Writer That Writes

Monsoon Season

July 10th, 2023

i hear this line a lot in shows

“i look up at the sky at night

and wonder if we are looking at the same moon

thinking about the other”

i’m in a different time zone right now

across the globe

so that is quite impossible

monsoon season in india has just begun

i sat in the living room

staring through the window

thunder flashes

the wind blows with such a booming force

i can see newspapers and leaves

flying in the sky

trees shaking their branches with such vigor

water falling onto the ground

in sheer volume

and the street light at the end of the block

placed there to bring forth luminescence

in order to glimpse all of it in it’s raw beauty

we cannot see the same moon

at the same moment

but perhaps

the thunderstorms here

match the harsh texan rainfall

across the world

perhaps we both stare

through our living room window

or bedroom

or even outside looking up at the sky

at the same droplets of water

that fall onto our eyelids

perhaps in the same second

a droplet of water falls towards our lips

and we can taste

that slight hint of freshness

in the exact same moment

perhaps

as we feel the wind in our hair

and stare into the distant clouds above us

we will think of each other

and wonder if similar water is pouring

onto each other’s rooftops

and perhaps

that is enough

for now
The Anti-hero

July 10th, 2023

There are three things that Joy Abara knew about herself.

First, Joy often fantasized about the idea of perfection. A world where everything in her life was even, where all flowers in a garden were equal in height and contrast, where every shelf in the world was neatly organized, every room clean, every question answered, every equation solvable- every single thing in the universe systematically assembled for the better. Sure, sometimes answers were cruel, sometimes closure for certain questions or equations was terrifying- but wasn’t it better to know?

Whenever Joy did not know the answer to a question, whether it was simply on an exam or whether it was directly related to a genuine mystery in her immediate life, she would continue to ponder the answer constantly, day and night. Why was she not allowed to know? Did she do something immoral for the Universe or some higher-lever being to not give her the answer? Was her own brain not sufficient enough to determine the truth? Was something wrong with her?

Second, Joy was a control-freak. This was probably at least somewhat related to her obsession with perfection. She tended to greatly enjoy planning events in advance, and when things didn’t go absolutely according to plan, she always seemed to blow up about it. She did not enjoy this habit in herself. Sure, it was nice being so good at maintaining schedules, but it did not get rid of the constant pressure building up inside of her. Something she would frequently compare herself to was a large house. All of her doors and windows were closed and locked, and there was not a single crack or opening to the outside. She was very slowly filling up with water, which she did not mind or even largely notice, until, at some point, the water would fill up the entire house in such great volume that the entire house just blew up.

Third, Joy had migraines- a lot. Not just once a week- every night. She found it unbelievably difficult to sleep with the feeling of someone pounding on her head with a hammer all the time, yet she always eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion. She had tried going to medical professionals around the country, but for some reason no medication or fancy procedure ever seemed to work for her.

It had started when she was twelve years old. She had been waiting after school for her mom to pick her up, when Brock Dever came up to her and began making fun of her arm hair. Previously she would just ignore him, yet on this day something in her just snapped. She grabbed his arm angrily and kneed him in the groin, before quickly walking away.

As she headed the other direction, she looked back at him nervously to see his reaction, only to see him not wincing in pain. Rather, he was staring with a mix of confusion and utter horror at a large dark-green-blue mark on his arm that seemed to be glitching. Joy stopped in her tracks as the mark began to gradually began to grow larger and larger each second. Soon, his entire body seemed to be a terrifying glitching blue-green hue.

Brock looked back at Joy, his eyes beginning to fill with tears, as each of his limbs began to grow limp, starting from his fingertips.

As he began to apologize profusely to Joy, crying out loud in fear, his entire body soon grew limp as he collapsed to the ground.

Then, something happened to him that Joy could never possibly explain for the rest of her natural born life.

Brock disappeared.

His body was no longer on the ground. There was no blood, no clothing, no hair, not even a single trace of him.

Joy tried to run back into the school, trying to tell the staff about what she saw happen to Brock, but none of them seemed to know who Brock Dever was.

The world had never heard the name of Brock Dever.

Joy tried to contact his parents through facebook and social media, but found that they suddenly had a completely different child, a ten-year-old girl named Faith.

Brock had never had any sisters.

Ever since that day, every night, Joy had pounding headaches. She would sometimes hear, through the pounding, the voice of a young boy apologizing, asking for help, asking where he was.

She tried to ignore it.

When she finally went to sleep at night, Brock would show up in her dreams.

He would ask her to bring him back, or apologize, or ask how his dog was doing.

She always responded the best that she could, or try to tell him that she didn’t know how it happened or how to fix it.

He still continued to ask the same thing every night.

After the incident, Joy tried her hardest to never be angry, to never antagonize anyone. Sure, people’s words are mean- there were cruel, horrible people in the world that definitely deserved terrible things to happen to them.

But Joy could do far worse than anything they could even dream of doing.
The Last Words of an Alleged Killer

July 10th, 2023

I stared down at my blood-tainted palms filled with unexplainable emotions that I had never felt before. This seems like a tacky way to start off the first chapter of my memoir, but a teacher of mine did once tell me that I need to start off every story with a hook.

I inspected my fingers, my rings, my nails, my knuckles, and my wrists. All of it was coated in a bright, slippery poppy-red, with only a couple of tiny cracks of my natural skin color bleeding through.

My once solid-gold and silver rings were replenished with crimson, my long fingernails now had a beautiful arterial shade painted on them- death was truly a beautiful thing.

I never liked how people always viewed it as terrible, as a loss, as horrible- it was a new beginning. A new stage of life, it was something to be celebrated- it should be rejoiced!

I took my fingers and slowly smeared it onto cheeks, using it as blush. It didn’t exactly smell the best, but I didn’t mind it. I looked to my right to find my makeup brush in my purse, and brought it to my face to blend it out. I used my other hand to bring out my compact mirror, simply observing how delicate the brush strokes were on my face.

It was all so calming, so rejuvenating, it almost brought a tear to my eye.

I know what you all have heard, how you all believe that I am a monster- I’ve read the newspaper, the court cases, the television- they’re all so dramatic.

I have recently been diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. I am 85 years old, and I have lived a long life. The doctors have informed me that I have a couple months to live- so I might as well inform my audience the truth about their glorious muse.

I did not kill my husband.

I understand that you must be feeling a great mixture of complicated emotions, similar to how I felt in the scenario that I just described. You may be feeling confusion, disbelief, irritance, fear- you are perfectly valid for having these emotions. I might not be someone you would believe for stating this, I might be someone you fear due to my actions, perhaps I’m even someone you envy. If I was in your position, I suppose I would be feeling the same.

When I was three years old, I was cast into the well-known American sitcom, “Lilly vs. Life”, starring as the main character, Lilly’s, younger sister Lindsay. The show was a hit, and my family received one million dollars per episode.

I grew up getting cast in equally famous roles, from the superhero movie “The Golden Crow”, to the lead role in the action movie trilogy, “Jahilger’s Revenge”. By age eighteen, I owned five sports cars, owned a 25 million dollar home in LA, and was engaged to the love of my life, Alex.

Well, “love of my life” is a bit of a hyperbole. It was more like Alex and I seemed like a good fit. Sure, we got along fine, we had good sex, and we definitely had chemistry in public- always holding hands, kissing, cracking jokes in interviews. We were Hollywood’s dream couple. In private? We were roommates. Nothing to it, just show-business.

After our marriage, my hunger for fame only grew. I wanted to be immortal in my image, I wanted everyone on Earth to know my name, I wanted to be a God even after death. My money wasn’t enough for me, every celebrity had that these days- I wanted glory.

Alex, however, was the opposite. He was exhausted of the fame, the paparazzi, the movie deals, the constant articles- he just like me, knew that every second outside was a performance. The only difference between us, however, was that he despised it.

The “fraudulence” as he dubbed it, the deception, it ate him up. I could sense it every second of the day, from the little twitch in his eye, the constant finger tapping, the knee-jerking, the leaving the couch to “go on a walk” every couple of minutes- it was killing him.

Well, it did kill him.

Specifically, a bullet to the heart.

I don’t particularly know if he recognized that I could see that he seemed less stressed out, that he suddenly had a rejuvenated spirit, that he began going on trips that he had been planning for years and meeting with friends that he hadn’t seen in months- all signs that he was doing better.

That was, if you ignored the strange meetings he would have in the middle of the night.

One thing that always comes with fame is connections with people. Most people knew about the famed story of how Angelina Jolie once hired someone to do the same, before eventually deciding not to.

Alex, however, never took his request back.

It was supposed to be when I was out of the house, at the mall with my friends. I didn’t know what day it was going to happen, so I wasn’t exactly waiting at home for it. What Alex didn’t suspect, however, when I left was that I forgot my phone that day and came back to get it.

When I found them, hiding behind the wall, Alex accepted his fate, shedding a single tear, simply asking them to make it quick. The hire didn’t even notice when they were leaving that I was still there.

When I heard the back door close and lock, I walked into the room to inspect his body.

I was happy for him. Finally he could know peace, in his own peculiar way.

As I pondered how to deal with the situation in front of me, a beautiful idea came to mind. An idea of intelligence, fame, power, glory, and perpetuity.

When people think of the most famous individuals in history, the first that came to mind were not simply celebrities. They would also think of the sickest, most inhumane people on earth. They thought of the killers, the kings, the politicians- people who did gruesome, horrifying things. They were immortal.

I did think of other things- I could have said that I watched someone kill him, but that would just make me the sad, traumatized widow. That was not glamorizing, that was pathetic. That gave me no power, and it did not change my name nearly as much as this would.

This would not just change my name- it would grant me eternal life.

I sat down next to the body and placed my hands over the wound, letting it cover my hands, my arms, and my clothes. It was like a beautiful ritual, a rebirth of my identity, my face- all of it. I walked to the kitchen and brought out a large kitchen knife, and carefully used my blade-sharpener to style it into a glorious and powerful weapon.

I walked back to the body, and, using my hand and the knife, found my way to the bullet and pulled it out. Then, after cleaning and disposing of it, I proceeded to take the knife and repeatedly stab him. I made the death seem long, painful, gruesome, terrifying- glorious.

Afterwards, I took the knife, cleaned it, disposed of it, took a shower, and called the police.

Even now, I see mystery novels and movies based on me, theories on the internet about what happened, believers, non-believers, news articles, FOX News debates- nobody knows.

Well, here you go.

That is, if you choose to believe me.

Then again, what would I get out of lying?
Columbian Rainfall

July 10th, 2023

Sophia stared solemnly at her hands. There was nothing unusual or specifically special concerning them; they were excruciatingly normal at the moment. Five fingers, petite palms, trimmed fingernails, sweat around her cuticles- they were unextraordinary.

She always thought that her hands could dictate quite a bit about herself. The way they were gripped, the lines around her fingers and palms, how gritty her nails were, the amount and length of hair on the back, how pale her knuckles were- she felt as though she could reveal far too much about herself by displaying her hands for the world to see.

That was one reason why she always covered them.

One.

There was another reason of course, but that one would raise much more concern to people if she elaborated.

She remembered the wet and thunder-filled nights of Columbia when she was a little girl. She adored playing outside in the puddles and dancing in the moonlight, despite how much her mother would complain that she would get sick.

She did always end up getting sick, but that didn’t really matter to her.

Rather, she would admire every little droplet that fell on her cheeks, sticking out her tongue in order to taste what she believed was mother nature’s abundant love.

That was, until her grandmother passed away.

On the night of her death, as she sat outside of their house, she noticed that is seemed to rain more that day.

Yet, this time, it did not seem like mother nature was providing her with such plentiful appreciation. It was not a symbol of her kindness and generosity.

It was spite. It was contempt. It was her laughing at Sophia for taking her grandmother away from her.

It was mean.

As Sophia cried on her porch, pain and turmoil engulfing all parts of her mind, body, and soul like a powerful tsunami, she began to feel the ground tremble beneath her.

She picked up a rock sitting next to her and threw it at the ground, as if to quiet it. How could she focus on some earthquake when she had lost one of the dearest people in her life? How could she even dare to contemplate hiding or leaving when her own loved one didn’t have the opportunity to live longer? It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair-

She felt the earth split a loud and thunderous crack in the ground surrounding her, beginning from the very spot where she threw the rock.

Plants, insects, stones, toys- all began to fall down into the large pit that began to form.

As it grew and grew in size, she began to hear screams and yelps around the community, children crying, full grown adults yelling and running- this was not a normal earthquake.

After that night, every single time she cried, something similar would happen.

Her mother always used to tell her that it wasn’t her fault, that it was a coincidence and that she was imagining things.

But Sophia knew in her heart that both her and her mother understood that this wasn’t coincidental.

Sophia wore gloves every single day after that night. She wasn’t sure how much it seemed to help, but it gave her at least some form of peace that could let her sleep at night.
Little Bear

July 10th, 2023

In a deep and dark forest filled with creepy ghouls and goblins, there was a small and sheltered cave covered in thorns and roses where a small and peaceful bear resided. His name was Little Bear.

Little Bear was very different from his family. His mother was a proud, brave, strong, and powerful bear that demanded that her boys help hunt for the rest of them. She held all of the keys in the forest, and would never let her paws get dirty.

Her oldest son, Big Bear, was angry and bold. He would mercilessly kill all prey in the forest just for sport, and would constantly berate Little Bear for being too merciful and scared in the forest. Sometimes Big Bear would even take the lives of tiny little fish who could barely satisfy the hunger of even the smallest duck, just to hear its screams.

Mama Bear’s middle child was called Wise Bear. Wise Bear made sure that their family would always have the most food, the best cave, and the tastiest meat in all of the forest. As much as Big Bear was scary due to his enormous stature and cruel decisions, the entire forest knew to never mess with Wise Bear. He was helpful to have as a friend, but a very dangerous enemy- with just a snap of his claws, entire families could be killed.

Then, of course, there was Little Bear.

Little Bear loved to sit quietly in a small protected spot in the forest, where he could watch the stars. It was the only spot that Big Bear did not know of because there were no other animals to hunt in that area, so he did not have to worry about being beaten up or scratched by him. Little Bear would look up at the sky and dream about a quiet life without his family- he would not need to hunt or hurt animals; in fact, he would not need to eat at all in this life. He would just spend all day playing in the sunlight with his friends(in this world, he would have many friends), and spend the nights sleeping under the warm moonlight.

One day, as he sat in that tiny spot, he saw the wicked eyes of Big Bear watching him. Quivering, Little Bear quickly got up and tried to leave, only for Big Bear to laugh at him. He lunged for his tiny little stomach and scratched him, laughing.

“Little Bear, so foolish! So pathetic! Why do you sit here staring at nothing? Don’t you wish to be big and strong? Don’t you wish to feel the blood rushing in your body while you take the last breath of a creature? Don’t you want power? Don’t you want something in your life? Don’t you want to be like me? Sad, sad, sad Little Bear!”

Little Bear’s throat swelled as his skin bled and his eyes welled up.

When Big Bear left, and Little Bear sat, crying in his little spot, he saw the curious eyes of Wise Bear staring back at him.

“Poor, small Little Bear. Big Bear always hurts you and we are always unable to protect you. He is so wicked and arrogant, he never cares about this family.”

Little Bear sniffled and nodded in agreement. He never realized how nurturing Wise Bear could be sometimes.

“I have an idea. Why don’t we do something to teach him a lesson? That way he will never hurt you ever again.”

Little Bear’s head raised and tilted. What could they both do?

“There will be hunters in the area just near the river. Why don’t you lead him to that area just after sunrise tomorrow, so that they can hurt him? Don’t worry, he won’t be killed, we wouldn’t want that. He’ll just be taught a lesson. That way he will never hurt you again. You want that, right Little Bear?”

Little Bear nodded reluctantly. As long as Big Bear was not killed, he would be happy. He did not want him to be killed, he just did not want to be hurt anymore.

Wise Bear flashed a toothy grin and stroked Little Bear’s head.

“That’s what I thought. Don’t worry Little Bear, I’ll be watching the whole time. Soon he will never hurt you ever again.”

Right before sunrise, Little Bear led Big Bear to chase him toward the river, by saying that he spotted a family of deer grazing there.

“Finally, you have at least some worth Little Bear! I was getting bored, but seeing those kids get pulverized by my claws will be a great deal of fu-”

Big Bear was shot right behind his front shoulder.

He roared a hearty roar of agony and looked up only to be shot again.

Little Bear hid behind a small bush where he could not be seen, before hearing noise and shuffling and the booming thud of Big Bear falling onto the ground. When he realized that the hunters had left, he got up to see Big Bear, only to find that he was not moving.

When he realized what had happened, he turned to where he knew Wise Bear was hiding, only to find him also on the ground, not moving.

Little Bear sat and cried, realizing what had happened. As his tears welled up, a tiny voice spoke.

“Ha, they’re dead, they’re finally dead! The cruel creatures are dead! Now there’s only Little Bear, but he’s weak, he would never even harm a fly! Now all of the other creatures can thrive! Little Bear must stay sad and alone and do nothing while we creatures live and prosper!”

Little Bear turned around to see who had said such things, only to spy a tiny fish, not even big enough to feed a duck.

Little Bear had already eaten that morning. His belly was full, he had no need to feast, and most certainly no need to kill.

So as he stared at the tiny fish in the river, he let out a very tiny crack of a smile, before raising his claw to kill it.
Love Immortalized

July 10th, 2023

“Augustine”.

He had heard his name in so many accents, so many languages, so many countries and nations around the world through centuries, all with various tones and motives behind them, yet it was always that one tone that he loved the most.

It was never the same person, yet somehow it was always the same soul.

It was always them.

The same phrase had been ringing through his head for the last seventy years. The phrases would always change since the last time he saw them, and the time it would take between phrases would differ; once it would be just a simple 20 years, others close to a century. It was always a hint, a glimmer that showed him the life where he would find them again.

This time it was a simple “I wish for peace”.

They had said that right after dying in Augustine’s hands, shot in the heart by an enemy soldier’s gun.

The phrases would always remain similar; they would contain something all humans instinctively desired and yet would harbor such vagueness. It was as if something was trying to test his patience.

Augustine had searched cities and nations, and sought the wisdom of hundreds of textbooks and articles, trying to find where true peace was. He researched various scientific papers to find various definitions of peace, he went through every single online article for the “ten most peaceful places in the world”, and yet had found nothing. He was beginning to lose his patience.

He had always attempted to keep up to date with the news about the ongoing world; it was a crucial part of his daily routine. He felt as though it was his duty to be an active part of history so that he could share the stories with them in the future. At this point following so many centuries of life, they were the only part of his life that mattered.

He particularly enjoyed sitting in cafes to do so. Not only was it comforting to watch the news outside his lonely house, but it also gave him a bit of sanity to hear other individuals speaking in the background. No matter how much time passed, there would continue to be people gossiping, chattering about the little things in their lives, their minuscule problems, never truly realizing how much importance lay behind them in the grand scheme of things. It gave him a sense of glee, seeing the world continue to remain the same in such minute ways.

He had been sitting at a small cafe in New Hampshire for approximately 24 minutes, eavesdropping on two teenage high school students gossiping about a peer they did not seem to like.

“God, I never want to see him again! I should go to one of those secluded islands in the ocean, the ones that have no contact with the outside world, maybe then I never have to see his stupid face again”.

Augustine froze for a second. A secluded world, no war, no colonizing, no genocide, no prejudice, no technology, no corruption- peace. It was perfect.

He spent the next week researching a particular island off of the Bay of Bengal, populated by a small tribe, secluded from the world. He booked tickets to the coast of Chennai, India, took a boat to the edge of the Bay of Bengal, and began diving. The Indian government kept constant control of the borders in order to prevent outsiders, yet Augustine doubted that they would be able to find him swimming 30 meters into the ocean.

He could not necessarily breathe underwater- he was still human- but he had found that he could hold his breath for a particularly long amount of time. The longest record for him had been about 19,822 minutes, or about about two weeks. It wasn’t particularly easy, it felt incredibly uncomfortable after about a week, but the worst that could happen was him passing out before being able to come and swim back up. That was unless he was eaten by something, in which case he would have to wait at least a week to become a normal human body again.

All of this didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was them.

The trip did not take too much out of him. Getting stung by the swarm of jellyfish and the hordes of water snakes was certainly irritating, but he had been through many wars, diseases, and genocides- this was nothing.

He planned to show the island that he had come in peace. He bought different metals that he had acquired on his travels as an offering, as well as new plant seeds for them to grow agriculture.

When arriving, he could tell the tribe already knew of his arrival. He closed his eyes to hear low chattering, filling the air with a sense of anxiety and calculation. They were planning their move.

He decided to simply walk to the villagers in a straightforward fashion. They could not kill him, he had nothing to worry about.

Augustine bowed his head and raised his hands far above his hands as proof of his surrender. They stared at him with their weapons drawn, before speaking. He could not understand their language, but he was not worried. He was very quick at learning new languages. There had been virtually no research on the language they spoke, but he had learned entire dialects in mere days- this would be simple.

He carefully pulled out the metal and seed pouches from his pockets, before placing them on the ground.

Two soldiers carefully took the items and analyzed them, before giving them to the person who appeared to be the leader based on the cloth that covered his head.

The leader seemed to be an old man, perhaps in his seventies or eighties. Despite his age, he seemed to be well-built and taken care of. His shoulders and arms were muscular and large, and his hair continued to be dark despite the wrinkles covering his face and body. His palms, holding a large sharpened spear, appeared worn down from usage, and his feet were covered with blisters and sores.

Despite the obvious amount of responsibility on his shoulders, his eyes displayed happiness. There was a sense of joy that he received from what he did and protected- he had a duty that he was eager to fight for. There was peace.

Augustine looked at the old man with tears in his eyes, smiling from ear to ear. “Oh look how you have grown, my beloved. You have done so much and fought for so long. You have found peace. I have waited so long to see you again, my dear.”

The man stared at him, continuing to aim his spear at him before speaking loudly.

Augustine sighed. He had been through this situation so many times, and yet it never seemed to hurt less.

“I wish for peace”, Augustine called out loudly.

The man softened his grip slightly as his eyes flashed. The other soldiers stared at him confusedly, before he waved his hand at them, demanding them to put down their weapons.

He called out something, before walking up to Augustine in a cautious manner.

Augustine’s mouth quivered as he held the man’s hand carefully.

“My love, my love, you have returned to me, I have found you! I think of you so much, I have searched forever, I have missed you oh so much…”

The man stared at him in confusion, yet found his eyes watering. He looked down and wiped them in disbelief, before looking back up at Augustine, softening.

“You do not understand what is happening, who I am, why you feel like this-” Augustine began. “Yet, you have felt this before. You have felt this millions of times and I have been here every time my love. I will always be here. You will understand soon.”

…

It had been ten years since Augustine had been accepted into the tribe. It had taken him about two days to learn the language, and eight months to become fully accepted and trusted by every single member of the tribe.

As Augustine started a fire for the tribe leader, he heard a call from near the island center.

“Augustine, you must come at once! The leader is calling for you.”

Augustine quickly ran to their hut, finding the leader laying on the ground, smiling.

“My love,” Augustine began, “What is wrong?”

The leader looked at Augustine tearfully.

“Augustine…why did you take so long to come to me? I waited so long for you, and now….”

Augustine recognized that tone. He had heard it so many times before, but it always only meant one specific thing.

“Please my love”, Augustine started. “I am not ready yet, give me more time”.

“You have given me so much joy, I only wish the same for you. Why do you spend your entire life searching for me? Surely with your longevity, you must have so much to explore, why me? Why go through so much torment? Why, my Augustine?”

Augustine laughed painfully.

“There is no competition. I have seen every inch of this earth, I have grown weary and tired of it, and yet I would scour it a billion years longer if I could spend it all with you.”

The leader looked down, coughing painfully.

“Well, Augustine, will you ask me the question then? The question that you always ask me? I am afraid that it is time.”

Augustine held the leader close to him. “Please, I do not want to ask, I want more time with you, please my lo-”

“Ask.”

Augustine tried to ignore the large lump in his throat as he kissed the leader’s hand.

“My beloved, what do you wish for?”

The leader looked at Augustine tearfully, before closing his eyes and smiling.

“I wish for nothing more than your love.”

Augustine felt the leader’s body drop as he cried emotionally into his arms.
A Hill I Would Die On

July 10th, 2023

I look down at the tiny pebbles surrounding my feet. My toes contain blisters and callouses, bleeding from the long trail that I have treaded to get here. I sense the sweat dripping down my forehead and the air in my lungs entering and exiting my body. My hands tightly grip the scroll prophesizing that I come here- the scroll that would determine the fate of the world and me.

My body stands here on the top of this hill, but my mind still resides and lives everlasting from the moment that I received the scroll. We all heard the news of the world dying, the universe’s collapse, the end of human civilization, the end of animals and plants and bacteria and fungi- the end of everything.

I walk to the edge and stare at the bottom. I spot the bottomless pit, the pit to space, the pit to the edge of the earth. This is it, this is what I need to do- for the fate of humanity, for my family, for the world.

I feel my body tense up. This can’t be that hard. It’s just one death for the fate of billions. Trillions if you include bugs and everything. Stop being a coward, this is what you need to do- what you MUST do.

I sit down on the edge- maybe that’ll be easier than jumping? Maybe I can just accidentally fall or something, that could be easier. Perhaps that could make sure that I don’t somehow mess this up.

As I face towards the pit, I close my eyes to feel the wind blowing across my face and hair. My body shivers from head to toe- I can’t tell if that’s from anticipation or from not bringing a coat.

I think back to the day I received the scroll. The dreams haunted me for days following the news of the end, but I assumed it was nothing- until that wretched piece of paper appeared in my hands stating that it was me that could change the fate of the world. Holding my exact name, birthdate, height, immediate family members, and the day I would need to go and sacrifice myself.

At first, I tried to throw it away, maybe this was a sick joke or a figment of my imagination- but then it just kept appearing and coming back to my hand over and over and over again. I knew what I had to do- I know what I must do now, I must save my family, my brother, my mom, my dad, my best friend, my niece, my nephew- the world. It must be me.

So why is this so difficult, why can’t I do it? Am I really this selfish? One life, just one. I can do this. I must do this.

I open my eyes and get up to walk to the edge. This is it, these are my final moments. Perhaps I’ll be known for something, and they’ll put my name in future textbooks for this. The girl who saved humanity.

Why don’t I do a countdown? I count down from 3- no that’s too fast, how about 10? No, too long. Okay, seven. Seven is a good number. Seven.

Okay.

I close my eyes.

Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two-

What makes you assume that your life is less worthy than the world?

I open my eyes to search for who had spoken.

I look up to see a being staring at me. I cannot tell what it is or describe any of its features in a remotely understandable way. It is surrounded by a glow, but I cannot tell what shade, color, or hue the glow is. The being is surrounded by hundreds of millions of billions of eyes- or perhaps it is blind.

I stare blankly at the being, but I do not feel afraid. I feel as though it understands me- or perhaps it is a part of me, I can’t tell. It certainly seems monstrous, but I don’t think it has any ill will. In fact, in a way, it seems beautiful. Glorious and ethereal even.

I finally gain the sense of awareness to respond back.

“Who, who are you? What are you?”

The being does not seem to move, and I visibly see its mouth, but I hear its response in my head.

My name is *&{“”””}}||||~~`. I am a being higher than humanity, but you do not have an English name for it; however, that is not relevant to my purpose for being here now.

It responds its name in a language that I cannot humanly comprehend, using a dialect and vocabulary that I do not understand, but it seems as though this name has power behind it.

You have still not answered my question.

I blink a few times and remember what it had asked.

“Well, um- it’s just a matter of numbers. I am nothing compared to the lives of billions, trillions. One sacrifice will mean nothing for the fate of humanity.”

It continues to respond in my head despite not moving an inch of its mouth.

On earth, the death of a queen bee will destroy an entire colony. The death of a mother will destroy its infant with nobody to take care of it. All deaths matter in some way.

I frown.

“Well I suppose, but I’m not a queen, mother, or anything remotely similar to that. I’m just a normal person. My death will not destroy anyone. Sure, my loved ones will be sad, but they’ll be able to move on.”

What makes you assume that a normal person’s death is less valuable than the death of a queen? Will the death of one bee not still affect its loved ones and even the queen for knowing that she held responsibility over the bee? A queen may have more to look over, but in the end, a queen is just, what you claim as, a normal person.”

I grow irritated. Why is this being trying to debate something this ridiculous, I’m trying to save billions, trillions. This is insane, this isn’t even a debate.

“I guess, but one compared to billions or trillions won’t matter. You’re talking about bees, animals, but this is humanity! How will humanity be affected by the death of just me, people die every day- one more and so many lives are saved.”

Are you claiming that the lives of bees and other animals are inferior to the lives of humans? A key detail that humans seem to forget often is that humans are a type of animal as well. We all have the same kind of cells, we all think and communicate and feel.

Now it seems as though it’s twisting my words.

“No”, I begin, “Animals aren’t inferior to humans. I just think that animals are more connected and grouped together, while humans are separated- we don’t care about each other, we are selfish beings. Animals are better than us in some ways, they care about each other. Hell, if humanity cared about each other, maybe this apocalypse wouldn’t happen, maybe we would have solved the issue decades ago, but instead, this is happening now.”

If you believe that humans are inherently selfish, then why go to all of this trouble to save them?

“Because I don’t want my family to fucking die, that’s why! I want my brother to see his kids grow up and get their driver’s licenses and drink a shot with him on their twenty-first and dance with him at their wedding. I want my parents to smile with my grandparents whilst looking over their wedding pictures, I want them to laugh at how stupid my brother was when he puked on his suit during prom, I want them to sing at their 50th anniversary and spend so many more years laughing and crying and singing and dancing. I want my best friend to get married to her stupid girlfriend and act all mushy about it and spend decades together in love because they are in love. They taught me that modern love is real just by the way they look at each other and hold each other in their arms and how they are there for each other even in the worst times. I want all of them to just live. If they need to live, I have to do this, I have to.”

The being seemed to pause for a second, as if it was thinking.

You say that humanity is inherently selfish, yet you are willing to risk the joy of yourself being in all of these memories, the joy of your family’s loving presence and comfort, all of it in order to save them. That seems like quite the opposite of selfishness to me.

I feel my head fuming. Why is it still debating this? Why does it keep torturing me like this, what does it want from me?

My throat begins to lump up and my eyes begin to water.

Have you told your loved ones that you are here now?

I feel my heart drop.

My hands release from the tight fist that they were gripped in. I didn’t even realize that I had them clenched.

I do not speak.

You do not want to hurt them. You do understand that they will feel your absence and be hurt, yes?

I find my mouth unable to move, the lump in my throat just seems to get bigger by the second. The being seems to notice this.

I recognize that you have left them a note and a copy of the scroll for them to read so that they can understand and receive a form of…closure as you call it. Yet you have not spoken to them. You know that they will try to stop you from doing this.

I feel angry again.

“Well how can they be a judge of my character, how can they decide whether I live or die, that’s not their choice, they can’t change fate and destiny, they aren’t gods!”

Is that not what you are doing now?

I stare at it.

Are you not acting as a judge for the world, deciding whether or not they should live or die? Are you not attempting to change fate by sacrificing yourself? Who states that you are allowed to choose whether the world should live or die? Is that really your decision to make?

I don’t know how to respond. The being is right, I am not God, but I don’t want my family to die. It’s not my choice to decide whether the world lives or dies, but it is my choice whether I die or not.

Yes, you are correct, it is your decision to live or die, your death here will save the rest of the world, but it is not your judgment that can decide whether the world is worthy to survive or not.

Let me ask you a question. You state that your life and death will be insignificant, but if it was, why would you be here now? Your death and life will affect billions, trillions, as you phrase it. You are a human being, and that in itself is significant. You fought billions just to receive the beauty of life, of being born.

I finally feel the tears flooding down my face, the ones that had been waiting to arrive since I had gotten to this hill.

“Why are you here? What is the purpose of all of this, aren’t I supposed to die? Why are you trying to convince me not to? What is this all even for?”

The being finally moved slightly. I could not tell what it did, but I think that it seemed to smile in a way. I hadn’t noticed how familiar the being seemed- it felt as if it knew that I would say that.

I am simply here to show you that you have a choice and that it is not an easy one. There is no morally right or wrong decision, there is only the one that you decide to make. Nobody is supposed to die- yes, we all leave the world just like we entered it, but we are not born in order to die, we are born to live our lives to the fullest. I have not stated that I am trying to convince you not to sacrifice yourself, I am only here for you to see both sides. So, what choice will you decide to make?

I think about all the future memories that I want my loved ones to make. The future moments of joy, laughter, pain, love, hatred, friendship, forgiveness, the emotions that make us human. I don’t want them to miss them. But those memories will never truly be the same without me, I can lie to myself but in their minds, those joyful memories will always be different without me there practicing those alongside them. Those human memories will remain tainted.

There is no right or wrong decision, there is just a decision to be made.

As I wipe away my tears, I come to terms and begin to smile. I am significant, I am here for a reason, and my decision matters. It is not good or bad, but it has power.

I take a deep breath as I come to terms with what I have decided. I understand now.

I look up at the being and give it a small smile of gratitude.
A Cup of Water

July 10th, 2023

Something that many do not seem to comprehend is that killers, too, are just as anxious as victims before they murder- at least, in a physical aspect. My body shivers in anticipation of what is to come today. It is an average day, for me of course, but that does not alter how goosebumps spread throughout my arms and legs, how my heart beats slightly faster, how I can feel the warm blood rushing through my veins, how the tiny hairs across my forearms begin to rise, how the sweat of my forehead seems to glisten more against the sunlight, how my throat grows a larger lump by the second- all characteristics that are meant to alarm me that something is wrong. It’s like a threat, like an adrenaline rush that has gone wrong, a higher being attempting to warn me not to do it.

What this being doesn’t seem to realize, however, is that this is the exact reason why I do it.

There’s this little daydream that I enjoy participating in quite a bit. I sit on a glorious throne, built with gold, silver, precious and rare jewels- and human bones. This throne is not measly or meager in the slightest; it stands one hundred feet tall and towers over the world, everyone looking up at me with respect, awe, and even a bit of fear. There is no position higher, no replacement waiting under me, it is only me on this throne. I am worthy of being called a king, an emperor of everything.

Of course, I have not spoken of this fantasy to anyone else. In real life, I am merely an everyday real estate agent. A competitive career, of course, but I make sure that I am the best. It pays well, but I always find myself wanting more.

I would say that I am a man with many enemies. I believe that everyone is an enemy in a way- everyone is silently competing to be the best, the greatest- the king. Yet, there is one individual that I believe is a little higher on my list of foes. We would always interact calmly in the workplace, smiling, laughing, cracking jokes- but we both recognized fully that it was all a facade. I saw how his eye twitched when I called his name, I would notice the sweat drip down his face, his right hand gradually curling into a fist, how his foot tapped, how he seemed to drink more water when I was in the room with him- we were not friends.

This was all normal behavior for him in my opinion. He had been acting like this since the first day we started working together. Maybe he harbored some plot against me, but it was not happening soon. I had seen individuals like him before, but they always soon turned out to no longer be an issue.

That was, until a week ago.

It was a normal morning. I was heading to my desk when I passed by him as usual at the water station. I greeted him hello as he handed me my water cup. He did not twitch as usual. Hmm. That’s interesting. He replied hello back, but did not touch his water, or act nervous in the slightest. Rather, he acted confident, laid-back, and powerful.

Something was wrong. Where did he gain this sudden excitement, this sporadic assertiveness, what happened? Perhaps I was overthinking this, maybe he was just having a good day.

No, that did not make sense. I was invited to his wedding. Even on that day, he continued to act the same around me. It must be something else, he must have done something.

Or perhaps, he was planning something.

Yes, that was the only reason why he could possibly act differently. His everlasting thirst for power over me- our fierce battle for authority over each other- must soon be coming to an end, he finally has found a means to end himself of the everlasting torture that he faces every day when he hears my voice.

But how? Has he found a way? Has he found a way to fire me or give me a demotion, sneaking behind my back like the slimy serpent that he is, communicating with my boss and telling him dirty corrupted lies in order to rid me of my position?

No, I got along better with our boss than he ever did- our boss was exceptionally fond of me. Not to mention that even if I was fired, my resume and education level is so incredible(not to mention my astounding letters of recommendation) that I could find a new job easily- he knew that.

So then what has he found, what plan, what scheme had he begun to arrange? What idea was lurking in that putrid mind of his?

I flinched.

No, no that’s too drastic, that couldn’t possibly be it.

Or…could it?

There was only one true way to get rid of me, to have all competition gone, to truly claim victory.

He had to kill me.

How was this even possible, was he even capable of it?

I chuckled to myself. I looked back at him from my desk chair. I’ve seen the darkness that lies behind those eyes when he thinks nobody is looking, I’ve seen the disgust and hatred in that faux morning smile he gives me; he was fully capable of it.

Then that begged the question: how would he do it?

He could stab me, but that seemed like too big of a mess, and everyone in our office knew how clean of a man he was. If he ever did anything corrupt, he didn’t even want to risk getting his fingerprints all over it; he never wanted to get his hands dirty, whether it was spilling some coffee on his leg, or choking on another man’s blood.

Any weapon seemed out of the question then. He could hire a hitman, but that seemed far too sketchy. He had definitely committed corrupt acts in the past- just by the look on his face every day I could tell- but he had a family. He didn’t want to bring them too close to this.

I frowned and took a sip of my water, staring at him with contempt through my peripheral vision. One would look at him and see a simple family man, a business leader, nothing more- but I saw nothing more than the devil looking back at me. I guess he saw me staring because he immediately looked back at me, smiled, and raised his water cup to me.

No.

No that couldn’t be it.

But how could it not?

I stared at my water cup in horror as I realized what the ferocious beast had done.

I could feel the blood boil through my veins and my cheeks grow redder and redder by the second in fury. This imbecile couldn’t do this to me, a future king, a powerful man filled to the brim with competence and force. I couldn’t die like this I had to stop it, I had to stop HIM.

Before he could even think, before he could even move, blink, even BREATHE, I got up and ran at him at full speed, my heart pounding through my chest and the sweat dripping across my forehead in anticipation. Carrying my water cup, making sure I didn’t even spill even the slightest drop, my legs bolted faster and faster. His face looked shocked, confused, fearful- disgusting. The way it was supposed to be. I was doing something right.

Before he could say anything, I took the cup of water and forced the liquid poison down his throat at the speed of lightning. He foolishly tried to stop me, shoving his hand at the cup, pushing it away, and soon even attempting to push me away. Stupid boy, he couldn’t even contemplate an ounce of my astronomical strength.

I started shoving it faster and faster as his face began growing red and a deep and violent cough initiated in his throat. Perhaps he doesn’t like the taste of his own medicine!

As this continued on, I felt his hands grip me tighter and tighter before they finally gave up completely.

I stare him in the eyes as they began to lose focus and slowly shut close as I whispered in his ear with no remorse “You got what you fucking deserved.”

As he collapsed to the floor, I felt the poisonous effects of anxiety and fear had faded away and I was now calm.

I looked around to see the other coworkers stare at me in fear and power- like I was their ruthless king, and they would sacrifice anything for their will.

Finally, I had won.
A Charm Bracelet

July 10th, 2023

Sera’s everyday routine consisted of her waking up, grabbing a coffee, heading to class, getting lunch, studying with her peers, grabbing dinner, and sleeping. Some days she would study more, and on weekends she either tended to spend the entire day studying or heading out to visit the city.

Sera had a good life. She had friends, she had a family that cared for her, she had food and shelter, she had water, she had technology, her family had enough money that she wouldn’t have to worry about tuition or anything else being a serious issue, she had everything.

She had no logical reason to be unhappy. She had anything she could want.

She was fine. Everything was fine.

She was fine.

She was fine.

Everything was fine.

Everything was fine.

Everything was fi-

“What did you get?”

Sera looked up to see someone staring at her drink.

She realized that she had been zoning out again and quickly shook her head before responding.

“Just a matcha latte. What about you, did you get anything?”

The individual shrugged, before sitting down next to her.

“Not thirsty”, the person began, “Just looking for a place to sit.”

Sera didn’t really mind people sitting next to her. She didn’t really like being alone, anyways. It forced her to spend too much time thinking, and she didn’t like thinking. She really didn’t like thinking.

She nodded at them silently.

“What’s your name, by the way? I wasn’t able to catch it”, she stated.

The individual smiled at her, raising their hand to shake her’s.

“My name’s Gene, short for Genevieve. Would you mind telling me yours?”

“Sera, short for Seraphina”.

Gene and Seraphina talked for about fifteen minutes before they exchanged numbers and went their separate ways. Sera could tell after about five minutes that Gene was attempting to flirt with her.

Sera felt nothing.

She wasn’t sure why, she wasn’t always like this. She used to feel giddy when she would realize that someone had any romantic interest in her, but now it just felt- well that’s just it, it felt like nothing.

Everything felt like nothing.

She tried to make herself feel better and change the bitter feelings in her gut- she would write in a journal everyday, she would try new things, she would spend more time with friends, do more spontaneous things- but for some reason it didn’t seem to help.

Nothing seemed to help.

She remembered when she was a kid, when she would get excited for something, she would spend the entire night unable to sleep due to her sheer excitement. She always got irritated by habits like that, how she would get excited by such little things when she was a kid, while her friends would act like it was crazy. Why would she get so excited just to be able to go grocery shopping the next day with her mom? It was so stupid of her, there was no logical reason behind it.

She missed those feelings.

Her friends had been planning a trip together for months, and now she felt nothing towards it. She would have been so unbelievably excited when she was younger, but now it just felt like another day that would end.

She told herself that she was fine. Everyone kept telling her that she should just take it one day at a time, that things would be okay soon, hard times are only temporary, the typical phrases people provide to offer comfort.

So why did every single morning feel so agonizing?

Why did she wake up with her heart beating a million times per minute every single day?

Why was she on the verge of tears all the time?

Why were all of her dreams now becoming nightmares?

She looked up from her matcha latte and began to pack her things.

She had been staring at it for about thirty minutes, rather than checking her emails like she had planned.

Whenever she felt particularly emotional, she liked to go to a creek near her apartment. Not many people knew about it, and it was a nice place to look at. She always liked watching the ducks and little water droplets, letting her mind quiet for a little bit.

Something she always did as she began to walk down the road and watch the tree branches wave in the wind, was to talk to fate.

She was a big believer in fate, in a higher power, in destiny, that things happened for a reason.

She believed that it was the most powerful in forces of nature, that fate was somehow listening and, if she listened too, she would hear what it had to say.

Specifically when she was feeling low, she would look for signs- signs that things would get better.

When she reached the creek, she sat on a tiny bench that had a near-perfect view of the water and the sun.

It was a bit cold.

The leaves swerved and fell in tiny waves, the wind was blowing through the trees and the water, causing tiny ripples and movement, and the sound of the water droplets echoed into her ears as she closed her eyes.

Sera tried to think of nothing. That was one of her favorite things to do.

She was successful for about two minutes before her eyes began to water again.

Why was it so cold?

Droplets began to dripple softly onto her palms, as her breaths grew more and more shallow, mimicking the tight sounds of the wind blowing into her ears.

“Help, help”, Sera began to whisper, “Please, make things better, make things okay, make me okay, please, please, why did you do this, please”.

Everything was quiet.

Sera looked down at her feet before wiping her tears, getting ready to get up to go back to her apartment.

As she stood up, a slight glimmer shot in the water that caught the side of her eye. It was very small, yet it seemed pretty- pretty enough to go look at.

She treaded quietly to it, viewing her reflection in the water. She looked like she had been crying, obviously, but her eyes had something more to it.

Her family always said to her that she had “kind eyes”. She thought it was one of her best assets.

She looked further down and noticed a tiny charm someone had dropped next to the water.

She bent down and picked it up, feeling the wind blow harder on her face, before giving a small smile when she read the word written onto it.

It was the first time she had smiled in a while.

She knew that it was stupid, but she had always believed in signs.

She placed the charm carefully in her right back pocket, before heading back to her apartment, repeating the phrase in her head like a prayer.

“Hope”.
The North Star

July 10th, 2023

Uttara stared up at the sky above her, mesmerized by all of its glory. She could feel the grass below her stay perfectly still- she could feel the softness of it against her arms and legs, embracing her in a warm and comforting hug, as she lay perfectly motionless. The nights here were never cold, despite it being late November- rather, it was always just right. Warm enough to go outside and stay there forever, but not hot enough to sweat even a drop.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Uttara looked to her right and saw Vaishu sitting down next to her, looking up.

Uttara smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. How did the talk go?”

Vaishu sighed in an exaggerated tone. “Not the best. None of them even budged when I mentioned the idea, they all just seemed to laugh or ridicule me- I don’t think anyone in the counsel even takes me seriously at this point.”

Uttara scooted a little closer to her so that she could rest her head on Vaishu’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry too much, okay? Their opinions don’t even matter anyway, you’re the most intelligent person I know! One smidge of your shit has better ideas than the brains of all of those old men put together.”

Vaishu giggled and playfully hit Uttara on the arm.

“You can’t say those kinds of things about Appa! He’s the leader of the village, we have to show him some respect.”

Uttara rolled her eyes dramatically, putting her right hand on her forehead and fake-fainting onto the grass. Oh God forbid I insult our kind and wonderful father, leader of the village! It’s not like I’ll be dead in a week and it won’t even matter!”

Uttara took a second to realize that the joke that she made might be a little too dark. She looked back at Vaishu and realized that she was looking away.

“Hey-”

“We can’t keep ignoring it, Uttara. We can’t keep acting like everything’s fine and joke around about it when you know that it’s killing us to see you like this.”

Uttara stayed silent.

“Do you know how difficult this is for us? Morning after morning I wake up in shambles, realizing how much closer we are to that horrific day that the illness finally takes you, and I just have to keep it together because I know you hate talking about it. Every single day I talk to the council, the doctor, and any medical practitioner possible, just trying and trying to find a way to help you, to give you more time, to stop it from getting to your heart. Every single day I watch as you gradually get weaker and weaker, your face loses its color, your eyes droop, and you struggle to walk or pick something up; just seeing you just makes me want to burst into tears and hold you for as long as I possibly can. But I can’t. I have to keep it all together just for you to spend every night out here looking at the stars and joking around about it.”

Uttara looked away back at the night sky and was silent for what seemed like forever before finally speaking.

“Do you know how many stars there are? Personally, I have no idea but I would assume more than a billion. Each one leads to who knows where, all leading to different shapes and sizes, so many mysteries behind every single one. It’s fascinating in all of its glorious beauty, yet also terrifying. Our lives are so tiny, so small- all of these small things we do will not matter in the course of the universe, we will not affect the lives of the generations after us. We are just here, surviving.”

Uttara looked back at Vaishu, tears flooding the eyes of both of them.

“Vaishu I’m scared. I am so scared. I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to leave you, I want to stay here. I want to see you grow up, I want to see you beat all of those stupid councilmen up with your incredible ideas, I want to see you achieve every single one of your dreams right by your side. I want you to never cry for the rest of your mortal life, Vaishu. Please don’t cry.”

Vaishu sat closer to her and held Uttara in her arms.

They didn’t speak for about 10 minutes, and yet at the same time, it still didn’t feel long enough.

“Okay. I won’t cry.”

Uttara hugged her even tighter, gripping her blouse and laying her head on her shoulder.

“Okay.”

…

Vaishu entered the house holding the many many scrolls of potential ideas in her hands. It had already grown dark outside, and she knew her father was already probably sleeping at this point. She tip-toed around to her room as quietly as possible before realizing that someone was watching her.

She looked back and saw her father sitting across the room, chuckling.

“Good morning Vaishu! I would typically say good evening, but considering it’s already after 12…”

Vaishu rolled her eyes, smiling at him before carefully placing the scrolls on a table and sitting down next to it.

“Good morning Appa. Considering that you’re so smart-headed, could you kindly tell me the date? I need to write it on the scrolls.”

He smiled. “August 29, Vaishu. Now, after writing that down, could you please tell me about your day?

Vaishu’s stomach dropped as soon as she heard the date. Her father had forgotten what day it was.

“I have to go”, she blurted out before getting up and bolting out of the house.

She ran towards the empty field behind her house as if she was late for the most important meeting of her life.

Sitting down on the grass, she stared up at the midnight sky. It had been exactly one year since Uttara had left.

One year since she had died.

She tried to come back to the field at least once a month, every 29th. This day seemed more important than any day to watch the stars- like it was a promise she made, not just to Uttara but to herself.

As she looked closer at the stars, she felt her eyes grow damp. She didn’t realize how much she missed her, even though she acted like she was fine all the time. She would get on with life, grow successful, create new ideas- yet in the back of her brain she always thought about her. She always wondered how she was doing.

Blinking in the stars, near the north, one star in specific twinkled. Vaishu had never seen it before, which was surprising considering how long she had studied the sky. This one was brighter than any star she had seen in her life, comforting. Despite never noticing it, it somehow seemed familiar, as if she had known it another life.

North, Uttara. Vaishu stared at it for a few seconds, before she finally let out a small smile.