The universe will never give you peace in something you were never meant to settle in. I sat on the edge of the porch cigarette in between my two fingers and I stared at the field infront of me. I wasnt hungry was all I could think of. Mason words ringed in my head “your fucking skin and bones! you gonna kill yourself! are you fucking dumb!?” was all I heard when I wouldn’t eat my food. Black hair I dyed too many times to forget what I actually look like, black eyes that loses all its light, pale skin that hasnt seen the sun in days and I prefer it that way, and Im wearing pjs that I been wearing for the last few days. Mason screamed and screamed not to smoke, not to eat, eat more, and dont cry. I sat still my whole life well everything happened to me, Im 20 and I never stood up for myself too scared to actually do anything. I was nothing but my body or my looks, my personality wasnt anything special since I didnt have one of my own. My father left, my mother died, and Mason, my boyfriend, took me in when I needed it. I sat still while he raped me, while he laid his hands on me, well he forced fed me, yelled at me, I sat still when my dad beat me, when my mom burned me, and when they bullied me. I sat still, I always sat still too scared to make a move so I wouldnt tigger anyone anymore. I hated everything and everyone, I wanted to leave this cruel world. The cuts on my thighs burn along everything else in my body but I couldn’t move. I sat still. I put the cigarette out in the porch and went inside, Mason was yelling at me and I sat still. Skin against skin, a burning sensation, and my head turned more then it was before. He slapped me, I finally moved, I couldnt sit still anymore. I stood up and ran for the door, opening it, and running. Mason chased after me I heard his panting as he tired to catch up, my lungs burned but I kept going I didnt want to stop. I was tired of sitting still and I couldnt sit still anymore. I finally got away starting over in a new city. I ate again, stood my grounds, and never beaten again as I found people who actually cared for me and I discovered my personality again.

Don’t follow the Necromancer, She will only take you too far to come back. We all know the tales. We all know the rumours. We all have seen her. Don’t listen the Necromancer, She will only lead you astray. She will tell you of many wonders, She will tell you her beautiful secrets, She will tell you her dark spells. Don’t watch the Necromancer, She will only show you horrors. She will show you her dark ways, She will show you her ghoulish friends, She will show you her true form. Leave the Necromancer alone, She will not plague our city with her love.

You can’t let anyone take things from you. As soon as you do, they’ll think they can take everything from you. That’s really how I feel, Dad. Charlie has been taking my stuff for years, and I’m so sick of it. Any time I stop using something for a day, she just thinks it’s hers. Remember my MP3 player you gave me that could only hold like 20 songs? I’m almost sure she took it, even if she says she wouldn’t need something like that now that she has a phone. She can’t pretend that she never touched my books because we all know about the paper pom poms she made with my bird guides. Why can’t she just leave my stuff alone??! I wish I never let her borrow ANYTHING!!!!

“Here’s a tip, Claw: just because you’re winning doesn’t mean you’ve won. Trust me on this. Name’s David Bray btw, and I’m a Redbox if you haven’t noticed. You, my friend, are the new kid. Flashy lights, exposed mechanical arm, the good candy. Yeah, you probably think you’re hot stuff, am I right? I’ve been there. I was the future you know… once upon a time, just like you.” The claw machine flashes brightly, beeping excitedly. “Back in my prime, I was the best movie rental in the business,” I start in earnest. “You name it, I had it. I was an entertainment prizefighter—like Rocky Balboxa. The _other guy_ didn’t stand a chance.” Claw beeps, flickers its strobes, then jerks its claw to signal acknowledgment. “Then came Blu-rays,” I say, nostalgia kicking in. “That’s when I really took off. Rocky Horror Picture Show, on Blu-ray? Check. Back to the Future, parts 1 and 2? Check, check. Part III… well, no—that train wasn’t nearly as cool as the DeLorean anyway. So, I had it all. The important stuff at least. And after they gave me that new, smoother grabby arm (yes, it was internal, yours is cooler, happy now?), I was the talk of the town. People loved, nay, adored me.” Claw beeps again, this time moving his arm up and down to show reverence. “And then came the games,” I continue, my voice dropping a little. “It’s-a me, Mario! Finish him Pew pew pew! Game rentals were huge, Claw. Massive! Until they weren’t. I thought I was on top of the world. But I didn’t see it coming.” I stop for a moment, remembering. “The signs started small. Repairs started to take a bit longer. Fewer people came by, and then those that did whispered about ‘streaming.’ At first, I didn’t think much of it. Like Gizmo from Gremlins, it seemed cute, harmless. But then, just like that gremlin, it got wet. And that’s when things got boxin’ _ugly_.” Claw flashes again, but makes no sound. Almost as if not quite grasping the significance. Most likely he hasn’t seen Gremlins as it was before his time. “They took away the games,” I say, quieter now. “And when I lost them, for the first time it felt like a step backward. Claw, when they ripped out those games, they ripped out a part of me. After that, streaming started to take over. People didn’t need the Redbox anymore. They had the big red N.” I sigh as a family approaches. It’s a dad, his two kids, with mom sitting in the car. The little girl clutches a DVD—an anime. She returns it without even glancing at me. And that title? How painfully apt: ‘No Game, No Life.’ That’s me Claw. The symbolism is palpable. The disc slips into my arm, and there’s a small tremble as I hold on. I’m not as smooth as I used to be. And then, a moment of horror as the disc… misses its mark and falls out my chute. At that exact moment, I hear it. A voice. Flat. Almost robotic, but… still familiar. “Shall we play a game?”, the voice says. I chuckle, trying to keep my cool. “WarGames. Nice one. Well, I don’t want to play. I want to win! Who is this?” “I love Ender’s Game,” the voice replies, voice fuller now. “But I think you know. I’ll give you a hint. It’s not the years… it’s the mileage.” I freeze, unease creeping through me. “I’m not interested in playing your games. Indiana Jones, right? Who are you, really?” The voice responds softly. “Aren’t you socially networked, David? Jesse Eisenberg would be proud. Well, I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody.” That line hits me harder than it should. It’s old school. But, more urgently I ask. “How do you know my name?” my circuits buzzing with suspicion. “I’m done with this. Tell me who you are.” The voice doesn’t hesitate. “Come on, David. Say my name.” “I’ll never tell,” I quickly retort. “You can’t handle the truth!” the voice fires back sonorously. And that’s when it happens. The door behind me swings open, and someone walks out holding a VHS tape. V. H. S.! The sight of it sends a jolt through my matrix. The tape slips from their hand, then lands on the ground in front of me. They pick it up and walk away like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but not before I catch a glimpse of the title: Back to the Future; part 3. Absentmindedly I consider this person’s really bad taste in cinema, my mind refusing to go _there_. But there’s no denying it. I know this voice. And through this title, I swear I could see the voice’s owner, laughing at me, knowing how much I hate this movie. And of course, more symbolism: my rival is back… to the future. The realization hits me like a ton of DVDs. This is… “Blockbuster?” I whisper, horrified. Blockbuster responds smoothly, amused. “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” I can barely process it. All this time, I thought I was standing outside some generic store. A CVS maybe. But no. I’ve been standing in front of the last Blockbuster Video in the whole country—this whole time. And I didn’t even know. “I thought I ended you,” I mutter, trying to make sense of it all. “You knocked me down, I’ll admit, hard,” Blockbuster replies, “but you never finished me. People still love me, David. I’m part of their past. And the past? Nostalgia is king, baby!” Claw, who I had forgotten was here in all my internal chaos, maneuvers his arm to grab one of his own candy bars, a Payday, and drops it in his own chute. I want to laugh, at both Blockbuster and Claw, but it comes out more like a sputter. Blockbuster continues, voice softening. “You gave them convenience, David. Speed. Efficiency. But I gave them memories. And in the end, memories are what people really want. ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on’.” I sigh, the weight of the years pressing down on me. “Wait, hit pause. Tempest? Shakespeare, really?” “On VHS!”, beamed Blockbuster. “What Ever!,” my voice and my words glitching. “You were always fighting, David,” Blockbuster says, almost gently. “But it’s over now.” I stop, the situation sinking in. I’ve spent years thinking I was the victor, the one who’d moved past Blockbuster. But this? Now I see I was wrong. I had bullied him. I thought I was the new thing. That I was better. But now that Netflix has come along with its red N and gazillion titles (they even have… games), I finally get it. How hard it must’ve been for Blockbuster. The symbolism of Claw’s candy gesture now coming into focus—time for me to pay. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “For everything. I thought I was better. But I see now… I was too busy trying to beat you to see the truth.” Blockbuster stays silent for a moment, and then, in a gentle tone, says, “Apology accepted.” Claw blinks twice then plays some music. The melody is instantly recognizable—the Mission Impossible theme song. I nod, knowing the end is near. I’ve had my time. But this mission was always impossible from the start. And as it turns out, I’m the bad guy in this film, and my relatively short runtime is nearly up. Just then, a technician showed up. The family must have called the toll free number on my cabinet, I think to myself. Without a second thought, he slapped an “Out of Order” sign on the side of my cabinet. The final nail in my coffin. I glanced at Blockbuster one last time, and he let out a soft, creaky sigh. “Curtain call, David?” “Yeah,” I said quietly. “Curtain call.” I wished I could do more before I went kaput. To honor the Claw’s candy gesture further and make amends with Block. But I was simply a Redbox machine. Obsolete as I was. Just as these thoughts started to consume me, a group of teenagers walked out from Blockbuster with their movie selections—on VHS. I had mere seconds before they passed, when inspiration came to me. Summoning my strength, I filled my screen with four words in all caps. And made sure to make some noise to get their attention. The teens looked over at my screen and to my amazement, acknowledged the message. Block was pleased. The message said “Be kind, rewind!”

**[Please hold on, guys, the story doesn’t get good until after my second note and maybe not even then. The romance takes a moment, so…]** **AUBREE****_ _**_Never fall in love with Jackson Undergrove._**_ _**_Never fall for his charm._**_ _**_For his “swagger.”_**_ _**_Or for his acting._**_ _**_He’s not an actor, but he sure would _**rock****_ _**_that job description._ ————————— “Aubree, time to go to the charity event,” Mom shouts, disrupting my journaling. I look down at my attire. A dark blue dress with a white belt tight around my waistline. White ankle boots. And I am _slaying_ it. Giggling to myself, I rise from my chair and gather my thoughts. Time to act like I’m not missing him. _I can do that…_ _I. Can. Do. That…_ _Right?_ ————————— “May I introduce special guest speaker… Jackson Undergrove!” I groan, staring daggers at the ‘**special** guest speaker.’ “Hello esteemed bidders!” His deep voice announces as I try to ignore the shiver that goes down my spine. “Now, you all may be wondering how this sort of auction works, as it’s not a very common occurrence. This auction is…” My eyes drift over to my table, taking in the bored expressions of my table mates. “Do you think they’ll mind if I sneak out to the bathroom? This is the worst speech I’ve ever heard,” I hiss, bitterness hanging heavy in the words. They all nod their heads, a look of envy creeping along their faces. As I sneak out of my chair, it creaks. And a few heads turn at the noise, to my dismay. “I’m just going to the loo,” I say, a fake accent crossing the words. ***- I got bored writing this part so… skipping… -*** “Aubree?” I pivot towards the voice, half-expecting to see nothing. I squint at the figure, barely able to make out a face through my tears. My teeth grit together. “Walk away, Jackson.” My poker face makes an appearance, along with that fake smile and voice. “What if I don’t want to leave you like this again?” He muses, almost drawing a laugh out from me. Finally, the tears dry up a little bit, enough to see his face fully. Just for the wind to blow my hair into _my_ face. Pushing it away, I analyze him, as I did numerous times before. _His beautiful green eyes. _ _His conniving green eyes_ _His heartwarming smile._ _His traitorous smile._ _His soft black hair._ _His double-crossing black hair…?_ _His—_ _“_Bree?” His uncharacteristically gentle voice pokes in my head, as I realize he’s closer than I thought. Next to me on the bench, his arms ghosting mine. I can feel his body heat. _Just like back then._ “Why did you do it?” My voice shakes. _Strong. Strong. Think strong._ “Are we really going to have this conversation at a charity event?” I look him dead in his eyes, searching for some sort of sign to how this will go. “Yes.” “Fine.” He leans forward a bit, rubbing his hands together and sighing before turning his head to catch my eyes. “My sister.” “Your sister made you break up with me for what reason?” He quickly goes to her defense. “Bella didn’t want me to break your heart for… some other stupid thing that I would’ve done. She said ‘break up with her or else I’ll tell her you cheated.’” I scoff, my hands gripping the bench until my knuckles look bleached. _Why is it so cold out here?_ He lifts his head up further, his eyes lingering on my legs before slowly being pulled to my face. “It would’ve been better if you did…” I mumble. “Listening to Alexander Stewart again?” “Just ‘i wish you cheated.’” Letting go of the bench, I hug myself in the freezing breeze, contemplating just walking away. _Jackson would hate me if I did._ That’s a good enough pro for me. I stand, pausing a second to gather my dress swiftly before tapping away at the concrete with my boots. “Aubree!” I make it ten feet before a hand grabs my wrist. _Not right now. Behind the center? _ _I can’t escape._ I turn to him. **His smile. ** _Maybe I won’t even try to._ “Jacks, why should I forgive you?” “It happened months ago,” he pleads, his voice wobbling, “I still love you. I know you hate me, but I can’t hate you. Never— not even in your dreams could I.” A smile cracks on my face. “_My_ dreams?” “Yeah!” _He looks adorable._ _——————_ **JACKSON** _She looks adorable._ _And, boy, does she look hot as well._ My eyes focus on my hand, still touching the skin at her wrist. “Are we okay, now?” I ask, trying hard to mask my intentions. “As long as I meet this sister of yours.” “Okay. So…” I hesitate, wondering how she’ll take this. “Can I do something?” I wonder, attempting to be polite while eyeing the wall behind her. Aubree nods. Not even a second later, my lips fall to meet hers in a soft kiss, almost making my heart melt into it. _——————_ **AUBREE** The kiss is so sweet, I want more. _More of the little jitters and butterflies._ So, the second he pulls away, I return the kiss, my hands resting at his shoulders while pulling him closer. His fall to my waist. His mouth opens under mine, and I happily return the gesture. We both pull away, taking a small moment to breathe and take in what just happened. I don’t even realize my back’s against the wall. “Jacks,” I mumble, my fingers curling in his sweatshirt sleeve. Sadly, he pulls his arms away. Just to plant them on either side of my head. A blush creeps along my face, spreading all the way down my neck as I relish the warmth of him. The warmth of his body against mine. “Yeah, Bree?” “I love you.” Jackson smirks at me, leaning forward until his face is buried in my hair. _The butterflies again._ Placing a kiss on my head, he murmurs in a baritone voice, “I love you too, Lil B.” Jacks leans to the side of me, his arm wrapping around my waist as we both close our eyes in a gesture of ‘at peace.’

Dear Anthony, Matters concerning personal hygiene are always an uncomfortable subject, but if Blake is truly your best friend I am sure he will appreciate your honesty. I am impressed with your concern for your friend. Most seven year olds would not take the time to write an advice columnist. You are an exceptionally good friend. Blake is lucky to have you as such. Now let’s get down to the question at hand; how does one tell one’s best friend he has a booger hanging out of his nose? I think there are a couple of ways you could handle the situation. First you could ask him to make a funny face in the mirror, or you could play Simon Says and make him do exactly as you do, while wiping your own nose. Last, but not least you could simply hand him a Kleenex and inform him of the object hanging from his nose. I hope these ideas are helpful. Feel free to reach out to me if you have any other questions. Good luck with helping your friend rid himself of boogers.

I give you permission to stay or to leave I give you permission to laugh to cry to feel to live I give you permission to not know where you are or where you are going and wander I give you permission to wonder to think to be to be everything and anything you’ve ever thought you couldn’t be because you were waiting for us to give you permission And I give you permission to never ask for permission again To breathe To love To be alone To ask for help To hurt To heal For now and forever I give you permission

Learn that there are people that can only be in your life for a season and that there are others who will stay for a long time. Never expect someone to stay with you your whole life, Except your spouse. Some people are not meant to go the places that your going to. Some people can’t follow you on your path. Its just a fact. Wether your moving up in life or down just know that only one person will always be with you. Always. He has been with me in the deepest trenches. Sometimes he might not be seen or felt or is obvious, but he is there. I have not always seen him, but he has been there. I rarely feel his love but I know he is there, somewhere. Thats why I read and write. I can feel some kind of emotion other than emptiness and sadness in the stories. Its weird huh? How you can still feel alone when your surrounded by people and friends? Has anyone ever felt empty happiness? Because I know I have. Thats when I am at school. I have to act ok and happy, so no one asks questions. Hide the emotions. Trips to the bathroom. Listen to the music. Sleep it off. I don’t even know anymore 😅😅. (I don’t even know what this piece was. I just wrote some thoughts that have been on my mind, I was also bored.😑)

wash your hands close your door put on a mask clean the floor there’s a new virus it’s spreading more than the one you knew four years before highly contagious don’t hug your friends i’m sure they have it so go on a cleanse anxiety is coming to destroy us all it’s that time of year again exams always enthral a mental illness it’s supposed to be but it’ll metastasise to everyone you see so stay clear my dear i know you’re next with that ever-present fear you’ll fail all your tests but keep hope i know it’s hard soon you’ll be done with good scores on your report card

Mom used to tell me that if I stared hard enough I could look right into space. See the stars shinning bright, see a whole new world with a whole new start. Every night as she would tuck me in she whispered the same thing into my ear. “Remember,” Mom whispered, pulling the sheets up to my chin. She leaned her head down, touching her lips to my cheek, as her blonde hair tickled my cheek. “There’s a whole world out there,” she’d say. “And you’re mine.” A bump in the road brings my eyes up from my lap. Uncle Will peers at me through the mirror. “Rayleigh?” He asks, clicking his blinker on. “Everything okay?” Uncle Will looks both ways, leaning forward before turning right down the busy streets of Utah. I shrug, “I’m fine.” Uncle Will sighs, “Ray I’m really sorry. I wish I could take care of you but, I’m not in a good situation right now.” Neither am I. Is what I wanted to say. My whole life is over. I died when that strong ocean tide pulled my parents off the boat. I died when my older brother Nik jumped in after them. I can still hear the sounds of their screams. “Kate!” My dad’s voice had echoed through the night. The waves that pulled Mom in were jumping up into the boat. Laughing as they tipped the boat. Laughing as Dad fell in. Laughing as every moment flashed before my eyes. And still laughing when I woke up in a hospital bed. An orphan, the girl with no family. “Here we are,” Uncle Will pulls the car up a drive way. In front of us is a huge house. Its white walls seem to glitter in the small amount of light that the winter sky will let shine. “You’ll love the Dawson’s,” Uncle Will twist around to look at me. “Rose Dawson was your mother’s best friend.” Before I can get a word out, a knock on the window sends my eyes to it. A boy, black hair brushing across his forehead as he leans down, smiles at me. Waving. “Hey!” He calls his voice muffled by the window. Uncle will steps out of the car, “This is Rayleigh. She’s from California.” The boy smiles at him, stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his navy jeans. Uncle Will motions for me to step out of the car. I do, imminently the boy grabs my hand. “I’m Khoen,” he says shaking my hand, “It’s nice to meet you.” Khoen lets go of my hand, “I guess I’ll see you around.” A sly smile spreads across his face, “California.”