Detective Caffery

stifled a laugh as he

made his evaluation.

This victim in teal

had the familiar feel

of a Hasbro criminalization.

His face had turned green,

the effects of a string,

which caused his strangulation…

and to beat it all

Green died in a “hall”,

well within rules and regulations.

Lining up his suspects

Caffery’s gut said

he’d won this game once before!

So he drew his gun

on Professor Plum

and escorted the accused to the door.

Then Plum-ly pleaded,

“quit picking on me, did

you check Miss Scarlett’s drawers?

I surely would hope

you might look for the rope

where players of all ages have scored!”

The Professor was right

Caffery might

need to question said “player in red.”

For the reasons and rhymes

of this terrible crime

might reside in her crimson head.

Or be otherwise hidden

in someplace forbidden

and a search could certainly shed

some glimmer of light

on the wrongs and the rights

of how Mr. Green ended up dead.

So with some hesitation

and via sequestration

Caffery commenced his search.

His nervous hands found

as he patted her down

themselves pressed against blouse, and skirt.

And Scarlett O’Grady,

a dubious lady,

took to it all as a flirt,

and with wiggles and winkies,

and hand-cuft-ed kinkies

hindered our “Dick” in his work.

But ever the pro

the detective was loathe

to inspect where Prof. Plum knew

that a rope 3’ long

could be hid by a thong

(along with an extra foot… or two).

And shy the depravity

to search every cavity

while within every character‘s view.

He read rights to the plum-ster,

took Scarlett’s phone number,

and mastered this dumb game of Clue.

(Ages 12… no… 16 and up.)

Olive was born on August 20th - my high school sweetheart's birthday.

She will die on November 4th - my birthday.

Is that meaningful or meaningless?

I hope it means something.

I hope you agree.

I know Olive is randomly meaningful.

I hope you agree with that too.

I know what I hope for you.

I know what I hope for myself.

I know what I hope for the first man I ever loved.

I hope he knows I still love him.

I hope he still loves me.

I hope Olive finds true love.

I hope I'll know that kind of love one day too.

I know you will find it

I hope you know that.

I hope I'll know that one day too.

a bold and adventurous young woman with a twinkle in her eyes and an infectious smile. Maya just finished her studies in archaeology and has set out on a thrilling expedition to uncover the mysteries of an ancient civilization lost deep in a dense jungle. With her strong determination, quick thinking, and a knack for deciphering ancient codes, Maya is known for her ability to unravel puzzles that have stumped many before her. Despite her petite frame, Maya possesses incredible physical agility and is always ready to tackle any obstacle that comes her way. She effortlessly swings from vines, treks through treacherous terrains, and fearlessly confronts wild animals, all while sporting her trusty fedora and a trusted machete strapped to her side. Maya is not just a skillful adventurer but also a compassionate and empathetic individual. Her genuine curiosity about different cultures and her respect for nature have earned her the trust and camaraderie of local tribes, who affectionately refer to her as "the Jungle Guardian." Maya never misses an opportunity to learn from the wisdom of the tribal elders and has become well-versed in their folklore and ancient rituals. With her insatiable thirst for knowledge and a desire to leave a positive impact on the world, Maya dreams of uncovering artifacts that can shed light on ancient civilizations, opening doors to a better understanding of our past. But little does she know that this extraordinary journey will also challenge her physical and mental limits, pushing her into a thrilling race against time to protect the sacred relics from falling into the wrong hands. Maya's unwavering spirit, combined with her compassion and resourcefulness, make her the perfect protagonist in an exhilarating adventure packed with danger, discovery, and excitement. Together with her loyal team, she will navigate treacherous terrain, face cunning adversaries, and uncover the secrets of lost civilizations for the benefit of all mankind. So grab your fedora, fasten your seatbelt, and get ready to join Maya on her perilous, yet awe-inspiring quest into the heart of the unknown.

I met Adelaide at the edge of September. She was still tan from the hours spent boating out of Greenwich Cove. She grew up knee-deep in the water. Callouses were the result of years running back and forth from her grand, yellow shingle house down to the shore. She was all Catholic school and Fair Isle sweaters and competitive tennis. Her father was the founder of a yacht club, for Christ's sake. I was genuinely shocked she didn't have golden retrievers. She had green eyes and flaming, mane-like red hair. She towered over me. A shiksa princess. My mother would have killed me.

Our first date went awfully. She was startlingly quick -- wildly bright, but also quick to temper and start argument. Later, I would fall hard for her Irish temper, but that first day, I was having none of it. She was out of touch, so privileged she wouldn't know poverty if it slapped her in the face; and I was nearing that. As I grabbed my coat to storm out, I spat at her that she reminded me of Bunny Corcoran from The Secret History. A huge smile grew across her face; "I love that book!"

"That's not meant to be a compliment," I hissed, fumbling around for my wallet in my coat pocket. "They literally fucking killed him." I was broke and on basically every scholarship, but I still wanted to pay.

Thankfully, unlike Bunny, she was generous with her money. She got the tab. I flipped her off and left, hoping I would never see her again. The next day in creative writing, she sat in her usual seat next to me, and slid over a chocolate rose.

"I'm sorry," she said, face all dewey from the late summer. The moment we locked eyes, I knew I was done for. She continued, "I shouldn't have been so volatile yesterday. You're just... you're really smart, Hadassah, and I wanted to keep up with you. I may have gone a bit too far with the debate."

Underneath the rough, ambitious exterior, she was sincere, empathetic, and sensitive.

She was dedicated in school. She was a poli-sci major back then, an art history minor, dead-set on being in Congress. I was never quite sure why she enrolled in that American University creative writing class, but I am so glad she did.

Green eyes neatly lined with coal-black kohl.

That's what anyone would notice first about Aveline. And what they'd remember about her, too. Not just the eyes but the icy gaze and stiff, stern face that came with it.

It was hard not to remember something about Aveline.

When her eyes did meet yours, her face would contort to an expression that can only be described as flipping you off or giving you the finger. Her stiff, rigid posture, often wrapped in a black overcoat, seemed incapable of bending. The only colour that could be spotted on her would be her green eyes, the grassy neon on her almost tidy shoes, and the occasional tinge of crimson on their soles.

However, her knack for instantly silencing any room failed her when she needed it the most. It was hard for her frozen demeanour to not crack in the presence of those untameable beasts. But like a dutiful mirror, she'd reflect back the joy, the stubbornness or the mischief of the kids she taught.

And in those moments, with colourful chalkdust smeared across her hands and a growing grin across her pale face, it'd be impossible to guess that this was the same woman-in-black who slaughters people for a living. Both tiring and thankless jobs, but at least one pays the rent. And the other in cards with two black dots, each enclosed in green circles surrounded by shabby crayon-filled hearts and letters that try spelling out 'Miss Green Eyes'.

The first thing you should know is that Val wasn't technically meant to exist. An accident, really. A curious chance by the universe, just like the rest of us.

Some parents plan to have children before it happens (still can't exactly pick what you get - however, a much more organised method) but theirs, well, they didn't really like planning anything. They both enjoyed getting stoned and skateboarding to pretend university didn't feel like the worst mistake of their life - this was how they met.

And soon, Val was born.

They don't know much about much of anything. Seventeen years old, dreading being alive, loves apples and pomegranates and fruits and foods that are in round-ish shapes and the thought of a giant ball of rock destroying the earth.

Their name was decided because their father had no idea what to call them and their mother found it funny, giving "her" the most random, rich-white-person energy name possible. Valentyna wasn't trying to be born but there they were, watching their parents (who were honestly more friends than romantic partners, each well aware the other was seeing other people) enjoy the world without them.

Valentyna felt like a mistake. A glitch in the system. They felt like some random person had decided to play god and spin the dice to make them. They felt as unwanted as they had been at first and the feeling followed them every day.

Skateboarding didn't click.

Trying to be a stoner wasn't their forte either.

Pretending to like people, parents included, was an exhausting and daily process.

Strangely, though, their obsession with the world ending by the universe's wicked (good), wicked (bad) hands led to an interest in the cosmos. It became all they could think of at times. A way to escape. Being an alien meant they could be nonbinary and quiet and uninterested in socialising in peace. It meant not having to smile at anyone because they could wander the galaxy, waving to the balls of anger we call stars on their way and breathing in the frosty air.

So now, they plan to be the first enby astronaut in space. If not, maybe work to help astronauts from the ground. If not, maybe teach other people how awesome space is (preferably online so they don't have to engage in too much human contact).

They aren't sure what's in store for them in the future but - death by comet or by their own hands or by some new war-craze initiated by the strange terrestials on their planet notwithstanding - they are curious.

And for Valentyna Abhijit, that makes all the difference.