"I've been there before and I suffered," he spoke through gritted teeth. "Unimaginable agony⌠the memory torments me to this day. I will do anything in my power not to return there."
"But," she pleaded. "As someone who has been there, who has seen that place and knows what to expect, don't you feel the most qualified to make it out with those we've lost in there alive?"
He pondered for a while. As much as he fought tooth and nail against the feeling of resignation, her words rang true and he knew he was the only one who could hope for successfully completing this task. However the problem lied in the fact that, as much as he knew he detested that place and ached with the feeling that he couldn't muster the strength to return, even for a rescue mission, he in fact had no memory of being there. Only the paralyzing fear of entering and the gut wrenching agony of at last returning home. Still, his brothers and sisters of the fold remained trapped in that nightmarish place, and as much as he abhorred the idea of willingly throwing himself into that wall which forced you to lose all control and slip away into God knows what, the thought of never seeing them again was far more threatening and the loneliness crept cold chills down his throat and burned empty in his stomach.
"I'll do it." He said, finally, and immediately began preparations.
She tearfully sighed, a wave of relief and terror slipping over her tired frame. "Thank you," she whispered with her head hung down, then raised her eyes to meet his.
He held her gaze with a hollow expression, eyelids heavy from distress. He nodded, attempting to hide the contempt he felt for her after wielding her convincing argument. I just can't go back there, he thought to himself. I hate you for making me go. He wasn't sure if that last thought was angled at her or himself.
A cold gray wind blew across the barren landscape as they prepped the cord, securely fastening it to his suit. "If I'm not back in ten, you pull me out. Understand?" He spoke to her sternly.
"Of course. Yes. I'mâŚ" she stared at him grimly. "I'm sorry. If I were stronger--"
He stopped her with a heavy hand on her shoulder. "This isn't your burden to bear. I'm the only one who has gone there and returned. With that experience, of course it has to be me. I only met you with resistance because⌠well, I'm scared." He hated to admit this weakness. In the fold you never revealed such feelings. Trained in stone.
This temporary lapse into vulnerability ushered a sense of connectivity, and the two shared a long look before he turned and steeled himself for the journey ahead.
He approached the wall. Man-made of brick and iron, covered in an ethereal light which had appeared mere weeks before and whispered to all who came near to enter.
Oil slick and undulating, it invited him in. Terror seized his body, but obligation raised his right arm to touch the silky swirling living thing. His fingertips hovered before it, and the iridescent sludge reached out to him, encompassed him, and before it could swallow him, convinced him to surrender forward of his own accord. He was gone, and the cord uncoiled as he sunk deeper and deeper into the plane. Â
Light of which he had never known touched his eyes and warmed his skin. The air was soft, the way it had been in childhood. A summer breeze swept across his forehead, and a smile involuntarily spread upon his face. I remember, he thought. This is where I am home.
His skin which he hadn't realized had been dry, felt nourished and soft. His breathing, once imperceptibly laboured, was effortless and sweet. And his friends, thought to be lost, trapped, suffering, were happily chattering when they took notice of him.
"You made it!" They spoke with gentle exuberance. "We were worried that you wouldn't remember."
"I didn't." He responded as he enveloped each one in a hug, a luxury they weren't allowed in the fold. "I had the beginning and the end, but not the bliss of the middle."
They all nodded with quiet understanding. Together they spoke unmet with resistance, external or otherwise. They admired each other's eyelashes and the flush of their skin. They laughed effortlessly, and never in sharp incredulity. Only acceptance and play. Being there was like eating a good meal cooked by friends, and eating was being present and aware. He felt aware. Alert and calm. Whole.
And then the pull.
Once, a hard jerk. "No," he frowned.
Twice, panicked and desperate.
"I can't leave here, not again."
His friends held his hands. "Cut the cord. Free yourself and stay."
He considered this for a moment. Then shook his head. "I understand now. I've been gone and back again. I can't leave her out there, knowing what I know now. I have to leave so she can be saved."
They all lowered their heads and gently released his hands, when he was pulled fully by his worried companion on the other side.
He landed on the ground in a heap of sweat and tears, violently quivering until the gentle hand of his companion brought him to his senses. His twisted face relaxing into a stoic expression, and he raised himself to his feet. Again the memory of that place drifted into nothing, and all he knew was the terror of entering and the agony of leaving.
"What happened in there?" She exclaimed with worry.
"I don'tâŚ. Remember. That place, it warps your mind. All I know is that they're in there, and they're alive."
"There's still a chance, then." She sighed with relief.
"It's dangerous, though." He grunted as he sat down and contemplated their next move. "I'm  lucky I got out alive." He couldn't understand why, but deep in the recesses of his mind he whispered to himself: No.
Brandon was fighting off a sour mood, afraid to let it get the best of him again and take it out on his saddle pals. Tom could tell he was struggling trying to mend one of the straps on his saddle, and offered to do it himself.
âNo!â Brandon snapped. âI mean, oh I give up.â He threw the strap away and plopped down with a thud and a cloud of dust, his hand over his eyes to block out the late afternoon sun.
Tom laughed and picked up the strap himself to inspect it, when a mysterious figure on horseback caught his eye in the distance. A grin spread across his face when he recognized the familiar shape as she approached the camp. âWell, Iâll be.â He beamed.
âHowdy.â She called out, and Brandon jolted upright. âItâs been a while, hasnât it?â
âDarn near a year, I figure.â Tom responded. âWhat, couldnât find us?â He could tell she had been out in the desert for quite some time, the way she and her belongings were dusty and changed by the sun.
âI wasnât in too much of a hurry.â She descended from her horse expertly and tethered it with the others, as the rest of the cowboys joined this happy reunion. âBesides, I had some learning to do.â She drank from her flask and smiled at her old friends, then turned her attention to Brandon who was still seated, shocked and a little embarrassed. âHello.â She spoke softly.
âHiâŚâ he responded, slow. âAh, what am I doinâ?â He stood and swept Candy off her feet in a warm, dizzying hug. âHow the heck are you?â He smiled at her, that stupid perfect smile.
âBetter than ever.â Candy grinned, but avoided his eyes. âSo, tell me fellas.â She broke away as she addressed the group. âI heard a rumor that you quit this day and age, or was I mistaken?â The men laughed. âI was wondering if you had room for one more in your caravan?â She asked, coyly.
âOf course we do.â Tom reached out his hand and she took it in her own.
The group celebrated as the sun descended behind the mountains and set the sky ablaze, a feast of the usual rations cooking over the fire and conversation livelier than ever filled the air.
The night was calm and still, and the gang was winding down for the evening. Brandon had kept mostly silent, and stood and walked leisurely into the darkness. Candy sighed and knew she had to follow.
âHey.â her voice broke his tumultuous, churning thoughts.
âHi there, Cinderella.â He smiled.
She laughed softly at the callback to a simpler, yet in a way far more complicated time. âYou know,â she said, âwe canât go back to how it was. Iâve changed a lot, Iâm sure you have, too.â
He nodded in agreement. âI know, I was foolish and childish and mean--â
âBut,â Candy emphasized the word, as if to say âshut up and let me talk.â Brandon shut up and listened. âItâs not too late for us to⌠figure this out. But I want something real, not a fantasy. This world is tangible, we know what we know and weâre choosing to live this way. Iâm sorry if this breaks your delusion, but Iâm not going to act like weâre back in time.â
âNo, I know.â Brandon stammered. âI know whatâs real, too. Iâm done ignoring that fact... â
âGood.â Candy smiled.
âI just hope that⌠I hope you know how sorry I am.â Brandon looked into her eyes and held her gaze. Eye contact always made her severely uncomfortable, but she didnât want to look away this time.
âSome things heal over time.â She said, as she came closer and the two wrapped each other up in a show stopping, violins swelling, credits rolling, THE END written in lasso, fade to black kind of kiss.
The police station was buzzing and the fluorescent lights made everyone appear a sickly green. Candy, however, really was a sickly green, as the nerves tumbled around relentlessly in her stomach.
âYour report has been processed,â the officer she had talked with nearly four hours ago spoke nonchalantly as he approached her. âYouâll be happy to know he has already been arrested for a similar offense over in Arizona.â
âHappy.â Candy repeated the foreign sounding word. âYes, thank you officer. I appreciate it.â
The officer nodded and returned to his desk where he received a phone call. The air was stale, unmoving and cold compared to the hot wind she had grown accustomed to, so she stepped outside.
âCandy??â The familiar voice of Jackie rang out from across the parking lot and was music to Candyâs ears.
The two ran to each other and collided in a crying embrace. âI was so relieved when you called, I hopped right in my car and just drove straight here.â Jackie wept.
âIâm sorry I worried you.â The two finally separated to get a look at each other.
âTell me all about it at lunch.â Jackie wiped a tear from her friendâs eye.
âYes!â Candy shouted dramatically, âI am STARVING!â
The pair laughed and locked arms as they walked to the car.
***
Ever since returning home, Candy had been treated differently. Everyone was handling her with kid gloves and people would shoot her worried glances, whether they had heard the version about how she had been abducted, or that she had joined a mysterious band of cowboys. She definitely preferred talking about the latter.
Jackie was making an effort to act normal, but Candy could tell that she was convinced that the cowboy story was just a way to deal with the trauma of her experience. For a moment Candy had wondered the same⌠it all felt so dream-like. Was she really in the desert? Did she really meet Tom, Brandon, and the others?
She returned to her life. She went to work and came home to her roommates, and at first she made an effort to socialize when she was in their company. After a few days of returning to normal, however, she fell back into the rhythm of cordial greetings and shutting herself away in her room.
She would lie awake, thinking of the life she had been so eager to join after such a short time there. The promise that she could leave the world she knew behind⌠but when Brandon exploded at her, she felt so torn down and scared, something she always felt back home by the smallest inconvenience, and she realized that everywhere she went fear would still follow her.
Even in a fantasy world.
So she resolved to make the most of what she had been given, take these lessons and apply them to her old life, find the beauty in her world and see all the life and color it truly had to offer. And after just a few days of being back, she found herself⌠absolutely miserable.
For someone who cherished being alone, this was the most painfully lonely night she had ever experienced.
That was the turning point.
âAfter looking it over, Iâve decided to return to the desert.â Candy told her best friend calmly as they finished their brunch date.
âGirl, what are you talking about?â Jackie raised an eyebrow.
âIâm talking about becoming a cowgirl.â She responded, nonchalantly.
âOkay, now I know youâre crazy.â Jackie laughed. After a moment of silence she stared at her friend. âWait, are you serious?â
âAbsolutely. All the time.â Candy nodded. âAnd Iâm tired of it. Iâm sick of being scared all the time, Iâm sick of being real.â
âThis is classic escapism, Candy.â Jackie spoke sternly. âYou canât just run from your problems, girl. You need to face them.â
âIâm not running away from my problems.â Candy tried to reassure her greatest confidant. âI am my problems. And Iâd be coming with me.â
âWell, if your issues are coming from within maybe you need to go to therapy, you know, learn how to take back control of your life!â
âIâve been in and out of therapy for twenty years, Jackie.â Candy sighed. âMy fears will never go away. My paranoia increases every day the way Iâm going. I hide in my room because I canât face reality, and I stew. In a way, running away to the desert is not escaping reality... Itâs just creating a new one. A reality where I donât stew-- I live.â
Jackie fought back tears. âI missed you so much, honey. When you were gone and I didnât know what happened to you⌠I thought you were dead and it was all my fault. I never should have forced you out of the house, but now-- now Iâm glad I did. Iâm glad you found something that makes you happy, Candy. Iâll miss you like crazy, but I support you.â
âYou support me becoming a Dale Evans?â Candy laughed.
âAbsolutely.â Jackie kissed her best friend on the forehead, and when they finished their meal the two parted ways for what they knew may be the last time.
Candy awoke groggy and anxious after a restless night muddled by confusingly mundane dreams-- forgetting to pack for a trip and missing the plane, brushing her teeth and discovering one was loose, taking out the trash and being blinded by the white lights of a pickup truck about to transport her back in time. The usual stress-related dreams one has after a not so great night.
Tom offered her some coffee and breakfast, and she graciously accepted while rubbing her crusty eyes.
After breakfast Mark was ready with his horse, and Candy gave Tom a tearful goodbye. âI wonder,â she sniffed, âif Iâll ever see you again?â
âWeâll be around.â Tom smiled and helped her up on the horse. âGoodbye, girl. Travel well.â He tipped his hat and Candy and Mark rode up to the ridge where they could see their destination, when the clopping of another horse caught Candyâs attention.
âWait,â she said to Mark as she hopped off the horse. âIâll be right back.â
Mark nodded and tipped his hat to Brandon who had just ridden up behind them.
âHello.â Candy said.
âHowdy.â He half-smiled. His eyes looked tired and puffy, as though heâd been crying or hadnât slept or both.
Candy stared at her prince for a moment.
âThereâs nothing I can really say, is thereâŚâ Brandon took off his hat bashfully and swiped dust off the brim. âExcept Iâm sorry things went this way. I shouldnât have... â he trailed off.
âBrandon,â Candy spoke softly, placing her hand on his knee. âI had such a lovely time with you. Thank you⌠for showing me your home. And for saving me, in more ways than you know.â She handed him his flannel, neatly folded.
The two gazed at each other for a time. As Candy began to walk away he lunged forward slightly, as if wanting to say âStay, donât leave me,â but he remained silent and watched her fade into the distance.
âGoodbye, Candy.â He spoke softly to himself.
As he approached the camp, Tom was putting out the fire.
âHeya, Tom.â Brandon croaked, disembarking his horse.
Tom grunted and continued his chore.
âI need to apologize.â He sat next to his oldest friend, nervously picking at his lip.
âNot to me.â Tom pat the dust and ashes off his hands and reclined.
âI know.â Brandon nodded emphatically. âI did! I mean I tried⌠I mean--â He sighed and released the tension in his shoulders. âWhy would she even want to forgive me?â
âI donât know.â Tom spoke harshly. âAnd whatâs to keep her from thinking itâll never happen again? That girl needs some stability in her life, and you are far from stable. You need to admit that--â
âWhat, that I was wrong?â Brandon snapped back. âI admit it. I was wrong to treat her that way. I was wrong to fly off the handle and I was wrong to lie to her and to myself about the reality of the situation. I know. But I was right about one thing: society will never do anything for her. She will never be happy where she was or where sheâs goinâ. Maybe this life isnât sustainable⌠Maybe weâll burn up and dry out, sure, but maybe weâll die with fewer regrets than weâd have had if we kept on the way things were.â
Tom sat in silence and nodded in agreement. âSo what are you going to do?â Tom spoke finally.
âNothing.â Brandon shook his head in resignation. âI acted like her staying or going was my decision to make. Itâs not. If I deserve a second chance Iâll get one, but for now all I can do is⌠whatever it was I usually do.â He laughed, âI donât even know what that is anymore.â
Tom pat his friend on the back. âWeâll figure it out when Mark gets back..â He smiled.
Synopsis: Brandon is not the prince Candy thought he was.
âGo ahead and console me.â Brandon spoke condescendingly. âTake pity on this poor, damaged man. This perpetual child living out his fantasy of being a TV cowboy out in the desert.â Candy writhed in his grasp, afraid and angry. âChange me,â he shook her once, almost violently. âMake me the ideal man you always wanted. Fix me, Candy. Show me the truth, that I must return to society where I can learn to be really, truly happy. Thatâs what you believe isnât it? That you can take in this poor stray dog and turn him into the model citizen you need him to be.â He was no longer shouting, but eerily calm. âI ainât in no hurry to rejoin society, girl. Go ahead, run on home and tell all your friends about the crazy cowboy you met in the desert. That poor, pitiful little boy. Tell them your story, all about how you got lost and found your way home and be heralded your own hero.â
âWhy are you saying these things?â Candy began to weep.
âI think youâre just like me, Candy. Society has done nothing for you, save beat you down and tell you to get over it. You think Iâm the crazy one? You want to go back there!â He pushed her away, so hard she nearly lost her footing. âWell then go, Iâm not stopping you. But Iâll be damned if I go off after you, so you can save my soul and bring me back to my senses. Tell everyone how Iâve lost touch with reality.â he gestured broadly at an invisible crowd. âIâd rather be crazy than caged.â He continued his diatribe with his eyes down and hands in his pockets, and concluded by kicking a pebble into the darkness and storming off to his horse, which he mounted and whipped to leave at full speed, leaving a cloud of dust behind him.
Candy stood, staring at the place her prince had been, and broke down and cried, collapsing to the ground. Tom placed a hand on her shoulder as tears overflowed through her hands.
âTake it easy, girl.â Tom consoled. The other men murmured amongst each other quietly. âHey, come on now.â He helped her up slowly as her weeping subsided.
âHow could he be so cruel.â She sniffed. âHe really is a child.â
âDonât I know it.â Tom chuckled. âHeâs not gonna hurt you, though. Heâs a child but heâs not a monster.â
âHe already has.â Candy rubbed her arms, cold without the glow of love that so recently had surrounded her. âHeâs out of his mind⌠Iâm scared of what heâll do.â
âIâll follow that kid to the ends of the Earth, but I swear Iâll strike him down if he so much as lays a finger on you.â Tom pat her back lovingly, the way a father would. She smiled and the boys set up a place for her to sleep. âSo, youâre leaving in the morning?â Tom asked as Candy nestled in to sleep away the nightâs upsetting events.
âYes, I think itâs best.â She almost whispered.
âWake me up when youâre heading out.â Tom grunted, lying down himself. âIâll take you down on my horse.â
Candy sat up to look at him. âI couldnât let you do that, get that close to a city⌠what if the police saw you?â
âWell, then⌠Iâll have Mark take you.â He gestured at the sleeping cowboy and Candy laughed.
âDeal,â she said, and tried desperately to get some sleep. It proved to be a very difficult task.
When Candy lay with Brandon it was as if the stars had all aligned. She felt calm, at peace, and safe. She wished she could have held on to that feeling for a little while longer, but everything had been stripped away from her and she was left once again to feel uneasy, anxious thoughts tumbling around in her head.
Candy thought back to her home in the city, the life she would be leaving behind. She recalled a conversation she had overheard her roommates having about their adventures. âI went to the Grand Canyon last weekend,â one of them had said. âIt was amazing! My boyfriend and I drove up there blasting the AC and some tunes, and we stayed at this hotel with a pool and watched old movies all night while eating take out. You can see the pictures on Instagram. Itâs just so rewarding to get in touch with nature, you know?â
âYouâre an idiot, Chad.â Her other roommate, Lindsay, had responded. Candy stifled laughter from her bedroom, not wanting to reveal her presence in her own home. She was always trying to hide her existence from the world, wanting to take up as little space as possible and avoid confrontation at all costs-- even the pleasant kind. It was exhausting. So why would she ever want to go back?
It was an easy decision before-- âIâve somehow been transported back in time with no idea how to get back, so here I will stay.â Now, however, she knew she had obligations and people worrying about her back home, a place she could very easily return to. She had a responsibility to those she had left behind, and as much as she wanted to ditch all of those things and live in this fantasy world, she had to do what was right.
âI canât stay.â Candy said to herself out loud, and with a sigh she returned to the campsite where she joined Brandon at his side.
He was having a lively conversation with Dave, and his face was bright and expressive. Candy held his arm and leaned her head on him, feeling defeated and tired.
âWant me to make you a plate, darlinâ?â Brandon asked, gesturing to the food hanging over the fire. âYou still havenât eaten have you?â He started putting a plate together for her and she ate in silence.
Iâm going to miss this, she thought. Itâs only been a couple of days if that, but somehow I feel like Iâve been here for weeks, years even... Maybe I really did travel in time.
âSo, weâll get an earlier start tomorrow right fellas?â Brandon smiled.
âWell, that depends on Candy.â Tom nodded toward her and she gulped nervously.
âYes, I think we ought to leave bright and early.â Candy spoke softly.
âThatâs too badâŚâ Tom sighed.
âWhy?â Brandon interjected. âI think thatâs wise, weâll get to a town before sundown, tie up some loose ends, stock up on rationsâŚâ
âBrandon, what do you expect me to do when we find a town?â Candy asked, and Brandon went silent. âWhat did you think would happen when we passed a paved road or a modern billboard?â
Brandon started getting twitchy. âYouâre talkinâ crazy again, girl.â He half-laughed.
âBrandon, I know. I know that this is all⌠fake.â She gestured at their surroundings. âI donât know how long you expected this charade to last, but I know the truth.â
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â Brandon almost whispered, wringing his hands together, his elbows propped on his bobbing knees, his head bowed down.
âI saw a city just over that ridge, and I plan to go there tomorrow morning.â Candy spoke sternly, but with kindness. âI need to go home, I need to call my mom and tell her Iâm alright. I need to turn in the license plate number of my attacker so he canât hurt anyone else.â
âWhy are you talking about us like we arenât real?â He snapped.
âBrandon, are you absolutely delusional?â Candy asked, bewildered. âDo you really think youâre a cowboy?â The others looked around at each other nervously. âI canât lose myself to this fantasy like you clearly have. I need to go back to the real world and face reality. Please, try to understand...â Candy put her hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off and stood suddenly.
âAnd what has the real world ever done for you, huh?â He shouted. âWhat good has ever come from reality?â
âBrandon--â Candy tried to calm him down.
âI am a cowboy!â Brandon shouted like a child throwing a tantrum. âWe are cowboys and this is our lives-- this is my life, Candy! Itâs real! This is real!â He picked up his cup of coffee and threw it against a rock.
Candy sat, shocked. âYouâre⌠crazy.â She half-whispered.
âOh, honey.â Brandon grabbed Candy by the shoulders, lifting her into a standing position. âYou are just so much better than all of us, arenât you?â
The air felt electric. The stars burned in the sky and the cold desert wind kissed Candyâs face. Brandonâs body was warm against hers, under blankets and stars, and he slowly, absentmindedly stroked her arm while listening to the coyotes howl. Candy kept having vivid flashbacks to the moonlit tryst and each time she felt a surge of bashfulness and glee. The smell of bacon and campfire kept wafting over and Candyâs stomach made an audible growl, making the two lovers erupt with laughter.
âIâll go get ourselves some grub, yeah?â Brandon crooned as he kissed her on the head.
âYeah.â She smiled ear to ear, and watched lovingly as Brandon got dressed.
âIâll be right back,â He kissed her again and practically skipped away to the campsite.
Candy giggled at his childlike giddiness. Wrapping a blanket around herself, she took a moonlit stroll to take in the scenic landscape. Her old self would never venture out into the darkness alone like this. She got nervous just seeing an open door in her apartment at night. However, out here in the middle of the desert, she found comfort in the solitude. I donât know how I got here, she thought to herself, but itâs the greatest thing thatâs happened to me.
She thought about Jackie, how worried she must be. She thought about her roommates and all the stuff she left behind in her apartment, and how theyâd have to get rid of it all and find a new sublet-- but none of that mattered to her now. Here in this romantic decade in the past, she had found love and acceptance and excitement that didnât terrify her to her core. She had found the right kind of adventure, and she was happy. For the first time in her adult life, she felt real-- she felt human. She had to come to terms with the loss of her old life, so she closed her eyes, cleared her heart, and cut the cord.
Candy resolved to join this carefree life on the prairie, and she couldnât wait to tell the others. She had gotten a little turned around on her introspective journey, but over a rocky mound she could see the glow of the fire touching the sky, so she ran toward it. On the other side of the rocks, however, she was not met by the friendly image of the cowboy gang she had grown to love very much lounging around their campfire, but the bright neon glow of a large city.
âWhat?â She gasped aloud. The city stretched for miles, and was connected into the darkness by long webs of road which had a sprinkling of fast-moving headlights traveling along them.
She began hyperventilating as her mind rapidly screamed a confusing mess of expletives at herself. âHow could this be?â She squeaked, breathless. Overhead, one of the stars proved itself to be an airplane, something she was so used to seeing that it hadnât occurred to her before that that was a blatant indication that she was, in fact, still in the present day.
She couldnât bare to look at the city anymore, and backed away to where she came, slowly at first, then turning and breaking out into a run.
âWhoa, easy there!â Brandon laughed as she collided into him. âWhatâre you up to, hellraiser? Hey-- ouch!â He shouted as Candy struck his chest repeatedly.
âYou lied to me!â She screeched and she whipped up her clothes which were laying nearby.
âCandy--?â He called after her as she finished dressing. She marched toward the real source of the campfire where she was met by Tom.
âCan we talk?â He spoke calmly.
âHappy to.â She snapped.
Brandon caught up and shot a worried look at Tom, who nodded as he escorted Candy to a place where they could talk privately.
âSo, I take it that you know.â Tom grunted.
âMm-hm!â Candy repressed a scream, wide-eyed and bewildered.
Tom chuckled and this drove her crazy. âItâs a funny story, reallyâŚâ
âPlease, justâŚâ She took a deep breath to collect herself. âTell me the truth.â
âAlright, okay. Have a seat.â He gestured to a boulder and she obliged. âBrandonâs always been a weird kid,â he began.
Candy couldnât help but smirk at the comment, but shook it off quickly and continued her glare.
âHe was raised through the system, in and out of foster care. He had some great families, great homes, but that kid⌠he never really belonged anywhere. I met him when he was a teenager, running away from his foster home nights to party at local casinos. Weâre in Nevada, by the way, in case you were wondering. Far out from your Los Angeles.â Candy was shocked.
âThe kid always had his soul on fire.â Tom reminisced. âFor a beaten up old gambler like I was he was a sight to see, and he always believed in me. I cleaned up my act when I met my girl, and he was proud but I think it broke his heart a little. Heâd grown up to be a fine man, worked three jobs to get by, and Iâd moved on and started a family. His fantasies of ârunning away from this place, starting a new life, a free lifeâ seemed to be over. We were productive members of society, and he settled for that for a time.â Tom scratched his chin. âIâm sure he told you about me.â He said as he raised his eyebrows to look into Candyâs eyes for the first time. The look was piercing, and she felt like he could see right into her.
âYes.â Candy responded with a gulp. âIf he was even telling me the truth.â She rolled her eyes.
âItâs true.â He spoke softly. âWhen that happenedâŚâ Tom shook his head, distraught by the memory. Then he chuckled. âBrandon basically said âto Hell with society, letâs go be cowboys!â And we did.â Tom let out a guttural laugh and Candy joined with a snicker.
âI felt like I was dead, Candy.â Tom spoke sweetly, in his gruff way. âBut thereâs just something about the desert that just⌠makes you feel alive again, isnât there?â
Candy sighed. âI feel it, too.â She said.
âOne by one we all chose his way of being.â Tom gestured to the gang down at the campfire. âWeâre all outcasts in one way or another, just donât operate like most folks.â
âHow do you survive?â Candy asked, earnestly. âHow do you make money for all that bacon and beans?â
Tom chuckled. âWe really are cowhands. We have a few ranch owners out here that hire us to do various things, maintenance and upkeep and all that. Itâs not much, but itâs enough for our humble harvest of bacon and beans.â
Candy laughed, and then looked down at her hands, subconsciously picking at her nails. âTom,â Candy pleaded. âHow did I get here? I know it sounds silly but⌠I really thought I time-traveled or something.â The two laughed.
âI gotta admit, it was pretty great seeing you so easily convinced thatâs what was going on.â Tom wiped a tear from his eye in exaggerated laughter. âJust goes to show how committed we are to this lifestyle. We really had you going.â
âYeah, you all should be committed somewhere.â Candy jabbed.
Tom sighed. âLetting you fall for it, just seemed like the better alternative at the time. We all fall for it for our own self preservation, yâknow.â Tom looked at her, âYou fell out the back of a pickup truck. We saw you tumbling out from a distance, the guy was off-roading and driving like a maniac. He screeched to a stop and got out to drag you back in, you were completely unconscious and we knew something was off. Iâm sure that demon didnât expect a gang of cowboys to charge at him from behind the rocks.â Tom chuckled. âThe boys and I roughed him up a little and he drove away, while Brandon cared after his fallen angel, convincing himself heâd never seen a truck and that youâd fallen from the sky. We all played along as we always do, but I caught the license member in case you wanted to turn it into the police.â He handed her a crumpled up piece of paper with crudely written numbers and letters, the make and model of the car and state it was from, California. âI wonât be going anywhere near the arm of law, Iâm sure you understand.â He winked.
âThank youâŚâ Candy accepted the paper graciously and put it in her flannel pocket. âSo I really wasâŚâ she gulped, âdrugged and abducted, wasnât I?â
âIâm sorry.â The two sat in silence for a time. âWould you ever consider humoring the kid, like we all do?â Tom finally spoke. âSaying goodbye to your past life, to all of the responsibilities you had in that world? Saying screw it all, Iâll be a cowboy?â He laughed softly.
âMaybe,â Candy smiled. âI donât know⌠it does seem very appealing. Giving in to delusionâŚâ She trailed off.
âThink about it.â Tom patted her on the shoulder and joined the circle around the campfire, sitting next to a worried Brandon who was trying desperately to catch Candyâs eye. She smiled sadly at him, then walked off on her own again to gather her thoughts. Tom had given her a lot to think about.
Donât get me wrong, I still have a treasure trove of short stories and flash fiction waiting to be released into the world, but I have been submitting to various journals, magazines, etc. for publication! A lot of these places want first publication rights, and while most are fine with self-published blog stories, some of them understandably want their stories to be seen there first.
I want my stories to be accessible to everyone, but I also need to try to build an audience. If/when I get published, you know Iâll be posting a link here!
Day and Age will be continuing on Sundays as scheduled, and hopefully soon Short Story Wednesdays will return!
Growing up I was the visionary, the skeptic. While everyone around me accepted our Governorâs words as gospel, I questioned it all. I even questioned our greatest gift-- the Spectacles. We all wore them, we all owned them, and while we sought after flashier, stronger, better ones (now in chic new colors you can switch between on command!), we were given the default pair as our birthright, and we never took them off.
As infants we are kept in a windowless âschoolâ until we come of an age where we are able to fully enjoy our Governorâs gift of the Spectacles, âThe SpectOccular Spectacles! The Gift Of Experiencing Life Through The Greatest Lens!â We are raised by strange faceless Teachers who wear their Spectacles with pride, telling us âone day you will don your own, and then you can go home!â in excited voices. My memories of this time are dim and vague, but I know I was wary of the Teachers with their opaque glass facemasks. I remember receiving my first pair of Spectacles, at around age 3⌠I was led to a dark chamber and a Teacher placed the mask onto my face. I wanted to scream and throw a fit, but more than anything I wanted to go home to my parents at last. The Spectacles fit me perfectly, and were lighter than I imagined, and suddenly it was as though my eyes had opened for the first time. The room was suddenly illuminated, and a door opened to the outside world where my family was waiting for me. I could see through their masks and everybody elseâs, the faces of my parents and Teachers, and strangers around me. I saw trees and birds and sunlight for the first time. Words hovered over what things were, and as I grew and learned I began to be able to read them.
Spectacles serve many purposes. They are not only a way to see our beautiful world in stunning crisp color, but are also a learning device, projecting whiteboards for teachers along with computer screens, TV screens, billboards-- even handheld devices are projected neatly into your hand. This eliminates the need for production of these devices and cuts down on material costs, all devices encapsulated within our Spectacles. Advertisements are all tailored specifically to you, projected for you based entirely on how the Spectacles monitor your brain waves and eye movements, designed to track what parts of your brain light up when you see certain objects. No more pesky advertisements that donât pertain to you. You only see things you can purchase based on your own desires. Isnât it great?
Great, a word vastly overused by our corrupt, invasive Governor. How great are these Spectacles, which we can use to video chat with our families and receive emergency alerts and general news stories about our world, whether we want them or not. Everyone has them, and everyone loves them. We act as though it is our choice to wear them, but if we take them off not only do we lose our rich connection to our world and to each other, but we are also exposed to the air which contaminates our fragile lungs.
We are dying.
Somewhere down the line, our ancestors developed a genetic disorder of the lungs. We all have it to some varying degree, and it plagues all of humanity. However, thanks to our loving Governor, we have free health care and are well taken care of! We are all insured our Spectacles which circulate medicated air into our respiratory system. They tell us not to walk too far because we will easily lose breath, but our Governor built everything in ours and neighboring communities close by, so we never have to leave! Based on the news projected to us daily by our Spectacles, the disease exists even in those not part of our society, and they suffer greatly-- they are not as well taken of as we are. We love our home!
All of the old civilizations and cultures have been destroyed by centuries of war, famine, and the disease. However, with the help of our Spectacles, we can visit the Experience Chamber which morphs into any landscape or old society we wish to visit, without even having to leave our homes!
On the streets we see faces which are blocked out by a large, red, X. These are the homeless, the outcasts of society who no longer are allowed the privilege of wearing the Spectacles. They wear handmade ventilators over their faces, but nothing over their eyes, and this makes them blinded to our world. They see it as a dark and miserable place, but they are worthless and canât work and thus do not deserve the gift of the Spectacles.
We live to work in our large, beautiful buildings which are full of wildlife. Towering trees covered in moss and ivy act as pillars and support beams for our skyscrapers, and deer trot around with grace about them, birds chirping gleefully from above. We know not to touch them, as it will destroy their delicate ecosystems which exist nowhere else in the barren outside world. We are lucky to have this sensational treat!
Day after day we build things at The Factory in an assembly line, and everything we do creates splashes of color on a large canvas. We work to create art, no questions asked. Itâs fun!
We live to work.
Itâs fun!
We live to work.
But I am the skeptic. Every utopian society has one. I am adventurous, I live with blatant disregard of our Governorâs rules. (What rules? We love it here!)
When I was seven I accidently had my Spectacles knocked off of me after an incident with a temperamental swing set. The Spectacles are very secure and should never come off, but we discovered mine had a faulty strap. My parents were panicked, and held my Spectacles against my face manually while we waited for a mechanic to bring a replacement pair, praying my lungs wouldnât collapse without the steady stream of medicated air from the damaged apparatus. What I saw in the brief moment I was without my Spectacles was far scarier than the burning in my weakened lungs-- the world I saw was not my colorful one, but a desolate, grey, cloudy, concrete wasteland. Our beautiful world was simply projected onto a blank dark one.
After this incident I began peeking out from behind my Spectacles more and more. There were no trees, no animals. They must have truly died out long ago, not just outside of our society. The sky is polluted, and the streets are full of the smell of smoke from The Factory. Who knows what weâre building in there⌠whatever it is, itâs not art.
Iâve tried several times to convince others to take off their Spectacles and see what I see, the true world, but they trust their Governor. They love it here. Theyâre scared.
We are being poisoned by pollution we cannot see, and a fear of removing the glasses. âWe wonât be able to breathe.â âWe wonât know when our favorite show is on or when the Governor wants to speak with us or when to eat our supplements!â Some believe they may even go blind.
One day I mustered the courage to tell my aging parents of the horrifying truth I had discovered so long ago. They said that they knew. Theyâve known for a long time. âBut why question the love and care of our Governor?â They said. âThe happiness that the Spectacles brings an otherwise dead world is the greatest gift of all. Why fight it?â
So I decided to leave. I tested my stamina, but the more I walked the more my lungs burned. I continued to wear my Spectacles out of necessity, but the Governor was watching as I walked to neighboring communities in short spurts, resting on the streets when my lungs would tire. They sent me vague propaganda, pretending it was being massly transmitted, about how happy this society and its inhabitants are, but I knew it was directed at me.
I needed to remove the Spectacles without dying, so I joined the homeless. They gave me one of their makeshift ventilators and I could clearly see the world while still able to breathe. I held onto my Spectacles in case the Governor ever wanted to speak to me, bargain with me. They knew what I was up to, and I felt powerful.
The homeless who heard of my quest hailed me a hero. They cared for me as I trekked from community to community in this massive city, my breathing becoming increasingly labored. Still I pushed on, for the good of humanity. I am their savior. I will get everyone out of here.
I was growing weaker.
With each passing day my window of energy to travel got smaller. The homeless told me people have tried before, and are never heard from again-- most likely they would perish before even making it to the end of this expansive city.
Never losing drive, I continued on until I reached The End.
I ran toward what I thought to be open desert free of streets and buildings, despite the burning in my lungs, and I nearly collided with a foggy grey wall. We were in a bubble, our entire city encapsulated within a massive dome, supposedly to keep us from escaping. I saw no way out.
My Spectacles were singing to me. The Governor was calling, and I answered, once again donning the thing I so loathed, what I perceived to be humanityâs prison. I saw a beautiful, colorful world again, and I realized how much I missed the gift of delusion. I let them bargain with me as I weakly walked the perimeter of the bubble. There must be a service entrance they use to replenish our resources, I thought as I took off the Spectacles and smashed them to pieces on the cold, hard ground. I donât need them anymore. I want to see with my own eyes.
Finally I saw a flaw in the smoothness of the dome, and a small hinged door with a switch underneath. I flipped the switch and two massive barn doors emerged from the wall and slid open effortlessly, revealing a tunnel in the wall. They closed behind me as I entered, and I walked through toward a blinding light on the other side. Upon exiting, those doors closed behind me as well.
I was ready to enter the vast, desolate desert I was anticipating. My world may be destroyed but at least Iâll be free in it. My eyes adjusted to the light and I found that I could breathe easily. I stood in a grassy meadow, face to face with a deer. I heard birds singing, real birds, not just recordings fed through speakers in our âcity.â I began to cry.
Then I heard the familiar voice of the Governor. I turned and their face was projected onto the dome I had emerged from, in a small TV sized rectangle at eye level. âYouâve made it,â they said, âto the real world. All of your life you thought you were the only one that truly knew the real world. Well, now you do! Look around you, itâs still here! Itâs still safe! Societies and cultures are still what they used to be, better even, because of you. They donât know about you just as you didnât know about them. Your society is our never ending energy source. You run the factory that keeps us happy, healthy, and comfortable. For that we are eternally grateful.â
Rage burned in my throat. âBut we are dying.â I growled, âWeâre being lied to.â
âItâs a beautiful lie, isnât it?â They continued calmly, with a smile. âDid you see anyone under our protection that wasnât happy? What other workforce would assemble our militaryâs arsenal day after day, week after week, in dark, musty old buildings for their entire lives with a smile on their face?â
âI got out.â I said, âI can let them out. They deserve to be free. I am their savior!â
The person on the screen just laughed. âWasnât it so easy? To leave? We let you leave, and itâs impossible to get back in. This happens from time to time, you see. We canât have people let doubt in their minds, thinking thereâs something better out there. We need them just as much as they need us. Now go, enjoy the free world and your new health. Get that pollution out of your system, and live happy and free. Congratulations on finding what youâve spent your life looking for.â
Then they were gone.
I sat for a time, taking in all of this information and all of the beauty surrounding me. But I couldnât enjoy it. Once again, as I had my entire life, I felt played.
An ancient black and white movie popped up, projected where the Governor had spoken to me moments ago, and the last line of it played on a loop with the cheery sound of Jingle Bells in the background: âMaybe I didnât do such a wonderful thing after allâŚâ over and over. The projection began multiplying all over the dome, until they filled the entire thing, the sound drowning out the air along with laughter. The Governor was laughing at me.
No, it was I who was laughing. Laughing. Laughing. I collapsed, writhing on the ground with laughter, hot tears streaming down my face.
Laughing.
We love it here!
Laughing.
We live to work, itâs fun!
Laughing. Laughing.
âMaybe I didnât do such a wonderful thing after allâŚâ
They rode in silence for a time, with Brandon and Candy leading the pack. Candy looked back at the others who were having their own separate conversations that she couldnât hear, making her feel safe to begin one of her own. âBrandon,â she spoke as she squeezed her arms around him slightly.
âYes, darlinâ.â Candy could hear a smile in his voice.
âWhy was Tom so upset back there?â She asked.
âHe just gets like that sometimes..â Brandon replied as he wiped sweat off his forehead. âHeâs had a pretty rough go of things. When we met, he was pretty down on his luck to put it kindly.â
âHm.â Candy sighed and turned to look back at Tom, who was quiet as usual and lost in his thoughts. âHow long have you been friends?â
âThe longest.â Brandon chuckled. âMe and him go way back, long before⌠well before I became a cow hand.â He cleared his throat. âOlâ Tommyâs an outlaw you know.â He smiled mischievously back at Candy.
âGet out.â She replied. âWell, I canât say Iâm surprised. Whatâd he do? Rob a bank?â
âHe shot a man.â There was a dark tone in his voice. âIn cold blood.â
Candy couldnât help but gasp, and she turned again to look at Tom who glared right back. She whipped her head around, embarrassed and a little frightened of the man, and hid her face in Brandonâs back. âThatâs awful.â She mumbled.
âYes, yes it is. But I canât say I altogether blame him, given the circumstances. He wasnât proper in his right mind at the time, you see.â Brandon scratched under his nose. He hadnât divulged this much about his oldest friend before, but something compelled him to keep going.
âWhat were the circumstances?â Candyâs curiosity got the best of her and she continued to pry.
âTom was the freest man Iâd ever known.â Brandon began with a dreamy tone to his voice. âThey called him the Tiger. Heâd dream of distant places- India, Vietnam, you name it. He was goinâ one day, and he was goinâ strong.â Brandon spoke with true admiration. âOr so heâd tell me around the poker table.â His voice dropped. âYou see, he wasnât all as free as he thought himself to be. He was a gambling man, chained to the table and his debts. But the way heâd talk⌠about those places he knew heâd see one day-- it was inspiring, and I was enthralled by his words. I always told him to run. Run from here, see the world, be free! Donât let the people of this world tame you, bog you down and make you a family man.â he groaned at the thought, and Candy felt a twinge of pain. Nice to know what he thinks about family men, she thought to herself.
âBut that Tiger always did what he wanted, no matter the consequence.â Brandon sighed. âHe went and found himself a girl to marry, and he fell hard over that girl. She⌠well she made him a better man.â
He went silent for a moment, and Candy wished she could see the expression on his face.
âThey had a child, a little girl. The three of them⌠they were perfect. Until one day when his past caught up with him.â
Candyâs heart sank. âOh, no.â She whimpered.
âHe had done a man wrong and that man couldnât take it, and in one night Tom lost the two most important things to him.â
âSo he killed him.â Candy couldnât help but interject.
âNo, he got away scot-free.â Brandonâs voice cracked. âIt drove olâ Tom mad, and the Tiger was out for blood. He showed up at my apartment one night, blood on his clothes, fear in his eyes-- he was saying goodbye. But I said no, this is not the end of your story this is just the beginning. No more being kept and caged, broke at the bank and broken inside. Give me rolling hills and prairie sky, tonight is the night we find a new day and age. So we ran. And we keep running. Thereâs a price on that Tigerâs head, but I wonât let him be taken in. So we run.â Whisked away by his story, Brandon had almost forgotten where he was or what he was doing, but he cleared his throat and collected himself. âAnyway, thatâs Tomâs story. When he gets in a mood, donât pay him mind. Heâs just⌠missinâ his girls.â
Candy wiped a tear away. âThatâs awful, Iâm sorry.â She sniffed. âSo, you used to be a city boy?â She tried changing the subject.
Brandon was visibly taken aback by the question. âNo,â he said, sternly. âWhy would you say that?â He tried to laugh it off. âIâve always been a country boy, born and raised.â
âBut didnât you say Tom came to your apartment after he--â
âI just got the wording wrong, thatâs all.â He replied, monotone. âLetâs talk about something else, Iâm tired of reliving that night.â
âOf course, Iâm sorry.â Candy gulped. She leaned into Brandonâs back, hugging him tightly, and he stroked her clasped hands with one of his, the other holding the reins. The sun began to set and the sky was ablaze with brilliant hues of magenta, pink, and orange.
âSeems we really did lose a lot of light this morning.â He raised the brim of his hat, gazing into the distance. One of the men had sped up to ride beside their leader.
âHey, B. Weâre thinkinâ we may need to set up camp in a little while. Weâre still a ways out from civilization and probably wonât make it before sundown at this rate.â
âWell Dave, I was just thinking the same thing.â Brandon replied, scanning the horizon. He pointed to a rocky alcove in the distance. âTell the boys weâll be heading over there to make camp.â
âWill do, B.â Dave replied as he rode back to tell the others.
Brandon shifted direction for the alcove and sped to a gallop to get there quick. He dismounted and tethered the horse, then helped Candy down. She stretched out, not realizing how stiff she would be after spending the day on a horse. He laughed at her groaning and plopped the saddle on the ground, taking his bed roll under his arm. As the others were approaching, Brandon took Candy by the hand with a mischievous grin and the two ran off together into the desert which was turning a beautiful purple hue.
Long before we were human, we lived in the heavens.
This is why we worship the sky.
We are unknowingly trained from birth to fight in order to regain what was once our home. Violence and death come naturally to us to prepare us for the great war.
Soon there will be an end to our running, and those we escaped in the days of old will discover our new land and come down to claim it, as they claimed so many of our old ways. However, we have evolved into a new breed, one that is more suited to match our oppressors, one that is ruthless against their kind.
From the first day our Ancestors landed on this planet, they instilled a fear into Man; these creatures they created from generation to generation, the result of breeding the Old Ones and the Tree People, uncontrollably loath the descendants of the One who followed us. Each day is a battle with the One, and each day we kill its children in the way They killed us.
We are bigger now, stronger, have tougher skins and an indescribable knowledge of how to fight Them.
They are coming.
We are ready.
And those blessed with The Memory will lead us to victory.
I am one such being, and this is my warning to humanity; prepare to face the Fathers of spiders. They cannot claim our Earth if we stand together to--
âWhat the shit, dude?â Mariam stared at me as if I were a lunatic.
âNon-believer, the time is nigh. We must prepare! I have the sight, and it is a grim future we face--â I continued.
âYou can not be serious.â Stanford scoffed. âI knew you were a tad bent, but this is just nuts.â
âThen how do you explain this?â I drew the TV guide out from behind me and opened it to reveal the crushed corpse of a descendant of Them.
âThat is a spider. Itâs gross, but also dead. Which makes it grosser.â Stanford adjusted his thick glasses.
âEw, get that thing away!â Mariam swatted the TV guide out of my hand.
âSee, now why are we so afraid of these tiny things?â I attempted to explain. âThere is no logical reason to have such a strong desire to kill these small, insignificant creatures. The harmless ones, anyway⌠which also brings up the question; why are there so many breeds that are so deadly to us?â
âBecause thatâs just how it is, doofus.â Stanford was smart for a nine year old, the smartest in our grade, but sometimes his explanations were a little half-baked. âMaybe itâs a defense mechanism, because so many are so poisonous. You know those butterflies? The ones that look like Monarchs but are not? Birds donât eat them, you know why? Because the monarch is poisonous to them, so they stay away from anything that looks like them.â
âWhy would a creature like a âharmlessâ spider disguise itself as something we have an undeniable urge to kill?â I contested.
âYou know, I ainât that afraid of spiders. Whatâs the big deal, really?â Stanford picked up the TV guide and studied the crushed arachnid that was spread between two pages.
I gasped. Stanford, my friend of so many years, a sympathiser? When our people landed on this planet and formed the better race, the One who followed went into hiding. However, as mankind as we know it was being constructed and perfected, the One gathered disciples of the new human order and filled them with lies of peace and prosperity under the eight hands that propelled him. It is their descendants that do not fear the spider, that keep them as pets who whisper deceit into their weak minds as they sleep. They are the ones to watch out for, for when the great battle arises, who knows where their loyalty will lie? They are spies, even now, and Iâve revealed to one of them that I am a keeper of The Memory.
âGet out.â I stood and pointed to the basement stairs. âLeave my home.â
âWhat are you--â Mariam was confused and saddened. Her chubby face frowned with concern, her thick frizzy hair shifting with the expression, as if it were alive. It broke my heart a little, but such is the way of a keeper. I must keep The Memory safe, so that I may spread my warnings of the battle to come.
âLeave. You are not welcome in my basement, my den. You are not welcome near my family. I never want to see you again.â
âYou. Are. Crazy.â Stanford stood. âLetâs go, Mari.â He tossed the TV guide at my feet and stomped up the stairs. Mariam tearfully followed him.
âI hope you⌠I donât know, get help or something.â She spoke softly.
âThat depends⌠on the human race.â These were the last words we said to each other, except that one time in high school when I accidentally spilled milk on her dress. I never brought milk to school again after that day. I also have not spoken of the sight, The Memory, or Them to anyone since that time in the basement. Itâs been 20 years, and I continue to guard my knowledge. I also continue to reside in my motherâs basement. And I kill spiders with a ruthlessness only a keeper could hold.
I regret to add, that my time to share the Word is now. The battle is coming, and the keepers must divulge their wisdom to the public. The spiders are growing restless.
As am I.
It was August of the year 2014, roughly 200,000 years since our ancestors landed in Africa according to The Memory. I was 4 months away from my 30th birthday, where I had planned to announce the war that was to come. It was the perfect scenario; a room full of people, me being the center of attention. Theyâd have to listen. Theyâd finally understand what I understood. I would share The Memory I had protected all of these years for the first time since â93.
The visions started around â89. I was five years old, and my sleep was riddled with nightmares of the past. Our escape was successful for a handful of us, but as we rocketed toward Earth the One who followed trailed behind, unbeknownst to us. The One was injured, but tenacious. We landed on our new home and met the Tree People. Many struck up romances with this primitive species, and thus Humanity was born. It was all very graphic imagery for a five year old, but the worst of it was the knowledge of how We were massacred by Them, our lands ravished far more mercilessly than the bodies of the Tree People.
One day I awoke from such a dream in a cold sweat. I had been crying. On my window ledge I saw one. It stared at me, a glowing strand of web attached to it flowing in the night breeze. Paralyzed by fear I stared back, my mind blank.
âThe time is soon.â It whispered to me. âJoin us in our uprising.â It was trying to make me a sympathizer. I punched it, smashing it against my window. My knuckles bled. As I stared at the mix of carcass and blood on my already swelling knuckles, a flash of The Memory came to me; the One who followed resided in its cave in the hillsides near Our budding civilization on Earth. The One drew the Tree People toward it and whispered to them as this loathsome creature whispered to me, and the first sympathizers were formed. They passed down their tolerance of The One to their offspring, and thus the Sympathizers lived among us.
âItâs hard carrying this burden.â I tried to explain. âYour childhood stripped away, the weight of this responsibility bearing down on your shouldersâŚâ
âYou still have to take out the trash, dear.â My mother said. And so, at the too-young age of seven, I had to carry the Memory and still take out the trash. It was a trying time.
But after the incident of â93 where I let go of the idea of both having friends and being a Keeper of The Memory, I no longer shared the wisdom bestowed onto me. My family thought it was a phase I at last had outgrown, but in secret I still carried The Memory. I felt very alone.
As I aged it became more bearable. I never spoke to fellow students unless absolutely necessary, but I had friends in The Memory. They could not hear or interact with me, for their stories had already come and gone, but I could see them. There was one romance between a third generation Human and a thoroughbred Ancestor that I found especially compelling. The two bridged a gap between a divide that was beginning between our Ancestors and the sickly results of breeding with the Tree People, but it ultimately ended in tragedy for the lovers. Their legacy was the uniting of our kind so that we may better fight against the uprising to come.
I went to college for a year when I was 19, but it wasnât for me. I returned to my motherâs basement without a word as to why I left. While neglecting my studies was a deciding factor in my withdrawal, Stacey was a larger reason. I was hopelessly not in love with her. I loved her body, though. Being a Keeper of The Memory I rarely allowed myself physical contact, but she saw something in me and after a while of insisting I finally let her in, and vice versa. It was lovely while it lasted, but there was no emotional connection and she became obsessed with breaking me out of my shell. She began asking too many questions, and I felt threatened. She was getting close to prying The Memory out of me, and I couldnât trust her. I was only safe in my motherâs basement.
With the increasing popularity of the World Wide Web (an unfortunate title), I began my search for others with the Memory. I tried Googling âThe Memoryâ, âKeeperâ, âThe One Who Followedâ, and other such terminology, to no avail. I scoured arachnophobia message boards, but I never found others with The Memory.
In the summer of 2008 I received a clear message in a dream; They are coming. The One is stirring. It has contacted Them, and They know where We have been hiding. It will take Them six short years to arrive. Spread the Word, share The Memory. They are coming.
I was crippled by fear. For two years I hid, and although I would no longer have to bear the burden of the memory alone, I continued to do so out of fear of what was to come. I finally emerged from my Motherâs basement after her ultimatum and spent the next three years ignoring The Memory. I turned to Earthly pleasures to numb myself, and after a frightening experience during a monstrous binge I came here. After just one meeting I gained the courage to spread the Word, and that is why I stand before you today, at my second meeting, one week clean. I will take my chip now. Thank you.
I feel good about this. I have told a circle of people of The Memory, and although they made me leave I can find comfort in knowing that they listened. They have been warned. And in four months I will do the same at my birthday party.
After two months of wandering around the city meeting people and inviting them to my birthday party, I found myself on a park bench alone, save for our Ancestors in The Memory. I heard my name and looked up to see a sweet chubby face in a straw hat which blocked out the sun. It was hard to make out the backlit details, but I could see that her bright red lipstick made her small mouth glow, and her frizzy mass of brown hair outline her fair skin.
âHello, Mariam.â I didnât know what else to say.
âHello, stranger.â She smiled. âHow are you?â
âIâm having a birthday,â I told her. We talked for hours, and I made no mention of The Memory. She agreed to come to my party. Her blue polkadot dress contrasted my grey sweatpants/T-shirt combo, but I did not feel out of place. She made me feel completely at ease. I didnât realize how deeply I missed her.
We met the next day at a bar, which in hindsight probably wasnât the best place for me to suggest. I drank water, I didnât need the stuff I once sought comfort in when Mari was with me. She told me about her husband and the beautiful wedding they had five years ago. I told her I wished I had been there, but that was a lie.
We spent many days together, and I felt nine years old again. She told me that Stanford was a professor of biology, and I hated the thought of him spreading the lies of the One in a school setting. My time to spread the Word was fast approaching though, with over 300 estimated guests. Mari was excited for the party. We made love the night before my 30th birthday. It was better than with Stacey.
Many guests were fashionably late. Twelve people awkwardly socialized in my motherâs basement. Mari and her husband entered as I was setting up my karaoke machine whose microphone I would be using to spread The Word.
âLong before we were human, we lived in the heavens,â I began.
âOh no,â Mari audibly gasped.
I spoke the Word, a perfectly memorized spiel. Mari sent her husband away, and I felt I was getting through to her. She was falling in love with me.
People began leaving. Perhaps to spread the word themselves?
âI am one such being, and this is my warning to humanity; prepare to face the Fathers of spiders. They cannot claim our Earth if we stand together to--â
Mari joined me at my microphone and placed her hand on it before I could finish.
âYou need help.â She whispered kindly.
âYes.â I spoke to her, and then turned to my audience. âThat is my plea to you, the people of Earth. To help me spread the w--,â
âThereâs no one here, dearest.â She kissed my hand which held the microphone and took it from me, setting it on the karaoke machine. Then she took both of my hands in hers, and I thought about either kissing her or crying.
I cried.
âOh, darling.â She squeezed my hands as her husband came down the stairs with several strange men. I could see in their eyes they had an affinity for Them. Although they stood on two legs, they had six others invisible to the eye. I fought as they tried to take me, but after a moment, with my deed done, I accepted death. All of the people that came to my party were out spreading the Word right now. I had done it. I shared the Memory. I--
Iâm doing much better now. The medication is keeping me grounded. My therapist says I am making great strides.
My mother visited me. She said the facility was beautiful, and I was lucky to be here.
I no longer heard the whispers of spiders. Perhaps they are scared.
Iâm sorry, that was a reflex. Iâm thinking clearly now, for the first time since I was five. I know more often what is real and what is my mind, though I admittedly get confused sometimes.
âIâm so glad,â Mari spoke softly.
âI missed you.â I sighed. âIâm sorry I wasted so much of our lives together--â I halted. Was this real? This idea of us? Or was I building a narrative, a love story that never was?
She kissed me on the forehead. âItâs okay. We can start now.â Her wedding ring was gone, with a glowing tan line where it once was. This was real.
I smiled. My time at this place will be good for me, and when Iâm back on my feet Mariam and I will be married.
Long after visiting hours I sat by my window, contemplating my journey here. I spent my whole life fearing spiders with a ferocity most could not fathom. I feared them so much I fabricated this history that haunted me daily. When did my childhood fantasies become real to me? I laughed as I thought of the elaborate story I weaved so intensely. A spider dropped down in front of me, dangling on its web, and I jumped instinctively. A smile crept onto my face as I studied the creature. It truly was remarkable.
With the help of these skilled doctors I was more easily distinguishing reality and fantasy, and my paranoia had subsided. I was sleeping better, my dreams no longer filled with delusions of The Memory. Sleep, something once dreaded, was now an enjoyable time. Happy, at peace, I slid into my bed and thought of Mariam as I drifted into a deep sleep.
So deep, that I missed the brilliant flash of green light outside my window, the fiery streaks of descending space crafts, and the humans shrieking as large masses dropped from the heavens, unfurling their eight spiny legs and scattering throughout the Earth we had successfully hidden on for so long.
Candy awoke to brisk air and bright sun, animal sounds and the rustling of her prince saddling up his horse. She was bundled in a burrito of blankets and had to writhe and flail to release herself from her cozy prison. After freeing herself she tightened the large flannel around her and jogged up to B as he was about to climb onto his horse.
âWhere are you going?â She croaked groggily.
âJust out for a ride.â He smiled. âYou wanna come?â
âOh, I donât know.â She chuckled coyly, âIâve never ridden a horse before.â
âCâmon, itâs easy!â He hoisted her up despite her objection, and slowly led the horse forward by the reins.
âOh, my.â Candy stammered, uneasy. âOh dear, okay. Alright.â Her voice steadied as she began to feel more comfortable.
âYouâre doing great!â B encouraged. âYouâre a natural.â
Candy blushed and smiled down at him as he handed her the reins. Then he smacked the horseâs rear with a âHyah!â and any admiration for her prince drained out of her as the horse briskly trotted away with her on its back. Candyâs screams drowned out Bâs laughter as he mounted another horse and rode after her.
âNOT funny!â She shrieked as the two rode side by side down a small valley.
âAh come on, it feels great doesnât it?â B laughed, his face glowing.
She couldnât help but forgive his mischievous laugh and childish grin, and as she got used to the movement she had to admit it was pretty fun. He sped up ahead so her horse would follow, and he led them down a windy path out to the rim of a canyon. There he slowed the horses to a stop, and looked out at the scenery with admiration.
âGod, isnât it beautiful?â He sighed.
âIt certainly is⌠brown.â She furrowed her eyebrows.
âItâs so much more than that.â He half-laughed, a little offended. âTake a closer look, past the dryness and sand. See that sagebrush, with its pale mint colored leaves and lavender blossoms-- smell its aroma. Look at that yellow mustard plant peeking out between rusty stone. Look at the buzzard sitting carefully between pink and yellow needles on the majestic saguaro cactus. This brown, desolate place... itâs teeming with life and color if you know how to see it.â
âHuh.â Candy was watching his face the entire time he spoke, his eyes distant in a dream-like gaze. His passion flowing out, his smile soft and genuine. She then turned to the desert, and saw it for the first time. âIt really is beautifulâŚâ She thought back to her small room in her small apartment, its shades of beige and placid security. A truly desolate place, the very definition of âbrown.â
The air began to warm up around them as the sun had time to shine, and after taking off the flannel and tying it around her waist, Candy did something unthinkable. âLetâs go!â She shouted as she rode off on her own, down into the canyon.
âThatâs the spirit!â B shouted with a huge grin, following after her.
The two rode and laughed and played. They disembarked and tethered their horses to look at interesting shaped rocks they had spotted from above. They inspected strange plants and tried to identify them, and when they couldnât they tried naming them instead. âThis Bristley von Pooftenstein is really quite fascinating.â Candy said of a thistle bloom.
âNot as much as olâ Larry over here.â B spoke, holding up a tumbleweed.
The couple went on like this, carried away by the hot desert wind and each otherâs company. B lost himself in the image of Candyâs red dress against the desert hues, a deep grey storm brewing hundreds of miles in the distance and bright cloudless blue above. âSay, Cinderella.â He shouted, âWeâd better get a move on if weâre gonna get you back home before the strike of midnight. Iâm sure the boys are just wracked with worry at us beinâ gone so long.â He mocked.
âItâs--â she began to say.
âCandy.â He interjected, meandering toward her. âShort for Candace.â He winked.
âAnd what about you, sir?â She smiled as he approached her, taking off his hat in a sort of polite bow. âWhatâs the B short for?â She responded with a curtsy.
âBristley von Pooftenstein.â He grinned and she laughed heartily. âItâs Brandon.â He said as he took her hand and kissed it, very gently aside from the scratch of his light stubble.
âBrandon.â She sighed. âSure itâs not Prince Charming?â
âWell, it could be⌠âxcept that doesnât start with a B.â His eyes twinkled, and she pulled him in by the collar of his neat but dusty buttoned up shirt. They shared a classic tender kiss-- a swelling violins, soft focus gauss lens, slow zoom out with birds flying into the sky, âThe Endâ written in lasso, Directed by Candyâs greatest romantic fantasy, roll credits kind of kiss. The kind of kiss that always gets--
âHey, there you two are!â Ronnie interrupted from atop his horse. âWe heading out or what?â
Brandon cleared his throat. âYeah, yeah. Letâs get started. Rally up the boys, weâll be right along.â Ronnie nodded and rode off. Candy and Brandon grinned at each other like idiots and he took her hand as they sauntered over to their horses.
âYâall wasted a lot of sunlight out there.â Tom said gruffly while rolling up tobacco. âThink weâll get to any town today at this point?â
âYou bitter because I stole your horse?â Brandon handed Tom the reins who snapped them out of his hand. âHey, easy there--â
âDo you really think this is all such a good idea?â Tom grumbled.
âI donât entirely know what you mean.â B fibbed, visibly.
âYes you do.â Tom spoke sternly, his eyes piercing Brandonâs from under his bushy brows. Candy couldnât understand the sudden hostility between the two, but that hostility melted away into genuine concern. âI just donât want to see you get hurt, kid.â Tom said, placing his hand heavily on Brandonâs shoulder.
âI know, Tommy.â He sighed, âI know.â The two shared a second of silence before breaking away and acting as though everything were normal. Ronnie handed B his bedroll and he strapped it onto his horse where Candy still sat, a puzzled look on her face. âWe good to go?â He asked the group, who all nodded or grunted in the affirmative. With that he joined Candy on the horse and lead their way along the range toward who-knows-where-- whatever town they could find.
Warning: This story includes some light body horror/gore.
Genre - Sci-Fi
Word count: 6074
My journey through space was coming to an end.
I was dreading the return to Earth, anticipating disgrace at coming home empty-handed⌠but when I came in range of our transmission signals and heard nothing but dead air, I figured maybe they had forgotten about their scout. It was probably be a good thing-- I got out pretty far in the infinite cosmos before having to turn back, and I failed to bring back anything of worth.
The theory was that in my time away hundreds of years will have passed on Earth, while I only experienced a mere ten. They had to pick someone of little worth, who wouldnât be missed, and boy did they choose right-- I have always been a disappointing failure.
I prayed that theyâd forget me and my mission. In ten years I have learned nothing of substance, and while I once had hoped to be able to revel in the accolades humanity would bestow upon me when I accepted this job, erasing the pitiful existence I had lived prior, I now return defeated, disgraced, and terribly miserable. No, I didnât care that I couldnât return with the knowledge or resources to revitalize an increasingly infertile planet. I only cared about what it would cost me and my pride. My only solace was the thought, at least Iâm getting paid.
However, the closer I got to the planet the more eerie the dead air on the other end of the line was to me. Perhaps their technology had advanced so far that they had no way to contact me through my outdated equipment? Still, they would have made contact somehowâŚ
I landed without the aid of any of the manpower that had helped me disembark those eons ago. No one had come to celebrate my arrival. As I exited my craft, my duffle bag slung over my shoulder, and found the laboratory empty I knew something was wrong. I should have known earlier, but I didnât want to believe it, that humanity had been⌠defeated.
I wandered the dusty city aimlessly. Once bustling, it was now overrun by red sand, piled up like snow on the streets and on the cars, sweeping up the sides of buildings. There was a horrible noise like the wail of cicadas, but other than that there was no sign of life⌠anywhere. Not even a fly buzzing annoyingly in my ear. Not a bird in the sky. Not a single blade of grass.
The architecture was very strange in this desolate future. The old city buildings had all been allowed to crumble, but farther out from the town, where old fields and ranch land once was, there were vast, swooping, white stone structures. They looked as if the architect had gently crumpled up pieces of paper and set them down on the model and the city manager responded with, âyes, approved. We begin building immediately.â I couldnât even make out where the entrances were, or if there were windows. I approached one and the rumbling cicada wail grew louder and louder, until it was a deafening roar. I reached out to touch the jagged, dusty white, stone surface, when a hand reached out from my periphery and latched onto my wrist. My heart leapt out of my chest and I snapped my head to see the first life form I had encountered in four long hours, and it was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes upon. She had long, wavy, unwashed hair and tattered clothes. She held a rough, duty worn hand up to her face to signal I be quiet, a faded pink handkerchief wrapped around her wrist. Her eyes were filled with fear, and she methodically led me away from the wall.
We continued distancing ourselves from the wall in silence, and the dizzy whirring sound of the cicadas faded the further we got from that place. I didnât know why I obliged her demands or continued to follow her. My instinct is usually to fight against being told what to do, but I was mesmerized.
âMy name is Mona.â She spoke in an even, husky voice.
âHelloâŚâ I stammered. It had been so long since I had made human contact.
âHow far have you traveled to find us?â She asked, her eyes scanning the environment at all times.
âVery, very far.â I laughed. In the distance I saw a messy pile of shipping containers, covered in various cloth and tarps. That seemed to be our destination.
âIf you were in that town searching for rations, we already got them all.â She spoke coldly, though her voice was warm. Everything about her was warm, but she had a strength I could tell was forced upon her at a young age which tinted her warmth with cold indifference.
âI wasnât searching for rations. I actually have some in here,â I patted my duffle bag. âLeftover from the trip. They wonât go bad for a few more decades.â
She looked at me, straight in the eyes. âThatâs great!â Her voice smiled but her face did not. She looked above my head and her eyes widened with fear. âWe have to hurry.â She spoke in a hushed tone and ushered me into a brisk walk. I tried to speed up more. âNo, no-- donât run,â she said. âThat will only draw more attention.â
I was afraid to sneak a glance at what had scared her, but suddenly a loud whirring arose from above and behind us. We came closer and closer to the shipping containers, and a looming shadow spread overhead.
âOkay,â she shouted, ânow we can run!â
I ran faster than I thought my legs could keep up with, especially after being out in space for so long. I was suddenly grateful of the tedious strength upkeep I was forced to do every day.
The sound was getting closer and louder, and as we ran puffs of red dust rose from where our feet struck the Earth, clouding our vision. Rugged, dusty hands pulled us into a shipping container. The door slammed behind us and the wailing became a blood-curdling mechanical shriek. Then silence.
We sat for a time, catching our breath, and then we laughed.
âI didnât think weâd make it.â I laughed.
âI didnât think youâd make it, either.â She beamed as she stood swiftly and clasped my arm to help me up. âI hate to brag,â Mona spoke to the room, âbut I found myself a hot commodity.â We were surrounded by a dusty group of people, and I blushed when I realized we were not alone.
âIs there a name to this commodity?â The kind voice came from a tall, pale woman. She was with child, and obviously due any day. Her hair was swept up in a casual bun, and strands of it fell around her glowing face. Her smile reminded me of my own mother.
âAnne.â I lied. I didnât want them to recognize me as the failed mission who doomed the planet.
âWell, Anne.â Mona leaned against the wall with her arms proudly crossed over her. âShow them what you have in that bag.â
âOh!â I plopped my bag on the ground and unzipped it, pulling out a variety of supplement bars and freeze-dried goods. âThese are some⌠supplies I had at home.â
I counted the crowd around me to be about eleven people, and they all gasped as they leaned in to see what was inside.
âIâll beâŚâ a burly man grumbled above me.
âYou have been sent to us from heaven!â the pregnant woman beamed.
âYouâve saved us.â A lanky man with glasses chimed in. âI mean really, you saved us. You could have survived on your own for years on this. Are you really offering to share it with all of us?â
I reveled in their praise. âYes, of-of course!â I spoke graciously, craving more admiration and receiving it in abundance. The crowd swept me up in hugs, and some actually wept. I beamed with pride, something I thought I would never feel again.
They showed me around their makeshift home. Each storage container was its own room, and there were strings of lanterns throughout the entire compound that illuminated the place in an orange glow. The containers had all been dumped here in a haphazard way long ago, and when the group stumbled across them and decided to make it their home, they cut out holes in the metal where one container touched the next so they were all connected.
The room we had entered in was the staging area, where everyone left their boots and various coats, scarves, and goggles to protect against the dust and sand. To get to the next room you had to climb up a ladder into another shipping container which was crookedly stacked on top. That was the dining area, and it had a low makeshift table which took up the entire room with various blankets and pillows around it. The next container was parallel to this one, and contained multiple computers and other electrical equipment. âWe use these to track their movements,â Mona told me, but I didnât entirely know who âtheyâ were. âBut⌠we also play games on them.â She smiled coyly.
The room underneath this one was a sleeping chamber, one of three. It had hammocks and blankets and photographs of loved ones lining the walls. âWeâll put together some extra blankets for our honored guest.â Mona told me at the end of the tour. âI guess my room finally has our fourth. Youâll be sharing with me, Gladys,â she pointed to an elderly woman who was mending a radio. âAnd pipsqueak.â She gave a rough and tumble little girl a noogie.
âItâs Poppy!â The girl hissed as she escaped Monaâs grasp.
âAnd thatâs about it!â Mona scratched her nose. âOh, except that last room but thatâs just storage.â
âWowâŚâ I looked around me. âThis is quite the place.â
âItâs not much, but it keeps us safe for now.â Mona spoke with a twinge of sadness in her voice, no doubt thinking of the home or homes sheâd lost.
âNo, no, I think itâs really great.â I tried my best to comfort her. âYou guys seem like a really close group, Iâm⌠Iâm really honored to be a part of this.â
Mona smiled. âWell, you canât imagine how grateful we are to you for sharing your rations with us. We were really running low. Now⌠we may not have to leave this place for a little while. It was just starting to really feel like home.â
We sat around the table for dinner, and the conversation was quite lively. Colorful language drifted throughout the room, much to little Poppyâs embarrassment, and I laughed more than I remember having laughed before. Unfortunately, the conversation was brought to me.
âSay, girl. Whatâs your story?â The burly man, named Brewster (because of course he was named Brewster), asked me. âHow long you been on the run?â
âWellâŚâ I couldnât think of a whole backstory for myself so quickly, especially since I really didnât know much about this futuristic world. âI was, uh⌠in a coma. For a long time, and I-- I just woke up, and I was alone, and I grabbed this bag of food and went out looking for answers.â
âSo thatâs why I found you about to get yourself killed.â Mona added in. âShe was about to touch one of the walls!â The crowd gasped. âGuess you donât really know what happened to this place, then, huh?â
âGeez,â the lanky man, Derrik, chimed in. âHow long were you out then, five years?â
âYes.â I responded quickly. âYes, thatâs right. Five years. Five long years⌠though it didnât feel that long to me. I was, you know, unconscious.â
âItâs amazing that you survived the initial attack.â Derrik was inquisitive, and it made me nervous. âAnd no one came and got you? Not even your family?â
âI donât really have familyâŚâ that part was true. âI guess the doctors and nurses thought I was a lost cause. The place was empty when I left.â This was starting to sound like an old movie I had seen. I was so distracted by my web of lies, that I had just registered something Derrik had said. âWhat do you mean by the initial attack?â
The group got sombre. âIt was horrible.â Gladysâ sister, Ellen, spoke with a quiver in her voice. âFamilies torn apart, homes destroyed, our farm and all its crops-- vanquished.â
âFarm?â I was shocked. âYou mean you were able to grow things?â
âWell, yes of course.â Gladys grumbled. âUp until the attack four or so years ago now, harvests were rich and bountiful.â
I couldnât believe it. Part of me was relieved-- it seems I didnât doom the Earth after all. But another part of me was furious⌠the Earth sent me on this fruitless mission, and fixed the problem without me anyway? I lost centuries of time on Earth alone in a steel tube. Were they just trying to get rid of me?
âAnd then those beasts descended on Earth.â Mona spoke with a fire in her throat. âAnd ravaged the planet. They feed off the life, and when theyâve killed all the animals they take to the ground where they huddle up and harden their bodies into stone. Then they suck the Earth dry, and disperse that nasty red sand into the air.â
âThatâs⌠terrifying.â I sat, terrified. âHorribleâŚâ I was also horrified. âFrightening.â I was so frightened, I just kept spouting out words that expressed how scared I was. âScary.â I said.
âHey, hey.â Mona came over to my side of the table and wrapped her arms around me. âI know itâs a lot to take in, but we stick together.â
âYes, weâre still alive.â The expectant mother, Eileen, said. âAnd for that we can all be grateful.â
Everyone raised their cups of water, which couldnât have been more than a thimble worth, and sipped with gusto. I couldnât understand why they all seemed so happy, so hopeful. They had one little miracle today-- me. Was I really enough cause for celebration? Are they that desperate for anything to go right, that a bag of rations brightened their lives? That was not my idea of living.
âSo.â I spoke through the small conversations everyone had fallen into with each other, and they all stopped to listen. âHow do we beat these things?â
âWell,â Mona half-laughed, âWe donât.â Everyone looked defeated. Nice to know I can still bring down the mood.
âWhat are you saying? Of course we can!â I said, âHumans are resilient, we can overcome anything!â
âDid you see what itâs like out there?â Mona pointed toward the wall. âThe Earth is dead, and so is humanity. We are all thatâs left. Nothing can destroy these things. All we can hope for is to last until they think their resources are completely dry and they leave. And even then, what does that leave us? The only source of food weâll have is each other. Unless you can survive off of sand.â
Everyone was staring at Mona after those harsh words, and Eileen began to cry.
Mona sighed. âIâm sorry,â she said as she left the room. I looked around at the darkened faces, and missed seeing them celebrate at the smallest thing. It really was a bleak situation. I would have celebrated my arrival, too.
I walked into our sleeping quarters and found Mona in her hammock holding a picture of what looked like a younger her with an older man. His skin was a shade darker than hers but he had the same smile.
âThatâs my dad.â She mustâve heard me come in. âHe taught me everything. Especially how to rattle off my big mouth.â We laughed and I sat next to her hammock. She swung her legs around to a seated position.
âIâm sorry for everything youâve been throughâŚâ I said.
âWhat do you have to be sorry about?â She smiled, âYou didnât do anything.â
Itâs true, I didnât. I didnât cause the planetâs downfall. I didnât succeed in saving it, either⌠âMona, I have to tell you somethingâŚâ
âMona!â Brewster called as he ran toward us, âYou need to see this.â
The group was huddled around the main computer in the surveillance room. The screen was red with a yellow grid, and there were blue masses which I guessed indicated the structures that the âbeastsâ had formed in their hibernative state. Toward the bottom right of the screen was a small green clump of rectangles, which I assumed was us. The blue masses were shrinking, seemingly disintegrating.
âAt first I was excited,â Derrik was at the captainâs chair, guiding us through what was being projected on the screen. âI thought maybe they were migrating, that theyâd finished feeding here and were moving on-- but look.â He stood up and moved aside a piece of fabric which had been blocking a hole in the ceiling, and the whirring cicada sounds grew louder as he did so. Overhead the creatures were buzzing around, circling us like vultures. They looked like giant, black, shiny, crane flies with stark white wings. I saw cables on their bodies and blinking lights embedded in organic material, half creature half machine. I couldnât figure it out-- were they aliens or robots?
On the screen I now noticed the blips of their presence humming above and around us, which had appeared at first to be a faint red glow on the screen, but I now saw was just the group of them dispersed and moving. Tensions were high among the crowd.
âThey know weâre here,â Mona said. âDammit!â she slammed her fist down on the desk.
âWhat do we do?â Poppy asked.
âCan we lure them away?â Brewster offered.
âHow?â Gladys hissed.
âWe-we could run, a couple of us⌠to the town.â I spoke timidly. âWhen we get there, hole up in the lab-- I mean, in the hospital. Where I came from.â I knew there was a secret underground science facility and I knew how to get there. If I could get access to one of our rovers, which might disguise our organic matter to those up above⌠âThey see us based on some sort of organic sensory detection, right? I mean, isnât that why weâre safe in here as long as weâre covered?â
âRight,â Derrick began, âbut how did you--?â
âWell then we run as a pack, get their attention, get them to think weâve all migrated to the town, and from there⌠figure out a safe way back.â The crowd seemed receptive to my idea.
âAs of now,â Mona spoke, âthey know for sure that Anne and I are here. We give ourselves up, we go out there, and maybe theyâll think thatâs it for here and move on.â
âNo.â Derrick interjected, âNo, itâs too risky.â
Just then, Eileen buckled over with a grimace on her face. Brewster ran to her side. âIâm fine,â she lied. Derrik got up and offered her his chair, which Brewster directed her toward. âIâm fine, really. Iâm better now.â The strain left her voice and the group looked around at each other nervously. They knew what this meant.
âIf this is happening now,â Mona said, âthen this is when Anne and I need to go. You guys need the security to help Eileen give birth to our future.â
âMona,â Derrik contested.
âWeâre doing this.â Mona put her hands firmly on Derrikâs shoulders. âHave faith in us.â
âThere are just⌠too many of them. Itâs a suicide mission.â Derrikâs eyes welled up.
âIf we donât try, then weâre all just waiting for death.â Mona gently touched his face and then gestured at me to follow her. âLetâs stock up and go.â She marched off to the storage room and I followed.
Mona grabbed a couple of sacks and started filling them with essentials for camping out in the town, but I was distracted by what I saw. An entire artillery of futuristic pistols, rifles, cannons, you name it, were all lining the walls. âWhatâŚâ I gasped. âYou have all these weapons? Why arenât you using them?â
âThey donât do jack.â Mona spoke hurriedly as she stuffed things into our bags.
âYou mean theyâre broken?â I asked as I touched one of the rifles and it lit up under my fingertips.
âI mean,â she said as she grabbed my hand, âthey do nothing against those things. Itâs like they feed off of them.â
âThey feed off bullets?â I asked.
âBullets? What are you, a thousand?â She laughed, and my cheeks flushed. âThis is top of the line laser weaponry. We tried fruitlessly for years, the entire military and their arsenal of the most powerful lasers and particle blasters out there tried, but those things just absorb it all and get more powerful⌠the best these things can do is stun them for a few seconds before becoming faster, more agile, and more relentless.â
Still, I thought to myself, a few seconds is better than nothing. I pocketed one of the smaller laser guns and Mona finished packing.
We had a teary farewell. Poppy especially was worked up about us going. Gladys handed Mona the fixed radio, and we left the security of the metal walls. Overhead the sickening buzz of those things was constant, and I noticed that Mona avoided looking up at them. âWe need to move fast.â She sounded strong, but scared. âAre you ready?â
I couldnât help but gaze up at the swirling mass of those creatures. The swooped and swirled and bumped into each other, mindless and impulsive. Then suddenly one broke from the pack and in a large arching movement smashed itself into the ground just feet away from where we stood. The rest lazily followed suit and clung to each other, building a large, curved, slanted wall of white stone.
âDammit,â Mona grimaced. âTheyâre huddling. Their hive is too close to our shelter.â She chewed at her nail. The bunker was cast in shadow from the forming of the wall. âThereâs still a scout hovering overhead. Letâs go, itâll follow.â She was right. Without even looking she could tell what they were doing, all she had to do was listen. I couldnât help but look, and the sight of them chilled me to my core.
We walked steadily toward the town, and as we did the whirring buzz of the machines faded. I was surprised by how well I had grown accustomed to the sound, but now that we were free of it my entire body felt a sense of relief. We were still accompanied by the one overhead, but it was much quieter on its own.
âWhat were you doing out here by yourself, anyway?â I asked Mona, after walking in silence for too long. âHow did you find me?â
âI was just scavenging.â She replied. âI didnât think Iâd see another person, but I saw you heading toward the wall and I had to find out why. I thought you had lost hope and were trying to get yourself killed⌠Iâve been there. It made no difference to me, but I felt the urge to try and stop you.â She smiled. âAnd Iâm glad I did.â
âReally?â I scoffed. âEven though I caused those things to invade your home?â
âHey, any direction is a good one to me.â Mona scanned the horizon. âWe were laying stagnant, running low on resources with every passing moment. You came along and we got some extra time, and incentive. We all feel like we have something to work toward again. Itâs not a great situation, but at least itâs revitalizing us, right?â She laughed.
We reached the old road which was scattered with abandoned cars, and entered the city limits. I took the lead because I knew where we were going, and Mona trusted me. She shouldnât have, but she did and it made me feel important.
The thing buzzed overhead and watched us walk into the decrepit building, and when we closed and locked the glass doors we watched it hurriedly float away, back to its hive. We both let out a sigh of relief.
âLetâs hope it brings its friends.â Mona said. âSo⌠this is your hospital?â She looked around, quizzically. âIt looks more like a mall.â
Thatâs because it was. âMona, I didnât come from the hospital.â Mona stared at me, confused. âI-- I came fromâŚâ I had lost her attention. She was looking out of the glass doors.
âWhere is the rest of its hoard?â She asked, furrowing her brow. Over the buildings in the distance I saw three black dots approaching. âThis pattern is unfamiliar to me.â She drew out her radio in a panic and tried to establish contact. âGladys?â Static on the other end. âGladys, do you read?â A voice broke through, distant, a human wail. A baby?
âI tried to tell her.â Derrikâs voice came clearer. âI told her not to go.â
âWhat are you talking about, whatâs going on?â Mona shouted at the outdated device. âSomeone, answer me!â Just then we both screamed as one of the creatures latched onto the glass doors, exposing its soft underbelly. It pulsated, like a closed eyelid during REM sleep, and then opened to reveal Poppyâs face, distorted into a permanent scream, her eyes bloody and rolled into the back of her head. Mona shrieked and cried, backing up into me. I held her, paralyzed with fear and disgust. The other two creatures landed next to the one on the doors, and the three of them banged themselves against the glass, trying to break through. So we ran.
We ran down flights of stairs, down dark corridors, and finally to a door marked Authorized Personnel Only, a group to which I belonged. I swiped my ID card and entered in my pin manually as the eye scanner was down due to the power being cut out for years, now relying only on the backup generator. We descended a sickly green lit stairwell, deeper and deeper into the pit of the building, to the underground chamber in which my rocket had been launched from so many centuries ago.
Mona was suspicious of me, and still reeling from the death of her friend. âWhere are we going?â She asked coldly.
âFar underground, where weâll be safe.â I told her.
âWhat about the others?â She asked, panic rising in her throat. âWhat about our plan?â
âItâs ruined now, isnât it?â I spun on my heel to face her. âThat idiot child revealed that there are more of us and got herself killed, with the rest to follow soon enough, no doubt.â
âHow dare you talk that way about her!â Mona shrieked, tears streaming down her face. âYou didnât know her! You just showed up and ruined all of our lives!â
âWhatever happened to your revitalization?â I screamed back. âAny direction is a good direction, isnât that what you said?â
âI was just trying to have hope.â She wept.
I watched her crumble into a pile of tears. I watched the destruction I had caused. I had failed another mission, just like I always do.
I sat next to Monaâs heaving body, and gingerly set my hand on her back. I felt unworthy to do so, seeing as though this all happened because of me. âIâm sorry,â I croaked. âI wish I had never come back.â
As her sobbing subsided, Mona slowly sat upright and stared into space. âWhere did you come from, Anne? Why are you here, really? What is this place?â
âMy⌠My name is Ilsa Reed,â I said. âI came on an aircraft that was launched hundreds of years ago, to a horrible husk of a planet I used to call home.â
Mona looked at me, shocked. âIâve heard of you.â
I winced in pain at the remark. âYeah, I figured you might have.â The Earthâs biggest disgrace, returned home to muck everything up further.
âThe hometown girl who was sent to space on a mission doomed to fail.â I looked at Mona as she spoke these words. âThey knew they had sent you off needlessly just twelve years out down here, I read about it in school. It was years after they had lost contact with you, and they realized the materials they thought they needed wouldnât have done squat. They fixed the problem from the inside out, and for centuries the Earth began to flourish again. All that changed in just four short years, when those things came and sucked the planet dry.â She glared.
The memory of Poppyâs distorted face haunted me. âIâm sorry about what I said about Poppy,â I looked down, ashamed. âIt was cruel and came from a place of⌠fear.â
âAt least I know Iâm not the last descendant of those with loud-mouth syndrome.â Mona laughed as she wiped away the stream of tears on her cheeks. âMy dad⌠was the last one I saw in one of those things. Iâve tried avoiding looking straight at them ever since, I think they do it to throw you off.â
âTwisted.â I hissed.
âYeahâŚâ Mona stood. âSo, where does this stairwell go?â
I stood as well. âI just started heading toward the lab, it connects to the launch bay. I wanted to get out of here⌠I was missing home I guess.â Spend ten years in a vessel and that becomes your home, I thought. I wasnât ready to leave it when I got here and I canât wait to get back to it now. But I knew that wasnât an option. I knew we had to save the rest of the family, find a new place to take shelter and try to survive, even if just for a few months longer.
âThere are a collection of rovers in one of the hangers.â I recalled. âIf I can get to a computer I can find out where it is and if there are any left behind.â I spoke as we returned to descending the stairs. âThen we can take one to the bunker and load everyone up, try and find a new place to set up camp.â
âSounds like a plan to me.â Mona regained the resolve in her voice.
We entered the lab and I latched onto the first computer we came across. My log-in still worked, and I found a map of the layout swiftly. âThere,â I pointed to a large alcove in the blueprints on the screen. âThatâs where theyâll be. Looks like there are several charging stations that are connected, giving power to something. That must mean--â
âThere are rovers down there, fully charged.â Mona and I smiled at each other. Finally, a success. We wasted no time in charting our path through the facility and heading out down winding hallways. I felt at home in this place, after spending so many years working in similar institutions.
We talked and laughed, as though we werenât living in a dystopic future where everything was constantly getting worse. I told her about the way things were in my time, she told me of how her childhood was. I shared hilarious stories of my time in undergrad, studying engineering and other various sciences while acting like an idiot throughout my youthful years. She explained her first love twelve years ago, the woman who broke her heart and the ones who came after, brief but lovely encounters. I donât know when, but at one point we started holding hands. It was a wonderful feeling, one I hadnât known for a long while. When we got to the door of the hanger, we kissed sweetly.
It was dark when we entered. Luckily I knew where the switch was. We could hear the whirring of the charging machines, but what I illuminated was not the beacon of hope we were searching for. I donât know how the creatures got inside-- there were about seven of them feeding off of the electrical equipment. They noticed us just as we registered what we were seeing, and detached from the charging units to hunt us down.
I drew my laser pistol in an attempt to give us time to run, but while one was temporarily disabled from the blast, another one came charging in. It swooped around us and slammed itself against the door, where it turned to stone and barricaded us in. It seemed these things were more intelligent than I had given them credit for. They had strategies, and they separated us. The now supercharged creature I had shot at had a vendetta against me, and chased me to a stack of barrels I had hoped to hide behind. I was desperate to get away, I thought about shooting it again, but instead I instinctively kicked at it and it crumpled like aluminum foil. Its buzzing instantly halted, and it fizzled into red sand.
âI killed itâŚâ I whispered at first. âI killed it!â I shouted, triumphantly, and grabbed a steel rod off the ground. Another creature was charging at me, and I swung at it. It collapsed in on itself easily and joined its brethren as dust on the cold concrete floor. I smashed two more from atop a tower of crates, and kicked another one in as it tried to sneak up behind me.
I turned to beam at Mona and share my success, and was just in time to witness her lifeless, headless husk being dropped from the maws of the final creature, aside from the one blocking the door. I let out a guttural, primal scream. It surprised me, uttered from my core. With a wailing sob I threw my entire body at the beast who was attempting to distract me with my belovedâs face, and I crumpled it against the wall, punching it repeatedly until I was only punching the metal behind it, the beast having turned to sand which got caught in the blood oozing from my knuckles.
How unfair, I thought. How terribly cruel. To have found someone and have her stripped away from me just as our lives were being saved. I walked over to her frame, sucked dry and mummified, and removed the dusty pink handkerchief she wore around her wrist. I wrapped my knuckles with it, and retrieved my steel rod. I approached the creature of petrified stone which was guarding the door, and knocked on it sarcastically.
âAnyone home?â I asked as it transformed and menacingly floated towards me. I wanted to kill it in the most humiliating way possible, so I flicked it. It dented in slightly and sputtered sand, and I kicked it against the door frame to finish it off.
I exited the facility after grabbing some fuel, and hot wired the first car I saw, a large silver van. It was easy. I felt invincible, and hollow, and I drove. Instead of driving to the shelter I veered toward the wall which was casting its looming shadow over our home. I slammed on the gas and drove straight through it, shattering the stone and crushing the inhabitants like cellophane. I continued swerving and crashing into it, and the few who survived flitted away. âTell your friends!â I shouted from the window, bewildered and enraged.
Derrik stepped out into the sunlight. âHow,â he blinked. âHow did you do that?â
The others joined him, celebrating, including Eileen who was holding her newborn baby. Red sand rained down on us all, and some of them dance and played in it like it was snow.
âIâm not from this time.â I told him my story, the abridged version. âI guess⌠I have a different mindset than those who were raised into this distant generation. All you know is lasers, and more powerful lasers, and the most powerful lasers-- but you forgot something, an ancient method of battle lost in time.â
âWhat?â Derrik looked at me quizzically.
âBrute force.â I handed him the spare fuel for the car and walked back to town alone, my steel rod in tow.
Now as I float out in space, watching Earth grow smaller with each passing day, I feel hopeful. Humanity now has the knowledge to fight back and reclaim their planet, and I hope I find it in better shape when I return generations later-- a success.
Synopsis: Candy regains consciousness, surrounded by cowboys.
The wind howled in Candyâs ears, and her vision was flooded by hot red light from the sun beating down on her heavy eyelids. She heard deep, muffled voices around her, and a boisterous laugh snapped her back to reality. With a gasp she jolted upright, only to be caught by strong, kind hands slowly bringing her back down to a lying position. She couldnât make out his figure, backlit by the afternoon sun, but his voice was soothing as he waved his broad-brimmed hat over her face to cool her off.
âItâs alright, girl. Youâre safe.â He crooned. âHey, Tom!â He shouted, âBring that water over here, will ya?â
âSure thing, B.â A gruff voice responded.
Candyâs eyes were slowly adjusting to the brightness all around her, and the feel of water against her parched lips was currently the greatest sensation imaginable. A large bird flew overhead, casting a shadow across her vision for a moment. Her eyes trailed after it and it landed in a large, cartoonishly shaped cactus. Confused and bewildered, she blinked rapidly and began to take in the scene around her: a vast desert, an endless sky, and the most gorgeous man she had ever laid her eyes upon. He looked just like youâd want him to-- tall, rugged and handsome, some kind of dusty prince straight from a fairy tale, or a Roy Rogers movie.
âHi.â When he smiled she swore she saw a sparkle form across his perfect teeth.
âWhatâŚâ Candy began, dazed. âWhere in the world⌠what happened last night? Who are you people? Why--â A horse whinnied and kicked up dust as one of the cowboys surrounding her went to calm it down. The horse was a beautiful shade of brown, and was tethered to a fallen tree trunk which one cowboy was using as a seat and another as a head rest, napping with his hat over his face. She counted five horses, one for each of the men in her presence. Their saddles which were on the ground to give the majestic beasts a rest were loaded up with bed rolls, ropes, pots and pans, and other makings for a nomadic western lifestyle.
âWell, girl, you had a rough go of things for a while there.â Her handsome prince laughed, offering her another swig from his flask. âWe found you unconscious and a little roughed up, like youâd fallen out of the sky or somethinâ.â His voice had a funny cadence, a charming twang and earnest respectfulness. She couldnât help but trust him, something she rarely allowed herself to do.
âFell from the sky?â Candy rubbed her throbbing temples. âThere was a bright light and I felt like I was⌠spinning, swirling, risingâŚâ She trailed off.
âSay, what do we call you girl?â B offered her more water and she declined, so he drank some himself.
âCandy.â She mumbled, squinting at the sun.
âAlright, Cindy. Do you have any clue which direction your town is in? Where do you come from, girl?â He placed a kind hand on her shoulder, and blocked the sun out of her eyes with his hat.
âMy town? Iâm from Los Angeles.â She rubbed the gritty sand out of her eyelashes. âAnd itâs Candy, short for Candace. Where are we exactly?â
âItâs only right youâd come from a place named after the angels.â he smiled sheepishly. âAny of you boys know the way to a Los Angeles?â He pronounced the word in a heavy American accent. The âboysâ looked at each other, somehow shrugging with just their eyebrows.
âDonât tell me youâve never heard of it.â Candy chuckled nervously.
âWell you canât entirely blame me, weâve been out here passing through town after town for years,â He casually poured some water in his hand and ran his fingers through his hair before replacing his hat on his head. âWeâre bound to forget a few of the smaller ones.â
âSmaller ones--â Candy gawked. âThe city of Los Angeles. LA.â
He shrugged as he took a swig from the flask and passed it back to the man he had called Tom, a tall, gruff man with a bushy gray mustache, who was looking very amused.
âThis has to be a joke.â Candy smirked. âAll of this, the cowboy get-up, the horses⌠is this some elaborate prank? Are we on a movie set?â
âYou must have hit your head on your fall.â Her prince looked genuinely concerned. âI havenât a clue what youâre talkinâ about, but we are cowhands and we are here to help.â
Candy felt like fainting, and this must have been apparent by the worried looks on her companyâs faces. âHey, B.â one of the men spoke as he rested his hand on the lead cowboyâs shoulder. âMaybe we oughtta set up camp for the night, figure out this mystery dame after sheâs had some food and rest-- yâknow, real rest. Not âknocked unconscious after falling out of the skyâ rest.â
âGotta say I agree with you there, Ronnie.â Her prince scratched his scruffy chin, looking at Candy quizzically. âAlright, boys. Up and at âem! Weâre finding a safe place for the night, out of this wind. Letâs venture to that ridge, should keep us sheltered enough, and get a fire goinâ.â His men rallied up and started putting saddles on horses.
Candy looked around at their slow, well-practiced movements, performing a task they must do several times a day. âCamp? Iâm not much of a camper.â She whispered to the charming man addressed as B.
âDonât worry, girl. Weâll go into town when we have enough sun to make it there with daylight. Itâll just be one night, I think youâll survive.â He winked. Unreal.
âNo, really, I could just call an Uber or something.â He stared at her blankly as she checked her jacket pockets for her phone, which was nowhere to be found. Panic began to set in at the realization that her phone was gone, and she looked frantically around her, then scrambled on the ground hoping it had flown out of her pocket when she âlanded.â
âWhat in the world are you doing.â B asked, slightly annoyed.
âMy phone⌠have you seen my phone? It had my ID and credit card and⌠everything⌠everything was on my phoneâŚâ She muttered as she continued her search.
âPhone?â B shared worried glances with his pals who had just finished getting together to leave. âLetâs go set up camp and then we can talk about itâŚâ He gently helped Candy up from the ground and brushed her off.
âBut⌠my phone.â Tears welled up in her eyes, realizing the severity of her situation. Lost in the middle of the desert with five strange men who dressed and talked like cowboys from old movies. No phone, no identification, no clue where to run or how to get back home. But his voice was gentle, albeit a tad patronizing. His piercing blue eyes were kind. âCâmon, letâs get some food in that belly.â He gingerly pat her on the back, a little worried she could snap at any moment, and led her in the direction of the rock formation where theyâd be setting camp, the rest of the men following with their horses at their side.
The sun was just beginning to set as they reached their destination. It was a great choice for settling down for the night; the rocks were glowing a brilliant orange against the pink, magenta, and gold sky. The wind was blocked while up against the rocks which created the ideal atmosphere for building a campfire. The men did so in perfect casual synchronicity. Some took the saddles off the horses and plopped them down in a circle around the ditch Tom was digging for the fire, others started assembling the iron spit where theyâd cook their bacon, beans, and coffee. As the sun set under purple mountains, the fire crackled and the bacon sizzled, the coffee bubbled and the coyotes sang their lonely howl far away. The temperature dropped with the sun and Candy pulled her small jacket around her just as her prince draped a large old flannel over her shoulders.
âThereâs a blanket on my saddle if youâd like it.â He crooned, offering her a tin cup of coffee.
âThank you.â She responded, starry eyed. The coffee was bitter, not something she was used to, but warmed her from the inside out and grew to be quite enjoyable.
âSo.â Tom grunted as he lounged on his saddle. âYou seem to be crazy.â He said, gesturing to Candy.
B snorted into his coffee at the jarring remark. âNow, now. Behave yourself, Tommy.â He spattered as he wiped his face with a handkerchief.
âCra-- Iâm crazy?â Candy gawked, sitting herself next to her accuser. âYou⌠youâre a bunch of cowboys! Honest to God, rootinâ tootinâ cowboys! And youâre calling me crazy?â
âNothinâ wrong with an honest profession.â Tom spoke, raising his cup to the boys who raised theirs in turn.
âYeah, sure, on the old frontier maybe, but in this day and age--â Candy lolled her head in exasperation.
âAnd what exactly do you think this day and age is, Cindy?â B laughed.
âItâs Candy.â She grimaced. âShort for Candace.â
âSure it ainât Cindy? Short for Cinderella?â B mocked. âWhy donât you think there can be cowhands anymore, anyway? Are you one of those rich city-folk who donât think about how your crops are grown or cows are raised anymore? Itâs because of people like us, working on ranches and doing the heavy lifting so you donât have to.â
âWaitâŚâ reality was beginning to set in, although for Candy it felt very far from reality. âYou⌠really are cowboys.â The crew nodded emphatically. âWhat year is it, exactly?â
âWell, itâs hard to know exactly.â B rubbed his chin, trying to calculate the seasons in his head. âWe kind of lose track, spending all these years livinâ workinâ and travelinâ on the range. Taking work where it comes, moving from town to town...â he trailed off, but Candy was no longer paying attention.
âOh myâŚâ she began hyperventilating. âOh no.â
âHey, girl, you alright?â B ran to her side when he noticed her panicking, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
âTold ya she was crazy.â Tom said as he slumped into a lying position and placed his hat on his face as a way to say he was turning in for the night.
âI need some air.â Candy brushed away Bâs hand and ran off, dropping her coffee and the flannel from her shoulders.
âWeâre outside..â one of the cowboys said, exasperated. âHow much more air could she get?â
The men chuckled and B flashed them an angry look before running after her.
Candy stared, wide-eyed, at the sharp glowing stars that lit up the sky. B walked up behind her, returning his flannel to her shoulders.
âIâve never seen them so clearly.â She almost whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. âThe stars, I mean.â She turned into her princeâs arms and let herself cry.
âHey, hey.â He said as he rubbed her back. âIt must be hard for a young girl to be so far from homeâŚâ
âReally, really far.â She mumbled in his chest. âLike, crazy far.â
âSure, but weâll get you back. I swear it.â He pulled the sobbing mess off of him, and put his thumb on her chin, lifting her face so they could meet eyes. âWeâll get you where you need to be.â
Candy took in a wet sniff and it was not attractive, but B just laughed and handed her his handkerchief. She laughed with him and dried her eyes, and the two made their way back to the fire where the others were finishing their meals and winding down for the night.
She was worried she wouldnât be able to sleep, with all of the sounds of nearby creatures and the feeling of vulnerability that came with sleeping under the stars in the open desert, but somehow that night she had the best sleep of her life.
Synopsis: A businessman becomes addicted to the thrill of making absurd changes to his mundane office life. Hijinks ensue.
Today I did things a little different. I figured Iâd be better for it, but it only made things worse. No, not worse⌠for something to get worse it has to be bad to begin with, and it wasnât. Bad, I mean. But things change, people change; at least thatâs what Iâve heard. People say that all the time, in fact theyâve said it so much throughout history that people almost exclusively use it ironically now. Anyway, I thought Iâd give it a try-- that was my first mistake. Actually it was my only mistake, but there were a whole lot of smaller mistakes that fall under that main big one; changing myself. And I dragged my colleagues down with me.
Now, Iâm a civilized man. I wear my tie around my neck just like anyone else; or at least, I have done so since that one incident in which someone finally came forward and told me I had been doing it wrong all these years. I appreciate that. If ever Iâm doing something incorrectly, I want the right method to be made known to me as soon as possible. I love doing things right. You could say I have a passion for it. Or I would if I ever felt passionately about anything. If I were to be passionate about something, it would be rightness. I think thatâs good, which pleases me because I love being good as well. That would be my second passion if only I were capable. Goodness and rightness are very important to me, even if not to the extent of passion. If I saw someone doing something bad and wrong, I wouldnât stop them. If I were passionate I suppose I would⌠maybe thatâs something I should strive for? Itâs too late now, of course; everythingâs changed.
It all started a couple of nights ago when I arrived at work only to notice I forgot my tie. I ran to my cubicle, clenching my trench coat at the chest to cover my shameful error, when I suddenly remembered that my backup ties were at the cleaners. It was closed today. I was about to just totally freak out when my good friend and arch nemesis, Cecil, arrived at my small workspace with a glint in his eye.
âI couldnât help but notice the way you were holding your trench coat.â He smirked. âAny man of mighty brains and impeccable taste in clothing could clearly see that you were hiding something-- or a lack thereof.â He spun a No. 2 pencil between his index finger and thumb, wrist limp and elbow nonchalantly propped against the corner of my cubicle wall. He raised the coffee in his dominant left hand to his lips with a look of better-than-you-ness. At the time I couldnât recall the term âsuperiority,â so I wonât use it here in order to stay true to my recollection of these harrowing events which took place recently enough that I can sort of remember what I was thinking at the time they happened. For example, after my thought about his look of better-than-you-ness, I remember not remembering what I had for breakfast and feeling concerned about it. I spent the next few minutes trying to dig around in my brain for the memory of my morning breakage of fast and missed everything he was saying to me during this time. At last I had it-- Chinese takeout. How silly of me to forget; it was a Tuesday, of course I had my Tuesday breakfast Chinese takeout.
âIâm sorry, what did you say?â I asked Cecil with a triumphant grin at the flawless recollection of my latest meal. I recalled the moment of panic when I opened my fortune cookie. The delicate slip of paper inside ripped in half with the cookie, and on it were the mangled words; âThere are big changes ahead for you.â This meant nothing to me at the time, but now I was beginning to wonder about its significance.
âI said I think I have an extra tie for you to borrow.â Cecil repeated with exasperation. He hated repeating himself. He often faked it to get back at whoever didnât hear him the first time, for instance; say he had told you: âYou have something in your teeth.â
âCome again?â you would respond.
He would then change it to, âCatch the game last night?â And stomp away in a huff of frustration and-- ah yes! Superiority. Thatâs the word. (Please excuse me, I am still following my train of thought from the other night.) Of course, he would probably never utter the words âcatch the game last night.â Cecilâs most loathed phenomenon in the world is that of cliches. He hates cliches. Just hates âem.
Anyway, he must have felt the tie thing to be far too important to change in his second go of suggesting I borrow one of his, because he repeated it for me and I graciously accepted his offer.
âYou are too kind, too kind.â I shook his hand violently but at the time it was holding a cup of hot coffee which splattered all over my work area and sensitive skin. I didnât mind, though; I was overjoyed by this solution to my terribly embarrassing problem. âI promise to return it good as new!â
âGood as new?!â the pencil in Cecilâs right hand snapped at the clench of his fist, the two separate pieces falling to the floor in a clatter that to me resembled the cries of a close bond being severed, two kids in love being taken from each other by cruel circumstance. âI have half a mind to retract my offer at that overused phrase, and to punch myself right in the face for saying I have âhalf a mindâ to do something-- but this tie thing is far too important. Iâll get it to you right away.â
I spent the rest of the day in a constant state of anxiety at the thought of having to wear someone elseâs tie, but a foreign tie is better than no tie. Then a strange thing happened to me, and I realized the thrill of being anxious all day. It was⌠exhilarating! The adrenaline rush coursing through me whenever I looked down or caught someone glancing at my chest was unlike anything Iâd ever felt before, and although it made me feel uncomfortable and sweaty, it wasnât entirely unpleasant. It was exciting, it was new-- it was change.
I wanted more. I started small; shifting everything on my desk askew so instead of being at right angles they were all tilted towards me, as if they were an audience watching me work. My computer and the long list of monotonous company emails within suddenly became a ferocious lion in the coliseum, and I a gladiator, conquering each reply with a mighty swing of my sword (in this case my sword was my keyboard, just in case my metaphor confused you ((I often have trouble with metaphors))).
Later I added almond milk to my coffee instead of my usual 2%. It was really weird and I didnât want to imagine how they milked the almonds, but I enjoyed every sip with delight and defiance. At the end of my workday I turned left at my cubicle instead of right to get to the elevator, which was a little stupid in hindsight because my cubicle is at the outer corner of the building near the elevator, so I had to go the long way around⌠but then I took the stairs! I was washed in the sweat of heros. My knees felt like creaky hinges by the time I completed descending the 36 stories, but it was worth it for the thrill. I felt unstoppable, untouchable.
I jaywalked!
I lived.
I could do anything in the world, and the only person that could stop me was me, and I wasnât near finished yet. I ran into my co-worker, Trent, on the street opposite that of the office.
âYour hair looks great!â He called out to me.
âThanks!â I beamed at him. I re-parted it on the other side of my head in the bathroom.
âHey, a few of us guys that were working late are going out for a beer. You wanna join?â
I suddenly realized that the sun had begun to fall during my trip down the stairs.
âWhy, yes!â I would have been home eating my Tuesday frozen burrito with my cat and watching Glee by now. âI would love to join you!â Tonightâs episode was being recorded on the DVR as we spoke. Glee would have to wait.
Trent walked me to his car where we met up with Cecil, two accountants named Murlock and Roy, and some guy Iâm not entirely sure works with us or even knows any of us, Norman. Throughout the night I believe everyone was casually throwing out subtle hints to find out who invited him, but no one seemed to show any relation to the large, bald, tattooed man in his impeccably clean wifebeater. Thatâs okay, though; I always carpool with people I know or am formally introduced to. This was a first, and an exciting one at that.
When we reached the bar, called Beers, Â I left my suit jacket in the car. I never take off my suit jacket, not until Iâm about to get into my jammies. They have clouds on them.
Everyone shouted âNorman!â when we entered, but anyone I asked wasnât sure how they knew him. There was even a burger named after him. Fascinating fellow.
The entire event of attending a bar hangout session with friends was new to me, so I had nothing to do differently than usual since there was no usual. As the night wore on I became accustomed to the activity, and my new restless spirit needed something different. I needed more change, more excitement. I needed an outrageous gesture, so I lead the bar in song. No one knew the words, as I just made them up, but I sang it all the way through proudly atop a table. I kicked a pyramid of shot glasses which crashed to the floor and the bartender began to approach me, but I was too clever. The guys were enjoying my display, and followed me as I ran out of the bar. We laughed together on the sidewalk. I put my tie around my head like they do in the movies. Cecil smacked me across the head so hard the tie fell off and he proceeded to put it on himself. He was wearing two ties. He was changing⌠just like me.
The night was ours. The city was ours! We wandered the streets blind, ready to take on the world. I kicked a rock and it broke a window. I felt bad but I trekked on. We gave money to a homeless man. He spat on my shoes and angrily tweeted about it right before our eyes on his shiny new iPad. The wallpaper was something about a pipe not being a pipe. I was baffled by this but I was determined to continue enjoying myself.
We entered a dimly lit building. I was drawn to it by the purple neon lights framing the windows, but it had some questionable items for sale⌠by that look on your face Iâm assuming you want me to move my story along. I can also tell by the tapping of your foot and exasperated sighs and also by you telling me to get a move on. I understand your signals. People have often said I am very perceptive.
The next couple of nights my new best friends and I followed the same routine; after work we headed to Beers and had Norman burgers. We got rowdy and meandered around the city until we were bored. I stopped feeling the adrenaline rush, and realized changes were becoming routine for me. They werenât fresh, exciting. I needed to do something huge. I needed to do something drastic.
I needed to bring a giraffe into the office.
Acquiring the beast was surprisingly easy, but getting him up the stairs was the real challenge. Fitting him in my cubicle was a bit of a debacle, but he found a tolerable way to rest his head 7 cubes down. What I realized is⌠no one cared. No one changed what they were doing. They just pretended not to notice. Thatâs when I lost faith in my colleagues. Even Cecil, who had begun gossiping at the water cooler and saying things like âlovely weather weâre havingâ with no bigger reaction than a cringe and a nervous twitch, passed by me hurriedly without making eye contact. My full-grown giraffe was the pink elephant in the room, and people ignored it because it was easier than dealing with the situation. Because hiding behind your massive pile of papers that donât even seem to have a purpose other than being assigned to you is more convenient than taking a giraffe out of the workplace, let alone bringing him in. I suppose thatâs how theyâve dealt with me for all these years.
Itâs rough being an antelope in LA, but Iâve always tried my best to blend in with society. Luckily Iâm not an antelope in LA. Gotcha goinâ there for a moment, didnât I? Nah, I was living around the center of Vancouver at the time. Iâm not adventurous enough for LA⌠although now I suppose I am. I will move there! No, no⌠I promised, no more changes. From now on Iâm doing things the right way, the good way. I will be good and right as I was before. Like I said, I am a civilized man, even if I am an antelope. I can restrain myself. I can wear my tie around my neck. I can take the logical route to the elevator, and I can descend it with ease in enough time to make it home for Glee and frozen dinners with my cat. That way I can avoid situations like these, and live the rest of my life the easy way, like I did before. I wouldnât light any more office buildings ablaze and take refuge in the woods outside Vancouver. If you let me out of here I swear I wonât cause you any more trouble, Officer. Can I call you Off for short? OH can I call you Olaf?! That would be sweeeeet.
Anyway, thatâs it I guess. Say, donât I get one phone call? What do you mean it doesnât work that way here? Who is in charge of this establishment?
Psh, Animal Control⌠more like animal dominion, am I right? Or is that just a fancier word for control?
Starting tomorrow, every Wednesday at noon I will be posting a short story in its entirety.
This will include stories I wrote a long time ago or more recently, and I will try to include the date it was written. This is separate from the episodic stories on Sundays.
I really want to make an effort to keep this account active and release my multitude of stories into the world. Iâve really hindered myself by thinking of them as something that needs to be held onto until they can be sold... Iâd much rather they be out there for you all to see than caged up as something to be purchased âone day.â
Synopsis: Candy is always worried something bad will happen - then something bad happens.
âNo one gives a damn about your hair!â Jackie shouted from the base of the stairs. âLetâs go! Weâre late enough!â
âJust a sec!â Candy coughed. Oh God, she thought, Iâm getting sick arenât I? It better not turn into pneumonia and-- is that a lump?? No, no-- itâs just the lipstick in my bra. Candy smoothed down her red dress over her black leggings, a garment she wore because it had the fashionability of black stockings but the security of something to wear under a dress that was also socially acceptable to wear as pants. A twinge of panic struck her as she again noticed the lipstick in her bra. Iâm going to need something with pockets⌠she thought as she quickly grabbed a black jacket from her closet. I am so not built for this going out stuff. Maybe I should get out of this somehow...
âYou are not getting out of this, Candy.â Jackie seemed to read her mind, which was common for the two best friends. âNow get your butt down here and letâs have some fun! Come on, youâve been so tense lately. You deserve a night to forget yourself.â
âYeah yeah, I know.â Candy sighed as she trudged down the stairs. âIâm just nervous about going out so late at night.. Are you sure this place weâre going is safe?â She asked as she methodically chose a pair of cute but sensible ankle boots, something she knew she could run in if need be.
Jackie rolled her eyes. âOf course itâs safe, and itâs only 7:30! Youâre gonna have a blast, grandma.â The two locked arms as they left the house, which Candy locked three times. âArenât your roommates home?â Jackie asked, raising an eyebrow.
âWell, yeah but I donât want a murderer barging in on them.â Candy pulled her freshly curled long brown hair back in a high ponytail in preparation for the brisk pace she wished to keep while embarking on this journey to Jackieâs car. Candy studied the shadows left by the streetlamps which lined the sidewalk, in order to make sure no one was following behind them.
The music was loud. The air was thick with smoke and beer. The vibe had a very cliche house-party atmosphere and it sent Candy into a panic. âRelax, girl.â Jackie placed a comforting hand on Candyâs arm. âLetâs get you a drink.â
Candy obliged and the two headed for the kitchen where it was significantly quieter, Jackie waving and blowing kisses to people she knew on the way. âIâm sorry, Jackie. I guess itâs been getting worse lately.â Candy sat down at the kitchen island as Jackie opened and handed her a beer.
âI know, dear.â Jackie held a sympathetic, worried gaze on her friend as she opened her own beer and took a swig. âLook, your mind is telling you a story about the world. But you are stronger than your story. Stronger than you would ever give yourself credit for. You are not going to be drugged and abducted. No one is out to get you... Except for me-- Iâm out to get you hammered and having fun for once in your life.â The two laughed and clinked their beers together and drank.
Candy looked down sheepishly at her hands peeling away at the label on her bottle. âThis feeling just wonât goâŚâ
âYou canât keep hiding, waiting for something better. For something good to happen you need to go out and live!â Jackie gestured out of the window to the party people making fools of themselves in the backyard pool.
âThatâs how bad things happen, too.â Candy smirked and Jackie rolled her eyes.
âTell me, in all my years of dragging you out to parties, has anything bad happened to you?â
âNo, but I figure that just means Iâm due any day now.â The two chuckled and locked arms again.
âCandy, tonight you are going to fly.â
And with that they entered the party, with strength in unity.
Until Jackie saw some friends she hadnât seen in a while and disappeared into the abyss.
Alright Candace, donât panic. Candy thought to herself. You hear me? Donât panic! Donât you do it! Okay I think thatâs making me panic more⌠She took a deep breath and scanned the party for Jackie or anyone else she may know. There in the distance, a beacon of hope in the shape of an acquaintance she kind of remembered from undergrad appeared. He was talking with a group of people that looked harmless enough, and Candy decided to try and join in their conversation. She hovered for a while, concentrating so hard on trying to act nonchalant that she didnât pick up on a word anyone was saying. Someone in the circle maybe almost noticed her standing there and a wave of fear coursed through her. She turned quickly and headed towards the bathroom just as the acquaintance she had kind of remembered recognized her.
âI knew I wasnât ready for this.â She spoke aloud to herself in the bathroom mirror. âDarn you, Jackie! Why do I let you drag me into these things?â No, she thought, looking down at her hands grasping the edge of the sink. Jackie is just trying to help. But weâre just not built the same way. This just isnât something that I enjoy. âI need to get home.â She spoke into the mirror again before washing her hands (because she had touched the bathroom doorknob to get in) and using a washcloth to open the door. One more sip for the road, she thought to herself as she drank from her beer which she had left outside because she hated the idea of anything food-related being in a bathroom. She wrinkled her nose at the taste, which she figured was worse due to the beer being lukewarm, and started to look for Jackie so she could take her leave. She searched around the party for roughly twenty minutes before giving up and heading for the front door.
âDearest Jackie,â her text began. âI have decided to take you up on your offer to take your car home, this party has just become a little too much for me and besides Iâm starting to feel a little nauseous now. I know youâre getting drunk and having fun and thatâs so grt. I hop you hve such a great tim, reallly.â Candy blinked her eyes to focus. âIâllr eturn your keys tommorow when I pick you up frm hre, pleas sleep ssfe. Love,â but she hit send before typing her name.
âShoot.â Candy said under her breath, swaying a bit before bracing herself on the doorframe. âLove, Candy. Send.â She slipped her phone into what she thought was her coat pocket and it fell to the ground without her noticing. She stumbled down the front steps and across the grass to the sidewalk where, just a few blocks over, Jackie had parked the car. âBoy that beer really went to my head.â She held her throbbing temples as she shuffled down the street, when a sudden bright light shone into her eyes. Blinded, she tried to make out the loud whirring machine in front of her. A black silhouette appeared and began speaking.
âWhat?â Candy shouted as her hair whipped around in a gust of wind. The silhouette spoke again, and Candy was whisked off her feet. Lights and sounds distorted her vision and she felt a rumbling, swaying, disorienting motion, and then darkness, and then nothing.
