“Sebastian! I need your help come quickly.” Sky yelled from the other room

Sebastian put down his bagel and darted into the other room “what’s wrong-Oh no, Anna please put the gun down.”

“I want to be like daddy.” Seven year old Anna stated

“Yes,dear but can you use your Nerf rifle A.J got you for Christmas?.” Skye said kindly as he held is hand out

“Y’all left Maggie’s place without pie so- What is goin on here?” A.J said as he walked down the hallway

“Uncle A.J!.” Annabel said as she dropped the rifle and ran to hug A.J

“Wait weres her other half.” A.J started to say but then Zepher ran into the room with a thing in his hand

“Bombs away!.” Zeph yelled as he threw it to the ground

“Zepher!.” Skye said

“Wait waits with all this smoke?.” eight year old Zephyr said

Just then the smoke alarm went off

“Sebastian open the window.” Skye said as he felt his way to Zephyr

“You guys want me to get a book on parenting? Or maybe a book of not leaving your gear within child reach.” A.J said as he grab a dish towel and started fanning the smoke

“I keep my gear off the ground- and you didn’t move your gear did you?.” Skye asked Sebastian

“At least he didn’t find a tear gas bomb.” Sebastian said jokingly

(10 minutes later)

“Let’s not get another visit from the fire department.” Skye said tiredly as he tucked Anna into bed

“Yea and I’ll put my stuff in the storage.” Sebastian said as he and Skye walked out of the bedrooms

So much to do and so little time. I was a wreck today. I had to pick up my kid, get his father to pay child care for once. And on top of that my dad was trying to re-enter my life. No way in shit that would happen again. I’ve learned my lesson from the last time. I was already late to pick up my kid. Rolling up to the school I picked up my fifth grader. He seemed unusually excited getting into the car. He was a very quiet, reserved kid. He hugged his backpack on our drive home. When we got back to the house he shot out of the car and into the house. Must’ve met a girl. I thought to myself with a smirk. Oh to be that age again. Locking up the house for the night I poured myself a glass of wine. Todays dramas have really taken a toll on me. “Ashton!” I yelled while scrolling through instagram. No answer. I heard frantic foot steps upstairs like he was hiding something. “Ashton Eli Jacobson!” Ashton ran down the stairs casually, I noticed a dark red spot on his shirt. Did he spill juice or something? “Yeah?” “You need to get dinner sweetie” I said taking a sip of my drink. He rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay.” Definitively hiding something. This kid wasn’t sly. He gets that from me. I sighed. “What’s going on hun? Did something happen at school?” Ashton’s face lit up, as if waiting for me to ask. “Yeah! I fought a bully and I won!” He said excitedly. “What? Ashton that’s not okay? Since when do you get into fights” “He started it, he pushed my friend and I told him to quit it but he wouldn’t. So I killed him” “Hey do not use words like that! I’m calling you teacher and your going to apologize to that boy do you understand?” I dialed the school principal while Ashton ran upstairs. “Get your butt back down here I’m not done with you!” I yelled while the phone rang. He came back downstairs with his backpack wrapped in his arms. He unzipped the bag and showed me the contents. Blood drained from my face and my stomach dropped to my feet. Shivers running up and down my spine I felt as if I’d pass out. “A-Ashton? What is this?” I asked quaky. “It’s the bully, mom”

Hilary put the last of the dishes into the state of the art dishwasher installed during the recent kitchen renovation, and rinsed the soapy water from her hands as she glanced over her shoulder at the clock above the dining table. 2:48 pm. The bus would be dropping Sophia off in exactly 17 minutes, the perfect amount of time to switch the laundry and set out some fruit and milk for her sweet girl’s afternoon snack.

When they had moved back to Willowbrooke, Hilary’s hometown, she had only scheduled viewings of homes in the Orchid Gates neighborhood. She had walked by it every day on her way home - huge brick homes, gardens that seemed like parks and ponds on every other block full of ducks that was a child Hilary imagined herself feeding with bread cubes. Her family had lived well enough, in a duplex on the other side of town, with only a small side yard and no garden to speak of. But well enough had never felt good enough for her. Her husband had not been happy about their offer on this house, which was more than a little bit out of the budget they had prepared at the onset of their move. It was the largest house in Orchid Gates, and much larger than their family of three needed. But Hilary insisted.

She shut the door to the laundry room to muffle the sound of the dryer and made her way through the formal dining room towards the kitchen to prepare Sophia’s snack. Before having kids, Hilary had worked in advertising but had given her notice when she was six months pregnant. Kyle had suggested she get back into it when Sophia started kindergarten, but Hilary didn’t consider it for a moment. She wanted to be there for every field trip, every parent volunteer opportunity, every Girl Scout mother daughter tea party. Sophia feeling important, special and taken care of was the only thing that mattered to her. And she wanted to make sure everyone knew it.

Sophia walked through the door at precisely 3:06 pm, placed her book bag on the hook and her Mary Janes neatly in her cubby, washed her hands and joined her mother on the island for snack and a debrief. Hilary knew the days of her daughter being willing to tell her about her day were numbered. Even in the first grade, she saw glimpses of the attitude she was sure was coming sooner than she could ever know. But for today, Sophia could not wait to tell her how show and tell had gone.

“Did your friends enjoy seeing your mermaid doll today? What kind of questions did they ask you?”

Sophia took a bite of apple, and turned the other end to dip in the peanut butter her mother had placed in a crystal side dish for her. “They asked if it was my favorite color. Clara asked how much I liked it and if I was willing to trade.” She took a bite of the apple, and peanut butter dribbled on her chin. Hilary wiped it with the corner of the cloth napkin, but stopped herself short of licking it. “Wait, Clara asked you to trade what?”

“My mermaid doll. I told her no, it was new, but the necklace she brought was pretty and it is my real favorite color, so I said okay.”

“Honey, trade? What do you mean? You can’t give away your things, dear. Your father just bought that doll for you!”

But then Hilary noticed the necklace around her daughter’s neck and her heart skipped a beat. She thought she might be seeing things, perhaps too much sun in the garden after lunch. But she picked up the pendant between her fingers. It was real. A circular piece of tin metal, a cheap piece of blue plastic bought on the Jersey shore but her mother 25 years ago. She had not seen it since she herself had been seven years old. The summer her mother left.

“So,” Started Kurt. “What did you want to tell me?”

I forced a nervous smile and avoided eye contact. I knew he wouldn’t be too fond of what I was about to tell him, that he would have more questions than I had answers. His expression changed when I didn’t answer right away.

“What’s up, Andrea?” Kurt asked, a shade of worry washing over his face.

"Look what Silas found at school today," I said. It came out blunt and maybe that was for the best, there wasn't much good in what our son had found. I placed the diary on the kitchen table.

Kurt scoffed, eyes going from mine to the diary, then back to mine. I could see the nervousness in his stare, and I heard it in his scoff. He shifted his stance, the way he often did when he was uncomfortable.

"What's this?" He whispered, moreso to himself. He picked up the diary and began to glance at the first page. Reading the entry to himself, his mouth moved with the processing of his mind. He skimmed through some more, I could see his eyes going from left to right as he read the contents of the diary.

"Oh my god," Kurt started. "Is this?"

I nervously nodded my head, but I knew he wasn't looking at me. I could feel my nerves tingle throughout my body from head to toe. I wrapped my hands around my arms, I could feel the goosebumps as they rose.

"Are you kidding me? This is a diary of the Shadowbrook murders..." Kurt stammered, his eyes still going over the entries. "Silas found this? How?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm not sure. I know he's not telling me the truth, not all of it at least. He told me Deacon gave it to him."

"Deacon? Grace and Carl's, Deacon?"

I nodded my head. Deacon was Silas's only friend and we weren't the biggest fan of him. Deacon Drake looked like a troublemaker in the making, even at the tender age of seven. And he didn't come off like the troublemaker who would pull pranks, he came off like the one who would eventually torture animals. I think the thing that bothered me the most was that when Silas said Deacon gave it to him, I believed him, I didn't even second-guess my son's answer.

"This is insane," Kurt whispered, again moreso to himself. "This is the diary of Elena Roth."

I expected Kurt's captivation, but he was starting to bother me. He hadn't taken his eyes off the diary since the opened it and he seemed more fascinated than bothered by what our son's weird little friend had given him.

"I mean, should we be worried? Are the Roths still alive? Is she even alive, this Elena?" I questioned.

Kurt let out a sigh, and his eyes got large. "I mean, I honestly have no idea. The first entry of the diary is from 1990, which means I was six. Mom was so worried about these things because it was essentially in our backyard. I was six you know? I didn't really pay attention to it...I don't think I wanted to. It wasn't till I got older that I heard about everything that happened."

"Kurt. Should we be worried?" I repeated.

For the first time in what felt like a decade, Kurt closed the diary. He wrapped his hands around it like a child cradling his newest toy, there was a glimmer of innocence in his eyes. He sighed. "The last entry here is November of 1998, and it just kind of ends. That’s about the time that the Roths were discovered for the murders they’d been committing for just under a decade. I forget who figured it out, but after that, the murders stopped, but none of their bodies were found.”

And that's what worried me. The fact that there was no clarification on what happened to the Roth siblings after more than twenty years. If you grew up in Valcrest Hills or Corvallis Falls, you knew of Shadowbrook Canyon, and you knew of the murders that happened there. You heard of the Roth siblings and The Gregory House. Visiting that famed house was a right of passage for most teenagers (not me though, it was too far and I was far too scared).

"Did Silas say how Deacon found this?" Kurt asked. His words were directed at me, but his eyes were back on the contents of the diary.

"He didn't say," I replied, moreso to myself.

I couldn't recall the last time I'd seen Kurt so intrigued by something. When Silas showed me the diary I read the first entry and it made me so uncomfortable:

It was dated 9-23-90 and in the entry, Elena talked about how her brother Vic had snagged their first "target". She talked about how they'd furnish and feed him until it was time for the hunt. She talked about how they watched him throughout the hours of the day, monitoring his change in behavior. It made me extremely uncomfortable, and I wondered how much Silas had read. I asked him and he said he didn't read anything...which I knew was a lie.

I skimmed through the contents but didn't get too in-depth, I refused to. From what I saw, as the years went by Elena's writings became more sporadic, she went from cursive to jagged lettering, and to me, she came off as someone who became more and more unstable. I read an entry toward the end and the detail she went into chilled me to my very core, that's when I closed it and threw it in a drawer until Kurt came home. I didn't want that thing in my house, I didn't want it anywhere near my son.

That night I had a dream of Kurt reading the diary in our room. I woke up to find him sitting on his side of the bed with his back to me. He was mumbling something to himself and I couldn't make out what he was saying. I maneuvered myself to see what he was doing, peering over his shoulder to see the diary in his hands. He was sitting there in the dark and reading it to himself.

"Babe...what are you doing? Are you really reading that diary in the dark?"

He didn't reply, he just continued to read to himself, he didn't even seem aware of the fact that I was awake.

"Kurt, can you leave that downstairs it creeps me out."

No reaction.

I remembered the dream in vivid detail the following morning, it didn't feel like a dream. It felt as though I'd woken up and found my husband reading that diary in the darkness of our bedroom. At breakfast, as Silas was getting ready for school, I asked him about it.

"Did you take the diary to our room last night? Did you read it at all?"

Kurt's eyes widened as he put a piece of bacon in his mouth, "No? Thought you said it creeped you out. I read it a little bit in my study and came to bed...why?"

I shrugged my shoulders and took a sip of my coffee, "It's nothing, just me being stupid."

He smiled and laughed, the same combination that I'd fallen in love with. He finished his eggs with a forkful, downed his coffee, and kissed me on the cheek. He told me that there was nothing to worry about and left for work.

It was around lunchtime that something clicked with me, something clicked so viciously that I almost threw up. I never told Kurt that the diary made me uncomfortable, not coherently at least. The only time that I told him that was in my supposed dream.

I didn't want that diary in the house and I knew that if I kept it there it could potentially harm my family. I pushed myself from my work desk and made my way on shaky legs to Kurt's study. I couldn't see the diary on his desk, even after sifting through his countless papers and books. I checked every drawer, shuffled through every cabinet, and couldn't find a thing. Kurt had taken the diary with him to work.

I decided to wait for Kurt to come home to confront him about the diary. Ask him truthfully about it and let him know that it made me uncomfortable and that I didn't want it in the house. Silas and I waited and waited, to the point where we had to have dinner without him. I tried his cell to find it was turned off and that's when I got worried. I tried his office around 7:30 and they said that he'd left hours ago. I asked how he seemed and the receptionist said he seemed relatively normal. At 9 pm, just after I'd put Silas to bed, we got a knock on the door. I could see the red and blue lights through the family room windows and that's when I knew Kurt was dead.

At around 8 pm, Kurt drove his car onto the train tracks on Hillcrest street. The train tracks were just a few miles from his office, and about a block from Silas's daycare. Officer Harmon told me that the bystanders tried to get him out of the car, screaming for him to move his vehicle, but all he did was sit there a read what looked like a little black book. A few people tried to make their way onto the tracks to pull my husband from his car, but the train was too close. The train couldn't stop on time and it collided with Kurt's car, it exploded on impact and spiraled out onto Hillcrest. It's a miracle that no one else on the street was killed, and the passengers on the train suffered only minor injuries.

Kurt's car was destroyed, and his body was unrecognizable. Harmon said the only thing not damaged in the explosion was the small black book he was reading, they found it in a pile of glass next to his car. It was the diary, that cursed Diary of Elena Roth.

That's what killed my husband.

“Be safe, okay?” She zipped up his coat and slid on his hat. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, but you got to keep yourself safe.” “I will, mommy.” She watched as he got onto the bus. Her little seven year old. She would learn just how much she loved him. He never came back. The school said he had disappeared and thought he had gone home.

Five years later… “I’m off to work!” She called to her daughter. “Alright see ya!” Her teenage daughter sat at the table. She was homeschooled. She opened the door and outside it was a young man. He looked about twenty five. His eyes were dazed, like he couldn’t really see the light. He had strange markings up his arms. “Can I help you?” “I..I’m home, Mom.” “Ma..Matthew?” He fell to the ground. She called the cops and they called an ambulance. The man was rushed to a hospital. She called her work saying she wasn’t coming. She went in the ambulance as well. The police questioned her though she knew nothing. “He’s awake.” Said one of the doctors. They went into the room. He had been asleep for about three days. The only thing they found on him was a strange coin in his pocket. Why had he said she was his mom? He was too old to be her son. She had told the police what he had said.

They ran a DNA test to check. Even they were confused. It was almost a perfect match. Except they found some strange unidentified substance in his blood. It was also an abnormal color. His eyes were still hazy. “Hello, my name in Robert. I’m with the police. Can you tell me what your name is?” He stared at the wall. For a few minutes he remained silent. “Mathew Williams, 37 Baker St. I was sent here by… I was sent to..” He froze again. “Sent to what? By who?” “Who are you?” “Robert, policeman?” “I don’t remember you. Mom? Mom where are you?!” He frantically looked around. He didn’t directly look at anyone. “Doctor what’s going on?” The doctor went up to him and shined a light on his eyes. “I don’t know. He was fine earlier. Even now his eyes are normal. They respond perfectly to the light.” “Who is that? What is that light? Everything is dark and white. Where am I?!” “Mrs. Williams?” She walked slightly closer. “Matt?” “Mom? Are you there? Mom, I can’t see you.” “Do you remember what I said to you? When you left for that day?” “You said be safe, and that you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me. That I had to keep myself safe.” “What about after that?” “I..don’t remember. Everything went dark. Please Mom, I’m scared.” Why can’t I see you?!” He reached out his hand. She turned her face away and left. “Mom? Mom! Please! Don’t leave me!” She had tears down her face. She couldn’t accept that her son was alive. She had finally managed to get herself together and now this? After five years? She sobbed uncontrollably in the waiting room.

"Mommy!" Laila called. She and Liam had just gotten off the school bus, and I was waiting by a big tree close by. "Hi guys! How was school?" I asked them enthusiastically. "Good," Liam answered cheerfully. Laila nodded. When we got home, Laila pulled out her school bag and grinned at me. "I found something today, Mommy. I think you're going to like it," She giggled.

My name is Morgan Gillespie. I am a single mother of two. I've definitely struggled all by myself. It was hard for me to be the main provider of the house without having gone to college. I got pregnant with twins (Laila and Liam) when I turned 17, and I had to drop out of school right after my high school graduation. I eventually started my own small business, selling paintings and jewellery. I even opened a small shop downtown with the help of my parents. It was the thing I was most passionate about. But one night, I had half of my art stolen from my shop, and the police never found out who did it. I couldn't afford insurance, so I was basically broke. My parents didn't want to be involved in my work after that, because they were worried that people would know that the funding was coming from them. They didn't want anyone to go after them. Eventually, I had to shut down my shop, and took a job as a local barista. Without any help from my parents, and having to raise 2 kids by myself, I didn't have a lot of options.

Over the years, I had to ask several of my friends for help. The bank started to hate me, and I lost a lot of friends by begging them for money. Eventually, I started to resent people that wouldn't help me. I became this toxic person, who refused to set low expectations, and only expected people's pity. My kids didn't know who I truly was, of course, but they always knew that I wasn't the type to buy them new toys on Christmases and Birthdays. One day, the day before my kids' 7th birthday, something life changing happened. "I found something today, Mommy. I think you're going to like it," She giggled. "Well, what is it honey?" She pulled out a shiny red debit card. It read 'Margaret Garrison' on the front, in big silver letters. I gasped. "Laila, where did you get that?" I asked quietly and worried. "A helper lady at school dropped it. So, I picked it up. Isn't it pretty Mommy?" She smiled. "Uh, yes hon. Why don't you give it to me? I promise to keep it safe," I told her calmly. She handed it over without hesitation, and ran off to find Liam.

"What am I supposed to do? Do I find Margaret Garrison? Do I give it to the police?" I thought out loud. I paused. I stared at the card and squeezed it tightly. "This could be the answer. This could be the one thing that changes our life. I could buy my kids a birthday gift this year," I whispered to myself. I had to keep it. It was my saviour. The universe knew that I needed this more than Margaret Garrison. I really, really needed it. So, I decided to risk everything for this. That night, I ordered new scooters for my kids, so they could have something for their birthday. They arrived the next morning.

"Happy birthday my precious babies!" I shouted with happiness. "I can't believe you guys are 7!" I kissed them both on their heads. "Thanks Mommy!" Liam exclaimed. "Let's go to school," He told Laila. "Wait"' I said. They both turned to me. "I have a present for you," I said. Their little faces lit up with joy. "I can't believe we get a gift this year!" They yelled as they jumped up and down. "Thank you so much Mommy! We love you!" Laila exclaimed. Then they rode their new scooters to school. They were so happy.

From then on, I was very careful where I brought the card. I started to order my groceries online, and tried not to flaunt my new money. Of course I bought a lot more stuff, but I didn't want to draw any unwanted attention to myself. At first I was very anxious about using the card, but with each passing day, I became more and more comfortable pretending that I was Margaret Garrison. It's like the more I bought, the less of a moral compass I truly had. The next thing I knew, I was using the card every day, without hesitation. Until a few months later, when I went to pick up a brand new purse, the card declined. I tried again, but it just wouldn't go through. I went home that evening, trembling with fear. All of the sudden, the phone rang. "Hello?" I picked up. "Hi, my name is Margaret Garrison. I'm calling to see if you happened to have seen my debit card anywhere. I volunteer at the school sometimes, and I've been trying to contact every parent in the school for months. I think someone stole it, because I can see all of the purchases," She said with worry in her voice. "Oh-I-Uh-That's terrible,' I stuttered. "Um, so you haven't deactivated the card?" I asked. "Well, I've had a lot of issues with the bank these past few months, but today I was finally able to deactivate it. Thank god," She told me. "Yes, thank god," I blurted out nervously. "Anyway, I have no idea who could have taken your card, sorry," I said, very rushed. Then I hung up the phone.

The next day, there was a warrant out for the arrest of the person who stole Margaret Garrison's debit card. The police were already trying to track the online purchases back to the thief. I was absolutely terrified that they could be knocking on my door any minute with handcuffs. Who would take care of my children if I got arrested? Surely my parents would never step up. I was pacing back and forth, wishing I didn't make this mistake. I was praying that the card never existed; that I never existed. Nevertheless, I came up with a plan. First, I melted the card in the fireplace. Next, I packed up the kids and the car. Then, I drove; I drove far, far away from there. Finally, I settled in Canada, in Saskatchewan. I had cousins living there, so I worked on their farm. I prayed that no one would ever find us there. I ditched my cell phone, and I home schooled the kids. No one would ever know that we left the country. Bringgggggg. Bringgggggg. "Hello?" I answered. "This is Margaret Garrison, and you're going down."

“Mom!” followed by a loud crack of the door being slammed shut broke the silence Tiffany had just been relishing. “Shit” she muttered before yelling back “in here baby!”. Don’t be mistaken. Tiffany loved all three of her children, but she also loved the sweet 45 minutes of silence she got before her youngest was the first to return home from school. “Guess what! Tomorrow is western day at school and we have to dress like cowboys!” he practically screamed as he came bouncing in the kitchen waving the reminder flyer from his teacher. “What?! I thought that was next week!”. Immediately the unending list of to do’s Tiffany had just been carefully avoiding came crashing back down to earth with the most recent, and let’s be honest equally foremost and unessential task, thrown into the mix. “How about you wear your rubber boots with your blue jeans!” Tiffany threw out with little hope it would fly. “My rubber boots?? Mom everybody else is gonna be wearing hats and everything!” Tiffany sighed. Maybe she could get her husband to pick up a “cowboy hat” on the way home from work? Unlikely. No, she might as well deal with this before the other kids got home and started to demand dinner. If only he had remember to warn her a couple of days ago. She longed for the days when she actually had time to order the likes of cowboy hats from the comfort of her own couch with the promise, nay the magic, of two day shipping. “Okay fine, come on” she grumbled as she grabbed her keys and took he first and final sip of the glass of pino she had just managed to pour for herself.

I arrived home a little earlier than usual, just enough time for me to breathe before Sam comes home. Five minutes is all I needed to myself before having to do anything else, but it seemed to have gotten the better of me. I awoke to a sudden slam of the back door and pounding footsteps heading my way. “Dad! D-aaa-d” “I’m in here” “Look what I found” “Is that a mirror? Where did you get that at?” “It was a special present just for me!”

It didn’t concern me too much, just kid stuff, a plastic compact was the least of my worries. While I was prepping dinner and Sam was doing homework at the kitchen table I could not help but notice her staring at herself in the mirror. “The faster you get your homework done, the quicker you can play. So put down the toys okay?” I was met with mild frustration and a piercing glare before I took ahold of the mirror myself. To make light of the situation and prevent myself from being seen as the devil himself I playfully opened the mirror to pamper up. I was met by a laugh from Sam, but when I looked closer behind my reflection seemed to warp and change, almost like it was below a creek. I didn’t want to show my fright in the moment but something is wrong with this and I needed to find out more. After Sam was asleep I opened the mirror again, my reflection was there but almost delayed. As if it was not actually me in the mirror but another who was replicating my movements, something false pretending to be me. I don’t remember how long I looked into the warped perception of myself but all I know now is my skin is no longer my own. I couldn’t handle it anymore, I smashed it against the ground, shattering and breaking. It felt like it was over, the dread left my body, so I cleaned up the mess and went to bed. When I awoke my own reflection did not deceive me, my skin was swimming around as if a mask of myself was layed on top of my face. A droop in the eye and mouth, the edge of someone’s jaw lifting. It was quick and didn’t last for long but it started happening to everyone over the next few days. At first strangers out of the corner of my eye, then co-workers, then Sam. I had to know the truth, it was eating me alive. I stood over the bathroom sink one night, staring at myself until it happened. At first I tried to grab it, but to no avail it was like the false me was taunting me. A parasite infected me, and is now tormenting me, it had to be removed. I grabbed a pair of tweezers and caught the seam of it, pulling it off fast. It appeared to be a copy of my face on some sort of mask with thousands of tiny legs on it. I dropped everything and stood back as I watched it separate into tiny insects and crawl down the drain. My face was my own again, and so was everyone else’s, but sometimes I wonder what would happen if I let it stay a little longer.

“Dammit another one?” Chenoa muttered to herself emptying a pocket full of rubber mulch her son brought home from school. Why did he have to store it by the handful?

“Malachi” she caught him by the arm as he sprinted past with a nerf gun, and showed him the handful of black rubber shards. “What did we say about this?”

A nerf bullet shot Malachi in the face and he let out a cry of either pain or joy; it was difficult to tell. He shouted a warriors call then shot back at his cousins down the hall.

“Malachi! Boys enough.”

“It’s for my rock collection.” Malachi said after firing a few well aimed styrofoam bullets. “I know they’re not rocks, mom. But they look like it. Some of them sparkle too!”

Chenoa pulled a face glancing at the dull shards in her hand. They resembled fat black beetles, and a few times that’s exactly what she’d thought when having stepped on them in the hallway.

“No more stealing them from the playground. We can hunt for real rocks by the river this weekend instead. Go on now. And throw these away.” She called after him with a reminder to use the kitchen trash and not the sink! She’d just had it fixed from the last thing he tossed in there.

Returning to the pants she fished another handful out dumping it atop the dryer when it clinked against the metal. Chenoa noticed nothing besides the black rubber beetles and decided to call the district tomorrow morning to complain about their choice in laying rubber mulch.

The hood of the washer slapped shut, water rushing loudly as Chenoa leaned against it, closing her eyes with burdens too heavy to speak of. There was still time left… it’s the same mantra she‘s say each time her anxiety rose in back of her throat. There’s time.

A tear tickled her cheek, and she dashed it away, blinking her eyes rapidly to focus on the rubber shards. Chenoa scooped them into her hand when she heard a heavy scrapping across the dryer top.

Chenoa narrowed her eyes, scrunching her face to better analyze the contents in her palm; and in between the ugly faux rocks, something refracted light; glistening in a brilliant hue.

Chenoa plucked it from the group, forgetting the other pieces to the floor, pulled back the rubber pieces to reveal a brilliant shard of diamond.

“I told you,” Malachi took aim at the mulch littered on the floor, and shot. “Some of the rocks at school sparkle.”

As the girls came throug the front door I could tell by the sound of their voices that they were really excited about something. "DAD! Kali had to..." "CORA! SHUT UP! DAD!" "What?" "Look at what I have to take care of tonight" I was still unable to see them when those last words hit my ears. In that split second, a million things ran through my mind of what it could be. The class pet. A ton of homework. A classmate. When my eyes hit the "thing" in question I froze. There were my 2 daughters with a look of "how did I get involved in this?" across their faces. And beside them? Willie Nelson. Looking like a little puppy excited to have a sleepover in a new place. "What the hell girls!" I yelled slightly angry because my brain could not figure out how to make sense of this. Kali went on to explain that Willie came to play some songs at the pep rally and in the middle of the performance zombie prairie dogs infested the gym so they had to split real quick. Somehow Willie ended up with a group of kids from our neighborhood who gathered together and made it back home. "The kids seemed smarter than the teachers and WAY smarter than my entourage. And I was right. Here we are!" Fucking Willie.