The blood in my mouth was a small comfort to remind me that I was alive. A swift punch to the face and a stumble back as I stared into the crowded bar. My mind tried to find a way to spin this story as I took another step back. A hand touched my shoulder, causing me to jump. A woman in fine fabrics and gold jewels glistened on her face; my body was without air for a moment as she waved the brutes off. Her smile was like wine, addictively sweet, as she walked with me to the treeline.
Day 5456 of the Journey
“Dad? Dad!” My daughter’s voice awakens me as I'm greeted by the sunlight. I sat up as my sweet girl moved to tack the horses. Dazed by the golden rays greeted alongside her, a vision of her mother. I on the other hand looked of death, as she had been up for longer.
"C'mon, old man.” Was the next thing I was greeted by as she hurried me to pack up our supplies, her least favorite chore. It had been years since we began this adventure, since her 15th birthday, and now, on the cusp of her 18th, we had traveled over four kingdoms. The summer sun beat down on us today, and many complaints flowed from my girl.
“Tonight I’m cutting my hair.” Was a favorite of hers today as a combination of Mud deciding to run and the strong breeze caused her to lose most of her composure. The gelding already had made it known that he refused to follow the pace.
“Yeah, you said that last week, kid.” I laughed. I looked back at her thick black hair, which was then tangled in the wind. The only thing she gained from me was that attitude. The path we followed coiled like a snake, leading us to the nearest town, and despite the troubles that we had faced, all I had was a smile.. We pitched camp for the night a few miles from Old Kilshire, as it was the summer equinox
Day 5457 of the Journey
“Hey chickadee, ya ever wanna see where your old man grew up?” I covered my anxieties about my return with optimism as we reached the gates of Old Kilshire. The town was a bustling trade route due to the many rivers flowing from it, and it showed as we trotted into town. Fresh carts of fish and fruits sat along the path, as we entered the market. The smell was a delight, despite looking at the horrendous look on my daughter's face.
“Ugh, you like this smell??” She gagged out as we stopped at an old tavern. I nodded, soon dismounting and tying the horses up. The aged oak doors greeted me as we walked in, as the music roared out. We walked into the tavern, I saw an older woman—her figure lost to time, now old and frail. She calls out her usual greeting until her eyes meet mine. Tears pooled into her eyes, as she smiles.
“Dear Artie, sit, sit.” She called, tapping at a seat near her. “You look like your father.” She spoke as if I were still a child. She analyzed my aged face as I sat beside her, soon changing her gaze to my daughter. They appeared to be in a deep conversation without speaking a word to each other. The contrast between them was startling, but I forgot how my mother’s eyes shined like emeralds. The two shared this, maybe by coincidence, but as I shifted in my seat, I once again caught their attention.
The evening came with less rest than what we’ve had for a while, between my sudden return and the festivities of the summer’s equinox. I sat on the porch of my childhood home, my daughter resting on my old bed.
“Now, Arthur, why didn’t you come home?” I heard my father’s voice join me.
“It’s not that simple, ol’ man.” I tried to dissuade him from this, I didn’t need this less than a month from our destination.
“Arthur, you disappeared for almost 19 years.” His voice was like gravel “We thought you died, and now you turn up with a strange girl?”
“That’s your granddaughter, not a strange girl. Trust me.”
The music could’ve drowned out this conversation if I had tried. The moon was full, and people were wild as they celebrated in the streets. We stayed quiet, and after a few minutes of silence, he spoke once more.
“Kid, you worried your mother to death; we mourned you.” I sat watching his face, the worry in his voice, and the wrinkles that were once faint now fold over each other.
“I get that; I was...busy.” I didn’t know what to say, and I couldn’t apologize. I wasted no time. “You didn’t see the mess on the field—men dying in filth and cities turning to ash.” His face was unmoved as he placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I know, the town was nearly destroyed.” His voice once sounded kind. “What happened to you, though?”
War is brutal, and when fueled by the divine, it’s worse. The plan we created was horrendous, and as the general walked out of the tent, I grabbed his arm.
“Leon, we can’t do this; it goes against everything we know.” His face and the glare I was given lacked any humanity.
“Longstern, I said, burn it down. End of story.” I stood there, watching him leave. I knew I had been horrendous, unredeemable even. Now I watched the man I had trusted with my life disregard innocent lives and so many innocent people.
“No...” I watched his face turn into a scowl.
A quick pain, a broken nose, and my body in a ditch.
I shook my head, trying to erase any remnants in my mind. My father understood at this moment; we both stared out at children in the streets chasing each other with wooden swords.
“Good name, strong one too.” He shorted out. “She reminds me of you, Ornery.” He patted my shoulder as he laughed, coughing, reminding me of our age.
The bright moonlight shone on my father’s figure, his face a mirror to mine, as he turned to go inside. I remained on the porch, taking my father’s old post. The night was long with parties and other celebrations, none of which allowed me to rest well.
Day 5458 of the Journey
“Dad, can’t we stay for another day?” Ashae yawned as I prepared for today’s journey. The sun had yet to even rise as we finished saddling up our horses. I couldn’t face leaving again, but it was out of necessity, unlike before. I watched Ashae look back onto her grandparent’s home, the fresh braids in her hair as she turned back to the path ahead.
“We’ll be back in a month, kiddo. Hell, we can celebrate your birthday in the tavern.” I laughed as we continued. In two weeks time, we’d be in the next village getting supplies, and she would become obsessed with that town as well.
“Think of it as house hunting, hmm, I mean, who else travels like this?” I tried to persuade her as we continued through the woods. Her silence was unnerving, she was always a chatty child, but the farther we went, it turned to complaints.
“Are you sure mom even wants to meet me?” Her voice was sudden as we crossed a stream.
“Of course she does; she’ll love you, hun.” Another lie, how many did this one make? I looked back at her face, full of distrust. I had to try to convince her. "Sweetheart, you can’t raise a kid in the temple; it’s so dangerous.” The next hours were filled with bickering, and trying to remind her of why we were doing this
No one could reason with how she was for the next few days; if we lived a normal life, she’d be hiding in her room. Instead, she refused to speak to me, and I wondered which would be worse. The days would drag due to this, and to cope, I’d talk to the horses. Despite her efforts, I at least got a smile from that.
Day 5472 of the Journey
It was almost two weeks until her next words. Silent treatment is rough.
“Is that a lake?” Her voice was filled with energy, it was rare that our routes we’d take would drive us this close to water. Often, because of flooding, we’d be miles from any water, a nice surprise for the sweltering day.
Tacking horses was the easy part of setting up camp; making sure that neither of us got snagged on the fishing line we set up was the difficult part. I saw the little girl my child used to be—her smile with crooked teeth and a wrinkled nose. I missed that curly hair and how happy her emerald green eyes were. This was one thing that never left after all those years—that smile. She lay on the lake shore, identical to her mother. The sunset on the lake was like a sight from my youth. Ashae brought in the fish we caught and the mussels that lay by the shore. She laughed as we talked about the good ‘ol days from before this journey. The days of camping by the creek, hiding away in old cabins, and such—as a father, I wish the life I gave her was better. We sat watching the moon rise across the ridge, and sleep soon took hold.
Day 5475 of the Journey
The morning dew had soaked through my socks, a normal nuisance. Ashae was still asleep late into the day, as the morning sun had yet to cause discomfort. Her hair was still in the braids I gave her last night, but this morning it looked more blue. I shook my head; it was more likely the lighting than anything fantastical. This world was anything but fantastical; while many types of people walked this land—elven folk was her favorite—something about how they behaved with magic. This was beyond my forte; I was a soldier by blood; I just needed to get to the temple and keep her safe. This was everything to me— correction she is everything.
“Mornin pop’s” She yawned out, she rummaged through our packs for breakfast. She always looks so tired in the morning
“Mornin Chickadee, plan to head out in ‘10.” I told her, "We are less than a day away. Just a few more miles and you’ll see your mom.”
The morning was quick, and we knew that it was almost over. The rush of what we were to accomplish in our 10 years on the move. The excitement took hold as we reached town.
“How ‘bout an early gift, hmm.” I yelled back as we reached the town’s gate. Her face filled with joy at the thought of no longer wearing my hand-me-downs.
The stores were the highlight of the day as by dusk she glowed in the elaborate fabrics of her outfit. We ate at the town’s inn for dinner and stayed for the night. I decided to tell Ashae more about the war and my part in it. She deserves to know.
Day 5478 of the Journey
The best rest we’ve received for awhile, and despite the lack of stars, a hot breakfast was a nice change. Ashae changed from her normal attire into her new outfit as within the next hour we will be reaching the Temple of Saffronia. To say I’m nervous is an understatement as truly meeting with the overseer of conquest is no small thing, but despite that a girl needs a mother… even if she is an ancient goddess.
The path has been serene today, low with humidity and without clouds. If all goes well we’d be a happy family, and She will never have to worry about anything ag—
A sudden thump and a horse snorts as its rider falls off. A young woman follows as she hurriedly tries to stop his bleeding. A man in blue robes tries to pull her off of the injured rider, his hand burned by an unknown flame and soon overcome by it.
A scream, and after a few minutes she grabs the reins of both the horses and sets the fallen rider upon his own steed. She returns her path towards the temple.
Day 5479 of my living hell
They need to build better temples, this one burned too easily. The goddess of conquest and her religious freaks had another thing coming. Outside of that, I have to take care of two horses and figure out how one buries the only family they’ve known. I look insane in these clothes, and I plan on using whatever I stole from that glorified pyre of smoke to buy him good clothes for when he goes into the dirt.
I wanna go home… The quiet has been horrible. I went to the woods outside of town with the horses, but I swear I can still hear him calling my name.
Day 5490 of being alone
Dad’s buried at the lake, today is the first day of being alone now… officially. Word has gotten out about the temple, luckily the current assumption is that it was a cult. I think I’m gonna go back to dad’s old town and live with my grandparents. Cordell has been down of course, but Mud’s trying to help. I’ve been wearing dad’s clothes to help.
I tried making his fried trout, instead I had burnt trout for dinner. He probably would’ve had an old story from when he was a cadet to tell me because of this.
Day 5494 of being alone
I keep hearing voices at night, I think it’s paranoia but I’m cutting my hair to make sure I pass more masculine before I decide to leave the lake. I haven’t decided to leave yet, it still feels too sudden. I can’t seem to figure out what killed him, right now the assumption is a poisoned dart.
It had to have been poison or magic, maybe even both but whatever it is can’t be of any use to me if I can't sleep.
Day 5496 of running from nothing
The woman’s voice is still strong and I swore I saw someone last night. I have cut my hair, it’s gross and short, but I will make do. Last night I ate off of leftovers before he passed. I wish I could have gotten the recipes.
I made it to town at around noon, I saw more blue robes like the charred one who killed him. I’m keeping my head low, I’m staying at the tavern tonight. If I don’t sleep inside tonight I’m gonna go mad.
Day 5497 of running from nothing
Last night I think I saw the woman. She was sitting on the foot of my bed, she looked so cruel. I just laid there, pretending to remain asleep, I think it’s a ghost or something to tell me to leave. Though templemen are now doing patrols, I’ve decided to stay at this tavern for some security.
Dad had told me about how he used to live in taverns and all he’d do instead of pay is be a guard. Those stories would end with him getting caught drinking and being thrown out or a rowdy fight due to a girl. I’d kill for one of those over dramatic tales right now.
Day 5499 of being alone
Another spotting of her tonight. She was in the treeline, I’m almost certain I saw her. I may be going insane truly. Just a bit longer before I return to the fish smelling town, there I'll have a normal life and after a few years everything will be fine.
Day 5505 of journey to nowhere
I made it to old Kilshire, I was afraid to see it in ruins. It was worse, many homes abandoned, the market was gone and charred and runes of that damned goddess carved into the remains of homes. I took the horses to my fathers childhood home. It was gone, nothing remaining but a seared line in the dirt on where it stood.
My grandparents are nowhere to be seen, most likely with everyone else. I’m staying in what remains of their tavern and debating on what to do . Everything I could have had is gone, everything I knew was gone. I never had a home until this and even now as I sit with the only smell in the air is soot and sulfur.
These journal entries to keep me sane were for nothing, and yet I can’t help but to write. My only comfort is the woman standing across this river staring at me as she calls my name once more. I don’t wanna be alone anymore, she sings promises of a home and I just want to trust her.
The river divided Ashae’s worlds. Her appearance was that of a soldier drunk on rage as she swore at the ethereal woman from across the riverbed. Despite all that screamed in her to run and to fight, she collapsed into the ash and dirt. The woman glided to her, and the evening sun shined like gold upon her skin and into her garnet eyes as she held her daughter's face. A cruel smile upon her lips formed as Ashae accepted the embrace. This was the only family she could have, one that could never die. The goddess knew that, as she took her hand, allowing Ashae to stand once more. She had created the perfect soldier, one devoid of almost all comforts of humanity. A soldier so willing for praise, and one that can still be trained as the goddess stared down at her daughter's tear stained face and stroked her hair. Sure raising a child herself would have been easier, but the joy of watching it all unfold was better. Now to train her abilities, that would be the fun part
Summary: After her mother's death, Mae must return home to a creature she thought was just in her head.
Cw : parent death, smoking
“This is Thurmond County Morgue; is this Maelyn Caldwell Lark?” A young woman is celebrating her twenty-fifth birthday. The room, formerly filled with bright laughter and friends smiling from heavy-poured shots, now feels cold. An old friend from Mae’s college years offered her a ride home. A small Hyundai Sonata brought an important conversation.
“Mae, I didn’t know.” She said this as the bright neons passed during their drive. “I thought you were disowned or something.” The blonde stared at Mae, her gray eyes looking for a kind confirmation.
“No, my dad drank himself to death, and my mom lost her mind.” Mae snapped, and quickly apologized. The silence was gut-wrenching as the two girls drove downtown. Mae watched the sidewalk, seeing the hoards of people moving on with their lives. The steps of the apartments now cause a larger issue, coming home.
As the dull static in the car came and the music faded, she knew the town was close. Her eyes focused on the sign half a mile down the road—Heron's Landing. As the twisting roads led to town, more and more buildings appeared, including the old bar 'Richie's';’ she remembered dinners there in high school with the Doyle boys from down the road. The downtown of Heron’s Landing felt as if out of a story; the only new thing was the gazebo that was repainted, and despite the hanging baskets of frail & wilted flowers on the light poles, it all fell flat. As she turned off towards Oakland Street, the road turned to gravel.
Mae vowed after college she wouldn't return to the small community; she despised the hushed gossip and their backward minds. Looking back, anytime in school a new student came or a tourist was lost, they were always outcast and hurried out by sunset. Mae reluctantly cleared her mind as she pulled up to her old home, where the peeling white paint clashed with the haint blue porch and the scattered cigarette butts lay in the yard.
“Mae Lark?” A familiar voice rang out, as did the rasp of the sheriff's deputy as he put out his last cigarette.
"Afternoon, Mr. Doyle,” Her voice cracked. “How's the boys?” She said she was ignoring the problem, which was only a few yards away. Deputy Doyle nodded, and they walked towards the old home as her mind wandered. Her mother was now in the county morgue, probably set to go into the ground beside her dear father within the next few days.
He reluctantly cleared his voice, “So, it looks like you'll inherit most everything , all of her belongings will be passed down to you to do what you think would be best.” He straightened his back as the door opened.
Everything is nearly identical to how it was five years ago, down to the mug still sitting on the end table and the house slippers by the door. It felt like a cruel punishment as she stepped further in. The light of the late afternoon sun seeped in from the door, in contrast to the horrid, dark home. Eyes focused on the kitchen table as Deputy Doyle moved into the home, quiet as he observed as Mae almost floated through the home. Her light steps still caused the floorboards to creak as she fell into the old chair.
“Was it peaceful?” Her voice was harsh as the worst scenarios came to mind. Watching the deputy nod, a deep sigh broke the silence in the room. The walk-through continued, leading to the wretched conversation.
“So kiddo,” Mr. Doyle sat beside Mae, his eyes softening on the young girl he saw as his own “Whatd'ya wanna do?” Pale blue eyes meet her own. Neither of them could tell how much this moment meant to each other.
“Fix it up, maybe sell it?” Looking out towards the open door, she says, “I’ll stay till it sells.” As she sinks further into the cracked leather recliner. Mr. Doyle stared at her, and he softened his gaze.
“That’s okay, I’ll talk to the Schulke boys,” he said, patting her back as he stood. “They’re into real estate now, but I need to head out.” As he left, his smile faded, and he walked back to his car.
As the moon rose that evening, Mae sat on the porch, staring out at the woods like she used to with her mother. Peeling the paint from the railing as she takes a drag off of the pack of cigarettes left by her mother in the yellowed deep freezer. She never enjoyed the taste, and while her vape was dead, it was the best way to get her fix. Mae accepted her distasteful buzz; her peace was broken by the quick glance of eyes staring back at her. Something so rare for the area felt so familiar.
I leaned between the porch rails as I tried to draw my front yard. The sun shone onto the porch, hurting my eyes as I went to take another look into the yard. There I saw the bright orange eyes of a dog double my size and its pup. I took my scraps from snack time and tossed it between the railings.
“Mama, the big dog is back!” I yelled from the porch, and my mother soon grabbed me and hid me in my room. Her graying hair pulled back in a hurried manner, and something within her amber eyes told me to stay quiet. As she walked away, I heard our new deep freezer slam closed and the screen door swing open.
“Mama! What are you doing?” I yelled as the silence grew to be uncomfortable and as I left my hiding spot. I crept towards the window, seeing my mother throwing some of my dad's old leftovers from hunting season. I want to scream at her; she can't get rid of everything he left, and as she throws the gizzards into the yard, the dog leaves.
“Maelyn Caldwell!” Mama yelled at me as she turned to come inside. Her cigarette almost fell from her lip as she ran in. The wooden spoon stung when it smacked against my palm. It felt like falling on the sidewalk, as I rubbed my hand. My mother kissed my forehead and sent me to my room.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She spoke lovingly as she sent me to my room with teary eyes. Soon reminding me that dinner would be done soon. I go back to coloring, just as I did before, sipping on the honeysuckle tea she left for me.
The eyes peered at Mae through the bushes, and she stared back from the porch. The creature moved towards the steps of the porch, about to cross the threshold. As they stood a yard away from each other, neither party wanted to look away. Soon the creature stared up at her, about to take the last step. Seeing the pale blue porch cover, it walked away, as if it were no longer concerned by her.
“You motherfucker! I know you killed her!” Mae yelled as the creature she grew to hate from birth roamed back into the woods. Her tears pooled in her eyes as her curses echoed through the holler. Neither of them would accept this disrespect, and as Mae walked into her mother's old bedroom, she heard the familiar cry of a coyote, and that monster heard the sobs of a woman who had lost everything.
The days melded together with every passing moment. She had spent a whole day confirming every detail of the funeral; she was never religious despite her mother’s prayers, nor did she remember where her father lied, though her mother was beside him. After that day, she refused to leave that porch, watching the cigarettes become hidden by falling leaves as she scavenged through the aged kitchen for whatever her mother had left. Her old high school hoodie, now stained with the same blue paint as the porch and sickly yellow of nicotine as she worked through another pack of cigarettes. Every night was greeted by the laugh of a coyote and its eyes glowing from the brush. ‘Tomorrow,’ she thought to herself, ‘I’ll deal with it.’ The same thought greeted her for nearly a month as she laid back into her divot in her parents bed.
The morning came with a sudden awakening as the door abruptly knocked. The sun had only just started peeking through the window of the kitchen, and as she peered from it, she saw the kind smile of Isaiah Doyle with a pack of donuts from ‘Georgie’s’.
“Can I come in Caldwell?” He joked as Mae opened the door. “I heard about your mom and all; I'm sorry.” His eyes were somber, like those of his father, as he sat down with her on the porch. They shared a cigarette and watched the wind move the trees.
“So how's the big city living?”
“Sucks ass, honestly.”
“I bet, especially the traffic.”
“You think that's still worse than having your whole family's issues aired out by a coach?”
“Eh, gossip is gossip.”
“Fair enough, how about you get a wife ‘n kids?”
"Nah, that's Jay’s thing right now.”
The two laughed, having both seen the Facebook posts his wife made three times a day, and as the morning dragged on, Mae decided to ask.
“So your dad made ya come?” She said this before sipping on her coffee.
“Nah, the old man did tell me that you're back, but I just wanted to help.” Something in his voice felt off to Mae, and yet it was a small comfort. Her curiosity caused her to ask, just in hopes that the gossip would be helpful at some point.
“Has your dad said anything ‘bout any animal calls?” She needed to be specific: “Like big animals, or like more people coyote hunting?”
“Uh, no? Why?” He said this while taking a drag.
“No reason; I just wanted to make sure before I start working on the place.” She kicked her feet up onto a broken crate on the porch. “I heard some howling last night, and my mom had some issues keeping goats before.”
“Heh, y’know these geisers say those things bring nothing but trouble.” He snickered as he put out the cheap tobacco on his boot. He moved towards the paint, he was always a good samaritan in Mae’s eyes. The two inseparable growing up, but when graduation came the distance became too far and the two became strangers again.
After hours of working on simple repainting, Isaiah stared out into the woods, seeing the sunset through the trees. They had only made headway on painting the railing on the porch and its stairs, and he had called it quits for tonight. She watched as he loaded up his truck and made his way home, the rattle of gravel and tires fading and the sky becoming gold, which had an influence as she cleaned herself up for dinner. She hid her grown in roots with her dad’s hat as she grabbed the keys to the silverado, having to stop herself from trying to tell her mom bye.
The beat-up Chevy truck shambled into town, the radio fading in and out as she traveled the gravel road. The sunset had painted a purple hue on the sky as she stared back into the rear-view mirror. The tree’s hiding the home, as if it never existed. Lost in thought, the squeal of the brakes startled her, despite it being an action of her own.
"Jesus,” She hissed, watching the deer stand and stare back at her. Its antlers looked bloody as it began to stride into the woods, Mae glared at it as it faded off into the distance. Her drive was accompanied by a faint country song from a time that had passed. She decided to ignore the chill in the air as her windows let in the breeze. She watched the street lights turn on through the trees as she entered town. The old bar’s hazy glow from the aged neon in the evening drew her in like a moth to the flame. She heard the music and commotion from the parking lot as she walked in, a bell being the only thing greeting her. Mae swerved, nearly hitting two boys running past, their cleats still muddy from a football game. She sat down on a stool at the end of the bar, tracing her fingers on a carved name on the counter. ‘Virgie & Clem 1987’ Mae smiled, staring down at the etching as a server came up.
“Number 8, To-Go please.” Soon, waiting for her order, she watched as newly turned strangers went on about their evening rituals. Men play pool while their wives chase children. The simple disorder brought an ounce of amity to her day.
“Caldwell!” A loud burley voice broke the trance. She stared at the man with pitch hair. He soon picked up a smaller boy who was nearly identical to him, despite the eyes.
“Jay?” She watched as the young boy squirmed in his arms.
“Who else?” He laughed. He moved his boy to his hip as another one stood behind him. The brown haired boy soon ran off back to his mother.
“Yeah… So this your boy?” Motioning towards the child. He nodded and sat in the booth beside her.
“Not all of’em, I coach the bitty league.” He trailed off, watching the bar. “Sorry ‘bout your mom.” Mae shrugged as the older waitress brought a to-go bag to the table. The two exchanged a hug as she moved towards the door.
The clock on the dash read 10:00 p.m. as the truck sputtered to life. Her radio turned static, as she turned off onto the road. She looked back on the simple days as she passed the high school that hadn’t been renovated since her mother graduated. The old wall in the back still dividing the dead from the living.
“Jay! C’mon slowpoke!” I yelled as I climbed over the back wall into the cemetery. Isaiah caught me as I jumped onto the other side. We sat upon headstones, waiting for Jay to cross along with us.
“Finally!” Isaiah laughed as his brother landed, soon guiding us to the patch of overgrowth.
“So why here?” I yelled out, my eyes making note of how many graves share my last name. As we find a mausoleum.
“So dad told me when our Pap died, the animals acted weird.” One of the brothers whispered.
“And?” I lowered my voice, as we sat on the stairs.
"Well, they say they come to this part of the town.” Jay specified. “But that's what the old folks say, but what’d they know?”
We laughed, soon fading as we heard sirens.
“Fuck! Book it!” Isaiah yelled out as we scattered, and I laughed as I hopped the fence, running into the woods.
Mae turned down the road, passing the only graveyard town. She slowed her truck to a near halt as she watched. She was trying to remember where her father was buried.
“Four rows, back to the rig-” Two eyes stared back as the creature stood perched upon the headstone. The pale blue eyes glowed against the headlights. Her heart plummeting into her stomach, the gravel under her tires hitting the bed of her truck.
As the truck accelerated, she reached into the depths of her mind for the route home. The speedometer read 50 mph as she made another turn. The tools and paint in the truck bed banged against its walls as the headlights showed on the dark road. The creature was no longer in the rear view, and a feeling of both dread and unrest washed over her. Mae moved to turn on the radio, hoping the dull noise of an old western song would lull it; it was only static as she turned to check her mirrors once again.
“God damnit!” Whatever this thing was, it kept up with her, its shoulder meeting the bottom of the window as it galloped beside her. The beast slammed into the truck, its bed opening as tools flew out.
She rolled down the window, tossing whatever she could reach out. The road was about to split; she needed to figure out this turn or she’d be lost all night. Her brights are shown on the street sign for Oakland Street.
A swift right turn; dust and gravel flying as she nearly fishtails. The pale blue eyes of the beast met hers as they turned. Her window was still rolled down as she screamed.
“Come and get me, ‘ya son of a bitch!” She hissed out, a crooked smile on her lips. The truck made an ungodly noise as the tires scraped against the street. The lights of the truck created a peak of her home in the trees. She raced against this beast, the two in an unholy competition.
The woods were silent besides the gruff howls and snarls of the beast and the roar of an engine. As the distance between them and the house soon shortened. Neither of them wanted to reach this end, as a deer ran into the road ahead. A quick swerve was the closest to safety she could have.
Tires squealed, a whine from a dog, and the feeling of rain on her face.
She lay there on that road, her bleach blonde hair now red. Her face was swollen and bruised. No one would know where she’d be until morning if that were the case; she closed her eyes, hoping death would be like her mom tucking her into bed. She closed her eyes and waited.
She felt the warmth on her face, and as her eyes opened, she saw pale blue eyes. Their glow illuminated the worn face of the hound, its scarred face, and the graying around its snout. It gently cleaned her face, and grabbed onto her coat. This monster, something Maelyn hated: was dragging her home. It may have been just delusion or wishful thinking as she lay in front of the dew covered stairs to the porch, but the beast lay beside her.
It stared at her as she drifted in and out of sleep, but Mae would have sworn she heard her mother talking to her dad once more.
Daybreak came, and she heard a car door slam. She heard the voices of Mr. Doyle and Isaiah yell as she lay in the grass, and the familiar sirens soon after. Mae would have sworn she saw the beast named Grief sitting on her porch like an old dog as an ambulance took her away.
Sarah sat watching him with the bright smile she had grown to love in the six years they'd been together. The tickets to the game were a Christmas present from his mother, something Brad had always wanted, opening tickets. She sat with blankets wrapped tightly around her. The wind bit as the lake breeze turned what could’ve been a beautiful day into a grey and bitter reminder of what she had to do. The smile on his face makes it so difficult, but as she sat, she remembered his wandering eyes. A reminder of why she had to do this.
“I’m really unhappy.” Her voice broke his grin.
"Relax; it’s only a couple more innings.” His voice reminded her of their son, a whine trying to delay the inevitable.
“No, you don’t understand. I’m really unhappy. I want the divorce.” The crowd was already getting excited for the inning to begin, but as she stared out at the man she used to love, all she saw was a stranger.
“What?” Brad’s demeanor changed; like a deer in headlights, he froze. The scene would play in Sarah’s mind as she stood up to leave. She knew he wouldn’t chase her out as the crowd began to yell as the players returned.
She finally returned to her car, sighing as she got in and began the drive home to her mother's, the first of many quiet car rides.
Sam wasn’t sure if it was a wonderful sign or a sign of disaster, but he knew that what he was seeing was no work of man. As the sky lit up, his face was drowned in deep blue light; he had assumed it was moonlight before he opened his eyes. In the distance, a cloud pulsed with deep shades of blue and purple, the hue shifting and mutating. This stunning sight was complimented by the smell of iron and rotting meat as animal remains dropped from the cloud. The cloud was only a few hundred yards away from the rooftop on which Sam sat, but the light illuminated the night sky and the small desert town. Sam noted how the animals fell, hitting the street after falling out of the cloud; the town seemed as if it was just like he did with the rain. No concerns; he had watched as a dark cadillac across the street from him was hit by what he could assume were the remains of a coyote.
The cloud drifted with the others; dim greens and yellows now pulsate, marking which area to avoid. He made his way back into the building, quickly locking the rooftop door behind him. He had only made it down three steps before seeing the light outside the door, brighter and accompanied by the distinct sound of something falling. Sam ran, making his way to his new apartment. He slammed the door, knocking down some things as he hastily locked it and covered his windows, which now had a light red sheen. The lease was signed, and he was stuck here now.
To this day people will cry over the knowledge and works destroyed when the library of Alexandria was burned down.
And yet no tears are shed as Palestinian archives and libraries are bombed.
Saint Porphyrius Church, a structure built in the 5th century and the 3rd oldest church in the world has been bombed.
It's not an accident.
Israel aren't simply killing Palestinians, they are trying to erase that there ever were Palestinians in the first place.
Destroying their livelihoods, trying to to destroy their culture and history and pretend this land was never there's.
It's easy to deny someone's existence when there's no record of them.
Which is why it's so important to look at the atrocities and bear witness to what's happening.
But to also recognise that Palestine is more than it's suffering.
There is a living breathing culture, of art, history, literacy which all come from the Palestinians.
Traditions they've carried for centuries.
So while we mourn the dead, we shall fight for the living. Fight for the preservation of their crafts, amplify their voices as they speak on their culture.
Palestinian history and culture is alive. And no matter how much the world wants to erase that, they cannot and will not.
today my bf and i were talking about visiting my home for the holidays and i was (sadly) wondering aloud if i should cut my hair and our kid was like "why would you cut your hair??? your hair is cool" and not knowing how to explain it to him i said "my family doesnt think boys should have long hair" to which he went silent, wordlessly pulled out his phone and then swiftly held it out with a picture of keeanu reeves on his phone
I'm a child of the rust belt, born of bible thumpers and the fear of god, yet the cursed words flow from my mouth.
I've accepted my place, below the wealthy hills and hiding in small town Appalachia.
My mother preaching "Remember who we come from" as we drive down the road. Her and my father knowing so well how pride can blind a man.
Still here I sit, like a child in the principles office as people my age and no clue of my life talk down to me.
Speaking on simple rules and regulations broken, not enough to warrant a meeting but still I sit here.
I understand I curse like a sailor at times, and sometimes I drink. I know my place and time, I hide from the world and yet here I sit on the metaphorical chopping block.
How should I pray for forgiveness when they are not without sin ?
I feel like I hold the a barbed wire crown, I refuse to wear it and be the martyr.
DRACULA IN 1897: my revenge is just begun! i spread it over centuries, and time is on my side. your girls that you all love are mine already; and through them you and others shall yet be mine—my creatures, to do my bidding and to be my jackals when I want to feed.
DRACULA IN 1997: what is a man? [FLINGS WINE GLASS] a miserable little pile of secrets. but enough talk—have at you!
DRACULA NOW: i'm moving different. this shit ain't nothin' to me, man. i'm a dog. i'm bitin' the fart bubbles in the bath. we smokin' symbiotes. smokin' that Whoopi Goldberg South Egyptian furburger deluxe Mega Millions scratcher skunk bubba kush. smokin' dung beetle. i'm on 12 vicodins smokin' Scooby-Doo dick.
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