January 2014

s: er rit

tW igh

Midnight Writers i dn M

January 2014

se ea Pl

Do

t rin

tP

No

i dn M

Table of Contents

Cover:

“Golden Lights,” a photograph by Khu- Page 12: “Winter Chibi,” an illustration by W1tchHunter64 shana Chaudhri

This Page: “Unfinished Lisa,” an illustration by Suzy-chan

“Snowy Morning,” a short story by BAD WOLF “Dashing Through the Snow,” a photograph by Andromeda

igh

Page 13:

Page 3:

“The Last President,” a short story by Poseidon “Miyazaki’s Clock,” a photograph by Suzy-chan

Ask Aphro & Dite

Page 14:

A descendent of the god of darkness struggles with an embarrassing phobia “My Pencil and I,” a poem by Vivan Griselda  A high-functioning sociopath seeks advice for his return “Spirit,” a photograph by Japanda3 Calypso’s Island “The Game is On,” a poem by The Owlish Bookworm  The new Lady of the Underworld weighs snow’s wonders and nuisances “The Ocean’s Child,” a short story by Calypso Echo’s Echo  The talkative nymph interviews a lone snow patch 

tW

rit

Page 16:

“The Ocean’s Child,” continued “Rin and Cas,” an illustration by Hecate

er

Page 4:

Page 15:

Page 5:

s:

“Where the Rainbow Ends,” a photograph by Aries “Bridge to Creativity,” a short story by Glittercheese

Page 6:

‘Tale of Two Sisters: Part Two,” a short story by Nemesis “Raindrop’s View,” a photograph by Andromeda “Equal,” a poem by Luna Moon Sparkles “What Am I?” a poem by Oceana “Landing,” a photograph by Suzy-chan “In the Darkness,” a poem by Exodus “Winter’s Mystery,” a photograph by Andromeda “A Dark Heart,” a poem by Daisuki

Page 9:

“Inferno’s Kitchen: Demon of Wrath: Fantastic Hell-mobile,” a short story by Janus

Page 11:

t rin

“Snowy Seclusion,” a photograph by Artemis “Hearthside Welcome,” a photograph by Artemis “Locking Silence,” a poem by Zenyatta

tP

Page 10:

No

“Beyond the Fence,” a photograph by Andromeda “Caspian’s Corner,” our resident Telmarine on Frozen and My Cousin Vinny

Do

Page 8:

se

Page 7:

ea

Pl

“Life of Trauma: Part Four,” a short story by Apollo “Hikikomori,” a photograph by Suzy-chan “Kyoto Eki,” a photograph by Suzy-chan

midnightwriters.webs.com midnightwriters2014@gmail.com

igh

i dn M tW

Ask Aphro & Dite

Calypso’s Island

I’ve never been a big fan of winter. My apologies to Boreas, but in the lull of the darkest days of winter, the gloom and cold become nigh unbearable. The relentless snow and freezing winds don’t help, and now they’ve trapped poor Hermes in the Himalayas. I hope he’s found somewhere safe while he waits out the storm, but I can’t even send him a care package because his delivery system is on hold until the storm abates.

Still, there are a few things I enjoy about winter, like the first snow of the season. It’s so magical watching those flurries pioneer their way across the sky, and when I lived with my sisters in the Garden of the Hesperides, we used to go out and play. Hespera would make armies of snowmen to protect our garden, and Tara had a great arm for snowball fights-she could on take all of us and win! Those first snows hold some of my dearest memories, and now, watching the frost seeping into the roots of the world, I’m reminded of those laughter-filled days.

Then there are the new things to enjoy about winter, like the lovely ice fractals I found on the windows. Having lived in various caves for most of my life, I’ve never gotten to see such beautiful patterns before, and I nearly missed them because I’ve been so busy juggling maintenance of Hades’ realm and holiday stress. I suppose it serves as a reminder of the small, beautiful things we miss when we narrow our focus too much.

However, one downside of snow that I never recognized before is that it melts. It’s a strange thing to miss, but Hades never warned me about the leaks when I moved in! I found out when dripping water woke me a few nights ago, and I’ve spent the past few days tracking down all the leaks and water damage around the Underworld. Luckily, it hasn’t affected the fields of the dead or Elysium, so I don’t have to worry about an uprising of the Underworld’s dead residents. Still, I’ve had some difficulties mollifying some of the others. I’ve received dozens of threatening messages sewn into black cloth from the Moirai, and Hypnos has sent in his fair share of complaints in the form of sleep inducing letters.

I called Hephaestus the other day for advice on how to fix the leaks, and he promised to send over some automatons to help me with repairs as soon as the storm lets up. Until then, I guess I’ll just have to be careful which envelopes I open and try to enjoy the dampness as best I can.

s:

er

rit

Echo’s Echo

se

ea

Pl

Do

Happy New Year, Midnight Writers!

It’s been snowing a lot up here in Mount Olympus, but I guess that’s what comes with living on the top of a mountain.

You know how, days after snowfall, there’s that one patch that survives the sun and heat? One of those days, I stepped outside to interview a bit of snow that was chilling around outside.

Me: How are you doing?

It: Would you be faring well if your body was being slowly sucked into the atmosphere by the sun’s sizzling heat?

Me: …not too great, I suppose.

It: I mean, it happens every time, so I’m used to it. It’s fun to come back down and see the faces of children light up at the sight of us falling from the sky, though.

Me: That’s good to hear! I’m sure children are very grateful for you all.

It: They better be. I especially enjoy being made into a snowman. The scarves keep me warm, and the carrot is delicious if a pesky animal doesn’t steal it first.

Me: I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll leave an extra bag out for you next time.

It: That would be greatly appreciated. I guess it’s nice that I get to travel the world since I fall on a different place every time. It’s like a free plane ticket!

Me: Gosh, that would be fun. You get to travel the world! I envy you.

It: Eh, there are the downsides, like being seen as a nuisance and pushed aside. It hurts, you know? Those shovels hurt, too!

Me: But I’m sure plenty of people love snow, so don’t feel upset! Anyway I’ve enjoyed talking to you, but you must want to enjoy your last moments here on Mount Olympus. Thank you for your time!

It: It was my pleasure. Maybe I’ll drop by again some day.

Me: I’ll be waiting with carrots and scarves! Goodbye!

Bottom line: enjoy the snow while it lasts! Yes, it’s cold and you want to bundle up and have a Sherlock or Doctor Who marathon, but there’s something so magical about snow, so have fun with it.

Happy January to you all!

tP

No

Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Calypso, Echo, Hecate, Eros, Glittercheese, and Chronos

t rin

Dear Aphrodite, I’m kind of afraid of the dark. I’m not sure what it is; I’m just so afraid! Normally, this wouldn’t really be troublesome, but I’m a descendant of Erebus, and he was a God of Darkness! How can I honor the family name with my phobia? I want to live up to my name, but I don’t see how that can be possible. Help me, please!

Yours, Doomed by Darkness Dearest Doomed, I’m sorry that you have to experience such a fear, but I understand your phobia. There is no rationale behind it; it’s your mind playing tricks on you. But don’t worry, it might not be your fault. As a descendant of Erebus, you’re a more likely target to those nasty demons of darkness Hades sends to cause mischief and panic. You probably haven’t done anything, but Hades still seems to be sore about losing his rights to rule the Dark in a card game with your great-great grandfather. There’s no telling when he will get over it, so I’d suggest a show of courage. Be polite, ask nicely, reassure him that he’s powerful, and he might lay off. Until then, I would suggest a nightlight, lovely. They work wonders.

Good Luck, Dite Dear Aphrodite, I’m not in possession of finely tuned social skills, and I’m often told I’m a psychopath. Still, everyone who tells me so is dull and boring, so what do I care? I’m simply a high-functioning sociopath. But I write to you because I have a problem. Two years ago, I had a difficult decision to make. The only solution was to leave, faking my death and letting my friends believe I died. However, the reason for that choice has been eradicated, and I want to come home. I wish to let those I left know I’m alive, especially one army doctor. He is…was, my best friend.

How do I tell him that I’m alive, that I’m home?

Yours truly, SH Dearest SH, First of all, there is no such thing as a sociopath; love is far more powerful than emptiness. However, it seems that no matter how bored with the world you seem, your heart is not lacking. A choice to sacrifice yourself for others? Especially if those others are loved ones? You may not say it, but I know that’s what you meant. That takes a great amount of courage, and an immeasurable amount of love. But to get to the issue at hand-have you seen your friend at all since you’ve “come back”? It might be good to see how much he’s moved on with his life, or how much he’s still grieving. After that, there’s nothing like being forward about it. Find him, and simply show up! Hopefully, he’ll accept a dead man walking without any questions…I’d suggest a public place. However, I would say that sticking to your instincts and your heart is the best way to go-I wish you all the best!

Welcome home by the way, Dite

“Where the Rainbow Ends,” Photograph by Aries

s:

er

rit

tW

igh

i dn M se

ea

Pl entity that can bridge the gap between emptiness and inspi-

By Glittercheese

ration. When writers and artists cross this bridge, all the

As the night falls, casting its dark shadows upon the light

Do

Bridge to Creativity

knots untangle and masterpieces flow effortlessly through

No

hands onto paper and canvasses. As we walk across the blue sky, night critters crawl out from their dormant states. As

bridge, a variety of ideas calls to us, like different colors flow-

tP

the night falls, writers emerge with pencils in hand to create

ing from all across the world. And, together, all the ideas masterpieces of art and explore the unknown world. The writ-

dreams into a reality.

t rin

er’s gap is a hard impediment to conquer. Imagine a magical

transform the bridge into an amalgam of colors, turning

i dn M

Life of Trauma : Part Four

By Apollo

s:

er

rit

tW

igh

Previously on Life of Trauma…

Meet Nicholas Pennington.

When our tale began, he was an average twenty-two year old, finishing up his senior year at Northwestern University, when suddenly he slept with the mysterious Miranda Marshall and his world turned upside down.

Miranda turned out to be the reckless “Jailhouse Justice,” accused of releasing arrestees from various detention centers and prisons across the Mid-Atlantic.

Nicholas and his mother turned her in, and she ended up in a Maryland state-mandated prison, sentenced to execution on nearly two hundred accounts of letting loose some of the most dangerous criminals in the DMV. However, our story doesn’t end there. Nicholas got a call, months later, from Miranda, who told him she was pregnant and he was the father. While initially afraid of their reaction, Nick was relieved when the news went over well with Mr. and Mrs. Pennington. Seven months later, Nicholas and Miranda’s baby was born.

Present Day Hello again. It’s me.

Good old Nicholas Pennington. It’s been about three months since my daughter, Faith Marshall-Pennington, was born. Quite a bit has happened since then.

Since I brought the baby home and my family didn’t feel comfortable sharing joint-custody with a criminal, Miranda went back to prison and was eventually executed as originally planned. With some help from my parents, I cared for Faith for three months following her birth. Then, my grandmother came up from Florida to live with us for a month and take care of Faith during the day while I began to look for jobs. But I’ve had no success with the job search, and Grandma Pennington goes back to Florida “Hikikomori,” Photograph by Suzy-chan next week.

With my parents both barista. We stared at each other working and me still occupied by the job search, Faith had no- for a while.

“Nicholas, hi!” Mindy finally where to go. I would have to broke the ice. enroll her in daycare. If only I “Er, hello Mindy,” I replied, knew of a daycare center that I “How’ve you been?” felt comfortable sending my “I’ve been good,” she said. “I daughter to. Later that day, graduated from the University of while I was getting a cup of cofMiami last spring with a degree fee at Starbucks, I saw none othin Management, and I’m using er than my ex-girlfriend from this job as sort of a starting point both high school and college, Mindy Erikson, working as the to my career.”

“Oh that’s great!” I responded, trying to be excited for her.

“Yeah, I’m really enjoying it,” she said. “And how about you?”

“Well,” I said, “I graduated from Northwestern in the spring. And now, I’m on a job hunt. Oh, I also have a kid.”

There was dead silence for a minute or two. The fact that there was nobody else inside Starbucks at the moment, only added to the effect.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Mindy finally said. “What’s his or her name?”

“Faith,” I answered. “Her name is Faith.”

“Well congratulations to you and your wife,” she said. “You both must be thrilled.”

It was also going to be tricky to explain that Faith was an accident and that the mother was a criminal who’d been executed for her crimes.

“Actually, Faith’s mother “Kyoto Eki,” Photograph by Suzy-chan

se

ea

Pl

Do

t rin

tP

No

and I aren’t married,” I slowly began. “You see, Faith was an accident.” I decided that I’d hold off on the part about Miranda for now. Mindy was quiet. Her eyes glanced across the store, scanning to see if there were any other customers besides me.

“Oh,” she said, very quietly this time.

Several moments where you could hear a pin drop passed.

“Well, anyways,” she began, “What can I get for you?”

“A grande java chip Frappuccino, no whipped,” I said.

“One grande java chip Frappucino, no whipped coming right up!” she said, beginning to smile. “I know that raising a child at such a young age has to be tough. So if there’s anything that I can do to help you out, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I’ll be working here most days, if you ever need me.”

I considered that for a moment.

I was about to say, “Thank you, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

But then, an idea crossed my mind. I still hadn’t solved the problem of finding a reliable daycare center for Faith. I didn’t have the slightest idea whether or not Mindy knew of any good daycare programs, but I figured it was worth a shot.

To be continued…

Tale of Two Sisters: Part Two

i dn M

By Nemesis

s:

er

rit

tW

igh

Two men overlook a forest from a cliff as a thick silence hangs over them. Suddenly, one of the men breaks the silence.

“How many children do you think will survive this trial?” The first man says.

“If fifty or more survive, I’ll be surprised, but I’m thinking about fifty percent of the children will survive. The rest will die,” the second man says nonchalantly.

“You really are a heartless man.” The first man says.

“Well, no one cares if they die.

After all, they are dispensable; we could always get more children to replace them. Plus, the extra ones can serve as experiments.” The second man says.

“Kurome, are you OK?” Akame yells over the growls and screams. Her arms and legs are covered in blood, and her shirt has been ripped to tatters.

“I’m okay, but I don’t think I can go any farther. I’m so tired,” Kurome responds as she walks

toward her sister.

“We’re almost there. Don’t worry, your big sis will protect you,” Akame says reassuringly.

“OK then, I’ll protect my big sis, too,” Kurome says. The screams and growls have suddenly quieted, and the only sound is the slow drip of blood.

“Kurome,” Akame says warningly. “Don’t go over there; something doesn’t seem right.”

Akame pulls her sister close to her. Kurome peers warily over a tree trunk and stifles a scream.

“They’re being eaten by those carnivorous plants,” she says with a whimper.

“Let’s go the other way,” Akame says. The two sisters walk for a few minutes, and Kurome suddenly exclaims, “Look, a clearing a few hundred yards away. I think we’re almost out of this dreaded forest.”

A rustling echoes around the forest. Suddenly, wolf-like creatures erupt out of the bushes and surround the two girls.

“Kurome, look. That wolf with the impressive ruff looks bigger and nastier than the rest of the pack. I bet that it’s the alpha; if

we kill, it the pack will scatter.”

Akame says.

“Yeah I’ve just noticed. I’ll protect your back while you terminate it, OK, big sis?” Kurome responds. The two sisters spring into action. Akame grapples with the alpha while Kurome acts as the defense and distraction. The sisters fight back-to-back, and after a momentous struggle, the alpha lays in a pool of its own blood. Akame tosses the dead body aside as she stands and glares balefully at the pack. The pack whines and scatters.

“Kurome are you OK?” Akame asks as she bends to look at her sister.

“I’m fine,” Kurome answers.

She hesitantly stands and winces at a shallow gash four inches long that spans her shin. Akame rips a piece of cloth off her ragged shirt and binds her sister’s leg.

“Come on. I’ll carry you on my back,” Akame says. The two sisters walk out of the forest.

The man on the cliff looks at the two sisters with distaste.

“I said that I would train the top seven that make it out of the

forest, but I don’t train siblings together. It’s too intimate, and I don’t need any of that on my missions. My pupils can’t be too dependent on each other.”

Akame carries Kurome out of the forest on her back and walks out into the clearing. The head researcher walks toward them and congratulates them.

“That was fast. Well done.

Why don’t you come into the tent while I survey your rankings?” the researcher says.

As the two sisters walk into the tent, they are wrestled to the ground and separated.

“Kurome!” Akame screams as she looks desperately at her sister. The man in the shadows steps out and surveys them.

“Akame ranks seven, and Kurome ranks eight,” he says. “You two will train separately. Akame will train with me, while Kurome will go to the Empire.”

The man motions to the men holding the sisters down. They knock the sisters out and carry their limp bodies away.

To be continued…

By Luna Moon Sparkles

se

ea

Pl

Equal

Do

No matter where we go.

We should be treated the same.

It doesn’t matter if we’re black or white, Straight or gay.

Let’s just hold hands And run around.

Let’s dance through the night.

And live in peace Because hate is for the evil.

We are equals no matter what.

Let’s keep things that way.

We’re a team.

t rin

tP

No

“Raindrop’s View,” Photograph by Andromeda

What Am I?

s:

er

rit

tW

igh

i dn M

By Oceana The door is open Through the door comes in a woman Skin pale white What color am I? The woman leaves And through the door comes in a man A fine chiseled square face But, what shape am I? The man leaves Another man as tall as a tree enters the door How tall am I? The tall man leaves Coming through the door is a woman with a beautiful face Am I beautiful?

She leaves and through the door is not a person, But a mirror In the mirror I see myself I am as clear as water I have the shape of a circle I am as tall as a bush I am beautiful And I say to the mirror I am like you I am a mirror

I see the darkness felt in tearful goodbyes

I see the darkness reflected in my eyes

I see the pain, shall I claim it as mine?

I see the pain, shall I repay it in kind?

My shoulders are thin and weak

My mind, the injury and illness is abrupt My body they continue to undermine On my sanity they continue to dine Too weak to end the agony

Too proud to simply concede My imperfections draw out my pain So my everlasting stumble and strain Will never stop, never cease And my misery shall only increase And where did this begin?

With my ability to see every sin.

t rin

Why did this curse fall on me?

The darkness continues to crowd My vision it never ceases to shroud The pain continues to poison and corrupt

tP

Or the pain in my soul?

And what is my role?

Why is it only myself When I see everyone else continue obliviously?

My ill-fated army of one Through wind and snow and sun

No

Why is it I see?

Is it the darkness in me?

I cannot cry for the help I need On this perpetual quest I lead

Do

I see the pain filling everyone’s mind I see the pain in crossing the final line

Stay just beyond my grasp My voice only a weak rasp

se

I see the darkness shouted in hopeless cries I see the darkness screamed in your cruel lies

The answers I endlessly seek

ea

By Exodus

Pl

In the Darkness

“Landing,” Photograph by Suzy-chan

“Winter’s Mystery,” Photograph by Andromeda

i dn M

A Dark Heart

By Daisuki

igh

The dark is a small quiet feeling, That attaches to shattered light.

tW

It slowly collects illuminated pieces for healing So that once again it may shine bright.

The shadows hover over a wounded heart

rit

Making it change its true shape.

It can even steal away the pieces

er

That change the path to an unwanted fate.

A lonely heart tries for a new way

s:

But it only has a view of a far away star.

But if you take out its clenched pieces, The shadow and quiet deceases And a healed heart will soar through fresh skies.

se

ea

Pl

A new light is destined to reside.

Do t rin

tP

No

i dn M

Caspian’s Corner

rit

tW

igh

Frozen, 2013 Hello, and welcome to the first edition of Caspian’s Corner, a column containing colorful commentary on contemporary movies. First up, Disney’s box office wintertime winner: Frozen. The animation is nothing spectacular, and the plot, adapted from a classic fairy tale, isn’t too riveting (unless you ask a fangirl). The magic in this enjoyable film lies in its many memorable melodies and utterly hilarious lines. In the end, we go to the movies to be entertained, and I have yet to meet anyone who didn’t enjoy themselves watching Disney’s newest animated musical.

s:

er

My Cousin Vinny, 1992 Next up, a movie not currently in theaters that will never be associated with a Disney princess flick. Vinny is a raunchy comedy that relies on hillbilly stereotypes and ridiculous jokes, but it still manages to be hilarious. Joe Pesci, an iconic actor from a time before the internet, reprises his role as an out-ofplace northern lawyer defending two innocent teenagers. As he attempts to save the two, hilarity ensues, making this oldie a must-watch for anyone who needs a laugh.

se

ea

Pl Do t rin

tP

No

“Beyond the Fence,” Photograph by Andromeda

i dn M

Inferno’s Kitchen: Demon of Wrath: Fantastic Hellmobile

By Janus

s:

er

rit

tW

igh

ea

Pl

ease-one of those colds or coughs that never seemed to go away, and that man was the cause of it.

He shuddered and was about to go back on the bed when a voice yelled, “Get up, everyone!” An annoying siren started to sound.

He heard moans reverberating through the ears and wondered if the other contestants were nearby.

A portal opened, and Beelzebub flew in grinning.

“Rise and shine, human, and welcome to the wonderful city of Pandemonium! There’s lots of things to do today!”

Ryan goggled at the demon. The Prince of Hell was wearing blue pajamas with flies on them and was missing his hat. Antennae poked out of his head instead. A swarm of insects covered his shoulders and was flying around him. He was still wearing his fly goggles though, but they were slightly askew.

“Wake up, pitiful human wretch!”

Moloch called out from the portal.

Beelzebub dragged Ryan into a brightly lit white kitchen, where the other contestants and Moloch were making breakfast. The others were rummaging through a huge pantry and fridge.

“I’m sure we have some human food,” Beelzebub said, picking up a mysterious drink from the counter.

“What’s that?”

“Soul Shake,” Beelzebub said nonchalantly. As he sipped from the cup, Ryan could hear tiny screams.

Ryan backed away and searched for something edible in the pantry.

“Yes, Sugar Loops!” He reached for the box, and poured out a bowl of oozing sugar. It actually said Sugar Goops, he found out. He threw it away, disgusted.

“The closest thing you can find to human food is toast,” Ebony said, appearing behind him, holding out a slice of bread.

Ryan shoved it into a googly-eyed toaster. “Thanks. Got any butter?”

“There’s fried butter on a stick.”

Just as she said that, Moloch unhinged his infernal mouth and swallowed a live cow. Meanwhile, Beelzebub transformed into a giant fly and went through the disgusting process flies go through to eat.

“Just toast,” Ryan said, closing his eyes and covering his ears so that he couldn't hear the two archdemons feasting.

By the time he opened his eyes, the kitchen had become a war zone, with half the food gone and the other half on the floor. The contestants were staring at Beelzebub and Moloch, who had both gone back to normal; Beelzebub was back in his red suit and hat. Just then, Ryan’s

se

Do

toast popped up, breaking the awkward silence.

“And that’s why we host a cooking show,” Beelzebub said proudly, and burped.

Ryan grabbed his toast and curled up in a corner to eat it. Just then, security guards grabbed the contestants, and a portal opened up. Once again, Ryan found himself hustled down a hallway, except he was pushed into a common room with a television and couch.

“Now you have to stay here for a few hours,” Beelzebub said, and he left, Moloch trailing behind.

The door slammed shut and locked. The contestants groaned and sat down on a couch.

“Where’s the remote?” Chad asked. “I want to watch killball.”

“No, I want to watch the Death Channel,” Chop growled.

“Documentaries!” Digit yelled.

Ebony took the remote from the table and turned on the television.

“I have the remote, so we’re watching gloomy music videos,” she said, and the others groaned.

But when she turned it on, all the channels consisted of past Inferno’s Kitchen episodes.

“When was that episode?” Ryan asked as they settled on an episode about seafood. “The stage looks a bit different.”

A contestant with a sea serpent tattoo on her forehead was muttering something as she sprinkled lemon juice on her clams.

“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn,” She shouted, and a portal opened up.

Seawater poured out of it, along with slimy fish gasping for air. A giant footstep shook the stage, and a giant creature, part octopus, part man, burst out of the portal, tentacles waving. It opened up its mouth and swallowed up most of the audience and all of the crew except for the Cameraman, who ran away screaming. The camera went off after that.

“That was the final episode last season when a contestant summoned Cthulhu. Season finales always end badly.” Digit explained.

“Oh.” Ryan said, wondering what the season finale this time would be, if he even survived that long. More sea monsters, or something worse?

A few hours later, the contestants were sleepily watching the television when Beelzebub popped into the room.

“Time for the second episode!”

He shouted, and a portal opened up that led to the stage where the audience was cheering.

t rin

tP

No

It was late afternoon in Hell, and a woman was wandering a wasteland of blasted red dirt and skeletal ruins.

She pushed back her frizzy blonde hair and straightened her red camouflage uniform. She was about to explore the blackened remains of a house, muttering, “Needs more destruction,” when she heard a crunch.

She turned around and aimed her pistol, glowing with golden light, at the intruder.

“Don’t move!” She commanded, and the intruder, a demon with a shock of black hair, whimpered. He held a camera and tripod.

“I’m here to record you for the Inferno’s Kitchen commercial.

Please don’t kill me.”

Her yellow eyes narrowed, and she scrutinized him before nodding.

“Is that the idiotic show my husband is hosting?” She asked, and put the pistol down.

“Uh, yeah. Inferno’s Kitchen, Fridays on Hell Network at 9:00 p.m. Lethean Standard Time.” The Cameraman said, composing himself and taking a few deep breaths.

“Do you remember your lines?”

“Just tape it before I break your legs.”

The Cameraman set up his camera and tripod. “Rolling.”

“I’m Ariel, demon of wrath and destroyer of worlds. I’m here today to show you, the mindless consumer, the Hellraiser 6.0.”

A pitch black motorcycle appeared in front of her. The skull mounted on the front clattered its teeth, and tendrils around the handles tightened with anticipation.

“The exterior is made of stygian steel from the bowels of Hell, and it runs on a patented mixture of lost souls and gasoline.” She said, scowling. Suddenly, she brightened.

“Time to ride this baby!”

“That’s not necessary!” The Cameraman shouted.

“Shut up!” She got on the motorcycle and turned it on. The skull cackled and the engine roared.

Ariel took the helmet off the handle and threw it into the air. It rocketed up and quickly disappeared into a little dot in the sky.

“The harbinger of war doesn’t need a helmet,” Ariel said, and sped off with the motorcycle.

The Cameraman’s eyes widened, and he yelled, “You have to give it back to the motorcycle company!”

Ariel ignored him and did a wheelie, the back of the motorcycle

spurting fire. After a few minutes of doing stunts, she veered it into a pile of rubble and jumped off. Ectoplasm and gasoline combined in an unholy union of soul and fossil and the motorcycle exploded, blasting flames into the air. The Cameraman quickly hid behind a rock. After a minute, he peeked out and saw Ariel get up, covered with a layer of ash.

Rocks, stygian steel, and ectoplasm rained from the sky.

“Wasn’t that great?” She shouted, and went towards him.

“We’re supposed to give it back.”

“That was the biggest explosion I’ve seen since the Taco Bell Incident of 2009!” She laughed loudly, and the Cameraman inched away.

“By any chance, do you know how to get out of here? The taxi driver dropped me off five miles away, talking about unhallowed ground or something-” “I don’t care,” Ariel said flatly, “Now go away, I have souls to interrogate.” A portal to the seventh level of Hell opened up. She stepped inside, and it closed, cutting off the sound of screams.

The Cameraman sighed and said, “I hate my job.” *** Ryan opened his eyes and groaned. The last thing he remembered was being led down the hall with the other contestants. And now he was in some sort of cell, lying on a hard mattress. Next to it was a half -full bucket and a roll of toilet paper. Ryan looked at the wall and screamed. The walls had ears, literally, and as soon as his high-pitched shriek reached them, they quivered.

Ryan leaped out of his bed and curled up in a fetal position in the middle of the squishy floor. What was the point of having ears on the walls, to scare possible humans?

After calming down, Ryan went to the tiny window, where a small ray of red light poked through.

Maybe there will be a view of puppies and kittens, he thought hopefully, but his dreams were crushed.

Outside was a giant city stretching out as far as he could see. Skyscrapers gleamed in neat rows, and the next block over was full of filthy slums and plumes of smoke.

Strangely, billboards were everywhere. Ryan couldn’t read the language on it, but he could see the demonic people on the cover, all grinning. One had a relatively normal man on the front, with golden curly hair and tanned skin. He seemed to be endorsing shampoo, but his unnatural golden eyes felt like they were silently analyzing him. There was a fluttery feeling in Ryan’s gut. The city was like a dis-

To be continued...

s:

er

rit

tW

igh

i dn M Locking silence

By Zenyatta

se

ea

Pl

“Snowy Seclusion,” Photograph by Artemis

It covers all with a velvet vale

Do

That makes all sounds stop fast and end.

It covers mountains, fields and dales,

No

And all the paths around the bend.

When silence walls all life is darkened,

tP

For bright and cheery notes are blocked,

t rin

Thou will hear not, so do not harken, For silence ends when we it lock.

“Hearthside Welcome,” Photograph by Artemis

Snowy Morning

s:

er

rit

tW

igh

i dn M

By BAD WOLF

“If you don’t leave soon, you’ll miss the school bus!” Your mother calls as you yank on your coat and fly out the door.

You hurry down the driveway, pulling on your gloves and fixing your hat as you run. Your scarf flaps in the wind behind you, and you struggle to keep it from blowing away in the bitter wind. Snowflakes sting your exposed face, turning your cheeks and nose pink and making you sniffle.

“Can’t be late...can’t be late…” you mutter to yourself as you delicately run over the thin layer of ice that has collected on the sidewalk overnight.

You slip, your arms flailing as you attempt to regain your balance. Huffing, you manage to right yourself, and you decide that it’s safer to travel on the snowy lawns. Running alongside the sidewalk, you struggle as the deep snow throws off your gait.

Still, you push on. Glancing at your watch, you hope with all your heart that the bus will be late. Please, just for today, you beg silently.

Suddenly, a sharp bark makes you stumble, and you see a dog racing towards you. Panicking, you run to the other side of the sidewalk and run as fast as you can to get away. Was that Mr. Fuller’s house? He never did like people walking on

Do t rin

tP

No

his lawn. Oh no...what if I stepped on his tulips? They’re buried under the snow already, so it wouldn't matter, would it?

You decide to get as far away as possible before he comes out to let you know, and you make a mental note to take the long way around on your way back home.

Panting hard, you somehow feel uncomfortably hot underneath your layers of winter gear despite the frigid temperature and biting wind.

Finally, you make it to the bus stop. Doubling over, you gasp as you try to catch your breath, your sides searing. Slowly, you stand as your breathing and heart rate return to normal, and for the first time, you notice something odd: You’re the only one at the bus stop.

Frowning, you look down the block on both sides to see if anyone’s coming, but all you can see is Mr. Fuller’s dog stalking the border of its invisible fence.

To no one in particular, you ask, “Did I miss it?”

“What are you doing out there, dearie?” Mrs. Williams calls from her front door. “School’s closed today!”

You stare dumbly at her for a moment as her words sink in.

Looking back at your stumbling bootprints in the snow, you shake your head, smiling. Slowly, you begin to chuckle, then laugh, before you start making your way back home.

Fin.

se

ea

Pl “Winter Chibi,” Illustration by W1tchHunter64

“Dashing Through the Snow,” Photograph by Andromeda

The Last President

By Poseidon

i dn M

s:

er

practically own the Secret Service.

Every major operative works for me. As far as the media and everyone else is concerned, you and your wife are still at the ho-" I did it again. I was so worried about myself and my own safety that I completely forgot about Sarah. It’s one thing to ignore your friend dying, but not realizing that your wife isn't there with you? I wanted to throw up.

"Where is she? What did you do to her?" I was going crazy.

"She's safe. Now, about our offer, you have until tomorrow to accept.

I must warn you, it is definitely in your best interest to accept. You have no idea what we are capable of doing."

"Well you know what, we don't have to wait until tomorrow." I told him. "I reject your offer. I will not be a part of your sick company and I most certainly will not work with a terrorist like you, Mr. Jones!"

"That really is a shame," Jones said. "You know, you would have never made it this far without us!

You think all those scandals involving the other candidates came out of nowhere? You think that other candidate simply dropped dead, all by himself? No. It was us.

The only reason you are where you are today is because of us!"

"It was you! You killed him!"

"Finally figured it out, have you?

Now, you see that when we want something, we get it. And when we make someone a generous offer, we expect them to accept...or else.

One way or another, we always succeed. I will be expecting a phone call from you tomorrow, and I expect you to accept our offer."

"You're crazy! There's no chance I will ever-"

se

ea

Pl

Do

Before I could finish, a syringe was in my neck , and I was gone.

When I woke up, I was screaming. I didn't know where I was, or what had happened to me. I felt a sharp pain in my neck, but when I touched where the needle had hit me, there was nothing there.

"What's wrong? Why are you screaming?!" asked Sara.

"Sara! Thank goodness you're OK! What'd they do to you? Where did they take you? What did they say to you?"

"What? Who?" said Sarah in a confused voice. "John...what's going on? You're scaring me!"

"What do you mean what's going on? We got kidnapped by Johnson and Mr. Jones! I was on a truck with a terrorist!"

"You probably just had a bad dream!" said Sarah worriedly.

Suddenly, I realized where we were. We were in our room, at our house in Virginia.

"Sarah... How did we get here?

We were just in New York. How are we home already?"

Sarah looked at me, more worried than ever.

"John," she said. "The New York trip isn't for three weeks!"

"That's impossible!" I screamed.

"I gave my speech yesterday! I'll prove it to you!"

I reached for my wallet, where I had a copy of the notes from my speech. But when I opened my wallet, I found something that made my heart jump into my mouth.

Where my notes used to be was a business card...a business card for a man named Mr. Jones.

To be continued...

“Miyazaki’s Clock,” Photograph by Suzy-chan

t rin

tP

No

Chapter 6 When I woke up, we must’ve been going a hundred miles an hour. I was lying on the cold metal floor of the back of what seemed

rit

tW

igh

Chapter 5 It's amazing how quickly things can change. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, I had been at the top of the world, proudly giving a speech to an incredible audience in Times Square. Now, I was scared, confused, and worst of all, I had lost a friend.

Jim was more than a body-guard to me. He had been with me every step of the way. Whenever I had to give a speech in a crowd or I had to shake hands with people on the street, I could relax knowing Jim had my back. Jim put my safety before anything, and I wouldn’t have made it this far without him.

And now he was gone.

Perhaps the worst part was my reaction when my wife gave me the news. I’ve never been more ashamed of myself than I was that day. I can blame the timing all I want, but there’s no excuse for what I did. When Sara told me about Jim, I should’ve been crushed. Instead, I didn't care. As horrible as it seems now, the only thing I was worried about was getting out of that hotel.

I knew Johnson and the man could bust through that door at any moment. I tried my hardest to keep my composure while I explained everything to Sara as we packed whatever we could. I told her about the man in the crowd in Times Square and how it was the same man who had followed us the night before. When I told her that the man had been in every picture in The Book, she almost fainted.

Sara wanted to call one of the other agents, but I told her it was too risky. Who could we trust? I had no idea what Johnson and the man were going to do if they caught us, and I wasn't planning on sticking around long enough to find out. As soon as we finished packing, we ran to the door. We left the room, but we stopped dead in our tracks. Mat and Alex were right outside the door, waiting for us. I saw Mat's arm go up, and my wife screamed. Before I could do anything, the syringe was in my neck. I felt the cold trickling down my back, and then the world went dark.

like an 18-wheeler, my hands and legs tied up. I tried to get up to cut myself free, but it was too dark to see. Suddenly, I was blinded by a flashlight shining right at my face.

"So," said a voice from behind the blinding white light. "Have a nice nap?"

When I regained my sight and noticed who the person was, I thought I was going to faint. It was the man with the glove. I guess a part of me knew I would eventually meet him face-to-face, given the events of the last two days. But now that I was actually sitting right in front of him, my face just inches away from him, I was speechless.

"What do you want from me?" I demanded. "Where are we? Where are we going?"

"Shut up!" screamed the man.

"Now, I'm only going to say this once, so pay very close attention and DO NOT interrupt me. My name is Mr. Jones and I work for a company called Presidential Renewal Incorporated. We are a company that is determined to eliminate everything that is wrong with this country, including its government.

"So you're a terrorist?" I asked.

Jones laughed.

"You know, it's awfully rude to interrupt people while they are talking! Now to answer your question, yes. Unfortunately, some people say we are a terrorist group. I like to think we're more of a revolutionary army. It sounds much nicer."

"So, what do you want from me?"

I asked.

"I'm glad you asked. You see, we want you to help us out with something. For the last few months, we have been trying to partner with the leading presidential candidates, but we haven't been able to find anyone who is willing to work with us. We noticed that recently your numbers have sky rocketed, and we want you to be our partner."

"Partner? What does that even mean? What would I have to do?"

"Well, nothing really. We’ll make sure that you win the election. In return, you will hire members of Presidential Renewal Incorporated as your closest advisors, and you will do whatever they say."

"You're insane," I screamed.

"There's no chance I'm doing that.

You are TERRORISTS! Besides, you'll never get away with what you're doing. You kidnapped a presidential candidate! Every cop in New York is probably trying to find me!"

"Why would they be looking for you? In case you haven't noticed, I

My Pencil and I

i dn M

By Vivan Griselda

Poetry hides deep beneath your soul.

igh

Wherever the love has decided to grow.

It's speaking through the rain and falling from the sky, An unknown story from your pencil just waiting to write.

tW

It's flying with the wind gazing down on you, Living on a cloud wondering where next to.

rit

It's traveling along the waves and helping the sun shine, Far beyond this world past the birds’ chime.

s:

Dwelling upon your mind everyday.

er

Sneaky rhymes and words on play,

Why, poetry is around us everywhere you see,

Pl

It's helping me become what one day I'll be.

“Spirit,” Photograph by Japanda3

By The Owlish Bookworm

se

It was far too easy to make A call, A fall, The detective’s dead.

A cry, He tried, “Let me through, He’s my friend” The game is over.

All he can ask is for One more miracle.

Fairytales don’t always Have a happy ending, Do they?

Two years have passed…

The doctor has mourned, And the detective has fought And now there’s confusion between What’s real, And what’s not.

That man over there?

The one at the table?

He’s in for a bit of a shock, I’m afraid.

For in just a moment, Seeking to atone, In will walk the detective, For Sherlock is coming home.

Do

t rin

tP

No

Do you see him?

That man over there?

The one with the soldier stance, And the sandy blonde hair?

Dr. John H. Watson His story is beyond what it seems.

Beyond white walls of clinics And nightmares of dreams.

Everything changed when He met the detective, With a different take on life, A whole new perspective.

They became the best of friends.

Didn’t they?

A good man And a great man.

A brain And a heart.

Each one Essential to the other, Both a necessary part.

Case upon case, Dashing through the Alleyways of London.

ea

The Game is On

Face after face, Those dark and lonely Days forgotten.

Adrenaline-shot veins, Shouts of flashbacks, Soothing violin’s strains The game is on And then.

Then a man, No-a creature, Hardly a man, hardly humane, Barely human, Most certainly Insane A problem.

But there was something Looming Something so Final About it.

And it was.

Final.

Finally.

An end.

A rooftop Three people One heart One choice

The Ocean’s Child

i dn M

By Calypso

s:

er

rit

tW

igh

ea

Pl

known that we’d have to make this decision eventually. What else could we do if we don’t join them? Try to make it on our own in the wild? We wouldn’t last a week. So why not help them?”

Sylvia was about to respond when Eleanor interrupted and said, “Pardon the interruption, but if my opinion means anything to either of you, I think we should stay and fight.”

“What do you think?” Sylvia asked, turning to Pearl and Ash. “Will I get to use a ray gun?”

Ash asked eagerly, and Cas laughed and said, “No, not yet,” as Sylvia pursed her lips and said shortly, “No. Pearl?”

“Well, you have to admit that staying with the resistance is safer than trying to survive on our own. Maybe if you told us a little bit more about it, it would help us make up our minds?” Pearl asked Rin. “We’re just one part of the resistance. The resistance is all over the world, on all the continents-or at least what’s left of the old world’s continents. See, the General’s in charge of it all, but he has a lieutenant on each continent, and each of them have several captains and officers. We’re all in charge of the refugees and soldiers and cities in our assigned areas. So, I’m one of the officers of the British Isles, and I work under Xandra, who’s the captain of the British Isles, Iberian Peninsula, France, and Italy, and she works under Jon, who’s the lieutenant of Europe’s merfolk.”

“Alright,” Sylvia said slowly.

“But why do you need soldiers if you’re just taking in refugees like us? I understand why you need guards to protect the elderly, the sick, and the children, but finding physically capable guards is very different from raising an army.”

Rin fiddled with a small gadget from his pouch before responding, “We’ve been planning the revolution for years. We’ll attack the major cities at once, each of the officers leading their regiments against the major city in their respective regions. So we’ll be taking New Londontown.”

“Why not concentrate all your forces on Moscow, then? Wouldn’t it be better to topple the cen-

se

Do

ter of Eurasia’s political power first?” Eleanor asked, frowning.

“Perhaps, but we’d have no way to transport the troops, or, if we somehow succeeded, no way to hold it if all of the other cities sent their armies against us. If we attack simultaneously, our forces will be smaller, but theirs will be too, and we won’t be walled in.

Besides, taking Moscow wouldn’t afford us much access to hidden merfolk because of the overabundance of police there. But in the other cities, we’ll find others who will fight with us.”

“That doesn’t sound like a sure plan.” Sylvia said skeptically.

“If you have a better idea, I welcome you to share it.” Rin said with a shrug, “But with limited resources, we have to do what we can, and this was deemed the surest path to victory.

We can’t risk getting backed into a corner, and attacking one city at once practically ensures failure. Even if we only manage to take a few cities, it’ll be that many fewer cities sending their armies against us, and those armies will be tired from fighting their own battles.”

“Why not keep the system you have now of taking in refugees?”

Sylvia asked.

“You’ll see in a bit.” Rin said, and they rode in silence until the truck slowed to a halt.

They jumped out, and Sylvia took in the mismatched, patched tents, the shabby clothes on the figures huddled around small campfires, and the disproportionate number of sick and elderly.

“See? Everyone younger and reasonably healthy is training on the other side of the camp, so this is barely a third of the merfolk we take care of here. We’ve been surviving on pilfered food from surrounding farms and what we can get off hijacked trucks, but it’s never enough. We can’t keep forcing these people to live like this. We need to do something.”

“New recruits, Rin?” A young woman with short black curls hair asked, smiling tiredly at Sylvia and the others.

“They’re still debating, but…”

t rin

tP

No

“Who are you?” Sylvia demanded as the young man helped her up. The other one helped Eleanor out as Pearl and Ash climbed out of their crate.

“I’m Rin. That’s Cas.” The dark-eyed one said, gesturing to the light brown-haired boy with moss green eyes helping Rowan out of the crate. Turning to Eleanor, he said, “Elias told us to expect four. Who’re you?”

“She’s a friend.” Rowan said, “Now, where are we?”

“Jeez, what’s with all the questions? Cas asked, “Let’s get back to the truck. We’ll answer your questions on our way to camp.”

“We’re going camping?” Ash asked excitedly as Cas and Rin led them outside. The truck driver and his companion were tied up on the ground, and three other resistance members were unloading crates from the back of the cargo truck. An antique pickup truck was sitting off to the side of the road, and Rin gestured for them to hop into the bed of the truck.

“When the truck’s moving, make sure to stay seated. Especially you.” Rin said, looking at Ash. “The last thing we need is you flying out the back.” Turning back to the others, he said, “Let’s get a move on! Another truck is scheduled to pass in twenty minutes, and we want to be far away by then.”

They transferred about a quarter of the crates to the pickup truck before Rin pulled out a small metallic disc. He held it up to the driver’s eyes before pressing the button in the center, and a purple light shone on the driver’s eyes before he slumped back. Rin did the same to the other man before saying, “Come on! Before they wake up!”

The three others piled into the front seat and started the truck as Rin and Cas hopped into the bed.

As they started moving, Rin turned to Sylvia and asked, “What’s your name, again?”

“Sylvia Sutton. These are my siblings, Rowan, Pearl, and Ash. And this is a close friend of ours, Eleanor Wright.” Sylvia said,

gesturing to each one in turn.

“Where are we going?”

“The resistance camp.”

“You aren’t serious, are you?”

Sylvia asked concernedly, her brow furrowing.

“Why wouldn’t I be? We’ve been around for years. We took over a government farm, and after a few failed attempts on their part to reclaim it, they’ve let us keep it.” Rin said proudly.

“So, Elias told us a bit about you, but I want to hear it for myself.

Why are you here? Did you come to fight?”

“Of course not.” Sylvia snapped. “We left the city because Rowan was caught. And what do you mean ‘fight’?”

“Wow, you city-dwellers really are kept in the dark, aren’t you?”

Cas asked Sylvia. “You haven’t heard anything about the rebellions or the hijacked trucks?”

“There were rumors from time to time,” Rowan said defensively. “But rumors are quickly shut down by the government.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Cas asked, turning to Rowan. “It sounds like you’ve got some fight in you. With a little training, you could be useful.”

“We’ll have to discuss this,” Sylvia answered, but Cas raised his eyebrows and replied, “We won’t be arriving for another thirty minutes or so-plenty of time to discuss.”

“Sylvia, if we can help them, we should.” Rowan said, but Sylvia shook her head.

“We left the city to find safety, not to get involved in someone else’s fight.”

“It’s just as much our fight as it is theirs.” Rowan pointed out.

“Who would take care of Ash and Pearl?” Sylvia asked, crossing her arms. Pearl opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say a word, Rowan retorted, “It’s not like they’re incapable. Pearl’s taken care of Ash for years while we worked. How would this be any different?”

“I don’t know, maybe because we’d be at war. Rowan, just slow down and think for a moment.”

Sylvia said rationally.

“I have thought. I’ve thought about this for years-ever since Mom and Dad died. You must’ve

Continued on Next Page

TOC cont.

camp, asking people they passed if they’d seen a small boy with dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and a missing front tooth. When no one recognized the description, Sylvia began to hyperventilate, but one of the old men called out from his seat at a campfire, “The tyke with the missing tooth?

Yeah, I saw him running towards the border of the farm about a minute ago. He looked like he had something under his shirt.”

“Did you say you were walking by soldiers shooting ray guns?”

Sylvia asked suddenly, and Rowan groaned before saying, “He probably thought it would be fun to play with one. Rin, are there any borders to the farm?”

“Technically, but someone his size could probably squeeze through.” Rin said as his face paled. “And the neighboring farm has government soldiers scheduled to visit today. We have to find him. Quickly.”

Rin led Cas, Sylvia, Rowan, Eleanor, and Pearl through the camp into a denser part of the forest before they reached a barbed wire fence. Rin carefully held the wire as the others climbed through before Sylvia held it to let him through. They hurried through the forest as quietly as they could until Rin motioned for them to stop and be silent. They stood, listening intently until they heard Ash’s cries of protest and the soldiers’ gruff voices heading in their direction.

Rin signaled for them to crouch down, and they listened as a group of ten soldiers passed by and Ash screamed, “Stop it! Let me go! You can’t keep me here!”

“Oh, we won’t keep you here.”

One of the soldiers replied.

“Tomorrow morning you’ll be shipped back to the city where you’ll face an even worse fate.”

They waited until the soldiers had passed around the bend of the path to begin following them.

When they did, the soldiers led them to a small clearing where they had set down a tied and bound Ash and had settled down for lunch. Before anyone could stop him, Rowan crept up behind the tree where they’d propped up

s:

er

rit

tW

igh

i dn M

Ash. He pulled a small knife from the leg of his pants and began cutting through Ash’s bonds as he whispered, “Shh…Ash, don’t move yet.”

“Did anyone else hear that?”

One of the soldiers asked on the other side of the clearing, glancing over at Ash. Rowan froze, hoping the wide tree would protect him from the soldier’s view.

Luckily, the soldier shrugged dismissively and turned back to his peers. Rowan finished cutting through the bonds and whispered, “Wait until the soldiers look away to run. We’re hiding right behind this tree.”

Ash glanced over at the soldiers, who were busy slicing apples and complaining about farmchecking duty. Finally, when they all looked away, he sprang up, snapping several twigs as he did. The soldiers glanced his way and shouted in alarm when they saw that he was free. Ash, his eyes wide in fear, bolted. In the wrong direction.

Rowan sprinted after Ash, leav-

ing the others no choice but to follow him. Rowan scooped up Ash as he ran, and they tried to double back, but the soldiers blocked their path and forced them to continue running farther away from the farm’s borders. As they gained distance between them and the soldiers, Rin began to lead them on a curve through the forest in the hopes of making it back to the fence before the soldiers could catch them.

Unfortunately, he’d never seen the layout of the neighboring farm before and quickly led them to a wide creek that separated them from the fence. Dread settling in their stomachs, Rin and Cas pulled out their ray guns as Rin pushed Pearl behind him.

Rowan set Ash down, and he, Eleanor, and Sylvia formed a semi-circle around the children as the soldiers approached them from all sides, their ray guns powered up and ready to fire.

To Be Continued...

ea

Pl se Do t rin

tP

No

“We’re new recruits.” Sylvia confirmed, and Rowan smiled at his sister.

“Excellent. My name’s Esther.

I’ll register the girls. Cas, you take the boys.” Esther said, leading Sylvia, Eleanor, and Pearl through the maze of tightly packed tents. As they walked, she explained, “It’s a small farm, and the safest place-under the tree canopy-is a little cramped, but you’ll get used to it.”

She led them out of the trees and past a make-shift shooting range where lines of merfolk were practicing with government issued ray guns as she said, “We get everything off the trucks and surrounding farms. We try not to take too much at once, and so far the government hasn’t come down on us. As long as there are enough merfolk laborers in the factories and fields, I suppose they’re satisfied.”

Finally, they reached a larger tent, and Esther held the flap open for them to enter. Inside, there were several sleeping mats set up for wounded soldiers and sick refugees, and ten nurses attended to them. Esther led them past the mats to a table with several binders stacked up on the right side. She carefully withdrew one from the center of the pile and opened it up, uncapping a pen and saying, “Just write your names and sign next to them. Then put both your thumbprints down using that ink.”

They each complied as Esther searched through another binder.

Once they finished, Esther began to ask them a question when Rowan, Cas, and Rin burst into the tent. Panting hard, Rowan said in a panic, “Ash is gone.”

“What?” Sylvia asked, her stomach plummeting. “Where could he have possibly gone?”

“I don’t know. We were walking past some of the soldiers doing some target practice, and when I looked back to check on him, he was gone.” Rowan said.

“Come on, he couldn’t have gotten that far.”

They ran back through the

“Rin and Cas,” Illustration by Hecate