Binell walked with a steady stride. He kept his eyes glued on the dirt road that stretched out before him. An occasional scraggly weed or root would pop through the hard packed dirt, but otherwise the road was smooth and unbroken.

The day was beautiful and great for traveling. With weather this nice Binell wouldn’t usually mind being on the road. The two armed soldiers that flanked him ruined any pleasure he might have gotten from the trip.

If Binell had his sword he would have been more than a match for his escorts. Binell was renowned as a master swordsman and an expert tactician. That was probably the reason his two escorts walked with their own weapons drawn and at the ready.

The warrior looked down at his naked hip where his sword should have been. His weapon had been taken from him, along with his armor. Now, he was relegated to simple travel clothes that were well made, but would provide scant protection against two swords plunging into his back.

“Keep moving, traitor,” the soldier on Binell’s right spat.

Binell hadn’t even noticed he had slowed his pace. It was a habit he fell into when his journey was pleasant. It was a sort of “stop and smell the flowers” mentality he had fallen into. It was odd his habit would surface now. Binell sighed and quickened his pace.

The warrior cast a sideways glance at the soldier who grumbled at him. The man said nothing; he even averted his eyes away from Binell when he glanced back at him. The man was obviously intimidated by his prisoner despite the fact Binell carried no weapon and wore no armor.

The trio had been traveling for four days. They kept up a brisk pace. They were taking Binell to his destination as quickly as possible.

Before the journey began the warrior had been brought before the Imperial Tribunal, before Karyn herself. Binell had expected to be sentenced to death. After the trial when the Chief Magistrate proclaimed Binell’s sentence the warrior wished he had been.

He was to be exiled for his crimes. As soon as his sentence was read Binell was whisked away to the far western border, to the Forest of the Forgotten. This was the dumping ground for the Empire’s worst criminals. No one who had ever gone in had ever come out. The legends that surrounded the place said that as the bodies of criminals rot in the forest the soul is forever tormented.

For the last four days Binell had thought of little else. He wondered what he would face. Demons, the undead or perhaps worse awaited him. Now, they were very nearly there. Instead of a merciful execution Binell was to be cast into that dreaded wood to die slowly in body and soul.

At last, the trees of the Forest of the Forgotten came into view. Here is where the false casual nature of the journey died. His nerves were suddenly on edge and felt panic begin to swell in the pit of his stomach.

As he got closer and the warrior was able to get a better look at his final resting place Binell was surprised to find the forest was quite beautiful at least from outside. Never before had he seen such majestic trees. Most of the trees he had seen up to this point in his life were short and stubby by comparison.

The trees of this forest however soared high into the sky above. They towered over everything else and made the three miniscule men approaching seem utterly inadequate for life itself. Binell and both of his escorts looked upon the forest in silent awe.

After several minutes the second guard finally broke the silence.

“I wonder which will kill you first? The forest or the vile evil within it,” he said with a cruel chuckle.

“You are welcome to come with me and find out, if you have the courage,” Binell replied.

“You are the fool here, not me. I will sleep well tonight knowing your soul will already be tortured before we even get out of sight,” the guard replied.

The trio reached a stone obelisk that was next to the road and here the first guard called for a halt. No one save for the condemned could cross this point. It was still more than twenty yards or so from the entrance to the forest.

“Turn around, slowly,” the guard on Binell’s left ordered.

The warrior turned to see the soldier holding a full traveler’s pack and a sword, Binell’s sword. He looked at the pseudo executioners with a very confused expression.

The first guard removed a scroll from a pouch on his waist and unrolled it.

“You are hereby banished to the Forest of the Forgotten and the lands beyond for the remainder of your natural life and thereafter. Failure to comply will result in an example being made of you.”

Binell wondered what that last sentence meant. He doubted they could come up with a worse punishment than this.

The second soldier held out the pack and the sword. “In accordance with prescribed law, you may choose to enter with either the sword or the provisioned pack.”

For a moment Binell was confused. Was this just part of the torment? Some way to give the condemned a false sense of hope before being sent to their doom? Binell was no fool though. He would take any advantage he could get.

Binell carefully considered each option, but there was really only one choice. The sword would do him no good against the dread denizens of that forest. With the pack he could at least stand some semblance of a chance. That’s assuming that it actually contained something useful to him.

For all Binell knew the pack contained nothing more than moldy rags, but it would at least allow him to scavenge and carry whatever he found. Still though, there was one thing he did wonder about.

“Why offer me either?” Binell asked.

“The Magistrate Karyn decreed it as it is written in the law. Each condemned man is given two options of two things they found useful in life,” the guard replied.

Binell was not completely surprised, that woman always followed the letter of the law. Despite the magnanimous gesture, Binell suspected the intention was not at all altruistic. Knowing the sadistic and ruthless nature of Oizys’s courts Binell believed it was more as onee last torture in te form of false hope.

“I will take the pack,” Binell said.

The soldier threw it at his feet.

“A noble choice.” The other guard then unslung a bow he wore on his back. “If you try to escape you will meet a much less noble fate. Now, off with you.”

Binell wasted no more time in idle chatter with his spiteful guards. He picked up his pack, shouldered it and then the grizzled warrior walked past the stone obelisk to meet his fate.

Oddly, Binell did not get the sinister feeling that he expected considering the reputation this accursed forest had. His nerves were on edge, sure, but that was more nervousness about the unknown of what lay before him.

With the dire stories that swirled around this place he expected it to strike fear into the core of his heart. This forest looked no different than any other he had seen, except for the magnificent trees of course. He even caught sight of animals scurrying around on the outskirts and birds flitting about in the tangled branches of the trees. If this place was supposed to be the prison for tortured souls it certainly did not feel like it.

Binell did catch sight of two skeletal bodies just off the side of the road. The bones were partially hidden by the undergrowth from the ground beyond the trail. Broken shafts of arrows could still be seen sticking from the exposed rib cages.

These must be prisoners who attempted to flee rather than enter the forest. Binell thought to himself. The warrior would be lying if he said he didn’t blame them for at least trying.

Finally, Binell reached the mouth of the Forest of the Forgotten. He stopped one last time and looked back at his two escorts. His glance was answered with a raised bow. Binell actually smiled in spite of himself. Part of him wondered if he would be able to drag these two in with him. He was curious as to whether the damned within would punish him more harshly.

“At least they are taking their duties seriously, he muttered under his breath,” Binell said, then took the final step into the Forest of the Forgotten.

As soon as Binell took the first step inside he immediately found himself completely surrounded on all sides by dense woodlands. Everywhere he turned he saw nothing but tightly packed towering trees and tangled undergrowth. Even the road that led into the forest that should have been directly behind him was gone. There was no opening, only dense impenetrable forest, with no way out.

The two guards could still see Binell turning this way and that, looking very confused. They had been told to expect this, but were not told why. Once they saw this the guards were free to leave even if they could still see their prisoner.

“Hope he enjoys his eternity,” the first guard said with a sadistic chuckle.

The other guard said nothing. He just continued to watch the confused Binell with fascination. The other guard shook his companion’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Come, let’s leave this place. It makes my skin crawl. Do you not feel the evil? It’s everywhere.”

The second guard nodded in agreement. He too felt the dread of the forest, but said nothing because he did not want to appear weak in front of Binell.

They were both amazed that Binell entered the forest so easily. Neither said it, but despite his crimes they both admired the disgraced warrior’s courage. Without another word the two guards left Binell to his fate and started the journey home to the safety of their barracks.

Inside the forest Binell continued to turn every which way. Soon he lost all sense of which direction he even came into the forest from.

After checking every possible direction at least a dozen times Binell finally chose a random direction in exasperation and started walking. He immediately knew his only hope was to find some way out, perhaps on the other side of the forest and escape Oizys and into a neighboring nation.

For now, Binell just walked. As he carefully moved he took in the entire forest around him. The sun had difficulty penetrating the forest canopy, but where it did the light cast fascinating shadows on the ground.

He saw a lot of critters from the outside, but from within he could see how alive the forest really was. Deer, squirrels, birds and many other animals filled the forest. What’s more they did not seem to be the least bit concerned with Binell’s presence. They completely ignored him and went on about their lives as though the warrior wasn’t even there.

Everything about the forest was peaceful, almost comforting even. The slight breeze wafting through the trees carried the pleasant smells found within all forests. The moving air kept the close confines from becoming stale and claustrophobic. The sounds of the rustling leaves added to the peaceful aura. Soon Binell found himself completely disarmed by the place he was meant to die in.

After traveling for what felt like hours the shadows began to grow longer and the meager light began to fade as the sun sank lower in the sky. Binell began to look for a place to make camp. As luck would have it, he stumbled upon a small clearing next to a stream. Considering his situation Binell found it to be as good a place as any.

With what remaining daylight he had left Binell finally decided to go through the pack he had been given to see what he had. He wasn’t expecting to find too much.

His skepticism was replaced by utter shock to see the pack was actually filled with useful supplies. A bed roll, dry rations, a water skin, even flint and a tinderbox. Binell found himself wondering if Karyn had been taken with a fever when she authorized this. Binell could not be more grateful that he did not choose the sword. Binell was disappointed that there was no dagger or even a small knife, but he would deal with that later.

Binell gathered some wood lying on the ground nearby and before long he had a fire going. It wasn’t much since the wood he found were not large logs, but small twigs and limbs, but it at least chased the darkness away.

The warrior settled down against a tree and watched the flames. The chirping birds and the deer were now replaced by owls and crickets and other nocturnal denizens. Even the stream added its own music.

The breeze was still blowing, but the air was not chilly. The moon appeared in the sky, shedding its soft glow from above. Just like the sunlight, it filtered through the trees. Again, if not for his situation this would have been a lovely night.

Binell ate only a few of the dry rations he had been given. He already decided to conserve what he had since he didn’t know how long they would need to last, but he drank heartily of the water since he could easily refill his skin.

The night passed by slowly. Binell wanted to sleep, but he fought as hard as he could to stay awake. Falling asleep in this cursed forest with no companions was not a wise idea, especially at night.

Unfortunately for Binell, his own body removed the decision from his hands. It refused to continue any longer without rest and soon Binell was fast asleep at the base of the large tree.

A screeching owl above started Binell awake from his slumber. As his eyes opened and slowly came into focus he was alarmed to see he was no longer alone in his campsite. On the opposite side of the fire nearest the stream sat a mysterious figure.

Instinctively Binell reached for his sword, a sword that wasn’t there. He glanced down at his waist remorsefully. He then jumped to his feet. To his surprise Binell’s new companion was not some demon, or even a ruffian, but an old man huddled in a finely made cloak calmly munching on some venison.

“You really should not sleep so soundly,” the old man said gently. He looked at Binell with bright eyes, “You never know what sort of weirdo could wander into your campsite.”

Binell’s training kicked in and immediately began sizing the man up. He seemed thin and likely frail given his age. He would be no match for the younger and more muscular Binell. The warrior could easily kill the man with his bare hands.

“Calm yourself, I am no threat to you,” the old man said, correctly guessing Binell’s thoughts. “I am probably the least threatening person in this forest.”

“So far you are the only person I have seen,” Binell replied.

“That doesn’t mean I am the only one,” the man replied cryptically. “Sit down.” It was more a command than an order.

Despite all of his training urging him to kill this man, his instincts were telling him this man was indeed no threat and it would be wrong to just murder him. Binell eased himself back in front of his tree. He did keep a close watch on the man though.

“I have some more dried venison if you would like some. It is probably better than the rations you have.”

“You went through my pack?” Binell asked.

The old man shrugged, “Do you blame me?”

In all honesty Binell could not. He probably would have done the same. Then a thought occurred to him. “Did you rob me?”

The man actually snickered, “If I did, I didn’t make a very clean escape. But here,” he said and tossed Binell his pack. “Check and see if anything is missing.”

Binell felt like he was being baited into calling this man a liar, but he didn’t care. He quickly checked the pack and sure enough everything was there.

“Now that you have your fears mollified do you want some venison?”

Binell then got the impression he was being tested in some way. He argued with himself. He stared at the old man trying to figure out what his intentions were. For his part the old man sat quietly and poked at the fire with a stick.

“Yes,” Binell finally said.

The old man threw Binell a small pouch full of dried venison. He cautiously took a bite and found it was some of the best he had ever had.

“I told you it was better,” the old man said.

Binell actually smiled. This was becoming an absurd situation within an absurd situation.

“What is your name, old timer?” Binell asked.

“I am now known as Derun,” he said, “What about you?”

“Binell.” The warrior then looked at the old man, “You once went by another name?”

“Yes, but that was in another time, another life,” Derun replied.

Binell did not press him any further and Derun went back to poking at the fire with his stick.

After a few moments of awkward silence Binell finally broke the tension, “Where are you headed?” He thought he might be able to get some directions from this man.

Derun shrugged his thin shoulders, “I am still trying to figure that one out myself.”

“How well do you know these lands?” Binell asked.

“Quite well, some of these trees are like old friends to me,” Derun answered.

“Can you tell me how I can get beyond the forest?” Binell asked with hope in his voice.

Derun ignored the question. Instead, he asked one of his own, “How did you come to find yourself here?”

“I was exiled,” Binell answered reluctantly.

The warrior was practically willing to beg to be told how to get out of here, but he was afraid to run the old man off. He wanted to escape this forest, but he also didn’t want to be alone either.

“By who, your great Empire?” Derun asked.

“Yes, I broke the law and now I am paying the price,” Binell replied grimly.

“As so should we all when we break the laws of our rulers,” Derun replied. “But what if the law we break is unjust?” Derun asked suddenly.

“What?” Binell asked.

“What if you are accused of breaking an unjust law? Does that make you an unjust person?”

“I would not think so,” Binell said. “But that did not happen to me. The laws of the Oizys are just and fair and I broke those laws.”

“I see,” Derun said, “So you are the wicked, the evil; someone who is deserving of condemnation and damnation?”

“I suppose I am,” Binell answered in a low voice. He was confused by Derun’s line of questioning, but talking to this odd man helped to pass the time. And oddly enough he found himself comfortable with him.

“If that is true, why have the fallen not taken you?” Derun asked.

“The who?” Binell answered, confused.

“The fallen,” Derun repeated, “the souls that are forever cursed to walk this forest. These souls of the damned always, immediately, seize those who are like themselves, to add to their numbers, to share in their bitter misery.”

“I have seen no one else,” Binell said, trying to sound confident. But his stomach churned a little at Derun’s words.

“You may not have seen them, but they are all around us. Even now as we speak. They seem to hunger for you more than any other,” Derun said nonchalantly while still poking at the fire.

Binell quickly stood and looked all around the forest with fear-filled eyes, but all he saw was impenetrable blackness beyond the light of the fire.

Derun chuckled once again, “Calm yourself, they cannot harm you. Not yet anyway.”

“I see no one,” Binell protested. Now the warrior was getting angry with this man. He felt like Derun was making sport of him.

Derun casually reached into the fire and grabbed a piece of wood that was burning at one end and threw it towards the forest. At first Binell saw nothing, and then gradually a few shapes began to emerge in the darkness at the edge of the firelight. That was bad enough, but worse still these newcomers did not appear to be solid!

Binell could see right through the bodies of both men and women. Their skin seemed to be decaying right before the warrior’s eyes. He could see muscled sinew and bone. They were dressed in torn and ragged clothes and all of them looked at Binell with intense flickering eyes that burned with hate for the living.

The situation suddenly grew even more desperate; more and more people began to slowly materialize. It was a veritable army of the damned that was completely surrounding Binell and Derun. They even hovered over the stream as though they were standing on solid ground.

Derun went back to casually poking at the fire. He paid scant attention to the swarm of souls now surrounding them. Binell had never been so terrified in all his life. Nothing in his training even came close to telling Binell how to deal with this; he had been trained to fight the living, not the dead.

“Who are they?” Binell asked in horrified awe.

“I told you, the souls of the damned. They are those who were cursed to spend all eternity in this unliving state,” Derun explained. “They are always immediately aware when another soul enters this forest. Then they immediately seize the person, shred the body and add their life force to their ranks. It is a tortured and eternal existence.”

“Who sent them here?” Binell asked.

“Your Emperor and Emperors past,” Derun said. The old man looked out into the crowd of malevolent spirits and watched as they all slowly faded from view as the burning wood Derun had thrown to the camp’s perimeter slowly flicked out.

“The Empire has condemned this many people to live on in this torment?” Binell asked aghast.

“Of course. Oizys’s idea of mercy is perverse to say the least. But to be honest most deserve it this fate; others, not so much.”

“Why did they not take me then?” Binell said.

“You are different,” Derun said.

“How so?”

“Do you know what has happened in this forest, or where it even came from?”

“I only know it is part of our western border and that people are forbidden to travel here except for the condemned,” Binell’s voice hung his last word.

“There is so much more to the history than that,” Derun said. He then looked up at Binell. “You might as well have a seat. Do you have somewhere else to be?”

Binell’s mind could not grasp the absolute ludicrous circumstances he found himself in. He was in a cursed forest, surrounded by the malevolent spirits of those who roamed the woods for all eternity and his only company was a creepy old man who wanted to give him a lesson in lore. How did his life come to this?

Eventually Binell sat down more out of defeat at his lack of options than anything else. Derun was right; where else did he have to go?

“Long ago this land was once the site of a great battle, the last stand of General Murn,” Derun said.

“Murn? You mean Murn the Hated? The man who nearly led our forebears to ruin? As children we are taught the treachery of the General Murn,” Binell said.

“Really? That is not the history I know. Perhaps you will let me tell you the story I know?” Derun asked.

Binell nodded and raised a hand to continue.

“General Murn protected these lands for years. He saw it as his sacred duty that he would willingly sacrifice his life for. This was the site of the single most important battle he ever fought. The struggle went on for days, almost without pause.” Derun paused, his voice had changed. It became tinged with melancholy, almost like he was reliving a painful memory.

Finally, Derun continued, “At long last, Murn’s forces were on the verge of total victory. Then at the most crucial moment the general was betrayed by his closest ally. The general was murdered, but not before he was able to deliver a fatal blow to his former friend. Without Murn’s guidance his forces withered against an enemy counter attack and they were defeated.”

Binell listened intently, he actually forgot about his surroundings for a moment, but only for a moment.

“Afterwards, the battlefield was littered with so many dead, but the defeated did not have the capacity to bury them and the victors did not care, not even about their own fallen comrades. In time the bodies became the fertilizer for this great forest. Each and every soldier lives on as one of these majestic trees. Former enemies who now stand side by side in peace. All of them are here, except for two.”

“The general, and the one who betrayed him,” Binell deduced.

“What makes you think that?”

“Seems only logical, one would linger on in their grief after losing the battle and so many men and the other would be cursed for their betrayal,” Binell replied.

“Your intuition serves you well,” Derun replied. “The betrayer was the first of this damned hoard.”

“His soul is here?” Binell asked.

“Somewhere, yes, lost within the dread hoard; a lost and forgotten traitor,” Derun said.

“In life he commanded legions. In death he is just a soul, lost in the mob.”

“And the general?” Binell asked.

“It is said he still roams the forest unable to rest. He walks among the trees apologizing to each fallen soldier whether they fought for him or not,” Derun replied.

“I have never heard this tale,” Binell admitted. He didn't admit that the tale choked him up a little.

“It was the final battle before the birth of Oizys. The empire that was built on blood and betrayal,” Derun said.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Binell argued.

“How so?” Derun asked the warrior.

“The final battle was fought on the very doorstep of the old palace. The Emperor’s forces overcame the treacherous General Murn through might and brilliant leadership. The Spire of Justice was built in honor of that battle upon the very spot where the old palace once stood.”

“The Empire was created by the blade of a traitor that was plunged into the back of his closest friend,” Derun replied evenly.

“That is not what is taught,” Binell said calmly. Though he disagreed he did not wish to start an argument with Derun.

“That may be what has been passed down, but that does not make what you were taught true,” Derun said. “I am sure you have heard the phrase, History belongs to the victors.”

Binell was beginning to get frustrated with Derun. He knew the legends of how the Empire was formed. Every child is taught that story from a tender age. But, before Binell could argue any further, Derun abruptly changed the subject.

“What is the Emperor’s name?”

The question caught Binell completely off guard. It was an odd question to be sure. What was even stranger was that Binell could not answer him. He truly did not actually know the name of the man that ruled all of Oizys. He lowered his eyes.

“You don’t know do you?” Derun replied. “What about the last Emperor or ones who came before that?”

Binell shook his head no. He had no idea what any of their names were. It wasn’t that he could not remember, it was that he never knew. As far as he knew, no one in Oizys could answer this question, except maybe those closest to the ruler.

“How can you follow someone that you don’t even know the name of?” Derun asked.

“We are taught to swear fealty to the Emperor, that he is wise and divine,” Binell answered in a low voice.

“I see,” Derun said. “What did you do to get exiled?” Derun said, suddenly switching topics yet again.

Binell was more than ready to answer this question. He was not going to hide his crimes from anyone. He would allow himself to serve as an example.

“Murder of a high ranking official,” Binell said.

Derun raised an eye, “Truly?”

Binell nodded his head with shame. “He was exercising his rights as a member of the elite class and I foolishly challenged that.”

“It ended up with this official being killed?” Derun asked. “What right was he exercising?”

“Choosing a wife,” Binell said.

Derun nodded his head. Arranged marriages had always been part of the royal life, but they often were unfair to one or both people in the marriage.

“What made this so terrible?”

“The girl he chose was only twelve years old,” Binell replied. “He himself was nearly thirty.”

“Why would he want to be betrothed to a child?”

“I am not sure, but it was clear she did not understand the honor she had been given, and she began to cry,” Binell said.

“Why wouldn’t she cry? That is no honor,” Derun said.

Binell said nothing, Derun understood.

“You agree with me,” Derun said.

“Yes,” Binell said, “I tried to convince this man to take an older girl, an actual woman. One who would be thrilled with the proposal, of which there would have been many. But, he demanded her. I can still remember the look on his face when he chose her. It was like that of a hungry wolf that was about to devour a sheep.”

It was Derun’s turn to be enthralled.

“Something inside me snapped. I told him he could not have her, that she was far too young, but he said the law made no such designations, which is true. For me the law wasn’t good enough. When he tried to seize her I defended her.”

“You were arrested for defending this child?”

“I was, but like the official said the law made no mention of age and Karyn only cares about the written law.” Binell said.

“Karyn?”

“The Imperial Magistrate,” Binell explained.

Derun nodded.

“I was sentenced to exile for disobeying the law and for killing the official,” Binell said.

“You spared an innocent girl from a terrible fate,” Derun said.

“Yes, but I made a mockery of the laws I swore to uphold,” Binell said.

“You are a fool,” Derun said. “You yourself have already said that it was wrong to obey an unjust law. Have you forgotten that?”

“But the Empire has no unjust laws. The Emperor is too wise.”

“The same Emperor that won’t even let you know his name because it lowers him to your level? You do not believe in the Emperor. You believe in a myth that has been built up around him and his predecessors,” Derun spat with undisguised contempt for what Binell was saying.

Binell sat in silence. He offered no comment, or argument.

“This is also the same Emperor that has magistrates that seem to care more about written law than the spirit of justice,” Derun’s voice was raising as he started to grow angry.

“Considering these facts would it be such a leap of faith to think they would change the story of how Oizys even came into being?”

“I still killed a man, I committed murder, by any definition I am a criminal,” Binell said.

“What you did was to save a young girl from rape. What you did was deny an evil man his chance to hide behind a despicable law so that he can do what he wanted without consequence,” then Derun’s eyes narrowed. “What you did was to prove to your courts and your Emperor that people can think for themselves. You were not exiled to this cursed place for breaking the law. You were exiled for doing the right thing and for shattering the illusion they built up around themselves. To them that is greatest crime.”

Binell stayed silent throughout Derun’s rant, not because he disagreed, but because, deep down, he knew everything that Derun said was right. The warrior had always lived by a strict code, but until then the laws had always been in line with his own morals. But then the time came when they diverged. When that happened he chose to follow his own sense of justice and was exiled for it.

“Now I see why these souls could not take you. You are not truly like them, and their hatred for you is all the stronger because of it.”

“Why?” Binell asked.

“Because you will be one of the few people to pass beyond the Forest of the Forgotten. The curse cannot capture you,” Derun said. “The answer to your question is yes.”

“What question?” Binell asked.

“I do know how to get beyond the Forest of the Forgotten,” Derun said. “You will be shown the way out.”

“By who, you?” Binell asked.

“Yes, I will show you the way,” Derun said.

“Who are you?” Binell asked.

“Like you, I am the truth that Oizys desperately wants to hide. After all the years I have lived in this forest you are one of the very few condemned to the Forest of the Forgotten that was truly innocent. Most were guilty not of following their own morality, but of letting their own ambitions and greed overshadow their vows of loyalty. It has been so long since the last truly innocent personI passed through I actually had come to believe that everyone that lived within Oizys were tainted and wicked. But you have given me a glimmer of hope,” Derun said.

“Most people are simply executed these days.

“Ah,” Derun replied. Somehow that leant him more hope. “It is now time for you to sleep. You will need the rest to complete your task. But before that I would ask one thing of you.”

“What’s that?” Binell replied.

“Do not waste this chance. You can affect change, you can make a difference. There are others that know the truth too. Seek them out,” Derun said. “You are the living embodiment of what Oizys most fears.”

The warrior nodded solemnly. Derun smiled warmly at the man.

Binell gradually became overcome with weariness. He had no hope to fight it and the warrior quickly fell into a deep sleep. As the old man sat looking at him, he wished that this was the man who had been by his side all those hundreds of years ago.

Binell awoke the next morning completely refreshed. He had not slept that well in a long time. It was as if his very soul was finally at peace. The dreams he had were truly remarkable; they seemed so real.

The warrior looked around his campsite and saw his fire had burned itself out, but what really caught his attention was a smooth path that seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the night. At the mouth of the path was a pouch that Binell immediately recognized. He opened it and was pleased to find dried venison, along with a well made knife that seemed so incredibly old, yet the blade still gleamed like new and was razor sharp.

Binell looked at the items in stunned silence when a realization hit him. So much for it being a dream. The warrior slowly came to terms with what had happened the night before and gratefully picked up the pouch and the knife. He looked around and called for Derun, but the mysterious old man was nowhere to be found. He also looked hard for the faint outlines of the damned spirits, thankfully there was no sight of them..

All Binell could see were animals playing in the underbrush and birds flitting from limb to limb in the trees above. Their songs gave a symphony to the brilliant sun in the sky. It was a truly glorious morning.

Binell turned back to the wide and smooth path. He was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Derun had promised to show him the way out and he had kept his word. He added the pouch of dried venison to his own pack and put the knife on his belt and started off down the trail. He wondered the whole time what happened to Derun and he hoped fervently he was not abandoning the old man, but something within Binell assured him that wasn’t the case and the man that shared his camp with him the night before was well.

Again, Binell took in the forest around him. The morning made the Forest of the Forgotten the most alive place he had ever seen. Ironically it was not filled only with the damned, but with sacred life. The trail led him along a smooth and easy trip. His spirits soared; it was now not exile, but a new adventure.

Binell had been given many truths in the Forest of the Forgotten. What would the world beyond have to teach him?

THE END

Title: A Road Alone

Genre: Fantasy, Dark Fantasy

Age Range: Adult, maybe Young Adult

Word Count: 6200

Author: Eric Taylor

I think my style would be a good fit for your group because I strive to create a world that people can completely lose themselves in, if even for a short time. I consider that to be extremely important especially in today’s world of uncertainty. I also want to be able to connect with my readers with the characters that I create for my worlds.

A soldier who was condemned to die for violating the laws of his emperor in a cursed forest finds himself questioning his beliefs after he spends some time with a strange old man that invades his campsite.

Eric Taylor is an aspiring writer from Ashland KY, who likes to write fiction, mostly fantasy. He likes to use twists and he also likes to let the bad guys win on occasion. You know, so it isn’t too predictable. His works tend to drift a little towards the dark side, but he alway tries to let the better parts of his characters’ natures shine through.

Eric writes both novels and short stories. One of his favorite projects is a compilation of short stories and novellas that are set in the same world and are loosely interconnected.

Eric has some works on Wattpad, but he has not had the time to post to the platform for quite some time due to his heavy work schedule. He has an Associate’s Degree in Applied Science which Eric uses in his career in the healthcare industry from both the patient care side and the I.T. side.

He tends to be a quiet person until you get to know him, then he never stops talking. Eric is introverted and enjoys the company of close friends as opposed to large gatherings.

Besides writing Eric enjoys hiking, reading, listening to music and playing the occasional video game.

Part One

Chapter One

Paige doesn’t have to see in the dimly lit truck to know the purple vein in Big Daddy’s forehead is pulsing, that his hands clench the steering wheel and his lips twitch as he prepares to unleash a barrage of shaming words. The speedometer glows white, faintly illuminating Big Daddy in his stiff new overalls. Fifty, sixty, seventy miles per hour, too fast for the clunky red pickup that whines to keep up with Big Daddy’s rage. Paige crouches against the passenger door.

They are headed to the bus station. Big Daddy had shoved Paige in the truck and said he was putting her on the next Greyhound leaving town. Said he wanted her gone for good. Said this is tough love, which makes his chest heavy, but there is no other way.

Big Daddy drives in fuming silence at first. Then the yelling starts, builds to high speed like the truck, madder and faster as Big Daddy fumes. Paige only hears some of the words. She learned long ago to put an invisible helmet over her ears, and to pretend she is invisible too.

Paige has heard most of these words before. Addict. Weren’t raised this way. Piece of shit boyfriend. Trash. Hurting Abby. Stealing, from me! Me! He bangs his fists on the steering wheel. Ought to call the cops. But no! You’d be back like a damn feral cat. Getting you the hell away from Abby.

Paige winces at the mention of Abby. She hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to her little girl. But surely Big Daddy won’t really make her leave. Back like a damn feral cat made her cringe too. She is his daughter, not some stray animal.

Surely, Paige thinks, this will end like when she was a teenager and Big Daddy caught her skipping school with Danny. Big Daddy drove around yelling until his throat hurt, then ground her and refused to speak to her for days. Mother had treated her like a sick, wounded creature, bringing soup and crackers on a tray to her room for dinners, until Big Daddy got worn out being mad and let life settle to normal.

The mean words continue now though, like a stream of consciousness. She hates Big Daddy because he doesn’t understand her. His words make her want to go away, to find a place with Danny again. Danny will get her from the bus stop if Big Daddy follows through. Big Daddy’s eyes are on the road. She plucks a strand of long brown hair from her head and presses the tip to her lips.

“Stop it Paige!” Big Daddy yells and snatches the thin strand. How did he see that? Paige wonders. The butterflies wake up and flap, flap, flap in Paige’s stomach. She’d always called worries and nerves the butterflies. Mother calls them that too. Paige smiles remembering how Abby thought they were real butterflies, black monarchs and orange and yellow painted ladies flying around in your stomach like on a bloody summer day in a garden.

Big Daddy couldn’t make her leave Abby. A wave of nausea washes through Paige and tears well. She doesn’t know what to do with Abby. Her sister, Melissa the perfect, thinks Paige is a terrible mother, but Paige loves her daughter. That’s all you need, right? But she can’t have Danny and the drugs, and be a mother, responsible and all. Danny and the drugs always call her back. The heroin, the meth had chosen her, but no one understands.

Paige rolls down the passenger window for air to tamp the nausea and to let Big Daddy’s words dissipate into the night rather than hover around her all hot and moist in the cab. She looks out into the Knoxville sky, lit with billboards, and beyond that a faint sprinkling of stars. The rain-scented mountain air helps her breathe, refreshes her face, and whips her hair.

Big Daddy pulls off I-40 at North Central and eases down Magnolia to the Greyhound station. He parks the truck, which ticks to cool down as they sit in silence.

“Next bus leaving,” he says. Big Daddy looks straight out the windshield into the night. “Don’t care where it’s going.”

Paige wipes her runny nose with the back of her hand, opens the passenger door, picks up her backpack and sling purse from the floor, and steps outside. She stares at her father, who sits in the harsh glare of the overhead cab light. His eyes look sad, but unrelenting. His lips press together in a firmness that says Paige can’t come home.

“It’s cruel to kick out your own flesh and blood,” Paige says, spitting the words. ’What kind of father does that?” She waits for Big Daddy to say “I know. I can’t do it,” and order her back inside the truck. Instead, Big Daddy sighs and gets out of the vehicle, slams the door hard.

“This is your own doing, Paige,” he says. “You’re 25 and still acting 15. You’re killing me, taking years off my life.”

Goosebumps pop on Paige’s skinny arms and legs. The June night suddenly feels too cold for blue-jean shorts and a tank top.

“Daddy,” she says. Her voice cracks. “Please don’t. I can’t leave Abby. And where will I go?” Paige shivers as she talks. He’s really doing this, she thinks.

“You’ve already left Abby,” Big Daddy says. “You aren’t there for her at all. It’s the rest of us -- me, your mother, and Melissa who tend to Abby.” His voice is soft but firm. A thick moment of silence passes as they glare at each other across the expanse of the truck bed, the parking lot light drawing gnats toward their faces.

“You can’t force me to go!” Paige stomps her foot. “That’s child abuse. You could be arrested.”

“Twenty-five is not a child, Paige. Don’t threaten me,” Big Daddy says, his voice strangely calm now.

“I hate you,” Paige hisses at him. “I hate you for this.”

“Well, I don’t hate you. But I don’t know what to do with you,” Big Daddy says. “A man shouldn’t have to put a private lock on his bedroom door to keep his child from stealing cash from his wallet, or rummaging through the closet for the guns.”

His lips twitch as though he might cry. He waves away a swarm of gnats. “I can’t have you stealing from me, coming home high, and then disappearing for weeks without a thought for Abby. And as for your mother, you’ve caused her to age way beyond her years.

“Mama’s not my fault,” Paige yells.

“I’m sorry, honey, but we are done. I hope you learn something from this, grow up and get your life together. Until that happens, you’re on your own.”

Paige squares her jaw, tightens her lips, and slams shut the passenger door, trembling mad inside. Well screw him, she thinks. He never loved her. No decent father would throw his daughter on the streets. He loves Melissa, the smart one. Sorry she can’t be Melissa.

Paige walks fast into the station, hating Big Daddy for crossing this line, hating Melissa. She keeps her head down. Her heart pounds. Big Daddy follows her, purchases a one-way ticket on the next Greyhound headed to Denver, Colorado. Paige has never been there, but she knows it is far away. Too far to easily get back home.

Paige snatches the ticket and walks to the far end of the station, takes a seat in a blue plastic chair attached to a row of blue plastic chairs. She doesn’t look back, determined not to give Big Daddy the satisfaction. Big Daddy clunks coins in a vending machine for a Coke and sits a distance away, sipping the drink.

Paige decides that when he leaves, she’ll cash in the ticket and take a cab to Danny’s house, or find a motel for the night. But Big Daddy doesn’t go anywhere. Paige has no choice but to board the bus and leave everything she knows behind.

Chapter Two

Banging and yelling upstairs wakes Abby from a fitful sleep. Abby’s grandfather, Big Daddy, thunders across the ceiling. Abby pats the bed, but no one is there. Overhead, Big Daddy shouts words with “God” in them, words you aren’t supposed to say. Brave Abby wants to barge her eight-year-old-self upstairs and scream “stop!” Scared Abby jams her head under the pillow, a soft shield that does little to mute the noise.

A pale glow spills over the stairs that line the far wall and lead to the main level of the house. Aunt Melissa, who Abby calls Meme, climbs down slowly with a flashlight, one hand spread across her pregnant belly. She unlocks the desk drawer, counts out dollars, and stuffs them in her short’s pockets.

“Why’s Big Daddy mad?” Abby whispers.

“Can’t talk, Abby. Go to sleep. He’s not mad at you.” Meme takes the steps back up two at a time.

More angry stomps. A cabinet door slams. Abby sniffles against her pillow. She knows this has something to do with Mama. She pulls her fists under her chin and curls in a ball. Jinx sits on the bed and pats Abby’s back. Aunt Meme says Jinx is imaginary, but she seems real to Abby with her short orange-red hair and green eyes, always saying things that make Abby feel better.

“It’s probably nothing,” Jinx says. “He gets mad over nothing.”

Big Daddy’s old truck revs, squeals in the gravel driveway. Then, silence. Damp, dark basement air stirs like a spooky presence. The house sounds extra quiet after the commotion.

Meme walks back down the steps and Jinx disappears. Jinx doesn’t like Meme. The bed squeaks with Meme’s weight even though she’s skinny as a stick everywhere except her pregnant belly. Meme pulls Abby close and strokes her hair. Meme is so sweet -- sometimes.

“What’s going on?” Abby whispers.

Meme lights a cigarette. The match flares, sizzles. The tip of her Salem flits like a firefly around her tight-set mouth.

“I’m going to tell you the truth Abby, like I always do.” She pulls the chain on the driftwood lamp Big Daddy made. Abby takes a deep breath and waits. Meme doesn’t always tell the truth.

“You know how your mama sometimes makes bad decisions?”

“Because of the Polar Bear?”

“Well yes. The bi-polar. That’s part of the problem.”

Abby sits up and moves closer. Meme puts her arm around Abby’s shoulders. This is what Abby calls the “time before the knowing,” the few seconds when she is aware there is bad news, usually about Mama, but the words haven’t yet spilled into the air to become real.

I want to slow down time, Abby thinks. Stay here, where Meme loves me and I don’t know about the bad thing, whatever Mama did this time. She thinks of the merry-go-round at school, where you can dig in your heels, pull with your arms and slow down, go almost still.

Meme sighs and shakes the foot of her crossed leg, dangling a flip-flop. Abby knows she is hesitating because she’s thinking how to phrase things, how to make whatever happened hit Abby’s heart like a soap bubble instead of a brick.

“Your mama made another bad decision.” Meme takes a deep inhale on her cigarette and turns her head to the side, exhaling a stream of smoke. “I don’t how she got so over her head, if she quit taking her meds, or is on something else, or what. You can never tell with Paige.”

Smoke ghosts elongate like spooky eaves-droppers waiting to hear what Meme says before floating up and out the crack in the window. “You know how mad Big Daddy gets sometimes, right?”

“Go on and tell. What did she do?” Abby hears the dread in her voice, the dragging of vowels that Meme hates.

“It doesn’t matter what she did, and you don’t need to worry over it. Big Daddy kicked her out for good. He’s driving her to the bus station and putting her on the next Greyhound, no matter where it’s headed. He wants her out of our lives. Those were his exact words.”

“Out of our lives?” Abby asks. “No! You can’t kick people out of a family! She’s Mama!” Abby’s throat feels suddenly sore and her eyes swell with tears. The panic butterflies pummel her chest, beating their little wings as hard as they can.

“He sure can and he is.” Meme sits her Salem Light on the table and pulls her brown hair into a ponytail with a rubber band, then picks the cigarette back up.

“I gave her a little money, enough for a place to stay until she gets on her feet. She’s got her meds, and I told her I’d forward next month’s pills when she lands somewhere. She’ll be okay. Thank God she’s gone though. We are all going to be better off. ”

Abby jumps off the bed, furious at Meme and Big Daddy for wanting Mama gone. How can anyone’s mama be out of a girl’s life? She digs in her clothes pile for something besides the Hello Kitty pajamas she’s wearing.

Grandma Lovey will understand and take Abby to the bus station; maybe she can go away with her mother or at least say “goodbye.” She doesn’t want to live in Big Daddy and Lovey’s house with Meme and not Mama.

“I’m going too!” Abby tells Meme. “She’s my mama! I don’t want her out of my life. I’m not glad she’s gone. Hey Jinx,” Abby yells, “help me pack. Lovey will take us to the bus.”

Meme rolls her eyes and taps cigarette ash in the base of the driftwood lamp.

“For the last time Abby, grow up. Jinx is not real.”

“I’m eight!” Abby shouts but isn’t sure if she means she is grown up, or that she is just eight and has a right to believe in magical things and to have her mama with her. Somehow, she thinks, she means both things.

“She’s a made-up friend. And besides, you aren’t going anywhere,” Meme sighs. Her voice turns softer.

“I know you don’t understand and want Paige to stay, but she’s already on a bus by now. I know you love your mama, but you’ll understand someday why she’s not good for you. Besides you’re safer here and starting third grade soon!”

Abby turns her face from Meme’s eager smile about school. The other kids have moms who bring cupcakes on their birthdays and drive on field trips. School is where Abby learned that all moms and daughters don’t live in their grandparents’ homes, sleep in their mother’s childhood bedroom, or in the basement with an aunt. Most live with their moms and dads in their own house or apartment, and visit their grandparents on Christmas. Warm tears hit Abby’s cheeks, her nose runs, and her heart throbs like in the fast-moving dreams, even though she’s standing still in an ankle-deep heap of unfolded clothes.

Abby imagines her mama riding to the bus station, arms crossed, glaring out the window, mad at Big Daddy for throwing her out. Where will she go? Abby wonders. Her home is here, in the canopy room she shares with Abby, in Big Daddy and Lovey’s house, 537 Juno Drive in Knoxville, Tennessee, the address she had to memorize in first grade. Nowhere else can be home! She must have panic butterflies real bad, Abby thinks, and bursts into a fresh round of tears.

She wonders what Mama said to Big Daddy on the way to the bus station. Did she say “Tell Abby I love her? I’ll be back for her?” She might not be the kind of mama everyone else has, but she’s Abby’s mama, and cupcakes or not, Abby needs her to be the one person in the world who loves her most.

With Mama gone, who will sleep with Abby in the canopy bed upstairs? Who will flip through Glamour magazines with her and Jinx and tell them who the stars are? Because Mama understands about Jinx and doesn’t tell Abby to grow up. Who will wake Abby in the middle of the night to raid the freezer, giggling and shushing each other as they eat chocolate ice cream by the blue light of the open door? Who will love Abby most of all?

And what about Dell the Giant? With Mama gone, will he leave too? A few days ago he brought Abby star-shaped sunglasses and a coloring book from Goodwill, where he works. He’s Mama’s friend, but he’s so sweet and nice to Abby. She doesn’t want to lose Dell, too! She’s known him all her life. She once asked her mother if Dell was her father. Paige had made a snorting laugh and said “don’t be ridiculous.”

“Hey,” Meme lifts Abby’s chin with her pointing finger. “You want your mama to be safe, don’t you? She’s safer away. You’re safer here. You don’t want to travel away on a bus, do you?”

“No.” Abby lets the pair of shorts she dug from the clothes pile drop from her fingertips, then falls back on the bed. “But I already miss her,” Abby says. “I miss her so bad.”

“Don’t pout,” Meme says. “You’re loved plenty.” She pauses, then in a rush grabs Abby’s hand.

“Feel this,” she says. Meme places Abby’s palm on the skin of her big belly. It’s a private place, underneath the waistband of her elastic stretch shorts. Meme’s belly is hard as rock. Two faint kicks press into Abby’s palm. Boom, Boom. They feel like heartbeats. Abby’s lips curl into a smile and her hand trembles against Meme’s warm skin.

She can’t be angry with Meme, now that her aunt has let her touch the thin-stretched skin of her stomach, let her feel the kicks. Abby has never touched another person’s belly like this. It feels private, a personal thing she wasn’t part of before but now is.

Her heart beats quicken. She leaves her hand there, hoping for more kicks, hoping Meme will embrace her again, will stroke her hair and tell her not to worry about Mama, that she’ll talk Big Daddy into letting Mama come back and everything will be okay. Another kick tickles Abby’s palm.

“That’s your cousin,” Meme says. “You will be sort of like a big sister.”

“Yea,” Abby smiles. “Sort of like you and Mama.

“Well,” Meme says. “Hopefully not.”

Chapter Three

Paige drags her backpack up the steep steps of the bus, clutching her sling purse close to her chest. About a fourth of the seats are filled with hunched over men and women. The smell of sweat and mold fills the air. No one says anything to her and she is glad. A withered-looking woman nods and smiles but Paige ignores her.

Where did these sad people come from, Paige wonders? Where are they going? A lyric to an oldie’s song Big Daddy plays sticks in her head. “All the lonely people, where do they all belong….” She finds an empty row of seats near the front and plops down, curls into a fetal position, and pulls her iPhone from her purse.

She calls Danny’s number for the tenth time, then texts Melissa, who doesn’t respond either. The soft hug Melissa gave her when she handed Paige the $400 must have meant nothing. And Danny, saying he loved her all those nights. That was bullshit too. If any of them loved her they wouldn’t have let this happen. She’s truly on her own with nothing but Melissa’s money, a baggie of heroine she took from Danny’s stash last time she was at the trailer and a handful of Adderall.

Alone. No place to sleep, no Abby to snuggle with when she needs a hug. She could get murdered out here. How would Big Daddy like that? How would he feel about tough love then?

She pictures in her mind police officers knocking on the door at home, bringing the news that the dead body of Paige Anne Marsh was discovered in Denver, Colorado. Lovey and Abby would cry hysterically and blame Big Daddy. They would never speak to him again and he would die alone and sad. The panic butterflies kick in.

“I’m in trouble,” Paige says to herself. “I’m in serious trouble.”

Her lips twitch as she thinks of the white powder in her purse. So glad she lifted it off Danny when she did. Paige digs in her purse for her straw, draws the purse close to her face, and snorts just enough heroin to help her cope, calm her down, and make her feel better. God, she needs it more than ever. It’s the only thing she can count on.

The bus pulls out of the terminal just as the sun begins to rise and Paige’s high kicks in. She’s on an adventure now, awake and alert, watching the pink dawn, a new day opening, through the wide bus window. It feels a little like she’s at a theater.

Under the bridge, homeless men and women mill about, which makes Paige uneasy so she looks away. This part of town feels grey and lonely, deserted except for a couple entering a coffee house and a lone homeless man curled under an awning.

The Sun Sphere stands tall above the town, its big golden ball like another world in the sky, an unreachable world. A World’s Fair World that dinky Knoxville hosted before Paige was born. The university, just a few blocks over, Melissa’s old territory, would be quiet this time of morning.

“Glad I’m leaving this stupid town,” Paige mumbles.

The bus hisses and sighs like a live beast, then pulls onto the downtown streets. They hit I-40 West toward Nashville and pick up speed, then pass the exit for Pellissippi State, where Paige had once considered enrolling for a business degree. That imagined life wouldn’t happen.

But something new will happen, something exciting, she thinks. Big Daddy isn’t yelling at her. Danny’s brother can’t track her down for the money she owes. Abby will be okay with Melissa and Lovey. She’s free now, free of her old life and off to a new one where she doesn’t owe money and can become anyone she wants. She feels light, dandelion fluff in the wind. Off to wherever the breeze takes her.

Paige would love a cigarette, but a sign up front says “no smoking,” and she doesn’t want to call attention to herself. So she adjusts her backpack against the window, rests her head on it, and falls asleep thinking of dandelions, but her dreams take a darker turn.

A tabby mama cat in an alley scavenges trash cans for food. It’s a pretty cat, orange and black and white. But it turns rabid with a rat in its teeth and chunks of hair missing. She knows it’s a dream but she desperately wants the pretty cat back, the smooth-haired tabby with the gentle purr. She can’t steer her dream that way. The rabid cat slinks closer, drops the rat on her lap.

Paige wakes nervous and fretful, her neck sore from sleeping against the bus frame, her mouth cotton dry. A sour odor wafts from her armpits. She watches the boring landscape -- fields planted with corn or wheat, dotted with cows, barns and ponds. Her stomach growls.

“Where are we?” she asks the withered lady.

“Past Nashville, headed to St. Louis,” the lady says. “You slept right through that stop.”

I must have slept four or five hours, Paige thinks. Now she longs for St. Louis so she can get something to eat and drink and use a proper restroom.

In St. Louis, the bus screeches to a halt and swings open its doors. A big, lumbering man in overalls boards. He reminds Paige of Big Daddy because of the overalls, but this man is taller and his overalls are threadbare and washed to a faint blue, not starched and stiff like Big Daddy’s.

His beard and hair are bushy and mostly gray, but strands of reddish-orange show through. The man catches Paige’s eye, but she quickly looks down and calls Danny again. Her shoulders shake as she chokes back sobs because Danny still isn’t answering and she is a long way from home.

“You all right, darling?” The big man touches her shoulder.

“Leave me alone.” She flinches at the touch, stays hidden behind the waterfall of hair.

“Headed clear to Denver?”

“I said leave me alone.”

“My name’s Jonah. Long trip to Denver. Travelers can use friends.”

Paige shakes her head, still looking down, hair swinging back and forth and hiding her face. She doesn’t want to look at anyone right now. She wants this old, smelly man to leave her alone. Who knows, he could be a rapist. He claims the seats across the aisle and a couple rows back.

“Creep,” Paige mutters as she stands and steps outside. The air is thick and toxic with bus fumes. Inside she purchases two bottled waters from a vending machine and gulps one down, then plunks in quarters for cheese and crackers, a tube of Pringles and a pack of Salem Lights.

She could stay in St. Louis, she thinks. Not return to the bus and the chatty old man. But her backpack is there, and Colorado is supposed to be pretty with all the mountains. Maybe she could get approved for medical marijuana. She smokes a cigarette and reminds herself it’s an adventure.

TITLE: Fast Moving Dreams

GENRE: Adult Literary Novel

WORD COUNT: 56,000 for full novel. This is the first three chapters.

SYNOPSIS: Paige is kicked out of her family home, where she had been living with her little girl. She goes to Denver and meets a homeless preacher and a Jamacian woman who help her set up life in a camper at Camp Timberlake, an old state park that is now a homeless shelter. Three years pass. Abby, now 11, gets clues to her mother's whereabouts and sets out on a trip cross country with an old friend and her grandmother to find Paige and bring her home.

If anyone wanted a wish granted, they were directed here. It was a small shop in the Red-Light District, with a garden around the shop. The garden was full of mysterious, peculiar plants that no one had ever seen before, plants of all colors, shapes, and sizes. They all looked very well-kept, and most of the plants gleamed with life. However, one set aside had a dark aura, and within a half meter radius around this plant, there was dead vegetation. Even the soil looked ill and rotten.

Perhaps this one-of-a-kind garden is what truly attracted the shop’s customers nowadays.

Whatever the reason, the place was booming with business. It’d come so far from the little stall that it used to be. It even intrigued the outcasts that worked here today, and with these workers available, it’s open 24/7, with one half of the workers working from 5 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon, and the other half of the workers working the rest of the time.

They were all odd balls, not exactly human although they appeared to be. There was the red-headed dragonborn, Kasai, who was most skilled in fire magic and weaponry, and the purple-haired dragon slayer of the shop, Yami, was also skilled in weaponry but excelled in dark magic instead of flames. Despite what one might think or what destiny should ensure, the two of them got along quite well, and they were always keeping each other on top of their game with their sudden sparring. Their intense gazes at each other, fiery eyes facing eyes as black as a black hole, was a sight to behold for any, and they sure lived up to their names of flames and darkness.

Regardless, the water mages with their blue hair and eyes - Mizu and Mizuo, whose names both have the kanji character of water - as well as the blonde leader and manager of the group, Jacob, don’t appreciate the sudden sparring, of course. Jacob demands they take it outside when they try to spar in the shop. It makes for an amusing show for anyone walking by and attracts even more attention to the small shop.

Two of the other workers were Tenshi, or angel, the Pure Mage, and Daichi, or Earth, the Mage of the Earth, who had a little sister who helped in the store. Her name was Kusaki, or plant, and she was the main tender of most of the garden outside, considering she was a Plant Mage. Unlike her brother with his typical brown hair and green eyes, one could identify Kusaki in a second with her green hair and bright, green eyes. However, the tender to the mysterious dark plant was of course Seirei, or soul or spirit, a purple-eyed dark mage who specialized in souls and the like. Her hair was long and silky black, giving her aura a mysterious air. Her glimmering, purple eyes held an even stranger aura, captivating to any who stared too long.

During the day, Tenshi, Kusaki, Daichi, Mizu, and Mizuo tended to the shop. All of them worked well together, so none of them could really be considered as a “leader” of the day shift. They also got the easier customers, the innocent ones who wanted a simple romantic reading or whatnot; they rarely ever had to deal with a difficult, or evil, customer. The day shift went smoothly, day after day.

The night was a different story, especially with Kasai, Yami, Seirei, and Jacob working. Those with ill intentions would come out at night, requesting for this or that for their evil plan. These four were much more equipped to handle these sorts of people, possessing more violent, oppressive, and dark magic. Of course, Jacob, being the boss of the shop and the very person who created the initial stall long ago, took on the leadership role of the night shift.

Occasionally though, some of them worked outside of their shift. Seirei only got a few hours of sleep, and she spent most of her free time making potions, dolls, and other magical items. Daichi spent a few hours of his afternoon appreciating nature and strengthening himself, as well as helping out in the shop. Kusaki spent her free time tending to the garden outside and doing whatever else she could do to assist.

Sometimes, Tenshi would have trouble sleeping, so he would go around on those nights, helping those who needed help. This often eased him from nightmares for at least a night or two. He’d stand out most in the night, with his blonde hair and blue eyes. It didn’t seem like he belonged in the night, with his radiance and angelic personality. Being the gentlest out of the workers at the shop, his coworkers worried about him walking out alone at night. He was also the only one who seemed troubled spiritually, which gave a far deeper reason for concern. However, Seirei had looked at Tenshi, but she couldn’t see anything abnormal in his soul. Being an expert on souls, Seirei’s diagnosis was sure to be accurate.

One day, Kusaki walked up to Tenshi, who was tending the counter with Mizu. “Tenshi-san,” she called, handing him a plant with a bright smile, “Would you try this for me?”

With curiosity, he took the plant and rubbed the stem between his thumb and forefinger. It had five big leaves outlined in red, filled in with a pale blue. It looked almost like a windmill. He sniffed it. It had a refreshing smell, made him feel a little at ease. (Perhaps a little too at ease. He kind of feels tired after sniffing it....) “What is it?” he questioned, his eyes a little dazed.

“I’ve been tending to it for a few months, and it finished maturing just this morning. It’s supposed to make nightmares go away. It’ll be best if you consume it today since its effectiveness will fade with time.”

“Oh, I see!” Tenshi smiled at her, “Thank you, Kusaki! So, I just eat it then?”

“Yep,” Kusaki nodded, “It should taste pretty nice, and it should be easy to eat and digest. That is, if there aren’t unnatural-” she added, but Tenshi was already chewing it with a perplexed look on his face. It tasted nice, but... something... felt... wrong.... Kusaki got a little worried, “What is it, Tenshi-san?”

“I don’t know...” he said after swallowing, “Something about it is-” Tenshi suddenly jerked forward, gripping his throat.

“Te-Tenshi-san?!” Kusaki’s eyes widened, panic and shock bubbling up in her system.

“Tenshi!” Mizu shrieked, panic immediately coursing through her veins. “Kusaki, what did you give him?!”

“It-It was just a Nightmare Blower!” Kusaki panicked, “I swear, it shouldn’t be dangerous! I grew it properly and everything! The only reason that it could possibly hurt anyone would be-” she was cut off by Tenshi’s choking violently increasing in sound. Kusaki yelped, holding her cheeks and running out to get her brother. Mizuo was out on a job today, which meant they were down a person.

“Is something going on?!” Kasai hurried in with Yami and Seirei, his head adorned in a bedhead. Thank God that Kasai was a light sleeper, and that Yami and Seirei were already up.

“What is wrong with Tenshi-kun?” Seirei asked with wide eyes, astonished at the scene unfolding before her. It almost looked like... Tenshi’s soul was being sucked out of his body...!

“Mizu, do you know what’s wrong?” Yami inquired, looking over his fellow coworker, pushing his panic down to effectively solve the situation.

Mizu shook her head in sorrow, and a shiver went up each of their spines. Mizu was the best at medicine in the whole group, even in comparison to her twin and Kusaki. Mizu could detect and heal problems directly, which was extremely useful for almost any illness. If Mizu had no idea what was wrong, the problem couldn’t be physical.

“Is it something spiritually wrong?” Yami and Seirei hurried closer to Tenshi as Mizu backed off to let them examine him.

Kusaki ran in, sobbing hysterically to her big brother behind her, “Nothing should be going wrong! Tenshi-kun is such a pure soul; why is this happening?! He isn’t corrupted!”

“Calm down, Kusaki!” Daichi worriedly rubbed her back, putting his sister’s panic ahead of his own, “Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out! Don’t worry.”

Jacob came strolling in with a serious look on his face, “What is going on? What is all this commotion about?”

“Tenshi-kun’s dying!” Kusaki shrilled in despair, and they all flinched at that, except Jacob, whose eyes were covered by his hair.

“Kusaki!” Daichi scolded, “Don’t say that!” Kusaki sobbed onto her brother, apologizing over and over again for giving Tenshi the plant.

Mizu was the one to calmly but worriedly explain the situation to Jacob, “Kusaki gave him a plant, a Nightmare Blower, and he ate it.... She keeps saying that there is only one situation where it could hurt someone...?”

“It’s a very rare plant,” Daichi provided solemnly, his green eyes dark with despair, “On any normal occasion, nightmares are natural productions of the mind. If they happen often, it’s typically due to some sort of trauma. There are those situations, though... where nightmares are not... naturally produced.... In that situation..., Nightmare Blowers..., they hurt the person who eats them to heal a supernatural nightmare issue.... Sometimes...” Daichi spoke quietly, his eyes shadowed by his hair, “Sometimes, the person even... dies,” his voice broke at the end. The others stared at him in horror.

“Are you... Are you saying...” Mizu’s voice cracked, her blue eyes tearing up, “That Tenshi’s nightmares are supernaturally produced, and that he’s going to...” she gulped. She turned away, not able to say the final word. None of them could accept the fact that Tenshi’s life was being taken right before their very eyes. Sobbing, Mizu hurried off to her room with her long hair following behind her.

“Jacob! Isn’t there anything you can do?!” Kasai fretted. Jacob stared seriously at Tenshi, who was turning colors. His pupils were unfocused and flickering rapidly.

“Kusaki, why did you give him that...?” Jacob looked dangerously at the young teenager. His face was shadowed with darkness, insinuating that he was furious.

Daichi protectively clutched his sister closer into his embrace, “C’mon, man, she didn’t know.... How was she supposed to know the nightmares were unnatural...?”

“He has them often, yet he’s never been in such a serious trauma. The nightmares have nothing to do with what has officially happened in his life; they’re vague and abstract,” Jacob insisted in the same low voice, his teeth bared slightly.

“She’s just a kid!” Daichi refuted desperately, “She doesn’t know stuff like that!”

Jacob wasn’t about to let her get off of what she just did on the account of ignorance, “Then she should look into it or ask one of us before giving something so dangerous.”

“She didn’t think it was so dangerous! Tenshi’s a good person; who would think he could possibly be corrupted?!” Daichi continued to defend his sister. Something wasn’t right. Kusaki already felt guilty enough having endangered Tenshi’s life, and instead of trying to help Tenshi, Jacob is scolding Kusaki...? That makes no sense!

“Jacob, please help!” Seirei insisted, fully feeling the panic induced by Tenshi’s time limit as she stared at Tenshi’s bared soul, “We can take care of precautions or whatever later! But Tenshi-kun is...!”

“He’ll be fine,” Jacob shot her down darkly, “Hand him over. I’ll take care of him in my room.” Seirei clutched Tenshi in her arms, wary. Jacob wasn’t acting normal.... None of them had ever seen this side of Jacob.... Was it really okay...? “Well?” he pried impatiently.

“...” Seirei hesitantly handed the limp boy over to Jacob. Tenshi had stopped choking during their argument, but his heart was still beating. There was no telling when it would stop though, especially considering she couldn’t hear Tenshi breathing.... She was worried. This wasn’t the time to be fighting. Tenshi’s clock was ticking.

Jacob was their last hope. No one else knew what to do.

Jacob had always been the smartest and strongest in the group.

Jacob could fix this. They were sure of it.

It’s just... he wasn’t acting normal right now....

Jacob walked into his room, demanding everyone get back to work. As he passed Mizu’s door, he heard her sobbing, probably into her phone considering it sounded like she was talking to her brother. He ignored it, glancing at the boy in his arms.

“That was close...” he muttered, examining the unconscious. Tenshi’s breathing was starting to kick up again, but he was long unconscious, and that wasn’t about to change soon.

Jacob’d have plenty of time to reclaim the boy, to make sure Tenshi was corrupted once more.

None of them knew it, but Jacob was actually the Magician of Deception, and he was planning to take the whole world under his control. He’d already gotten all of the Guarding Magicians under his control: the Water Twins, the Soul Magician, the Dark Magician, the Earth Magician, the Fire Magician, and most importantly, Tenshi, the Magician of Purity, and that meant that nothing could or would stop him from destroying the entire Earth.

Of course, he didn’t have any of them under his full control. That wouldn’t be any fun, if they all were just drones. He lets them keep their personalities.

Everything else, however, is all his, and soon enough, that control would expand to the whole Earth. Nothing will do anything without his will, and everyone shall bow down before him.

Perhaps he ought to hypnotize Kusaki as well.... Yes, that will be his next step in world domination. How troublesome she’s been today. It just proves how you can’t have an enemy living in your house; you need to control them all. She’s lucky it was the Pure Mage she almost killed, or he’d really be dead.

The reason the Nightmare Blower kills those with supernaturally-caused nightmares isn’t because that’s a side effect, nor does the Nightmare Blower have a lack of effect on supernaturally-caused nightmares. It’s because supernaturally-caused nightmares are ingrained in the soul, and most people can’t take the tearing that it takes to cleanse the soul of those nightmares.

Tenshi, however, is the only case where that is not so, at least on Earth.

As the Pure Mage, his soul is naturally white, and nothing could damage that naturally. It took a lot of work to conjure enough magic to control Tenshi. The side effect of that control, or even the tiniest tint of black, however, were nightmares. The darker Tenshi’s soul was, the worse his nightmares. Tenshi’s soul wasn’t meant to be pitch black, or black at all, after all; it wasn’t supposed to be tarnished. His soul is so pure, in fact, that it can cleanse corrupted souls, which is exactly why Jacob took control of him first. He couldn’t risk Tenshi cleansing those he’d already corrupted, after all. With Tenshi under Jacob’s control, Tenshi wouldn’t lay a hand on his coworkers.

However, Jacob isn’t exactly sure if his control over Tenshi is just a coating or if it was ingrained in his soul like the rest of the Magicians, but either way, Tenshi can survive the nightmares being ripped away from his soul. It certainly is hard on the boy, that much is true; he’ll probably be out for a week or so. Nevertheless though, he’ll live. That Nightmare Blower just rid Tenshi of the cause of his nightmares, Jacob’s control, which Jacob can fix easily.

Jacob set Tenshi down on his bed and smirked, his red eyes alight with devious desires.

Personally, Tenshi was certainly his favorite of the mages. He was so interesting, and despite his innocent nature, he was the strongest. It took a lot of work to become stronger than him, but Jacob accomplished it. They’re counterparts, destined rivals, so it was easier for Jacob than it would be for anyone else.

Luckily, controlling him should be easier this time around, but he should hurry. The longer the boy lacks his control, the harder it’ll get to make him his again.

Jacob fondly slid his fingers down the side of Tenshi’s face, his eyes tender for once.

It didn’t matter how many times the day Magicians insisted they had no leader, that they worked equally. Tenshi was the day leader, and it was meant to be that way.

Jacob brushed the back of his fingers along Tenshi’s cheek. His complexion was getting better. It wasn’t as pale white as Jacob’s anymore. Jacob’d have to fix that.

“We’re like brothers, don’t you think, Tenshi...?” Jacob leaned down and put his hand against Tenshi’s chest, his face only centimeters away from Tenshi’s and his blonde hair mixing with Tenshi’s. One could hardly tell which strands were whose. Jacob pressed his lips up against Tenshi’s, breathing his dark control straight into the unsuspecting boy. Once the transfer was complete, Jacob leaned back a little, his eyes dark, “And that’ll always be,” he growled lowly.

Indeed, it was far easier to take control of the other magicians. Jacob didn’t even need physical contact with them.

Now to take care of that troublesome plant girl.... He’ll request her assistance, in private, in order to take control of her. If Daichi resists, well, Jacob might have to take hold of his soul for a little while, ripping his personality away.

My name is Faith Zuber, and I am a 21-year-old Christian otaku (fan of anime, manga, etc.) that loves to learn, write, read, and draw. I have been writing since before I can remember (having my mother write for me when I was not yet able to write myself), but I've gotten a lot better in the past few years through writing on Wattpad under an alias, where I currently have 475 followers.

My favorite subjects are languages and biology, especially humans. Thus, I've always had an interest in similarities and differences across humanity, and I will soon be graduating with a Bachelor's degree in Japanese with a Studio Art minor and Creative Writing Certificate at UMSL (University of Missouri-St. Louis). I support DGO (Diverse Genders and Orientations) and thus have various types of relationships in my works.

I am energetic at my core, with a few mental disorders such as autism and ADHD. I prefer optimism, so in stories, I need some humor in between hard times and a positive ending. Thus, I normally implement those into my own stories. However, my writing can take a range, from very serious to quite childish. As an otaku, I also take more of a manga-type storytelling - thus using conventions such as hair covering/shadowing eyes.

My project is called The Deceiver of Souls. The piece I chose for this was a short story that I absolutely love, where a group of magicians run a store. Their products and services include magical items and spells. However, one of these individuals is actually a villain who has taken partial control over the others. Who is it, and what is that individual seeking to accomplish?

The genre is fantasy - probably dark fantasy, and the short story is almost 3000 words.

I'm terrible about age ranges, but the target audience is probably young adults, maybe 17-30. With my plan for the sequel, it'd probably be better to have DGO-supportive readers, but since I've made it so that the two novels don't actually need the reader to read the other novel, being DGO-supportive is not necessary to read the original Deceiver of Souls.

I've been told that there are too many characters to keep track of for how short this story is. That's why I decided to start making it into a novel, where I slowly introduce each character so that the reader can take their time to become accustomed to them. I think adding some pictures on certain pages, like in manga's novels, would also help with that.

Another important thing to know is that the novel has a different ending from the short story; Tenshi actually decides to spread out the magicians and separate the memories and soul of the deceiver, so that the magicians can defeat the deceiver in the future through descendants.

My project is a good fit because I've seen that you publish some fantasy stories and even graphic novels, as well as stories related to different cultures, genders, and orientations. I also saw that one of your literary agents posted that dark fantasy is a "hot" genre right now.

I'm not sure what you mean by platform? Is this asking for social media? The closest thing I have to an active social media account is actually Wattpad, which is a writing website.

The following morning, six o’clock, someone knocks on the door. No pause was given before a guard opened the door and turned on the lights, which woke up both the boys, Rachael paid no mind as she had gotten used to sleeping with her pillow over her face.

“Get up Mark. Your training starts now.”

Mark slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes, he had slept in his gym uniform and slid out of bed to put on his shoes, “I’ll be out in a second.”

The guard nodded, as he closed the door, Sam yelled out, “Wait! Can I come with him?”

“Hmm… Samuel?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

He glanced down at his notes, “Yes, come with him. Get ready, you two have five minutes to meet General MacNeil at the back gate near the busses.”

The door shut and Sam excitedly jumped out of bed. He was dressed and ready to go so fast that they were out the door within a minute. The walk down to the bus ramp was full of Sam’s plans to impress the General. Mark was too caught up in his preconceptions for the day to pay attention.

“… Just you watch, the General will have me as his go-to guy before you know it.”

Mark pushed the door open and started walking down the stairs, “Maybe. He didn’t tell you anything though.”

“He probably didn’t get the chance to. A busy guy I bet. I bested most of these guys in the hallways so why not have me? Plus, I think with some training my skin can get even stronger!”

“Your skin?”

“The doctor explained that my skin hardens on impact, such that I can absorb blows better. I bet with the right training I could take a knife and bullets no problem.”

Mark shook his head, realizing the conversation, “Please don’t try that.”

“It’ll happen. He saw my potential and I will work to gain his favor.”

“You watch too many movies.”

As they walked along the fence, they saw the gathering crowd of students and quickened their pace.

With it being six in the morning, they had to largely rely on the lights from the watchtowers to see the group. The horizon just barely had the sun’s rays shining through it, with only the tops of the trees in the forest being able to graze the sun’s light. The boys walked through the gate and close to the bus ramp to get to the group.

The Bus ramp typically had dozens of school buses to take the students home at the end of the day, but the buses had been replaced with tents that acted as quarters for the soldiers. The General and the students were standing far off to the side in the grass. The General stood next to a gate that led to the forest behind the school.

About twenty or so students clustered together, all chattering amongst themselves while the General talked to a few of his subordinates. Sam excitedly continued his plans to impress the General up until the time limit. Mark scanned the crowd, looking at each of the students for recognizable faces. Clara was upfront, not talking to anyone, but standing firm with her arms at her side waiting for instruction. Much to his horror, Griffin stood tall with a sneer on his face near the front as well. Mark shrank a little in his shirt and hoped that he wouldn’t be noticed.

“Sharp! Sanchez! Front and center!”, The General hollered. He had stepped forward and confronted the crowd of kids, they all stopped talking on a dime as soon as he started yelling.

Clara stepped in front of the crowd, “Here!”

Mark quickly ran around the group of kids and stopped next to Clara, “Here, sir!”

“Excellent. You two will be training with me today, the rest of you will be completing exercises with my men over here. I may ask some of you to assist me as I see fit.”, the General opened the gate into the woods before walking and motioned for the two kids to follow him. Both obliged, without a word.

Mark glanced behind at the group receiving instructions. Sam’s excitement had died down and his eyes fell to his feet as he stepped forward to receive the orders for the day. Mark’s eyes drifted and he locked eyes with Griffin, who stared right through him. Mark jerked his head back forward and kept his eyes focused on the General.

The path they were walking down was somewhat illuminated by the sky as well as lights set up every couple dozen feet. As they walked, stations were set up in small, cleared areas with some having pads down while others had pull-up bars. Some areas seemed to exist for checkpoints more than anything.

MacNeil, without looking back, pulled a small-cap out of his back pocket and tossed it towards Mark who caught it. It was dark green with ‘army’ in yellow wording. There was a small battery pack on the back. He ran his fingers along the inside and felt the wires and sensors inside. A couple of electrodes stuck out from the front.

“Portable brain scanner. Not as accurate as an MRI machine but will help Doctor Chen get a general idea of how your brain works when you do that speedy thing.”

“Speedy thing?”

“You described the world as slowing down when you fought, I’m not going to name your ability for you.”

Mark looked over at Clara who offered little more than an eyebrow raise and a shrug as she kept her head forward. He slid the hat on his head and popped the electrodes to his forehead as they walked

“Sir, why are we going into the woods? I kind of need electricity for my ability to work.”, Clara asked.

“We have battery packs for you to use. They store a little more energy than you can currently keep in your body safely.”

“Why not use the outlets?”

“Do you want another seizure?”

“That one ONE TIME.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, “seizure?”

Clara ignored him but the General clarified, “While her power is amazing, overuse has some downsides. We found out the hard way, didn’t we?”

Clara sighed and he continued, “That’s also why we gave you that hat. If using your speedy thing causes you to have a stroke or some other medical issue with extreme usage, we have to be careful.”

Mark secured the hat a little more tightly on his head, “Good to know that’s a possibility.”

“You’ll be fine. Clara, to start you will be warming up your body with those battery packs I mentioned. Slowly take in as much energy as you can, and then release it back into the battery full charge. Do not rely on your gloves. You can build up voltage without it.”

He stopped at a wide clearing with large structures for power lines. The lines cut a line through the entire forest, allowing for the structures to be seen beyond a mile in either direction. Lights were set up along the concrete base of the nearest structure with a table full of electrical equipment. Clara stepped forward and looked at the table and began her warmups.

“Sanchez, you’re going to warm up as you would for any workout, light jog, stretch, but do what you did in your fight with Griffin.”

Mark’s face went pale, “The speedy thing?”

“Yes, your speedy thing. What’s wrong?”

He bit his lip, “I don’t know-how. When I did it the first time it just kind of happened during the fight.”

The General rubbed his chin, “It wasn’t like a conscious thought?”

Mark shook his head, and the General threw his hands down, “That’s disappointing. You can-”

Those words were all he heard. Mark’s stomach sank at their sound, and he desperately thought back to how it was that he used his ability. How did it work? But remembering the thought processes you had in a fight like that is… difficult.

Before he knew it he was completing a run to the abandoned water treatment plant half a mile away and back. It wasn’t until he made it to the fence of the water treatment plant that he shook his head and thought about the situation. But with no idea on how to get his abilities to work, his mind began to wonder. Most notably, why were they here?

The fresh air, the wind, it was nice to be sure. Not that Mark was ever one to appreciate the outside. But why would the kids be let out like this? The General was oddly trusting that he wouldn’t run away.

The hat was uncomfortable, the stickers on his forehead were itchy, and had trouble staying on as he began to sweat. There was a light beeping sound that it emitted every so often, with no clues as to what caused it. His hair uncomfortably rubbed across his skin.

He stopped to catch his breath. Why wasn’t he running away? The other side of the forest was right there, in less than a mile the forest ended and went straight into a nearby neighborhood. From there, it was a ten-minute walk to his neighborhood, another five minutes to get to his house. His eyes skimmed the other side. No, leaving wasn’t an option. Not yet anyway.

When he got back to where The General and Clara were, she was working on making arcs of electricity between each of her hands and under the General’s careful instruction. His speed died down as he stared at the pure energy jumping between the palms of her hands. Her eyes were focused solely on the task at hand.

“Break!”

She let out a large sigh and took a deep breath, “How was that?”

“Excellent, Clara. Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel great, sir.”

He pointed at her blackened and calloused hands, “those say otherwise. Apply the crème and then go on a run, same as Sanchez here.”

Disgruntled, but compliant, she stepped off and did as she was told.

Mark stood alone with the General, who pulled out a small notepad, “You should be warmed up now, I was thinking about the circumstances around what happened last time. You do remember well, don’t you?”

“I, I think I know what you mean.”, Mark clenched his fist and lined it up with his jaw.

“NO! Sanchez. I meant, think about how you were feeling. Your mindset. You were focused on that boy, right?”

“Right.”

“Focus now, on my pen.” The General twiddled the small piece of metal between his fingers. He moved it back and forth and presented it to the boy. “Think about its dimensions, the shape, more importantly, how it moves.”

“Okay, I’m focused. Now what?”

The General nodded and quickly launched the pen towards Mark’s face.

Time slowed to a crawl. The pen stopped in mid-air with its point directed between his eyes. In this state, Mark tried to move. He jerked his head to the side and shifted his body, feeling each muscle respond as he did so. Every slight adjustment his body made was instinct.

But the air, moving through it felt much more difficult. He was moving through jelly at this state, the body not fast enough to keep up with the mind it carried.

As the pen soared, it reached where Mark’s head was a just split-second before. He reached out with his arm, feeling the air’s resistance as he did so. He pinched the pen between his two fingers, and time sped up to normal.

His body was now in an awkward position, dramatically to the side, accounted from the speed at which he moved. He stumbled before falling flat on his back, keeping the pen up above his head.

“Heh. Good work, landing wasn’t well done. But I’ve never seen a normal human go that fast before. So, you may improve. How did it feel?”

“Amazing, but a lot. I felt every muscle, every movement. Even though things felt slower, there was too much to take in at once.”, he looked at the pen, “everything feels stiff.”

“That’ll happen, muscle strands can contract and stiffen in response to kinds of stress. Your body will adjust to these kinds of stress in time.”

He went over to the table and opened a chest on the floor to pull out a ball, “I’ll throw this and I want you to catch it. Understand?”

Mark nodded, “Alright, I’m ready.”

The General gave Mark a moment before gently tossing the ball in his direction. He was unresponsive until the last second it was going to pass his body and within the blink of an eye, his arm extended to his side and caught it. His arm seized and he let the ball fall.

“Okay, I think I pulled my arm that time.”

The General pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “I meant that you catch it normally. You’re moving faster than you did yesterday. Calm down. Try again.”

Mark picked up the ball and tossed it back, only to have the General throw it back again. This time, as Mark caught the ball his movements ceased any sign of their incredible speed.

“Did you do it?”

Mark nodded and the General continued, “Good, I want you to continue doing simple tasks while in that state. Think like walking, talking, maybe some simple exercises in the next few minutes. I’ll work with you to get your body up to par, sound good?”

“Yeah, That sounds great. I-“, in the background, Mark saw some rustling in the bushes. Mark peered over the General’s shoulder to get a look at the cause. From behind a far-off tree, Mark saw Sam peer his head from around the corner.

“-I need to use the restroom really quick. If that’s okay.”

“Go on, but when we get into more intense training you won’t be able to be as free with your bathroom breaks. You don’t need to run to the buildings, right?”

“I’ll just find some isolated bushes don’t worry.”, he awkwardly laughed before dashing off towards the direction he saw Sam in. He discretely walked around bushes and past a couple of dozen trees before Sam revealed himself with a huge smile on his face.

Mark kept his voice low, “Why aren’t you with your assigned guard?”

“I told him I had to use the can. I wanted to see what the big bad General was teaching you, didn’t know what I was expecting. But it sure wasn’t a game of catch.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Sam, what’re you doing here? The guards will be looking for you once they realize you’re not in the bathroom.”

“We can go Mark, right now. I was in these woods as a kid. My neighborhood is less than a mile away. Once we run past the clearing, we’re basically home free.”

“No, we’re not. There’s-“

Sam cupped his hands over Mark’s mouth, “Mark, shut up. This isn’t the time to think. This isn’t time to debate. It’s time to act. Are you in or out?”

Mark yanked Sam’s hand off his face, “Out. The guards will see you. They are literally waiting for us to try something.”

“You’re being paranoid. I’m running, with or without you.”

He took one step towards the fields, but Mark grabbed his arm, “I’m warning you. They’re waiting for you to try something.”

Sam tried to swat Mark’s hand away, and within a blink of an eye, Mark had his entire hand wrapped around Sam’s thumb and yanked him downwards, all the pressure put on the small bone. Before Sam could yelp in pain Mark wrapped his other hand over his mouth.

“This grip is something I learned from my older brother. I may not be stronger than you, but you try anything, and the bone will break in half. I’m telling you-“

The General called out, “Sanchez! Where are you?”

Mark motioned for Sam to be quiet as he yelled back,” I just need a minute!” He turned back to Sam, “Do not try anything. Go back to your group. I’ll explain everything back in our room. Understand”

With Mark’s hand still over his mouth, he nodded. Mark let go and he scowled as he rubbed his thumb and walked off.

A couple of moments later Mark emerged from behind the bushes and apologized to the General. He paid no attention as he moved on and explained what Mark would be doing for the remainder of their session. It was around this time that Clara returned from her run and met up with the two.

“Clara, good. I just finished explaining to Mark what he needs to do. I want you to work on the exercises we put together the other day. You remember them all?”

“Yes, I do General.”

“Good, I’m going to check in on the other stations and see how those kids are holding up. I’ll be back to check in on each of y’all’s progress in a few minutes.”

Mark and Clara watched as he walked off down the path and out of sight. The two exchanged glances before quietly going about their movements. After a couple of minutes, Clara broke the silence.

“Why don’t you leave right now?”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re out in the open. I know you’ve thought about it. Especially with your little… nighttime activities.”

He shook his head and tried to regain his focus, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re going to pretend like I didn’t hear you talk to Katie the other night?”

“Can we talk about this later?”, he snapped.

Clara shrugged as she stepped off to continue her exercises. The wires connected her hands as she carried batteries in each hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark noticed the redness around her hands from the electrical burns.

“Can I ask about your ability?”

She kept her eyes steady on the wire, “So you do want to talk?”

“I do, just not about that thing.”

She grits her teeth, “So you just get to pick what we talk about? MacNeil isn’t here you know.”

“Clara”, she kept her eyes focused on the wire, “Clara.”

She looked at him, “What!?”

“You’re right, HE isn’t here.”, as he spoke, Mark’s eyes darted across to the other side of the forest. Clara’s head jerked in the direction he was looking and as she did, the bushes rustled ever so slightly.

“I see what you mean. Either way, why do you want to know about my ability? Do you want to fight me next? That didn’t work out so well for your friend.”

“No! I’m just curious. And a little concerned.”, he motioned towards her hands.

She tightened her grip, “Ignore that.”

“Alright, you know Katie?”

“Her bed is next to mine.”

“Gotcha, so since she does heat and you do electricity are your powers similar or...?”

“I’m going to focus on my wire from here on out.”

“Okay, sorry to distract you. You just seem familiar for some reason.”

When she didn’t respond he returned to his exercises. Push-ups, squats, movements that when done too fast, caused him to come off the ground. Even when the execution of the movements felt painfully slow, it was still possible that he ended up jumping or his arms jumping up from the ground.

Eventually, as he kept his focus up, a quiet rumbling permeated through his ears, a weird, low noise that seemed to persist and break in frequency. Ignoring it, a few minutes later it returned and his focus broke. The noise was coming from Clara.

“Is that your stomach?”

She was focusing on a battery, “Please stop talking.”

“Do you want some gummies? They’re kind of gross but they help me deal with some of the effects of using my ability. Like my body can’t handle-“

“I don’t care. It won’t work on me, plus, my ability works better on an empty stomach.”

Gentle rustling was heard and the two stopped their speaking immediately to return to what they were doing. General MacNeil appeared from beyond the path. Clara was focusing on her exercises while Mark was using a jump rope.

Without a word, he stepped forward and watched the kids with approval. Clara was instructed to do various physical activities related to her ability and physical strength, while Mark was instructed to keep his ability active while doing various menial tasks. After an hour of exercise, the two kids were exhausted.

Clara’s skin grew from irritated to burned, with her fingertips growing puffy and painful. Every so often her muscles began to twitch.

Mark’s head became light, and he struggled to maintain his balance as time went on. Eventually, a small pain in the back of his head came front and center, and he had to stop using his ability for a while.

The General worked with Clara during this time, Mark sat down against the tree and watched as the two worked through more exercises. Eventually, he laid his head back and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Sanchez!”

His head jerked up, “I’m awake!” He jumped to his feet to meet face-to-face with the General.

“You stay awake while we’re out here. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, we’re about done for the day. But before we leave, I want to show you something.”

The General pulled a small book out of the side of his pocket, it was slightly bigger than his hand but very thick and dense. “These are the memoirs of soldiers. It tells their stories; includes leadership strategies, training regimens, etc. I thought you might enjoy this as a read.”

He took the book from the General’s hand and looked it over, a smile grew across his face, “I think I would. My dad likes to send me books like these every so often. Interesting reads about the Army. Learning about tactics, approaches, personal development. Did you know that in training-“, he looked up and remembered who he was talking to, “Thank you, sir. I’ll get to reading it right away.”

The General nodded and proceeded to lead Clara and Mark down the path to get back to the school. Mark walked beside the General and the two talked about previous reads while Clara trailed behind. Unable to join in on the conversation, she was only able to trail behind. Her discontent only grew as she caught Mark’s occasional glance behind them.

Title: Finch

Genre: Science Fiction

Age range: 15+

word count: Approx. 85,000 words

Author Name: Nicholas Verastegui

Why my project is a good fit: I believe my project is a good fit due to the unique premise mixed with a strong coming-of-age story

Hook: While being very character-driven, my story also provides an interesting magic system (what I'll call the virus) where the abilities the characters get are examined through a realistic lens

Synopsis: A virus with the ability to improve the people it infects is accidentally released into a high school. The changes it induces in people vary, but a small portion of those infected gained notable abilities, an even smaller portion gained superpowers. The story follows Mark, a timid teenager who learns how to use his new abilities and how to navigate a new life under military mandated quarantine.

Target audience: Young Adults

My bio: I am a 20-year-old college student. I was born in Texas, raised in Florida, and study at Purdue in Indiana. I was always interested in creative writing from a young age. But I had a strong fascination with the sciences as well. I stuck to engineering and decided to major in Computer Engineering when I went off to University. Once the pandemic hit, I rekindled my love for creative writing and began writing Finch. Since then, I have rewritten the story three times and work on it alongside my engineering coursework.

Experience: No professional experience beyond writing research papers and abstracts

Personality/writing style: I'm a very reserved character in real life, so I like to reflect that in the characters I write, while also throwing in fun and quirky dialogue.

the rushing whatever of the running toilet swallows me whole

i go to the kitchen to grab milk and a cookie (choosing the perfect glass so that the cookie balances on top effortlessly). this is easy for me until 10,000 handbags from outer space magnetic scenes fall furiously to the ground. this confuses me because I'm 13 or only 12, maybe 14. i forget what they told me before, but I'm definitely small-ish so my arms work fine.

on my way back the girl asks me if i need anything else, which seems obvious that i wouldn't. everything gets absorbed these days and she doesn't even look up from behind her cattail

when i plug back in my friend Ian has his screen off. i shout softly then louder but this doesn't stir him

reluctantly i try to use my keyboard to nudge him. Still, the query asks me for something green, a so-called BANK STATEMENT, but this doesn't make sense because Florida animals are only required to produce vibrancies and sometimes mine deleted videos. The classic mystery face game, I guess.

WHO'S THERE Ian finally asks

“jesus i could kill you” i respond, turned away now. i consider turning off my camera but that seems like something only a 10 year only would do and i don't want him to know i wasn't listening for clues this morning

Anyway, my sheets suffocate me quickly before i can hear him talk back so i wake up tomorrow instead.

—

YESTERDAY SUCKED Ian's voice through my alarm clock

“sorry, king“ my guess for today is 23 or 24. Figures

I GUESS YOU FELL ASLEEP AGAIN DIDN'T YOU Ian hasn't stopped shouting, so my guess is he didn't

yeah i say, already bored

i'm outside my chamber and the girl is gone. the mom's not here either. i still see cattails but this time underneath a small glowing orb filled with bug carcasses. “dirty, great”

I HEARD THAT! SOUNDS LIKE SHIT FOR BREAKFAST! Ian giggles

“im turning my screen off” i mumble before stumbling out of range

—

there's a dead tree out the window and it looks like 2pm. nothing interesting here and even less in the way of cookies. i figure the girl must have gone home but now i miss her. i think I'm probably old enough to fuck today,..

back in the room Ian has his camera off again.

“shithead“ i mumble with an exacting sigh. he laughs at this but i still can't see him so he might as well be a hot cheerleader. since he can't see me either i start thinking about it and

INFOFMATIONS:

Titled: “The Crocodile without a Tail”

novella, approx 19,000

Fiction/Science Fiction/First Person/Mixed Media/Pulp

author name upon request. Hails from Westchester, NY.

24 y/o (f) Art Historian. Hobbies include yoga, hiking, skiing, baking etc.

Would you even love me , if we created something beautiful and it never saw the light . Would you hold my body or caste me aside , would we turn into blameless faceless and hands full of acusations and no room to bury grief …

Spend evenings laying on coffins and waiting for this to end .. you don’t have to stay anymore … you can run …. And I still hold the bellly and the body … You can deny your body was ever a home … I have no choice to still leave the shutters open and hold the windows and the heartbeat … the faint jolts of laughter …. There was someone here … in me .. standing in mirrors and turning to the side … place hand.. hides shame .. and regret .. I know it all …. Lost and found… I tell her it is not your fault .. I tell her she may try again … and I tell her she will be a a good mother ….

Because on the days when she is longing for baby feet , she will say it’s her fault in the middle of the night when he doesn’t hold her or stay …

When she finds herself craving … to become more than a woman … she must know she can try again …

When she looks at her hands at the doctors with good news … she will doubt .. if she will be good .. she will need to know she is still a mother if she loses it and she will be a good mother …

And when I sit next to her I ask in Spanish … if she would like a hug … I stop in the middle of speaking … and I get nervous I want it to be translated perfectly .. I know how much words mean … I ask him to ask if she consents to a hug … I hug … I speak my Spanish .. it’s broken … it’s grief …. And I become professional .. in the moments … that pull me way to deep into personal … I tell her te amo … becaUse she must know she is loved …

She is loved

She is loved

She is loved

She is still a mother

Even when her body cannot hold a host .

I glared at the closed door, his words echoing inside of my head. It only takes one girl to go knocking on some big shot’s door, telling them everything about what I did to them for my empire to come crashing down. He said it straight to my face. Why? Does he think telling me this will work in his favor? I didn’t believe a word he said. From the way those people in the street were acting, I knew if I escaped and asked anyone for help, they would just send me back to Garcia.

I huffed to myself, glancing around the room. It was beautiful and I couldn’t help but enjoy the fact Garcia must have done this to make me feel at home. I quickly hurried over to the bookcases and fell in love with just the books. I spotted Dracula, Frankenstein, Grimm's Complete Fairy Tales, and even Rose Red by Stephen King. I ran my finger along the spines of several other books that looked just as good. I couldn’t wait! Garcia said to get ready for dinner though. I should probably shower and see what the closet looks like. I wasn’t exactly happy either with having someone coming in and dressing me up like I’m there fucking doll!

Trying to calm myself down, I went to the bathroom and nearly melted at the way it looked. It was beyond beautiful with those gold and silver fixtures. I grabbed a towel from the rack and shut the door. As I turned on the shower head, I felt a sense of relief for the first time within 48 hrs. I wasn’t sure as to why I got this sense of relief since I was still in danger, but maybe… It wasn't so bad here?

Once I got out of the shower, a woman was waiting here for me in a white puffed out maid outfit, with a delicate white lace apron tightly bound to her waist showing how beautiful her curves were. Her dark brown hair tied in two space buns stood out against the black and white outfit perfectly.

She smiled at me before bowing, “I’m Franny. Master said I’ll be butler for you.” She gestured to the closet behind me, “Let’s pick outfit for evening and I’ll help with beautiful hair.” Her broken English made me smile. I really need to learn Spanish.

The closest was lined with all sorts of cocktail dresses, ball gown dresses, evening dresses, sun dresses, formal dresses, and even some skimpy items as well. Fanny grabbed a beautiful long black evening gown that sparkled in the light. It was slightly low cut in the front, but completely open in the back. She picked out some black pumps as well that went perfectly with the dress.

Before slipping into the dress for dinner, she had me sit at the vanity mirror and got to work on my hair. She gently blew dried it before putting it up in one small tightly fitted bun. I knew that once my hair dried and I let my hair down for the evening that my hair would be super curly. She curled the little strands of hair that were popping out at the sides, letting them work their magic framing my face. When I reached for the makeup, she pulled me away from it, spinning me around in the chair.

“No, no.” She said, cupping my face, “Makeup would ruin look going for. El maquillaje te debilita.” She paused as a confused look crossed my face. “Uhh, makeup means weakness.”

I nodded, understanding, “I understand.” As I slowly stood up, glancing at the dress hanging by the mirror, “I don’t know if I can do this.” I whispered.

Franny sighed, gently rubbing my back, “Master Garcia really loves you. Master waited for you entire life. You must be strong, debe ser fuerte!”

I hesitated before grabbing the dress and quickly getting dressed. Let’s get this over with. I wanted to come back here and just read! All these books are calling my name and I must read soon or I’ll go insane! Reading and books are the sole purpose I am still here. Living through those words of others, getting to experience those adventures through someone else, even if they are imaginary, and feeling those emotions through those pages, it’s what kept me going, hoping and praying one day that I would find something like that. I just never thought this would be what I would be experiencing. Maybe I read too many of the wrong kind of books.

Finally getting up the nerves to leave the room, Franny walked behind me as I made the way down the stairs. People of all sorts and sizes were here. Loud voices and laughter traveled the hallways and I could see several servers wearing all black serving drinks and carrying little plates of food to different tables. As I reached the button of the steps, I took notice of how many people were actually here. It was a dinner, wasn’t it? Why were so many people here? The dining room was filled with people mingling and more people were out in the garden, enjoying the sun setting and drinks in their hands.

I glanced around the room, trying to find Garcia. I was aware of several servers eyeing me with hatred in their eyes, even Marco joined in with the disgusted look on his face. It was the dress, wasn’t it?

I sighed, and turned to Franny, “I think this dress is wrong. Let’s go find something else.”

Franny frowned, “But you look so beautiful.” She fretted with my little curls, smiling at me. All I could see was love and affection in her eyes.

“All the servers and workers are giving me disapproving looks though.” I whispered.

She glanced around the room, noting the looks of the servers and the glare from Marco. She curled her lip in disgust at him before looking at me, “They upset because of what happened with girl in the garden.” She gently squeezed my shoulders, “Marco… cares for girl so if he’s upset, then servers upset.”

I sighed deeply, licking my dry lips, “I see…” I wish I had some chapstick. Ever since landing here, my lips have been drier than ever. “What was I supposed to do then?”

Franny raised her eyebrows at me, “I not sure what happened you two, but that girl is trouble. Has since arriving. Demanding impossible left and right.” She shook her head, “Most expensive one too. Always demanding jewelry and new things.”

I latched onto what Franny was saying, “Did Garcia give those things to her?”

Franny nodded, sighing and moved out of the way of the group of people heading outside to the garden. She yanked me towards the sitting room where it had died down some, “Master Garcia loved her like others, so of course, car, jewelry, fancy clothes.” Franny shook her head, sitting down on the sofa. I joined her, wanting to hear more.

“What happened to her? And the others?” I asked. Franny was being straightforward with information. I had to take what I could get. Garcia would answer but only give information I couldn’t use.

Franny glanced to the dining room, a look of worry showing, “Master Garcia don’t like sharing what is his, and that means those in past.” Franny rubbed her neck, looking down at the floor, “They are still here, cared for. Marco visits frequently… for own needs and leaves the clean up for us.”

“Why hasn’t anyone said anything?” I asked, completely shocked.

Franny glanced up at me, “Marco can be worse than Garcia.” She shook her head, her fingers twisting together. “Marco says he cares for them… the other girls.”

“I saw the way they had looked at each other.” I whispered, trying to connect the dots.

Franny nodded, “He… tricks them, thinking he cares and then scares into keeping a secret from Garcia.”

“I don’t understand.” I said, sitting on the edge of the cushion, not wanting to miss anything. “I thought Marco was supposed to help Garcia, not fault him even more.”

“Fault?” Franny asked, confused.

I winced, “I’m sorry Fran. I keep forgetting that English isn’t your first language. What I mean is that I can’t believe that Marco would do this and put everything on Garcia, making things worse for everyone.”

Franny nodded. I could see tears swelling in her eyes as she looked away, “Garcia has warehouse turned into little apartments for girls in the past. The one, Gina… Marco had brought her here, and used her as slave.”

I gaped at her, “That’s why she was covered in dirt and looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.” I bolted up. “I have to tell him. Where’s Garcia?”

Franny bottled up with me, a look of fear in her eyes, “He be upset with everyone! You mustn’t!” She begged me, grabbing my hand. She was shaking.

I shook my head, “I’ll make sure he knows about Marco, and I’ll protect you and the others. He threatened you, didn’t he?” I asked, in a low voice. I could feel the adrenaline starting to course through my veins now. I needed to tell Garcia now!

Franny swallowed hard, “This way!” She continued to hold my hand and drag me through the crowd at the same time.

We passed people left and right. I noticed that some were eating, drinking, laughing, talking, but some just stood there, like they didn’t belong, hiding amongst the crowd, hoping that no one would notice. I did though and I noticed the way they held themselves. Cops! And not very well concealed cops either. I resisted the urge to yell in frustration. I had to play by Garica’s rules or I wasn’t going to get anywhere.

Franny pulled me into another small sitting room but there was an office connected to it. The door was open, but I could see a business deal going down. Money was being handed over to Garcia while others were taking briefcases from some of Garcia’s bodyguards.

“How am I supposed to get in there?” I hissed at Franny, “The door may be open, but I am not wanted.”

Franny frowned at me, “You are his Queen. Anywhere King goes, so does Queen.” She gestured to him, “Just look and see yourself.” She gently pushed towards the door. I almost fell because of these stupid high-heels but kept my balance. When I looked back up, Garcia was smiling as he saw me, his eyes lighting up. My stomach twisted some as the rest of their eyes landed on me. I took a deep breath and continued forward.

title, genre, age range, word count, author name, why your project is a good fit, the hook, synopsis, target audience, your bio, platform, education, experience, personality / writing style, likes/hobbies, hometown, age

Title: Love, Rose

Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Psychological

Age range: 18+

Author name: McKenzie Shinabery

Good fit: I think it'll be a good fit based on how the two cultures in the books mix together and it explains a lot about what happens in today world. People turn a blind eye or victim blame because they don't know the hardships of being in this type of situation. The book goes into detail and explains, letting the reader feel the emotions and understandings from a young girl.

Hook: I froze as he inched closer. Fear gripped me by the throat and my whole body couldn’t move. My brain was telling my body to move, run, hide, kick, scream, just do something to get him to stop coming closer, but it was like his eyes had me pinned to where I stood next to my bed. I was finally able to let out a small gasp as he gently grabbed my chin, making me look up at him. His eyes were almost pure black and the smirk that slowly crawled across his face told me that tonight wasn’t going to be peaceful.

“I’m not going to hurt you, mi amor,” he whispered in my ear, moving closer, “This is part of being my family, of starting our life together.” His voice was low and raspy and thick with his hispanic accent. His hand slowly cupped the other side of my face.

I shut my eyes tightly, wishing, praying, hoping that this was all a dream, just some weird sick dream. However, his hands slowly going down my body told me that it wasn’t a dream and it was very real. I gripped my nightgown tightly and shakingly took a step back, sweat starting to form on my face and neck. I couldn’t look him in the eyes so I stared at his chest.

“I-I-I’m v-very sorry…sir.” I stumbled over my words, trying to take another step back, “I’m s-so tired ton-night.”

He aggressively grabbed my face and made me look at him. The look on his face told me that I wasn’t going to get out of it, not now, not never. He pressed me up against the cold hard wall and spread my legs with his knee, his other hand caressing my face.

“I know you're scared and that’s okay, but…” he swallowed hard, excitement in his voice as he stared at me in wonderment, “but this will bring us closer and that’s what we both need.”

Synopsis: An orphan from a young age, adopted into a high class family to just be given to her adoptive father's business partner? Petal's been human trafficked at a young age and she doesn't even know it. Follow the journey as she becomes aware she's been human trafficked and see what happens? Will she escape? Will she fight for her life?

Target audiences: Adult Contemporary

Bio: Growing up with an absent mother and a workaholic father, let to her own devices while taking care of her younger brother, McKenzie started to write her own books and share them with her classmates. Seeing that her stories were interesting and kept getting good reviews, even from the teachers, McKenzie has kept on writing. Graduated in 2016 from Highschool and then from college in 2021 with an AA in general studies, she's venturing out into the world in hopes of getting her book published and to become a professional author.

Platform: Unsure

writing style: first person

I throw away all of my severed bonds that lay by my feet

I learned that no matter how many tears I cry, 

Nobody gives a damn apparently

Making me want to say goodbye

Cracks run through my heart 

The person who always stood by me disappear

What do I do now?

Without meaning to, I drag down whoever is near

I’ll always be like this

Even if I hold my knees and scream

I already know

In the end, it won’t change a thing

Even if I try to lament

Saying, “Something's not quite right”

In the end I do what I always do

I walk away with no answer in sight

Everything ends up being nothing

To all the things I turned away

I always did the same thing, without learning from my mistakes,

I say, ‘’What a pain’’

Again my heart gets attacked by the thing called ‘’loneliness’’

It hurts so bad deep down inside

The powerlessness of “loneliness” begins to sink in

The punishment for curling up all those times when I cried

Even if the moon shines upon it

Even if the night swallows it

It won’t disappear, it won’t disappear

With my inexperienced hands I tried to protect it

With my clumsy hands, I tried to fix what I shouldn’t have done

Before I notice it, Loneliness began to turn on me

My heart just won’t heal the scars

I cry a tiny plea

My heart shatters after hearing a kind voice

Please don’t treat me so kindly or I will cry inside

I hide myself away in the shadows, 

I hope for someone to find me, the tears don’t subside

This loneliness is deadly

Making it impossible to speak out my true feelings

I hide away my emotions

But yet it ends up revealing

I hate myself, I hate myself

These words end up repeating in my mind 

I don’t want to either die nor live

Ah, a penalty game called “Life” begins to rewind

Forced into loneliness

I’m already done

Please don’t treat me so nicely

I’m not someone you should waste your kindness on

Title: Deathly Loneliness Attacks

Genre: Poetry

Age Range: 10+

Word Count: 353

Author Name (Profile Name): Iroha

Explanation:

I think that my piece is fit, because it contains all the emotions that I felt, and pain. I know that some people can relate to the pain I suffered, so this poem is written to reach out to others. I'm very young for my age, and I think that, it's really amazing how far my experiences in life brought me to come this far. Some people say that young people have to enjoy their youth as best as they can, and that it's impossible that youngsters suffered pain like they have. Well, they're wrong. I suffered a lot, been traumatized so many times, and I can hardly trust others because of the betryal, gossip, and backstabbing things I've saw and went through. I just want the people who thinks, "It's alright to die, no one cares about me," let me tell you, that's not true. I overcame that phase because I heard there are good cotton candy in Japan, and if I can find a goal in life to live for, so can you.

I'm a introvert when I'm alone, but when I'm with the people I love, I'm somewhat between a extrovert and a introvert. Life is not always fun, and it never will be; it's up to you to create the fun in life is what I think.

CHAPTER 1: Not in Kansas Anymore

"Ow." Dylan Engstrom opened his eyes and found himself on a hard metal surface. "What … the hell?"

The last thing he remembered was sitting at his desk, sipping a cup of coffee, and preparing to join his buddies for a few hours of mayhem in Grand Theft Auto Online. At some point after that, everything had simply … faded out.

I'm dreaming. That's gotta be it.

He rolled over, stood, and fought off a wave of dizziness. He staggered, rubbed his hands over his face, took a few breaths, and waited for his vision to clear. When it did, he took a slow look around and realized he was in a chamber the size of a gymnasium, with metal walls, ceiling, and floor. No windows. Several doors at the far end. And filled with … aliens? Or something.

Sure, why the hell not? Since this is a dream, I might as well just roll with it.

One a few feet to his left looked like a bipedal, wingless dragon, easily ten feet tall, with muscular arms and powerful thighs and small but noticeable breasts under a tunic that appeared to be made from the skin of an animal. She glanced around quickly, confusion and fear in her reptilian eyes, and he guessed she had also awakened moments ago.

Huh. Doesn't make sense for reptiles to have boobs. But then, I guess an alien wouldn't have an exact correlation to life forms on Earth. He chuckled. More likely it's teenage hormones causing me to dream about tits. I can barely stop thinking about 'em when I'm awake.

Past the dragon was what appeared to be an orc, of all things. Also female, dressed in leather and furs, like a barbarian, sporting huge muscles but somehow managing to still look feminine. Her burgundy hair was tied into a long ponytail with a few locks hanging past either side of her face. Her dark green skin looked kind of leathery, and her face … well, she certainly wouldn't have won any beauty contests even without the two big, parallel scars running from her forehead down and across her right cheek.

Still, there was something about her -- the angles of her cheeks and her wide jaw and chin -- that exuded an air of great strength. But then, he gazed into her yellow eyes as she glanced around. She appeared to be in her forties, but there was far more mileage in those eyes than on her face. They were the eyes of someone who had all but given up on life.

He looked away reluctantly. She may have been as ugly as hell, but goddamn, what a body. He ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair and decided to check out some of the other life forms. His eyes passed over a large number of creatures he couldn't quite get his brain around -- translucent things walking on tentacles, something that resembled a millipede the size of a horse, an eight-foot-tall cross between a pig and an ogre -- and locked on to another female.

He almost laughed at that. Mind always in the gutter, even now.

This one was around six feet tall and might be described as somewhere between chubby and burly. Her eyes glowed white in contrast to her obsidian skin, but aside from that, her face was mostly human. And quite lovely, in fact. A pair of horns curved up from under her wild mane of silver hair, like a ram. She wore a dark blue cloak with a hood hanging over her back, and from what he was able to glimpse, she didn't appear to be wearing anything under it. Each hand had two big fingers and a thumb, just like the orc and the dragon-woman, and her digitigrade legs ended in large hooves.

Not bad at all. He guessed her age to be close to his, or maybe a few years older, and the extra weight was perfectly proportioned.

Huh. Usually, my dreams aren't this detailed. But there's no way this can be real. I'm probably slumped over my desk and drooling on my keyboard. He shrugged to himself again. I just hope I remember all this when I wake up.

His eyes opened a little wider as a realization hit him and he drew in a quick breath.

Shit, I hope I wasn't looking at porn when I fell asleep. If Mom or Dad barges into my room like they always do, I'm hosed.

The alien girl caught him staring at her and smiled, but it was shaky and faded fast.

Well, I can't do anything about it until I wake up. Might as well just see where this goes.

He smiled back before she turned away, and continued examining the people around him. Over to the right was a trio of bipedal creatures that looked like a cross between horses and cows wearing some sort of tribal attire.

Huh. More aliens that kinda-sorta resemble terrestrial animals. How would that even happen?

Past them was a quartet of thirty-foot-long snake people with four arms, wearing only skirts made of glowing multicolored beads roughly where the naughty bits on a human would be.

Dylan's eyes, once again, automatically locked onto the lone female in the group. Her skin was dark brown with a red and black diamond pattern running down her back. Her hands, like the orc and the chunky hooved girl and the rest, had three digits, only hers ended in claws. The top of her head swept back into a curving, three-pointed crest. Her bare chest sported two pairs of breasts. Her face was close enough to human, though covered with scales, and she was actually kind of cute.

Hah. I can't dream about a human with four tits, of course. It's got to be some weird creature. And why would an alien based on a snake have any at all? He realized he was staring and turned away. Again, though, she's an alien, so I guess there's no reason she can't be a mix of mammal and snake. What the hell, you can't go wrong with four of 'em.

He grinned and glanced around again, trying to find other humans. If any were in this chamber, they weren't close enough for him to pick out of the crowd. But his gaze did pass across something that was close enough, at least in size and shape.

The robot stood with her arms crossed over her chest, leaning against the wall behind him, about ten feet away. She had apparently been designed to look like an athletic woman, with a face of flexible metal carrying a friendly -- albeit bewildered -- expression and softly glowing red optics. Her gunmetal body was covered by a pair of cargo pants, boots, a T-shirt, and a long black coat.

Interesting. He wondered if she was anatomically correct.

Before he could check out anyone else, something nudged his shoulder. He turned and found a nine-foot humanoid wearing copper armor and a helmet with an opaque visor. It grasped his shoulder, pointed at one of the doors at the far end of the chamber, and pushed him toward it. He stumbled, regained his balance, and hurried ahead of the whatever-it-was.

In the corner of his eye, another hulking armored figure shoved the orc woman in the same direction. She snarled half-heartedly but headed for the door. She ended up walking alongside Dylan.

"I don't suppose you have any idea how we ended up here or what's going on?" He doubted she would even understand him.

"Nope. I was hoping someone around here could tell me that." Her accent was an odd mixture of Russian and Scottish.

"You speak English. You've met humans before?"

"A fair number of them, yes." She smiled at him, but it was tinged with sadness. "You remind me of one of them, a little. Someone I knew long ago."

"Ah. Decent guy, I hope."

"The best." Her smile grew ever so slightly, and so did the sorrow. "I miss him a great deal."

Dylan wondered what had happened but assumed it was a sensitive matter and didn't pry.

When they reached the door, she sighed and motioned at her clothes. "The one time I put on this old outfit instead of what I usually wear, which includes several guns, and look where I end up. Though I suppose any weapons would've been taken away before I woke up."

The nine-foot goons shoved both of them through the door and onto a large platform. He stumbled and the orc reached out to catch him before he fell. He regained his balance and found himself inches away from her face for a moment, gazing into her eyes, until she looked away and steadied herself. Her face turned a slightly darker green.

Huh. The goon's hand had felt solid enough. And the woman's breath briefly on his lips had been just as real as the three times in his life that he'd gotten this close to a girl. Dylan caught himself blushing and looked away.

He glanced around and noted the others who'd been separated from the main group -- the snake-girl, the three horse-cow people, the burly obsidian girl, the giant bipedal dragon, the robot chick, and about a dozen others. Two of them were human.

Finally! He grinned, but before he could greet them, something else caught his attention.

The goons who'd herded them onto the platform remained behind as the door closed, separating them from Dylan and the others. A bright light washed over everything and his whole body tingled.

Oh, this can't be good.

The light faded and he blinked a few times. His vision cleared and he looked around.

His mouth fell open.

He no longer stood in a room. He and the others were still on a platform, but now it was surrounded by an enormous metal structure made up of sets of stairs, ramps, platforms, and partial walls seemingly placed at random. If he had to give the architecture style a name, it would be … scaffold-chic.

"What the hell is this?" One of the other humans whimpered. "What's going on?"

"Sorcery," a woman's voice came from behind Dylan, barely above a whisper. He turned to find the obsidian-skinned girl glancing around with wide, terrified eyes and trembling.

"No." The orc shook her head. "I've seen enough to know there's no such thing. This is technology, but nothing I'm familiar with."

In the corner of his eye, the snake girl slithered past, put her upper hands on a nearby wall, pulled herself up and leaned over the edge.

"Look at this." Her voice was slightly raspy.

Uh-oh. Dylan walked slowly to the wall, jumped to grasp the top, and pulled himself up.

One of the other humans found a lower wall, leaned over, and drew in a slow breath. "Oh, hell." Her face turned pale.

Dylan glanced at her, frowned, and peered over the edge.

We're in the sky. He couldn't see the ground from here. Below the structure, there was nothing but a sea of red and orange clouds. And off to the right, he could make out two distinct suns, one larger -- closer -- than the other.

Then he realized the metal under his palms felt quite real for something in a dream. In fact, everything around him was as vivid and detailed as everyday life. His dreams were never even remotely like this, at least not the bits he could remember.

What if this is real?

"Oh, fuck me," he muttered.

"Now?" the snake girl said. "Or can it wait?"

"What?" He turned and caught a glimpse of her smirking at him before lowering herself back to the ground. He shook his head and dropped back to the floor.

"This is not a good tactical position," the orc said, flicking her eyes over the structure. "We're out in the open. We should move to an area that's less exposed to …"

Movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention. Hers, too. She snapped her head around to scowl in the same direction before he finished turning. More of the armored, helmeted, blank-visored guys appeared from behind several walls on the far side of the structure. She swept her steely gaze over them and backed up a step. "Find cover."

Dylan squinted, trying to get a clear look at the things the copper-armored goons were carrying.

"They have rifles," the orc said. "Get behind something."

A thin, yellow bolt of energy lanced out from the business end of one of the weapons and crossed the distance between the two groups in an instant.

Behind Dylan, a woman screamed. His pulse jumped and he cried out as he spun around. The human woman staggered backward, bumped into the wall, and collapsed. Her eyes stared straight ahead without seeing anything. Smoke rose from a hole that had been burned through her chest.

"Sarah!" The man rushed to her and fell to his knees. He stared disbelievingly at her, grasped her shoulders, and shook her. "Get up! Come on, baby, please get up!"

A hand grabbed Dylan's arm and he spun around to find the orc woman dragging him away.

"Get to cover!" She shoved him ahead of her just as another beam appeared for a split-second and drilled through the back of the other human's head.

A silvery thing about the size and shape of a hockey puck landed behind Dylan and bounced past him before coming to a stop.

"Grenade!" The orc pushed him again, drew in a deep breath, and yelled, "Run!"

#

The explosion flung bodies into the air and sent others tumbling across the ground -- more than Grishnag had time to count. She shoved the young human ahead of her and ran until both of them reached a wall. She ducked behind it, grasped his shoulder, and held him down. She turned to see if anyone else had survived the blast and found four bodies bleeding all over the metal surface and another -- one of the equine-bovine people -- teetering over the edge of the platform.

"Jesus Christ," the human moaned, hunching over and tucking his head under his arms. "This can't be happening!"

The snake-woman zipped over to the horse-man just as he rolled over the edge. She dived at him and missed his left ankle by a centimeter. She stared in shock as he plummeted out of sight.

One of the armored attackers appeared, crept up behind her, and aimed its rifle at the back of her head.

Grishnag glanced at the human and said, "Stay here." Remaining in a crouch, she moved one step forward -- and suddenly the robot blurred out from behind one of the other walls and tackled the larger humanoid from behind. Her momentum carried both of them into the wall and slammed the enemy into it with bone-crushing force. She drove her foot into its left knee, folding its leg the wrong way, and clamped her arms around its head as it fell. One quick twist snapped its neck, and she snatched the huge rifle out of the air before the body hit the ground.

The robot opened fire on the armored figures. Grishnag risked a quick peek around the corner just in time to see one of them catch a shot clean through the visor and out the back of the helmet. The others ran for whatever cover they could find.

Nice! Grishnag waited until all of them had ducked behind something, and then she glanced at the robot and said, "Cover me!" She sprinted over to the fallen humanoid while the robot continued firing.

In the corner of her eye, one of them swung its rifle around toward her as she picked up the dead one's weapon. She leaped and rolled, and the shot drilled through the space she'd already vacated. She came up in a crouch and put five shots through her opponent's chest. It slumped over and she lunged forward to grab its rifle, and then she ran back to the human.

He was where she'd left him, curled into a fetal position and rocking back and forth.

Okay, giving him the gun wouldn't be a good idea. She glanced around, found the snake girl, and tossed the gun to her. "Do you know how to use that?"

"I can figure it out." She pointed the rifle away from everyone and pulled the trigger, firing a blast into the floor. She squeaked and twitched, pulled herself together, and rose above the wall to fire at their attackers.

Grishnag took a quick look around for more survivors and found only a horse-woman, the burly woman, and the giant humanoid dragon.

"What is happening to us?" The obsidian-skinned female whimpered, huddled against the wall behind the human. "Why is this happening?"

Grishnag noticed the girl's mouth movements didn't match the words she spoke. Something is translating her speech. What the hell is going on?

"We can worry about that later if we survive the next few minutes." Grishnag popped out from behind cover long enough to shoot another of their attackers.

An enemy shot punched through the wall and searing heat on her right cheek made her lunge to her left.

"I want to wake up," the human moaned. "Why can't I wake up?"

"This isn't a dream." Grishnag gunned down another one. Before she could duck back under cover, a movement caught her eye. She turned and found another grenade spinning through the air toward her. She sucked in a breath to shout a warning to everyone else, but suddenly a beam struck the disc-shaped device in midair. It vanished in a flash and an expanding cloud of shrapnel. Grishnag glanced to the left and found the robot shifting her aim from the blown grenade to another pair of attackers.

Grishnag sighed and looked up at the platforms above them. "We'll be better off if we can get to higher ground. We need to …"

Behind the dragon, another of the armored men stepped into the open and lobbed a grenade. It arched over everyone's head and came down straight toward her. The human looked up, spotted it, and his face turned white.

Grishnag rose to her feet as the grenade reached her, caught it in her right hand, and hurled it straight back to the enemy humanoid. It threw itself to the right but wasn't fast enough. Grishnag turned away from the sudden flash and winced at the sharp bang, but laughed when she saw the body flopping off the edge of the platform.

She only had a moment to celebrate, though. Another humanoid hopped over the top of the wall they'd been using as cover and dropped down in front of the dragon. It raised its rifle, but the dragon swatted it aside, braced her hand on the side of his head, and shoved it into the wall with enough force to leave a dent. The gun fell from its suddenly limp hand.

"Hold on." Grishnag hurried over and searched the pouches and compartments on the body's belt. She found three stubby cylinders she guessed were spare power cells for the guns and a rectangular box that might be a communication device or a control system. After finding nothing else on him, she nodded at the edge of the platform.

The dragon flashed a predatory grin and gave the body a casual toss, sending it plunging through the fiery clouds under the structure. She looked the gun over, glanced at Grishnag, and mimicked her pose, holding the rifle in one hand and propping it on her shoulder.

Grishnag found the rest of the survivors gathering behind her. The robot pointed ahead before popping off a few more shots.

"Clear the road. I'll cover our rear."

Grishnag took the lead and made her way to the nearest ramp. She rounded a corner -- and caught a split-second glimpse at the stock of a rifle before it rammed into the side of her head. When she regained her senses, she found the business end of the rifle inches from her face. She tried to ignore the pain lancing through her head and shifted her eyes from the rifle to the humanoid pointing it at her.

A brown blur came in from the right and plowed into the figure, knocking it off its feet and sending the rifle clattering across the floor. Grishnag pushed herself upright and found the snake-girl coiling her body around the enemy. The serpentoid rolled, twisted, and wrenched her body to the right, flinging the humanoid across the floor to the edge of the platform.

As it tumbled over the edge, it lashed out and clamped onto the end of her tail, dragging her along with it as it fell. All four arms flailed, her claws scraping across the metal, trying to find a handhold.

The human leaped after her and managed to grab her upper-left hand, but the combined weight of her and the goon dragged both of them closer to the edge.

The dragon clamped her talons around the human's right ankle, and that was enough to hold them in place.

The snake grunted and contorted her face, and from her movements, Grishnag guessed she was swinging her tail around, trying to dislodge the enemy.

"Pull her back up." Grishnag picked up her rifle and glancing around for more of their attackers. "One of us will be able to pick it off as soon as it reappears."

"Wait," the snake grunted. She took the human's other hand to hold herself steady, gave her tail another swing, then another, and Grishnag saw the enemy appear momentarily before gravity pulled it back down.

One more swing hurled it into full view -- and a rapid series of bolts from the robot's gun drilled through its head. It loosened its grip on the snake girl's tail. Grishnag and the dragon blasted it several more times before it dropped out of sight for the last time.

The human pulled her away from the edge. When she was no longer dangling above the clouds, she threw all four arms around him and just held him for a moment. He looked startled, but recovered after a few seconds and put his arms around her.

"Thank you," she finally whispered.

"Uh … sure, any time."

"Let's keep moving." Grishnag rubbed the side of her head, winced at the pain, and made sure to keep checking in every direction as she resumed the lead. Everyone followed her up the ramp to the next platform, and then on past two more. The next ramp led to a long, narrow level with waist-high walls. She lowered herself to her left hand and her knees, holding the gun in her right hand, and crawled forward, keeping her body below the top of the wall.

The others followed, crawling along close behind her.

Once she reached the end, she found herself in a larger chamber. Fortunately, this one had a solid wall between them and the attackers' last known position. Everyone stood and rushed across to the door and the huge window at the far end. They paused to look out the window before moving on to the door.

"What is that?" the girl with the glowing eyes whispered.

"Looks like a city," the human muttered.

Grishnag nodded. In front of her sat several kilometers of metal buildings, domes, and spires colored in varying shades of gray with streaks and splotches of brown all over. She cocked her head. Is that rust?

"A … city?" The horse-cow woman shook her head in disbelief.

"Like a village, but larger." Grishnag pointed at the nearest structures. "Those buildings are basically … tents? Huts? I've never met any of your people before, so I don't know what you're familiar with." She shrugged. "People live in some of those, work in others. Theoretically, at least."

"Ah. I think I understand."

"Maybe there's someone here who will help us out." The human glanced around at the others.

"I doubt it," the dragon said. "Would they have brought us within reach of someone willing to help us?"

"I … I guess not." He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "So what do we do, now?"

"Most cities have vehicles in them. There's probably something there we can use." Grishnag patted his shoulder and smiled. "So, we keep going until we find a way out." She opened the door. "Let's move."

CHAPTER 2: Waking Up Dead

"So," the male said after they'd been traveling through the city streets for a while, "we've faced death together, but we don't even know each other's names."

The muscular green woman chuckled. "I'm Grishnag."

"Dylan Engstrom."

"Pleased to meet you, Dylan."

"And I'm Nishara." She slithered closer to him, smiled, put her upper hands on his shoulders, and touched her forehead briefly to his.

"Uh, hi." He smiled but clearly wasn't sure what else to say or do.

The tall reptile woman bowed, first to him, then to the rest. "Ayastal."

"I am Zilaka," the furry one with hooves, muzzle, and horns said.

"My name's Cora," the machine-woman said, turning to keep watch for more of the helmeted people.

"Syala," the thick one with glowing eyes and hooves murmured.

"Okay." Grishnag stopped at the next street corner and glanced around. "We haven't seen anyone else here. This part of the city appears empty." She sighed. "I hope the rest isn't empty as well."

"The buildings are rusting away." Cora stopped at a wall and looked it over, but was careful not to touch anything. "Looks like it hasn't been occupied in a long time."

"Probably just used for training exercises or something like that," Grishnag said. "Or whatever it is they're doing with us."

"I don't suppose any of you have seen a place like this before?" Dylan mumbled.

Everyone shook their heads.

"I've seen metal buildings before," Ayastal said, "but none like these. When I was a child, there was a settlement of 'sky-people' not far from where my tribe lived. Buildings made of metal, but the …" She took a moment to find the right word. "The shapes were different."

"You're familiar with other worlds, then?"

"No. My people are aware of those who came from the sky, but none of us have been there. Well, until now. When I was a child, I would often sneak away from home and spend most of the day simply watching their flying machines." Ayastal smiled. "I've always wanted to ride one of those machines into the sky."

"Well, you may get your chance yet," Grishnag said as they continued on their way. "If we can find our way out of here."

"Maybe if we investigate some of the buildings," Dylan said. "If there's a computer in one of 'em that's hooked up to the inter -- uh, a global network, if this planet has one, we might be able to find a map."

"I haven't detected any wireless networks." Cora shook her head. "I'm not picking up any power sources, either."

"Damn. We should keep moving, then." Grishnag sighed and walked on.

The rest followed her, glancing around every few seconds to be sure no one was pursuing them. Nishara wasn't sure how much time passed as they made their way across the empty city, everyone remaining silent as they took random turns every now and then, until she'd lost any sense of the direction from which they had come.

Not that there was anything back that way except death if the metal people were still pursuing them.

Finally, they emerged onto an enormous platform, easily bigger than her clan's largest encampment back home. And on it sat large metal structures of varying sizes and shapes. They looked different from the buildings they'd passed by earlier, resting on sets of large things that looked like feet, or in some cases, wheels.

"Flying machines?" Ayastal cocked her head and smiled slightly.

"Looks like it." Dylan turned to Grishnag and Cora. "Any of these look familiar?"

"Some are similar to technology I'm used to." Grishnag walked slowly past one, brushing her hand over the lettering on its side. "But not exactly. I don't recognize any of the insignia or the names."

"Huh," Dylan muttered, stopping to stare at the letters painted on one flying machine's side. "These are all in English. Hell of a coincidence."

"I'm seeing these in my native language." Grishnag moved on to the next ship. "I noticed during the battle that when some of you spoke, your mouth movements didn't match what you were saying, and the same is probably happening for all of you when I speak. Something has been translating us, and I assume the same thing is happening with the writing on these ships."

"Ah. I was wondering how we could understand each other." Nishara slid past Dylan and stopped to examine the ships beyond the one he stood beside. "I don't understand how it's done, though."

"Were you all unconscious when you were brought here?" Dylan glanced around at each of them. "Did you fall asleep back home and then wake up in that huge room where we met?"

Everyone else nodded or murmured an affirmative response. Dylan suddenly looked uneasy.

"I bet they implanted something in us. Hardware that interfaces with our brains and translates what we see and hear." He shivered. "And if that's what they did, then what else did they do to us while we were asleep?"

Syala shuddered and her lower lip quivered. Nishara slithered over to her and put her left arms around her.

Cora looked unsettled for a moment, and then she pulled herself together and marched across the platform. "We'll have to worry about that after we get out of here. We need to take one of these ships, assuming any of them are still functional. A shuttle wouldn't do us much good. Too short-range. We'll need a ship that has a hyperspace vortex generator in case there are no jumpgates nearby."

"But isn't the ability to understand other languages a benefit?" Syala patted Nishara's hand and walked alongside her. "Why would they give us an advantage if they simply want to kill us?"

"For the challenge," Grishnag said, her eyes opening wider at the realization. "They're hunting us for sport."

Dylan grimaced. "Why'd you have to put that idea in my head?"

"Sorry, but it just fits. They give us a way to communicate and work together when they could've just shot us dead. So, they're either hunting us, or this is a test. Evaluating specimens to decide which planet to invade, possibly."

"That's even worse."

"Yeah." Grishnag sighed and moved on to the next ship.

"Whatever the reason they brought us here," Ayastal said, "they paid a terrible price for it. I didn't take the time to make an exact count, but I believe we reduced them by at least half."

"Assuming they haven't brought in reinforcements." Cora walked over to a sleek, black ship that looked like a saucer that had been stretched out to twice its original length.

Zilaka crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "This is a nightmare. It has to be."

"That's what I thought at first." Dylan walked around the front of another ship, shook his head at the buckled strut that had once held it up, and moved on. "It's too detailed and too linear to be a dream. And it just feels too real."

"Even if it were a dream or hallucination," Cora said, "we can't afford to assume it's not real with those assholes trying to kill us."

"Yeah, guess we don't have much choice. We have to keep playing along, just in case." Dylan turned to look at another ship -- and one of those yellow beams came out of nowhere and pierced his chest. A startled look crossed his face, then was replaced by a grimace of pain as he collapsed.

Everyone stared in shock.

"Dylan?" Nishara whispered. Her hearts pounded.

Grishnag and Cora were the first to recover. They threw themselves behind the nearest ship and tried to find where the bolt had come from without exposing themselves to more.

Ayastal pulled Syala and Zilaka behind another ship. Syala stared at Dylan's body and burst into tears.

"Damn it," Grishnag snarled. "He was just a kid."

"What the hell?" Cora aimed her weapon in the distance, but couldn't find a target. "I should've been able to detect them. Why couldn't I detect them?"

Nishara sucked in a deep breath and screamed, "Dylan!" She slid over to him, hoping he was only wounded as she rolled him over.

His eyes stared blankly into the sky and smoke curled up from the hole in his chest.

Still, she put her upper hands on his shoulders and shook him gently. "Dylan! You can't …"

"I'm sorry, Nishara," Grishnag said. "He's gone. Get under cover."

Nishara wiped the tears from her eyes and lifted her head to glare at the place from which the shot had come. She could make out movement among the metal structures in the distance.

She snarled.

Ayastal turned suddenly to face something behind everyone. More of those damned beams drilled into her chest. Her legs buckled and she slumped over on top of Syala.

Nishara turned to find a dozen more metal men charging them. She drew in another breath and let it out in a shriek that caused everyone around her to stop in their tracks for a moment, even the murdering bastards who had taken poor Dylan from them. She raised her weapon, surged forward, and pulled the trigger. The nearest of their enemies stumbled backward and fell, smoke pouring from all the holes she'd blasted through his torso.

A series of flashes came from the others' weapons and sudden, searing pains lanced through her chest as if white-hot knives were being plunged into her. Before she even understood what had happened, she found herself sprawled face down on the metal ground, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

"M … monsters," she whimpered before blackness engulfed her.

#

"What the --" Dylan flailed, gasped, and clutched his chest. Before he realized he was on a raised platform, he lost his balance, fell off, dropped several feet, and landed face down. Groaning, he pushed himself up slowly and looked around. "What the hell?"

More platforms filled the room, almost like metal beds.

No. More like autopsy tables. A shiver rippled through him.

All the tables were occupied by the alien women who'd surrounded him just before …

Just before I died. He glanced down at the front of his shirt, but couldn't find the hole that had been burned through him. The shirt hadn't been repaired -- it was exactly as it had been before that fatal shot.

Just to be sure, he lifted his shirt and slid his hand over his chest. There was no sign of a wound.

How am I alive? He leaned on the platform and tried to take deep breaths and slow his pounding heart. He looked around again and a chill rushed through him.

They're not breathing. He held his breath for a moment, trying not to let a sudden burst of tears out. The only familiar faces in this goddamn place, and they were all dead.

But he wasn't. Why?

Suddenly, Ayastal inhaled. She twitched and lurched upright, glanced around, and her eyes locked on to him.

"What …? How …?"

"I don't know." He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Did you, uh … ?"

"Die? Yes." Ayastal shuddered. Even though her face wasn't human at all, Dylan could still read her confusion and fear in her wide eyes, twitchy movements, and rapid breathing. Maybe some things were universal. "I felt my heart stop! And yet …"

"Here we are. I know. I think …"

Nishara suddenly sucked in a deep breath and screamed. She convulsed and rolled off the platform.

Dylan let out a quick scream of his own and backed away from her, but pulled himself together and approached her slowly. "N … Nishara?"

She glanced around frantically, found him, and stared. "Dylan?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah, it's me."

"But …"

"I know."

"You died!"

"Yeah, I noticed that. So did Ayastal." He motioned at the dragon woman, and Nishara glanced over her shoulder. Ayastal nodded at her. Nishara stared, took a few breaths, looked as if she were about to say something, then she turned back to Dylan.

"As did I." Nishara stared down at herself and ran her hands slowly over her chest. "The wounds are gone."

"Mine, too." He lifted his shirt. "See?"

She slithered up to him, stared for a moment, then reached out hesitantly and touched his chest. Her skin was softer and warmer than he'd expected. She moved her hand slowly over his chest for several more seconds, looked up and met his gaze, and finally pulled him into a tight embrace.

"How?"

"I don't know. Maybe whoever brought us here is able to heal wounds like these." Or maybe we're clones and the originals really are dead. He didn't mention that one to either of them, not just because he would've had to explain what clones were.

"But why?" Tears trickled from Nishara's eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. "Why are they doing this to us?"

"I wish I knew." He pulled the bottom edge of his shirt out to wipe away her tears. "I wish I knew how to even begin to find out."

She put her upper-left hand over his, held it to her cheek, raised her lower-left hand to his cheek, and stroked it softly. She gazed into his eyes for a moment, and then she leaned forward slowly and kissed him.

What the hell? Though it caught him by surprise, it was also quite nice, so he let it continue as long as Nishara wanted. When she finally pulled back from him, her face turned slightly darker, and she couldn't look him in the eye again.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"I'm not." He smiled.

Ayastal managed a chuckle, though she was still visibly unsettled. She stood and ran a hand over her chest as if still looking for her wounds, and finally glanced around at the other bodies.

"Since the rest of us are here, I think we can assume they were killed, as well, and will wake up soon."

"Yeah. Well, I hope they will." Dylan turned slowly, looking around at the others, but kept his left arm around Nishara. "I wonder which one of them died next."

"I wouldn't know." Ayastal's muzzle quirked slightly into what might've been an attempt at a smile. "I was unable to observe anything, being dead at the time, myself."

"Right. Heh." Dylan managed a shaky smile and waited silently to see if anyone else woke up.

The others woke one by one. Dylan, Nishara, and Ayastal took turns explaining what had happened -- or what they thought happened. Cora and Grishnag understood instantly, but Syala and Zilaka took a bit longer.

"We died," Syala whimpered. She remained on her platform, pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and rocked slowly. "How can we be alive if we died?"

"Whoever's doing this to us," Grishnag said, "if they're able to abduct us and bring us who knows how many light-years to this place, then repairing fatal wounds might be child's play for them."

"So, this is what our lives will be from now on?" Tears trickled down Syala's cheeks again. "Dying, waking up here, and being killed again? Over and over, perhaps forever?"

"I don't know." Dylan walked over to her, and Nishara joined him. At the same time, they each put an arm around Syala. "But that means we might have a chance to get out of here. As long as we survive, there's hope. Right?"

Syala didn't answer. After staring at nothing in particular for more than a full minute, she put her arms around him and cried into his shirt. He glanced at Nishara, who smiled and nodded. He embraced Syala and rubbed her back slowly.

"And maybe not," Grishnag finally said. "Maybe they'll leave us alone for a while."

A door at the end of the room slid open and two of those damned nine-foot humanoids entered.

"Fuck," Grishnag snapped.

"Jinxed it," Cora muttered, and Grishnag sighed.

"Yeah."

Everyone stood and faced them except Syala. She gripped the front of Dylan's shirt, twisting the fabric in her clenched fists as if terrified he was about to move away from her. He and Nishara remained by her side.

A third humanoid followed the first two, pushing a large cart. They stopped in front of Dylan and the females, and the two in front stepped aside. The third pointed into the cart.

Grishnag peeked into the cart. "Guns. They're arming us, this time?"

"Oh, shit," Dylan moaned. "What the hell are we gonna be facing?"

"Doesn't matter." Grishnag shook her head and backed away from the cart. "I'm not fighting for someone else's entertainment."

The humanoid pointed into the cart again. Grishnag growled.

"Fuck you. I'm not playing your games."

The one on the right turned its blank faceplate toward her and raised its left hand, pointing its palm at her.

She hunched over suddenly, clutched her head, and screamed. Everyone else gasped, and Syala clamped a hand over her mouth and began crying again.

Grishnag stumbled to the right, toppled over, curled up on the floor, and continued screaming.

"Stop it!" Dylan pried himself away from Syala and rushed over to Grishnag. The goon on the left pointed its palm at him. He ignored it, reached out to touch Grishnag's shoulder, but hesitated. He glared at the humanoid on the right and shouted, "Stop it! We'll do whatever you want, just stop!"

Both figures lowered their hands back to their sides. Grishnag suddenly went limp, still holding her head and weeping, but no longer screaming. She rolled onto her back, sobbed, and tried to pull herself together.

"Fucking monsters," Nishara practically hissed before slithering over to help Grishnag sit up.

Dylan clasped Grishnag's right hand in both of his and just held it while she took deep breaths and regained control of herself. Finally, she gazed into Dylan's eyes, reached out and caressed his cheek. Then her eyes widened and she pulled her hand back as if shocked by her own actions.

Okay, what is it with me and alien women, anyway? Have I turned into Captain Kirk or something?

"You gonna be okay?" Cora leaned over to touch Grishnag's shoulder.

Grishnag shuddered before answering. "Eventually." She pushed herself back to her feet and staggered over to the cart. "Fine. I'll go along with whatever insanity you've got planned." Glaring at the helmeted humanoid in front of her, she picked up one of the huge, long-barreled rifles. Then she snarled, "How do you know I won't kill you with it?"

The armored alien stared blankly at her. She held its "gaze" for a long moment and finally sighed and turned away. Her shoulders sagged ever so slightly.

Dylan sighed and picked up one of the guns. He thought it over for a few seconds and then turned to the humanoid on the right. "This is for hurting my friend."

He aimed his gun square at the bastard's chest and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Trembling, he sagged and stared at the gun. "Fuckin' hell!"

Grishnag patted his shoulder, smiled shakily, propped the gun on her shoulder, and strode out the door.

"I can't do this," Syala mumbled.

"You saw what will happen if you don't." Nishara hugged her and rubbed her back, then took her hand and led her to the cart.

"We'll be right there with you," Dylan said. "We'll all get through this together."

Zilaka nodded, patted Syala's back, and picked up one of the guns. Holding it uncertainly, she sighed and clopped past the guards.

Dylan smiled one more time at Syala, took a step past the humanoid who'd tortured Grishnag -- then he spun around and slammed the stock of his rifle into the bastard's visor. The impact knocked the alien off its feet and sprawled it on the floor.

Holy shit, that actually worked?

The other guards stepped toward him and pointed their hands at him. He propped the rifle on his shoulder and glared at them.

"What?" he snapped. When he made no further moves against them, they stepped back but kept their palms aimed at him. He realized suddenly how close he'd just come to being subjected to the same punishment that had been inflicted on Grishnag, but tried to cover up his fear by pushing past the guards and grumbling, "Get the fuck out of my way."

As he turned the corner to follow Grishnag, he caught a glimpse of Syala staring at him with an awestruck grin -- then picking up one of the guns and marching after him.

He caught up with Grishnag at the end of the corridor, which widened out and ended with what looked like a hangar door. The sounds of boots and hooves approaching from behind told him the rest of the women had armed themselves and joined him and Grishnag.

"I just realized something," Zilaka said, obviously struggling to keep her voice steady. "There were many others sent with us onto the first battlefield, but we're the only ones who woke up in that room back there."

"The others were killed almost immediately." A troubled look crossed Cora's face. "Maybe they were rejected."

All the confidence Dylan had just built up drained away as her meaning sank in over the next few seconds.

"Wonderful." Grishnag turned back to the door. "Well, let's get this over with."

CHAPTER 3: Wheels of Fire

"Huh. That's not what I expected." Dylan turned around slowly and took in their surroundings. He and the alien females stood in the middle of a street with a set of vehicles in front of them. Wheeled vehicles, but none of them familiar to him. Each was about the size of a four-door sedan but ranged from sleek lozenge shapes to something that looked like a cross between a sports car and a SWAT tank.

The city itself was unlike anything Dylan had seen on Earth, but it reminded him of any number of futuristic cityscapes in movies, video games, and TV shows. Lots of gleaming metal, concrete, glass, bridges, overpasses, and skyscrapers. In the distance, vehicles zipped around and equally sci-fi aircraft traced paths across the sky here and there.

I wonder if we're still on the same planet as the place we were killed a while ago? The sky was tinted red instead of the familiar blue and the air felt different -- thinner, with a sharp odor of overheated wiring filling his nose with every breath. If the assholes who abducted us can teleport us to other planets, what fucking chance do we have of ever escaping?

"I know how this works," Syala clopped over to one of the cars, her mouth hanging open and her glowing eyes opening wide. "I've never seen any of these before, never even imagined such things, but I know how to drive them."

"So do I." Ayastal leaned over the nearest car, placed her hand on its roof, and peered in through the windshield. "The knowledge just appeared in my mind. But I can't fit into any of these."

"How is this happening?" Syala drew in several ragged breaths and glanced around until her terrified gaze locked onto Dylan. "How do I suddenly know things I could never have even dreamed of before?"

"I don't know." He hurried over to her and held her hands. "Maybe we'll find out sooner or later, or maybe we'll never know. Right now, all that matters is that we get through this."

She took a few more breaths, pulled herself together, and nodded.

Cora walked over to them and rested a hand on each of their shoulders. "Whoever is doing this, we can't let them break us. Don't give them the satisfaction."

Syala nodded again, smiled, closed her eyes for a moment, and sucked in another long, slow breath to help calm herself.

"I also know what we must do," Zilaka muttered, turning to stare in shock at the others. "Just like the cars -- I didn't know a moment ago, and now I do."

"Same here." Dylan nodded slowly. "There's a package we have to pick up and take somewhere."

"And there will be someone trying to stop us." Nishara turned to gaze out over the city and shivered. "Someone trying to kill us."

"Again." Grishnag sighed. "No matter why our captors are doing this -- to test us, or just for their entertainment -- I don't want to submit to it."

"You know what'll happen if we don't." Dylan tried to give her a reassuring smile, but couldn't hold it for more than a second. "The longer we survive, the more time we have to figure out what's going on and how to stop it."

"True enough." A smile tugged at the corner of Grishnag's mouth. "Well, I guess we should get on with it."

Nishara cupped Dylan's face in her upper hands and held his hands with her lower ones.

"For luck." She leaned in and kissed him.

Uh … wow. He let the kiss continue until she pulled back, gazed into his eyes, and smiled. He stroked her cheek and she gave his hands and shoulders a gentle squeeze before turning to slither over to one of the cars.

Another hand brushed his arm. He turned to the left and found Syala leaning toward him. He met her halfway, thinking she wanted to say something to him without the others overhearing.

Instead, she slid her right hand behind his neck, pulled him closer, and kissed him.

Huh? His heart began to pound, but he went along with it. When Syala finally pulled back, she smiled and glanced away.

"For luck," she mumbled.

"Thanks." His face turned hot and he glanced around and caught Grishnag grinning and chuckling in the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat and tugged on his shirt collar. "So. Uh. Anybody else want a good-luck kiss?"

After everyone flicked a few glances at each other, Cora shrugged and walked over to him.

"What the hell. I don't believe it'll tilt the odds in our favor, but I'm all for finding a moment of pleasure in this nightmare we're all in." She pressed her cool metal lips gently against his and the faint smell of mechanical lubricants and polish filled his nose. Neither the kiss nor the scent was at all unpleasant.

When they parted, the other females approached him. Before he could get his brain around what was happening, each of them kissed him. In the corner of his eye, he found several of them kissing each other.

Okay, this is getting weird. The only possibility he could think of was that maybe humans were the only species that had any sexual hangups, and it simply didn't occur to any of these females to think there was anything strange about this. Hah. Getting weird. Good one.

Finally, Grishnag was the only one who hadn't kissed him or any of the others. She shrugged and put her arms around him.

"I suppose I shouldn't buck the trend," she said softly, chuckling. Her breath brushed across his lips and his heartbeat revved up again. "It has been a while since I've done this, so maybe it's about time, anyway."

Their mouths met and he closed his eyes and lost himself in the moment. It was a little odd, with those big fangs sticking up from her lower teeth, but no more so than any of the others.

When they parted, they gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, smiled, and then Grishnag walked off to choose a vehicle. She picked one of the sporty-SWAT tank-looking things, opened the door, and settled into the seat. Her eyes flicked over its control panel and she pushed a button. The engine started -- not the familiar sound of the car engines Dylan had heard all his life, but more of a throbbing hum.

The others chose their cars, except Ayastal. Grishnag glanced over at her, smiled, and pointed a thumb at the roof of her vehicle.

"This one looks sturdy enough for you to ride on top. You won't have any protection, but at least you'll be able to participate. I mean, if you want."

"Thank you. After seeing what they did to you when you refused to play their games, I'm probably better off not appearing to be uncooperative." Ayastal crouched on top of the car, braced her feet on the rear end, and found handholds on the roof.

Dylan picked another hotrod-tank, got in, and glanced around. All the controls were on the dashboard, including the brakes and accelerator. At least that meant Nishara could drive one despite having no legs. He glanced over at her in time to watch her try to enter one of the lozenge-shaped cars. She ducked in through the driver's side door, pulled back out, entered again, extracted herself again. She grumbled something, opened the back door, slid in and between the front seats, took her position awkwardly at the controls, and pulled the rest of her body in.

Syala closed the back door for her.

"Thank you." Nishara spent the next few moments trying to coil her body around the interior and find a comfortable position.

Dylan started his engine as Syala and Zilaka picked out their cars.

Grishnag's voice came from a speaker in the dashboard. "Okay. Let's do this."

#

"Almost there." Grishnag glanced at the mini-map on her dashboard and noted the position of the waypoint. She returned her attention to the road ahead and slowed as they passed through a gate and entered an area filled with what appeared to be warehouses.

As they approached the waypoint, a dozen red blips appeared around it. Grishnag noted their positions on her mini-map and grumbled.

"Well, here we go." Dylan's voice quivered slightly.

Before Grishnag could offer any reassuring words, she eased around the corner of a large, rectangular building and found a dozen males and females of varying species spinning toward her and snapping their guns up.

"What the hell?" Dylan said. "I was expecting more of the goons we fought last time."

"So was I." Grishnag steered toward the nearest three and accelerated. "No matter. Just focus on getting through this."

"R-right." Dylan's vehicle surged forward, plowed into two of the "enemies," and sent them tumbling across the pavement.

"Nice." Grishnag flashed a feral grin. "Ayastal, you may want to …"

"Dismounting." The huge reptile woman leaped off the top of Grishnag's vehicle and slammed into a pair of humans who'd opened fire a split-second before. The impact flattened them and she made sure they stayed put with a solid punch to each of their faces. She rolled off them, crouched, and sprang over the head of a pig-ogre as he tried to target her. She hit the ground, rolled forward, and came to a halt with her legs braced under her, ready to launch at another enemy.

The pig-ogre whipped his rifle around and lined up a shot at her chest.

Dylan's tank-car shot into view. He turned sharply to the left and the car skidded. The rear end swung around and slammed into the pig-ogre like a bat knocking a baseball out of the park. He rocketed into the side of a parked cargo truck, crumpled to the ground, and came to a stop with his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

"Nice moves, kid," Grishnag said with an arched eyebrow.

"Thanks. I just now realized this reminds me of a game I played a lot back home. This was one of the moves I used on opposing players."

"This reminds you of a game?" Nishara steered her car around the back of a nearby warehouse and flinched as four enemies concentrated their fire on her.

"Yeah, a video game. It's a -- actually, never mind. I'll try to explain it later." Dylan whipped his car to the right and shoved his rifle through his open window. He pulled the trigger and perforated the human and three bovine males. They twitched and collapsed, fingers convulsing on their triggers and firing random shots until the life finished draining from them.

"Video games," Cora muttered. "I'm familiar with them. They're sort of like simulations."

"Yeah, kind of. You okay, Nishara?"

"For now." Nishara changed course again and accelerated. "I'm near the … whatever we're here to take. I'm going for it."

"I'll cover you," Dylan said.

"As will I," Syala added.

"Simulations. Hmm." Cora veered off to join the other three.

"What?" Grishnag caught up with them, glanced at the waypoint, and followed them toward a building that appeared to be an aircraft hangar.

"Just a suspicion I have. I don't want to distract everyone with it now."

"Sounds good." Dylan mowed down another opponent with his car and continued on to the hangar. "You can tell us after we finish this. Or the next time we wake up dead." He chuckled.

Hah. He has my kind of sense of humor. Grishnag grinned and parked in front of the hangar's massive open door. "Make a barricade with your vehicles while Nishara picks up the package."

Dylan backed his car up until his rear bumper nudged her front. The others followed suit, keeping their driver-side doors facing into the hangar. Everyone except Nishara jumped out and aimed their guns at the remaining enemies, using their vehicles as cover. Nishara extracted herself from her car and surged forward, slithering deeper into the building so fast she became a blur.

Dylan and Syala charged after her, flicking their wide eyes all around the interior, searching for more enemies.

Grishnag glanced at the mini-map on her dashboard. Only three enemies remained … until ten more red blips appeared at the edge of the map and approached her team's position with alarming speed. Grishnag snarled. "More enemies incoming."

"That's what I was afraid of," Dylan grumbled. "It works the same way in that game I mentioned. No matter how many bad guys we take out, more keep teleporting in."

"It's hopeless," Syala whimpered.

"No, it's not." Grishnag drilled a beam through the forehead of each of the three approaching them. "It'll end when we complete our task."

"Yeah." Dylan tried to smile at Syala. "Maybe then we'll get to sit out the next round of fighting. Y'know, as a reward."

Grishnag glanced at her mini-map again. The new red blips were almost on top of her and the others. She frowned, realizing a hissing sound had been growing louder over the last few moments.

That's inside the hangar. But … She gasped and raised her gun to aim at the ceiling.

"They're above us!"

Thumps of multiple feet hitting the roof echoed through the cavernous room.

Cora spun and snapped her gun up toward the ceiling. "I see their heat signatures." She opened fire, burning dozens of holes through the metal. Several voices cried out, and then a guttural roar overwhelmed them. More thumps echoed from the ceiling, the sound of bodies rolling down the angled roof.

"I've got the pilots," Ayastal snarled before opening fire.

The hissing sound revved, sputtered, and turned into a rattling whine. A stubby aircraft with two huge, ducted fans spun into view, a dozen holes melted through the canopy and a mixture of red and yellow blood splattered all over the cockpit. The aircraft continued its spin, tipped to the left, and crashed into the ground. It continued sliding and shedding parts, finally rolled over and ground to a stop upside-down.

"Good work, Ayastal," Grishnag said.

A deafening, sharp bang of a grenade slammed into the side of the building, almost drowning out a truncated scream. Grishnag staggered, shook her head, and a cold sensation rose up in her chest. "Ayastal?"

Nishara, Dylan, and Syala stopped in their tracks. Nishara fumbled and nearly dropped the brick-shaped, crystalline object in her hands.

"Ayastal!" Grishnag rushed to the rear of her car, peeked around the doorway, and found her sprawled on the ground with her chest blasted open.

Past her, two more large vehicles rumbled toward the hangar.

Grishnag winced and turned away. She met the others' gazes and shook her head.

Syala sobbed and covered her mouth with her hand.

"She'll be okay," Dylan whispered, reaching out to rub her back.

"How do we know?"

"She'll probably wake up in the same room we found ourselves in after the first time we were killed."

"He's right." Grishnag took a deep breath and waved a hand around the inside of the hangar. "Take a quick look around. Maybe we can find something useful. Bigger guns, or armor."

"On it." Cora rushed over to the wall to inspect the shelves and crates.

Nishara handed the golden crystal brick to Dylan. "Take this. You seem to know what you're doing."

Grishnag glanced over her shoulder at the mini-map on her dashboard. A new waypoint had appeared at the northern edge.

"We have a new destination."

"Good." Dylan carried the faintly glowing crystal back to his car. "Let's get the hell out of here."

#

"Oh, look what we have here." Cora had just opened one of the metal crates in a corner behind a shuttle and grinned at what she'd found. "Grenades, sticky bombs, and rocket launchers."

"I don't know what those are," Zilaka muttered, "but if they keep us alive, I'll be happy with them."

"They should definitely give us a chance." Cora passed the grenades and sticky bombs to the others, grabbed two rocket launchers, and handed one to Grishnag. "You seem to know how to use stuff like this more than the others. I think we'll have a better chance of holding the goons off while the others escape."

Dylan whipped his head around to stare at her and Grishnag.

"Don't worry." Cora strode toward the space between the door frame and Grishnag's car. "I'm planning on both of us catching up with you. Now, get moving."

Dylan sighed, nodded, and started his engine. Syala, Zilaka, and Nishara returned to their vehicles.

Cora peeked around the corner, found the two vehicles still fifty meters away but approaching rapidly, and nodded at Grishnag. Cora lined up a shot on the nearer van and fired. A fist-size rocket streaked toward her target. The second van veered off and accelerated, while three people bailed out of the first. Cora's rocket struck the front of the van, ripped it apart in a split-second, and the shrapnel shredded the three who'd tried to escape.

Grishnag stepped around Cora and took her own shot while Cora reloaded. The van swerved, but couldn't avoid the rocket. Shrapnel and body parts scattered in every direction. Grishnag smirked, turned toward her car, and stopped suddenly.

"Cora told you to take off."

Cora turned and found the others waiting with their engines running. "Yeah. What she said."

"We're not leaving you here." Syala aimed a stern stare at her, couldn't hold it, and faced forward again. "We finish this together."

Cora almost rolled her optics, canceled the action, and ran to her vehicle. "Fine. Let's all get the hell out of here before anyone else starts shooting at us."

"Dylan," Grishnag said as she climbed into her car, "we'll surround you and escort you to the next waypoint. Stay in the center."

"I'll do my best." He gripped the controls and waited.

"I'll take the lead. Cora, bring up the rear." Grishnag moved her car into position.

Four red, car-shaped icons appeared on Cora's mini-map, approaching rapidly from the rear. She leaned out the window, glanced around, and zoomed in on a distant motion.

"Guys, we've got more --"

"I see them on my map," Syala said, almost whimpering. "Let's go!"

Cora grabbed her rocket launcher, climbed through her window, and perched her ass on the lower edge. She lined up a shot and squeezed the trigger. The rocket streaked away and she zoomed in to watch the impact.

One of the four vans exploded and the shockwave knocked two others off course.

What the hell was that? Cora pulled the last few seconds from her optics' buffer and replayed it in slow motion. Parts of the van flickered and broke into tiny cube shapes for a split second as it exploded, as did the air around the shockwave. She scowled and lined up another shot. Voxels. Damn, I was right.

"Cora!"

"Dylan, what?" Her proximity sensors picked up a sudden movement to her left before he could respond. She snapped her head around in time to catch a glimpse of a rocket before it drilled into the side of her car.

The roar of the explosion overwhelmed her auditory sensors and the flash overloaded her optics for a few seconds. When her sight returned, the entire world was spinning around her -- until the pavement slammed into her back. She glanced around, found parts of her legs and other debris scattered all around her, and her internal sensors detected various lubricants and other fluids spraying out of what was left of her torso.

"Cora!" Dylan shrieked again.

"Keep going! I'll do what I can from here." She found her rifle several meters away and dragged herself toward it while running a diagnostic. Primary systems failing, main power cell breached and heading for a critical overload. Whatever I do, I have to do it soon.

"But …"

"Go!" She clamped onto the rifle and tried to line up a shot on the approaching vans, but her targeting system was offline. "I'll see you all on the next go-around."

"Shit," Dylan moaned before accelerating away.

The others hesitated another few seconds but finally followed him.

The remaining three vans reached Cora.

Fuck it. She rolled onto her back, jammed her rifle's barrel against her exposed power cell, and pulled the trigger. Fortunately, the detonation tore her body apart too quickly for her sensors to detect any damage.

#

The blast was enormous -- far bigger than anything Nishara had ever experienced. It deafened her and shook her vehicle. Both hearts pounded as she glanced over her shoulder and found parts of Cora's body and two of the vans raining down. The remaining van swerved around the debris and continued its pursuit.

"No," Dylan groaned.

"Take it easy," Grishnag said, clearly straining to remain calm, herself. "She'll be okay. She's probably in that same room we woke up in before, with Ayastal."

"I hope so." Dylan took a deep breath. "Alright. Let's get this over with." He accelerated.

Six more blips appeared on Nishara's mini-map, directly ahead. "No …"

"Where are they coming from?" Syala's voice quivered.

"Stay focused," Grishnag said.

A beam from one of the van's occupants drilled Nishara's rear window, the passenger-side headrest, and the windshield. She flinched and her hearts beat even faster.

Must try something. Must do something before we're all killed again. She took several deep breaths. "I … I have an idea."

She twisted her tail into position, gripped her weapon, and slid through her window. She kept her lower-left hand on the controls, kept the accelerator pressed down with the tip of her tail, and held on to the roof with her upper-left hand. With her two right hands, she raised the gun awkwardly and tried to aim it at the approaching van.

A male that appeared to be Zilaka's species leaned out one of the van's windows with his own rifle.

Nishara clamped her mouth shut to prevent a horrified whimper from escaping and fired her weapon. Half of her shots struck the ground or pierced empty air, but the rest punched into the front of the van.

The male fired and a familiar searing pain lanced through Nishara's upper-right shoulder. The gun almost slipped from her hands, but she managed to keep her grip on it and continue shooting.

Finally, one of her beams drilled through the van's windshield and vaporized part of the driver's head. He flopped over and the van swerved off to the right and crashed into a stack of red metal barrels. Nishara shifted her aim to the barrels without understanding how she knew what was about to happen, and continued firing. Whatever was in the barrels ignited violently, and engulfed the van in flames.

Nishara sighed, faced forward, and grimaced at the pain spreading out from her wounded shoulder.

Grishnag veered off to a curving ramp leading to an overpass that wove among dozens of gleaming metal skyscrapers. The rest followed her. Wincing and trying not to cry out, Nishara steered her vehicle in the same direction.

Three more enemy vans appeared directly ahead, swerving through the oncoming traffic.

"Damn it," Grishnag snarled. "Too many innocent people are in the way."

"There's nothing we can do about that," Dylan said with a sigh. "We'll just have to do the best we can to avoid hitting any of them."

A human leaned out of the lead van and began firing. Nishara groaned, shifted her grip on her weapon, and returned fire.

A beam pierced her upper-left arm and another hit her chest, just below her lower heart. She screamed and dropped her gun.

"Nishara!" Syala shrieked. "Oh, no!"

Another shot burned through Nishara's abdomen, and yet another drilled her upper heart. She flailed, screamed again, and her car began to turn sideways and skid.

"No!" Dylan bellowed.

Nishara caught a glimpse of a hail of enemy shots slamming through his windshield and multiple bursts of red blood filling the inside of his car, and suddenly she turned cold inside.

"No …" She coughed as everything around her began to fade away. "Dyl … Dylan …"

Her car struck the divider between lanes and rolled. The last thing Nishara saw was the road rushing up toward her, and the last things she felt were her body twisting and the car crushing her beneath it.

==========

Title: Game Over

Genre: Science Fiction

Age range: adult

Word count: 80,000 words

Author: Fred T. Kerns

Why the book is a good fit: I tend to write the kinds of stories I wish I could find on bookshelves. As TMG has an eye toward innovation, my work would bring them something new and fresh to pass along to the world. TMG also works with a range of genres and my novels and stories are primarily science fiction but also include elements of action, humor, and an often hopeful vision of the future despite the villainous characters standing in the heroes' way.

The Hook: On this planet, "fun and games" is a matter of life and death.

Synopsis: Dylan Engstrom wakes up in a strange place and is thrown into a series of combat scenarios with a handful of aliens. Together, they must figure out what's going on and how to escape before they're all killed. And killed again. And again. And again ...

Target audience: Readers who enjoy action, adventure, humor, spaceships, aliens, and fun characters in a story that leans toward the harder end of the SF scale.

Bio: Sci-fi writer, semi-competent gamer (on a good day), and a huge geek. Born in a small town in Oregon, lived on the Oregon coast until 2013, then moved to Tucson, Arizona, and has lived there ever since.

Platform: My blog has links to most of the stuff I'm up to: https://fredtkerns.blogspot.com/

Education: High school diploma, followed by life in general

Experience: Started writing and submitting short stories at 17 and have never stopped writing since then. I've finished five novels and have another in-progress, and have written a number of shorter works and ongoing serialized stories.

Personality/writing style: Usually pretty mellow. Able to roll with the punches thanks to life being a very long stretch of bad luck. Able to face each setback by immediately going to work on possible solutions almost like a reflex. Writing style tends to be to-the-point with characters who are often a little off-kilter. I've been told that I'm particularly good at writing action scenes. I also like to research specific scientific concepts to attempt to get them right (for instance, hull breaches in my writing won't result in an endless rush of venting air) without bogging the story down with details regarding physics and whatnot.

Likes/hobbies: Writing, video games, and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Have been a lifelong fan of Star Trek, Doctor Who, Star Wars, and others. More recent like/influences include the Mass Effect series, Babylon 5, Star Trek Online, Red vs. Blue, gen:LOCK, among others.

Hometown: Tucson, AZ

Age: 46

Utopia Theater is a blatant misnomer and whoever named it was well aware of that. The audience is comprised of felons, thieves, kidnappers, war criminals and every type of unsavory character one could think of. It's the abode of sinners.

The stage is devoid of red curtains and a musical pit. There are no stage lights to illuminate it. Ghastly fluorescent tubes continuously cast a flickering glow upon white tiles and barren walls. With each passing moment, the stagnant silence somehow echoes in intensity.

Two thunderclaps ensue and everyone's gaze is immediately affixed to the translucent stage. The sound could put a Gorgon to shame. It never fails to petrify the theater's audience. Rheumy eyes water in anguish and stiff muscles cry out in protest. Despite that, nobody dares to move a muscle whenever the stage is in session.

"Good evening ladies, gentlemen and all distinguished guests of the Utopia Theater." A child's voice booms. It's shrill, tacky and squeaky. Yet, nobody laughs.

"Please welcome our newest guardian angel. Come on now, don't be shy!"

A silhouette enshrouded by mist strides up to the stage. There's a shorter figure trailing behind it but it's barely discernible from the fog surrounding the silhouette.

Startled eyes begin to morph and slowly soften. For a fleeting instant, fear is replaced by another emotion: empathy.

The rest of the audience knows what being a guardian angel entails and the new recruit is blissfully unaware.

Utopia theater is not heaven. It's a purgatory of sorts and all of its inhabitants are guardian angels. They don't carry beaming golden lyres or don pristine white robes. Halos don't adorn their head and prayers don't reach their ears.

Instead, they gouge their eyes out and are given a new set of glass eyes. There's only one reason for their existence: Repentance.

Each evening, the theater whisks them away to the home of their reincarnation. They're tasked with overseeing their reincarnation and steering them away from the path of sin. Whenever their reincarnation does sin, indescribable pain seizes the guardian angel. It doesn't matter how severe the sin is. Even petty shoplifting forms cordons of searing hot pain around the guardian angels.

The new recruit lets out an ear piercing shriek which signified that they had finally gotten their glass eyes. A moment later, I felt my own eyes begin to whir to life. The white around me warped into a spiral of color and my gut fell.

My reincarnation had finally awoken and it was time for me to embark on another day as a guardian angel.

-|-

Title: Utopia Theater

Genre: Fantasy

Age range: Young Adult

Word count: This excerpt is 429 words long

Author name: Kaye Eisen (pseudonym)

The hook: Utopia theater explores a variation of purgatory. Instead of the undergoing the trials presented in works such as Dante's Divine Comedy, the Utopia Theater forces its audience to change the fate of their future counterpart.

Synopsis:

Target audience: Young Adult

Platform: Prose is my primary platform. I once used Quotev but didn't publish anything noteworthy.

Education: Currently in high school. Took a few college classes at a local community college.

Experience: I've taken AP Literature and two semesters of college English Composition. My experience with writing is very minimal. It's only a hobby at the moment but I did win a small writing competition offered in my town. I placed first in the junior grade level division for the Laura Jackson Writing Foundation Poetry Contest in 2021.

Bio + Personality / writing style: I'm quite reserved but I do enjoy talking to others. I've met a variety of people in my life and I'm grateful for meeting every one of them even if I don't get along with them. The people I meet give me a broader perspective on what the world is like.

No matter where I go, I want to be involved in my community and perform altruistic deeds. A kind gesture goes a long way. Hopefully the career I pursue will allow me to constantly help others in the community while affording me financial stability.

I don't know how to describe my writing style other than random. At times, it's lucid and flowery. Some times it's cut and dry and gets straight to the point. I just hope that my words carry out the message I intend for them to.

Likes/hobbies: I'm very involved in music. I've played piano for 10 years and picked up flute and violin along the way. It's been six years since I've started middle school band and orchestra and now I'm involved in a variety of local ensembles in my town for flute and violin. I study piano privately and sometimes help my younger sister who recently started. I also really like art and writing. I invest most of my spare time in my AP Drawing projects and I express myself through descriptive blurbs on Prose.

Reading and writing have always been a large part of my life. It's how I learn, express myself and slowly understand the world and the people in it better. I'm especially fond of poetry and philosophy. Although my understanding of mythology and history is very limited, I enjoy trying to find references to myths and history in the media I consume.

Age (optional): 17

Why My Project is a Good Fit: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I just wanted to enter this challenge since I was having writer's block