**_I think of you when I go there. When I see the hills rolling out my window I look for your face. Seeing those long winding roads knowing you have driven them a thousand times, without me. A thousand times will never be enough if we never drive them together. We could be staring at the same moon, at the same time, and not even know it. We could be wishing in the same stars. But I know we would be wishing for different things. Vastly different things. That was always the problem with me and you. We always wanted different things. I don’t know what my force of attraction was towards you. I could never really pinpoint it. I’ll wonder it forever im sure. _**

Her fingers tips scrunched into a claw like shape. Her nails dug into the brown bark. Body pressed against the rough cylinder surface, she began her climb. Her dress scraped along, collecting dirt, leaves and any unfortunate ant that crossed her path. Her feet followed after, securing her hold. The higher the better. The tree, she thought, was perfect to camouflage with. Her hair matched the golden autumn leaves that has yet to fall, her clothing once clean, now marred with remnants of earth matched the bark. She picked a branch that was sturdy enough to hold her and sat quietly as she could. “Abigail? Abigail where are you?” As voice shouted from below. She clamped her mouth shut and held her breath. “Abigail Winston, Abigail Winston, Abigail Winston, where-are-you?” The voice asked again with annoyance. She sneaked a peak down and saw a glimpse of familiar tan hat moving around the tree. She climbed up a bit higher once he was gone. Slowly this time, she reached up towards another level of branches. “Abigail!” Now the voice was accompanied by others. “I see you!” This caused her to freeze and look down. No one was looking up at her. She shook her head, silently scolding herself for falling for that bluff. She had spent about 15 minutes watching them hunt for her. She was getting bored. She had long since stretched herself on the limp her head resting on her folded arms looking down. She let out a rather loud yawn causing those below to freeze in there places. “You hear that?” One said to the other. The other nodded, glancing up. “Must be a bird or something.” “Birds don’t make that kind of noise.” “Alright Abigail, you can come down now.” Jack took off his tan hat and looked up the tree. Abigail giggled and began her decent. Once she landed, she turned to Jack, and his friends with a big smile and said, “I told ya I was the best at hide and seek.” The boys groaned in unison. “Hey you may be a good hider but I betcha not a good seeker,” said John wrapping his arm around Jack’s shoulder. “Yeah the others chimed in, joining John. Abigail looked at the boys who seemed to build a defense against her. Abigail’s smiled grew and without saying a jeering word, turned around and started counting. “10…9….8….7….6….5….4…3…2…1. Ready or not here I come”

The knight was appointed in a tall tower, he must not leave his post no matter what he sees or hears, for straight five days, he was on the lookout. The day moves incredibly fast, as if it wishes for the night to take its place, as the darkness engulfs the sky. One night, he hears something. It was to dark to see where the source was coming from. He can only guess the location. He was at his wits end. The gaming of the sounds was making him blue with rage and distress. He doesn’t know what to do but be on the lookout. That was his duty, that was what his captain instructed him to do. The sounds was a miss leading. He kept sticking out his neck outside the edge of the tower. He is tired. The sounds are not human. But a beastly roars. He is sad that he participated in the lookout. His previous colleagues, stood guarding the surrounding areas without a wink of sleep, for five days. He on the third day and already starting to lose his nerves. He was scared. The loneliness was starting to get to him. He misses his family already. But he can’t leave his post. It is too dangerous, especially at a moonless night. The torches were doing its best to illuminate the surrounding areas. But not enough, to help him be prepared for what was scaling the walls of the tower.

The clock was louder than he wished. In the otherwise eerie quiet of the room, the ticking pulsed against his eardrums, quaking what little was visible under his droopy eyelids. The faded upholstery of the armchair opposite sickened him. The pea green, while a poor choice in any household, was so similar in colour to the vomit on the pavement three miles away that his stomach turned again. Tick. Make it stop. Each second a moment further away from the decision digging its talons into his temples. Do I go back and look for her? Tock. Plead the fifth. I didn't see it happen so I can't possibly know what transpired. *** She was a stranger only last month. The girl spotted him first, on a blustery day when patrons hide inside coffee shops and discreetly wipe their noses on scarves in the absence of a tissue. He was looking out the window, a copy of Great Expectations flattened along the spine underneath his veiny hand. Occasional glances at the novel read and reread was enough to create the guise of a reader. While he was that, he more often took the stance of observer. Today was no exception. The window on 4th, centred in the downtown storefronts, was mottled with enough grime to supply his preferred level of anonymity as he gazed out at the quirks of this most unfortunate species, between sips of particularly potent latte. The wind stole the hat from a tall and proud man. Too proud to chase his tweed cap down the street. His angry ears burned brightly as he turtled into his collar. A mother, equipped with stroller and 3-year-old, drag-pushed her spawn along the sidewalk, her son howling a few decibels louder than the gale as they passed by the window. A business woman, waiting at the corner to cross the street, tightened her trench coat belt, attempting to save her pristine clothes which sharply contrasted her tornado-flipped hair. "Is it worth the read?" He started at the melodic voice. He had not heard the woman approach. She perched delicately on the stool to his right and fixed her gaze on the book beneath his hand. He stared back at her, not realizing she had asked a question. "Is it a good book or is the redhead outside more interesting?" "I'm sorry?" he replied. "Well, you've hardly flipped any pages. I know a people-watcher when I see one." As his face turned pink with embarrassment she said, "Don't worry, I do it too. Though, a better location would be the beach. Sunglasses help." She smirked. He was at a loss for words. "That's okay. You can tell me whatever you want at dinner." She slid a business card across the coffee-stained counter. "Call me." With a charming smile, she flounced into the grey day, her chocolate hair flying in long waves behind her. Her brazen approach left him dumbstruck, staring at the exit to the coffee shop where she lingered only in his imagination. He picked up the business card. Mary Walters, it read. Real estate. She sells herself well, he thought. He smiled at the notion of being seen sitting across from her in a dimly lit restaurant, staring directly at him the way she just had, her piercing blue eyes boring a hole in his carefully constructed defences. He would call her. Maybe. *** Tick. Eyes open. How much time had passed? He felt each beat of the oaken clock like a lead weight pressing deeply into his diaphragm. His breath came short. The pendulum continued to swing. Tock. Stay awake. They could be here any second. But how could they know?

Mason was summoned to the principals office she had no idea how things bad this might be but shewas wrong, her idea must have back fired a since she did not see her dad anywhere he was a Navy seal in the past and always love breakfast and dessert. When she got there no one was around so she just simply sat in one of the chairs in the office she said to herself “that’s strange I know it’s usually normal for it to be this empty but I expected it to be one person here on this day” she thought as she opened her note that asked her to come here. She had helped the staff in the past so she had no idea what was wrong with a plan to see her dad again like the last day she saw him. Suddenly A person walked in the office she was my counselor from 10th grade however I did not wish to be reminisced right now I asked what’s going on and she told me to follow her so we did going down the stairs, through the science room, past the 11th graders area, and found her self in the lunchroom with a big banner that said happy birthday with her father holding the banner. As soon as she saw him she ran up to him and hugged him tight after about 10 minutes of crying in each others arms she said dad did you come here for me or the desert on the table pointing to a big strawberry cake in the middle of the table he said you know I can’t resist a good dessert but you will always be my first slice with me my little princess. “Dad!!! I’m 21 years old i’m not a little princess anymore I said with A small Grin on my face. “OK OK” my dad relented. I smiled then asked “why are you here when I said we’ll meet in the principals office turned out her dad’ bad combination of his lack of sense of direction and his partial eyesight was of course the culprit. We both enjoyed the day as my 21st birthday and the day my father came back to stay for good.

Click, clack. Leaving Carmella’s in her wake, Dru clicked home to her fifth floor walk up on her weary heels. The night sky had begun to bleed dawn. This late in the evening turning to early morning meant the city was empty as a sarcophagus. She wished she had eaten. Dru walked more quickly. Ahmar is such a tool, she thought her steps matching her pulsating anger. Her boss had kept her in the nightclub’s back office for hours after closing going over the books. She was a waitress, bar back, and now the accountant. Whoever bailed on Ahmar trust Druscila to plug the hole. This is not the life I signed up for, she thought, the glamorous bohemian existence I dreamt. Halfway home and fully furious, Druscila eyed the night sky and grew despondent. Wish not to live long as to live well, the quote floated down from the rafters of memory. Her memories spurted and Dru was a girl at her mother’s side tatting half listening to her mum’s wisdoms. Dru slowed, fingering her mind’s eye picture like a fine lace. That’s when she heard it. The scape of a soft soled shoe on pavement. Her hearing sharpened. Soft steps, a man’s steps, mirrored hers. Dru made a series of quick turns leading back to Carmilla’s. She could hear his breathing, tell from his stride he carried some heavy in his left pocket. Dru had been tracked before. Walking alone from work made her look like an easy target. But she knew to never lead a stranger back to where one sleeps, to never be vulnerable. This little scoundrel is in for a surprise, she thought chuckling. As her predator heart began to thump faster, Druscila felt electric excitement warm her cold skin. She remembered what she had gained as well as lost. Laughing out loud her canines switchblade sharp, Druscila walked confidently up a dark alley. The stranger ran towards her back. Without turning Dru listened to the rustle of denim as the stranger pulled a heavy stone from his pocket. She could hear the stranger’s heart, hear the blood sloshing through his arteries. This alley was a dead end in more ways than one. At least she would get that quick snack.

She always wanted to excel, at just one thing in her young life, but always failed, according to her peers. A lot of pressure, year after year, as she built up her courage, with that always, lump in her throat, by her Side. Sweaty palms, while beads of water, slid down her flushed young face. Butterflies danced around her small, nervous stomach, as the thought of doing this again, frightened her. Thoughts of wondering why me, and not anyone else in her family, scrambled around in her empty head. Finally the night arrived, like the evening train, right on time. She was ready, with her pretty dress of white, And shoes of shine, and just a tiny dose of courage, tucked in her tiny beaded purse. She was going to Step out the front door, and her Mother called to her. ‘Julie, the concert is cancelled for tonite, due to The power outage, at the town hall, so you can put your instrument away till next time’. She exhaled, and Wished she had gone, since she finally felt ready, this time.

An unforgiving fist of flames grasped tight around the four story building. Dark smoke escaped through the few shattered windows followed by fingers of orange that drummed against the walls at an uneven pace. The conflagration burned with reckless disregard, the intensity of its heat felt two blocks away. Abandoned months earlier, the well insured building served as a payday for the alibied owner who bought celebratory drinks for strangers at a bar across town. From a third floor window, a voice cried out to be rescued. Disoriented from the thickening smoke, the trapped squatter sat isolated and thought about the tragedy his life had become. Not long after their house was foreclosed upon, he and his longtime girlfriend separated. She ran off with their two children and hadn’t been seen since. Penniless, he sought refuge in the dilapidated structure. Five months had passed but he continued lying to himself with words even he had difficulty believing. “It’s only temporary.” By the time the fire department arrived on the scene, a crowd of onlookers congregated on the sidewalk across the street. Two homeless friends with dirt smudged skin took turns sipping from a brown paper bag. While they basked in the warmth the fire provided, the liquor warmed them up from within. Another stranger, walking home from the market, pulled out a bag of marshmallows and made an off color remark about the fire. No one laughed. A battalion of brave, yellow soldiers wearing fireproof clothing surrounded the building. Water cannons and hoses were discharged at the enemy in a battle of wills. Floor by floor, the first responders advanced. When they arrived at the third floor and found the resident motionless, a finger pressed against his pulse proved an outcome difficult to accept. The impassioned wails from the lifeless corpse could no longer cry out. The dog was dead.

MINOR LUNAR CHRONICLES SPOILER ALERT DON’T READ IF YOU HAVEN’T READ CRESS Cress glanced around at her surroundings. Wires lay on the floor, mixing with her mass of blond hair. Panels were open and computers on, illuminating her face with an eerie blue light. Cress touched the thin but sturdy sheet of glass, leaving fingerprint smudges. The stars sparkled. She had been stuck in the damned satellite for years now. Fear mixed with pain and sadness in her expression. The woman was coming today. To see how everything was coming along. And Cress was scared of the woman. The woman who had raised her. The woman who had locked her in damned satellite. A tear trickled down Cress’s cheek. She would never be saved. Stuck alone in the abandoned satellite, she would never be saved.

Aaron looked around. Honey, he thought to himself. The bees would love it here! Aaron tried to think what his purpose for going there was... then he was ambushed by a horde of them. Of who? Figure it out. Alas, poor Aaron. He died the way he lived. Looking for honey.