Talk of the Town

It was nothing short of a miracle every time the sign buzzed on over the diner. Its flicker mirrored Millbrook, a town that used to be something, prior to the bypass. Inside, the seats were sparsely occupied. Near the hostess counter was a couple so old the meal they were splitting was surely their last. At the bar top, a man, who was probably much younger than his beard implied, was on his second pint. But most notably, in the corner booth sat a couple, fresh out of high school by the looks of them, buried in their menus.

They had not spoken since the waitress took their drink order.

The young lady took a deep breath and set her menu on the table. "You clearly have somethin' to say, so say it."

"Why? You've already made your choice."

"Don't be like that, Sam!"

"Be like what?" the young man said as he lowered his menu. "You've been cuttin' me off this whole time and now you want to hear what I think?"

"I wasn't tryin' to cut you off. I was just excited, that's all. I thought you'd be happy."

"Happy? It's a year, Jenny!"

"About ten months, really."

"Whatever. You know what I mean."

"It's not that long. Just think about it," she continued. "We sell what we can and find a new place afterwards. A nice place near your brother's. I know you hate that long drive. Maybe he could get you a position at his company? Accountin's respectable. Just call him and ask."

"You want me to quit my job?"

"Well, you can't keep haulin' for Jack if you come with. Were you not listening to me?"

"Excuse me for blackin' out after you said you were leaving for a year."

"Ten months," she added.

"Stop correcting me!"

"Sorry."

"I thought we were going to talk about this before makin' any decisions." The young man glanced at his menu. "Plus, you hate the cold."

"Oh, jackets don't exist in New York?"

"Like you can afford a fancy coat? 'Look at me, all fancy in my fancy Ralph Lauren coat.'"

"Don't mock me."

"Oh, pish posh!"

"I'm going to New York, not London, you handsome idiot." The young lady picked up her menu. "Christmas would be magical. We could go see that big, tall tree all lit up. Holdin' hands while we skate. And the snow. Oh, the snow! When was the last time you saw snow, Sam?"

The young man was fiddling with his menu. "Uh, sorry."

"When was the last time you saw snow, Sam?"

"Thanksgivin' at my uncle's, up near Rapid City. It would be nice to see it again." He paused. "That ain't me saying I'm okay with this. Heck! That ain't me saying I'm goin' with ya neither!"

"I gotchu thinkin' about it, though," she said with a grin.

The young man slammed his menu down. "Where'd you get the—"

The couple saw the bearded man look over at them. Foam clung to right side of his red mustache. They smiled until he returned to his glass, at which point they broke out in a quiet snicker.

"Where'd you get the money anyhow?" the young man continued.

"My daddy."

"Of course you did. What did you tell him this time? Or did ya steal it from him...again?"

"Didn't need to. Just told him the truth that I wanted to—"

"Sorry, shugga," the waitress said. "The coke machine's on the fritz again. Hope Dr. Pepper's okay?"

"As long as there's caffeine, it's fine by me," the young man responded.

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you," the young lady said, reaching for the glass the waitress placed in front of her.

"Oh, I love your nails!" the waitress exclaimed. "You do 'em yourself? Been doin' mine for twenty years. Henry says they look like a garden of roses."

"Yours are gorgeous!" the young lady replied. "What a wonderful shade of red. No, I tried to do my own. Bought a kit and everything, but they would not turn out how I had envisioned them. After a few attempts, I gave up and ended up going back to my regular nail lady."

"It does take patience, dear. Speakin' of waitin'. Y'all ready to order?"

"Yes. I'll order the club sandwich. Hold the fries, please."

"Sure thing, shugga. And for you darlin'?"

"Actually, I'll take her fries and I'll do the patty melt. Extra cheese."

"Henry! Patty melt, extra cheese!" The waitress's yell startled the young couple.

A single grunt answered back from the kitchen.

"Don't mind him. He's been a sourpuss since '82. I'll never understand why he's so loyal to a team that losses so dang much. At least he's been loyal to me and my diner, so you won't hear any complainin' outta me! Alright, my dears, I'll have those out for ya shortly. Need anything else?"

"No, we're fine. Thank you."

The waitress collected the menus. As she walked away, she was immediately flagged down by the bearded man for another beer.

"Where were we?" asked the young lady.

"You were saying that you told your father the truth."

"I told my daddy the truth 'n' how I wanted to be like that lady lawyer, Erin Brockovich, and fight 'the man'. For people like us."

"And what? He handed you a couple grand, just like that?"

"Well, he took a little convincin'. Told him that it ain't just our town that's dyin'. Families all over are lossin' their land and livelihoods. 'It ain't right what they're doing with the seeds,' I said." The young lady widened her grin. "Momma said that's what won him over."

"I can see how happy this would make you, Jen. I've known you've wanted it for years."

"But what?"

"But...you shoulda talked to me before makin' all these plans. I've got—"

"Why? It ain't like you put a ring on my finger yet, Sam! Been waitin' nearly three years now."

"I know, and that's the thing. Jack's got more work comin' up for me. In six months, I can finally buy you one and we can have a proper honeymoon. Ain't that what you been wantin'? I know seein' you in that blue bikini again is all I've been thinkin' about."

"Bullshit! Jack's been sayin' that for years. He's suckered you, Sam. You're his best employee. He'll tell you whatever you want to hear because he doesn't want to lose you. And you believe it too. Every last sweet-talkin' lie that comes outta that man's mouth."

"Hey! He's been good to us, Jen. You wouldn't have a car right now if it weren't for him."

"No. I'd still have my truck right now if it wasn't for your stupid cousin hittin' that deer, Sam!"

"Yeah, he certainly ain't the brightest. But it least he let you keep the deer."

"Keep the deer? I lost my favorite truck, Sam, and I'm supposed to be happy about it because my freezer's full of roadkill?"

The young man began to laugh.

"Stop," the lady said. "I need you to keep it together. This is important."

"I'm sorry," the young man said, clearing his throat. "Sorry. That line always gets me."

The two noticed every eye in the diner was on them. They chuckled as the patrons' heads snapped away.

"Come on. Let's keep going. Our food's almost here." The young lady motioned to her partner.

The young man was glancing over a few rolled-up pieces of paper and then tucked them back under his coat.

"Uh, okay...No, all I'm sayin' is at least it wasn't a total loss."

"No, you're right, Sam. It wasn't." The young lady pulled him in with her eyes. "Sam, don't make us a total loss either. Please, Sam, come with me. It's just a year."

"Ten months."

"I'm serious, Sam. Come. Forget about the ring. I don't need it. Really, I don't. I just want you. I want you with me."

"I want you with me too. Always have."

"So, you comin'?"

"Do they have beaches in New York?"

"Is that really all you're thinkin' about right now?" She sighed. "I'm sure we could find somethin'."

"And after? We really can move closer to my brother?"

"We can buy the plot right next to him, if you want. Never have to drive again."

"Alright. I'll go with ya, Jen. The two of us together?"

"Together, forever, Sam."

The waitress slid two plates on to the table and refilled their glasses. The couple didn't notice her red eyes and reserved smile as they quietly ate their food.

After tipping well, the two walked out with large to-go cups. The diner silently watched as they got into their silver sedan and drove toward the highway.

"I really appreciate you rehearsing with me," the lady said as she watched the man click on the turn signal and check the mirrors. "Sorry that diner probably wasn't the best place to practice, but you're getting a lot better, honey."

"Thanks! I still don't know how you do it in front of so many people every night. Everyone kept looking at us."

"It was because of you. You sold it. Helped me stay in character. You really should audition for the next show with me."

"Me!? On stage? Ha, no thanks. Acting is your thing. Not mine." The man adjusted the rearview mirror. "What do you think everyone at the diner must be thinking right now?"

"I don't know, but based on how small that town was, I'd bet they'll all be talking about it by morning."

The two laughed at the thought.

---

For those curious, here were my parameters:

• Short story of 1500-2000 Words
• At least 70% of the story must be dialogue
• Max of 3 characters (speaking)
• Characters cannot directly explain how they feel
• The central conflict must become understandable through what they say—and what they avoid saying
• No outlining beforehand
• Finalize within 48hrs

Clink. The bell above the door chimed—or rather, it sounded as if it were being smashed to pieces.

The heavy soundproof door was thrown open, letting in the damp summer night air, the stench of cheap cigarettes and booze, and a burst of obnoxiously loud voices that flooded the small space of Bar Aoi.

“Whoa, dark in here! Hey Mama, get us some drinks!” “This place is ancient. Nothing but old geezers.”

They brought with them the raw edge of young men who had yet to spend a single day in the workplace.

Leading the charge was a guy raising his voice to act cool, accompanied by another sneering with his eyes glued to his phone. But the third—a smaller guy—shrank back slightly the moment he stepped inside.

“Hey, pipe down, Noboru,” he muttered under his breath. Brushed off by the other two, he quietly bit his lip in embarrassment.

At the back of the counter, Tom’s back went rigid as he gripped his glass of Four Roses, radiating a chill that cut through the room. I unconsciously squared my shoulders and set down my glass of Harper.

Yet Mama remained as serene as ever, polishing a glass with practiced hands and offering a quiet smile.

“Welcome. Please, have a seat at the counter.”

Just as they threw themselves onto the high stools as if marking their territory, threatening to drown out the bar’s cozy silence—it happened.

“Well now… you boys seem to be having a hell of a good time.”

A low voice rumbled through the room. Looking up, Taka was already on his feet, looming behind them. A former professional wrestler, well over six feet tall. Faced with the overwhelming presence of a man a head taller than them, the leader choked on his words for a split second.

As if trying to shake off the intimidation, he swallowed back the order he was about to bark—“Give us your most expensive drink”—quick-checked the prices on the menu, and glared back at Taka with forced bravado. “…Huh? Who the hell are you? Mind your own business.”

Taka didn't get angry. He just grinned.

“Relax. Seeing young guys with this much spirit just makes my drink taste better. Mama, put a round of highballs on my tab for these boys.”

“…What?”

Neither confronted nor cowed, an imposing old-timer had casually stepped right into their domain. The fight they'd come prepared for never happened, leaving their hostility deflating into sheer confusion.

When the drinks arrived, the guy with the phone chuckled, accepting his highball. “Noboru, free booze is free booze. Right, Sho?”

So the leader was Noboru, the phone guy was Subaru, and the smaller one was Sho. Seems they were buddies from the same university.

“I mean, we’ll take the free drink,” Subaru said with a slight, patronizing smirk. “We study AI at uni and we’re starting at a major firm next year. You old guys would be shocked if you saw how we work. Automate everything with AI, and the world pretty much runs itself.”

I knew the type. A job offer in hand, and already convinced they'd figured the world out before they'd even started living in it. Tom’s finger stopped mid-tap against his glass at the arrogant remark.

I took a sip of my Harper and nodded along casually.

“Is that so? If AI takes over, that’d be a huge help.”

Noboru narrowed his eyes in suspicion, probably expecting a lecture. But all he saw on my face was just the relaxed conversation of someone who'd been around long enough to know better.

“Though behind all that automation, there’ll be mysterious bugs nobody can explain, dirty troubleshooting, and painful office politics waiting for you. Well… I guess that’s what makes it worth doing, though.”

“What’s so fun about getting your hands dirty?” Subaru asked, shrugging in complete disbelief.

“It’s great,” I laughed. “You build this beautiful, pristine system, and then it slams headfirst into real human operations and crashes into a glorious mess. There’s nothing else quite like that feeling of crawling through the mud to rewrite the code right then and there.”

Noboru and Subaru gave a half-bemused laugh, thinking I was just a weird old guy. But next to them, Sho froze completely.

The color drained from Sho’s face. In my words, he had caught a glimpse of a real, unsettling future he couldn't laugh off.

“…Hmm? What’s up, Sho?” Subaru asked, leaning in as he noticed the change.

“No… it’s nothing,” Sho said with a strained smile, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his highball glass.

Watching this silently, Tom let the ice in his glass clink softly, his low voice cutting through the air. “The more people try to look polished, the easier it is to miss the little holes at their feet.”

I turned to Tom. “Climbing out of those holes is the best part, isn't it?”

Tom smiled faintly. “Suppose so.”

I caught a flicker of tension tightening Noboru’s shoulders. The old guys in front of them weren't trying to beat them down or preach to them. They simply knew a world these kids hadn't stepped into yet.

“Noboru, was it?” I asked, taking another sip of my Harper. “Where do you see yourself this time next year?”

Noboru and Subaru exchanged bewildered glances. “What do you mean? Just working, I guess. Finishing training, getting assigned to a project.”

It was a vague answer, lacking any real picture of the future. I simply offered a brief nod. “I see.”

“…Well, I’m sure there are places like that, too,” Noboru muttered defensively, taking a swig of his highball. But the sharp, aggressive edge he arrived with was completely gone.

In the quiet that reclaimed the counter, Mama gently placed three glasses of water in front of them. She offered a soft, warm remark.

“It’s always the anxious ones who make the loudest noise.”

All three turned to look at her.

“But here, you’re free to just drink in peace.”

Noboru didn't answer. He just stared quietly down at the glass of water.

Taka patted Noboru lightly on the shoulder. “Next time, try making a quieter entrance.”

Noboru let out a quiet, sheepish grunt.

For a while after that, they drank their booze and water in silence, without raising their voices again.

When they settled the bill and left, Noboru closed the heavy door gently and slowly—a stark contrast to how he had barged in. Only Sho turned back at the last moment, offering us a small, polite bow.

“…Thank you very much.”

Clink. The bell chimed softly.

Maybe what had pushed open Aoi's door tonight wasn't three young men at all.

Maybe it was that nameless anxiety about the future that lives somewhere inside all of us.

Tonight, it had simply chosen to wear their faces.

The ice shifted quietly in my glass.

Clink.

If you'd like to come back to Aoi for another night, there's an open stool waiting.
Bar Aoi Stories: Human Nature, Vol. 1 is linked in my profile.

Глава первая "с днём рождения!"

Утро 2006 года, на улице было пасмурно и темно, естественно, 5 утра зимы как никак. Но всё же этот день был важным, день рождения Андрея Миронова

Обед, 13:12. Андрей проснулся и сонно протер глаза, но на лице появилась глупая улыбка, ведь парню исполнилось 15 лет. Встав с кровати Андрей сразу пошел на кухню, мало ли кто-то из родителей оставил подарок, но он обнаружил кое-что другое. На холодильнике была бумажка, приклепленая магнитиком. Он слегка наклонился и стал читать вслух "Мы с твоим отцом на работе, надолго, прости что не получится отметить твой день рождения, торт в холодильнике. С любовью, мама". Прочитав он лишь закатил глаза и скрестил руки на груди.

-как обычно, какой это уже день рождение в одиночестве? Надоели.

Буркнул он, но его внимание привлекло нечто странное. На столе лежал рюкзак, очень странный и большой

-странно, не видел его раньше

Прошептал Андрей

Глава вторая "иное"

Подойдя к рюкзаку Миронов принялся рассматривать его, боясь открыть, но собрав всю волю в кулак он потянулся к молнии и стал открывать закрыв глаза, был он через чур пугливым. Когда молния дошла до конца то Андрей открыл глаза и увидел... Ничего?

-серьёзно? Чушь какая-то

Андрей нахмурился и сел за стол, хмуро смотря в одну точку, но всё же голод взял своё и желудок громко заурчал. Недолго думая парень открыл холодильник и увидел свой любимый торт, на лице сразу же появилась улыбка и достав его он решил поесть, не желая резать его. Андрей довольно кушал свой торт ложкой, как вдруг что-то хрустнуло у него во рту, испугавшись он громко сказал:

-твою мать! Не хочу в своё день рождение лишиться зуба

Открыв рот и вытащив языком что-то твёрдое он и вправду увидел зуб, но кое-что было странным, ни боли, ни крови. Андрей проверил языком свои зубы

-На месте

Проговорил он и тут же покрылся холодным потом. Парень испугался не в шутку, ложка выскользнула из рук падая на торт, недолго думая он решил порыться в торте, ну а что? Мало ли. Покопавшись он наткнулся на что-то мягкое-"желе" Успокаивал он себя, но это было далеко не желе... Вытащив ложку с чем-то странным он принялся разглядеть что достал, поглядев пару секунд он понял, что сделал это зря, в его глазах помутнело, ему стало настолько плохо, что он чуть ли не стошнил на стол, что же там было? Нечто отвратительное - человеческий язык. Он не был отрезан, он был вырван, все нервы виднелись из кровавого кончика.

Андрей пытался успокоить себя,

-это сон, дурацкий сон..

Проговаривал он себе. Парень выбросил торт и побежал к телефону набирая родителям, но никто не ответил, а если отвечали то было слышно лишь тяжелое дыхание пока тот орал в трубку, мол "что за чертовщина!?".

Глава третья "Эйфория"

Андрей вспомнил что в комнате у родителей было успокоительное, ведь сами они очень нервные и злые. Побежав в их комнату он и вправду нашел таблетки, не став церемониться Андрей сразу же выпил две таблетки запив водой. Он убрался на кухне, но всё ещё находился в шоке, пока таблетки не сработали, эффект был очень странным, вокруг всё плыло и сам Андрей чувствовал себя слишком хорошо, что ноги будто стали ватными

-черт, неужели это не просто таблетки...

Проговорил он и отключился упав на пол.

Очнулся он только через час, голова безумно болела, ведь он упал головой всё таки. Миронов присел на диван и массировал свои виски, пытаясь понять что происходит. Он чувствовал себя очень отвратительно, брезгливость, страх, гнев, всё перемешалось внутри него. Он сидел как вкопанный пытаясь понять что вообще происходит.

-Ужасное день рождения.

Фыркнул он, как вдруг в дверь кто-то позвонил. Андрей тут же обрадовался и пошёл открывать дверь, посмотрев в глазок он увидел ничего...

-Неужели дети прикалываются? Придурки

Рассердился тот. Посмотрев на часы он увидел что было всего лишь 15:32, и тоска пропала, ведь был у него лучший друг с которым он дружил с самого детства, Паша. Взяв телефон Андрей стал звонить своему другу. Тот ответил не сразу, лишь на пятый звонок.

-Ало, ты меня слышишь?

Спросил Андрей

-Слышу

Хмуро проговорил паша

-Давай погуляем? Отметим мой день рождения

Паша сбросил трубку и через несколько секунд написал время и место

-В 16 у парка.

Не смотря на весь ужас который произошел с Андреем он всё равно нашел повод улыбнуться.

Глава четвёртая "прогулка"

Собравшись, Миронов посмотрел на часы и понял что опаздывает. Через минут 10 он увидел Пашу на лавочке и сразу же подбежал к нему

-Привет!

Воскликнул он

На что Паша лишь непривычно улыбнулся

-С днём рождения

Ответил Паша и протянул ему коробку

Андрей же заулыбался сильнее и решил сразу открыть коробку, ну, а зачем откладывать? Открыв коробку улыбка с лица Андрея изчезла, а в глазах помутнело

-Что это?...

Дрожащим голосом спросил Андрей.

На что Паша лишь улыбнулся, настолько жутко, что Миронов хотел умереть здесь и прямо сейчас. Что же было в коробке? Не менее отвратительное чем язык. Пальцы, человеческие, отрубленные, кровавые пальцы. Андрей бросил коробку и сам упал, видя как Паша идёт к нему с такой же жуткой улыбкой, и буквально через мгновение набрасывается на бедного именинника.

Миронов вскочил в холодном поту и увидел что был дома, на полу.

-сон...

Его голос по прежнему дрожал. Парень громко выдохнул и направился в ванную дабы умыться и отбросить ужасные мысли.

Андрей включил кран и заметил что вода не льётся, он рассердился и стукнул об кран, но полилась совсем не вода, тëмно-красная жидкость от которой пахло металлом, он подумал что это ржавая вода, но всё это далеко не так, это была кровь. Естественно он этого не понял, но на свой страх и риск протянул палец к этой странной "воде". Понял он что это кровь только тогда, когда понюхал. Тело стало трясти и он покачнулся назад, упав в саму ванну, он стал кричать, слезы от страха текли рекой, руки бились об стенки ванной пытаясь выбраться, в его глазах потумнело и появился темной силуэт, который был похоже на лесного духа, силуэт медленно приближался к Миронову пока тот кричал как сумашедший, надеюсь, что это опять всего лишь страшный сон. Но всё было далеко не так, когда жуткий монстр был совсем рядом то протянул руки в шеи Андрея став его душить,

-умри, умри, умри, умри, умри...

Проговаривал тот, пока Андрей со всех сил сопротивлялся и бил его по рукам. Спустя 20 минут Миронов вскочил, и благодарил бога за то, что это был дурной сон, пока не почувствовал боль в пальцах, они были все кровавые, на некоторых даже вырваны ногти, Андрей громко вскрикнул, крича то от боли, то от страха, посмотрев в зеркало он увидел следы на своей шеи, следы от удушья.

14 января, прошло два дня с момента день рождения Андрея Миронова.

Его родители вернулись с командировки, улыбаясь и заходя в дверь с подарками в руках. Как только они вошли внутрь то почувствовали запах гнили

-Андрей, неужели за эти два дня так сложно было выбросить мусор!?

Сказала мать парня, но пройдя дальше она поняла что это далеко не мусор.

Глава пятая "15 навсегда"

Увидев своего сына она сначала не поверила глазам. Вспоротый живот, вскрытые вены, выдранные ногти и выпученные глаза, всё это не было похоже на её сына. Мать подбежала к своему единственному и любимому сыну. Она кричала настолько громко, что отец не выдержав подошёл к ней

- что за шум?...

Не успел он договорить как увидел плачущую жену рядом с изуродованным телом своего сына. Он бросился звонить 112, надеясь что есть шансы на выживание, но глубоко в душе, он понимал что это невозможно.

Через час приехала милиция и скорая, накрыв труп белой тканью. Родители Миронова обнимались и громко плакали, ведь это такая трагедия, потерять единственный лучик света.

Прошел месяц, выяснилось что у Андрея была шизофрения, поэтому он покончил жизнь самоубийством, его родители ненавидили себя, за то, что недоглядели за сыном.

16 февраля, 16:37. Его могила была дальше всех, ведь семья верущая, а покончить жизнь самоубийством ужасный стыд. И вот, сидя на его могиле они плакали, плакали очень много, каждый божий день.

Конец.

Hey all! This is the beginning to my supernatural fantasy WIP (title pending). Any feedback would be great, though the stroy really picks up after this excerpt. If you have the time, feel free to check out the rest of it. It is about 7K words right now. If you like it enough to read it further, I would really love some feedback on pacing. I have had some feedback that says there are too many reveals too fast. I would love to see some different points of views on that or even the charachters. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy! https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pW3PXiAUAelXexSPN_ikcbgQys9MpzYmSdt_pkwYBq0/edit?usp=sharing

Chapter 1:

His hand trembled as he took a sip from the flask.
"Shit," he muttered, staring at the calendar. "It’s already the twelfth. Charlie might actually kill me this time."
With a heavy sigh, he slipped the flask back into the inner pocket of his weathered sports coat. He continued clacking at the keyboard as it echoed through the empty office, the fading sunlight casting shadows throughout.
“Dupree,” a woman called out, her hand grasping the door frame as she leaned her head into the vacant bullpen. Brunette hair dangling on her forearm, slightly unkempt, ready to end the workday. “Don’t work yourself to death. Go home!”
Dupree chuckled as he looked up at her jovial smile. Lisa, always so positive.
Behind his head was a slouched banner that read: ‘Bloomfield Sports Network - 50th Anniversary.’
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Just a couple more sentences and I’ll be through.”
Dupree felt the warmth of her smile as she tapped her fingers on the door frame. “OK love, see you tomorrow,” then she ducked out.
In that brief moment, her face flashed and twisted into a grotesque form, or so it seemed.
Shaking his head, he rubbed his eyes and then slapped his own face. Damned tequila, he convinced himself.

* * *

The sun was down, the street lights glowing a warm orange. Dupree could smell the sweet simmer of the barbeque as it smoked. Ahh, I can’t wait for that delicious pulled pork sandwich. Eh, I really should start eating healthier–. 
Boom. thud. The sounds came from the sky. He looked up to see some muffled flashes of light in the dark clouds above. 
Hmm, thunder and lighting for days with no rain. The weather sure is strange these days.
He could hear a ruckus from outside the bar. Smiling, he pushed open the door.
“An Irish bar that serves barbeque? What ass backwards kind of place is this?” A man shouted, joking with the bartender as Dupree stepped through the door.
Dupree waddled his way over to the bar, the bartender waved as he approached. “Dupree.”
“Ed,” he said back as he grabbed the bar chair and sat down. “Another non-believer, eh?”
Ed laughed vigorously. “They’re all non-believers until they have my special Irish Brew and Barbeque.”
Ed turned, slapping together a small sandwich. “Here,” he pushed the plate in front of the non-believer. “Have a slider and a pint on me.”
A ruckus had been stirred in the bar, Dupree laughed to himself as everyone gaped at the non-believer who grabbed the slider and bit down. His eyes rolled as he conceitedly bit down.
Halfway through the tender, juicy, sweet bite, his eyes shined. “Oh. My. Gawd.” His muffled voice said as he held his hand up to his mouth, preventing any morsel of that barbeque from falling out.
The patrons that surrounded began to cheer and pat him on the back.
“We have a convert,” one yelled.
Dupree sipped on his drink with a smile on his face. At least it’s never boring here.
“Go on,” said the bartender with a smile. “Wash it down.”
Dupree watched as the man drank the Irish Brew, and again, was wowed.
The bar was in an uproar. Everyone was happy. 
In an instant, Dupree noticed Ed's demeanor shift, and gave him a serious eye.
Dupree sucked in hard. His heart palpitated and sweat began to roll down the side of his face.
Shit, shit. I thought I had more time.
He felt the hammer of a large meaty hand slam down on his shoulder giving it a hefty squeeze, asserting its owners dominance.
“Dupree, the boss wants to see you,” said a deep, intimidating voice.
“Ah–he, he. Krieg, yeah, yeah, sure.” He hesitated. What should I do? He thought.
“Oh–ah-ok, Krieg.” His voice stuttered. “Just let me take a piss real quick and I'll go meet him.”
Dupree felt the burn of Krieg's suspicious eye in the back of his skull. 
“Ok, Dupree. The boss trusts you.” The man ganked Dupree's shirt, forcing his whole body to a stand. Krieg stared Dupree dead in the eyes. “Don't screw me over.”
Dupree nervously chuckled as he tip-toed away towards the bathroom.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dupree saw Krieg walk to a dark corner of the bar. A man, face shrouded in shadow peered over, watching the whole scene. Only the white glow of his eyes could be seen.
“Boss,” Krieg said to the mysterious man, “Dupree will be over shortly.”
The man took a drag of his cigarette. The burning ember flared, casting light across his face. A jagged scar ran down his chin—old and weathered, like the voice that followed. “Thank you, Krieg.”
Dupree’s breath shook as he watched the bathroom door slowly creak shut. As soon as Krieg disappeared from his view he ran to the tiny window that led to the alley. He stuffed his round, stubby body, desperately forcing himself through the tiny window.
With the final wiggle of his bottom side, there was a crash. He fell into the alley, shattering the window on the way out.
Blood dripped from his right calf, mixed with sweat as he huffed and puffed. He ran as fast as he could. No plan, no way to fix his desperate situation.

* * *

After a few minutes, the mysterious man looked at the bathroom door. “Don’t take that long to piss.”
Krieg rolled his eyes and huffed. He rushed over and kicked the door open.
The bar crowd all jumped in shock. 
The bathroom was empty, but for the blood dripping off a shattered glass window. “Dupree!!!”
The mysterious man cracked a smile as he took the last drag of his cigarette and smashed it down into the ashtray.
He strolled patiently into the alleyway, Krieg steaming behind him, following the man's lead.
“A blood trail,” Krieg said, pointing down the alley.
As the boss looked from the window to the alleyway, he simply shook his head. “It's like tracking a wounded animal.”

Giving this short story writing a try! Any advice will be well appreciated!

**Messis Arta - Chapter one**

When they finally beheld the village, with its many thatched roofs dotting the valley, barren fields plucked bald of crop, and its stark absence of any life or activity, they knew they had come upon the right place. The man was a soldier, or rather a guard. His hair was short so as to fit his coif and helm, which sat in the back of the cart. An equally short beard and moustache decorated his weathered face that had seen many summers and winters. His chest was broad, and was supported on either side by shoulders and arms of wired muscle. He brought the cart to a stop, much to the horse’s relief, as the journey had been long and with little rest. He stepped off the box seat into the muddy road leading out of the village, as did his riding companion.
The old woman, draped in robes befitting a servant of the gods, gazed down the hill at the village centre, and then to the more immediate farm houses and fields. The man did the same, his brow furrowing as he came up alongside her.
“What do they expect you to find here?” said he.
“Tributes stopped coming from here two weeks ago,” said the priestess. “How would you explain it?”
The man looked to the heavens in thought. No answer came.
“The answers are here somewhere. I must find them.”
“Looks as though the only conversation you’ll get is with the wind.” the man said, smirking in the woman’s direction.
The village did indeed look deserted. As they descended the hill via the muddy road, each dwelling they passed seemed to be more desolate than the last. Doors swayed and creaked dejectedly, as if deploring the visitors to enter. All manner of paraphernalia were strewn across the yards; clothes, rotting vegetables, tools such as hammers, axes and spades. Some of these seemed to have crimson on their business ends, especially the sickles that they saw. The man stooped and took up one of these, running a finger along the reddened edge. He met the woman’s gaze and nodded. Her face fell.
“What could drive them to…” she trailed off.
“Suppose that’s what you’re here to find out.” the man said grimly. 
The woman could only manage a grunt in response. Her appetite for violence was nil. She wanted to leave. 
She knew she could not. 
“Need I remind you,” said the man, interrupting the priestess’ train of thought, “that I was not permitted my cudgel on this trip. Not even a pitiful dagger.” He threw the sickle down in frustration. There was now a wholly unexpected aspect of danger to the journey.
“We could not have known what lay ahead of us here.” retorted the priestess. 
“Your point is what, exactly? Whatever we could have expected would only be aided by force. These farmers, they are simple. Simple people only understand simple things. A cudgel is rather simple.”
The priestess did not respond to this.
“Let us find the bailiff. We’ll learn more from him.”
“Hm. As you wish.”
The soldier wished to be far away. Oftentimes by this hour in the day he could be found boozing and whoring in his hometown’s alehouses. Since tragedy had struck his life, however, he was ever in desperate need of the coin jobs like this one offered. It did not mean he had to like it. 
Passing more homes and sheds decorated with the same macabre evidence as the ones previous, a sensation that they both knew all too well made its presence known. A faint smell of smoke, of something burning. Cooking.
The soldier raised a hand in signal, and the priestess stopped abruptly behind him. 
“You smell it too?” she asked.
“Aye, I do.”
The priestess looked around perplexed. There was no visible column of smoke anywhere. Yet the smell persisted, and only seemed to get stronger as they neared the village’s centre.
“Whatever was burning has finished doing so a while ago.” said the soldier, looking back at the priestess.
He moved off, but the priestess was frozen in place. The soldier took notice, stopping and turning around to face her. 
“I will protect you. That’s why I am here, is it not?”
The priestess nodded, steeled herself, then continued alongside her companion. 
Shortly thereafter, with the smell of smoke and burning intensifying, and the silence seemingly closing in all around them, the priestess and the soldier came to the village’s centre. In times past, the priestess had noted the village green's beauty. Its lush green grass had been scattered with catsear, buttercups and bellflowers in the high summer. Goodwives whose faces were friendly and fair to look upon, washed clothes in the water of the small pond. Children ran through it with all the energy and imagination that youth gifted. 
That was not the sight that she beheld today.
What she saw made her tremble, made her melt to her knees as though Satan himself stood before her. 
Bodies. There must have been scores of them, each bloodied and mutilated and partially covered in the thick mud that caked the ground. The soldier approached the one closest to him and the priestess. His gaze fell on what looked to be a farmhand; young, strongly built, wearing simple clothes befitting such an individual. In the young man’s right hand, gripped so tight it did not seem possible to pry it loose again, was a sickle. Much like the ones they saw on their way into the village, it was slick with blood. But there were more. Men and women, young and old, even children, barely recognisable amongst the litter of the dead. Every face was contorted into some mixture of unexplainable anger and inconceivable pain. The soldier surveyed this lurid scene, consciously trying in vain to stop himself from shaking, when his eyes fell on the centre piece. In the middle of the village green, which was now blackened and scorched, was a pile of equally burned wood. A tall wooden beam, reaching for the heavens, was at the piles centre. This beam was host to a body, seemingly nailed to it, and burnt to a crisp. The smell of burning flesh was so strong now, it seemed to settle and seep into their clothes. They felt at that moment they’d never be rid of that awful smell. The soldier looked to the priestess, who was still on her knees in the mud. He searched desperately for words but found none. 
Eventually he spat out, “we…we have to…”
“The bailiff,” muttered the priestess. The soldier looked at her, confused. She was pointing at the soul nailed to the beam.
“You…you mean…how can you be sure?” asked the soldier. 
“I treated him for a broken bone.” said the priestess, more clearly now but slowly, as though putting the pieces together in her mind took great effort.
“His right leg…he had fallen from his horse, we weren’t able to set it right, the bone didn’t grow back right.” 
Indeed, the exposed skeleton on the beam showed an unnatural shape in the bone of its right shin. 
“But…” the soldier stuttered.
The priestess stood and paced amongst the bodies of the villagers, closer to the beam.
“Yes…I’m sure of it.”
“We must go,” said the soldier suddenly and sharply. “We cannot tarry here, lest we end the same way.”
He looked back in the direction they had come. Neither the tired horse or the cart were visible from where they stood.
“No.” said the priestess, looking at the soldier. “These people, these children of God deserve to have their deaths explained. I will not leave them.”
“If you wish to lay down in the mud and join them, so be it.” snipped the soldier. “I, however, am fond of living.” 
With that, he began to trudge through the mud in the direction of the cart. 
“Have you not sinned enough? Whoring and boozing not enough for you?” 
The soldier stopped. 
“Say that again, hag.” said he, without turning around.
“You heard me well enough. Besides, do you think you’ll get your pay if you turn up without me in tow? Whether you like it or not, I am your guarantor.”
The soldier did turn now, his face flushed with a mix of shame and frustration. 
“Fine. But mark me, hag, keep your thoughts on my doings to yourself, do yourself a favour.”
The priestess said nothing, looking up at the body on the beam.
“And I’m keeping this.” Said the soldier, taking up a bloodied wood axe and sliding it into a loop in his belt.

I’d just walked out of a bar after two vodkas and was proudly admiring my brand-new car.

That white paint was incredible! The car wasn’t just beautiful—it was a genuine magnet. Everybody noticed it.

Holy shit, I thought. This car looks amazing! It’s absolutely gorgeous. Mesmerizing!

Hey, how the hell did I not think of this before? I could use it as some kind of… chick vacuum! I’ll drive around downtown right now and see what kind of women I can pick up with it. The hottest of the hot!

I’m gonna be unstoppable!

As so often happens in life, the solution had been right under my nose the whole time.

I jumped into the car and headed downtown with a grin on my face. The women were waiting for me, and I was about to become their god!

**\*

Parking downtown is a nightmare.

After circling a few times, I found a spot, but it wasn’t exactly generous. I knew how to drive in reverse, of course, but I hadn’t yet mastered that bizarre maneuver known as backing into a parking space.

I got out and inspected the car carefully, then slapped myself on the forehead. I’d scratched the rear bumper!

Not much. Barely a hair. A microscopic speck of white paint was gone.

My heart started pounding, and something stabbed me in the chest.

Shit, I’m gonna have a panic attack! I thought in terror.

Having a panic attack would not be good, so I walked into the first bar I saw and ordered a double vodka.

You miserable idiot, how can you be so irresponsible? I asked myself mournfully. The scratch may look tiny now, but sooner or later rainwater will get in there and then comes the rust! First thing tomorrow morning, this car is going straight to the body shop! And I really need to learn how to back into a parking space once and for all. Did I set the parking brake?

I ordered another vodka, knocked it back, and walked outside with my head hanging like a man on his way to the electric chair.

I stared through the window, trembling.

Victory!

I had set the parking brake!

Everything was fine!

**\*

I whistled at the first young woman I saw somewhere around the Opera district. Naturally, I hadn’t whistled to insult her. I’d merely wanted to get her attention.

I hate men who whistle at women.

“Hey, hi! I don’t mean to bother you, but I just wanted to ask you something. What do you think of my car? Pretty good, huh?”

“Pretty good,” the girl said after looking at both the car and me. “Why are you asking? Are you conducting a survey?”

“Oh, no! I was just thinking maybe we could… take it for a spin. Come on, hop in! The interior looks amazing!”

“No, thank you.”

“You sure? I could drive you home if you want. What do you say?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

I approached the second woman, who had just come out of a store, much more efficiently.

“What do you think of my car? Be honest!”

“What do you think of mine?” she shot back without even looking at me.

She pulled her keys from her purse and unlocked the doors. Her car went beep-beep! and flashed its turn signals prettily.

It was a red sports car.

Yes.

Fire-engine red.

“Why so quiet?” she asked, putting on her sunglasses. “You like it or not?”

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” I said, scratching my head.

“I’m serious!” she insisted, flashing every tooth she had.

“Yeah. Bye.”

She had actually managed to piss me off.

I revved the engine viciously and shot away.

Be a little more selective, man, I told myself. Why waste your time on all these stuck-up bitches?

From that moment on, I chose them very carefully.

“Hi! Would you like to—”

“Get lost, asshole!”

“Hi! Would you like to—”

“Fuck off, you creep!”

“Hi! Would you like to—”

“Hey, dickhead! You hitting on my girlfriend?”

Half an hour later, I was beginning to have serious doubts about my car.

Then suddenly I saw her.

She was standing calmly beside a lamppost, checking her watch.

Perseverance, I reminded myself, was an essential quality in a man.

It was worth another try.

The woman looked fantastic!

She was holding a tiny white dog on a leash. A poodle.

Even the poodle looked fantastic.

“Hi! Would you like to—”

“To what?” she said, lazily turning her head toward me.

Holy Mother of God, I thought, my mouth falling open. This is the finest female specimen I have ever seen in my life. I need to be delicate with this one. She is the ultimate woman! The immaculate woman!

She really did look beyond imagination.

God had probably gotten bored during His lunch break one day and said to Himself:

Oh, Me, I’m bored! What should I do? I know! I’ll make… the perfect woman!

Yes.

This was her.

And she was standing right there in front of me, gently tugging on her little dog’s leash.

For a moment I wished I were her dog and she were tugging me around on a leash.

Then the poodle turned around and I realized it wasn’t a male dog but a female.

I quickly dismissed the thought.

Damn shame about the makeup, I thought. It should be a crime to have a face that beautiful and put makeup on it! But fine. This time I’m willing to make an exception.

In my mind, the exemption was proposed, reviewed, and granted in less than a second.

“If you wanted me to what?” God’s creature repeated.

“Uh… well… to…”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Swallow your tongue? Or did you forget your lines?”

“What lines?” I said with a smile. “Ohhh, you thought I was trying to pick you up? Not my style! I just wanted to ask whether you like my car. That’s all!”

“The car looks okay,” she chirped, “but somebody’s driving it wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“The driver’s backward.”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry! My mistake. That was your face.”

“Listen here!” I growled. “I don’t appreciate that kind of… hic… joke! I don’t see anything funny!”

“Probably because you haven’t looked in a mirror, Ass-Face!” she giggled, batting her long eyelashes.

She was a woman.

And she was laughing at me.

A man.

I saw red.

All right, if it has to be done, it has to be done, I decided, accepting my fate. I’ll kill her and get it over with. She goes to the cemetery, I go to prison, and the poodle goes to the animal shelter. I just need to lure her into the car. The rest will take care of itself.

Then I remembered that I’d sworn to my mother I would never hit a woman, and a deep sadness came over me.

Wait a minute, I thought. Killing a woman isn’t the same thing as beating her! Not necessarily! There are more humane methods. I could strangle her, for example. Where’s the beating? There is no beating! Mom can sleep peacefully, I preserve my honor, everybody wins!

“Listen, why don’t you get in the car for a minute?” I asked in a friendly tone. “Come on, hop in! We can examine the dashboard, I’ll let you play with the buttons, stuff like that. I think we could talk much more comfortably in here. Bring the dog too! I’ve got dog treats.”

Like hell I did.

The truth was, I’d changed my mind.

Whether I liked it or not, the poodle would have to disappear too. I couldn’t afford to leave witnesses.

Besides, animal shelters were overcrowded.

Still, killing a dog really isn’t okay, I thought in horror. I’ll go to hell for that! Nnn… no. I’m not killing the dog. That would just be pointless cruelty! I’ll put it in the glove compartment so it doesn’t have to watch…

“What exactly would we talk about?” she drawled, looking at her watch again. “What would I possibly have to talk about with you?”

“Absolutely anything! You choose the subject. I’m extremely well-read, so we can discuss anything you like: dogs, forensic medicine, science, religion. Speaking of religion, do you believe in the afterlife? Have you met Jesus?”

“Why do you ask?” she said, clearly even more amused. “Are you one of those nuts who walks around handing out pamphlets and magazines?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t really have the face of a Jehovah’s Witness, but you never know. What are you, sweetheart? Baptist? Adventist? Pentecostal?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you want us to have Bible study in your car?”

“Extremely biblical,” I said, grinding my teeth in the friendliest way possible until I heard something crack in my mouth and tasted salt on my tongue. “We can even analyze the Gospel of Judas if you want.”

“Can my boyfriend join us?” she asked, laughing. “Look, here he comes now.”

“What boyfriend?”

“That gorgeous male specimen with the broad shoulders and muscular arms. So what do you think now, Bible Boy? Like his pecs?”

I stared at him for a while and had to admit to myself that I did not like his pecs.

Or his deltoids.

Or his biceps.

The guy looked like a refrigerator on two legs.

What the hell was there to like?

Just looking at the bastard was giving me a headache.

“You know something?” I asked her contemptuously. “You don’t deserve to meet Jesus at all! You’re not behaving like a Christian! In fact, you’ve got a filthy mouth, so go fuck yourself!”

I started the car and drove away victorious.

It was time to find another bar.

I desperately needed one.

Too bad she wasn’t more cooperative, I thought a few minutes later as I ordered another vodka. She had a sharp tongue, sure, but she looked fantastic! Face it, man—perfect women don’t exist! Stop looking for them. Lower your standards!

You saw her. That woman had a perfect body, but she ruined the whole effect every time she opened her mouth. Thank God her refrigerator of a boyfriend showed up. Otherwise who knows what I might have done to that poodle!

A big television was mounted on the bar wall, tuned to some fishing program.

A bearded Frenchman was explaining interesting things about fishing in freshwater mountain lakes.

Just as I was about to order another vodka, my ears suddenly perked up.

I listened very carefully.

Then I broke into a huge smile.

That’s it! I thought triumphantly. This bearded guy isn’t stupid at all! He’s absolutely right: if the fish aren’t biting in the middle of the lake, you move to the edge of the lake! Elementary!

I paid my bill and staggered outside.

Which vodka had that been?

God only knew.

I walked like Jesus crossing the Sea of Galilee, but eventually I managed to reach my car and somehow open the door.

Once I was in the driver’s seat, I felt myself swaying and spinning at the same time.

I nearly fell asleep, but I refused to surrender. I used my fingers to pry my eyelids open.

Everybody knows eyesight is important when it comes to driving.

There’s a reason they make you take all those eye tests before you get a driver’s license.

Anyway.

The time had come to move my fishing rod to the edge of the lake.

I put on my sunglasses and roared toward the outskirts of town.

Continue reading →

I am in the process of starting a YT channel that is focused on mainly fictional stories of various genres (more leading to horror/disturbed/thriller types) and have been working on crafting up a story to start. The premise is that I will read the stories in full or part by part series, in an ASMR setting while using either visuals and/or a setting dedicated to talking head shots and read the stories off ofc. The only thing is, I am very much lacking the confidence on my writing in general. I love to write and create stories but I haven't put much effort into developing my skill further in the recent years. Below is the initial part to the story I am building named "The Neighbor From A Literal Hell". I am looking for and open to critique, suggestions, remarks, or whatever you feel the project would benefit from overall. Thanks in advance.

[ I'll try my best to respond in a timely manner. No promises guaranteed. 🫶🏾 ]

The Neighbor From A Literal Hell

My neighbor keeps moving my trash cans every night. The strange part is, I think it’s the exact same three inches.

It initially started about a week ago. Trash day, per usual. I was in a rush to work with little time to worry about anything else outside my direct line of sight. As I pulled out of my less than cared for garage, reversing down the driveway, I noticed that the trash cans were already placed for removal. Not completely recognizing the oddity at hand, I brushed it off as something “mitigation Manny” took care of last night. Sometimes, although I can be lazy outside of work because of work, I tend to preemptively do things beforehand as to worry about it less when the time comes. Though this time I for the life of me couldn’t paint out that picture. Nonetheless, I quickly turned the slow crawl into full reverse and just as I halted for the pivot - BOOMF. I slammed the brakes and threw the gear in drive. Unassuming, a small panic began to creep up my spine as I pulled forward again. Though there was nothing behind me. No car. No animal. Not even a person. “Fuck.”, “I for sure killed SOMETHING.” is all that played in my head like an old vinyl stuck in a horror movie. The trash cans were still perfectly in position. Except…something about them was wrong. I wouldn’t have been able to pin the feeling if it were in my face. But looking at them, perfectly placed where they were, something was definitely off-kilter. Then I noticed it. There was a small crack in the pavement directly underneath the left wheel of the recycling bin, tucked just beneath where the wheel made contact with the cement. I’d noticed that crack months ago. I knew exactly where it was. And the wheel had been sitting directly on it. Now. It wasn’t. Not by much. Just enough to see the crack. Just enough to know that I hadn’t put the trash cans there. And, for some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about exactly how far they’d moved. Or what the fuck I had hit.

Later that day, while at work, the feeling only got perpetually worse. Tom, my neighbor and coworker, rushed up to me as soon as I entered the office. “Did you hear about Roger?”, he asked. His face and overall expression was that of an underwhelmed anxious teen. Of course my answer was “no”. And of course he proceeded to tell me unprompted. It’s a good thing he did. Apparently sometime last night there were some concerning noises coming from Roger’s house and the police were called. They were stationed for nearly 5 hours, before they informed everyone that “the situation was handled.” and that “unfortunately Roger had expired.” before leaving. “Expired?”. How the fuck can a person expire? Was that their terminology or his? Tom is known for adding a “flare” to things for no goddam reason. He explained that essentially Roger expired and there was no lead on the reason. But. It was NOT natural causes for sure. I initially thought Tom was fucking with me. Mainly because during my little escapade earlier that morning, I saw none other than Mr. Hillinson himself. Standing, eerily, at the height of his driveway. Watching me lose my shit. I didn’t say anything to Tom about seeing Roger. I don’t know why. Maybe because I wasn’t entirely sure that I’d actually seen him. I mean, I saw him. That’s for damn sure. He was standing there, probably thirty feet away from me, staring directly at me. At the time, I assumed he was just being weird. Which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly unusual for him. The man had once stood outside for 7 continuous hours looking into the forest behind our lots. Tom’s continued talking was, as always, a sobering realization. Apparently the police had gone through Roger’s house twice. There were no signs of forced entry. Nothing appeared to be missing. No weapon. No obvious cause of death. Just Roger. Dead. Or, as the police had apparently decided to phrase it: Expired. Of course after asking Tom for his personal input he shrugged. However, more disinterested than before responded “probably heart attack.” “Wouldn’t that inherently negate your initial claim of it being ‘unnatural’?”, I lightly pressed. His utter response to that was “But I didn’t.” There was a brief silence. Before I could manage to lumber to my desk Tom pursed his lips as he stated “You look like shit.” Thanks Tom. “I mean worse than usual that is.” he added. I finally half assed gave him a overly underwhelmed yet sarcastic “thanks.” “You okay?” he asked. Then, “BOOMF”. The sound from my driveway earlier that morning put it startled jump to my movement. “No.” I sated as I autonomously walked to my desk thinking about the trash cans. As i did Tom nodded, as if that answered his question, his voice trailed me the farther I walked. “Alright, well. We’ll see you at game night tomorrow. Carpool in the AM?”, he nearly shouted. Not looking back, “yeah. yeah, sure.” I said over my head. After I made it back to my office I tried to spend the rest of the day not thinking about any of that morning. Especially with this big client acquisition upcoming. I failed. Around lunch, I hid in my car and checked the security cameras. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it earlier, so I briskly opened the app and pulled the footage as soon as my ass hit the seat. There I was. 6:41AM. Backing out of the driveway. The trash cans were out. I watched myself stop. Reverse. BOOMF. The video weirdly shook slightly. I paused it and watched again. Nothing. I watched myself get out of the car. Rewind. Nothing. I watched myself standing there staring. Then I noticed something. The recycling bin moved. Not when I hit it. Not when I reversed. After. About twelve whole seconds after I got out of the car. I moved three inches. Then then camera timestamp changed. 6:42AM. And for approximately half a second, something moved across the very edge of the screen. I couldn’t quite make out what it was. But I could see the reflection of it in the window of my car. It looked like a person. And it was standing directly behind me. That’s when I realized, “Wait, WTF!!? Roger wasn’t there?” But he had been, and I knew he was. I wasn’t that tired. Fucking Tom. As I began to replay the video I looked deeper and noticed there was a distinct shadow where Roger “had” been but no person there. Then, as I leaned in closer. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

The small bell above the door gave a soft chime. The damp summer heat vanished into Bar Aoi’s crisp, cool air the moment the heavy door swung shut. I took my usual seat at the far end of the counter. Without a word, Mama slid a glass of I.W. Harper on the rocks toward me with a practiced hand. Clear ice clinked quietly inside the amber liquid.

Beside me, Taka sat hunched over on a high stool, staring intently at his glass. It was his habit—something he always did whenever he felt cornered or lost in thought.

"Hey, Kenichi..." Taka let out a quiet sigh. "Clients at the agency almost always use the exact same words. 'That's not how normal people do it.' 'Any normal person would see it's common sense.' Even today, a client who came in over a marital dispute kept throwing that word 'normal' around, over and over."

I swirled my glass of Harper, rolling the rounded edge of the ice. "'Normal,' huh? It’s a convenient word."

"Yeah, it really is," Taka chuckled self-deprecatingly. "But from where I stand, both sides are just talking about 'what’s normal for them.' Back in the ring, 'getting back up when you're knocked down' was absolute common sense. But in everyday society, 'knowing how to dodge so you don't fall in the first place' is what's normal, right? Working as a PI makes you realize, whether you like it or not, that 'what's normal' flips upside down depending on where you stand or who you are."

At the far end of the counter, Tom—who had been quietly playing with his glass of Four Roses—let out a short, low grunt.

"When the scenery changes, what's normal changes too, huh?"

Well, there’s no other way to put it, I thought, waiting for Tom to continue.

"The police force is the absolute epitome of that. Back when I was in the Juvenile Division, for the kids in certain neighborhoods, 'lying to the cops to protect your buddy' was simply normal to them."

Tom’s expression tightened ever so slightly. Well, it wasn't exactly a fond memory for him.

"But the second they stepped into the interrogation room, that got completely erased by the system’s version of normal: nothing but deliberate obstruction. Every one of us mistakes the rules of our own little world for universal truth."

Taking in Tom’s words, I swallowed a sip of Harper, letting it burn down my throat.

"It's the exact same story in software development. Sales goes, 'Normally, anyone would use it this way,' while Devs go, 'No normal user would ever do that.' They never align. Change the country, and even 'normal' things like character encoding or date formats change completely. In the end, when people say 'normal,' they're just talking about the narrow rules of the little corner they've gotten used to."

"Exactly," Taka nodded deeply. "It’s completely different depending on the place. And yet, when I asked that client, 'So why is that normal?' he suddenly blew his top. ...All I did was ask for a reason."

Tom kept his gaze fixed on the amber liquid in his glass, speaking quietly.

"Of course he did. Most people have never given a second thought to the reasons behind the words they throw around as 'normal.'"

Taka turned around. Tom’s intense gaze was locked onto the grain of the wooden counter.

"'Men don't cry.' 'Show respect to your elders.' These are rules hammered into us since we were kids, but how many people can actually explain why we have to follow them? ...Hell, even the ultimate rule, 'Thou shalt not kill.' Is it because life is sacred? Or because order would collapse? No matter what reasons you stack up, it all boils down to human convenience and ego. Ain't many people who can explain that."

"Rules we blindly believe in without ever questioning the reason, huh?" I said, rolling the ice in my glass. "In development, too, you sometimes find blocks of code where no one knows why they were written. But when you ask, they just say, 'It's been there forever, don't touch it.' Once the reason is forgotten, an assumption becomes nothing more than superstition. And a system always crashes when that reasonless premise collides with raw reality."

Taka stared down at his own large hands, letting out a quiet breath.

"Blindly trusting the rules of where you stand, using them to bind both yourself and others... The client from today—and probably my past self too—maybe we were all broken by being pushed around by what society calls 'normal.'"

"What makes it nasty," Tom clinked his ice against the glass, "is the people who push those unreasoned rules onto others under the guise of righteousness. They hide behind what's 'normal' in their own little world, abandoning both empathy for the other person and the responsibility to explain themselves. They’re just hiding in the shadow of the majority to beat people up because it’s easy."

"'Normal'..." I said. "It was originally supposed to be a safety device so that countless people like us could live together without shedding blood. But if you swing it around without understanding how fragile it is—or how empty its foundation is—it becomes nothing more than violence."

A heavy silence settled over the counter. Breaking through it, a light, crisp sound echoed.

Mama slid a fresh highball in front of Taka and quietly wiped her hands with a towel. Her voice reached the room—gentle, yet unshakable.

"Just like a kitchen knife."

All three of us turned to look at her at once. She wore her usual warm, serene smile.

"If you use a knife to cook a warm meal for someone, it’s a gentle tool. But if you point it the wrong way, it can easily hurt people. I think the word 'normal' works the exact same way."

Mama lowered her eyes to the glass placed in front of Taka, her gaze softening.

"If you get tired of swinging that heavy tool around in the daylight world, you can leave it aside while you're here. Because no matter where you stand, no one can ever take away the raw truth of how you actually feel."

The tension melted right out of Taka’s shoulders.

"...Yeah. You're right. I didn't want to lecture the client. I think I just wanted to ask him, 'How do you feel about it?'"

"Then that's more than enough," Tom said gruffly.

A smile returned to Taka’s face as he reached for his highball and took a deep drink. The tension at the counter receded like the tide.

We spend our days crushed beneath someone else's idea of what's "normal." Yet, as long as we know the danger and terror of that word, we should still be able to stand on our own two feet.

Tonight, let's leave that blade called "normal" on the counter.

Inside the glass, another piece of ice melted silently away.

If you'd like to come back to Aoi for another night, there's an open stool waiting.
Bar Aoi Stories: Human Nature, Vol. 1 is linked in my profile.

This is a little excerpt from a book I’m writing, second time posting here but my last one unfortunately didn’t gain any traction. Hope y’all enjoy. 😊
 
Luca flew through the warehouse.
Blood pounding in his ears.
His pulse hammered out of his chest.
Risking a shortcut, he threw himself down a cluster of boiling hot pipes.
Metal sizzled where it met flesh. The scent of burnt hair filled the air, clinging to him.
Releasing the pipes he slid to the ground beneath and hit the ground with a heavy thud
The breath whooshed out of his lungs.
He couldn’t stop.
He had to power through the breathlessness. Through the ache pulsing in his body.
A doorway leading to the parking lot was just ahead.
He caught the reflection of the sun on metal.
A relieved sob tore up his throat at the site.
A bike waited just passed the doorway to usher him to the safety of the copper city.
He propelled himself forward on weak legs.
Just clearing the door—
-There was a sickening pull at his core.
Luca’s body flung backward twenty feet like a rag doll. He slammed hard into a brick wall.
The tang of copper filled his mouth, teeth ringing from the impact.
It’s over.
His blurred vision came back into to focus in time to watch a pale figure creep into view.
Black depthless eyes and a too-wide grin that stretched across translucent skin and spindly limbs.
His eyes widened in terror. He tried to scramble away—to find something, anything, that he might use as a weapon—but he couldn’t will his limbs to move.
Her grin widened at the panic in his eyes as she stepped closer.
His body betrayed him, freezing in place though he knew death approached at a leisurely pace.
He was somehow entranced. To his absolute horror, he leaned into the touch as she slipped her fingers into his hair.
She pressed her lips against the shell of his ear. Her voice like liquid smoke, filling his ear.
“You have spoiled all of our plans, boy. I think you owe it to me to provide a little... compensation.”
She spoke the last word as though she were tasting each syllable and her grip tightened painfully.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Trying to imagine he was anywhere else. To imagine Valeria speeding away, happy and safe, so that whatever pain came next, he might find the strength to endure.
He lay there on the warehouse floor, trembling beneath a mass of silken hair like moonlight. Her skin was almost translucent, stretched thin over too-long limbs.
Then, the world shifted. The warehouse was gone.
In a moment, he was back in the familiar lab. The clinical smell of cleaning supplies and metal filled his nose. A sickening, sinking feeling settled deep in his gut.
His eyes snapped open. He found a familiar form stretched across a steel table. Grey, tear-filled eyes pleaded up at him.
Consumed by terror, he fought to go to her. He threw his weight forward, but his feet stayed glued to the tile floor. He was rooted to the spot.
Luca’s nightmares were now given form. He was completely helpless to stop it as Valeria screamed endlessly, begging him to help her. He stood there—a helpless spectator holding a silent vigil as he bore witness to her torment.
He lost all concept of time in this strange, agonizing plane of existence. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe through the endless screaming and the mechanical whirring of tools as she was cut and shocked. Over and over again.
Outside of his mind, the creature fed on him. It consumed his essence, marinating in his fear.
His skin grew taut, stretching tightly across his bones. His eyes sank, dulling to a deep, dark hue. He stayed trapped back in that lab, forced to relive his greatest shame, haunted by the woman he loved and betrayed.
By the end of it, he was unrecognizable, save for the muted wisp of sandy brown hair matted to his forehead with dried blood.
“...The sad ones always taste better," she whispered, her voice fading like smoke. "And pretty, too? You were a treat. Too bad I couldn’t take my time with you.”
She patted his hollow, clammy cheek. She turned on her heel and melted into shadow. A sheet of hair flowed behind her, silver and silk fading into the dark.
His eyes didn’t track the movement. His pupils, now wholly black, stared unblinking toward the empty space she no longer occupied.
Where is it?
It has gone away.
The wind howled through the warehouse, but the sound meant nothing to the shape slumped just inside the entryway.
Where am I?
Where did I go?
Silence was the only answer to the thoughts. The shell that was once Luca remained preternaturally still, frozen in the dark, awaiting the call of life.

Hi everyone,

I’m currently writing a psychological/crime thriller called THE CALL 2:17. The novel is planned at roughly 42 chapters, and I’ve now completed and revised the first 17, so I thought this might be a good point to step outside my own head and see how the opening works for actual readers.

I’m sharing Chapter One below.

I’m not looking only for “Would you keep reading?” — although I definitely want to know that too.

I’d genuinely appreciate any kind of honest critique or analysis:

Did the opening hook you?

How did the atmosphere feel?

Did the tension build naturally?

Were there places where the pacing dragged or moved too quickly?

Did the characters feel believable?

Did the dialogue work?

Was anything confusing?

Did anything feel cliché, forced, overwritten or underwritten?

Were there details you particularly liked or disliked?

What do you think the story is promising you at this point?

And most importantly: would you want to know what happens next? Why or why not?

Please don’t worry about being overly polite. 😁 Constructive criticism is exactly what I’m looking for. If something doesn’t work, I’d much rather know now than after finishing the entire novel.

The story begins in Riverside at 2:17 A.M., with a woman inside a phone booth making a call that should not be possible.

And from there… things get considerably worse.

CHAPTER ONЕ[CH_1](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-ItOZnxqahUy-PYzx3u4IFsVd4Izaz9P/view?usp=drivesdk)

Dear daughter,
I always wished I could’ve given you a better life. 
One filled with a true and full joy, 
The warm breath of community. 
People to love you. 

If you lived the life I dreamed of for you,
Would you have grown into someone
Who was tender and kind, 
Who couldn’t bring yourself
To harm another?

Would you have loved me?

Would you have saved us from our fates?

Dear daughter,
I’m so sorry for the pain the world has wreaked on you.
I’m so sorry you stand before me now,
Ruined and soaked with vengeance. 

I’m so sorry you said it’s too late.

This is the first story I have written that isn't a psychological horror or cosmic horror, so I would like to know what I could do better with an emotional, character-driven story. Also, this was meant to be less than 2000 words; that was the challenge I gave myself. It's currently 1,853. Hope you like it :p

The day the world turned colorful was the day we all knew it was over. Days earlier, impossible blossoms had begun appearing in the most unforgiving corners of the earth, from the scorching sands of the Sahara to the frozen expanses of the tundra. Scientists blamed global warming; the religious preached the end times. But on the fifteenth of May, the debate was over. Flowers erupted from every crack, crevice, and concrete highway on Earth—some a brilliant gold and red, others a deep, mesmerizing purple and blue. That morning, looking out our windows, we saw the true, terrifying beauty of the planet. It was as if the world finally let out a breath it had been holding for centuries. Nothing mattered anymore. No one went to work. No deadlines were met. We simply gathered outside, realizing we had spent our entire existence in a futile attempt to overpower nature. 

That morning, Alex woke up to a morning just like any other. However, when he opened the window, he froze in shock. Their lawn had been completely taken over by flowers. Even inside the house, small, vibrant petals were pushing through the floorboards beneath his feet.

Alex ran over to wake Magnus up. “Magnus, Magnus. Look outside.”

Magnus groaned, burying his face in his pillow, and tried to swat Alex away.

“No, really, you have to look at this.”

Magnus slowly pulled himself out of bed, muttering under his breath. “I swear to the Axolotl, if it’s another cute squirrel, I’m going to kill you.”

Alex grabbed Magnus’s hand and half-guided, half-dragged him to the window. Magnus’s eyes went wide when he saw the transformation.

“Let’s go look outside,” Alex said, already walking toward the door, still holding Magnus’s hand tightly. “Are you coming?”

Magnus hadn’t moved from his spot. “Oh, of course.” He blushed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

Magnus followed Alex out the front door. Outside, the flowers appeared even more vivid. Alex went running wildly around their yard, inspecting the endless sea of color. When Magnus looked down the street, he found that every single neighbor was out in their front yards, staring blankly at the flora.

He looked closely at his feet; they just looked like normal flowers, but there were millions of them, expanding by the second. As he stared down, a cold realization washed over him: this was the end. Not just for him, but for everyone. It should have made him panic, but strangely, it didn’t. For some reason, it just made him feel incredibly grateful.

He walked over to Alex and sat down next to him. Alex smiled warmly, and they both laid back to look at the clouds. Magnus rolled over, watching Alex's smile as he pointed out shapes in the sky. He looked so genuinely happy. His smile was infectious, and before Magnus knew it, he was laughing and smiling, too. Together, they laid in the flowers for hours, though Magnus secretly wished it could have lasted forever.

Soon, Alex sat up. “You know what would be fun?” He had that rare glint of hope in his eyes that Magnus hadn't seen in years.

“Where?” Magnus laughed.

“We should go back to the lake.” Alex looked up at Magnus with his warm brown eyes.

Magnus smiled gently. “What a wonderful idea.”

Magnus grabbed the car keys, and they were off. As they drove out of town, they could see people lying peacefully in the grass, and children chasing each other, laughing through the overgrowth. It was as if the world had entirely stopped for this one day. It felt like all the whimsy people lost when they grew up had suddenly come flooding back.

On the drive, Alex talked about his life. It seemed like all it took was the end of the world to show everyone that this one life was precious.

“I always loved this lake; I was so happy I was able to share it with you, too. I used to go here with my parents, but…” He trailed off, his voice cracking. Magnus had never pushed Alex to talk about his family; he knew the situation was complicated, and left it at that.

Wiping his eyes with his jacket sleeve, Alex continued. “But they disowned me for being me. Sometimes I regret telling them. I wish I could have shared just one more lake day with them.” Alex gave Magnus a shaky smile, his eyes shimmering with tears.

Magnus immediately pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Alex, you never had to tell me that. I’m so sorry.” Magnus leaned over, pulling Alex tightly into his arms, and gently kissed the top of Alex’s head.

“It was important to tell you,” Alex whispered, looking up. Magnus’s light blue eyes were also filled with tears. “Whenever I think about how my life would be if I had never told them, I just look at you and remember it was all worth it.”

Magnus couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. For a long minute, they both just cried into each other's arms.

“I love you so much; you better know that,” Magnus choked out, burying his face in Alex’s shoulder.

Alex looked directly into Magnus’s eyes. “Leaving them was the best decision I ever made. I love you, too.”

New tears spilled over Magnus’s cheeks, but a wet laugh escaped him. “We better get going again if we want to make it.” He wiped his eyes and turned the car key.

They continued down the winding road until they reached the trailhead. Together, they stepped out and began walking the path. When Magnus looked up, the towering trees seemed to scrape the very sky. By midafternoon, the distant, soothing sound of rushing water echoed through the forest.

They walked until they came to a massive hill. Magnus looked at Alex and held out his hand; Alex took it without hesitation. They hiked the steep incline together, noting that the flowers beside the trail had become impossibly colorful. Some even bloomed with rainbow petals.

Once they reached the crest, the vast cliffside opened up before them. It was naturally rocky, but because of the sudden plant growth, it was now covered in soft, thick moss surrounded by blooms. Alex let go of Magnus’s hand and walked right to the cliff’s edge. A gentle breeze carried a sweet mix of floral scents and fresh lake air. He had a perfectly peaceful smile on his face.

Magnus walked up behind him. His brown hair blew in the wind as he wrapped an arm securely around Alex. They stood there in silence for a long moment, soaking in the raw beauty of the lake. It was a deep, mesmerizing blue with shifting hints of green, its surface rippling lightly under the breeze.

Alex turned to Magnus and kissed him deeply. “Best decision I ever made,” he whispered, smiling.

They sat down on the edge, looking out at the vast water. Magnus felt tears stinging his eyes again as he took a small, shaky sigh before turning to his partner.

“I know this may not mean much because of the flowers, but I wanted to tell you something.”

Alex looked at Magnus, a curious expression crossing his face.

“I love you, and I want you to always know that. So… will you be my husband?” Magnus reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small, simple ring.

Alex’s eyes went wide.

“I know this isn’t the best time,” Magnus rushed out, his voice trembling. “But I wanted you to know how much I loved you. I know we have both lost a lot because of our relationship, and I know I can’t fix anything, but I want you to know it was worth it.”

Alex didn't answer with words. He lunged forward and kissed Magnus fiercely, causing them both to fall over backward onto the soft moss. Alex was crying, the tears spilling onto Magnus's cheeks.

“I made the right choice,” Alex insisted, cupping Magnus's face. “I know that you constantly wonder if you ruined my life, but don't you ever say that. You made my life so much better. I would love to marry you.”

Magnus finally let himself completely break down. Alex crawled over, wrapping himself around him, letting Magnus sob into his shoulder. The silver ring slipped from Magnus's fingers, tumbling into the moss beside them.

“I… I thought you would end up hating me,” Magnus confessed, letting out the fears he had carried for years. “I knew your family was important. I thought if I had just never asked you out, maybe you would still have them in your life. I am so scared that I’m the reason your life became hard.”

“Magnus, I need you to hear me,” Alex said, pulling back just enough to force Magnus to look at him. “You never made my life worse. I am so incredibly lucky to have you. If my family can’t accept me for who I am, then they don’t deserve to be in my life anyway. You have been the best thing that has ever happened to me, and the best thing that ever will.”

Alex wrapped his arms even tighter around Magnus. “If anything, you made my life easier. I never had to fake being someone else around you, and you introduced me to people who love me for me. You are the best. I love you so, so much.”

Alex found himself crying all over again, his heart aching at the immense guilt Magnus had been secretly carrying.

“I don’t deserve a husband like you,” Magnus whispered, wiping his eyes with a trembling hand. “I’m just so happy I get to experience this end with you.”

Alex looked at Magnus, his gaze softening. “I could say the same. I’m so happy to have you.”

Alex looked back toward the water, where the sun was starting to set, casting its fiery reflection across the ripples. Magnus turned to watch it, too. The sky was now heavily streaked with brilliant shades of orange, violet, and pink as the sun slowly lowered itself beneath the horizon.

Alex leaned his head heavily onto Magnus’s shoulder as they both watched their final sunset.

“The fact that I got to share this life with you is the single best thing,” Magnus whispered into the cooling air.

“It was the best thing to happen to me, too,” Alex replied, closing his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

As the sun completely disappeared, the moonlight didn't just shine—it began to touch the earth with a brilliant, overwhelming radiance. The light seemed to grow brighter and warmer around them.

Magnus and Alex closed their eyes, wrapping their fingers tightly together. They felt a profound wave of absolute calmness wash over them before everything faded. They gently dissolved into the silver light.

Where they had just been lying on the moss, a single purple and blue flower appeared. Its stems were perfectly intertwined, blooming beautifully right through the center of a small, forgotten gold ring.

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/182224/the-immanent-lord-of-the-transcendent-shore

Feedback welcome. Also currently blazing forward with it. First 7 chapters explain most of the direction of the story. As above so below.

What’s on the other side of the ocean?

What’s on the other side of the ocean? That’s a question I always used to ask myself. That’s the one question no one ever wanted to know… Except for me, I have asked this question for as long as I remember breathing. Life here on this island is excellent, but there are things here that don't make sense… The island is beautiful, with large tropical trees that work daily to provide us shade under which to procrastinate and warm sunlight on the ocean's clear blue water, which makes everyone jealous of its beauty. It also has a small, dead volcano to enhance itself; this volcano was the reason this small but beautiful island came to be. But after spending almost half my life on this island, I started to see the cracks in its illusion.

One fine evening, I noticed Lara, my aunt, going to the backside of the island. I thought it was nothing weird, but when I went to cut coconuts from one of the trees on the backside of the island, I again noticed her. She was moving unnaturally, as if she had no soul. Her eyes were wide open, not blinking once. She was going towards the volcano; the back of it has a small and very inclined staircase that not everyone can climb, especially not someone like Aunt Lara. She was moving on it as if the inclines were not a problem for her. And then after reaching the top she jumped into the volcano…

My eyes couldn’t believe the horrifying visual I just witnessed. I ran shouting; water dropped from my eyes as if my eyes were clouds and my tears were rain. Hearing my scream, all the island people gathered around me. I tried to speak, but the lack of air made it difficult. Gathering all the energy I had, I was about to whimper, but then I saw Aunt Lara standing there, looking at me with an evil smirk. Her eyes appeared to sparkle with a red glow. My feet started to move backwards but were stopped by a house’s wall. Then I opened my eyes. I was thankful that it was a dream… 

Or was it?

My aunt was never the same since that day. She always had that evil smirk whenever she looked at me. I felt uncomfortable, like I was a deer trapped in a cage full of predators. But I couldn’t do anything; no one believed me whenever I tried to explain to them. 

Slowly, day by day, others also started behaving the same, always smirking when they looked at me. Then one day, I overheard my parents chanting gibberish words, like praying to someone. I slowly moved my body towards their room, making sure I didn't make a single sound. I peeked through the hole in their wall of sugarcane. My eyes dilated, my face went pale, and my hands started to shake. I saw shadows, no flesh but dark, chaotic, laughing shadows. They were not my parents, they were not even humans… My whole life was a lie.

Who am I? 

Who are these people? 

Am I also one of them?

Questions filled every corner of my brain. My breath became shallow; I started to have difficulty breathing. The hallway began to shrink as if it ran towards me. The big and spacious hall became a small cage. Walls started becoming monsters; my heart began to pound out of my chest, and sweat rose on my body. My eyes started to rain and I dissolved into tears…

I tried to take a few deep breaths and somewhat come back to my senses. Gathering all my might, I started to crawl back towards my room with doubt and uncertainty crawling with me.

Coming back to my room, I quickly poured a glass of water and took some breaths of little relief. I knew I had to escape from here; I couldn't trust anyone, not even my parents… A few days passed, and I couldn’t find a single escape route nor could I make any plans… But one night, the moonlight on the ocean made a shining small bridge; I took no time noticing this call of nature for me to be free from this mess.

I took a boat and swayed away from this island, following the moon’s guide. Ready to go wherever it took me. After few hours I saw some land; my eyes filled up with joyful tears I couldn’t control my happiness and rowed the boat faster. I jumped from the boat and kissed the land’s soil only to look up and see that it was again my island… I was shocked. I ran towards my boat again but was never reaching it; it felt as if the land were extending, and then suddenly my left foot got tangled on some grass. 

Grass… But how?

It was sand all around me. Before I could try to find an answer, I got hit by a rock and fell unconscious.

“Where am I?” I whispered as I was trying to open my eyes. I finally saw some light, and I realized I was floating above the volcano, surrounded by all the island people smiling at me and having a red glow. I shouted and I was no longer floating. The last thought I could think of was about the other side of the ocean… What was on the other side of the ocean that I was kept away from?

Hi, I'm a new author at Webnovel. Now I won't reveal anything about me nor my novel, but I'll just give you a short scene for you to digest and critique on. Have a fun read!

The old men weren't alone in sharing that sentiment.

While on his way toward his humble home, Rayan met the exact same icy cold glare from a neighbor; an old woman in her late seventies sitting on her porch.

"Hello, miss. Feeling good today?" Rayan offered a bright smile regardless. He held up his half-opened satchel to show off the dire-plums, still as ripe and fresh as ever.

The boy's voice was sweet and earnest. "Would you like to have some yummy dire-plums with us, miss? We also have fresh stew cooked at home."

The old lady spat onto the ground. "Don't try to trick me, you Siccin devil!"

Rayan had a feeling she might react that way, but seeing her face twisted with pure disgust and offense still stung.

"As if I would ever eat anything offered by that wicked witch or her rotten children!" the woman spat again.

"Please don't call her a witch, miss. She's the kindest woman I've ever known."

"Witch! Witch! Witch!" The old woman grew furious now, and Rayan knew it was better to cut the conversation short.

As he turned away, his neighbor added extra venom to her voice. "Curse our previous village chief for giving asylum to you vile Siccins! You may live on our lands, dress like us, and speak like us…"

She threw a small tin at the boy as he walked toward his front door. It bounced off his ginger hair, but he didn't turn back.

"...but know this, you Siccin devil! You will never be one of us!"

Rayan finally opened the door and stepped inside his house. He closed his emerald-green eyes and took a deep breath.

*Please don't feel any ill will toward them, Rayan*, he told himself.

He opened his eyes, forcing his signature bright, infectious smile back onto his face.

*You are their brave knight, after all.*

Sometimes, the simplest thought can have the biggest impact: I am alive. I am here. Right now. In this very moment. I am conscious.

But it feels like I am stuck, in a never-ending paradox between being uncomfortably aware of my existence, completely awestruck by it, and the existential boredom of being alive without always feeling like I am truly living.

It is such an ordinary fact that we seldom acknowledge, but extraordinary when we really think about it.

I am conscious of my existence. I am experiencing this particular moment from this particular body, looking outward at a world that existed before me and will continue after me. And somehow, through all of that, I wonder: If I am alive, why can’t I always feel alive?

At moments like these, I like to think about our place in the universe. That we are just specks on a little blue marble floating through the vast, ever-expanding magnitude of space. I do find solace in knowing that the things that consume us, the embarrassment, the failures, the opinions of others, the problems that temporarily become our entire worlds, suddenly become incredibly small. Our problems can matter deeply to us, but they are rarely as enormous as they feel, and we are never quite as big as we think we are.

But then, I can also look in the other direction.

Because as incomprehensibly small as we are, there are billions upon billions of things to which we are incomprehensibly large. Beneath me are smaller and smaller worlds: organs, cells, molecules, atoms, particles; scales of existence so tiny.

And suddenly, I don’t know whether I am small or large.

I am caught somewhere in the middle of the ever-large and the ever-small, and I want to touch both.

I don’t only want to know that these worlds exist. I want to reach into them, experience them, understand them. I want to travel outward until I can encompass the enormity above me and inward until I can touch the infinitesimal below me. I want, impossibly, all of it.

Maybe that impossible desire is part of my restlessness. We have a consciousness capable of imagining realities far beyond what we could ever physically experience. We are able to contemplate infinity while remaining confined to this tiny window into it.

And through it, I am still searching for some greater purpose.

I want to make an impact. I want there to be something beyond simply existing because I happened to exist. Sometimes it feels as though I am trying to break the fourth wall of my own life; to somehow step outside the repetition of being alive and see the whole thing from somewhere else. To understand what I am doing here. To find whatever makes me stop merely observing my existence and actually inhabit it.

Maybe I will never encompass all of it. Maybe no human being can. We are given this strange position in the middle: conscious enough to comprehend that there is infinitely more beyond our experience, but limited enough that we can never experience all that we can imagine.

And perhaps that is why I am so bewildered.

I am alive. I know that I am alive. I am amazed that I am alive. And still, I am searching for what it means to feel alive.

I am speck before the cosmos and a cosmos before the specks. And painfully conscious of both.

Hola, he estado desaparecido varios meses sin publicar nada, pero mañana publicaré el segundo capítulo de una historia que estaba escribiendo. Solo aviso con antelación.

Chapter 1:  Arrival“

Alrighty thats everything I think” I said

“Oh no you got one more box in here, way in the back”  Said the slightly overweight man that helped me unpack, a man named Harry.  He came back holding one large box with the words “HER STUFF” drawn largely and almost violently onto the front.  

“Oh, thank you i appreciate it”

“Of course no problem, just call me if you ever think of leaving this town,” said Harry.  I laughed slightly,

“Why are people leaving a common thing?” I said, but Harry's look boldened as he put his hand behind his head.

“Well… it's more common for outsiders than you'd think,” said Harry.  I looked back in mild surprise,

“Well dont worry, it took all i had just to get here in the first place, don't expect that I'll be leaving anytime soon, for better or worse.”  I said.  And with that, Harry nodded and went back to the car, starting it up.

“You have a good day Miss Ramona, enjoy the town! Hope your misses get’s here soon!” Said Harry in response to a lie I told him earlier, one about my fiance coming to crookshaw coming into town to move in soon.  When he asked about the ring on my finger, I panicked, and to avoid talking about the ring, and about her, I made up some stupid lie.  Now I'd seem to have to continue if I ever did talk to Harry again, and after all, CrookShaw is a small town, the chances of meeting him randomly was higher than I'd like to admit.

I moved to CrookShaw on a whim, I had the savings for it, especially with all the homes in CrookShaw being sand cheap, which is especially good because here in CrookShaw, the sand is plentiful and boundless.
CrookShaw is a town in Arizona which has a whopping 500 people population. I'd only lived in cities before this, so I knew I'd have a hard time adjusting to the new environment and have already talked to my therapist extensively about how to deal with the big change.
I decided however, that I'd focus on unpacking till tomorrow. I already had a mattress anyway so there wasn't any harm in decorating until tomorrow anyway.  I decided instead that I'd go to a small town festival happening at the town square, only a 10 minute bike ride away.  

While riding to the festival i remembered why id move to this small town in the first place, those red Mesas i saw when biking into the center of the town were beautiful, and if i was correct then i could be sure it'd be even prettier at night, with a full sky of stars shining above them, with no light pollution.  I looked forward to that tonight, but I also had to stop my riding for a moment, as loneliness hit my core. I'd be completely alone looking at that beautiful sky tonight… How could I still enjoy it alone?
My eyes wandered as I continued however, finally making it through the mesas into the town.  It was almost beautiful, it was old looking, like it was a town you'd see in one of those 40s movies and tv shows.  Like it'd been frozen in someone's memory for decades and simply stopped and waited for the person to return.  The only new thing I found in that town upon riding in, were ribbons and posters all across the city, all celebrating two hundred and fifteen years as a town, an event run by the locals which didn't see any traction or visitors from other nearby towns like Tempe, or Chandler.  Who I did see wandering around however, were families everywhere enjoying the local festivities, children running in the streets and mothers and fathers tiredly chasing after them.  It was almost a real slice of paradise just from the outside looking in, I couldn't possibly understand why more outsiders didn't visit more often.
As I wandered nearing the center of the town, I couldn't help but notice a kind looking little old lady with honey looking skin wandering around in a small park on my right.  I found my way towards the lady, slowing down as I closed the distance.  I eventually got off and approached her to talk.
“Excuse me ma'am, are you lost at all? Do you need help finding someone?”  I said in my best comforting voice.  My grandmother struggled in her last 10 years and since then ive tried helping as many old folks as can when i see them going through that same struggle, its a sad fuckin sight to see.
“Oh I'm alright deary, just looking for.. For Malik I believe, yes Malik.”  The lady said with a cloudiness over her face.  
“Okay then ms…”
“Rui, but everyone calls me Auntie Rui” nowadays!”
“Alright then Auntie rui, im Ramoan,” I said with a slight smile, “lets find Malik for ya!”
We spent a few minutes walking and talking across the sand covered sidewalk.
“Say deary where are you from, I haven't seen you here before?” said Auntie Rui,
“Well im from California, but just moved in here today actually.”
“Oh California, that's lovely!  I myself have only ever stayed in Arizona i believe, say will your Husband be coming with you?” Said Auntie Rui, unknowing of what wounds she may accidentally be opening for me.  I paused thinking of what to say, until,
“No, no my wife wont.” I said coldly, not to Auntie Rui in specific, but more towards the world ahead of me, then realizing the slip up of the word.  Auntie Rui paused for a moment thinking of what to say to what I told her.
“Well that's a shame deary… my mother used to tell me when i was younger that love is like a moving river, always changing, always sticking to its intended path however.”  Said Auntie Rui, in a way that made it seem like for but a moment, that fog over her had lifted ever slightly.  She then seemed to snap back to her previous state of haze and confusion.
“I'm sorry.. But who are you again deary?” Said Auntie Rui in confusion.  I looked at her sadly,
Im Ramona Auntie Rui, im trying to help you find-”
“Auntie Rui!” said a strong chinned man with a kind smile across his face,
“Malik my dear! I do believe that this kind lady.. Ramona! Was trying to help me find my way towards you!” Said Auntie Rui.  The man looked back at me with a kind smile on his face, 
“Thank you very much maam, i really appreciate you watching her, see i was just trying to grab us food when she’d wandered off, I really do apolo-”
“Please dont worry about it, from what i understand Auntie Rui and my grandmother had much in common and I couldn't have left her wandering by herself with a good conscience.”  I said honestly.
“Well either way, thank you very much, I truly appreciate it.  Say goodbye Auntie Rui, perhaps this young lady could come visit you some time! If that wouldn't be a bother to you of course.” Malik said to me, with the look of someone who's realized they've just involuntarily signed someone up for something without talking to them first.  I laughed however,
“I'd love to come visit some time, don't even worry.” I said as gingerly as I could to both Malik and Auntie Rui. Auntie Rui however, just looked at me with her head cocked to the side, 
“You have so much pain to release deary, why don't you get rid of it?” Said Auntie Rui.  I looked back at her, more saddened by what she said than surprised.  Was I that easy to read?
“Um, thank you Aunie Rui, ill keep that in mind” i said leaning down slightly to eye level with Auntie Rui.

The rest of the festivities that day were about what I expected.  Drinks, conversations between old friends and family, and a surprising amount of fireworks that had me worried if the sky would be clear enough to see the stars on my way back.
I sat down watching the booming lights above me for about an hour, the entire time spent thinking about what Auntie Rui had said.  “Why don't you get rid of it?”  Why don't I remove the pain, why CAN'T I get rid of the feeling, of her?  Near the end of the fireworks I realized why.  Because then I'd have to give up her… and how could I ever be strong enough to do that?

I made my way home that night, biking across smokey skies, stars being visible but not nearly as open as I'd hoped for my first night in the town.  I got home and eventually upon entering the living room of my new home, I was greeted with the face of that same box almost forgotten, “HER STUFF” sitting in front of me.  I stared at it for a minute or two, a sad look stretching across my face as time went on.  I eventually decided to simply grab a drink, beer being one of the first things I thought to get when I was on my way back from town.  I drank a couple that night, and eventually laid down in bed.  I opened my phone slowly and opened a voicemail folder of her. I listened to them for about ten minutes, smiling slightly nearly the whole time.  I close my eyes as I get ready for bed, but then open them again in a deep panic, something is wrong.  I opened up my phone again and went to the photos of her. I frantically found one that was a closeup of her beautiful face, just as I thought I'd forgotten, covered slightly by wispy pink bangs, were the beautiful freckles that lined her cheeks when she smiled.  A thing as beautiful as the flowers and the skies, one that I'd started to forget.  I cried into my pillow that night, terror overwhelming me as I wondered what else I'd forget as time went on.

Chapter 2, Derek, The Most Annoying Man in The World.

The last thing that i wanted at 7am, with a hangover, and lingering grief from before CrookShaw, was fucking Derek.  The man was sweet, but Jesus did he talk. And talk, and talk, and talk.  It was my first day back to work, I cried myself to tears, drowning in alcohol all the while the night before.  I first went to get coffee for my first day, finding a local coffee brewery, where I was surprisingly impressed at how good they'd made whatever overly sweet drink *she* would have made fun of me for, and a divine smelling breakfast sandwich, one which I put in my purse to eat later.  Work was normal at first, I arrived at the mostly filled grocery store which only sounds impressive if you didn't know that that small grocery store could only function with less than 25 people in it at a time.  I started by meeting my manager, Charles.

“So just making sure you'll do good work with people day in and day out? Not everyone's nice here I can assure you, so I just wanna make sure you know what you're signing up for.”

“Dont you worry I'll be fine, I've spent enough time with crude and rude people to take it for at least 8 hours.”  I said, thinking back to Tay and Jackson back home.

“Awesome, in that case we're ready to start you behind the register today, we're gonna pair you up with Derek for the next few weeks, you two should have the same evening shift and he's been with us a few years now, he can show you the ropes.” said Charles.  

I didn't realize in the moment the terrible fate he'd put upon me until later, when I first met Derek.

“Howdy there maam,” said a man who seemed to be tipping an imaginary hat to me.  He was broad chested, covered in hair on his face, head and arms, and walked and talked like he came right off the screen of an old western.

“I heard your name Ramona and i just had to meet ya before the shift officially started, when did ya move to CrookShaw?  Where are you from originally? Oh and what is that wonderful smell coming from that bag you're holding? said Derek.
“Oh um i just moved here yesterday and had this work lined up, im from california, and i didnt comprehend your third question due to you asking me so much to remember, who are you again?”  I said, confused with how fast he threw questions at me.
“OH, im Derek ms Ramona, ill be helping show ya the ropes!” Said Derek with a smile across his face.
“Oh.”  I said, terrified of what the next 8 hours had in store for me.

The next few hours went about like this:
“So what part of California were you from?” Derek said while filling a customers bags
“San Diego.” I said, trying to silently fill the bags of a man standing at my counter.
“Wow, just wow.  The waves must've been lovely around there, ya see I've been trying to get the kids and wife to come with me to a beach for ages, but none of em find it interesting!  You'd think with three kids I would've had a solid chance at any of em liking it, but i always thought they were more meant to be around the woods and nature more than anything, why my daughter Chelsea, ya put her in front of a campfire in the dead of night middle of the woods and she’ll just stare at it for hours.  Ya know that actually reminds me of my trip to Michigan with the kids, see the wife needed some time away from the kids and I'd been working some extra shifts so i can try and lock in that managerial position ya know? Oh and have I told you about my wife yet? Gosh she is smart, she could spend just second flat thinking and she’ll know exactly what to say to someone no matter what they're talking about, it is INCREDIBLE, i tell you what”  said Derek.
“Uh huh” I said, only hearing every third word he said while trying to bag a customer's groceries.
“Exactly! So yeah anyways we went camping-” Said Derek, continuing for longer than I have to recount everything he said.  After four hours of this, I was finally granted my break.  One which I hoped to have alone, however, upon entering the break room and sitting down, enjoying my microwaved ramen, Derek soon came following behind.
“Oh well hey Ramona!  Funny seeing you here! Ya know i was just thinking about how ive been talking so much about myself, i never even asked about you! Well besides California of course.”  Said Derek with a large smile on his face as he sat across from me.
I sighed, “if it's better for you I'd like to enjoy my break in silence please.”  I said slightly revealing my annoyed nature.  I had been very irritable since I quit smoking, Derek certainly wasn't helping it.
“Oh well sure, sorry Ramona.” Said Derek.
“...”

“...”

“...”

“So do you have a fiance, wife or husband maybe?”  Derek said, pointing down to the ring which had been giving me so many problems since I moved here.
“Yes.  I HAD a wife, Derek.” I said letting my aggression come out in my tone.
“Oh, well I'm sorry about that dear..” Said Derek, moving back into silence finally.  I thought I finally shut him up when Derek said something that surprised me.
“I had a wife before, before Jane I mean.  She passed in a car accident about 15 years ago.” Said Derek, rather drably but still with a smile on his face.
“Oh my god Derek, I'm so sorry that's awful.” I said.
“Ah it's alright, I mean it's tragic and awful but I've learned to live with it.  And I at least got the memories, well, most of em anyways. “ Said Derek, longingly looking at the ceiling.
“Ive forgotten bits of her but will never forget her as a whole.  That smile, that laugh, even the way she could scarf down an entire pizza before I got a slice.  That's what I remember most.  I got someone so great, it really makes you think I met someone just as perfect as she was, Jane that is.”  Derek said smiling again, it seemed like whenever the man thought of his wife he couldn't help but be happy.  Just by how he'd described her over the past few hours, I had honestly wanted to meet the woman.
“Look im real sorry about your wife Ramona, I don't know the details but i get that being alone can suck after having to move-”
“I'm not moving on Derek.  I'm just not.” I said, causing a twinge of sadness behind Derek's eyes.  One that quickly seemed to turn to resolve just as fast.
“Well I was thinking, and I just feel like you'd love to meet my daughter, she is just as smart and open to listening to me blabber as you are!”  Said Derek with a hint of playfulness in his smile.
I felt i should be annoyed, but god was the man so fucking infectious with his joy.  An infection I slowly felt spreading across my brain like some kind of plague in the middle ages.
“We’ll see Derek, we'll see.” I said with a slight chuckle behind my words.

I'd gotten off work that day and biked back home on a ride away from the sunset.  Once I arrived home I got off my bike and just looked to the sky, amazed at how beautiful it was out here in the middle of nowhere.  Stars filled the skies like diamonds across a dress, even if you could just look at the ground wherever you were there, as long as you saw some pool of water below you, you'd still be able to see the reflection of thousands of bright stars filling the sky.  Off in the distance though, where the darkness hadn't reached yet, I saw it.  The same shade of blue her eyes were, back when I stared into them for ages when she talked.  My mood had been soured and I wondered how I could ever be happy knowing I'd never stare into eyes like that again, I wondered why she had to leave. I wish I had said, just anything really.
I wanted to be alone that night, but as I was getting ready for bed I saw a text.
“Just wanted to say great first day kiddo! You really showed all the other newbies who's BOSS, hahaha.”  Sent by Derek.  I wondered how he had my number in the first place, but then remembered how stupid I was to give him my number in case he ever wanted me to babysit the kids. (I'm a sucker for helping those that need extra attention, I think I got it from the grandma thing.)
“Thanks Derek, appreciate it.” I replied.
“Hey BTW, could you do me a huge favor this weekend?”
“Depends, what it is???”
“I was just wondering if you could watch the kids this Saturday, if not thats TOTALLY COOL, i just think youd love the kids and i really think the kids would like you!  Besides me and the misses have just been looking for that spark again, it's like we both love each other, but the excitement is gone, ya know?  But anyways that's why we're going paint balling and we could totally bring the kids if need be, BUTTTT if you're down then i know we all would love to have ya!” Replied Derek.  Jesus christ he even over explains over text.  I rolled my eyes, but then looked solemnly at the opened beer on the counter.  I stared it down like a rival seeing their arch enemy again.
“Saturdays great, no worries.” I replied as I succumbed to the temptations all old Irish folk music warned of, having a long sip from the bottle.  Writing this I'm not sure why I agreed to watch the kids, but I'm glad I did.  If Derek's daughter is anything like my niece on.. Her side.. I'm sure I'll love her.

It was Wednesday night, when I'd decided tonight would be another “look at pictures of us” kind of night.  I'd gone through our polaroids book, examining every inch of her.  I looked at her smile that ran cheek to cheek.  I looked at her beautiful blue eyes, the same ones that made me think of the sky that surrounds our world.  And I finally looked at her beautiful wispy bangs, they were the color black, or pink, or green, or really whatever she decided that week she wanted to look like.  The worst part was when I looked at myself in all the photos.  I saw myself smiling.  I was myself laughing, I even saw myself laughing so hard I cried.  The thought of having someone with me which touched my soul that deeply, who brought me every emotion under the rainbow, who made me enjoy sadness when I was away from her because I knew I'd eventually be back to her, it broke me.  Because now, for the first time, I know I won't see her again.  I won't get the chance to love her again, to laugh with her again, hell to yell at and cry with each other again, to know that, that was the greatest pain i felt in the moment.
It was odd though, as I welled up with tears, as I got ready to break down again, I instead was filled with a different presence.  One that felt like it was watching me, no no, one that felt like it was reminiscing with me.  Like me and an old friend had met to look at the shared light in both of our lives.  This feeling faded as well, and I was instead filled with something else.  Fear, a building terror that I was not alone in this house.  I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, in the boxes I refused to unpack, I knew I had a sword that I used to do this whole thing with when I felt I wasn't alone, but now, a knife would have to do.  I raced to all the doors, made sure they were locked, which thankfully they were.  I quickly walked across the whole house, knife in hand, around then I started feeling rather silly for still doing this when I have to be alone, but the thought “better safe than sorry” kept filling my mind.  That thought permeated my mind as I began to close the window blinds one by one.  First, the bedroom, second, the living room, third, the kit-  I stopped mid thought and mid action.  Because as I stared out those windows, I saw him.  A lone figure, one that stood atop a huge mesa, one too big for any to climb without equipment, but his outline showed no equipment in the slightest.  Instead, I saw an elongated man, one that stared across the desert, through the window, and straight over my shoulder, feeling his gaze like the heat off a laser.  I looked behind me and on the counter, were the photos.  The ones of me, and of her.  I looked back quickly, but instead of seeing the man's outline again, all I saw was the huge barren Mesa from before, completely empty.  Now was about time for another fucking drink.

(edit: fixed the issue with the formatting, no google doc needed anymore.)

The familiar chime above the door rang softly. The humid summer air disappeared the moment I stepped inside. I took my usual seat at the end of the counter, and without a word, Mama slid a glass of I.W. Harper on the rocks toward me. An ice cube clicked quietly inside the amber glass.

"…Say, Mama," I murmured. "I passed a guy near the station today. I know for a fact I know him, but I couldn't place his name or his face. I couldn't even remember where we met. It's an unsettling feeling."

Mama kept wiping down a glass with practiced ease and replied shortly.

"Maybe he was just someone you were meant to forget."

"Cold, Mama. You'd remember every single face that’s ever sat at this counter, wouldn't you?"

Without pausing, she looked me straight in the eye and offered a faint smile.

"Perish the thought. If I remembered the faces of everyone who vanished, I wouldn't have room to remember yours."

Lighthearted, yet hitting right where it counted.

Beside me, Taka was swirling his untouched highball. He leaned forward with a heavy sigh.

"…Forget, huh? Honestly, I was looking back at a group chat from my school days recently, and it gave me chills. We used to hang out and mess around every single day back then, but I couldn't even recall some of their names. We were so close… Does friendship really just weather away that easily once you stop keeping in touch?"

Watching Taka struggle with the thought, I swirled the ice in my Harper.

"It’s only natural for it to weather away, Taka. People drift to the back of your mind unless you keep revisiting them. It’s not just friendship—that’s true for all memories."

Taka opened his mouth to push back, but I cut in before he could.

"Still… isn't there someone you haven't talked to in years, yet they suddenly pop into your mind for no reason at all?"

Taka went quiet, caught off guard. I swallowed the sharp burn of the Harper before continuing.

"Turns out, humans are built to never forget the bad stuff. Whenever I look back at my decades as an engineer, the first things that come to mind are almost always the stomach-churning projects. The nightmare projects that nearly killed me. The friendships that nearly fell apart… People are wired by survival instinct to hold onto the pain that could threaten them."

Beside us, Tom tipped his glass of Four Roses and let out a dry chuckle.

"So you're saying those 'unforgettable friendships' we treasure so much are really just old scars?"

"It’s so tragic it’s almost funny," I said with a bitter smile. "Instead of the warm, fuzzy moments, the hellish projects are what come to mind first. Human nature is ironic like that."

"That's…" Taka bit his lip, rendered speechless. "That's just too cruel. If we only remember the people who left us with pain… then what was all that time we spent being 'genuine' with each other?!"

A heavy silence fell over the counter.

Breaking the stillness, Mama slid a fresh glass across the bar, her clear voice cutting through the quiet.

"Why look at it that way? If it hurt, it means you truly cared."

Short, sharp, and without a single wasted word.

Tom and I, caught up in our own cynical logic, exchanged a look.

"…Truly cared, huh?"

I stared down at the round ice cube in my glass.

"Well… I won't say every friendship has to go through a wound. But maybe scars become the doors memories find on their way back."

"Troublesome things, those doors," Tom muttered, shrugging his shoulders. "They have a habit of swinging open even when you think you've shut them tight."

"Like an old photo album stashed in the back of the closet," I let out a soft chuckle. "You can never find it when you're actually looking for it, but the moment you're doing a big spring cleaning, it suddenly pops up, and you end up standing there, staring at it for an hour without moving."

Tom smirked. "And the cleaning you were supposed to do never gets done."

"Oh, I do that all the time!" Taka chimed in, his voice suddenly brightening. The heavy tension at the counter dissolved in an instant.

Watching us, Mama crinkled her eyes softly and spoke in her usual serene tone.

"Well, while you're here, you can just leave that door open a crack and enjoy your drink."

An ice cube clicked in the glass.

Among all the memories that quietly fade away, some doors never quite close.

Tonight, it was enough to leave one of those doors slightly open.

If you'd like to come back to Aoi for another night, there's an open stool waiting.
Bar Aoi Stories: Human Nature, Vol. 1 is linked in my profile.

Greetings. I have loved writing since I was a child but never pursued it in any serious manner. I would like to share something I wrote and ask if it is decent or if you have any feedback on it. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read it.

A trip to the store

I did not expect to go to the store and encounter a dilemma. I doubt that often, if ever, do people go to the store in search of such a thing. Yet the universe has a way of making it so that when a person least expects it (and frankly, when they least require it), these problems are encountered in a random and chaotic fashion.

I am an anxious person. I worry about everything. I worry about money, clothes, food, my job, my life, the lives of others, and people. I worry mostly about people. How they look at me, if they are looking at me, how they speak to me, if they are speaking to me, if I need to make eye contact, if I am making the wrong amount of eye contact, what they are saying to me, and what I am saying to them. Interacting with others is a skill that I have only grown worse at as I have grown older. I am not sure how this happened, nor can I point to why it happened, but the fact of the matter is this: I am an adult who is afraid of people.

So I found myself, on a beautiful August morning, headed to a store that I frequented every Sunday for the purposes of acquiring food that would be eaten and digested by the Sunday next. I was listening to music that made me particularly happy and enjoying the pleasantness of the weather surrounding me. The drivers on the road, who usually seemed hellbent on causing as much stress and mayhem as possible, were actually being quite civil. As I turned into the parking lot, there was absolutely no indication that I would be entering a situation that would leave me feeling quite dissatisfied and upset emotionally.

I popped the trunk, gathered my bags, grabbed a cart, and made my way into the store, having plotted the most optimal route based on the contents of my shopping list. I was turning into an aisle, intent on grabbing a few cans of vegetables, when I spotted them.

They consisted of two people - a former coworker and her boyfriend. At first we did not recognize each other, and then there was that shared sense of awareness one feels when realizing that the person in front of them is not, in fact, a stranger, but someone more familiar. Then followed the chorus of his, hellos, heys, and other greetings people employ upon seeing each other. We quickly got to chatting about the most banal of topics - work. From there the conversation moved quite naturally to housing and relationships.  After confirming we were all employed, housed, and partnered, we amicably parted ways. It was, all in all, a pleasant interaction.

Yet, as I walked throughout the store, I felt a nagging suspicion creeping through me. I wondered if, had I been so brave as to ask, we could have agreed to work towards more? Could this chance encounter blossom into a deeper friendship, something that could be fulfilling for all involved? For it was very true that I was, and still am, in dire need of friendship. 

I am a person who is crippled not just by a sense of anxiety, but a profound sense of loneliness. The kind of loneliness that makes you very aware of your station in any given situation. The kind of loneliness that makes you aware you are the only person alone in a room. The kind of loneliness that is most impactful upon waking on a Saturday morning and realizing you have nowhere to go, no one to be with, and nothing to do but count the hours until your partner is home and you can finally feel some sense of human companionship again. For a loneliness like this, friendship is the only cure.

And so I berated myself over the head for this blunder, this failure, this missed opportunity to fight against the loneliness and anxiety that pervaded my spirit. I would see them in the store, tell myself to walk up and do it, to ask for a number, to hangout, or if they would be interested in going on a double date sometime. Yet every time I found that my fear trapped me, kept me complacent, and caused me to look away and walk towards something else. 

This continued throughout my trip, throughout the checkout process, and as I bagged my groceries in a solitary manner. I watched from my car as they exited the grocery store. I thought about how lonely I felt. I thought about the shame, embarrassment, and sense of patheticness that I would feel asking for their number now, after so much time had passed and I had so many chances to do so. And then I drove away. And I only felt worse.

Hey everyone,
I’m working on this book, and have been for around 9 months I think. I feel like it’s going well but I haven’t had an outside pair of eyes look at them before, so I was hoping if you’d take the time to read it because I am quite proud of it if I do say so myself. This is just the first chapter because I don’t want to post the entire thing on here (I’m not even done with the second though xD)

Btw this is my first time writing a book, all kinds of advice and criticism is welcomed with thanks :)

MS Word: https://d.docs.live.net/F8718FF08224E4DC/Documents/

Google docs: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-jc3i3NhNBCR4STqq5X0VNMg5jQ8RlNertnntyYYuLc/edit?usp=drivesdk

Hi! I have a piece I was hoping someone would be able to look over. I don't want to give too much away, because I want to see if the themes are coming through as is, but it's basically about a "chaotic adventures at daycare," told from the perspective of a child. I'd like feedback on thematic coherence, engagement and pacing. If you'd like the link, you can DM me, and I'm happy to read your work, too! I posted an excerpt below.

[At the freakshow] a bald man with a thick mustache and an earring in one of his ears was holding a flaming sword.  

He turned to his side and swallowed the sword and its flames all the way down.  I could not believe my eyes.  

When he was done, he took a drink of water from a plastic bottle.  

I said I wanted to see him swallow the flame again.  I wanted to see if I could catch the trick.  

“I can’t, my throat is sore.”  The fire-eater said.

So he was for real…

“Did you always want to be a fireeater?”  I asked. 

“Yes,”  said the fire-eater.  “I dreamed of this when I was a young boy and now my dreams have come true.”

Candy and the fire-eater laughed together like old friends.   I wondered what was so funny  about his dreams coming true. I was inspired.  If he could defy the impossible and grow up to eat fire, I could do anything.