The man doesn’t speak to me as we drive. I don’t know his name, but he knows mine. He knows where we’re stopping, but I don’t. I know that once we stop, he will leave and I will be on my own. Blessed in my solace, at last, free to do what I wish away from my tormentor. For too long he had reign over me, and now I can breathe the fresh air of another day.

I eye the driver from my peripheral vision and see that he is tapping his leg along to the beat of the road, which is not well-paved. He deals in escapism, giving people fake names and new careers. Helping people hide, something that the government tries to do but fails.

He stops at an intersection in a residential neighborhood and cocks his head to the side. “Here. House 1219. Good luck.”

I thank him and exit, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. It contains all of my belongings that I was able to bring: a copy of my favorite book, a pencil, some knick-knacks, and a teddy bear I’ve had since I was young. There’s also a decent amount of cash that I’ve saved up.

1219. The number of hope, of a new beginning. A number whose impact I don’t know the gravity of until I knock on the door.

My tormentor answers, grabs me, and pulls me inside before I can scream. I should have known it wouldn’t be this easy to flee.

A darkness enveloped him completely. It was not like the darkness we are all familiar with. The sort of darkness that is more grey than black. In this darkness there was no twinkling little points of light, no shaft of light through the gap where the curtains don’t quite close. There was no sliver under a door illuminating a few inches of carpet. No glimmer from a snoozing bedside alarm clock. No distant city lights glowing in the night sky and no lonely street light hanging dimly under a distant railway bridge. There was no glistening frost nor halo in the midnight fog. No lonely port light on a fishing boat tossed alone on a midnight sea.

Not only was it an absence of light, it was an absence of everything. There was no cry of a dog fox in the distance nor hoot of a far-off owl. No rustling in the bottom of a hedgerow. There was no sound of central heating pipes ticking nor of a house groaning as it settles in the night air. No footstep on the stair, no rattling pans in the kitchen. No sound of a radio quietly burbling in a room at the other end of the house. No distant traffic, nor far-off night train. No ticking clock, no pantry mouse.

He felt no sounds of breathing and no air stirred. He was neither warm nor cold. Was he clothed? He could not tell. Where was this place? The thought was there, but he could not hear it spoken in his mind and no answer arose. He tried to speak but he could neither make a sound nor feel his body. He was unable to feel. No sensations, no senses, no regret nor happiness. No weight, no movement. Nothing.

How did he come to be here? Where was here? These thoughts came and went, utterly inconsequential, without stirring the still darkness and without answers. He felt no need of an answer, he did not feel concerned. He did not feel anything. Was he dead? He did not have an answer to this, and in any case the question had floated away. Nothing happened.

Quite suddenly he was aware, although there was nothing to be aware of. It was a strange feeling after not feeling anything. Thoughts came to him and suddenly began to have form and shape. This was new. He became aware that there was movement, not a movement from place to place, not flexing or turning, but just not still. He felt heavy, very heavy. And then he felt hot. There was a massive noise, a whooshing swoosh. He felt afraid and knew he could close his eyes, so he did.

A voice said:

“Welcome to the new universe. Your old universe became too massive and consequently you reached the end of Time. There is no need for concern. Your transition is curtesy of Wormholes Plc.”

He opened his eyes to a bright, fresh and sunny day.

"Samantha Greene," I whispered, sitting back in my chair. The name seduced my ears like sweet music, and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to repeat her name. "What is this here visit for, Samantha Greene?"

"A want a new beginning. I want to change," she said shortly, chewing at her long nails in contemplation. Upon hearing this, I raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Why do you want to change," I asked. I looked her up and down, scanned every notable detail I could find. Though, I didn't see the problem. "I don't get it."

"Hum," she chuckled half-heartedly. Removing her nail from her mouth, she leaned in with the most serious expression she could muster. "Look, Mr. Thornesman. Everyone in the world wants some type of change. Although, when we're born, we don't know it yet. However, it only takes you till you're the age of 12–18 to figure out that change is inevitable. And I'm talking about everything—clothes, hair style, gender, identity, sexuality, spirituality, morals, goals, hopes and dreams, mindsets, health conditions, and much more. It doesn't take a genius to notice this form of change. I, for this time of being, want a change. I also want my past to be wiped from all notable memory. After all, it is a sacrifice I am willing to make."

"And what will I get from this?"

"I'm way ahead of you," she sighed, picking up a black duffle bag from the floor. Setting it on the table, she slowly slid it in front of me. Grabbing it, I stared at her. "That's forty-five thousand dollars. All of that will be yours, just for a simple transformation. Plus, you'll be wiping away my past, and any traceable conversation that we had today. All of that money, for a simple change in life."

"Are you sure," I asked, going through the piled stacks of money. "You do realize..."

"Yeah, yeah. I won't get to go back. Mr. Thornesman, I thought long and hard about this. I wouldn't come here if I didn't feel so confident and assured about myself."

"As you wish, Samantha Greene," I sighed somewhat bemused. "If this is your desired future."

"After all, it's only forward from here, right?"

She gazed at herself in the mirror, trying to figure out what’s she was missing. Going through the motions, she couldn’t find anything she needed to make herself feel completely satisfied. Today she had her first date ever since she broke up with her toxic boyfriend, Nick. Straightening her hair and pinning down any last rouge strands, she drew in a deep breath and let it go. “It’s going to be fine. This is a new start. A new beginning.” She tried reassuring herself. Hearing the soft chime of the door bell, indicating her date had arrived, she quickly sprayed a pump of perfume on and touched up her mascara then grabbed her bag, making her way downstairs to meet him at the door.

Another try, Second chance, Another go around.

Don't come often. Moment to rebuild, Fix, Turn around.

Make what's wrong right. Chance to save the impossible.

Is all one needs.

Another go, A second chance, A New Beginning.

New year’s Used to mean more Don’t know when it became so Ordinary Just another day

Buy into the resolutions Start new, new beginnings Feels fresh Until real life kicks-in

Why not? We’ll see

Jean was peacefully drifting off, sinking into his bed’s comfort. He smiled warmly to reassure the sobs that grew with each passing moment. “Bye, Rachel” he whispered huskily, eyes finally shut. The content he felt in this moment was euphoric. The feeling of love that wrapped around him was a blanket, soft on his skin, a welcomed weight and warm.

The man opened his eyes and he saw nothing, the space around him had no colour nor shade but it made him grin. He smelt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, tasted nothing and yet his euphoria was incredibly apparent. “Wake up” a voice commanded coldly, dry but not, low but high, drifting along the nonexistent air but right next to him, a beautiful sound but so ugly. The voice seemed to hold no emotion nor pitch nor gender but still carried warmly. That makes no sense, mused the man. Then again nothing does. But he was not afraid- everything felt so right (but so detached)- he knew he would be when he was alive. Alive? The thought terrified him, so foreign and foreboding. He felt tiny in the presence of that horrible word. “What?” said the man, even though he didn’t. The voice told him that he’s now dead, even though it didn’t. And the man who now held no recollection of anything thought he heard a laugh from his own lips though he couldn’t hear. He happily thought about his new beginning- the beginning of an eternity in the out and thought how funny that the word Jean was so familiar.

As I walked away from everything I had even knew or so I thought. I plugged my ear phones in and tryed to let the music from my ipod distract me losing the sight of reality stuck in a endless circle of questions in my head something out corner of my eye caught my attention pulling me back to reality

New year’s eve New year’s It meant more once Don’t know when it became Just another day.

One step at a time Journey’s have to begin somewhere. Why not now?

We look to a western world in the dead of night. 

We can see a princess running out of the palace gates doing everything she can not to be seen. But we can. She goes to the stables and mounts her older sisters horse. Out to the country side she goes with nothing but a horse and a satchel of basic supplies on her back. She thinks, “I just changed my life” and she was correct. If she were to be caught she would be jailed for who knows how long. But the small, slim possibility that she would survive out here would be incredible.

Back to the castle we look. We can see that the king, queen, and all of their eight children (well, now seven) are searching and scanning for any sign of their princess. The king calls for guards to scan every inch, nook, and cranny of his kingdom. 

One year later
The princess is doing amazing. She has a small cabin in a country across the sea. She has a girlfriend and has to plans to propose to her this night. 

The kingdom she escaped from has no idea where she is, and have almost given up on trying to find her. Even thought almost a month after she left she went back to get money and a clean pair of clothes.

Our princess has a new life and thousands on new beginnings. -Taylor Rose Collins