Valerie sat on the swings alone, her feet just grazing the ground, her eyes trained to the ground. Her hands were dirty and wood chips stuck to her jeans, but she didn’t care.

Every day Valerie came to the playground to look for her locket that she lost here ages ago. It contained a picture of her mom, and it was the last thing she gave her before she died. Every day Valerie leaves dirty and empty handed, but she always comes back to look, every day, like clockwork.

Today Valerie almost didn’t come, but she remembered how much the locket meant to her, so she did. She had just came from school, she was hungry and swamped with homework, but she made herself go.

She walked to the small playground, and this time there was someone there. A little girl, no older than 6 playing on the monkey bars. Valerie felt a little self conscious because she was a 15 year old, about to get on her hands and knees and claw in the dirt in front of a child. She cringed at the thought, and sat down on the bench. Debating her options.

“Hey! Come and swing with me!” The little girl says as she skips over to Valerie. Valerie smiles softly at the invitation, and joins her on the swings.

“What’s your name?” The little girl asks curiously as she kicks her legs to start swinging. “Valerie, what’s yours?” “My name is Jane!” Valerie smiled, that was her mothers name. “That’s a pretty name, I knew someone named Jane.” The little girl stops swinging and looks at Valerie seriously. “This is yours then.” The little girl tucked her hand into her dress pocket and pulled out a small gold necklace. Valerie’s locket. Her heart skips a beat as she carefully takes it into her hands and stares at it, taking in every inch of it. Her jaw is dropped as she opens it and sees the picture of her mom and her. “Where’d you get this?” Valerie says breathlessly as a tear trickles down her face. When she looks up the little girl is gone. Vanished into thin air, and Valerie carefully places the locket around her neck.

Valerie sat on the swings alone, her feet just grazing the ground, her eyes trained to the ground. Her hands were dirty and wood chips stuck to her jeans, but she didn’t care. She’s found her heart again, and that’s all that matters.

“Don’t be a little chickenshit, Ashton,” Jordie said. “Yeah man grow a pair,” Drew parroted. Drew waggled his eyebrows at Jordie in a way that he hoped she would find adorably sexy. Jordie wrinkled her pert nose. Aston threw a harder than necessary play punch to Drew’s shoulder. “Quit dick eating bro,” Aston said and left the pentagram and opened the door. Kaley with a K and Caeli with a C mockingly booed as Ashton left with one of the five candles. He flipped them all the middle finger as he strutted into the dark hallway. With dove gray walls and fresh vanilla wall to wall carpets, the model home was actually nice. Jordie had stolen the code from her mom a realtor. It was kind of a shame about the red marker five pointed star scrawled across the living room, Kaley thought. When Jordie asked him to sneak into an empty house to play Drew had hoped they would eat edibles and make out. Instead the gang showed up and Jordie was all set to play Telephone Black. It had taken forever to duct tape blankets over the windows on the first floor for complete darkness. The five of them, Jordie, Aston, Drew, Caeli, and Kaley, lit the candles Jordie brought and Caeli with a C stole her grandma’s rotary phone. The phone was heavy and grim with a stiff greasy cord. Aston pretended to pummel Kaley with a K with it and squeeze her boobs. His girlfriend Caeli pretended not to notice. Drew refused to touch it. With only four candles remaining the pitch black room in the pitch black house at midnight was working on Drew’s nerves. “Shouldn’t he be back by now,” Drew said watching Jordie watching the battered old phone. The numbers were yellowed and some half rubbed away. Drew wondered how Caeli’s Grammy made calls. “Who?” Kaley and Caeli asked. Drew pulled his eyes from the phone. “Aston,” he said. Both girls blinked back at him questioningly. “You play too much,” Caeli with a C said laying her tiny hand on his thigh. Drew Was taken aback. Then he laughed and Caeli laughed because Drew was kinda of cute even if he liked Jordie more than he liked her. Kaley laughed because it felt weird not to. “Shut up. You will disturb the spirits.” Jordie’s voice was so low the hairs stood up on the back of all their necks. “Telephone Black, Answer Me,” the four chanted. Jordie looked at Caeli with a C. The girl got up and reached for me of the four remaining candles. “Can Drew come with me?” Caeli asked. Her smile almost hid her nervousness. “That’s not how it works. You go alone into a dark room and blow out your candle and when you come back the phone rings and tells you how you will die or what’s in your future.” Jordie’s voice grew soft and sweet. I mean if you don’t want to know if you will marry some hot or rich.” “Or rich and hot,” Kaley said. Giggling to lighten the mood. Caeli hurried from the room. Drew watched the door. He turned to face the two girls. Kaley was looking at her nails, bored. Jordie stared into the phone like it was a campfire. He swiveled from the door to the girls to the door. “She probably making up with her boyfriend,” Drew said in a small voice. Kaley frowned up at him and then returned to the wonders of her manicure. Jordie chanted. With a huff Kaley grabbed one of the remaining three candles. “Let’ finish the ritual and get tacos,” Kaley called out merrily and headed out. “Wait, wait. Stop something’s wrong. It’s like a curse or a dream,” Drew called out. “You play too much,” Kaley said over her shoulder as she slammed the door stepping into the darkness. Drew felt as if his brain wasn’t connected to his feet. Stumbling over his limbs, Drew raced after his friend. The door closed behind him was a satisfied slam. A candle blew out.

Jordie sat alone in the model home, it was a little nugget of generic crap. The only cool thing was the pentagram, she thought. She lit a joint off the candle she bought from home. She wished she had dope friends at school down for anything. This could be a mad fire seance or some game with a Ouija board or something. Jordie took a long drag. Suddenly out of the dark a phone rang.

“Kassie.“ My name dripped down her strawberry stained lips and settled in the air like a slur. “Kassie,” she spat, “Kassie, you disappeared for three and a half years. You cut contact with everyone for three and a half years. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

“I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry? I'm sorry! Kassie Smith, I thought you were dead! I thought you finally ended that pathetic life of yours, but no, here you are, alive and well, three and a half years later!” Her voice raised and raised until she screeched out and shook the room. “Can you explain where, where in the world you succumbed away for for three and a half years?!”

“College, I was at college.”

“I” her voice trembled out and her fire, flaming and high only seconds ago, died out in an instant, “I can't play pretend with you anymore. We can't keep on like this. I mean really, Kassie, college?” Her platinum blond hair swayed along as she wrapped herself around me. I closed my eyes, letting the tears squeeze away and dance down my cheeks. Hot air tingled into my ears, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” I squeezed back, and for a second, though it felt longer at the moment, everything was okay again.

“I'm glad you're back from college.”

“I'm glad I'm back too.”

And everything was back to normal, leaving the salty lies to fade into reality as they always had.

When the usher escorted me into the auditorium, a feeling of deja vu washed over me. There was something familiar about the place. The room was no different from any other theater aside from its cavernous size. Walking past rows of empty padded seats, flipped upwards not in use, I looked towards the balcony. A shadowy figure stood out of view, looking down upon the scene as it unfolded.

Curtains pulled back, the stage sat vacant, devoid of props and cast. Leaning against the rear stage wall, a forgotten section of backdrop was turned sideways, its support brackets hobbled, unable to stand upright on its own. The painted plywood image depicted white fluffy clouds offset by an arctic blue sky. In front of the stage, a string of velvet ropes cordoned off the orchestra pit from the seating reserved for an audience. The latest production on hiatus, it wasn’t clear why I had been summonsed to the theater.

When we approached the pit, the usher turned and said “Wait here” before leaving the building through an emergency exit.

A few minutes later, a man emerged with a solemn look upon his face. He walked forward and sat down. His legs swung free over the front edge of the stage. Without saying a word, he patted the stage beside him and motioned for me to approach. I did as instructed and sat down next to my father.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“It’s been how long since we’ve seen each other and that’s the first thing you ask?”

The impatience in my father’s voice was underscored by disappointment, as if he expected a teary eyed embrace of affection to start off our reunion. There was a reason we hadn’t talked in years so if that was the case, he’d have to be the one to initiate it. Nothing cuts deeper than the betrayal of one’s own father. A series of unapologetic decisions made a lifetime ago left me distrustful of his actions and unspoken motives.

“I’m sorry, dad. How are you? Good? Great,” I replied dismissively.

“You’re still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad but I haven’t forgiven you.”

“Maybe that’ll make things easier. Pretty soon, you have a choice to make.”

With hands placed behind my head, as if preparing to do sit-ups, I pushed my shoulders backward to stretch. My back arched to its limit. A guttural moan echoed throughout the empty theater. It was loud enough that I almost didn’t hear him ask about my recent car accident. His question caught me by surprise.

“Still stiff from the accident?”

“How do you know about that?” I asked.

“I’m your father. Even though we don’t talk, I still keep tabs on you.”

“My memory hasn’t come all the way back. It’s like there’s this chunk of time that’s missing.”

“Your doctors called it retrograde amnesia. Happens a lot with brain injuries. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Some a-hole ran a red light and t-boned me,” I said, scratching my head. “Everything after that is a blur, until I showed up here.”

A single tear rolled down my father’s cheek as he stood. He looked towards the floor and turned away, shaking his head from side to side. The anonymous voyeur, still cloaked by the balcony, pressed his ear forward to better hear the conversation.

“I’m sorry to be the one that tells you this but…you died. Your injuries were too severe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “That’s not funny.”

My father turned to face me and said, “Think back, about ten years. You went to my funeral.”

I looked into the distance with squinted eyes, in search of recollections that supported his claim. Bits of memories flashed through my mind. They washed over me in waves. Giddy moments of an unadulterated childhood, far removed from the challenges brought on by adulthood. Regrettable disagreements over unresolved issues. Remembrances of sadness long buried in the past.

“Cancer,” I whispered. “You died of cancer.”

“That’s right.”

“So then where are we? Heaven?”

“This is a rest stop, somewhere between Heaven and Hell. And you’ve got a decision to make. Move forward or go back?”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Either move forward to Heaven or opt for reincarnation.”

“First, tell me. What’s Heaven like?”

“Can’t say,” replied my father as he looked towards the balcony. “There’s rules about that.”

There were a number of things I wished to have done different while alive; dreams that were never pursued. Believing I had a lifetime yet to live, procrastination delayed my pursuit of those goals. And now when it seemed too late to rectify the wrongs of my past, I was presented with the opportunity to restart life’s timer and try again. Reincarnation seemed too attractive an option to pass up. The only downside was that the life I had already lived would be forgotten.

“You won’t remember me at all,” my father pointed out. “You’ll be someone else’s son.”

“Sounds like you want me to join you in Heaven?”

“That’s not it!” my father barked before returning to a softer tone of voice. “This is YOUR decision. The only thing worse than a lifetime filled with regrets is spending eternity regretting a decision made in the afterlife. No pressure or judgement here. I’ll love you no matter what.”

“I’m not ready to give up on living. There’s too much I still want to get done.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. I didn’t raise you to be a quitter.”

Tears dripped from our eyes as we embraced for a final time. It was the safest I felt in years. After he directed me towards the entrance at the rear of the theater, I retreated up the center aisle. Uncertain whether the proper decision had been selected, I looked back for one last glimpse of my father. With a hand curled tight in a fist and pressed against my heart, I pointed towards him with my free hand. An unknown destiny waited for me on the opposite side of the double doors, which I walked through with eyes wide open.

A few minutes after I exited, the usher returned. With fingers interlaced, he twiddled his thumbs as he walked to where my father stood.

“Was it worth it? Selling your soul so your son can live again. A son who isn’t even gonna remember you?”

“You’re not a father. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Enlighten me.”

“He’ll always be my son. You can’t take that from me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

“Whatever,” said the usher, pointing towards the emergency exit. “Time to go.”

The pair shuffled towards the side of the room and started to walk through the doorway. With a hand on the door, my father stopped and looked back towards the stage. A contented smile filled his heart. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exited the theater. After the steel door slammed shut, the audience of one stepped away from the balcony to observe another conversation.

In the intervening years, a lifetime passed in the blink of an eye.

When the usher escorted me into the auditorium, a feeling of deja vu washed over me. There was something familiar about the place. The room was no different from any other theater aside from its cavernous size. Walking past rows of empty padded seats, flipped upwards not in use, I looked towards the balcony. A shadowy figure stood out of view, looking down upon the scene as it unfolded.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

When would she get here? I’d been waiting for months. Ready to move forward. Where was she? She’d said she wanted to go on that date.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

When would she arrive? I wanted my family to meet her. To get to know her. Where was she? She said she wasn’t embarrassed of us.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

How long ‘till she got here? I bought the ring weeks ago. Excited about finally getting married. Where was she? She said yes.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Would she ever arrive? We talked about kids ages ago. I still wanted one. Where was she? I thought we were going to have one.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Just how far away was she? Our son was leaving for uni. I wanted to visit him. Where was she? We were going to throw a party.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Was there a point in waiting? I was going to retire. We had planned to go to England. Where was she? I wanted to visit our son.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Why did I wait? I had my whole life to live. Instead I spent it waiting. Where was she? Two steps behind.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Ash stares at the thousand pieces shattered across the floor. The laughter died after the ear-piercing crash of the vase hitting the floor. Ash’s neck stings with embarrassment, nerves, and lastly, guilt.

He broke Àmir’s beloved vase.

It’s like the thought alone is enough to summon the man. Ash has to tell himself to breath as Àmir kneels beside him quietly.

Inhale. Exhale. Damnit.

Ash falters in his breathing technique, usually used to quell his anger, not doing so great to quell his nerves. He peeks a glance at Àmir who’s reaching for a piece.

“‘Mir,” Ash exhales. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to break it.”

Àmir looks to him then. “It’s okay.” He sets a hand on Ash’s shoulder. Don’t worry about it.” He flashes Ash a small smile. No concealed anger, no contempt, not even the subtle signs of ‘we’ll talk later’. Nothing. Ash moves to help grab recoverable pieces too. Beside him Àmir is quiet,but Ash feels something is off. Behind them, their friends carry on their own conversations awkwardly then forcibly keep talking until it’s natural. Ash feels slightly better with the background noise, it widens the world back out to the friendly get together and not Ash’s monumental screw up.

In the mist of the conversation, just as Ash leaves to retrieve a broom for the more unfortunate pieces, Rashi comes over discreetly. He starts a conversation with Àmir in their native language. Ash doesn’t need to be fluent to know Rashi is doing a rain check, asking Àmir if he’s alright. Hot embarrassment furls in Ash’s stomach, that’s a question he should’ve asked Àmir himself.

Eventually the floor is clean, and the get-together comes to an end. Everyone bids their goodbye, and Ash is the last to go. He apologizes again.

“It fine.” Àmir dismisses with a soft smile. “Don’t worry about it.” Then he frowns. “You’re not staying over?”

That was the initial plan but Ash couldn’t bring himself to do it, not after…. “No…”

Àmir dawns a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything about it. “Alright. Goodnight, Ash.”

“Goodnight, Àmir.”

He leaves, and Àmir’s words, ‘don’t worry’, bounce around in his head. Despite the reassurance, Ash thinks of every way possible to repair that vase to make it up to him.

Its two weeks after the incident Ash has the opportunity to retrieve the porcelain pieces without Àmir around to see him. He only gets his key into the lock when the door is opening on its own and scaring Ash within an inch of his life. His swears colorfully trying to yank his key away to dash down the hall, then swears with relief when Rashi steps out instead.

“Ash! Y’scared me. Thought you were ‘Mir.” Rashi deflates, shifting a bit. “What’re you doing?”

Ash squints at him. “Nothing. What are you doing here?”

“Nothing.” They both hum at each other, akin to the way one hums when calling out a lie but playing along anyway. One long, drawn out hum later, Rashi shifts and bids Ash farewell.

Two months after the incident, their friends have another get-together. Ash arrives first, cause after weeks trying to find an identical vase, and more weeks trying to find places that can repair them, Ash decided he would just ask Àmir where he got the vase from, and come clean about his worrying. Secrets weren’t for him, that was Àmir’s thing.

When Ash arrived, with a box containing a slice of shortcake for Àmir, he nearly dropped it upon it seeing the new vase. It looked like the old one, but there was gold highlighting it cracks, but joining the remaining pieces together. Luckily, Àmir was there to save the box before that became the second momental screw up at the apartment.

“What….?” Ash trails off, staring at the vase.

“You worried over it, didn’t you?” Àmir sets the cake aside. “Even when I said not to.”

“How could I not?” Ash huffs. “Why fix it like this?”

Àmir smiles. “I think it looks better like this, its more beautiful with its scars and flaws shown.” Àmir goes to grab the vase, then brings it back to Ash. “That said. I want to give this to you. Let it be a symbol of what we came from and where we are now.”

Ash looks down at the vase. “Okay.” He stares at the gold between white, highlighting the cracks but enhancing its strength. He embraces the symbolism.

I’m a hero on a quest to save the land of ash from a power-hungry psychopath king so I get through his men and his traps and finally I approach the villain and I question why he does what he does, And the villain says “you don’t need to hear my reason for you have not lived my life, all you should care about is if you can defeat and kill me for that all you need to know about me.

We fight and he somehow loses his strength and dies to my blade smiling.

I become a celebrated hero that was paraded everywhere I went, stories told of me, women hopped in to my bed like salmon to a net. And so I thought to spread my story throughout I will continue my exploits.

I saved twins of princesses, saved villages,defeated A group of assassins, defeated soldiers,defeated a dragon, defended a castle, married a queen life was good but I could not stop.

Slowly overtime people somehow started to leave me, fear me, even plot against me so I the hero killed them too.

I defeated my friends, their family, their loved ones the poor and useless(you know they were just taking up space and I needed to reduce the surplus population) and even my wife the queen who did all she could to stop me, but she could not stop me.

Soon after my kingdom was all quiet are you paranoid wondering who will betray me next.

One day A man on a quest came to my land so he somehow gets though my men, through my traps and finally he approaches me and he question why I do what I do, And I say “you don’t need to hear my reason for you have not lived my life, all you should care about is if you can defeat and kill me for that is all you need to know about me.”

With that we fight and and with every blow I am reminded of my friends my people and my love until I couldn’t take it anymore then I found my answer as the man came again with his blade I dropped mine closed my eyes and die happy to his blade.

Joe was hanging onto the ledge trying not to let go due to his cramping fingers. “You cannot die here you piece of shit,” he mumbled to himself. He used all the strength he had left in him to pull himself up enough to use his elbow for support. Once he had one elbow, it was easier to get up from there. He wedged his feet into the rocks to push himself all the way up. “You are still trying to get past this level man?” Joe’s roommate, Claire said. Joe flinched from not expecting Claire’s interruption and because of this, his character in his Jungle Terror video game tripped and fell down the cliff. The words ‘YOU DIED’ in all red popped onto the screen. “Seriously Claire? You knew I have been stuck on this damn level since last Friday,” Joe bemoaned. “I know but I am bored and want to go out and do something. You have been so cooped up in this room trying to beat this dumb level or whatever and you should take a break from it for at least one night.” “I know but I am really trying to get past this, once I do then I am all yours. Even for a whole week if you want me to.” “Don’t make promises you can’t keep sir. You should hurry up then and not die.” “Easy for you to say. And if you want me to then get out and stop interrupting me!” “Okay, sheesh. I will leave you to it then and come Monday, I will be barging back in here to hold you to your word mister gaming nerd.” “Okay I gotchu. Imma try my hardest to get past this by Monday. I was literally about to before you came in here.” “Yeah sure you were. Imma go to the bar then without you. Have fun with your silly game.” And with that, she left his room closing the door behind her. Joe looked back at his screen and pressed the retry button. He got as fast as almost reaching the top of the cliff again, but no matter what he did he was not able to get to the top. It was fail after fail until he finally saw the sun rising outside of his dorm room window. He had to get up for class in the next two hours, which meant no sleep once again, but it was not something new for him. He decided to turn the game off for the time being and try to get an hour of sleep. “I wish I could go in the game because If I was in the game myself, I knew I would win this bullshit,” he babbled. He closed his eyes and fell asleep. Little did he know that he was not going to be waking up in his bed. The next morning Joe woke up and shot up, immediately realizing he wasn’t in his dorm room anymore. He was surrounded by trees and the noises of wild animals in the distance. “where the fuck?” He stood up to get a better look of his surroundings and then it clicked, “This isn’t really happening.” He was indeed inside of his video game. He knew he asked for this but it never occurred to him that it could actually happen. It was indeed some type of movie shit to get stuck inside of a game. “Am I dreaming? Nah this seems to damn real and this is the exact Spotify respawn at when I die. Welp onward I go.” He continued forward through the trees and came across to the high mountain he has to climb up. He wasn’t sure how he would actually make it up there since he doesn’t have any serious climbing experience other then the one time he went rock climbing for a school field trip. He looked for the edge where he would always start and placed his foot on it. He lifted himself up and thus began to climb. He finally got to the top and was hanging from the ledge trying not to let go due to his cramping fingers. ‘Damn this hurts more than it actually looks in game,’ he thought to himself. He used all of the strength he had left to pull himself up enough to use his elbow for support. He wedged his feet into the rocks to pull himself all the way up and he had no distractions this time.

When a thousand words all cut like glass and the mountain of sand beneath you crumbles, how are you supposed to pick yourself up from that?

There’s sand in your wounds and you’re still covered in the shattered pieces of the mirror. You’re infected and it’s going to take a lot of healing to fix that.

It’s a lot of fighting to get on your feet again. A battle no one else sees. One no one else is going to realize is happening, this massacre inside you. The blood bath in your head will only ever be in your head. The stab to your heart isn’t something you share because that makes you vulnerable.

So when you’re covered in glass and sand, make the choice: share your pain or let it destroy you alone.

A man stands at the abrupt corner where South Pane Road meets Grimn Lane.

He gives a momentary glance to his plastic wrist watch, checking to see if he’s earlier today. His eyes raise towards the unchanging crosswalk light. It glows red.

Checking each direction briefly, he decides he can cross. He takes a step onto the road. A blast of electricity surges through the air, thundering just infront of the man. A sleek, metallic and yellow car appears in the wake of the spectacle.

“Aaand, here we are Steph. The spot of your father’s untimely death.” A voice starts from inside. Another higher voice responds uneasily, “Are we supposed to be this close?” “uhhh, no. Let’s try this again.”

The man on the road looks into the car befor—

A man stands at the abrupt corner where South Pane Road meets Grimn Lane.

He gives a momentary glance to his plastic wrist watch, reflecting the shine of a bright light. The mans attention is brought to the flash of light. A sleek, metallic, and yellow car appears in the wake of the spectacle of light just across the street. The man stands there in awe.

From within the car Steph and Winston sit. Their white spandex suits harbor not even a spec of any stain, Steph mutters, “So that’s him, my father. I wish I had gotten to know him more.” He pauses, “Before then or, I mean, today.”

“I think your pap’s still looking at us,” Winston adds without acknowledging the weight of Steph’s comment.

Just then, a red car races carelessly a few inches short of the sidewalk at which the man stands.

“we’ll try this one more time,” Wiston declared reaching for a button. Steph lowly sighs, “I don’t know if I can watch this man.” Winston turns to Steph and states, “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to see his last moments,” Winston takes a sip of an over-advertising, plastic cup, “We can go back to the present if ya’ want.”

“No, I-uh, I’ll just see it. It’s what he would’ve wanted,” stammered Steph.

“Alright bud,” Winston verified. His hand glides to a button and as he presses it—

A man stands at the abrupt corner where South Pane Road meets Grimn Lane. He checks his watch, then the crosswalk light. It glows red.

After taking a few steps on the road, the man alarmingly notices the red car racing towards him. His eyes widen as the tires of the vehicle let out a heart stopping scream. The collision seemingly lasts for an eternity.

A man lies motionless at the abrupt corner where South Pane Road meets Grimn Lane.