Table of Contents Introduction: Poetry Poetry 1. Moon Prose 2. Moon Poem Draft 3. Moon Poem Revision 4. Moon Poem Haiku Draft 5. Moon Poem Haiku Revision 6. Content, the Artist Sleeps Draft 7. Content, the Artist Sleeps Revision 8. Full Cycle Tankas Draft 9. Full Cycle Tankas Revision 10. Childish Lust Draft 11. Childish Lust Revision Introduction: Fiction Fiction 1. Nameless Draft 2. Nameless Revision 3. Grim Draft 4. Grim Revision 5. Close Encounters Draft 6. Close Encounters Revision 7. Mister and Missus Workaholic Draft 8. Mister and Missus Workaholic Revision
Introduction: Poetry I had never been very interested in poetry, but I began to enjoy it more from Creative Writing. Whatever little poetry I wrote was always because I felt forced to by English class deadlines or familial pressure. Writing poetry for class was actually interesting and I have a new found respect for poetry and have discovered my enjoyment of poetry. During this class I have learned that poetry is just another outlet for inner thoughts and feelings, just much more artistic than straight fiction or straight writing. I will spend much more time writing poetry and I will continue to edit and create new poetry in the future to improve my writing.
Picture credit to booktrib.com
Ahana Kowdley Formation of the Moon Approximately 4.5 billion years ago, an astronomical body collided with the Earth. The body, approximately the size of Mars, blasted off huge portions of debris, and it was from this that the moon was supposedly formed. This is known as the Giant Impact Hypothesis, and is the most scientifically accepted hypothesis today. While there are several other theories regarding the formation of the moon, the Giant Impact Hypothesis currently has the most evidence in favor of it. The composition of the Earth and the moon are very similar, showing that the moon was, perhaps, once part of the Earth. Upon impact itself, the energy from the collision was predicted to have heated the Earth enough to create a magma ocean. However, there is no evidence of the heavier materials sinking into the mantle of the Earth. Therefore, there is no consistent model that starts with the Giant Impact and can be followed through to the formation of the moon.
Ahana Kowdley Moon Poem Draft Smash! You were born In the cold darkness of space you were born Mother Earth wept separated from her child Oh how she cried! She cried tears of magma As she cried, her boiling oceans cooled As she cried, her crevices filled with life As she cried, you drifted further and further away.
Ahana Kowdley Moon Poem Revision Smash! You were born In the cold darkness of space you were born Mother Earth wept now separate from her child Oh, how she cried! She cried tears of magma As she cried, her boiling oceans cooled As she cried, her crevices filled with life As she cried, you drifted further and further away.
Ahana Kowdley Moon Haiku Draft Birth Sweet child of the Earth Born from the heart of the stars Find peace in our sky
Ahana Kowdley Moon Haiku Revision Celestial Birth Sweet child of the Earth Born from the heart of the stars Find peace in our sky
Ahana Kowdley Content, the Artist Sleeps Draft A raven hops among supple arms of a dogwood. It cackles, ripping through unmoving air. A glistening blue sanctuary forms with drumming drops on stony ground below. Unwavering, the grey base allows itself to be beaten worn smooth from an eternity of dripping sky. An air of peace is evident as the world forms itself. Surrounding the trickling oasis, a verdant trove of undiscovered pathways stretch out, marking the tenderness of the lush ground with crawling feet. Whispers of unseen beauty call wistfully from the dark, begging to be heard by ears of those willing to listen. A subtle form is made out at the base of a hulking brute, unable to move after centuries of spreading wings deep into the earth. The form reaches out to the raven, wistful, yearning, yet restrained in motion before releasing a silent breath. It takes but a moment to reach into its heart and painfully tear out a lifetime of sentiments. The form shuts itself off from the oasis, from the raven, from the serenity of the world encompassing it, slowly meshing with the brute looming behind, leaving all notice of life on the pale skin of the world. Decades later, the mark remains, forever unchanged by weathering experiences of a lifetime. Content, the artist sleeps, though forgotten by timeyet never stolen from the soothing stream that is time. The parchment was a life, experiences, emotions, companionships, and other such petty thoughts, all withstanding the hammering of unpleasant memories. The author sleeps, content with promised succession that is writing and time. Secured, are those dreams that shocked the resting mind into a state of chaos.
Forever, are the exhilarating memories of a life that shall never again be experienced. Peaceful, is the soul of the resting author. Content is the heart, quenched of its desire for acceptance by the thrill that is composition. Nothing is more important than a soul at peace and the method used to reach that peace.
Ahana Kowdley Content, the Artist Sleeps Revision A raven hops among arms of a dogwood. It cackles, ripping through unmoving air. A blue sanctuary forms with drumming drops on stony ground below. The grey base allows itself to be beaten worn smooth from an eternity of falling sky. An air of peace is evident as the world forms itself. Surrounding the trickling oasis, undiscovered pathways stretch out, marking the lush ground with crawling feet. Whispers of unseen beauty call from the dark, begging to be heard by ears of those that listen. A subtle Form is made out at the base of a hulking brute, unable to move after centuries spent spreading wings deep into the earth. The Form reaches out to the raven, wistful, yet restrained in motion before releasing a silent breath. It takes but a moment to reach into its heart and painfully tear out a lifetime of sentiments. The Form shuts itself off from the oasis, from the raven, from the serenity encompassing it, slowly meshing with the brute nearby, leaving all notice of life on the pale skin of the world. Decades later, the mark remains, forever unchanged by weathering experiences of a lifetime. Content, the artist sleeps, forgotten by timeyet never stolen from the soothing stream that is time. The parchment was a life, experiences, emotions, companionships, and other such petty thoughts, all withstanding the hammering of unpleasant memories. The author sleeps, content with promised succession that is writing and time. Secured, are dreams that shocked the resting mind into chaos.
Forever, are the exhilarating memories of a life that shall never again be experienced. Peaceful, is the soul of the resting author. Content is the heart, quenched of its desire for acceptance by the thrill that is composition. Is there anything more meaningful than a soul at peace and the journey to find that peace?
Ahana Kowdley Full Cycle Tankas Draft Day Tanka Roaring ball of flame Floating so high above us As day turns to dusk The stars all move into view Call us home when night comes forth Night Tanka Luminescent globe Guide us through blankets of stars Till the sky turns shades Eyes of heaven hide again Take us back into the light
Ahana Kowdley Full Cycle Tankas Revision Day Tanka Glowing ball of flame Floating so high above us As day turns to dusk The stars all move into view Call us home when night comes forth Night Tanka Luminescent globe Guide us through blankets of stars Till the sky turns shades Eyes of heaven hide again Take us back into the light
Ahana Kowdley Childish Lust Draft You claimed that you would never leave foolishly running behind, endlessly lusting, endlessly chasing. The heart you sought was but a cold prison, unwilling to allow your light to shine weakly upon it. “I will never give up,” you insisted- like a child -All the while wishing nothing more than to bite the forbidden fruit of unrequited childhood romance While growing together, you were but a child, not one to receive the heart of a woman. Years passedThe chasing child faded… The prisonFinally willing to allow the touch of a man. One jail faded, only to be replaced by another. The cage of uncertainty, now replaced by a horrid, stinking, sore- festering away in the heat of raw, young emotions. Oh! How you teasedMy emotions welled up in response -As did my pain. The heart desired only you The prison was strongIron bars of burning, passionate, new,
Endearment. Now where has it all gone? Replaced by a shieldA shield of suspicion. Claims of love… turned to claims of confusion. Turning the tides? Impossible. And what of the shield? Turned to dust and washed away by the tides of bubbling, boiling waves of depression. You claim “love”, yet display a seething disregard -A disregard for the one that supposedly you so care for This game you take so much pleasure from I no longer desire to play it.
Ahana Kowdley Childish Lust Revision You claimed you would never leave foolishly running behind, endlessly lusting, endlessly chasing. The heart you sought was but a cold prison, unwilling to allow your light to shine weakly upon it. “I will never give up,” you insisted- like a child -All the while wishing nothing more than to bite the forbidden fruit of unrequited childhood romance While growing together, you were a child, not one to receive the heart of a woman. Years passedThe chasing child faded… The prisonFinally willing to allow the touch of a man. One jail faded, replaced by another. The cage of uncertainty, now replaced by a horrid, stinking, sore- festering away in the heat of raw, young emotions. Oh! How you teasedEmotions welled up in response -As did pain. The heart desired only you The prison was strongIron bars of burning, passionate, Endearment.
Now where has it all gone? Replaced by a shieldA shield of suspicion. Claims of love… turned to claims of confusion. Turning the tides? Impossible. And what of the shield? Turned to dust and washed away by the tides of bubbling, boiling waves of depression. You claim “love”, yet display a seething disregard -A disregard for the one that supposedly you so care for This game you take so much pleasure from there is no desire to play it.
3Elements Review
Picture Credit to scrapbookoftruth.net
Introduction: Fiction I have lots of experience writing fiction. I have written close to eighteen fiction novels and have published them online. Writing in this Creative Writing class was interesting because it gave me new ways to go about writing and introduced me to writing short stories, something that I was never comfortable with. I hope that I will be able to publish several of my short stories in the future and will be able to become even more comfortable with writing in the fiction genre and writing short stories.
Ahana Kowdley Nameless Draft It was a chilly day in mid-Autumn, dated December seventeenth of the year nobody desired to remember. The New York traffic was all but nonexistent, chased away by the recent blizzard which had left the city under a sheet of sparkling snow. Speaking in hushed voices at a desolate playground, a young girl, barely past the age of eighteen, and a boy, just reaching his prime at age nineteen, discussed a series of recent attacks on seemingly innocent bystanders across the city. All of the victims- twenty or so- had had their bodies brutally disfigured to the point of no recognition. The killer’s name- a name created due to the virtually unrecognizable victims- was Nameless. The girl, uniquely named with an obscured past, was Eris Daltroy. She sat on one of the swings, slowly moving forward and back while the unused chains creaked in the eerie morning silence. She listened wordlessly while the boy spoke angrily of the killings, declaring them to be “a disturbance of the city peace” and calling the Chief of Police a “lazy two-bit coward without ambition”. Eris sat silently, listening to the boy while watching his every movement. She picked up every movement of his pale pink lips as they spoke fervently of the recent events. Her eyes followed the quickened movements of his dark chocolate mass of hair while he began to swing himself higher, as if to touch the sky itself. His soft blue eyes caught the sunlight with every swing that he took backwards, revealing the olive flecks hidden in his irises. He caught her eye as he rocked himself forward before releasing the chains of the swing and soaring through the air. Like an angel he flew, before the reality of the world shocked him and he crashed back to the earth, landing with a crunch in the fresh snow.
“So what’s your story Daltroy?” he asked her suddenly, causing her head to swing up in surprise. “We always hang out together and I met you here almost four months ago, yet I know almost nothing about you. I want to be better friends with you, but I don’t know your past. Care to share?” She swallowed hard, her long, pitch black locks falling across her face, masking her mysterious green eyes from the world- green, yet tinted with the scarlet of the horror that was her past, present, and future. Her voice forced itself up her throat and she murmured, “You know I don’t like to talk about my life Liam.” He stared at her, a hard, accusing stare. Her discomfort was obvious as she quickly stood up. “I’ll see you around.” Before he could say another word, she was gone. Days passed; more people died. The bloodshed seemed endless. Liam spent his days searching for Eris and some clue to her past. He felt that he would never see her again and hated himself for scaring her off. The days stretched into weeks and there was still no sign of her as the death toll climbed, reaching into the forties. He kept his eyes glued to the News, praying that he would never hear her name. January came knocking on December’s door, but the city didn’t celebrate. Liam dug through his mailbox on January twenty-first and felt the edges of his mouth turn up as he scanned a letter, written in a hurried, scratchy handwriting. “Meet me at the playground this evening.” He checked the time, nearly five thirty, and rushed towards the familiar playground, still sporting bright colors in the setting sun. He sat on a swing and waited, eager to repair what he had previously destroyed. Eris walked out slowly from the shadows of the slide and he stood. “You’re okay,” he felt himself sigh with relief.
She gave no smile and pulled out a small object, stained red and glinting weakly, before throwing it to him. He recoiled upon seeing the blood and stared at her in shock. “I am Nameless,” she told him with a cold voice, watching his eyes widen in shock. “You can turn me in Liam; you claim I’m your friend, but I can never be your friend. I’m too dangerous.” “Why?” he whispered in a raspy voice. “You think that just because of everyone you’ve killed, you’re not fit to be my friend? You can still change Eris; you can stop all of this.” She shook her head slowly and said, “It’s a sickness Liam; a sickness that I harbor in my head. I’m twisted and I can kill you just as easily as everyone else. We can’t meet anymore.” Liam stared after her, unable to bring his words forward while she walked away, before he chased after her glimpsing the sun dipping below the Hudson River. Darkness overtook the city and Liam searched, knowing he had put himself in a treacherous situation. A bone-chilling scream echoed through the air and he sprinted in its direction, determined to save Eris from herself. He caught her brandishing the knife over a struggling woman that screamed pitifully, despite knowing nobody would hear her. “Eris stop this!” Liam felt himself scream. She dropped the knife and turned to look at him, her eyes glinting deep red. “I told you to stay away,” she warned, grabbing the knife and facing him. The woman managed to flee during the distraction. Liam faced Eris with a sigh. “You won’t hurt me. You’ll drop the knife and we’ll put you where you can’t hurt anyone else,” he told her softly, holding out a hand. Her eyes flickered and she dropped the bloodied knife before looking up at him, a tear rolling down her cheek. He took her to the station and turned her in. The killings ended and Eris was sentenced to live out her life in Bellevue, getting Psychiatric help from a doctor. Liam went to see her every
day he could, entertaining her with news of the outside world and hearing about life in the Mental Institution. As spring rolled around he found himself walking by a familiar old playground. The swings were in shambles, one hanging limply on one chain, the other, covered in dirt and on the ground. Liam found himself smile as he walked over to the swings and picked up the one resting on the ground. He felt his hands wrap the chains around the seat and slip it into his backpack before he walked himself home, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders.
Ahana Kowdley Nameless Revision It was a chilly day in mid-Autumn, dated December seventeenth of the year nobody desired to remember. The New York traffic was all but nonexistent, chased away by the recent blizzard which had left the city under a sheet of sparkling snow. Speaking in hushed voices at a desolate playground, a young girl, barely past the age of eighteen, and a boy, just reaching his prime at age nineteen, discussed a series of recent attacks on seemingly innocent bystanders across the city. All of the victims- twenty or so- had had their bodies brutally disfigured to the point of no recognition. The killer’s name- a name created due to the virtually unrecognizable victims- was Nameless. The girl, uniquely named with an obscured past, was Eris Daltroy. She sat on one of the swings, slowly moving forward and back while the unused chains creaked in the eerie morning silence. She listened wordlessly while the boy spoke angrily of the killings, declaring them to be “a disturbance of the city peace” and calling the Chief of Police a “lazy two-bit coward without ambition”. Eris sat silently, listening to the boy while watching his every movement. She picked up every movement of his pale pink lips as they spoke fervently of the recent events. Her eyes followed the quickened movements of his dark chocolate mass of hair while he began to swing himself higher, as if to touch the sky itself. His soft blue eyes caught the sunlight with every swing that he took backwards, revealing the olive flecks hidden in his irises. He caught her eye as he rocked himself forward before releasing the chains of the swing and soaring through the air. Like an angel he flew, before the reality of the world shocked him and he crashed back to the earth, landing with a crunch in the fresh snow.
“So what’s your story Daltroy?” he asked her suddenly, causing her head to swing up in surprise. “We always hang out together and I met you here almost four months ago, yet I know almost nothing about you. I want to be better friends with you, but I don’t know your past. Care to share?” She swallowed hard, her long, pitch black locks falling across her face, masking her mysterious green eyes from the world- green, yet tinted with the scarlet of the horror that was her past, present, and future. Her voice forced itself up her throat and she murmured, “You know I don’t like to talk about my life Liam.” He stared at her, a hard, accusing stare. Her discomfort was obvious as she quickly stood up. “I’ll see you around.” Before he could say another word, she was gone. Days passed; more people died. The bloodshed seemed endless. Liam spent his days searching for Eris and some clue to her past. He felt that he would never see her again and hated himself for scaring her off. The days stretched into weeks and there was still no sign of her as the death toll climbed, reaching into the forties. He kept his eyes glued to the News, praying that he would never hear her name. January came knocking on December’s door, but the city didn’t celebrate. Liam dug through his mailbox on January twenty-first and felt the edges of his mouth turn up as he scanned a letter, written in a hurried, scratchy handwriting. “Meet me at the playground this evening.” He checked the time, nearly five thirty, and rushed towards the familiar playground, still sporting bright colors in the setting sun. He sat on a swing and waited, eager to repair what he had previously destroyed. His mind flashed back to the time when they had first met. He had instantly formed a bond with the pale, bony girl swinging on the swingset,
caught up in her emerald eyes that glittered. She had been more talkative and more open, not afraid to tell him what was on her mind. There was an eerie crack in the silence of the night and Liam felt himself jump. Eris walked out slowly from the shadows of the slide and he stood. “You’re okay,” he felt himself sigh with relief. She gave no smile and pulled out a small object, stained red and glinting weakly, before throwing it to him. He recoiled upon seeing the blood and stared at her in shock. “Eris, what is this? Is this blood?” he stammered with wide eyes. She nodded once, a cold nod. He swallowed hard and Eris seemed to stare into his soul. A flash of realization suddenly hit Liam and he looked up at her, his hands trembling slightly. “I am Nameless,” she told him with a cold voice, watching his eyes widen in horror. “You can turn me in Liam; you claim I’m your friend, but I can never be your friend. I’m too dangerous.” “Why?” he whispered in a raspy voice. “You think that just because of everyone you’ve killed, you’re not fit to be my friend? You can still change Eris; you can stop all of this. You were different when we first met. You used to smile Eris and you never used to sit around brooding over what happened to you in the past. Can you bring that Eris back?” She shook her head slowly and said, “It’s a sickness Liam; a sickness that I harbor in my head. I’m twisted and I can kill you just as easily as everyone else. We can’t meet anymore. If you come after me, I’ll kill you.” Liam stared after her, unable to bring his words forward while she walked away, before he chased after her glimpsing the sun dipping below the Hudson River. Darkness overtook the city and Liam searched, knowing he had put himself in a treacherous situation. A bone-chilling scream echoed through the air and he sprinted in its
direction, determined to save Eris from herself. He caught her brandishing the knife over a struggling woman that screamed pitifully, despite knowing nobody would hear her. “Eris stop this!” Liam felt himself scream. She dropped the knife and turned to look at him, her eyes glinting deep red. “I told you to stay away,” she warned, grabbing the knife and facing him. The woman managed to flee during the distraction. Liam faced Eris with a sigh. “You won’t hurt me. You’ll drop the knife and we’ll put you where you can’t hurt anyone else,” he told her softly, holding out a hand. She shakily reached out to him before collapsing onto the ground and then glaring up at him with murder in her eyes. “They’re telling me to do it,” she whispered. “They’re telling me to kill you.” Liam stared at her in surprise as she convulsed in pain. “Eris, you have to fight it,” Liam murmured, releasing a shaky sigh. “You have to fight back.” She shakily got to her feet and jabbed at him with the knife. He narrowly dodged it before she fell again. “You listen to me and you fight back Daltroy!” he roared. Eris screamed in pain as she dug the knife into her hand, grinding her teeth as she struggled to stop herself. She glanced at Liam, her irises a deep red before they flickered and she dropped the bloodied knife before looking up at him, a tear rolling down her cheek. Liam sighed and then took her to the station and turned her in. The killings ended and Eris was sentenced to live out her life in prison to be lived out in Bellevue, getting Psychiatric help from a doctor. Liam went to see her every day he could, entertaining her with news of the outside world and hearing about life in the Mental Institution. She was slowly returning to her old self and opening up about her past. How her parents had been murdered, growing up in an
orphanage, hating the world, and other things were common. As spring rolled around Liam found himself walking by a familiar old playground. The swings were in shambles, one hanging limply on one chain, the other, covered in dirt and on the ground. Liam found himself smile as he walked over to the swings and picked up the one resting on the ground. He felt his hands wrap the chains around the seat and slip it into his backpack before he walked himself home, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders.
Ahana Kowdley Grim Draft “Yo, Grim! Let’s get this done and head back to the Academy!” Rowan shouted with an annoyed roll of his eyes, lightly touching the end of his scythe to a woman frozen in time, her bloodied arm hanging limply to one side and her head snapping back. A glowing orb released itself from the woman’s chest and Rowan quickly sliced through it with the sharp side of his scythe. “Yeah, yeah,” I said with a growl in my voice as I sliced through three of the glowing orbs with one swing. “You know Corvus, you’re a huge pain in the auritulus.” “Same to you, you canis,” he retorted. I felt myself gasp in shock and then proceeded to swing my scythe straight at his head. He groaned as he narrowly avoided the attack and sirens began to go off around them. “Dammit Grim, we failed again.” We young Reapers were immediately transported back to the Reaper training headquarters and reluctantly prepared for another harsh yelling. Daena, the headquarters supervisor came over with a plethora of creases etched into her forehead. “Grim, Corvus, this is the fourth time this week that you’ve failed to pass the qualifying stage of Reaper field training!” she roared furiously, glaring expectantly at us. “I’m sorry Sir,” Rowan drawled sarcastically, “Raina always has an innate reflex to kill me apparently.” Daena raised an eyebrow when she looked at me. I turned a burning glare onto Rowan and pursed my lips. “Snitch,” I grumbled under my breath. “I’m so sorry that Rowan is a moron.” Daena released a frustrated sigh and then pointed at the Disciplinary Office. Rowan and I groaned and trudged off towards the office before sitting down in front of Disciplinary Minister Arca’s desk. He glared down at us through his glasses and then released an annoyed huff. “Back in here again are you?” We nodded slowly without replies. “You both were at the top of your class last year, yet you are the only pair that hasn’t passed the field test.” “It’s all Grime’s fault,” Rowan hissed, pointing at me with a roll of his eyes. “She keeps going ballistic and trying to kill me.” “Says the guy that cut off my ring finger!” I snapped, holding up my healing finger, and current stump of its former self. It had been growing back courtesy of Reaper healing magic. He scoffed and my scythe burned before extended from its ovular rock form into its full form. “I’ll take you on culus. Try me.” His eyes almost popped when he heard my crude language before he also drew his scythe. “Not in my office!” Arca roared, slamming his meaty fists down on his desk. Our scythes returned to their useless ovular rock forms and Rowan and I swallowed hard. “You both are absolutely incorrigible! Until you learn to respect each other out in the field you are suspended from all Reaping activities and you will not be permitted to partake in field training!” “But Sir-!” We began to protest before we were teleported back to the Academy. Rowan glared angrily at me from his bed. I proceeded to ignore it and put on my headphones before beginning to do homework for Demonology class. He began to toss balled up pieces of paper at me while I tried to ignore it to the best of my ability. One hit my face and I glared daggers at him while he challenged me to try something. “Well Grim, it looks like we’re probationary students for another year.”
I shook my head, clearly annoyed, and muttered, “I still hate this stupid Reaper Academy for assigning you of all people as my partner.” He clicked his tongue condescendingly. “Now, now, that’s not very nice, now is it?” I swallowed hard, my eyes narrowing more. “Don’t push it Rowan,” I growled threateningly with a glare. “It’s all your fault that I haven’t been able to keep my focus long enough to pass the stupid field training test.” He glared at me with an annoyed expression and I rolled my eyes. "Idiot," I hissed. ------- Rowan ------“How is it my fault?! You’re the one that keeps going bezerk and tries to cut off my head just because I tell you that we’re running out of time!” I felt myself protest, glaring at her accusingly. “I rush you because we have to go and harvest almost 3,200 souls in thirty minutes!” She rolled her eyes and murmured, “Only about one hundred and seven people die every minute Rowan.” “Raina one hundred and seven times thirty is about 3210,” I sighed, “We have to collect almost one hundred and seven souls a minute and that, you know, is almost impossible.” “Says the person that collects one damn soul at a time. Why don’t you just do multiples?” I rolled my eyes, clearly angering Raina, and then grumbled, “I would, but every time we get to a scene of death, you end up going straight to the people all grouped together. I’m always stuck with the single people.” She pursed her lips and I sighed. “I just want to pass the stupid field test.” The bell sounded, a deep clang of the church bell at the top of the school. Raina stood and reluctantly held a hand out to me. “Lunch time.” I stared at her hand and took it with a frustrated sigh before following her down to the Main Hall for lunch with our classmates. She took a seat at the table and a floating plate of food placed itself in front of her. I stretched out a hand gently petted the Church Grim Rufus' head as it set down his food and rushed away. “Another day, another meal, right?” She nodded in agreement before tucking into her exotic Messorem Academy meal. After a delicious meal of who knew what, I stood and then looked at Raina with an amused smile. She stared at me expectantly before I murmured, “Let’s go convince Arca to let us take the test again” She raised an eyebrow, knowing full well how strict the Minister was. “I don’t think that’s a good idea Rowan.” I shook my head stubbornly, determined to pass the training test. Raina sighed before my scythe stone burned in my hand and expanded. I smirked and then slashed a hole in the air in front of them. “After you.” I shook my head and she groaned and touched the hole, disappearing before I followed with a roll of my eyes. We appeared in the Disciplinary Minister’s office and he looked at us in surprise, jumping slightly. “Grim, Corvus, I thought that I said that you both are suspended from field activities.” “Give us one more chance for the day, Arca. Please?” Raina begged with teary eyes. I almost burst into laughter, knowing full well that she was just putting on a show. He sighed and then waved his hand. We were set down in the middle of a death scene and Raina checked the timer on her scythe. “Thirty minutes.” I grinned and immediately went to work, checking the soul count for the two on my scythe every few minutes. After a solid twenty minutes of not speaking to each other, Raina
raised her voice timidly. “Rowan, what is this?” I sliced through five souls before turning and looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She pointed at a frozen shadowy figure and I walked over slowly. I felt my stare lock onto it in confusion and curiosity. “It looks like its not dead,” I murmured, poking it uncertainly with a finger. “I have no idea what it is.” Raina held up her scythe and spoke. “This is Grim-Corvus field team. Please send recon to this scene immediately. Seconds later a tall, hooded figure appeared and stared at the shadowy figure. “This looks like an F.A.,” he stated with a confused expression. “Why is there an F.A. out here?” “Why is it in that stance?” I quietly asked with a frown. “It looks like it just-” “It killed these people,” Raina said with a shocked expression. “This Fallen Angel killed everyone that’s here.” A buzzer went off and we all jumped as my scythe began glowing, singeing my hand. “Grim-Corvus team has passed the field training test. Attempt 1126. Congratulations team,” a booming voice praised before we crashed down in Minister Arca’s office. I scrambled to my feet and frantically spilled out, “Minister Arca, there was something wrong in the last harvesting setting. There was an F.A. present, and we think that he or she purposely killed those people.” He laughed good-naturedly. “Well of course it killed them on purpose. That’s what they do!” “No, no,” Raina countered quickly. “Sir, this F.A., whoever he or she is, killed those people. They didn’t harvest the soul, they killed them.” The smile dropped immediately off of his face and he murmured, “Well that’s different.” We both nodded frantically and he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why is it always a Grim?” he hissed under his breath. He made a phone call, keeping his voice low enough for me and Raina to not pick up on what he was saying. He eventually put down the phone and then stared pointedly at the two of us. “Is there something that you can tell us?” I blurted out before slapping my hands over my mouth. Arca sighed and then murmured, “You both are being sent straight out into the field. I’d hoped that I would never have to do this to any new Reapers, but this Fallen Angel is at the equivalent level of an Archdemon. We need every recruit we can get to track it down before it can do anymore harm.” “Out of curiosity, how long has this been going on?” Raina questioned with a raised eyebrow. Arca looked at her in surprise, his expression saying ‘How on Earth does this delinquent know that this has been going on prior to this?’. “Come on, you wouldn’t say that the F.A. was at the equivalent level of an Archdemon if you hadn’t known about it before.” He sighed in defeat and I raised my eyebrow with an obviously impressed expression. Arca sighed and nodded in defeat before saying, “It’s been happening on and off for several months. We don’t know who it is or why it insists on hurting people, but whatever its reasoning is, almost four hundred people have fallen victim.” “What did you mean when you asked ‘Why it it always a Grim?’” I interrogated, standing up and pointing Arca’s lamp into the Minister’s eyes.
Arca growled, “I’ll thank you not to manhandle my lamp Mister Corvus. This knowledge is on a need-to-know basis only.” I sighed in defeat and yanked Raina to her feet before slicing the air and jumping through the tear. “Rowan, we’re going to be put on probation again,” Raina sighed with a roll of her eyes. “That being said, let’s go F.A. hunting.” I grinned and nodded with a smirk before whispering to my scythe and tearing a rip in the space in front of us. “Ladies first,” I said with a raised eyebrow and a grin before Raina hurled herself at the rip and we entered a surrounding blackness.
Ahana Kowdley Grim Revision “Yo, Grim! Let’s get this done and head back to the Academy!” Rowan shouted with an annoyed roll of his eyes, lightly touching the end of his scythe to a woman frozen in time, her bloodied arm hanging limply to one side and her head snapping back. A glowing orb released from the woman’s chest and Rowan sliced through it with the sharp side of his scythe. “Yeah, yeah,” I said with a growl in my voice as I sliced through three of the glowing orbs with one swing. “You know Corvus, you’re a huge pain in the auritulus.” “Same to you, you canis,” he retorted. I felt myself gasp in shock and then proceeded to swing my scythe straight at his head. He groaned as he narrowly avoided the attack and sirens began to go off around them. “Dammit Grim, we failed again.” We young Reapers were transported back to the Reaper training headquarters and prepared for another harsh yelling. Daena, the headquarters supervisor came over with a plethora of creases etched into her forehead. “Grim, Corvus, this is the fourth time this week that you’ve failed to pass the qualifying stage of Reaper field training!” she roared, glaring expectantly at us. “I’m sorry Sir,” Rowan drawled sarcastically, “Raina always has an innate reflex to kill me apparently.” Daena raised an eyebrow when she looked at me. I turned a burning glare onto Rowan and pursed my lips. “Snitch,” I grumbled under my breath. “I’m so sorry that Rowan is a moron.” Daena released a sigh and then pointed at the Disciplinary Office. Rowan and I groaned and trudged off towards the office before sitting down in front of Disciplinary Minister Arca’s desk. He glared down at us through his glasses and then released an annoyed huff. “Back in here again are you?” We nodded slowly without replies. “You both were at the top of your class last year, yet you are the only pair that hasn’t passed the field test.” “It’s all Grime’s fault,” Rowan hissed, pointing at me with a roll of his eyes. “She keeps going ballistic and trying to kill me.” “Says the guy that cut off my ring finger!” I snapped, holding up my healing finger, a stump of its former self. It had been growing back courtesy of Reaper healing magic. He scoffed and my scythe burned before extending from its ovular rock form into its full form. “I’ll take you on culus. Try me.” His eyes almost popped when he heard my crude language before he also drew his scythe. “Not in my office!” Arca roared, slamming his meaty fists down on his desk. Our scythes returned to their useless ovular rock forms and Rowan and I swallowed hard. “You both are absolutely incorrigible! Until you learn to respect each other out in the field you are suspended from Reaping activities and you will not be permitted to partake in field training!” “But Sir-!” We began to protest before we were teleported back to the Academy. Rowan glared angrily at me from his bed. I proceeded to ignore him and put on my headphones before beginning to do homework for Demonology class. He began to toss balled up pieces of paper at me while I tried to ignore it to the best of my ability. One hit my face and I glared daggers at him while he challenged me to try something. “Well Grim, it looks like we’re probationary students for another year.” I shook my head, clearly annoyed, and muttered, “I still hate this stupid Reaper Academy for assigning you of all people as my partner.” He clicked his tongue condescendingly. “Now, now, that’s not very nice, now is it?”
I swallowed hard, my eyes narrowing more. “Don’t push it Rowan,” I growled with a glare. “It’s all your fault that I haven’t been able to keep my focus long enough to pass the stupid field training test.” He glared at me with an annoyed expression and I rolled my eyes. "Idiot," I hissed. ------- Rowan ------“How is it my fault?! You’re the one that keeps going bezerk and tries to cut off my head just because I tell you that we’re running out of time!” I felt myself protest, glaring at her accusingly. “I rush you because we have to go and harvest almost 3,200 souls in thirty minutes!” She rolled her eyes and murmured, “Only about one hundred and seven people die every minute Rowan.” “Raina one hundred and seven times thirty is about 3210,” I sighed, “We have to collect almost one hundred and seven souls a minute and that, you know, is almost impossible.” “Says the person that collects one damn soul at a time. Why don’t you just do multiples?” I rolled my eyes, clearly angering Raina, and then grumbled, “I would, but every time we get to a scene of death, you end up going straight to the people all grouped together. I’m always stuck with the single people.” She pursed her lips and I sighed. “I just want to pass the stupid field test.” The deep clang of the church bell at the top of the school sounded. Raina stood and reluctantly held a hand out to me. “Lunch time.” I stared at her hand and took it with a frustrated sigh before following her to the Main Hall for lunch with our classmates. She took a seat at the table and a floating plate of food placed itself in front of her. I stretched out a hand gently petted the Church Grim Rufus' head as it set down my food and rushed away. “Another day, another meal, right?” She nodded in agreement before tucking into her exotic Messorem Academy meal. After a delicious meal of who knew what, I stood and then looked at Raina with an amused smile. She stared at me expectantly before I murmured, “Let’s go convince Arca to let us take the test again” She raised an eyebrow, knowing how strict the Minister was. “I don’t think that’s a good idea Rowan.” I shook my head stubbornly, determined to pass the training test. Raina sighed before my scythe stone burned in my hand and expanded. I smirked and then slashed a hole in the air in front of them. “After you.” I shook my head and she groaned and touched the hole, disappearing before I followed with a roll of my eyes. We appeared in the Disciplinary Minister’s office and he looked at us in surprise, jumping slightly. “Grim, Corvus, I thought that I said that you both are suspended from field activities.” “Give us one more chance for the day, Arca. Please?” Raina begged with teary eyes. I almost burst into laughter, knowing full well that she was just putting on a show. He sighed and then waved his hand. We were set down in the middle of a death scene and Raina checked the timer on her scythe. “Thirty minutes.” I grinned and went to work, checking the soul count for the two on my scythe every few minutes. After a solid twenty minutes of not speaking to each other, Raina raised her voice timidly. “Rowan, what is this?” I sliced through five souls before turning and looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She pointed at a frozen shadowy figure and I walked over slowly. I felt my stare lock onto it in confusion and curiosity.
“It looks like it’s not dead,” I murmured, poking it uncertainly with a finger. “I have no idea what it is.” Raina held up her scythe and spoke. “This is Grim-Corvus field team. Please send recon to this scene immediately. Seconds later a tall, hooded figure appeared and stared at the shadowy figure. “This looks like an F.A.,” he stated with a confused expression. “Why is there an F.A. out here?” “Why is it in that stance?” I quietly asked with a frown. “It looks like it just-” “It killed these people,” Raina said with a shocked expression. “This Fallen Angel killed everyone that’s here.” A buzzer went off and we all jumped as my scythe began glowing, singeing my hand. “Grim-Corvus team has passed the field training test. Attempt 1126. Congratulations team,” a booming voice praised before we crashed down in Minister Arca’s office. I scrambled to my feet and frantically spilled out, “Minister Arca, there was something wrong in the last harvesting setting. There was an F.A. present, and we think that he or she purposely killed those people.” He laughed good-naturedly. “Well of course it killed them on purpose. That’s what they do!” “No, no,” Raina countered quickly. “Sir, this F.A., whoever he or she is, killed those people. They didn’t harvest the soul, they killed them.” The smile dropped immediately off of his face and he murmured, “Well that’s different.” We both nodded frantically and he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why is it always a Grim?” he hissed under his breath. He made a phone call, keeping his voice low enough for me and Raina to not pick up on what he was saying. He eventually put down the phone and then stared pointedly at the two of us. “Is there something that you can tell us?” I blurted out before slapping my hands over my mouth. Arca sighed and then murmured, “You both are being sent straight out into the field. I’d hoped that I would never have to do this to any new Reapers, but this Fallen Angel is at the equivalent level of an Archdemon. We need every recruit we can get to track it down before it can do anymore harm.” “Out of curiosity, how long has this been going on?” Raina questioned with a raised eyebrow. Arca looked at her in surprise, his expression saying ‘How on Earth does this delinquent know that this has been going on prior to this?’. “Come on, you wouldn’t say that the F.A. was at the equivalent level of an Archdemon if you hadn’t known about it before.” He sighed in defeat and I raised my eyebrow with an obviously impressed expression. Arca sighed and nodded in defeat before saying, “It’s been happening on and off for several months. We don’t know who it is or why it insists on hurting people, but whatever its reasoning is, almost four hundred people have fallen victim.” “What did you mean when you asked ‘Why it it always a Grim?’” I interrogated, standing up and pointing Arca’s lamp into the Minister’s eyes. Arca growled, “I’ll thank you not to manhandle my lamp Mister Corvus. This knowledge is on a need-to-know basis only.” I sighed in defeat and yanked Raina to her feet before slicing the air and jumping through the tear.
“Rowan, we’re going to be put on probation again,” Raina sighed with a roll of her eyes. “That being said, let’s go F.A. hunting.” I grinned and nodded with a smirk before whispering to my scythe and tearing a rip in the space in front of us. “Ladies first,” I said with a raised eyebrow and a grin before Raina hurled herself at the rip and we entered a surrounding blackness.
Ahana Kowdley Close Encounters Draft I drifted into my home, drowsy from another night of hard clubbing and dancing with my friends. I felt my legs carry me down the stairs into the basement and set me down on my bed. The eerie first rays of sunlight were starting to show themselves and I yawned, ready for a wonderful slumber. As I set my head down and shut my eyes, my phone blasted out in its iPhone default ringtone and I groaned and held it up to my ear. “Hello?” I listened to the voice drone a greeting before delivering horrifying news. “My brother has been what?” I murmured in a raspy voice, filling with dread before waiting for the voice’s reply and then slamming my phone down and rushing up to my parents’ room. “Mom, dad, Arjun was beaten up and mugged! He’s in the hospital!” I yelled, bursting into their room. They asked for clarification and my mother burst into tears while my father hurriedly pulled on his coat and rushed out of the house. My legs were turning into jelly as I imagined Arjun beaten up and injured in some dark DC alley before taking a deep breath and sitting down. My eyes began stinging and my vision blurred while I listened to the haunting sounds of my mother’s wails. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I watched as a rugged, handsome young man walked past me, stumbling slightly on the street. I stared at his well-dressed person and then started after him, eager to gain at least something useful after a long night of fighting with my girlfriend. The man walked ahead of me, too woozy to realize that he was being followed. He had just walked out of a club and was obviously exhausted, heading towards the train station that was nearby. As he turned down an alley, I noticed a metal pole, most likely from some discarded from some family’s failed swing set project. My hand wrapped around the pole and I trailed closely behind the man before pulling out my gun. “Hey!” He whirled around at my shout and immediately put his hands up and collapsed onto his knees. “Give me all of your money!” I roared, holding the gun and pointing it at him threateningly. “I don’t have anything you’d want,” he replied calmly. I glimpsed a lump in his back pocket and then cracked the pole against his back. He fell with a groan and I gave him another, lighter bash to the head to make sure that he stayed down. There was a thin trail of blood leaking from his head and I slipped my hand into his back pocket before grasping his wallet and making a run for it. The man was still on the ground, slumped over unhealthily. I opened up his wallet and found only store cards, an ID, and a driver’s license. He had been right. There was nothing that I needed, nor wanted in his wallet.
Ahana Kowdley Close Encounters Revision I drifted into my home, drowsy from another night of hard clubbing and dancing with my friends. I felt my legs carry me down the stairs into the basement and set me down on my bed. The eerie first rays of sunlight were starting to show themselves and I yawned, ready for a nice slumber. As I set my head down and shut my eyes, my phone blasted out in its default ringtone and I groaned and held it up to my ear. “Hello?” I listened to the voice drone a greeting before delivering horrifying news. “My brother has been what?” I murmured in a raspy voice, filling with dread before waiting for the voice’s reply and then slamming my phone down and rushing up to my parents’ room. “Mom, dad, Arjun was beaten up and mugged! He’s in the hospital!” I yelled, bursting into their room. They asked for clarification and my mother’s eyes began to water while my father hurriedly pulled on his coat and rushed out of the house. My legs were turning into jelly as I imagined Arjun beaten up and injured in some dark DC alley before taking a deep breath and sitting down. My eyes began stinging and my vision blurred while I listened to the haunting sounds of my mother’s wails. My mind flashed back to all of my memories with Arjun as a kid. Sure, he had always been a pain, but he had always been a fantastic older brother. I grabbed my car keys and stood up before rushing out after my dad, my mother calling weakly after me before rushing to the car as well. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I watched as a rugged, handsome young man walked past me, stumbling slightly on the street. I stared at his well-dressed person and then started after him, eager to gain at least something useful after a long night of fighting with my girlfriend. The man walked ahead of me, too woozy to realize that he was being followed. He had just walked out of a club and was obviously exhausted, heading towards the train station that was nearby. As he turned down an alley, I noticed a metal pole, most likely from some discarded from some family’s failed swing set project. My hand wrapped around the pole and I trailed closely behind the man before pulling out my gun. “Hey!” He whirled around at my shout and immediately put his hands up and collapsed onto his knees. “Give me all of your money!” I roared, holding the gun and pointing it at him threateningly. “I don’t have anything you’d want,” he replied calmly. I glimpsed a lump in his back pocket and then cracked the pole against his back. He fell with a groan and I gave him another, lighter bash to the head to make sure that he stayed down. There was a thin trail of blood leaking from his head and I slipped my hand into his back pocket before grasping his wallet and making a run for it. The man was still on the ground, slumped over. I opened up his wallet and found store cards, an ID, and a driver’s license. He had been right. There was nothing I needed nor wanted in his wallet.
Ahana Kowdley Mister and Missus Workaholic Draft It was just another mundane morning. In the heart of Baltimore, people were getting their coffee, picking up the newspapers for a quick read, and rushing out of their homes for work. Nothing seemed out of place or strange as people bustled back and forth through the streets. In the polished and clean lobby of an office building, three people hurried into an elevator. One, a woman with the marketing department, her Auburn hair sporting thin streaks of grey while she grasped a stack of papers to her chest. Another, was a man, fairly new to the company, sipping on a piping hot cup of Joe and almost cursing when he burned his tongue. He still had that fresh twinkle in his blue eyes, the symbol of someone who hadn't yet experienced what the world had to offer. The third, was a haughty man with a crisp navy suit and an air of superiority about him. He ran a hand through his slicked back brown hair, hardly sparing the other two employees a glance. The woman pressed the button for the tenth floor, the marketing department. The young man reached out awkwardly, attempting to keep his full arms from dropping everything. He pressed the button for the twelfth floor, the office employees’ floor. The man with slicked back hair huffed and reached for the button for the executives’ floor, the fifteenth. With that, the elevator was off. The whooshing in the elevator shaft threw the three people off guard. It wasn't the normal sound that came with the sound of gears moving, cables running against each other, and the subtle beep when the floors changed. The elevator jerked to a halt and the young man's eyes widened. "Did we just break down?" The woman frantically pressed the button for the twelfth floor and then groaned in defeat. "The elevator is broken. How am I supposed to keep my job if I can't work today?" The older man reached for the emergency phone and held it up to his ear. "Hello, this is Baxter Marx. The elevator seems to have broken down around the sixth floor. Could you please get maintenance on this? I'm a very busy man." With that, he replaced the phone and then leaned against the old wall. It squeaked in protest against his weight and he rolled his eyes. The light scent from the dirty carpet was quickly filling the space, mixing with the woman’s cheap perfume. “How long until they fix the elevator?” the young man asked with a sigh. Baxter Marx raised an eyebrow at the man, taken aback by his direct attitude towards a senior. “They said anywhere from and hour to several hours.” The woman placed her stack of papers on the ground and dug a pen out of her purse before sitting down in her black slacks and beginning to read through her work. The young man looked down at her and then raised an eyebrow with disdain. “We’re stuck in an elevator and you’re working? Geez, you higher-ups are really sticklers when it comes to cracking down on productivity,” he murmured with a roll of his blue eyes. Baxter looked at the man and then asked, “And you are?” He held out a hand with a friendly grin and said, “Colin Stevens; I’m new to the company.” “Charmed,” Baxter drawled, taking his hand with a frown. “And you ma’am?”
She looked up and Baxter couldn’t help but notice her reflection in the elevator mirrors. The woman stood up quickly, bumping her head on the dented metal banisters around the small elevator. The fan suddenly switched on and the three jumped in surprise. “Uh- Katherine Murphy, Sir. I’m head of the marketing department.” Baxter smiled slightly and Katherine swallowed hard. “So, you’re Mister Marx?” Colin suddenly asked, glancing at his smart phone screen. “Aren’t you the head of IP?” “You are correct, I am the head of IP,” Baxter agreed with a nod. His watch beeped and he stared at the handsome Rolex face and then murmured, “And now I’m late for a meeting.” Colin groaned and then grumbled, “Of all the people to be stuck in an elevator with it had to be Mister and Missus Workaholic, didn’t it? I would’ve loved to be stuck in this elevator with that cute girl Amy up in the patent office.” “I would have much rather been in this elevator with the corporate head, Mister Yancy,” Baxter sighed with annoyance. Katherine remained silent, obviously somewhat annoyed with both men. Baxter sighed and seated himself on the ground, pulling his laptop out of his Testoni briefcase before checking through his emails and replying to his executive emails. Colin groaned inwardly and seated himself on the disgusting, trampled carpet before playing Candy Crush on his cellphone. The noise hammered around in the small, cramped space. The stench of hundreds upon thousands of feet rose up into the air and Katherine suddenly retched before staring at the two men in discomfort. Baxter held out a handkerchief and she accepted it with a grateful smile. “Hey, that’s the nicest thing you’ve done since you got into this elevator,” Colin commented, raising a snicker from Katherine. “Anyway, how old are you two anyway?” They looked at him in shock and he cleared his throat and said, “I mean I want to get up to your level one day- so how old are you?” Katherine cleared her throat and replied, “Thirty-two. I’ve been at Legg Mason for almost a decade.” Colin gave an impressed whistle and then nodded with a chuckle. Baxter sighed and then felt his hands shaking before releasing a deep breath. “I’ve been at Legg Mason for almost fifteen years and I’m honestly tired. I’m almost forty-five and I’ve got a sixteen year old son that doesn’t even call me ‘dad’.” Katherine looked at him in surprise. “You have a son, Sir?” “And he hates me like he hates confusing teenage girls,” Baxter agreed with a nod. “I work all the time, so we haven’t ever really had the chance to bond with him.” “Yeah, that’s because you higher-ups put work above everything else,” Colin muttered with a groan. Baxter glared at him and Colin apologized frantically as he stood up and loomed threateningly over him. “Don’t you ever badmouth your superiors,” Baxter growled. “Y-Yes Sir,” Colin stammered as Baxter burst into laughter. “You should have seen the look on your face, Stevens! You looked like you were going to pee yourself!” Katherine’s mouth fell open as she watched her senior laughing until his face was bright red. Soon, all three of the workers were laughing and chatting happily, blatantly neglecting their work that lay scattered around on the floor. Colin reached into his satchel and pulled out a bottle of soda, passing it around to Baxter and Katherine. Katherine, for the first time in years, wandered out of her shell and was truly enjoying being around other people. Colin finally dropped his belief that higher-ups were stuck up, annoying preps. Baxter… well, he finally gained respect for the workers under him. They all
shared a true bond, barely remembering that they were in an elevator, until it jerked awake and went up to the tenth floor. Katherine stood up quickly and bustled out of the elevator, her face bright red. The doors closed and she receded back to her introverted self. Colin got out on the twelfth floor and immediately rushed out, greeted energetically by his coworkers. He glanced back at Baxter, already back to his overbearing powerful self. He sighed and then went back into his rookie worker mode. Baxter retreated up to the fifteenth floor, joining his executive friends and returning to his complacent self. He answered his phone and listened to his wife yelling at him about how his son had disappeared out of anger and Baxter sighed before calling his mother and reentering the elevator to go find his son.
Ahana Kowdley Mister and Missus Workaholic Revision It was another mundane morning. In the heart of Baltimore, people were getting coffee, picking up the newspapers for a quick read, and rushing out of their homes for work. Nothing seemed out of place or strange as people bustled back and forth through the streets. In the polished and clean lobby of an office building, three people hurried into an elevator. One, a woman with the marketing department, her auburn hair sporting thin streaks of grey while she grasped a stack of papers to her chest. Another, was a man, fairly new to the company, sipping on a piping hot cup of Joe and almost cursing when he burned his tongue. He still had that fresh twinkle in his blue eyes, the symbol of someone who hadn't yet experienced what the world had to offer. The third, was a haughty man with a crisp navy suit and an air of superiority about him. He ran a hand through his slicked back brown hair, hardly sparing the other two employees a glance. The woman pressed the button for the tenth floor, the marketing department. The young man reached out awkwardly, attempting to keep his full arms from dropping everything. He pressed the button for the twelfth floor, the office employees floor. The man with slicked back hair huffed and reached for the button for the executives floor, the fifteenth. With that, the elevator was off. The whooshing in the elevator shaft threw the three people off guard. It wasn't the normal sound that came with the sound of gears moving, cables running against each other, and the subtle beep when the floors changed. The elevator jerked to a halt and the young man's eyes widened. "Did we just break down?" The woman frantically pressed the button for the twelfth floor and groaned in defeat. "The elevator is broken. How am I supposed to keep my job if I can't work today?" The older man reached for the emergency phone and held it up to his ear. "Hello, this is Baxter Marx. The elevator seems to have broken down around the sixth floor. Could you please get maintenance on this? I'm a very busy man." With that, he replaced the phone and leaned against the old wall. It squeaked in protest against his weight and he rolled his eyes. The light scent from the dirty carpet was quickly filling the space, mixing with the woman’s cheap perfume. “How long until they fix the elevator?” the young man asked with a sigh. Baxter Marx raised an eyebrow at the man, taken aback by his direct attitude towards a senior. “They said anywhere from and hour to several hours.” The woman placed her stack of papers on the ground and dug a pen out of her purse before sitting down in her black slacks and beginning to read through her work. The young man looked down at her and then raised an eyebrow with disdain. “We’re stuck in an elevator and you’re working? Geez, you higher-ups are really sticklers when it comes to cracking down on productivity,” he murmured with a roll of his blue eyes. Baxter looked at the man and then asked, “And you are?” He held out a hand with a friendly grin and said, “Colin Stevens; I’m new to the company.” “Charmed,” Baxter drawled, taking his hand with a frown. “And you ma’am?”
She looked up and Baxter couldn’t help but notice her reflection in the elevator mirrors. The woman stood up quickly, bumping her head on the dented metal banisters around the small elevator. The fan suddenly switched on and the three jumped in surprise. “Uh- Katherine Murphy, Sir. I’m head of the marketing department.” Baxter smiled slightly and Katherine swallowed hard. “So, you’re Mister Marx?” Colin suddenly asked, glancing at his smart phone screen. “Aren’t you the head of IP?” “You are correct, I am the head of IP,” Baxter agreed with a nod. His watch beeped and he stared at the handsome Rolex face and then murmured, “And now I’m late for a meeting.” Colin groaned and then grumbled, “Of all the people to be stuck in an elevator with it had to be Mister and Missus Workaholic, didn’t it? I would’ve loved to be stuck in this elevator with that cute girl Amy up in the patent office.” “I would have much rather been in this elevator with the corporate head, Mister Yancy,” Baxter sighed with annoyance. Katherine remained silent, obviously somewhat annoyed with both men. Baxter sighed and seated himself on the ground, pulling his laptop out of his Testoni briefcase before checking through his emails and replying to his executive emails. Colin groaned inwardly and seated himself on the disgusting, trampled carpet before playing Candy Crush on his cellphone. The noise hammered around in the small, cramped space. The stench of hundreds upon thousands of feet rose up into the air and Katherine suddenly retched before staring at the two men in discomfort. Baxter held out a handkerchief and she accepted it with a grateful smile. “Hey, that’s the nicest thing you’ve done since you got into this elevator,” Colin commented, raising a snicker from Katherine. “Anyway, how old are you two anyway?” They looked at him in shock and he cleared his throat and said, “I mean I want to get up to your level one day- so how old are you?” Katherine cleared her throat and replied, “Thirty-two. I’ve been at Legg Mason for almost a decade.” Colin gave an impressed whistle and then nodded with a chuckle. Baxter sighed and then felt his hands shaking before releasing a deep breath. “I’ve been at Legg Mason for almost fifteen years and I’m honestly tired. I’m almost forty-five and I’ve got a sixteen year old son that doesn’t even call me ‘dad’.” Katherine looked at him in surprise. “You have a son, Sir?” “And he hates me like he hates confusing teenage girls,” Baxter agreed with a nod. “I work all the time, so we haven’t ever really had the chance to bond with him.” “Yeah, that’s because you higher-ups put work above everything else,” Colin muttered with a groan. Baxter glared at him and Colin apologized frantically as he stood up and loomed threateningly over him. “Don’t you ever badmouth your superiors,” Baxter growled. “Y-Yes Sir,” Colin stammered as Baxter burst into laughter. “You should have seen the look on your face, Stevens! You looked like you were going to pee yourself!” Katherine’s mouth fell open as she watched her senior laughing until his face was bright red. Soon, all three of the workers were laughing and chatting happily, blatantly neglecting their work that lay scattered around on the floor. Colin reached into his satchel and pulled out a bottle of soda, passing it around to Baxter and Katherine. Katherine, for the first time in years, wandered out of her shell and was truly enjoying being around other people. Colin finally dropped his belief that higher-ups were stuck up, annoying preps. Baxter… well, he finally gained respect for the workers under him. They all
shared a true bond, barely remembering that they were in an elevator, until it jerked awake and went up to the tenth floor. Katherine stood up quickly and bustled out of the elevator, her face bright red. The doors closed and she receded back to her introverted self. Colin got out on the twelfth floor and immediately rushed out, greeted energetically by his coworkers. He glanced back at Baxter, already back to his overbearing powerful self. He sighed and then went back into rookie worker mode. Baxter retreated up to the fifteenth floor, joining his executive friends and returning to his complacent self. He answered his phone and listened to his wife yelling at him about how his son had disappeared out of anger and Baxter sighed before calling his mother and reentering the elevator to go find his son.