It was too silent…I didn’t even hear the birds singing this morning. After the internal explosion, there was nothing to be heard. The days following were even quieter. A day where my body could calm itself utterly terrified me. “Why allow it to go back to normal if something jurastic might occur?” I silently said to myself. So used to trauma and chaos, my body understood the rhythm of it…it was practically programmed for it. Days like these generated a nauseating knot that twisted in my stomach with each passing minute of calmness….they make the voices in my head multiply. The calmness forces me to look in the mirror at my reflection. It forces me to come face to face with myself. And that was something I NEVER wanted to do. I assume you are asking why, reason being is because I always felt the shadow lingering behind me. When I closed my eyes I felt its hands grip both of my shoulders, making sure I felt its presence. The fleeting moments where everything was “normal” for everyone else, was a horror story in my reality.

I’m terrified by what the news said, astrologers observed that an asteroid is coming straight to earth, at its size it can completely destroy everything, the asteroid or in other words the end of the world will arrive tomorrow morning. As I exited my house, I saw everything in chaos, everyone was doing what they wanted to do a long time ago, what they lack the courage to do in the past. People walk around naked, beating others to death, raiding others property, and even killing. No more police will come to stop their action, there are no consequences for their actions, they no longer have any concerns. It is an actual hell.

I pondered and mused for what I desire to do, but while I ponder others acknowledged my existence, they were just wild beast beasts now, they approached me, I don’t know what they wanted to do with me but I know it wouldn’t be good. Fortunately, I brought my gun with me, I take a few shot at them. Blood spoiled from their wounds, it seems to ignite my urge to kill, I finally I figure out what I want to do, killing. I commit a massacre, every person I saw was killed, I laughed wildly like a maniac. But soon this obsession to kill was gone, I’ve returned to being sane, I have no idea if it’s my leftover sanity suppressed the urge or is it just because it has become boring. I went to my house and decided to sleep for one last time, and die without much pain.

Tomorrow morning I wake up as usual, I brushed my teeth, took a shower, but then I remembered but happened yesterday. I’m astonished by the fact that I’m still very alive, I’m so cheerful that I laughed out loud, but then I realized that mean I’ll receive my abundance of consequences as I normally would. I wailed in agony knowing how hard the punishment will be for killing so much.

She slammed on the floor hitting her head. Daily routine get up have breakfast change and get into the car. A tremor went through her veins it did not feel right about driving to work. Something terrified her. An instinct of de ja vue of dread This was if he no ordinary day she thought But why driving was safe as hell Same old boring routine That was the point if it was boring and safe than something was wrong and dangerous Life is simple She had said something political online the trolls were everywhere and the that irritated her nerves Hair was standing up palm was sweating breathing shallow pulse racing. Calming herself with contemplation. The driving did not feel right as she stated the ignition and drove down the high way. Suddenly there there was an explosion Cars crashed and people armed with machine guns came out and started shooting

It was too quiet for the first day of spring. Especially for a winter borne like me. Sooner or later a spring born would come and… “You’ve got bingo.” I looked to my husband who was holding up his own bingo card to match with the numbers being called. Dexter marked my card as well though if his eyesight was as bad as he claimed that shouldn’t be possible. He nudged me. “You wanna let Karen win? She’s been wanting that tablet for a while now.” I opened my mouth. But suddenly the whites of his eyes flashed to all black though his irises remained a light gray. The only sign that I hadn’t permanently turned him when we were younger. He blinked at me his eyes normal. “You ok, Ara?” I could remind him what day it was. Maybe he’d jump into action like in the old days. Back in the days when my hair was as short as his. And we’d both had machine guns instead of canes. But I didn’t know what he could do with his hip needing surgery again. “Bingo!” Karen ran to the front of the room to get the tablet and shook it in the air. With the way she moved you’d think she was still in her twenties. I stood, my knees creaking. Too many landings from the helicopters. But that was what the cane was for. Though I missed my close quarters staff. I’d earned it just as all winter born did. And many of the autumn born had fallen due to it. The last one I’d taken out had been a few years ago. And even that had proven difficult. As soon as you stopped you became weaker. Ripe for the pickings. So what was I still doing alive? “We could sneak out for lunch.” Dexter kept pace with me. Barely using his cane. It was warm enough that his hip wasn’t bugging him. That should’ve given him a clue. “Get those tacos you like.” “They’re closed on Mondays.” I said with a sigh. He stopped and I paused to look back at him. Even after all these years he couldn’t hide his worry. Not when he joined me in the nursing home last year. And not now. Really I should’ve been dead just from planning our wedding. It was several years too late and yet Dexter was adamant. But no spring born crashed the wedding. And I made it another year. “I don’t understand. They could’ve gotten you during the morning croquet.” “We got a new cook too.” “Is that why you didn’t eat your omelette?” I sighed and sat down on one of the benches in the front hall. Dexter remained standing, brandishing his cane like his favorite M-16. Karen walked out clutching the tablet to her chest. “Meatloaf for lunch today. Want to join me.” I shook my head while Dexter stared into space. He waited until the hall was empty again before he said, “This place is too full of humans. They wouldn’t dare attack…” He paused as a school bus pulled in up front unloading the children’s choir. They stood in orderly lines as the teacher told them instructions. And though they still had the whites of their eyes. They seemed to have a glazed over look. I looked back to Dexter. “Honestly I’m surprised I lived to seventy.” Dexter strangled his cane. “I just found you again. I’m not losing you.” I’m smiled up at him. We’d been separated in that last war. And yet he’d managed to find me a decade later. “I don’t deserve you, Dex.” He softened at that. “Nonsense. You found me in that squalor. You gave me a purpose.” “I used you like a puppet to gain my own power.” He grabbed my hands. “That was the only way for you to survive in that world. But it’s different here. For once we can enjoy the seasons instead of fighting for them. The war’s over, Ara.” He was wrong. As long as the seasons continued to bear children there would always be battle. We had this treaty now but who knew how long it’d last. I was getting tired of hiding anyway. I pulled Dexter until he sat beside me. And I leaned against him. “It’s the first day of spring. Let’s enjoy it while we can.” Dexter pulled the blade from his cane. “Yes, let’s.” I smiled as I summoned my staff. Today had been too quiet.

It had been a normal day, and that terrified her more than anything.

Daisy Flint set solemnly on the patchwork sofa of her small homes living room, Four arms resting on her thighs as she gazed down at her hands clasped together loosely between her knees. Her eyes were unfocused as she thought about her day. Thought about all the differences it had opposed to yesterday. And the day before it. And the day before even that. And so on and so forth. It had, for all intents and purposes, been a positively normal day. From waking up and making breakfast for her husband and son to making a trip to the grocery store just because she could. Just for something to do. It had been, an absolutely normal day. Which meant, in the Flint household, something was up.

It was too quiet.

not that the Home held a lot of drama or adventure; It was just that, well, being married to an ex-thief Who while charming tended to display all the maturity of a five year old - sometimes even less than their actual five-year-old - she had come to expect certain things. Things like Tom pickpocketing her just because he was bored. Tom, once again because he was bored, coming home with something he might’ve filched from a neighbor or two. Something that she would often times have to figure out how to sneak back without their neighbors noticing because Tom was a big child and he refused to return it himself. She sometimes thinks she could be just as good a thief as Tom what with how many times she’s had to sneak a random object back into one of their houses. Sometimes even during the day while the family was home. She can’t tell you how many times she’s almost been caught. But hey, she knew what she was signing up for when she married the guy and for the most part he wasn’t actually serious with his crimes. Serious, malicious, whatever. Not like either of the circumstances had happened today. Which was weird. Because it was a Saturday and despite Tom being spontaneous with his thieving he did actually have a routine.

OK, so sue her, she was being generous with referring to her husband as an ex thief. At least he didn’t rob banks anymore. Or steel priceless art. Or break into heavily guarded facilities just to see if he could do it. Or…

She was getting off track.

none of that had had happen today. She hadn’t been mildly confused when something she had just been holding had suddenly disappeared once she had said it down. She hadn’t had to scold Tom for stealing something from her or someone else. She hadn’t had to tell him off for taunting The neighbors when he pretended to help them look for for the exact same item he had already stolen from them. She hadn’t had to ignore him as he giggled like the gremlin he was as he recounted his day to her over a can of soda. Watching her with a playful smile as he fiddled with an Old piece of rope. She hadn’t had to bemoan the fate of her pristine white walls as he once again defiled them with his favorite crayons. She hadn’t had to…

Daisy softly laughed as she gracelessly slumped back onto the couch. All her musings had been about Tom and the mischief he got up to on a daily basis. What did it say that when it came to mischief happening in their home it wasn’t the kindergartener she thought of first but the fully grown man. In contrast, it would appear, their Johnny was an angel. He was, but she was biased. She knew that. Daisy also knew that Johnny absolutely idolized Tom and would often times be thrilled to be pulled into one of his plans.

Because Tom always had plans.

Plans upon plans upon plans.

From pretend sword fights two fixing cars. Johnny absolutely adored spending time with his father and vice versa. Because for all tom’s flexible morality, He was a good father for the most part Who wanted to give his son the childhood that Tom himself never had. So he made plans. Plans that he hoped would forge an unbreakable bond. And so far it had. So go ahead, she thought privately, and call her a bad mother but yes, some of those plans she knew would eventually involve stealing. Stealing, that for the most part, she was able to curb due to the fact that for the most part, she was always with her two troublemakers when they left the house.

“ that sneaky fuck!” Daisy yelped as she shot up from her slumped position on the couch, eyes going wide as she got to her feet and ran towards the back door. Gaze immediately searching the backyard she already knew would be empty of the father and son duo that not a half hour ago she had seen playing catch as she grabbed the handle of the sliding glass door and hurriedly opened it. Stepping out, her blue eyes immediately zeroed in on the hastily constructed structure that served as a makeshift step ladder over The yards 6 foot tall, wooden perimeter fence.

“ Son of a bitch,” she breathed out through her teeth, Hands absently perching themselves on her hips in the instinctual posture all disappointed mothers seem to develop ones having their first child. “ Son of a bitch. He was biding his time.”

A shiver of dread made its way down Daisy’s spine as she thought of all the possibilities. Did she have enough money to bail Tom out of jail? Did she want to? Couldfive-year-old‘s be arrested? Would Johnny enjoy it? Of course he would! Could she handle it? Having two thieves in the family?

Daisy crossed her fingers, please be something small.”

She’d been sat at the egg-white desk for over five hours now. Is this what working in an office was like, she wondered, so quiet, so… mundane?

Christine weaved the biro through the fingers of her left hand, squinting really hard at the screen and hoping she looked busy.

Everyone else was so settled, burrowed into their own worlds amongst the mounds of paperwork on their desks. It was impossible to catch anyone’s eye - you could hardly see them around Mount Files.

Christine took a deep breath, drumming her nails against her desktop, which was sparse by comparison.

Maybe she should go to the kitchens for the umpteenth time? Make another pot of coffee? It takes six and a half minutes - she’d timed it earlier, counting the seconds as they dribbled by on the clock above the door.

Spinning in her chair, Christine lined up her route, snaking past Karen’s desk and then left into the pokey kitchenette when you could stand in the centre and touch both walls.

Coffee would help to steady her nerves, Christine decided, heels soundless on the carpet. She would drink coffee and she would fit into this office.

Because nothing was worse than sticking out.

[I should put a graphic disclaimer here, this one is more dark than I usually write]

April Fourth…

It had been a normal day, and that terrified her more than anything. The sense of impending doom sat heavy upon Cheryl’s shoulders as the day continued on. “Come on, make it happen already!” She kept repeating to herself over and over throughout the day. Yet the situation she expected had never came. She followed her morning routines, she drove to work, she sat at her cubicle all day and not one thing was out of the ordinary. When she got home she even checked a calendar on her fridge to make certain she had the right date, but the evidence was clear in a big red circle surrounding the box. It indeed was April Fourth.

It had all started five years ago. Back then Cheryl had not expected that anyone would try to murder her. And yet when she woke up on that date, she smelled smoke in her duplex house, and hurriedly escaped before the entire house had been set ablaze. Thankfully everyone had escaped, but the firemen pointed to signs of arson. The case was never closed, however. The following April Fourth, she had been driving to work down the highway when an old Plymouth tried to run her right off the road, causing a bad accident. That one had sent Cheryl to the hospital. Again, with no clear description of the vehicle, the police were never able to catch the person responsible. The next incident landed on the same date, again in the morning as someone pulled up to her new property and sprayed it with bullets, narrowly missing Cheryl. Once again, the police had no leads and once again Cheryl was left feeling very vulnerable. In the two years afterwords two more attempts were made on her life on the same date. So now, today, she was ready.

When she had finally made it home from work, first she nervously got out of her car. She checked around the sides of her house, expecting a hooded man to jump out at her from the bushes, but no one was there. A full inspection of the property revealed nothing. She kept her cool and tried her doorknob, turning it and bracing for some sort of explosion, but nothing happened.

“Okay girl, calm down.” She told herself as her heart raced. “Nothing’s wrong. Maybe the killer died off.”

She went inside and then checked every room of her house, including the closets, and even took a flashlight to the attic and basement. Still she found nothing out of place.

She went back to the kitchen and sat on one of the barstools that accompanied an island countertop in the middle. She let out a nervous sigh, and then bit at one of her fingernails nervously.

That was when she glanced over at the sink and noticed it. There was half a glass of water sitting next to it. A glass that she never poured.

Alarmed, she sprang up in a defensive position suddenly and reached for any sort of weapon she could find. In this case, it was an umbrella from a coatrack on the wall. She clutched it tight in both of her hands and held it out in front of her as she neared the sink.

“Still wet.” She observed of the sink’s basin.

She whipped around, putting the sink to her back now. “I know you are here!” She shouted loudly. “I have a gun!” She lied to try and scare her attacker out.

To her shock, someone answered her. “You don’t believe in guns.” Then a figure emerged from around the corner of the living room wall, holding a pistol up. It was a woman.

“Who are you!?” Cheryl barked. “Why are you trying to kill me!?”

The girl laughed. “Revenge.”

“Revenge for what!? I haven’t done anything to you! I do not even know you!”

“No, unfortunately we have never had a proper introduction. But I know everything about you.” The woman said. “My name is Penelope, and you ruined my family.”

“How!?” Cheryl began to cry, tears streaming down her face, feeling an inevitable situation. “Why are you doing this to me!? You are the one… April Fourth… Why!?”

“It is not all that complicated.” The attacker Penelope explained. “Seven years ago on April Fourth, you slept with my Husband, Rodger.”

Cheryl wiped her eyes, and her face grew pale. She remembered the man, a business type that she met in a bar. She remembered him well… but there was no wedding ring. There was no indication of his marriage.

“Rodger. Oh my god.” Cheryl said. “I did not know. I did not know he was married!”

“Don’t try to play dumb!” Penelope extended the gun further. “You are nothing but a dirty little home wrecker! Do you know what happened after that? Of course, I caught him. Its easy to smell your perfume all over his clothes. We dealt with the fighting for as long as we could. But you know, he must have really liked you, because before he killed himself right in front of me, he told me that he loved you! So I’d say you have had this coming for a long time!”

Cheryl fell to the floor in hysterics, clutching at her umbrella like it was her last lifeline. “Please, please! I had no idea!”

“Yeah, keep talking. I will shut you up forever!” Penelope spat. “You know we had children. Two boys. They both watched their father kill himself, and now I am afraid they will never be right again, and neither will I. And its all your damn fault!”

“I swear… I…”

“Say goodbye!” Penelope took a step forward, beginning to squeeze the trigger.

Suddenly the front door burst open. Penelope whipped around to see who it was. Police officers began to pour inside and they wrestled her to the ground, and the gun out of her hands.

When the dust had settled and Penelope was inside one of the many police cruisers parked outside Cheryl’s house, an officer walked over to Cheryl, who was sitting on her front porch still sobbing. He sat down next to her and handed her a small handkerchief to wipe her eyes.

“We have already gotten a confession out of her, she will be going away for a long time.” The officer assured Cheryl.

Cheryl looked up at the man. “Thank you… thank you. But how did you know?”

“April fourth.” The officer said. “Look, I have a problem with cases going unsolved, and yours bothered me. Ive been keeping an eye on you this time. I figured something might happen, so we had an undercover parked across the street. They heard shouting and called it in.”

“I… I am such a terrible person!” Cheryl burst into hysterics and buried her face in the officer’s shoulder. “I slept with her husband and I did not even know!”

“Cheryl.” The officer comforted her. “It is not your fault. You did not know. No matter what decisions a person makes in life, no matter how terrible the circumstance… when they choose violence, I get involved. And when I get involved, they do not get to walk free.”

“Maybe she should have killed me.” Cheryl mused tragically.

“Hey now.” The officer said. “Don’t talk like that. People just make mistakes sometimes. It doesn’t automatically make them a bad seed. Lord knows I am not perfect either. After all. We are only human.”

It had been a normal day, and that terrified her more than anything, the days where she had nothing planned were daunting, Elizabeth knew she had to get used to being alone since her breakup, but days were long. When she was alone for a day she became restless and paced around her apartment, she might watch a tv show, but that only lasted so long to stave off her loneliness. She wasn't ready to get out there and date again yet, and she did spend more time with friends, but still couldn't fill every day with friends and distractions.

She resigned to getting comfortable, working on herself, being more creative, rediscovering passions. She had been trying to journal, but her mind felt cloudy and she would end up writing about the same thing every time, being alone and lonely, and how she was going to be ok. It became her journal of reassurance, writing little encouragements to herself hoping that if she wrote it enough times it would become the truth.

She lay on her bed waiting for something to come to her, but she felt numb, there was nothing to do, she questioned why she was a person that always needed entertaining always finding it difficult to be content with the world around her. Even as a child she was always trying to convince her brother to play with her, though she was great with people, she was a homebody, and to be a homebody, part of you has to be ok with being alone, so why, she wondered, was it so freaking hard?

She continued to stare at the ceiling and looked for shapes in the popcorn plaster, constellations above her head. A rabbit, a dragon, a mouse. She listened to the clock in the kitchen ticking, the gentle tick of the second hand moving, the minute hand moving a little louder, the sound mocked her, dragging along, a constant reminder of how long a day actually is. She went to the kitchen and made some coffee, and began staring into the face of the clock, her face in a grimace, watching the seconds pass by was even more painful than the sound. The clock face shattered brown liquid pooling on the floor. She looked down at her hand and realized that she had flung her full coffee mug into the clock. Silence, she took in a deep breath and started to cry.

She grabbed a dishrag and knelt down cleaning up the mess that she created, happy to have the reminder finally removed from her house. She picked up the broken pieces of her clock and put them in the trash, the glass making little tinkling sounds as it bounced off the ceramic mug. Tears were still streaming down her face but she was smiling anyways, she finally felt like she could breath like a weight lifting off her chest. She poured herself a new mug of coffee, grabbed her journal and sat down to write. It was more of the same thing, but it felt less like she was reassuring herself and she felt the truth in it, she will be ok.

It’s been completely normal all day. Everyone is going about their routine The girl that sits in front of me got a new haircut. The math teacher has new glasses. How can they keep changing. It’s only been a month. I don’t want to be on debate team anymore. None of these arguments matter! How can you possibly be worried about prom? What’s the point? It’s not like it’s a matter of... life and death. My brother is dead and you say I should just move on? Move on? I’m never going to get over this! It was my big brother! Not a boy that broke up with me! There is no ‘moving on’! Not from this. Not from death. I thought these things every day But I never spoke. I acted just fine. And the whole time I was dead inside.

It had been a normal day, and that terrified her more than anything.

Deep breath. In, out. In, out. Cathy sat down on the sofa. ‘The doors are locked.’ She said to her self for the hundredth time. Pushing her self up once more she walked over to the front door of her flat. Reaching out she touched the chain that was slid all the way across. She moved her hand to the dead bolt, it was on. ‘See you did it.’ She said as she turned and pressed her back to the door. She had been in the flat less that twenty four hours and she desperate for it to feel like home. Cathy moved back to the sofa and sat down again. Deep breath. In, out. In, out. She just had to keep breathing, keep calm. ‘Today was a good day.’ She said as if forcing herself to believe it.

It had started well. She had opened her eyes and looked up at the white coloured ceiling of the flat. This was it, she had done it. She had got away and managed to get into the flat that she had dreamed for so long could be hers. She had turned and stepped out of bed, made her way to the kitchen and ate the breakfast that she had wanted. It was a first for her. There was no one there this morning telling her what she could and couldn’t eat, no one there telling her where to sit or how to sit. No one there when she got it wrong and revived the first of many slaps to the back of her head for that day. It didn’t stop her though as she settled in on the sofa with a slice of toast from feeling the slap as if it had just happened. It had been what many people would have called a normal day, a boring day. Not getting dressed and just sat in front of the telly. It didn’t escape her though that this was not normal. So beyond what was normal for her.

A bang from out in the hall of the block of flats had her jumping away from the door and her hands flaying to her ears. She could see it all now as if it was happening in front of her. Her father kicking his way through the door making way for her mother to rush in and grab her. They would be dragging her out into the hall and down the four flights of stairs and out to the car park to take her back to their house. The one that at seventeen she had just managed to escape from. There way no way Cathy felt like she could go back, she knew that she wouldn’t survive.

The bang out in the corridor made way for the laughter of a group of people. It wasn’t her parents. Deep breath. In, out. In, out. ‘Just keep breathing.’ She said, just like the social worker had taught her when she had turned up at their office a month ago with the starting of a bruise around her eye and her hair looking as if someone had dragged her around by it, which of course they had. She hadn’t known where to go that day but as she left the house and kept running into town she had ended up outside their offices. She had lied, of course she had. She hadn’t told them that it was her parents she was running from and they just presumed it was a boyfriend, she had gone along with it. She had continued to lie about certain details , but had told the truth when it came to the fact that she needed somewhere to live in order for her to be safe.

Cathy moved back to the sofa and turned the TVs volume up even louder. She wanted to block any further noises from outside the flat, for now those where just too much for her to bare. It had been two weeks since she had arrived at that office, told them she was homeless and had disappeared into a hostel under a false name. Neither of her parents would be looking for a girl who under the authority’s was 17 years old and called Cathy.

She had however no doubt that they would be looking for the twenty year old Rachael that they had kept hidden away for most of her life in the attic of their home, only letting her out of the room when one of them wanted to take out their frustrations.

The hours passed and she stayed where she was, for the first time in forever she spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in front of the telly. When the sun had set and the night fully took over, she took herself off into her bedroom. Today had been her first ever ‘normal day.’ She laid back in the single bed. ‘Today has been a good day.’ She said to herself. ‘So why do I feel so terrified?’