Like a droplet on a window of a car. Dripping down glass, dripping down bars.

Down, down, down!

Words, they drown.

Is the deeper they go, the deeper they mean?

Or is less more, like high-class cuisine?

  Fall,

     fall,


        fall!

Digest it all.

Take a dive

into a poet’s

messy heart.

But look

 too     deep,

and the

words

   fall









   apart.

Apparently every princess needs an animal companion. Dacan thought that would be his in, because his cousin, princess Maes, always enjoyed feeding the wildlife. If he could gain her trust as a bird, then all he’d have to do is catch her off guard.

And then what? Well, he doesn’t want to murder her. That’s too extreme. He wouldn’t kill for the throne. If he did, he wouldn’t be fit for it.

He hadn’t thought this far into his plan yet, but he’s been considering convincing her to change career paths. A zooligist would be nice. Or a vet. All he knew was that she loved animals.

“Be back before the stroke of midnight, or else you’ll be stuck in that form until you find true love’s kiss.” The wizard warned him when he asked for help in the matter.

Dacan scowled at such risky rules. “Why couldn’t you just choose one fairytale to—“

“Because I said so.” The wizard interrupted with a sassy eye roll. “How would you feel if you made up an intricate magic system and everyone either complained or disregarded it because they can’t appreciate the effort you put into dming for them?”

“Dming?”

“You’d feel horrid!” The wizard squawked, then raised his wand to shapeshift Dacan into a bird. “Now, I know you love to visit me, but you have to run along now, I have a pedicure appointment.”

“I don’t love to visit you, I just met you.” Dacan replied bluntly.

“Very well.” The wizard nodded. “But the next time you visit me, you have to shave the top of your head and wear a top hat, then go find twenty people to greet by tipping your hat to reveal your bald spot.”

And that was the last conversation he had as a human. Now that was horrid.

It would make him look stupid if he told his story to someone someday, and said that the reason he didn’t make it back before midnight was because he forgot. So he decided to leave that part out.

In any case, Dacan did succeed in one thing. And that was befriending Maes as a bird. Over the course of the next few weeks, he’d visit her window every day, until she eventually decided to keep him. He exchange his freedom for free food. Who wouldn’t?

He came to learn that her personality wasn’t as one dimensional as he thought it was. She loved things other than animals, like ghost hunting, soap carving, and playing guitar. Well, she doesn’t play guitar as much as she used to, but she would say it’s still her hobby if anyone asks her. Who wouldn’t?

Dacan grew fond of her over the months. He loved sneaking around the palace in the middle of the night with her to find some ghosts. And he found the sound and smell of her soap carving to be really therapeutic.

He soon came to realize that cousins can be friends too. That should be more normalized. If it was, then he could’ve been doing all this with her as a human, and not a bird.

They lived in the same palace their whole lives, yet never spent time together like this.

And of course it was Maes who broke his curse with true love’s kiss on the top of his feathery head.

“Dacan?!” Maes’ jaw dropped. “You’re Mr. Birdoobabirb?!”

“Yes, I am. And I’ve never cared for that name, actually.” Dacan smiled as he ruffled the feathers off his head of hair.

“Why…?”

“Because it’s actually really ridiculous.”

“No, I mean, why were you a bird?” Maes asked in disbelief.

Dacan grimaced and shifted his gaze towards the wall. Ah, what a lovely wall to stare at when things got awkward, it even had wallpaper and everything.

He still cared about the throne, but he came to realize that she was just as good a fit for it as he was. Sure, she could be a little kooky sometimes, but all princesses were “adorkable” these days anyways.

Plus, after all their time together, he would rather give up on his plan than give up on her.

“Honestly? …I wanted to gain your trust so I can convince you to step down from your duties, and I could be the king.” Dacan confessed softly.

The realization spread across Maes’ face like peanut butter on toast. Her sigh was nearly quiet, and her brows furrowed as her lips curled up into a crooked smile. “But I have five siblings.”

“I know that! I was going to get to them after!” Dacan scoffed.

“Get to them, huh? What bird will you be next? Or will you be an imp?” Maes teased with a giggle.

“Oh, shut up.” Dacan laughed, playfully nudging her lightly.

The two of them chuckled together until their laughter died down. Maes then rubbed her chin as she pondered the issue, before speaking up once more.

“You know what? I don’t actually want to be the queen, I want to do something more fun with my life. And I know my siblings are horrible, so really, you’re the best fit for the throne.” She grinned. “And I can make that happen.”

“Really? How?” Dacan’s eyes widened with hope.

“Well… how about we pay that wizard a visit?” Maes suggested.

Dacan grimaced, rolling his head as he winced. “…I guess I have to shave my head and find a top hat.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

The 8th Wonder of the World isn’t a place. It’s not something you can visit and take a picture of. Though, there is still an essence of tourism. And it’s fleeting. It’s in the feeling of when a child suddenly realizes they’ve grown tall enough to put the star on top of the Christmas tree. It’s in the feeling of when someone quietly smiles to themselves as they leave the cinema after watching an awe-inspiring movie. It’s in the feeling of the end of a hangout when a person involuntarily glances back fondly to their friend as they’re walking away. The final wonder of the world is the wonder of life itself.

I hate that you know what I’m talking about. I never even told you, but you already know, don’t you? They told you because they were “expressing their concerns?”

I used to trust them without a single doubt. But my privacy was carelessly violated. I should be the one to tell you about it on my own terms.

I don’t want to get so riled up or be so crass. But “catching you up on all friend group lore” my ass.

Is that all my trauma is to them? Some lore? Hot gossip to burn me with, tea of my tears to drink with, rumours to use as prompts for games of broken telephone?

Welcomes are polite but you weren’t here before. Do you think you’re entitled to my privacy because you joined our friend group? I am a stranger you’ve never known.

I’ll talk about it and hope to find contentment. I guess it’s better than harbouring resentment.

Your every sentence that trails off makes me think twice. When we talk like this, I feel like I’m on thin ice.

The string of syllables doesn’t know where to begin. I tighten my skate laces and then thicken my skin.

Our conversations linger, leaving its imprints. My shaky arms stick out to maintain my balance.

Years from now I hope that this won’t matter at all. But now I’m on thin ice, and I’m going to fall.

When Beatrice was seventeen, she was absolutely certain she met the love of her life, despite having only lived 20% of it.

But then they broke up. She spent most of her twenties dreaming about fictional men instead. And when her friends kept encouraging her to get on a dating app, she eventually did, and dated a few people here and there. But nothing lasted long enough.

It was in her thirties when her sister got married and had children. Her sister was younger than her. Beatrice adored babysitting her darling niece, and she did a lot of it, since her sister worked two jobs. Romance was no longer a priority. She told herself she’d get around to it eventually.

Instead, Beatrice got a cat. His name was Oreo. She spent her forties watching her niece grow up and taking care of Oreo. But whenever she watched a movie or a show sprinkled with a starstruck romance, she couldn’t help but sigh longingly.

In her fifties, she quit being a manager at a retail store to work at a hair salon instead. Everyone there was either married, or a starry-eyed twenty-year-old with a lot of opinions. They considered her to be the work mom. She was happier there, and it helped her cope with Oreo’s death.

Beatrice eventually adopted a new kitten and named her Omelette. Her newborn grandnephew loved to play with Omelette whenever she babysat him, and her clients at the hair salon loved to listen to stories about the antics the little ones got in together.

When Beatrice was sixty-seven, she was absolutely certain she would not meet the love of her life, because she lived almost 70% of it.

Even now, in the library she took her grandnephew to, while he was busy in the manga section, she found herself wandering to the section of romance books. At least until she was abruptly stopped.

“Oomph!” Someone grunted as they bumped into her.

Before Beatrice knew it, the quiet library was grappled by the resounding noise of falling books. She fell backwards on her bum as her arms instinctively raised to shield herself from the rain of literature. It was over in two blinks of an eye.

“Désolé— erm, sorry!” The man in front of her stammered, gawking at the incident.

The man looked absolutely mortified. He appeared to be in his late sixties, donning a fedora that hid his receding hairling and glasses that framed his aging eyes. But when he saw Beatrice, his expression softened.

Her silky, short grey hair was curled beneath her ears. She wasn’t angry or upset at all—instead, she was smiling, with soft wrinkles under her cheekbones. Her eyes crinkled with amusement as she looked up at him, and he was taken aback by how beautiful she was.

“It’s okay.” Beatrice reassured with a soft chuckle, her voice thin and sharp with experience and use. “Was that… French?” She asked, referring to his apology.

The man bobbed his head into a nod. “Yes, I’m from France. I was here to sign books.” He answered with a sheepish smile, then gingerly offered his hand to her. His soft-spoken accent was soothing to hear.

“You mean you’re…” Beatrice’s voice trailed off, and she glanced over to the direction of the book signing table she recalled seeing at the front of the library. “Oh my, that’s impressive!” She grinned and took his hand. “I’ve never met an author before.”

He was surprised by how firm her grim was. Her hands seemed so delicate, yet she was quite strong. He pulled her up and let his touch linger before he retracted his hand.

“Ah, I’m only the scientist behind the research, it was my friend who put it to paper. It was a collaborative effort.” The man chuckled as he adjusted his glasses.

He bent down to pick up the books he dropped. Beatrice, despite how she just got up, knelt down too so she could help. “Still impressive.” She remarked.

The man exhaled a small, amused breath through his nose, his eyes glistening with joy. He cleared his throat and looked down to the books he was picking up. “Erm… and what brings you here?”

“I’m here with him.” Beatrice explained as she picked up a novel, and pointed to her grandnephew with the book she held.

The boy was sitting on a beanbag chair on the other side of the large room, his nose buried deep in the manga he was reading. So much so that he didn’t seem to notice her fall earlier.

“Your grandson?” The man guessed.

“No, no! My grandnephew. I don’t have children.” She laughed. She was used to this assumption.

“Ah, then, are you married?” The man asked before thinking.

Beatrice met his eyes when he asked this, causing him to immediately drop his gaze back to the ground. His heart hammered in his chest as a surge of embarrassment rippled through every beat. He was about to apologize for his boldness, but then she spoke up again.

“I’m not. Are you?” Beatrice asked with a pursed grin, mentally crossing her fingers.

“No.” The man scratched his cheek and turned his head to hide his happy smile. He sighed, recollecting himself, and met her eyes again. “I… do not have any family. I dedicated my life to my research, but now that I’m retired, I think it would be nice to find one.”

Beatrice bit her lip and stared at him with a hopeful twinkle in her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt such a fluttery feeling in her stomach.

“Uh, I’m Pierre, by the way.” He smiled shyly.

“I’m Beatrice.” She replied gently.

Silence befell them, the air thick with hesitation and quiet giddiness. She watched his changing expression as he seemed to go through as many thoughts in his head as she was. Their minds were racing, getting so close to the finish, a line they wanted cross.

“Since you’re from France, I can show you around later if you want. There’s a restaurant I know.” Beatrice suggested to break the tension, and held her breath with anticipation.

Pierre’s eyes widened. He smiled so widely that his dentures could’ve fallen out, and his eyes twinkled so brightly they could’ve reflected in his glasses. He opened his mouth to reply.

“Y-yes! That would be… that would make me happy.”

I’m from a big family. They laugh together, it’s loud. The sound brings a smile to me. Being with them makes me proud.

My brother doesn’t want to play. He’s on his computer every day! He said, “It can research, buy merch, and even sing. My computer can do just about anything.”

I stomped my foot and said, “I can do all that too! Let me try then, I would be anything for you!”

“I don’t think there’s very much that you can do. You’re no computer, you’re human through and through.” __ __ “I could be a cat or a dog. Or maybe even a hedgehog!”

“You could not be a cat or a dog. You could not even be a rat or a frog.__ There’s not really all that much that you can do.__ You’re no computer, you’re human through and through.” __ __ “I could be a princess or a knight. That would be a brilliant delight!”

“You could not be a princess or a knight. You aren’t prim or proper, and you can’t fight! Really, you don’t have many things you can do. You’re no computer, you’re human through and through.” __ __ In that moment, my mind hit the floor. I couldn’t think of anything more. “I’ve named everything, so hear my plea! Who in the world do you want me to be?”

He laughed to himself, like it was a joke. A mere brotherly tease. And then, he spoke. “It’s okay, really, put your woes on the shelf. The only thing I want you to be is yourself.__ You could not be a cat or a dog. You could not even be a rat or a frog. You could not be a princess or a knight. You aren’t prim or proper, and you can’t fight! __ Sure, there may not be very much that you can do. But you’ll always be my sibling, and I’m happy you’re you.” __ __ I smiled really brightly, as bright as the sun that day. Then he grinned and finally said, ”Okay, let’s play!”

It’s been only twenty-three days since Stork quit his job, and there had already been 245 stillbirths and 31 sudden infant death syndromes.

Of course such a thing wouldn’t go unnoticed, but no matter how much everyone desperately sought his whereabouts, no one thought to check a zoo. Specifically a koala exhibit, where he and Grim Reaper just arrived at.

Stork gasped so deeply it sounded like he was choking. “Oh my god they’re so fucking cute!” He yelled.

Grim smirked and took a picture. “Chill, chill. You’ll scare them.” He teased.

A human walked through him as he said this, but he paid them no mind, already used to his presence being unbeknownst. He didn’t really deal with humans anymore. After all, they didn’t deal with him either—not after they discovered methods of immortality.

Grim Reaper was more focused on the doe-eyed koalas and their fluffy grey fur. Their noses looked so boop-able, and so real. They were actual, real-life koalas. It was always so astounding how everything on earth could feel so real.

Interrupting his thoughts was a sudden clamour, a door busting open. He and Stork whipped their heads to see what the commotion was. “Breathe, breathe! You’re doing great, darling!” A man said in a panicked reassurance as he guided his pregnant wife towards the exit of the zoo.

When she passed by Stork and Grim, they both had the urge to do their jobs. It was second nature to them.

However, neither of them budged. It was her time, Grim could tell, but he couldn’t take her. Nor did he want to. He quit his job too, after all, and humanity was probably all the better for it.

He couldn’t help but glance at Stork though. His feathered friend was so apathetic that his attention was already directed back to the koalas.

“…Hey, you could help them out, y’know?” Grim reluctantly suggested.

Stork glanced back at him with a playful scoff. “And go back to being overworked? No thank you.” He meant it as a jest, but an accidental, defensive tone slipped out at the end.

“It’s just one more job.” Grim Reaper lightly urged with an uncertain, yet encouraging smile. “Who’s being the lazy ass now, huh?” He then added to poke fun at him.

“Eh… I don’t really care about them all that much anymore.” Stork revealed with a grimace smile. “They’re so concerned with living forever, immortalizing their memory, that they’re hardly even alive anymore. So why give life to a race that’s barely alive? It’s like they’re not even real.”

Grim could only stare. He opened his mouth to reply, but his words fell short in his bony throat, and he turned to face the koalas instead. “Yeah.” Was all he said in response, dropping the conversation topic.

But when Grim Reaper glanced at his friend one final time, he couldn’t help but think of how his scythe might fit more comfortably in Stork’s grasp instead.

These memories are overflowing more than you can hold.

You try to shift such weighted grief, but you can’t feel consoled.

It’s gonna get easier in time, or so you’ve been told.

But you think it’s not fair you’re the one who gets to grow old.

There’s just one thing you must remember to warm such downcast cold.

Even if your tears can’t dry, tomorrow will come in bold.

The sun will still always gleam in brilliant shades of gold.