The color purple is really something unique. It beamed in this new painting. I tilted it slightly, straightening it on the wall. I'd wanted this particular one for months. I couldn't believe he'd actually gotten for me. Leaning into the canvas, I huffed a deep breath in. The wafting smell of acrylic was still there. Boy, it was a beauty. Dark lines and fine details. It had to be my favorite piece. I continued to stare at it in awe.

The door rattled, interrupting my moment. Rolling my eyes into the back of my head and sighing loudly, I headed to the tiny peephole to see who dared to interrupt me. To my surprise, a young woman around my age stood there in a frustrated stance holding her hands on her hips. I paused to take her in. Blonde barrel curls fell below her shoulders, and her jeans sat high on her hips, synching her waist. I narrowed my eyes. Who was she? She lifted her hand and pounded on the door again, startling me. Intrigued, I cracked the door, "Can I help you?" I said sternly.

Without notice, she heaved the door into me, "Are you, Nikki?" She screamed, storming past me, but stopping in front of the painting.

"What?" I said, confused.

She laughed, "You know, that was supposed to be mine!" I looked to see her pointing at my new gift, my painting. Stunned, I had no words. I was unsure of what to do, hoping she'd just leave. She rushed towards me, backing me into the wall.

CRACK

My head ached, and I was slightly dizzy as I came to. She was gone, along with my painting. The door was also still wide open. Slowly, I gathered my bearings and caught my reflection in the mirror above my sofa table. My right eye and cheek glistened a bright red, turning the whole side of my face deep purple. I winced, rubbing the wound. The color purple is really something unique.

I'd been waiting for months, and it had finally arrived. My mother called me to the kitchen, pointing out the dust-covered window. Unable to control myself, I sprinted to it. I peeked back at the window, noticing she was more annoyed than ever with my excitement. She was so simple-minded at times.

I couldn't believe it had arrived. I'd saved every penny for it. My mind rumbled at sight. It shined bright, clean, and new. A hot, crispy metal stench singed the hairs in my nose as I pushed against it breathing in. A small sigh escaped my chest as I leaned in tighter, wrapping my arms around the belly of my brand-new galvanized tub.

"What's that?"

Irritated that one dared to interrupt my moment, "none of your business," I shouted, not turning around.

"Mom said you have to share."

Rolling my eyes in total disgust, I yanked my body away from the base and stared at him. Then paused. He wasn't too tall yet. He'd fit quite well in the tub. He blinked back at me like an imbecile. His blonde hair caused slight nausea in my gut. My brown hair was considered "distasteful" to our mother, whatever that meant.

"Fine," I said, grabbing his arm and yanking, "get in."

"In there?" He whispered, pulling back.

My body burned as I squeezed my fists, but I was committed to this plan now and needed to stay calm. I wanted him to do as I wished. "Yes," I squeezed through my tightly gripped teeth, "in there," I said, loosening my grip.

I watched as he climbed over the side and plopped square in the middle. I often wonder if my mother cheated. "Stay there," I said, holding up both hands as I backed away. He nodded in agreeance, and I moved quickly, worried he'd change his mind. My legs wobbled, unwilling to proceed with the surge of passion.

This might work. Oh, boy, what if it did? I could be famous or, even better, rich at fifteen. I was at the back of the house, grabbing the first bag. It was unbearably heavy, but it wouldn't stop me. Heaving it over my shoulder, I went as quickly as I could. Bag one. Bag two. Bag three. All slammed as delicate as I could against the tub.

"What are those?"

I could feel my body burn as I started to twitch, "just wait and see, will you," I said sternly.

"I'm getting out. Mom!" He shouted.

"No, no, no, I was kidding. Come on. You're my science guy, right?" I nodded at him, "helping with my projects, right?"

He smiled widely, nodding back in agreement. Idiot. I sliced the first bag open with the pocket knife from my belt. There's something whimsical about a bag of sand. It's unexplainable. The puff of powder, the huff of dust, and the glimpse of sparkle make me stiff. I yank the bag from the base and begin dumping it in the tub, circling as it spills.

"Cool," he beamed at me as it began to cover his tiny legs. Ignoring him, I continued emptying bag two and bag three. Bag three was unique. It had the new mix I'd found along the road: a little dirt, some fine grey pebbles, and more sand.

I stood back, placing my hands at my waist. This was going to be good. An everlasting mud. He smiled at me. He was now covered up to his waist, hands-free mucking around in the gravel. "Enough," I shouted, "you're moving it around too much. Let it settle."

He straightened, losing his smile. "Patience," I yelled loudly as a magician would, imagining an audience, but it was only him staring blankly back, confused. I sighed. "Water," I said, appalled, "just don't move, okay?" He nodded eagerly.

I felt giddy again when I grabbed the bucket close by and jogged to the small stream behind our house. Oh, boy, what if it works? One bucket, two, and three buckets, four, five, six, seven, and eight. I wiped the sweat from my forehead. "It feels heavy," he said. I could barely contain the forced smile I had been stretching on my face to keep him entertained. "That's the point," I said, reaching for the large stick I had from another project nearby, beginning to stir. I watched as the muck got darker and darker as it combined.

"This is boring. I'm ready to get out."

"No," I shouted, holding up my hand. "Come on, buddy," I said calmly, "just a few more minutes, then I'll do whatever you want. Okay?"

"Whatever?"

I nodded. Moron. A breath escaped me. It was happening. The dark was beginning to change, becoming lighter and more complex.

"Hey, I can't swing my feet anymore in here. I want to get out."

I didn't answer. I didn't care. It was working. We could get him out later. He'll live. It was hardening. It was permanent. I think. I pumped a fist into the air. "Woohoo," I shouted.

"Moommmmmm," he let out a shrill. I shook my head. This kid has no patience. I thought as I crossed my arms.

Pain suddenly surged through my shoulder. I immediately knew it was my mother's razor-sharp fingernails digging into my bone. I've never understood how she managed to keep them so pointed.

"What have you done?" She seethed.

Feeling the warm breeze and the vibrant humming of the tiny animals around her filled her with pure bliss. The pond was surrounded by a dark green wonder, leaving most feeling at peace. Sitting on the edge, she'd tip her bare toes into the water to feel its anonymous gifts. She'd been coming to the pond since infancy. It was her mother and father's favorite reprieve. Times have changed, though, with her father lost to war and her recent proposal dictating a swift move away from her home. A quite far moved, so far that the pond would no longer exist to her.

In frustration, the young girl picked up a stone, chucking it harshly into the crystal blue water, creating a significant disturbance. Huffing a forced sigh, she crossed her arms as a toddler would, questioning her mother's demand for a wedding and how she could ever leave this pond so effortlessly. She didn't feel twenty. Her mother had insisted the final visit to the pond would've been yesterday, but there was no way she'd give up the fragrant energy of this place on her birthday, especially knowing her next birthday would be very different.

She scooted further to the edge, sliding her feet deeper into the water, as she daydreamed of her new life that would start tomorrow shortly after walking down that aisle. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath of piney pond air and smiled.

"Hi there," she heard loudly from behind her. She squeezed her eyes tighter, hoping it wasn't one of her soon-to-be husband's guardsmen coming to collect her. Gritting her teeth into a smile, she turned to see a young man around her age. His immediate beauty had stolen her words. Silently she watched as his blonde hair caught the breeze and his shirt clasped against his chiseled bust. She felt a curiosity in his dark green eyes. His smirk widened as he reached his hand to her, "Xenopus," he said, waiting on her acknowledgment.

Shaking to life, she muttered, "what?"

"My name," he said, "Xenopus. Are you from around here? I haven't noticed you before."

Smitten, she rambled, "oh yes, I've been coming here since a small child, but I'll be moving soon. Today is my twentieth birthday. Oh," she said, reaching for his hand, "sorry, nice to meet you Zeen-OH-pus," she sounded out.

He beamed, "that's right. Twenty, huh? That's quite a special year around here."

"Really?" She chirped. He nodded, "take a walk with me?"

"Of course," she said, popping up to meet his stance, brushing off the bits of grass from the back of her dress. One last adventure, she thought.

They spent the whole afternoon together. They laughed and frolicked throughout the surrounding forest. He had a way with the plants and animals that fascinated her. Every time his fingers touched her, she felt magic. They ended back at the pond edge, sitting between a set of sizeable purple fern flowers she hadn't noticed before. The smell was intoxicating. She held his hands as he stared deeply into her soul.

"I don't want to go," she whispered, "but I must." She lowered her head and began to stand, knowing that her mother would be furious if she arrived home after dusk.

"I understand," he said, gripping her hands, "but could I ask you for something?"

"Anything," she said, attempting to prolong the moment.

"One parting kiss?" He said, leaning in so closely that she felt his warm breath heat her lips. She hesitated, questioning her morality. She was to marry another man tomorrow and was prepared to do that. He was handsome and thoughtful of her, although she did not choose the marriage. She looked at Xenopus. His presence was comfortable, making her feel at ease. She held his hand tightly in her lap and suddenly pushed into him, falling freely to his lips in pure passion.

Swiftly she pulled away with remorse, feeling a weakness in her belly. An ache she'd never felt before. Locking eyes with the beautiful man in front of her sent a raw sting through her spine. She knew she had made a colossal mistake. His pupils altered to an almond shape with a yellow undertone, and a noticeable foul odor permeated the atmosphere. As his grin widened, the black sludge between his teeth became apparent. Her breath felt stolen as a sharp needle pain consumed her body like poison. She knew her existence was obsolete as a gradual burn encased her eyes, and the world around her went black.

The young girl never showed up for her morning nuptials, which led to a month-long search. Many speculated that she had gotten cold feet, but her mother knew better. Racing to the pond the morning of her daughter's disappearance, she noticed the dying purple fern on the water's edge. It had been the same fern she'd seen the day after her sister had gone missing on what happened to be her twentieth birthday. Tears filled her eyes as she stared into the now dark, black water. She was delusional in thinking her daughter would've grown bored of this pond from all the visits and ignored it. Ripping the dead fern from its home, she pleaded, "please, frog prince, return her to me. I'll do whatever you ask!"

When the response was nothing but silence, she knew it was too late, and he had already taken her to the world of misery below the muck.

Four minutes in and I knew I had made a colossal mistake. The air started to thin, and the blackness of this cramped cave seemed to darken. I slowly tried to inch my way out of the slender pathway I initially attempted to squeeze into. My confidence and understanding dwindled as my movements confined me to an even tighter position where I could no longer move my legs or arms. Dead silence surrounded me as my body started to numb from the pressure of the constricting stone walls, and all I could feel were the wet tears coagulating in the rock beneath my cheeks.

Sandy is a lovely fifty-nine-year-old woman living in the suburbs outside the city of Manhattan. She's exercised daily since she was 15 and has naturally auburn-colored hair with an olive skin complexion.

Her husband, Nick, is an auto salesman. Nick had a trust fund that set them up very nicely when they were first married, but they've burned through most of it. Nick and Sandy agreed that was okay because their children were grown, and she and Nick didn't need much. They live a regular, comfortably dull life, as Sandy would say.

Sandy doesn't work and has never had to, but life recently got a touch more boring with Nick at the lot and the kids off at school. So, she decided to start spending some time in the city. It was just a 20-minute ride away. The city buzzes life into her core. Mostly because she's spent most of her younger years there, Nick thought it was best to move to the suburbs when they had planned to have children.

She feels her suburban mom's clothing style is outdated, causing her to update her wardrobe completely. Now, with fresh attire and a newly added city girlfriend, Sandy is wondering who she wants to be when she turns sixty in a few months.

Many have waited years with anticipation for this day to come. I guess I could be considered one of those people. The heat was stifling today, but we all pushed against one another to get a closer look. I was only an intern, but I knew this story could help jump-start my career. Looking back at my cameraman, I was still shocked that the station let me have this story. He smirked at me from a distance. It was one of a kind but also not significant to world news. Most people fall into two categories: you’re dying to know what’s inside the safe, or you could give nothing more than two shits. I would guess the majority would fall to the latter, and that’s why I ended up with the story.

Wincing, I held my breath as I felt the sweat of the man beside me smear against my forearm. Luckily his cologne masked the stench of the others around us. “Sorry,” he whispered. I nodded and didn't make eye contact, not wanting to start a conversation, knowing they would present the safe at any moment. We’d all been tightly collected here for about an hour, placing the sun directly over us. A man with a grey suit finally came into sight and approached the mic. Tilting my head slightly to the left, I had a decent view. I looked at Tom again, ensuring he was ready with the camera. He gave me an exasperated look widening his eyes. He obviously fell into that latter category.

“Hello folks, thank you all so much for being here today. I’m sure Mrs. Heseltine would’ve been shocked at the turnout. I do realize it’s hot. Mrs. Heseltine has a fascinating story which I’m sure most of you are familiar with, and that’s why you’re here….” The man with the cologne pushed close to me, trying to take part in the view I had. Shoving him back with no remorse, I noticed a slight smirk start to form at the corner of his cheek.

“Mrs. Heseltine gave up all her worldly possessions, had her house demolished, and ended up living in a small studio apartment. Many are unsure where her billion-dollar family fortune ended up as she’s been very private. Following her death, Mrs. Heseltine stated in her will that she would like the safe to be open for the globe to see. She exclaimed that it holds all the wealth in the world….”

I took a deep breath, knowing that soon it would be revealed. I was beginning to question what was in there, a fine ruby, a key to an extraordinary house, or possibly an ancient artifact or scripture. Rumors had been flying around for a while. I peeked at the man beside me. He was tentatively staring ahead with anticipation. He wasn’t half bad looking. The speaker reached into his pocket and pulled out an old metal skeleton-like key. He struggled a bit, getting the key in just right, causing angst and huffs within the crowd.

“Sorry about that, folks,” he said as he turned the key, pulling the safe door open. The safe was about 12 x 12, not very large. Stretching my neck, I tried to steal a peek of the inside. It looked empty. I looked around to see everyone responding similarly. The speaker turned around, holding a Ziploc bag. I furrowed my brow. There was paper and something else in it. He cleared his throat, set the bag on his podium, and opened it.

“Okay, folks, this is, ugh… pretty interesting. It’s a lock of hair with a pink ribbon tied around it, labeled Samantha, and there is also a death certificate in here for her late husband, Mortimore.” The crowd was dead silent, along with the speaker. He was staring into the group, befuddled.

“That’s it?” Someone yelled. We all turned towards the voice, but I couldn’t see who shouted it. “That’s it, folks. Thank you all for attending.” He grabbed the two items and shuffled off the stage toward a woman waving him into a car. Moments later, he was gone.

The scene was vacant, with a bare safe and an empty podium. The density of people around me dispersed, with some heading toward the stage, wanting more answers.

“Makes sense, right?” I turned to see the man beside me smiling. “It does?” I said, confused at his accusation.

“Heseltine, you know? She had all that money and a huge house, but she lost her baby Samantha at six months and her husband in a car crash three months later. What’s a home, money, and stuff worth if you have no one to share it with? I’m Blake, by the way,” he said, finishing with his hand hanging out in front of me.

I found myself unintentionally growing a slight affectionate smile for Blake, “Kelly,” I said, grabbing his hand into mine.

This is first person :)

"I told you not to come," she said.

"I know," I said, softly, "but you know you need my help."

"No, I don't. I did this, so it's my responsibility," she said looking away.

"Then why did you call me?"

"I hung up before you answered," she said, now bending down, beginning to yank.

"You know, I knew what the call was about. You need help, just admit it and I help you get rid of it."

With a furrowed brow, she said, "fine."

"It's easy," I chuckled, "no need to dig a big hole and bury it. I brought the stuff to melt it down."

"Melt it down? Won't that stink," she said stepping back.

I tilted my head, "I brought that container. Come on now."

She walked over to it, pulling it forward and shouted, "well? Help, now, please."

A small laugh snuck out of me again as I whispered, "you know, I've been working these hives and cleaning up beeswax for far too long. You'll get better at it. I promise."

"Thanks Uncle Don," she said, "this is actually a pretty easy way to get the wax off."

"Told ya," I said with a grin.

At this moment, I was glad I bought the peanut butter-filled pretzels. He said it wasn’t a good idea, but I had this feeling. Have you ever had that? Deep down in your belly. This rumble that says do this, it’s what you should do. I get those a lot but don’t listen to them. This time I did. Felt right. The pretzels are good. Sucking the salt off the casing and watching the wind effortlessly lift the branches and leaves in front of me is awe-inspiring. Suppose the wind can do that while I sit here and eat peanut butter-stuffed pretzels and listen to Elton John. Fuck, the wind is crazy. You’d be impressed by how well Elton fits the world’s end. My earbuds are set on total volume, obviously. So, I can’t make out the words of the man screaming in front of me. He looks upset. I’m sad for him, I guess. Sad that he can’t experience a cranberry cider mixed with peanut butter-filled pretzels that I’m having. The weather had been so lovely today. I will not pause, Sir Elton John. Too much effort. He's still here, though, motioning for me to remove the earbuds. There’s no way in hell I’d take these earbuds out. He can rip them from my cold dead fucking ears. I tilted my head and smiled at him. After that, he’d decided to leave. Fair. The temperature today was unreal. So perfect. These pretzels are unreal, otherworldly. Another lady is in front of me yelling. It’s getting a bit irritating. These people just don’t quit. I never get this chaise lounge. It’s always taken. Give me a break, and let me sit here, fuck.