Sillia stepped down from the front of the boat and into the shallows. Her boots sank into the mud, making a squishing sound with each step. The waterway reeked of the sweet smell of sulfur. But Sillia had woken up early that morning just so she could bask in the scent and watch the sun rise.

With each step, she looked around at the surrounding water. The tide was still high enough that you couldn’t see the oyster beds hiding below the surface. Sillia waded closer to the shoreline, making sure not to step on them. She watched as tiny shrimp floated past her legs, occasionally getting confused and ramming their heads into the exposed parts of her thighs.

By the time she reached the shoreline, low tide was in full effect. The sun glowed over the horizon as it peeped from behind the ocean. Sillia had made it just in time.

The sun's rays began to shine on the oyster beds. Their mouths bubbled in the water as they slowly shut one by one. Hundreds of sand fiddlers scurried out from underneath the shells. Their claws clicked as they snapped together, trying to grab any leftovers the oysters left behind. She watched as the sea snails slithered from underneath the muddy surface, leaving behind trails that looked like someone wrote a random combination of cursive letters.

Sillia watched as the sun turned into a bright orb in the distance. It was time to leave. But instead of saying goodbye, she whispered to herself, “I can't wait to see how much you've grown next time.”

She gasped once she finished her calendar. A beaming smile crept onto her face. “No way…”

“What?” Her brother asked. He approached and looked over her shoulder to see what she was on about, just to look at her more confused then before. “I’m busy this week, Damon!” She exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as they looked up at him.

He snickered, but corrected himself with a cough. “I’m sorry, what?” The young woman ignored him and looked back down to her calendar, illuminated by the large glass door that sat to her left. It lightented the small dining room with the morning sun and allowed her to see the beauty before her. Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m busy.” A certain pressure laid in her voice, like she fought not to cry. “For the first time in years…” she whispered.

Her brother narrowed his eyes at her. “Maddie you’re not making any-“ She cut him off with a jump out of her seat. “I have to get ready! I have so much to do! So much! Finally!!” The way her voice raised to a squeal, the way she smiled so hard her brother could see every tooth, and the way she shook her hands with angst made no sense to Damon. He titled his head with confuison.

She raced out of the dining room and ran up the stairs so fast Damon worried she might break something. Once he heard a door shut, he leaned over the round dining table, scanning through the calendar. It was true, she had a busy week, at least three things to do each day until Saturday, but why was she excited about that? Damon pondered for what seemed like hours, but he couldn’t figure out why she cared so much about being busy, when she just spent the last two years hiding in her room.

“I’ll start the timer now. When it sounds, the session is over.”

Mel nodded.

“So, Mr. Saunders, why don’t you start by telling me why you’re here.” the therapist adjusted her posture and clicked the end of her pen. Her eyes focusing on the uneasiness of the man’s face.

He paused. Thoughts lingered for a moment before his mouth finally opened.

“My daughter, Rosie—“ he started, “You were the last person to see her before—“ Mel felt the fullness in his throat tighten, putting a strangle on his voice box. His eyes fell to his lap and tears blurred his vision without flowing onto his cheeks. He promised himself he wouldn’t, but the wounds were still fresh.

A low-spirited exhale escaped his lungs in shaky, uneven spurts as he sat wrestling with the emotion.

“I’m going to be frank with you, Mr. Saunders—” she figured she’d cut in. “Although I’m dreadfully sorry for what happened to your daughter, she was very…unwell. To put it mildly.” She lifted the notepad from her lap and placed it squarely on the table. She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, hoping to intercept his gaze.

He stood and distanced himself, walked to the window and peered outside. The gentle rain trickled and fell like streams down the glass. He thought of his daughter’s smile along with all the happy times they’d spent together. Not too long ago his world seemed normal. Today, he was probing for the truth. Mel felt his heartache turn to anger like the flip of a switch. He suddenly felt compelled to take this head on, enough was enough.

He turned to the therapist, blinking away the held-back tears and returned to his chair. He leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs and exhaled a deep, strong gust of hot air.

“She was fine before they switched to the stronger dosage. But you—“ he lifted his index finger in her direction. “She would only talk to you. I’m her fucking father, and she hardly recognized me!” The vein in his forehead was noticeably pulsing. He was becoming irate.

“Calm yourself, Mr. Saunders, I—“

He interjected, “MEL!” He said forcefully, then ran his fingers through his hair. “Call me Mel, for Christ’s sake.”

“Okay…good, Mel.” She felt the tension slowly subsiding. “I don’t mean to upset you, but you DID sign the forms, all of them. You knew the implications, they were gone over with you by more than one doctor.”

The painful sting of that reminder made him feel like a child being reprimanded by his mother. Although yes, it was technically true, it was still a difficult pill to swallow. As a father, you take care of your own, and the thought of failing at that made him feel sick.

She placed her hand on his knee.

“There was nothing I could’ve done to prevent her from—“ she paused. She didn’t want to sink the knife deeper. “She was sick, Mel. We tried something different and…and…it didn’t go as planned.” She winced as the end of her sentence came out, like the thud of a dropped hammer.

“Didn’t go as planned?” His face turned cherry red. “Is that how a fucking clinical psychologist would describe this whole thing?” The wheels came to a screeching halt.

“Mr. Saunders, I—“ But before she could continue her throat was constricted by a meaty hand. At first it squeezed so hard her eyeballs felt like popcorn kernels over a fire. Her nails dug into his wrist with great frustration as she tried to loosen the fleshy noose. But she was no match. She was staring into the eyes of a man who had nothing to lose, she could feel it.

He tightened his grip as he forced her back against the high-standing bookshelf along the wall.

“Your little ‘experiment’ with my daughter cost me everything. The day she died was the day I died.” Her eyes widened as he drew his face closer. “What? Are you scared of me?” He noticed the fear in her eyes for the first time. He let go and she crumbled lifelessly to the floor. Coughing and deep breathing ensued.

Mel took a couple steps back, examining the woman with a radiating glare.

“That drug, whatever-the-hell it was, made my girl do things this town will never forgive.” He began to simmer as an influx of guilt and encumbrance flooded his mind. His shoulders slouched and the strength in his body revolted, exhibiting a feeble shell of a man. He stood before her, humiliated and weak.

“She loved animals. You knew that, right?” He whimpered. The words falling from his mouth like driblets of water from a kinked hose.

“Tell me why. T-tell me why instead of petting her cat, she drowned it in the fucking bathtu—.” His voice deteriorated to a shortened whisper. He raised his palms to his reddish, teary eyes like a child trying to hide. He wiped the wetness from his cheeks and fought back his desire to cry with more acrimony.

“She put a screwdriver through the ear hole of our family dog. Did you read about that in the papers?” His temperament grew.

“She skinned, scalped and hanged the Bunderson twins down on Laurel Avenue. Was that listed as a fucking side effect?” he yelled.

As she slowly began to stand, she braced herself against the bookshelf. Her eyes scanned the floor for her glasses.

He lunged at her and forcibly grabbed her shoulders.

“Why? Tell me why she started killing everything, everyone she loved?”

As she tried to wiggle herself from his clutches, her brain couldn’t conjure up an explanation. She felt like melting into the carpet. Her mouth was moving, but the only thing that came out was, “We tri—, we tri—“

“You tried what! Speak!” But before the concussed woman could mutter another word, the man grabbed a hardback book from the shelf and rammed the spine into her jawline in a wild, heaping flurry. She dropped with a thump and lay motionless.

The monitor on the therapist’s desk showed the active recordings of cameras placed in the hallways. A stampede of doctors and campus security officers made their way down long passages, all seemingly headed in the same direction.

Thinking quick on his feet, Mel started to empty the bookshelves and gather all books and furniture in a single pile towards the center of the room.

The sounds of echoing footsteps could be heard from the hall and voices shouted for him to open the door. Mel gathered himself and reached for the travel-sized mouthwash container in his left pocket, he’d replaced its contents with that of gasoline. He popped the cap and slushed the liquid all over the readied assortment of paper and cloth-covered cushions.

The hostile group of workers pounded and kicked, buckling the doorframe. It was only a matter of time before—

Mel reached into his right pocket and pulled out a small family of red-tipped matches.

Without hesitation, he lit a single flame and went to the window and opened it. He hung one leg over and straddled the windowsill. He looked down, noticing his F150 in the lot below.

He flicked the match.

The spark was caught by Dr. Jeanie Gladstone’s 12 Steps to Fighting Cancer (go figure), and the center of the room went up like a backyard bonfire.

Just then, the door’s hinges were shot off by a barrage of bullets. The tall, wooden door was forced off by a series of loud, thudding kicks and it fell like timber, almost into the fire.

Stepping through, the leading officer met eyes with Mel through the flames that separated them. The officer began his journey towards the window when a loud timer bellowed repeatedly in his ears, snapping his head in its direction.

Turning back to the window, only a split second later, Mel Saunders was gone.

On a hot, muggy Saturday afternoon in July, Julie slips on her old, dirty sneakers. She heads to the garage, where after navigating the overflowing recycling bin, a bike, and two scooters, she reaches the lawn mower. She puts in the recharged battery and push it out to the front yard. As she pushes the quick start button, she reflects on how much easier this is than the old gas powered mower she used as a teenager. She used to mow lawns in her neighborhood for extra pocket money. Even now, that smell of fresh cut grass brings her back to those lazy summer days. Mowing one or two lawns in the morning, then spending carefree afternoons mostly spent lounging by the pool or playing tennis with friends. This was often followed by a short walk into town for DQ blizzards or 7-11 Slurpees thanks to her lawn mowing money. She always enjoyed mowing lawns, especially that sense of accomplishment when she was finished. She tried to make the perfect checkerboard pattern as she pushed the mower back and forth over the green turf. It felt almost hypnotic, with the din of the engine drowning out her noisy thoughts. She smiled with pride, as she examined the results of her efforts. She cleaned off the mower, put the battery back on the charger, and went inside for a refreshing glass of ice cold lemonade as a reward for a job well done.

Sophie had always been a bit of a neat freak. She loved nothing more than organizing her closet, alphabetizing her bookshelf, and color-coding her planner. So when she found out that her office was going to be doing a massive clean-up day, she was over the moon.

Most of her coworkers groaned at the thought of spending an entire day sorting through old files and throwing away junk, but Sophie couldn't wait. She woke up early that morning, practically bouncing out of bed with excitement. She put on her favorite cleaning playlist and headed to work, eager to get started.

As soon as she arrived, Sophie grabbed a pair of gloves and a trash bag and got to work. She spent hours sorting through old papers, shredding sensitive documents, and organizing the supply closet. To anyone else, it would have been a tedious and boring task, but to Sophie, it was pure bliss.

As she worked, Sophie couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction wash over her. She loved the feeling of a clean and organized space, and the fact that she was helping her coworkers achieve that made her feel even better. Plus, she knew that a clean and organized office would lead to increased productivity and a better work environment for everyone.

But there was another reason why this clean-up day was so exciting for Sophie. She had been eyeing a promotion at work for months, and she knew that a clean and organized office would make her stand out to her boss. By taking charge of the clean-up day and showing her coworkers how to properly organize their spaces, Sophie was proving that she was a leader and a valuable asset to the company.

At the end of the day, Sophie was exhausted but elated. She had accomplished so much and had made a real difference in her workplace. As she walked out of the office, she couldn't help but smile at the thought of what the future held. With her newfound leadership skills and a clean and organized office, she was sure that the promotion was within reach.

“Next Sunday? Today is?.. Friday, Ok. Mmm.. Sure, yeah, uh huh, okay bye.” -click-

I hate when people call me on Homestyle Daycare days. I don’t even think it’s anywhere close to tomorrow though, is it?

She swung her head around and looked at the clock on her windowsill. Numbers, red and shining, she read; [5:36pm]

Ugh i still have, one .. three.. like twelve whole hours! I really want it to be right now. I have always been excited about kids. Any kinda of kids. Any age, any shape, any behaviors. They’re just all so adorable! So freaking cute and happy to be here. I’d like to make sure their heads stay in that same mindset. Mindset of loving life.

At least until they grow up.

Yawns. Who am I kidding that was so fake. Everyone knows i can’t sleep on Fridays. What can i say, the excitement just eats me up! Literally, it’s not even been a minute, i’m just trying to be great universe jeeez!!!

Eventually I did start to get a bit tired. So I did myself a favor, and i played the sounds of kids on my TV. Boom. Immediately slumped.

[9:16am] BeepBeep BeepBeep Be- kachuk I’m already up alarmo man! I woke up two full hours earlier and got everyone ready for Homestyle Daycare!

I love that it’s just a little hobby, and i still get paid. I never once asked to. Parents just say i’m that good. I mean i have become a personal nanny for about five of the kids in my Daycare now. Guess I am pretty good, huh, who would’ve thought?

Meee! That’s who!

DingDong- Doodoodoot- Is someone ringing the bell AND knocking? Must be little Wrev! He’s the only one who knocks while his mother rings the doorbell. I love it.

“COMINGG-“ sprints

“Hellooo there Wrev!, Hi Mrs. Tredal , how are you doing today?”

“I’m good sweetheart and how is yourself? Still studying to skip ahead in school?”

“Yepperdeedooda! That is correct a mondo!”

“You always seem so excited to watch kids, haha, I love it. Still don’t get it though.”

“Nobody gets it, but that doesn’t matter whatsoever, what matters is the kids have the best childhood! Along with me being able to be happy in my “lovely” stage of teen years.”

We both smiled together and talked about new allergies, and his love for school has been really positive. I am so glad i don’t have to worry about giving him an insane amount of food for him to sit on his spot on the carpet. I didn’t buy this alphabetical carpet for nothing Wrev! Better sit! Hehe, just preparing sorry.

Sigh.. I’m so excited. There’s only one kid here and i’m already so happy.

"Bella!" I heard from downstairs, "I'm going on a walk, do you want to come?" I rushed as fast as I could to the stairs and flew down them. "It looks like you're ready," said Olivia, smiling as she opened the door. I ran out, exited, a bunch of new smells greeted me. I love going on walks, the fresh air, the people, the squirrels. I saw one and started chasing it. "Bella, heel!" shouted Olivia, "leave the poor squirrel alone"

Finally! The weekend! Time to start the chores and errands! Meaning, time to make a LIST. Lists can be used for different things: tasks to do, groceries to buy, or putting favorite songs in order! My, oh my, is list-making not the most satisfying thing? Even more satisfying when you complete it! For me, lists help make sense of the chaos that is life. So much information to keep track of! How other people do it, I’ll never understand. The feel of the ballpoint pen sliding across the paper, so smooth and fresh! The smell of the ink as it dries onto the thematic stationary! Then nailed to the fridge with a magnet, able to be easily referenced as I buzz around the house like a bee. Once it all starts, I can catch up on a podcast or jam out to some music to keep me going. What a perfect Saturday morning!

… I know they said to write about a character, but it ended up being more real than expected. 😅

Today I told my mom that I couldn’t wait to shower tomorrow. She looked at me quizzically and said, “if you’re excited to shower, your life must be really boring.”

And yeah, I probably deserved that. But she just doesn’t quite understand the way I see showers.

I like showering because I like when my hair looks nice. I like when the curls fall the right way and they’re bouncy and shiny like first or second day hair.

I like showering because I get to shave my body. I like when I get under my blankets in bed and I can run my legs back and forth to feel that nice fresh smoothness they have.

I like showering because I like using all of my fancy shower products. I like how soft my body scrub makes my skin, how clean my body wash makes me feel, and how good I smell after.

I also love that showering gives me personal alone time.

When I’m in the shower, skin turning red with the heat, it’s just me. It’s whatever I want. My feelings, my thoughts, my tears. When I’m in the shower, nobody interrupts me from daydreaming about the girl I like, or pretending to film a hair tutorial video, or singing my favourite song.

But most of all, the thing I love about showering is the cleanse. But not the physical cleanse; the mental and emotional cleanse.

Taking a shower is like recharging my battery. It’s like starting a new week on a Wednesday, or getting a good nights sleep in the middle of the day.

I failed my math test today, but that won’t matter tomorrow. I ate unhealthy food without working out today, but that won’t matter tomorrow. I could embarrass myself tomorrow, or sit alone at lunch, or have a really bad day, but that won’t matter. None of it will.

Because tomorrow I will shower.

And in the shower I will scrub my skin raw, and the water will burn off everything - failed tests, unhealthy food, embarrassment, loneliness, bad days. All of it will be gone. I will exit the shower in a light shade of red, skin on fire, but I will be smiling. I won’t care about what happened today, or yesterday, or the day before, because this is a new page.

I have turned the page, I am clean, and I can’t wait to do it again in four days.

Gerald was from a small town and didn’t have many luxuries in life growing up. He came from a family where no one owned a home, graduated college, or beat poverty levels. Gerald didn’t miss what he had never had. Gerald knew he wanted to break his family chain of oppression.

Gerald decided that he would work hard and do not only the things that he wanted to do but also the things that others didn’t want to do. This meant that he worked hard at home, school, and at the tasks that anyone seemed to neglect.

Once Gerald became an adult, he knew that his hard work had to transfer into employment. He wanted to strive for more. He took employment as a Janitor. Gerald’s family lost hope in Gerald’s dreams of betterment because they could not understand. Gerald’s family didn’t understand how his drive to work hard would not venture him into new heights…like college and a high-paying job.

Gerald worked hard at his janitorial position. He did not care about his family’s opinions and he did not care if he was the first to arrive and the last one to leave the building he worked in. Gerald loved being a janitor and did it well.

There was no duty that was too mundane for Gerald. He cleaned toilets, wiped walls, and kept the floor shiny with pride and a smile on his face.

It was until Gerald got sick that his family had luck in hopes that he would make them proud and finally get a job he deserved. Unfortunately, Gerald was still determined to clean that building and it led to his demise.

Gerald was so focused on not allowing the janitorial duties suffer that he picked work over his health. Gerald became terminally ill. His family had finally won their wishes of him getting out of the janitorial business.

Gerald was unhappy and suffering while he laid on his dying bed. He called a family meeting and made sure he included every family member that opposed his choices. He begin to speak his dying wishes but was finished before he begun. The two words that his is family made out was “my building”.

After arrangements were made and they laid Gerald to rest. The family congregated for the reading of Gerald’s will. The same family members were there. His family only expected to hear how much debt Gerald was in and to see if they could make sense of his last two words.

To the family’s surprise, they discovered why Gerald was the best janitor that the building had ever seen. Gerald owned it.

Gerald was the first in his family to own something and not only that…Gerald left his family with the building, the building’s revenue, and a massive insurance payout. In the will it was quoted that Gerald said, “This is why I did it. Hard work pays off”. Gerald reached new heights. Gerald made his family proud and they felt bad that never supported him. So, they paid homage to Gerald by owning the building and completing the janitorial duties themselves.

Long live Gerald.