Skyler Fisher
Just a fish, lost amongst the clouds. Trying to put down words to ground my thoughts.
Skyler Fisher
Just a fish, lost amongst the clouds. Trying to put down words to ground my thoughts.
Just a fish, lost amongst the clouds. Trying to put down words to ground my thoughts.
Just a fish, lost amongst the clouds. Trying to put down words to ground my thoughts.
As I sit on a cloud, waiting for the sun to make it to me so I can take over my shift, I find my mind wandering to how I got here. When the opportunity for promotion from a basic angel to a Sun Driver, I was ecstatic. Sun Drivers are one of the most respected positions amongst the angelic ranks. Getting to work directly under Helios is also a great honor, as he is by far the most respected deity on the pantheon. Turns out, jobs like this aren't always what they're cracked up to be.
Helios is actually pretty hands off when it comes to the movement of the sun. He only ever steps in for big events, like the occasional Eclipse. The rest of the time, he leaves the grunt work of moving the sun around to us. And grunt work it is. I had more fun playing a harp than I do when I am assigned to driving the chariot. Sure, the job is really important, but it is so incredibly dull. The Solar Steeds that pull the chariot know the route well enough having done it for all of creation, so I all do as a driver is keep an eye out for anything suspicious. And there never is. The last time a demon made an attempt to interfere with the sun's course was over seven millennium ago. Long before I even took the position.
As the sun finally starts to approach, I rise from my seat. This spot above the ocean is chosen for the hand off because it is the only place where the sun isn't visible from any major land masses. That way, if the hand off goes awry, there won't be nearly as many people able to see it. Not that it has ever happened. Nothing remotely interesting ever happens. Even at this distance, I can see the bored expression of the current driver. I wait till he gets closer, before I jump off my perch and glide down to intercept his path.
I land gracefully on the seat next to him. Back when I first started the position, I used to make my entrance with a bit of flare. The tedium beat it out of me though. As he hands me the reigns, in a flat monotone he says "Nothing to report. A full day without incident." Sometimes I wonder why we even bother saying it. If there had been an incident, the entirety of the heavens would know long before it came time for the hand off. "Acknowledged" I reply before he wordlessly flies off, ready to enjoy his break.
With a heavy sigh, I settle into the seat of the chariot. I can feel the heat of the sun behind me as we continue. Not that I can see it, but I'm fairly certain the back of my neck is the most tan part of my body. I check the dials and readings on the panel in front of me, making sure our heading and speed are appropriate for the time of year. As always, all is good. Twenty-four hours. And then back to enjoying my free time.
God... look at him. Just seeing him makes my blood boil. I try to not let it get to me. My friends just tell me to ignore him, to stop obsessing over him. How can I? His mere presence in a room demands attention. I know I'm not the only one. The way women throw themselves at him is more than enough evidence of that. What does he have that I don't? We share the same dark curly hair. The same blue eyes. We're even the same height. Genetics will do that I suppose. So why is my little brother so much... better than me?
Despite my best attempts, I can never get my hair to fall quite as neatly as his. I've even taken to using the product he buys. Nothing. His skin is clearer, his teeth are whiter and more straight, he even maintains a better physique than me. Why was he blessed with all of this? He gets to live life on easy mode, while I have to work to achieve anything.
I know I should be grateful for what I have. Whenever I'm not thinking about him, I am. I have good grades, a generous scholarship lined up, and a girlfriend that loves me. My life would be great if I didn't have to live in his shadow. But the comparisons are inevitable. Our parents claim to not show favoritism, but it is clear who they prefer. He gets nicer clothes, they attend every game he plays in, he even maintains their undivided attention when we sit down for dinner together, recounting the latest game-winning play. My counselor tells me that I need to speak up more if I want the same level of attention, but what's the point? I know they'd choose him over me.
People always point out how much he and I look alike. They say it is so obvious we are brothers. They have to be mocking me. They'd never outright say it, but I know what they're thinking. He's clearly the better of the two of us.
I do not remember much from before the man in the strange coat took the cover off my cage. Most of the time, I had been in darkness. I could hear people talking occasionally, but there was no good way to measure the passage of time. I had heard his voice plenty of times before, but seeing the man's face was a shock. Even having never seen a face before, his crooked yellow teeth and impossibly dark eyes made me uneasy. "Yes... this one will do nicely" he hissed as he turns my cage to face a young girl. Her blonde pigtails and bright blue eyes made an almost comical contrast against the strange man's unpleasant visage. As he hands my cage over to her, I hear his instruction "All this one requires is your love. Treat him well, and he will always be there for you..." The instruction had a strange and insidious implication that seemed to go completely over the little girl's head. "Thank you Mister!" she squealed as she hurried off, taking care to not shake my cage too much.
"My name is Abigail. Do you have a name?" She asked me. I had never considered the idea of a name. I had no one to converse with before, so there had been no need for one. "Hmmm..." she pondered "I guess I have to make one for you. I'm going to call you Mr McScruffles!" The excitement in her voice smoothed over any doubts I had about the name. After all, I suppose my brown fur was rather scruffy. Abigail's parents were not thrilled to see me. They tried to make excuses about how I would be a big responsibility, but Abigail was determined. She made promises to care for me, even tearing up when her father tried to put his foot down. And so I became a part of the family. That night, while Abigail was sleeping, I overheard her parents discussing me. "What kind of creature is that?" "Where did it come from?" "Are we safe keeping it in the house?" All questions I had been asking myself. I snuggle up against Abigail's sleeping form, and decide that I will do whatever it takes to make her happy.
The next morning, we went to the pet store for supplies. The very confused worker decided that I was probably some breed of dog, so we picked up all of the necessary dog items. Food, water bowl, a bed. Even a nifty matching leash and collar with my name on the front and "Belongs to Abigail" on the back. After that, life settled into a routine. Abigail would take me for a walk in the morning, and then feed me before she left for the day for school. The food was dry, but palatable. I never really felt hungry, but Abigail started worrying about me when I stopped eating it at one point, so I down it for her sake. In the evenings, she would play with me and walk me again before bed.
As time went on, Abigail got taller. Older, I suppose, although the distinction wasn't all that clear to me. Occasionally, a boy would show up with her for our walks. A couple even stayed the night, although I'm fairly certain her parent's weren't aware of the guest. But our routine never changed. There was one boy who I overheard complaining about how much time Abigail would spend with me. I never saw him again after that day. With time, more changes would invade the life Abigail and I had settled into. She and I changed houses when she went to college. We moved again when she graduated. Eventually, one boy started spending more and more time with us. His name was David. David made Abigail happy, just like how I made her happy. And David loved me. Sometimes, David would take me on walks or play with me if Abigail was busy. Then, they both disappeared. I had been noticing that Abigail had been acting weird. She moved around a lot less, and was much slower when she did. She had gotten bigger too, not just taller like she used to. She had been the same height for a while now. A friend of Abigail and David would stop by to make sure I was taken on my walks, but it wasn't the same. Thankfully they were only gone for a few days.
When Abigail and David returned, they had a third, much smaller person with them. Abigail told me that this was Emily, her daughter. Emily was very small, smaller than Abigail had ever been. That would soon change. Emily grew quickly. I always stayed near. Emily clearly meant a lot to Abigail and David, so she meant a lot to me as well. Emily didn't talk much. She made a lot of noise, but never tended to use words. Eventually, when she did finally learn to say something, it was a single word: "Scuffy." Apparently that was her name for me. From that day on, my name was Scuffy. My collar still read Mr McScruffles, but no one called me that anymore. And I was fine with that.
Emily continued to grow. Before I realized it, she was as large as Abigail was when I first met her. As she got older, Emily started taking me on walks. At first, they would be supervised by Abigail or David, but eventually Emily was permitted to go on walks on her own. Time continued to stretch on. Emily followed the same pattern that Abigail did. Getting taller, hanging out with boys, moving off to college. This time, I stayed with Abigail. I had noticed that she had started to slow down again. Not in the same way she did when Emily was about to come. Her hair had turned gray, and her face was covered with lines. But she was still unmistakably my Abigail. Until, one morning, Abigail didn't wake up.
Her alarm went off at the same time it always did, but she did not stir. I tried to nudge her awake, but she did not respond. Soon, David noticed. He jumped out of the bed in a panic, calling people on his phone. A group of strange men in white clothes came and put Abigail onto a small bed with wheels and took her away. David followed, his face pale and eyes watery. Sometime later that day, Emily arrived at the house. She had clearly been crying, and she had a small boy with her. She introduced him as Sammy, and said he was her son. I went home with them that day.
David would visit us on occasion. The love he had in his eyes for me was tainted by sadness. He too had grown gray and slow, but every time he visited he always made sure to take me on a walk. He would tell me stories of Abigail. I was there for most of them, but it was nice to hear them from him. Eventually, David too stopped showing up, but I always had someone to love. Sammy grew up and had three kids: Aaron, Steven, and Abigail. I liked little Abigail the most. She reminded me of my Abigail. This new Abigail also eventually grew up and had kids of her own.
Over the years, I have had many names: Scuffy, Scruff, Crusty, Rusty, Russel. Every few generations my name would shift. One person would get old, and I would be taken care of by the next. Children grew up and had children of their own. My family was always filled with love. Someone was always willing to take me in when my previous owner could no longer care for me. Life was always in flux, but deep down I know the truth. My original collar and tag had long since faded away to nothing, but I am Mr McScruffles, and I belong to Abigail.
I silently make my way through the once familiar hallways of the castle. It is clear that no one has been here for a very long time; decades, possibly even centuries. Every corner is filled with thick cobwebs, and every surface is coated with a generous layer of dust. Even the security measures have eroded beyond the point of functionality. I probably don't need to move as cautiously or quietly, but why take the chance?
I enter a section of the castle where the wall had partially collapsed in, exposing the room to the outside air. A chilling breeze flows through the room. I shiver, despite the warm clothes I had put on, and rub my arms in an attempt to keep warm. I feel the rough texture of my scars across my arms, a permanent reminder for what had put me in this predicament.
Back then, I was the King's court wizard, and I was damn good at it. Any and every issue that was magical in nature across the kingdom came through me. Despite my relative youth compared to most other court wizards out there, I was still considered the best by a fair margin. Nothing was outside my power to resolve. That is, until the king fell ill.
At first, the physicians thought it was a mundane disease. For a while, I was not allowed in the king's quarters under the fear of it being contagious. By the time I was allowed in, the King had withered into a mere husk of his former self. With some clever investigation, I was able to determine that the non-magical symptoms were being caused by some unknown magical disease. Despite my best efforts, I could not identify the origin or nature of this disease. It resisted even my most powerful attempts at healing magics. In desperation, I turned to the great tomes in my personal library, searching for any information regarding this wasting disease.
As more and more attempts failed, I could feel the judgement of the rest of the court. Even before this, most of them could not keep up with my intellect. Words like "arrogant" and "megalomaniac" were thrown around. Not that I cared much for their opinions. But now, I could feel them gloating. The great court wizard finally met his match. As if any of them could do better. Their king lay dying on his bed, but it was my downfall that they were obsessed with. As a last ditch effort, I turned to the one field of magic that I usually avoided: Temporal Magic. The manipulation of time was an incredibly dangerous thing. Even for one as skilled as I, it was easy for something to go awry. Even if everything went right, there were creatures out there beyond the material world that did not appreciate mortals fiddling with time.
None of that mattered anymore. All that mattered to me was silencing the judgement of those around me. I would not be bested by this mysterious disease. All I needed to do was wind time back far enough to restore the King's body to before he contracted this disease. Hopefully then I will be able to cure it before it fully takes a hold on him. I set up the various runes and safeguards needed for such an intense ritual. Due to my thorough investigation, the King had been ill for almost three years by this point. Quite a long time to rewind. I took a deep breath, and started the spell.
Immediately, it was obvious that my attempts were working. Color started returning to the King's skin, and his sunken features slowly restored themselves. Just as I was about to celebrate, the spell started to falter. Something was interfering with the stabilizing magics. A moment too late to stop it, I realized I had once again underestimated this magical disease. It was alive, and it would not let go of the King. The spell collapsed in on itself, filling the room with a blinding light. I felt the sear of unfiltered mana burning my skin and the sensation of being thrown like a rag-doll.
It was some time before my senses came back, and longer still before I was able to piece together where I was. Or more accurately, when I was. It seems the force of the spell collapsing shunted me some distance forward in time. From scraps of tomes and scrolls, I was able to create a timeline of what occurred in my absence. Without a King to rule, the kingdom fell into infighting, leaving us vulnerable to our neighbors attacks. We spent some time under the rule of various other kingdoms before a curse slowly started spreading through the land. Crops stopped growing. Cattle stopped reproducing. Children were being born sick and dying young. The land was abandoned, left to rot for the rest of time.
I keep moving through the abandoned halls. I couldn't explain why I had made my way back here. Something in my gut drew me in. Possibly seeking answers or closure. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity. As I entered the throne room, the sight before me answered all those questions. Propped up on the once grand throne, was the body of the king. Dried and withered almost beyond recognition. A sign had been hung on the wall behind the throne. Written in the language of one of the neighboring kingdoms, it read: "Here is your king. May he rule forever." I do not know how long I sat in stunned silence, but I do know what broke me out of it.
"I was starting to wonder if you would ever return" came the weak, trembling voice. The body of the king moved almost imperceptibly, but it was unmistakably him who spoke. "My liege," I say, bowing deeply "I apologize for failing you." A noise emanated from the body, like a scratchy moan. It took me a moment to realize he was laughing. "You did not fail me. If anything, your failure was a blessing. It turns out I had been cursed to be killed by my firstborn child." It didn't take long for me to put the rest of it together. The queen had been barren. The throne was set to be passed down to the King's nephew. Without a child to fill the prophecy, no one would be able to kill him. He continued "You've come back, but I no longer need you. I will rule over my kingdom forever." And so I left him. My one failure as a wizard. I left him to rule over his Kingdom of Rot for the rest of time.
Long may he reign...
As I stand behind the grand wooden doors, I nervously smooth down my white dress. My father stands at my side, a somehow more nervous that I am. I try to think of something to say to him, but before I decide what even I could say the music swells, signaling our entrance. The two attendants swing open the door and I grab my father’s arm, encouraging him to lead me down the aisle. I hear the murmers and whispers from all around me, but I tune them out, focusing my attention to Edward waiting for me at the altar. King Edward I suppose. I need to get used to calling him that.
Edward and I had known each other our whole lives. We met in school. Even back then, our friendship was always under judgement. He was the young prince, destined to be the King some day. And I was just the daughter of the school’s janitor. Yet somehow, we clicked. I think he appreciate the fact that I just wanted to be his friend, rather than use his lineage to advance my own ambitions.
As we grew, I became his closest confidant. We would steal time away to get away from it all. We learned all the secret ways in and out of the castle. Early on, I may have had feelings for him. When we were both young and one could fall in love at the drop of a hat. He made it clearly early on that he valued me for my friendship, rather than as a potential romantic partner. Not that anyone would believe that. Even back then, we were forbidden to be seen together. The King didn’t want his son to be seen fraternizing with someone below his station.
As I walk down the aisle, I meet Edward’s eyes. He smiles softly, his expression happy, but not in love. I knew it would never be there. Edward would never admit it, and if his secret got out, his respect as King would crumble. But I’ve seen the way he looks at his advisor. The way he will never look at me.
Four months ago, the King fell deathly ill. According to the laws of the Kingdom, Edward needed to get married in order to properly inherit the throne. I approached Edward, and told him I would be willing to marry him, as an outward appearance. I made it clear that the marriage would be for visuals alone. As soon as I said it, I saw a wave of relief wash over his face. He knew that I understood his… preferences. So the plan was set.
The scandal was the talk of the town since then. The King to be marrying some lowborn girl? Unheard of. But it satisfied the requirements, so the Elder Council couldn’t object. I look around at all of the guests in attendance. So many young women, still hoping that there’s a chance that Edward would change his mind and choose them. He never would. They would marry him for their own reasons. They would demand things, have expectations, and not let him live his life
But me… I’m marrying him as a friend, to let him live his life.
I wish I knew how to tie my shoelaces. I’m almost seven now. All the rest of the kids in my class know. They all make fun of me every time I have to ask the teacher for help. I’m not sure why my knots always turn out wrong. I always try to get the bunny ears around the tree, but they never want to stay there. Mother wouldn’t buy me Velcro shoes. They weren’t on sale. So I had to come up with my own solution. At the beginning of the school year, I decided that I would only take my shoes off at home. That way no one can see me ask for help.
Up until now, my plan was working great. I wasn’t the only one who kept their shoes on during circle time, so it was easy to not draw suspicion. I probably could have pulled of the ruse for the whole year if it wasn’t for the carnival.
We went together as a class, and it was supposed to be the happiest day of the year. An unlimited ride bracelet, some spending cash just begging to buy me a funnel cake, and a day away from the prying eyes flog the teachers. We were assigned groups that were overseen by parents, and not only did my group have all my closest friends, but our group leader was Tommy’s dad. He owns the local movie theater, so he’s the coolest parent in the whole class because he sneaks us in to see movies for free sometimes.
At first, the day was everything we could have ver wanted. Enough spinny rides to make us sick, a roller coaster that went so fast I couldn’t see, even the clowns wandering around were the fun type that told jokes and made baloon animals rather than the scary ones that wore all the face paint and made fun of people. Then, Frankie suggested we go to the bounce house. We all immediately were on board with the idea, and as we rushed over, we saw there wasn’t even a line for it! Little did I know, things were about to turn south.
The older kid that was watching the ride was clearly bored at his job. He barely looked up from his phone as we ran up. He lazily pointed to the rules, mumbling something about behaving ourselves. Most of the rules were normal: no roughhousing, no fighting, no weapons… normal boring stuff. The last one is the one that made me nervous… ‘Please remove your shoes before entering’. I paused. No one was around that could help me get my shoes back on without my classmates seeing me.
In a snap decision, I decided that it would probably be ok. I waited till the attendant wasn’t looking, and then dove inside before anyone noticed. Jimmy was the only one who noticed, but when he asked me, I lied and said the attendant said it was ok. The bounce house was a blast. We took turns double bouncing each other, seeing who could do a flip. Most of us couldn’t make it all the way around, and would ungratefully fall flat on our faces. Because we were all laughing and yelling, no one else heard the tearing sound.
I’d just done a particularly high bounce, almost touching the rainbow colored ceiling. When I landed, the unmistakable sound of tearing fabric met me. I didn’t want to believe it. I refused to look down, to see if I really had damaged the structure. I cautiously bounced over to the other side of the castle, hoping no one would notice my crime. For a while, it looked like I had gotten away with it. No one was going to that corner, so I just had to hope it stayed that way till we all got bored.
As we kept bouncing, we started finding it easier and easier to touch the ceiling. At first, we all attributed it to us getting better, and high-fives went all around. It wasn’t till we noticed the walls sagging that we realized something had gone wrong. By that point, the front of the bounce house had folded over on itself, blocking the exit. Our cries for help finally caused the ride attendant to take notice. Through the quickly collapsing mesh windows, we saw him run over to the air pump, as if that was the culprit.
Tommy’s dad also took notice. He rushed over and lifted up the heavy vinyl covering the entrance, urging us to exit. Escaping was easier said than done, because the floor was folding over on itself. Frankie and Jimmy were the first ones to escape. Tommy was next, his dad reaching in and pulling him out as his leg got caught in the floor. I was furthest from the exit, and had found myself trapped under the back wall.
“This is it” I thought to myself. This colorful castle would be my grave. All because I was too afraid to take my shoes off. Just as I was about to give up hope, I feel a strong hand grabbing my wrist, pulling me free. My legs were stuck, but whoever this was was much stronger, and slowly I slid free. It was Tommy’s dad. The coolest dad. As I catch my breath, finally outside that rainbow prison, I look down. I’m missing my shoes…
Knowing you’re constantly in danger takes a toll on a person. Sure, I haven’t actually been directly attacked yet, but still, all the small things start to weigh down on you. A couple close calls here, a few false alarms there. The worst was probably Sabrina. Two years in a relationship, only to find out the whole thing was a ploy to get my guard down. That one messed me up for a few months.
My family was so proud of me when I was chosen to become the kingdom’s Key Bearer. And why wouldn’t they? It was the second most prestigious title, only following the King himself. I hope they’re still proud of me. I haven’t seen them in years. For their sake as much as mine.
Still, it’s not all downsides. They pay is beyond generous. After my seven year tenure is up, I’ll be set up for multiple lifetimes. Also, having unrestricted access to every corner of the kingdom is a wet dream for every young mage. Every secret tome, every record of forgotten history, every hidden away artifact, all at my fingertips.
All it took was for me to sell my soul
Your love for me is honeyed words Spoken in my ear. My heart to this day skips a beat Each time your words I hear.
Your love for me is time we share When we can make the time. Each memory a cherished thought To dwell on is sublime.
Your love for me comes in trinkets Small tokens from your heart. I proudly put them to be seen By me when we’re apart.
Your love for me is care you show Each lovingly done deed. When I am tired you are there Providing what I need.
Your love for me, a gentle touch That soothes my troubled mind. To feel your fingers on my skin Helps me my way to find.
My love for you, I want to show You all these things and more. There’s no one else except for you That I truly adore.
~This poem is dedicated to my wife. Love you babe <3~
Sonder: The realization that others have their own unique lives separate from their own. It is always a strange feeling when you realize that something that is so familiar or commonplace to you is a unique and foreign concept to someone else. Someone who grew up an only child has a hard time understanding the challenges of having multiple siblings in the house and the constant fighting that that entails. Someone who grew up without a pet struggles to grasp the struggle of keeping the front door closed to prevent an escape. First-time ocean visitors struggle with understanding the respect and power it commands in the same way that someone who has lived near it their whole life are able to do so naturally.
For me, I sometimes forget that not everyone lives within walking distance of an enchanted forest. From the outside, it looks just like any forest would. Trees, shrubbery, plenty of thin and winding animal trails cutting through the undergrowth. Everyone in town knows to stay away. Whatever goods there are to be gleaned from wandering in aren't worth the risk of never returning. The few brave or foolish travelers that return spin wild tales of fantastic creatures unseen anywhere else in the world. They all have a unique experience, as the forest is known to twist and alter itself in order to best trap those who wander in. Their stories always end the same. Just before they finally find their way back out, they encounter The Poppy Grove and its Keeper.
The Poppy Keeper is a tale older than the town itself. Some of the minor details change from person to person, but the major points stay the same. A strange opening in the middle of the forest, filled with bright red poppies. The overwhelming aroma of the flowers imposing a supernatural peace, like a weighted blanket. A trail cutting through the middle, leading off in both distance farther than the eye can see through the strange fog that seems to envelope the area. And a young, feminine figure wearing a hooded robe woven of the flowers around her. Some say that she was the forest's first victim. Some say she is older than the forest itself, or that she created the forest in an act of anger. Whoever she is, she is the only chance people have to escape.
She offers the same deal to everyone. "Sing me a song, and I will show you the way out." No one remembers what song they sang, but everyone insists that they agreed, for she takes the song in payment. Sometimes, when the wind blows just right, people say you can hear her singing her songs from deep within the forest. According to the legend, each song must be unique. Every family in town has their own song, just in case they need to offer her payment. Children are taught their song from a young age. Often, a child's first words are a line from their family's song. It is a big deal in town when a family has to give up their song, usually because a rebellious teenager went too far into the forest on a dare.
I've long since left my hometown. I moved to the big city under an apprenticeship and now have a thriving business of my own. To this day, I still find myself humming our family's tune. I never know how to answer when someone asks me what song it is. How do you explain something like that to someone who never had to worry their older brother may not return home because you don't remember the last time you heard him practicing the song? Or the fear that one day you will forget the song entirely because someone ventured too close to the tree line? Instead, I lie. I say I don't remember where I heard it, and that it just stuck with me. It's much easier than trying to tell someone about the Poppy Keeper.
Samuel Wright
I yawn and stretch, having been woken up by the light pouring through the window. I quietly get up, not wanting to wake Amanda. I watch the sun’s golden rays paint the waves as they wash up along Nukolii Beach. I breathe in, savoring the saltiness of the sea. Not forty-eight hours ago, Amanda and I were still just engaged. Now, we both have our whole life in front of us.
Felipe Sousa
The sun beats down on me from above. Through the cornstalks, I can hear the others hard at work. I wipe the sweat from my brow, and keep moving. I don’t have time for breaks. Not if I want to meet today’s quota. They upped it from last week, as if it wasn’t already high enough. But I need every penny I can scrounge up if I’m ever going to make a better life for myself. So I put my head down and push on.
Giovanni Rossi
I rush home, cursing myself for taking so long to close up the shop. As the sun sets, the street lamps start to turn on, although they are few and far between. I promised myself I wouldn’t keep putting myself in this situation. Even now, in the last of the dying light, I can see the occasional thug hiding in the alleyways. This neighborhood has gone downhill so fast. The local authorities turn a blind eye to us. Many of the locals suspect corruption, although no one can confirm anything. I just need to get home. They won’t bother me once I’m safe at home.