The beginning of July can be a magical experience when it comes to, not just kids, but grown adults, as well. Streams and flashes of a garden variety of colors swarm the night sky, giving off loud booms, like canons during a war. We are reminded of what our young country had to do to become what it is today... free. But are we really free?

Our country may be free from the tyrant fingers of Great Britain, but it is apart of a bigger whole. I’m talking about planet, Earth. Believe it or not, America, as well as every other county or landmass, obeys the planet’s own set of rules. And Earth is the most unrelenting tyrant there ever was.

A rule that governs us, that we are enslaved to, is the rule of time being the only constant. Everything of this world is constantly changing, evolving into something new. There is no escaping it. However, humans are born to rebel, especially us, Americans. That is how we became “free.” By rebelling against the British. So, we forget about time and take it for granted. As a result, we humans have become creatures of habit.

We go to sleep on Sunday nights with a sharp pain we all share. The same sickness of having to wake up and go to work the next day. Because we did it again, we got used to the weekend. So we fall asleep.

Then wake up and can smell the routine next to the French roast coffee brewing. And proceed to put ourselves on autopilot. We take the same way to work, Park on the same spot even if they’re not designated then relax on auto.

We reflect back to when we were children and content with life because we were comfortable in our habit. But then came puberty. Change was among us and it was terrifying. We hold that same fear today as adults. We fear change. When we should embrace it.

Refusing change is like paying for a debt you don’t owe or paying for a free show. We don’t want that now.

Because if we continue with the same old things we’ve always done, we will always get what we’ve always gotten. Some of that for us is pain. But you can’t remove the pain if yo don’t remove yourself from the situation.

Habit and insanity go hand in hand. Insanity is doing the same thing over and expecting different results.

We need to embrace change. And change our habit. Otherwise we will never truly live and enjoy our young, beautiful country.

—J. A. Allison

The tea kettle began to sing its loud pitch informing the world it was ready, until Karen lifted it up and off the burner. She poured two cups of her favorite Earl Grey with a single sugar cube in each. Other than the fact it was a common courtesy to make tea when having guests, she sipped it as if it was a much needed treat for a long day of work getting the house together. She sat down on the couch, and leaned on her sister.

“I love what you’ve done with everything here,” said Cathy. “It has that same feel as when we were kids, but with a more modern look.”

Karen glanced around once more at her work and smiled. “Thank you sis. And thanks for coming by, you know I can’t stand being alone in a place for long.”

“Who can? Anyway, it’s the least I could do after what you’ve been through. And you won’t be alone for long, you’ll find someone else who deserves you.”

“Oh, I don’t think another man is what I want. I’d like to just be alone and forget about everything. To never think of it again.”

“Nonsense, you will find someone that will treat you like the angel you are. But until then, remember, you will always have your lil’ sister here for you.”

“Thanks Cathy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Karen lifted up her head, kissed her sister’s shoulder and put her head back where it had been. She had always loved her sister and had always gone to her whenever she was going through hard times. Sometimes it felt as if she were the younger one, looking up to her older sibling for guidance.

After an hour of chatting while rearranging the living room, kitchen and foyer, Karen looked at her watch, yawning. It was the watch Jim had given her for some holiday she couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, remember. She took it off and tossed it in the garbage bin.

She thanked her sister again for coming by to help, but insisted she had better go to bed. It had been a long day and tomorrow would be much of the same.

“It was no problem Kat, I’ll be back tomorrow for a full day of tidying up.”

“You better,” Karen teased.

After her sister left, Karen walked into the kitchen to put away the tea cups and kettle. She looked out the window over the sink and watched the red taillights make their way down the winding driveway. The lights had lit-up part of the bumper, making what looked like a menacing smile. It was then, Karen realized she was out in the country, alone at night.

She started her breathing exercise then closed her eyes, as if it would magically banish any horrible thoughts. But, it did just that.

Up in the upstairs bathroom, the faucet water quickly became warm after she turned it to wash her face. It was her nightly ritual after turning off all the lights.

The bathroom was rectangular with the bathtub on one end and the sink in the middle, directly across from the door. Above the sink was a medicine cabinet stocked with painkillers, antidepressants, anything to take away the physical and psychological pain she suffered.

She closed the cabinet and looked at her reflection in its outside mirror.

“What am I gonna do?” she whispered to herself.

Beside her face, a small silhouette stood in the adjacent room behind her in the darkness. She could make out a head and broad shoulders, She jumped and turned around in fright trying to see who it was.

It was gone.

A hat rack had taken its place.

Karen’s heart felt like it was going to burst, believing she saw someone standing there. But after seeing it was nothing, she closed her eyes, thinking she just needed to sleep, and left it at her tired eyes playing tricks on her.

Karen turned the bathroom light off and got into bed. She was glad she remembered to unpack the book she had been reading, but then realized she was too exhausted to read. She put down the book, turned off the light and shut her eyes.

Knock, knock, knock, knock…

Karen lifted up her heavy eyelids. Something must have woken her up. She waited in silence for anything. A creak, a branch scratching a window, but heard nothing. She closed her eyes to drift back to sleep.

Knock, knock, knock, knock…

Her eyes jutted open in a wide state. She heard that. It was knocking, but from where. It was too loud to be from the front door downstairs, besides, who would be knocking at this hour?

She turned her head to see the clock read 3:15 a.m. Nobody would be coming to visit her now, not even Cathy. Also, no one besides she, Cathy, and her parents had known she was living here.

Karen thought to merely ignore it. If there was someone outside knocking, they would take a hint and leave. She wondered if she had locked up, and realized she did. She was grateful and proud of herself for remembering to do just that.

Five minutes pass and not another sound. She could have been dreaming, she thought. So, she turned over to lay on her right side and closed her eyes once more.

Knock, knock!

These were loud. A lot louder than the previous ones. It had sounded like they came from her bedroom door. She was positive they had. Her body was frozen stiff. Eyes as wide as they could be staring at the door, wondering who or what was on the other side.

She sat perfectly still for a few minutes, petrified. Then the thought had come over her. It had to be her older sister trying to scare her. She knew Karen didn’t like being alone in places. Her toes started to wiggle, then her legs and arms until she was able to move again.

Karen grabbed her phone off the table and dialed Cathy’s number.

It rang three times before Cathy answered in a hoarse whisper. “Hello?... Kare, is that you?”

Karen hung up. She knew it wasn’t her sister. It was time to face her fear. She turned her table lamp on and slowly got out of bed, one leg at a time. Calmly and carefully, she tiptoed to the door. She reached for the handle and grabbed it. Karen held it for a few seconds before turning it. She turned it just slightly—

Riiiiiiing!... Riiiiiiing!

“Ahhh!” She shouted, jumping at the loud, alarming sound. It was a familiar sound though. Her phone, she could recognize anywhere. She walked over and picked it up. It must have been her sister calling her back, worried since Karen had just hung up on her. She handled the phone which said It was from an unknown number.

Karen questioned whether to answer or not. At the last second, she pressed the green button.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Then the other end hung up.

“Well, that’s not creepy,” she said to herself.

Thinking about going back to bed, she realized there was some unfinished business. She had to see what was on the other side of the door. So once again, she grabbed the door handle. She waited three seconds then quickly yanked it open.

Nothing was there.

Of course there was nothing there, she thought to herself. She looked down the hall in each direction but saw nothing but blackness. The bathroom was directly across the hall from the door. She had left that door open. Inside, she saw the sink and the mirror above. Though, in the reflection, there was a black figure lying in her bed.

She jumped up in terror, turning around to see. But it was just an empty bed. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. Or at least have an attack.

Karen closed the bedroom door and leaned her back against it to catch her breath. After a minute, she leapt back into bed, yanking the sheets over her like a frightened child. She laid there, in mild shock. Her breathing exercise came to mind, so she started to breathe, in and out, in and out.

After a while, she was calm and cool again. She just wanted to sleep and forget it all, or deal with it in the morning. Lying there, her sleepiness came back. It’s my mind just playing tricks, she thought. Her eyes slowly closed shut.

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

Karen wailed in terror.

        As she turned the steering wheel to the right, Karen felt the nagging pain in her wrist from where he had twisted it, never letting it go through her piercing cries. The thought of that wicked night wouldn't leave her. She remembered to do her breathing that her therapist had told her to do when these thoughts came up.

        "In," she whispered as she breathed in. "And out," as she exhaled slowly. Then repeated.

        By the fifth exhale of her breathing exercise, she was coming up on the rustic farmhouse she had known as a child. The trees and shrubbery outside of it were different than what she remembered. Everything had grown. The bushes were taller, the trees were enormous with their branches covering the entire front yard. The only thing that hadn't changed was the house.

         It had looked the exact same as it did when she was nine years old. Before her and her parents had moved to the city. Before she met the man of her dreams, who would change her life forever, Jim.

        Jim was perfect and treated her like a queen up until they were married. After that, he had made a complete one eighty, turning into the ugly man she knew now, with the same mannerisms as his evil father.

         He had treated her like a dog, and not the kind that's man's best friend, either. The kind you would see on TV, shivering and cold with some washed-up celebrity asking you to pay money. She always cried when these commercials came on, but was always too lazy to call.

        She was over that now, it was time to start a new chapter in her life.

        After the divorce, Karen had got the best of it and decided to move into her old house back out in the country. Her parents had still owned it, but lived in the city close to her and her sister, Cathy.

        Cathy had helped her throughout the divorce and everything that came before—the yelling, the bruises, the fractured appendages. But she couldn't make it out today on account of work. However, she said had told Karen she would be by to check in on her around eight tonight.

        All of her furniture and belongings were already inside the house thanks to the generous movers she had highly paid. She pulled into the long, winding driveway made of gravel and parked her sedan in front of the garage that was separated from the house. It was more of a giant shed than a garage. Her dad would keep his tools and hunting gear inside it and would park his car right where she had.

        It felt good being back out in the country. She continued with her exercise and breathed in the nostalgia, as well as the pollen and cedar she had forgotten about. They reminded her of how bad her allergies had been when she was younger.

        Welcome home, she thought.

Our love is so beautiful. It was something I couldn't live without, yet nobody must know of it. You had me when I first walked into your classroom, and you called my name. The gentle, yet resounding way you said, "Trevor Humbert." I raised my hand, letting you know I was there. I am here, and always will be.

I go to sleep thinking of your brown eyes, behind those thick, black spectacles, and how I would wake up with your soft, chestnut hair blanketing my pale face. Before I leave my house with my younger brother, Jeff, to see you, I grab a glass of water and glance at an orange medication bottle.

It's still empty. I need to remember to call in a refill. But then again, I feel like a new man. I don't need them anymore, especially since I have you now.

I can recall back to when I didn't know if you felt the same way during the first couple of weeks at Nabokov High School. I would walk through the crowded hallways surrounded by blank, pallid walls and stale, fluorescent lighting, but thinking of you put cheerful, radiant color to everything. As I was the new kid in a new school, my insecurities took complete control of me, That, and the fact that I was a junior and had never kissed a girl. I had no idea my first kiss wouldn't be from a mere girl but from a woman. My woman, Miss Dolores.

Now, those insecurities have fled. We've exchanged a few words with each other, but our eyes have been doing most of the talking. You gave me your hypnotic glare telling me, "Yes." And from then on, that is all I ever wanted to hear from you. You told me to keep what we have hushed, and that nobody could know about us. So I started writing you love letters revealing my deep passion for you.

I told you how sexy you looked in your kitty-cat costume on Halloween. You respected my decision to not dress up, for what I truly wanted to be would've got us into terrible trouble. I still dress-up when alone at home, walking around bare, exposed in my room as—

...your sex slave.

The note you gave me has your phone number, which I truly desire. However, when I called, you didn't answer. Why is that?

Christmas is around the corner. I can't stop thinking and dreaming of your almond eyes and pert, red lips. I'm so giddy. I feel I have to tell somebody.

My younger brother, Jeff, is a sophomore and sees you after lunch for English. However, he doesn't believe me when I tell him about you. Now, I have to show him it is indeed true. I'm dating the hot English teacher, Miss Dolores.

Before I see you in class, I grab Jeff and show him your letters, your phone number, your cherry lipstick kisses, and passionate perfume; I tell him who these came from.

He can't believe it.

He is shocked.

And, so was I when he asked—

“Dude, you know Miss Dolores is like seventy-years old, right? And all these letters appear to be in your handwriting, even the ones supposedly from her. Are you off your meds again?"