidable creatures with silvery grey skins and horns and lived in a perpetually war-torn environment, constantly engaging in conflicts. Their planet was arid, with three suns that rose and set at different times, making it difficult to distinguish between day and night. The Avenarthians possessed advanced technologies and military strength, which they used to wage wars against their neighboring planets. Their motivations for aggression were complex, often driven by a desire for power and control over territories rich in valuable resources. They were drawn particularly to Earth’s abundant mineral resources, especially diamonds, which had captured their attention for countless light years. They utilized diamonds in their military weaponry and technology. Despite their intelligence and advanced technology, the Avenarthians’had never been able to reach Earth, their desired final destination.

​The leaders of the Avenarthians, Rumu and his brother Baku, were powerful beings known for their strength, cunning, and insatiable desire for power. They devised a plan to conquer Earth, seeing it as a valuable addition to their expanding empire. Rumu, the older brother, was a skilled fighter with a sharp intellect and a strong ambition to expand the power of the Avenarthians. He sought to exploit resources from other planets to strengthen his speciesfurther because he controlled a large army and saw Earth as a perfect place to conquer.

​Baku, on the other hand, was recognized for his strategic brilliance and charismatic charm. He had a talent for manipulating others and used his influence to persuade the Avenarthian council to rally their forces for the conquest of Earth. Baku enjoyed the chaos and destruction that accompanied conquest, enjoying the fear and submission of those they conquered. They understood that their success depended on exploiting the divisions and weaknesses among humans, strategically creating conflicts, and using existing tensions to undermine defenses. 

​When Helmut and Marianna teleported to Astrionyx accidentally, Rumu and Baku sawthis as an opportunity to exploit Helmut’s knowledge and skills. After listening to their story,Rumu and Baku offered to assist Helmut and Marianna in sabotaging the marriage ceremony of Alex and Zara—but only if Helmut fulfilled a significant request. This request was for constructing a portal capable of transforming Avenarthians into full humans for thirty-six hours because thirty-six Avenarthian hours was one year on Earth. As Helmut found himself and Marianna held captive by the Avenarthians’, he realized the gravity of the situation. Reluctantly, Helmut began working on the intricate design, knowing he needed to hasten to stop his son’smarriage to an extraterrestrial being. Helmut’s scientific expertise and determination allowed him to devise a plan swiftly. 

​Despite the difficult circumstances, he built the portal that met the Avenarthians’specifications. But unknown to the Avenarthians, Helmut secretly embedded a fail-safe mechanism into the portal’s programming—a way to control and limit the centaur beings’transformation and prevent them from causing harm on Earth. Once the portal was complete, Helmut found himself at a crucial crossroads. The Avenarthians, unaware of his true intentions, believed Helmut would help them to use the portal to wreak havoc on Earth and saw him as a potential ally in their quest for domination, unaware of the change within him during his time as their captive. Helmut struck a secret deal with the Avenarthians in a daring move. He agreed to play along with their plans in exchange for his and Marianna’s freedom to prevent Zara and Alex’s marriage. 

​The Avenarthians, seeing that Helmut had completed his project, backtracked on their promise to assist him in stopping the marriage ceremony, instead released him and granted him access to the Zorlan portal. With courage and determination, he activated the portal and navigated its complex controls. As Helmut stepped through the Zorlan portal, this time, they instantly teleported to Korion, where Zara and Alex awaited their grand marriage ceremony.

​Meanwhile, on Korion, preparations were in full swing for the grand ceremony. The entire planet buzzed with excitement as the union between Zara and Alex symbolized unity and harmony between different worlds. However, Zara’s heart was heavy with worry about the absence of Alex’s parents. Just as the ceremony was about to commence, Helmut, disheveled and weary, burst into the hall with Mariana following behind. He held out his hands, pleading for a moment to explain himself. The crowd fell into stunned silence as Helmut recounted his journey, his time as a prisoner, and the deal he had struck with the Avenarthians.

​Zara and Alex, although taken aback by the unexpected turn of events, listened intently.They understood the risk Helmut and Marianna had taken to prevent their marriage and the potential danger that loomed over Earth. Their love had taught them patience and understanding, and they realized their union should be in harmony with their respective worlds and agreed to postpone the elaborate ceremony. But their marriage was officiated by the Zorlans elders. Once the small ceremony was over, Zara, Alex, Helmut, and Marianna planned to use the portal to return to Earth and confront the Avenarthians. They hoped to negotiate a peaceful resolution to prevent harm from befalling both Korion and Earth. The stakes were high, but their determination and love for the inhabitants of Korion and Earth fueled their resolve. Zara and Alex knew that united¾they stood a chance against the formidable Avenarthians because their bond symbolized the alliance between their worlds, and they were willing to put everything on the line for the greater good.

​However, before the four teleported back to Earth, a strange event occurred on Korion.On that fateful evening, as the skies turned a celestial hue, a shadowy figure approached Zara and Alex’s home. Alex was away attending a conference on interstellar diplomacy, leaving Zara alone. The mysterious intruder, cloaked in iridescent robes, revealed itself as an ancient being, a celestial guide known as Orathion.

​“You must come with me, Zara,” Orathion’s voice echoed with a sense of urgency.

​“Who are you? And why should I go with you?” Zara questioned, her Korion powers crackling in anticipation.

​“I am Orathion, the keeper of cosmic secrets. Your destiny is intertwined with an ancient enigma that threatens not just Earth but Korion and the entire cosmos,” the guide revealed cryptically.

​Zara hesitated but sensed the gravity of the situation. “If it’s for the greater good, I will follow.”

​The duo embarked on a mysterious journey through a temporal portal that led them to a realm beyond imagination. They arrived at the Astral Niharik, an ethereal citadel floating amidst a nebula. Within its shimmering walls lay a powerful artifact—the Prism of Omnipotence, said to hold the key to unrivaled power and knowledge.

​Orathion spoke solemnly, “The Prism of Omnipotence is sought after by malevolent entities known as the Veilbreakers. If they lay their hands on it, they will wreak havoc on the universe by giving the power of darkness to their allies, the formidable Avenarthians.”

​“But how am I connected to this?” Zara inquired, her curiosity piqued.

​“You, Zara, are the Chosen Guardian, destined to protect the Prism and unlock its potential,” Orathion explained, his eyes glowing with cosmic wisdom.

​Meanwhile, back on Korion, Alex sensed the cosmic disturbance and received a transmission from the Zorlan elders, informing him of Zara’s disappearance. Determined to find his wife, he sought the help of a wise sage, an ancient Zorlan who studied various alien civilizations’ myths. The sage revealed that the key to locating Zara lay in deciphering the ancient glyphs etched on the mysterious artifacts discovered throughout Korion’s history. Together, they unraveled the enigma hidden in these artifacts—a map leading to the Astral Niharik.

​On the Astral Niharik, Zara trained with Orathion, mastering her latent Korion abilities and understanding the secrets of the Prism. As her bond with Orathion grew, he became a mentor and a fatherly figure, sharing the wisdom of eons. Just as Zara felt ready to fulfill her destiny, Alex, guided by the ancient glyphs, arrived at the Astral Niharik. He was astonished by the cosmic wonders that lay before him.

​“Zara, I knew I’d find you,” Alex said, relief and love evident in his voice.

​“I’m glad you’re here, Alex. I need your help to safeguard the Prism from the Veilbreakers,” Zara replied, her eyes sparkling with determination.

​Just at that moment, the final battle loomed as the Veilbreakers arrived, unleashing dark energies to seize the Prism. Zara and Alex fought bravely alongside Orathion, their unity as powerful as the stars themselves. In a climactic showdown, Zara channeled her Korion powers and invoked the ancient magic to protect the Prism. The skies erupted in a celestial dance as the artifact responded to her calling, shielding itself from the Veilbreakers’ malevolence. Unable tograb the Prism, the Veilbreakers retreated into the cosmic abyss. Zara and Alex emerged triumphant, the Astral Niharik rejoicing in their victory.

​“You have done well, Zara, my Chosen Guardian,” Orathion praised.

As they bid farewell to the Astral Niharik, Orathion bestowed Zara and Alex with cosmic knowledge, the Prism of Omnipotence, empowering them to defend Earth and the universe from future threats.

​Meanwhile, on Astrionyx, The Avenarthians, unaware of Helmut’s intentions, began the transformation process back on Earth, eagerly anticipating their impending dominance over the human world. But as they stepped through the portal that Helmut built, they found themselves in an unexpected state. Instead of fully becoming humans, their horse features remained, allowing them only limited time in their altered form. Luckily, Helmut’s fail-safe mechanism had successfully activated, ensuring that the Avenarthians would not pose a significant threat during their brief time on Earth. And their hopes of conquering the planet were dashed, leaving them bewildered and vulnerable—but they didn’t give up their plan easily. Panic and fear gripped the Earth as the Avenarthians made their intentions known. Governments around the globe mobilized their defenses and formed alliances to protect Earth from a possible alien invasion. International cooperation became crucial as nations set aside their differences to unite against the common enemy.

​But the Avenarthians kidnapped the United Nations Secretary-General, sending shockwaves worldwide. The abduction of such a prominent figure sparked an international crisis, with governments, intelligence agencies, and military forces scrambling to respond. The news of the U.N. Secretary’s kidnapping spread rapidly, causing panic and uncertainty among the human population. The Avenarthians, known for their aggressive nature, issued a series of demands, including territorial concessions, access to Earth’s resources, including all of the diamond production on Earth, and the cessation of all human military operations near their planet. The situation escalated tensions between humans and aliens to an unprecedented level. The United Nations held emergency meetings, and world leaders collaborated to devise a strategy to secure the Secretary’s safe release.

​In the meantime, Rumu and Baku led their Avenarthian army with ruthless efficiencyagainst the Earthlings. Their advanced technology, superior strength, and relentless determination made them formidable opponents. They unleashed devastating attacks on major cities, leaving destruction and chaos in their wake. The Earthlings faced a formidable enemy, as the Avenarthians’ utilized their mastery of warfare and insatiable hunger for power to conquer and subjugate. However, as the war escalated, the Earthlings united in the face of the common threat. Governments set aside their differences, and individuals from all walks of life banded together to resist the Avenarthians’ invasion. With a firm resolve, they fought back, using their cleverness and resourcefulness to overcome the Avenarthians’ technological advantage. The fight between the Avenarthians and Earth reached its highest point, resulting in a final and decisive battle. The people of Earth, fueled by their unbreakable determination and strengthened by their newfound togetherness, launched a well-coordinated attack against Rumu and Baku’s armies.The battle was fierce and relentless, with both sides putting forth their utmost strength and abilities.

Peace

In a dramatic turn of events, Rumu and Baku, once seemingly invincible, found themselves facing the full force of Earth’s resistance. Their arrogance and thirst for power blinded them to the resilience and determination of the human spirit. As Zara, Alex, Helmut, and Marianna returned to Earth, Earthlings greeted them with relief and concern. The Avernathian invasion was in full swing—their menacing warships darkened the skies, and the ground trembled from the devastation caused by their advanced weaponry.

​Despite the exhaustion from their previous journey, Zara and Alex knew they couldn’trest. Their experiences at the Astral Niharik had given them newfound knowledge and power to use the Prism of Omnipotence, making them Earth’s last hope against the Avenarthians.

​“We have to act quickly,” Zara said, her voice steady but filled with determination. “The Avenarthians must not be allowed to conquer Earth.”

With the guidance of the Extraterrestrial Defense Unit (EDU), they assembled a team of alien allies from various planets, united against the common threat. Each member brought unique strengths, ranging from advanced technology to mystical powers, and together, they formed an unbreakable alliance.

​Meanwhile, With her allies at her side, Zara stood at the forefront of a desolate battlefield. Smoke and dust filled the air, and the scars of the conflict were visible all around. The Avenarthian forces, adorned in their menacing armors, faced her with cold, unyielding eyes. Ignoring her exhaustion, Zara summoned her courage and stepped forward, raising her voice to address the Avenarthians.

​“Halt! I am Zara, the protector of Earth and Korion,” she declared, her voice carrying a mix of authority and compassion. “We don’t want this war. We don’t want to fight you. Earth has suffered enough, and so has yours. The cycle of violence must end!”

A murmur of surprise spread through the Avenarthian ranks, some of them lowering their weapons slightly, intrigued by Zara’s words. One of their leaders, a towering figure clad in dark armor, stepped forward to meet her gaze.

​“And what makes you think we would listen to the likes of you?” the Avenarthian leader Rumu retorted, his voice laced with disdain.

​“Because we’ve seen the destruction caused by both sides,” Zara replied firmly. “This war benefits no one. It only brings pain, suffering, and death. But it’s not too late to change that. We can find a peaceful resolution,” she continued.

Rumu scoffed, “Peace? We have fought for eons, and Peace has never been an option. Your feeble attempts to sway us with words won’t work.”

Zara took a step closer, her eyes locked with the Avenarthian leaders.

​ “You’re wrong. We’ve come into possession of the Prism of Omnipotence, a source of immense power. With it, we can create a future where both our worlds coexist without conflict,” she said in one breath.

​One of the Avenarthian soldiers sneered, “Why would we believe you? The Prism is a legendary artifact. You’re just trying to deceive us.”

​“I understand your skepticism,” Zara admitted, “but it’s true. The Prism showed us the potential for harmony. It revealed that we can find common ground, end the bloodshed, and forge a path to Peace.”

​Zara’s connection to the Prism of Omnipotence proved a pivotal advantage. With the artifact’s power, she could harness the energy even the Avenarthians could not comprehend. Not believing her, Avenarthians decided to continue the battle, and Zara became a beacon of hope, inspiring her allies and instilling fear in the invaders. Alex and Helmut also played a crucial role in devising strategic plans and coordinating the team’s efforts. They knew Earth better than anyone, and understanding human nature proved instrumental in countering the Avenarthiantactics.

​The alliance struck back with precision and determination as the Avenarthian forces closed in on Earth’s major cities. They used guerrilla tactics to exploit the invaders’ weaknesses and disrupt their communication networks. Zara’s power emanated like a cosmic storm, pushing back the Avenarthians with each wave of her energy. During a critical moment in the battle, the Avenarthian leader, the formidable Rumu, confronted Zara and Alex.

​ “You may have some cosmic tricks up your sleeves, but you can’t stop the inevitable,”Rumu sneered, his eyes glowing with malevolence.

​Zara stood tall, the Prism’s energy pulsing around her. “The power of unity and love transcends all darkness,” she replied, her voice echoing with cosmic resonance.

With a surge of power, she engaged Rumu in an otherworldly duel. The skies crackled with energy as Zara and the formidable being clashed. Meanwhile, Alex and the alliance fought valiantly against the Avernarthian hordes, never backing down.

​As the battle raged on, Rumu and Baku’s forces got pushed back, their dominance crumbling before the unified might of the Earthlings. Rumu, seeing the imminent defeat, made a desperate final stand, his desire for power consuming him. Baku, however, recognized the futility of their cause and, in a surprising act of redemption, turned against his brother. He joined forces with the Earthlings, providing vital intelligence and assistance to ensure the downfall of Rumu.Severely defeated, his dream of conquering Earth shattered, Rumu finally gave up his fight. 

​Having renounced his former allegiance, Baku was crucial in negotiating a truce between the Avenarthians and Earth. Recognizing the strength and resilience of humanity, he became an advocate for Peace and cooperation between the two worlds. However, the human response to the Avenarthians’ aggression varied over time and across different factions. Some vieweddiplomatic solutions as a way to establish Peace and understanding between the two species. Fueled by fear and a desire to protect their interests, others viewed a more aggressive approach.

​Negotiation teams comprised diplomats, extraterrestrial relations experts, and skilled hostage negotiators. Behind the scenes, intelligence agencies worked tirelessly to gather information about the Avenarthians and their motivations. They analyzed previous encounters and conducted investigations to gain insights into the horse-headed species’ behavior and decision-making processes. Meanwhile, the global community rallied to support the United Nations, expressing solidarity and offering assistance in any way possible. Protests demanding the U.N. Secretary’s release erupted across significant cities, emphasizing the universal desire for Peace and a swift resolution to the crisis. 

​Backchannel communications between Zara, Alex, Helmut, and the Avenarthian council began, with careful negotiations focused on finding common ground and a peaceful resolution.These talks addressed the underlying issues that fueled the conflict between the two species.Zara, Alex, and Helmut also used this opportunity to negotiate with the Avenarthians, emphasizing the importance of Peace and understanding between worlds. Through patient diplomacy and the recognition of shared values, they reached an agreement that allowed the Avenarthians to return to their planet, redirecting their efforts toward fostering Peace rather than conflict. Meanwhile, tensions remained high as negotiations progressed, and the world held its breath. 

​Finally, after weeks of intense discussions,  they reached a much-awaited agreement. 

The Earthlings and the Avenarthians made a pact that took care of the Avenarthians’ concerns about their planet while also protecting Earth, the cosmos, and its beings. They agreed to live peacefully together and created a special team with representatives from both humans and Avenarthians’. This team would work together to solve problems, understand each other better, and cooperate in trade, technology, and culture. Once Earthlings and the Avenarthians agreed, the Avenarthians let go of the Secretary-General, who returned to the United Nations amidst celebrations and relief. This crisis resolution significantly changed how humans and Avenarthians interacted, giving hope for a future where they work together instead of fighting.

​Amid all the dangers Korion and Earth faced, Zara and Alex became parents to a baby boy named Avolo. Avolo represents the coming of their two worlds together and gives hope for the future. During the chaos, Zara, Alex, and Avolo found themselves at the forefront of the fight against the Avenarthians’. But they managed to survive, protected by the Prism of Omnipotence.This event made humans realize the importance of communication, understanding, and peaceful relationships with beings from other planets. Nations started to rethink their policies, invest in relations with other galaxies, and create guidelines for interacting peacefully with alien civilizations. In the end, through bravery, cleverness, and determination, the resistance forces were able to defeat the Avenarthian invasion. At last, thanks to the intergalactic alliance led by Zara and Alex and the timely efforts of the Earthlings—Earth survived. As the invaders’ ships disappeared into the void, the skies cleared, and the sun bathed the world in warm light once more.

​Although the Earth emerged victorious, it was not without scars. The Avenarthians’attempt to conquer  Earth became a pivotal moment in history, reminding humanity of its resilience and the importance of standing united against external threats. This historical event created lasting alliances between countries to develop and safeguard the continued safety and prosperity of Earth and its diverse inhabitants. Surprisingly, some Avenarthians volunteer to stay back on Earth to learn more about Earthly ways and give the Earthlings much insight into Avenarthians’ advanced technology, superior intelligence, and prowess in war. But they were prisoners—glorified, and only the Earthlings shared the secret. 

​The tale of Zara, Alex, and the alliance became a legend across the universe—a story of hope, courage, love, and unity. The Prism of Omnipotence, now safeguarded on Earth, symbolized the planet’s strength and resilience. As the stars shone brightly in the night sky, Earth was a beacon of hope for all civilizations and no longer viewed as a vulnerable planet. With the Avenarthian invasion thwarted, the newfound unity among the stars would endure, serving as a testament to the power of love, friendship, and the enduring spirit of humanity.

​Back in Korion, jubilation spread like celestial fireworks as the news of the successful negotiations reached the inhabitants. Zara and Alex’s marriage, now officially recognized by both Korion and Earth, ignited a spark of hope that transcended planetary boundaries, becoming a beacon of unity throughout the cosmos. Avolo’s innocent laughter filled the air amid the celebrations, a reminder that the future held endless possibilities for him and his family. Zara and Alex dreamed of a day when Avolo would become an intergalactic peace ambassador, forging alliances and bridging divides between Korion and Earth and all sentient beings across the cosmos. 

​With love as their guiding light, Zara, Alex, and Avolo embarked on an incredible journey— that would redefine their lives and leave a mark—on the universe itself. In the vastness of space, this family, bonded by love and a shared purpose, sailed among the stars, their story becoming a part of the cosmic tapestry. It was a tale of hope, unity, and the enduring strength of love. As they danced through the cosmic night, they weaved dreams and possibilities across unknown galaxies, becoming a celestial symphony in the grand melody of the cosmos.

​Because Avolo grew up amidst the chaos and saw the bravery and sacrifices of those around him, he learned from the conflicts, realizing how important it is to work together to safeguard the much-valued Universal peace. As Avolo reached adulthood, he took on a leadership role in rebuilding and protecting Korion and Earth’s defenses. With his mixed human and extraterrestrial background, he dedicated himself to promoting cooperation between different galaxies. Likewise, Avolo tirelessly worked to form alliances with other civilizations, striving for a future where harmony triumphs over Stellrum Conflicts. 

Authors Bio

Shyamali Perera, a junior at CSUF majoring in English and minoring in Linguistics, is an aspiring writer. Her works have been published in Santiago Canyon College Talon Magazine (Vol.1 & 2), Kindle Direct Publishing, and Lightning Source. Shyamali’s academic dedication earned her the esteemed Mellon Mays Undergraduate Fellowship from 2023-2025. Fluent in multiple languages, she engages with Sinhala literature to deepen her understanding of her culture. Inspired by 19th to 20th-century American and British literature, Shyamali’s diverse interests showcase her passion for writing, research, and cultural exploration. Some of her favorite American authors are John Steinbeck, Ralph Ellison, and Tony Morrison.

Unit 49

Bradley Ottoman used to love the sound of rain hitting the roof of his home in Sonora Max Storage’s unit 49. How it would rasp against the tin sheet that kept the wet away from hisbed, forged from a couple of pallets and a cushion he found from a dumped porch swing. It would keep dry his pile of clothes that he could barely afford to wash, as well as the weekly bulk pack of ramen Bradley was lucky to be able to re-up thanks to the generosity of folks that would pass him by after shopping at the local Save-Mart. 

What was an extra dollar bill to them anyway? Their trunks full of beer and chips and prime rib and more meat and more snacks and more beer. Bradley appreciated their sympathy, although he knew deep down that they were only giving it to him from the guilt of knowing that they were better off. That despite the hardships they were going through they could still come home to their families and cook ribs and drink beer.

On those rainy days Bradley would lie awake in unit 49, back when he still had batteries to power the blue reading light that gave him so much comfort. It gave him enough light to go through his photos, his only way into memories that he held dear. One was of his little brother in his little league baseball jersey. His head was so small at the time that his navy-blue cap sat over his eyebrows. This dysfunction couldn’t beat his big and obnoxious grin from winning the state championship. 

One photo was of himself, hair cut short and professional. He stood showing off the front cover of his first published novel with a huge grin. Shapes in the Sand was his story about a lone wanderer and his psychological demise while being stranded on a deserted island. He didn’t win any awards for this novel, but he was nominated for one and sold a lot of copies. Bradley held on to this photo longing for that version of him to come back. The act of writing to him now would only be driven by guilt, and he feared the dark parts of his mind that could be found through this exposure.

The rest of the photos were of his late wife and daughter. He would study these and tryimagining a life where they could still be together, alive, and well. It would always be the same scene. 

They’d be on a road trip to some incredible place with some incredible view, like the Grand Canyon or Mt. Rushmore. The Ottomans would be in the car driving to the nearest rest stop after grabbing dinner at a drive-thru. 

Penny would be in the back-middle seat, sound asleep with her thick copper curls creating a perfect pillow to rest her head on the seatbelt. Her bright pink teddy bear would be sitting right next to her, tucked into the same seatbelt, its dark black eyes staring at Bradley through the rearview mirror, coaxing him to keep his eyes on the road.

His wife Rhonda would be in the passenger seat with whatever novel was current in her queue in her right hand. It would be illuminated by the same blue reading light Bradley nowcouldn’t bear to live without. It was always at the perfect level of brightness to illuminate the features of Rhonda’s angelic face. She had such a determined look in her eyes when she read. Her glasses rested close to the tip of her nose. Bradley knew she was enjoying what she read by the way her lips would curve into a beautiful half smile. 

Her left hand would rest on top of his as Bradley shifted the gears. Sometimes Bradleyknew she could feel his hand loosen its grip as he would drift towards sleep.

“You gotta stay awake,” she would say, squeezing his hand and sending a jolt of reality through his body. “We don’t have long until the next rest stop. You can make it, honey. You always do.”

Everything would be okay in these moments he wanted so badly to be true. The best part of them were that Bradley would be sober enough to concentrate on his driving and keep his family alive.

One of these mornings Bradley had drifted off to sleep and was awoken by the voice of a loud man coming from outside the unit to the right of his. Other voices accompanied the loud man, but Bradley could not make out what they were saying.

“Alright folks, we’ve made it to unit 41! This one has been sitting here for a while, and management says it was owned by a very wealthy collector. Shall we bust open this bad boy and see what’s inside?”

The small crowd, as they could now be heard as a crowd, cheered, and whooped with a resounding yes. 

“Alrighty then, hit it, Rodney!”

The sound of a loud snap and the clink of unit 41’s deadbolt followed as it fell to the ground. The sheet of the metal door scraped and ascended as the host’s assistant exposed the insides of the unit. When hearing this scraping noise, Bradley felt the air around him get cold and was jolted into a memory. He could see the thin metal of the roof of his wagon shaving itself away on the asphalt. Brilliant sparks illuminated the glass shards that flew around the cabin, along with the pages of Rhonda’s novel flying in a whirlwind dance and getting caught in the seats. Her head was limp and waving around. A crimson gash shimmered near her temple that signaled she had passed. The car came to an abrupt stop when hitting a telephone pole, wrapping the passenger side of the car into a widened V. 

With his vision clouded from tears and smoke, Bradley kicked his door open, screaming from the shock that was sent through his knee. He crawled out of the wagon and limped around to see that Penny was unconscious. Her hair flowed towards the roof of the car that was now merely a frame, bending from all the weight above. Pain was sent through Bradley’s shoulders and spine when he forced the back door open to safely grab Penny from the middle seat. She had just met her uncle the day before, was just starting to understand the concept of family. In her last shallow breaths Bradley knew that if the opportunity arose, he would do anything to hear her innocent laugh again. His breathing began to slow as his emotions were released into a weep.

“Y’all can look, but you ain’t allowed to step in. Let’s give it about 5 then we’ll start the bidding.”

Bradley, now knocked out of his fearful state, knew that the man talking was an auctioneer. They must be selling off the units that hadn’t paid their rent in a while. At the time of hearing this he was two and a half months from his last payment. The money he was putting towards rent had gone to the best thrifted clothes he could find and a nice dinner on what he had thought was his birthday. Despite his efforts to lay low his home and self were about to be revealed. He was sure no one wanted to do a bidding war over a bulk pack of chicken flavor.

*  *  *

​Thomas didn’t know about Sonora until he was hired to be a contract videographer for Storage Battles: USA. He wasn’t very fond of reality TV growing up and was surely not too excited for his first gig to be on a show that only aired at two-thirty in the afternoon on a Monday. When getting approved for the job, he thought; Who would even watch this show? Didn’t people have better things to do than watch people argue prices over storage units in the morning on a weekday? His agent knew better than that. Any job was a good job, and he needed to start building his resume if he wanted to land bigger gigs.

​The night before the big shoot, the crew decided to get together at one of the local bars. Thomas wasn’t very fond of drinking due to recent family trouble, but luckily the dive they were in claimed to have a “mean sarsaparilla”. They sat behind Thomas at the bar’s only table to seat more than four playing some form of a drinking game that involved cards. Their laughter occasionally made Thomas jolt in surprise. He knew by the crew’s shared charisma that bonding would be difficult without shared substances.

Thomas’ company at that moment was game seven of the World Series, so he at least had a decent form of entertainment. He had just taken his first taste of the soda, too bitter as usual, when he was startled by the show’s host slapping and resting their hand on his left shoulder.

​“What’s that you’re drinking hoss?” belched the auctioneer, Joe Richter. Some members of the of the crew had told Thomas that Joe’s stage name was coined due to how he’d always leave the barstools and beer cans strewn about like there’d just been an earthquake. “I reckon it’s got a lot of hops, given that dark color.”

​“It’s just sarsaparilla,” Thomas replied, shaking off Joe’s hand from his shoulder. “I don’t like getting drunk.”

​Joe nodded to assure Thomas that he heard and understood his statement. He then waved the bartender over and asked with a slow and slurred drawl, “Mind if I change the channel? I’d like to see how my kid son’s doing on The Bachelorette. He’s gonna be the next bachelor, lord willin’.” In one fluid motion Joe turned the TV to channel 396 and waved the remote back at the bartender. “Also, get this young man a whiskey on the rocks. Kid’s gotta loosen up!” 

Thomas quickly motioned for the bartender not to do so. “I’m sorry Joe, but I’d rather not drink tonight. I appreciate the gesture though, really.” Thomas then stood up, grabbed his fancy root beer, and made his way to the exit.

Looking back Thomas saw that Joe had passed out on the counter. Joe’s left hand was somehow keeping his beer upright on the countertop while his right arm was limp dangling the remote loosely below the stool. Thomas knew Joe would soon forget this moment, waking up safe in his California King suite at the hotel after being driven home safely the night before. At least he hoped that was the case.

Thomas had just enough battery in his cell to call a cab to the hotel. His cab driver was silent and didn’t even introduce herself by name when Thomas got into the back seat. The only emotional interaction he remembered from the driver was when a homeless man was pushing his belongings in a cart along the crosswalk. 

She honked and yelled out the window, “Pick up the pace, man!” The drifter paid her no mind and took his time. “This homeless problem is becoming such a huge issue. Why don’t people just go get a damn job?”

She looked up at Thomas through the rearview mirror seemingly asking for agreement, but Thomas’ eyes were focused on the drifter. He knew what it felt like to not be acknowledged and understood. He figured the cab lady had no idea what hardships the man might face. Frankly, neither did he. But he sure wouldn’t want to be the one pushing the cart.

​The morning of the shoot came quickly. As the blacked-out Mercedes bus pulled up to Sonora Max Storage’s front gate, Thomas hopped out and shot some b-roll of the entrance sign. The tall mountains and the bright forest green created a great contrasting scenery. Thomas thought deeply about what it must be like to live here and constantly be surrounded by nature. It seemed to him like it would be a wonderful place for letting go and getting lost.

​A multitude of uniquely designed cars began to pass through the open gate. Thomas recognized these as the vehicles of the buyers. This was his cue to start moving the camera towards the first unit. He knew it was somewhere in the 40’s. Walking past the fourth lane of the units Thomas noticed a crowd beginning to form around unit 41. The door was wide open. In the distance he thought that he faintly heard someone crying. He saw the crowd standing stern and determined to secure their bounty. He brushed what had to be hallucination away and started toward the unit.

***

​Bradley had to act fast. He didn’t have much to work with other than his pallets and cushion. Eventually he came up with the idea of putting the pallets upright in the corner of his home to create a box where he could hide under his blanket. It’s the best he could do for now. He began to hear the auctioneer blabber words extremely quickly. It was time for the sale. The continuous “heres” and “yups” of the crowd gave Bradley just enough sound cover to get into position. The crowd suddenly began to fall quiet while the rambling of the auctioneer began to slow.

​“Can I get a five thousand? Somebody, anybody five thousand? Alright forty-five hundred going once, going twice,” the auctioneer paused for what seemed like forever, then loudly snapped, “Sold to Georgia Dane! Thank you, Georgia Dane, and enjoy your unit 41! Let’s go ahead and take a short break y’all and then head to the next one, unit 49. This one was rentedby a once successful writer. Apparently not successful enough cause he couldn’t bear to pay his fees on time, ha-ha! How about y’all in the crew take a break as well. I know those cameras canget heavy after a while.”

​Cameras? First, I thought I was gonna lose my home and be ashamed by a small crowd, but now it’ll also be whoever the hell’s watching whatever the hell they’re putting together?Bradley couldn’t take crouching in a corner anymore, and decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. He stood up, knocking the pallets down with a loud crash and headed towards the door.

***

​Hearing a loud bang come from unit 49 Thomas instinctively flipped his camera to record. Luckily, he already had a shot of the unit’s door ready. Just seconds after hearing the noise the door began to open from the inside. The camera’s aperture brought illumination to the angry figure who opened the door. Thomas was sent a few steps back when he saw the man’s face materialize in the viewfinder.

​After about a year of not seeing him in person, with more years of bad communication that preceded that moment, Thomas didn’t know that his brother Bradley could go through so much physical change. His brother’s caramel hair had grown far past his shoulders. Thomas knew that Brad liked to grow his hair out when they were younger but had never seen it so unkempt as in this moment. Brad’s beard was a surprise to Thomas as well, as he knew that he had insisted on teaching him to shave any time facial hair showed up. Brad also looked to Thomas as though he lost a lot of weight. His arms seemed to have lost a majority the girth that they had from before.

​Thomas turned his gaze to his brother’s belongings, a torn-up cushion, pallets, ramen, and could vaguely see the blue reading light that he remembered had been attached to Rhonda’s book the last day he saw them. Next to them were photos strewn everywhere. One was of him handing away the pink teddy bear he had won for Penny at the bowling alley. That was the first and only day they met. He remembered how much Penny wanted that bear, and how she wouldn’t let go of it after receiving that embodiment of comfort. His heart began to race as he was shaken out of this trance by the voice of his boss.

​“What in the hell?” questioned Joe. He began to square up his shoulders and look Bradley up and down. “Rodney, go get the yard manager. They’ve got a mess to clean up.”

The crowd began to take out their multicamera phones and pose angles of Bradley and his belongings. Fake shutter sounds began to fill the void of silence that resonated beforehand. The crowd, like vultures, were beginning to laugh at the weakness of their prey. 

It occurred to Thomas that he was given a choice. His brother stood feet away from him, in an immense amount of struggle. All the hard work Thomas had endured had led up to this temporary assignment. This was something that could make his career all the better if he went through with it. He could sell this moment, be the cameraman who caught the once successful writer in a state of despair. He could capture a spectacle. Part of Thomas felt like his brother deserved that loss of face. Bradley felt this too, that standing in front of a crowd of cameras must have been fate’s way of casting judgement. 

Thomas looked around again at what was now Bradley’s home. He determined that whatever brought Bradley to such a difficult state must have not been only alcohol. He wondered why it wasn’t clear to him before the amount of guilt his older brother might feel. Everything Bradley had before was lost, developed into memories he couldn’t let go of. 

He quickly shut off his camera and stood between the crowd and his brother, making a motion with his arms to signify people to stay away.

“He’s a person too you know,” Thomas’ voice cracked against the last word. “He’s had a family just like you guys, a wife and kid.” The various recording devices of the cast and crewdirected their view to Thomas’s face, bringing Thomas into a feat of anger. “Turn the damn cameras off! Do y’all have any sense of respect?”

Joe looked at Thomas disapprovingly, saying, “I see why you didn’t take that drink last night. You’re a softy. That’s the problem with your generation, always thinking there’s a cause to be had. The world needs less of that garbage. I’m calling your agent, boy.”

Thomas couldn’t care less. He turned to Bradley, who in that moment realized why this random successful camera guy stood up for him. Bradley hadn’t seen him in what felt like ages.

“I’d hug you right now if I wasn’t so much of a wreck. I’m sorry I haven’t been a good brother. I missed you Tommy, buddy, I—” Bradley stumbled over his words and began to weep, holding his head in his hands in embarrassment. Tears began to wash away the dirt on his handsin streaks that flowed down his wrists. The crowd began to groan and dispersed away from the unit. 

Joe decided that this episode was probably a lost cause at this point and realized that taking down these brothers would probably hurt his image. He left as well and went to find Rodney and call things off.

Left alone outside the unit, Thomas wrapped his arms around his crying brother. It had felt right of him before to slowly cut all communication and not be influenced by the errors of Bradley’s ways. He should have met Penny before that day and tried to look past the drinking. He now stood ashamed that maybe he could have been there to balance Brad’s addiction with care, be a good brother-in-law to Rhonda, and be a better uncle to Penny in the little time they had. 

It was when Bradley forced the hug to be stronger that they put aside their guilt. Regardless of what had gone on before or where they were in life, they were sharing the same airnow. They had each other. Together, alive, and a given chance to become well.

Author Bio

 Emmanuel Loomis is an English major at California State University Chico, active in the writing of both personal and academic work. He strives to create worlds that give a sense of escape while commenting on themes that deserve more attention. Emmanuel has before been published in Butte College’s student newspaper with his poem “Ode to Meat” and is currently working on a composite novel of fictional stories titled Siblings, Friends, and Those Who Need Them. He stays active in campus activities and enjoys the feeling of being around friends, family, and people who cherish writing as a creative expression.

Snow Angels

Flinging myself into the snow bank my arms flail up and down, back and forth keeping time with my legs to create the perfect snow angel. It has become an obsession since my parents informed me it was impossible. I have tried flipping over, and out, I attempted a back handspring out, I sawed a girl do one at school one time, I was black and blue for at least a week; some days, I am ready to concede that there may very well be no humanly way possible not to get feets prints in your snow angels. Mamma says I am tenacious, and I heard her say I was precocious, too. She didn’t make that one sound so good; she tells me to keep trying, and I tell her I pan on it.  Don’t tell mamma. I think she wants me to stay out here so I don’t interrupt her soaps; I don’t understand what’s so exciting bout watching soap no ways, but Mamma really likes tos sok by me I get to practice snow angels. One day, I’ll make the perfect one you’ll see. As soon as I walk in the door, it’s always Go to your room. 

Flinging myself down on the bed, I wrap the pillow around my face and scream until my throat burns. It’s snowing outside, my voice raspy, skipping, the end of a scratched record. Eventually, there is only silence. I can’t remember the last time I made a snow angel, but I remember that day. I wipe my hands on the comforter. My breath is uneven pins and needles pierce my chest repeatedly. The walls close in on me. The most spacious room in the house, I feel it growing smaller and smaller, shrinking, because it is the most spacious room in the house. I am trying to stay calm, do the things I’m supposed to. I am counting backwards. It’s not working. Looking for, god, what is it? The 54321, something I can see, hear, feel, smell, I don’t know, I give up. I messed up. Screwed everything up. I have a routine, I stick to the routine, and just like the dumbass you are, you fucked it up. I mean, look at you, look at where you live, look at who you came from, of course, you would fuck it up. You were born to be a fuck up. I mean, you’ve only been following the same routine for two years, you can’t keep to a schedule, you can’t keep friends, you can’t do anything right.no wonder you’re stuck here. You know you can say no when she asks for something, right? That’s what screwed everything up. That’s why you have to do laundry today and why you didn’t do it yesterday when he worked late. We need to leave Now now now go Go Go! Just make sure you lock the door, we can’t go to work smelling like shit. Check it again. Did you lock the door? Wiggle the knob one more time to make sure it’s locked. Did we lock the door? The screaming in my head is so loud the voice stops. I’m grateful because now I can make it out of the house with my laundry. We used to have a washer and dryer here; we still have one somewhere. I never see them take their laundry anywhere, so we must. I searched for it a few times, but there are so many washers and dryers out back and none in the house. I can’t tell if he plugs one in and gets it working to do laundry or if there’s a specific one they use. They all look broken down to me. Dad would tell you that’s the problem with today’s generation. They don’t fix nothing; they buy everything new. I wanna know how he knows which one out here is fixed. 

 It takes me 10 minutes to trudge up the driveway in the snow with my laundry; I must look a mess when I get to the laundry mat because all eyes immediately swivel towards me. The owner’s daughter almost falls off the counter, catching herself last minute; I remember I am unexpected; today is not my normal day. On my normal day, I walk in, no heads turn, and no one bats an eye. There is a routine, I have interrupted that routine. I see her tapping her mom incessantly on the arm; I keep my head slightly turned because I am also trying to keep an eye on the two of them. I see them talking passionately, animatedly, heatedly, arguing quietly so no one can hear them going back and forth. Luckily, the two machines I use in the back are open, so one thing is going right today if nothing else does. The laundry gods are smiling down upon me. I see the daughter tapping her foot wildly, arms flailing out at her sides, gesturing toward the back, and the voices are getting louder to where you can make out a word or two here and there. Never Here, Check, Mom, No, Go Please, Okay. Mom is walking toward me. Her arms are crossed and she keeps glaring back at her daughter. I almost want to laugh, and I am also completely mortified at the same time. I busy myself by putting my laundry in the machines, she stands there, arms crossed, and says Not your usual Day? No, I got busy yesterday and forgot (lie, why are you lying, not that you owe her an explanation, but why lie? SHUT UP!), so I am here today. Is that alright? Oh, it’s fine, we were just concerned you always come on the same day it seemed unusual, is all. No need to be concerned. I’m fine. Thanks for checking. I watch her walk back to her daughter and smack the top of her head. Why did you make me do that? She is fine, just forgot. The girl looks at me, narrowing her eyes, jumps off the counter without saying a word to her mom, and nods at me like somehow I just confirmed everything she was thinking, and she’s headed my way. I try to avoid eye contact again and fail. She knows I know, and she’s headed my way. I see her eyes laughing, as she changes her mind and direction abruptly, making an about-face toward the kitchen. I didn’t realize I wanted her to come over until I feel disappointment. I stew in self-pity, remembering when I was sick and they brought me soup because I still came to do my laundry. It wasn’t the kind out of the can either. This had big chunks of vegetables and real chicken, making me feel like someone cared. I am engrossed in this memory and hanging my head from the rejection when she slides on top of the washer next to me and puts a bottle of water in my hand. Her eyes sparkle. Hydrate, she says. And that is the extent of our conversation. She pulls out her book and I pull out mine, and we drink the water and read while I do my laundry. While I am packing up she purses her lips and squints her eyes, holding out her hand for my phone she puts her number into it. Next week your regular day. This is not a question she is telling me. I nod, and she nods. I go to say something else, but she puts her hand in front of my mouth and says next week, your regular day. I close the gaping hole so I no longer resemble a fish and wonder the whole way home if this means we are friends now. Shit, I almost missed my turn. Get your head out of the clouds. Maybe she’s your friend now, maybe she’s not, and she won’t have a chance to be if you end up crashing this car, will she? Daydreaming about coffee shop friend dates and bookstores and reading on picnic blankets is cute. There is also plenty of time for that at your dead-end job or when your shut up in your room because the trash heap is piled high with useless junk. If my parents had lived in a more heavily populated area, this property would have been condemned long ago. They wouldn’t be living here, and neither would I. Sometimes, when I’m furious, I think about calling and having the place condemned myself, and then, yeah, I know, where would I go? What would I do? You can’t afford to live alone. Have you looked at the rent prices out there? You’ve never paid bills. You don’t know how to do anything. You’ll never make it. What are you thinking? So I don’t. Plus, would you put your parents out on the street like that after all they’ve done for you? So ungrateful, selfish, always thinking of yourself. Didn’t they raise you better than that, did they raise me, you bitch, shit pay attention to where you’re going.  

Not sure how you could miss a house with a yard like that. It has gotten worse, huh, and you did almost miss it. I used to park in front of the house, but I was running late for work one day, I got into the wrong car by mistake, and it wouldn’t start; I had my dad out there trying to jump the car for over an hour before I realized it wasn’t even mine, and did he ever have a good laugh over that one. His laugh is infectious. It’s funnier than any joke you’ll ever hear, but not that day. I was angry. I still had a car to find; it took me another hour to find it. I wanted to cry. I shed a few quiet tears out of frustration; I was two hours late to work, and what could I say? Sorry, I lost my car in the front yard, just car trouble. The front yard was an issue cars, lawnmowers, and piles of wood he would use for one project or another that usually ended up as firewood. My intestines caught in vice grips, twisting tighter and tighter, unable to move when these took place. I voiced my concerns one time, that night he made sure I never spoke about it again. He made the biggest bonfire possible and had me sit outside with them for a nice family dinner by the fire a family meeting, he said. No one spoke that I can remember; they might have, all I recall, that fire so big it looked like he was burning someone at the stake. He was. I still have nightmares about the house catching fire then the neighborhood, the city, the state, the fire traveling cross country, and our family being responsible for killing an entire nation, plants, animals, and people losing homes. The stuff started as a way to make money dad would take it apart and recycle what he could for cash, and for a while things were decent, it got away from him though he got too ambitious and brought home more junk than he could pull apart he never got rid of the spare stuff then never got around to pulling any of it apart because he was always out looking for the next great cash haul. I am procrastinating the walk down the driveway; this whole place is a deathtrap, even without the trash piles, this hill alone could kill a girl.  

Despite the mess in the yard, my dad’s truck is unmistakable. It’s huge. You cannot miss it with its splotchy paint job and giant tires. I notice it right away in front of the house, the tailgate, down my stomach drops to my feet tying itself in knots so big I’m unsure how to pull it back into the cavity it belongs. I cannot freeze. I need to move. Pop the trunk, get your laundry, and balance the bag on the basket. Lay your keys on the basket so you can shut the trunk. You got this; now, quickly make your way down the hill. You have a room to protect if you still can. I don’t have time for two trips, don’t judge me, the hill is snowy, it’s cold, you’d do the same, you know you would. Don’t drop the basket, you idiot; it’s slipping; you’re dropping it. You can’t do anything right: bounce it back on your hip. Do I have to tell you how to do everything? How would you function without me? I don’t even hear the keys fall in the snow behind me. I am so focused on getting to the house and the voice in my head my voice won’t shut up about how she’s always right, and I am such an idiot. I rush into the house. Skyscrapers are erecting in my stomach, the scaffolding falling workers hanging from the sides of the buildings while a NASCAR circuit is speeding round and round in my brain, not allowing an independent word to break through the buzz of thoughts circling the door to the house mirrors the tailgate. A house always shut up the shut-ins with a door wide open. It looks foreign, and upon entering the house itself appears foreign with light touching surfaces that haven’t been looked upon in decades for more than a minute; the mood is jovial, the air is bouncing, and it sits wrong and heavy in my chest. I can hear my Dad whistling down the hall. He sounds happier than he has in years; I breathe the drier air and soak in a little bit of that happy; I missed that sound. I want to stay here at this moment, and then I remember that he is happy because he’s moving his junk into the house, and the only room left with space to do that is my room, and my room was locked when I left. I glance over at my mom lying on the mattress in the living room surrounded by blankets and crafting supplies, records, magazines, old appliances, and photo albums she pulls out when she’s feeling nostalgic or when she wants to make you feel guilty about something they work well for both things. Our eyes meet and I swear they want to say something. She wants to say something her mouth goes as far as to open and shut several times, a fish out of water gasping for air, glub glub glub, no words escape, and unlike the door still open, Her mouth closes in a thin, tight line the moment passed lost in the sea of treasure she has hoarded in this house swept away in the undertow of the open door. She lowers her head. I shake mine and continue down the hall, mourning the lost moment as if I could have simultaneously cleaved years of debris from the heart and house. This house is a museum of forgotten treasure and trash vcr’s, VHS, eight tracks, cassette tapes, and road signs. I brought up the idea of making it an antique store or a museum once, and I was so excited, but my mom burst into tears, and my dad ripped me a new one. How could I even think about doing that to my mother? How could I call myself a daughter? He would never embarrass my mother that way. What was wrong with me? Did I even know what Family was? That is not how we treat family. I didn’t get to say a word; I didn’t dare say a word. I sat for a long time, debated what family meant, and came to no solid conclusions. I made some good points for both sides. The hallway glows in the spaces that allow it spaces that are normally dark. Can I leave knots in my stomach tighten I could just sit on the mattress with Mom I haven’t done that since before the snow angels, we could watch a movie or one of her soaps, and still I am propelled forward, my feet carrying me closer to the happy whistles walking out of another open door that I swear I locked Are you sure you locked the door you’re so fucking forgetful I told you to check it did you check it think think think! He stumbles ever so slightly as he turns the corner, that is the only indication he gives of his surprise that I have made it this far. His whistle never falters. We do not make eye contact. My hands are clenched for all his talk of family. He has stolen my space and ability to share in his happiness because his happiness is robbing me of mine. I peer into what was once a sanctuary and am transported to purgatory a memory of an empty yard with a swing set and snow angels and snowmen turned rusty cars and washing machines piled five high and too dangerous to play near. Haven turned danger zone. Without thinking or looking, I sit on my bed and am met with metal. I am fuzzy; halfway underwater, I hear them exchanging syllables. My lungs burn as they expand to a balloon overfilled about to pop, and I cannot take in enough air. I reach for it faster and faster to no avail, trying to stop this carnival game. I’ve found my body playing isn’t working either. Nothing is working so I start throwing stuff off the bed. Maybe if I clear the bed, I can breathe. I throw things everywhere mostly, though I throw them out the door and down the hall, hoping they hear me. When the bed is clear, and no one has come in the room, I look around, and everything piled in the room sits on my chest. I know I need to get out. I can’t stay here in this room in this house near them. I need my keys. I put them on top of the laundry basket, but I don’t see them. It’s okay. Maybe they fell inside, maybe they got jostled down deeper into the laundry I start tossing clothes: a Metallica t-shirt flies this way, an ice cube t-shirt flies over that way, sweat pants fly another direction, clothes go everywhere until the basket is empty but no keys maybe they fell on my way into the room I start grabbing everything and tossing it behind me clearing a path in front of me and making a giant heap behind me my personal hoard things are crashing and breaking the cave opens up and I can see sparks flying as the dragons begin to roar they have heard me rummaging and I pay them no mind I keep going the hunt must continue at all costs. I will find my keys and escape. I don’t even know what I’m throwing, and if it’s not my keys I don’t care. Plastic cups, a needle and thread needlepoint sets, receipts, hats, keys(not mine), and a stop sign. I can hear my mom crying, always crying, crying, and saying Please, No Stop. Don’t, Please. Why are you doing this? And I say I’m looking for my keys, and I go back to tossing shit behind me. I hear her parrot me you’re looking for your keys and then she turns to my Dad; she’s looking for her keys. Mom’s voice going against sandpaper through a megaphone running out of batteries, trying to keep Dad from losing his shit, and Dad he’s had enough. He is screaming so loud I think he will break and split right in two. You need to STOP. YOU won’t FIND THEM THIS WAY STOP LISTEN TO ME YOU’RE DESTROYING MY STUFF. He’s like a cartoon character. I think if smoke could come out of his ears, it would, and if a grown man could stomp both feet simultaneously and have it look intimidating and not like a temper tantrum, well, can you see it? I don’t look up. I hear him. THIS’LL SHOW YOU. The room fills and then empties, not fireworks. The cracking sounds similar; for a moment, my brain says car backfiring. This noise is more familiar, one I hear more often than the other two: fireworks or gunshots, at least I tell myself this at night, car backfiring. Mom is crying, begging him no and please. I still look for my keys, tossing baseballs and paper plates, action figures and yarn plastic flowers, and tea kettles. I think I scratched my leg, and I’m bleeding. I think I scratched it deep or cut it on a piece of glass. I need to pay more attention to what I’m doing; shit hurts a lot. It burns, and it’s bleeding pretty bad. Look around and see what you broke, nitwit. Maybe you caught it on that table. One more spin around the room.  

Dad has his. Why does Dad have his gun out in the house? Hey, Dad, why do you have, Get Out! Did he shoot us? I think he fucking shot us. Mom is muttering in the corner. She sits there, not even looking at us. Get Out. Get OUT. The words so loud they come up from his feet, taking so much force to push them out I’m afraid he’s going to have a stroke. I stop, put my hands up, and hobble toward the door. I’m going, see Dad, I’m going, gone. He’s still yelling as I shut the door. My phone is in my pocket. There’s that at least. I could call a locksmith if I could make it to the top of the driveway. I need to sit. I am so tired and cold; it snowed yesterday, and the ground is covered. My leg turns the snow red, my head is spinning. I should have grabbed a jacket, a blanket, something; I look at my leg again and realize it isn’t a scratch. He did shoot me, and she just sat there. Then I hear another shot go off in the house. Laying back in the snow, I move my arms up and down with my legs as much as possible. It’ll be a lopsided snow angel, but as I wait, hoping to hear a second shot go off in the house, I think, I may have finally made the perfect snow angel. I pull out my phone and text the girl from the laundry mat, Hi. I’m waiting for two things when everything goes black. I finally made a snow angel with no feet prints.

Barren

Emptiness awaited. The fields as barren as her womb splayed open in the dirt. I told them this could not be fixed. No one listens to a child, and that goes double if the child is a girl. Every week, the same thing, another doe split open womb emptied meat left to rot in the boiling sun. Barbarians We, This. They call it witchcraft they say tradition, I ask whose? I call them all crazy. I’m calling a curse. Now, they can call me a witch. 

Author Bio

Miranda is an undergraduate at CSUSM. She is inspired by the every day, an observer of the world around her, hopeful and excited to see what is around the next corner of this journey she is currently on.

How to Fly a Kite

Contrary to popular belief, Death loves life. It is common to see him picking flowers or on a stroll in the park on a nice day. He smiles at others in passing, offering a courteous greeting or a compliment on the weather. He is seldom gloomy, often striking up a conversation with unexpecting strangers as they go about their day. No one would be able to recall his face, nor his name, as he never introduces himself. Everyone has probably encountered him or spoken with him briefly. They might not remember the exact words exchanged, but they’ll remember his cadence and curiosity. He’s a funny one, Death; He’s got a way of making one smile.

 One day, while on an early morning walk, Death picked a couple of chrysanthemums that grew along the park trail, wrapping them in the day’s newspaper that he had read earlier that morning. It was a bright, blue day with a cool breeze and the sun gleaming cheerfully through the treetops. Death, satisfied with his pick, continued walking along the paved trail, bidding passers-by a “Good morning,” with a smile. 

 He made his way up to a hill where a large oak tree grew, providing shade for the park bench underneath it, the wind making the leaves in it shudder. There a young man sat, no older than 20, feeding the pigeons a bag of seeds. Upon hearing Death’s footsteps, the man looked up and scooted to the far side of the bench. Death thanked him and set his flowers down between them, watching as the pigeons took little offense to his intrusion. The old wood of the bench creaked slightly as he rested on it. The flowers sat idly between the two while the two men caught the harsher elements of the cool wind. The two sat in silence for a couple of minutes, taking in the view with the young man throwing seeds every so often for the birds. The hill was not on a steep incline but, from where they sat, they could see a clearing ahead of them. Near the bottom of the hill, a father and child were flying a kite. 

“Beautiful day we’re having,” Death started, glancing at the man briefly before looking back in front of him. The younger, overdressed gentleman was out of place with his styled hair barely swaying in the wind, and his gray button-up and ironed slacks. His dress shoes, shiny and new, stood out on the worn concrete. The pigeons challenged the reflection of themselves in them. 

Death watched the kite soar high above the father and son while the bright sun overhead cast a jarring shadow on the vibrant green grass. From where he was, the duo and kite looked the same size, the birds in the sky a close second. The young stranger hardly noticed them. 

“Yeah, nice weather,” the man agreed with a tight smile, eyes fixated on the ground. They sat in silence for a while before he continued. “I don’t come here often, but I’m starting to think I should.” He threw another handful of seeds.  Death watched as the seeds carried themselves a short distance before dropping onto the ground like flies, quickly disappearing as soon as the birds pecked relentlessly at them. His eyes cast back to the family ahead. The father cast the kite out further and his child, squinting up to look at it, jumped up. He could faintly hear the excited squeals, muffled by the sound of the blowing treetops. 

“It’s a nice park. This is my favorite place to think,” Death responded. He watched as the pigeons crowded around them, pecking feverishly at the ground, and wondered if they ever felt full.

“Yeah? Anyone ever taken this spot before you?” 

“Sometimes, but then I start talking until they leave.” The two chuckled. 

“Was that my cue?” The man glanced at him with a grin. Death noticed the fine lines around his eyes. He had old eyes for a young man. Death laughed and shook his head. 

 “I’m usually a lot more subtle than that,” He joked. “What brings you here? You know, besides stealing my spot.” Death said it playfully but noticed that the man paused for a beat. The stranger’s smile had faltered and no longer reached his eyes. Death looked back ahead, listening as the bag of seeds rustled again and the pigeons nipped at the ground. The father had handed the rod to the child and they both held it, watching as it flew steadily. 

 “Found your spot on accident; Just needed to get out I guess. Feel like I never really have time to sit and think about things,” the man responded, pausing again before his next sentence as though considering his words. Death nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I dunno, it’s just- no one ever stops to smell the roses anymore.” The man threw more seeds. He turned his head to look at Death, spotting the bunch of chrysanthemums between them. 

  “Not roses, but these are nice,” Death shrugged. The man said nothing, leaning over in a hunch to focus on the ground rather than the pigeons. Death watched as the father praised the child who was now steering the kite confidently as his father’s hands guided him. Upon hearing the faint cheering, the young guy looked up towards the two. For a moment, they all watched the kite fly.

“Me and my dad used to do that. We didn’t do a lot of things together, but I remember this one time we went out on this really windy day and flew this makeshift kite he made out of tape and an old shirt,” the man recalled, more objectively than emotionally.  

“Always good to have nice memories,” Death replied. The man shrugged, throwing another handful of seeds. 

“He was kind of an asshole, to be honest,” he confessed. “He never really did much of anything except teach me how to fly a kite or how to use a wall anchor.”

“Ah yes, the two most important life skills a man should know.”

“The wall anchor one was useful. But it wasn’t like how to shave, or how to ask a girl out, or how to handle things like a man.”

“Like a man?”

“Y’know, tough. Manly. How to be strong for others when they need you to be.”

 “Stronger than a wall anchor?”

 “Sturdy, dependable, useful- like a wall anchor.”

 “I feel like we aren’t talking about wall anchors.” Death turned to face him. “What about the other thing he taught you?” Death asked it with a sense of curiosity that caught the man off guard. 

“The other thing? Y’mean how to fly a kite?” The man asked, searching to find something that indicated that Death was joking. When he found no sign of mockery, he continued. “Learning to fly a kite was a waste of time,” he said, turning back to avoid the other man’s gaze. He threw a couple more seeds to the audience of pigeons. 

Death looked towards the family duo again. The father, by this time, was explaining something to his son, demonstrating how to move and steer to maintain the kite’s momentum. 

“What did he teach you about how to fly a kite,” Death repeated, picking up his flower bunch and examining them with little interest. He plucked off the wilted leaves.

“Not much of a lesson,”  the man continued, bemused. The young stranger looked at the father and his child. He tilted his head toward them. “He taught me how to do that. Well, kinda. He taught me how to make a kite first, even if he barely knew how to do it himself. Then he taught me how to get it off the ground and keep it off the ground.” They watched as the father slowly let go of the handle so that the child could do it on his own. They both cheered, the father waving his fists in the air and expressing excitement for the both of them. 

“That’s it?” Death asked. He turned to look at the man, noting that the youth was watching the kite intensely. It flew steadily as the boy confidently cast it out further. 

“No. He let me hold onto the kite and fly it myself. It was a real windy day and it was a shitty makeshift kite, so the line broke and the thing just flew off, y’know?” he recalled. 

“Was he mad?”

“Nah, he just told me to let it go. Told me it would find its way,” the man said, ridiculing his father’s words with a scoff. “I was a kid. I imagined that the wind carried it across the world, but it probably landed in someone’s backyard and into the trash.”

“It was a good lesson.”

“I guess.”

“Does your dad remember it?”

“He’s dead”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Shouldn’t be. Not like you killed him.” The man chuckled to himself and Death shifted in his seat. The wooden bench creaked beneath him, rickety and dry. “He passed away recently. Just up and croaked. Heart attack, they said. It got me thinking, ‘Life’s short. Death’s gonna come up to all of us eventually, some sooner than others, and we should just be happy,’ y’know? Just learn to finally-”

“Let go,” It echoes as a request. At the same time, the child pulled on the line of his kite and Death and the young man watched as the line broke and slipped out of the child’s small hands. It flew upwards, far over their heads, doing somersaults in the sky like a trained pilot. The father watched as his son tried hopelessly to jump for it, the youth’s arms extending over his head as he called for the kite like it would return at his beckoning. Instead of reaching for it in futile attempts, the father opted to put a comforting hand on his son’s back. They watched, together, as it flew off further than they could reach. It became smaller and smaller until it was gone. The sky seemed a little clearer. 

Death stood up rapidly, stretching his arms and cracking his neck. His movement was so abrupt it scared the pigeons and caused the man to drop his bag, spilling the remainder of the seeds. The man cursed quietly and watched as some pigeons flew off while the others, falling backward initially from the scare, came back to peck at the ground.

“I appreciate the company,” Death stated, stretching his old back like a cat. “I’m sorry for your loss. For your kite, I mean. You know, since your dad was an asshole.” The younger man chuckled but, before he could respond, Death left in long strides. The man watched as he left and, once he disappeared, turned to find that the child and father, too, had left. Next to him, a bunch of chrysanthemums laid on the bench, fully bloomed.

Author Bio

Natalie Vargas is a Filipino-American writer born in the suburbs of southern California, spending most of her time as a full-time student studying, working, and writing. As an English major at CSU Fullerton, Natalie considers literature to be a great way of understanding the world around her—second, only, to exploring it. She plans to teach others the same in the future as an educator. 

A Gift

Author Bio

Some One is an aspiring writer at Cal State Fullerton studying English. They enjoy writing in their free time when they are not trying different coffee shops.