I recognized his eyes as soon as he walked through the door. I froze. I couldn’t do this right now. Last time I saw him, he tried to kill me. I couldn’t remember the reason, but I certainly hadn’t deserved it. Presently, I was in the middle of a job and didn’t have time to waste on this centuries-old distraction. Maybe he wouldn’t see me, or if he did, maybe he wouldn’t recognize me.

He had a new face, but the eyes were unmistakable. No doubt, there had been a fight, or chase, or element of surprise that almost ended him for good, but he had made the jump in time. I had forgotten he had such an ability until I saw his new face. He could transfer his consciousness from one mind to another as a survival mechanism. When his mind and body were damaged beyond the scope of regeneration, he would seize the mind and body of the being that caused the damage. A sort of ‘life I win, death you lose’ situation. I was suddenly jealous of that unique ability.

If he was aware of my presence, it didn’t show in the way he crossed the room. His head soon disappeared among the sea of swaying and spinning bodies in black suits and red dresses. Moments later he came up for air at the bar, and then dove back into the sea of dancers who unknowingly providing him cover.

I closed my eyes and focused my mind’s eye on the room. In an instant I saw him moving through the crowd toward me. Time slowed. His expression was devious, cunning, evil, but there was something else. Was that a smile or a sneer? He was aiming to take me by surprise.

Had he forgotten my unique ability just as I had forgotten his? I couldn’t seize minds, but with my mind’s eye, I could see through objects and speed up my perception of time, which caused objects to appear to move in slow motion. It had it’s advantages, but I’d rather be able to seize minds.

He reached the edge of the crowd and veered left, smoothly floating like a phantom behind the DJ’s booth. A black floor-to-ceiling curtain ran along the wall from the DJ’s booth to my table. I correctly assumed this would be his route. As he inched along behind the curtain, he slowly pulled a long dagger from a sheath tied to the inside of his arm.

“…get…you.” A faint voice almost broke my concentration. I was waiting for this. He was trying to enter my consciousness. I had to stay strong, to resist his mental assault. He had always been stronger, or at least seemed stronger, in this respect, so I had to keep my mind’s eye focused. He was halfway along the curtain. I put all my attention on keeping him out of my mind.

“…I…get…you.” Not today. Not ever. I made every effort to push him out of my mind. I wasn’t even sure how to do it, but I figured if I focused on staying in my own mind, and envisioned a barrier, a solid wall between us, I could fend him off successfully. The more I thought about it, the more obsurd it seemed. A mental wall. Was there such a thing?

“Is there anything I can get for you?” My eyes snapped open and, as they focused, I saw an exasperated waiter staring back at me. He was the faint voice I had been fighting against. “Is there anything I can _get _for you, sir?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Can I please get a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc with two glasses, and some ginger prawns.

“Sir.” The waiter nodded and made his way into the crowd.

I closed my eyes and my mind’s eye focused just in time to see the figure emerge from behind the curtain directly behind me. He approached without a sound, the dagger held low. His arm slowly extended out wide, the dagger point toward my neck. I recognized it. It was no ordinary dagger. It had once belonged to me. It’s power was beyond this world, and it could certainly end my existence.

Just as he moved to plunge the dagger into my neck, I reached up, eyes still closed, and grabbed his wrist. In one motion I was on my feet facing him. I twisted his wrist and the dagger dropped from his hand into mine. I opened my eyes and, for the first time in more than a century, looked into his red, glowing eyes.

“Hello, brother.”

With tears in my eyes, And face looking pale, With tears in my clothes, I tear down the trail.

By a sniff and a snarl, I was torn from my dreaming, And my terrified scream, Tore through the evening.

Now these tears skew my view, As I tear along blindly. Just a teary-eyed fool, With a bear close behind me.

Reaching Stretching to find Wandering here and there I panic. I cry. There is no Wifi

In the beginning, we might take chances but then forget them. In the prime, we might take chances but won’t regret them. In the twilight, we regret all the bad choices we make. In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take.

My dad told me not to spend more than a few seconds looking at myself in the mirror, because “That’s still more time than anyone is going to spend looking at you.”

He wasn’t trying to be mean; he was trying to give me perspective. Still, even with such great advice, I used to find myself staring into the mirror for long periods of time. Not looking for pimples, or hairs out of place, but just wondering what it was like on the other side of the glass.

Was the person I saw just a reflection of me, or did they have their own life? What did they see on their side of the mirror? Did they see me, or was their reflection someone different? What did they see behind their mirror, in the area I could never see? I knew I would never get answers.

I don’t know when it started. I’ve never been one to notice subtle changes, but eventually they became too conspicuous to ignore.

First it was my reflection’s skin color. I say “my reflection’s skin color,” because it was not mine. It startled me. I felt faint until I looked down at my skin and saw it was unchanged. Then I saw those eyes. Not my eyes. Those couldn’t be my eyes.

Maybe the reflection I saw really was someone else in their own world. Maybe they were changing and I wasn’t. Maybe I was supposed to change with the reflection, but failed. Maybe I needed to change.

But that can’t be. I couldn’t change into that if I wanted to, which I don’t, but if I did…

I know I’ve never seen that forest before, I’d never trade my horns for that hair, and I don’t even own a white nightgown.

Amazingly Beautiful, Colorful Digital Experience, Firmly Gripped Here, I Just Keep Looking, Monitoring News, Opining, Posting Quips, Reviewing, Swiping, Tapping. Understandably Viral. Why? XP Yearning Zombie.

Absorbing, Binge-watching, Chatting, Downloading, Emailing, Following, Gaming, Hashtagging, I Just Keep Liking, Mentioning, Noting, Ordering Products Quickly. Ringing, Subscribing To Unlimited Videos. Why? XP Yearning Zombie.

Start the morning right, win the day, yep I can’t lose! But really, I should think first, pace myself, SNOOZE. The early bird’s the one who gets the worm, yep they choose! But there are always worms left later on too, SNOOZE. Got to earn because I need a new pair of shoes! But who needs shoes when working remotely? SNOOZE. The best part of the day is the nine minutes I use, Trying to catch a few last-minute dreams, SNOOZE.

Elton shivered as he thought of what would happen to him if he was discovered. His parents had warned him of the dangers of sneaking out his bedroom window at night, especially around Halloween, and now, as he crouched in the shadows, their voices echoed in his mind.

It had been the soft glow of white light in the darkness outside his window that caught his eye as he made his way to bed, and lured him out into the cold night. It wasn’t the first time he had seen the glow. In fact, he had been preoccupied with it since the first sighting a few weeks before. This night, the draw was too strong for him to resist.

He crouched next to the coffin, frozen with anticipation and fear, and looked up into the vacant eye sockets of the silent, still creature that peered out from above him. Then, with steely determination, he slowly and quietly stood, reached out his hands until he felt the cold, dry, weather-worn surface of the old piano, and began to push. He pushed the large, creaking piano as quietly as possible away from his neighbor’s creepy-phantom-pianist Halloween display and out into the street. He continued pushing the piano down the dark street, up his own driveway, and into the garage. Now, how to hide it from his parents…?

I heard the music before I woke up. In my dream, I was in a club on the corner of the stage ready to jump. I leapt toward the crowd in an attempt to stage dive. The crowd looked ready for me, hands in the air, but then slowly moved away. I hung in the air until there was no one under me, and then fell toward the solid wood floor. I lurched awake.

The music didn’t stop when I woke up. It kept on, boom, boom, boom. It should be enough to keep anyone awake, but not me. I’ve heard this same song too many times. Countless times. Every time I wake up it’s the same. I’m here in this seat, leaning against the window with the vibration of the bass in my chest.

The first few hundred times, I would get panic attacks and not be able to function. Then, for a while, it was exciting. Was I going to live forever? Would I wake up to this same day forever? Now it was tedious, monotonous, and exhausting. I have no desire to stir from this spot. Can I just stay in my seat? No. That was definitely not an option.

“You ready?” My buddy asked me. “We got this!”

I didn’t respond at first. I actually considered trying to pretend I was still asleep, but, of course, he asked because he saw me wake up.

“Don’t you ever get tired of this?” I asked. “The same thing every day? I mean, it used to be fun, but it doesn’t change. Every time we wake up on this bus, headed off to…to wherever we end up. Oh, wait. I know where we end up. We end up dead. Am I the only one who sees this as a little bit tedious?”

He just stared at me like I had spoken in some unknown language. He didn’t understand. He was just part of this never ending cycle.

I looked out the window and saw our destination in the distance. I got up and stretched. Just then the back door of the bus sprung open and everyone crowded out. The wind seemed to suck them out of the open door.

Soon I was at the back door and jumping out.

“Where do you want to drop in at?” My buddy asked.

“I don’t care, you decide” I replied. Then I realized, I had forgotten to thank the bus driver.

The Fox, Jackal, and Wolf one day Joined the Lion to hunt for prey. They knew the King would help them slay A feast for them all to partake.

Along the path they saw the Deer. The Deer saw them and ran in fear. The pack gave chase with roar and jeer. In the end, Deer’s life they did take.

The Lion spoke with airs of royals, Quarter this deer before it spoils, And give a quarter for my toils, And the rest can be divvied thusly.

As King, I receive a quarter. And another as arbiter. The last is mine without barter. You don’t want to argue, trust me.

So Fox, Jackal, and Wolf did come, To learn about reward and toils. Although your labor is welcome, You aren’t guaranteed any spoils.

Note: Based on “The Lion’s Share” from Aesop’s Fables.