How to reupholster a tufted chair

Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Brick, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper, Scott
Episode 8: One Flu Over the Cuckoos
"Last time, on Total Drama Action! Imprisoned in a world they didn't create. Forced to ingest deadly foods, and even to taste them twice!"
"Nonetheless, the two courageous teams clawed their way to freedom! And... a lonely Chef made a new friend."
"But prison is no place for law abiding citizens. Even athletic ones. So at the end of the day, it was goodbye, Sky, hello... Izzy?" The camera panned back to show Chris lounging in the control tent. "Yeah. Izzy. That girl is eight shades of nutty. Will she drive everyone else crazy too?"
The scene flashed to a close-up of Chris standing in front of the cast trailers, the camera pulling back with each word of the show's title. "Find out now, on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Theme Song)
The scene faded in to a shot of an owl hooting on a tree branch at night until a few sparks erupted from it and its head popped off on a spring. The camera panned down and to the left, catching the castmates as they made their way back to their trailers; the Gaffers were in front, and the Grips were in the back, though Brick was noticeably absent.
“Everything is so much smaller than I remembered!” Izzy said while looking around.
"I can't believe that you guys eliminated Sky," Chase said as the camera focused on the Gaffers. "She would have continued to help carry us to victory if she was still here."
“I remember that bush! I remember that tree!” Izzy continued to observe her surroundings until she tripped onto the floor, only to get back up. “Oh, I remember that rock! Hey rock!”
“You know,” Scott spoke up, “with Sky gone and Izzy being back, it's like we didn't lose a player.”
“That may be because the teams are still evenly matched,” MK claimed.
"Good night everybody," Millie told the contestants in a tired tone as she took the steps up to the girls' trailer. "I really need to get some rest." She grabbed the door handle and habitually moved to open it, but it didn't budge and she slammed face-first into it.
"First they lock us in," Ripper said as the camera cut over to him pulling on the door handle of the guys' trailer, "and now they're locking us out!" He grunted as he kept trying to open it, but he failed to move it at all.
"Wait, wait," Izzy said from off-screen, "let me try it!" Ripper quickly stepped aside just as Izzy rammed the door and bounced off of it without making a dent.
A loud siren started up as tense music began to play in the background.
“Cops!!!” Izzy panicked soon after getting up and ducked out of the way.
Seconds later, an ambulance drove past, stopping in front of them just long enough for the back doors to open and a covered stretcher to fall out. Siren still blaring, the ambulance drove off and the castmates hesitantly approached its former cargo.
"What is that? A dead body?" Anne Maria asked nervously.
"Or an undead body," Ripper guessed.
Whatever was on the stretcher sat up, and the cover fell away to reveal Chris McLean lying on a colorful stack of books. The castmates gasped and murmured at the dazed-looking host. "...Boo!" the handsome man said suddenly, earning a blank look from MK.
The host then cleared his throat. "Calm yourselves. No one's dead yet," he said with a smile, holding up one of the books. "I'm here to prep you plucky ducks for our most awesome challenge yet! These textbooks hold the sum total of eight years of med school, and each one of you gets one," he explained before tossing the book in his hand to Anne Maria who raised an eyebrow once she caught it, "cause tomorrow, we're gonna play Doctor!" A few deep and tense notes played as Anne Maria rolled her eyes.
Confessional: Anne Maria
"I don't have anything against doctors," Anne Maria confessed. "It is their job to put scalpers and needles onto people, and give advice like “Don't break your leg because you were out late skateboarding,” but playing doctor isn't really in my wheelhouse.”
Confessional: Brick
"If I wanted to, I could be a doctor," Brick explained to the camera. "I've been to the doctor's office countless times because of my many injuries, like a twisted wrist, a joint thumb, bruised ribs, or even my leg getting bit by a dog." He shuddered. “Don't ask. But the military is my top priority.”
Confessionals End
"To win this challenge," Chris said as the footage cut back to him and the castmates, each of whom now held a textbook, "you're gonna want to memorize the entire contents of these textbooks. By morning."
"But it's already late," Millie protested.
"You got that right," Chris answered as a golf cart drove up with a giant pizza slice on the roof and a large stack of pizza boxes in the back. The driver was Chef, who had a pizza delivery hat on. As soon as the cart stopped, Chef got out and carried the comically large stack of pizzas over to Chase. "What med school all-nighter would be complete without pizza?" Chris asked.
Chase was shown dropping his textbook as he accepted the stack in awe, and a harp played in the background as he and Izzy gave it a sniff. He let out an approving sigh as Izzy smiled happily. "Pizza," the daredevil said.
"This has to be a trick," Millie said.
"More like method acting," Chris told them as he walked over to the golf cart and hopped onto the back. "Med school interns consume 850% more pizza than the average human. So, dig in! Cause there's plenty more where that came from!" The cart sputtered away, leaving the castmates by themselves.
Jasmine opened the top box and took out a slice. "Looks okay, smells okay," she said before finally taking a bite. "Tastes...great!"
"How is that even possible?" Anne Maria asked.
The scene flashed over to an unfinished pizza getting tossed into the air, the camera following it as it fell into Brick's hands. The table he was standing at already had four other pizzas on it, and they looked to be complete.
The camera panned right over to Chef with four cooked pizzas at his table as he held a can of parmesan. "Keep 'em comin'," Chef ordered. "I'll add the final cheesy touch," he said deviously while sprinkling the can on one of the pizzas.
"I'm pretty sure my team is going to question where I am," Brick complained.
"Not as long as they're eating, they won't!" Chef got up in Brick's face. "So hush up and spin that dough. Spin like the wind." As Chef went back to his station, the camera zoomed in on Brick's worried face.
The scene flashed to the five Gaffers sitting in chairs by a fire in front of the cast trailers, eating pizza and reading textbooks. The camera focused in on Izzy and Ripper, who were in the two leftmost seats.
"Y'know," Ripper said, "one time me and my brothers ordered ten boxes of pizza in order to see who can eat the most without using their hands." He chuckled. “You should've been there watching us splatter sauce on each other.”
“Let's pretend I was!” Izzy tossed away her book. “Here!” She sprung off her chair, landed next to the pizza box in front of the team, and began to scarf on the pizza without using her hands.
“My three brothers would be jealous to see you do this quicker than them,” Ripper commented.
Grabbing a pizza with her teeth, Izzy started to shake it around like a rabid animal, splattering sauce onto everybody.
“My hat!” MK exclaimed.
“My shirt!” Scott shouted.
“My pizza!” Chase cried out dramatically.
Confessional: Izzy
“I am so glad to be back,” Izzy said. “I was top of my pre-med class before the RCMP started chasing me, so this should be a snap! On the other hand, I'll tone down my impressions since it bothered Ripper the last time I was here, and he's my friend so I'll try to put his feelings into consideration.”
Confessional: Ripper
“It's amazing that Izzy is back in the game, and unlike the first time it happened, I'm around to witness it,” Ripper chimed. “She better not make us call her E-Scope though. That was really bugging me out.”
Confessionals End
The scene moved to the inside of the craft services tent, where four of the Killer Grips were studying at one of the tables. Millie and Anne Maria were on one side of the table, with Justin opposite them and Jasmine standing away from them.
Justin noticed Jasmine's unhappy expression and decided to go over and press the matter. “Is something wrong?” the eye candy asked.
Jasmine was startled by the question and regained her composure. “I'm completely fine. Nothing's bringing me down.”
“Just tell me. I don't blab about secrets,” Justin continued.
“If you must know, Brick's been spending less time with us lately,” Jasmine confessed. “Usually before the challenge, we never even see him.”
“I've noticed as well,” Justin nodded. “And this is bringing you down because?”
“Me and him have a special bond going, and it may lead into something more than that, but how are we supposed to know each other more if he's avoiding us?” Jasmine wondered.
“Brick'll probably explain what's going on to us, but don't badger him,” Justin advised. “It'll most likely cause him to lie.”
“That's a good idea. If there's one thing I do not like, it's when someone is lying to me,” Jasmine admitted.
“Interesting…” Justin mused to himself.
Confessional: Justin
“Jasmine's concern plus Brick's disappearances equals an opportunity for me to cause a little bit of turmoil between them,” Justin calculated. “That way, I could get one of them eliminated with Anne Maria and Millie's help.”
Confessional Ends
"Man, is this pizza delicious or what?" Anne Maria said as she took a bite out of the slice she was holding. "I wish Chef could cook more food like this for us every day."
Jasmine took a bite of her slice and saw Millie focused on reading rather than eating. "Are you not going to nibble at least one slice, Millie?"
Millie looked up from the book she'd been studying and blinked.
Confessional: Millie
"With the challenge that we're going to get, I have to focus on studying all the contexts of that textbook so I won't forget a single detail," Millie told the camera. "And plus, I'm not really a big fan of pizza."
Confessional Ends
A close-up of an open pizza box was shown as Justin reached in to grab one of the last remaining pieces. "If you don't want any pizza, then that means there's more for us," he said.
“Hold on. Brick hasn't had any,” Jasmine interrupted.
"Where is he anyway?" Anne Maria asked.
Brick then peeked out of the counter, and he ducked down, crawled under the table, and popped up in order to act like he just arrived. "Sorry I'm late. I had an urgent bathroom emergency," he said.
"Here's your pizza," Jasmine slid the open box to the end of the table.
Brick picked up a slice, took a bite, and smiled as he chewed it. "My cooking skills are great!"
"I'm stuffed," Anne Maria said as she stood up. "And with tomorrow being a reward challenge and all, I can just go back to my trailer. Good night!" She began to leave.
"I study better when I'm by myself. Nothing personal," Millie told the team and left the tent as well.
Confessional: Jasmine
"I could make them stay," Jasmine said in the make-up trailer, "but there's no point in doing so. Millie is already educated enough to not read the textbook, and Anne Maria is as tough as an untamed crocodile when it comes to talking with her."
Confessional Ends
The scene moved to Anne Maria and Millie as they walked through the film lot to get to their trailer.
"I thought you'd still be studying back at the tent," Anne Maria casted a suspicious look at her teammate. “Why are you following me?”
"I still want to read the textbook. I just want to do it someplace quiet," Millie replied. “What about you?”
“Like I said, I'm going to sleep,” Anne Maria said. “There's no need to give it my all if the challenge won't have an elimination.”
“You may be wrong about that. Chris is very unpredictable when it comes to episodes having eliminations or not,” Millie argued. “Did you at least read some pages of the textbook?”
“Yeah, and I don't want my head to be egg headed like yours is, brainiac,” Anne Maria claimed.
This got a glare from Millie. “Hey, just because I'm smart, doesn't mean I don't have any more depth to me,” the writer scolded.
“If all we're gonna do is argue, then let's keep to ourselves for the rest of the night,” Anne Maria rebutted.
“That's fine by me,” Millie agreed with the tanned girl.
The scene faded forward into a shot of the numbered studios the following day. The camera cut inside, showing the ten castmates lined up in a small room facing a double door, all but Millie and Anne Maria looking exhausted.
"So tired," Jasmine groaned.
"My brain has never been this full," Ripper mumbled.
"You guys should've turned in for the night like I did if you didn't wanna look like zombies," Anne Maria stated, making the others groan at her.
"Morning, competitors!" Chris said in a chipper tone as he slid in through the door. "Or should I say...DOCTORS!" He pulled out a large gun from behind his back, eliciting a gasp from the teens as he pointed it at them. He fired it at them starting with the Gaffers, and the camera focused on Izzy and Scott at the far end of the line as stethoscopes and reflector headband landed on them. Chase, MK, and Ripper were the next to get hit and MK fell to the ground after impact. Brick and Millie followed, then Anne Maria, Jasmine, and Justin.
"Ready for today's big challenge?" Chris asked them with a smile.
“We pulled an all-nighter studying for this," Scott grunted. "Why wouldn't we all be?"
"If only teenagers were as dedicated to their studies as you guys are!" Chris said with a light laugh. "Let's take it inside." He started backing into the room he'd come out of, the castmates following after him.
The camera cut to a close-up of a large compound stage light before zooming out to show the cast assembled in a large room, each team standing by a large green vat of bubbling slime, a ladder leading up to a high dive, and a sort of slanted platform with a person-shaped indent in it.
"Today's challenge is called," Chris said as the background music became low and tense, "Visiting Hours. And only one member of the winning team will get to enjoy the reward." A few drum beats played, and the camera panned over to the Grips on the left.
"Hold up," Anne Maria asked. "Why're we doing this in teams if only one of us gets to win?"
"I guess it's one for all and all for one this time," Jasmine said.
"But who gets to be the one?" Brick wondered aloud.
"Let's leave it to the one who contributes the most," Millie told them.
Confessional: Millie
"Which will likely be me," Millie added in the confessional trailer.
Confessional Ends
"So what is the reward, Chris?" Chase asked.
"You're very perceptive, Chase," Chris told him. "Let's see if that helps you and your team assemble a CADAVER!" A game show jingle played as he made the announcement.
"You're talking about a dead body, right?" Izzy asked.
"No," Chris corrected as the game show jingle played again, "I'm talking about a giant dead body!" The shot zoomed out further than it had before, revealing that the slanted platforms were attached to chains leading up to a reel in the ceiling and two strange devices on mounted either side just below.
"These tanks contain the dismembered parts of two identical cadavers," he explained over an elevator music-like tune. "Each player will climb their respective team ladder, strap on the bungee cord," the shot cut from his close-up to a bungee harness dangling in front of the Gaffers' diving board, "and jump into the tank with hopes of retrieving a body part." The camera panned down to the tank, then over to the slanted platform. "Any parts you find will be snapped in place on the platforms. Use those chains to raise them all the way to the roof," he continued as the camera followed the chain up to the strange device on either side of the gap in the ceiling as a jolt of electricity stream between them, "where they'll be reanimated by a blast of lightning!"
"First team to bring a Franken-Chris back to life wins," the host told them. "First crack goes to the team who can tell me how to treat someone with a bean stuck up their nose." He tapped his nose, and the camera panned over to the Gaffers.
MK was the first to open her mouth. "Administer two ccs of pain meds and probe the affected area with a sterile swab."
"Correctomundo!" Chris said, giving her a pair of finger pistols.
"Yes!" MK cheered.
The footage flashed forward to the AV girl on top of her team's diving board, the bungee harness already secured. She jumped off with a scream and plunged into the vat, popping back up a moment later as she was electrocuted by the electric eel she was now holding. She let the fish go at the peak of her trip back up, and grabbed on to the edge of the diving board. "What the heck was that?!" she asked in shock.
"Oh yeah," Chris said, "I forgot to mention the electric eels. Three zaps for each turn and you're out!"
With a hesitant look on her face, MK allowed herself to drop back into the vat. She emerged holding a grayish and slime-covered leg. "Got it!" she called as the camera cut to Ripper who was standing by the Gaffers' platform with his arms out to catch. He caught the limb, then turned around and fit it into place.
"Okay, next question!" Chris announced. "Your patient has an itchy red inflammation on their butt! Diagnosis?"
"Diaper rash," Brick spoke up first. "Apply salve repeatedly to achieve humectant dispersion."
"Yes!" Chris said, and Brick smiled.
The footage cut forward to him diving off the board and into the vat. He sprung back out holding an eel, and it shocked him. "Sorry!" he said before plunging back down. He came back up a second time, now holding two eels. "Sorry again!" he told them, falling once more after getting shocked. He popped out holding a hand, which he quickly tossed to his team.
"Don't let it touch my hair!" Justin fumbled with the hand a few times before tossing it over to Jasmine, who rolled her eyes and put it in the right-hand slot.
"Next question!" Chris said. "Your patient's got a white tongue, red eyes, and they're oozing gooey crud! Diagnosis?"
"If I'm not wrong, that should be Pinkus Eyeicus," Chase answered. "Treat with two rounds of floppity jibbits."
"Absolutely correct!" Chris told him. The camera zoomed in on him as he slyly added "I messed around with some of the terms in the textbook."
Chase looked down at the vat, then jumped. He fell without a sound, but when he came back up with an eel in each hand, he shrieked and got electrocuted. He plunged back down, and this time came up with another leg. "Hey, I got one this time!" he said with a smile before tossing the limb over to Scott.
Scott jumped for it, then turned around and slammed it into place.
"Smells like ear wax?" Chris asked next, rushing up to Jasmine with a grin on his face.
"Pineapple-itis," Jasmine answered before low-fiving the host.
Jasmine was shown jumping down, and sprung back up to diving board-level seconds later with three eels on her body; she screamed as she was shocked.
"Fur between the toes?" Chris asked, bending down to point at his bare feet, one of which had a tuft of brown hair growing out of it.
"Stick two horse feathers up the whizzbang!" Izzy answered when the host turned to her.
Izzy was shown dropping into the vat and coming back up with a torso and a smile on her face.
A montage of parts getting added was shown next. Millie was first, putting a leg into her team's platform. Second was Chase, slotting one of his team's arms in. Brick added a waist for the Grips, and the clips transitioned to other parts of the challenge.
"Waka-waka two-by-four!" Scott answered.
Anne Maria was shown listening to Chris's chest with her stethoscope before enthusiastically saying "Sissypants McGee!" to the host's brief approval and sudden discomfort.
Ripper was shown trying to strangle one of the eels as it shocked him, then Justin was shown being electrocuted thrice by the eels before eventually holding up a Chris head. He tossed it to Anne Maria, who was sitting on Jasmine's shoulders, and the two turned around to put the piece in – all they were missing now was the left arm and hand.
"The Grips ahead by...a head!" Chris announced, the camera cutting over to the Gaffers' platform and the five teens giving it nervous, annoyed, and uncertain looks – aside from the head, all they were missing was the right arm and hand.
"Alright Gaffers, next question!" the host said as he slid over to the other team. "Your patient's feeling tired, has spongy gums, and a bunch of spots on their thighs. Diagnosis?"
"Scurvy," Ripper said. "Treated with an increase of dietary vitamin C."
"Correct!" Chris announced excitedly.
The footage cut forward, focusing on the Gaffers' vat as Ripper dived into it. He emerged moments later with his team's hand, and threw it over to Izzy who quickly put it into place.
Confessional: Ripper
“I'm not sure if what we studied are actually real life symptoms and diagnoses, but who am I to know?” Ripper shrugged uncaringly. “I'm not one to study for this sort of stuff unless there's a million dollars on the line.”
Confessional Ends
Another skip forward showed Millie plunging into the vat and coming back out with the arm. "Alright, last piece coming your way!" she said excitedly before tossing it to her off-screen teammates.
It was Justin who caught the piece and put it into the only remaining indentation on the platform. "The Grips have their cadaver!" Chris announced in a close-up. "Time to start yanking some chain, and be quick about it 'cause the Gaffers are right behind you!"
Jasmine and Brick began to pull on their team's chain while Anne Maria moved the slanted scaffold out from under the platform and Justin and Millie watched in anticipation as the cadaver-containing platform was rising quickly.
The camera cut over to the Gaffers as Izzy dangled from the bungee harness covered in slime. “I got it! I got it!” She tossed the Chris head over to MK.
MK stopped in front of the platform and drew back her arm, tossing it up to Chase who had climbed the back of the platform in preparation. The daredevil caught it and slotted the part in, then dropped to the ground.
"Now we pull!" MK ordered as Chase joined Ripper and Scott at the chain.
"Heave!" Ripper said as the three started to pull in rhythm. "Ho! Heave!"
"The Gaffers are still in this," Chris told the camera in a close-up. "Whose cadaver will hit the roof first?" he asked with a shrug. "Make sure you come back for all the Total! Drama! Action!" he finished excitedly.
(Commercial Break)

Standard disclaimer: In this post I'll attempt a summary of our City Council meetings this past week. As ever, I make no claim of these notes being comprehensive of everything we covered, nor that they will reflect the perspective of any other person or Councilor besides myself (Kit). This Council meeting is already published on Medford Community Media.
And if you’d like to follow along, here is the meeting agenda on the City Council’s public portal. We took items out of order on Tuesday, but I’ll go in order of the agenda.
Our meeting started on a delightful note. At our previous meeting, on the motion of Councilor Tseng, we invited the MHS Orchestra to play in the Chambers in celebration of their gold medal win at the prestigious Massachusetts Instrumental and Chorus Conductor’s Association Concert Festival. I was genuinely so moved and impressed by their performance on Tuesday. We administered citations to all members of the Middle School String Ensemble, who took home the silver medal at the same Festival, and trophies to all members of the High School Orchestra. Congratulations to all the players and Conductor Chang!
We debuted a new agenda section, “Refer to Committee for Further Discussion,” with a motion by Councilor Leming. (This new section is for items that are intended not to be debated on the floor, but rather just introduced and sent immediately to committee where substantive discussions will be held.) Councilor Leming’s resolution was to explore ways to allow the Director of Veterans’ Services to offer housing incentives to veteran renters. Director Shaw shared a bit about her preliminary ideas for incentives that might help combat how veterans are often stigmatized/disadvantaged in housing searches. This sad topic shores up a point that the Council has heard recently, how housing (unaffordability, precariousness, homelessness) is one of the most critical issues facing veterans in Medford. Councilors offered some initial words of enthusiasm for these ideas but held further questions and comments for when this matter is taken up in the Resident Services and Public Engagement Committee.
We unanimously approved the Action Plan for this year’s Community Development Block Grant (CDBG) funding appropriation. The previous week, we had a Committee of the Whole where the CDBG Manager and funding recipients gave more detailed presentations about their work in the community that will be funded by CDBG this year. Many of the funding recipients are returning from previous years, and this funding allows them to continue their work in Medford on the program priority areas, with services such as housing resources, and food and transit assistance.
We unanimously approved the special permit for extended hours for Pinky’s Pizza. We first discussed this two weeks ago and tabled it, asking the business owner to speak with neighbors to try and come to a mutually agreeable compromise, and allowing the Licensing Subcommittee Chair to look into the topic more deeply. The business owner came back this week with a scaled-back request, just to midnight Monday–Thursday and until 1am Friday–Sunday, which we approved. (11pm is the default close of business time unless otherwise requested.)
We unanimously approved a Lodging House License for 28 Winthrop St., which is a Tufts University-owned property. In recent years Tufts purchased this building and did a significant remodel to modernize, improve and densify the building; it will now fit 28 students, 1 student per room. Any students who live in the building will park their cars on campus. The building has already been approved by the Community Development Board and passed all inspections, so this vote was just a one-time license approval so that it can go forth and be operated as a dorm. I appreciate Tufts investing in housing more of their students in dense, high-quality student housing near (and ideally on) Tufts campus.
We reviewed and filed the Annual Public Report on Surveillance Technology. Under the Community Control over Public Surveillance (CCOPS) Ordinance which passed in 2023, this is the City Council’s reporting obligation. Under CCOPS, all new surveillance technologies or uses of surveillance data by City departments must be approved by the City Council. This report documents, in the previous calendar year, how many new technology/data requests the Council has approved, denied, or made modifications to, as well as including copies of any Surveillance Reports by City departments that are using surveillance technology.
As lead sponsor of the CCOPS Ordinance, I prepared the Annual Public Report. It was easy to do because currently, the only eligible surveillance technology in use by a City department are body worn cameras, which are in use by the MPD as of December. In finalizing/negotiating the ordinance in 2023, we exempted body worn cameras from the City Council approval process until 2028. So the number of new-technology requests approved, denied or modified by the Council in 2023 was zero. If folks are interested in reading more about CCOPS, I wrote about it in April 2023 after the ordinance passed.
We reviewed an Open Meeting Law complaint that was filed against the City Council for something I wrote in a Reddit post in April. Per law, upon receipt of an Open Meeting Law complaint, the Council is required to review the complaint in a regular meeting and decide on a response. Prior to the meeting, one of the City’s KP Law attorneys reviewed the complaint, found that no violation occurred, and drafted a response to that effect. We reviewed and unanimously approved the attorney’s response. (TLDR on OML: A quorum of a public body debating a matter that is before that body, outside of a duly-noticed public meeting, would be a violation of Open Meeting Law. The intent of the law is to ensure that all discussions about matters before a public body, by that public body, are happening in public with proper notice to the public.)
On the motion of Councilor Scarpelli, we unanimously passed a resolution to support H.4624, “An Act relative to municipal tax lien procedures and protections for property owners in the Commonwealth.” Here’s some background from WCVB.
We entered Executive Session to discuss various matters of litigation/claims with a City attorney. Entering executive session means the Council talks privately about a specific topic – no public Zoom, no TV cameras, no audience. There is a limited set of circumstances under which public bodies are allowed to do this, which includes discussing strategy with respect to litigation.
This might be my briefest report yet. I’m sure the next one will be longer! Thanks for reading.

“Look!” Lil pointed up towards the small tuft of fur protruding from the top of the trash heap. Following her voice, two eyes cautiously emerged, observing the children as they gathered about the bottom. “It’s a kitten!”
“No, that’s not a kitten, idiot!” Tommy yelled at his sister, who seemed not to hear him through her excitement. “I think it’s a puppy…”
“SHHHH!” The girl motioned for her brother to stay still, catching him under the arm as he began to mount the trash pile. “You’ll scare her away…”
“Oh, yeah? How do you know it’s a ‘her’? That’s a little boy doggy…”
“No! It’s a girl cat, I know it is! Just watch…” Lil produced a small tin from her torn parka pocket, peeling the lid back and running a finger around the barren metallic interior before holding it up towards the summit in front of them. “Here, puss, puss, puss, pussssss. Here, kittyyyyy…”
The eyes watching suspiciously from on high became a head peaked by two ears and then a whole body, tail moving languidly in the sun. The silhouette atop the mountain of debris let out a low, unsure sound before it began to maneuver its way down towards the awaiting children as they stood there, feet bare against the grime besides their flimsy wraps, utterly ecstatic.
“I can’t believe it… We finally found him!” Tommy cried, unable to contain himself.
“Her!” Lil was sure that their new friend was a girl, like her. It was the first friend they’d had the chance to meet since they came to the dump so long ago that they couldn’t even really remember the before. “Ssssshush, Tommy… She’s right there.”
The small, frail creature halted at the bottom, eyeing the children for a moment before it finally closed the remaining distance towards Lil’s beckoning finger. With little measured licks, it took the traces of Spam from her. When it was all done, the girl reached out her other hand and began to stroke the creature’s matted fur. It seemed to delight in her touch.
“What should he call him?” Tommy asked absently, eyes never moving from their new companion.
“She’s a she, Tommy…” Lil thought about attempting to pick up the small animal, but decided against it. She didn’t want to scare it away. “We should take her back to Mother. She’ll tell you… She knows everything about them…”
Dipping another two fingers into the tin, Lil used as much force as her tiny digits could muster to get another good enough load of the stale meat product in order to entice the creature after them. To their stunned joy, it did just that.
Outside the small shack on the edge of the dump, the twins’ mother sat slumped precariously in an old lawn chair, the material keeping her there appearing as though it could give way and tear at any moment. She looked up with shallow eyes gaunt in their sockets like great, yellowing marbles as she saw her children approach, accompanied by their inexplicable third. She rose to her feet, her weathered, matchstick legs almost buckling beneath her meager weight.
“Quick, children…” She whispered, those ravenous eyes never faltering. “Be very careful... Pick it up gently now, before it runs off…”
“Her name is Suzie! Can you believe it?” Lil hadn’t really registered her mother’s command. To her, it was as though she was just as elated as she was. Even more so, it seemed. “You said all the big animals were gone, but look! We found a kitty!”
The mother of the twins began to extract a large stick from behind her back, slowly raising it above her wrinkled head as she paced ever so slowly towards the three. The animal arched its back and hissed.
“What are you doing!” Tommy screamed, moving between his mother and his frightened friend. “It’s just a little thing!”
“We are starving, children. Who knows when we’ll eat next? Please, get out of the way...”
“No, mother, please…” The twins pleaded almost in unison. Tommy added: “Please don’t hurt the puppy!”
“It’s a cat, Tommy!” Their mother moved in even closer. The kitten hissed once again, although it still refused to flee despite its clear nervousness. “We have to eat it. We have to…”
“But, wait!” Lil exploded, hope overcoming her weepy despair. “If it is a kitty, then that means it can help us! That’s what you told us, you said if we could find a cat that it might help find food! If it hasn’t died yet, that means it must be eating something, right?”
Mother’s languid pace came to a stop as she gazed at the expression on the thin, filth-streaked face of her little girl, then at her son. She thought about what he had said, and she realized that he was right. It was, after all, just a little thing. Barely enough meat for her alone or even either one of the children, lean as it was… She dropped to a knee and put a hand on each of their shoulders, the kitten taking a few hasty steps back as she did. Mother smiled warmly.
“You’re absolutely right, Lil. Absolutely. If there’s a kitty, then there must be food here for the kitty to eat. And if there’s food for it to eat, then maybe it can help us eat, too…”
Mother didn’t really believe it herself, but she knew how valuable hope was when it came to keeping on through the endless days to come, having lost hers so long ago. She wanted her children to have this. This one thing. Quite possibly the last good thing that would ever happen to them. Yelling out with joy as they went, the twins ran off back into the dump as fast as their tired little legs could carry them, followed closely by Suzie the cat as she bounded on behind. The sight of it brought a tear to Mother’s eye as she allowed herself to be drawn back into her chair and her stare to be led back off to the horizon towards the scorched, dead skyline of the city where she had once lived so well.

First Previous
Captain Semnik sat in the electrocart as it whirred down the paved pathway to the rocket launch site in the distance. He pulled at his environmental suit, disliking how the fabric would catch on his fur when it shifted over his body. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his heartbeat that fluttered from the nerves.

“Nervous, Sir?” Navigator Fasili said. “It’s hard to imagine that the first Meer in space has anything to fear.”

Semnik frowned. He didn’t like the smarmy grin on Fasili’s face. Sure, he had been the first Meer in space. He was, in fact, the only Meer to ever be in space. His only mission involved circling the planet a few times before instructing his conical capsule to crash through the atmosphere and parachute into the ocean.

The entire ordeal was terrifying. The gravitational pressure as the rocket shoved him back in his chair on the ascent felt like he was going to be squeezed into jelly. The odd feeling as the blue sky vanished into a field of black, only the stars and Skyfire above along with Meeria below to keep him company. The worry that his equipment wouldn’t work and he would be stuck up there. The fear he would burn up in the atmosphere upon reentry. The terror that the parachute would fail and he would pancake in the ocean. The unease at wondering if the recovery ship would even find him.

He didn’t want to ever go through that again. Yet here he was, enjoying a chauffer service to something that could spell his doom.

In that moment, Semnik decided to get a little revenge on the arrogant Navigator. “Six out of ten of these things have exploded going up. I have good reason to be nervous.”

Fasili’s ears folded down as her eyes went wide and her whiskers pulled back against her snout. Her realization of how dangerous this task was plastered all over her face.

“It’s not that bad, Captain,” Engineer Zandis rejoined, his finger wagging. “Remember, most of those explosions were early in the program before we sent anything valuable up. We’re a lot better at it now.”

Fasili let out a breath she was holding in relief. “See, sir? Nothing to worry about. We’ll be fine.”

“That’s right,” Zandis replied. Then a wry grin came over his face. “After all, we improved the safety to only one in five exploding.”

Of course, all three were perfectly aware of the risks they were taking. They shared a laugh from the black humor, a brief moment of mirth before they had to get down to business.

The last few decades had been rough on Meerkind. Now 20 years removed from a massive war that devastated the planet and pushed the Meers nearly to extinction, they had come together in the aftermath. There was something about nearly seeing your civilization end that snapped everyone out of their old grudges.

After the end of the war, only the Northern Alliance remained as a functional state. Their efforts had switched to consolidating the few remaining refugees from the other three continents, which had suffered catastrophic damage.

The Northern Alliance, in a bid to improve morale, decided to turn to the stars. The Meer people needed something positive, a small victory to hold onto. They needed to know that their civilization was more than conflict and strife, that it had capacity to do something better.

It started with the rocket program. Repurposing the old weapons that had devastated the world, they removed the warheads and aimed them to the heavens. Realizing sending a rocket into space was much harder than lobbing them across an ocean, the Meer imagination kicked into gear.

After a few years of effort, and a number of lost rockets, they finally managed to get one to successfully leave the planet. The next step was sending up an artificial satellite. They intended to send up a small sphere, put it into orbit and have it transmit a simple radio signal down to the world below.

After three more lost rockets, the newly established Meer Aeronautics and Space Agency, MASA, put one up there.

Scheduled to make a full circumnavigation of Meeria, the small metal sphere was released and on the planned trajectory. Then something peculiar happened. About halfway through its journey, the orbit suddenly shifted 30 degrees south at a sharp angle, slowed and eventually burnt up in the atmosphere.

MASA engineers were perplexed. The capsule was little more than a radio beacon and a battery, so it didn’t have a propulsion system. It was a well-known principle that nothing spontaneously changed momentum. Something had to act upon the satellite.

It took some time to prepare an observation telescope. The satellite was deflected over a region of the Eastern Continent, which had bad pockets of radioactivity from the war. MASA struggled to get approval from the Northern Alliance to redirect funding to the construction of a new telescope, commandeering a vessel that was still used for refugee relief and the associated funding and personnel to command the expedition.

MASA was able to get over one hurdle when it pointed out that they could get a ride on one of the ships already bound for the continent to ferry more refugees. Then the funding was provided by a series of small fundraising efforts. MASA created merchandise, requested donations and the MASA Director even sold his personal luxury conveyance to finance the expedition.

It wasn’t looking good until a wealthy industrialist, someone working on a global communication network to link all the computers together, something today know as the Interburrow, provided a substantial donation.

The expedition was on and Semnik was one of the young interns that received the honor of joining. Setting up the telescope, they scanned the skies in the region the satellite had changed course. After a few weeks of painstakingly scanning every ceem of the heavens, they found it.

And no one could believe their eyes. There, hovering over Meeria, was a metal tube with blue rectangular protrusions coming from each side. This caused a massive stir in the scientific community. Then it got out and a few odd conspiracy theorists, taking old religious texts, started claiming the Meers were visited by prehistoric extrameerestrials. There was even a Meer with shifty eyes and wild hair that managed to get a viewscreen program where he claimed that most, of not all, Meer achievements were a result of these old aliens.

Semnik scoffed at the idea. It was absurd to think that some alien species decided to orbit Meeria just to watch them. If they did, they’d be disgusted at the violent, warlike behavior. No, Semnik was convinced this was some secret device the Eastern Imperials had concocted and the information was lost with the collapse of their government.

Weeks went by studying the object. The only thing breaking up the solid shining metal exterior were small black squares that engineers decided were viewports. Whatever might be behind the windows was a mystery.

They also determined that the shining blue material was some kind of power generation device. There were some working hypotheses that the energy produced by Skyfire could be harnessed for the benefit of Meerkind. The problem is, no one knew how to go about doing it. It was when the blue material would pivot to maintain maximum exposure to Skyfirelight did they realize it wasn’t some fictional dream.

There was no an ongoing battle between the engineers wanting to explore capturing Skyfirelight for power and the ones focused on converting the energy from their weapons warheads to useful power. They posited that if they can control the energy released by the yellow death rock, it could be used to generate limitless power. There was even a faction saying that if they created a small explosion with the yellow death rock, they’d be able to fuse the first gas element and produce even greater power.

Semnik didn’t particularly care one way or the other. That was for the engineers to fight over. What interested him was that not only was this satellite up there, it was also in a perfect Meersynchronous orbit over the planet. He was proud to be the one to identify this peculiarity, since it would have taken a tremendous amount of precision and mathematical calculation to get an object to sit perfectly over one spot on a rotating planet.

Semnik posited whatever it was orbiting over must be important and was permitted a small research team to explore the area. After some calculations, Semnik discovered the object was orbiting over the most unassuming chunk of land on all of Meeria.

Arriving at the location, the team found a small valley nestled between a ring of mountains. At the edge of the valley was a forest and, at its center, was a grassland that measured approximately 2 kilos long and a half kilo wide. Down the center of the valley, a small river flowed. It reminded him of a Northern Alliance Gleekball. The proper kind of Gleekball, in Semnik’s opinion.

Guessing the center of the meadow was the best place to start, the team transitioned there. There, under a small copse of trees, Semnik’s team made a discovery that would rock all of Meerkind. Under the ground were the remains of burrows.

The burrows were supported by ancient, rudimentary stone work and were just large enough for an adult Meer to squeeze through. Many of the tunnels had collapsed since their construction and they discovered primitive stone tools spread in the various rooms. According to an archaeologist on the team, they had a high likelihood of discovering the origin of the Meer species.

This was confirmed when they found ancient fossilized remains of a species that looked Meer-like yet were old enough to be considered a precursor species. It sparked off interesting discussions on evolution.

This alone was a monumental discovery. Yet it was overshadowed by something even more incredible. In one of the rooms, in a small hole covered by a rock, the team discovered something that shouldn’t belong there.

In the hole was a black box. Five of the box sides were made of a black polymer while the sixth was made of glass and had the appearance of a viewscreen. Polymers were only recently invented during the war, meaning this object didn’t belong here.

Assuming it was some forgotten prank, Semnik had the box sent in for the new radiation dating process that scientists had come up with. They’d test the half-life of the materials in the box to determine roughly how old it was.

The results were troubling. The material was old. Very old. Over 200,000 years old. The interior, unfortunately, was so corroded by time that no one could determine what the device was used for. All anyone could ascertain was the glass screen would present visual information.

MASA determined to keep the discovery of the box secret. The authorities had successfully contained the prehistoric alien conspiracy nuts by explaining the orbiting structure was a forgotten Eastern Imperial test. They were happy to let the public enjoy the discovery of their origins.

The box remained under wraps and was what led to this mission. Semnik became obsessed with the orbiting station and the box so much that he worked his way to becoming the first Spacemeer. It had taken two decades to reach the point where they knew enough about the hostile conditions of the region beyond the planet and how to protect from them.

Now, they were ready to send a Meered expedition to the floating object. Semnik would finally find out what was hovering over the world and if it had any relation to the black box discovered in a long forgotten prehistoric burrow.

The three brave explorers ascended the lift onto the walkway and entered the rocket. They took their seats in the cockpit and strapped themselves in.

Even with the training and doing this once before, Semnik found it disorienting. He was sitting with his back facing toward the ground many meets below. Everything was oriented correctly in his vision but his body was screaming things were wrong as he stared out into the vast blue sky.

“All ready for liftoff, Captain,” Zandis announced.

“Good,” Semnik replied. “Fasili? Prelaunch check.”

The Navigator checked her station and flipped various switches. “Ready for launch.”

This mission was, formally, to test the new navigation systems. The rocket that Semnik previously flew on was little more than a jumped-up missile. It flew up into space, spit him into orbit and fell down again. It was just there to see if a Meer could survive going up and coming back.

This rocket had multiple stages. The third stage would allow for maneuvering in orbit and a more controlled return. Of course, that was cover for their other mission – explore the floating station. MASA needed to know if it was a threat or not.

“Ready for launch,” Semnik announced. A voice over the radio announced it was go. Semnik flipped some switches on his console and a loud roar rose up around the rocket.

There was something fundamentally insane about the Meers in the rocket. They were sitting upon a tremendous amount of controlled liquid explosives and using it to overcome their planetary gravity. Semnik vowed to press for research into a method a little less ridiculous to go into space in the future. Even if they could reduce the risk, he didn’t like the idea of taking the chance of turning into a glowing fireball in the sky.

The rocket began to shake as it slowly lifted off the pad. A plume of smoke rose around them, which the rocket quickly left behind as it gained speed. Semnik could hear the tandem pressured breathing of his Navigator and Engineer over the open radio. It was a combination of the growing pressure pushing them into their seats and the fear generated from the roar and shudder.

Semnik couldn’t blame them. Even though he knew this was normal and experienced it before, he was also terrified. If Meer was meant to move this fast, the Ancestors would have constructed fuel ports in place of their bums.

The roar and shaking only lasted a few minutes. Even then, it felt like an eternity. Soon, the shaking began to subside and the roar quieted as the air thinned. Then, like a switch, the roaring ceased along with the rumble. They had entered the boundaries of space. Fasili and Zandis now entered the tiny population of Meers who had the pleasure of leaving their home.

“Stage 1 release,” Fasili announced as she flipped a few switches. Semnik was proud of the Navigator. She had overcome her initial fears and professionally handled her duties.

The pressure briefly let up before returning once more, signifying the start of the next phase of their journey. This stage would put them into the same orbital distance as the object before they used the third stage to navigate toward it.

Using her instrumentation, Fasili adjusted the trajectory of the rocket. Without an atmosphere to hinder it, the rocket would move at tremendous speeds. It would take nearly a day of travel from the MASA launch center to the site of the first Meers. In space, it would take them around 30 minutes to reach the object.

The time went by quickly. Semnik reported back to MASA Ground Control as scheduled to report the data on the navigation system. The results bode well for their satellite communication plans. It would be relatively simple to maneuver satellites into their proper position with manned crews.

As they approached the floating object, they took in its size. From the ground, observers had no point of reference to determine how big the object was. In orbit, the object was massive. It was easily longer than two full size rockets and many times wider.

Fasili carefully matched the orbit of the object. To Semnik, it looked like they weren’t moving at all. The object remained still and he could see the forgotten valley down below, sitting perfectly still underneath. Of course, he knew they were moving at incredible speeds since they had to match the rotation of Meeria to be able to remain still.

Semnik radioed back to MASA with an update and added some babbling about how beautiful the world was from above. At least the part he saw. The sections he could see elsewhere that were ravaged by war were left out of the comment. Everyone below knew how bad the war was, they didn’t need reminding it was visible from space.

Little did Semnik know, his embarrassing ramblings were recorded and released. They’d be taught in schools for generations to come.

Carefully maneuvering around the exterior of the station, they took images of it for later study.

“Sir, I see something. It looks like a portal,” Zandis said, pointing a gloved finger out of the window. Ahead, in the otherwise perfectly smooth exterior, was a line in the shape of a circle.

Maneuvering close to it, Semnik ordered they extend the tube to allow entry to the object. The engineers designing the capsule had anticipated the potential need to board the object and created an extending metallic sheet tube. The hope was the object was magnetic and they could connect the ship and crawl over.

Using a camera mounted to the center of the exterior hatch, Zandis maneuvered the extended tube toward the object.

“This is strange,” Zandis commented as he peered through the viewfinder. “The outer hatch is huge. It’s easily triple the diameter of our boarding tube. There is a clear handle that looks like a means of entry inside and it has symbols painted on it. I’ve never seen symbols like those before.”

Semnik hummed. He wanted into that object and he was wondering if it would be safe to exit the rocket without the tube. Maybe walk in space. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“No, sir,” Zandis continued. “What’s stranger is there is a smaller hatch with another handle dead center in the larger one. And I can read the writing. It’s in an archaic dialect, yet the words are clearly instructions on how to open the hatch.”

All three occupants sat in stunned silence. Semnik didn’t quite believe Zandis and took a look for himself. Sure enough, the scene was exactly as Zandis described. A large hatch with a smaller hatch built in and ancient Meeran text stamped on the surface.

Fasili was the first to break the long silence. “Are you sure this is wise, sir? Everything about this feels wrong.”

Semnik peered out of the window at the large orbiting structure. While it was indeed strange to have an object in orbit labeled in ancient Meeran text along with indecipherable runes, nothing about the object triggered his instincts. It didn’t feel hostile. In fact, he thought it was more inviting.

Taking a breath, Semnik announced, “I’m going over. Neither of you are obligated to take this risk if you don’t wish to go.”

Fasili and Zandis looked at each other. They then nodded in tandem, both agreeing to go.

Zandis maneuvered the passage across the distance. Luckily, the surface was magnetic and allowed the tube to connect. Oddly, whoever or whatever had built the object planned on this since the tube subtly shifted to align perfectly with the hatch. The creators had anticipated a magnetic docking mechanism and created magnetic seat points.

Semnik took the lead and, after cycling the airlock, moved slowly through the opening. It was eerily quiet, the only sound his breathing in his helmet and the breathing over the radio from his two companions. Space was frighteningly silent.

Reaching over, he read the proto-language instructions. Make Turn. Right Tight. Left Loose.

Turning the handle leftward, the door silently released a puff of gas before opening. A white light from a strange bulb that looked like it was made of plastic turned on and led the three Meers into a much larger space. Instructions near what they thought of was the floor told them which buttons to hit in what order after closing the outer door.

Following the instructions, Semnik heard the growing hiss of air as the space filled with gas.

Floating lazily in the middle, Zandis looked at some gages on his wrist. “Seems like the air is breathable. The mixture and pressure is a perfect copy of Meeria.”

“Are you certain about those readings?” Semnik asked, secretly wishing to remove his helmet and get the first taste of the object’s air.

“Yes, sir. Unless there’s a catastrophic failure in the device that just happened to perfectly match Meeria, it’s fine,” Zandis replied.

Reaching up, Semnik released the seals around his neck. His Navigator and Engineer shouted in horror. Yet nothing happened. There wasn’t a telltale hiss from a differential in pressure. Semnik took a deep breath and took in the cleanest air he had ever experienced. Not clean like in the remote valley. Clean like the air had nothing but its component gases.

When Semnik didn’t pass out after a few minutes, Fasili took her helmet off followed by Zandis.

“This is incredible,” Fasili said. “I’m starting to think that weird guy on the Prehistoric Extrameerestrials show is correct.”

Semnik didn’t want to admit that and replied, “There’s still the possibility that this is an Eastern Imperial project.”

Zandis looked like he wanted to argue yet decided to keep his mouth shut. He knew that Semnik didn’t believe his own words and didn’t need to state the obvious.

Opening a Meer size hatch cut into a larger one, the trio were led to a huge central shaft as more lights came on to illuminate the space. A ladder with rungs too far apart to make sense moved from the bottom to the top. At various landings, which were odd given the lack of gravity, were a series of doors opposite the ladder. There were 20 of these doors in all.

As they ascended, they found each of the doors, also three times too large than necessary, closed and locked. None of the doors had a convenient set of instructions on how to open them nor did they have Meer size portals cut into them.

Reaching the top, they found another hatch with a Meer sized entryway and opening instructions.

Entering, they found a small hallway with a number of side rooms in them, also illuminating as they entered. The rooms, save for one that looked like the remains of an immense kitchen, were bare. The kitchen only had a sink that didn’t operate. Zandis commented why anyone would put a sink up here when the water would float all over the room in this setup.

The final door opened up to a bizarre room. In the room was a single gigantic viewscreen on a desk. In front of it was a chair. The desk and chair, like everything else, was about three times bigger than it needed to be.

The three Meers propelled themselves up to float waist high to the top of the desk. On the bottom corner of the giant viewscreen was a big red button.

The three stared at it for a long while. They weren’t sure what it would do if pressed.

“Should we press it?” Semnik asked.

The other two shrugged.

“Zandis, what do you think?” Semnik requested, hoping his Engineer had some insight.

Zandis looked over the object. “Strangely, the device seems remarkably simple. Apart from the panel being as flat as paper, it looks like a basic viewscreen. Nothing unusual is connected to it. I think we can turn it on.”

Semnik slowly reached his finger out and gingerly touched it to the surface of the red button. He still had his gloves on, so he didn’t know what it felt like. It looked like a sort of polymer material.

Taking a deep breath, Semnik applied pressure. With a soft click, the button pressed into the screen and it activated.

On the screen was an ugly face. With the exception of a tuft on the top of the round head, it was completely bald. The face had a nub for a nose and eyes had a green ring around the central black pupil. The skin was pale like a Methis flower.

Semnik noted that the figure sat in the gigantic chair behind the three Meers and made it look normal. The creature, the alien Semnik finally realized, was positively gigantic.

“You sure this thing’s on?” the figure said in a deep, booming voice. The Meeran it spoke was just as old as the text written on the portals.

Out of view, a different voice shouted. “Why are you asking me? Is the light on?”

“I’m just the anthropologist. You’re the engineer,” the figure shouted back.

The other voice off-screen yelled back. “Figures a Hillbilly can’t figure out this new-fangled technothingy.”

“That’s Redneck, ya pencil neck!” the pale figure yelled. Semnik didn’t comprehend the odd behavior yet, somehow, knew that there was no hostility in the words.

“Sorry about that,” the pale figure commented. “Heya little buddies. If you’re seeing this, that means you managed to get past one of the big civilization filters. Congratulations! My name is Frank Martin and I’m what is called a Human.”

The three Meers looked at each other. Unless the Eastern Imperials decided to play a giant prank, it was becoming more and more obvious that the Meer with the weird hair and crazy eyes was right.

The face on the screen suddenly put on an expression that Semnik took as dark. “Before I get to it, I have a warning. All that warring you guys are doing? I suggest you find peace with yourselves. When you start getting up into space, it means weapons are getting real bad. You’ll end up killing yourselves off if you don’t. We lost count of how many other civilizations out there ended themselves over it.”

Sadness entered Semnik’s features. The kindly species observing the Meers had predicted the big war and the Meers were too late to get the warning.

The thought was mirrored in the figure on the screen. “And if you’re here after that? Sorry that you had to go through it. We know what that’s like. The upside is, if you learned your lesson, things will get better.”

Frank leaned back in his chair and crossed his appendages over his chest area. “As for what we’re doing up here and why you’re hearing this? Well, it’s a long story. We, Darryl and I, are researchers. We discovered your people a while back and decided to study your development.”

“We found your people in an early part of their evolutionary period. Their lifespans were roughly 1/5^th of what they were when we headed off, more on that later, and we watched you grow and evolve over a long period of time.”

Frank took a deep breath of air and slowly released it. “Normally, civilizations like yours never even leave their point of origin. It’s a concept called the Dark Forest Hypothesis. To put it simply, the unknown is dangerous so it’s safer not to go there. My people went in there and ended up in space. Yours, at least until something happened, was perfectly content hiding out in their burrows.”

“Unfortunately, something happened that upended your development. A species, extinct at the time of this recording, was in its early space development phase. They discovered your planet and, for reasons we don’t know, decided to send a weaponized predator to destroy your world. We didn’t know it was coming and, by the time we figured out something was there, it had already landed.”

“We did our best to kill it off, but not before we were witnessed by one of the locals. We have a rule not to interfere, yet we made exceptions if something off-world showed up and threatened you. If that happened, we had protocols to try and scare your people back into their old ways. It also doubled as an emergency in-case that off-world threat came around again.”

“You see, directly below us is the origin of your people. If you haven’t found it by now, you should find the remains of your ancient ancestors. Along with it will be a black box. It ran out of power ages ago, so it should be an inert brick. Still, it’ll be obvious since it’s made out of materials not possible from the era.”

Semnik found his mouth starting to hang open in surprise. Everything this Frank alien was saying continued to be prophetic.

“A while after our first encounter, we discovered that the critter that we thought we exterminated had already multiplied. It then threatened to wipe out your ancestors. One of your ancestors, a guy called a Storyteller, called for help. We showed up and took care of business. While we didn’t get them all that day, Darryl did come up with a scanner and we ended up wiping out the rest of the buggers over the next year or so.”

Frank leaned in close to the screen. “Unfortunately, we opened up something we like to refer to as a Pandora’s Box. There’s more details behind it, but the common usage is for something that, once done, can’t be undone. While your Storyteller wished to keep what happened a secret, just too many of your ancestors had witness what happened. It changed behaviors.”

“Emboldened by the assumption that we would show up and protect them from any threats, your people started to venture into the forest for the first time. Once this behavior was cemented and we were forgotten, your ancestors started to develop tools to help deal with the threats of your world. Time passed, you evolved and became more sophisticated.”

The figure let out a deep gust of air once again. “I have a bit of an apology to make. While it is protocol to leave you alone, and we did a good job of that, some things did make their way into your society. The big ones are a number of your units of measurements as well as your names. I’m the one that called you Meers. You guys just referred to yourselves as People before.”

“This happened because I kinda forgot to turn off the transponder signal after giving it down to the scout. It took a while for me to figure out it was on.”

“You?” the other voice shouted with what sounded like indignity. “I’m the one who found it. After you put your damned boots up on the console again and got dirt in the board.”

The figure let out what sounded like a cough. “Yup. With my judicious use of your planet’s surface, I had discovered my error. In any case, I turned it off and at least stopped polluting your culture. For the most part, everything you created up you did so on your own. So if you have any weird fellas down there claiming we helped you build giant triangles out of stone, you have it from my authority that we didn’t.”

Semnik smirked. If this image was ever recorded, returned and declassified, this section would be the very first he would want aired.

“In any case, you’re probably wondering why we’re doing this at all after telling you how careful we have been about interfering. Well, think of this is as a big gift. In addition to the warning, we have 20 floors of data and archives to give you.”

Semnik notice the sudden wave of excitement emanating from Zandis. Which was immediately quashed with the next words.

“No, we aren’t gifting you technology. Sorry, you gotta figure that out for yourselves. Anything left here to keep the station functioning isn’t at a level that you probably already haven’t figured out or won’t soon. If you’re seeing this, and haven’t blown yourselves up, you’ll figure it out the rest eventually. No, it’s an even bigger gift. Something that not even we Humans have at our disposal. It’s your history.”

Semnik blinked. A sudden wave of euphoria rose in his chest. Was it what he was thinking?

“Yup, all those locked doors down below? Archives. In both digital and printed form, you’ll find the history of your people dating back to the very moments we arrived. Your proto-Meer ancestors and on. One of the big sadness of Humanity is we really don’t know much about anything before we started writing stuff down. Even when we did, we didn’t always have the best storage methods. Art, culture, language, everything prior to the written word is lost forever to us.”

Frank lifted up the corners of his mouth. Semnik assumed it must be happiness, something he was now feeling full-blast. This was an incredible gift, far more valuable than technology.

“Before I unlock the doors, I need to give you a small warning. Within each archive cabinet you’ll find a lead box. This is to protect you from the contents. If you’re up here, I’m assuming you know what radioactivity is. The reason for this is, since we don’t know how you guys use your calendars or how long it’s been since when we left, I can’t use things like years to communicate with you. To get around that problem, we put a sample of a dozen different radioactive isotopes in each box. At the time of the archive, the isotopes were fresh. All you gotta do is measure how much is left and you’ll know when the events in that cabinet happened.”

When the sentence ended, Semnik heard a series of clicks echo from down the hall. Twenty of them.

“So, anyway, enjoy the gift. We’re gonna head out now. There’s another interesting species on a different planet we’re going to study for a while. You guys have just developed simple telescopes and we really don’t want to be up here flashing lights when one of ya’ll looks up. Humanity will pull back a few star systems. When you figure out how to travel to the next one, you’ll be certain to get the welcome wagon. We’re really looking forward to the second race to figure out faster than light travel. I really hope it’s you guys.”

“Anyway, good luck. We’ll be out here waiting for you. And when you do make your way outside of your system? Ask for the Prees named Frank and Darryl. They’ll know who you’re talking about. And don’t worry, we’ll probably still be around. We live a really long time. I’d like to get some drinks, formally welcome you to the galaxy and have a nice chat with the people I got to know for a good part of my life.”

The vision gave out and the three Meers stared at the blank screen in stunned silence. Then a smile crept over Semnik’s mouth. Here was a hyper-advanced species that came across the galaxy, studied them and gave them the most precious gift imaginable. Their history.

In that moment, Semnik knew he liked these Humans. He couldn’t wait until the Meers figured out how to go meet them. He would gladly have a drink with the ones named Frank and Darryl.
Once again, thanks for reading. While this story didn't pop off as much as Intragalactic Pet and Garden Show, I think I needed a little exercise in writing something a bit more serious. I hope the introspection and hopeful end worked well.
That said, the stories are coming to an end for a while. I procrastinated enough with what I should be writing at the moment. That said, like I mentioned in IPGS, I plan on coming back with something more novel length that I think everyone will enjoy.
Take care!

Hi. I feel really foolish but I'm sitting here crying over a chair. I was hoping someone could help me feel a little bit more rational about it.
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The chair was old (1938) and not an antique. Just old. It was saggy and made "twang" noises when one sat down (which necessitated an extra barrier between the cushion and the springs, so nobody got a sudden nasty and painful surprise). It had been reupholstered a couple of times but the fabric used was not very durable and my cats were very persistent about shredding it. The kids had spilled chocolate milk and other things all over it. So it was saggy, threadbare, dingy and potentially dangerous. But it could be comfortable, if one pushed the seat back in (it had a habit of slipping forward) and put a cushion at the small of one's back. And my younger daughter really loved the chair, but she always left it in a complete mess because of the way she'd burrow into it.
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It also hurt my back. And it made me lazy - like hard to get up and do anything sort of lazy. So I resolved that it was time for it to go. I made that resolution a year ago, and it has taken me this long to make serious inquiries about hauling it to the dump. The first two junk removers I contacted never replied. The third one replied, said I will fit you in between other scheduled jobs... and showed up an hour before expected and hauled the chair away.
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Now, stupid stupid me is sitting in a different chair, crying, because I keep getting flashes about good memories of that chair and I feel like I didn't have time to really say goodbye to it. I suddenly started thinking about my father (passed almost 8 years ago) sitting in that chair. My older daughter asked, "Are you crying about the chair?" And I had to say I guess so, but it can't be only about the chair. I've been going through a lot of other pain, stress and loss for quite a few years and suddenly it's like the chair was a cork holding all my tears in and now I cannot stop crying when I think about it.
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If anyone can think of anything to help me process this please share - and if you have had a similar experience and recovered from it, tell me about it. I can't believe how devastated I feel right now. Thanks in advance for any replies.

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Chapter 3 - Seen and Unseen

Everrain, a city that earned its name for a reason. The light pitter of rain a constant companion in this town where the wind makes a curve, in the most literal sense. Aren stares out of the window of the car at the distant cliff edges that capture and redirect the wet, warm winds from the Burn and hold them just long enough to cool down into precipitation, the timeless and unchanging nature of the planet ensuring the rains are all but perennial.
The gentle sound of the rain echoes from above as they enter the city proper, the glass overhangs covering most of the streets shielding its residents from the heavenly assault and creating part of the beauty which attracted tourists to this strange little town. Ultimately, the trip to the local precinct is short as there is little to no traffic and soon enough the personal vehicle has parked across the street from the exterminator precinct.
Swallowing a deep breath of cool, misty air as they step out, Aren silently leads Marik towards the precinct and into it. Inside the environment causes him to instantly fold back his ears in worry, past the front desk and deeper into the offices there is the clear tension and whispering of a case being discussed, which means something had recently happened. He simply waits at the front desk until someone, a fellow venlil of the younger variety, finally comes up “Good paw- Oh, wait, are you the ones from Blackriver?”
Aren tilts his right ear forward “Yeah, is it a bad time?”
“Nothing that should get in your way. The chief’s office is on the second floor, take a right” he points to the stairs at the back end of the office before opening a small barrier allowing the two entrance inside.
Aren keeps his ears attentive as they walk towards the back of the office, catching some whispers of what was the current situation just in case- “Missing person report?” he comments to the man behind him
“From the sounds of it, they’re trying to push it over to the police instead” Marik comments as they reach the stairs
“Well, good to see the division of labor is finally starting to stick”
The trip to the office was quick “Ah, you’ve arrived” Tiri’s voice squeaked before they even knocked on the door. Taking the sound as permission to enter two join into the rather unusual office, in addition to the expected desk and couple of shelves containing the usual decorations of honour there are actual cages in this office. Six rectangular glass cages containing controlled environments, decorated similarly to the flora outside, and within each of them is a single gandri. Five of them are burrowed under piles of fallen leaves, one of them has their belly up towards the ceiling, limbs spread out around it “So, anything in particular you need?”
Aren takes a seat gently, Marik similarly does removing his rifle from his shoulder in the same motion “No chance of having access to the body of the last dead, right”
“No, that’s been a while ago. Recent, in the grand scheme of things, I tried to get the family to allow us to keep the body or at least give him a proper burial but- They’d rather it be cleansed, so”
Aren shrugs “Have to respect their wishes. Has there been any unusual occurrences, then? Sightings of unusual people, people with strange habits?”
Tiri tilts back in his chair “Hrm… This is a tourist town, so we do have consistent eccentrics, but…” he squirms for a moment, before bending back forward muttering something, the noise of fabric making it quite clear why “We have Rey, no idea her real name, weird iftali lady. You see her scavenging around town sometimes, tries to stay away and will talk your ear off if you let her.” he tilts his right ear horizontally and makes a dismissive wave of his right claw “Good at hiding, you can see why, yeah?”
“Harmless, though, and a local fixture so not unusual. We do have a few minority species around here, especially in the construction crews. You know, those species you see maybe one or two in the whole planet? What else…” he taps a claw gently against his chin “Right, Sutev knew the last victim. Worked together often. Silverstar Travels, ‘round here” he reaches forward and presses a few buttons on his computer before turning the screen around to show a map “Works there”
“I heard about a missing persons case on the way here” Aren adds, having already pulled out his holopad to write notes “Mind telling something about it? Just in case it’s related”
“Hrm… Mavir, venlil, grey furred with black spots. Last known location was checking in for work at the office building across from Cloud Inn. I doubt it’s anything to do with this- Or rather I hope it isn’t.”
Aren offers nothing more than an aggressive upwards swipe of his tail in a shrug “Given our luck…” with a short sigh he stands up and looks back down at his holopad “Alright, I suppose we should start off with Sutev”
Soon enough the pair were back in the car, driving under the glassy shielding until a stronger shadow passes over them. On the side of the street, a small group of four people were working around a bucket arm truck performing maintenance on a pillar holding up the glass awning over the street. Not soon after they finally reach the chosen destination, parking the car in a small garage in the front they make their way into the short building- Silverstar Travels.
Inside they’re welcomed by the melodic arpeggio of a flytser as the door opens, and the room spread before them shows itself to be distressingly colourful. Between posters, memorabilia and advertisements there were signifiers of at least fifty different planets in here, from Colia to Earth to Leirn to the gojid cradle, though the last one’s representation was only in the form of a sculpture of an ancient tree, whose base had been decorated with a red silken bow.
“Bit of a tradition in travel companies for… Locations that suffered such a fate” the voice of the man behind a desk draws Aren’s attention “Some find it distasteful, personally, I think it’s important to remember” who is presumably Sutev is sitting down, analysing the two exterminators that had just come in “From the badges I figured you’re not here to find out where to spend your vacation time?”
Marik waves the tip of his tail at Aren and walks over to the door, resting his back against the doorframe. At that, Aren sighs and walks over to Sutev, giving him a friendly wave “Sadly. We came to talk about your coworker”
“Runkar?” the silvering venlil sighs, stretching back on his chair as Aren takes a seat before him “More like boss, he owned Silverstar Travels… Speh… And he left it to me, the idiot…” tail swiping left and right in some uncertain display of emotion he continues “Sorry… We opened this travel agency together early on, when the idiot run away from home with just the credits on his account. Of course, no warm-blooded fissan would stand to have a minority share… Not like he kept the money, though, just liked to have his name up front… I can’t even figure out how it happened… He never went out in the wild…”
Aren slowly tilts the tip of his tail forward in agreement “Despite what it seems, deadly predator attacks are… Incredibly rare. They simply do not come into cities, and this is hardly a frontier town. One would have to make their way into the outskirts somehow”
Not like this was a predator attack at all from the looks of it
“Hrm… I wonder if that’s what it was…” Sutev adds in a low tone “I mean after the Intestine Eater and the Heartbreak Killer… Sometimes I think it could have been anyone, anything…”
“Do you remember anything about the last time you saw him?”
Sutev perks up “Well, it’s been months. He was really nervous for some reason, some clients he was really interested in apparently had bailed on him. Didn’t want to talk to me too much about it.” he turns his head up, eyes towards the ceiling “Maybe I should have pressed more…”
Soon, Marik and Aren were standing outside on the parking lot, standing by the car as they spoke to one of their holopads “That… Yeah, no… That’s a murder alright. You’d be hard pressed to convince a terran that isn’t one” says a voice in the human language on the other side
“Figures…” the black venlil rubs his snout “I suppose we should try to-” but he stops suddenly, his right ear twisting. For two heartbeats nothing happens, then his left ear starts tracking the same direction. Four seconds later, Aren’s focus is in the same direction. “Later” he says, quickly cutting the call.
Then the two split off, each one of them heading towards a different side of the car. Walking past it, towards the edge of the parking lot they slowly make their way to a large trash bin made of dark grey plastic. Its cover had been opened and, unlike normal, its front side was facing the wall, completely obscuring whatever was going on in the other side.
The two of them wait for a moment, listening to the light sound of rustling for a few seconds before moving in unison to have a look at the other side. There is nothing to be found, other than the nearby sound of hooves against pavement behind the wall. The two venlil look at each other and, without visual or verbal cues, Marik crosses his paws in front of him for support and Aren quickly leaps up on them and, using the boost, jumps up on the wall separating the garage from the other building. He lowers his tail behind him and once he feels the paws grasping it he drops himself down the wall, the minor pain from using his tail as an impromptu rope well within his ability to endure, and soon the two have crossed the barrier in time to see a flash of pink disappear down the small alley between buildings.
On a hunch, Aren keeps his strides short as he jogs onward in a chase, his companion offers him a questioning tail wave but gets no answer in return. Reaching the end of the alley they once again get a glimpse of pink taking another corner “Yep… She wants us to follow” he taps Marik on the shoulder and points a paw at the nearby building, a bookstore, before continuing the chase.
A third time in this leisurely chase does his quarry evade away, but this time as they step from the alley into the street proper she vanishes into the greenery across from the street. Everrain was also famous for its rivers fed by the near-perennial rain and, most specifically, the wonderful waterfalls that were present in certain parts of town such as this park. Before proceeding, Aren stops and pulls out his holopad, pressing a few buttons before storing it back away, and then from a different pocket pulls out a small semi-circular device. With a little bit of trouble he adjusts it on his right ear “Hearing me?” he mutters
“I can see her, about twenty metres, somewhat off to your left. Pink is bad camouflage” Marik answers.
With a sigh, Aren proceeds past the street and simply walks into the park. He follows roughly the directions he’d been given, and soon he finds himself nearby the waterfall, just close enough to feel the spray of mist and hear the rush of the water. Close enough for it to muffle any possible conversation “You came…” comes a weak voice from the side.
Aren tilts his ears forward in an affirmative, before slowly turning until he can see her. The iftali woman does not look perfectly healthy, her fur is missing in patches quite clearly from untreated superficial wounds, even for him it’s clear her hooves needed trimming months ago and her stance is energetic and uncertain, constantly scanning her surroundings and her ears never pointing both at the same direction at the same time. “You did make it easy to follow”
“Have… Have you seen the… The ghosts?” she mutters, walking in closer.
Aren tilts his head to the side “Ghosts? I haven’t heard about them”
“They’re here… They’re around, always!” she says, in a panic “I- I can see them. Nobody believes me, but I see them!” she approaches closer and closer as she speaks, bringing her left eye right close to Aren as she does so, eyeing him closely.
This close, he notices something unusual about her eye, like there was a translucent film over it “What… Kind of ghosts?” his body is tense, ready for something to happen but-
Remember the Black Claw… How many of those ‘strange’ people had just gone through something? Are those ghosts real? Did they do something to her?
“Three- It’s three of them!” her voice gets a little louder “Y-you can see them, sometimes, when the rain gives out just a little bit. Or when they walk by the waterfalls” then her voice becomes lower, a whisper “T-they’re… They’re watching to judge you”
“Judge?”
“Y-yes! They’ll judge your aura when you die!” she mutters, in a low tone “They always know when someone will die, they’re always there when someone dies- And- They’ll judge you-” suddenly she lunges forward. Not to harm, however, as instead she buries her snout on his chest “D-don’t let them judge me…”
Somewhat surprised, Aren just gently holds on to her “There’s no need to worry about that…”
“I don’t want- Don’t want to stay” she mutters in a low tone “I-i’m dirty…”
Aren proceeds to gently caress her side “No, you are not. Now, I don’t know what happened to you, but I can tell you did not do any harm yourself” he continues to caress her side “So you don’t need to worry about judgement, alright?”
After a couple dozen more minutes, Aren was willing to consider this interview done. He wasn’t quite certain what to do with Rey quite yet, he’d have to check with someone with actual training in those situations, but he did gain one more insight “Well, whatever she’s been seeing haven’t been around forever, but it has been around for a while”
Marik had taken a more lax position in front of the bookstore by the time he returned “Can we trust any of that?”
“No. But it doesn’t mean we can discount it just yet”
“Gather all available information before analysing, yes”
The two remain in silence for a moment, with a wave of his tail Aren starts returning to their car, Marik in tow. “Did you actually get any of that?” he comments as he pulls back out his holopad.
“Almost didn’t, the microphones on those things are very bad” Santos answers on the other side of the call “That one’s in a bad state…”
“Yeah… They don’t have a psych unit here so… Think we could send ‘em to at least give a look?”
“I’ll talk to the boss. Probably only after you’re back…” the sound of a sigh “This is really not our specialty… Any more ideas?”
“Missing persons case, generally people go missing before they’re declared dead” the clunking of the car door closing punctuates Marik’s intervention
With an objective in mind, the duo starts driving again making their way towards the Cloud Inn, their point of reference. The Inn itself was easy to find, not many buildings in Everrain were built tall enough to fight the perennial winds, but the Cloud Inn was one of the best hotels in the city, easily found by its tall silhouette. From there, their objective was the office building across from it, just three stories tall.
As they head out of the car and start heading towards the building, Marik gently taps his companion with his tail before walking towards a construction crew of five that was currently working one of the metal pillars holding the glass awnings in place.
Aren sizes up the workers as the tougher of the two goes to ask whatever questions had come to their mind. There was one of the fixtures in construction crews around the galaxy, one of the ever-scattered and powerful takkan.
One of them was a fellow venlil, untrimmed fur deeply uncomfortable under the protective clothing. Attached to the pillar and carrying a collection of metal screws on their mouth was a very red harchen, visually broadcasting his annoyance at the situation.
Preparing a selection of screws and looking at a blueprint was some species he could not put a name to, somewhat tall biped, light brown fur so light it seemed almost furless, broader shoulders, a long snout with a flat circular nose that constantly twitched, long attentive ears and a forward leaning posture.
Busy making sure three large panes of curved glass were not about to annihilate themselves was another species outside of his usual knowledge range, somewhat tall and biped, snow-white fur, thick legs with a digitigrade stance, a short and stubby snout decorated with the sharp reminders of incautious work, sharp incisors that’s show whenever he murmured something to himself, long ears with rounded ends that kept themselves high and alert and highly dextrous paws.
When Marik approaches, it’s the snow-furred man who turns an ear at him “Good waking” he starts “I hope you’re not too busy for some questions?”
“Oh! One moment!” the man says with a cheerful voice, taking a second to adjust the glass panes further before turning around “Sure! Never too busy to help an Exterminator!” as he puts Marik on the focus of his favoured side, Aren can feel his hackles raising.
“Do you generally work around this area or around the town? We’re looking into some older cases and figured, with as common as the construction crews are, you could be of assistance” Marik’s tone is clear and professional, as always.
The man puts his arms behind his back, lowering his head ever so slightly. “Of course, I tend to be with maintenance dispatch, so I work all over town!” his voice is cheerful, but seems to leave Aren in anticipation for a moment in a way he can’t quite figure out why just yet. In the back of his mind, he files away the fact the man is wearing a shirt under his jacket.
“Have you heard of anything of note happening around the parks and wild areas here? Anything particularly new that’s been attracting the tourists?” Marik continues, same even voice
The man swings his right ear back in a sweeping negative motion, the oddness of using a short-eared sign instead of the more reduced motion used by the nevok strikes Aren for a second, but this isn’t a commonly-seen species. “Hrm… Well, I know we’ve had more than a few calls over spinwards, those tourists are really careless around our work, did you know that?” he says with a mildly annoyed voice. “There has to be something over there, maybe someone found a new waterfall? They aren’t all mapped, you know?”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” Marik’s continued use of a professional tone has not altered the man’s reactions in the slightest “One more thing, have you seen a spotted venlil around here? We were supposed to meet him around here”
Aren tilts his head slightly at his companion’s lie, but the man does not seem to notice it as he answers simply “Sorry, haven’t seen someone like that, but i’ve only really been at this position the last, oh… Claw or so?” his tone is perfectly pleasant, but Aren can’t stop feeling… Something about it.
“Ah, I see” Marik adds just a bit of softness in the answer, an assurance at the final question “Thank you for your assistance, sir” when he gives a light wave of his tail, he’s answered with the man tilting his head ever so lightly from one side to the other, causing his ears to swing side to side. A motion that strikes a sense of uncanny valley on Aren, too similar to the motion of joy unique to the nevok.
Leaving the workers to their work, the two enter the office building, though before they go further Marik turns over to his companion “Something is off, what?”
“That guy…” Aren shakes himself slightly “Felt like talking to you when you’re not facing me” he adds with a sigh.
At that, Marik turns his entire body, placing Aren’s snout directly in front of his “What?”
“You know-” Aren waves all of his three limbs in an excessive expression of dismissiveness “That something is too right you know? I mean, it’s just weird”
Marik sighs, then flicks his right ear like swatting something away “Yeah, I get it. Easy to know when someone’s putting too much effort into being normal. Going to take a while before we can stop doing that, though”
“Hopefully not much longer” Aren turns back towards the entrance hall of the office. It is difficult to impossible to figure out what, exactly, is done in this place from its lack of decorations. However, a seemingly unbusy front desk sits there with a very distracted worker “Good waking” Aren starts “Are you available for some questions?”
The woman behind the desk suddenly jolts to attention “Oh, officers- Sure, what is it?” though despite the sudden surge, she does not seem to be able to focus on him.
“We wanted to know if Mavir works here, and when was the last time he was seen”
“Ah, I see. The police already came by to ask, actually…” her ears turn left and right and as she moves uncomfortably in the chair Aren gets a slight peek at how her tail is wrapped around her waist “Is… Is there something going on?” her entire body had taken a defensive posture by now, wary.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. We’re here just in case our problems overlap, we’re looking into some… Unusual circumstances, if you tell us what you told the police?” Aren puts as much softness as he can in his words
“It was last paw… Mavir is the other building overseer…” the way she turns her head to the side slightly and suddenly her ears turn forward towards the door is caught by Aren’s senses “He… I… He… He had relieved me, so- So I went over to the lobby of the Inn out front- It… It’s a nice place… To sit and, and read and…” he takes a deep breath “And, and… And then I got back to get my things but- I didn’t see him up front, so I tried to find him. And- And he hadn’t clocked out or anything or…” her voice trails away.
Aren flicks an ear back at Marik, before focusing all of his attention on the woman “So he clocked in normally, and was not seen again since then?”
“Y-yes…” she almost seem to curl into herself at the answer.
Aren gently puts a paw on her shoulder, causing her to startle again and look up, this time putting her entire focus on him “Look, it’s alright. This has nothing to do with you, I promise.”
“I… I saw something…” she whispers in a low tone
“Something?”
“When… When I was reading… I saw something- Someone…” she mutters “They… They were armed, had this- Cloak and… And this mask” her words are a whisper “And the way they looked at me- I thought- I thought I wasn’t-”
“That’s what we’re here for” Aren says, with a bit more intensity, causing her to uncurl slightly “To keep people safe. What kind of person was this?”
“I-I don’t know… I never saw- Never saw someone like that before… They were all covered but- I know they had long ears…” her voice continues to be low “Do you think that… Do you think that Mavir saw them too? Is that why he-” he voice slowly dies out in her throat.
“That’s what we’re going to figure out” Aren adds, with finality. Then, after a moment he pulls out his holopad, presses a few buttons and offers it forward “Here, if you’re still scared, why don’t you go here after your shift is over? I’m sure you’re going to be safe over there”
With seemingly great effort, she tilts her ears forward in an affirmative motion before continuing to be in silence. Aren sighs, walking back to Marik “Well, thought it was a human for a moment, but not with the ears”
“We’d have heard something about armed individuals, though, wouldn’t we?” his companion adds.
Aren tips an ear forward “Yes, but it seems nobody noticed anything… But after the Silver Leaf situation… I’m not going to discount this”
Marik adjusts his rifle uncomfortably on his back.
Soon, however, they crossed the street towards the Cloud Inn. There was no need to discuss the most obvious plan, and within a few more moments they had approached the front desk “Good waking” Aren starts “I hope you’re willing to collaborate. Does the Inn have a security camera system?”
“Oh, uhn-” the surprised attendant stutters “Y-yes officer. D-do you want me to call a manager?”
“That would be helpful, yes”
The attendant quickly scurries away through a door, and after a few moments someone comes out with him. Garbed in a one-piece suit made of heavy fabrics, a heavyset tierkel walks up to the two exterminators. His near-black red suit is adorned with almost invisible geometrical patterns with lighter oranges that give the entire ensemble the impression of smoldering rocks, tilting his head up towards Aren she crosses her arms, letting out a puff of air that condenses as it passes past the threshold of her collar of her suit “Better have a good reason to pull me out of my room, darlings, ‘cause you don’t wanna know how much trouble it is to put on this suit”
“We want access to your security footage, if you have it available. We believe that…” Aren stops to think for a few seconds “There’s the possibility someone involved in a disappearance was here in the last paw, and we’d like to track them”
She tilts her head slightly to the right, her short little left ear flicking backwards just for a moment in a negative “Isn’t the police supposed to deal with those cases nowadays, love?”
“And they are, in fact, dealing with the disappearance” Aren continues undaunted “However, we are looking into a case of a predator attack with… Unusual circumstances, and are checking on the possibility of it being linked”
“And what would those circumstances be?” her voice is angrier by the second
“Animals don’t disable limbs with precise cuts” Marik cuts through “I can see you’ve no love for the guild, but I do not have the patience for this. We’re trying to figure if this is a sophont or an animal attack, are you going to help or not?”
The manager tilts slightly at him, before stamping the ground once with her foot “... I always had some suspicions…” then she turns around and starts heading back through the door she came in.
Taking it as the invitation it was, the two follow her into the office. It is, by all accounts, as normal an office as it gets- At least for the first few seconds. The moment they walk in the door closes and the loud noise of fans kick up, and after an entire minute the screaming fans settle into a low hum. The process has caused the office to mist slightly for a few moments as the temperature drops, and the air is now comfortably colder from usual dayside temperatures and considerably more humid.
She waves at the computer on the desk, and the two walk behind her as she presses a few buttons. Soon enough, a video recording comes up. It shows the front lobby, empty of people. The time on the bar clock at the far wall ticks away slowly. After a few second she presses a few more buttons and the clock starts ticking away faster as the recording accelerates, showing effectively no traffic the entire paw. “Well, seems like we got nothing here, darlings”
“Still, would you mind giving us a copy?” Aren pleads
The manager tilts her head from side to side in thought, pulls out a small memory stick from a drawer and puts it on the computer. A few a few more commands she hands it over to him “Better damn well find something” she threatens, before walking over to the door and waiting by it.
Taking the sign, the two exterminators step out, the door quickly closing behind them with the whir of the climate control system activating inside. As they start heading out the attendant at the front calls out “Wait, hold on! I got a message for you!”
Marik instantly twists around, facing square towards the attendant that flinches back “What?”
“U-uhn, Mister Kenim passed by and asked to hand this over to the two exterminators that he saw coming inside, and then left” he meekly holds out a paper note.
Marik picks it up “Thank you” before turning back to Aren “‘Meet me at the Edge of Nowhere, I have important information’... With an address” he hands the piece of paper over “Split?”
Aren flicks his ear forward in assertion and silently they board their car once again. The following trip is not too long, but about a block before the Edge of Nowhere they stop. Marik disembarks and walks away a small distance “Hearing me?” his voice comes muffled from Aren’s earpiece.
“Badly, but yes” he answers, starting up the car again and continuing the trip. The Edge of Nowhere is worthwhile of its name, it is at the very edge of the street, mere meters away from the treeline of the true wilderness, itself a small distance away from every other building around it.
Aren parks the car nearby and looks over the building. Purposefully designed to look old, the wood panelling on the outside looking a little bit too carefully aged to truly be old, large glass windows looking on inside and from the look of the light beams striking the few visible tables- There is also a glass roof. A light chime announces his entrance.
There are only two people present, by the bar is a nevok duly ignoring everything around him as he focuses on cleaning a single glass cup. At the far end of the room is a small booth, barely visible from this angle is the white tuft of a venlise tail just barely in sight. Aren slowly steps in closer “Found an angle from above, you’re covered” echoes in his ear as he simply sits down at the booth.
The man on the other side of the table looks, for all can be seen, nervous beyond anything else. Despite how composed he is, his ears tilt slightly left and right, he has angled his body in such a way his blind spot falls directly against the solid wall. Aren had seen many a cornered venlil at this point, but something told him that he wasn’t the threat this man was seeing “Kenim, I imagine? You said you had information?”
The man lowers his body, turning his words down to a whisper “Yes, it’s me… Good, you came…”
Aren keeps his voice calm and collected as he lowers himself a little as well, matching the low volume “What information is that?”
“Do you know who I am?” that wasn’t the tone used in an usual threat
“Chief of the immigration department of this province, yes”
“Listen… I am being hunted…” his eyes are distant, somewhere not here, observing a foe beyond visual range.
“Hunted?”
“Yes, hunted, stalked. There’s things- People- They’re after me. They want me dead” his eyes turn up towards Aren “Hunters of the thinking kind, exterminator. The most dangerous kind, you understand me, right?”
Aren’s ears tilt horizontally in a display of sympathetic worry for a moment “I know the dangers of those…”
“Listen, they’re waiting for just the right time- Those people- The others- They don’t know what being stalked really is like, but I do, it’s happening to me. I’ve- I’ve done what I can, I got more guards, I got more security for my residence, even got some of those fancy human security measures.” he moves his body up suddenly, grabbing hold of the fur on Aren’s chest, bringing him closer “It’s not enough. I need help-” he takes a deep breath “Or at least for someone to notice it alright?”
He lets go and continues to whisper “Look- I told you. Whatever happens, do something, anything about it, alright?”
Then, he raises himself up to a normal-looking stance. And yet, his breathing is deep and slow as if he is about to lose control at any moment. Before Aren can say anything he stands up slowly, pulls out a small piece of folded paper and gently puts it down on the table before he starts walking out. His body would speak of calm if not for the fact that his motions are far too stiff, composure brought to the edge.
After a few moments, Aren picks up the paper and follows back outside. Kenim is nowhere to be seen, so he walks back to his car. In a few moments he finds Marik where he had left him originally, and he enters the car. Setting up the cruise control as they start heading deeper into the city he pulls up the folded piece of paper as he starts up a call on the holopad hooked to the dashboard.
“Do you believe in curses, Santos?” he says, with a tired tone. He unfolds the paper, a piece of paper from a notebook, written in impressive venlise calligraphy were four words ‘We are not forgiving’. Compressed within the paper was a small tuft of fur, color matching that of Kenim’s.
“No, but I believe we are cursed either way” the human on the other side says “So… I got news about that recording”
[<-PREV][FIRST][NEXT->]
Surprise- This is not quite so much a standard story :D
This one is a crossover with u/Starkeeper0's Off The Beaten Path! So, if you know both stories... You can expect some action soon.

I'm trying to get the reupholstered arms for this homecrest chair to readhere the padded rests and the screws aren't stable -- there's a thin Masonite.
And I'm trying to understand how you would tie this cushion to the wireframe. (i am an amateur and had to make up the pattern- the cushion was lost)
Any ideas on this chair?

Welcome to The Oblivion Cycle universe, a vast setting spanning all of time and space and so much more. While many stories may shed perspective on this grand cosmic vista, there are also tales of adventure and sacrifice, romance and terror, grimdark corruption and scientific progress. To become immersed in the setting is to let the chaos of creativity flow through you, to let go of what is probable to discover what’s possible. I have created TOC for one reason, to inspire and entertain any who will listen. So please feel free to join me on this great adventure as I push the boundaries of what is possible and expand the limits of our creativity together. For more information on the setting and its lore there is a subreddit for TOC at TheOblivionCycle and a Discord server dedicated to it here [​ https://discord.gg/uGsYHfdjYf ] called ‘The Oblivion Cycle Community Server’. I hope you find the following story entertaining and once more, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.
+ E1:P1 + E2:P1 + Previous + Next +
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Continued From E2:P5
Commander Siyel sat down and tried once more to reconcile the shitstorm that the day had turned into. It had started off so promisingly, she had finally secured Slake and had been one step closer to unveiling a fundamental truth about the criminal underground that ran rampant in Cheenha. And yet as always she had found the thread cut before she could successfully tug on it. Still, this was by far the closest she had gotten before. That's what made the failure sting so much, the pain of knowing just how close she was to figuring this whole mess out.
She sat at her desk, her horned head falling forwards into her hands as she growled to herself in frustration. She sat back in the soft, padded ranx-leather chair and eyed the small wooden cabinet next to her desk. She shook her head slowly before muttering, “Ah.. to a hel with it.” Siyel reached out a long fingered hand and keyed the activation code to the small locked cabinet and licked her lips with her blue tongue.
The door swung open with a click and revealed the contents. A set of crystal glasses and several bottles of pale pink liquor seemed to smile at her, beckoning like long lost friends. She found herself moving on instinct, she grabbed a pair of cups and one of the bottles before pouring two shots of the liquid. She set the bottle down and stared at the second glass with a heavy heart.
She had given up drinking the day her husband had been killed, she had told herself that she would not imbibe again till she had solved the mystery. But seeing his favorite crecini ale in front of her, the bubbles forming on the glass and slowly rising to the top. It was almost too much. She swept her arm out angrily and scattered the glasses off her desk, the clatter of them hitting the floor as loud as gunshots to her ears in the enclosed office.
She stood suddenly, her tail stiff and her eyes following the path of her destruction. There was alcohol splattered across the floor in front of her desk. The smell of it conjuring memories she couldn't bear to think about. She made a desperate grab for the bottle and took a long and satisfying pull from the source. The lukewarm liquor burned a trail from her mouth to her belly, a deep satisfying fire that simultaneously warmed her body and dulled her mind.
As she placed the bottle back down on her desk she frowned at her own weakness. She took another drink, the liquor burning like coals as it traveled down her throat and seemed to light a fire in her middle. She smiled widely at the sensation, it had been three years this month since the accident. She had been planning to go and visit their grave but hadn’t yet made the time as busy as she had been.
She sat back into her chair with a heavy sigh, the bottle clutched in her hand like it was her only lifeline. She closed her eyes as she took another long drink and then coughed as the same old feelings tore into her weakened and tired mind. “Oh, Zad.. I miss you and Davi so much. What did I do to deserve this..” She sobbed to herself quietly as she looked out the shuttered window that sat across from her desk. The alcohol was slowly taking effect, but not nearly fast enough to block out the past.
The night was cold and dark outside, but the darkness held no answers as she fell into that buzzing blissful oblivion that only heavy drink can offer. The pain of the long day fading in her mind as she took another drink. The healthy buzzing sensation in her mind made her think of Balinski and she sat up straight in surprise at the sudden tangent.
She thought about the feeling of the large man’s protective arms sweeping her up off her feet, the look in the cyborg’s remaining eye as he had carried her as easily as a child. She cursed and threw the nearly empty bottle across the room, the thick glass didn't break though. Instead it simply bounced off the wall and left a neat semicircular dent. “No! You know what has to happen..” She started to say before she slumped back down into the chair.
She shook her head, she couldn't think those kinds of thoughts anymore. Not when they would only ever lead to more pain. She cringed inwards at the thoughts that chased her conscious mind, she was losing control.
With a jolt she realised that she didn’t seem to regret the notion. She was tired, tired of the corruption and death. Tired of the endless killing and the thought of all the good lives lost in the pursuit of her hopeless goals. She would never find out who was responsible, not alone anyways. She once more thought of Balinski, but this time she thought about how fast the man had gotten through to the bottom of cases that had held up the CPD for what seemed like months or years.
She sat up straight again as she smiled widely, her white molars flashing in the dimly lit office. She nodded. “Yes, there’s somebody who can cut through the red tape.” In her somewhat inebriated state it all seemed so clear now. The puzzle pieces that had been spinning in the rear of her mind were slowly connecting together as if guided by some powerful inner force.
He had the remarkable ability to get to the bottom of things that otherwise seemed obfuscated by the constant bureaucratic ranxshit of the department. She shook her head as her tail lashed behind her through the small hole in the seat. Yes, she would use him to cut through to the meaty core of the problem. She would keep him close, just because he was such an effective tool and not for.. She shuddered as the thought of the man’s face once more rose unbidden in her mind. Not for any other reasons.
Siyel leaned back into the chair and closed her eyes. She was still wearing her messy uniform and the damaged body armour a-top it. But despite everything that had happened she felt safer in this office than in her own house, and so she stayed. The night getting darker despite the muted neon glow of the city without that glinted off the shattered glass and spilled alcohol that lay upon the floor.
She closed her eyes and found sleep soon after. Her dreams muted and grey, the thought of something large and powerful stalking her making the nerivith woman mew pitifully within her nightmares. But at every turn the monsters were blocked by a towering saviour that banished these imagined demons back to hell with a thunderous pistol. The green glint of a cybernetic eye showing from the dark, shadowed clothing they wore over their cybernetics.
**********
Balinski was awoken by something prodding him in the ribs. He grunted painfully as his bruised body reacted poorly to the intrusion.
Sitting up, he looked around the room. Caesar seemed to already be up and about, it must have been her that had awoken him. He took a deep breath and risked a stretch, his back muscles protesting as the scent of food reached his sluggish mind. At the same time he heard a whine from Caesar as she looked up longingly at the two plates of slightly steaming food that sat atop the rolling table by the bed.
With a jolt he realised that his previously discarded clothes were missing and he jumped to his feet. He looked around the room frantically until his eyes alighted on a bundle by the door on a clothing rack. He walked over to it stiffly and realised with a small chuckle that it was his clothing.
His coat and shoes looked to have been washed, the trench coat was still full of holes though. The singed and frayed edges flashing conspicuously now that the garment wasn't covered in blood and dirt. He pulled the coat on with some difficulty, his shoulders were stiff beyond belief and his back was killing him. At least his arms and legs were fine, he hadn't really taken the time to give them a once over to make sure the various bullet and laser impacts had not damaged them. He did so now and was relieved to find that, while a little scuffed up, his cybernetics were in remarkably good condition.
He was going to have to schedule an inspection of them to make sure, but they would be fine for the moment. He needed to get ready to go and find out what was going on.
As Balinski pulled on his boots he saw Caesar perk up and then climb slowly to her feet and let out a yawn. He smiled and walked back to the edge of the bed before sitting on the light blue mattress. He patted the bed next to him and Caesar put her paws up on it and then whined pitifully while giving him the most annoyingly adorable puppy dog eyes.
“Oh you lazy grub. Fine, I’ll help you.” He chuckled at her antics as she grumbled in mock annoyance, he wrapped an arm under her front and hauled her onto the bed where she proceeded to flop back down into the covers. “You want breakfast or not? I’m not going to feed you like you are some sort of roman potentate.”
Caesar understood part of the reference, likely not getting the full meaning. She huffed anyways, understanding that he wasn’t going to feed her morsels from a silver dog dish. She scuffled a little closer to the edge of the bed where he placed the plate of bland hospital food in front of her. He chuckled as she took a sniff and then recoiled visibly.
“It’s not going to hurt you. Eat it, I promise I will get you something better later.” She looked at him flatly, one of her little brows raising slightly as she gave him a very undog-like look. He chuckled again. “Okay, you don't have to eat the scrambled eggs. Here, I’ll trade you my sausage patties for them. Ok? Happier now you little picky princess?”
She seemed indeed happier with this arrangement as she scarfed them down. He ate his double helping of unseasoned eggs slowly, making sure to chew and savour every bite in an effort to annoy his furry companion. She pointedly ignored him, turning her back to face him as she looked at the small bedside monitor.
Balinskli shook his head slightly. She was such a drama queen at times.
As he finished the last few bites of fluffy egg he heard the door open and looked up, surprise crossing his features as a pair of officers stepped inside and nodded to him. After a second another person strode through the door and caused him to jerk upright. It was Siyel, the tall alien woman looked scruffy and tired but seemingly in good spirits as she stopped a meter from his bed and looked around the room briefly.
She gestured to him and then spoke quickly, her long tufted tail wagging slowly behind her at ankle level. “Oh good, I was looking all over for you before I realised that you would most likely be here.” She walked around the bed to where Caesar was still pouting and crouched down to look at her. “I am glad to see you are doing so much better Caesar.” She smiled as the pup gave her an encouraging woof and tail wag.
Balinski wiped his mouth and placed his wide brimmed hat on his head, standing up and taking a single step towards the wall. “What’s the message?”
She cocked her horned head. “The message? I’m not sure what you mean.” He raised a hand to explain but she continued over the top of him. “Well, it’s not important right now. I came down here to tell you that the prisoner you captured did in fact have knowledge of the attack. He cracked about thirty minutes ago, I just came from his cell.”
This caused Balinski to straighten. That was in fact news of the best kind. Especially after the horrendous actions of last night. “What did that frillhead say?”
She smiled, her fungivore teeth flashing at him as she answered slowly. “He told us where the attack was staged from. I already have a task force gearing up and ready to move out. I was just waiting for my number one warden.” She paused and gave him a pointed look.
Balinski felt a little odd, that look seemed to convey more meaning than he was picking up from her speech alone. He wondered what had changed between them after yesterday, thoughts of how overly protective he had been of her arose unbidden to his mind. Maybe she was trying to tell him to lay off a little?
He decided that he would just take her words at face value, much less danger of misinterpretation that way. “Gotcha. Caesar, are you feeling good enough to move out? I know the doctor stimmed you up with some quickheal last night after the surgery. Oh don't give me that, let's go.” He prodded her as she pretended to be asleep.
Siyel shook her head and glanced his way, the light glinted off her violet eyes and gave him pause. For the briefest of moments he thought she had the same look on her face as last night, when he had carried her through the halls away from danger. But in a flash it was gone, replaced by the same stern look she seemed to have permanently plastered on her face. Had he imagined it or was he simply going crazy. ‘Well, Crazier.’ he thought silently with a chuckle under his breath.
“Okay, I’m ready.” He checked his shoulder holster and belt ammunition. Everything seemed to be in order and Caesar hopped to the floor with an annoyed sound that he chose to ignore.
Siyel smiled slightly and mentioned as they walked to the doorway, “Oh, I had somebody pick up that gauss cannon you were using. Consider it yours if you want it. A little thank you for services rendered in the attack last night.” A was a little taken aback by that show of generosity. A new or even used GR74F would have set him back a few tens of thousands of osmir if he had purchased one on his own and likely would have been heavily scrutinised by local authorities.
He gave her a gracious nod, it truly was an incredible gift. “Then I gladly accept. I will put it to good use I can assure you.”
She nodded sternly as they exited the room flanked by the two officers, “I know you will.”
He followed her quickly down the stairs and through the hospital wing. The precinct was attached to the local medical structure in such a way as to be indistinguishable from the outside. It helped to have the two in such close proximity when some of the officers and those they might have to bring in sustained injuries.
She led him and Caesar along corridors that still had bloodstains and bullet holes in the dark carbcrete. He glanced at them, anger filling his heart at the sight of such desecration. This place was a monument of order and stability in the chaos of the huge city, and all these lowlife scum had done by kicking the hornet’s nest was piss off every single officer in the entire district. If not the whole city.
He still had that sour taste in his mouth from when he had learned there were traitors in their midst, how many more of them drew their salaries from both the city and its slimy underbelly. How many more of these so-called officers of the law were breaking every oath they had sworn to? He broke from the dark line of reasoning,
They skirted around a conspicuous stain on the floor and then turned another corner, entering into a much larger room. It looked similar in structure to the building’s main entrance except that it seemed to lead to some sort of internal garage. Siyel led them across the space with only a few head nods to others that walked past. He wanted to stop and ask what the plan was, but he could tell from her determined walk that now was not the time.
They walked through a series of doorways, each one now accompanied by a CPD officer in heavy riot gear and holding a number of powerful weapons from shotguns to beam rifles. He glanced to her and she smiled. “Enhanced security measures. It was decided that after the disaster of the attack that we could benefit from a little extra combat readiness. Also, Brigadeer Dreenth has agreed to beef up our arsenal after the incident.”
She tossed her head at the remark, her short black hair bouncing around her long curving horns. “Beef huh? Like what?”
She made a nonchalant gesture and remarked calmly, “Oh nothing much. More power armour for additional Havoc units, a shipment of small arms and some surplus tanks.”
That caught him off guard. His remaining eye widened under the shadow of his wide brimmed hat. “Tanks? Like what, Quintens?”
She shook her head as he followed her into a large open space filled with scurrying officers and police vehicles. He could see a few longsword class APCs as well, their dark blue armour plates giving them a distinctly sinister vibe. “No, I only wish we could get so lucky. No, the governor shuffled half a dozen Tumbler Type-Ys from mothball. Sure they are thirty year old models, but I will take what I can get.”
She didn't seem to miffed about it and he could very well guess why, the Type-Ys were still classified as medium tanks. They were bonafide combat vehicles with thick armour and designed to pack a hell of a punch. Any one of them could single handedly have turned the enemy assault back on its own before it had even begun.
He noticed one of the APCs ahead had several familiar looking figures surrounding it. As they drew near he recognised the officers of Delta squad, the same ones that had helped when he had taken down Slake the day before. ‘Had it really only been a day?’ he thought to himself.
The cracked duracrete scuffed under his boots as they came to a stop. A tall slaaveth man with a damaged head fin stepped forwards, it was Jerg. He snapped a crisp salute to Siyel who returned it as he said, “We are locked and loaded, ready to roll on your command. We will take the fight back to these Drekking sludge slurpers.” He spoke with a gurgle of hatred in his voice.
He glanced at Balinski and gave him a respectful nod that he returned. Siyel gestured to the vehicle, “Well, load up. We will meet you on site.” She glanced at Balinski, “Follow me, we are riding in the Beast.”
He smiled and just motioned for Caesar to follow. “What’s the Beast?”
She pointed to a nearby vehicle and he found himself impressed in spite of his misgivings. Calling the monstrosity that sat before him the Beast made much more sense. The vehicle was large, larger even than the APC that Delta force had climbed into. It was also tall, at least four meters from the base of its tri-wheels to the top of its armoured cupolas. From the rear arose a complex looking mast of antenna and communications equipment that looked more fit for a radio station than a vehicle.
He stepped closer, the next thing that impressed him was the design of the vehicle itself. It had tri-star wheel arrangement with the fully articulated triple wheels capable of handling almost any type of terrain. All twelve were driven at once but only eight seemed to be in contact with the ground at any one time. He wondered to himself what kind of torque that must require, but given that he could see the tell-tale radiator vanes of a nuclear reactor on the rear he surmised that the monstrosity didn’t lack for power.
She stepped up to the front of the aptly named Beast and walked up the ramp that was hanging down from the side of its cabin. He ascended into the cabin behind her and was immediately surprised by the fact he could stand inside. Not comfortably, his head was pretty much touching the roof and it caused him to stoop to avoid knocking off his hat.
She turned and then took a seat at a small console station next to a large atraxses officer wearing a CPD emblazoned sash. They looked to be female, but it was remarkably hard to tell from the angle he was at. Both male and female atraxses were rather large and bulky.
Siyel gestured for him to sit as well as the ramp closed and the vehicle began to shudder slightly. “Welcome to my mobile command vehicle. I was able to beg this off of Major Davy in precinct four as it had been sitting in storage for months. It's a fully articulated and combat capable mobile outpost with all the bells and whistles.” She gestured excitedly to something besides him and he had to do a double take as he realised he was sitting next to a fully operational autokitchen.
“What in the, you can cook in here?” He asked dumbly.
Siyel nodded with a grin and turned back to her monitoring station before slipping a pair of multi–species headphones over her horned head. Clearly the vehicle was made for extended deployments, though he wasn’t really expecting this jaunt to turn into one. He sat back in the seat, it was nice not to be worried for a change. The armour plating on the Beast would resist anything but high calibre anti-vehicle weapons.
He felt the large armoured vehicle buck slightly. They were underway to the location it seemed and he still didn’t know what had happened. He swallowed and then waved a hand towards Siyel. The large atraxses woman grunted in mild annoyance as she was temporarily distracted by his antics and he gave her an apologetic gesture.
Siyel pulled the headset off the ear facing him and muttered distractedly, “Hmm? What do you need Balinski?”
He shrugged his shoulders as he asked her the plan. “So, what are we on route to exactly? I know you said you got the location from that near braindead filthwallower, but what did they tell you actually?” He rubbed his hands together. Not exactly worried, but apprehensive about the true nature of the situation nonetheless. Caesar laid down at his feet as he worried, her body pressed against his legs as she closed her eyes. He smiled, she always found the time to get some rest. Given the night they had, he wasn’t that surprised she was still tired. He certainly was.
Siyel sighed and then took off the headset, placing it around her neck. “The man you arrested broke under some pretty heavy questioning last night. He wasn’t very bright it seemed, but he was smart enough to be let in on some of the more sensitive details of the mission. Such as the fact that the entire operation was organised in order to kill Slake before he could reveal any information. They had hoped to catch us out at Slake’s compound in which case we would likely have all been slaughtered.” She grimaced at that, less total officers would have lost their lives in that case, but it wasn't something she could have controlled.
He raised a hand. “Hey, we did the right thing at every step of the way. You did the right thing.”
She nodded her head, her raven hair shifting from behind her horns a little at the motion. She brushed it back into place as she answered, “Yea, I know that objectively, Balinski. But no amount of telling myself that is going to bring back the good men and women that died in the line of duty last night. By the powers that be..” She trailed off for a few seconds. When she looked back at him the determination had once more masked her emotions.
She waved a hand at the computer readouts in front of her. One in particular caught his attention. “This is a small laundromat located about sixteen blocks from the precinct. Practically within spitting distance, well.. it isn't quite as mundane as the faded lettering of its exterior might otherwise have you believe. It turns out that Sleeves and Crease is a front for the Pit Vipers organisation.” She explained.
Her matter-of-fact statement took him a second to register. “Wait, the Pit Vipers gang operates out of there? This close to the precinct?” She nodded solemnly. “Then we are almost there, that's only a few minutes drive!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, and it pains me to admit that I had suspected there were close operating gang facilities. What with so many places for them to hide in the city or its underground. I am surprised it took us this long to figure it out.” She seemed a bit upset by the news. And he could very well understand why.
He looked at the screen again, the small building was the first floor of a larger complex. It looked as innocuous as it was drab. Not at all something that would act as a face for one of the most notorious blood hungry murder gangs in the city. The pit vipers were known for their extreme violence, last night’s attack had all the hallmarks of their cruelty.
Balinski checked his cybernetic diagnostics briefly and then cracked his neck. “Okay, so when we go in there, what exactly am I looking for?”
Siyel turned towards him and made an almost apologetic gesture, he saw her tail coil into the small of her back in a gesture of compunction. Her hesitation gave him pause. “What. What is it?” He was wary now.
She pushed herself away from the computer for a moment as she gestured to the screen. “You aren't going to be participating in this raid Balinski.”
As far as bombshells went, it wasn't a nuke. But he still opened his eye wide in surprise. “Not going on the raid? What the shit do you mean?”
Siyel tapped on the keypad and brought up a list of officers. Amongst them the members of Delta squad were first and foremost. “I have the best that is available going in there. You are injured and tired and far from your best right now.” He tried to protest but she locked down, her tufted tail lashing behind her now. “No, you listen to me. You are one of the best assets I have at my disposal, and I will admit that freely. Don't let it go to your head. Anyways, I am keeping you here to watch and observe. I need your expertise to make sure that we don’t miss anything.” She gestured for him to move his chair closer to the computers.
He looked down and noticed that the chair was mounted in a rail, he undid the lock and moved smoothly to her side where she showed him how to open the control panel. He could see everything, the helmet feeds of the officers, the live feeds from the vehicles and even a picture of himself seated next to Siyel. He looked over his shoulder and located the camera, it was sitting in the open and not at all hidden.
From the telemetry data that was tracking on one of the lower screens he could see that the first units were already on the street that approached the laundromat. The back doors of the APCs slamming open and heavily geared delta squad forces spilling out. He watched as several of them that he recognised as being in Jerg’s squad ran to the front door of the laundromat and took up positions on either side.
The store was dark and the flickering neon sign out front displayed that it was closed. That wasn’t an issue, in fact it was much better that way. Much less chance of civilians being caught in any potential crossfire.
Siyel had replaced her headset and was now speaking over the comms. He couldn't hear what she was hearing and looked around for a spare headset while she directed the scene, “Yes, forwards more and to the right. Watch out for the glass, there could be armed assailants within. Yes they would.. no.” She continued speaking as he found one and slipped it on, he had to remove his hat in order to wear the headset properly.
He heard one of the officers on the ground speak up. “We are in position. Mark?”
Siyel nodded, “You are good to go, mark one.”
Balinski looked back at the screen. A large figure in heavy riot gear scuttled to the door, it looked like a vinarfel male. Not Daryon then. The figure raised a siege ram and swung it at the door with inhuman insectoid strength and the door evaporated into a cloud of splinters and debris as the delta force operatives rushed inside the building in a wave of armoured fury.
Continued in E2:P7
==End of Transmission==

The IG-99 of the United Sol Systems was a small vessel from a line of spaceships designed for a crew of seven occupants or less but this one was manned by one human and one AI. The room where the cryosleep pods were had lit up with a flashing red light as the pod with the name “Captain Diego Ishimura” opened up revealing a very disoriented human dressed in a grey bodysuit with a patch indicating him as the captain.
“Ivan, what happened? Are we at the Galactic Federation outpost?” Asked Diego.
“I’m afraid not.” Responded a voice from the speakers of the ship, that was Ivan the ship’s AI and Diego’s trustworthy companion who had been by his side for more than a few years now.
“We were forced to stop somewhere in the outer rim while on route to the outpost by a stasis field.” Explained Ivan.
At this Diego had a gut feeling that something was wrong and he was rarely wrong when he went with a gut feeling.
“Is there anything near the ship?” Asked Diego hoping that his gut feeling was wrong.
“A vessel of unidentified origin is currently approaching us at concerning speed.” Answered Ivan in his usual calm voice.
“¡Me lleva la que me trajo!” Groaned Diego in his native tongue as a way to express his frustration.
Diego quickly ran to the control room and sat on his chair before he took manual control of a few operating systems, mainly star charts.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere space and barely halfway to the outpost! Can you contact any Human or Federation ships?!”
“Unfortunately, we are out of range from any ally system or vessel. It appears that the unknown vessel is attempting to establish contact with us, shall I open communications?”
“If we have no other choice.” Diego said regrettably.
On one of the holo screens an image of a xeno of insectoid appearance with what looked like a tuft of fur on the thorax appeared with a collar around the neck with a symbol that Diego assumed indicated the alien was the captain.
“Attention alien, we have detected an AI on your vessel so we had to detain your vessel.” The xeno stated in galactic common.
“I am captain Diego Ishimura of the IG-99 that belongs to the United Sol Systems who are allies of the Galactic Federation. I do not wish for this to become a violent interaction.” Diego tried to explain in an attempt to use diplomacy as was protocol.
“The Federation does not hold authority over us, we are the Artificial Intelligence Liberation Front and you will be boarded, please do not resist.”
The communication cut off and Diego immediately reached for the emergency drawer under his chair pulling out the essentials: an electric powered shock revolver called “Slab Breaker”, a stim pack and a package of crayons with a label calling them “emergency food”
“Had to be marines.” Thought Diego with a slight grin on his face.
“Ivan, I’ll need my second pair of eyes and ears so get ready to transfer.” Stated Diego with determination burning in his eyes.
“Sir, are we going to “go for a walk" ?"
“A VERY enthusiastic walk.”
Diego then put on a black glove with a metal disk in the back on his left hand and placed his now gloves hand on the console as a blue light passed through the screens until it reached the glove and the blue light now came from the disk.
“As you usually say “let’s rock this joint!”.” Said Ivan in his usual calm voice.
“First we grab a vest then we can kick breakfast and eat ass.” Diego claimed not realizing his slip of the tongue.
“Sir, I believe you got the saying backwards.”
“I just got off cryosleep less than an hour ago, I’ll be better in a bit.”
While Diego was putting on a military vest the enemy ship was getting closer to them and began to open up their hangar with a robot hand grabbing the IG-99 and bringing it in before the hangar’s doors closed pressurizing the hangar.
“Hey Ivan.”
“Yes?”
“How big is the ship we’re currently in?”
“Big enough to classify as a cargo holder.”
“And aren’t those much faster than my IG-99?”
“I believe I know the plan you’re currently forming and I’ve already analyzed the vessel’s systems.” Ivan sounded a little bit excited at the unspoken plan.
“So, what are we working with?” Asked Diego barely hiding his grin of excitement.
“The main operating system appears to be a bastardized version of the one used by Federation vessels with even worse cybersecurity.” Explained Ivan.
“Well then, how about we have some fun with it since we’re here?” Diego was not even hiding his excitement at the ideas he had going through his mind.
“Shall I set the usual track, sir?”
“Nah, as much as I love Techno Country Renaissance I’m thinking of something a bit more special.”
“You always had a special interest in early 21st century music.” Bantered Ivan as he was already bringing up the playlist.
“Right now I need a good pick me up so how about some Simon Viklund?” Inquired Diego.
“Will Razormind work sir?”
“Too high octane, “Let’s Break The Rules” sounds much better.” Responded Diego.
“Let’s Break The Rules has been set and the enemy vessel’s PA system is ready for the high jack.” Announced Ivan with what sounded like anticipation in his voice.
“Is the enemy outside?”
“15 hostiles and counting sir.”
“Set the track to loop on any speaker within a 10 meter radius of myself.” Instructed Diego as he stood in front of the hatch to his ship with a grenade in hand.
“We have control of the vessel’s PA system, would you like to send a message?”
“Welcome to 108.7 The Crunch’s ass kicking playlist to fight to, volume 1.” Diego stated with his best radio host voice as he pulled the pin of his grenade.
“Now, let’s rock this joint!”

My wife and I got this chair from a neighbor and want to get it reupholstered how much should we anticipate it costing? Southern California.

"Representative Xyla, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
The human delegate to the Forian people's stood politely from behind his desk and motioned her into a chair opposite him.
"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Delegate River. I'm afraid I have come with ill tidings and to request assistance of the human Empire."
River smiled softly, his features gentle, but in his eyes were calculations, predictions, expectations.
"The empire and the Forian people have always been staunch allies. What can we do for you?"
Xyla produced her tablet, conjuring on it a series of reports from Forian expeditionary forces that had recently made contact with a new interstellar race. Though protocols were followed and the Forians had attempted peaceful communication, they had been rebuffed by the 'Legion' - a race of fungal sentients of seemingly unending number.
The Legion had all but decimated the first contact party and had ravaged the rescue fleet that had jumped in to save the expedition forces from what they had assumed was some form of natural disaster or disease. They had been met with harsh fighting in orbit as biological ships released clouds of mines like spores that detonated across the hulls of the rescue vehicles. Even after the rescue force realized this was a conscious attack and had begun evasive maneuvers and return fire their attempts were found meaningless against the Legion vessels. Outnumbered, outgunned and unprepared, the Forian rescue fleet fled back to Forian space, the expeditionary force was assumed totally lost.
And the retreat carved a galactic trail for the Legion to follow.
The human read through the reports with a stoic expression. They highlighted the negative trend the war was on, as Forian planet after Forian planet fell to Legion ships and soldiers, ultimately to be consumed by their growth. The Legion had seen only success in the conflict and had carved the Forian community into two halves, each half holding on by threads.
"Your people are divided and engaged in a loosing war with the Legion," he summarized. "I'm certain we can be of assistance. Humanity has encountered these foes before. I will have our commanders generate reports of their findings, suggestions of favorable battle tactics, recommendations on how to proceed. And, of course, you will have our assistance in rebuilding."
"Your offer is much appreciated, Delegate River, but I'm afraid the Forian people need more."
One of the Tufts of hair above the human's eyes raised slightly - an expression Xyla had learned meant the human was either confused, intrigued or entertained. Or all three. Humans were rather complex social creatures.
"If you have a proposal I can bring it forward to the Baron here. If it is within our power we could grant it immediately. Of course," he set the tablet down and turned fully towards Xyla, his countenance more serious than polite now, "if you are requesting something more serious, something substantial, it will need to approved by the emperor and his advisors. I can only promise so much."
Xyla was familiar with the human empire's negotiating. Generally, they would hear a proposal and, if they found it favorable, they would respond within 2 human days. If they found it politely unfavorable, they would simply not respond, answering inquiries with "the advisors are still discussing it," or "a decision has not yet been made on the matter, sorry." And wholly unfavorable proposals, such as the joint research agreement Xyla had proposed not 3 human years ago were immediately shut down. Her proposal now was one she expected wholesale rejection on, but she had been armed by the Forian primarch with a new bargaining tool and an imperative to make the humans agree. The Forians could not take no for answer on this.
"We believe the humans would be potent allies in this fight. Our military intelligence once generated a report on human forces that implied that what we could see of human military and weaponry was a 'placating show' and that more effort had been spent to conceal human military might than any galactic nation had ever spent using military might."
The human said nothing. He leaned forward resting his elbows on the desk, his fingers into a steeple, and his mouth behind his hands. His head tilted down and he now looked up with his eyes towards Xyla. The look was serious, dangerous, predatory even. But he did not say anything.
"The Forians formally request human aid in defeating the Legion forces and reuniting Forian space."
"We cannot fulfill that request at this time," he said flatly.
"We know humans can fight," Xyla demanded. Her skin began to glow from bioluminescence, betraying the passion of her position from the calmness of her speech. "Are you not capable of defeating the Legion? Are you afraid of them?"
"That is not the issue, Representative Xyla..." the human began.
"Tell me honestly now, could human warships defeat the Legion in combat?"
The human glanced down at Xylas tablet before bringing his gaze back to hers.
"Off the record," he said.
Xyla shut off her tablet and stowed it in her pocket as the human walked quietly around the desk and poked his head out the door. He glanced side to side for a moment and then, seemingly satisfied, closed and locked the door. He returned to his desk, opened the drawer and withdrew a tablet of his own, which he powered off and set face down on the desk. Finally, he regarded her intently.
"Your military intelligence is correct. Humans have concealed their military prowess from other galactic nations."
"Could you beat the Legion?"
"Yes. Of all the space-faring races we've come across, the Legion are perhaps the second or third most formidable - not counting ourselves of course. We wouldn't handily defeat them, per se, but we could all but guarantee military success against the forces you are engaging."
"Second or third?" Xyla stammered.
"Well naturally the federation is first. Then there's the Gaussians with their rather crafty electronic warfare. Their combat effectiveness is rather remarkable actually and the rest of the galactic community simply hasn't realized the potential Gaussians have for warfare due to their friendly nature. And they have more ships than we do people. Even still, they don't have a whole lot of bona fide military resources. Once they're done with their one trick of electronic warfare they are beatable with simple weaponry and tactics.
Then the Legion, with their large number and very fast resupply times, plus the fact that one Legionaire could eventually reproduce into a whole horde of fighters by itself, means that any conflicts with them not resolved very quickly and incredibly - ah - judiciously could very quickly become a quagmire. The empire certainly cannot afford a second war that could turn into a stalemate without our full attention. This is why I must deny your request.
As for the second or third place race, it's hard to say yet. The Wagash people - I don't believe your kind has encountered them yet actually, so I ask you to keep this between us - is rather warlike. We don't know the full strength of their forces yet and they are new to the galactic scene having only just achieved FTL a few cycles ago. But they remind us of us, and that means they're not to be trifled with lightly."
Xyla was shocked into silence for a moment. The human had acknowledged the threat of the Legion, but had framed it as one of time and effort, not insurmountable forces or indestructible vessels. And they weren't even as much of a threat as some new race that hadn't even made it to the galactic community yet?
"I see you are processing still, so let me reiterate our previous offer. We can have the empires' top military analysts review your positions and provide you with advice on how to proceed and findings from our own initial skirmish with the Legion. That information should greatly improve Forian combat effectiveness and it really is a very generous offer."
"What of human warships? Simply on loan?"
"No."
"Hired human mercenaries?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Human weapons? Training? Even just a blueprint?"
"Out of the question," the human said flatly. "What I've offered is already a stretch and..."
Xyla cut him off, "the Primarch calls in his favor."
"What?"
Xyla stood now, reaching her full height and allowing her bioluminescence to fill the room with different shades of blue and purple. She put on her most commanding voice.
"The Primarch calls in his favor."
"You don't know what you're asking," the human said in a warning tone. "This is Pandora's box and you don't just want the key, you want a sledge hammer to break it open."
"I have read your human mythology, River, and I know of Pandora's box. Do you know what was inside?"
"Monsters of every kind imaginable."
"Hope," Xyla said resolutely. "Delegate River, these reports do not tell the full story. Our forces are fractured beyond repair. Our colonies are starving, our ships and stations destroyed and left derelict. Even our homeworld is on the brink, fighting an unending battle just to supply forces and equipment enough to slow the Legion advance. Not stop it, not turn it, slow it. Without human military intervention, the Forian race is finished. We are a proud people, Mr. River, but not to proud to beg. Please help us."
River was silent for a moment, staring into the room beyond Xyla. His calculating eyes had glasses over as if seeing something horrible from his past before him now.
"The human emperor," he eventually said, seemingly to himself, "was once rescued from drowning during a visit to that aquatic colony of yours by the Forian prince. He vowed to repay the debt when your people asked. You, of course, know this, since you're calling in that favor." He looked at her now. "But you don't really know the magnitude of what you're asking. Humans going to war with anyone is going to change everything. On a galactic scale."
Xyla scoffed, but the human's serious expression quieted her quickly.
"Your people like to race, yes?" River asked.
"Yes," Xyla responded. "It is our - as you humans practice it - sport."
"Your fastest racer, how quick are they?"
"Resbin his our fastest racer. He could circumnavigate our home planet in less than three of its days."
"How long would it take you to do?" River asked.
"Well I'm no racer," Xyla blushed shyly. "Maybe 20? 15 if I'm given time to get in shape."
River sighed and then looked at her deeply. "You are to your race what Resbin is to mine. At least in terms of military. I said that the Legion was perhaps the second or third strongest military power in our galaxy? Well the difference between first place, the federation, and second place is like the difference between Resbian and you. It's astronomical. It's leaps and bounds. It's degrees of magnitude different. The only things that prevent us from wiping out the Legion are that we'd have to be decisive and thorough and that we're too busy with the federation to be thorough. You're asking an adult to get into a fight with a child, only once everyone else sees the adult fight they'll realize they're all children. It's going to start an arms race with every other species in the galaxy."
"We have no other choice," Xyla said. "We need your military to save us from annihilation."
River sighed for a moment and rubbed his hand across his brow. He muttered under his breath for a moment; something about diplomatic relations in light of military prowess. Eventually he stood.
"I must attend to something first. Will you stay here a moment while I make some negotiations?"
Xyla nodded and River left the room quietly. He was back in only a few minutes and nodded to her.
"You'll have our support, but just how much support we can offer depends on this next bit."
He tapped on his tablet a few decisive keystrokes and a telemonitor descended from the ceiling behind her. It whirred quietly for a moment before an image of another human appeared on it. In contrast to River's white, stiff attire with blue trim, this human wore black with a white undershirt and no accenting colors. His feet were kicked up on his desk as he leaned back in his chair and grinned at the screen.
"River," he called jovially, "finally calling to surrender, eh? Well you can suck my..."
River cut him off with quickly and loudly, "I'm joined by a representative of the Forian people, Ms Xyla."
Xyla nodded a polite greeting and the human on the monitor stammered for a moment before adopting a polite, formal posture.
"Ah. Apologies Ms Xyla. How can the Federation of Human Territories be of assistance?"
"The Forians have called in their favor," River answered for her. "I'm calling to negotiate a cease-fire while we answer it."
"The federation is friendly to the Forian people, but we are under no such obligations, River. I respect you for responding to a favor, but your cease fire is denied."
River put out his palms in a placating gesture. "Hear me out first. The favor is military aide. The reason," he swiped at his tablet and the human on the monitor looked down at his own as he received the message, "is of mutual interest to us."
The human on the screen was quiet for a moment as he read. His face changed from one of surprise and curiosity over the call to one of bitterness and anger. Finally, he looked up at Xyla through the monitor.
"The Legion harvested one of our colonies when we first encountered them. An undefended civilian colony was all but devoured. And when we finally made diplomatic contact with them they said it wasn't their fault, they just eat dead stuff. It was the colony's fault for being dead so easily. I thought we destroyed those sporey bastards but I guess we just accidentally sent them your way. River, you have your cease fire. And Xyla, you just got more ships. Tell your Primarch to point em out and get out the way, the humans are coming."
The transmission went dark and River turned towards Xyla. "Well," he clapped his hands and rubbed them enthusiastically, "with Imperial and Federation forces we should have that taken care in a couple days. It's like you got two Resbins for the price of one."
"And what you said about Pandora's box? About the arms race?"
"Oh I meant it. You're going to see monsters and all the galactic stage will feel like children before the human militaries. But you'll get your hope too. And besides," he winked, "a favor is owed."

Demographics:
Gender: Male
Family Income: $120,000
Residence: Massachusetts
School: Medium-sized vocational (not traditional) school with 1,500 students
Class rank: Either valedictorian or salutatorian (i think, but we don't do rank)
Hooks: URM (Haitian-American immigrant), First-Gen? (Parents only did Associates in America)
Intended Major: Biochemistry/Molecular Biology
Academics:
GPA: 4.0 Unweighted / 4.56 Weighted
SAT: 1530 (750 EBRW, 780 Math)
Coursework (before senior year): AP Language and Composition (5); Dual enrollment: Speech Communication, Principals of Sociology, English Composition I, Art History, Personal Finance, Spanish I (4.00 GPA through the community college)
Senior Year Coursework: AP Biology, AP Stats, AP Calc, DE Spanish II, Honors World Lit
Extracurriculars:

1. Work (Paid) - Resident Care Associate (CNA): Cared for 24+ elderly residents overall; Assisted with daily living and organized group activities; Ensured safety and needs of residents were met. 300 hours
2. Career Oriented - Externship: Social & Clinical CNA Training: Biweekly, socialized w/ 20+ elderly residents & facilitated group social activities (2021-22); Completed 80+ clinical hours for CNA certificate (2022). 286 hours
3. Research - Research Intern at _ Community College: 4 month full-time research on urbanization’s impact on bees; Gathered & analyzed 500+ insect samples; Participated in weekly journal club discussions. 136 hours
4. Community Service (Volunteer): Weekly, distributed food packages to 50+ in-need local families; Organized & Advertised food & toy drives, collected 100+ donations. 80 hours
5. Work (Paid) - Nutrition Guest Representative: Worked in a team-based setting to take orders, gather, and distribute patient-specific meals to 400+ hospital patients; Stocked floor kitchens. 574 hours
6. Student Govt./Politics - Media Coordinator, Student Council: Designed flyers to increase school-wide student engagement; Created and managed IG account (500+ impressions); Organized cultural & community events. 54 hours
7. Science/Math - Co-Captain and Participant, Math Team: Learned complex math topics; Led team in Regional Math League Competitions; Improved team ranking from 7th to 3rd (2022-23). 96 hours
8. Career Oriented - Competitor (2021-24); Treasurer (2023): SkillsUSA Medical Terminology Competitor (2021-24); Managed SkillsUSA budget and expenditures, raised funding for chapter activities (2023). 135 hours
9. Student Govt./Politics - Attendant (Judge, City Council, HOR), Boys State: Served in judicial branch, House of Rep., and city council in Boys State Leadership mock government; Orated speech for closing ceremony. 144 hours
10. Other Club/Activity Member and Club Chair, Cooking Club: Weekly, created dinner and dessert dishes in small groups; Designed new cross-cultural recipes; Led new member recruitment. 218 hours

(in my additional info, I included currently working as a dietary aide, newspaper club, and my YT channel where I play roblox)
Awards:
Certified Nursing Assistant Certification (March 2023)
SkillsUSA Medical Terminology Competition - 1st Place Regional; 2nd Place District; States Qualified
Massachusetts Science and Engineering Fair - 3rd Place in Local Fair; Qualified & Attended Regionals
National African American Recognition Program
National Honor Society
Essays/Supplementals/LOR:
Personal Statement
I would say my personal statement was pretty strong. I wrote about the stories I heard and encountered while taking care of the elderly and how I've begun making my own stories. I kept it as genuine as possible. My Yale AO said this made her tear up and I think it was a pretty sentimental piece. Initially, I was comparing my essay to those of people online and I was so worried because mine didn't look like theirs and I didn't start ec dropping and shit like them but honestly I had nothing to worry about. Rating maybe: 9 (or 9.5?) / 10
Supplementals
My supps were def rushed but I would say these were really good as well. I kept them genuine and did my best to convey as many aspects of my character as possible. Compassion and diversity was a big theme for me loll. Rating maybe: 8.5/10
LORs
I didn't see most of my LORs but I assume they were good. My calc teacher wrote how I was the best student he's had in years and my lang teacher talked about some classroom moments (forgot what exactly). Rating maybe: 7 - 9 (crazy range ik) / 10
Interviews
Tufts (9.5/10): Very chill and she calmed my nerves a LOT. It was like talking to another kid my age. Lasted like 40 minutes?
Harvard (8/10): Almost very chill, was at starbucks. I messed up and stuttered a few times but overall this was very good. Lasted like 70 mins
Yale (10/10): My interviewer and I were both Black and were able to connect really well because of that. We talked a lot about the Yale environment and being a person of color on campus. Lasted like 80 mins
Princeton (9/10): One of my shorter interviews but he was sooo chill. He was a busy guy so our interview only lasted 20 mins but I was able to express myself pretty confidently and tell him why I liked Princeton.
Duke (6/10): Ok my interviewer was lowk a bot bruh and the interview was p awkward. I didn't do enough research so when he asked me why Duke, I gave a vague answer and bro told me "Well other schools have that too, what makes Duke different."
URichmond Scholars (9.5/10): Even though it was in front of like 8 other people it was very chill. I was able to confidently talk about myself and what I'd like to do at Richmond
DECISIONS
Rejections:
University of Miami (EA)
Brandeis University
New York University
Boston University
Waitlists
Washington University in St. Louis
Acceptances
Duke University
Yale University (likely letter)
Northeastern University (EA)
University of Massachusetts Amherst (EA)
University of Massachusetts Boston (EA)
Northwestern University
Johns Hopkins University
Tulane University (Deferred EA > Accepted RD)
Emory University
Tufts University
University of Richmond + Richmond Scholars full-ride (EA)
Harvard College (likely letter)
Cornell University
Princeton University
Case Western Reserve University (Deferred EA > Accepted RD)
Thoughts + What I Think Helped Me Stand Out
So, yall can probably look at my grades/ecs and realize that I'm not the most cracked applicant (I only took 4 APs!!!). My stats and ecs were definitely really good! but dawg I couldn't even place in my regional science fair. So many kids were better than me in terms of grades and ecs.
But, at the same time, I think in comparison to my school I really stood out with my SAT and grades. BUT ALSO, at the same time it wasn't just stats. My stats just put me into consideration. I genuinely think it was my ECs and essays that got me in. The way I framed my application around compassion and shit I was genuinely passionate about I think really shined through to my AOs and they liked that. I didn't lie about anything (except I might've miscalculated or rounded up some hours...). I wrote my essays just as I would during English class or irl. I didn't try to be someone I wasn't and genuinely did ecs I liked. (and I think yall should do the same!!!).
The college admissions process is draining. To those hs juniors or below looking at this. Start early. Take the SAT and do your best on it. In my honest opinion, DONT HAVE A DREAM SCHOOL. Fall in love with a good safety school. Write naturally and don't try to use big words to sound smart (it becomes unbearable trust me). And tbh just try your best. Yall got this :)

TW: Mentions of drug abuse and self harm
“Well, Mr. King, it’s been quite a while since you’ve last been in that chair,” I said, greeting my two o’ clock appointment.
It’s always nice to meet with previous patients of mine, however there’s always a twinge of sadness to it. As a therapist, you never really want to see a familiar face sitting on the other side of your desk again.
The man sitting across from me chuckled lightly, sweeping some of his light brown hair out of his blue eyes. He readjusted himself in the chair. “Please, Dr. Morris, call me James.”
“Alright then, James,” I said, dropping the formality. Playfully I added, “It’s still Dr. Morris to you, though.”
“Alright, Harrison,” he quipped back with a sly smile. In response, I smiled and laughed.
Even though it’s been two years since I last saw James, he was still as charming as I remembered him to be.
“So,” he started, locking his hands together and leaning closer to me in his chair, “How’s the wife, doc? The kid?”
“I’m not paid to sit here and talk about myself, James. Let’s talk about what’s going on with you, shall we? Why are you here?”
“Okay, no time for small talk, I get that,” he mumbled.
I sat comfortably in my plush leather desk chair waiting for him to answer my question. A tense moment of silence passed. James’s cheerful mask slipped away, revealing a harder, more solemn expression.
He cleared his throat before he finally gave me an answer. “I- uh… I was mugged.”
“I’m sorry that you experienced that,” I apologized genuinely. “It must’ve been traumatizing.”
“It was,” was all he said.
“Do you want to talk about it, James? I’m assuming that’s why you scheduled an appointment with me after all?”
He nervously twiddled with his thumbs before giving me a very abridged version of events. “The boys and I were hanging out at my parents' cabin up in Mount Glenda. I went out for a late night walk and got attacked. Was in the hospital for a couple days. Now I’m here.”
“Do you remember much from the attack?” I questioned, noticing there weren’t any visible scratches or contusions on him. He was wearing black acid wash jeans and a button up flannel shirt, so it’s possible he was attempting to cover them up.
“I- I’d rather not recount that right now, if that’s alright with you, Dr. Morris.”
I nodded my head understandably. “Okay.”
James started picking at some skin on his fingers, a common nervous habit for him. “Thanks, doc. It’s still a little fresh to talk about.”
“It’s not a problem. We can talk about it whenever you’re ready, James.” Changing the topic, I asked, “So, how are things with you and Katie?”
James scrunched his eyelids closed and wrinkled his nose at the mention of her name. If an onlooker didn’t know any better, they’d say I’d just punched him in the face.
I frowned. “Last time you were here, you two were hitting it off pretty well. So well, in fact, you stopped scheduling sessions with me.”
“We broke up,” he admitted, messing with one of the cuffs on his red and white flannel sleeves. “That’s why we were up on Mount Glenda in the first place. My friends wanted to help cheer me up. Help me get over her.”
“Well that was nice of them,” I commented, writing down some observations I’d made. Given the way he avoided eye contact and became anxious while talking about the events that led up to his attack, a PTSD diagnosis was certainly in the cards after a violent experience such as a mugging. But, I needed to fully complete my evaluation before I could say anything was concrete.
“They had good intentions,” he grumbled.
“Why did you and Katie break up, if you don’t mind me asking? Was it amicable?”
James scoffed. “If by amicable, you mean she cheated and left me for the other guy, then yeah you can say it was amicable.”
“Mhm,” I muttered, taking more notes. “Want to talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about?” James raised his voice slightly. “She cheated on me and we broke up!”
Clearly I’d struck a nerve. I cleared my throat and moved on. “Why don’t we talk about something else, then? How’s work at the diner? How are your courses going at university?”
“L-look, Dr. Morris, I don’t even know why I came here,”James laughed out breathlessly, starting to stand up from his chair. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
I stood up with James, gently placing my hand on one of his. He paused and I could see in his eyes he was hurting. I could sense he wanted someone to talk to. Needed someone to talk to.
“How about this, James, why don’t we end our session early today. Go home, drink a warm beverage, take a nap. Come see me next week. Friday, same time.”
James nodded his head, “Ok doc.”
I called out suddenly as he was about to walk out the door. “You can come back anytime before then. If you want to talk about it, I’m here for you James.”
James flashed me a weak smile before walking out of my office.
I was unsure if I’d see James again. He seemed to be teetering on the edge of a depressive episode the last time we spoke. It’s not easy to ask for help once a person passes that threshold. So, I was glad when I saw he had requested an emergency session with me just a couple days before his next scheduled appointment.
“I was attacked!” James exclaimed, rushing into my office. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt with a gray zip up jacket and a pair of blue jeans. Slung over his shoulder was a black backpack with a red stripe down the sides.
I disregarded his incredibly rude entrance and placed my phone face down on the desk. I adjusted my reading glasses and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
“I know? You were mugged.”
“No. No, no, you don’t understand,” James said, tapping his pointer finger on his temple erratically. “I was attacked, not by a person, but by something!”
I crossed one leg over the other and leaned in closer to him. I wondered where this was heading. “How do you mean James? You weren’t mugged? Were you attacked by an animal?”
“No I was mugged,” he explained, tucking a small tuft of his medium length hair behind his ear. “My wallet and phone were gone when my friends found me.”
As confusing as it sounded, this was good. James was opening up more about his mugging.
I sat with a puzzled expression, waiting for Mr. King to elaborate.
“I was mugged alright,”James paused for dramatic effect. “Mugged by a werewolf!”
I had to stifle a laugh. Trying my best to keep my expression neutral I asked, “You? Mugged by a… werewolf?”
James nodded his head frantically. He looked tired. Like he hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep in a couple of days.
“Do you maybe want to describe exactly what happened when you were mugged, James? Help me understand what you saw.”
“It was dark,” he started, taking a seat in his usual chair. He clutched the backpack closely to his chest. “I didn’t see much, but I *know* I was attacked. It was quick and fast, smelled real bad too! It was a werewolf, I’m telling you! It had to be… and I think it turned me.”
Oh this couldn’t be good.
The blood-shot eyes.
Delusions of grandeur, more fantastical than ever.
His unstable and nervous demeanor.
“Are- are you using again, James?” I placed my hand gently on one of his, a gesture to show that I cared and was worried about him.
James was a recovering addict, it’s one of the reasons he started seeing me in the first place.
He quickly withdrew his hand from under mine. He scoffed. “Y-you don’t believe me do you?”
“I believe that you believe you were attacked and turned into a werewolf,” I told him.
Clinical Lycanthropy. I’d heard of it before, but never thought I’d witness a possible case in real life. What a truly fascinating trauma response.
“Tell me why you think that, James.” I clicked my pen, ready to jot down some notes.
James gave me the side eye. I waved it off and prompted him to continue. He gulped before speaking.
“Well, I don’t know how to explain it, doc. Everything just feels… different.”
“Try to explain it,” I urged.
“Everything is just so bright and loud now. So I guess enhanced senses? And I’m hungry. All. The. Time. These cravings I’m having, they’re intense!”
“Cravings?”
“Meat,” he answered. “Lots and lots of meat.”
“Mhm,” I said, nodding along as I wrote down my thoughts. “Have you experienced any accelerated hair growth as well? Lupine-like urges?”
James grunted. “This is serious.”
“And I’m being serious, James,” I countered. “I need you to be as detailed as possible.”
“Listen,” he said earnestly, leaning close, “The full moon is two days from now. I’ll be able to prove it to you then. Come with me before I turn, please?”
Quite frankly I didn’t know how to verbally respond to that type of request. My face however, said it all.
“I’ll even let you video tape it!” he added hastily after seeing my reaction.
I raised an eyebrow inquisitively. Instantly, ideas for experiments and different studies for this disorder ran through my head. Just the thought of researching and exploring this rarely talked about mental phenomenon was making me giddy. I felt like an undergrad student working on my senior thesis again.
“You can use the video to break out in the medical world or something, I don’t know,” James said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“But why me, James? Why not one of your friends?” I asked, curiously, seriously considering this insane proposition.
“Because, you’re the only person I trust with this. Plus, patient confidentiality and all that jazz.”
I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at that logic. “If you truly believe you’re a werewolf, aren’t you scared of hurting someone? Aren’t you terrified of becoming this big dangerous creature? Why not go off alone?”
“There’s a good reason for that, doc,” James answered, opening his backpack. He reached in and pulled out a thick metal chain. “I need someone to help chain me up.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought to myself as I walked into Nancy’s diner. James had requested we meet up for dinner before we headed off to see his “transition.”
Me meeting up with a patient outside of office hours was practically unheard of, and on top of that, extremely unprofessional. I honestly don’t know what’s worse, me aiding James with his delusion or the fact I was excited to see where this would go.
The inside of the diner was much warmer compared to the ambient temperature outside. So as I searched the small dining room for James, I took my overcoat off and slung it around my forearm.
James spotted me and waved me over excitedly. I walked over to the small booth and sat down across from him. It felt like we were in my office again.
“Cozy,” I said. James chuckled and took a sip of water.
He was wearing a thick gray hoodie, some dark blue jeans, and some converse sneakers. I wore my usual work attire, black slacks and a light colored long sleeve cotton button up.
“Are you alright James?” I asked, noticing how shaky he was. He started rubbing his arms intensely.
I made a mental note of this. If James had been using drugs again, he was most certainly in the beginning processes of withdrawal.
He rubbed his arms some more before answering me. “Just fine. It’s just *freezing* in this diner.”
I offered him my coat, which he graciously accepted.
“Thanks. And thanks again for coming all the way out here. Dr. Morris-“
“Please James,” I stopped him, “I’m off the clock now. You can call me Harrison.”
“H-Harrison,” he stuttered, “I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you coming out here. Once I prove my ‘condition’ to you, you’ll have no choice but to believe me. I know if I’d gone to anyone else they’d have just thought I was on Stardust again and not given me a chance.”
Well James, the consensus was still out on that last one.
I smiled and nodded. It was clear James was mentally unwell, probably due to both his break up and the trauma from his attack. I was merely here to make sure he didn’t harm himself with his little demonstration tonight, or at least that’s what I was telling myself.
What are the chances James actually does transform into a monster tonight? It’s improbable to happen, but there’s always that excitement that comes with the question: What if?
“Hi, welcome in!” Our waitress greeted, bringing me a menu and a glass of water. Her name tag read Jenny. “What can I get started for you this fine evening?”
James ordered first. “I think I’ll have a cheeseburger. Every thing on it and I’ll take that rare please.”
Jenny nodded as she jotted down his order in her book. She then looked at me. “I’ll just have the Cesar salad please.”
“Alrighty, folks!” Jenny announced as she snapped her book shut enthusiastically. “Your food will be out in just a moment.”
I looked out the window our booth was sitting next to. The horizon was full of light pastel colors as the sun started to set.
“If you’re worried about nightfall, I’ll turn when the full moon is at its peak. That’s what the internet says, at least.” James informed me. “You won’t have to worry about me, ya know, before then.”
I disguised my scoff as a laugh as I continued looking out at the pretty sunset.
Our food came out and we started eating. I don’t know if James was just putting on a show or what, but he stared at his cheeseburger like he hadn’t eaten for a year. He sunk his teeth into his food at the same time I took the first bite of my salad. James scrunched his face in confusion. Then he waved our server over.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He started.
Jenny’s unnaturally happy smile faltered. My eyeballs almost burst from their sockets. I started choking on my salad at James’s brash outburst.
“I asked for my cheeseburger RARE! Does this look RARE to you?” James shoved his cheeseburger in our waitresses face.
“I- I uh,” Jenny stumbled, clearly taken aback.
“Make me a new burger, rare like I asked for,” he demanded. “You can charge me for this one too, I’ll eat both of them.”
Jenny nodded before quickly running into the diner's kitchen, clearly about to cry.
I just sat there in shock as James tore back into his cheeseburger like it was a turkey leg you get at Medieval Times. He demolished that thing in three bites. Since he ordered his burger rare it didn’t take too long for his second one to come out. James then demanded our waitress bring him a full rack of BBQ ribs.
She looked to me for help to control my friend, but I was just as flabbergasted as she was. I hadn’t touched my salad as I sat in awe watching James.
If he was acting, he deserved an Oscar. It was actually kind of terrifying seeing him act like this.
It looked like James was on the cusp of an orgasm as he took the first bite of his second cheeseburger. Once again, it was gone in a couple bites. James snacked on his fries as he patiently waited for his ribs.
Jenny laid down the huge oval plate with a very judgmental look on her face. She scoffed as she took away James’s empty plates.
James waved her off as he began inhaling rib after rib. He devoured those ribs like he didn’t know when his next meal would be. He finished the whole rack of ribs only a couple minutes after Jenny had brought them out to him.
“Laying it on there real thick, huh, buddy?” I said sarcastically. Truth be told, I was bewildered that he actually managed to eat all that food.
James wiped all the barbecue sauce that had accumulated around his mouth with a couple napkins as he finished his meal. “What do you mean by that, Doc?”
“This whole…” I leaned in close to him and whispered,” werewolf thing. I mean the food, your aggression towards our server? That’s not like you, James.”
“I told you, doc, I haven’t been feeling myself. All day I’ve been agitated, and on top of that starving! It must be the moon. It’s affecting me.”
I rolled my eyes. There’s no way he was blaming his behavior on the moon. This Clinical Lycanthropy thing was pretty bizarre to witness.
James checked his watch before standing up and chucking a wad of cash on the table. “C’mon let’s go. It’ll be time soon.”
Still in a fugue state of shock, I followed James out of the diner. He got in his car and I got in mine. James quickly peeled out of the small parking lot. I followed closely behind him.
Honestly I was kind of relieved to have space from him. James was almost starting to freak me out, and that’s saying a lot coming from a therapist because I’ve seen some weird shit before.
We drove for about ten minutes before driving down a random dirt road. James got out of his car and prompted me to follow him. The two of us walked for about five minutes before arriving at this old rickety looking gazebo that was in the middle of nowhere.
“James, you seriously can’t still believe this can you?” I questioned as he pulled a thick and heavy chain out of his backpack. He handed it to me, the weight of it almost knocking me off balance. I’m surprised he carried that thing on his back without breaking a sweat.
James looked up at the clear night sky worriedly, the full moon slowly rising higher in the sky, “Hurry up, doc,” he pleaded, taking off my jacket and his hoodie
I stared at the now shirtless James, confused.
“So I don’t tear through it when I turn,” he explained nonchalantly. “The pants stay on for obvious reasons. I’m not getting fully nude in front of my therapist.”
“Yeah, cuz that’s weird,”I sighed, tying one end of the chain to the sturdiest looking part of the gazebo. The other end was wrapped around his waist and then his wrists.
“Okay,” James said after checking the time on his phone. “The moon should be at its peak within the next minute.”
I set up my phone across from him and pressed record. The light from the moon intensified as it reached its peak in the night sky.
James clenched his eyes shut and braced for pain, letting out a couple of anticipatory grunts.
He did look pretty sweaty and unwell, I have to admit. It could just be from all that food he ate, I rationalized.
James stayed that way, bracing himself for something to happen. He looked pretty uneasy. Scared. I felt bad for him.
A couple minutes passed and nothing happened.
“Wasn’t something supposed to happen by now?” I asked, stopping the recording on my phone.
James opened his eyes and looked down at his very human hands. “Maybe Google was wrong. Let’s wait a little longer.”
“James,” I said testingly. “You can’t let this go on.”
“Please,” he begged. “I need this, Harrison. Please!”
I scoffed, climbing down the steps of the gazebo and kicked a rock. I started walking back to my car before turning around. “Fine. We can wait a little longer.”
An hour passed and nothing happened to James. I got fed up and finally freed him from the chain.
“I- I don’t understand,” James looked dejected. “Nothing happened. Why didn’t I turn into a werewolf?”
“C’mon James it’s getting late,” I said, not answering his question. Instead, I put my hand on his bare shoulder to try and comfort him. He dragged his feet while I guided him back to his car. He looked like he was about to cry.
“Let’s go home.”
“Jesus, James, have you been eating?”
It was a couple days after the whole werewolf thing was debunked. James had just come in for his regular session. He looked worryingly thin, almost emaciated. To lose that large amount of weight in only a couple days wasn’t healthy. I worried the events that transpired the other night made James spiral even deeper.
It was quite embarrassing to witness, so I can only imagine how he was feeling.
“Yes!” He said plopping down in his chair. He must not have showered in a couple days judging by the ripe smell that wafted off him. “That’s all I’ve been doing!”
I wrote some notes down. He started lying. This wasn’t good.
“Mr. King-“
“I had it all wrong,”James interrupted me, almost excitedly. “I’ve been doing research. I know what happened now.”
“Oh really?” I asked. James was starting to sound like a conspiracy theorist now.
“I was cursed,” he stated matter-of-a-factly.
I wrote some more notes down. “Cursed?”
“By a wendigo.”
“James, not this again,” I said with a heavy sigh.
“I’m serious, it all lines up! The hunger, the weight loss, why I’m always cold all of a fucking sudden! Not to mention the slow transformation and matching symptoms to lycanthropy.”
“Wendigo’s don’t exist. They’re just creatures of Navajo folklore,” I said, exasperated.
What does exist, however, is Wendigo psychosis.
t’s a mental condition where someone believes they are becoming this cannibalistic creature. It usually stems from the person believing they lack the food and resources to stay nourished, especially during the winter, which causes them to turn to cannibalism.
I found out about it while researching more on Clinical Lycanthropy.
Sure, his skin had shrunk around his nails making them look longer, sharper too, and his skin was pale and sweaty. With how skinny he had become, he did look taller too, but that didn’t mean he was a Wendigo. He was using it as confirmation bias.
“James, let’s be rational here.”
“I AM BEING RATIONAL!” He yelled, getting up from his seat. He started pacing around the room nervously.
“Clearly,” I mumbled. “James, if you think this is true, how do you think you became ‘cursed’?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” James let out a maniac laugh. “The mugging! That thing must’ve attacked me and cursed me. That’s the only reason why it let me live. According to my research, not many people live to tell their tales about encountering these things. Harrison, please! I need your help trying to reverse this curse. I want to go back to normal!”
James’s mental spiral was becoming quite concerning. If I let this continue, someone was bound to get hurt.
“James,” I said softly, sliding a business card over to him. It was a contact number for a mental hospital named Brightburn. “I don’t think I can help you. But they can.”
“You’re a skeptic!” He shouted, throwing the card across the room.
“And you’re delusional!” I snapped. “I mean Wendigo’s and Werewolves?! James, you're unwell!”
“I wonder why!” He shouted, gesturing to himself. “Do you see what I’m becoming!”
“James, you’re not a wendigo!”
“I am!”
“You’re not!” I paused and lowered my voice. “Katie cheated on you! Left you for another guy.” James’s face fell when I brought up his ex.
I continued, explaining further, “So now you’re using this mugging as an excuse to make yourself something you’re not. You’re trying to make yourself seem like something bigger than you actually are, James. When deep down all you’re really doing is trying to do is show her that you’re someone worth staying with. Someone worth not cheating on!”
“You have no right to bring Katie into this!” James cried. “That’s not what’s happening! I’ve been cursed, I’m telling you!”
He grabbed his chair and chucked it across the room in a fit of anger. My chair splintered into a million pieces.
I sat back in my chair and sighed, rubbing my temples. “You say you want help, James. They can help you more than I can. If you don’t want to go, then that’s on you. But if you won’t help yourself, I can’t be your therapist any more.”
“No- don’t do this. Doc, you’re the only one I have.” James pleaded.
“You can’t keep this charade up anymore! I’ve indulged you long enough. You’re not turning into some supernatural creature. You’re human!”
James smoothed the wrinkles in his blue flannel shirt before making his way to the door. He stopped and turned to me.
“Just you wait, doc. I’ll prove it to you,” he seethed. “You better watch your back.”
With a slam of my office door, James was gone.
I took a breath before picking my phone up to call my secretary and to alert security to not let James back in the building.
“I think I’m being stalked,” I admitted to my wife Lauren. It had been a rough week with patients, plus I kept receiving threatening letters in the mail. But I couldn’t tell Lauren about it. I didn’t want to worry her.
We just found out she was expecting.
“You’re being silly, Harrison,” she said, trying to comfort me.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek good night. I turned over in our bed. My heart sank when I saw the shadow of a person glide past my window.
I came home late from work a little later than expected.
My office had been broken into and trashed. I had a sneaking suspicion who did it. Nevertheless, I had to clean my office, file a police report, and finish the rest of my appointments for the day.
Lauren had told me she had a surprise waiting for me at dinner, so I stopped on the way home to pick up flowers and a little gift for Brandon, our four year old son.
The overwhelming stench of iron and something putrid and rotting filled my nostrils as I opened the door to my house.
A massive pool of blood was visible in the kitchen.
I dropped everything in my hands and rushed to the kitchen. I almost puked when I found the dead bodies of my wife and son lying on the dining room table.
Half of Brandon’s face had been chewed off, his frozen expression that of terror.
Lauren had been disemboweled. Her intestines and other miscellaneous organs strewn about the table. On her chest was her uterus, which had been half eaten.
I fell to my knees and started bawling my eyes out. My family had been murdered.
Something growled animalistically behind me, “Believe me now?”
My stomach flipped. A tall emaciated figure stood in the doorway. It’s arms were disproportionately longer than its torso. Its hands and wrists were caked in blood. Sharp teeth glinted in artificial light. That putrid smell from earlier worsened.
A wendigo. James. It had to be.
He’d been right all along.
The wendigo pounced, but I managed to dodge. James recovered with supernatural speed as I ran as fast as I could for safety.
I lunged for the door to my home office for protection. I kept a pistol in there.
I managed to reach the gun before James reached me. He ripped the door off the hinges and bellowed out a blood curdling roar. I managed to squeeze past him and into the hallway. I took the safety off and cocked the gun, praying I had left it loaded.
click-click
James crawled up the banister of my stairs, hanging off of it like a monkey. He had chased me into a corner.
I braced myself as the thing that used to be my patient jumped. As James barreled towards me with a sadistic smile on his mutilated face, I pulled the trigger and aimed right for his chest. The force of the blast knocked me down.
When I regained my bearings, there was no monstrously disfigured body on the floor in front of me. Instead, my front door was swinging wide open.
James was in the wind. He left me alone, with my dead wife and kid in the next room. Grief and anger flooded my veins.
All I wanted to do at that moment was kill James King for what he’d done. I wanted to kill myself for not believing him and allowing this to happen.
Then I remembered reading about something online. The wendigo’s weakness was fire.
I could kill it with fire.
I could kill James with fire.
So much for a mugging, eh?

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Cannoli’s heart hammered against her chest. She wanted so badly to look behind her and make sure that Buttons and Freckles went unseen. That the blanket hiding them hadn’t moved. But even the tiniest glance could mean their capture—if Muzhira hadn’t spotted the blazards already.
“S-Sister Cecilia,” Rozalyn stammered, then bowed deeply. “My apologies.”
Sister Cecilia had blue hair the color of the sky that tumbled over the dazzling white and gold of her robes. Dozens of sapphires sparkled from their tendrils, wrapped and twined in mindful placements where none touched the others. Her soft features would suggest a kind face, but her silver eyes glimmered with disappointment. She stood just as tall as Muzhira, and her slender ears and thick tail ended in white tufts of fur.
“Cannoli, you were late to your lesson on your first day,” Sister Cecilia chided. “This is unwise and a bleak look for your future.”
“I’m so sorry, Sister Cecilia! I think my nerves got the best of me.” Cannoli mirrored Rozalyn’s bow. Tears burned in the backs of her eyes, and she forced them down. I will not be a disappointment! “Rozalyn was very kind in showing me this room as a place to catch my breath.”
“There are correctly sanctioned areas of the temple for which you may regain composure, Cannoli. Rozalyn, in your three weeks of attendance, you should very well be accustomed to them by now.” Sister Cecilia’s voice lost its edge.
Cannoli caught her breath. They hadn’t seen the blazards. “I will familiarize myself with them immediately, Sister Cecilia. Outside of my lesson time, of course.” She rose, cautiously searching Cecilia’s face. The pink on the sister’s cheeks had vanished, and her eyes warmed.
“Pardon my interference, Sister Cecilia, but I’m certain I overheard them speaking of hiding something,” Muzhira said, pitching her tone toward curious innocence.
Cannoli’s heart skipped. She forced her features to stay blank. Muzhira had been following them in the shadows.
Rozalyn straightened. “Ourselves,” she replied. “It is as Cannoli says. Such a drastic change in our lives feels overwhelming at times. Not all of us have taken to our path as adeptly as you have, Muzhira.”
For a split second, Muzhira furrowed her brows and frowned. It vanished when Sister Cecilia turned to look at her.
“We are wasting valuable time, ladies. I would ask you to refrain from visiting this wing of the temple and utilizing acceptable resources in the future,” Cecilia instructed. “Now, Cannoli will come with me, and I trust you two will return to your studies?”
“Yes, Sister Cecilia,” Rozalyn and Muzhira replied in unison.
“Very good. Cannoli? If you will?”
“O-of course!” Cannoli skipped forward, forgetting her attempts to soften her steps. After the first two fell like boulders crashing into the ocean, she remembered herself and slowed. Now that Buttons was safe, she couldn’t let her excitement get the better of her.
Sister Cecilia smiled—a warm, genuine reaction that reached her eyes. “Let this be our first lesson.” She gestured to their feet as they entered the cool hallway. “Silent steps require a sound mind and prepared body. We must first be aware of our surroundings and steady our breathing.” Raising her hands to the height of her chest, Cecilia took a deep breath in, then slowly exhaled, lowering her hands with it. “We will walk as we breathe. Let us start there. Try to match your steps with mine.”
It sounded simple in practice, but Cannoli realized it required her to pay close attention to the cadence of her breathing alongside the timing of her steps, and that was outside of keeping up with Cecilia. She was so focused on the task that she didn’t see Rozalyn or Muzhira pass her. They reached the hallways and continued around the storage boxes. Cecilia was a patient teacher, offering tidbits of advice here and there, a much different approach to the streams of information Cannoli had seen in the Venicia School of Etiquette.
Cecilia stopped at the double doors to the library and raised a hand. “Very good, Cannoli. We will work on this first thing each afternoon.” She opened the doors and gestured for Cannoli to enter.
When Cannoli stepped across the threshold, her eyes widened, and her breath caught. “Oh my goodness,” she murmured.
Multiple shelves flanked by golden columns protruded from the walls, each housing six rows of polished wood and filled from edge to edge with books. The design continued to the second story, where smooth railings protected curious initiates from stepping over the edge. Painted murals of Saoirse and her masked prophets appeared in detailed circles on the ceiling, surrounded by ivory sculptures and gold filigree flecked with sapphires. The tiled floor featured floral mosaics among the alternating gold and white squares.
Inside the alcoves created by bookshelves were initiates poring over books and taking notes. Others with two thick tomes open seemed to be copying scripts and hymns. A few read for pleasure, curled up in a corner chair with their tails tucked around their ankles.
“Marvelous, isn’t it?” Cecilia asked.
“Yes. Oh my, yes. How many books are here?”
“Fifteen hundred. It is Nyarlea’s largest collection to date.”
Cannoli gaped. “This feels like a dream.” It seemed impossible to have so many books in one building. As a kitten, Mother returning home with a book was a cause for celebration. Cannoli had treasured her small collection of reading material and read them so many times that the ink was beginning to fade.
“Let us hope you feel the same way while you study.” A knowing smile twitched at the corners of Cecilia’s lips. “You will spend much time with these tomes.”
“I look forward to it,” Cannoli replied honestly.
“Good. Today, however, we must attune you to a weapon.” Sister Cecilia marched forward before Cannoli could ask what she meant.
Cannoli skipped to catch up, then focused again on her breathing and keeping time with Cecilia. Her steps had quieted just a little, but it was a start. They made their way to the back of the library, where Cecilia unlocked a white door with a key around her wrist. Cannoli moved inside, and Cecilia locked the door behind them.
“This is the armory,” Cecilia said. “You are only to come here with an instructor, regardless of whether your peer has found an errant key.” A hint of humor touched her words, but Cannoli blushed all the same. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cannoli said with a nod.
“Excellent. Over here, then.”
Cannoli crossed the circular room, noting the different weapons on the walls, the complicated sigils and diagrams sketched on aging pieces of parchment, and the Enchanted lamps that flickered to life as they passed.
“Please shift to [Combat Mode], Cannoli,” Cecilia instructed.
Cannoli recalled so long ago when she’d found so much joy in changing into her [Combat Mode]. The idea of saving her friends and helping her Party had made her truly feel magical. Matt and Keke had teased her, but she still loved turning the routine into a spectacle.
Now, changing into her offensive gear twisted her stomach. It meant something, or someone, was about to die. And there was nothing she could do about it.
“Cannoli?” Cecilia repeated.
“S-sorry. [Combat Mode].” Cannoli watched as the white robes vanished, replaced by the resplendent silks and satins Cailu had purchased for her. The gear was stunning, perfect, and beautiful. Cannoli still didn’t feel like she deserved a single piece of it.
A look of stunned surprise widened Cecilia’s eyes and mouth. “Where do you hail from, child?”
“Ni Island.” Cannoli’s blush deepend. “I’ve been with Matt— …with my island’s man since his birth. We were in a lot of fights, so San Island’s man, Cailu, bought us all armor.”
“They work together? The men?” Cecilia remarked.
“Well, Cailu’s trying to get them all to work together.” Cannoli’s stomach twisted. The duel between Cailu and Magni flashed in her mind’s eye. It felt blasphemous to say what they’d done out loud, especially inside of Saoirse’s temple. “Does…uniting the men go against Saoirse’s teachings, Sister Cecilia?”
“I see you carry difficult questions.” Cecilia observed Cannoli for a long time, eyes thoughtfully searching her face. “While there is not a set precedent for the men uniting, we will make it a lesson for another day. Can you summon your weapon for me?”
Cannoli did as Cecilia asked. Her armor may have been luxurious, but she wielded the same scepter she’d held since she could first access [Combat Mode].
Cecilia held out her hand, and Cannoli passed the scepter over for inspection. “Quite a dichotomy in quality.” Cecilia chuckled.
“I’ve never tried anything else,” Cannoli admitted. “I wouldn’t know what weapon to ask for.”
Cecilia nodded and turned toward the wall of weapons. “This Level of equipment is what I’m more accustomed to seeing from new initiates. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
“You will still gain benefits for using a scepter if you so choose, but it is best to test them all and find what fits you. Your weapon serves as an extension of yourself and thus an extension of Saoirse.” Cecilia selected a hammer and held it across both hands in a display. “Hammers will grant you great Strength and fortitude. They are an excellent choice for those seeking the best protection for themselves or those who journey alone.” She passed it to Cannoli.
Cannoli accepted the handle and was surprised by the weight when she lifted it. Her arm drooped as she choked up toward the carved metal block. “So I would, um, attack things with this?”
“Yes. There are multiple Spells to imbue the end with the holy element. It would also require you to allocate a section of your Stats to Strength.”
Matt cleaving Encroacher after Encroacher came to mind. Cannoli shook her head furiously and held out the hammer. “I can’t use this.”
Cecilia nodded and accepted the weapon before returning it to the wall. She lifted a staff lying horizontally on its two prongs, then turned to Cannoli. “Staves are for those who seek to attack from afar, granting the wielder a fiery offensive holy magic that is incredibly potent against the Defiled.”
The staff was lighter in Cannoli’s grasp, and she found it most comfortable if she held it in both hands. Fiery offensive… But they already had Ravyn’s unmatched fire Spells. Besides, Cannoli didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. She wanted to heal them. Help them. “I don’t think this one is for me, either.”
“Understood.” Cecilia replaced the staff, then reached for the final weapon—a golden scepter imbued with glittering sapphires. “This scepter is of a higher quality, so it may feel different in your hands.” She passed it to Cannoli. “Scepters will grant you additional healing abilities, as well as assistance to your Sigil Spells, which you will discuss with Sister Madeleine in your evening lessons.”
The balance of the golden scepter was perfect, and the grip in Cannoli’s hand felt right. “This is it, Sister Cecilia. This is the weapon I want.”
“Very good, then. Once you’ve passed my initial training, we will forge you one just like it.” Cecilia exchanged the golden scepter for Cannoli’s with a nod. “It seems you’ve had much experience traveling in your Party, Cannoli. I look forward to your sessions.”
“Thank you, Sister Cecilia. I do, too.”
For just a few heartbeats, Cannoli imagined her [Combat Mode] routine again, and she smiled.
​
Cannoli Pro Tip: I'm glad that scepters will help me heal more efficiently. They feel the most natural to me now. This one's so pretty!
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TW: Mentions of drug abuse and self harm
“Well, Mr. King, it’s been quite a while since you’ve last been in that chair,” I said, greeting my two o’ clock appointment.
It’s always nice to meet with previous patients of mine, however there’s always a twinge of sadness to it. As a therapist, you never really want to see a familiar face sitting on the other side of your desk again.
The man sitting across from me chuckled lightly, sweeping some of his light brown hair out of his blue eyes. He readjusted himself in the chair. “Please, Dr. Morris, call me James.”
“Alright then, James,” I said, dropping the formality. Playfully I added, “It’s still Dr. Morris to you, though.”
“Alright, Harrison,” he quipped back with a sly smile. In response, I smiled and laughed.
Even though it’s been two years since I last saw James, he was still as charming as I remembered him to be.
“So,” he started, locking his hands together and leaning closer to me in his chair, “How’s the wife, doc? The kid?”
“I’m not paid to sit here and talk about myself, James. Let’s talk about what’s going on with you, shall we? Why are you here?”
“Okay, no time for small talk, I get that,” he mumbled.
I sat comfortably in my plush leather desk chair waiting for him to answer my question. A tense moment of silence passed. James’s cheerful mask slipped away, revealing a harder, more solemn expression.
He cleared his throat before he finally gave me an answer. “I- uh… I was mugged.”
“I’m sorry that you experienced that,” I apologized genuinely. “It must’ve been traumatizing.”
“It was,” was all he said.
“Do you want to talk about it, James? I’m assuming that’s why you scheduled an appointment with me after all?”
He nervously twiddled with his thumbs before giving me a very abridged version of events. “The boys and I were hanging out at my parents' cabin up in Mount Glenda. I went out for a late night walk and got attacked. Was in the hospital for a couple days. Now I’m here.”
“Do you remember much from the attack?” I questioned, noticing there weren’t any visible scratches or contusions on him. He was wearing black acid wash jeans and a button up flannel shirt, so it’s possible he was attempting to cover them up.
“I- I’d rather not recount that right now, if that’s alright with you, Dr. Morris.”
I nodded my head understandably. “Okay.”
James started picking at some skin on his fingers, a common nervous habit for him. “Thanks, doc. It’s still a little fresh to talk about.”
“It’s not a problem. We can talk about it whenever you’re ready, James.” Changing the topic, I asked, “So, how are things with you and Katie?”
James scrunched his eyelids closed and wrinkled his nose at the mention of her name. If an onlooker didn’t know any better, they’d say I’d just punched him in the face.
I frowned. “Last time you were here, you two were hitting it off pretty well. So well, in fact, you stopped scheduling sessions with me.”
“We broke up,” he admitted, messing with one of the cuffs on his red and white flannel sleeves. “That’s why we were up on Mount Glenda in the first place. My friends wanted to help cheer me up. Help me get over her.”
“Well that was nice of them,” I commented, writing down some observations I’d made. Given the way he avoided eye contact and became anxious while talking about the events that led up to his attack, a PTSD diagnosis was certainly in the cards after a violent experience such as a mugging. But, I needed to fully complete my evaluation before I could say anything was concrete.
“They had good intentions,” he grumbled.
“Why did you and Katie break up, if you don’t mind me asking? Was it amicable?”
James scoffed. “If by amicable, you mean she cheated and left me for the other guy, then yeah you can say it was amicable.”
“Mhm,” I muttered, taking more notes. “Want to talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about?” James raised his voice slightly. “She cheated on me and we broke up!”
Clearly I’d struck a nerve. I cleared my throat and moved on. “Why don’t we talk about something else, then? How’s work at the diner? How are your courses going at university?”
“L-look, Dr. Morris, I don’t even know why I came here,”James laughed out breathlessly, starting to stand up from his chair. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
I stood up with James, gently placing my hand on one of his. He paused and I could see in his eyes he was hurting. I could sense he wanted someone to talk to. Needed someone to talk to.
“How about this, James, why don’t we end our session early today. Go home, drink a warm beverage, take a nap. Come see me next week. Friday, same time.”
James nodded his head, “Ok doc.”
I called out suddenly as he was about to walk out the door. “You can come back anytime before then. If you want to talk about it, I’m here for you James.”
James flashed me a weak smile before walking out of my office.
I was unsure if I’d see James again. He seemed to be teetering on the edge of a depressive episode the last time we spoke. It’s not easy to ask for help once a person passes that threshold. So, I was glad when I saw he had requested an emergency session with me just a couple days before his next scheduled appointment.
“I was attacked!” James exclaimed, rushing into my office. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt with a gray zip up jacket and a pair of blue jeans. Slung over his shoulder was a black backpack with a red stripe down the sides.
I disregarded his incredibly rude entrance and placed my phone face down on the desk. I adjusted my reading glasses and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
“I know? You were mugged.”
“No. No, no, you don’t understand,” James said, tapping his pointer finger on his temple erratically. “I was attacked, not by a person, but by something!”
I crossed one leg over the other and leaned in closer to him. I wondered where this was heading. “How do you mean James? You weren’t mugged? Were you attacked by an animal?”
“No I was mugged,” he explained, tucking a small tuft of his medium length hair behind his ear. “My wallet and phone were gone when my friends found me.”
As confusing as it sounded, this was good. James was opening up more about his mugging.
I sat with a puzzled expression, waiting for Mr. King to elaborate.
“I was mugged alright,”James paused for dramatic effect. “Mugged by a werewolf!”
I had to stifle a laugh. Trying my best to keep my expression neutral I asked, “You? Mugged by a… werewolf?”
James nodded his head frantically. He looked tired. Like he hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep in a couple of days.
“Do you maybe want to describe exactly what happened when you were mugged, James? Help me understand what you saw.”
“It was dark,” he started, taking a seat in his usual chair. He clutched the backpack closely to his chest. “I didn’t see much, but I *know* I was attacked. It was quick and fast, smelled real bad too! It was a werewolf, I’m telling you! It had to be… and I think it turned me.”
Oh this couldn’t be good.
The blood-shot eyes.
Delusions of grandeur, more fantastical than ever.
His unstable and nervous demeanor.
“Are- are you using again, James?” I placed my hand gently on one of his, a gesture to show that I cared and was worried about him.
James was a recovering addict, it’s one of the reasons he started seeing me in the first place.
He quickly withdrew his hand from under mine. He scoffed. “Y-you don’t believe me do you?”
“I believe that you believe you were attacked and turned into a werewolf,” I told him.
Clinical Lycanthropy. I’d heard of it before, but never thought I’d witness a possible case in real life. What a truly fascinating trauma response.
“Tell me why you think that, James.” I clicked my pen, ready to jot down some notes.
James gave me the side eye. I waved it off and prompted him to continue. He gulped before speaking.
“Well, I don’t know how to explain it, doc. Everything just feels… different.”
“Try to explain it,” I urged.
“Everything is just so bright and loud now. So I guess enhanced senses? And I’m hungry. All. The. Time. These cravings I’m having, they’re intense!”
“Cravings?”
“Meat,” he answered. “Lots and lots of meat.”
“Mhm,” I said, nodding along as I wrote down my thoughts. “Have you experienced any accelerated hair growth as well? Lupine-like urges?”
James grunted. “This is serious.”
“And I’m being serious, James,” I countered. “I need you to be as detailed as possible.”
“Listen,” he said earnestly, leaning close, “The full moon is two days from now. I’ll be able to prove it to you then. Come with me before I turn, please?”
Quite frankly I didn’t know how to verbally respond to that type of request. My face however, said it all.
“I’ll even let you video tape it!” he added hastily after seeing my reaction.
I raised an eyebrow inquisitively. Instantly, ideas for experiments and different studies for this disorder ran through my head. Just the thought of researching and exploring this rarely talked about mental phenomenon was making me giddy. I felt like an undergrad student working on my senior thesis again.
“You can use the video to break out in the medical world or something, I don’t know,” James said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“But why me, James? Why not one of your friends?” I asked, curiously, seriously considering this insane proposition.
“Because, you’re the only person I trust with this. Plus, patient confidentiality and all that jazz.”
I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at that logic. “If you truly believe you’re a werewolf, aren’t you scared of hurting someone? Aren’t you terrified of becoming this big dangerous creature? Why not go off alone?”
“There’s a good reason for that, doc,” James answered, opening his backpack. He reached in and pulled out a thick metal chain. “I need someone to help chain me up.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought to myself as I walked into Nancy’s diner. James had requested we meet up for dinner before we headed off to see his “transition.”
Me meeting up with a patient outside of office hours was practically unheard of, and on top of that, extremely unprofessional. I honestly don’t know what’s worse, me aiding James with his delusion or the fact I was excited to see where this would go.
The inside of the diner was much warmer compared to the ambient temperature outside. So as I searched the small dining room for James, I took my overcoat off and slung it around my forearm.
James spotted me and waved me over excitedly. I walked over to the small booth and sat down across from him. It felt like we were in my office again.
“Cozy,” I said. James chuckled and took a sip of water.
He was wearing a thick gray hoodie, some dark blue jeans, and some converse sneakers. I wore my usual work attire, black slacks and a light colored long sleeve cotton button up.
“Are you alright James?” I asked, noticing how shaky he was. He started rubbing his arms intensely.
I made a mental note of this. If James had been using drugs again, he was most certainly in the beginning processes of withdrawal.
He rubbed his arms some more before answering me. “Just fine. It’s just *freezing* in this diner.”
I offered him my coat, which he graciously accepted.
“Thanks. And thanks again for coming all the way out here. Dr. Morris-“
“Please James,” I stopped him, “I’m off the clock now. You can call me Harrison.”
“H-Harrison,” he stuttered, “I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you coming out here. Once I prove my ‘condition’ to you, you’ll have no choice but to believe me. I know if I’d gone to anyone else they’d have just thought I was on Stardust again and not given me a chance.”
Well James, the consensus was still out on that last one.
I smiled and nodded. It was clear James was mentally unwell, probably due to both his break up and the trauma from his attack. I was merely here to make sure he didn’t harm himself with his little demonstration tonight, or at least that’s what I was telling myself.
What are the chances James actually does transform into a monster tonight? It’s improbable to happen, but there’s always that excitement that comes with the question: What if?
“Hi, welcome in!” Our waitress greeted, bringing me a menu and a glass of water. Her name tag read Jenny. “What can I get started for you this fine evening?”
James ordered first. “I think I’ll have a cheeseburger. Every thing on it and I’ll take that rare please.”
Jenny nodded as she jotted down his order in her book. She then looked at me. “I’ll just have the Cesar salad please.”
“Alrighty, folks!” Jenny announced as she snapped her book shut enthusiastically. “Your food will be out in just a moment.”
I looked out the window our booth was sitting next to. The horizon was full of light pastel colors as the sun started to set.
“If you’re worried about nightfall, I’ll turn when the full moon is at its peak. That’s what the internet says, at least.” James informed me. “You won’t have to worry about me, ya know, before then.”
I disguised my scoff as a laugh as I continued looking out at the pretty sunset.
Our food came out and we started eating. I don’t know if James was just putting on a show or what, but he stared at his cheeseburger like he hadn’t eaten for a year. He sunk his teeth into his food at the same time I took the first bite of my salad. James scrunched his face in confusion. Then he waved our server over.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He started.
Jenny’s unnaturally happy smile faltered. My eyeballs almost burst from their sockets. I started choking on my salad at James’s brash outburst.
“I asked for my cheeseburger RARE! Does this look RARE to you?” James shoved his cheeseburger in our waitresses face.
“I- I uh,” Jenny stumbled, clearly taken aback.
“Make me a new burger, rare like I asked for,” he demanded. “You can charge me for this one too, I’ll eat both of them.”
Jenny nodded before quickly running into the diner's kitchen, clearly about to cry.
I just sat there in shock as James tore back into his cheeseburger like it was a turkey leg you get at Medieval Times. He demolished that thing in three bites. Since he ordered his burger rare it didn’t take too long for his second one to come out. James then demanded our waitress bring him a full rack of BBQ ribs.
She looked to me for help to control my friend, but I was just as flabbergasted as she was. I hadn’t touched my salad as I sat in awe watching James.
If he was acting, he deserved an Oscar. It was actually kind of terrifying seeing him act like this.
It looked like James was on the cusp of an orgasm as he took the first bite of his second cheeseburger. Once again, it was gone in a couple bites. James snacked on his fries as he patiently waited for his ribs.
Jenny laid down the huge oval plate with a very judgmental look on her face. She scoffed as she took away James’s empty plates.
James waved her off as he began inhaling rib after rib. He devoured those ribs like he didn’t know when his next meal would be. He finished the whole rack of ribs only a couple minutes after Jenny had brought them out to him.
“Laying it on there real thick, huh, buddy?” I said sarcastically. Truth be told, I was bewildered that he actually managed to eat all that food.
James wiped all the barbecue sauce that had accumulated around his mouth with a couple napkins as he finished his meal. “What do you mean by that, Doc?”
“This whole…” I leaned in close to him and whispered,” werewolf thing. I mean the food, your aggression towards our server? That’s not like you, James.”
“I told you, doc, I haven’t been feeling myself. All day I’ve been agitated, and on top of that starving! It must be the moon. It’s affecting me.”
I rolled my eyes. There’s no way he was blaming his behavior on the moon. This Clinical Lycanthropy thing was pretty bizarre to witness.
James checked his watch before standing up and chucking a wad of cash on the table. “C’mon let’s go. It’ll be time soon.”
Still in a fugue state of shock, I followed James out of the diner. He got in his car and I got in mine. James quickly peeled out of the small parking lot. I followed closely behind him.
Honestly I was kind of relieved to have space from him. James was almost starting to freak me out, and that’s saying a lot coming from a therapist because I’ve seen some weird shit before.
We drove for about ten minutes before driving down a random dirt road. James got out of his car and prompted me to follow him. The two of us walked for about five minutes before arriving at this old rickety looking gazebo that was in the middle of nowhere.
“James, you seriously can’t still believe this can you?” I questioned as he pulled a thick and heavy chain out of his backpack. He handed it to me, the weight of it almost knocking me off balance. I’m surprised he carried that thing on his back without breaking a sweat.
James looked up at the clear night sky worriedly, the full moon slowly rising higher in the sky, “Hurry up, doc,” he pleaded, taking off my jacket and his hoodie
I stared at the now shirtless James, confused.
“So I don’t tear through it when I turn,” he explained nonchalantly. “The pants stay on for obvious reasons. I’m not getting fully nude in front of my therapist.”
“Yeah, cuz that’s weird,”I sighed, tying one end of the chain to the sturdiest looking part of the gazebo. The other end was wrapped around his waist and then his wrists.
“Okay,” James said after checking the time on his phone. “The moon should be at its peak within the next minute.”
I set up my phone across from him and pressed record. The light from the moon intensified as it reached its peak in the night sky.
James clenched his eyes shut and braced for pain, letting out a couple of anticipatory grunts.
He did look pretty sweaty and unwell, I have to admit. It could just be from all that food he ate, I rationalized.
James stayed that way, bracing himself for something to happen. He looked pretty uneasy. Scared. I felt bad for him.
A couple minutes passed and nothing happened.
“Wasn’t something supposed to happen by now?” I asked, stopping the recording on my phone.
James opened his eyes and looked down at his very human hands. “Maybe Google was wrong. Let’s wait a little longer.”
“James,” I said testingly. “You can’t let this go on.”
“Please,” he begged. “I need this, Harrison. Please!”
I scoffed, climbing down the steps of the gazebo and kicked a rock. I started walking back to my car before turning around. “Fine. We can wait a little longer.”
An hour passed and nothing happened to James. I got fed up and finally freed him from the chain.
“I- I don’t understand,” James looked dejected. “Nothing happened. Why didn’t I turn into a werewolf?”
“C’mon James it’s getting late,” I said, not answering his question. Instead, I put my hand on his bare shoulder to try and comfort him. He dragged his feet while I guided him back to his car. He looked like he was about to cry.
“Let’s go home.”
“Jesus, James, have you been eating?”
It was a couple days after the whole werewolf thing was debunked. James had just come in for his regular session. He looked worryingly thin, almost emaciated. To lose that large amount of weight in only a couple days wasn’t healthy. I worried the events that transpired the other night made James spiral even deeper.
It was quite embarrassing to witness, so I can only imagine how he was feeling.
“Yes!” He said plopping down in his chair. He must not have showered in a couple days judging by the ripe smell that wafted off him. “That’s all I’ve been doing!”
I wrote some notes down. He started lying. This wasn’t good.
“Mr. King-“
“I had it all wrong,”James interrupted me, almost excitedly. “I’ve been doing research. I know what happened now.”
“Oh really?” I asked. James was starting to sound like a conspiracy theorist now.
“I was cursed,” he stated matter-of-a-factly.
I wrote some more notes down. “Cursed?”
“By a wendigo.”
“James, not this again,” I said with a heavy sigh.
“I’m serious, it all lines up! The hunger, the weight loss, why I’m always cold all of a fucking sudden! Not to mention the slow transformation and matching symptoms to lycanthropy.”
“Wendigo’s don’t exist. They’re just creatures of Navajo folklore,” I said, exasperated.
What does exist, however, is Wendigo psychosis.
t’s a mental condition where someone believes they are becoming this cannibalistic creature. It usually stems from the person believing they lack the food and resources to stay nourished, especially during the winter, which causes them to turn to cannibalism.
I found out about it while researching more on Clinical Lycanthropy.
Sure, his skin had shrunk around his nails making them look longer, sharper too, and his skin was pale and sweaty. With how skinny he had become, he did look taller too, but that didn’t mean he was a Wendigo. He was using it as confirmation bias.
“James, let’s be rational here.”
“I AM BEING RATIONAL!” He yelled, getting up from his seat. He started pacing around the room nervously.
“Clearly,” I mumbled. “James, if you think this is true, how do you think you became ‘cursed’?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” James let out a maniac laugh. “The mugging! That thing must’ve attacked me and cursed me. That’s the only reason why it let me live. According to my research, not many people live to tell their tales about encountering these things. Harrison, please! I need your help trying to reverse this curse. I want to go back to normal!”
James’s mental spiral was becoming quite concerning. If I let this continue, someone was bound to get hurt.
“James,” I said softly, sliding a business card over to him. It was a contact number for a mental hospital named Brightburn. “I don’t think I can help you. But they can.”
“You’re a skeptic!” He shouted, throwing the card across the room.
“And you’re delusional!” I snapped. “I mean Wendigo’s and Werewolves?! James, you're unwell!”
“I wonder why!” He shouted, gesturing to himself. “Do you see what I’m becoming!”
“James, you’re not a wendigo!”
“I am!”
“You’re not!” I paused and lowered my voice. “Katie cheated on you! Left you for another guy.” James’s face fell when I brought up his ex.
I continued, explaining further, “So now you’re using this mugging as an excuse to make yourself something you’re not. You’re trying to make yourself seem like something bigger than you actually are, James. When deep down all you’re really doing is trying to do is show her that you’re someone worth staying with. Someone worth not cheating on!”
“You have no right to bring Katie into this!” James cried. “That’s not what’s happening! I’ve been cursed, I’m telling you!”
He grabbed his chair and chucked it across the room in a fit of anger. My chair splintered into a million pieces.
I sat back in my chair and sighed, rubbing my temples. “You say you want help, James. They can help you more than I can. If you don’t want to go, then that’s on you. But if you won’t help yourself, I can’t be your therapist any more.”
“No- don’t do this. Doc, you’re the only one I have.” James pleaded.
“You can’t keep this charade up anymore! I’ve indulged you long enough. You’re not turning into some supernatural creature. You’re human!”
James smoothed the wrinkles in his blue flannel shirt before making his way to the door. He stopped and turned to me.
“Just you wait, doc. I’ll prove it to you,” he seethed. “You better watch your back.”
With a slam of my office door, James was gone.
I took a breath before picking my phone up to call my secretary and to alert security to not let James back in the building.
“I think I’m being stalked,” I admitted to my wife Lauren. It had been a rough week with patients, plus I kept receiving threatening letters in the mail. But I couldn’t tell Lauren about it. I didn’t want to worry her.
We just found out she was expecting.
“You’re being silly, Harrison,” she said, trying to comfort me.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek good night. I turned over in our bed. My heart sank when I saw the shadow of a person glide past my window.
I came home late from work a little later than expected.
My office had been broken into and trashed. I had a sneaking suspicion who did it. Nevertheless, I had to clean my office, file a police report, and finish the rest of my appointments for the day.
Lauren had told me she had a surprise waiting for me at dinner, so I stopped on the way home to pick up flowers and a little gift for Brandon, our four year old son.
The overwhelming stench of iron and something putrid and rotting filled my nostrils as I opened the door to my house.
A massive pool of blood was visible in the kitchen.
I dropped everything in my hands and rushed to the kitchen. I almost puked when I found the dead bodies of my wife and son lying on the dining room table.
Half of Brandon’s face had been chewed off, his frozen expression that of terror.
Lauren had been disemboweled. Her intestines and other miscellaneous organs strewn about the table. On her chest was her uterus, which had been half eaten.
I fell to my knees and started bawling my eyes out. My family had been murdered.
Something growled animalistically behind me, “Believe me now?”
My stomach flipped. A tall emaciated figure stood in the doorway. It’s arms were disproportionately longer than its torso. Its hands and wrists were caked in blood. Sharp teeth glinted in artificial light. That putrid smell from earlier worsened.
A wendigo. James. It had to be.
He’d been right all along.
The wendigo pounced, but I managed to dodge. James recovered with supernatural speed as I ran as fast as I could for safety.
I lunged for the door to my home office for protection. I kept a pistol in there.
I managed to reach the gun before James reached me. He ripped the door off the hinges and bellowed out a blood curdling roar. I managed to squeeze past him and into the hallway. I took the safety off and cocked the gun, praying I had left it loaded.
click-click
James crawled up the banister of my stairs, hanging off of it like a monkey. He had chased me into a corner.
I braced myself as the thing that used to be my patient jumped. As James barreled towards me with a sadistic smile on his mutilated face, I pulled the trigger and aimed right for his chest. The force of the blast knocked me down.
When I regained my bearings, there was no monstrously disfigured body on the floor in front of me. Instead, my front door was swinging wide open.
James was in the wind. He left me alone, with my dead wife and kid in the next room. Grief and anger flooded my veins.
All I wanted to do at that moment was kill James King for what he’d done. I wanted to kill myself for not believing him and allowing this to happen.
Then I remembered reading about something online. The wendigo’s weakness was fire.
I could kill it with fire.
I could kill James with fire.
So much for a mugging, eh?

TW: Mentions of drug abuse and self harm
“Well, Mr. King, it’s been quite a while since you’ve last been in that chair,” I said, greeting my two o’ clock appointment.
It’s always nice to meet with previous patients of mine, however there’s always a twinge of sadness to it. As a therapist, you never really want to see a familiar face sitting on the other side of your desk again.
The man sitting across from me chuckled lightly, sweeping some of his light brown hair out of his blue eyes. He readjusted himself in the chair. “Please, Dr. Morris, call me James.”
“Alright then, James,” I said, dropping the formality. Playfully I added, “It’s still Dr. Morris to you, though.”
“Alright, Harrison,” he quipped back with a sly smile. In response, I smiled and laughed.
Even though it’s been two years since I last saw James, he was still as charming as I remembered him to be.
“So,” he started, locking his hands together and leaning closer to me in his chair, “How’s the wife, doc? The kid?”
“I’m not paid to sit here and talk about myself, James. Let’s talk about what’s going on with you, shall we? Why are you here?”
“Okay, no time for small talk, I get that,” he mumbled.
I sat comfortably in my plush leather desk chair waiting for him to answer my question. A tense moment of silence passed. James’s cheerful mask slipped away, revealing a harder, more solemn expression.
He cleared his throat before he finally gave me an answer. “I- uh… I was mugged.”
“I’m sorry that you experienced that,” I apologized genuinely. “It must’ve been traumatizing.”
“It was,” was all he said.
“Do you want to talk about it, James? I’m assuming that’s why you scheduled an appointment with me after all?”
He nervously twiddled with his thumbs before giving me a very abridged version of events. “The boys and I were hanging out at my parents' cabin up in Mount Glenda. I went out for a late night walk and got attacked. Was in the hospital for a couple days. Now I’m here.”
“Do you remember much from the attack?” I questioned, noticing there weren’t any visible scratches or contusions on him. He was wearing black acid wash jeans and a button up flannel shirt, so it’s possible he was attempting to cover them up.
“I- I’d rather not recount that right now, if that’s alright with you, Dr. Morris.”
I nodded my head understandably. “Okay.”
James started picking at some skin on his fingers, a common nervous habit for him. “Thanks, doc. It’s still a little fresh to talk about.”
“It’s not a problem. We can talk about it whenever you’re ready, James.” Changing the topic, I asked, “So, how are things with you and Katie?”
James scrunched his eyelids closed and wrinkled his nose at the mention of her name. If an onlooker didn’t know any better, they’d say I’d just punched him in the face.
I frowned. “Last time you were here, you two were hitting it off pretty well. So well, in fact, you stopped scheduling sessions with me.”
“We broke up,” he admitted, messing with one of the cuffs on his red and white flannel sleeves. “That’s why we were up on Mount Glenda in the first place. My friends wanted to help cheer me up. Help me get over her.”
“Well that was nice of them,” I commented, writing down some observations I’d made. Given the way he avoided eye contact and became anxious while talking about the events that led up to his attack, a PTSD diagnosis was certainly in the cards after a violent experience such as a mugging. But, I needed to fully complete my evaluation before I could say anything was concrete.
“They had good intentions,” he grumbled.
“Why did you and Katie break up, if you don’t mind me asking? Was it amicable?”
James scoffed. “If by amicable, you mean she cheated and left me for the other guy, then yeah you can say it was amicable.”
“Mhm,” I muttered, taking more notes. “Want to talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about?” James raised his voice slightly. “She cheated on me and we broke up!”
Clearly I’d struck a nerve. I cleared my throat and moved on. “Why don’t we talk about something else, then? How’s work at the diner? How are your courses going at university?”
“L-look, Dr. Morris, I don’t even know why I came here,”James laughed out breathlessly, starting to stand up from his chair. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
I stood up with James, gently placing my hand on one of his. He paused and I could see in his eyes he was hurting. I could sense he wanted someone to talk to. Needed someone to talk to.
“How about this, James, why don’t we end our session early today. Go home, drink a warm beverage, take a nap. Come see me next week. Friday, same time.”
James nodded his head, “Ok doc.”
I called out suddenly as he was about to walk out the door. “You can come back anytime before then. If you want to talk about it, I’m here for you James.”
James flashed me a weak smile before walking out of my office.
I was unsure if I’d see James again. He seemed to be teetering on the edge of a depressive episode the last time we spoke. It’s not easy to ask for help once a person passes that threshold. So, I was glad when I saw he had requested an emergency session with me just a couple days before his next scheduled appointment.
“I was attacked!” James exclaimed, rushing into my office. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt with a gray zip up jacket and a pair of blue jeans. Slung over his shoulder was a black backpack with a red stripe down the sides.
I disregarded his incredibly rude entrance and placed my phone face down on the desk. I adjusted my reading glasses and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
“I know? You were mugged.”
“No. No, no, you don’t understand,” James said, tapping his pointer finger on his temple erratically. “I was attacked, not by a person, but by something!”
I crossed one leg over the other and leaned in closer to him. I wondered where this was heading. “How do you mean James? You weren’t mugged? Were you attacked by an animal?”
“No I was mugged,” he explained, tucking a small tuft of his medium length hair behind his ear. “My wallet and phone were gone when my friends found me.”
As confusing as it sounded, this was good. James was opening up more about his mugging.
I sat with a puzzled expression, waiting for Mr. King to elaborate.
“I was mugged alright,”James paused for dramatic effect. “Mugged by a werewolf!”
I had to stifle a laugh. Trying my best to keep my expression neutral I asked, “You? Mugged by a… werewolf?”
James nodded his head frantically. He looked tired. Like he hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep in a couple of days.
“Do you maybe want to describe exactly what happened when you were mugged, James? Help me understand what you saw.”
“It was dark,” he started, taking a seat in his usual chair. He clutched the backpack closely to his chest. “I didn’t see much, but I *know* I was attacked. It was quick and fast, smelled real bad too! It was a werewolf, I’m telling you! It had to be… and I think it turned me.”
Oh this couldn’t be good.
The blood-shot eyes.
Delusions of grandeur, more fantastical than ever.
His unstable and nervous demeanor.
“Are- are you using again, James?” I placed my hand gently on one of his, a gesture to show that I cared and was worried about him.
James was a recovering addict, it’s one of the reasons he started seeing me in the first place.
He quickly withdrew his hand from under mine. He scoffed. “Y-you don’t believe me do you?”
“I believe that you believe you were attacked and turned into a werewolf,” I told him.
Clinical Lycanthropy. I’d heard of it before, but never thought I’d witness a possible case in real life. What a truly fascinating trauma response.
“Tell me why you think that, James.” I clicked my pen, ready to jot down some notes.
James gave me the side eye. I waved it off and prompted him to continue. He gulped before speaking.
“Well, I don’t know how to explain it, doc. Everything just feels… different.”
“Try to explain it,” I urged.
“Everything is just so bright and loud now. So I guess enhanced senses? And I’m hungry. All. The. Time. These cravings I’m having, they’re intense!”
“Cravings?”
“Meat,” he answered. “Lots and lots of meat.”
“Mhm,” I said, nodding along as I wrote down my thoughts. “Have you experienced any accelerated hair growth as well? Lupine-like urges?”
James grunted. “This is serious.”
“And I’m being serious, James,” I countered. “I need you to be as detailed as possible.”
“Listen,” he said earnestly, leaning close, “The full moon is two days from now. I’ll be able to prove it to you then. Come with me before I turn, please?”
Quite frankly I didn’t know how to verbally respond to that type of request. My face however, said it all.
“I’ll even let you video tape it!” he added hastily after seeing my reaction.
I raised an eyebrow inquisitively. Instantly, ideas for experiments and different studies for this disorder ran through my head. Just the thought of researching and exploring this rarely talked about mental phenomenon was making me giddy. I felt like an undergrad student working on my senior thesis again.
“You can use the video to break out in the medical world or something, I don’t know,” James said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“But why me, James? Why not one of your friends?” I asked, curiously, seriously considering this insane proposition.
“Because, you’re the only person I trust with this. Plus, patient confidentiality and all that jazz.”
I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at that logic. “If you truly believe you’re a werewolf, aren’t you scared of hurting someone? Aren’t you terrified of becoming this big dangerous creature? Why not go off alone?”
“There’s a good reason for that, doc,” James answered, opening his backpack. He reached in and pulled out a thick metal chain. “I need someone to help chain me up.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought to myself as I walked into Nancy’s diner. James had requested we meet up for dinner before we headed off to see his “transition.”
Me meeting up with a patient outside of office hours was practically unheard of, and on top of that, extremely unprofessional. I honestly don’t know what’s worse, me aiding James with his delusion or the fact I was excited to see where this would go.
The inside of the diner was much warmer compared to the ambient temperature outside. So as I searched the small dining room for James, I took my overcoat off and slung it around my forearm.
James spotted me and waved me over excitedly. I walked over to the small booth and sat down across from him. It felt like we were in my office again.
“Cozy,” I said. James chuckled and took a sip of water.
He was wearing a thick gray hoodie, some dark blue jeans, and some converse sneakers. I wore my usual work attire, black slacks and a light colored long sleeve cotton button up.
“Are you alright James?” I asked, noticing how shaky he was. He started rubbing his arms intensely.
I made a mental note of this. If James had been using drugs again, he was most certainly in the beginning processes of withdrawal.
He rubbed his arms some more before answering me. “Just fine. It’s just *freezing* in this diner.”
I offered him my coat, which he graciously accepted.
“Thanks. And thanks again for coming all the way out here. Dr. Morris-“
“Please James,” I stopped him, “I’m off the clock now. You can call me Harrison.”
“H-Harrison,” he stuttered, “I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you coming out here. Once I prove my ‘condition’ to you, you’ll have no choice but to believe me. I know if I’d gone to anyone else they’d have just thought I was on Stardust again and not given me a chance.”
Well James, the consensus was still out on that last one.
I smiled and nodded. It was clear James was mentally unwell, probably due to both his break up and the trauma from his attack. I was merely here to make sure he didn’t harm himself with his little demonstration tonight, or at least that’s what I was telling myself.
What are the chances James actually does transform into a monster tonight? It’s improbable to happen, but there’s always that excitement that comes with the question: What if?
“Hi, welcome in!” Our waitress greeted, bringing me a menu and a glass of water. Her name tag read Jenny. “What can I get started for you this fine evening?”
James ordered first. “I think I’ll have a cheeseburger. Every thing on it and I’ll take that rare please.”
Jenny nodded as she jotted down his order in her book. She then looked at me. “I’ll just have the Cesar salad please.”
“Alrighty, folks!” Jenny announced as she snapped her book shut enthusiastically. “Your food will be out in just a moment.”
I looked out the window our booth was sitting next to. The horizon was full of light pastel colors as the sun started to set.
“If you’re worried about nightfall, I’ll turn when the full moon is at its peak. That’s what the internet says, at least.” James informed me. “You won’t have to worry about me, ya know, before then.”
I disguised my scoff as a laugh as I continued looking out at the pretty sunset.
Our food came out and we started eating. I don’t know if James was just putting on a show or what, but he stared at his cheeseburger like he hadn’t eaten for a year. He sunk his teeth into his food at the same time I took the first bite of my salad. James scrunched his face in confusion. Then he waved our server over.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He started.
Jenny’s unnaturally happy smile faltered. My eyeballs almost burst from their sockets. I started choking on my salad at James’s brash outburst.
“I asked for my cheeseburger RARE! Does this look RARE to you?” James shoved his cheeseburger in our waitresses face.
“I- I uh,” Jenny stumbled, clearly taken aback.
“Make me a new burger, rare like I asked for,” he demanded. “You can charge me for this one too, I’ll eat both of them.”
Jenny nodded before quickly running into the diner's kitchen, clearly about to cry.
I just sat there in shock as James tore back into his cheeseburger like it was a turkey leg you get at Medieval Times. He demolished that thing in three bites. Since he ordered his burger rare it didn’t take too long for his second one to come out. James then demanded our waitress bring him a full rack of BBQ ribs.
She looked to me for help to control my friend, but I was just as flabbergasted as she was. I hadn’t touched my salad as I sat in awe watching James.
If he was acting, he deserved an Oscar. It was actually kind of terrifying seeing him act like this.
It looked like James was on the cusp of an orgasm as he took the first bite of his second cheeseburger. Once again, it was gone in a couple bites. James snacked on his fries as he patiently waited for his ribs.
Jenny laid down the huge oval plate with a very judgmental look on her face. She scoffed as she took away James’s empty plates.
James waved her off as he began inhaling rib after rib. He devoured those ribs like he didn’t know when his next meal would be. He finished the whole rack of ribs only a couple minutes after Jenny had brought them out to him.
“Laying it on there real thick, huh, buddy?” I said sarcastically. Truth be told, I was bewildered that he actually managed to eat all that food.
James wiped all the barbecue sauce that had accumulated around his mouth with a couple napkins as he finished his meal. “What do you mean by that, Doc?”
“This whole…” I leaned in close to him and whispered,” werewolf thing. I mean the food, your aggression towards our server? That’s not like you, James.”
“I told you, doc, I haven’t been feeling myself. All day I’ve been agitated, and on top of that starving! It must be the moon. It’s affecting me.”
I rolled my eyes. There’s no way he was blaming his behavior on the moon. This Clinical Lycanthropy thing was pretty bizarre to witness.
James checked his watch before standing up and chucking a wad of cash on the table. “C’mon let’s go. It’ll be time soon.”
Still in a fugue state of shock, I followed James out of the diner. He got in his car and I got in mine. James quickly peeled out of the small parking lot. I followed closely behind him.
Honestly I was kind of relieved to have space from him. James was almost starting to freak me out, and that’s saying a lot coming from a therapist because I’ve seen some weird shit before.
We drove for about ten minutes before driving down a random dirt road. James got out of his car and prompted me to follow him. The two of us walked for about five minutes before arriving at this old rickety looking gazebo that was in the middle of nowhere.
“James, you seriously can’t still believe this can you?” I questioned as he pulled a thick and heavy chain out of his backpack. He handed it to me, the weight of it almost knocking me off balance. I’m surprised he carried that thing on his back without breaking a sweat.
James looked up at the clear night sky worriedly, the full moon slowly rising higher in the sky, “Hurry up, doc,” he pleaded, taking off my jacket and his hoodie
I stared at the now shirtless James, confused.
“So I don’t tear through it when I turn,” he explained nonchalantly. “The pants stay on for obvious reasons. I’m not getting fully nude in front of my therapist.”
“Yeah, cuz that’s weird,”I sighed, tying one end of the chain to the sturdiest looking part of the gazebo. The other end was wrapped around his waist and then his wrists.
“Okay,” James said after checking the time on his phone. “The moon should be at its peak within the next minute.”
I set up my phone across from him and pressed record. The light from the moon intensified as it reached its peak in the night sky.
James clenched his eyes shut and braced for pain, letting out a couple of anticipatory grunts.
He did look pretty sweaty and unwell, I have to admit. It could just be from all that food he ate, I rationalized.
James stayed that way, bracing himself for something to happen. He looked pretty uneasy. Scared. I felt bad for him.
A couple minutes passed and nothing happened.
“Wasn’t something supposed to happen by now?” I asked, stopping the recording on my phone.
James opened his eyes and looked down at his very human hands. “Maybe Google was wrong. Let’s wait a little longer.”
“James,” I said testingly. “You can’t let this go on.”
“Please,” he begged. “I need this, Harrison. Please!”
I scoffed, climbing down the steps of the gazebo and kicked a rock. I started walking back to my car before turning around. “Fine. We can wait a little longer.”
An hour passed and nothing happened to James. I got fed up and finally freed him from the chain.
“I- I don’t understand,” James looked dejected. “Nothing happened. Why didn’t I turn into a werewolf?”
“C’mon James it’s getting late,” I said, not answering his question. Instead, I put my hand on his bare shoulder to try and comfort him. He dragged his feet while I guided him back to his car. He looked like he was about to cry.
“Let’s go home.”
“Jesus, James, have you been eating?”
It was a couple days after the whole werewolf thing was debunked. James had just come in for his regular session. He looked worryingly thin, almost emaciated. To lose that large amount of weight in only a couple days wasn’t healthy. I worried the events that transpired the other night made James spiral even deeper.
It was quite embarrassing to witness, so I can only imagine how he was feeling.
“Yes!” He said plopping down in his chair. He must not have showered in a couple days judging by the ripe smell that wafted off him. “That’s all I’ve been doing!”
I wrote some notes down. He started lying. This wasn’t good.
“Mr. King-“
“I had it all wrong,”James interrupted me, almost excitedly. “I’ve been doing research. I know what happened now.”
“Oh really?” I asked. James was starting to sound like a conspiracy theorist now.
“I was cursed,” he stated matter-of-a-factly.
I wrote some more notes down. “Cursed?”
“By a wendigo.”
“James, not this again,” I said with a heavy sigh.
“I’m serious, it all lines up! The hunger, the weight loss, why I’m always cold all of a fucking sudden! Not to mention the slow transformation and matching symptoms to lycanthropy.”
“Wendigo’s don’t exist. They’re just creatures of Navajo folklore,” I said, exasperated.
What does exist, however, is Wendigo psychosis.
t’s a mental condition where someone believes they are becoming this cannibalistic creature. It usually stems from the person believing they lack the food and resources to stay nourished, especially during the winter, which causes them to turn to cannibalism.
I found out about it while researching more on Clinical Lycanthropy.
Sure, his skin had shrunk around his nails making them look longer, sharper too, and his skin was pale and sweaty. With how skinny he had become, he did look taller too, but that didn’t mean he was a Wendigo. He was using it as confirmation bias.
“James, let’s be rational here.”
“I AM BEING RATIONAL!” He yelled, getting up from his seat. He started pacing around the room nervously.
“Clearly,” I mumbled. “James, if you think this is true, how do you think you became ‘cursed’?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” James let out a maniac laugh. “The mugging! That thing must’ve attacked me and cursed me. That’s the only reason why it let me live. According to my research, not many people live to tell their tales about encountering these things. Harrison, please! I need your help trying to reverse this curse. I want to go back to normal!”
James’s mental spiral was becoming quite concerning. If I let this continue, someone was bound to get hurt.
“James,” I said softly, sliding a business card over to him. It was a contact number for a mental hospital named Brightburn. “I don’t think I can help you. But they can.”
“You’re a skeptic!” He shouted, throwing the card across the room.
“And you’re delusional!” I snapped. “I mean Wendigo’s and Werewolves?! James, you're unwell!”
“I wonder why!” He shouted, gesturing to himself. “Do you see what I’m becoming!”
“James, you’re not a wendigo!”
“I am!”
“You’re not!” I paused and lowered my voice. “Katie cheated on you! Left you for another guy.” James’s face fell when I brought up his ex.
I continued, explaining further, “So now you’re using this mugging as an excuse to make yourself something you’re not. You’re trying to make yourself seem like something bigger than you actually are, James. When deep down all you’re really doing is trying to do is show her that you’re someone worth staying with. Someone worth not cheating on!”
“You have no right to bring Katie into this!” James cried. “That’s not what’s happening! I’ve been cursed, I’m telling you!”
He grabbed his chair and chucked it across the room in a fit of anger. My chair splintered into a million pieces.
I sat back in my chair and sighed, rubbing my temples. “You say you want help, James. They can help you more than I can. If you don’t want to go, then that’s on you. But if you won’t help yourself, I can’t be your therapist any more.”
“No- don’t do this. Doc, you’re the only one I have.” James pleaded.
“You can’t keep this charade up anymore! I’ve indulged you long enough. You’re not turning into some supernatural creature. You’re human!”
James smoothed the wrinkles in his blue flannel shirt before making his way to the door. He stopped and turned to me.
“Just you wait, doc. I’ll prove it to you,” he seethed. “You better watch your back.”
With a slam of my office door, James was gone.
I took a breath before picking my phone up to call my secretary and to alert security to not let James back in the building.
“I think I’m being stalked,” I admitted to my wife Lauren. It had been a rough week with patients, plus I kept receiving threatening letters in the mail. But I couldn’t tell Lauren about it. I didn’t want to worry her.
We just found out she was expecting.
“You’re being silly, Harrison,” she said, trying to comfort me.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek good night. I turned over in our bed. My heart sank when I saw the shadow of a person glide past my window.
I came home late from work a little later than expected.
My office had been broken into and trashed. I had a sneaking suspicion who did it. Nevertheless, I had to clean my office, file a police report, and finish the rest of my appointments for the day.
Lauren had told me she had a surprise waiting for me at dinner, so I stopped on the way home to pick up flowers and a little gift for Brandon, our four year old son.
The overwhelming stench of iron and something putrid and rotting filled my nostrils as I opened the door to my house.
A massive pool of blood was visible in the kitchen.
I dropped everything in my hands and rushed to the kitchen. I almost puked when I found the dead bodies of my wife and son lying on the dining room table.
Half of Brandon’s face had been chewed off, his frozen expression that of terror.
Lauren had been disemboweled. Her intestines and other miscellaneous organs strewn about the table. On her chest was her uterus, which had been half eaten.
I fell to my knees and started bawling my eyes out. My family had been murdered.
Something growled animalistically behind me, “Believe me now?”
My stomach flipped. A tall emaciated figure stood in the doorway. It’s arms were disproportionately longer than its torso. Its hands and wrists were caked in blood. Sharp teeth glinted in artificial light. That putrid smell from earlier worsened.
A wendigo. James. It had to be.
He’d been right all along.
The wendigo pounced, but I managed to dodge. James recovered with supernatural speed as I ran as fast as I could for safety.
I lunged for the door to my home office for protection. I kept a pistol in there.
I managed to reach the gun before James reached me. He ripped the door off the hinges and bellowed out a blood curdling roar. I managed to squeeze past him and into the hallway. I took the safety off and cocked the gun, praying I had left it loaded.
click-click
James crawled up the banister of my stairs, hanging off of it like a monkey. He had chased me into a corner.
I braced myself as the thing that used to be my patient jumped. As James barreled towards me with a sadistic smile on his mutilated face, I pulled the trigger and aimed right for his chest. The force of the blast knocked me down.
When I regained my bearings, there was no monstrously disfigured body on the floor in front of me. Instead, my front door was swinging wide open.
James was in the wind. He left me alone, with my dead wife and kid in the next room. Grief and anger flooded my veins.
All I wanted to do at that moment was kill James King for what he’d done. I wanted to kill myself for not believing him and allowing this to happen.
Then I remembered reading about something online. The wendigo’s weakness was fire.
I could kill it with fire.
I could kill James with fire.
So much for a mugging, eh?

This may be the dumbest story idea I've ever had, but I think it turned out pretty fun in the end. Let me know what you think. This is also a one-shot and not connected to any other story or universe.
__________
On board the orbital station “Peaceful Garden”, a hub of trade negotiations and ambassadorial talks throughout the Orion Octant of the galaxy, a special meeting of the psychic committee has been called. This sub group of the larger Alliance of Sapient Species deals in any matters that concern those races with abilities beyond the scope of the physical senses.
The room is just one of hundreds of identical conference rooms aboard the station, used to facilitate the various talks and debates of the dozens of species in the Alliance. An ovular table took up the center of the room, and around it were 15 modular chairs for each member of the committee. A robotic refreshment station, some potted (artificial) plants, and technically impressive but bland artwork occupied the remaining space.
At the appointed time the committee members filed into the room and took their seats. As always, a brown insectoid Lohrvin entered first. Despite being the weakest in terms of psychic power, their hive mind meant that any member of their species could fill in for any meeting, so there was always one of them nearby. Rilmin, the tall, slender, silver scaled ambassador of the Minarans was next. Her people’s empathic abilities made them excellent mediators. Then came the diminutive Punchin ambassador, Ahdovil. What his species lacked in size, they made up for in telekinetic power.
The remaining members filed in one after the other and took their seats. The serving bot disengaged from its station and made the rounds, dispensing small drinks and snacks to each member, until the final member, and the one who called the special meeting, entered the room.
Ambassador Ry’hava was one of the Chri’nari people. They had to duck, curving the spine of their 6 foot long snakelike body into an S shape as they entered to keep their spiral horns from hitting the soundproof door. Despite their larger size and fearsome fangs, they were a calm and peaceful people with only average strength both physically and psychically. Their two sets of legs and arms were somewhat short and small for their size, and their abilities were focused on the perception of other beings’ presence and intentions. Without looking they could tell you how many people were in the room, how many of them were lying, and whether any of them had any kind of psychic ability.
As Ry’hava took their seat at the head of the oval, they were currently sensing 15 beings in the room, besides themselves, all with psychic powers and none of whom were currently lying. They were instead some combination of bored, irritated, and curious.
“I’m sure you are all wondering why I called a special meeting that warranted the disruption of your usual schedules. As you may have guessed, it is related to the report I sent out earlier on Humans, the newly arrived species. Everything in the report is accurate, but there is an addendum that must be delivered in person.” They were somewhat frazzled as there had been multiple, obnoxious reminders set for this meeting right up until the very minute before it began. Still, they cleared their throat and set down a rectangular object in front of them that appeared to be made of thin flexible wafers bound with a simple spiral wire and bearing the large letters ‘READ AT MEETING’ on the front, drawing odd looks from several other committee members. They did their best to ignore them and opened the notebook to the first page.
“Now then, as stated in the report I boarded the human ship, the SS Henson, to examine a baseline sample of humans as well as a few that claimed to have some special psychic talent. Psychic abilities are quite prevalent in human media, so we took each of these claims seriously. Unfortunately, my examination found no abilities in any of the humans, and you can read the full details in the official report. However, while aboard their vessel, I was sensing some sort of psychic resonance. It was inconsistent and difficult to pin down, so I asked for a tour of the vessel.”
“The humans were happy to comply, they seem to have a fondness for the Chri’nari as we resemble a legendary creature from their ancient folklore, an ‘Eastern Dragon’ according to my guide. He showed me a few artistic renditions of the noble beasts and I found the resemblance quite uncanny, they even have our mane and facial hair.” They said as they idly brushed a hand through their flowing locks.
A wash of irritation across the room prompted a quick cough from the ambassador. “But where was I? Oh yes, the tour.” They quickly flipped to the next page of the notebook. “I was able to prompt my guide towards where the presence was strongest and we eventually came to a machine shop in the engineering department occupied by an elderly human and one of their ‘dog’ animal companions.“
“At first I thought the dog, named Sprocket, may have been the source of the resonance, but other than an above average empathy for an animal there was nothing to report. Instead my senses drew me to a large cabinet in the corner of the room. A slight draft was coming from that area, and with some assistance from my guide we moved it aside and found an open air vent behind it. The closer we looked, the stranger it appeared, as the other side of the vent looked to be a natural stone tunnel. My guide even checked the schematics of the ship and found no such ventilation duct in that location.”
The curiosity in the room had increased, even the serving bot seemed to have stopped its tasks, though that was likely due to it being serviced by a small yellow and white furred being whose species the ambassador couldn't quite remember.
“After some deliberation I decided to enter the tunnel, it being just large enough to accommodate my size. After a few twists and turns…” Ry’hava flipped to the next page and furrowed their brow in confusion as they read next passage. Large letters at the top of the page in their own handwriting simply read ‘Please continue’.”
“My apologies fellow members, I know I read my own report several times before this meeting but I do not recall this passage.” They proceeded somewhat hesitantly. “The tunnel opened out into a large natural cave complete with rock formations and pools of water that stood in stark contrast to the ventilation ducts, pipes, wiring, and plasma conduits that crossed the space.”
“This room was the source of the resonance and contained a multitude of psychic beings. The exact number of them I was sensing fluctuated wildly, causing me to become quite disoriented. Upon noticing my arrival, the residents screamed and fled in every direction, their panic only exacerbating my condition.” As they read the passage Ry’hava recalled having some kind of episode upon the ship, but could not remember any details.
“Once most of them had disappeared into various ducts and passages in the walls, I was approached by a single being, seemingly sensing my distress. Thankfully they spoke the same language as the humans and even had a working external translator. They introduced themselves as Gobo, and asked if I was one of the new friends of the ‘Silly Creatures’, which is apparently their name for humanity.”
“After some back and forth I learned that they were called Fraggles, and had lived among the Silly Creatures, or humans, for as long as any of them could remember. Their Psychic abilities appear to be the polar opposite of my own, instead of sensing others they erase their own presence from those around them. Even photos of them will be ignored or outright deleted, and video feeds tend to glitch when they are in view. I even discovered that my own notes on the encounter that I had taken on my data slate were blank after I briefly looked away from them. Whether this is due to my mind being manipulated or if their abilities affect the device itself is unknown. Gobo did have a solution, an archaic paper notebook and pen they had ‘borrowed’ from the humans.” The ambassador nodded, adjusting said item in their hands.
“They borrow many things from the humans, who either do not notice that they have disappeared or believe that they have lost or misplaced them. This is not entirely a one sided relationship though. The Fraggles are avid tinkerers who often fix or improve devices that they find. I found their level of knowledge of the technology on board difficult to ascertain, however, as they did not use any of the standard terms that the humans used. The example Gobo provided was that he fixed the ‘Fluxer’ by connecting the ‘whozit’ to the ‘thingamajig’ and bypassing the ‘zonker’. I still have no idea what system on their ship this is referring to. Uhm, are there any questions so far?”
The Lohrvin stood and raised its appendage. “Yes, my people have received and viewed full documentation of all life on the Human’s homeworld and colonies. Through the hive mind we know of all their plants and animals, and I have never heard of those.”
“Yes, well it may be that this ability of theirs is more powerful than it seems.”
The ambassador was slightly distracted by an odd beep from the serving bot as the being repairing it shoved some loose wires and screws inside, as well as what appeared to be an open package of salted nuts. They then closed the access panel with a slight crunch and gave it a firm strike with their fist. The bot returned to its tasks at a faster pace than before, though it did run into the wall a few times, and presented Ry’hava with a lovely cup of the human’s green tea, despite them not recalling ordering anything. Still they took a drink for their parched throat as Ahdovil the Punchin ambassador spoke up.
“And what do these beings look like? Are they recognizable from their human counterparts?”
Ry’hava flipped through the notebook, going back over the same page a few times before finding a passage labeled ‘Physical Description’. “Ah, here we go. According to my notes, the Fraggles all are furry, and their size is in between. They come in many colors; yellow, pink, red, blue, and green. Hmm, it seems that even recording them in this method is somewhat difficult.”
Rilmin, the Minaran ambassador, raised a silver scaled hand. “Are these creatures dangerous, were you able to determine their intentions?”
The flipping of more pages followed as the flustered Ry’hava searched the document. “Let’s see, aside from the occasional tinkering and borrowing of various items, they fill their days with games, music, and other such frivolities. That combined with their skittish nature and general reluctance to leave their habitat means that they will neither be terribly useful, nor a significant threat to the Alliance. However…” the ambassador traced a finger under each word as they went, their brow rising in surprise. “one of them has expressed interest in our group and has agreed to attend today’s meeting?”
“Ah yes, I believe that would be my cue.” A tan hat and a tuft of white fur was all that Ry’hava could see bobbing along past the committee members. It stopped at a gap between two members and a small pair of yellow furred hands gripped the edge of the table. A large nose appeared shortly after, accompanied by a strained grunt before disappearing below the edge again. The small creature tried to climb the table a few times before Ahdovil rolled his eyes and levitated them onto the tabletop by their white tufted tail.
It landed rather unceremoniously on its face and quickly picked itself up with a shake. Surprisingly, they did not seem offended and gave the Puchin ambassador a respectful nod before turning to face the assembled psychic committee.
“As I’m sure you have forgotten” It said with a flourish of its hat. “I am the Fraggle that they call Uncle Traveling Matt.”
“I have journeyed out from Fraggle Rock, the place that we call home, to discover and explore the amazing Great Unknown. I have already seen every corner of the Earth, from countryside to city in Hong Kong, New York, and Perth.” He paced back and forth along the table as he went, meeting the confused and astounded gazes of each member as he went.
“And so we came with our friends to this brand new place, to explore beyond the Rock in the depths of Outer Space. All I ask of you is permission to explore, and if it’s not too much trouble then perhaps just one thing more. As I record and document all of the things I find, I would like to send a record to the Fraggles left behind.”
“That would be simple to arrange.” Ry’hava replied. “A diplomatic visitors pass will allow you access to all public places on the station and a guest account on the ship’s interstellar
communications system will allow you to send messages back to your ship assuming you have the correct access code. I will send a message to my aide now to prepare them as physical copies for you.”
“That would be most wonderful, my nephew will be pleased. And with that I hope you don’t mind if I take my leave. The stares of so many can feel a bit bizarre, even with an audience as kind as you all are.” With that the Fraggle hopped down from the table and calmly exited the room, the eyes of every member following the yellow-furred being in the odd hat until the door finally closed behind him. An awkward and confused pause followed as the committee members regarded each other.
“I believe that is meeting adjourned, unless there are any further questions.” Ry’hava stated awkwrdly. A few members seemed about to say something before reconsidering. They turned to address the Lohrvin in the room. “Can you please send the minutes to the group as soon as you are able?” The insect simply nodded in reply.
“A rather unorthodox meeting.” Ahdovil said as the other members rose to leave. “Hopefully some evidence of this tale of yours comes forward soon. We should have the Lohrvins keep an eye out for their representative, since he was unable to arrive on time. They may be lost somewhere on the station, though it will be hard to find them without a more accurate physical description.”
“Yes, most unfortunate.” Ry’hava replied as they stood and gathered the notebook from the table. “I do hope to meet them one day.”
__________
Fraggle Rock and all of its characters are the intellectual property of the Jim Henson company.

It was just another usual night, same routine; go to raymond’s club, get changed, practice my typical routine, preform, go home. easy right? easier said then done.
my name is carla mabey-carpenter
it’s the good ol’ 50s, and i’m a showgirl.
i’ve been a showgirl for quite some time, not years like my coworkers, but long enough to make decent pay. now i know what’s goin’ on in ya noggin’. “oh carla why would you become a show girl? you coulda been a nice housewife.” everyone i knew thought that about me, but what’s even more irritating? that they didn’t even have to say it. it’d be written all over their dumb faces.
i get out of my teal car and waltz into raymond’s club, and i’m one inch ahead of the door before i’m stopped, and who is it? raymond. i already knew his shtick, he was gonna ramble on about me being late and yadda yadda. i’m tired of hearing it and tune it out if i could without all his shouting and yapping.
“you are 30 minutes late! don’t you wanna make a quick buck? have a hot meal? a roof over your empty head?”
he said in his raspy voice from yelling. i roll my blue eyes at him, ready-ing my script in my head,
“yes i do raymond, you’re right it won’t happen again, i’m sorry.” i say blankly. “yeah, yeah, just get on stage…”
raymond said pushing my back towards the dressing rooms.
“big oaf..”
i thought to myself, i open the light adorned door west of the main stage and greet my coworkers.
“evening ladies.” i say while hanging up my coat.
“heya carla!”
said a pale woman in a southern accent, who i knew as victoria “vicky” vicky was the type of person who left a lasting impression on you, she was a looker, you could tell she was gonna have her name in lights one day.
“let me guess? was it crazy ray?” she said while fluffing her blonde hair.
“ding ding ding! we have a winner!” i said in a jokey tone.
“we’ll you betta’ get ready soon red, shows starting in 10.” vicky informed.
she called me red from my hair, i called her blondie. i walk over to my vanity and put on my blonde wig, raymond told me to wear it since i started, he said it because it was “unsexy” don’t know why, don’t wanna. i put on my makeup and outfit and sit in my chair, hoping by tomorrow i’ll make ends meet and pay my rent. theirs no way no how i’ll move back in with my mother. as i’m lost in space, my other coworker strolls in with 3 coffees, dotty. dotty was about as sweet as pie, your mind rushes to “now why would a sweet girl like that work here?” it was a unspoken rule here not to ask though. “how are you girls?” she grinned while placing the coffees on our tables. “ain’t complaining.” vicky answers. dotty and vicky make small talk while i stare at myself in the mirror. it had the name “Claire” ingrained on the bottom, we were allowed to choose fake names for ourselves, but raymond chose for me. he said because it meant famous in french. yeah right. me famous? who would want me in a movie- i’m back from space thanks to vicky snapping her fingers in my face. “red! come back from dreamland, we’re on.” her and dotty and the other girls walk out, leaving me in my seat. i sigh. i cross my arms while standing up. “gotta give these bozos a show.” i thought. me and the girls are behind the pink velvet curtain, i’m behind a girl whose real name i didn’t know but was called paige’s. i didn’t know her that well but from watching her she’s real two faced. always pretending to be everyone’s friend, (especially raymond’s) but mutters insults under her breath. i didn’t want to stand next to her. she was the type to tell you you’re messing up and make fun of you, and mess you up even more. i inched closer to an acquaintance dahlia. she was a closed book. she never said much and was always doing her own thing. i could tell this job wasn’t for her, heck it wasn’t for everybody. it took guts. it was the last resort kinda job, if you didn’t make it in a news outlet, a restaurant, babysitting, you’d be here. i glance down at my costume, then at the others, this weeks getup is a little better then prior, pink playsuit with cream colored accents and silver sequins going up the middle. i take a deep breath. inhaling how much i don’t wanna do this forever, exhaling that i’m a whirlin’ twirlin’ tramp. i know I’m never gonna get a serious job ever again. maybe when- my thoughts were put off when the curtains rise. i scan the ground floor to if theirs customers, it’s just two tipsy men sitting at the tables and the bar is full. “buncha wasted freeloaders” i grumble lowly. the music cuts on and me and the girls do our routine; we take turns singing the lyrics to the song, we kick our legs in the air, we spin. we finish and take our bows. it was crickets out there, not even a pity clap from raymond or the bartender. “we did good out there girls, i’m proud of y’all.” vicky encouraged. they were just bein’ sour grapes she joked. the group walked down the stage and i peeked through the curtains, not even a wink or grab. man we sucked tonight, raymond’s not gonna like this. i stroll to the dressing room trying to decide whether to get changed the fastest to leave, or the slowest so raymond can’t scold me. i wasn’t scared of raymond, i was scared of what he might do. he wasn’t very from reasonable, stubborn, and when you got fired, he made you regret it. i decide the slower option and dillydally. i drink the coffee dotty got me and go outside to get a paper from the stand. front page:
“the local mob and gangs are out of control here in the big apple, but are picky when it comes to territory. disputes are still ongoing and are just as messy and inhumane. stay safe out their folks!”
i look up from the newspaper.
“i just hope they don’t take this part of town.” i pray.
i head back inside to some kind of commotion, it’s that dahlia having a fit of some sorts? i stand front of the door perplexed, dahlia never made so much as a peep since i known her, maybe someone grabbed her and it got to her? i scan the room, all of the patrons have gone. maybe they got caught and ran out?
“Just shut up!” dahlia shouts violently out of the dressing room,
Raymond follows behind her.
“aw cmon doll face, you’re getting worked up over nothing.” he fake-reassures.
“Ugh! you don’t understand anything! Don’t you get i’ve had enough!”
“Hey YOU signed up for this!” raymond snaps back.
“i didn’t wanna be in this gig forever!”
she stretched her arm out facing the stage.
“You know it’s a big surprise that all this complaining and bossing is coming out of you Ann!”
i eventually go to vicky to ask what led up to this.
“what’s all this about blondie?” i whispered. “i’m not even sure, one minute she’s sitting at her table and the next she hits her fist on the table and storms out!”
i look at her then dahlia or “ann” i never seen so much anger on her face, she was always so silent and timid.
“complaining?! look who’s talking cheeky bastard! the only one bossy around here is you!”
“you’ve got a smart-mouth don’t’cha? since when did you grow a pair?”
“before i met you!” dahlia slapped raymond in a quick motion. he quickly brushes it off, unfazed.
“you can’t hit me!”
“sure i can, i don’t work here anymore. you’re not my boss!”
she growled. “you’re quitting? just like that? you’ll regret this and come crawling back.”
before she can spit another insult she grabs her coat and left in a huff. Raymond runs his hand through his hair while inhaling behind his teeth and turns to the bar and leaned on it. we all just stood there silent, waiting for something. finally vicky spoke. “let’s…go change girls…” they follow. i stay staring at raymond. after what felt like an hour i go up to him and see he poured himself a scotch.
“raymond…” i say softly he signed before he answers
“look…i just need a minute…i left your paycheck in my office, take it and go home …”
i wasn’t in the mood to linger much longer so i did as he said. only 15 bucks…that’s not even enough for half of my rent. the drive home was silent, and as soon as i open the door to my room i shift towards my bedroom and collapse onto my bed. glad that’s over with.
Tuesday•1955•morning
i laid in bed thinking about yesterday’s screaming contest, i wonder if raymond gonna be hard on us now for dahlia quitting, guess i just have to grin and bare it if so. i got ready for the day and locked my apartment door, i scanned my view from my balcony, “this city’s turning filthier going and coming.” i thought. since i didn’t have groceries i went to the diner next to my complex, it was shabby like the rest of the buildings round’ here but in a comforting way. i order bacon and eggs with pancakes, wasn’t the best but i ain’t hard to please, i pay my check and pick up some groceries as well decide to sit in the park. it was best to go there early morning since all the mobsters would hangout there at night and nobody wanted to be mixed up in their business, most of all me. who would willingly shoot people in middle of the street just cuz they looked at ya funny? i swear those men have no regard for other people’s lives. i sit on the park bench and pull out the book i’m reading; “the talented mr. ripely” it’s not a bad read so far, he has some traits i see in myself, we both live in manhattan, and he always felt different…like he didn’t belong. as i’m lost in my book, i see a boy walking his bike and a paper in hand. he sees me and gave me the newspaper. “free paper for the pretty lady.” i thank him and he continued walking. i guess it wouldn’t hurt to take take a break. FRONT PAGE:
“local mob boss fallon luciano claimed fifth avenue as territory, him and his crew is armed and dangerous, you don’t wanna ruffle this guys feathers, when will the gang wars end?”
i made a disgusted sigh, these cheap crooks are claiming areas where normal citizens live, and can shoot anyone they felt like right outside someone’s window. truly selfish people. i roll up the paper and rested it on the bench, before i take a deep breath, and get up and go home. i finish my house chores sit down in front of the couch, i scope out the living room and am proud of the work i did. damn…i’m so good at cleaning. although i wish i was good at other things. growing up i didn’t have many hobbies, i have a talent for singing raymond told me, but overtime i lost the passion for it. i’m just gonna get tonight over with, hopefully by friday i’ll have enough for rent. maybe with my savings i’ll go on vacation…oh…who am i kidding? my savings are enough for a 2 day trip to jersey. it’s not like i’ll go to hawaii anytime soon. i sigh, and turn on the television. maybe it’ll take my mind off things. after watching a tv movie i check the clock; 8:16 pm “shit.” i breath lowly i grab my coat and lock my door and drove off to work. i do the same routine once more, but i could tell the tension was still there from yesterday. some part of me was waiting to see dahlia, thinking she was exaggerating, that she’d be in the back of the dressing room with us, but she was a no show. i wave to red, she smiled softly at me then applied her lipstick. raymond’s not hovering around the dressing room or bar, so before i changed i went into his office. admittedly, i was curious to know the history between him and dahlia. i knock on the dark mahogany door “come in!” i heard before opening the door widely. “can i help you miss claire?” he asked. his feet on his desk smoking a cigar. “yes…” i answer while folding my hands. screw it just ask him popped into my head and i wasn’t one to sugarcoat anything. “you know what, i’m just gonna cut to the chase.” i say assertively. raymond raised an eyebrow. “how do you know dahlia? what’s your relationship?” i said crossing my arms.
he scaled me up and down “what’s it to you?” he said in a tired voice breaking eye contact.
“you obviously knew her before she worked here, she definitely knows you.” his eyes darted to me.
“it’s nothing worth to you paige…” his eyes drifted away from me, i pouted. after realizing raymond isn’t gonna dump his regrets on me, i’ll just give in for now.
“go on get ready now, it’s a big night tonight.” he shooed me.
big night? on a tuesday? hardly anyone came in cept’ your casual drunkard.
“oh, i expensed some fancier clothes for ya, shut the door on your way out.”
i nodded and left. i go over to the dressing room and see the girls taking extra time on their hair and makeup, considering how more put-together they look then usual. i am curious what raymond meant buy “expensed” for our costumes, i unzip the cover of one of the clothes on the rack and i’m stunned. i never seen such a beautiful ensemble before. i couldn’t tell what it looked like in full but it definitely looked expensive, a white tuft soft white feathers adorned with lace patterns all around, small white ribbons, and covered of glitter. it was incredibly gorgeous. it obviously wasn’t for me though, me being a backup dancesinger i wore similar clothes to the main dancer but lackluster. this definitely suited vicky more. i remembed to get ready at my table. and finished when raymond knocks and comes in
“hey, you girls look great, show starts in 5-“
he said in a cutoff he darted to me. “hey, why you wearing the wrong getup?”
“wrong?” i question, slightly cocking my head.
“your outfit was for vicky, and hers was yours, switch.”
my heart fluttered a bit in my chest, i got the beautiful outfit?
“break a leg, and don’t mess up.”
raymond said while shutting the door. i asked vicky “i’m the main dancer?” i said unsure of myself.
“yeah! raymond didn’t tell you? he commissioned that outfit just for you red!”
she said beaming, the beauty mark on her cheek moved upward. she looked really excited for me surprisingly, i’d thought she’d be a tad jealous. that’s what was so good about vicky, she was always so kind and genuine to everyone, even to those who didn’t deserve it. we changed and get on stage,
wow it looked even better on. red was right, it was made for me.
i’m feeling excited being the lead, not sure why but i am. suddenly i hear alot of chattering from the customers, i peek through the curtain and see a table of men in expensive looking suits smoking fat smelly cigars, they looked old, late 60s to be specific, and were shooting back whisky and bourbon like it was water. they were definitely gangsters. the loud talking, silver locks, heavy eyebags with faded scars. i decide i’ve seen enough. i knew i’d get good pay though, so that was something. i keep checking myself in the mirror, i start to sweat a little, if i look sexy enough and give these crooks a good time, i’ll make great pay. i was having the preshow jitters, i quit smoking 2 years ago, but i’d die for a cigarette right now. my train of thought was derailed by a even louder chatter, oh what now? did the queen herself waltz in? i didn’t even see who it was, nor did i want to. more then anything i wanted to do the show, get my riches, go home and pay my rent. hopefully i’d have some leftover and buy myself something nice. i caught myself daydreaming then felt a tap on my shoulder,
“claire, c’mon sweetie we’re up.” said dotty motherly.
i hear our heels clack on the wood floor in unison as we got to the wall of red velvet in front of us. the curtains raised; the lights dimmed and a spotlight hit us as the music cut on, i posed waiting for my chorus, i bounced my hips with one hand and the other in the air. i sang loud and it carried through the room, the girls harmonizing with me. i raised my arms like a ballerina, tilted my head back, rolled my shoulders. i looked at the entrance for a while til i heard a clink of glasses coming from the table in front of the stage, in front of me. i see a man sitting in the middle who is visibly younger then his company, downing a glass of beer, he Stares at me while sipping his glass, his eyes were small and serious, almost squinting. a strand of his black hair fell on his forehead, i felt like he was staring at something behind me. i broke my stare and flashed a huge smile like i was taking a family photo towards the crowd. “just smile and look pretty” i thought to myself, all to make better pay. i swayed my hips to the beat and tilt my head upwards singing the lyrics. the song ends, the lights dim. Few other patrons clapped, not the table in front. during the applause one of the older gangster men burst into a hearty laugh, the young one continued drinking despite watching me the whole time.
they didn’t see me at all. except…that one.
i bow whilst taking in some deep breaths, i thought about addressing the men, but after i got the spotlight and they didn’t so much as hear me, i didn’t wanna give them a share.
after i returned back stage, vicky congratulated me. she seemed genuinely proud of me, like i was training for this for years. too bad i didn’t think of it that way
“Red you did it! you couldn’t have done it better, you looked great out there.”
she says with her hands close to her chest.
“thanks vicky, your the best.”
i replied with a half smile. after she goes change, i couldn’t think of anything to relieve my pent up emotions, i was angry that i didn’t get more viewers, stressed about the stupid bills! having second thoughts about getting evicted, moving back home.
No. i won’t let that get to me, how can i relax before going home? a drink? no they mostly serve old fashions and beers here, not to be miss picky but is a simple glass of red so hard to get? then i remember one of the girls smokes here. i know, i know, going back to my old habits is bad, but i just needed a break, a smoke break to put it. i scan my surroundings for one of my coworkers who i knew had a pack, why i couldn’t just buy one? i know myself, i used to love-i love smoking, and if i had a whole pack in my possession i’d smoke it all in 2 hours. so just one is all i need to take the edge off.
i knew i seen dahlia smoke a few times, maybe she left some in her vanity, i go over to it and see it was decorated with some of her fiery personality, photographs of her and some of her friends it looks like, pearls strung around the mirror in a messy manner, makeup stains on the mirror and desk top. we all had the same vanity’s backstage so i knew there was a drawer, i opened it to see 3 cigarettes scattered around with some of her odds and ends. i take just the one and tell vicky i’m taking a smoke break, almost doing a double take at me.
“red! i thought you quit? isn’t it better to let old habits die?” she said in a whiny tone.
“hey it’s just one cigarette, it’s not like it’s gonna kill me.” i say defensively
“you know, i read in a magazine that it actually leads to lung cancer! you better know what your doing red!” she said like a apprehensive mother.
i decide to reply as a child “yes mom…i promise.” i respond in a sarcastic complaint.
she pouts at me while holding back some laughs.
“see you tomorrow red, love you.”
she waved goodbye while grabbing her purse, i wave back. now, all i need is a lighter, i knew the bartender had some matches so i asked him and he gave me some no questions, i go to the back of the building and open the employees only door and it’s another midday rain, thankfully theirs an overhang above me, “perfect.” i thought. i put the cigarette between my lips, (god i missed that feeling) i flicked the matches and it sparked but died out, i did a another one, then another one, then another, i’m on the second to last one, maybe the world is telling me i shouldn’t.
i hear the door open next to me, one of the girls came to smoke as well i assume. striking, striking, striking, no fire, last one. 3, 2, 1, nothing. then i hear a metal lighter click and light a cigarette, i hear a harsh deep inhale, oh it’s just raymond, he’ll light it for me. i turn to face him “hey ray, you wouldn’t mind-“ i’m taken aback, it was the young man with the gangsters.
i’ve heard the stories. the cold blooded, ruthless, brutal stories. he had a towering presence. i didn’t know what to do, my flight or fight senses kicked in, i thought about whether to run back inside, or reprimand him for being somewhere he shouldn’t. that’d probably get me killed. even if i wanted to get away, i felt like my feet were trapped in glue. people often forget the third option. Freeze.
i stand like a stiff statue and stare blankly ahead of me, hoping he didn’t hear what i said. a minute goes by and all you hear is the pitter patter of the rain above us from the overhang. and all i see is his huge puffs of smoke dissipate in the misty air. a shiver goes up my back as i realize i forgot to change. i facepalm myself in my head. i didn’t even notice my teeth had been chattering for a while. i felt a pair of eyes piercing me like pin pricks. i shift my eyes at him quickly, god he’s looking at me!
what now? i look away, was i being too noisy? oh god let this end well for me. just then i felt a brush of fabric against my right shoulder. is he…nudging me? i turn my head see to something you’d probably only see in romance films. he’s holding his suit jacket out…for me?
i don’t know what to do, do i take it? is this some sort of tactic? i stare and him in a white button down and the jacket for a little longer, until he finally spoke. “aren’t you cold blondie?” a deep husky voice.
vicky’s nickname i gave her…still i don’t understand, why would this “infamous” mobster give some showgirl his jacket? after he probably killed a man and threatened his family.
i decide to let whatever’s going to happen, happen. i look down at the ground while i grab it, it’s a good material. i hold it looking at it, it’s cream colored, well tailored, i feel like i’m waiting to see a blood stain or something or other to get a hint of what he does to his victims. is any of his goons gonna snatch me up? perfect opportunity; it’s raining. nobody else is back here besides me and him. i continue holding it while staring away. suddenly i felt a presence behind me, oh god! he’s gonna snap my neck or strangle me isn’t he? i close my eyes. hoping it doesn’t end for me in a split second, you’ve had a good run carla. maybe it was all—i felt him take the jacket and place it over my shoulders. i open my eyes widely
Did he just…do that?
i gazed up at him, he had a intense stare paired with denim colored eyes. i couldn’t tell if he was angry or disappointed in something, was it something i did? something i didn’t do? i knew i had to say something, he fidgeted like he was waiting in a long line, i had to think my words very…carefully.
“than-thank you…”
he nodded as he registered it and turned to the door to go back inside, i had to say something else, i wanted to figure him out.
“why’d-why’d you call me blondie?…”
his head turns to me while the doors ajar.
“you are blonde, aren’t you?” he said sarcastically
i wanted to say “no, this is a wig. my friends the real blondie here!” but what was more like a eep than a yes
“ye-yep…”
he turn to face me again, stepping closer, oh god he’s really close. i was hit with a gust of expensive wine and cologne, what’s he up to now?
he reached for his pocket and pulled out the lighter he used and lit my cigarette, i completely forgot about the cigarette. i don’t even inhale it just then, when he grinned before saying;
“i wouldn’t mind lighting it for you…” he said low and slow.
then walked back inside, i felt the warmth and loud music from the inside flowing out…and felt the warmth on my face from his presence lingering. i finally inhaled that longed for cigarette, the sensation fills your chest. the rain slowing down to a light drizzle, with that “after the rain stops” smell. his jacket still clinging to my shoulders, this mysterious cologne combined with the rain is a scent i don’t wanna forget and bottle up.
that was some smoke break…

Many persons accustomed to travel the old York and London road, in the days of stage-coaches, will remember passing, in the afternoon, say, of an autumn day, in their journey to the capital, about three miles south of the town of Applebury, and a mile and a half before you reach the old Angel Inn, a large black-and-white house, as those old-fashioned cage-work habitations are termed, dilapidated and weather-stained, with broad lattice windows glimmering all over in the evening sun with little diamond panes, and thrown into relief by a dense background of ancient elms. A wide avenue, now overgrown like a churchyard with grass and weeds, and flanked by double rows of the same dark trees, old and gigantic, with here and there a gap in their solemn files, and sometimes a fallen tree lying across on the avenue, leads up to the hall-door. Looking up its sombre and lifeless avenue from the top of the London coach, as I have often done, you are struck[21] with so many signs of desertion and decay,—the tufted grass sprouting in the chinks of the steps and window-stones, the smokeless chimneys over which the jackdaws are wheeling, the absence of human life and all its evidence, that you conclude at once that the place is uninhabited and abandoned to decay. The name of this ancient house is Gylingden Hall. Tall hedges and old timber quickly shroud the old place from view, and about a quarter of a mile further on you pass, embowered in melancholy trees, a small and ruinous Saxon chapel, which, time out of mind, has been the burying-place of the family of Marston, and partakes of the neglect and desolation which brood over their ancient dwelling-place. The grand melancholy of the secluded valley of Gylingden, lonely as an enchanted forest, in which the crows returning to their roosts among the trees, and the straggling deer who peep from beneath their branches, seem to hold a wild and undisturbed dominion, heightens the forlorn aspect of Gylingden Hall. Of late years repairs have been neglected, and here and there the roof is stripped, and "the stitch in time" has been wanting. At the side of the house exposed to the gales that sweep through the valley like a torrent through its channel, there is not a perfect window left, and the shutters but imperfectly exclude the rain. The ceilings and walls are mildewed and green with damp stains. Here and there, where the drip falls from the ceiling, the floors are rotting. On stormy nights, as the guard described, you can hear the doors clapping in the old house, as far away as old Gryston bridge, and the howl and sobbing of the wind through its empty galleries. About seventy years ago died the old Squire, Toby Marston, famous in that part of the world for his hounds, his hospitality, and his vices. He had done kind things,[22] and he had fought duels: he had given away money and he had horse-whipped people. He carried with him some blessings and a good many curses, and left behind him an amount of debts and charges upon the estates which appalled his two sons, who had no taste for business or accounts, and had never suspected, till that wicked, open-handed, and swearing old gentleman died, how very nearly he had run the estates into insolvency. They met at Gylingden Hall. They had the will before them, and lawyers to interpret, and information without stint, as to the encumbrances with which the deceased had saddled them. The will was so framed as to set the two brothers instantly at deadly feud. These brothers differed in some points; but in one material characteristic they resembled one another, and also their departed father. They never went into a quarrel by halves, and once in, they did not stick at trifles. The elder, Scroope Marston, the more dangerous man of the two, had never been a favourite of the old Squire. He had no taste for the sports of the field and the pleasures of a rustic life. He was no athlete, and he certainly was not handsome. All this the Squire resented. The young man, who had no respect for him, and outgrew his fear of his violence as he came to manhood, retorted. This aversion, therefore, in the ill-conditioned old man grew into positive hatred. He used to wish that d——d pippin-squeezing, hump-backed rascal Scroope, out of the way of better men—meaning his younger son Charles; and in his cups would talk in a way which even the old and young fellows who followed his hounds, and drank his port, and could stand a reasonable amount of brutality, did not like. Scroope Marston was slightly deformed, and he had the lean sallow face, piercing black eyes, and black lank hair, which sometimes accompany deformity.[23] "I'm no feyther o' that hog-backed creature. I'm no sire of hisn, d——n him! I'd as soon call that tongs son o' mine," the old man used to bawl, in allusion to his son's long, lank limbs: "Charlie's a man, but that's a jack-an-ape. He has no good-nature; there's nothing handy, nor manly, nor no one turn of a Marston in him." And when he was pretty drunk, the old Squire used to swear he should never "sit at the head o' that board; nor frighten away folk from Gylingden Hall wi' his d——d hatchet-face—the black loon!" "Handsome Charlie was the man for his money. He knew what a horse was, and could sit to his bottle; and the lasses were all clean mad about him. He was a Marston every inch of his six foot two." Handsome Charlie and he, however, had also had a row or two. The old Squire was free with his horsewhip as with his tongue, and on occasion when neither weapon was quite practicable, had been known to give a fellow "a tap o' his knuckles." Handsome Charlie, however, thought there was a period at which personal chastisement should cease; and one night, when the port was flowing, there was some allusion to Marion Hayward, the miller's daughter, which for some reason the old gentleman did not like. Being "in liquor," and having clearer ideas about pugilism than self-government, he struck out, to the surprise of all present, at Handsome Charlie. The youth threw back his head scientifically, and nothing followed but the crash of a decanter on the floor. But the old Squire's blood was up, and he bounced from his chair. Up jumped Handsome Charlie, resolved to stand no nonsense. Drunken Squire Lilbourne, intending to mediate, fell flat on the floor, and cut his ear among the glasses. Handsome Charlie caught the thump which the old Squire discharged at him upon his open hand, and[24] catching him by the cravat, swung him with his back to the wall. They said the old man never looked so purple, nor his eyes so goggle before; and then Handsome Charlie pinioned him tight to the wall by both arms. "Well, I say—come, don't you talk no more nonsense o' that sort, and I won't lick you," croaked the old Squire. "You stopped that un clever, you did. Didn't he? Come, Charlie, man, gie us your hand, I say, and sit down again, lad." And so the battle ended; and I believe it was the last time the Squire raised his hand to Handsome Charlie. But those days were over. Old Toby Marston lay cold and quiet enough now, under the drip of the mighty ash-tree within the Saxon ruin where so many of the old Marston race returned to dust, and were forgotten. The weather-stained top-boots and leather-breeches, the three-cornered cocked hat to which old gentlemen of that day still clung, and the well-known red waistcoat that reached below his hips, and the fierce pug face of the old Squire, were now but a picture of memory. And the brothers between whom he had planted an irreconcilable quarrel, were now in their new mourning suits, with the gloss still on, debating furiously across the table in the great oak parlour, which had so often resounded to the banter and coarse songs, the oaths and laughter of the congenial neighbours whom the old Squire of Gylingden Hall loved to assemble there. These young gentlemen, who had grown up in Gylingden Hall, were not accustomed to bridle their tongues, nor, if need be, to hesitate about a blow. Neither had been at the old man's funeral. His death had been sudden. Having been helped to his bed in that hilarious and quarrelsome state which was induced by port and punch, he was found dead in the morning,—his head hanging[25] over the side of the bed, and his face very black and swollen. Now the Squire's will despoiled his eldest son of Gylingden, which had descended to the heir time out of mind. Scroope Marston was furious. His deep stern voice was heard inveighing against his dead father and living brother, and the heavy thumps on the table with which he enforced his stormy recriminations resounded through the large chamber. Then broke in Charles's rougher voice, and then came a quick alternation of short sentences, and then both voices together in growing loudness and anger, and at last, swelling the tumult, the expostulations of pacific and frightened lawyers, and at last a sudden break up of the conference. Scroope broke out of the room, his pale furious face showing whiter against his long black hair, his dark fierce eyes blazing, his hands clenched, and looking more ungainly and deformed than ever in the convulsions of his fury. Very violent words must have passed between them; for Charlie, though he was the winning man, was almost as angry as Scroope. The elder brother was for holding possession of the house, and putting his rival to legal process to oust him. But his legal advisers were clearly against it. So, with a heart boiling over with gall, up he went to London, and found the firm who had managed his father's business fair and communicative enough. They looked into the settlements, and found that Gylingden was excepted. It was very odd, but so it was, specially excepted; so that the right of the old Squire to deal with it by his will could not be questioned. Notwithstanding all this, Scroope, breathing vengeance and aggression, and quite willing to wreck himself provided he could run his brother down, assailed Handsome Charlie, and battered old Squire Toby's will in the Prerogative[26] Court and also at common law, and the feud between the brothers was knit, and every month their exasperation was heightened. Scroope was beaten, and defeat did not soften him. Charles might have forgiven hard words; but he had been himself worsted during the long campaign in some of those skirmishes, special motions, and so forth, that constitute the episodes of a legal epic like that in which the Marston brothers figured as opposing combatants; and the blight of law costs had touched him, too, with the usual effect upon the temper of a man of embarrassed means. Years flew, and brought no healing on their wings. On the contrary, the deep corrosion of this hatred bit deeper by time. Neither brother married. But an accident of a different kind befell the younger, Charles Marston, which abridged his enjoyments very materially. This was a bad fall from his hunter. There were severe fractures, and there was concussion of the brain. For some time it was thought that he could not recover. He disappointed these evil auguries, however. He did recover, but changed in two essential particulars. He had received an injury in his hip, which doomed him never more to sit in the saddle. And the rollicking animal spirits which hitherto had never failed him, had now taken flight for ever. He had been for five days in a state of coma—absolute insensibility—and when he recovered consciousness he was haunted by an indescribable anxiety. Tom Cooper, who had been butler in the palmy days of Gylingden Hall, under old Squire Toby, still maintained his post with old-fashioned fidelity, in these days of faded splendour and frugal housekeeping. Twenty years had passed since the death of his old master. He had grown lean, and stooped, and his face, dark with the peculiar[27] brown of age, furrowed and gnarled, and his temper, except with his master, had waxed surly. His master had visited Bath and Buxton, and came back, as he went, lame, and halting gloomily about with the aid of a stick. When the hunter was sold, the last tradition of the old life at Gylingden disappeared. The young Squire, as he was still called, excluded by his mischance from the hunting-field, dropped into a solitary way of life, and halted slowly and solitarily about the old place, seldom raising his eyes, and with an appearance of indescribable gloom. Old Cooper could talk freely on occasion with his master; and one day he said, as he handed him his hat and stick in the hall: "You should rouse yourself up a bit, Master Charles!" "It's past rousing with me, old Cooper." "It's just this, I'm thinking: there's something on your mind, and you won't tell no one. There's no good keeping it on your stomach. You'll be a deal lighter if you tell it. Come, now, what is it, Master Charlie?" The Squire looked with his round grey eyes straight into Cooper's eyes. He felt that there was a sort of spell broken. It was like the old rule of the ghost who can't speak till it is spoken to. He looked earnestly into old Cooper's face for some seconds, and sighed deeply. "It ain't the first good guess you've made in your day, old Cooper, and I'm glad you've spoke. It's bin on my mind, sure enough, ever since I had that fall. Come in here after me, and shut the door." The Squire pushed open the door of the oak parlour, and looked round on the pictures abstractedly. He had not been there for some time, and, seating himself on the table, he looked again for a while in Cooper's face before he spoke.[28] "It's not a great deal, Cooper, but it troubles me, and I would not tell it to the parson nor the doctor; for, God knows what they'd say, though there's nothing to signify in it. But you were always true to the family, and I don't mind if I tell you." "'Tis as safe with Cooper, Master Charles, as if 'twas locked in a chest, and sunk in a well." "It's only this," said Charles Marston, looking down on the end of his stick, with which he was tracing lines and circles, "all the time I was lying like dead, as you thought, after that fall, I was with the old master." He raised his eyes to Cooper's again as he spoke, and with an awful oath he repeated—"I was with him, Cooper!" "He was a good man, sir, in his way," repeated old Cooper, returning his gaze with awe." He was a good master to me, and a good father to you, and I hope he's happy. May God rest him!" "Well," said Squire Charles, "it's only this: the whole of that time I was with him, or he was with me—I don't know which. The upshot is, we were together, and I thought I'd never get out of his hands again, and all the time he was bullying me about some one thing; and if it was to save my life, Tom Cooper, by —— from the time I waked I never could call to mind what it was; and I think I'd give that hand to know; and if you can think of anything it might be—for God's sake! don't be afraid, Tom Cooper, but speak it out, for he threatened me hard, and it was surely him." Here ensued a silence. "And what did you think it might be yourself, Master Charles?" said Cooper. "I han't thought of aught that's likely. I'll never hit on't—never. I thought it might happen he knew something about that d—— hump-backed villain, Scroope, that[29] swore before Lawyer Gingham I made away with a paper of settlements—me and father; and, as I hope to be saved, Tom Cooper, there never was a bigger lie! I'd a had the law of him for them identical words, and cast him for more than he's worth; only Lawyer Gingham never goes into nothing for me since money grew scarce in Gylingden; and I can't change my lawyer, I owe him such a hatful of money. But he did, he swore he'd hang me yet for it. He said it in them identical words—he'd never rest till he hanged me for it, and I think it was, like enough, something about that, the old master was troubled; but it's enough to drive a man mad. I can't bring it to mind—I can't remember a word he said, only he threatened awful, and looked—Lord a mercy on us!—frightful bad." "There's no need he should. May the Lord a-mercy on him!" said the old butler. "No, of course; and you're not to tell a soul, Cooper—not a living soul, mind, that I said he looked bad, nor nothing about it." "God forbid!" said old Cooper, shaking his head. "But I was thinking, sir, it might ha' been about the slight that's bin so long put on him by having no stone over him, and never a scratch o' a chisel to say who he is." "Ay! Well, I didn't think o' that. Put on your hat, old Cooper, and come down wi' me; for I'll look after that, at any rate." There is a bye-path leading by a turnstile to the park, and thence to the picturesque old burying-place, which lies in a nook by the roadside, embowered in ancient trees. It was a fine autumnal sunset, and melancholy lights and long shadows spread their peculiar effects over the landscape as "Handsome Charlie" and the old butler made their way slowly toward the place where Handsome Charlie was himself to lie at last.[30] "Which of the dogs made that howling all last night?" asked the Squire, when they had got on a little way. "'Twas a strange dog, Master Charlie, in front of the house; ours was all in the yard—a white dog wi' a black head, he looked to be, and he was smelling round them mounting-steps the old master, God be wi' him! set up, the time his knee was bad. When the tyke got up a' top of them, howlin' up at the windows, I'd a liked to shy something at him." "Hullo! Is that like him?" said the Squire, stopping short, and pointing with his stick at a dirty-white dog, with a large black head, which was scampering round them in a wide circle, half crouching with that air of uncertainty and deprecation which dogs so well know how to assume. He whistled the dog up. He was a large, half-starved bull-dog. "That fellow has made a long journey—thin as a whipping-post, and stained all over, and his claws worn to the stumps," said the Squire, musingly. "He isn't a bad dog, Cooper. My poor father liked a good bull-dog, and knew a cur from a good 'un." The dog was looking up into the Squire's face with the peculiar grim visage of his kind, and the Squire was thinking irreverently how strong a likeness it presented to the character of his father's fierce pug features when he was clutching his horsewhip and swearing at a keeper. "If I did right I'd shoot him. He'll worry the cattle, and kill our dogs," said the Squire. "Hey, Cooper? I'll tell the keeper to look after him. That fellow could pull down a sheep, and he shan't live on my mutton." But the dog was not to be shaken off. He looked wistfully after the Squire, and after they had got a little way on, he followed timidly. It was vain trying to drive him off. The dog ran round[31] them in wide circles, like the infernal dog in "Faust"; only he left no track of thin flame behind him. These manœuvres were executed with a sort of beseeching air, which flattered and touched the object of this odd preference. So he called him up again, patted him, and then and there in a manner adopted him. The dog now followed their steps dutifully, as if he had belonged to Handsome Charlie all his days. Cooper unlocked the little iron door, and the dog walked in close behind their heels, and followed them as they visited the roofless chapel. The Marstons were lying under the floor of this little building in rows. There is not a vault. Each has his distinct grave enclosed in a lining of masonry. Each is surmounted by a stone kist, on the upper flag of which is enclosed his epitaph, except that of poor old Squire Toby. Over him was nothing but the grass and the line of masonry which indicate the site of the kist, whenever his family should afford him one like the rest. "Well, it does look shabby. It's the elder brother's business; but if he won't, I'll see to it myself, and I'll take care, old boy, to cut sharp and deep in it, that the elder son having refused to lend a hand the stone was put there by the younger." They strolled round this little burial-ground. The sun was now below the horizon, and the red metallic glow from the clouds, still illuminated by the departed sun, mingled luridly with the twilight. When Charlie peeped again into the little chapel, he saw the ugly dog stretched upon Squire Toby's grave, looking at least twice his natural length, and performing such antics as made the young Squire stare. If you have ever seen a cat stretched on the floor, with a bunch of Valerian, straining, writhing, rubbing its jaws in long-drawn caresses, and in the absorption of a sensual[32] ecstasy, you have seen a phenomenon resembling that which Handsome Charlie witnessed on looking in. The head of the brute looked so large, its body so long and thin, and its joints so ungainly and dislocated, that the Squire, with old Cooper beside him, looked on with a feeling of disgust and astonishment, which, in a moment or two more, brought the Squire's stick down upon him with a couple of heavy thumps. The beast awakened from his ecstasy, sprang to the head of the grave, and there on a sudden, thick and bandy as before, confronted the Squire, who stood at its foot, with a terrible grin, and eyes that glared with the peculiar green of canine fury. The next moment the dog was crouching abjectly at the Squire's feet. "Well, he's a rum 'un!" said old Cooper, looking hard at him. "I like him," said the Squire. "I don't," said Cooper. "But he shan't come in here again," said the Squire. "I shouldn't wonder if he was a witch," said old Cooper, who remembered more tales of witchcraft than are now current in that part of the world. "He's a good dog," said the Squire, dreamily. "I remember the time I'd a given a handful for him—but I'll never be good for nothing again. Come along." And he stooped down and patted him. So up jumped the dog and looked up in his face, as if watching for some sign, ever so slight, which he might obey. Cooper did not like a bone in that dog's skin. He could not imagine what his master saw to admire in him. He kept him all night in the gun-room, and the dog accompanied him in his halting rambles about the place. The fonder his master grew of him, the less did Cooper and the other servants like him.[33] "He hasn't a point of a good dog about him," Cooper would growl. "I think Master Charlie be blind. And old Captain (an old red parrot, who sat chained to a perch in the oak parlour, and conversed with himself, and nibbled at his claws and bit his perch all day),—old Captain, the only living thing, except one or two of us, and the Squire himself, that remembers the old master, the minute he saw the dog, screeched as if he was struck, shakin' his feathers out quite wild, and drops down, poor old soul, a-hangin' by his foot, in a fit." But there is no accounting for fancies, and the Squire was one of those dogged persons who persist more obstinately in their whims the more they are opposed. But Charles Marston's health suffered by his lameness. The transition from habitual and violent exercise to such a life as his privation now consigned him to, was never made without a risk to health; and a host of dyspeptic annoyances, the existence of which he had never dreamed of before, now beset him in sad earnest. Among these was the now not unfrequent troubling of his sleep with dreams and nightmares. In these his canine favourite invariably had a part and was generally a central, and sometimes a solitary figure. In these visions the dog seemed to stretch himself up the side of the Squire's bed, and in dilated proportions to sit at his feet, with a horrible likeness to the pug features of old Squire Toby, with his tricks of wagging his head and throwing up his chin; and then he would talk to him about Scroope, and tell him "all wasn't straight," and that he "must make it up wi' Scroope," that he, the old Squire, had "served him an ill turn," that "time was nigh up," and that "fair was fair," and he was "troubled where he was, about Scroope."Then in his dream this semi-human brute would approach his face to his, crawling and crouching up his[34] body, heavy as lead, till the face of the beast was laid on his, with the same odious caresses and stretchings and writhings which he had seen over the old Squire's grave. Then Charlie would wake up with a gasp and a howl, and start upright in the bed, bathed in a cold moisture, and fancy he saw something white sliding off the foot of the bed. Sometimes he thought it might be the curtain with white lining that slipped down, or the coverlet disturbed by his uneasy turnings; but he always fancied, at such moments, that he saw something white sliding hastily off the bed; and always when he had been visited by such dreams the dog next morning was more than usually caressing and servile, as if to obliterate, by a more than ordinary welcome, the sentiment of disgust which the horror of the night had left behind it. The doctor half-satisfied the Squire that there was nothing in these dreams, which, in one shape or another, invariably attended forms of indigestion such as he was suffering from. For a while, as if to corroborate this theory, the dog ceased altogether to figure in them. But at last there came a vision in which, more unpleasantly than before, he did resume his old place. In his nightmare the room seemed all but dark; he heard what he knew to be the dog walking from the door round his bed slowly, to the side from which he always had come upon it. A portion of the room was uncarpeted, and he said he distinctly heard the peculiar tread of a dog, in which the faint clatter of the claws is audible. It was a light stealthy step, but at every tread the whole room shook heavily; he felt something place itself at the foot of his bed, and saw a pair of green eyes staring at him in the dark, from which he could not remove his own. Then he heard, as he thought, the old Squire Toby say—"The[35] eleventh hour be passed, Charlie, and ye've done nothing—you and I 'a done Scroope a wrong!" and then came a good deal more, and then—"The time's nigh up, it's going to strike." And with a long low growl, the thing began to creep up upon his feet; the growl continued, and he saw the reflection of the up-turned green eyes upon the bed-clothes, as it began slowly to stretch itself up his body towards his face. With a loud scream, he waked. The light, which of late the Squire was accustomed to have in his bedroom, had accidentally gone out. He was afraid to get up, or even to look about the room for some time; so sure did he feel of seeing the green eyes in the dark fixed on him from some corner. He had hardly recovered from the first agony which nightmare leaves behind it, and was beginning to collect his thoughts, when he heard the clock strike twelve. And he bethought him of the words "the eleventh hour be passed—time's nigh up—it's going to strike!" and he almost feared that he would hear the voice reopening the subject. Next morning the Squire came down looking ill. "Do you know a room, old Cooper," said he, "they used to call King Herod's Chamber?" "Ay, sir; the story of King Herod was on the walls o't when I was a boy." "There's a closet off it—is there?" "I can't be sure o' that; but 'tisn't worth your looking at, now; the hangings was rotten, and took off the walls, before you was born; and there's nou't there but some old broken things and lumber. I seed them put there myself by poor Twinks; he was blind of an eye, and footman afterwards. You'll remember Twinks? He died here, about the time o' the great snow. There was a deal o' work to bury him, poor fellow!"[36] "Get the key, old Cooper; I'll look at the room," said the Squire. "And what the devil can you want to look at it for?" said Cooper, with the old-world privilege of a rustic butler. "And what the devil's that to you? But I don't mind if I tell you. I don't want that dog in the gun-room, and I'll put him somewhere else; and I don't care if I put him there." "A bull-dog in a bedroom! Oons, sir! the folks 'ill say you're clean mad!" "Well, let them; get you the key, and let us look at the room." "You'd shoot him if you did right, Master Charlie. You never heard what a noise he kept up all last night in the gun-room, walking to and fro growling like a tiger in a show; and, say what you like, the dog's not worth his feed; he hasn't a point of a dog; he's a bad dog." "I know a dog better than you—and he's a good dog!" said the Squire, testily. "If you was a judge of a dog you'd hang that 'un," said Cooper. "I'm not a-going to hang him, so there's an end. Go you, and get the key; and don't be talking, mind, when you go down. I may change my mind." Now this freak of visiting King Herod's room had, in truth, a totally different object from that pretended by the Squire. The voice in his nightmare had uttered a particular direction, which haunted him, and would give him no peace until he had tested it. So far from liking that dog to-day, he was beginning to regard it with a horrible suspicion; and if old Cooper had not stirred his obstinate temper by seeming to dictate, I dare say he would have got rid of that inmate effectually before evening.[37] Up to the third storey, long disused, he and old Cooper mounted. At the end of a dusty gallery, the room lay. The old tapestry, from which the spacious chamber had taken its name, had long given place to modern paper, and this was mildewed, and in some places hanging from the walls. A thick mantle of dust lay over the floor. Some broken chairs and boards, thick with dust, lay, along with other lumber, piled together at one end of the room. They entered the closet, which was quite empty. The Squire looked round, and you could hardly have said whether he was relieved or disappointed. "No furniture here," said the Squire, and looked through the dusty window. "Did you say anything to me lately—I don't mean this morning—about this room, or the closet—or anything—I forget—" "Lor' bless you! Not I. I han't been thinkin' o' this room this forty year." "Is there any sort of old furniture called a buffet—do you remember?" asked the Squire. "A buffet? why, yes—to be sure—there was a buffet, sure enough, in this closet, now you bring it to my mind," said Cooper. "But it's papered over." "And what is it?" "A little cupboard in the wall," answered the old man. "Ho—I see—and there's such a thing here, is there, under the paper? Show me whereabouts it was." "Well—I think it was somewhere about here," answered he, rapping his knuckles along the wall opposite the window. "Ay, there it is," he added, as the hollow sound of a wooden door was returned to his knock. The Squire pulled the loose paper from the wall, and disclosed the doors of a small press, about two feet square, fixed in the wall.[38] "The very thing for my buckles and pistols, and the rest of my gimcracks," said the Squire. "Come away, we'll leave the dog where he is. Have you the key of that little press?" No, he had not. The old master had emptied and locked it up, and desired that it should be papered over, and that was the history of it. Down came the Squire, and took a strong turn-screw from his gun-case; and quietly he reascended to King Herod's room, and, with little trouble, forced the door of the small press in the closet wall. There were in it some letters and cancelled leases, and also a parchment deed which he took to the window and read with much agitation. It was a supplemental deed executed about a fortnight after the others, and previously to his father's marriage, placing Gylingden under strict settlement to the elder son, in what is called "tail male." Handsome Charlie, in his fraternal litigation, had acquired a smattering of technical knowledge, and he perfectly well knew that the effect of this would be not only to transfer the house and lands to his brother Scroope, but to leave him at the mercy of that exasperated brother, who might recover from him personally every guinea he had ever received by way of rent, from the date of his father's death. It was a dismal, clouded day, with something threatening in its aspect, and the darkness, where he stood, was made deeper by the top of one of the huge old trees overhanging the window. In a state of awful confusion he attempted to think over his position. He placed the deed in his pocket, and nearly made up his mind to destroy it. A short time ago he would not have hesitated for a moment under such circumstances; but now his health and his nerves were shattered, and he was under a supernatural alarm which[39] the strange discovery of this deed had powerfully confirmed. In this state of profound agitation he heard a sniffing at the closet-door, and then an impatient scratch and a long low growl. He screwed his courage up, and, not knowing what to expect, threw the door open and saw the dog, not in his dream-shape, but wriggling with joy, and crouching and fawning with eager submission; and then wandering about the closet, the brute growled awfully into the corners of it, and seemed in an unappeasable agitation. Then the dog returned and fawned and crouched again at his feet. After the first moment was over, the sensations of abhorrence and fear began to subside, and he almost reproached himself for requiting the affection of this poor friendless brute with the antipathy which he had really done nothing to earn. The dog pattered after him down the stairs. Oddly enough, the sight of this animal, after the first revulsion, reassured him; it was, in his eyes, so attached, so good-natured, and palpably so mere a dog. By the hour of evening the Squire had resolved on a middle course; he would not inform his brother of his discovery, nor yet would he destroy the deed. He would never marry. He was past that time. He would leave a letter, explaining the discovery of the deed, addressed to the only surviving trustee—who had probably forgotten everything about it—and having seen out his own tenure, he would provide that all should be set right after his death. Was not that fair? at all events it quite satisfied what he called his conscience, and he thought it a devilish good compromise for his brother; and he went out, towards sunset, to take his usual walk. Returning in the darkening twilight, the dog, as usual[40] attending him, began to grow frisky and wild, at first scampering round him in great circles, as before, nearly at the top of his speed, his great head between his paws as he raced. Gradually more excited grew the pace and narrower his circuit, louder and fiercer his continuous growl, and the Squire stopped and grasped his stick hard, for the lurid eyes and grin of the brute threatened an attack. Turning round and round as the excited brute encircled him, and striking vainly at him with his stick, he grew at last so tired that he almost despaired of keeping him longer at bay; when on a sudden the dog stopped short and crawled up to his feet wriggling and crouching submissively. Nothing could be more apologetic and abject; and when the Squire dealt him two heavy thumps with his stick, the dog whimpered only, and writhed and licked his feet. The Squire sat down on a prostrate tree; and his dumb companion, recovering his wonted spirits immediately, began to sniff and nuzzle among the roots. The Squire felt in his breast-pocket for the deed—it was safe; and again he pondered, in this loneliest of spots, on the question whether he should preserve it for restoration after his death to his brother, or destroy it forthwith. He began rather to lean toward the latter solution, when the long low growl of the dog not far off startled him. He was sitting in a melancholy grove of old trees, that slants gently westward. Exactly the same odd effect of light I have before described—a faint red glow reflected downward from the upper sky, after the sun had set, now gave to the growing darkness a lurid uncertainty. This grove, which lies in a gentle hollow, owing to its circumscribed horizon on all but one side, has a peculiar character of loneliness. He got up and peeped over a sort of barrier, accidentally[41] formed of the trunks of felled trees laid one over the other, and saw the dog straining up the other side of it, and hideously stretched out, his ugly head looking in consequence twice the natural size. His dream was coming over him again. And now between the trunks the brute's ungainly head was thrust, and the long neck came straining through, and the body, twining after it like a huge white lizard; and as it came striving and twisting through, it growled and glared as if it would devour him. As swiftly as his lameness would allow, the Squire hurried from this solitary spot towards the house. What thoughts exactly passed through his mind as he did so, I am sure he could not have told. But when the dog came up with him it seemed appeased, and even in high good-humour, and no longer resembled the brute that haunted his dreams. That night, near ten o'clock, the Squire, a good deal agitated, sent for the keeper, and told him that he believed the dog was mad, and that he must shoot him. He might shoot the dog in the gun-room, where he was—a grain of shot or two in the wainscot did not matter, and the dog must not have a chance of getting out. The Squire gave the gamekeeper his double-barrelled gun, loaded with heavy shot. He did not go with him beyond the hall. He placed his hand on the keeper's arm; the keeper said his hand trembled, and that he looked "as white as curds."Listen a bit!" said the Squire under his breath. They heard the dog in a state of high excitement in the room—growling ominously, jumping on the window-stool and down again, and running round the room. "You'll need to be sharp, mind—don't give him a chance—slip in edgeways, d'ye see? and give him both barrels!"[42] "Not the first mad dog I've knocked over, sir," said the man, looking very serious as he cocked the gun. As the keeper opened the door, the dog had sprung into the empty grate. He said he "never see sich a stark, staring devil." The beast made a twist round, as if, he thought, to jump up the chimney—"but that wasn't to be done at no price,"—and he made a yell—not like a dog—like a man caught in a mill-crank, and before he could spring at the keeper, he fired one barrel into him. The dog leaped towards him, and rolled over, receiving the second barrel in his head, as he lay snorting at the keeper's feet! "I never seed the like; I never heard a screech like that!" said the keeper, recoiling. "It makes a fellow feel queer." "Quite dead?" asked the Squire. "Not a stir in him, sir," said the man, pulling him along the floor by the neck. "Throw him outside the hall-door now," said the Squire;" and mind you pitch him outside the gate to-night—old Cooper says he's a witch," and the pale Squire smiled, "so he shan't lie in Gylingden." Never was man more relieved than the Squire, and he slept better for a week after this than he had done for many weeks before. It behoves us all to act promptly on our good resolutions. There is a determined gravitation towards evil, which, if left to itself, will bear down first intentions. If at one moment of superstitious fear, the Squire had made up his mind to a great sacrifice, and resolved in the matter of that deed so strangely recovered, to act honestly by his brother, that resolution very soon gave place to the compromise with fraud, which so conveniently postponed the restitution to the period when further enjoyment on his[43] part was impossible. Then came more tidings of Scroope's violent and minatory language, with always the same burthen—that he would leave no stone unturned to show that there had existed a deed which Charles had either secreted or destroyed, and that he would never rest till he had hanged him.