_“You promise me you won’t?” he asked me, his eyes searching mine. He held my face between his hands. I knew he was looking for any sign of doubt or lies on my face. _

“I won’t,” I swore honestly. “I could never do something like that, trust me.”

He had kissed me after that. I thought he had loved me, but he was just making me promise him something, when all the while he was lying to my face. I had meant what I said at the time. I had intended to stay true to my word. But when I figured out he had broken every promise he made to me, I saw it was justified for me to stop keeping mine.

I held onto my pen tightly, but not because I was nervous. I was so angry at everyone. The government had been manipulating me the entire time, using me for their benefit and walking away when the consequences came. I was tired of being played and deceived. I couldn’t remember the last time I had made my own decision.

The line shuffled forward. There was only one person left in front of me. It was an old man who wobbled toward the dark figure. A piece of parchment appeared on the table between them. The Darkness began to speak to the man, but so quietly I could not hear. I busied myself with looking around the room instead.

It was an odd sort of place that didn’t even seem real. It was dark and there was no source of light, yet you could see everything around you in a sort of washed-out gray color. It was hard to tell where the walls were and where the floor ended. I didn’t know how high the ceiling was, or if there even was one. It could’ve been a cloudy night sky for all I knew. Everything seemed to be made of a dark obsidian tile that blended together.

My focus was drawn away from the mysteries of the strange room as the man disappeared into the Darkness. I took a confident step forward, bracing myself for what was about to happen. There was a table in front of me, rising to about my stomach. It was bare, the paper having gone away along with the old man. I looked up at the swirling Darkness. Shadows appeared and disappeared, forming the shape of a rather tall figure. As it realized who I was, it let out a loud bark of laughter. I suppressed the urge to shiver. Laughing seemed wrong in such a terrible place. I turned around, glancing at all the gaunt faces wallowing in their own self-pity behind me. All waiting to sell their life away.

I faced the Darkness again as it began to twist. An ageless man stepped out, looking amused and only slightly surprised. He had dark hair and pale, pasty skin. His features were sharp enough to cut glass and he would’ve been attractive if he wasn’t so unsettling. He looked young, but his eyes foretold of the wisdom he beheld. He was tall and almost lanky, but something about him screamed danger.

“Giovanna,” he said, leaning against the table to get a closer look at me. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here.” He paused, waving his hand through the air. “Of course, I can’t say I’m too shocked. I always knew you would end up here…I just didn’t expect you quite so soon.”

Perhaps the thing that was so unsettling about him was the fact he could act so flawlessly human and normal. He’d perfected our mannerisms, our sarcasm, our phrases. He seemed so calm and almost…bored. I watched as shadows swirled around his fingers, forming figures. I realized it was him and I, ruling the world with matching crowns.

The Darkness wasn’t one to be trusted, but I didn’t trust anyone anymore. And he had yet to lie to me.

He stooped even closer, looming over me in his height and power. “Why is it that you’ve come to me so soon?” he said teasingly, “I thought I would have to wait a lot longer.”

“You know why,” I said, my voice harsh and dead from disuse. “Don’t make me say it.”

He shook his head. “No,” he conceded, curiosity obviously piqued. He cocked his head at me as if I was some interesting specimen. “But I can find out.”

I didn’t have a chance to say anything as he reached out a finger and touched my temple. It was a cold, unwelcome sensation. A sharp pain suddenly shot through my head. I knew he was sifting through my memories, looking to find what had happened. Going through them like they were simple files. I could’ve tried to stop him. I probably should’ve. But I saw no point. I was going to sell my soul to that Darkness. Why try to hide what he would find out eventually?

“Ah,” he hummed, drawing his finger away. His hand fell back to his side and a smile crept across his face. “What a funny plot twist,” he said, his eyes dancing with some form of cruel dark humor, “The hero goes against the public, because of the public. Who will save them now?”

My eyes were dark and flat. I said nothing. He spoke of the truth. There was no need for me to confirm it.

“The people who tried to fix you just ended up breaking you, huh?” he asked. More rhetorical questions. I stared at him with eyes full of hatred. All I could think about was how I’d gotten so manipulated.

“Well, to be quite frank, I don’t think you’re broken,” he continued, twirling his hand in the air again. The Darkness formed a sheet of paper that appeared on the table. “In fact, I don’t think you’ve ever been more together.”

Was he right? Was I together? I couldn’t tell anymore. I was so blinded by my rage that I didn’t care about anything else but revenge. My revenge. I looked at the paper on the table, clicking my pen. I didn’t read the Terms and Conditions, because it was too dark (and who actually does?). Instead, my eyes dropped to the line at the bottom, right where I was supposed to sign.

“Once you do this, you can never go back. You understand?” he reminded me, his voice taking on a more serious tone. He was just humoring me. I hadn’t been able to turn back for a long time. I had started on a road that led me down a darker and darker path. It had gotten so dark I couldn’t even see right from wrong anymore. I couldn’t tell what was good and what was bad, who the heroes were, and who the villains were. I couldn’t even see the truth from lies.

“I understand,” I said, my voice hollow. I was filled with such rage that I felt disconnected from the world.

“Before you sign, I want to hear you say it,” he said with hungry eyes, the shadows around him growing darker. They played across his skin and twirled through his fingers. “I need you to admit it. Why are you here, Giovanna?”

Anger flashed through my eyes and boiled in my heart. Why? He already knew. But perhaps he was right. Perhaps I needed to say the words out loud.

“Because they lied to me,” I said through gritted teeth, eyes rimmed with red anger, “They manipulated me and murdered my family.”

My words echoed around the chamber. My own voice sounded foreign to me. It belonged to somebody full of bitterness and vengeance.

“Ready to sign a deal with the devil?” he asked. The Darkness was deceiving, but I didn’t care. He hadn’t convinced me to be there. He had never lied to me. I was there on my own accord. It was the first time I was choosing to do something myself in a long time, without anyone breathing down my neck. I wasn’t being forced by the government. Being in front of him felt right. His presence had instilled confidence in me toward my decision.

“Sign right here,” he said in a buttery voice, his pale finger tapping the blank line.

I had no hesitation when my hand dipped to sign the paper.

[Not The Brother prologue? renamed]

{Two years earlier}

————————————

“Callie, truth or dare?”

I scoff.

“Me? Hazel, you have the wrong idea,” I mutter, crossing my arms to look the blonde in the eyes.

Hazel glares at me, along with Heather.

“Calliope Millie Summers, have fun for the first time in your life,” Heather demands, “now, Hazel. Ask again.”

“Callie, truth or dare?”

I grumble a protest before deciding to risk it.

“Dare.”

The rest of the girls squeal, Hazel turning to Heather and whispering an idea. Finally, the “council of H&H” turns back towards me.

Hazel, taking the lead, smirks and starts talking. “I dare you…”

As if coordinating this, which they probably did, Heather takes up the rest of the sentence, “to kiss Asher.”

Asher?

_Her brother, Asher? _

My crush, Asher?

_They’ll know for sure then! _

I take a deep breath.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.” They all answer simultaneously, their expressions falling in a devious expression. Gabby, the only kid in my grade and not in the grade above, turns to the archway between the kitchen and dining room, and shouts.

“Asher!”

A few seconds later, the blonde twin of the girl I call my best friend appears, leaning against the archway. Why is he so tall and cute and…

“What is it?”

His voice got deeper…

The girls grin again, all rubbing their hands together maniacally. I send him an apologetic look, making sure he catches it before the girls speak once more.

“We kind of dared Calliope to kiss you,” Hazel points out, a fake smile stretching across her tan face.

Asher shoots another look my way.

“Did you now?”

His blue eyes capture me entirely. Opening my mouth to protest, I am the first to look away.

“They— I…”

He laughs and the sound sends shivers down my back.

“Cal, it’s no big deal,” Asher explains, waving his hand like it’s something he does every day.

He called me _Cal. _Only Heather calls me that.

I try to muster up a smile, looking back to his beautiful face.

“Do you want to do it in front of a crowd?” Heather asks, a look of concern flashing in her eyes.

“I don’t think so,” Asher says, his blue eyes still on me. Pushing my stool out, I walk over as non-awkwardly as possible, taking a mental picture of the grin on his face as I stand in front of him.

He looks me up and down. Asher’s voice drawls out, for once taking his eyes off of me, “I promise to finish the dare, but, considering this is her first kiss…”

A blush spreads along my pale, pale skin.

“Okay, but I’m trusting you, Ash,” Heather shouts as Asher’s hand envelopes mine. The next moment, we arrive in the hallway, away from all peeping eyes.

Although, I’m not entirely sure where Heather and Asher’s parents are.

“Okay. Once we do this—“ Asher points between the two of us. “you can never go back. You understand?”

I laugh, the nerves building up inside of me. “It’s just a kiss,” I say, although my tone betrays me.

Asher’s eyes falter.

“What?”

“It’s not just a kiss. It’s your first,” he explains, looking down to his shoes after shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wish I saved mine…”

Before I realize what I’m doing, I pull his face down to mine, our lips meeting in a soft kiss.

I pull away, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I am so, so, so sor—”

Asher grabs my face gently, descending his lips on mine ever-so-lightly. The blush that spreads across my face must be beet red, along with those butterflies fully awake in my stomach.

When he pulls away, I swear his eyes light up in an intense light.

I’m too stunned to call him out, though, lifting my hand to touch my lips. Asher just kissed me!

Awkwardly, we both just stand there. Asher just walks backwards a bit, throwing his hand in the air as to wave a strange goodbye.

“I’ll… see you later, I guess…?”

I nod, watching him turn around and walk away.

Does he regret it? __ __ I walk back into the dining room, biting back a grin as the girls volley at me with questions.

“How was the kiss?”

“Is Asher a good kisser?”

“Where is he?”

The grin grows into a wide smile, which I attempt to hide from Heather. She catches it and pulls me aside.

“Do you have a crush on my brother? Does he have a crush on you?”

I just smile, but a thought drills into my head.

Does he wish he didn’t kiss me?

“Mia,” his voice cracked. “You understand, don’t you?” I gasp as I hold the knife inches away from my already bleeding wrist. This is number four, and I needs to be the last.

I shake my head, my hands shaking as he holds one of his out to me. “You can’t do this.” I cry softly, tears slowly tickling down my cheeks.

He keeps his hand out, his black eyes filled with tears. Tears for me. “I can,” he murmurs. “I’m not gonna let you down.”

I shut my eyes, letting the knife fall from my fingers. My wrist starts stinging, a sharp pain I hadn’t even noticed before. “Why?” My voice trembles as I choke out sobs. “Why do you care?”

He lowers his hand, inching closer to me on my bedroom floor. “Mia,” he says his eyes glued on mine. “The real question is: why do you question my love for you?”

I swallow unable to breathe. Everything freezes. Everything but us. “Because I don’t deserve you.” “Then why am I here?” I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know.” I whisper. “I don’t know how else to prove it to you,” he mumbles, a single tear sliding down his beautiful face. A face that’s even more perfect with tears. “I love you Mia. Why don’t you see that?”

My wrist throbs as I lower my eyes from his. “I do . . . I want to.” “Open your eyes. Look in front of you, look at me.” He lifts one of his gentle hands to my cheek, his touch warm. I meet his gaze. It all makes sense, why I don’t deserve him. He’s so beautiful, he’s so kind, he he’s everything I could ever have dreamed of. And dreams don’t come true.

“I love you,” he whispers his voice strong, confident. I nod once, his hand still on my cheek. “Okay.” A small smile pulls at his lips. “Good.”

Without hesitation he leans close to me, his lips inches from mine, the setting sun glinting in his eyes. “Wait,” I mumble as my hand rises up to his. “Once you do this. You can never go back. You understand?” He lets out a small laugh. “Mia, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I first saw you. I’m not gonna break your heart.”

Then it all ended. My pain, my heart break. Everything. I was finally okay, in his arms, I could be or do anything. Just like he’d told me.

Once you do this, you can never go back. You understand? If so, wave both hands.

Too hard to rhyme Maybe another time Don’t be so kind Oh just never mind.

This poem stinks. Open eyes don’t blink. It’s worth the kitchen sink. I’m on the brink.

I’m all finished. My poetry diminished. Need to eat my spinach. Maybe then I’ll replenish. Tessa🦋

Tw: slight gore

“Once you do this, you can never go back. Do you understand?”

He nodded to the best of his ability, holding the rope in his mouth. His teeth clenched tightly against the coarse and thick material, ready for the pain.

The friendly neighborhood doctor, Dr. Iven, raised his meat cleaver and smiled. A brief look of fear came into the eyes of the man held down by rope but was quickly dissolved by a new searing hot feeling of a sickening CHOP, right on his arm.

His muffled screams secured behind the rope, he twisted his face in pain.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” the Doctor chided as he picked up the man’s arm off of the floor and placed it onto the surgical table next to him. “If you wanted this to be painless you should’ve gone to a real doctor, Ron.”

Ron wrestled with the rope holding his head down and managed to free his face. He quickly spat out, “HEY GUY, I paid my money to get this thing off of me,” he lifted his now stubbed arm, “the least you can do is be a little gracious with some bedside manner and whatnot.” He sneered, using his available hand to prop himself up from the stainless steel table.

The Doctor sighed. “This is what happens when you think you’re a big man, trying your new prosthetics out before they’ve taken time to fully amalgamate with your living tissue. You break it, and it seizes up.”

Ron shot look at the doctor but then sighs, looking at the arm on the table. A delicate detachment meant much more money than he had. Instead of hours of surgery where they separate tissue from synthetic material, he had to get the “clean sweep” as they call it.

Nothin’ clean about it, Ron grumbled to himself. That chop hurt like heck.

“Now, while you don’t have the funds for a replacement I do happen to have a few discontinued attachments that I could sell you at a much lower price.”

“I’m bleedin’, Doc. Just show me the damn merch.”

With the courtesy of a customer service rep, the Doctor smiled once again and lifted a cardboard box up from underneath the table and opened it.

Inside were two arms, ready to use. Unfortunately, one was for what looked like a child, small and delicate. And the other was…

“…Really? These are my choices?”

“Yes,” the Doctor replied, pulling them out. The child-sized arm hung limply, but the other arm wiggled about, almost excitedly. It was a tentacle arm, a grey-ish blue in hue with almost a jelly-like quality to it’s look. They both looked at it, watching it slip and unfurl and bounce about.

Ron weighed his options.

“….I could be a tentacle guy.”

Writer’s note: this story is weird but it was fun to write. I wrote this sleep deprived, so please excuse it for not being the greatest, aha.

I stopped and looked down. “I sleep with my wand under my pillow. Do you know why, Althea?” I looked back up at her. She shook her head, not meeting my eyes. “I sleep with it under my pillow because I am PARANOID that something will happen. I am so stressed out because of this whole stupid thing, that I can’t sleep if I don’t have my wand within reach.” “What does this have to do with anything?” She asked. I grabbed her wrists and looked into her eyes. “I’m telling you this because I want to warn you. Once you do this, you can never go back. Do you understand?” She nodded uncomfortably. “It will change you. It changes everyone.”

Wiston picked up the flickering candle and beckoned me over. I followed behind him, our lonely steps filling the cramped library archive corridors.

It smelled of old books and dust, and of wisdom, forgotten. And somewhere in here was the book I was searching for. The book that would determine my fate, and that of my family’s bloodline.

Winston turned left, down a narrow aisle that was stacked to the rafters with aging books with worn covers and curled pages. We sidled past the stacks, squeezing through the cramped spaces in between.

He stopped at a wooden unit made of dark, rustic oak and bent down to open the two cupboard doors at the bottom. It looked like it belonged in a farmhouse kitchen instead of a library archive. But that was typical of this place. To the uneducated eye, it may seem like a junkyard where old books went to die. To those who knew better though, it was a veritable treasure trove.

“Ah!” Winston said, as he pulled out what looked like a pulp fiction paperback. He stood up and wiped the cover on the front of his brown sweater vest, leaving a thick residue of dust where it had made contact with the woolly garment.

“Here it is,” he said, handing the book over to me, “the Book Of The Riddled Lands.” He’d said it in almost a whisper, with such reverence in his voice. And yet, looking at it, it looked just like a cheap pulp fiction book you’d buy at an airport somewhere.

I looked at the cover. The title was in an ornate yellow font, and the artwork had that typical fantasy-style artwork you’d see on fantasy books from back in the seventies or eighties. The corners of the pages had been curled up, and the paper inside had yellowed. And it was small. So small…

“Are you sure-” I began to ask, looking up at him.

“Don’t be fooled by appearances, child. That book is not what it seems. How do you think it’s stayed so well hidden for so long?”

I nodded and looked back at the book. I made a move to open the pages but his gnarly fingers wrapped around my arm and gripped me. I looked up at him and found his wide, gray eyes staring back at me, full of concern.

“Once you do this, you can never go back. You understand?”

There was a pregnant pause as the static wisdom from the thousands of old books piled up around us, hung heavy like a shroud.

“I know. But do I have a choice?”

He sighed and released his grip from my forearm. “No,” he said, looking down at the book wearily, “no, I don’t suppose you do.”

Winston stepped back a few paces, a sad look on his face, his hands clasped in front of him. And with that, I opened the first page of the book and waited for the letters to form.

I sucked in a breath as the writing appeared on the page.

‘Why welcome, Quinn Cole. We have been waiting for you for a very long time.’

Moments passed.

‘Do you wish to enter?’

“Yes.” I said to the open book, my heart thumping in my ears. I was making the right decision, wasn’t I? I didn’t have any other choice.

‘Are you sure? This is the point of no return. Are you sure you wish to enter?‘

I tried to steady the book in my trembling hands.

‘Courage, Quinn, courage.’ I thought to myself. I had to do this. I had to.

Closing my eyes tight, I answered for a second time as clearly as I could, my voice shaking. “Yes, I wish to enter.”

Suddenly, I felt something yank me with a mighty force from my belly button. My entire being felt as though it was being sucked into a tiny pinhole. And as I felt myself shrink, the book’s pages rose and expanded to gigantic proportions to greet me.

That was it. I was entering the Riddled Lands. And whether I would succeed in my quest or not, there was indeed, no going back.

I had no idea about the world I was entering - about the trials and tribulations I would face. But I would try. I would try because my bloodline depended on it. I would try, even if it was the last thing I did.

The muffled words could barely be made out from over the phone. “Once you do this, you can never go back. You understand?”

Adrienne nodded, even though she knew Geodon couldn’t see. “I know. But I have to do it, and you know that.”

“I know.” Geodon’s voice was regretful, and Adrienne shivered. She could barely believe that she was going to do what she was planning to do. The thought would have never crossed her mind if…

No. Nothing was going to stop her. This would be risky, but she had to take the chance. It was the only way.

“I’m ready,” Adrienne said into the phone, immediately hanging up. Their plan was set. All she had to do was summon enough pluck to complete the task…

You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months overthinking the past. Trying to put together pieces, imagining what could've been, should've been, or would've been. Or you can pick up the pieces off the floor and move on as a stronger, smarter person. -Nicholas Sparks

 It is easy for us to live in the past and remind ourselves of mistakes we make,but we have to let go. We have to shut out all the memories that make us feel pain because in the end, we’re better off without them.

It's hard to move on when you don’t know what your future holds. When you feel like if you let go there’s nothing else to hold onto, but the world goes on and you will do so much more than just what you have accomplished now.

Once you do this ,once you become the person you are meant to be and let the person you once were go, you can’t go back, and that us why moving on is so crucial to being your best self. It challenges us to always move forward and never step back. It challenges us to be auspicious, and thats what it means to be human.

“Here at a crossroads, I’m sure of the path although I’ve never walked it before. It’s the one on the left. The one where I’ve left, I mean. You stay and I go and that’s the end of us. It’s been a long time and a good one, in many respects. So thank you for that. And actually, if you wanna make me the bad guy, you’re welcome to do that. I’m okay with that, if that’s what needs to be. You see, I’m going through something of a metamorphosis lately, and it doesn’t really matter what you might think of me now. I’m in a state of change. And whatever the consequences, whatever hurt feelings come, it still means being able to move forward again. That’s how I feel. Like stagnant water that’s found a way to flow again. You know as well as me, even if you don’t say it, that your heart belongs to someone else. If not fully, then at least inherently. All that’s left is a little piece for me, that you dress up with things like carrying my groceries to the car. If we were honest about the many ways love travels and manifests, maybe things could be different. But you choose to live in false ideals, in flimsy constructs of your own design. I happen to like myself a lot. And I happen to think I’m worth the world, even if I don’t always find myself in situations that reflect that. So now, I’m ready to choose. That last fork in the road, when you started on one way and I made a move to head along the other, you didn’t reach out to grab me. You didn’t say anything. You would have just let me walk. Why do I blindly follow you? What makes a path of my choosing less important? It seems I always readily walk with anyone else, powering onward as though I’m their battery. I kind of want to see where I would make it on my own. And I guess I’ve given up, on this. Is that fuel enough for the journey alone? Maybe the power of choice is my guiding star.” “Once you do this, you can never go back. You understand?” “That much, I understand very well.”