Prison changes you. You either get harder or you straighten up. Not much in between. Which is why I try not to look at people when I walk down the street. I do not want to see people from my old life. I am not going down that road again.

But it happens. I see people from the old days. I usually see them coming from a long way off. So I duck into a shop or look at my shoes as I walk. I never make eye contact. Or rarely.

I had just missed seeing one of my old cronies from my B&E days. We fancied ourselves as catburglars. Never got caught. But of course, I got caught. I did not want to see my old partner again. Jerry was always bad news. So I walked with my head down as he walked past. Unfortunately, I did not see who was just three or four steps behind him.

I looked up from watching my shoes hit the sidewalk, and saw her. I looked down again just in case she saw me. I did not think she had. But I turned to look under my arm after we passed each other. She had stopped to look at my back. We made eye contact, so I could not walk or even run away. Even though that was exactly what I wanted to do.

“Petey! I thought it was you! C’mon, give me some love.”

I walked back to Cynthia. I held my arms open for a big hug. “Hey Cyn.” I tried to smile.

I saw the slap coming a mile away, but I just took it. “What’d’ya mean walkin’ right by me without saying nothin’? I oughta slap you again!” She did. And added another one for good measure. The third one was just a love tap though. Not full of malice like the first two.

I was still feeling the stinging of the slaps when Jerry came back and pretended to slug me in the gut. He gave me a big hug instead. I felt him put something in my pocket. Probably contraband. Something he lifted off a passerby. I would be left holding the bag again, if the person noticed whatever was missing and came to us. I did figure that the fake slug in the gut would have been real had I rolled over on Jerry though. He had a mean streak. Not as mean as Cynthia, but still mean.

Jerry held me longer than I expected. I figured he saw something interesting behind us. When he let me go, I saw him looking over my shoulder. Then, I heard rushing feet coming toward us. Three pairs by the sound of it. I braced myself as I turned.

Turned out that I needed to brace myself for impact too. I guess the guy with the two police officers thought we were going to run. He plowed right into me and we both fell hard.

I saw a hand reaching down to help me up. I looked past the hand and saw a big smiling police officer.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Petey the Catburglar,” Officer Jerome chuckled.

He pulled me to my feet. Then, he reached down and pulled the man who had run into me to his feet. He brushed a little dust off of his jacket and pants.

His partner watched the exchange, then looked at my former associates. “Jerry and Cyn! Still ugly as sin, Cyn.”

“You know where you can shove it!”

The two police officers smiled even bigger. “All right you three, arms up against the wall and assume the position.”

Jerry was having none of it. “Just what are we supposed to have done? Officers?”

Officer Jerome pointed at the man who had run into me. “This gentleman said that Jerry and Cyn walked by him and then his wallet was gone. So we’re gonna search you all.”

“Even me.”

“Even you.”

“Because…”

Officer Jerome smiled. “Because you’re a jailbird. Once a criminal, always a criminal, right?”

His partner smiled. “Right.” He turned to Jerry and Cynthia. “So assume the position.”

Officer Jerome shoved me toward the wall. I raised my arms and stood spread eagle leaning against the stone wall.

Of course, they did not find anything. On any of us.

Officer Jerome huffed. His smile had vanished. His demeanor toward our accuser was harder. “So tell us again what happened.”

The alleged victim started his tale. “I was walking down the street, minding my own business, when this dude runs right into me.” He pointed at Jerry. “He was looking at his phone, you know. Like most people these days. He was polite about it though. He says, ‘Sorry ‘bout that. I should pay more attention to where I’m going.’ Then, I walk a few steps and am about to go in to get an espresso and feel for my wallet and it’s gone.” He patted his chest and all the blood had drained from his face.

Her reached in and pulled his wallet out of his breast pocket. “I swear. It wasn’t there. I know it wasn’t.”

Officer Gerome smiled. “Well, maybe the jailbird put it into your pocket when you ran into him.”

“No! I checked. I… I…”

The two officers were not smiling. But their attention was directed at the alleged victim instead of me. I kept a straight face.

“Perhaps you should apologize to these three.”

“I… I… I’m so sorry.” He looked at each of us in turn. “I beg all your pardon.”

I looked at the two officers. Officer Gerome said, “You’re free to go.” He looked at my two former associates. “All of you.”

I wandered around for a bit before settling on a little coffee shop. I got my order and sat down. I saw Officer Gerome come in as I took my first sip. He ordered and sat across from me. He sipped his coffee.

“Thanks Officer.”

“What was I gonna do? You slipped me that wallet, so I knew it wasn’t you.” He smiled. “I followed Jerry and Cyn a bit after their victim left. The three of them met at a coffee shop down the street. They looked confused. Cyn was yelling at the two. It was quite the comedy.”

“Good thing they didn’t know we grew up together.”

“More importantly, good thing they didn’t know I was a better pickpocket than you ever were.” Officer Gerome smiled. “I’m glad you’re on the straight and narrow now, Petey.”

“Yeah. Me too. Me too.”

I felt his breathe on my neck as the guards ran pass the dark cave in the wall. "Za-" "Shh... There still passing" he whispered. The guards turned the corner and their footsteps slowly go away in the night. He looked toward my face and carressed the fresh new scar on my cheek. "KC... I'm so sorry" he apologized as his eyes filled with sorrow. I smiled softly," It's not you're fault-" "But I'm supposed to protect you, KC" I watched as his eyes looked down in shame. "Zayn... Look at me" He hesitated, he knew he couldn't ignore a demand. I pushed his face toward me gently, his oak brown eyes still on the ground. "Zayn?" I asked. He looked up his eyes dragging to mine. "Yes, your majesty” he said softly. I smirked and fixed his hoodie. "First of all, don't call me "your majesty" and second of all, do you know why you're my personal guard? " I asked. He smiled weakly and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. "Because you got me to talk... And you like me for some reason... " he mumbled. “And you are the only person that understands me” I took his hands softly, he flinched slightly. “I don’t want to lose what we have, Zayn” He was in shock, his hands felt warm in mind. 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭? To be continued....

The window of an old cafe. Shiny after being cleaned of snow that morning. A bright red sign and bold black letters, proudly announced its place on the quiet corner. There was a display full of frosted sugar cookies. Christmas trees, candles, red ornaments, and snowballs. Spirited and festive, as it was every year.

Yet something was off.

I saw something more in the window. Not the cushioned backdrop or the reflection of the street. Brick building by brick building, colored lights by colored lights. Nothing unfamiliar.

“Carolina?” I asked, turning to face the window. My fingers touched the spotless glass as I stared inside.

Her gorgeous green eyes once sparkling with joy now faded. An old worn jacket and sweatpants. No spirit in her posture. This wasn’t the girl I remembered with her fashionable dresses and festive hats. Her decorated makeup and sparkles.

She looked lifeless.

I touched the tip of my nose

“Oh Carolina, who did this to you?”

Surely this wasn’t how I was supposed to live the rest of my life.

Alone for the holidays.

Not recognizing my own reflection.

I sighed, my shoulders sinking deeper. The pristine light of the mirror seemed to dim with my presence.

I used my sleeve to wipe the fog off the window, as if the motion would change my reflection.

Still me.

The Carolina who gave up on Christmas.

And herself.

A moment the wild swallows like a flight Of withered gust-caught leaves, serenely high, Toss in the windrack up the muttering sky. The leaves hang still. Above the weird twilight, The hurrying centres of the storm unite And spreading with huge trunk and rolling fringe, Each wheeled upon its own tremendous hinge, Tower darkening on. And now from heaven’s height, With the long roar of elm trees swept and swayed, And pelted waters, on the vanished plain Plunges the blast. Behind the wild white flash That splits abroad the pealing thunder-crash, Over bleared fields and gardens disarrayed, Column on column comes the drenching rain.

قصه ی گروهی جاسوس که قصد جاسوسی از مراکز نظامی دارند

As I walked along the cold damp streets of New York City I felt a sudden sense of calm. My head was held high and my arms hung slightly as if I was entirely unstressed. I felt the chill air climbing up my spine as I smelt the crisp scent of a hotdog. My stomach grumbled and I seemingly floated toward the cart. The red thick ketchup dripping down the side of the savory treat reminded me of the day prior when the bad thing happened. I got teary eyed as I stared deeply down at the bloo- I mean ketchup. I thought of the dagger sticking out of my poor uncles back and the red sticky liquid spilling upon the ground at my feet. Remaining in deep thought as I walked a man in a homberg hat and a dark brown jacket bumped into me. His eyes looked familiar. It was almost as if I had seen him before. I do believe it was his eyes that drew my attention. His dark framed glasses were scratched like he was just recently in a fight. We both went different ways without a word between us. Suddenly I remembered exactly where I knew him from. It was him! The man who I watched stab my uncle in the alley. That bastard was just walking around like nothing happened. He stole a life without a bit of regret for that weary soul. I turned to look back at him and there he was just behind me wide eyed with an eerie smirk. His charming lightning blue eyes had a glimmer of light in them. I watched him reach into his inner jacket pocket as he slid his knife out. The knife that had taken one life already. It still had blood on it. The rust corroded the blade. I walked towards him ready to speak when… I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen. I looked down and saw his steely blade piercing my side. I punched him across the face and bashed his head against the wall of the local club. I took the knife out of my side and slashed his sickening throat. As blood gushed out of him and I watched the life slowly fade from his eyes I closed mine knowing I had not much time before I bled out and met my uncle once more. I smiled ruefully and rest at last… Was I a killer? Was it just self defense? At this point these questions mattered less. I was content with my own actions and that’s all that mattered. My life was over but so was the persons who killed a good man.

“Not again”, I think, my shoulders unconsciously slumping forward as I steel myself for the inevitable conversion to follow. For a split second, I imagine myself melting into the hot New York City sidewalk, morphing like Keanue Reeves in the Matrix and sliding down into the grime and cigarette butts that make up the fabric of these iconic city streets. That would be far preferable to the conversation that is sure to follow.

“Claire? Claire Delaney, is that you?” 

“Yes, it’s me”, I managed a small, close-close lipped smile and silently hoped whoever this person was would suddenly get hit by a messenger bike.  

“Wow! I barely recognized you! It’s Kimmy Adams, from Robert Half Recruiting. We worked  together to fill a few accounting positions at your firm last year. I heard you weren’t there anymore.” Kimmy paused as she glanced  at my dinghy, oversized t-shirt that stated  “Need More Coffee” while she pulled the pieces of the story from her memory banks. 

I glanced down at the brown stain on the front of of my t-shirt, which was ironically not from coffee as one might assume, but from the beer I shotgunned at Ray’s Pub an hour ago. “Yeah, it didn’t work out at Penderton.” I pause and consider how little I can say to make this conversation end. “I’m in between jobs right now.”

Tess was walking around New York thinking about Mattheo and his new roommate.

”Ugh this is so infuriating!” she whispered.

Just then she locked eyes with someone who caught her attention.

Tess turns around.

”No way…” the girls says wide eyed.

Tess gasps, “Alissa!”

Both girls hug each other.

”What are you doing here!” Tess chuckles.

”Well I knew you lived in New York and wanted to visit you!”

”You came all the way from North Carolina just to see me?”

”Of course your my sister!”

”Are you doing okay,” Tess whispers, cupping her face.

She recived a letter from her grandparents concerning recent events.

”Im surviving,” Alissa giggles awkwardly.

“Well come one, we got a lot to catch up on.” Tess said, wrapping her arm around her little sister.

Ok i did a little thingy with your charaters. See if u can pin point what! hehe

Alissa Aster Kai

Lysa the ragdoll cat

Kali Grace Collins

Eli Thomas Writes

Azariah Sariah Stone

Strolling down a dimly lit street i took in the sweet, sweet silence.

My acute hearing caught footsteps ahead. My hands began to itch in anticipation though i knew there was no way in hell anyone could find me here. A silhouett appeared in the distance. As they came closer i made out a woman with long, dark hair, a work suit and a purse.

I lowered my head. Slipping my hands into the jacket pocnets.

The woman squinted over examining me cautiously as we passed. Luckily she was on the opposite side of the road. She couldn’t see the growing burn marks on my jacket. The hunger for blood causing a nearly uncontrollable surge of power to flare through my hands.

I closed my eyes, taking in a breath of crisp night air. I caught the sent of jasmine sending a memory to appear in my minds eye.

I spun around. Blue light spilling across the area around me as two swords appeared. The Federal agent’s eyes widened in recognition and fear before turning and running off.

She wasn’t messing this up for me.

I followed as she darted to the left. Swiftly gaining and shoved her into an alley.

In crowds, I’ve mastered the art of invisibility. With my downcast eyes and movements as quick as an expensive sports car I’m imperceptible to the average passerbyer. Yet, today, for some reason, I walk like I’m a part of their world. In doing so, I notice someone who seems so familiar to me. It takes a moment for my mind to stray to a memory.

“My nǎinai once said our family was sensitive to spiritual stuff,” Linda Chen, my childhood best friend said while in the middle of lunch.

She was eating a lunch she brought in from home, tenderly made by her mother who was a lawyer. Linda aspired to be a lawyer too but an environmental one rather than corporate. Linda was the type of person who cared about everything. Maybe that’s why her supportive tone didn’t make me feel less wrong, like my power was a thing that needed to be fixed rather than a gift.

“Have you ever seen a ghost?” I wondered.

“No…not yet but who knows, maybe the Chen family's spiritual powers take a while to activate.”

They never activated. Or at least I don’t think they ever did. I wouldn’t know either way as we had drifted apart our final year of high school. Even after all these years, I still couldn’t pinpoint where our friendship fell apart. I turn back, just for another glance at the person who once was like a sister to me and when I do I see a look of shock in greeting.

I stumble over my feet, knocking into someone. I apologize then try to duck into the crowd but I feel a hand on my arm. Don’t turn back, I say, scolding myself. Yet, my head turns and I see Linda’s shocked brown eyes staring back.

“Lana? Lana Freeman? Is that you?”

“Hey, Linda,” I say with a small smile.

There was something about Linda that oozed infectious joy. It was one of my favorite things about her.

“We need to do coffee now,” Linda says, moving her hand to grab mine.

Her touch is frigid. I shiver but I don’t remove her hand. She pulls me along much like she did when we were kids and I was much too afraid to do something. Like, when we went to the water park together and her older brother, Michael told us that we’d be too scared to go down the slide. I was terrified and agreed with him but Linda took it as a challenge. So she grabbed my hand, pulled me forward and we waited on line. When we went down the slide we had to go solo and I had no intention of going down but Linda gave me a look then said.

“Be brave, Lana. Together, we can do anything.”

Next thing, I remembered was going down that slide and hitting the water. When I came up from the water, I swam out as my heart beated in tune with my fear. That was probably the only time in my life I felt alive. Well, until, I looked out at the water and saw a ghost deep inside the pool.

We arrive at the coffee shop and I take a seat across from Linda. I’m tucked into my coat even though it’s spring with overall cool weather. Linda’s without a jacket, wearing a medium-sleeved shirt. Linda talks and I half-listen as I check around for any terrifying sights. There are three ghosts here. A woman who sits by a table with a gunshot wound to her chest. A man wearing dated clothing with a gunshot wound to his head stands in the corner speaking to himself. The last ghost is a child who is crying.

I try to ignore them all as I fully immerse myself in conversation with Linda. As I pay more attention to Linda I notice a few oddities that I wave away with logic. Earlier, her touch felt cold and now I’m concerned to see her shivering. I almost want to give her my jacket but there’s a voice in my head saying she doesn’t need it. There’s also a gash on the skin of her arm. It’s deep. Her neck also is bruised and I find it odd that she hasn’t noticed it yet.

I look away from her then ask her what type of coffee she wants. She tells me, and it’s the same as when we were younger. I remembered the day her mom let us drink coffee. My mom was so upset because I was jumping off the walls with energy that night.

Standing up, I mumble how I’m going to order our coffee then go and order two. It might seem a waste but it was always bad to let a ghost know they were one before they gained awareness of their deaths. I wait for our orders to be made and once they're done go back to our table. Linda appears antsy now as she grabs her cup of coffee but her hands go right through.

A strange look passes on her face as she stares at me with shock once again.

“No…” she murmurs, shaking her head. “Am I….”

“Yes,” I say, taking my seat across from her. “You are.”

“There were so many things I was supposed to do. I just took on the biggest case of my career and…”

“What case?” I wonder with a frown.

“Someone killed me, Lana, and I need you to figure out who.”

“No, I—I can’t do that. I’m not a detective.”

“No, but my brother is. Find Michael and together we can figure this out.”

“Michael’s a detective?” I say, surprised then shake my head. “Linda, no, I can’t…”

“I know you always hated your powers and that’s why you pushed me away but Lana, please, I need you. I need justice.”

I ready myself to counter back but instead, I’m full of grief.

“Okay, Linda, I’ll get you justice.”