Water spatters on my face As I feel like a descace When all the memories come back I feel like I want to hold Back the memories Of our friendship the friendship You ruined you even ruined me

Five-year-old Maria skipped ahead of her mother, feeling the sharp autumn wind against her face. “Mommy can I have an apple?” she asked, pushing her straight black hair out of her face. “You have five dollars to spend. Do you want to buy an Apple with some of it?” he mother asked, smiling. Maria stopped for a moment, thinking. Finally, she shook her head. “We have some apples at home. Can I buy me quilt?” she questioned, skipping past a booth selling quilts. She did not wait for an answer, however, for she caught sight of something else and gave a scream of delight. “Mommy can I go on the merry-go-round? Please, please, please? How much does it cost, Mommy?” Mrs. Garcia smiled down at her excited little daughter. “It doesn't cost anything, dear. Come on, and you can get on before it starts again.” Maria came back five minutes later, pink-cheeked and smiling. “That was fun,” she said, looking about a all the other delights. “Can buy some cotton candy?” she asked, her dark eyes landing on the colorful bags of candy. “It costs a dollar,” her mother warned. Maria bought it, and sat on a convenient bench to eat it. When she was done, she began looking around for something else to do. Her eyes found the booth where a line of giggling children were attempting to hit a mans face with a sponge. She waited in line for a few minutes and when it was her turn, took the sponge determinedly. She threw it with all her strength and walked away with a stuffed unicorn and a grin on her sticky face. She had hit her target.

“It was so fun, Daddy,” she bragged that night. “I ate cotton candy and hit a man with a sponge and rode on the merry-go-round and rode in a train and petted some kitties.”

Hi

Wynsel’s heart beats disharmoniously. His mind frantically wanders around uncontrollably, stressed to think with a clear head. He opens the garage door as quietly as possible, but it annoyingly made loud creaking noises.

The moonlight shines, as it is late at night. Wynsel pushes his dad’s car with all his strength, he definitely wasn’t gonna start the engine in the garage, and wake him and his little sister up. He knows he’s grounded for stealing with his friends at the gas station store and all, but he didn’t care. He going to see his crush as planned, the girl in her healthcare class; Kwinzi.

He shut the door behind him quickly to avoid the creaking noises again without full on slamming the door. Wynsel finally hopped in the car, started the engine, and headed straight to the festival.

On his way there, he called Kwinzi, letting her know that he’s coming. By the time he arrives, he hurries up getting all the procedures out of the way such as tickets and scanning.

He met up with Kwinzi at the Ferris wheel. All the roller coasters were sparkling with a multitude of colors. Seeing Kwinzi struck a harmonious wave in Wynsel’s heart, that made him walk a little funny out of nervousness when he approached. Kwinzi smiled from ear to ear as she approached too.

After giving each other a hug, she ask, “What took you so long?”

Wynsel’s eyes anxiously oscillated side to side answering, “Well, I’m pretty much grounded, so I had to sneak out.”

They both chuckle about it, then Kwinzi ask, “So what ride you wanna go on?”

“Anything you want to go on.” Wynsel said.

While picking a ride, Kwinzi curiously wondered, “What are you grounded for? By the way.”

“I shoplifted like a dumb-ass with my dumb-ass friends.”

Kwinzi burst out laughing and replied, “Why would you do something like that though?”

“I don’t know,” Wynsel sighed, “I wanted to do cool shit with them and it backfired in my face.”

Kwinzi burst out laughing again, then found a popular roller coaster that lots of people go on. Surprisingly, not a lot of people were in line, and the line was moving pretty fast.

When they got on the roller coaster, it was moving faster than they initially thought. The ride was slightly faster than a cheetah. It did a whole bunch of swirls, twists, and loopy-loops, that it made Wynsel incredibly dizzy.

Wynsel personally didn’t want to hop on any other rides after that, but Kwinzi insisted.

After riding a few more rides, Wynsel decided it was time for him to go home as he barfed a few times from the last ride.

“Kwinzi, I got to go.” He said.

“I agree. You don’t look well.” She replied.

They gave each other hugs and departed ways. Heading to his car, Wynsel checked the time on his phone. It was two o’clock in morning.

“Oh shit!” Wynsel yelled, taking off running. Unfortunately, he got a bad headache from running, but ignored it as much as possible.

He got in the car, started the engine, and took off. Rushing through traffic, a random pick up truck hit Wynsel’s car abruptly when attempting to cross the 4-way street, causing his car to flip over. The pickup truck was petrified for a moment, then it decided to keep on going, leaving Wynsel’s car to smoke.

The lights were blinding.

They circled and blurred and shone colours of the rainbow. It was dizzying, like I was part of a dream. Children laughed and screamed, enjoying this pointless fun, adults smiling warmly at them. Didn’t they think this whole thing was a huge waste of money?

The air was fresh with a slight hint of sweetness in it. It smelled like citrus sweets and cotton candy and nostalgia.

I felt myself physically apart of this scene, this picture of innocence and happiness. I was getting ready to strike, to paint it in colours of tragedy and bloodshed.

There was a couple sitting farther back, also apart, in their own world. They were staring into each other’s ’ eyes like there were vast galaxies, soaring heavens in them. Like if they looked away for a second too long they would miss a star-fall.

How would those worlds look when one of them would be killed in front of the other? How would you describe trauma in a setting?

A little kid dropped his ice cream on the floor, immediately bawling his eyes out. His mother fluttered around him, concerned, trying to comfort him.

A few seconds later he froze. All of them did.

There was the booming sound of a gunshot, piercing through the buzz of the crowd. Distantly, the carousels still spun and the happy music played almost hauntingly.

Then they started to scream and run like little ants. I almost felt sorry for them, really.

But wasn’t it just so fun…

To wreck a beautiful picture?

My attention zones from Michelle to the paper I am clutching in my hand. I look at the letter and read it over, letting my brain automatically imagine the voice of my penpal correspondent. Last year during my college English creative writing course, my professor assigned us a pen pal from her other classes. A year later, I’m finally meeting Derek. Reading the words evokes a slight smile every time. “I’ll be waiting for you in the old shack about three yards behind the Fear Festival.” We are finally meeting. He’s probably the only good thing that has happened in my life this year. The only person I have truly opened up to. My father was killed while he was home drunk on the sofa. The only thing that was taken other than that dreadful deadbeat’s life was his letterman jacket from high school that he gave to me. The cops were never able to find out who did it. My boyfriend suddenly just dropped me and began ignoring me out of nowhere. He just disappeared from my life. The only things that I have had are these letters and this companionship. “Are you listening to me?!” Michelle snaps, grabbing my arm from walking forward. “Do you want the truth?” I question, watching her eyes roll in annoyance. “You are that excited about meeting him, huh?” Michelle ponders out loud as her words drip with self-assurance. “I promise I won’t miss the whole Fear Festival.” I spit out as a small smile paints her face. “I mean, it’s not like anything scares you anyways,” Michelle sighs, “you think horror movies are funny. Fine!” She grunts. “Yes?” I question with hopeful eyes. “As long as this guy doesn’t have an annoying Yankee Doodle ringtone like your dumbass ex!” She prevaricates as she throws her hands up and leaves me to my interests. After a few minutes, I am walking into the old shack that has been lit up with a few lanterns around the main room. There are roses in the middle of the room, and I quickly walk over to pick them up. “Hello,” a deep but shy voice says. “It’s good to meet you finally.” “Derek?” I question as I start to walk towards him. “Your pen pal, yes.” He chuckles out. “How are you, Mona?” “I’m truly content.” I voice as he eliminates the space to six inches. “This is the nicest thing a boy has ever done for me.” “I’d do anything for you, Mona.” He whispers as he shrugs his shoulders. “My life has been truly hectic,” I exasperate, “after my dad dying.” “The stress of finishing up your degree.” He comments as I add another finger to the hand that is now forming a list. “The car accident I was in a month ago.” I spit out as I add another finger. “Your boyfriend, leaving you out of nowhere.” He nonchalantly voices as I shake my head and add a finger. “He’s a loser. Forget about him.” He says as my breath hitches in my throat. “You can say that again,” I comment as my anxiety controls me to take my fingers and rub against the rose petals. I never told him about my ex-boyfriend disappearing. I distinctly remember always avoiding the topic of my relationship status because I didn’t feel fully committed to my boyfriend at the time. My eyes go to his appearance. His eyes are dark but still full of emotion. Full of want. My eyes fall to the letterman jacket that Derek is wearing. My dad’s. The stolen one from my house seven months ago. I can feel the panic begin to form. “My friend Michelle-“ “Oh,” he interrupts, “don’t go just yet. It’s only right I get a hug first.” “Derek, I don’t— okay,” I stutter out. “One hug.” His smile grows as he opens his arms wide and steps forward. I take a hesitant step forward before he takes his left arm and presses me against his chest while his right arm is around the back of my neck. I can feel my heartbeat against my chest as a Yankee Doodle ringtone begins to echo from his back pocket. In this very moment, I now know what true horror is. My entire year has been controlled by the person who now knows me the best. “I mean, it’s only fair,” he voices, “I’d do anything for you, Mona.” He whispers as he starts to squeeze me tightly.

Mai was saddened. She had worn her yukata, a traditional Japanese casual kimono made of cotton, perfect to wear to a traditional Japanese summer festival. Its pattern; her mother said the bright yellows of the sunflowers and the refreshing green colours of the bamboo forest suited Mai’s cheerful personality. Mai was hoping Kai would agree with her mother. Her crush had FINALY asked her if she wanted to go to the summer festival with him.

Do I?! Of course I do!!

Of course Mai would not be caught dead accepting with such words.

“Mhm. I suppose I could go with you if you want, since you asked me.”

Later, Mai had mentally kicked herself 1,000 times for not accepting by simply smiling and saying yes, of course. It was very hard for a 15 year old to be straight forward.

Kai had showed up dressed in his usual T shirt and jeans. One look at Mai and he muttered;

“Agh you’re wearing a yukata.”

Then he looked away as they walked side by side between the stalls that were set up selling food and festive toys.

He won’t even look at me.

Mai bit her lower lip as she also looked away from Kai, they were now each checking out the stalls on their own sides as they walked along the path.

Mai noticed some food she thought Kai might like and decided to ask if wanted to buy some.

“Hey Kai, do you wanna get one of those..?”

As Mai raised her eyes, she was startled to see Kai had been staring at her. Kai flinched and blushed, he appeared as if he was embarrassed being caught out. He quickly stammered;

“I.. I wasn’t staring..!!”

“Okay..?”

“But you look nice. The colours suit you.”

He was so staring!!!!

Mai smiled.

“Thank you.”

The golden sprinkles of forgotten stars owned the hopeful night sky, glistening down on the ever-gracious planet Keplar. It was the annual festival for their valiant god - Bouron, where the entire residing species would come in unison over a common appreciation & indebtedness to grant worship for their benevolent saviour.

A few miles away stood a docile statue of their planets former leader, known to be the specimen responsible for their foolishly close call with extinction 5 years ago. Although most people sought out destruction of the towering eye-sore a majority agreed that the most suitable consequence was to leave it standing & allow for as much discrimination as their people felt fitting - solely as a disrespectful mockery of his tarnished legacy.

Atop the spoiled statues decaying shoulder sat a reminiscing pirate by the name of Darrel. His head held high - watching the ceremonial applause from afar whilst holding his position as their figurative guardian angel. As if on cue, he was greeted by his younger brother Casper who flew over & accompanied his secluded perch.

“Wow, 5 years…” Casper Remarked. “I don’t know what you think but whoever said time flies is full of shit, this whole thing feels like forever!”

“Yep. You know, I think you actually get LESS mature every year. Crazy, right.” Darrel mocked, in a sarcastically cordial way.

Their jesters were interrupted by the encapsulating display erupting laudably through the busy city of ‘Kan-Sar’. Shadowy streets were illuminated by what appeared to be a mighty culmination of fireflies, naturally orchestrated in the image of an elegant feline patrolling & protecting their festival - emitting feelings of hope & security to all party-goers who were present.

“Wow, that’s new. Shame we can’t get a closer look.” Casper expressed. “I woulda gone bigger though, you know if this was OUR festival.”

“They can never know the truth, you know that.” Darrel explained, tentatively. “We’re ‘space pirates’ to these people, I’d rather the children of Keplar have someone appealing to look up to than some crooks.”

The truth was, the festival of Bouron was based around adoration of a false prophet - rather than the two spunky anti-heroes who really were valiant enough to save their planet.

“It sucks though, doesn’t it?” Casper pursued. “It would be nice for us to have been given the recognition that we rightfully earned.”

Darrel pondered the consequence of their seclude, whether the reward could possibly be worth the risk. The awe-inspiring beauty of the golden-lanterns floating symmetrically over such gushing rivers. Tuneful symphonies from the marching band would eloped an earshot like a band of crickets harmonising a blissful sunset.

Darrel declared his response. “Every year when we come here, I wish things could go that way…but the sense of obligation outweighs what I want. The kids have a hero they can look up to now, that’s what makes it worth it.”

As the show drew to a close, ensembles of pleasured youth chanted & pranced in an orderly fashion to the rhythm of their marching band. The participants & crowds equally applauded such communal exertion.

“Beautiful ain’t it, the sense of community here.” Darrel pronounced, embraced with appreciation.

“Yeah…” Casper replied, unsure. “Same time next year I presume?”

Casper turned to face his beloved brother & assured him with a jovial wink, encapsulating the nature of their unspoken bond - before leaving promptly. Darrel retained his place beside the city, taking in every last ounce of joy - as if it was his own to take.

He smiled. “Any time.”

The End.

What should have been our blissful three days child free, hearing the beautiful sound of the waves dancing on our delicate boat - but here i was, hell.

When being told we would be reliving our youth, a music festival would have been the last thing to ever cross my mind. 3 nights staying in a dinghy tent, squashed like human sardines is definitely not my idea of fun

The ecstasy filled lights flashing so forcefully against me. My eyes trying to shield themselves from the pain that would be inflicted onto them. Having to over ride there natural instincts to defend from such a awful reality.

Southern tamandua known for the potent smell that lingers from its short mattered hair. So vile but i beg to differ if this hellish hole could beat it. The rancid smell of urine couldnt go unnoticed for a start. I breathed in. Coughing up my lungs couldn’t get the bones of this retched smell to leave my body. I need clean air.

Echoing through my eardrums was the screeching sound of what this ‘messed up generation’ calls music. Pounding through the ground the music grew taller and taller. Bellowing over me. I need to get away.. not that anyone could hear me if i tried to tell them. Speakers that are making the ground shake more than a 10 mag earthquake experience.

Try to escape the glaring claws in which i was held by the crowd… i need to get to safety

Trevor opened the door of the port-a-loo and stoped down into the mud. His walking boots squelched into the thick sloppy mud that covered most of the site. He looked up as the next festival goer rushed past him to get into the toilet he just vacated. They looked a bit green behind the gills, he was glad they hadn’t made it there before him.

He trudged off towards where he’d left his group of friends, a wet smacking noise punctuating each step as he tramped across the now boggy field.

He’d not been that keen on attending the festival, but Tony had talked him into it and he guessed he could see why. Being here was unlike anywhere else, he felt completely separated from all the stresses and worries of home. However, it was also exhausting and he didn’t even really like most of the bands on.

Sliding round a group of rowdy women he reached the spot where he’d last seen everyone. They were gone. Cigarette packets and a couple of cider cans on the floor told him he was probably in the right spot. They must have headed towards the next band they wanted to see without waiting for him, idiots.

He stop with his hand is to his face to shield his eyes from the sun and scanned the horizon. He couldn’t see them, though in this mass of humanity that was not surprising. He was about to head towards the main stage, then changed his mind. He finally had some time to do what he wanted, why should he waste that seeing another drab Indy band. He turned on his heel and headed back pay the toilets in the direction of the film tents and food area.

Approaching the largest of the film tents he saw a group of people heading in. It appeared he’d arrived just at the right time. He followed them in and glanced at the film schedule as he entered the tent. ‘The lake witch’ read the title, he almost turned back, horror was not his thing. Better than being stuck out in this sun though, so he carried on in and sat down on a king bench at the back. Next to him sat a woman in tie-dye clothes with dreadlocks and small Jewell’s stuck to her forehead.

He settled down to watch the film. It started in a dark Misty woods, the music ominous and grating. He rolled his eyes, standard horror film fare. He allowed himself to lean back against the crate the bench was in front of and slowly drifted off to sleep.