Hello again! Today, I have yet another story for you guys to enjoy! This one's a bit long so it'll be posted to the blog in multiple parts! Happy reading!! 💫 Day 0. Blake blinked awake from his position on the bed. Moonlight casted a streak of foggy blue light across his bedroom from the midnight sky. He turned his head towards the nightstand and eyed his headphones quietly. For a moment, he sat still listening to the sound of rapid movement in the distance. Just as quietly, he sat up, slid the covers off, and stepped out of bed. On his way down the first flight of stairs, Blake paused at the open window in the hall, peered out towards the backyard, and closed it on his way. On the second floor, he turned around the bend, passed his parents' bedroom, and opened the door to his brother's room. His back faced him as he sputtered unintelligible words in between his snoring. Satisfied, Blake made his way to the first floor. He walked through the dining room and kitchen towards the living room. There, he stepped around a few duffle bags on the floor and a fresh liquid stain on the carpet. The cup that lost it still on its side a foot away. The front door was agape. A shadow crossed the doorway as he made his way closer. There, Blake's eyes eventually landed on his father's figure tousling through something in the trunk of the car. Standing near the rear of the car, partly blocked from view, his mother put a hand to his father’s back. "Are you sure about this? Maybe we're wrong. We've been wrong before." She asked, her tone anxious and her movements hesitant, more careful. They were quiet, every word a whisper. "We're not. Not this time. We have to. It's not safe." "B-but maybe we wait until morning? Give the children some sense of normalcy..." "There's no time for it. Maybe trying to do the "normal" thing was a mistake to begin with." His father frowned. Seemingly frustrated, he tossed a couple of nameless items out of the trunk. The drop to the grass softened the thud. "Surely you aren't suggesting that this was a mis--" "All I'm saying for sure is that we can't stay here . We have to leave. Tonight. If we lose our window, we could lose everything . It's not safe." "--Y-yes. You're right. What about the house? Should I ask Claire ?" "She did say she could sell it if we ever wanted - there's a market for our house, or something like that. Call her tomorrow, first thing. Before we ditch the phones." "I should clean the juice from the spill beforehand. Don't you think?" She asked, uncertain. "We're leaving?" Blake asked from the doorway. His parents jumped, startled. His father stifled a curse as his head smacked noisely against the trunk door. Then his father walked to him and kneeled, placing his hands on Blake's small shoulders. "Hi. Did my super boy have trouble sleeping tonight?" He asked. "It's not super boy , dad. And it was noisy ." Blake frowned. His father chuckled awkwardly. " Right . Sorry about that, kiddo." Blake shrugged as his mother slowly shooed his father to the side. She leaned slightly forward as she spoke with a small smile. "Daddy just forgot for a moment, sweetheart. Things... are complicated right now. Did you forget to wear the headphones to bed again?" She asked softly, her eyebrows upturned. Blake nodded, opting for silence as he studied her expression. Ever so slightly, her smile was fading. Her fingers trembled against his arms. His stomach churned. What was happening? "Mommy and daddy need a favor. You're right, we are leaving. And it's very important that you don't tell Ark anything you heard tonight. We don't want to scare him. This has to be our little secret, okay?" Blake looked at his father who gave a stern nod of agreement. He didn’t totally understand what was happening. And he had questions, but he got the feeling that now wasn’t the time to ask them. He knew that even super heros kept secrets all the time. Like their true identities. Super Sound would probably need to be trusted with many of them in the future. "Okay." Blake shrugged although he was still feeling uneasy. His parents sighed in unison. His father hurried off inside the house and grabbed two large suicases and the duffle bags Blake stepped around earlier. He quickly guided his mother in the house and away from the spill on the carpet. Directing her to leave it for Claire and go grab their most important things. Blake, recalling his father's words and weighed down with a sense of urgency, quickly made his way back to his room, grabbed his backpack, and started collecting the things it would bother him to leave behind the most. He imagined that if he had the power, he would find a way to bend time and space. Just like Gyre did on TV. Then, they wouldn’t have to grab this thing or the next. They could take the entire house in his pocket. Day 1. Blake shifted in his seat as Ark-his six year old younger brother- obediently passed him the ziploc bag and a juice pouch at their father's direction. Ark's eyes said he was still half asleep and not entirely aware that anything was amiss. He often awoke to car rides since he slept so well. Not even the sound of shutting car doors and the engine starting woke him last night. Sometimes Blake wished they could trade places for a good night's rest. Only, he wasn't sure what kind of things his younger brother would do in his body. If he was lucky, maybe he'd just use it as an opportunity to play with all his toys. Their father pulled the car into an old parking lot. To their left sat a dusty, cracked building. The sun was high in the sky but the large empty space combined with the dropping temperature and silence around them made the place look even more abandoned. His father climbed out of the car and walked to the other side to assist their mom. They were told to "sit tight" until they returned. Ark didn't seem to mind. His attention solely focused on crunching away cheese flavored chips while kicking off his shoes. Blake listened to his parents shuffle through the trunk, they soon shut it, and walked hand-in-hand towards the building. He recognized his mother's engraved jewlery box as she paused. Just barely, Blake made out several of his father's watches and a large, green, jeweled ring. He always liked that one, since it was his favorite color, but he remembered his mother saying that the ring has been passed down to all the women in her family and she'd hoped to pass it along, too, some day. What were they doing with them? Was this a hiding place? Did people do that? Hide jewlery in busted up buildings the day after they leave their home in the middle of the night? As they neared the door, a tall, thin man with beady eyes popped his head out. He looked around, eyed their car from the distance, and then opened the door for their parents to step inside. They returned several minutes later. Both of their faces sullen as they got back into the car. Blake noticed his father tuck a rectangular yellow envelope in his pocket. As the car left the lot, his mother began to cry. As they increased the distance between them and the beady eyed man's shelter, their mother's crying worsened. Before long, their father quickly turned the car around. He sped back down the road, parked without care in the empty lot, and before he could knock, the man reappeared in the doorway to silently lead him back inside. Soon, his father returned to the car again, looking equal parts aggitated and defeated. He locked eyes with his wife, pulled out the green ring that had been in her jewelry box, and gently placed it in her hands. Twice as many tears streamed down her face during their silent exchange. With the ring in her hands and the car back on the road, Blake watched as their mother pressed it to her face and cried again, harder and more noisily than before. Ark asked what was wrong and began to cry too, before he'd even given their parents any chance to explain. Blake didn’t know why but the moment his father started to apologize to them in a broken voice, he became overwhelmed with emotion. And in the same moment he came to realize that they'd really just left everything behind. They were never going back. He marinated in that bitter feeling. Until, for some reason words didn't exist to describe, the entire family cried together. In such an emotional frenzy that they had to stop on the side of the road. Day 30. Blake watched the line of trees fall behind, tucked a safe distance away from their path, one after the other, as the car sped forward over another nameless road. Their low lights broke the fog ahead of them as the sun tempted them with its presence. He peeked in the rearview mirror, his eyes meeting his father's upturned gaze. When he smiled, Blake gave him one in return--his father looked tired. Almost too tired to be driving. Blake turned his head more to catch a glimpse of his mother, even though he could hear her light snoring from the backseat. Her head bent slightly with her forehead pressed to the glass. Both her arms crossed over her bulging belly. Meanwhile, Ark, mumbled to himself noisly from the other side of the back seat. Still talking to himself, he dragged his finger around, writing his name on the cold, foggy window. As he watched him working away, it occured to Blake that Ark would be like him soon. He would be a big brother. Their baby sister was in their mother's stomach, getting ready for the rest of the world. Would Ark mind not being the youngest anymore? When Ark eventually noticed the attention, he quickly motioned to his work on the glass. Prompting Blake to read his name and gaze at some drawing he couldn’t begin to make sense of. Warmth lines already dripped through his finger drawing, making it look even more confusing the longer he looked at it. A part of him wanted to ask what it was, but he also didn’t feel like starting a conversation with him rather than leave him to his own devices. So, he said "That’s cool Ark. Why don’t you do a new one?" Hoping it would occupy him. It didn’t. Instead, Ark reached into their bag and grabbed a toy--Blake's custom superhero action figure. Their parents bought it for him two birthdays ago. It was modeled after Blake, with matching curly dark hair. He was even wearing his 'Super Sound' outfit. His long earthy green cape with the large white double S in the middle mirrored the one tucked safely away in his bookbag now. Super Sound's miniture was his favorite gift. And although Ark knew Blake hated when he played with it, he did so anyway. Blake frowned as he eyed his brother, "You better not break him," he threatened. Ark nodded his head but immediately smacked the figure against the glass with a hard clank. Blake tried not to be angry. He tried to be a good older brother but, truthfully, Ark annoyed him more often than not. He was always touching his things or complaining of boredom. An annoyance that only increased since they left home. Day 45. "Momma can I have a snack?" Ark pleaded, for the third time in the last hour. "No, Ark. We don't have any more snacks." She sighed, looking in their father's direction. "But I'm hungry." Ark whined, his eyes filling with tears. Blake frowned at his sandwich they'd given him earlier. The same one that Ark finished a few hours before. His stomach rumbled. Yesterday and the day before a sandwich had also been all they had. "Here, Ark." Blake offered most of his sandwich. Surprisingly, he hesitated to take it. " Here ." Blake said, slightly shaking the sandwich in his direction. "We can share. You eat the big one since you're little." " You're little." He frowned. "But you're littler . Don't worry, I'm fine. Super heros are naturally stronger." Blake gestured with his left arm, trying to show off a muscle as he spoke. Ark finally took the sandwich with a small smile. "What a wonderful big brother." His mother complimented softly as she looked over her shoulder at them. Though there was something more beyond her smile Blake couldn’t understand, he didn't ask. Instead he thanked her politely as he took a bit of what was left of his sandwich. "Super boy's going to be the toughest super on the planet." His father chimed in. "It's Super Sound , honey." Their mother emphasized, before Blake could correct him. "R-right. I knew that." He laughed. " Good 'ol Super Sound." He stuttered. Their mother shook her head disapprovingly. "You stop at the very next gas station you can find." "You have to go already?" He chuckled. "You just went an hour ago." "Well, I'm pregnant. I'll let you know when your daughter stops bumping my bladder and I can finally stop having to pee every hour ." She huffed. "And you make sure to buy Super Sound and his companion a snack while we're there." His father gave her an anxious glance, but nodded. "Yes ma'am. Guess I walked right into that one, huh ?" "You should know the name by now. How many years has it been?" She asked, rolling her eyes. Day 52. Blake shifted awake in the back seat and pulled his headphones down around his neck. Ark's foot nudged his thigh as he slept. His light, breathy snores escaping his mouth as he smacked his lips. The rest of his body was twisted in an odd position up the length of the seat and his right arm hung off the side. Leaving his head slightly angled against the door on his pillow. His comforter had been kicked to the floor. The sun had already set. The car parked behind the broken shell of a building he didn't recognize. Looking out the window, Blake could just make out the silhouettes of their parents further cloaked in the dark by the shade of a tree. The wind whistled and faded to a pause as he watched quietly. "But what about the money from the jewlery?" "Eliza, it's gone . The gas ate that up the first month alone, plus all the extra stops. And that little beady-eyed fuck from the pawn shop wanted 30% more to get the ring back. He called it a ' convenience fee ' or some other bullshit. Probably decided that when he realized how much it was worth and we wanted it back." He let out a frustrated sigh. "And we were more frugal when we realized the salvagables from the house were running low, too. Should we get some money from one of the accounts then?" "What happened with Claire? Did you call her again at the last stop? I'd rather not touch those cards unless we're ready to take everything like we initially planned. And we'll have to backtrack some just to do that." "She said it was taking a little longer than intended, but the updates are done and she sold some of the furniture. She asked us to give her more time. There are a few potential buyers lined up already, if that helps. Though I suppose it doesn't now." "Fuck." He spoke through gritted teeth. "This is my fault. I was supposed to make sure we had a cash stash in the house." He cursed again and struck the side of his fist against the tree. "I'm sorry." "You're the forgetful type, honey. I knew what I was getting into when we got married. Besides, I was so comfortable with our life after the initial worry wore off, I didn't think to mention it. Somewhere in the back of my mind I'm sure I thought we were overthinking things. That 'we probably didn't need money stashed away in some corner of the house.' "Now that we know it's both of our faults, we have to do something. The money is there. Let's take enough to get us as far as we've already gotten. Then we can just go to a location elsewhere and withdraw everything when the house sells." She said, pressing a hand to his chest as she spoke. "Unless you have a better idea?" "Unfortunately, I don't. It's the only thing we can do aside from getting temporary work. But that would force us to sit still too long. We're not nearly as far from the house as I'd like us to be. Maybe we shouldn't have spent so many days giving in to Ark's whims." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "No, we did the right thing. Blake says he asked where we were going and he told him our family was going on an 'adventure.' It's better to be convincing. When he is having fun and we visit attractions, it's more believable-- I'm sure he was much too young to rememberthe last time we were running, thankfully. I'm not sure about Blake." "Blake's a slick one, for a 10-year-old. We've got a good one, huh?" He laughed. "I'd say so. But he's much too young to be keeping his parents' secrets." Their mother sighed sadly. Their father shook his head. "Eliza, if this goes wrong-" "No. Let's just try first." She said, placing her fingertips to his lips. A silence swept in between them as they faced each other. "I love you, Gabriel." He leaned forward and kissed her. Then pulled her into a gentle embrace. "I love you, too." He said, rubbing his hands along her arms. "It's chilly. Let's get back to the boys." Blake looked back towards Ark sleeping unbothered in a similarly strange position as their parents headed back in their direction. He straightened Ark's head, grabbed the comforter from the floor and tucked it around him. Quietly, he slid his headphones back up his neck and over his ears, and leaned his head against the window. As his mother and father's shadows neared the car, he slowly shut his eyes again. Day 54. "W-wait! Gabriel ! Slow down! " Their mother shrieked, clutching her seatbelt as the wheels of the car screeched against the road. "What's going on??!" Blake's body pressed hard against the backrest, his neck stiff. Ark, blissfully unaware of the danger, shouted excitedly, throwing his hands above his head with a laugh. "Like a rollercoaster !" Blake wondered if he had been that dumb when he was 6. He'd seen it many times in the comics and on tv. Even the news confirmed it. If they crashed now, their car would end up flipping endlessly into a ditch. One of them-or all of them- would be tragically wounded. The world would have to say goodbye to Super Sound, forever . There wouldn't even be a raining funeral scene for all the citizens he saved to cry over his tombstone. Afterall, except for Aunt Claire, no one knew they'd picked up and left. That, and Super Sound hadn't really saved anyone..yet. How long until they crashed? " Gabriel! " His mother screamed again, looking as if she would've whacked him if she wasn’t busy almost having a heart attack. His father constantly checked the rearview mirror, beads of sweat forming against his eyebrow. He glanced toward their mother and smacked a hand hard against the steering wheel. Blake expected that to end them. It didn't. "We have to get further. To somewhere else, quick." He shook his head again. "I couldn’t get the money." His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Hold on tight!" A series of angry horns blared at them as his father cut through a road on the left and zig zagged around them. With every reckless move, Blake was sure his heart was one step closer to stopping for good. "What do you mean you couldn't get it? What happened? Will you slow down?!" His mother cried, placing a hand against the window to steady herself as the car made a sharp turn. Blake's body slid toward his brother, saved from crashing into him by his seatbelt. "I mean, I couldn't get the damn money!" He spat. "Someone's been messing around with our accounts. I checked them all. Not a cent in any of them!" He shouted. "I made a fraud claim. The banks say it will take some time to investigate. They canceled the cards. All I could get was a few measly hundred off the credit card. Then, I canceled it." "That can't be..how could they even..?" His mother questioned, a horrified expression on her face. Who were these mystery people? "I'll slow down when we get far enough away. What if we were followed? We've got to get somewhere safe. They'll know we came to the bank." Blake's heart pounded painfully in his chest. Who would know? Where would they go that was safe? As he gave room for internalized panic, he looked over at his brother. Noticing that he had fallen suspiciously quiet for a kid enjoying a car ride of impending doom. Ark's face was pale, save for some darkening spots on his cheeks. His eyelids dropped low and he began to heave. Each sounding more moist than the last. Oh, no. Blake pressed his body in the opposite direction. "I think Ark's gonna hurl!" Blake warned. Moments later, vomit spewed out of his mouth, down the length of his clothes, and across the back of the passenger seat. The smell already began to sting Blake's nose when the car finally jerked to a stop near the side of the road. Maybe it would be enough to keep his father from driving like a madman again. Day 76. The sound of their parents' harsh whispers buried the crackling of the fire. The light fluttered across the two of them as they spoke, motioning with their hands. A couple of birds rushed out of a tree an unknown distance away, shaking loose a handful of dying leaves. Blake watched small sparks flicker above the flame. He stayed still on the ground, wrapped up in his blanket and resting his head on a pillow from the car. Blake watched as Ark turned uncomfortably in his sleep nearby. Yesterday, Ark asked when they would be going home. He complained about missing his friends, wanting to play in the yard or watch tv, and wishing he could sleep in his own bed again. After their scare in the car, they'd made their way to a dense forest that took five days to drive to. Not counting the one they spent cleaning Ark's puke up from the car, or the extra one they waited while it aired out. When they'd gotten there, Ark had been excited. It was his first time 'camping' and he ran around until exhaustion. Blake remembered that he took some interest in the occasional animal quickly brushing past a short distance away. And equally so the insects' variety of noises towards the night. Blake didn’t mind it. He felt it was the perfect place to train. Although his parents didn’t let them venture nearly as far as he liked. After several days and a countless number of mosquito bites, however, Ark was no longer fascinated with the place. In his eyes, the entire forest lost it's luster. Since then, Ark often took his frustrations out on the prikly branches that stabbed him through his covers. Blake did find the insects annoying to deal with, but he didn't share the rest of his brother's reservations. It had been a long time since he could do as he pleased. Not to mention, now he could listen to the sounds of life in the forest when he couldn't sleep. They'd been there for two weeks now, according to their parents' current hushed argument on the other side of the flames. "We can't stay like this!" Their mother shook her head. "The water is gone, the kids are exhausted. Ark is bored out of his mind , and rightfully so. We can't play I-spy and hide-n-seek forever. You're sluggish. I'm sore everywhere. The baby is unhappy, and we're starving!" "I've hardly been able to catch anything out here." Their father sighed heavily, in partial agreeance. "Not that anything has been particularly tasty out here." "That's because you haven’t hunted game since you were eight , Gabriel!" She snorted, throwing her hands in the air. "There's also nothing to season the food with and last time you left half the bones in and nearly killed us all." "Shhh." Their father fussed, grabbing hold of her hands. "You'll wake the children." He turned his head in their direction and Blake slowly turned his back to face them. He knew his face was just far enough in shadow to be hidden from fire light. "Gabriel, if I piss down my legs one more time because I can't squat without toppling over into my own bodily fluids with this belly and you have to pick me up, not to mention pluck the thorns out of my ass again, you're gonna have to build me a bathroom in this Godforsaken forest." She crossed her arms over her belly with a scowl. "Your ass still looks hot with the thorns." He teased through a laugh. Blake could hear his mother's effort not to laugh along side him. "I'm just saying," he continued, "if bigfoot saw it, we'd be fighting for our lives ." "As if to say we aren't already?" She asked sarcastically. Thwack! Thwack! Blake could hear the quick swipes of air from the stick as each strike made contact with some part of his father's body. "Oww!" Thwack . "Oww!" Thwack . "Oww! Okay !" Thwack! "We will discuss it in the mor~ning! Thwack! "Ouch!!" Thwack, thwack, thwack! "Eliza!" He shouted as his feet swished clumisly through the leaves. Thwack! "God damn it!!" His mother's laughter pleased his ears. Blake turned back around to face them. He watched his father snatch the stick from his mother's hands, break it and discard the pieces. He pretended to dive at her, wrapped his arms underneath her belly and smothered her with kisses. Blake grinned from his spot on the floor and watched their smiles illuminate under the orange warm glow of the fire. Hours later, his father dozed off. Clearly intent on keeping watch, but obviously too exhausted to see it through. Blake dragged his cover over him, leaned against his father's arm, and inspected his sleeping face. They say important men age the fastest. That life just seemed to suck the youth out of them. Blake was sure his father was an important man too. He was relieved that his face was the same as he remembered. He shifted against him slightly, straighted his back, and listened to the sound of the forest as he waited for daybreak. Day 77. The morning after, their mother refused to get up from her blankets. She spoke very little and expressed having no appetite for their leftovers. She didn't respond to their father's jokes nor did she answer when he asked if she wanted to go into town. When his father decided he would make a trip instead, Ark stayed with her, tossing random bits into the flames. Blake followed their father through the trees where they would eventually find their car. Hidden away under a dark tarp, branches, and leaves. He accompanied him for half the day's drive to a small convenience store off a beaten path. Inside, while his father went off to the restroom, the clerk behind the counter hunched over a radio. He was an obese man whose shirt looked two sizes too small. His hair line was receeding and Blake could clearly see his breath fogging his lenses. An intense expression clouded his face as he listened to a man with an accent describe scores from a sportsgame. He never once stirred at the sound of their footsteps. Blake winded his way through the isles, near the toiletries, then angled his neck to check the clerk. His back was still turned towards him as Blake opened a pack of diapers and grabbed a few. Then reached in and grabbed a few more. He scanned the shelves again, paused at the sight of a familar item, and then tucked them in his coat next to the diapers. "Come on, come on, come on!" The clerk shouted towards the radio, startling him. Recovering from his momentary fright, Blake sighed. He went closer to the counter and swiped a choco bar for Ark--his favorite snack. He knew that stealing was bad, but super heros usually became well-known and exceedingly rich. Blake figured he could pay it all back then. So, it was less stealing and more of an I.O.U . When his father met him near the counter a few minutes later, he said he was going have a look around. "Stay put," he motioned, before he disappeared a few aisles over. When his father returned to view, he carried prepackaged sandwiches, bottled water and fruit cups in his arms. He placed the items down. The clerk mumbled on without turning to face them. Blake and his father shared a glance then shrugged with a smile and continued to wait. The accent on the other end of the radio spluttered on, to the point that Blake was almost certain the man was no longer speaking the same language. Suddenly, the voice fell silent. A soft crackling sound became the only indication that the device was still connected to its station. The radio box audibly shook between the clerk's large fingers. He, too, seemed to be waiting for something. A pitch cut the silence, bringing back the accent. With it, resounding cheers coincided with the man's passion. " GOAL!! " The clerk, delighted at the news, shouted out in excitement. "Whoo!!" He celebrated, spinning on his heels with the radio still in hand. " Yeah baby !" "Well, they've done it folks! Who Knows? If they keep this up, next year is--!" The voice quickly faded as the cord plucked from the outlet; a consequence of the clerk's little dance. The man laughed awkwardly as he looked their way, suddenly now aware of their presence. "Did you get rich?" His father asked, amused. How unusual. His father normally avoided all unnecessary conversation with strangers since the moment they'd left home. The clerk slid the radio to the side as he caught his breath. Sending it crashing to the floor. Blake tried not to frown as he listened to the man slide it across the floor with his foot."From my cousins? Damn straight!" He quickly glanced down in Blake's direction and slightly motioned with his hand. "Pardon my French." His father dismissed it with a wave of his hand and placed a few bills on the countertop. "He's heard worse." "Now if you meant money from the rest of this shithole world?" The man continued on with a nod, "I wish ." "My cousin still owes me 40 bucks." His father let out an airy chuckle as the man rang up the food and drink. "I hope you get your money." "I'll have to pry it from their cold , dead hands !" He cackled. "I bet on a bunch of losers , 'cording to them. I'm good with it, because now who're the losers. Right?? I'm sure they toppled over the moment that last goal was called! That be all for ya?" His father tapped his chin then raised his brow with a smirk. "Actually.. I think not ."The clerk eyed him curiously as he went to a standing fridge in the back, pulled out a couple of cans, then made his way back to the counter. "That ought to do it." Blake was curious but stayed silent as the register beeped and a new total flashed on the small rectangular screen. His father removed one of the cold cans he had grabbed a moment before and left it on the counter with his change. "For you," he said, "to celebrate your win. And a few dollars for good luck. You know, money attracts money my friend." "Oh wow. Thanks man! 'preciate it." The clerk beamed as he reached behind the counter and offered a handful of fruit candy to Blake. "At least take some sweets for the boy, yeah?" "Thanks. Do me a favor and keep my secret? I promised the wife I'd slow down on the beer. She's on some kind of health craze. We've hardly eaten anything lately and we have family in the area who are a little too supportive in that department. They'd give the 3rd degree and tell her in a heartbeat." Blake blinked away his confusion. What was that about their health? His father was lying. He hadn't promised their mother not to drink anything. Although it was true they hardly had anything to eat lately. The man laughed, soaking up his father's lies like a dry sponge. "Whew. You got it. I don't envy you, man. My lips are sealed . I never met you or the boy. In fact , the store has been empty all day if anyone asks." A minute later, the two of them walked out of the store. As they closed the distance between them and the car, his father reached in the bag, popped open the other beer, poured it out near a bush and then tossed the empty can in the trash. Blake didn’t like the smell, but he was surprised to see him waste it. Not that he had ever seen his father drink beer before. "You don’t want it?" Blake asked, too intrigued not to. "Do you like sports? You talked to that man with the radio." His father winked at him as they got in the car. "I've never cared much for alcohol. It's a waste of time. The stuff, much like drugs, only buries your life, Super." He checked Blake's seatbelt before fastening his own. "As for the small-talk, that was for safety." "Safety?" He put the car in drive and turned back onto the road, taking them back the way they'd came. "Talking to people can do a lot of things. It can give you information about people and how they are feeling. You can use conversation to make friends, or use it to bring you closer to someone during stressful times. Like when me and your mother are a little upset and need to fix our problems. We talk those problems out. It can can even buy you time in an uncertain or dangerous situation." "What's 'buying time' mean?" "Hmm. It is an expression but not literal. You can't go and pick up extra seconds, minutes, hours or days from the store with money, of course. Although it would be a very lucrative business, I bet. Anyway. It means to stall someone. "To distract them--do you remember that day Ark tried to give you his sheep because he broke your samurai? He felt guilty and it was in itself probably an innocent gesture coming from your brother, but he tried to give you his stuffed animal so you wouldn’t notice he broke one of your favorite toys? That's a distraction. He likely hoped you would pay attention to that for a while. That's the stall, the buying time. To give yourself time to do something, or avoid a thing altogether." Blake realized he'd done something like that already. The day Ark wrote his name on the foggy window. Only, he wasn't doing it to make him feel better. He just didn't want Ark to bother him and then whine like he always did once he was unhappy. So, there had been an expression for that. Either way, Ark would be anything but unhappy once he gave him the choco bar tucked away in his coat now. "Then, you were 'buying time' in the store?" "Nope. Conversation is also good for getting people to lower their guards so you can get something you want from them." His father shrugged. "I wanted something, so I started a conversation where I knew there was an opening." "The villian in Captain Bubbles did something like that once. He made him talk about his favorite cat, soap. It died in the last comic and Captain Bubbles was so sad. But he was happy to talk to someone else about it, too. Even though it was just the bad guy. "He thought Spike cared about him and they could be friends since both their pets died. But was all a trick. Spike lied. He had said they could be friends, but he was just tricking Captain Bubbles so he could have his minions rob the town." "Yep. That would be an accurate example. So, what happened to Bubbles?" His father asked as he turned off the marked path ahead of them. They couldn't get to the forest by following the road. "Oh. Spike popped Captain Bubbles and he died." Blake shook his head. His father's eyes widened. "No way. Spike popped Bubbles? What in the--" "Yep. Then Spout, his friend that is kind of like his sidekick, scraped some of him up and used it to make him again in a bubble batch." "--and what? You're saying Bubbles' friend got DNA from his bubble guts, mixed it with some kind of soap, then blew it into a new Mr. Bubbles ?" "Uh-huh." Blake nodded. That was pretty much it, yeah. "But it's not Mr. Bubbles. His name is Captain Bubbles ." "We've got to start reading those comics before we buy them for you. Who murders a bubble ? The whole thing just sounds off." His father scruntched his nose. " Anyway . In our case, I didn't want to rob a bank. I just needed his silence. But I had to lie to do it. Which I'm not proud of. I don't have the slightest interest in gambling on anything, sports, or drinking. "Lying is an ugly habit to develop. It can be as deadly as any knife , liquor or drug . Addictive, too. And you have to keep telling them to cover the first one you told." They turned around a bend, gravel kicking up from the tires as they went. "It didn't feel good to tell Ark that we were having a vacation, right?" "Yeah." Blake nodded. He'd never lied to anyone before. Sometimes, when he thought about the fact that his brother didn’t know anything, he had a hard time looking at him. Or playing their games in the back of the car. If lying felt like that, he didn’t want to do it again. "We didn’t want you to have to do that. It wasn’t nice to ask you to keep it a secret from your brother, but we will tell him everything soon. I promise." His father spoke softly. There was pain in his voice as he lightly squeezed Blake's knee in the passenger seat. "That uncomfortable feeling you get when you lie? You need that. Some people lack it. Remember this: a good liar is a dangerous man. He is a kind that has stopped feeling that guilt. Or, some unfortunate soul who never felt it from the beginning." ... Back in the woods by sunset, their father fed the fire and passed out their food and water. Their mother took uninterested bites of her sandwich, hardly eating half. Their father pleaded with her to at least finish the water. She nodded, compliant, and he unscrewed the top and watched her drink. Blake, thinking she was unhappy, thought it no better a time to show her what he'd snatched up at the store. He pulled six diapers and the choco bar from his coat with a proud smirk. Ark's eyes lit up as he rushed to grab the chocolatey goodness from Blake's hand, celebrating long before he took his first bite. Their mother's eyes shimmered with tears as explained where he got the gifts for their baby sister. She let out a broken sob, muffled by the palms of her hands. Their father cursed, dumbfounded. "What the hell , Blake. When did you get that stuff?" "While you were in the bathroom. I saw those white things in the package mom used to buy too. So she can use them when she pees." Blake replied in an even tone, pulling the last of the items from his clothes. "Super heros are rich." He went on. "When I'm rich we can pay for them then, since we don’t have money right now." Blake stated, matter-of-factly. "Can I be rich, too?" Ark asked inbetween bites of his choco bar. "Of course , Ark. If one of us is rich then all of us are rich." Blake shrugged. "Money can buy a lot of choco bars." Ark whispered in a dreamy voice. He was so happy with his snack that he didn't even seem frustrated when he swatted a misquito from his leg. Blake new the choco bar was a good idea. His little brother was obsessed . Their mother continued to sob from underneath her blankets. Blake tried to assess the situation but he didn't know why she was crying. Nor could he read the expression on their father's face. It was one he'd never seen before. "My God, Blake. We had that entire conversation about Spike killing Bubbles to rob the bank and you didn't think to tell me that you'd robbed the convenience store??" He considered their father's words, not totally understanding the point. Was their conversation in the car supposed to make him talk about that? Day 82. Three days ago, Blake and Ark anxiously followed their father to the car and helped shake off the tarp and toss the leaves aside before they raced back again. They watched as he snuffed out the flames of their forest fire, haphazardly stuffed the trunk with their used possessions, picked up their mother, and rushed her to the car. He didn't take the time to fold the tarp either before he chucked it in the back with the rest and slammed the trunk closed. He slid their mother in the car carefully, ensured they were buckled in, then sped away from the trees. They passed the convenience store where they'd last seen the dancing clerk with the radio. Soon enough, the car took them through an almost empty town and on to the next. All the while, his father hardly said a word to them, leaving them to an uncomfortable ride in their own misery and confusion. Every shred of his attention split between the road and holding their mother's hand. Sometimes, he cursed under his breath or mumbled words from the signs to himself as he drove past them. When they arrived at a place called Beckham's Motel, where Ark was now excitedly rushing through the doors ahead of them, his father left their mother in the car. He quickly paid for a room and waited until they were back out of the office doors to complain about the rate per night. "70 dollars a night for a damn dump ." He graoned. "What even is this economy? What motel in the history of motels could charge 70 fucking dollars a night? They don't even do continental breakfasts. This is the very definition of highway robbery, but there's not much choice." "Daddy, they have choco bars in the machine! Can you buy it?" Ark begged, tugging on his sleeve and pointing erratically towards a corner down a ramp, covered with a shade. But their father didn't look towards the vending machine. He simply ushered them forward, up metal stairs, and towards a door marked 27. "Not now. Maybe later," he mumbled, long after they'd passed the machine by. After carrying their bags and suitcases into a room, their father sent Ark to watch tv as he kneeled at the door in front of Blake. "Listen, kiddo. I need you to be very careful. I have a key. I will call and request that they keep the cleaning service out the room. Do not let anyone inside this room, no matter what they say. Got it? You'll have to keep your brother occupied, but you can do it. "You know how the bad guys in your comic books lurk in the shadow? It's sorta like that for us right now. And they can look like almost anyone. If a little old lady falls down the stairs you don't go looking, even if you're worried." Blake nodded. His heart thumped away in his chest. He hoped there wouldn't be any old women taking a fall down the motel steps any time soon. "There are bad people after us, right? That's why we left and then lived in the forest. They took all our money." His father's head drooped heavily. "Will Momma be okay?" His father tried to smile. "The doctors at the hospital will make sure of that." "The villians look in the hospitals too ." "Why do you say that?" Their father asked, looking cautious. Maybe he was really listening. "They went to find Gyre's father there when he was sick." Blake's lip quivered. More specifically, Gyre's father was kidnapped right from his hospital bed. And they couldn't find him for three whole years. The thought of his parents disappearing like that frightened him to no end. He didn't think Super Sound would be able to save them from a motel room. Their father wrapped his arms around him tightly and kissed his cheek. "You've got this, Super. Assume the bad guys are everywhere , just like I said. Mom and I will come back here for you. I'm going to take her straight to the hospital, then I'll drop off some food and drinks here for you and your brother. Then, I need to go right back and be with mom, so take care of Ark for me. I'll leave some emergency money with you too. Don't use it unless you absolutely have to. Can you do that for me?" Blake nodded weakly as their father stuffed a few bills into his pocket. Then he told Ark to stay put until they returned. "Listen to Blake and be a good boy." He kissed his forhead and hugged him tight. All too quickly he told them he loved them and shut the door closed behind him as he went. Blake wondered if his father felt the same painful thumps in his chest as he closed the door. What was happening to their mom? An hour later, his father brought bags into the room, told them to hop in the shower, and left again. This time, with more kisses than the last. It was even harder that time to see him go. When he did, the motel room felt unbelievably empty. Ark spent the rest of the night flicking through channels on the remote and happily kicking his feet until he fell asleep. Blake sat on the bed on the far side of the room and crossed his legs. He silently placed his headphones beside him and waited anxiously for another sunrise. Day 83. The next morning, their parents still hadn't returned. The two of them drank juice and shared some of a pizza his father brought for them the evening before. Tired with legs that felt like tv static, Blake told Ark that he would take a shower and left him to mindlessly flick through channels on the tv again. He'd turned the television up too loud, but Blake decided to deal with the noise until he was finished. He knew how excited his brother was to sleep in a bed and watch cartoons. After all, he complained about it often. Though it would do nothing for the part of Ark missing his friends. As Blake sluggishly stepped into the water, eyes heavy, he thought back to their typical morning at home. Their father usually made breakfast and let their mother sleep in. Then she came to sit at the table with them as soon as food touched the plates. Almost like clockwork. The boys brushed their teeth then sat at the table and munched away to the white noise of their parents' chatter. How long had it been since they'd had a full breakfast at the table? He also thought about the four of them walking hand in hand, even though he hated holding Ark's most days. He was roudy in the morning, usually trying to show him the same things they'd seen every single day as if there was anything new to see. Even though this was the same boy who'd somehow grown tired of the forest so fast. Now, Blake wanted to walk that same path to school. He wanted to hold his hand, see his brother off, and then say a cheery goodbye to his parents for the day. He also wanted to see his friends Jemma and Riley. The two of them were quiet, which he liked. They spent a great deal of their time together in comfortable silence more than they ever spoke, but he liked it that way. They found ways to includ him in conversation and games, and discussed their favorite heros often. Blake wondered what they were doing that very second. Was it a school day? He didn't remember what day of the week it was now. Were they worried about him? What did they think happened to him when he didn't show up for school? Would they miss him too, when he never saw them again? As he walked out of the shower and back into the rest of the motel room, Blake's heart stopped. The door stood ajar. He could just make out the sound of his brother's voice in the distance. Blake struggled to pull his pants up over his dripping legs. Shoeless and with his shirt hardly to the nape of his neck, he rushed out the door and followed the sound of Ark's laughter. Ever so vaguely aware of a pair of footsteps going off in another direction as he stumbled noisily down the staircase and towards the front of the motel. As he ran on, he eyed his brother walking back up the ramp from the vending machine area. Having sighted him, Ark quickly waved his arms in the air. When Blake stopped in front of him, he proudly displayed two choco bars. Before Ark could open his mouth to speak, Blake grabbed hold of his wrist and steered him roughly toward the stairs and up to the room. He blatantly ignored every grumble of protest and threat of tears. Back in inside, he slammed the door shut behind them and shoved Ark towards the first bed. "Where were you?? You know you aren't supposed to leave the room!" Blake shouted. "I thought I saw daddy. Daddy said maybe next time, Blake. It wasn't daddy. A man bought it." Ark tried to explain. "There's one for you too." He said, and held out a choco bar in front of him with an unsteady arm. Blake angrily slapped it away. "I don’t want a stupid choco bar!" He fumed, still out of breath. His words didn't help calm him. He was so angry he could hardly contain it. What if a villian caught him? His emotions blazed through his oxygen. Scortched his insides until red blotches painted his vision. "You NEVER listen !!" Ark cowarded away from him with his hands cupped over his ears, and tripped over the pizza box on the floor. Blake watched him shake, possibly from fear or sadness, as he began to cry. "I'm sorry." He weeped as he climbed sloppily onto the bed. Blake groaned and gripped his face as a pain spread through his head. His brother cried himself to sleep without so much as a single bite of his choco bar. And as he watched him snore with a pained expression weighing down his features, Blake struggled with his guilt. He realized that while Ark hadn't made a smart decision, he hadn't been as angry with his brother as he was with himself. He hadn't even heard him leave the room. He should have stopped him before he ever made it out the door. He couldn't help his parents in the hospital, but his brother that shared the same room in the motel? That was his responsibility. He promised their father. If Super Sound made these kinds of mistakes, it was only proof that he wasn't fit to protect anyone . Blake eventually retrieved the broken chocolate bar he'd flung across the room. Then he took off his brother's shoes, tucked him in, and laid down on the bed beside him. "I'm sorry." He whispered as he kissed his cheek. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. It's my fault. Thank you for sharing your favorite candy with me." As if he'd managed to hear his apology, Ark's expression fell neutral and he turned over and snuggled close to him. Blake knew he probably had to say those words again in the morning, but for now his reaction comforted him anyhow. His head still hurt and his eyes felt twice as heavy, but he managed to stay awake the whole night. It helped that he was too busy worrying. Scared that his failure would force them to the villians' hands. Day 84. In the morning, Ark was back to his usual self. For that, Blake was relieved yet exhausted. He watched him scribble drawings on a notepad and pen that had been tucked in a drawer in the room. How long until their parents returned? Hours ticked by as he sat in Ark's bed, eyeing the window through the blinds and focusing on sounds from the other side of the door. A couple argued from a room off-center on the floor below. Cars drove noisly down the road. He even heard the squeeky wheel of the cleaning lady's cart when Ark asked him to play. Blake shook his head, telling him he was training his ears. Ark pouted but eventually turned his attention on the television and munched on his choco bar from the day before. The heaviness of sleep chased Blake relentlessly over the next hour. And by the time he realized he was drifting off, there was nothing he could do. Even heros need sleep , he thought drowsily. Not long after, Blake's eyes shot open. He darted his sleepy gaze across the room and towards the door as his ears registered a metalic clink . To his displeasure, Ark had undone the lock on the door and turned the knob. A slither of a man's form appeared in the doorway as his brother's face lit up like a Christmas tree. Blake leaped off the bed in a panic, pushed his brother out of the way, and grabbed hold of the doorknob. Ark protested, confused and defiant. The man, he'd said, brought them more choco bars. The same one from the vending machine? But how did he know which room they were in? Had Ark told him? Blake turned up his nose as the man leaned against his knees. "So there really were two of you! I thought your brother might have swindled me out of extra chocolate yesterday." The man grinned. Blake couldn't see his eyes through his sunglasses, but he caught just a peek of his silver bangs from the crack in the door. On his arm, a bag swayed with his movements. He could just see make out the tops of water bottles and a corner of a choco bar. There were more items, but he couldn't place them without stepping out the door and he wasn't going to do that. "What do you want?" Blake asked distrustfully. "Are your parents home?" The man asked. Before Ark could speak, Blake glared in his direction and shook his head. He whined noisily but found silence. "I thought you might want a little more than a choco bar this time around. There's some here for you, but all that sugar by itself just isn't so healthy. You know how the saying goes, right? An apple a day? So there's some better goodies here too." He laughed. "My name is Jake. What's yours little guy?" Blake had heard enough. "We don't want that." He answered callously, quickly shutting the door. Only, it never caught the latch bolt. Warm sweat formed in the creases of his fingers. " Ouch . Well aren't you cold?" The man laughed bitterly from the other side of the door. Blake looked down to see the man's foot in the way. His heart thumped as a arctic chill raced down his spine. Reactive, he stomped his heel against the man's foot. "You bold little shit !" The man shouted, retracting his foot. When his hand caught the doorway instead, a second later, Blake slammed the door against his fingers as hard as he could through his anger and panic. "AUGH!!" The man wailed out in pain and recoiled as he clutched his hand. "Shit. Shit. Shit ! You motherfucker !!" He continued from the other side of the door. Blake turned the lock back into place. He looked up towards the second one, a golden chain, but couldn't reach it. He checked the window and locked it, peering through the glass for any sign of the stranger. He couldn't see the space in front of the door from there. Ark stood shakily in the corner. Blake didn’t know what to say to him. A super hero would try to make him feel better. That is what he should do, too, probably. "It'll be okay, Ark." Blake said, going to rub his back. "He's gone?" Ark asked. Not seeming any less scared than he'd been a moment ago. Blake shook his head, unsure. "I don't know." He answered. Then he put his finger to his lips and told Ark to be very still and very quiet. It only made him tremble more. Blake filtered out the sound of his brother's raspy breaths as he closed his eyes to focus. He could hear uneven breathing from the other side of the door. Slight, quick vibrations, and cursing. He recognized the sound from his time visiting his Aunt Claire. The man was on the phone, texting someone. A moment later, he heard the movement of the bag from his arm and the slight friction between the fabric and phone screen as he tucked the phone into his pocket. When his footsteps started to receed, Blake almost let out a sigh of relief. That was, until the sound of the man's shoes scratched against the pavement, quicker with each passing second. It was then that Blake realized that he'd never intended to leave in the first place. Rather, he only walked away to give himself room. Right now, he was charging straight for their door. Blake's breath caught in his lungs. What should he do? Should they call for help ? The police would never make it in time even if they did dial them now. He no longer heard the couple's bickering or the cleaning lady's squeaky cart. In fact, save for the cars down by the road, he could only hear the man as he closed the ever shrinking distance to the door. What would a hero do? What would Super Sound do? Blake ran to the far bed, grabbed his headphones and slid them over Ark's head. "Ark. Time to play hide-n-seek. Go hide ." He said forcefully, slapping the headphones down over his ears. There were tears in his brother's eyes, which proved he wasn't entirely clueless. Even if he hadn't been able to resist a stranger offering up his favorite chocolate bar. Blake turned towards the door as Ark slipped past him. With a loud, splintering crash, the door caved in from the middle. Jutting inwards toward Blake on the other side. He clentched his fists and painfully pressed his nails into his palms as a single kick sent the door crashing down. Jake seethed with anger. The fingers on his right hand were purple and swollen as he laughed hysterically. "Hello, little shit . How are ya?" He sneered. Blake's knees shook as he watched him toss the bag on his arm to the side and looked about the room. The moment he stepped forward, Blake shouted. " GaH! " He felt the vibrations in the back of his throat. The sound of his voice echoed repetitively in the air, and a simultaneous gust of pressure sent him sliding backwards across the carpet, burning his bare feet. Jake, eyes widened in surprise, instinctively covered his ears with a yelp. He was flung through the air, back out the doorway behind him, over the railing. His body noisily collided with the staircase below. Blake's head pulsed painfully as he dropped to all fours. He caught movement in his peripheral, turned his head, and met his little brother's panicked eyes. They were still swollen from crying. Through a groan, he reached a hand in Ark's direction and helped him out from under the bed. In front of him, Ark peeled the headphones off his head. Blake hugged him, then worked off the adrenaline pumping through his veins.Why hadn't anyone rushed to help them when the door fell in? He thought about their parents. When their father got worried, he rushed them to a safe place. The motel wasn't safe anymore. "Ark, hurry and put on your shoes. We have to go." Blake frowned as his brother began to cry again. "Mommy! Daddy!" He sobbed noisily. Blake's head hurt so much. Every noise from Ark's mouth worsened it, but he refrained from shoving his hand over his mouth. Truthfully, his heart ached for them both. Part of him wanted to cry too, but he was too scared of being kidnapped to do it now. And it would have scared Ark even more. "It's alright." Blake tried to reassure him, grabbing one of his brother's drawings from the floor. He flipped it over and scribbled across the paper. "We are going to leave them a note and they will come and find us." Blake folded the sheet of paper and searched his brain for the lock code on his parents' suitcases. When the memory resurfaced, he quickly swiped the numbers to their proper place, tucked the note in and shut it closed. He remembered that their mother always turned the numbers back to zero when she used it, so he followed her example. Blake grabbed his book bag, pulled out his Super Sound cape and tied it around his neck. Suddenly, he felt a little less afraid. Then, he tossed the leftover slices of pizza, food and drink in it. He even grabbed the bag Jake had thrown to the side and stuffed it in with the choco bar Ark gave him previously. Then, he slipped on his coat and shoes, grabbed the covers and a pillow off the bed and checked his pocket for the emergency money.He didn't bother with the lights, tv, or anything else before he took his brother's hand and sloughed out through the busted door. Outside, the two of them walked carefully and purposely towards the top of the staircase. From there, Blake could just make out Jake's body splayed out near the first floor.He shook off another chill as he pulled Ark close behind him down the stairs. They stopped a few steps away from Jake's body and Blake nudged him roughly with tip of his shoe. He faught the urge to kick him.Was he dead? When he didn't budge, he hesitantly helped Ark step over him. A feat made more difficult whenever he shrunk away. They rounded the corner and made their way passed the ramp that lead to the vending machine. The silence from the motel made him uneasy. Blake tried to shake the image of Jake out of his head as they continued toward the street. When the bad guys come to trick you, they always lie. That man wanted more than just to give them candy. He was an adult. Wouldn't he know that kids aren't supposed to accept candy from strangers anymore anyway? But what exactly did he want with them? Ark sniffled as he allowed himself to be lead at Blake's back. At least he's stopped crying , Blake thought. He wondered how long it would take to make it back to the forest with their small legs. Ark's were even smaller . He was fairly sure he could remember the way. If nothing else, the sounds of forest life could lead them there if they lost their way. As the two of them nervously walked on, tired and suspicious of every stranger they saw, Blake kept thinking about the man he'd sent over the railing. He had never done that before. It was the first time he ever tried it on another human. It was different than he imagined and the pains in his head hadn't stopped yet. When Jake's broken sunglasses and twisted form on the steps flashed back through his mind, he reminded himself that he'd been a bad man. He was the one who broke into the room. And, if comics taught him anything at all, it was that the silver haired man's name probably wasn't even 'Jake'...

Hello All! The following Q & A was posed after 4 years, soon to be 5, of long-distance dating. These are direct quotes consisting of 12 questions. Spanning subjects like advice, emotional support, LDR tips and first-hand experiences all from the perspective of both partners in the relationship! A first of its kind here. I hope you find it useful in answering common questions, and for any of you in an LDR, can guide some of your steps. Question 1 : What does it feel like to realize you like/are starting to fall for someone you've never met? His Answer: Hmm. Interesting question. It's different. I think falling in love with you, if I had to define it, it would be that it was pure? I couldn't sniff you or touch you. Without being able to stare each other in the eyes, without being close, I didn't know I could have these kinds of feelings. It could happen from just talking or doing something. My feelings were like that. You showed me that it was possible. I would be able to feel things when we messaged and when you talked to me. We were far away, but sometimes, I would feel like you were there right beside me... Hers: I would say complicated, maybe messy? For me, it was even more of a surprise because I wasn't just liking you. I liked you entirely too fast when I wouldn't even consider someone for a relationship without years of knowing them first. At first, even though I was having a lot of emotions and felt an attachment, I didn't understand that I was wanting something more from you, nor that I was falling in love. The fact that we hadn't met wasn't really even a factor for me until after I could recognize my feelings. By then, it was still messy. A raw and beautiful mess. Haha. Question 2 : In the beginning of your relationship, what did you hate the most besides the distance? Walid's Answer: Besides the distance, maybe the fact that you were running away? And also, my fear of not being enough for you. And saying goodbye when we hung up. I didn't like you running away. I was trying to reach you. I was trying to talk to you and stuff like that. And I was thinking "Awe man. She must think I'm whack." That made me very sad. Then things got better because we started talking more. We started falling in love with each other more and more and that was it. I felt like you had more in common with Justin Beiber than with me. Of course, I would think I'm not enough, "she has these Hollywood guys." And you are definitely very beautiful, so there must be a ton of guys going after you. It was actually something I normally felt about myself. It is inevitable. You're too cute. I had to reconcile with myself and be able to accept it. That part {dealing with not feeling enough}, I have to keep dealing with it. In order to fight those feelings of not being enough, I have to be able to work and do good stuff. I could be like "I'm a terrible person, I'm not feeling good enough" but I can think instead "I did this well and I can work harder" or "at least I have this cute girlfriend" to change my mindset. Hanging up was the worst. Because I was always looking forward to talking to you, and it had to be over. It made me feel very sad. Alexia's Answer: I can't imagine, still, anyone looking at me and thinking like that. Hollywood guys? Wow. For me, I really hated the not knowing, feeling far away any time something went wrong, and even getting in my own way. Saying goodbye somehow was also like...crazy difficult for some reason. I'm particular in certain ways, but I'm also anxious and have mental health issues. I hated when I couldn't confirm something, or it took extra digging and back and forth to have conversations when we were in conflict. Those things only worsened when I was in the bad place in my head. I didn't like myself already, and I would drop deeper into those depths when there was a problem. Sometimes, your words or reluctance fueled it. Especially if it felt like the walls were coming up on your side. Sometimes, it was an assumption on my part, but most certainly, there was always a worsening because I would also wound myself. It took so long to figure it out. What I was doing, how my reactions or words changed a situation. Or yours. It was a battle just trying to recognize, hear, and be heard. We have come a long way, but I hated that cycle. Saying goodbye doesn't have a good explanation. It just was always hard. It always felt lonely and sad and I didn't want to be doing it. Even on a bad day. So, yeah. Question 3 : How have you dealt with jealousy or trust issues during long-distance? Walid's Answer: Okay. It's not easy. It isn't because I don't trust you but because I miss you very much. The thought of someone else getting your laugh, your eyes, your time, your attention...it hurts. Not because I think you are going to leave me, but because I wasn't there to witness it. And being away makes it a lot worse. The first thing that happens, and sometimes I don't even notice, is feeling the jealousy. Then I have to admit how I'm feeling. It's not really conscious. I try to remind myself of who you are, that it is normal because of our distance, and how much I love you. Alexia's Answer: At first, I had to realize that those feelings were brooding. I had to recognize what they were related to, why I felt that way, and if it was something triggered by one of us, both of us, past trauma, or just the fact that we weren't near each other. Then, I would write them down and sit with them. Eventually, the best way became what happened after I could place those feelings--I talked to you about them and we decided what to do together. We had to discuss moments of feeling jealous towards even each other's friends or family because they could spend time with us, but our lover couldn't. They were the smallest incidents, but I was shocked I could feel bitter even though I was happy you were having fun or doing something different. We may have had to compromise. Sometimes, it took days, weeks, or months to truly work out the knots of these kinds of feelings. Usually, because we hadn't gotten to the root of the issue, someone was offended or didn't understand why things needed to change. I think I'd say that we had to build some resistance to those feelings by refocusing on us understanding each other's needs, spending more time together, talking and taking agreed actions so we weren't building resentment. Nowadays, I don't normally feel jealous or distrustful, but it's easier to deal with if it happens. It's easier to remember that most of the time, it comes from loving you and everything else can be dealt with. Question 4 : The average distance in an LDR is around 125 miles (201.68 km) between couples. How do you feel about that? Walid's Answer: Oh man. I feel that I wished it could be our case. It would have been a lot easier to be together. It hurts a little bit. I'm also jealous a little bit... There's people with that kind of distance. They can plan this day and decide that they are going to visit each other. I wish we could have that. You probably have to look at the average time a couple stays together when they are in a long distance relationship, too. At the same time, it is more interesting to think that they have an average distance and an average love. Our distance is greater , and so is our love . Alexia's Answer: Haha. Goodness. Our love is great. I feel same way, sort of. At least, I also feel that I wish we could have had that. They are lucky, but we are stronger for the distance. Our distance is shorter now, Thank God. Nearly 8,000 miles to 4, 000 and something. It is a lot. But we are fortified. We are stronger for it. It's amazing the kind of things you can build from this far away. What is the average time LDR couples stay together anyway..? That's a good question. ■ The answer according to the internet: 4.5 months before a major change like closing the distance, or the relationship ending altogether (usually the second). _ Roughly 60% of LDRs make it long-term, with the longest lasting ones spanning 2 to 3 years. Although college level LDRs generally end in less than a year. Question 5 : How often should you see your partner in an LDR? Walid's Answer: As much as possible, of course. I wanted to get with you as much as possible, cutie. I miss every aspect of you. Sometimes, I tear up because I miss you, so I want to see you all the time. Alexia's Answer: Ideally, we all want to say every day, every week, or every month at minimum. We LDR-ers want to see our partners just as much as everyone else. Day in and day out. But, the reality is that it is part of the struggle of an LDR, and you can't normally do that. So, I'd say as much as you are reasonably able. Not to the point of ruining your lives because you will still be separated later (if you are/will be), but enough to feed the beast and make it possible to wait. When you can't see each other regularly, take longer trips so the distance becomes something more bearable. It's hard. I miss you all the time, too. Sometimes, I'll break down on a video call or look through all your photos, our videos... everything. All to get through the day. We both get emotional about it a lot now, I think. That's okay. So, yeah. As much as you're reasonably able to, go for it. Question 6 : What are some of the most memorable ways you've managed to maintain emotional intimacy in the LDR? Walid's Answer: I can think of our late night calls or extremely early ones. When we are sharing our thoughts and are vulnerable. Or when we say to each other "I want to see you" or "I want to hear your voice." Or when we take photos or videos for each other and stuff like that. Alexia's Answer: I think there's an entire list like that, but the most memorable for me are when we plan lunch and dinner dates and when we have long, relaxed phone calls. Without quality time, I'm no good. I like being able to feel like we are together when we are away, I think most people agree with that no matter what kind of relationship you're in. For me, those times are really special because we get to enjoy time with less interruptions, and we reveal ourselves to each other even though we can't be in the same room. Question 7 : What's the scariest thing about being long-distance? Walid's Answer: I think it's not being able to help you or defend you in case something happens. If you get hurt and I'm far away. Alexia's Answer: The scariest thing about an LDR is just being worried about you. Definitely. I worry about your health, about your happiness, your stress. Of course, it becomes, then, even easier to worry that you could get hurt. I even imagined what would happen if the world fell apart and we couldn't communicate through the internet and wanted to find each other. I'm actively making a list just to be prepared, which is almost not funny being in America right now given the way they are handling the country. It probably was somewhat worse when we were twice as far away but that's sometimes easy to forget because it's any distance at all that amplifies the worry. Now, I know I don't have to travel over 24 hours to get to you. 8 or 9 hours is so much better and yet still not enough. It would crush me if you weren't okay. Not having any real security regarding your safety is terrifying on any given day. Question 8 : What are the pros to an LDR? What do you gain from a long-distance relationship? Walid's Answer: Pros? The relationship itself. I don't see anything really good about being this distant to each other. I'd rather be close to you. The thing I gained was a relationship with you. Not the long part. Alexia's Answer: I think I gained a relationship, but I also gained tools to help me later. I gained you, a wonderfully caring boyfriend, and much more because of who you are than I can explain in a few sentences. But, I also gained skills regarding dealing with conflict, learned how to care for you even when we are away from one another, a different kind of patience than the rest of my life has required of me in certain subjects, a little more faith on the way, and the confidence to be yours while away from you. It probably sounds strange but I also think that a pro to a long-distance relationship like ours, especially given who I am as a person and my past trauma, is just getting time to "ready myself" for a future with you is it's own benefit that most people don't realize. I think the rest of the hard things can overshadow that if you're not thinking mindfully. Question 9 : How did your friends and family react to the news of your LDR? Walid's Answer: Hmm. My friends reacted very well. They all wanted to meet you right away. My family were inbetween indifference and shock. Some were surprised because they didn't expect it. I mean, my Aunt Palmira said she liked you and kept calling you Princess, so that's good. Yeah. Overall, they reacted well. Alexia's Answer: My relationship with my family has never been great, so I expected mixed reactions. Generally speaking, friends were supportive although a couple were taken aback. A lot of people were simply surprised I was mentioning you and teased me often about my constant smile when I said anything about you. Or me looking shy. Many of my family members had a lot of questions, uncertainties, rude remarks or some mixture of curiosity and disbelief. Some tried to convince me that I was making a mistake, that it wouldn't last, something would happen to me, or that I shouldn't be waiting for someone across two oceans. There were a few that accepted it but probably didn't take my statement seriously. Either because I usually didn't talk about my love life, or because they assumed they knew what my future would look like before I ruined that for them. And a couple, like my aunt, that were very supportive and light hearted about it. Ready to jump in and ask about our plans for the future and photos. I can't say it wasn't sometimes difficult to deal with the reactions, but none of them, good or bad, could sway my feelings. It's always better to be supported but we deal with the hand we're dealt in life. Nowadays, it's a lot more neutral when I bring it up or remind someone. It definitely does help, though, that we have been able to spend time together in person. Question 10 : Do you think being in a long-distance relationship has changed your views on relationships as a whole? Walid's Answer: Yeah. I used to believe long-distance relationships didn't work, but you proved to me that they do work. At first I thought it was impossible to feel so much for someone who was so distant. We couldn't touch or see each other. But, with you, you proved that it's possible--all it takes is a little effort. Alexia's Answer: I don't think that our LDR changed my views on relationships. I never doubted the possibility of it working. I was well aware that two people, no matter their backgrounds, who love each other whole-heartedly, among other things, can make for a lasting relationship. What it changed was my thinking regarding myself in relationships. I even learned that I could, in fact, and should recieve a love similar to what I give or have given. You taught me that it was possible for someone to choose me even from a distance and continue to do that every day. That my feelings, my wishes and my love could be returned without meaning I had to give up some important chunk of myself or my life to do it. I changed my views on what I had to accept to love and be loved by someone else, too. So, thank you for that. Question 11 : Do you have any regrets about being long-distance? Walid's Answer: Not being born in the U.S. Alexia's Answer: Hysterical laughter until she could answer. Being in an LDR with you? Never. Maybe with someone else, the answer would differ. Luckily, I don't ever need to know it. There's no more LDRs in my future. This is it. Question 12 : What advice do you want to give to other people currently in an LDR who want to make it work? Walid's Answer: You've got to do the work . Straight and simple. You also have to find the right person. It doesn't matter how hard you work if you're not with the right person. So, choose wisely and work hardy ! Alexia's Answer: People always ask about loyalty during long-distance relationships. They ask questions like... "Do you cheat?" "Do LDRs really work?" And my advice follows the answers to these questions. No, I don't cheat. We have never had an open relationship. Our values don't align with that and we want each other to ourselves. If I want you and I have you, am I going to share you? No. Of course, not. Are there people out there that are willing to open their relationships, are untruthful, or cheating because it is difficult or they want to make it work and think that those things will? Sure. I don't know any in my circle, but it happens. Some people open their relationships, even, just because they don't mind doing it. By whatever means, they have that room to share with a third party. Everyone is different. Yes , long-distance relationships do work... with the right person. It isn't all that different... dating from afar and sticking with someone who lives down the street from you. You need aligned values, reciprocal feelings, and actions. So, my advice is just like it would be for any other relationship. Find your boundaries, your wishes, your values and match them to what you're willing and able to give. Not just receive. If you're both in it for the right reasons, and it is the right person, it will start to come together sooner than you think. I believe one major reason an LDR is really perceived to be weaker than a "normal" relationship, besides biases, is really because the wrong people are trying to force it to work, and everyone else remembers it. It could be the right person at the wrong time, or the wrong partner entirely. Just as is the case for people dating in the same area. Others are quick to excuse the ending, wherein they both contributed to what their relationship became, and blame distance as if it decides the trajectory of one's heart. It takes two for any relationship to be successful, and it's not the number of miles that makes it crumble.. but the wrong person? That'll do it.

Random Writing Prompts² It's been quite some time since I offered you all a little push to practice your skills. Today, I'm back with more random writing prompts. Use them to take a break from your current project, inspire yourself for your next, or simply test out your abilities. Remember, the point is to write (even if that's only a few sentences) and have fun while doing it! Try these and see if they get the juices flowing. Meanwhile, I'll be here rooting for you!! ✍️🏽 Write about... A single father who gets a second chance at mending his relationship with his kids when they fall below the sand during a beach trip. A scapegoat, only literally. In this case, a goat (magical or otherwise) that's a pro at escaping unfavorable situations. Three's a crowd. Write a story about a date gone haywire because an unexpected third party showed up and decided to stick around. A powerful being who suddenly loses everything to someone that was once powerless in front of him. Fulfilling the worst favor in history because of an ancient contract. Forgiveness. Maybe modeled after your own life or something you wish you had witnessed. Write something to yourself, even. A person who hears whispers from a lake. A tree that speaks and whose favorite pass-time is to taunt humans unexpectantly. A character who can only speak backwards. A blind person explaining how they see the world. A crew member of a pirate ship that is always tasked with fixing the boat after attacks on their adventures. The personification of rain drops. A boy who drops through a sinkhole that leads into the sky. Two ghosts trying to find new bodies, and new lives, in the living world. How your favorite fantasy series or movie character would have to deal with their situation if people had realistic reactions to them the entire time. Your least favorite villain becoming the hero of their own story.

Things I wish I had done when I first became an indie webcomic artist , a short list. 1. Experiment more. Everyone knows that in order to develop a comic, you have to develop a sense of style. Yet, it seems lost on the general population that in order to really find that sweet spot and the consistency to upkeep it, you need to experiment often. I'm here to tell you, if no one else does, that you should actually , really , truly , take your time experimenting! I wish I hadn't been so afraid of doing it. By the time I felt "ready" to do so, I had already been drawing episodes upon episodes of my webcomic. I still found things I liked and kept them as I went forward, but it was frustrating to realize that it interfered with the consistency of uploads and the drawings themselves. Which brings me to the next item on the list I wish I'd done. 2. Time for consistency. This one must be mentioned after the first as it is my opinion that they go hand-in-hand. While developing your style and finding that sweet spot previously mentioned, I wish I had given myself more time to become a consistent artist. Although I have kept the older art and the difference even from my first attempts to now are drastic , which I can find a way to appreciate rather than criticize now, it is not lost on anyone (I think) how long it takes to really settle. Today, my artwork and shading are better than they've ever been, and I've even developed a secondary style for my other projects. It's nice to notice, but it makes me think back to all the time I felt pressured, sometimes more from myself rather than others, to crank out art with little mercy. Even though that can also leave people displeased. In the end, I've found that taking time away from it and then going back into the work with a slow and steady mindset helped me improve and become a more consistent artist. Both by way of content as well as character drawing(s). The difference between my first 10 episodes of Lifeline: Path to Tomorrow (LP2T) and the eps in the 20s+ are like night and day. 3. No comparisons, just the journey. This one feels like one not to be forgotten. It is so easy today to get caught up in everyone else's ability to do something you feel you're lacking in as an artist. Especially because regaredless of comparing your work to your previous, putting it out there for the public eye also opens the door for others to pass judgment. And with that often comes the insecurities. While I appreciate that I've gotten to the point that I don't have much of these worries anymore, I still find myself wishing that I had been able to get to this place even a little sooner. So, my advice? One , don't worry as much about where you are right now . See your journey and look forward to where you are going . Two , remember that you very rarely are privy to anyone else's road map. There are places they've been, places they got stuck; a broken pavement that they've circled back on a hundred different times; signs that spelled out their own imposter syndrome; blocks in their paths; dead ends they never saw; and plenty of places where the road wasn't clear and they had to ask for directions. Most people have to suffer highway hypnosis and heavy rain before they reach their destination. Know that they didn't get that good without it. As they say, Rome wasn't built in a day my friends! If you're so focused on theirs , you'll never find your way. 4. Layout careful. This one goes beyond planning the kind of panels you want to have in a comic episode. Although that is undoubtedly something to put some thought into, for me there was another area that most people didn't talk about that I found to be important. Figuring out my layout (scroll format, page-by-page, how I wanted to do full-sized drawings, and even a minimum and maximum size to said drawings), as well as the easiest way to break them up in case I ever wanted a print version of my work, would have saved me some trouble. Especially for the beginning when I was using other platforms rather than my own website that I could change whenever I wanted. Every company is a little different, and not having the comic ready to switch between views depending on where it would be uploaded made that a bit more challenging on my end. Nowadays, some drawing programs have a way to do most of the work for you--Isn't that nice? So, be sure to check your settings, else take a bit of time and test out doing it manually to find what works best for you. Even better , the way you'd feel comfortable breaking up the work in case you don't have the option in the future. 5. Workload after drawing completion. It may sound a bit strange at first, but being unsure of this one actually caused the most re-starts of my comic! Not to worry. Here I am to save you from my mistake, yet again. It's because I care about you, I assure you. Haha. Anyway, on to the good part. Don't be like me, and wait to figure out how much work you want to do after the drawing(s) are done! I realized that part of the reason (excluding the indie comic artists who have a team) that so many comics can upload more consistently is because they have this sorted out. How much shading and depth do you want? Which textures and colors? Soft or hard finishing touches? There are times that I still wonder why I chose to give myself so much work for my finished project when I could increase my number of updates and give myself more time for other things if I just did the minimum . For me, I've found that the end product outweighs those thoughts, and I'm not overwhelmingly stressed getting things done, even for the tedious parts. In fact, I'm the most pleased with my results when I put all the work in. Even if that means more time, coloring, and shading, or anything else. Make sure you find out how you honestly feel and set realistic expectations for yourself. You should hope that it is for the long run, but you always have the option to change things in the future if it comes to it. 6. Breaks, the silent friend. I know , I know . You've heard the whole "take breaks" thing before. Well, I'm here to say it again. And again . And again . Until it's so annoying that you do it and then you thank me later. Forget just the thought of burnout. Your breaks are for more than just not getting tired of your own drawings. It's also to keep your mind fresh so the creative juices continue to flow, and so you can step away from your work comfortably. When I didn't take breaks, I actually lost progress. My art ability plummeted , I got more frustrated with even good ideas, and I stopped having fun . Don't do that to yourself. Take an actual break. An entire week or more, long before you even think you need it. Then, get back in the saddle with a fresh pair of boots and getter done! Final thoughts. Your journey is just your own, even if you travel down some of the same roads as the person beside you. Try to be kind to yourself. Plan ahead and practice, but don't overwhelm yourself. Experiment and then get away from the drawing board. Most importantly, let yourself have fun. If you don't think there's plenty of things to love, if you don't enjoy your process and your artwork at all its stages, neither can your audience! Happy drawing, and good luck, lovelies♡!!

Hello, Hello! It has been a while since I mentioned writing. As such, I got the idea to throw some very random prompts out there for you today. Here's some choices for you on the fly. If you're looking for a little practice, you may find it helpful. Just try to write a paragraph or two. See where it takes you. Maybe it will inspire you to write something new. If you're feeling artsy, maybe you could even just draw up something that depicts the promps with your own little spin. Write about a three-legged cat on a grand journey. A character (you chose a point-of-view) comes across a creature, whose apperance and personality are at odds with one another, and decides to take them home. On a rare trip to Antarctica, two coworkers stumble across a secret town below ice. Two adoptive siblings find out that they are actually related. An ancient beast and a two young children afraid of heights go on an unlikely journey together. What was supposed to be a normal trip to the grocery store, becomes a mysterious journey instead. One faithful day, you discover that a favorite childhood heirloom hides unimaginable secrets. Two childhood friends that no longer get along, wake up in an abandoned castle with no recollection of how they'd gotten there. A chef finds out that his favorite dish has magical properties. By stroke of luck, a young woman survives a deadly incident, only to find out after another like-incident occurs, that neither were accidents. A young boy escapes a forest filled with copies of himself. An unlikely duo must trade places in order to save their families. 15 years ago, stars began falling to the earth, and with every collision with earth's energy field, a new cosmic being arrives on the planet. A character unearths a terrible secret beneath a stone slab in their neighbor's backyard. A man travels back in time to keep his first love from dying. His acts have unexpected consequences. Write a story about a group of people who write disappearing messages on rocks that later reappear in another part of the world. Of course, you can write about anything and everything you want. You could even mix and match elements from the prompts above into a totally new idea. Go with your gut and remember to write something that you can just enjoy for a few moments. Let your mind wander to the creative spaces tucked away. Happy writing! 💫📝💫

Hello Lovelies. I was recently reflecting on milestones in my relationship, and it got me thinking... there have been some things that I've never really heard anyone discuss out loud about being in this kind of relationship, even things I wish I'd known sooner about long-distance relationships. Not so that I would change all my actions or avoid the happening altogether, but just so I could know what else to expect . Just so I knew that it wasn't so unusual , and that these things would later be just some of the very markers --or green flags, if you will--that would make our long-distance relationship work . So, today, I'm going to cover 7 things no one tells you about an LDR. 1. Starting is the Easy Part. It sounds almost like common sense, and maybe for some it is, but it's true that starting a long-distance relationship-its beginning filled with moments of interest, conversation starters, even awkward starts to phone and video calls-is the easiest part. And although that is the truth, it is also one of the most important. There's no relationship that forms from nothing. An occasional message every few months and no follow-up will result in no better a beginning than that coworker from two departments over that agrees with your statements. Sure, you'll remember it for a while, but its effects are not the lasting kind. You may nod in their direction in the hall, or maybe you would notice if you one day didn't see them for a month and wonder to yourself if they finally quit the job, but your connection isn't strong enough to miss them. Still, this doesn't mean that you should expect to talk every single day all day. While everyone hopes for a bit of consistency in communication, and it is an imperative aspect of building the relationship, you're also human and life happens . Even in my own LDR, we had a bit of time where we didn't speak. Be it because life was taking over, moments of insecurities or nervousness, work, or simply crappy days of low quality internet connection. Remember that there is another human being on the other side. Mixed feelings may creep in, but you'll realize that those days were the easiest ones. Just remember that easy doesn't mean meaningless . Those first hours, days and weeks are worth no less than all those that come after. 2. You Have to Talk About Previous Relationships (especially any of the physically intimate kind). It won't be only a single incident, and many times you'll find some hesitation on both ends, but throughout the course of your long-distance relationship, conversations about prior partners (even the physically intimate/sexual kind) will be a necessity. Especially if one or both of you have been hurt in the past, even if that past did not include a single LDR. There are many men and women who skip over details of their past. Possibly two-fold for an LDR. Likely, because it is uncomfortable, or they don't see the benefit in bringing that up in the relationship they are trying to build now rather than the one they left behind. It is even possible that these conversations will spike moments of envy, self depreciation, and sadness in one or both partners. But, the strength it builds within your relationship when you are with the right person is something that can not be overstated nor undervalued . I had many moments of wishing I had been the "first" person my love had many experiences with. Even though those things, be it because it was the wrong partner or previous views on relationships, spirituality, or even himself, may not have been as meaningful for him before we had met as they would be for me. This prompted many more discussions, questions, and moments of discovery for us both. Even the unveiling of regrets as well as hopes. Mainly concerning the ways we would treat each other or expectations and needs to be met inour relationship moving forward. At some point, we also realized that we were being honest , but our questions weren't always specific enough for the things we wanted to know . This is even more important for the questions that might sting to know the answer to. Sometimes, we needed to take time to ourselves and write down our questions at a time that we weren't feeling so riled up or stuck in a cycle of anxious thoughts assuming the answers we would recieve (a happening that can only hurt more than help in the first place). Then, later that day or the next, we would revisit those topics with what we wrote down as a guide. This was also the time to really get an understanding of what risks were taken while being with someone else before our relationship, what I or he were willing and not willing to do again. The same applies to other LDRs. Be willing to find out the same things. Grasp your partner's understanding of intimacy and even, dare I say, STIs and STDs. Afterward, share yours, too. You'd be surprised what one of you might be informed about that the other isn't or even was never taught to them while young. Find the uncomfortable and weak areas and strengthen them together . If you make it to this point and these conversations fall apart again and again, without improvement, you may not be as compatible as you hoped. Don't be afraid to bring up any DDD s--or in other words... doubts, disagreements, or decisions . Even if that includes rethinking the relationship. 3. Get Ready for the "K" and/or "T" Statements. This one was a surprise and, while it may depend more heavily on your and your partner's origins and family background(s), it's better to be prepared for it anyway. Often, especially given that we started a relationship from halfway across the globe, although it was never our intention to do so--a reminder, really, of the saying "men plan while God laughs" -I had to listen to many lectures about needing to be " careful " of " men "/people from ____ (Blank) ." A lecture full of conjuncture, assumptions, and too many harsh opinions were always right behind. It would almost be enough to dampen any remaining positive views of humanity. In a world where catfishing and scams are more likely to ruin a life than in the past, it is hard to view the statements of people you know as anything but harmless, yet the truth remains that it can shift into whispers and doubts in the form of familiar voices in the back of your mind. Among them, at least in my case, was also the constant yet unbelievable statements that I would be " trafficked" (T) or " kidnapped" (K) if I didn't just fall prey to a money scam or something similar because of it. The two of us joke about it now , but it used to really upset me after a while. It felt even worse when that person was willing to tell me that my partner couldn't be trusted without knowing him and double the upset if the words came from someone, even family , who hurt me or never supported me even though we had been on the same side of this planet all my life. As if that was not bad enough, it also said something, from my point of view, about my ability to judge people I let close to me. Maybe there are people who truly need the warning, and maybe there are people who actually say the words without meaning any offense. Without any biases at all... that are truly looking out for someone they know. I didn't find that to be the case in my situation, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. My life had prepared me to sift through my thoughts and feelings, follow my instincts, and decide a course of action, even if most of it had to be done alone. I knew I could make the right call then too, even after any previous failures, about my life partner at this point in my life. Regardless of the reason, it's much better to be prepared to face K and T statements with firm words and affirmations. Speak up about them when it is brought up to you, to your partner too. Don't let those voices build up and shake apart your LDR. Your judgement will not always be perfect, but you should be reasonable about precautions and your own ability to not be taken advantage of. You have to weigh possibilities to some degree, even the negative ones when you don't believe they will come to pass, and that's okay. It's more than okay, it's ingrained in us so that we survive. Those don't go away just because of budding feelings or a long-distance relationship rather than what's considered the norm. It says more about the state of the world than an LDR when the first thing on someone else's mind is that you'll befall a terrible fate because you were willing to love from a distance . If your partner means to be with you, treat you well, and wants a future with you without any pretenses , those conversations will reveal that the only thing they are planning to " kidnap " is your heart . 4. Identity Precautions. This one is fairly straightforward and rides the wave of my previous mention concerning precautions from this list; verify your identities in an LDR. When my partner and I were sure we would keep talking and felt ready to figure out where we were headed in each other's lives--after many days and nights of questions, life stories, jokes and more-my boyfriend's simple statement and our general anxious disbelief in what we were building and feeling with each other prompted something else . He had told me that he couldn't believe I existed. It was in reference to us fitting so well into the cold and empty spaces in each other's lives and checking off boxes for what we wanted in life than a true doubt of existence, but I felt the weight of it. Which, ironically enough, was a feeling I shared too back then. It didn't matter that we could see activity on social media or that we had a couple mutual friends. Nor that there was some photos posted on the internet with the same faces. We lived (and still do) in a world of uncertainty with advanced technology at our fingertips. It was knowing that, and trying to work our way to calls, that made us swap photos of our government issued IDs, paperwork, videos of other things and people in our lives and others of that nature. Nothing that would be too sensitive to show in public, but everything that would give us a little more comfort and certainty that the person on the other side was exactly who we expected. Then, voice clips began and we worked our way to video calls as well. It was not a monumental happening. In fact, I would say it was a very small act for the kind of heaviness it carried, but it benefitted us, and I'm still glad we agreed to do that for each other. In a way, it was us helping each other safely dismantle one more wall blocking the road to the rest of our relationship. 5. Timetables Shift (sometimes a lot). In every LDR, by the time you are feeling seriously committed and deepening your connection to your partner, you will undoubtedly want to meet them. The two of you will toss around ideas and get excited at the prospect of what's to come. Maybe some of you will plan to meet up just weeks later at a nice resturant. I caution you, however, for sometimes your timetable will shift beneath your feet. For us, we were both excited and nervously discussing how we would spend our time and where, who would go to who and for how long. It's nice to be in that headspace together, knowing you want to see each other and how much your relationship has started to mean, but a thought is a simple process even in the moments it feels complicated. What may have once been expected to take a few months can turn into a six, a year, or multiple in the blink of an eye. There's no real way to know which parts of your life will change your relationship or attempt to get in the way of it. Being a long-distance couple means that you have to be both realistic about your goals and capabilities and patient enough to be flexible even on days you feel as rigid as a steel beam. Not being able to see each other when you initially planned to is no easier at first than after multiple disappointments, but you learn to help each other stay optimistic. And, if you are both willing and able to put in the effort while staying committed and fortifying the support that upholds your relationship, then eventually the wait does end. For the two of us, familial responsibilities, drama with friends and associates, stress, work obligations, finances , and even covid were obstacles that we had to map out, plan around, and overcome to see each other. It is normal that other things come up, and it doesn't mean that the world is conspiring against you or that your relationship is doomed to fail. If you pay close attention, you may even see that the time it took you to travel the distance to each other's arms was exactly the time you needed to ensure the two of you were ready for what comes next . 6. Expectations vs Reality. After what may be years of getting to know one another, overcoming outward and inward battles, finding a way to argue and make up, and even cope with your distance, the day has arrived . For the first time, your LDR, while maybe not forever , will now be just a relationship like everyone else's because you'll finally-- finally --be able to breathe the same air. Everything is exciting and perfect ... until it's not. The truth is, you had all this time to shape images in your head about what it will be like when you're face-to-face. Whether it be in big ways or small ways, that image, those expectations, will fail you eventually . Something about your lover-- or you --will be different . Maybe it's more than the long, hot travel to be together. Maybe you are going stiff when they are near you. Or your voice keeps cracking when you speak because you're so nervous. Maybe your first hug felt like the kind reserved for your least favorite person in the family, barely with a hint of all the love and care you'd thought was built up over time. You may even begin to second guess your trip. Expectations and reality differ, especially for a long-distance relationship, but that doesn't mean it's bad . Usually, despite what may go through your head when you question why you can't treat them the same as always now that they are right in front of you, it's completely normal . I'd even tell you to expect it. It takes time for the jitters to work off and fingertips and toes dipped into the water before the whole limb, as with anything new. It is entirely possible that the relationship may not be new at all, but the experience itself is . And most times, in such cases, you have to let yourself have that. You don't lose anything from giving yourselves time to breathe and familiarize yourselves with the physical presence of each other. And even when that is done, you'll still have quite a list of little things to remember or learn for the first time about your partner anyway. The important thing is to enjoy those times of learning them again despite the fact that the real world and real interactions rarely match what you could forge in your mind from a world away. It took an entire day before we could hold hands , and the closest we had gotten was leading each other within arms length before then. And even longer for our first kiss, which was nothing more than a momentary peck on the lips and smiling to ourselves while attempting to fill to room with some sense of normalcy around each other. A sweet little peck for years of love, but a peck nonetheless. We also slept in the same bed for the night without laying under each other's arms but a week later, couldn't imagine so much unfilled space between us again. 7. Functioning After Temporarily Closing the Distance. If you've found that being together fulfilled you rather than taking you one step closer to crime , and your relationship offers you more than mere physical gratification, then you may have found the one . If so, then one of the hardest things you'll face besides self-doubt and trying to better yourselves for each other will be saying goodbye . There's this time of limbo after you leave each other, potentially for a much shorter time than before if you're lucky. After your heartfelt goodbyes, when you travel back to your respective corners of the world and distance settles back inbetween you. Almost as if it you never left it behind. But you did. There's a lingering there and photos to re-live your memories. That's when it starts to kick in... that strange and almost cruel knowing that you have to find a way to function after temporarily closing your distance. That you have to make it until the next time. It's more challenging than it was before, even though that doesn't seem possible . Why? Because you already missed them and loved them long before you could hold them, kiss them, or stir to the sound of their voice and waiting to do that was already torture. Yet, it is an often unspoken truth. This wait will be the most gut-wrenching. You'll remember every day what it meant to be together and wake up wondering how you ever lived apart. You will question how you justified holding on for so long during the days all your senses didn't know them so well. There's no easy way to say that your solution is that there aren't any. You make time for each other, stay honest about your feelings and you pass the days, but most of them will drag forward as if they purposely wanted to trail far behind you. Possibly just to ensure your missery. If you're anything like me, you'll have several conversations about how to close the distance for good, and figure out the most important steps to doing so. You and your partner will have all the things that stood in your way before as stepping stones. Eventually , or so I hope for any and all of us in an LDR whose love is true, you will take your final steps over the remaining hurdles together. The other struggles and bumps in the road will become their own memories and one day, absolutely gratifying by its end. I hope you find this long-distance relationship advice/list helpful. Good luck to all of you. Look out for an LDR Q and A soon!

Hello Again! Today, I thought to share a short list of movies currently occupying my TBW (to be watched list). What movies are you wanting to settle down on the couch for going into the next year? Here's the top six films on my brain today. Get Away (2024). A Nick Frost horror comedy. You may recognize this name/actor from his roles beside Simon Pegg. He also starred in the television show Truthseekers, which you might know as one of my previous recommendations here on ADMCreations. This time, Frost co-wrote the film and stars in it. He plays the role a husband on a family vacation turned upside down by a weird town and a serial killer. I have no idea if it will be a hit, but I at least expect a few surprises and laughs. Mufasa: The Lion King (2024). Does anyone else remember how interesting it was for the remake of The Lion King to feature realistic animals back in 2019? Well, I do and I thought it was pretty neat idea. That said, it looks like all the hype paid off because a sequel has been made. This one, obvious given the title, highlighting the story of Simba's father, his adoption into a royal bloodline and journey to be king. Gladiator II (2024). The second installment to Gladiator (2000) , it's hard to believe that it's been twenty-four years of waiting to see if anything else was on its way. Not that I was old enough to care about it then, it came with time. Haha. I wonder how the second film will play out as we travel back to the Roman era. If nothing else, we can expect a good character death, right? Freakier Friday (2025). Here's another Disney film of a different variety. If you grew up in the 90s, there's no way that you haven't watched the initial film Freaky Friday (2003) . Did you know that Lindsay Lohan's character was originally supposed to be a hard-rock, goth character? Maybe Lohan knew what she was doing back then, wanting to change those elements so it was more relatable to her young audience. I still can't imagine that original role for her over the part whe actually played. Anyway, now she and co-star Jamie Lee Curtis are returning for round two. It's hard to imagine what kind of trouble they will get into after twenty-one years. Anyone else noticing a torturous trend with movie sequels lately? If it's a trap for all of us who grew up with these movies then maybe we should resign ourselves to our fates just through 2025. Now You See Me 3 (2025). Another sequel and one of the most anticipated movies on my list. I enjoy the character dynamic, the play on a sleight of hand, and the creative graphics from this film series very much. They probably thought that we have forgotten all about them--had you fallen prey to their illusions? If so, no worries. Maybe this time you'll see through it. So, here's me reminding you to look out for the third installment going into the next year. I just wish we didn't have to wait until next Novemeber to watch it! The Conjuring: Last Rites (2025). The other movie I'm most looking forward to watching right now. If we were close, you'd know that I love any reason to turn off all the lights on a regular basis, but it's so much better when it's for a good horror movie. And considering the previous films, I'm truly hoping for this one to step it up and give us something worth goosebumps. Even more, given that the real couple whose investigations the moives were based on have now passed away. Here's to the potential that this next film does them justice and turns out better than the last , which I was a bit disappointed by. If you're interested in any of the movies from this list, maybe you should refresh your mind with a re-watch so you're not stuck staring confusedly at your screens, missing all the good details and ruining your experience. It's just a friendly suggestion, and hey, considering that there's a wait for half the list. .. you've got plenty of time. That's all from me folks! Thanks for reading!

Hello, hello lovelies! Today, thanks to a little perusing of one of my stories planned for a future date, I have revenge on the brain. So, me being me, I thought that would make for a nice little theme for movies. Which brings me to this list I've put together for you. We know revenge is usually a dish best served cold, but in reality, you'll find that platter at all kinds of temperatures. Sometimes, a meal is best when it's had time to simmer . So, here's a list of films for you to watch at different steps of the process. How do you like your revenge story? Immediate and piping hot, cooled, or freezing cold? Who knows, maybe a good revenge film is just what you need this week. State of Play (2009). A journalist and conflicting friendship, politics, a murder and justice collide in this film. Sometimes revenge is tied to corporate strings. And in the case of this particular journalist, it seems revenge needs him to play the intermediary . Kill (2024). What is it about grief and train scenes that make such good action? A revenge story served scorching hot. New Dehli bandits vs. an army commando on a train? This one is a killer. I don't even know why you're still here. Aren't you convinced yet? Doubt (2008). This movie is fairly revenge-adjacent , but I suggest you give it a go whenever you're feeling up to a story without the mess. Starring Merril Streep, a veiled secret and morality push a Godly woman to action. A word of caution to you lovelies out there: you'll never be able to enjoy this film if you don't have an appreciation for deep messages served through subtleties. In this film, the details matter. If that doesn't sound like your cup of tea, go ahead and skip this one. Don't worry, there's no judgement here. I   Saw   the Devil   (2010) .  If your future was stolen by a wanted serial killer, what would you do? Korean secret agent Soo-hyun knows his answer and it starts with a bloody letter V . The Manchurian Candidate (2004). Starring Denzel Washington (and Merril Streep). Conspiracy or truth? That's what he's about to find out. If you're looking for a suspenseful film about diving down a rabbit hole, this one is for you. And, just in case you're interested, check out the 1962 film of the same name. Black Phone (2021) . I remember when this film first hit the screens. After seeing it in the theater, I made sure to add it to the DVD collection soon after. It was phenomenal then and the feels are just the same today. It's without a doubt one of my favorites from the list. To say that this one is only about a kidnapper getting what he deserves would be an insult. The Fugitive (1993). How far will a man go to prove his innocence even when he presents guilty? In this movie, Dr. Richard is really cutting up. Well, what are you waiting for? Watch it and find out. If you've never seen this one, it's worth the watch. Evil Eye (2020). While it's not everyone's cup of tea, this movie is a kind of story that dances on that 'what if' line. An Indian film about a mother, her daughter, an old and new love, and the possibility of things being "more than meets the eye." Liverleaf (2018) . If you're in the mood for revenge of the unhinged variety, give this story a try. It's a Japanese film about a girl who moves away from Tokyo, constantly subjected to bullying, with a few interesting twists up its sleeves. As for the bullied teen? Well, it seems to me that Haruka prefers the blood for blood approach. Enemy of the State (1998). Keeping to the previous theme of the wrongfully accused, here's another one from the 90s. Will Smith is going to need some help for this one. Luckily, he's got a friend to give him a hand. The actor might be needing a few jabs with your pitchforks, but a good movie is a good movie. Oldboy (2003). Specifically highlighting the original film not the remake. With 15 years behind bars, it's the longest wait for a chance at revenge on the list, and probably wouldn't be complete without it. Note: This is part of The Vengeance Trilogy (Korean films). Order of movies in the series: Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (2002). Oldboy (2003). Sympathy for Lady Vengeance (2005). Fabricated City (2017). A unique indie film. A man accused of murder gets help from his online friends. Talk about ride or die. I think we all could use a few friends like that. Misery (1990). Kathy Bates breaks the usual narrative of what it means to be "your biggest fan" and takes us along for every twist and turn. Is she a writer's greatest flattery or worst nightmare? Ballerina (2023). What if your BFF had a- generally speaking- terrible wish? Forget the friends that help you when you are accused of murder. What about the friend that's willing to do it for you? Lady McBeth (2016). A film that leaves a bigger impression, good or bad, than first apperances would lead you to believe. Katherine is a stiflied young woman sold off for marriage and the moment she tastes freedom it becomes apparent that she will do anything necessary to keep it. Sometimes revenge is a little psychotic?

Hello Adm Fam! Today, I have a new short story to share with you! As always, this one is also an original work. This time, we walk the paw prints of a traveling cat. He usually begins from the mountains, leisurely making his way down the terrain on an early morning. His already lustrous chocolate colored fur fostered an even warmer start of the day. He appears with nothing more than his wicker basket to accompany him. He's an expert, as he has traveled the path many times before. In the span of a handful of hours, he will be at its base, having faced no difficulty. Taking only a few minutes to admire everything ahead of him. And what a view it is. The air is comfortable and fresh. The sun stretches over the village below. Birds sing and flap their wings through the endless blue sky. The journey continues as the cat extends his body, takes back the handle of his little basket, and, before long, enters the village itself. The real sense of adventure abounds here as the cat walks the stones and green grasses. No less apparent than the time down the mountain, that he has mastered the map. Around one house, through a vegetable garden, out the other side near a few workmen carrying boxes and other furniture. The four-legged friend remains undistracted by most of the noises and voices. Even those reacting to the sight of him, or the small steps of the giggling children pointing fingers at his back or shadowing him down the street who eventually go their own way. It is only at the glimpse of an old wire cage tossed out a wooden door that he jumps, startled, and nearly drops his basket. A chorus of clinking sounds can be heard during the sudden jerk of the basket. It was later explained that a couple of years ago, a few older children captured him while he was on a similar journey. They stuck him inside an old wire cage and kept him overnight. It was the uproar of the adults who had gotten used to his routine that stirred a search. They hoped nothing had happened to him as they called around and set out treats for him at their doors. Feeling the pressure of their secret several hours into the next day, quite possibly never having imagined that just one cat who was surely not the only village stray could rattle them up so easily, three young boys came forward. They guiltily pulled the sheet from the rusted crate to reveal the little guy curled up inside, wrapped around his basket. They had not harmed him, they assured. And when he first went in, they'd given him fried fish. A treat which remained untouched beside him. The troublemakers were reprimanded by their parents and many elderly in the village who then set him free. The moment the lock was released, the cat leaped to freedom with his basket hung around his neck. In a rush, many would recall, as if pressed for time. As if he had known he was many, many hours behind for his travels to somewhere else. It could have been the sudden crash of the cage that scared him, or maybe it was the memory of his capture that chased him down the street. Some time later, after the novelty of the cage battle wore off, the bright-eyed feline settled back into the calm of his expedition and made several stops along the way. The first was to a house with metal trinkets near the gate. The dangling pieces made soft sounds as the cat walked through, turned around, and stuck its face back out to pull the basket in with him. The thin ornaments twirled in on themselves as he disappeared. Minutes later, the voice of a woman happily welcomed him on the other side, and soon enough, he was back in the street. On the way to the next, two families waved and loudly cheered the cat on from their wobbling sailboats in the water. The cat paused, gave them an almost proud nod, and ventured forward. His soft paws left their mark in the wet soil. Almost a signature of his fame left behind for everyone else to enjoy. His step soon dried, and any remaining dirt became only small, unnoticeable crumbs left somewhere far behind as the cat slowed to a stop near an old newspaper stand. A stout young man with a missing leg supported by a crutch walked around the side, lowered himself to the ground, and sat in front of the basket. He grinned as he took the cat up in his arms. With a warm meow, the man's tender affection was welcomed, and the cat rubbed his neck across bearded cheeks. The two sat for a time after their greeting and snacked on dried meat while winged insects passed them by. Then, when the cat sauntered down, out of the man's sturdy arms and back to the ground, the paper seller reached into the basket, pulled out a small brown glass jar, and thanked him as he reached for his crutch. So the cat went away again. Waved off by his friend and set for his next stop in the middle of the village. To the rear of Sweet's Bakery where a young pair of girls quickly ran inside and returned with the tanned old man that owned the shop. Led at either side by the bow-haired duo, the man shuffled out and placed a large bowl of warm milk on the ground. Then, not unlike the last, he also removed a jar from the wicker basket and tapped the cat's head. When the bowl was licked clean to the very last drop, the pleasant sugary scent was abandoned for the most important destination of his trip. Through many more streets, to the hillside, beyond the clearing near the village, to a breathtaking blooming ground. The buds and petals fluttered as a cool wind swept through them. It seemed a long time the cat stood still there with an almost vacant look in his eyes. His tail dropped to the ground and his shoulders hung low as he faced the light. The feeling was so distinct that the beautiful sight took on a wistful turn in no time at all. It was there, surrounded by a saddening beauty that the cat laid down with a long sigh to sleep. And when the sun slowly warmed the place again the day after, the cat slowly took up the handle of its basket and turned back for a long trek home. This time, without his brief pauses or deliveries. Back to the hills, back through the clearing, and many, many streets. Over cobblestones, pebbles, grass, and wet or dry earth. Back high above the entire village and over the top of the mountain. Returned to a lopsided house on its opposite side that one would need to search for to find. There, awaited an explanation of the cat's motives. Evidently, he was not a stray. A blind man with a soft smile and silvery hair opened the door to welcome him home. A full belly accompanied by the comfort of his fluffy bed beside the table seemed to relax all his tired limbs. With his body curled to the side, the cat blinked slowly as the man slid into a large wooden seat beside him. The cat, he said, was called Milkit. He once belonged to a herbalist. The blind man's mother, who found him tucked away in an old tire on her way back home. He was a kitten, barely old enough to eat solid food on his own. Milkit's mother was likely the cat they'd found in the middle of the street several days earlier. His brave feline adventures first began with her. She took him along in her basket so long as she wouldn't need to leave for one of the other nearby villages, letting him meet the children and feel at home. Milkit sometimes walked the area nearby and returned to step between the woman's feet. He was very active over the years and took to handing the small bottles out. The customers rewarded him with flavorful foods and endearment. When his owner died, Milkit became depressed and after some time, that brewed a restlessness. One that they found could only be calmed by her old rounds through the town. When her once young and healthy son started to lose his eyesight, it became too difficult and dangerous to continue the way they had been. By stubbornness or ignorance, which the man did not know, Milkit loudly insisted on going out. Even to the point of taking the basket to the door every morning. He was no match for the chocolate cat and his steady, demanding eyes. Nor his loud unwavering hours of noise. The blind man decorated and sealed the empty jars, which would have been filled with medicine during his mother's life and nervously let him out. Milkit was a cat, and cats normally roamed and chased mice or other prey in a village as easily as their ancestors did the wild, but his worry was for his safety. He did not want the cat to meet the same fate as the mother that birthed him. Once every seven days, Milkit expected the basket to be filled to some degree with the remedy jars as if it were his life's purpose. With time, the two of them got used to the routine. As did the people in the village, apparently, who never minded the empty glasses nor watching for him year after year as he went. The herbalist's usual customers or their surviving family members received the empty gifts the most, although the cat had since begun to deviate from his pattern. A story like that of Milkit, the village medicine cat, deserves to be told. As a once stranger to his home, his comings and goings were a mystery now fulfilled. Me? Well, I am just a human, a photographer touched by his existence like all the rest, who captured a few lasting moments from one such journey on film. There's a board now, presented in Milkit and his family's honor. Publicly displayed on sunny days in the village green. Filled with notes and photographs detailing his life, the places, and some of the people he often visits. Last I heard, a rising artist in the village was submitting plans to build something permanent in his likeness and encase the board along with it. And there you have it. I hope you were able to feel the tug of spring and smiled somewhere along Milkit's journey. If you can, find a beautiful scene of your own this year. Have a good spring everyone 🌷.

Hello Everyone. Tonight I've got a little treat for you in the spirit of Halloween! Please enjoy these 2-sentence horror stories! I tried to scale back on the spooky a bit😅. Happy Spooky Season! 🎃👻🎃👻🎃 1. We all went to class Friday morning. None of us ever left. 2. My best friend's funeral was yesterday. Now she's staring right at me, dressed in her favorite clothes, crunching glass from my broken mirror. 3. My mother used to say nothing is free, but she was wrong. Everything's free when you're dead. 4. Karla's song used to be my favorite thing. At least, until the day it never stopped. 5. They say everyone has a skeleton in the closet. I never thought it'd be mine. 6. Riley hid under the bed. Who's the boy holding his dad with the same face? 7. Everyone loves identical twins. Until one of them is a murderer. 8. I was known for my 'green thumb.' That was, until my favorite plant ripped them off. 9. I watched the world burn from the window in the basement. Now I'm the only one left. 10. The entire family knows the stories of our great uncle Pete, twice removed, especially the bloody ones. Turns out, they'd tell stories about me too. 11. I always admired Julia from afar with equal parts admiration and envy. I never expected that I could take her place. 12. In our small town there's a story as old as time, saturated with the screams and cries of lost souls. Today on my hike, I heard yours and mine. 13. There's a woman in the wood behind our cabin. If you see her, you die. 14. I know about the man in the grave. Because you buried him on top of me. 15. What if I told you, you had a friend in the dark? And all you had to do was set me free? 16. I remember the way the machine shredded apart my flesh and the searing pain as it crushed my brain. Tomorrow, you'll finally feel the same. 17. Jonathan hated his wife, so he made the choice to end her life. Now, he kills her every day but she won't stay dead. 18. A man appeared in the dead of night, to tell me that my worst enemy would meet a messy end. He failed to mention, however, that it would be by my hands. 19. A peculiar sound drew me to the basment. When I could never open the door again, I realized I never left. 20. Sarah liked to visit the graves at the cemetery long after dark. It was a precious place after all, where she killed her friends John and Mark. 21. Beatrix drove through the heavy autumn fog as the clock struck midnight. As the night dragged on and she passed a familiar sign, the clock struck midnight again. 22. Donny Ricks went out to play with sticks, excited for Halloween. On the first of November the neighbors found him with a permanent scream.

Hello Everyone (✿◡‿◡). So, it's January 2025. An entire new year has begun. If not for the current politics, it would almost feel like it was still last year. Regardless of my current life stressors, I'm determined to keep a chin up. My intentions for this year is a large part of that atempt. That said, did you miss it? A few days ago, I sent a newsletter out to all the ADM Fam and anyone on the list that might have been interested. The photo you see here is the first page. Cool, right? Just be aware, this is not a monthly newsletter. In fact, you'll only see similar content bi or tri-monthly as things currently stand. There's a lot on my plate at the moment, so this is all I can reasonably offer you. But, you never know, maybe I can do it once a month when I knock some of the other pressing matters off my list. It's definitely a thought, but unfortunately I can't promise it. If you missed it but you're interested, be sure to sign up as a member (it's FREE as always), or send a message via the contact page so you'll recieve the next one. You can even request previous issues of the newsletter if you're joining in late so don't be shy. There were over 200 of you this round! Perhaps a few will be officially joining the family this year? What kind of updates can you expect this year (not an all-inclusive list)? More FREE short stories on the blog Books added to the BR (book review) page At least two more books by Alexia hitting the shelves and the shop New LP2T episodes (the page is currently being worked on and will return soon)! What do you think? Is this enough to keep your chin up? That's all for me today folks. Thank you for sticking around and see you real soon!!

Having been away from my game systems since my move back to my hometown, and subsequently getting ready for even more changes in my life, I have noticed how much I've been missing them. And likewise, playing some amazing games of the past. I could almost swear I hear them calling me. Haha. In said list, I don't really hear anyone talk about Folklore (I've posted a trailer above), which has interesting mysteries to solve and beautifully creative graphics. It took me forever to get the game on Ps3 even after a long time since its release. Until the day I was just lucky enough to find a used, like-new disc at GameStop. Although, that isn't the only "old but gold" game I've been wanting to play. And most definitely not limited to the Ps3. Ignoring my Ps4 in favor of the other just doesn't sit well with me, they must be loved as equals (or at the very least, as close to equal as I can manage). Final Fantasy type 0, the original Devil May Cry games, Final Fantasy 10 and 10-2, Telltale Games The Walking Dead, Prince of Persia, God of War, Soul Calibur 4 and 5 respectively, Resident Evil 4 (which is still probably my favorite of them all), Detroit: Become Human, Beyond Two Souls... even Spyro is totally haunting me lately. The list goes on. Of course, this doesn't even remotely cover the games I bought that I haven't had the pleasure of playing through yet. Like Monster Hunter World, Horizon New Dawn, Control (which I never bought on Ps2 or Ps3 so I'm looking forward to trying it out), The Medium, The new Life is Strange Colors. So on and so forth, as they say. I know, I know . It sucks doesn't it? But, I still have a few games I've never played on my Ps3 as well. Much like my process with books, I have purposely kept myself from playing through a number of my games so that I could fully immerse myself in those worlds at my own pace, have a thousand new little experiences without all the spoilers and hype, and not end up without anything new to play (or read, if we were talking books). So, while my extended trip home and away from my systems wasn't totally part of the plan, don't pity me too much. At least they are in storage patiently awaiting my arrival. Surely in this scenario, I'm the impatient one now. While I don't imagine that everyone out there is living my current struggle, I know that Christmas is only a week away. And if you, dear reader, are anything like my nephews (or perhaps I should say family since gaming was an interesting choice topic at a recent function, furthering my unfortunate feelings of long-distance with my games)--don't even get me started on my books- you just might be confronting a little game crave of your own this holiday season. I mean, I can't be the only one still totally in love with my old systems, right? Dare I say, totally preferring them over the PS5, without remorse. Anyone else a little confused about how quickly this year passed by and yet totally aware of the frenzy of emotions and events that took place in it? Did I happen to mention any of your favorites? Or even a game you haven't played? What's a few of the games you have on the brain finishing out this year?

🎃 HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! 🎃 Today, I have another short story to share with all of you! An autumn story centered around a young girl, a dagger, and a magical Jack-o-lantern. I hope you all enjoy it😊. 🍁🍂Note: _Pronunciations_ ▪︎Cassia is pronounced kas-see-uh (normally ka-she-uh). ▪︎Kalla is pronounced Kah-luh. ▪︎Jensen is pronounced Jin-sin. The chilly October evening that Cassia's father finally fulfilled his promise after many years of disappointment, neither of them knew their lives were about to change. Drummel and Cassia lived frugal, unstable lives. Constantly teetering the line between poverty and something lesser. The shelfs in the fridge held hardly anything more than cans of cold beer, at least when it worked. And the cabinets always remained bare, save for the insects that found their way in through a crack somewhere behind them. Even those didn't stay long. If the heat was outside, it was also inside. Same with any freezing temperatures or the rain. It rained just the day before their trip to the pumpkin patch, in fact. And Cassia had gone about the house with dusty bowls and one of their two tin buckets. She plopped them down on the floor, where she knew the water would eventually make its way. After years of it, she had long ago been desensitized to the ritual. Drummel often assured her that he would fix it, but like most things in his drunken stupor, he forgot before morning. And by the time he felt any such thing resembling sobriety, he'd drown it away in several more pints of alcohol. Some part of him knew Cassia deserved better. Deep inside ached endlessly when he thought of everything he never gave her and probably never could. As ashamed as he was to admit it, he wanted to rid himself of his pains and frustrations even more. So, he did . He bought more beer than he bought food. And more disturbing still, managed to live with it. Money wasted away with him no differently than the house did. One brick, one chunk of lumber, at a time. He ignored the meager dollars Cassia took from his wallet every payday because he wanted her to eat. Sometimes, he wished she would take it all and walk out the door never to return. Probably because she'd acquired her large hazel eyes and beautifully frightening cream colored hair from her mother. He wished that whatever force had ripped her away from them in the end would have come back for him too. Or at least that he'd had a moment to spare her and meet his end instead. Auburn should have lived and shown their daughter the world. She would have cooked her delicious meals and sung her sweet songs. She would have loved her like Cassia deserved. And like his late wife, their daughter's eyes constantly looked deep into his wretched soul and stayed loyally beside him with love pouring out of her like a fountain. She was a loyal dog. She always returned every evening after payday and ate bread, jams, cheese, and the only thing he ever taught her to cook: a potato soup Auburn loved. Cassia had begged him for years to take her to the pumpkin patch. He didn't know why, but he'd been determined to see it through that year. Maybe it was the lack of light he saw when their eyes met as of late, or maybe he had just grown tired of their routine. Drummel didn't know the answer. He only hoped it was something more meaningful. That it had something to do with being a father to a precious young girl. He hoped, maybe he was changing. Even so, it probably wasn't enough. He couldn’t do it sober . They held hands as they walked, and Drummel tossed his empty can to the side with a loud belch. Cassia ignored it. She walked with a small, pleased smile spread across her lips. While he watched her, he realized her smile was different from the one she wore in front of him any other day. Different from the times she brought his beer to his place on the broken, stained couch in their living room on command. He wondered, possibly for the first time as she peered over her shoulder at him, if things had been different would Cassia's voice be filled with her mother's grace? He would never know the answer to that question and on most days it angered him. It seemed too cruel for words that she was mute. He'd never hear his wife's voice again. And there he had her near identical image but she'd never speak. If Drummel could see things from Cassia's perspective as she looked up at her father in the pale autumn daylight, he would have known that she saw him just as handsome as he'd ever been. Though she couldn't tell him. Even though he reeked of alcohol, his hair was a mess, and his clothes needed cleaning. Her excitement increased tenfold when she caught his eyes brighten as he looked at her. And, to her surprise, smiled softly in her direction. It had been a very long time since he seemed to see her, and even longer still since she could recognize anything like happiness in his features. At the pumpkin patch, Drummel sat on a large stump and watched Cassia search through the field. He'd never seen her face so determined. As if she were on a mission all her own. How much effort did one need to simply pick a pumpkin from a slew of identicals? He thought it odd, but let her go about without voicing it anyway. It was what he promised her. He eyed her back for a long time. And sighed as a sadness gripped him as her cream curls lightly shifted with her movements. He could almost see her mother there in her place. He remembered his wife's back well. Her long hair and skin the color of midnight. The light across her body as if the stars themselves were embedded there. He'd thought it the moment he saw her for the first time and many, many times since then; what all-encompassing yet terrifying beauty. Cassia was nearly the same. Only, she hadn’t inherited her mother's stars or her midnight skin. It was his own pale complexion that was probably to blame; it lightened hers. Drummel wondered if he'd have been able to love her properly if she'd taken more after him. Would facing his own dark eyes or brown hair have made it easier or harder? Did he actually love Cassia's image because he could see Auburn's shadow within it or because she was herself? Did he simply like being tortured? Those were Drummel's thoughts as he shivered when the autumn wind ruffled his clothes. He should have bought Cassia a proper coat. How many of their years had she suffered without one? How had she survived their winters? He cursed under his breath. He was more sober than he liked. The pain shrouding his every bitter thought was all the proof he needed to confirm it. He wanted to return to his place on the couch and numb his heart and mind. For the alcohol to overwhelm him and down out his emotions again. How long did it take to pick a stupid pumpkin ? Cassia soon woke him from the stump with a large smile on her face. She grabbed hold of his hands and urged him to his feet. He gave in. With a groggy groan, he looked towards the other clusters of children and their parents as their eyes followed them them in the patch. Their shameless stares did not seem to deter Cassia. Drummel wondered if that was the kind of strength she also inherited from her mother, or if she simply hadn't noticed. Auburn would look people like them directly in the eyes and interlock their fingers. Or even, kiss his lips and lead him forward with some unwavering sense of purpose. In either case, it filled him with love and admiration. He never noticed the onlookers after that. Drummel could admit that he was nothing without her. To each judging look, disgusted or curious expression, and his alcohol, he submitted. He was weak to the world. When Auburn went, she took all that she'd given him and more. He had nothing to offer their daughter. At least, except this . So, he fought his shaking resolve to continue following her further away from the others. Far to the left corner of the pumpkin patch. An area she must have gone when he fell asleep. And when Cassia pointed towards a sizable, grimey-white pumpkin, he confirmed her choice and then slowly propped it onto his shoulder. They walked back the way they'd came, past the other parents and children and to the two men at the front accepting money. "How much for this one?" Drummel asked with a huff. The two men in flannel and overalls stepped back from the table and looked towards the other. Eventually, they decided the pumpkin was free . A sign of good will for the season. Or so they'd said. Drummel realized that they'd either pitied them or simply wanted to rid their fields of their presence, but he didn't care. When they left, he decided that there was another stop they should make. Cassia herself had been overjoyed at their gifted pumpkin. Almost as much as she had been to find it. She'd never seen a white one before. She hadn't known they existed. And with the money they saved, much more to her surprise, her father took her to a small shop in the square to buy her a coat. It hadn't been new. A button was missing and there was a tiny hole in one of the pockets, but it was hers now. She made sure to show her gratitude with a tight hug and a kiss to her father's cheek before they left. Back at home, Drummel placed the pumkin on their lopsided table, grabbed a beer and quickly gulped it down. He tossed the can aside and grabbed another. The faster he could forget, the better. He soon realized Cassia was staring his way, with a pouty look on her face. They weren't done with the pumpkin, were they? He set about going through the house until he found a couple candles that hadn't nearly been burned to the wick. Then he dragged himself to a closet near the back of the house and to an old box of Auburn's. He paused with his hands in the box and took a long whif. Somehow, it still smelled of her. They didn't have a good knife for carving, but if memory served .. "Found it." He grumbled, wrapping his hand around the grip of a short dagger still in its sheath. He slid the blade out to inspect it, pricked his finger on the point with a hiss, and licked the blood from his thumb. He never knew where his wife had aquired it, but she'd always carried it with her. He took another large sniff of her scent and buried his face in her old scarf before closing the box. He swallowed his tears on the way to the kitchen. Cassia wiped away a layer of dirt from the pumpkin with a wet rag as her father made his way beside her. In his hands he turned over a two-toned knife. Equal parts gold and silver. The shape of a large golden leaf was burned into the steel. Much like white pumpkins, she'd never seen a knife like that one either. "It was your mother's." Drummel said with a far away look in his eyes. "She would wear it over her arm, or wrap the ties around her waist some days. I never knew why she had it. It never left her side until the day she..." his voice faded into a sad silence. Cassia wondered why her mother would leave a treasured item behind. Especially one that could have saved her life. She'd heard the story of her death only once, long ago. The last time she remembered her father level-headed. Or at the very least, the last time he spent a night sober. Seeing him grabbing several cans from the fridge as he spoke now, Cassia knew tonight would not be another. Her mother had been attacked by something in the dead of night. "You'll have to be real direct, understand? If you want it to look like anything. Use your fingers and I'll cut it with the dagger." Cassia nodded eagerly as she set to work, dragging her fingers around the pumpkin. To her surprise, between her father's chugs of alcohol and smelly burps, he had steady hands. When he shaped one eye, he popped the piece forward and used it as a stencil for the other, so they were symmetrical. His brows creased and he leaned forward with a sense of focus and diligence. She noticed he slowed his drinking as they went. And periodically asked her a question or two about what she wanted or if he was doing it right. He even stopped mid cut to ask if he should get rid of the looped vines that stuck out. She'd shook her head no. She thought, it gave the Jack-o-lantern a sense of personality. She wondered what exactly that personality would be as she admired her father's careful hands and breaths of effort. It was another side of him she'd never witnessed. She wished she'd seen more of it. By the time she'd done what he called the 'messy work' and scooped out the pumpkin scraps and seeds, he handed her a candle and matches, and placed the other on the table. She nearly dropped them when he pecked her forehead. The first kiss he'd given her in a long time. It was the way she counted her age, for he only gave her a kiss twice a year. Once on the day she was born, and the other on the day of her mother's death. Cassia never wanted the day to end. Or so she allowed herself to wish for the moment. Until reality set in when he knocked over his open can of beer near the fridge. He picked it up with a silent curse then swallowed whatever was left inside before grabbing another. It seemed to unleash a sort of ravishing inside him. For after he spilt one, he opened three more and downed them messily. Spreading a liquid trail all the way to the living room couch he'd long ago used instead of his bed. It stung to watch him go, but Cassia knew it better to leave him be. Instead, she hugged the candle to her chest and cried with her head pressed against the jack-o-lantern, company to her anguish. And when she recovered, raw but still feeling the remnants of Drummel's love, she lifted the stem and stuck the candle inside. Cassia struggled with the matches. She broke most of them and sent many splintered pieces across the floor. When there were nearly none, she finally managed to strike a light and quickly tilted the candle towards the small flame. As she placed the flickering candle in the rounded mound her father crafted, she took a step back to watch as an orange glow flickered in the openings. Only, it didn't stop there. Before she knew it, threads of bright light and flames burst from the jack-o-lantern. It shook erratically on the table, making her fearful that the broken leg would collapse beneath it. As the flames continued to grow and the sparks of heat flew across the room, they kissed the liquid line of Drummel's alcohol and ignited there, too. In a panic, Cassia slipped past the flames in the doorframe and rushed to her father's side. She attempted to wake him. Over and over again, but he didn't budge. In her overwhelming fear and frustation she struck his shoulders and shook him violently between tears that the heat of the flames quickly dried away. Not knowing what else to do, Cassia clawed at his clothes and yanked his limbs. She tried to pull him off the couch and onto the floor, intent on dragging him out of the house and to safety. She couldn't. He was much too heavy. When the fire traveled toward the edge of the couch, she jumped away and screetched a silent scream. Her eyes and throat burned. Black smoke spread across the room, cutting her vision in half. Shuffling from the direction of the kitchen caught her attention. At the sound of a voice Cassia rushed, even through a part of the flames, to seek help. She'd hoped someone nearby was coming to their rescue. At the very least, it meant someone to help her carry her father away from danger. "Quickly! Outside!" The voice shouted. " Now , child!" She didn't know why, but the voice seemed to jolt her into action without her consent. Despite her worry for her father's life, she grabbed the other candle, the remaining matches, her bread, and her mother's dagger as she bolted out the door. By the time she realized that she had left her father all alone inside, the fire overtook the door. Seconds later, the white jack-o-lantern crashed through the kitchen window and rolled across the grass. Cassia darted its way to catch it, craddled it in her arms, and then sprinted across the yard towards the window. Surely her father had thrown her gift out first. Surely, any moment now, Drummel would somehow climb his way through and out to the other side.. "Step away." The voice demanded. It sounded much closer than before. She turned about her in search of it. Hoping that this was not some trick for the season. Or, worse, that there was a bystander simply watching the events unfold while their home burned. Could anyone be so cruel? Eventually, Cassia stuffed the items she carried out of the house into her pockets, took the pumpkin back into her arms and scurried backwards towards the trees. The sound of voices closed in on their home as serveral neighbors finally found their way there. None of them had a voice like the one she'd heard. None of them could put out the fire. They stood at a distance, watching Cassia and Drummel's home get swallowed up in the rest of the hungry flames and contemplated possible happenings. What started it? How long would it burn? One or two even wondered if anyone had been inside, yet never cared enough to check. And long after the last of the fire died down and the neighbors left, unwilling to go inside, Cassia stood rooted in place. Even when the night was closing in around her and the temperature dropped. She wept silent tears for the only family she had. For her father, a man drowned equally in sorrow and alcohol. And for herself, who couldn't save him. As she looked down at their last project, she realized that the jack-o-lantern was still warm. The light flickered on from the candle and casted their unsteady shadows against the trees. When she turned its expression around to face her and saw it blink, she felt too numb to react. And when it spoke moments later, she was sure that she'd have never found her words even if she could . "I'm terribly sorry, little one." It said with a frown. "I'm so terribly sorry." She registered then that this was the same voice that had urged her out and away from the house. It hadn't been someone to save her father. It was never a person at all. It was a pumpkin. Some un-alive thing that Drummel carved her wishes into hours before. She had no idea if she was losing her mind. She only knew that the only thing she wished for now was for her father to return. Or for her to go back in time and never light the match. Maybe she'd done it wrong. Was the fire her fault? She cried again for an endless feeling time, then retreated deeper into the thicket. She had nowhere else to go. Her home was gone. She didn't know the neighbors. She was alone. Save for the talking pumpkin, assuming she wasn't imagining things. ... "Sometimes you look at me as if you're waiting for me to disappear altogether." The jack-o-lantern spoke. Cassia nodded her head. It didn’t take long for him to realize that she was mute. When they watched the house fall apart, he'd noticed that he could only hear her sniffles and some strange sound from the air getting caught at the back of her throat. And after sitting with her through the cold while she hugged him for warmth until she fell asleep, he never heard a proper snore. She didn't attempt to ask him questions, even though it looked like she had some on her mind. He didn't know if that was because she couldn't or she was simply accustomed to it. The truth of the matter was, even if she had been able to ask, there wouldn’t have been much to tell her. Or at least that he could explain about being a pumpkin. The circumstances of his current form were somewhat a mystery, even to himself. One moment he was unbound, and the next, he was stuck in a pumpkin shell. And the moment he found himself there, he became aware of other lengths of time. Of time since the moment she pressed a hand to the rind in the outskirts of a pumpkin patch, and every second that passed until the fire. What a strange thing it is, to watch something like a jack-o-lantern come into creation from a first person point-of-view. It was worse to see this child in front of him without the happy smile she'd had plastered across her face before. "Don't you have some other family? Any relatives at all?" The girl shook her head. "My name is Jensen." He offered, wishing she could return the gesture. The girl's father never said her name. "Can you read and write?" She nodded slowly. If only they had paper and a pen. There was no use trying the house for them. And he got the feeling, considering the fact that she never revealed herself to the neighbors, that trying to get her to seek their help would not be well received. As if she'd also been contemplating a fix, Jensen watched the girl scrape the dagger through the ground. Then, she quickly picked him up so that he could look down upon her work. "Ah. How astute. Your name is Cassia then, like the spice. My mother once had an entire row of them in her garden." Cassia nodded, although Jensen pronounced it differently. It wasn't his accent. Cassia recalled her father once telling her with a look of amusement that her mother pronounced the name of the flower wrong. Yet, he never had the heart to correct her since he found it so endearing and it was her favorite plant. When she was born, they quickly decided she'd bear the same name. And carry the weight of her mother's love along with it. Drummel was unwilling to talk about it again. The thought was but an excruciating reminder that she'd never hear his voice again. Drunk or otherwise. And it quickly brought her back to tears. Another day passed, the two of them sat in near silence, with Jensen tightly craddled in her shivering arms. Every so often he would blow an airy whistle and the candle inside would burn a little brighter and she would be warmer for a time. Cassia refused to eat any of her bread or search for water while Jensen stewed in worry and questions. By the third night, he decided to tell her a story to pass the time. "There once lived a boy in a small corner of the world. In a place with an unimportant name and a dwindling population. Many of the young adults left in search of an exciting life of their own, often leaving the elderly to fend for themselves. Most expected it. And since the old women and men were generally able-bodied, they did nothing to fight against it. Not even when the young also took most of their food and money when they went. "When the boy asked why, they often said that 'life was for the young.' And their small, unimportant village was 'no place to fill the emptiness the others felt.' They had lived longer lives and had no need for chasing thrills or trying to clutch life between the palm of his hands. "The boy, even as more years went by, lacked any such thrill seeking. He never felt that life was passing him by or that it was some sort of thing he needed to hold hostage between his fingers. He never wished for more children in the village, nor ever wanted the others to return. "The boy's mother tended a great garden with vegetables, fruits, herbs, and spices. If a green thumb exsited, his mother was made of it. And each harvest time the villagers would praise their bounty and prepare a feast. They served every household. "The boy was happy, well loved by his mother and equally well-fed. He doted on the old women and men. Blind to anything amiss. That was, until a particular day when the boy returned home early from his trip across the rolling hills. When the sunset burned red and the birds croaked so loudly it pained his ears. "In the house the pots boiled over on the stove and the rest was in disarray. The boy put out the flames and searched for his mother. She never went far from a hot pot, after all. "By the time he found her, he'd found himself on the far edge of her expansive garden. Too far for a person watching a pot. Too far for her to ever make it back in time before their food burned. She stood upright with her back towards him, silent and stiff. She never answered his calls or turned to face him. And when he stepped ahead of her and searched her features, he found none there. Her eyes glossed over like wet stone, and her expressions faded away to nothing. "Every day, the boy would go to her. Some nights he slept at her feet. When he bled from a fall and rushed to show her, looking for any hint of the loving mother he knew, he found nothing. He made excuses for her disappearance. Plucked from the garden and delivered the goods around the village with the excuse that his mother was ill. "Until the day he returned home and witnessed the very same garden swallow her whole. And a green gem sat in the place where she'd spent her last days. The garden slowly died. Leaving the boy to dispair. He was obsessed and broken for a time. Driven almost to maddness with questions and anguish. At least until, he picked up the green gem that he'd long tucked away as a bittersweet keepsake and it brought the garden back to life. "It would be years still, before all the pieces fell into place. Until that boy grew into a man who uncovered the truth. Thanks to research and a quiet woman in the village who was once her best friend. The truth was, magic existed . "The sort made for spellbinding and epic tales. And his mother had used it. She had wanted to help the village elderly more than anyone else. A feeling that burdened her more heavily with each wave of younger generations adventuring off and leaving very little for the rest to survive on behind. She could do very little about the money, but she could grow a garden. She could feed them and grow herbs for medicines and keep them well. "The soil rotted away her efforts. Else, the cold season froze her buds. She didn't want to give up. Without money, she could not buy necessities from nearby villages. And she didn't know where to find the family members who left just to plead their return. "Her friend tried to tell her to give up. That she was fighting a losing battle. They knew for years that at some point there would be no more farms on the land. She convinced the boy's mother to leave with her. At some point while away, she met a man, became with child, and happened across a peculiar merchant. Someone who seemed to have the uncanney ability to read her unfulfilled desires. "He offered her a gem and claimed it would be the answer to her prayers. She could return to her village. She would save them all. Whatever his exact message, the merchant was clearly convincing. And when asked about compensation, the merchant told her that they would be paid in full by other means, in time. And against the advice of her closest friend, she returned to the village. "She settled back into her family home and looked upon the acres with newfound hope. The gem worked, of course. So she continued to use the gem. And it grew her a healthy, garden that never needed new seed. "But she had no idea that not every magic was good magic. That some are the catastrophic kind. And every day that she used it, her lover grew more ill. He succumed to his sickness before the baby was born. "In her sadness, she used it less. Just enough gem magic to keep the garden going, but still without understanding what it took from her. Without knowing that one day, the magic would take her too. The gem was cursed . "Those decades later, when her own son brought the very same garden back to life, he sealed himself a different kind of fate. One that would send him scouring to learn about the very thing responsible for taking her away from him, and eventually ending the village; magic. Over the years, he came to appreciate it in all it's forms though he found it heinous in the beginning. He learned many things. Even though its origins are still a mystery. "On this journey of magic discovery, he found himself delighted. As if he'd found his life's purpose. So much so that the pain and confusion of the past weighed on him less heavily than before. This delight was unkindly ripped away from him the day he himself ran into a sketchy merchant selling cursed items. The man was no fool, he was unconvinced by the bearded man's sly words. And the moment he threatened to reveal his trickery, everything changed . "The seller became enraged . Mumbling a strange lost tongue that the man was certain he'd once heard before. Moments later with glowing eyes, the bearded man broke a small round glass against his chest and his soul was forced out of his body. The boy who had grown into a man that accepted magic, became an unbound spirit by the same means. "His body was carried off away from him, eventually lost. His connection with it dwindled with time. Until it became a whisper in a slither of his soul. His concious mind slipped away from him over and over again. Making it even more impossible to find his way. "Then, while following a familiar tether, his consciousness melted away. Only to be reignited an unknowable time later by a little girl lighting the flames of a jack-o-lantern. And as a consequence of what he could only assume was magic, she lost her father and her home. Later, saddened with loss, under the shelter of trees with a talking pumpkin to keep her company..." ... Cassia didn't recall the exact moment that she fell asleep, but she remembered well Jensen's story. Hearing it dulled the numbness she felt and somehow gave room for sympathy and pity. It wasn’t a good thing, his story. And yet, it made her feel less alone. There was something there in knowing that he'd lost his parent too. In knowing he was young and alone yet managed to survive it. Maybe, she too would outlive her heartache. Cassia turned over the thought of magic in her mind. If what she saw in the kitchen was the result of magic, then how had she conjured it? Jensen didn't seem responsible for it, at least. And she couldn’t imagine that it was her father's doing. After all, if Drummel had been holding on to something like magic, she didn't doubt that he would have used it. Or, if nothing else, brought it up to her on his many drunk nights in. Cassia was both interested and hesitant as she scraped the tip of her mother's beautiful blade against the ground, giving shape to her thoughts as simply as she could. Jensen eyed her curiously as she went and waited for her to position him above it for reading. "Ah. Thank you for your condolences. I settled my feelings for my mother's death quite some time ago now. Time is unforgiving that way. Wether you agree or disagree, it will pass you by regardless of your feelings. And with it, it takes some of those without consent. One day I could think of nothing less than her end and my void. The next, I went almost the entire night without reliving the memories. "Yours is more of a worry. A fresh scar is the worst scar. Hmm? What's that? You want to know about tethers?" Cassia bobbed her head. "Well, I found out about their existence much later than I wished during my journey. It took a number of years following my mother's death to even begin to notice them. To gain an awareness of something fluttering within my vision. When I tried to look at them directly, they were gone. Even though I felt them there. "I've since learned that prolonged exposure to magic makes one more sensitive to it, thus enabling them to see magic tethers. Unbound spirits can see them with ease. Or so I understood after the merchant incident. And I noticed immediately that I've become less sensitive to magic since I'm no longer unbound, but tied to a plant of the squash variety. A real hindrance, wouldn't you know, to finding my body now." Jensen listened to the scrape of the blade as Cassia wrote again. Another question. "Ribbons?" He read aloud. As he mulled it over in his mind, he let out an airy chuckle. "Now that you mention it, I would say so. Tethers look very much like translucent ribbons. I don't suppose you've seen one?" Again Cassia nodded, this time in a more erratic fashion. She never knew what they were, but she often saw the ribbons. Sometimes leading out of a window from an old building, or wound tightly around a tree. She saw many of them cutting through the town square. Initially, she thought them to be beautiful decorations. One day after to suddenly realize, as if by a stroke of light, that no one else seemed to see them. Not a single person acknowledged their existence. They did not look towards them, nor did they try to avoid stepping through them like she did. For that very reason, they unnerved her. Their beauty remained but she was without any desire to be near them. She supposed it was something like what Jensen said before. In time, it became easier to ignore their existence. She got better at avoiding them, and her father stopped wondering what silly game she had been playing at. Yet, they remained part of her life. Even now, she saw them clearly--the so-called magic tethers . Were they good or bad? They could somehow lead Jensen back to his body. He couldn't see them anymore. She didn't understand what she'd done in the kitchen but his current circumstance, as he put it before, and inability to do so now were inexplicably tied to that. She couldn't help her father, but maybe she could be of use to Jensen. In truth, Cassia liked feeling his warmth and seeing his flickering light. She also liked the warm, roasted scent he gave off. Like a pumpkin pie. Though she'd only been near them and never ate one. Still, she couldn't imagine what it must be like for him now if he'd really once been human. Of course, she couldn't know with certainty but Jensen seemed the honest type. And she was thankful for it. She knew him only a short time but she liked him very much already. She quickly scanned the area with her eyes and pointed at several tethers nearby. From there, she could clearly see three of them. 'I can help,' she scribbled into the dirt. Jensen frowned. "I appreciate the offer, little one. But, this is no childsplay. Magic itself is dangerous enough without adding a defenseless girl to its complexities. I will find a way, without using a child." The moment he saw the look on her face, however, Jensen hesitated. Her eyes bubbled with tears and her expression said that he'd nearly ripped her heart out. Had he worn the same expression in the past? Had his fear of being alone been so easily read, as if it were painted messily across his face? He watched her write again. "While it may be true," Jensen frowned as he read her words, "that you can see the tethers and I'm a pumpkin, I don't think it needed such blunt expression. You're young. Getting so wrapped up in the life of someone you hardly know is dangerous." Cassia's face fell sadder each moment. Her hands shook visibly as she gripped the handle of the dagger and etched another question below. "Are you dangerous?" Jensen sighed heavily. "I don't believe myself a particularly dangerous man. At the very least, in my own opinion, I post no negative risk to you. And for the record, I'm a magic pumpkin, thank you. But it's the magic I worry about most. You've never interacted with the tethers in spite of seeing them. You should aim to keep it that way." When her large tears swayed across her eyes and quickly slid down her cheeks, Jensen felt weak. He pittied her and himself of the past that he saw in her. She scribbled desperate, messy letters into the ground. A-L-O-N-E. She was alone. And if he left, she would still be alone. If he still had his body, he could have at least properly escorted her somewhere. Being a pumpkin was useless. If ever he attempted to talk to anyone untouched by magic, he was sure they'd faint of fright. Else, the time of year would make them a whimsical party trick. Jensen cursed his bad luck. The possibility that he was making a mistake was high. But he wasn't so heartless as to leave her by herself. Especially now, while she grappled with her father's death. The first time he recalled wishing for company had been after his mother was no longer an option. "I understand. Please, stop crying. You can join me. Only IF you finish that bread you had, and we find some source of water for you to drink. I don’t care if you must steal it from the neighbors. Otherwise you'll waste away. Sadness has a way of numbing your body. It fools you into thinking you need nothing at all. I won't be responsible for convincing you to eat again. If there is food and water, you must nurish yourself. Have I made myself clear?" Without a word, Cassia spun him around in what he could only assume was a moment of celebration. Soon to send the world spinning while they were still again and they crashed noisily against a tree. "Don't get carried away! You'll break me!" Jensen shouted. He didn't know if it could happen considering that he was somehow running on magic-or so was his best explanation- but he hadn't known he could ever get dizzy either until a moment before. "Ugh." He groaned. "I think I'm going to be sick. ... As luck would have it, Cassia managed to swipe a very warm Sheppard's pie cooling in the window of a neighbor's kitchen, albiet not without a blanket of guilt. She had heard of it, but never expected it to taste so good. And probably finished it a little too quickly. Just the same with the glass bottle of milk from the six recently delivered to another neighbor several houses away. With her belly full and taste buds satisfied, Cassia listened to Jensen's remaining explanation about tethers. "Tethers are peculiar things of magic. They have different colors, different thicknesses, and temperatures. They almost feel alive, in a way, with the emotions and scents attached to them. Not all tethers have every aforementioned property, but they are perplexing all the same." Cassia walked in the space between two tethers going in opposite directions. To the left, a pink ribbon. On the right, a white one. Both danced softly in the wind. When she ran her fingers along the left, she felt a strong sadness. Heavy and unforgiving. Even though a sweet scent filled her nostrils. The other, cool to the touch, but lacking any other specific characteristics. In a way, she felt drawn to it. But it may have also been her aversion to anything else miserable that caused her to leave the sweet pink ribbon behind. Cassia motioned to the space on the right. She would follow that one. She wondered if it looked to him as if she gestured to nothing at all. He registered her movement and told her to follow it. "At the end of a tether," he continued, "is a shimmer . Something akin to a snippet of magic. Or, in some cases, people that are connected that specific magic tether. Be it past, present, or future. There's no exact way of knowing what you'll get, how far you'll travel, nor how exactly you arrived there. If you want to find a tether that's not afixed to say.. oneself , only the proprities of that tether will help you find it again." ... As the two of them patiently followed the tether, Cassia shivered with a chill. It felt colder now than it had further back, closer to the trees where they'd spent a number of autumn nights out of sight of her neighbors. When she breathed, her eyes followed spirals of her breath. And even with Jensen's light, the edges of her vision were murky. "This place feels strange, doesn't it?" Jensen asked in a hushed tone. Cassia didn't know why he had taken to whispering, but she nodded her head. It was as if the light emanating from Jensen's form was shrinking away. She could hardly make out the tether strip. It's white color had contrasted the dark around them until just minutes ago. Jensen eyed the dour space. He lacked perception of anything beyond it. It was the first time since he found himself chained to the being of a pumpkin that he felt meager and drained. He knew with certainty that wherever they were headed, it was an unnatural place. In the midst of wondering why Cassia had chosen the tether responsible, he felt her jerk to a stop, fighting against the air, tugging her arm backwards. "What's happened?" Jensen asked, concerned. But before she turned her face to look his way, the two of them sprung forward through the air. Their shift from Cassia's feet being firmly planted on the ground to racing horizontally forward, swaying uncontrollably, was an unforgiving sort. It disolved their senses and exasturbated the weakness Jensen felt before. Cassia worried that their movements would send her milk and sheppard's pie back up her insides and out her mouth. She'd felt the change in the ribbon under her fingers. Still cool to the touch, but sticky and soft. The sudden difference stopped her in her tracks. And the moment she tried to let go, she couldn't. Somehow, it was affixed. With such a great hold that she couldn't fight her way free from it. And before she knew it, the tether which didn't seem quite so much a tether anymore, yanked her forward and off her feet. It took all she had not to let Jensen slip from her grip in her other arm. The sticky line coiled up the length of her limb, almost as if it were alive. It was an awful feeling that left her clentching her jaw. A feeling that soon spread to the rest of her body as she felt it turn in the air and catch along the length of her back. She hung there, upside-down, with her hair drooped over the length of her face. She couldn't move her neck to see Jensen, but Cassia knew he was close. She could make out the edges of his light several feet away. And in it, between strands of her hair, she made out a very large shape coming closer. Cassia gulped as eight round eyes looked back at her and its front legs rubbed together as if it were happily anticipating what would come next. Her frantic movements did nothing to save her and she quickly realized that she was trapped within a large spiderweb. One that, without a single touch from the large eight-legged beast she now knew was the spider itself, was quickly encasing her. As her eyes darted around in a panic, she became aware of something else. Tethers. An almost infinite number of them, a myriad of shapes and sizes, were entangled in the web. Leading the way to countless shimmers. They were enwreathed, if only she could reach one, with ways to escape. Still her struggle was fruitless. The pressure inside her head was making her lightheaded. Just as she began to wonder, having suddenly recalled her life was likely in danger, what the enormous spider would do to her, she saw a line of flames cut across her vision. "Cassia! Shut your eyes!" Jensen shouted. And she did as she was told. Noticing that his voice demanded things of her in much the same way it had the first day they met. She listened without thinking and felt a thick, warm, cloud brush against her. Grateful for the cold it chased away from her body. "Hurry!" Jensen shouted, closing their distance. He bounced against the web in front of her and his flames kissed the silky cold threads holding her captive. They burned, curling in on themselves. Cassia dropped next to Jensen, trying to recover between the dizziness and the throbbing ailing her. Another puff of smoke released her again, and small residual sparks ignited the web it touched. She would have found it beautiful if not for the danger. Jensen urged Cassia to stand up. She had been stuck in an inverted position for much longer than intended, but it took longer than he imagined to conjure his flame. Albiet, he hadn't been certain he was capable of the feat at all. And when he set himself free of the spider's web, he worried that his fire would burn Cassia just as quickly as the sticky threads. Rather than the smolder that occurred instead. Somehow, he managed to keep the beast at bay with a ring of fire. But he understood, all too quickly, that it would not last. So he set himself to freeing Cassia as quickly as was possible. The hot clouds whose sparks still ate away at the webbing was merely a stroke of luck. Surely of hers and not his own. He was the unlucky sort. Her's seemed to know no bounds. If he could call anyone young with a dead father truly lucky, that is. Jensen had been right. The place was unnatural. Since the moment they'd followed the tether, he no longer felt himself. Or at the very least, as much of himself as he could feel living out endless days as a child's jack-o-lantern. His light also waned. He felt even that however he'd managed to use magic tied to himself as a pumpkin, it wouldn't be without consequence. And although he had warned Cassia of the dangers, he did not want her to become prey for a giant, man-eating spider. Cassia crawled forward and under Jensen's direction, found her way onto unsteady feet. He told her not to look back, but since he was facing the direction with wide-eyes, curiosity teased her mind until she gave in. Only to see the spider racing toward them. It swiped in the air angrily as it charged at them, one of its legs alight. Several of the others were uneven and she assumed, charred enough to disappear into the dark around them. In a way, with its swift uneven movements, she found it twice as ominous. As soon as there was a tether within reach, she hurried to its other end. Jensen's whiffs kept them free on the way. She wondered if they would have been doomed had his fire not torched its legs. ... The next shimmer sent them to a quiet land with a blue blanket across the sky. And Cassia's feet stood firm on an old metal. Walking forward under the cover of hundreds of bright stars, she realized their path was a large, rusted, train. One that had long ago stopped working. The scene in the distance at her back suggested that one of the traincars had crashed and the rest slid forward to an eventual stop. However it had gotten there, wherever ' there ' was supposed to be, weeds and other plant overgrowth made a home of it. She even made out small wildflowers near her feet. She bent down to touch them and thumbed the frost coating their petals. Still reeling from their encounter with the spider and its web, she looked back towards the way they came. Nothing was after them now, it seemed. Relieved, she dropped heavily to her knees. Between her arms, Jensen's light paled in comparison to the sky. But in another frosty climate, she was glad for his constant warmth. He mumbled something under his breath. She couldn't make sense of his voice, but she was exhausted. So, she laid him down ahead of her and spread out on the train top. It was a bit cold there too, but not enough to worry. The sound of her movements caused Jensen to stir. She picked him up and let his warmth work its way through her before she started back up the length of the train. He hadn't responded to her when she first treaded on. Nor when she took a break. His eyes were shut and the light was barely visible behind them. Did magical pumpkins need sleep? She didn't think she'd seen him do so before. Even on the nights she drifted off surrounded by trees and autumn chills, she always awoke to him blinking and looking off into the distance. A myriad of emotions wrapped up in his expressions. When she asked him if he was alright via a very noisy point of the blade against metal, he reassured her. Only, seemingly without his notice, Jensen's time of consciousness lessened. To the point that he spent much more time with his eyes closed and unresponsive. She felt guilty for it, but she even shook him once. He never stirred. Nor did he remember it when he woke. She thought she would feel very alone those days. She found herself missing his commentary, but not feeling utterly by her lonesome. She always felt that he would wake up soon. As he normally did. Be it hours or a day. And at night, even if he slept, his candle would still continue burning and lighting her way through the dark. That might have been why she could manage. Every time he woke from a sleep she could show him the things she scavanged that day or scrape a message into the steel for him to read upon waking. Even if it was possible that she was simply convincing herself everything would be fine. It was better than facing the anxiety that she felt building up. So long as everything was fine, she could fight it. One night, when Jensen blinked awake for the second time that day, she was sure to ask him if he dreamt when he slept. She regretted asking the question the moment he looked taken aback. Because once the confusion and surprise on his face faded, she registered a hint of fear there. She didn't know what Jensen assumed was happening when he drifted away from her, but his reaction said that he wasn’t resting. That there must have been something else happening to him. She was too afraid to question him. So, when he answered, all too simply, that he didn't know the last time he had a dream, she let it go. Even though something terrifying had gripped her heart because of it. She left him to his thoughts as her stomach complained of hunger. She was beginning to miss the numbness Jensen's presence had been keeping at bay. ... Fear welled up inside her. Threatened to overwhelm her senses and the last of her mind in search of a solution.. For the first time, Cassia had followed a tether while Jensen 'slept.' She wouldn’t have known what else to name it. And regardless of what the truth was, sleeping was a gentle and calming word. Anything else would have awakened the storm of emotions she'd kept locked away somewhere else inside. Only, because of her own impatience, they would soon fight to escape her confines anyway. Following the translucent two-toned tether with the droplets of dew, had seemed like an interesting choice. She needed a distraction from her rumbling belly and it had been almost four days since the last time Jensen had been present. So, she walked off in search of another new tether. Eventually to find many to choose from. Near the outskirts of an abandoned mill, she chose a particularly beautiful one. On the other side, she was amazed by the fresh, moist scent and the gigantic leaves and plants towering over her from every direction. Cassia saw many flowers and bright patterned plants. Heard a variet of bird calls, and saw several snakes slither up branches. She even saw bright spotted frogs leaping large distances ahead of her. For a time, she chased after them at a distance, letting them take her wherever they were going. Most, intent on hiding away from her but she enjoyed it all the same. And when she grew tired of her play, she settled on a broken branch and took a nap. When she woke, she took a nibble of a sweet smelling plant and got terrible stomach cramps most of the day. The next, she realized that the forest was quiet and bare. She didn't see the insects hanging on the edge of the leaves. The frogs had disappeared long before she chased them, and the birds never called. Then the rain fell. And fell some more. Until the drops felt heavy and almost painful to any of her exposed skin and weighed down her coat. She rewrapped her mother's dagger around her waist and tied it tightly, afraid that she wouldn't feel it slip if it fell under the fabric of her coat. Then she ripped a couple heavy leaves from an overgrown plant and used it to cover her head. Water rose around her ankles and she trudged ahead slowly, sloshing noisily through the flood. Carrying Jensen with one arm while her body was pounded with more rain proved difficult. So, she decided to take a rest. She placed Jensen down with an apology and held him between her legs against the water. It was a mistake. While she stood there under the protection of the leaves, shivering slightly with chill and looking up towards the sky, she didn't realize that the water level was rising. She took no notice of the fish slipping past her, carried away against the direction they'd been swimming. Cassia had never experienced a flash flood in the middle of a rainforest. She hadn't even known any places like that one existed and weren't there by magic. It was only when she felt Jensen slip from her legs and bob against the current that she realized something was amiss. She shrieked silently in alarm and dropped the leaves. Dark clouds rolled in. Thunder shook her ears and lightning skated across the sky. The water brushed up against her and pushed her sideways, off-balance. All too soon the water increased. It buried her shoulders and spun her in a violent crescent. She fought the upsurge, nearly hurting her neck just to keep her eye trained on Jensen's white shell getting further away from her. By the time she finally felt her hands wrap around him, his stem top was nowhere to be seen. They floated there for a few moments, Jensen as her life raft, before another dangerous current swept them over. Cassia's head dropped below the surface of the water then continued deeper against her will. Her arms were still tightly wrapped around Jensen's frame as they were jerked around in different directions. Her fear didn't fully register until a moment of reprieve when she finally felt air reach her mouth and nose. She spit up and coughed painfully. It was the first time she didn't like water. She'd almost drowned. There was no way of knowing how long they had been under. Nor how long the water had been carrying them. Cassia did her best to dump the water from his casing, amazed that the candle was still lit, though it was hardly visible now. They continued on that way all through the end of the storm and the night. Until a large, broken tree trunk caught them. Cassia climbed her way to the top, grateful for an indentation just big enough to cradle Jensen so he didn't drop back down to the floodwater below. Still, he never opened his eyes. Cassia let out a silent sob and willed herself not to cry. This was all her fault. She had to do something. The next morning, the water level dropped a little, and the next, a little more. Just enough that she could see some of what it had been hiding. Cassia carried Jensen through the sitting water. With the help of many broken trees, she snaked her way through the worst of it. Eventually, she found her way to an elevated clearing. There, the water dropped much lower and she continued in that direction. With the sun beginning to shine through the clouds, she hoped Jensen would wake soon. Though she eventually found her way to safer ground, finally near the forest floor again, the sun did not stay. Rain clouds swallowed its rays and a lighter shower than the first began. Exhausted, she tested her weight against a large canopy of leaves and brush. When she dipped but didn't fall, Cassia quickly relaxed her limbs with Jensen at her side, attacked by a variety of pains. When a tired sleep found her, the pains diminished. When she awoke, it was to the sound of Jensen's coughs. Cassia was so overwhelmed with relief that she grabbed him too quickly and the two of them slipped through their leaf bed and crashed to the ground. Most of the flood water had dissolved. It was nearly back to her ankles now. She wondered how long she slept but it seemed much less important than Jensen's consciousness. "Cassia, while you slept I watched a monstrous amount of water sweep over the ground. Most of it was carried away elsewhere. I think there's an outlet for the water somewhere. We are in a very dangerous place." He groaned. "We..followed another tether..?" Jensen asked, unsure. He was losing too much time now. He felt weak and sick. And he knew there was something more. His consciousness hung on by a thread. Even though he spent every minute of awareness trying to understand what was happening to him. He had no answers to most of his questions. He only knew that the candle inside him was burning out. Worse, when they fell, he felt water sloshing around inside. How long until the flames stopped? What would happen to him then? The cool air brushed through his opening and he shivered. The candle was ordinary. There was something else that kept him going, some other source of magic. Only, he had no idea what it was. Nor did he know what happened to Cassia. She looked terrible. When Jensen wheezed and a puff of smoke slithered out of his mouth, top, and eyes, Cassia quickly peered inside him. She gasped a silent gasp. The candle was nearly to the wick. And when it began to rain again, she feared another flood. There was no more ignoring it now. She was terribly afraid. When she reached into her pocket and realized the candle was no longer there, a hard lump formed at the back of her throat. She didn't have any more candles and the last match that had apparently escaped being snatched away by the flood, was too soaked to spark a light. Her hands shook as more water sept into her already heavy sleeves. Even if she cut off parts of her coat with the dagger what would it do? What if the water drowned out the last of his flame? She barely registered the sound of Jensen's voice as he tried to reassure her. Watched the rain plop to the bottom of the pumpkin as the fire trembled, threatening to die. In a panic, Cassia stripped off her drenched coat, placed it over her head, and dropped over the opening on all-fours. "You mustn't! These are flames of magic ! They burn hotter than the fire you know!" Jensen cried. Cassia ignored him and airily hissed in pain. The heat slowly burned through her clothes. If it was that hot, why wouldn’t it stay lit? She didn't understand anything. All she knew was that she didn't want him to disappear. He had protected her and kept her company. He was all she had. She had brought them there. It was all her fault. What was she supposed to do without him? She cried with a brokenness and fury carrying the load of every day she outlived her father. Acutely aware of the slightly stale, yet sickeningly sweet smell wafting up towards her nose and the torment of being torched at the belly. It took a time for her to place it. It was the smell of burning flesh. Worsened by the hot pumpkin stench fusing with it. Jensen pleaded with her to stop. It hurt and she was sure she would have thrown up if there was anything at all in her stomach, but she didn't know what else to do. It was just her abdomen, and yet the pain was nearly unbearable. It took only a fraction of a second for her to realize that Drummel had suffered a much worse fate. This one was a weak, dying flame. Drummel would have been engulfed in them, just like the door after she'd made it outside. That fire burned brighter, hotter, and much longer than Jensen's did now. Likely charred away every inch of his features. Every ounce of her father's flesh. Burned away every tin of beer and the rest of their home along with it. And in those thoughts, she began to lose herself. Whatever and whoever she was. " Leave me. Please !" Jensen begged. Cassia heard nothing. Not that it would have changed the outcome. If she'd heard his words she would have defiantly ignored him. She would have resolved to save him no matter what he'd said. Or how much he begged her. Their situation would be the same. But at the moment, she was still drowning in fear and loss and a dozen of other emotions that rattled around her brain against her will. Luckily, it would not last. Moments later, while on the verge of succumbing to the pain from the fire, else the cracks in her mind, Cassia's subconscious recognized a ray of hope . Without thinking, she jumped to her feet. She stumbled painfully forward with Jensen in her arms and chased the fluttering in the corner of her vision. Soley focused on the thing that slipped past her a moment before. She quickened her steps, breathless but unwilling to slow her pace. Faster and faster until her nose filled with an earthy-dust scent and her hand clutched the translucent brown ribbon ahead of her. Knowing it was there somehow sealed the broken lines in her head and buried the thought of her father's sleeping form burning away to a blackness somewhere in the recesses of her mind. As she raced along the bent line, a shimmer unfolded before her. It led them out of the rainforest and through a heavy mass of shrubbery. Their shape barely visible in the nearly black space in every corner of her vision. Cassia slowed her pace as she attempted to get a look at her surroundings. And if not for Jensen's bubble of light, the area would be permeated in something mistakable for a void. If only an illusionary one. By any way that mattered, she would have been rendered blind. "No! Not here ." Jensen panicked. "You mustn't stop here, Cassia. Something is coming!" She heeded his words, though her body screamed for rest. Forced her legs forward until she found a brisk pace again and gave way to a sprint. As Cassia continued on, she made out the sound of something quickly snaking it's way through the grass. Closing in on them. Carrying with it, a moist gurgling sound she'd never heard. From her right, a crisp shuffle frightened her as a gray squirrel jumped from the ground, glided through the air, and dropped onto her shoulder. In its mouth looked to be Jensen's stem top which they'd lost before. After a moment of slight protest, the large-eyed animal released it into her hand and Cassia placed it back over Jensen's opening. It seemed the squirrel had been making a meal out of it, but it was one in the same. As she began to question how the squirrel managed to find its way there if they'd been following a tether, even more to get ahold of Jensen's top knowing it, a large slippery blob with glowing eyes splashed down beside her. It broke apart and was swallowed by the ground. Seconds later, another followed suit. Until they dropped down around her like currents of a wave. Edging closer and closer to her body even as she began to dart around in different directions, still following the brown tether now slightly out of reach. From the noise the squirrel made, it too had been rushing away from that very same danger. Cassia willed herself to keep going as Jensen eyed the blobs with unease, and directed her as another wave of liquid creatures threatened to swallow them up. The tether guided them to a quaint, faintly glowing house with a large tree beside it in the distance. At some point between the open area and the tree bark, the wobbly creature stopped its pursuit. Cassia turned around to face it as she coughed oxygen back into her lungs. Unable to fight her curiosity, she held Jensen up towards the direction of its glowing orbs and his dipping light revealed a slowly moving dark shape. It's loose body rolled onto itself constantly, like semi-fluid water. Rounded shapes occasionally protruded from what seemed to be its main body, only sometimes taking the pair of eyes with it. Cassia felt a disturbed chill run down her spine and her hair stand on end. She instantly regretted her decision to look. The monster squinted its eyes at her. Almost as if it sensed her revulsion, it dived in her direction. Cassia jumped backwards with a silent yelp and tucked Jensen back between her arms when it screeched. As if struck and wounded, it abruptly ducked away and disappeared into the dark. The squirrel scurried up the tree and Cassia watched a puff of discolored smoke work its way out of Jensen's nibbled top. His light dimmed and reawakened her initial fears. Not knowing what else to do, she hurried towards the front door. "We cannot simply wander into a lone house in the middle of nowhere. There is something or someone very powerful inside. So much so that even I can feel it with ease." Jensen warned. Cassia ignored him and just as her hand was about to reach the door, a woman stepped out in front of her. Despite her gray head of hair, the woman looked considerably young and plesant. Almost like a doll. "A little old lady in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dark things--" Jensen's words were cut short by a fit of coughing. He didn't know who or what she was, but he knew she wasn't nearly as young as she appeared to be. He could feel it in his pumpkin shell. Right down to the end of his wick. "-Is probably hiding something; her true nature , perhaps." Cassia frantically leapt towards the woman. Tightly gripped the fabric of her plum-colored dress, shaking with urgency. She ignored Jensen's stifled words of protest as she pressed him towards the stranger and clasped her hands together tightly. "Pay no mind to Mr . Jensen, Cassia ." The woman spoke softly. "Come inside and let me tend to your wound." Cassia's eyes widened as she was ushered inside and the door shut with a creak behind her. Jensen shouted in protest, quickly severed by another coughing fit. ... "How do you know our names?" Jensen prodded suspiciously. Just minutes ago, he was convinced the woman's words were mere trickery. He foresaw Cassia's bitter end when the woman offered her a bottle of a thick green liquid and the child downed it in seconds. He wasn’t sure if it had been the taste or her thirst that caused it. He almost wished she drank the rainwater when they'd had the chance. Surely, by some strange stroke of the girl's own luck and not his own, she didn't fall ill or lose consciousness. She wasn't poisoned. Instead, he watched as the nauseating wound on her belly healed. Completely and miraculously, as if it had never existed at all. Contrary to Jensen's relief, it only made him more apprehensive of the woman's identity and intentions. "Who are you?" He asked pointedly. The woman's brown eyes twinkled with interest as she placed Jensen back in Cassia's arms. "How exquisite . A white jack-o-lantern." She smiled. "My name is Kalla." She gestured softly to the table on the opposite side of the room to offer them a seat. "When you arrived at my home you were hit with a cloudless potion." "A potion?" Jensen questioned aloud. Kalla blinked slowly in his direction. Although he was beginning to have trouble speaking, his tone suggested intrigue rather than surprise. "How?" "You needn't be concerned with the mechanics. The potion temporarily evokes several core memories from your subconscious without your knowing. By the time it strikes you, you've already begun spilling your secrets." She sighed as she took a seat. "Why you--" Jensen started in disbelief. The woman was as sly as a fox. He almost hated her winsome smile. Seemingly unsuspicious and without pause, Cassia strode across the floor and placed him carefully atop the wood. Joining her at the table. She turned her attention towards the window as the gray squirrel from before found its way in. It was warm inside. How many days had it been since she was so warm ? This woman, Ms. Kalla, healed her with a magic potion. Would she be able to do something similar for Jensen? Every passing moment his light looked weaker and weaker. She didn't care what she had to do. Nor if Ms. Kalla was somehow an evil woman surrounded by dark things. So long as she could save him. She didn't want to lose anyone else. Cassia wondered, with a sharp pain in her chest and a heaviness in her stomach, if those were similar feelings to what Jensen's mother felt however many years ago. If so, she thought that she might be able to understand her reliance on the magic gem. Cursed and all. Though it didn't seem that she herself knew when she acquired it. "Did you think I would be without protection? Surely not. You did warn the girl, didn't you? Who would I be if I let just anyone with possible ill intent step foot near the house?" Jensen couldn't argue against it, but that didn't mean he was obligated to like it. "Well, Kalla is it? Her name is Cassia , the same as the spice." "I must say, Mr. Jensen, you're quite clueless, aren't you? You've simply been saying it wrong ." Jensen quickly looked in Cassia's direction, his shell shaking as he turned. "Is this true ?? Did this woman pronounce your name correctly just a moment ago?" When she gave a nod between hunched shoulders, Jensen knew that she'd somehow felt guilty. How unfortunate. It wasn’t her fault he'd gotten it wrong, despite his displeasure. He'd simply assumed. He wished she'd been able to correct him sooner . Regardless of his mistake, how could the woman have known it? Did she also know that sort of thing via a potion? It was then, as he looked about the inside of the place, that he took it in. Kalla was the embodiment of elegance and neatliness. Yet, from what he could see, her home lived its life in disorder. A dark curtain separated the sitting and eating room from what seemed to be a bedroom beyond it. There were wooden shapes in the windows, empty vials of varying shapes and sizes in boxes and littered over half the floor. Near the door were two very large showcases with liquid filled bottles behind glass. A sofa and several rugs on the floor between them, and the fireplace. The rest he made no attempt to decipher. The entirety of the place reeked with the smell of magic although he couldn't say he ever noticed a smell before. In a pot hung over the fire, Jensen heard liquid boiling. Was it another strange, magic-filled concoction in the making? Seeing him eye it from the other end of the room, Kalla raised a brow with an amused smile. "Don't let your mind run away with you. There're no more potions in creation here. That , is simply my dinner." As she spoke, she gently took a fungus from her pocket and handed it to the squirrel that had since decided his stem the perfect place for resting. "I suppose it will be our dinner now. From the sound of her rumbling, she must be famished . How inconsiderate of you. Using a little girl to find your body , Mr. Jensen. And starving her while you do it." She spoke with a slight air of distaste. "Your bad luck may just rub off on her." "She offered! And I'll have you know that I very clearly refused the child." Jensen retorted defensively. In the moment, he was too offended to question her knowledge. "Be it that you're so incredibly well informed , you must also be aware that it's been a losing battle to get her to eat anything at all. Later, there was nothing I could offer her." "Is that so? Then you simply should have refused her again ." The woman scoffed. "As for the rest, you're a pumpkin . You're perfectly edible . At least, you don't seem to be rotting at all." She said, lifting his stem, sending the squirrel to the other side of the table, and peering inside. She chuckled in amusement when he shivered. " Don't just have a peek as you please ! Something about your prying eyes perturbs me!" He hissed. The candlelight inside him sputtered. "Why would I offer myself?" He huffed. "J-just the thought of it is simply horrendous ." A small puff of smoke spiraled out of his mouth as he sighed. Kalla knew she was pushing his buttons, but they were such a joy to push. She could hardly help herself. However, after seeing the mix of worry and disgust on Cassia's face, in addition to the weakness overwhelming Jensen's voice as he continued to oppose her, she knew enough was enough. She took care of Cassia's wound. Now, it seemed, she must do the same for her companion. After all, she protected him at detriment to her own well-being. Jensen was not a bad man. Just a jilted one. However unlucky. Still, she knew he cared for Cassia. She couldn't help but want to test it. He was, in one way or another, endangering her. She wondered what the most appropriate course of action was to take. In any case, she could save him whilst she made a decision. She did not want to witness Cassia's face when the last of his wick burned out. ... "How did you heal me?" Jensen asked the next night. Cassia was still in bed, suffering a stomachache from eating too much soup after too many days of starvation. "Considering you use magic potions, are you a witch ?" "I'm no such thing. If only I were so powerful." Kalla said, amused. The two of them sat still beside each other on her messy sofa. She never bothered to toss anything to the side before she sat down, though Jensen tried to blow one of her items of clothing away. He wasn't sure he could do it without destroying things considering the spider's lair, so he stopped after the first attempt. She watched him but did not help him. He was sure she did it on purpose. "You seem plenty powerful to me. Since you healed me, I feel it twice as much as before. I've even seen a tether floating by, in the window earlier. I've not seen one for such a long time. If only I'd been like this the first trip we took through the shimmers. "Cassia was trapped by a substantially large spider. I managed to burn some of its legs away with fire but I wasn't sure we would make it out. It chased after us in spite of that, and I had been feeling so faint . I've never felt something as unnatural as that space. Or so, not since the day my mother succubmed to cursed magic . "If I'd had this candle then, perhaps I'd have gotten rid of the threat altogether. We would have stopped there. We should have stopped following the tethers then. Or, never started to begin with." "If you had, you'd never have come here." Kalla said flatly. "Yes. Cassia wouldn't have enjoyed your soup. I can't make the simplest meal as I am, but I doubt that would have been such an issue." "You are a meal , Mr. Jensen." Kalla snickered. "Is there something about me that makes you want to eat me?" His lip quivered with disgust. "Aside from the fact that someone else took a bite out of you first? I'm quite a fan of pumpkin and spice ." "It was the squirrel, seems like. Cassia took what she could from it." Jensen explained, weary. "She's cute, isn't she? She's made a home in my oak tree and sometimes helps me collect the mushrooms for the soup. I think the smell of you simply attracted her." "Yes, yes. Very cute . When she isn't eating someone else's body parts. And flying through the air to hitch a free ride on Cassia's shoulder." "She's a flying squirrel. They don't exactly take flight . I'm sure she was tired of using her little pink toes. Have you seen them? They're so soft and bright. I've gotten to touch them some." She smiled again with her palms pressed together towards her face. Jensen struggled. He knew the woman was much older than she looked, but her demeanor said otherwise. "No. I paid no attention to her ' little pink toes.'" "In any case," she shrugged, "you're in one piece again. The damage is all cleared up now that you can replenish your magic. As far as your encounter is concerned, I wouldn't be surprised if the arachnid regrew its limbs already. "There are many places and creatures alike that sap magic. Stay near them long enough, especially in an depleted state and they'd suck you dry. That is likely what was afflicting you at the time. They lure their prey and trap them in silky webs to nourish themselves. You were feeding it the moment you ventured close to its habitat. "You are magic, but your form dictates your limitations as well as any power you can tap into. As a jack-o-lantern, you need to burn a candle. But just any wax stick simply won't do. You need one that burns magic, similarly to how the arachnid stole from you. That, is what I could offer you. "Mixing magic into a potion and keeping it alive is tricky business. Your candle was not nearly so much work. You've now acquired a much larger candle and a slow burning wick. Of course, with a great bit of magic woven in." "Yes. I can feel the difference. I've never felt like this since I became Cassia's jack-o-lantern. But if what you're saying is true, how did I become this at all? Furthermore, how did the last candle keep me going?" "However you managed so long on a magicless candle is a mystery in itself. If I were to guess, I'd say it could be the exact same reason your soul was channeled into a white pumpkin. Magic was responsible. Something, or someone, powerful. Enough to keep you lit even when starved for magic power." "Could Cassia have possibly ...?" Jensen began. "She's a pure, beautiful soul. A work of art. A mosaic if I had to be specific. Touched by many magics. So much so, that I cannot tell where one ends and another begins." "I thought something about art myself while looking at her for the first time. She has very striking , unusually coupled features. It seems she took after her mother. But how does being touched by magic help answer my question?" "Do you believe she's responsible for your state?" "Well.. no , but--" "Tell me why." "Because she's young and has never touched magic directly until now. And she flung herself over me against my plea, to keep my candle going. Magic, at least as I understand it, responds very well to emotion and wishing . If she was willing to go so far.." Jensen sighed heavily. "It's my fault. When I came, the fire took away her father. I was also the reason she went too far." "Like you, I don't believe that she is responsible for your state. Only that I feel magic from her. Maybe one day you will know why. It is not something I can see simply from wishing into the likes of a potion. However, if you didn't cast yourself into the pumpkin then purposefully set the house to burning, it can't possibly be your fault. Cassia, too, made the choice to be with you in the end. Which is why I've decided not to test you." Kalla huffed, lightly shrugging her shoulders. " Test ?" Jensen asked, genuinely curious yet with an air of caution. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. He didn't pry. Instead, he sat quietly as she stared towards the fireplace. Her eyes closed the moment that he thought he was beginning to understand the emotion swimming behind them. "Regardless, I don't think I can see it that way. The moment I became this squash in Cassia's life, I stole her father from her. I never bore a single child. Or held one in my arms. It's her luck, I'm sure, that's made sure she wasn't quite so young when I came about. I don't think there will ever be anything I can do to fix it. Meanwhile, her travels with me only expose her to more danger. Even you could see that and said as much." "Well, I'm not so different from you myself. I too, carry a guilt so unrelenting ." Kalla said quietly. For the first time, with a tone heavy with grief and remembering. Jensen's mind formed more questions against his will. He was curious but still could not trust her. Even after her show of kindness. What weighed on her? And was it responsible for her little home just shy of danger? Afterall, something had to explain why she tucked herself away in such a place. He supposed, also, she could simply enjoy the solitude. Kalla stretched then gave Jensen a couple of playful slaps, listening to the slight echo of her beats and smiled as he complained of abuse. " Abuse ? Again, you're quite clueless aren't you Mr. Jensen? If I wanted to abuse you, I'd simply bake you into a pie and keep the little one." She watched uncertainty and displeasure creep along his face. It was quite astonishing really-Jensen had a complex range of motion as a pumpkin. His expressions were so sharp and unmistakable. When he was human, Kalla wondered, did he also have a mustache like the vines mimicked on his face? She got the feeling he was handsome. His type usually were. "Or," Kalla continued as she dipped behind her curtain and grabbed her coat, "I could pluck the candle from your center. Easy ." "You wouldn't !" Jensen hissed. A tuft of fire sprouted from his top. It disapeared soon after. She'd done so much and yet he was still so shaken by her. It was likely for the best. If he was so easily befriended, he'd pose more a danger to Cassia. Still, the way he was now.. "Of course not. Why should I waste my hard work?" She smirked. "You said the candle was much easier than your potions." Jensen retorted with a hint of annoyance. She was a strange woman. He never had any idea what she was thinking. "Work is work." She said with a proud nod. "No different for the lesser kinds. Speaking of, I've somewhere to be. Be a dear and look after the house while I'm away? I'll only be a day or two." She stifled a laugh as his mouth dropped open on her way out the door. And heard his complaints about having a stranger care for her house without letting them make a proper decision first. Jensen was so honest that he didn't do well controlling his feelings. It was one of the reasons she fully expected her home to be in one piece when she returned, but she also needed to leave. Seeing Cassia so young and full of life brought her a suffering anew. Having dinner with her at the table reminded her of the past. It felt like a wound being stitched closed yet painfully snipped open again all at once. It was true she had work to do, but she needed time to face her again. ... The next day, although Jensen told her to leave it well enough alone, Cassia cleaned what she could in the house. She couldn't sit still after all Kalla had done for them. Her pains were gone and Jensen was better than new. He'd even said that he could see tethers again. She felt invigorated. Cleaning seemed as good an idea as any. She eventually convinced Jensen to help her dust the place with his puffs of warm air. He protested and claimed that he would, with his luck, set the entire house on fire before Kalla returned. Then she'd turn him into dessert, but Cassia didn't give up until he grew tired of arguing against her silence. She'd never doubted him for a moment. As Cassia finished cleaning, she noticed a shelf in the kitchen holding seven wooden figurines. All but one-a bear with long fur-unfinished. Beside them was a small tool with a metal edge and a red handle, but she found it broken. She picked the figurines up and found her way to the table. Jensen hopped the length of the floor and noisily onto the chair beside her. It was the first time she'd seen him cross any distance by himself. He didn't seem to enjoy it. "I don't know if you should be touching her things. Notwithstanding anything else that you've already handled. Never mind it. You've practically fiddled with every corner of the house. Do you know what those are?" He asked. Cassia gave a curt nod. She couldn't explain without needing to carve a message into the table. Which hardly seemed appropriate. She could tell just by looking at them, though they only had part of their shape. A bird with a long tail, a snake, a sheep with large ears, a frog, a kitten, and a wolf. The bear was the only complete one of the set. She unsheathed the dagger from her waist and began to work away at the wood. And winced each time she cut her finger. Jensen warned her that she would be missing her thumb by the time Kalla returned if she kept it up. She sighed and placed the dagger on the table. And when it floated to the air in front of her, swiping away a clean cut of wood she'd started, Cassia's eyes shifted towards Jensen in surprise. "Are you..?" Jensen started quietly. Cassia shook her head with her hands out in front of her. She hadn't done anything at all. Had something happened? Or had her mother's dagger always had a mind of its own? Eventually, the novelty of it wore off enough that they could focus on the task at hand. Cassia motioned slowly with her fingers in this or that direction and made shapes against the table with her hands. Slowly but surely, guiding the wooden works to completion. And when they were done, as they marveled at their work, Cassia was filled with a sense of deja-vu. A feeling so strong and bittersweet, it made her weep. ... The next afternoon, Kalla strode into the house and kicked off her shoes with a sigh. She'd almost forgotten how much she hated leaving the house. She promised herself not to run away again. She was too old for it anyway. Then, she paused as she took a look around. Almost certain, for an instant, that she'd walked into the wrong house. Kalla let out a joyful sigh. "Oh my. I've been meaning to tidy up. Cassia did you do all of this?" She asked, quickly crossing the floor to squeeze her tight. Cassia nodded and gestured to Jensen too. He had done all the dusting. Kalla laughed. "It feels like a different place in here. Thank you both." She smiled as she dropped onto the sofa. When Jensen saw her pleased expression fade the moment Cassia placed the figurines in her hands, he immediately thought that he should have stopped her after all. Kalla wrapped her arms around them tightly and met their worried expressions. "I'd tried to finish them but I had no clue where to begin. Or I didn't understand him well enough to know what they were. Or perhaps, I simply couldn't do it." " Him ?" Jensen asked softly, not wanting to pressure her but not quite understanding. Even if he didn't trust her, there was something about watching someone so strong on the verge of breaking that garnered more than a fair share of sympathy. He hadn't been able to read her. Now, there was no mistaking the familiar haunt of sadness. It had a way of chasing after you, like a nightmare. He was weak to sadness. "You're not the only one with guilt. Didn't I tell you that, Mr. Jensen? Just the other day I said so." She mumbled in a quick, broken voice. "You did." He answered back, as Cassia went to comfort her. Kalla's shoulders shook as she bent forward, almost as if to protect the little wooden creatures between her arms. "You asked if I was a witch. If I could conjure powerful spells, I would never have lost my son ." She quietly as pushed a few stands of Cassia's hair behind her ear with a trembling hand. "He was about your age, Cassia. Bright and beautiful. And when he got sick he looked to me much the way you did the day you arrived on my doorstep. And I heard it as clearly as my eyes saw it. The fear . The pleading . "I took to the potions. I made everything I could think of, old and new, but I hardly knew magic then. Nor was I any good at it. I'd only known of it because he taught me to look for it. Children are good at spotting anomaly. Even the magical sort. "Winter loved to use his hands. One day he took an interest in woodwork. He helped me with the table and chairs, and even the shelves. Then he wanted to carve art pieces. That interest piqued days before his illness. "Like any afraid, desperate fool , I promised him that he could finish them. I promised to make him mushroom soup until he got better. Then, often forgot . Worse, that I would make him better and he would go on to make enough pieces to replace my potions. I wonder why I told him such a lie ? Was it to give him hope ? Or had it been a selfish desire for myself ? "It was so long ago now, but I've faced him in every corner of the house since then. In every whisper of the wind and every item left in its place beneath the mess. Even when I told myself that I needed to let him go. He would have wanted that. But what kind of mother would that make me? "He believed I could do anything. He believed in me so much and smiled at me every morning. He smiled even when he knew he was fading away from me. Then, in a cruelty he'd never understand, asked me to do the same. I try and I try . "I smile . You've seen it. I promised that, but I promised I would save him too. And I failed . I lost him. The doctors couldn't offer a solution. I had something they didn't have; magic . Still , I wasn't good enough. My potions weren't good enough. All of that, and I couldn't save him." She sobbed. Jensen felt her heartache. He was never particularly good with consoling anyone. Not even himself. He would have to leave it to Cassia. The only thing he could offer her was a simple truth. However bittersweet. "I cannot absolve you of your troubles nor your guilt. All I can do is offer you, and Winter both, our condolences, and our thanks. If you'd never lost him to sickness, it is likely that you'd have stopped your potions and using magic. And we would not be here because of it. Or at the very least, I wouldn't be. You may not have saved your son but, in our predicament, you saved us." ... "Don't let Jensen talk you into anything strange ." Kalla warned at the door on their way out. "Nonsense! You were the one who talked a child into your home in the first place!" Jensen scoffed. Cassia watched them with an amused smile. It was interesting how easily the corners of her lips upturned after so long. She had smiled at her father every day in their decrepit house and lost it when the magic fire swallowed it up. She didn't know how long it had been but it almost felt too soon. After the story of her loss, Kalla spent many days in bed with her curtains drawn. Cassia and the flying squirrel--now named Mushroom--kept her company. Every night, they'd lay with her in bed until the three of them fell asleep. It felt sad and beautiful. Sometimes, it made her remember her mother. Or being squished between her parents at an age too young to register. She hadn't known she still had such memories. She remembered her mother's hair that almost touched the floor. And the flecks of light that dotted her skin and twinkled like pale stars at night. She remembered that she smelled like sun and cinnamon-honey. As if she bathed in it simply from stepping outdoors. Cassia remembered her father's youthfulness, too. His hair, full of the luster it lacked the last she saw him. And how his eyes lit up every time the two of them passed her around between their arms. Sometimes, the memories hurt so much that she cried. A few nights, Kalla cried along with her and Cassia wondered if she also had memories, maybe of her son, filling her head and tugging at her heart. Between then and now, Kalla became similar to the way she was their first day inside her quiet little house. Only, more beautiful and she smiled with her teeth and her eyes. Now, they were leaving. After many days, nights, and conversations. Because Jensen said they had imposed for long enough. Cassia thought he was also in favor of a break since Kalla spent a portion of everyday teasing and taunting him to no end. Kalla rubbed their cheeks together with a playful squeal then handed Cassia a small bag. "I can't send you off with nothing , now, can I? There's water with a cap, leftovers from yesterday, bread, a couple of potions you might need, and a new journal and pen. Use it well and don't be strangers. I've sewn something of mine into the pocket on the front so you two can follow it back here any time. Come visit often." Cassia gave her one last hug before she ran towards the oak tree to say her goodbyes to Mushroom as well. Jensen waited near the door. He wondered if he was the only one who saw. Cassia, these days, looked different. Even from the back, she was glowing. Her mood wasn't so bad anymore and she finished meals hungrily every day. He wondered if she felt anything like happiness. "When you look at her, what do you see?" Kalla asked at his side as she leaned against the door frame. "How do you mean?" Jensen asked, not bothering to turn towards her. He could see Mushroom on Cassia's shoulder, dropping fungi in her hands. "What will you do with that child, Mr. Jensen, after you've reached your goal?" Kalla asked. The wind whistled softly, twirling loose strands of grass and leaves. "Or what if you never reach it? Is she something you can toss aside?" "I.." Jensen tried to string the words together in his mind but was unable to do so. What did he see when he looked at her? He didn't know. She was so bright sometimes he thought it would hurt his eyes. "Clueless again, Mr. Jensen? You'll have to decide. The two of you are traveling in search of your body, aren't you? Either you will be successful or you won't . In either case, this will not last forever. "If you cannot look after her, bring her back here. If you have any intention of abandoning her, Cassia is better off with me." And with those words, she went inside and shut the door behind her. Jensen waited, and when Cassia returned and took him up into her arms, the two of them walked back into the dark. Away from the oak tree, the protection that Kalla's house provided. Off into the open in search of another tether. ... A year later, the two of them saw Drummel's image emerge from Auburn's blade. They'd run into a crazed man hunting for magic artifacts. By then, they had collected a small fortune. Not in number, but in value. With intention to take them to Kalla's for safekeeping. The hunter hid himself away under a blanket of invisibility and assumed a young girl carrying a pumpkin to be an easy mark. The man was unaware, of course, that Cassia carried a blade at the hip with a mind of its own. The Dagger unsheathed without any need for Jensen's involvement, and struck the artifact hunter's chest. And when they turned around to face the attacker, they were startled to find her father there, holding the knife. Drummel's body glistened, not altogether solid. In very much the same way as the tethers they searched for every day. It lasted only moments before it was gone, pulled back into the blade, and Cassia dropped to her knees. Drummel had been by her side ever since the day of the fire and they had never known. It was then, too, that they realized Auburn's dagger had been responsible. It was, or at least held, the powerful magic that drew Jensen to the pumpkin and trapped his soul within it. If Jensen had to guess, the blade channeled Drummel's spirit too when the fire took him. And as if by fate, something else caught his eye. When the artifact hunter fell, a sphere dropped from around his neck and rolled across the ground. When Jensen's plump, round frame and blazing eyes reflected off its surface, he believed his mind was playing tricks. He extended a vine to grab it, a recently discovered ability put to use, and nervously turned it over to inspect it. It was the very same cursed gem. The very stone that took a mother away from her son. The dark artifact that ignited his intrigue into the magic world. From it sprung a golden tether. One that smelled like warm wood, his mother's cooking and flowers. That felt like soft soil to the touch. So convincing that he'd thought for a moment he had fingers again. He was overtaken with the feeling of his bittersweet journey since becoming a jack-o-lantern and remembering his mother's garden breeze. He felt Cassia hug him tight and knew without question that it carried many loud feelings within it. A mingling of his and some of her own. Unpredictably complex and demanding of attention. "Are you alright?" He asked as he looked towards their attacker. He never stirred. Blood soaked the man's white shirt and pooled underneath it, slowly trailing off beside him. Jensen was sure Drummel wouldn't have wanted her to witness such a scene. Even though they'd seen him, there was no use thinking such things. Regardless of what anyone wanted, Cassia had seen it anyway. "I'm sorry you saw such terrible things." Cassia nodded then scooped him up. "Your father was with you all along." He spoke. She nodded again and he felt a tear slide down his shell. Jensen was convinced it became more sensitive with time. Almost like a second skin. She pointed to the gem and the tether beyond it. What were the chances that he would see that gem again? Or that he'd know without doubt, he was staring at the way to an answer? With what odds would he find his body on the other side? Kalla's words struck him anew. "What will you do with that child, Mr. Jensen, after you've reached your goal?" She asked. Cassia's small hands gently guided him forward and Kalla's voice retreated to the back of his mind. Jensen hesitated, then turned with a hop to face her. "You'll accompany me this time as well, won't you?" She took him up in her arms again as silent as always: it was an answer within itself. And with her dagger back around her waist and the hunter's blanket to render them invisible to any more prying eyes, that Jensen swiped with his vine, they followed the tether. On the other side, in a large field, covered by a layer of dust and leaves the color of fall, Jensen chuckled and made peace with his fate. He had never quite been the lucky sort. And he knew it a possibility from the start even though he couldn't face it without knowing. All that was left of him now were bones. Still dressed in the same dark sweater and brown trench coat he last remembered. Only his broken glasses and his overgrown hair differed from his memory. Cassia cried for him as they stood over it, but he did not share her grief. He didn't understand it, but the finality relieved him. He did not feel unfortunate or lost. His mind was clear. So unburdened, in fact, that Kalla's words felt like peace. "What will you do with that child, Mr. Jensen, after you've reached your goal? Or what if you never reach it?" He was convinced that he could let things be. Sure that, even if he'd found his body the same as the day his soul left it behind, he would have made the same decision. What did he see when he looked at her? The sun. Bright and unhidden. He wanted to see who Cassia would be. Although a pair of arms might have come in handy. Maybe one day magic would lead them to a different solution to his problem. Or maybe he was meant to be Cassia's magical jack-o-lantern until the end. If so, he would simply wait and see what she did with her light until the day his went out. Either way, Jensen didn't think it sounded unlucky at all. The chilly October evening that Cassia's father finally fulfilled his promise after many years of disappointment, neither of them knew their lives were about to change. There was no way to know that she would start on a journey to the unknown. They had no inkling that Drummel's promise would bring Cassia life-long companionship of the immortal, pumpkin variety. Or that they would find a way back to each other again by way of magical circumstances, and Auburn's treasured dagger. Nor could Jensen have guessed he would be free to look upon the future, untethered by the past that haunted him because of it. They hoped their mothers were watching...

Most people have heard the saying "people don't quit jobs , they quit bosses " right? And with the tides on a wayward course to unseen waters, especially with younger generations no longer aligning with the stringent bold lines of those who came before them, I'm reminded of that very sentiment. Although I've been out of the workforce under someone else's rule for several years now (albeit the circumstances that brought forth that change weren't ideal), I still remember all the days and nights reflecting on my workplace environments. I can intimately recall every unappreciated moment, every time I was underm ined by a supervisor or manager, the boulder-weight expectations higher ups never had to be responsible for, the soreness of working too many hours on my feet and knowing my body would feel worse tomorrow. Scraping pennies together, the false "like family" statements for the most toxic places, and much more. Today, these practices still exist despite the damage. And with the horror sh ow that is the current and conflicting job market, there's an idiom that speaks the quiet parts out loud: when it comes to not keeping a job or the ones people refuse to work altogether, there's more than meets the eye. So, as I am making my way uphill with the rising potential to break the chain as a boss of my own team on the horizon, I thought it a perfect time to address this topic. Regardless of the generation or spitting daggers for different experiences, bad leadership is bad leadership . If a workplace can't keep or retain workers, it's not always the little guys' fault. Sometimes, it starts at the top. Taking on that point of view... Here's 10 Red Flags that could make for a very rotten workplace . 1. Lacking respect . It's never hard to spot disrespect within the job. As jobseekers or current employees, we as a whole tend to ignore these things. Maybe because we assume it won't always be there, or perhaps we feel it is too late and we must deal with a degree of it to keep the job. Even customers are sometimes lacking, right? It is true that everyone has their days and the 'customers always right' attitude is still very prevelant in society, but lacking respect in the workplace shouldn't be normalized. Even more, it encompasses more than this. Lacking respect for employees/co-workers includes not respecting boundaries (like personal questions after voiced objection), often wanting you to work overtime without adequate breaks, the boss telling you to clock-in early just because you're there an hour early, cheaping you out of overtime pay, and requesting more work after the end of shift. 2. Lacking accountability. As surprising as it is that this problem still exists, most workplaces have a dotted line that leads around the chain. On one end you'll find a shroud of underpaid, undervalued and tired workers whose bright ideas and work ethic is often fed to the higher-ups like an ugly game of telephone version human centipede . Yikes! And on the other, the people who get the better pay and all the credit. So, this one is for all the people that have had a supervisor, manager, and/or director turn a blind eye to a problem they were a large part of. Or when they took credit for another co-worker's task completions, work or ideas. Especially for any position that has command over others, you'll find that a lack of accountability in the workplace is a large step in a downward spiral. 3. Not sticking up for what's right. For the most part, this one speaks for itself. I don't know about you, but if I had a nickle for every time someone other than me should have spoken up on another person's behalf, more so in the case of a leader in the workplace but didn't, I'd have been rich after my second job. Not only does it go a long way for building trust with employees, it also holds every worker accountable for their own words, actions, emotions, decisions or lackthereof. Sound familiar? Even if that meant facing another supervisor just to give someone under you a voice. That's the kind of workplace that gains and wins over their people. Falling short in this area not only breeds insecurities but shines a light on a company's lack of morals, too. 4. Dismissive words and actions. Similarly to the last, dismissive words and actions in the workplace also spells disaster for all who enter a job. For example, ignoring the list that workers bring to your attention which makes their jobs more difficult, or what makes them unhappy. Not only does this make it more likely that workers will not inform you when problems arise, but it will also disrupt any harmony among all employeed. Sometimes, this might even include taking down the posted board in the breakroom with "harmless" jokes pinned to photos of employees faces on them that half the workplace contributes to. 5. Affable flappable . You may wonder why this one is in its own category and perhaps even, what affable means. First off, affable means friendly, good-natured, easy to talk to. Although it has some similarities to the previous mention on the list, this one goes beyond dismissing. It is the Inflexible. Not being open to ideas. Never making room for one-on-one talks and group meetings. It's not giving everyone the opportunity to have a voice because, for some reason or another, it's deemed unimportant. Where you would normally seek to follow a leader that is affable, it falls short. Hence, flappable . For most things, 'importance' is subjective but that does not diminish its impact on the workplace. Regardless of how big or small something seems to be from our own point of view. Higher-ups need to leave the door of communication open , be receptive to what they hear, and keep the environment comfortable enough that everyone can speak of their feelings and thoughts in a respectful manner. A workplace where communication is not a priority is a workplace bound to failure . 6. "Family" values. Next up is something that probably needs to be chucked out of the heads of every leader in every workplace. Most of us have been there. Sitting at a job interview, nervous and trying not to show it. Likely really needing a job as soon as tomorrow. We conjure up our remaning energy, not knowing if we will be hired in the first place. Among the interviewer's questions and comments comes that dreaded sentence: "we're like family here." Most often, your stomach drops at the sound of it and you're no longer sure you need the job that bad. That adverse reaction, my friends, bubbles up in the tummies of most workers and job seekers because the reality is that statment and the truth usually orbit different galaxies . In today's world, these words signify a strict, heavily toxic workplace that is not only unforgiving, but will guilt trip you into more work in some shape or fashion. Not to mention, never have any true "family values" to speak of. Perhaps just as bad, they are the first to mention that a friend or family member stopping in the establishment, even if you're perfectly doing your job without distraction(s), "gets in the way of work." If you were like me, you might have experienced this several times over until the thought of those well-mannered friends (in my case) presented a moment of benefit to the company itself. For example, when I worked at a popular company known as FROYO, I was asked not to let my friends come and sit to enjoy the yogurty goodness simply because we were close. Disregard the fact that they were paying customers who frequented the area, their own friends and family members stopping by, and that part of the enjoyment was being able to see a friend for five minutes in the checkout line. Of course, one of the nights that my manager would not be in on the bussiest day of the week in summer heat and I worked the entire store myself from opening to closing, I was quickly allowed to "request" those friends' help to clean and close so I wouldn't get paid overtime-- SIGH . So, yeah. It would be a million times better if the person saying such words were a current worker who was being genuinely honest and happily offered their opinion on the job, but if you really must say it, at least do your part to back it up. Do business and treat the workers like friends and family, or don't claim it. The reputation already speaks for itself. If anyone else uses it and doesn't go against the grain, there's no coming back from it. The company would have to consider itsellf lucky that they managed to reel anyone in after the initial claim in the first place. 7. OYO, Sorry! This one is yet another that practically speaks for itself. It is a common occurance in a workplace with broken leadership. It could be your first day, a random weekend of little to no training, or during a time where it feels like the building is on fire and crashing down around you. The OYO, or the "you're on your own" approach that has never helped anyone. Not far from the feeling of being tossed into a year three Chinese language course when you don't know a word of the language--it is always unwelcome. The sorry is just a false sense of politeness. It probably goes without saying but, all workplaces that leave their employees stranded aren't far from losing them forever. 8. Dishonesty. I know what you're thinking. Didn't I cover the "dishonesty" under "lacking accountability" on the list? Well, I did mention a kind of dishonesty that might be displayed by a higher-up taking the credit for someone else's work, but this one might come as a surprise. This shadow under the umbrella is about lying about the job. I might ruffle a few feathers with this one. Contrary to popular opinion, sometimes it's the employers that lie, not just the occasional job seeker on their resume. Not being upfront about what the job requires (especially cold-calling or door-to-door sales), the workload, or working expectations are all lures and lies all too often utilized in the market. Bonus points here for lying to customers, while expecting employees to do the same , and making it a norm in the workplace. And in case you didn't get it, if you're doing so then absolutely no bonus points for you. In fact, negative 1000 points for each lie you've told. Employees swallow a lot of bitter pills in the workplace, but this kind of lie only sends bile up the back of their throats on their way out the door. If dishonesty is how you gather your team, you need a better plan and marketing team. As they say, honesty is the best policy. Otherwise, assuming your company feels it cannot retain a team while being honest about the job, get going on hiring workers through visas. If it is really true that you cannot hire anyone/no one else wants the job(s), you have every reason to show it and outsource the work. 9. Perfection Expectation. Onto number nine, yet another on the list that explains away itself. If you have a new job where you are expected to be perfect from the moment you walk in and carrying that weight around in every task, that workplace just might be rotten. If you are still questioning the circumstances I'll give an example. This happened to me when I answered an ad in the window of a popular sushi place. Although I was told directly that experience wasn't needed, I should have known from the side eyes as I walked in for my first shift that it was going to be rough . The shop was in an affluent area. Its Japanese owner greeted me nice enough. He fetched a paper pamphlet menu from behind the counter, pointed in a general direction towards the back of the place not far from the buffet line, and told me to seat guests. This was definitely an OYO moment (with a sprinkle of dishonesty) as he did not give me any time to learn the menu nor have anyone on the floor train me. It became evident, however, that absolute perfection was expected of me in the first 15 minutes. The third time I was told "those aren't your tables" I was pulled to the side. The owner asked how I thought I was doing and I responded "terrible." He nodded at me and I just told him "thank you for the opportunity" and that I would just go. It was long before the planned end of my shift, but I was glad for it and never looked back. I was so mortified, confused and offended that I didn't even go back to claim my 40 dollar check from the resturant the next day. It was one of the longest 3 hours of my life . And the only time I left a job the very first day. All said and done, I still look back at that memory and feel glad that I learned several other things to look out for when stepping onto the floor of a new workplace but no one should expect a single employee to be perfect. Of course, there were multiple failings that contributed to my negative experience in the downtown Sushi Ai that day, most of which are already listed here. However, it could have been a simple learning experience and considering the no-experience-necessary assurance, that's exactly what should have been happening there. Just don't end up like me. As for the management, practice makes perfect, right? And first, the inexperienced has to learn. It's your job to teach the job. Strive for quality rather than an illusive and false concept like perfection. Otherwise, your rotten fruit will chase away your company's potential. 10. Workplace bullying. Number 10 is probably your largest red flag that a workplace in a path to ruin. The moment that you see the job placing gossip on a pedestal, or managers, supervisors and owners look the other way during incidents of harassment, defamation, slander, libel, and passive aggressive behavior, it's alredy time to get out. That's right, bolt to freedom, don't collect your 200 dollars (unless, of course, that's really your check because you'll obviously need that). In any case, it's a sign, no matter what position you have within the workplace, that things probably need an entire overhaul just to get rid of the problem. That, and many people are obviously getting away with subjecting others to terrible treatment. That's not a "little guy" problem. Not only should any leader aim to create and upkeep a safe environment for anyone under their employ, they should care just as much about not scaring their workers by the time they've left. It hurts their chances of having any good workers return, the employees could suffer debilitating or irreversable damage to their psyche, and of course there's also the possibility of a lawsuit on the doorstep. If this sort of thing is happening at your workplace, even worse if you are/were like me and had your supervisor join in or co-workers lock you in the industrial freezer , don't expect it to simply blow over. And for the leaders ? Do better. So, there you have it. 10 Red Flags in Workplace Management . Re-living some of these moments, it's almost surprising how easy it is to be plagued with all my original emotions. And if that isn't a deterrent to the general workplace environment of the modern world then I don't know what is . Less surprising, I know I'm not alone. We've collectively, as a people, developed scars from the very experiences that are supposed to help us live out, and afford - that's a conversation for another day-our place in society. There's always a common thread somewhere. No matter if you're considered to be Baby Boomers, Gen X, Millennials, Gen Z, or whatever label surfaces next. Now imagine the way it should be. How impactful a good workplace environment would be. One where it isn't always hard to be heard or understood. Where it isn't just blamed on the people at the bottom . Where management and the rest of the higher ups treat you like the human being you are . A place no one wants to leave because the statement "like family" is an embodiement there. Imagine green flags . That's what everyone wants and there's nothing wrong wth younger generations knowing their worth , let alone striving for it. The truth is, workplaces like that exist but they are a rarity and near extinction . All of us, no matter our own experiences, should encourage a world where the young continue to fight for a better future. If you have room to be offended by that then you are comfortable despite the damage because it isn't happening to you , are benefitting from the current system, or you're perpetuating it.

Hello All. I know it has been almost 4 months since I posted, but I'm back.🥳Unfortunately, after my favorite Holiday (👻Halloween👻). 🥲I couldn't even post my Halloween stuffs.😔 I'll just have to make up for it another year! Anyway, let's get right to it, shall we? Today, I've got Thanksgiving and Native American Heritage Day on the brain--with a little dash of Christmas (we will get to that in a moment). I'm an American so, of course, we are all used to Thanksgiving here, but I think it is strange to celebrate Thanksgiving without remembering that Native Americans were the reason that we should have been thankful in the first place. For their sacrifices, their humble nature, and their willingness to teach the very people who would one day bring about much of their ruin. Of course, we should also celebrate their survival and their innovative minds that furthered America as we know it today. I mean, could one imagine modern day America without rubber, suspension bridges? Without corn? I think not. Considering that I have Blackfoot (my grand parents on my father's side of the family) and Cherokee (great grand parents on my mother's side) Native blood coursing through my veins, I feel like my lack of thanks for their roles in my freedom and life today is shameful. I realized that America has a way of continuing to drown out those aspects of my culture and identity just as much as these as a Black person. My Black heritage, however, has very little to offer me besides my parents, and three out of four grandparents. I cannot pinpoint the tribes that gave me the other part of my blood and unfortunately, all of my grandparents and greats passed young. This isn't an uncommon occurrence for Black families in America, but it makes me all the more grateful for knowing a single thing about the rest of my familial line. Still, thinking about this both frustrates and humbles me. To such a point that I have started to incorporate more of this history into my life. But it was also in this time that I was making peace with my inner storms and the like this month that something else happened. Christmas bells, chestnuts roasting on open fires, Mirah Carrey's "All I Want for Christmas" (which is apparently getting its own animated film), and Santa Claus began making their appearance before November turkey and Native dances. Can't we have feathers before ornaments around here? The stuff is everywhere you turn. In the stores, flooding social media..what an endless cycle before its time. And all of this after I have hardly processed the end of Halloween chocolates, scary movies, and hocus pocus decorations😩. The audacity of Christmas . I mean, C'mon . On the bright side, this is the only time of the year that the amount of hot chocolate I drink on a regular basis isn't scrutinized. In summer people think I'm nuts. October through November? Everyone's just riding the wave. Haha. Still, let's all be a little mindful for the end of November, yeah?

Hello Again Everyone! The perfect solution for today's gloomy day just might be a much needed movie Monday . Don't cha think?I'm just going to assume you agree. Haha. So, lovelies, here's a list of some comedies that everyone should give a watch at least once in their lifetime. Even better if you are able to enjoy them over and over again just for a laugh. That said, it's possible that you might find yourself full of several additional emotions given a few of these suggestions. So, if you're looking for buckets of fun, here's a list of comedies for all Adm Fam and visitors with a taste for the eccentric. Pootie Tang (2001). If you don't recognize this film then clearly your mom or dad never let you sit in front of the television with a bowl of cereal to watch a movie about the power of a belt on repeat and it shows. Haha. Lance Crouther and his braided ponytail gave my siblings and I quite a few laughs and I found myself chuckling just the other night as scenes from this movie crossed my mind. Undercover Brother (2002). A similar comedic ride to Pootie Tang in my mind, also watched on repeat, this one was a different but very ethnic choice for my family. With many playful jabs at an exaggerated Black American experience it is worth the watch. I loved their outfits and the platform shoes from the very first time I saw it. Besides, no matter how weird it got, everyone should recognize comedy gold when Eddie Griffin, Dave Chappelle and Neil Patrick Harris star in the same film. Murder Mystery 1 & 2 (2019/2023). When I first readied myself to watch the first film, and knowing the controversy surrounding Jennifer Anniston and Adam Sandler, I was a bit weary of what it would be like. Especially as I have never found Jen A to be partcularly funny on her own. A pleasant surprise, although not without its symbolism, awaited me. The two of them played off of each other well even if their role as a couple lacked much chemistry. All in all, film one and two, are worthy of being on the list. Since we are mentioning Sandler, who generally does quirky comedy well, Happy Gilmore (1996) and Click (2006) should probably get a mention too. Guns Akimbo (2020). I liked how unhinged this movie was for no reason, and it was nice to see Daniel Radcliffe bring a character with guns for hands to life and definitely a change from the last time he put a proper smile on my face since his villain role in Now You See Me 2 (2016, part of a film series if you've never seen it). Shaun of the Dead (2004). A zombie movie that hits all the right buttons and remains totally unforgettable throughout the passing of time much like Dead Snow from 2009. No eccentric comedy list can ever by complete without mentioning Simon Pegg. He's not just a distinctive actor in weirdly enjoyable actors but in comedy overall. Run Fatboy Run (2007) and Hot Fuzz (2007) also starring Simon Pegg should automatically get a rewatch just to bask in Pegg's light all over again for old time's sake. Defendor (2009). Woody Harrelson is no stranger to the screen, but it is something particularly funny about him playing a man who wants to be a superhero without super powers and no particular set of skills to do it. It's too bad he wasn't part of the Kick Ass film franchise. Free Guy (2021). Yet another actor that just can't be left off the list. It was a whacky movie but oh so fun. Ryan Reynolds playing an NPC irradicating his own reality? Need I say more? Actually, yes I do. Just go watch a bunch of Ryan and you'll find some joy. How nice is it that this guy is in the business? *On a side note, I really really need Ryan Reynolds and Simon Pegg to star in the same action comedy just ONE time! I could almost swear it would heal like half my life's trauma all at once. The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014). It's an injustice to call this one just another comedy. It is a true experience with all the bits that make art beautiful. Let's keep an air of mystery here. It'll probably be a keeper for you too. Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975). A low budget film but an absolutely priceless Brittish comedy that can hardly be summed up. King Arthur (loosely) on a drunk spiral to unknown depths? Haha. My old high school teacher Mr. Koric gets all the credit for introducing this one to me over a decade ago. Some movies aren't made to be forgotten.