The bastards actually came for me, Gillian thought, they tailed us right into the middle of a storm. The sky was black, the only sources of light coming from the rapid flashes of lightning and the rare glimpse of the moon through the moving clouds. Any chance of communicating with the crew was drowned out by the torrential downpour, rolling thunder, or the grinding of the deck. Several unfortunate sailors had already been drowned along with the noise.

Gillian led her crew far west into the Indigo Wastes. A futile effort to escape her would-be captor, Dy-Lee the bounty hunter. Her ship, named the Lazuli but oft mistaken as the Seawolf due to the carved wolf head at the bow, was a swift vessel, but it had been weighed down to counter the winds. Dy-Lee’s vessel, however, was a far more advanced ship capable of speed, firepower, and durability, paid for by Capital dogs. Dy-Lee had christened it the Stake Driver. Gillian had a small crew of less than 30, compared to the full 120 of her opponent. There was no avoiding it this time, Gillian thought.

She stood on the deck of her vessel with sword in hand. She had to struggle to stay balanced as the waves rocked the ship. A dozen of Dy-Lee’s men laid bleeding out or dead around her. Many of her own crew she forced to retreat below deck, with a scant few manning the vital stations to survive the storm. If any blood were to be spilled, it was going to be hers and hers alone. The Stake Driver had managed to keep pace long enough for the third wave of bounty hunters to board, jumping from ship to ship.

Gillian shouted at them knowing they could hear nothing. She readied her cutlass in one hand and a short dagger in the other. Even amidst the deluge, her enemies could tell she had been sweating, exhausted. Her grip tightened on the blades to keep them from falling out of her shaking hands. She abandoned her captain's coat after the first wave and stood wearing a simple white shirt and blue short pants dyed black from the rain. She was fortunate enough to still have her hair stuck to her back in a long ponytail. Whether it was a dark red or black in this downpour, none could tell. Blood tried to seep from wounds lining her hands, arms, and one large but shallow cut along her stomach. It was washed away in an instant.

This time, Gillian ran toward her assailants. Lightning flashed behind her. The bounty hunters were taken by surprise as she rushed into the group of ten, stabbing one of them in the side as she moved to swing at another. Her opponent managed a guard, taking a light cut to the shoulder. She took a step back, avoiding a swing from her left and a counter from the man she had just hit. The stabbed man took a step forward but slipped, too injured from the wound. Nine to go. One woman charged her with another man following. The woman lunged forward with a sword unlike the others, a rapier. The tip grazed her side, distracting Gillian long enough for the man who had followed to jump forward, his blade landing a deep cut on her shoulder. She gritted her teeth and slashed with her dagger arm, cutting the man's throat. The woman tried lunging at Gillian as a wave crashed into the ship, knocking both of them off balance and sending one of the other men overboard. Seven to go.

She dropped her cutlass to her feet, her shoulder too weak to properly wield it. The woman wielding the rapier took another lunge, Gillian stepped back as she deflected it with the dagger. The other six men and women formed a half-circle in front of her. She squeezed the dagger with her hand as hard as she could and shut her eyes. She opened them just as the rapier was about to pierce her stomach, her eyes now an infernal red. She slashed the blade away and drove her dagger into the woman’s neck, tearing it out and lodging it in the eye of a man to her right. Another wave threw the man and her blade across the deck, leaving her unarmed. Five to go.

A smile spread across their faces in unison, as if they were one collective opponent. Three of the attackers stepped toward her, one with a cutlass, one wielding two daggers of alternate sizes, and another with a steel-bladed hatchet. The other two stepped back. The cutlass slashed her arm as she dodged away from the twin blades. Before the man with the cutlass could swing again, she pivoted, darting at him and ripping at his jugular with claws now sharp as the steel of their blades. She flashed her fangs at the others, intimidating the axe wielder who took a step back. The dual-bladed woman remained steadfast and rushed her with a cyclone of slashes. Gillian dropped low to the floor on her back, using the watery deck to slide underneath the woman. She tore wildly at the backs of her ankles as she slid by. The woman dropped to one knee, her left tendon shredded and bleeding, she was as good as dead. Three to go. Before Gillian could return to the hatchet wielder, she spotted the other two attackers fighting her first mate, Lillia, across the deck by the wheel. She knelt on all fours and rushed forward, leaping into the air over the stairs and railing. She landed with her claws in both of their necks, dragging them to the deck with her. She continued to tear away at them like a feral beast until Lillia grabbed her shoulder. Gillian whipped her head around with intent before realizing who it was. Her first mate had a gleam of gratitude in her eyes and a reassuring smile. Gillian stood, flashed a sharp, toothy grin back, and moved to the railing. One to go, she thought, before spotting two more men and Dy-Lee standing next to the hatchet wielder. The clouds moved enough for the moon to shine down on the ship.

Lee had a smile so wide that it looked to Gillian as though it would be painful. He held a straight sword tipped with a shining silver point in his left hand and a pistol like none she had seen before. A revolver, she recalled from the stories her mother read to her as a kid. A beast hunter's weapon. The firearm was small with a fat, cylindrical barrel and a smooth wooden handle lined with silver etching. He had black hair in a similar ponytail to Gillian, but draped around and hung low in front of his right shoulder. He wore a white shirt under a black captain's vest, with standard-issue black tight pants. His vest had what appeared to be a belt of bullets pinned to it, running along his left shoulder. Each bullet had a glistening sheen, easily visible even in the downpour. Gillian knew she stood little chance, but fighting was her only shot at saving her crew.

She dropped down to the main deck and cautiously walked toward her opponents. As she approached, Dy-Lee took out Gillian’s dagger that had been lodged in one of his men and threw it over to her. He nodded his head. She picked up the blade, her eyes never leaving his. Lee turned and nodded to his men, who all proceeded to stand back. He took out a coin from his pocket and held it out towards her, a quizzical look on his face as he pointed up at his head and then down to the deck. Gillian knew little about Dy-Lee, but she had heard of his career as a prolific bounty hunter and gambler. And despite her hatred of him, he was considered a fearless duelist. She tapped her head and stood ready with the dagger in hand. Lee flipped the coin, catching it mid-air. Opening his palm, he smiled and lowered it so she could see. Heads. Her move.

Lee spread his arms wide in an inviting stance before returning to a defensive position, sword in front of him. Gillian took a deep breath, her body running low on adrenaline. She took two large steps before bringing her dagger in for a side slash. He deflected it with the hilt of his blade and pushed her back, returning with a vertical cut, narrowly missing her wounded shoulder. He followed with a side slash aimed at the neck, she blocked it but broke her stance in the process, sending her to the floor. She scrambled to her feet but was too late. The sword came down in the centre of her forehead, opening a gash. Blood and water would have blinded her, but the searing pain forced her eyes shut. She knew she had lost. Lost the duel, she thought, but not their lives. Not yet. The thunder intensified.

She felt the sword tip on her head, a symbol of his victory. Dy-Lee may be considered a feared bounty hunter, she thought, but he has never accepted just any bounty. She was worth little as a pirate. He has only ever accepted the most lucrative of contracts, the Feral Hunts. Similarly, many thought her prized ship, the Lazuli, to be named the Seawolf, but in truth, it was Gillian who held the title of The Seawolf. She could barely make out the click of his gun over the booming clouds.

She raised her gaze to the sky and let loose a howl loud enough to drown out the very sky and ocean. Lee stumbled back before letting loose four rounds in front of him. All missed, in the blink of an eye, Gillian leapt and soared above him, landing on two of the men behind him and throwing them overboard. Lee turned to face her. A thick greyish blue fur coat covered her from head to toe, her frame had changed to that of an imposing wolf-like beast over eight feet tall with limbs stretching an unnatural five feet. Her claws had grown far longer than her dagger, and her teeth long enough to match the now-useless blade. Her eyes lit up like a fire raging against the storm. She roared towards Lee, a roar loud enough to deafen his last remaining boarded man. Lee signalled his ship to come around, ready to retreat. He unloaded the remaining two shells at her, landing one in her right shoulder as she dashed on all fours towards him. He took one claw to the wrist before his sword could shield him from the other four. She continued swiping at him while on her hind legs, occasionally catching his skin. After several cuts, Lee pushed all of his weight into the blade, jerking it upward and piercing just below her collarbone. She recoiled, the wound smoking. He reloaded his gun one shell at a time, stopping at three before unloading each of them into her. Two landed in her chest while the third took out her left eye. She roared again, lunging forward and slapping the gun out of his hand. He gripped his sword with both hands before glancing over his shoulder. She slashed at his face, her claws gliding over his right eye and cheek. He rolled to pick up his gun before jumping overboard while the Stake Driver passed by. He caught a rope halfway down the side of the ship and climbed it up to the deck. The thunder calmed, if only slightly.

Gillian sat back on her hind legs ready to leap over to the Stake Driver before a hand gripped partway around her soaked arm. She snarled as she moved to swipe at her assailant. The claws cut through the flesh of Lillia’s forearm, the cuts too shallow to be lethal. The beast took two steps away before kneeling and lowering her head. A hand rested atop her, scratching between each ear. Friend, the Seawolf thought, need rest. The Stake Driver sailed back the way it came towards the Capital Breach, while the Lazuli continued westward through the wastes. Even as a flea-addled beast, she knew they would see Dy-Lee again. And next time, he will already know exactly what she is capable of. She howled, with the rolling thunder as her chorus.

“Wow, who is that?” Emily thought as her eyes wander around the room, while kneeling in the church pew. Church service would be starting in just a few minutes, but she couldn’t take her eyes of the new alter boy. He had an olive complexion, brown hair and blue eyes and was about a half foot taller than Emily.

The youth minister had told the youth group that the Jacobs family was hosting a young man from Athens, Greece this term as part of a foreign exchange program with the school system. His name is Stephano, or Stephen in English, and he was going to be here in the states for the year to learn more about America and work on his English. He is 12 years old and would be going to St. Andrews when school starts in a few months.

She knew she had to get his attention and try to communicate with him before he left the service. But how, foreign languages were all Greek to her and in this case, literally. In the middle of her thoughts the music begins, oh no as Emily rises to a standing position. “Stay calm,” she thinks just give him a slight smile, yes but nothing too overbearing. As Stephano walks by with the cross. “Did he see me?”Emily thought as he puts the cross in the nearby stand and goes to sit down next to the priest.

Hmmm…Stephano thought as he smiles back to the blond haired girl in the second row. I will have to ask the Jacobs family if they know who she is, and then with that Stephano winked over to Emily. She quickly blushed and looked away. The rest of the service proceeded without a hitch. Emily and Stephano tried not to laugh when it was time to receive the communion wafer, but it was the first time when they were both face to face up close. Stephano’s blue eyes twinkled back at Emily’s green eyes as she turned to walk back to her pew.

The final hymn has started and Stephano walks back over to the cross and leads the procession out of the church. As she was walking Emily makes a “call me” on the phone gesture with her hand, with that Stephano slips out a laugh and smile before he recomposes himself to the procession. As he and Emily both part ways for the time being, each one knows better things are coming in the future.

WW3. I woke up after fainting in a bed with chains on my wrists. There was one other prisoner dressed in orange next to me. He was 5 foot 8 inches and was Asian. Problem ? He didn’t seem to speak the same language. He pointed at the window. I approached the window and peered through it. I saw countless guards roaming and I also saw some guards near our cell’s front door. He then put a finger to his lips making the sign to be quiet after that, he pointed at himself then me then a exit sign. I nodded my head. He turned around and gestured me to follow him. We were fighting the same war from different countries, we were United under NATO. I had to trust him. I followed him. He lead me to the bathroom sink and then opened a drawer. He reached in and pulled out a gun. I immediately covered up my mouth to cover my shock as he tossed it to me. I fortunately reacted quick and caught it with my other hand. He pulled out another pistol and placed it in his pocket. He grabbed a pair of scissors for himself and then gave me a plastic hair comb. I looked at him confused and placed my hands in front of me palm upwards and open too and then he just smiled and shrugged. I guess he was saying that this was the last melee weapon available.

He then gestured me to follow him to the back door. We were gonna make a run for it. He grabbed my gun out of my hand and then shot both doors with a pistol each. As we ran out the backdoor, he chucked the gun back to me.

A guard managed to spot us and began to chase after us and I shot his leg and then my new friend here, shot his head. We kept running.

Just as we began to scale the prison fence, there was a scream by another guard. Over the radio in some other foreign language… it was probably just the report about the guard… oh and the prison escapees … oh wait that’s us.

We finished scaling the wall and then he stopped and pointed the gun at me. I guess we weren’t really pals after all. I closed my eyes in anticipation of betrayal and a lot of pain. A bullet whizzed past my head. I turned around to see another dead guard. I wiped the sweat from my head as he gestured me to follow him again. I can’t even tell him to not do that again. He ran over to the dead guard and began to scavenge his body. He quickly got changed into his clothes and changed the dead guard into his clothes. He did a head nod and then winked at me as he approached me with some handcuffs. I looked around. There were several other guards close by and this was the alibi we needed. My new pal took me as his ‘prisoner’. We then hid the body near the nearby dumpsters.

Just 20 seconds later, a guard ran up to us and he seemed to have asked why I was out of my cell. My pal, just kept on panting as if to explain that he had sweated a lot chasing after me. The guard actually handed my pal a cup of water. My pal gave him a thumbs up and then walked me in the direction of the cells until the guard took his eyes off us. We then heard a radio transmission saying that a prisoner had been recaptured. The sirens and search lights turned off. My pal needs an Oscar award for his acting. He took me to the garage and then took a quick look around. He then released my cuffs and once again gestured me to follow him. He lead me to a tank. AC501. Oh yo this tank has air conditioning! Sheesh! We then rode away from them in our new tank. Just as we were about to approach our comrades base, I gestured to my pal that I needed to do something first. I climbed out of the tank, and attached a my white shirt to a tree branch. This time, I gestured him in his tank to follow me as I waved a white flag to our comrades to not attack us. We got back safely and then we met a friendly translator.

There was an intensity to his stare which could not be explained. He was irate and I didn’t know why. From across the room, he pointed in my direction until I noticed. I looked around the restaurant to see if there was another patron whose attention he was vying for. The surrounding booths and tables were empty. It wasn’t until I pointed to my torso that a smile crossed his face as he nodded with agreement.

Dismayed, he stood and extended one of his middle fingers at me. Whatever pleasure he derived from flipping me off was well masked within the angry grimace that showed on his face. It looked like he had sucked on a lemon or maybe that was his natural demeanor. It felt like he was trying to bully me from afar.

I took a closer look at the decor, hopeful to discover some clue why this interaction was taking place. Unfamiliar with the area, I hoped not to have inadvertently wandered into a private social club or hangout for one of the local gangs. Those thoughts were dismissed quick. If that had been the case, I never would have been permitted to walk through the front door. Unable to find an suitable explanation, I returned my attention to the gentleman across the room.

When our eyes again met, I opted to mock him with a taunt of my own and stuck my tongue out. It wasn’t the most mature response but still better then shouting an obscenity filled rant in his direction. Even though he and I were the only two in the restaurant, some level of decorum was still required. Besides, an overreaction on my part might trigger a rage shooting. I had never heard about anyone getting shot for sticking out his tongue.

My actions incensed him. Before sitting, he looked down at the food on his table and shook his head from side to side. Though incoherent, he mumbled with displeasure. It looked like he was having an argument with himself. After spreading a cloth napkin on his lap, he snapped his head towards me and extended both middle fingers. I sat upright in my chair, folded my arms across my chest, and smiled at him. It was a broad, contented smile. I wanted him to know there was nothing he could say or do that was going to disrupt my positive mood.

Disgruntled, he stood and threw the napkin on the table with enough force it almost knocked over a glass of water. Storming across the room, he marched to where I sat and stood next to my chair, silent, glaring down at me. It wasn’t until he approached that I noticed his height. At most, he topped out at five foot two inches tall.

I stood and shoved my hands into my front pockets. Without saying a word, I stepped as close to him as possible without making physical contact. My six foot seven inch frame towered over him. Saying nothing, I looked down at the top of his head while he stared into my chest. A few seconds later, he arched his neck back, acknowledging my height, and took a step backwards. Subconsciously, he had been dominated. It had been accomplished without ever uttering a word.

A few seconds later, he stepped around me and disappeared into the bathroom. Without knowing what his plans were when he returned, I decided it was best for me to find a new restaurant to dine at. I gathered my belongings and headed for the door, spitting in his food before exiting the building.

A game me and my childhood friend had played sometime as kids before we would try to make the other person say something first other times we would just stare at each other until one cracks either way the loser gives the winner a gift, any gift will do so long as the winner likes it. Well as we grew we had stop playing it so often and just played video games instead our eyes looking at each other the smile or anger in one’s face when they won or lost, the celebratory jumping up and down, when one beat a game. That leaves to now, with mouth closed, no one‘s talking but our eyes are saying unspoken things. We would silently dance back-and-forth looking at each other‘s eyes, our bodies is sway back-and-forth to the music we had set up. We would be doing this normally every once in a while however this day after school She was angry at me for some reason and before usually she would talk to me about what was wrong but she decided to keep quiet this time making this whole thing aggravating, before I can get truly angry I fell onto her while trying to catch up to her, in this weird mood we are just simply staring at each other, we are both turning red and after a while the only sound being made was our breaths. After another while she simply spoke you win, grab something from her backpack and it was some chocolate bar that was not from any brand perhaps even made by hand. Meanwhile my friend was absolutely red at this point, afterwards I got the chocolate she simply ran and said” see you tomorrow”. So now I’m sitting here wondering what I did wrong and wondering what kind of mood that was about as I eat her chocolate that looked man made.

. I’ve just met the girl of my dreams. She lives in the apartment next to mine. Her window less then a meter from mine. This fact is the only thing that keeps us in contact. I should probably give more context. Ever since that global perfection bill passed my life changed. They installed microphones everywhere around the apartments. We aren’t even able to take them out as that would lead to immediate “relocation”. We all knew what they really meant. But these microphones would pose a problem for people like me. They outlawed any non-heterosexual relationship only 30 years prior. I could see up to life in prison just for the suspicion of liking another woman. I’ve been living under the lie saying I’m a widow. Of course I’ve never had a husband I’ve only ever been interested in other women. I knew that me expressing love for the woman next door would lead to the both of us getting sent away. Yet I couldn’t just forget about it, she already contacted me. She threw a note tied to a pebble into my window plants. “DON’T READ THIS OUT LOUD” was the first this written on it in big bold letters. I my mind was already rushing knowing that this could be my demise. But my feelings overwhelmed the knowledge of my potential “relocation”. “I noticed your hair clip the other day. Did you get it from one of the protesters?” Protesters often pass by on our street all wearing the same clip that I’ve owned since I was a child. I knew what it now stood for so I would only ever wear it inside. I’d even keep my due diligence to stay far from the window. Just to prevent anyone from the street seeing. Never thought about my neighbour to be looking over. Out of excitement I immediately wrote a letter to respond. I didn’t even bother to read over it. Just tied it to a pebble and leaned out the window to throw it. I’m my excitement I didn’t even see that she was already leaning out hers looking out into the streets. We both locked eyes now knowing our thoughts where true. I went to throw the pebble and note to her. But in my rush I didn’t check to see if anyone was bellow were I to miss and miss I did. We both watched as the pebble parachuted down landing directly in front of an officer. We both recoiled our heads back into our apartments. I already knew that I doomed us.

That’s how I ended up here. The day after the pebble incident police showed up to both our doors. We tried to fight but it was pointless. The most we managed was to hold on to each other for only a brief moment before getting throw into separate police cars. We where hauled off to a “rehabilitation compound” their way of saying execution chambers. I was locked into a barren cell. Only a sliver of light peeked through the door. But I’d be lying if I said this was everything in the cell. There was also the same hair clip I was wearing sharpened to a razor on the floor. Easy way out was written on the back. I had to assume it was from the last prisoner due to the blood still crusted on the cutting edge. I can’t go out like this though. I needed to tell my story. I need there to be a possibility even if small for someone to find my story. It took almost an hour of pondering to commit to the frankly psychotic solution I had. I knew that if I scraped it onto the walls they’d just cover it before the next person was put in. But theirs one thing they couldn’t just paint over. Before any of this I needed a titanium plate to be put into my leg to brace it. Guess this is my stone tablet.

Eyes fixed on the homework, she could only feel his presence. Her mouth pinched, twisting, like something sour lingered.

He also stared ahead at nothing, but not because he wanted to. Every time he tried to face her, his skin prickled, like he awaited something cold to wash over, freezing him more than the snow storm outside had.

She tapped her pencil against the table, lightly, not enough to disturb their baby sibling upstairs. Falling into muscle memory somehow dulled her headaches. Her jaw loosened, and that’s what he saw from the corner of his eye.

Maybe this was his chance.

Turning on his feet, he opened his mouth, then closed it.

She stopped tapping, and her eyes flicked upwards, then sideways to him - a poison frog showing its bright colors, expecting a mouth to open on its skin.

He swallowed the lump growing in his throat, and his tear ducts stung. He didn’t know why.

Fingers picking at his jacket, still wet from the melting snow, he backed up out of the kitchen, each step slow but unsteady.

After holding her breath for so long, she finally exhaled.

Looking over at him, I widen my glare. My stare was going unnoticed. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. While the speaker droned on and on, he needed to see what was happening. The night lighting came on in the room and gloom took over. How could no one notice the change? We had caught each other eye as we sat down originally, both there for the same reason. The room was still and stifling. I cleared my throat hoping to get his attention. The sound couldn’t have been louder than me dropping the complete Merium Webster dictionary from the second story of the library of congress. Everyone looked and my face grew hot. Even the speaker stopped momentarily.But it did have the desired effect, he finally looked over. Frantically, I shifted my eyes back and forth to the changes happening outside. He looked towards the windows with his mouth hanging open. He stood up and said “oh my god!”. Finally, everyone was aware of the urgent situation.

I glance at her, wishing that i could get her attention. She ignores me, focused intently on blending in. I kick her. Her knee jerks up, hitting the table. Everyone looks over. She gives a nervous smile, and, once they look away, turnes to glare at me. I take it as my chance to tell her. I widen my eyes, glancing once to my left and then looking back at her, widening my eyes once more. She squints her eyes, looking confused, but she looks over and immediately understands. We need to get out of here. We had found the murderer. She turned her head to focus back to the dinner, but her eyes are focused on our suspect. She studies his eyes and his mannerisms. She glances back at me to confirm my thoughts. I stand up, wiping my napkin and bowing to the family. "I need to go now," I say. As I leave, I discreetly brush my friend's arm, dropping a note into her sleeve. I step out the door and wait. She comes out a few minutes later, nodding at me. We hide, waiting for the right moment. The suspect steps out of the building and opens a pack of cigarettes. As soon as he lights one and sticks it in his mouth, I nudge her shoulder. She stands up and steps behind him, pulling out her handcuffs. Before he had a chance to yell, I ran and put a hand over his mouth and she handcuffed him. We brought him to our black car and put him in the back seat. Our mission was complete.

Secret, shy, bashful, smiles they share It’s junior high, so teachers beware Going to the library, without making a sound Carrying her books, eating pizza, so round Soon its time,to move up, to the high school Where dating, playing football, everyone’s cool Only allowed to look, and keep your voice down No whispering, talking, or wearing a frown Classes, books, computers, and then the lunch Quietly, studying, answers, just a hunch Soon the years, and tears, fly by so fast It’s graduation, forgetting the silent past We are finally, allowed, to yell and scream As we graduate, and finally, living the dream