I saw a fire in you, 

so warm and comforting,

which is why I got close.

I miss it the most. 

We drew near the fire

every time we felt cold,

but we forgot one thing:

this fire... it's burning. 

With each step closer,

we burned ourselves more. 

The closer to this fire,

the farther from our core. 

I don't see the reason;

I can't remember why;

I don't know the message

behind you and I. 

What were you meant to teach me?

Did I teach you at all?

What did we make together?

Why does your heart still call? 

I wonder if I'll see you;

if I'm meant to, afterall. 

What I would give to feel you;

to love your perfect soul. 

You speak of your fears,

from smallest to big.

You're fighting your tears, 

the deeper you dig.

You tell me your dreams, 

the many that you have,

but your eyes are so dim;

you don't believe in yourself enough.

I see your inside—

the constant battles you face—

some with others,

but mostly with yourself. 

You turn your heavy eyes

from the sky to me, 

and what I see in them 

is a man who never got to be.

Never got to be loved

in the way he deserves;

was never observed, 

quite like he observes.

I lay a gentle kiss

that I hope would fix it all.

A momentary bliss

to ease your constant fall. 

I trace my fingers on you,

to try to spread my love

all across your body,

from below to above.

I notice the tears building;

your eyes are now so deep.

You're lost under your feelings—

we take the risk and leap.

We pull each other closer, 

but it's never close enough. 

Our bodies are taking over

to drown all of what's tough. 

Your hands surround my waist,

my hands take hold of you.

You lean to get a taste;

this is a dance for two.

I see the fears you had

are no longer taking over. 

You're not upset or sad, 

for the moment you're a lover. 

Your eyes are now filled

with pleasure, instead. 

The demons are not killed

but they're not being fed.

I listen to your whispers,

of what you want, and need, and feel.

I want to make it happen,

another layer of you to peel. 

The whispers are getting louder—

you're passionate and warm.

We give up all our power,

into each other's form.

Your lips are burning,

our worlds are turning.

Your hands against me,

we both are yearning. 

You grab me closer, 

you turn me around, 

you gather my hair 

and hold it in your hand. 

You're a different man,

no longer worried or scared. 

This is how I can 

show you that I cared.

I see the pleasure on your face,

and I know that I'm the cause.

I want to satisfy you in all the ways,

and love all of your flaws. 

When I hear your moaning, 

and I know it's because of me,

I see our bodies flowing, 

we're both so young and free. 

I just want to please you,

so you can know your worth,

so you can stop feeling 

like the man who never was. 

I claim to need

some time alone,

but once I get it, 

I can't go on.

I think I know 

just what I need,

but truth be told:

I can't find me.

My heart runs wild

with what I'd do,

if I was given 

the chance to.

But when the chance

is given after all,

I back out 

and become so small.

So what I'd like to know

is how to do it all. 

You walk around 

with your perfect smile,

not knowing the effect 

you have on me.

I stare at your every move, 

wishing you were 

close to me.

I think and dream 

of you all day,

and at night I want to

run your way.

How did you cast 

yourself on me?

Now all I think about

is what would be. 

The movement of your hands, 

so manly and desirable.

The sparkle in your eyes,

so deep and unbreakable.

Please come closer;

I want you to myself. 

But you'll never know

this is happening in my head,

unless I find out 

it's happening in yours as well.

Everyday

might bring to you

whatever it is you need.

Today

can be the day that you

live out what you read.

Start

each day with this belief,

and see what follows up.

Just be wholehearted 

in your pursuits;

half the journey 

consists of showing up.

Perhaps tonight

you'll find your

love,

or maybe you will see

the most beautiful

sunset of all your life,

just please go ahead and be.

It's possible

that today will hold

your only wish 

and hope,

or if it doesn't go

quite so,

until tomorrow

do just cope.

None of us are strangers, 

we just haven't seen that face 

before.

None of us are angels,

we just haven't committed that sin

before.

None of us need love,

we just haven't felt that rush

before.

None of us are lonely,

we just haven't come along

before.

Nobody is curious,

they just haven't explored with me before.

The Hardest Worker's Side:

Everybody has their gaze locked upward at the sky. The massive objects are making their way down faster than ever, and we know that there is no time to escape their wrath. In a few seconds, a lot of us are going to be dead. The enemy in the sky has no mercy. Misery is about to rain upon us, and there is simply no time to escape.

During the last attack, I was lucky enough to have been underground, and lucky enough to have survived, but only to experience yet another attack. There is no surviving this time. The last attack was by a single object, and this time there are three. One of the three is gigantic, and the other two, though huge as well, are smaller than the one.

I take one last look around me— my people are terrified and frozen. Field workers drop their work and stare up in despair; soldiers, our protectors, cannot protect us anymore. This is it.

Although these attacks from upwards have been common enough to be a prominent part of my people’s history, one can never get used to the inevitable. The day it happens to your colony is still as shocking as if it was the very first attack. Because of these attacks, my people have found a way to develop underground. We try to spend all of our time down there, because of this very reason. As much as we try, we must still go up to forage and get the materials needed to sustain ourselves. Oh, how dreadful it is that we can’t find everything we need to survive underground, where we are safe.

I stand here hopeless. What’s the point of spending our entire lives building, working, honoring our colony if this is what fate delivers? Are we cursed? My whole life has been passed in toil— which is what I love to do. My brethren and I spend almost all hours of the day building and bettering our home, for the people, and for our Queen, bless her soul. She is our reason; she is our hope. We take care of her and she takes care of us. I love my home. The home that is about to become no more. Destroyed. The objects are here now. I close my eyes one last time; goodbye.

Leo's Side:

“Hurry guys!” my dad yells at my baby sister, but I know it’s mostly at me. “Dinner is ready, and we don’t want to upset Mommy now, do we?” he whispers smugly. I hate him. He always talks about my mom in this snobby, I’m-better-than-everyone type of way. Well, I’ll tell you something, he’s not better than anyone! My mom says I’m more of a man than he’ll ever be. I hate the way he treats my mom, and I know she does too but she always acts nice towards him. Why?!

I know the only reason he takes us to the park is to pretend that he likes spending time with my baby sister and I. Look at him, walking in disgust like he’s so upset to go home to Mom’s dinner. I feel like I might just lose it tonight.

I look downwards at the tiny hand I’m holding— Luna can barely keep up with the speed he’s having us walk in. Psychopath! My mom is really trying to make it work; the only reason she cares so much about these damned dinners is because she’s trying to act like we’re a normal family. Which we aren’t anymore, because of him.

I must’ve clenched my hand too tightly since my baby sister lets out a loud whine, which immediately triggers my dad to stop his psychotic fast pace and charge towards me. “For goodness sake, Leo, be careful! Luna, honey, it’s okay, it’s okay, come to the car.” I am at fault again.

“Careful, Leo! Stop that, Leo! Enough, Leo!” I don’t know how much more I can take. I hate him. He yanks Luna’s hand out of mine and takes my place beside her. I’m now walking next to the two, staring down on the ground, like an outsider, which I always am.

“Sowwy,” I hear Luna’s tiny, low voice. This isn’t her fault; she shouldn’t be the one apologizing to me, it’s this jack—

“Aw Munchkin, you didn’t do anything. I should be the one saying sorry. Sorry Leo, didn’t mean to yell at ya’ there. I just really don’t want to be late today,” my dad interrupts. His apology is not accepted. This isn’t the first time I hear it— it’s completely empty. I can feel the anger rushing from my stomach to my head, and I know my face is turning red right now. My ears feel hot! I want to scream, hit, rip, yell—

“It’s okay,” is all I can muster. We’re by the car now, and I am dreading the drive home next to him.

Orion's Side:

“Hurry guys!” I hate yelling at them, but that’s the only way I can get my point across nowadays. I’ve become a silent ghost in my own family. In my own home. I don’t want to sound so harsh with my little ones: “dinner is ready, and we don’t want to upset Mommy now, do we?” I add in hopes of softening the tense mood I just caused. I see my son’s face— I’m certain he’s cursing my name right now.

I don’t know where we went wrong as a family. Things used to be great! I was the happiest man on earth when my little ones were born. But now… now Leo hates me, and Luna will soon grow out of the Daddy-is-my-hero phase that Leo, too, was once a part of. I can feel my life crashing to shambles every single day. Even after spending a day at the park with the ones I love, I can’t shake this feeling. I need to get my life and family back together! I feel like a failure of a man. I try so hard to not let my children and wife see this, but I’m afraid they already have.

I just want to get to this dinner on time, to give my wife one less thing to feel bad about.

“Are you even trying?” I can imagine her sad shaky voice if we were to show up late to the dinner she prepared. My thoughts are interrupted by Luna’s wail.

I look back— Leo must’ve pulled her too hard without realizing it. I rush my way back to them: “for goodness sake, Leo, be careful! Luna, honey, it’s okay, it’s okay, come to the car,” I try to comfort my little girl. It seems like I always manage to look like the bad guy. What’s wrong with me?

Maybe I should get professional help. I never spoke about my affair with anyone else besides my wife, who hates speaking about it. I mean, I don’t blame her. I don’t think I’m strong enough to have stayed with her, if she cheated on me instead. She’s so much stronger than me, and I feel more like a coward with every goddamn passing day. I imagine this is why so many marriages end with divorce, especially if affairs are involved. This guilty feeling follows me everywhere I go, and I sometimes want to start fresh. Nothing to owe anybody; a clean sleight.

“Sowwy,” sweet Luna’s precious voice interrupts my dark thoughts yet again, and now the reason for why I stay in this situation is clear as day. My little angel is so brave— she takes the blame instead of me for raising my voice at Leo. She is her mother’s daughter: brave! Now is time to be a better man, for Luna, for Leo, for my family. I use my calmest voice:

“Aw Munchkin, you didn’t do anything. I should be the one saying sorry. Sorry Leo, didn’t mean to yell at ya’ there. I just really don’t want to be late today.” I hope this eases the two of them.

“It’s okay,” my gentle boy replies. We are by the car now. I look down at my watch to see that we are already late.

Luna's Side:

“Hurry guys!” Daddy shouts at my brother and I as he runs to our car. “Dinner is ready, and we don’t want to upset Mommy now, do we?” he says in a lower voice. I don’t think Mommy is upset when we’re late for dinner, so I don’t know why Daddy said that. Mommy and Daddy are usually nice to each other, except for sometimes. Sometimes Daddy yells when Mommy cries, but they always work it out.

My brother strengthens his grip around my hand, and begins walking faster towards the car. We had just spent a fun day at the park, and Leo, my older brother, even taught me how to play catch. We played it for hours today in the grass. It’s time to go now, though, so we don’t miss Mommy’s dinner at home. Everyday we have dinner as a family, and I love Mommy’s cooking! She is the best chef in the world. She asks everybody what they want, and tries her hardest to prepare it all for us. I love my family, and my family loves me.

As we walk through the park’s grass to our car on the other side of the street, I look around at all the beauty. The sun is beginning to set, and the sky is a calming twinkly orange. I love this time of day. I wonder what Mommy has in store for tonight’s dinner. I really can’t wait to see. I look up and I can tell my brother is upset.

I stop in place and begin to cry.

“For goodness sake, Leo, be careful! Luna, honey, it’s okay, it’s okay, come to the car,” Daddy wipes my tears and holds my hand instead of Leo. Daddy thinks I’m crying because Leo hurt me, but Leo never hurts me. What Daddy and Leo didn’t notice is that we had just stepped on what must’ve been a million little ants. We just killed. I feel so sad that we caused this. I can’t stop crying. I remember Mommy teaching me that ants are some of the hardest workers, and that they do everything for their family and their Queen. Mommy is my Queen, and I do everything for her and my family too. I feel much worse after realizing that my family just killed another family.

“Sowwy,” I say to the little creatures, looking down. Leo gives me a look with the tiniest smile, and is about to speak when Daddy says instead of him:

“Aw Munchkin, you didn’t do anything. I should be the one saying sorry. Sorry Leo, didn’t mean to yell at ya’ there. I just really don’t want to be late today.”

“It’s okay,” my brother says. How can they be so ignorant about what we have just done, and act like everything is about them? Would they stop running and thinking about themselves for just one second?

We finally reach the street, and are now closer to the car. I’m so excited about dinner!

Something about satisfaction

that is so empty and cold—

the ultimate dead end.

Here is where boredom takes

disguise

as fascination;

as passion.

Opposites are too often

confused

as one in the same—

the ultimate irony.

As you sit there

surrounded by people

but alone,

and as I do the same,

would we feel the familiar loneliness

if we were together instead?

Being apart is in itself 

a reason to long for

togetherness.

Would the drive be lost

if togetherness was reached?

Would time perform its trick

and make us feel alone

once more?

So as we sit here alone

with everyone else,

let us go on wondering

what it'd be like for us.

Chapter 1

“The only people who know the answers are dead,” said my partner. “And those who are living… all they’re trying to do is hide the answers. From others, from themselves, from Earth who soaks up all the footprints ever pressed upon her. Those who live, live in a hiding of some sort. But if you look at them in just the right light, with just the right squint, they’ll let you in. You become a welcomed visitor. Now you’re both hiding the same thing. The true art is when you’re strong enough to do the right thing if the thing they’re hiding is poisonous.”

“And what’s the right thing?” I asked with my gaze locked on him as he was smoking a cigarette, reclined in his office chair with his feet on the desk. He took another puff before he answered.

“Well… the right thing to do with any poison of course, find the antidote and move the hell on.” Gene had a lot of moments like these— artistically genius strokes interrupted by abrupt reality checks. I’m not sure if he did it on purpose, to stop himself from wandering too deep into his own mind, or maybe from sharing too much of it with me. Or maybe these artistic strokes of genius were limited by his asshole-type character. I’ve worked for this asshole for almost three years, and I can say something many others probably can’t about him: he’s got a golden heart.

It was already sunset when my partner and I were about to close up the office. Gene put out his cigarette, and I put on my hat when we heard five loud and fast knocks on the door I had already locked. I looked at Gene. He lit up a new cigarette, slowly sat back down, and signaled me with a relaxed turn of an eye to open the door. I put my hat back on the coat hanger, and opened the door.

“Mr. Grobsprig?” our visitor cried.

“Present,” my partner said from his chair. “Please, call me Gene.” The visitor let herself in right past me, and made her way to the chair in front of Gene’s desk, making clucking sounds with each step of her high heels. She had on tight clothes: a black skirt down to her knees and a matching blazer over her button-up velvet colored blouse. I locked the door once again, as I always do when we’re with a client. “Fredrick, won’t you get this pretty young lady a glass of water?” said Gene, with half a smile.

“Coming right up,” I answered firmly. I placed the glass in front of the girl, and took my place in the desk beside Gene’s.

“How can I be of service, ma’am?” Gene asked. He took a long puff of his cigarette and put it out in the ashtray. While letting out the smoke he folded his fingers into each other on his stomach, and leaned back in his chair. His eyebrows were furrowed as they were most of the time.

“My father’s dead,” the curly golden-haired girl exclaimed with a slight southern accent. Her cheeks were flushed as if she’d been running, but the rest of her face was as pale as the snow on the ground outside. She took up a small portion of the chair she was sitting on. Her back was straight, and her hands were laying in each other on her knees with their palms facing up. “He’s dead,” she repeated as she broke down into tears.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Dear. Take your time,” Gene said in a comforting voice as he handed her the tissue box. The girl took a tissue and blew her nose.

“Th...thank you,” she said, gazing at Gene. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was under the spell of Gene’s deep brown eyes. This is the experience for almost all women he exchanges a few words with, young or old. I was never sure if his charm with women was conscious on his part— a way to get into what they're hiding. Or if it was part of his uncontrolled personality. This part was a minor one, and questionable too, but I had hope that he had unplanned and un-calculated parts to himself. He seems in control of his entire self: every word, every gesture, thought, action. But there were moments like these where I thought I’m perhaps giving him too much credit, and that maybe some of what he does is just a part of who he is. Who he is when he’s alone, with no one around. I guess I’ll never know. “It happened this morning. I found his body lying on the ground inside the horse stable. We live on a ranch, you see. Father owns horses and sells them. He…"

“Let’s take this one step at a time, Ms…?” Gene cut her off with a firm, yet comforting voice.

“I’m so sorry. Ms. Ludwig— Sophia Ludwig. I’m Sophie. You have to forgive me, I’m not quite in my right mind,” she stumbled on her words.

“Oh you’ve got nothing to apologize for, Sophie. Beautiful name, from the Greek word for wisdom. Just right for you, I’m sure,” Gene managed to put a slight smile on Sophie’s lips. “Now, what’s your father’s name?” he continued.

“Benjamin Ludwig. Oh, I can’t believe he’s gone!” she cried loudly.

“There, there,” Gene offered her another tissue. She took one more and wiped her tears from both eyes. Black make-up was now smeared on her red cheeks, and her bright amber eyes were glossier than gems. “I don’t want this to be harder on you than it has to,” Gene told her. “Give me your address, and Frederick and I will pay you a visit tomorrow morning. Take the rest of the night to catch your breath and rest up."

“O…okay Mr. Grobsprig,” she got up, threw a quick glance and nod my way as a goodbye, and made her way to the door. She unlocked the door with the key that I left in the lock, and opened the door.

“Please… call me Gene,” my partner said a bit louder than usual.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for agreeing to help me, gentlemen,” she said before she left and shut the door behind her.

“She didn’t drink the water. Let’s get out of here, Fredrick,” he said. I had long given up on asking Gene why he said the things he said. Or what the things he said had to do with each other. His explanations caused more confusion than clarification. I figured it was better for me to wait and see, rather than get flustered in trying to understand Gene. No one understood Gene. And taking on the task of doing so left me with more questions than I had started with. This is precisely why I didn’t mention to Gene that Sophie forgot to give us her address. We closed up the office, and went our separate ways.

Chapter 2

It was nine in the morning when Gene pulled up in front of my house in his black Audi. He wasn’t the flashy type of person, but his lifestyle sure was. As a handler of private murder cases, Gene made a comfortable living for himself, to say the least. He worked parallel to the police, never with them. He once told me that police investigations are comparable to a bunch of children playing in a sandbox. I didn’t quite understand the metaphor. What was clear was that Gene didn’t do police, and tried to keep his work as hidden from them as possible. As Gene’s partner, I made a comfortable living for myself as well. My job description was: I did anything Gene asked of me, and putting that into a list of descriptions would be either impossible or never-ending. The list would range from fetching him a cup of coffee to setting fire to a car… and a house… and a doctor’s office once. That would be too long of a story to tell— perhaps another time. I sat in the passenger’s seat. “Morning,” I said calmly.

“Morning dear Fredrick! Let us be on our way,” Gene replied cheerfully.

“Gene, Sophie didn’t leave her address last night,” I mentioned when I realized Gene was doing what he did way too often: assume I know what’s going on in his head.

“Oh I don’t need that. I know just who she is— she told me enough. Her father, Benjamin Ludwig: a wealthy ranch owner who makes a living off of selling highly-priced horses. Probably the kind other wealthy fathers buy for their daughters’ 12th birthdays, you know?” he let out a loud laugh.

“You know Benjamin?” I asked.

“I know all there’s to know about him. Come on now, Fredrick. Haven’t you worked enough years with me to know this for yourself by now? Her attire and grooming weren't those of a poor or average girl, were they now?"

“How do you put so much faith in a detail that could just be a misunderstanding? What if she borrowed her clothes from someone, or what if those are the only nice ones she has?"

“This is why I like to have you around. Always charming! You think a girl who just lost her father would bother borrowing clothes on that same day? Or give a damn about putting on her nicest ones to go report his unanswered death? You see, Frederick, faith is what makes details valuable. Otherwise, they’re just pieces of information floating in the large sea of meaningless, wandering data. Without ever finding the glue that sticks it all together. You must have faith, Freddy!” This was another one of the moments where Gene’s metaphors went right over my head. So I let it go. After all, I’m sure he was right. Gene was always right.

“Very well,” I said in defeat, “how do you know where their house is?”

“Well, from her flushed complexion it’s obvious that she’d been running to our office. She was trying to make it on time before we closed at eight o’clock, you see? She wasn’t too flushed, and wasn’t panting too harshly, and also didn’t drink the water you set right in front of her. It’s impractical for someone who ran for long to ignore a cup of water right in front of them— a biological instinct, really. Get the picture?"

“Far from it, Gene,” I answered, shaking my head.

“Since she wasn’t running for very long, something tells me she began running from the bus stop two streets down— the one across from the barber shop. She couldn’t have came from home since she said they live on a ranch, and there are no ranches around here close enough for a girl to run her way to the office from. And do I need to tell you how I know she still lives at home with her father? Or did you, too, notice the absence of a ring on her finger? Hands soft enough to never have worked a day in their lives. Oh, I’m kidding Frederick, I don’t doubt you to that extent. Anyways, I didn’t hear a car pull up when she came, did you? And the only bus that drops off at that stop around eight is #87, the one going from north to south of Georgia, and from south to north, all day. Its last stop is from south to north, two streets down our office. The bus little Ms. Sophie took to us last night. And did you hear that accent? Undoubtedly southern. Now we gotta’ drive down south and find Ludwig’s ranch. Shouldn’t be too much of a challenge, should it now dear Freddy?"

“I’ll put my faith in you, Gene,” I said with slight mockery to his previous spillage about faith.

“That’s the spirit!” he exclaimed, evidently unbothered. I thought of one last thing.

“If the bus she came with was the last one of the day taking that route, how did she get back home at night, after she left us? Did she not plan a return trip?"