Day after day, season after season, regardless of sleet, snow, sunshine, or rain, Washington Day entered into the train car that took him home from school to be greeted by the latest on wars, corruption, and ignorance. For, upon the built-in television screens within the train car, the news would play, day in and day out, and never once did Washington hear of anything positive. Instead, he saw the degradation of logic and the persistence of conflict. Not only in current events, but in simple interaction, everyday conversation, and within the history books he studied.

This had a curious effect on Washington. With every passing atrocity he was forced to witness, he found himself utterly bewildered, and with it a longing to solve the issues that plagued his society developed. However, such an urge typically isn’t formed from bewilderment alone. You see, Washington had recently come to the conclusion that the world surrounding him was well and truly spoiled. With this realization, he was not merely confused by the world - he despised it. After all, wars were rampant, bigotry was prevalent, leaders were terribly corrupt - it appeared as if every passing event served as an indicator of humanity’s hopelessness. As Washington saw it, earth was rotten and, without proper interference, it would continue to rot.

“And now, headlines for September second, 2029, presented by your very own NBC Washington DC,” the reporter said on the screen to Washington’s left. He glanced over at the wall of the car to investigate, train rattling on the subway tracks. “In international news, the conflict between Russia and America is steadily rising in what is being called a second cold war. As threat levels increase, the capitol is deciding to increase funding towards its nuclear arsenal significantly.”

Great, Washington thought, sarcastically, The perfect way to stop a war: invest in weapons. What are these people thinking? How does our system allow for leaders that are just clueless on how to lead?

The train rattled on, as less and less people were left commuting on it. Washington’s house was far from the center city, where his high school was located. Therefore, very few people would remain on the train by the time he arrived at his house.

As each person exited, Washington would watch them leave. Half his focus on the citizens, half on the daily news - he was amazed at what little attention people would give towards the pain occurring in the world around him.

Every day, the same news. Washington thought, tightening his grip on the handle dangling from the train’s ceiling. How do people put up with this? I just don’t get it. All of this is going on around us and people just act like it’s inconsequential.

Suddenly, a booming crash of thunder caused the lights to flicker from within the car. It had been raining more this fall than any other year on record in Washington DC. It was constant and relentless, and caused a great number of people a great number of nuisances. Washington, on the other hand, merely saw it as a fitting backdrop for what was occurring around him.

We have been advancing for seven-thousand years of human civilization. We’ve gone from dirt huts to skyscrapers, horseback to rocketships, and yet we still have the same issues we had seven-thousand years ago. Poverty, bigotry, corruption - it’s all the same story. It’s almost like it’s in our nature to be horrible. Then again, we’ve gotten better, sure; but at such a depressingly slow rate. We all agree suffering is a problem. What do we think? By not acknowledging that it is a problem we are going to fix it? I guarantee that every person in here would say injustice is something that should not exist in a perfect world. Why then do they so easily turn around and say there’s nothing they can do about it? That injustice is going to exist no matter what? Even if that’s true, why do people give up hope so easily?

He stood, one hand in his pocket and the other on the handle, and simply observed quietly, frustrated by the amount of evil in the world but logical enough to realize there was nothing he could do to stop it. Although this increased his frustration, he did not allow it to dominate his existence. Today, however, he couldn’t shake this longing to do something greater for the world - to reverse the system of pain and corruption.

He sighed and laughed at himself quietly. You just gotta relax a bit. You’re not the first person to let the weight of the world rest on your shoulders when it shouldn’t. Maybe one day you’ll become a detective or a politician, but until that day, just keep doing the best you can with what you have. It might be frustrating that a high school student doesn’t have much of an impact on things, but make as big of an impact as you can. That’s all you can do.

He walked forward, as more people had cleared from the car. He stood so that others might have a place to sit, but at this point in the commute he knew that no one would walk onto the car again. Eventually, two passengers remained: Washington, and a man who had fallen asleep.

To pass the time, Washington looked at himself in the reflection of the window. First standing to turn down the volume on the news, he proceeded to sit and fix the aspects of his appearance the rain had misplaced. His golden-blonde hair was slightly disheveled, but soon returned to its organized position once he ran his hands through it. He wiped the dew off from above his bright blue eyes and straightened the red tie on his school uniform so that he would look a bit more presentable - presentability being something he held in high regard.

He was all set to have a normal day, a normal senior year, and a normal high school experience - valedictorian, full ride to an ivy league school, and a sister in the FBI that would no doubt open the door for him to have a dream position as a detective or an investigator. Many of those doors closed on this very day. However, in their place, another was left gaping open.

As he sat, looking at himself in the window, a curious object caught his eye. Across the aisle, standing out from the pale blue seat on which it rested, he saw a small bundle of paper that seemed to have been left by a former passenger.

He raised one eyebrow at the sight of this. Something appeared to have been written on the paper in sloppy penmanship. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was bored and searching for something to distract him, perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed it. But once it caught his eye, Washington was too curious to remove his gaze from it.

He stood to investigate and walked closer, eventually picking up the bundle of paper to find the words, “READ ME” written upon it. Beside the bundle was a pen, which clearly was used to write on the exterior of the paper. Washington looked around the train car and noticed no one there apart from the man who had fallen asleep. Therefore, in appeasement of his curiosity, Washington unraveled the paper. To his surprise, he saw no message on the inside of it. Instead, wrapped within the loose leaf was a tiny, inconspicuous flash drive Washington picked out of the paper. He examined it, eventually finding the word, “SECRETS” written upon the back of the flash drive, written in silver ink.

Secrets, he thought in reaction to his discovery, what could that mean? Like, a person’s secrets? A group's secrets? Guess the only way to find out would be to plug it in, which is clearly what its owner wants me to do.

He looked at the paper again, double checking that there was no message upon it. Looking at the loose leaf paper, front and back, it was utterly empty, apart from the flash drive it wrapped.

It’s probably just one of those flash drives people use to hack into someone’s computer. It probably just has a virus on it.

Despite thinking this, he couldn’t manage to put the mysterious device down. He took a moment, contemplating whether or not to keep his find, and eventually sighed in defeat.

I really shouldn’t be doing this, He thought as he twirled it within his hands. But how bad could it be, really? Curiosity is going to be the death of me, but I’ll be safe about it. I got nothing better to do today anyway.

He placed the device in his pocket, feeling anxious about its contents. He sat back down next to his backpack, and examined the device for a little while longer. He became entranced by it, but it was not long before an abrupt stop broke his focus.

There was a screech from the train’s rapidly decreasing speed that broke Washington from the trance and a jerk that shook him to attention. He looked up, only to find the train came to a forced halt at a subway station not on the typical itinerary. The station was not crowded, but it was not empty. Washington had been to this stop before, but never on his ride home from school. He assumed, however, it was merely a technical malfunction, perhaps caused by the storm, that caused this abrupt halt.

But, as time passed, he realized the doors to the train were not opening.

Oh no, there’s probably something going on up front, He thought, growing concerned that he would arrive home late. I wonder if I should go tell someone.

He stood and walked up to the window, looking out at the station through the filter of tinted glass. Upon examination, however, he found the people outside were not passengers. It took a moment and a close look, but he soon realized the station was crawling with law enforcement.

What’s going on? He thought, growing nervous. Did they stop the train? There isn’t a problem, is there?

He took a moment, and saw a couple of officers were approaching the doors of the train. Washington had a tendency to be slightly paranoid, but in this instance it was for good reason. He slipped his hand into his pocket, and clutched the flash drive tightly.

Could it have something to do with this? He thought, using every ounce of his analysis abilities to reach a conclusion before the officers reached the doors of the train. No, it’s probably nothing, it’s probably just an issue with the train they needed police to solve.

He looked closer at the officers, and soon saw that their uniforms did not say Washington DCPD. They said FBI.

That can’t be right. He thought, shocked, as with every step the agents grew closer to confronting Washington. No, they say FBI! I’m not wrong! Does it have to do with this flash drive? If it did, I have no reason not to show them if they ask, right? Yeah, it isn’t worth it to keep just so I know what’s inside it. They’re probably just trying to protect me; it’s probably got some information on it from a terrorist or something. That’s it. Just in case though… He thought quickly. Washington had a talented mind and an urge to use it. Just in case, he prepared for a scenario in which it was wiser to keep the flash drive than give it over.

They’re going to search me, that’s for sure. If they find that note, considering it says ‘READ ME’, they’re going to wonder why there was no message, and they’ll assume one of us took something from the train. I need to find a way to avoid them searching me so I can make sure giving this flash drive over is the right thing to do.

He rushed to get everything prepared. The agents couldn’t see him due to the tinted windows of the car. He knew he was being childish, and he knew he was in no place to doubt the FBI, but for some, inexplicable reason, he figured he should be prepared for the possibility there was something suspicious transpiring. Perhaps he saw too many articles about the NSA and corruption within the FBI, too many stories about crooked agents from his sister, but nevertheless, he decided that if at all possible, he wanted to keep the flash drive.

The doors swung open as soon as Washington had prepared a way to test who the owner of this flash drive might be. Two agents walked in, blue coats drenched from the rain. They analyzed their surroundings quickly, and came to see Washington asleep beside the other man. The agents inspected the car for a moment, but first shook both of them awake.

“Wha-” Washington murmured, “What?”

His eyes immediately widened, as shock was plastered upon his face.

“Woah, what’s going on?” He said, backing himself up into the chair.

“It’s alright,” The agent responded, attempting to relax him as she removed her hood and smiled friendly, “We just have to search this car for a moment, you’re in no danger.”

“So, there isn’t a bomb threat or anything,” The man beside Washington asked frantically.

“No, I don’t think so. If there was they would have evacuated us first.” Washington shrugged. “My sister was in the FBI, that’s why I live out in DC. She taught me a lot about how you guys work.”

“Oh really,” The agent responded, “be careful who you tell that to, though. Okay?”

Washington laughed. “Don’t worry, I was taught to keep my mouth shut about it from birth. Regardless, is there any information you guys need to know from us, or can we keep moving?”

She laughed, saying, “Well, by the looks of it, you two probably didn’t see much.”

“Yeah, I’ve been asleep since I got on the train after school,” Washington yawned. “What happened exactly? Was there a criminal on the train or something?”

She took a moment to decide whether or not she could reveal that information, before she said, “Basically, yeah. We’re checking to make sure he didn’t leave anything dangerous behind.”

“Dangerous how?” The other man responded.

Realizing she had used a poor choice of words, she corrected herself. “No, not dangerous, as in you are in danger. Just dangerous in that he could have left something behind.”

Washington, nervous he would be searched for the flash drive, lightened up his face and said, “Wait, I did see one thing!”

He stood, and walked over to the piece of paper that read, READ ME. The agent followed, and picked up the crumpled mass of paper.

“I noticed this when I first walked in,” Washington said as she examined it. “I’m glad it’s still here. It said ‘READ ME’, and then it just said, ‘to whomever is reading this note’, or something, before it cut off. I kind of just left it there, I didn’t think it was for me.”

She looked at it with a hefty level of interest. She flipped through the back and the front, and saw the sentence, ‘TO THE READER OF THIS NOTE’ on the front before the handwriting seemed to cut off. That message was not on the piece of paper originally. Washington had written it. She smiled, saying, “Yeah, this looks to be from our guy.” She lifted her radio to her mouth as she communicated to her team, “When we jammed his signal, it looks like he turned to writing on paper before he either decided it was too long of a process to complete, or he was cornered and couldn’t continue.”

“What’d the guy do exactly?” Washington asked, as her answer would determine whether or not he would reveal the flash drive.

Even if she says that they’re hunting a serial killer or something, I can just drop the flash drive on the floor and pretend I didn’t notice it until now. She probably won’t let me know who they are investigating at first though.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you know that, we have to keep that classified.”

The other agent in the car gave her a thumbs up, as they found nothing on the scene.

“Well, considering you’re not searching us or anything, I’m guessing you already know who the guy was or caught him.” Washington deduced.

She smiled, and from this Washington knew he was correct. “I can’t let you know, sorry kid.”

“Well, if he wrote a note to someone, he probably is trying to tell someone a message. A last cry for help, maybe. He wants someone to know something, so it can’t be a serial killer or a terrorist, most likely. He has a message for the people, for average citizens. I’m also guessing he was on the train today if that letter is still there, so this must be a fresh arrest.”

She shook her head, impressed at the accuracy of his analysis, before she said, “You have a good eye. Maybe you should join the force one day.”

Washington laughed, saying, “I’ve always been torn between detective work and politics. So, am I wrong to guess there is, like, some whistleblower or something then? Someone who is trying to share some information you guys can’t have revealed to the public?”

Her eyes widened. Washington had more information to make such a deduction than she realized, but nevertheless she was rightfully impressed at his sharpness.

She smiled and nodded saying, “Like I said, consider detective work one day.”

Got it. Washington thought, appearing inconspicuous while simultaneously using his intuition to paint an image of the situation around him. This flash drive must have been made by a hacker or something. He paused, before reaching into his back pocket to retrieve the device in order for the detective to see it. However, as his hand made contact with the flash drive, he was overcome by doubt.

Do I give it to them? What reason do I have to keep it, after all? It probably just has some random government files. It’s none of my business.

He was sliding the flash drive out of his pocket, and if another moment had passed before he decided against this, the chain reaction wouldn’t have been initiated. However, another moment did not pass before a phone’s ring broke through the silence of the train car. The friendly agent jolted her head to her pocket. Washington’s hand froze as she read the number of the person calling her.

“Okay, good, it’s the senator,” She murmured to herself. She then turned to her partner and said, “Hey, get those doors closed for a minute.” She turned off her radio, and moved to a corner of the train car to have a hushed conversation. Washington turned and pretended not to notice what was being said, as the man who had fallen asleep soon walked out of the car. Washington bent over and pretended to fiddle with his backpack. Back facing the agent on the phone, he grew ever more suspicious about what was the right thing to do.

“Hello, sir,” the agent said, quietly. “No, nothing was left behind, we just finished searching the train car he was on.” She paused as he spoke. “No, no. They have nothing to charge you for, don’t worry. No evidence was left behind against you or your associates.” Another pause. “We’ll get on that as soon as possible. Okay, I’ll talk to you later today.”

Throughout the conversation, she was looking over her shoulder to make sure she was not being listened to. However, the scraps of the conversation Washington heard convinced him something suspicious was transpiring.

Oh no, He thought, upset he couldn’t bring himself to hand over the flash drive. Is she getting orders from a senator? That’s probably what’s on this thing then. Whoever is on the other end of the phone, he most likely did something he shouldn’t have. And the guy they arrested, he was just trying to bring that to light. I’ve heard of things like this happening… It just isn’t fair for him to be arrested when someone else should be in his place.

He grunted, and begrudgingly made a decision.

I just can’t bring myself to do it. What if this senator is working with an enemy country or responsible for assault? I just can’t bring myself to hand it over knowing that whoever is on the other end of that phone call deserves to be arrested.

All of his life Washington found himself at great inconvenience due to his strong urge for justice. This, as well, was such a circumstance.

I’ll check it out at home, and then turn it over to a, hopefully, less corrupt official. That’s the right thing to do. He took a moment, reconsidering his conclusion, then nodded. Yeah, that’s the right thing to do.

He lifted his backpack, wrapped it around his shoulder, and waved at the agent as she spoke to the senator on the phone. Washington kept moving, eventually exiting the train and asking one of the agents,

“I assume the train isn’t going to finish its usual travel schedule, huh?”

The agent he spoke to laughed, saying, “Technically it is, but it won’t arrive there on time. We could provide you an escort home though. Where do you live?”

Convincingly, Washington protested. “No, no, that’s alright. Don’t worry about it. I’m not too far away from home.”

“You wanna walk in the thunderstorm?” The man raised his eyebrow, clearly confused at Washington’s decision not to accept assistance.

“Oh no, no,” Washington lied, “I already called a cab to drive me home from my phone. Don’t worry. I would take you up on your offer, but I paid online.”

Nodding, thinking he understood the situation, the officer said, “Alright, thank you for your patients. We can reimburse you the money if you want?”

Washington grinned, attempting to flash enough charm at the agent to get by, saying, “Oh, trust me, I appreciate the work you guys do more than you know. Save the money and buy something for yourself. Consider it a thank you for catching whoever you caught, I insist.”

The man smiled, falling victim to Washington’s devilish allure as he responded, “Well… Thank you so much, I suppose! It’s rare to get appreciation from a citizen. Means a lot, actually.”

“Well, keep up the good work then!” Washington walked up, popped open an umbrella that he kept in his backpack, and began to venture through the storm. A handful of agents waved at him on his way out.

How dare they. He thought, distancing himself from the subway station. They’re job is to withhold justice. And they choose to protect someone who should be arrested? Corruption, no matter how small, should never be tolerated. I’m sure I can report this to someone who will take appropriate action.

Chapter 2

He kept moving, the city coated in fog as he moved through it. Cars rushed by, greenery pulsed alongside the wind, and politicians and journalists scampered around the streets. Thanks to his school uniform, which consisted of a red tie and black suit, he almost seemed to blend in with these persons of influence.

It was a long walk home, passing by many monuments and marble walkways. Everything in the capital city was made to look pristine. Rather than cement, the city opted for granite or marble. Rather than a chain link fence, black steel would be used. Everything was very attractive, very clean. However, due to the thick blanket of overcast above, everything in the city had grey undertones and monotone coloration. All things, oddly enough, apart from Washington’s golden-blonde hair, which stood out from the dusky backdrop he traveled through.

Eventually, however, Washington arrived home. Closing his umbrella and setting it beside the door, he had managed to avoid getting too drenched from the rain. He immediately straightened his hair, as he clicked the door shut behind him. As soon as the noise of someone entering echoed through the house, his mother entered the living room from the kitchen.

“Washington, is that you?” She called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he answered, “Sorry I’m late.”

“What took you so long, honey!” She exclaimed, turning the corner to see a partially-soaked Washington.

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Washington said, scratching the back of his neck and laughing.

“Well, I’ve got nothing but time.”

He sighed. “Well, I mean… Basically, the train was stopped because the police were searching for something on it.”

“Not anything dangerous I hope.”

“No, no, I’m not sure what it was. They just stopped the train and did a search.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t really tell you why.”

A quizzical look formed on his mother’s face, before she said, “Well, hopefully they’ll keep everyone safe.”

Washington laughed at the irony. “Yeah, hopefully.” He paused. “Alright, well, I should get started on my homework then. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

His mom grinned. “Alright honey, sounds good!”

Excited to investigate the contents of the flash drive, having an idea of what was inside, Washington jotted up to his bedroom with a spring in his step. Once he reached his room, he shut the door, locked it, turned off all the lights, and walked over to his computer, which was resting on a black, wooden table.

Alright, he thought, let’s take a look at what you have to hide. I’ll start running my virus detection software, just in case. I should be safe though.

He plugged in the device, and soon the computer went through the process of making sure everything was safe to access. He anxiously waited, as he imagined the plethora of possibilities before him.

I can’t believe what I’m doing. This is way out of my league but… I have to do the right thing. How could I not?

It took a moment, but eventually the computer explained that it had received a handful of documents from the flash drive. No viruses or threats, just a single document - a single document which was very large.

Washington hummed. His face was blanketed by the pale light that his screen emanated. It caused his eyes to glow, and his gleeful smile along with it.

I really hope this doesn’t come back to bite me, Washington thought.

That smile did not last. For, as soon as he opened up the document, he was immediately struck by a wave of bewilderment. What he found was far from what he was expecting. A large file was opened, with pages upon pages of text and notes. After his initial shock, Washington began to read what was presented to him.

Query: 

Washington Day, seventeen-year-old valedictorian and well-liked genius, despises a world he believes to be rotten. His desperate urge to solve society’s problems is useless, however, until a mysterious flashdrive containing thousands of government secrets falls into his lap. With this information in his hand, he utilizes his talented mind - meticulously designing a plan to disrupt the monotonous social order. As he methodically releases this dangerous information, he is soon labeled as two things: an inspirational leader and a dangerous criminal. The public does not know Washington’s identity, but what they do know is that someone, somewhere is planning to face off against the United States government. From the view of the public, no mind within the capitol is able to outwit this dangerous criminal. That is, of course, until another genius begins a crusade of his own: Themis. An anonymous, unseen detective operating under an alias, Themis tosses Washington into a battle of wit and strategy, as he attempts to capture, counter, and toy with this young revolutionary with every secret Washington releases. If Washington defeats Themis, not only would the world lose the greatest detective it has ever known, but it would gain a young leader skilled enough to have absolute power. If Themis outsmarts Washington, however, the loss of his life would leave nothing standing in the way of a revolution bringing forth chaos.

An Intellectual’s Game is an 87,000-word mystery, psychological thriller novel, the first in a trilogy, with a plethora of twists and clever plot points designed to leave the reader guessing throughout the course of the piece. It reminds its audience of the many issues we have in modern government: corruption, secrecy, hacking, and a stream of negative events that seems endless, to name a few. It calls to mind the frustration readers feel as they witness everyday life; and paints for them a character with a similar frustration and, unlike most readers, the ability to mend it. It questions, however: What is the cost of using a pure talent to act, when hate is the cause of the action?

Every morning for three years I’d walk to my bathroom, prop myself in front of the mirror, and examine the same, hideous face that would appear in the glass. Jesus Christ, was I cursed. It didn’t matter what anyone said about my appearance, it didn't matter that there were some whose attractiveness was more thoroughly damned than mine - I still had that face. Blemishes sprinkled across every plain and crevice, pores gaping like water filters on my skin, hair stringy, wispy, weak. I despised it - I despised myself.

Well, they’re not as bright as me, that’s for sure, I’d rationalize upon seeing the myriad of women, older and more attractive than myself. Not half as interesting. Not half as kind.

Sure, I had shortcomings in one area, but in others, that’s where I found my comfort. That’s where I found my escape. Yet, the shattering self-consciousness never ceased to stifle my short-lived comfort. For every affirmation I gave myself, the world around me hurled eleven condemnations. Therefore, it was required of me to find a more permanent solace.

I’m going to the gym. Every day. I’m eating right, with no exceptions. Then I’ll look like them.

And so it went. I worked, and worked. I studied and attempted to bolster compassion. I could not just be decent. I could not be worse. I had to be better. Not in every way, that was impossible. But in my ways, the few traits I chose to consider pillars of my personality, in these places I had to be the best.

I tried a variety of activities, hunting for the existence where someone would call me perfect, amazing, fantastic. Time and time again, my choices led to failure. I turned and turned, spinning myself into circles of options until I saw the area with which I could stroke my ego: theater. That’s where I belonged. There, I could be the best.

Not a student held a candle to me. I was Audrey Hepburn incarnate. Audition after audition, I took the stage. I got the roles. And so it went, on and on through my youth.

My routine followed, but a day came when I completed my hourly examination of my appearance and, against all instinct, I smiled. The blemishes were gone, but what remained of my work was present. My body was toned, my acting awards hung on shelves throughout my parents’ house. I was a queen. I was special. My insecurities, my shortcomings, they pushed me to find the places where I could craft myself into something extraordinary. Something outstanding.

I arrived at college, ego larger than the campus, and examined my competition.

They’re about to see one of the most impressive freshmen in Chapel Hill history, I thought while entering the auditorium - dressed professionally, yet just provocative enough so that a handful of audience members would subconsciously view me as superior thanks to my body's appeal.

I charged onto the stage with full force. When the call-backs came, I was so filled with self-confidence that I almost couldn't read the names of the elite chosen to perform. Despite this, I realized my own was absent.

At that moment I discovered the nature of my uniqueness - the essence of my fantastical self-image. All my life I had an urge to be something. To be special. And I followed that urge to where I would feel it. If I was born as an Einstein rather than a Hepburn, I would have pursued the maths club, and found that I was special there. If I was a Steinbeck, I would have picked up a pen; and felt that who I was, was outstanding. Perhaps if I was a John Paul, I would have become a nun. And I would have been the world’s most unique nun. Yet, in truth, in none of these areas could I ever be special. I could only fool myself into believing I might be. And in most circumstance, I could fool myself so well that I genuinely, truly, believed it.

I turned my eye from the call back sheet, and ignored it. Soon after, I searched for the area where I would once again be special - purposefully, deliberately remaining ignorant of the fact that there were billions of individuals more amazing than myself.

Why do I ignore it? Because, somewhere in me, I need to be the best. If I live my life in selectively chosen pockets of the world, as we all do, I will be. I’ll never feel like I did when I looked in that mirror. I would never, not once, not for an instant, feel like I was anything but extraordinary.

Something rather odd happened today. Nicole and I went fishing together for our last day at the cabin, but when we got to the deck, there was this guy who randomly swatted at Nicole when we walked by him, and I had to shove him in the lake. It must have been drugs, because his swat literally pierced her skin. To make matters worse, she came down with a fever later in the night, and she had to go lie down. I think she just got up now, though, I can hear her walking upstairs. I just hope she's alright.

The sweat of his brow as he strains over every word, meticulously;

Heroes, villains, adventure, and love;

Earthly emotions: pain, suffering, and despair.

Prose drip from his brain onto the page;

Rising from the paper come feeble attempts at this tool used to explain our condition;

Onto the world these struggling attempts are cast;

Sending out cries for purpose and hope for success.

Even the dream, what we desire most, is only as realistic as what danced in your head as you slept last night - both are so easily forgotten. 

“I can’t believe what’s happened to this country,” a high school boy expressed to his friends. “We have a black man as our president, we have a woman running to be the next president, and worst of all, you can’t walk down the street nowadays without seeing two men,” he paused and made a face of disgust, “holding hands, or kissing, or some other pathetic thing.”

The boy, surrounded by four equally dull friends, directed his attention to a student nearby.

“I mean, just look at him,” he said, analyzing the student’s differences with ignorant scrutiny, “it sends shivers down your spine.” He shook his head before continuing. “Someone has to teach them that it ain’t natural for someone to live like that. Be rebellious as ya like, but being with another fella is too far.”

“Yeah, but what should we do,” a friend of his asked as he rudely picked at his teeth.

The leader of this group turned to them, and grinned.

The innocent teenager had just finished with his volleyball practice, when he discovered the five bigots waiting for him at his car. He saw them, knew their prejudices, and braced himself for something terrible.

They immediately charged the student with a disgusting barrage of strikes that broke both bone and heart.

The leader turned to the victim, lifting his bloodied face, as he said, “are you afraid, boy?”

He grew silent with an expression as solid as stone when he responded, “not as afraid as you.”