She ran, her feet slamming on the ground, as tears trickled out of her eyes, leaving a trail to be followed easily. Yet, she did not care. She knew the bestias were coming from the whispers in her ears, and had already exepted her death.

She was running only to bring them away from her village, and in the end, it worked. In the end of her life, at least for a moment.

My boot slips on the myriad of small rocks that litter the path and I freeze, my heart pounding. A dislodged pebble rolls to the edge of the path - and the edge of the cliff. Teetering for a moment, it surrenders to gravity and disappears. I hear it crashing into bushes and bouncing off of rocks for what seems like forever.

It is a long time before I move again.

...I know my true value. Yes, I am a worthless person: I can’t benefit anyone, I can’t make my parents happy, I can’t make a lot of money, I’m always upset, I have almost no friends, so my value is zero!

At that moment, a scientist appeared next to me and said to me:

No, your value is great! Your price is very high: all your body parts cost over a million dollars! Here is your price! If you want, sell your body to me ...

At this point I was in a weird situation and I was in shock.

At that moment my mother came to me and hugged me and said:

Don't be upset, son! Your price is not zero as you think! Your price is not even a million dollars, as this scientist said! Your value to me is boundless, son! I love you...

***

For some reason, tears came to my eyes ...

Dear friend,

My throat- etching for the taste of lukewarm water, or at least just water- drinkable, potable, any kind. My head- searching and searching through the pile of scattered files, down the memory lane, looking out for that one thought that has not been visited, that one hope of saving me from boredom- boredom of imagining the same scenario again and again and again. And my all too slender body- longing for an amiable outfit, a treat to my eyes when I look at myself in the mirror- well ‘if’ I ever look...... And lastly, my hair- itching for that new updo, that new hairstyle saved up in my bookmarks bar, never to be viewed again.

Why am I telling you this? Because I have locked up inside myself, that one lasting wish. That wish which can easily replace almost all of the pitiable and comparably insignificant list of wishes. Oh how I long to see the world the way it was- calm, peaceful and beautiful- save for the constant wars that our countries are under! Oh how I long to get out of my house or rather have a small peep of the outside world while I....I convulse and convince myself not to loose hope. I make up a thousand conspiracy theories on the possibility of how the world will end. And all of this- these hours I spend looking at the ceiling - brings me to one and only one possibility on the dillema of the world ending- “The End of Humanity.” Now you must be laughing at the silliness of my words. Well its true- the end of our humanity means the end of the world! And that, my dear, may come way too soon. Until then, let’s say, I am stuck down here...my throat etching for lukewarm water, my heart thumping for that one possibility and my hands praying for its end!

Until then, my friend, goodbye. Hope to meet you very soon enough.

Goodbye.

Yours truly

The ice cracks when my feet hit the slippery surface of the river. The silence embraces me, but I keep on walking.

I must cross the river.

They are everywhere under this frozen river, where time stopped forever. Trapped, they are.

My heart is pounding fast, my blood running fast through my veins keeping me warm in this cold world.

I take another step. Ice cracks. I see the hands under the frozen river. Theyre slamming the ice. Reaching for me.

I must not be dragged down.

The warmth of the other side is all I need. I must cross the river.

The silence is torn apart by a loud crack and I feel cold hands gripping tight around my ankles.

They are dragging me down. I scream, but its muffled by the icy water entering my lungs.

Underwater. Voices everywhere. I look up. The ice on the surface has been reestalished.

I cant even see the sun anymore.

I lost.

Am lost.

Why are we scared of monsters under our beds? There is barely any room under there. If underneath your bed is anything like mine, it's filled with all the crap left over from hurried attempts at cleaning one's room, bits of tape, the special pens you forgot you were looking for, and a lingering smell like dust and carpet cleaner though you can't remember the last time you actually cleaned your carpet. Monsters don't sleep under your bed for the same reason you don't.

They sleep on your bed.

You've never noticed them? Hah, guess you were too busying looking in the wrong spot. They're right there on your pillow. If you just opened your eyes you would see them. Ever come back from school and seen a strange hair on your pillow or lied down in bed only to find out it is already warm. No? Maybe you haven't. Maybe there is not a monster in your bedroom. Or maybe they are just good at hiding, there are lots of good places they could hide in your bedroom.

All those cracks and corners. They would not hide under your bed. Have you ever played hide and seek, it's a stupid hiding place. It's like the skinny person equivalent of hiding behind the door.

Stop looking under your bed for monsters. They have standards too, you know, your mattress with its creaky springs and sheets you were supposed to wash last week is still much more comfortable than under there.

If you want to stay away from monsters, you really shouldn't be sleeping on your bed. That’s the first place there are going to go. If you want to stay away from monsters don’t sleep there. There’s somewhere else you can go, someone where no monster ever would.

Can you guess where I'm thinking?

After a long, glum day of school and feeling as dull as a rain cloud I head to the station to catch a bus. The day had long been raining and the roads were all unbelievably littered and muddy. There was a slight fog and mystery to town today, it certainly was a first. I walked on by to the station trudging through all of the city’s smoky grime. I decided to stop at the small café next to the stop letting the air conditioning flow over me, it was soothing, but here comes the bus stealing my slight sense of relief that I'd gotten for the first time today. I hurriedly got on to try and find for myself a good seat.

The inside of the bus was already half full and more people were storming into it like bees into their beehive, most people not giving a care in the world for their manners and pushing against old ladies and small boys. I found a seat that was vacant and sat myself down. After a while of adjusting myself I took a look around. There were about fifty people who fit into the bus cramming all their bags and belongings with them. There was a bunch of boys ate the very back slightly older than me I supposed, they were making a lot of noise and goofing around not caring to the attention they were attracting, two old ladies sat further front grumbling as far as I heard about “the youth not behaving nowadays” and men and women who had just finished work and were as pathetic and tired as me just stood or sat silent.

I decided to look out the window, we were now leaving the busy part of town to the outskirts where I lived, where there was not much pollution and was very green, I could smell the dew and wet trees, it gave me a feeling of relaxation and a dull joy, unexplainable and only explainable by nature, a feeling we’ve all felt. In a way, after even a down day such as this, a bus ride gives you a taste of what goes on outside of your homes and school, which I guess I liked.

The sun’s rays were red and gold, the clouds reflected orange and pink. The woman saw the mountains before her in the distance. A soft breeze blew as she closed her eyes and raised her arms to heaven. The reflections on the lake beside her showed distorted hills and sparkling waves, broken only by the trout which jumped and played. Leaves rustled above her head, the wind knocked the brown and rust leaves to the ground, some catching in the woman’s hair. She lowered her arms and rolled into the ground. Her feet in the lake, her body in the soft sand, she felt a strange lightening of her spirit. As she surrendered herself to the call of freedom, her body lay still. Leaves collected in her silver hair. She felt as though she had risen without movement, and, looking down, saw her body on the sand. Her spirit flew and as the rays of sunlight disappeared, she knew she was going home.

A man looked out his window. The purple mountains called to him, he thought they even said his name. As the mountains whispered outside, a young woman screamed behind him. He tried to block out the sounds of intense pain and enjoy the peaceful view from his window. AS the sun set, the mountains became dark blue. The young woman’s screams faded to soft crying. The man turned to see his child being handed to her mother. She was home.

Danny crouched rigidly next to the body as he watched intently at the deadly wasp scavenging the carcass. A little step closer, his sketcher shoe stuttering against the dirt - the wasp stilling its movement. The young boy felt the sun boil his skin - each hair stood up in anticipation like soldiers ready to scram, and a droplet of sweat cooled his red face. His tongue rolls out like a puffing dog to wet his dry lips - and he raises his armed hand to his foe.

​ "Daniel!" he hears in the distance, and suddenly, the wasp is gone.