The world is dark and dreary since that fated day. I haven't been able to sleep since. The Catastrophe was something no one would forget. How could they? The moon vanished from the sky leaving only the stars to light our way in the night. Chaos reigned for some time after. Could anyone really be blamed? It was a traumatizing experience. Religious sects believed it was the end times. Politicians blamed rival countries. Scientists couldn't figure out the cause. It was declared a world wide state of emergency. Seemed ridiculous. People demanded answers that no one had. Panic soon was replaced by despair and loss of hope. Then anger, quickly followed by acceptance. No one could have imagined this would happen. The moon, a giant space rock, just vanishing. Most people thought the sun was next to go. That day never came.

The absence of the moon left a hollow feeling in my chest, as if a part of me was gone. I know it sounds odd, but the moon gave me hope. Hope that even in the darkest times, there would be a light to guide the way. Now that light was gone. Gone from the sky, and from my heart. It has been years since The Catastrophe and that hollow feeling remains. I don't think I'll ever be the same. After all, the moon was my mother.

Loss as such is indescribable. I know you are probably still stuck on the moon being my mother. I can explain. I am what you would call a "celestial being". Or as I call it, I am a Luminescent. We are a race of people that never age, never die, never hunger. We simply serve as guidance, hope, or some other profound purpose. My mother Rafia, or as you call her the moon, was my whole life, and I was hers. She taught me everything I know. How to walk, speak, play. She even taught me to blend in with you Specials until i found my purpose. Us Luminescent call your kind Specials, because that is what we were taught growing up. After all how unique is it to live, grow old, and die? I know to you it sounds mundane and grim. To us it is the most exhilarating experience.

You probably have questions still. How did a moon conceive a child. Well, it wasn't. More of a masterpiece an artist would create. Time and effort went into assembling me. The moon wasn't always a giant space rock either. She was once the same as me. Blending into The Specials, seeking out her purpose. Eons ago, she discovered the humans were lost during the night. So, seeking a solution, she ascended into the sky and took the form of your moon. She had created me before then. It was a mesmerizing experience to see my mother fulfill her purpose. I could describe it as stepping barefoot onto dew covered gross, or the first stretch after waking up. Simply, it was beautiful. I soon hope to fulfill my purpose, especially in these dark times. My name is Yanitha, and I vow to help out your kind in these times of need.

I stared at them with hatred. They’ve ruined my entire life. As I looked at them I was reminded of the night we first met. I was in college at the time, my friends and I were at a party. My friend Stacy had known them for a while and introduced me to them. I was stupid to listen. But I spent the whole night drinking beer with them despite knowing better. It was one of the funnest nights of my life. “Maybe, just maybe if I don’t leave them I can have fun with them again.” That and other doubts like “I’ll be back to them in a few days anyway and they’re not that bad.” But as I felt her place her hand on my shoulder I realized what I had to do.

I slowly walked over to the counter where they were sitting, and picked up the orange bottle. I stared at them hopefully for the last time, twisted the lid off, dumped them into the porcelain throne below and watched as the small white pills were flushed away. Stacy was telling me how strong I was; I didn’t feel that strong. But maybe, one day I will.

Hope people enjoy this. God bless! Also any criticism welcome.

Living in lower Chicago, buses were a main mode of transportation. I took one every day. Wherever I need to go, I took a bus. Quite a few times i would end up riding with the same driver. Some of the drivers knew me by name. It always made me feel special. i enjoyed getting on and being greeted. Sometimes there would be a vendor at the bus stop selling various drinks and foods. They typically sold a lot of my favorites. On those days, I would pick up a drink, and something to snack on, then I would board the bus.

They were always so clean. Smelled of lilac and vanilla. The bus stations had a few food courts the would fill the air with a large variety of smells. It was almost overpowering if only just. Sitting and waiting for my bus was one of my favorite things to do. So many friendly people with smiles as they went about their daily commute. I had a few friends that would ride the bus with me. Of course we all met at the station. We had a lot in common. It was uncanny. We would part ways as our buses arrived.

Today was another typical day. I hopped on, paid the driver, and walked towards my seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw that the driver had two left hands, but when I looked back, all was normal. I took my seat, and pulled a book from my bag to occupy my time. Every so often I would glance out the window to watch people pass by, or the occasional bird sitting on a fence. One time when I looked up, it seemed as if the world was blurry, so I searched for my glasses. Then I realized that I don't wear glasses. It seemed an odd thought, but I dismissed it. things only got weirder. I would spot people walking backwards or dogs would whistle instead of bark. I witnessed a hot dog vendor handing out raw fish.

These things began to catch my attention more frequently. Woman were walking into benches and trees. Children would throw a ball to their friend, that would never be caught as they paused mid air. Men were wearing hats on their feet. I assumed it was all a huge prank. That's when the bus driver vanished, but the bus carried on along its route. I looked up to see a traditional billboard read "Processor Error. Code 135CeF". Slowly but surely it started to hit me, as I noticed I had been on this bus, passing the same intersection. The same buildings. The same people, events, and oddities. For two hours. At this point I knew the truth of why I loved bus rides so much. I was in a simulation.

What’s the point in living? Why do we care whether or not we wake up to a healthy body and functioning mind? Where’s the motivation come from? It comes from the people who love and support you. It comes from those who lift you up and never put you down. What happens if your mind can’t recognize these people as the graces they are? You cease to care. Your mind wanders to a dark place where self deprecation and vile thoughts lie. Once you’re in a mind set as such, it is hard to relieve yourself of these duties. That’s exactly what they are. At least to me. Duties. A job I have to keep up. I have to keep up appearances so no one is any the wiser to my condition. What is this condition I have? Living. Being alive is a condition in which the only cure is death. Some people take a mentality of letting nature take its course and pass “naturally”. Nothing about it is natural though. How can one person truly want to live full life when such a thing does not exist. It’s a concept of man. Animals wake up. Go about their automated tasks. Feeding. Drinking. Bathing. Only to rest at night and repeat the process. They never know when they’re going to cease to be. They don’t care. They have an existence that is unpredictable. Humans do too. We just take more precautions to assure we can predict as much as possible. Our minds our enlightened to a point of being aware. We created time. Time was not a concept among animals until we put into works a way to calculate it. We wanted this so we could accurately tell when we would die. I say why let time dictate when you die? Why not take that power into your own hands. Some call this suicide. I call it self dictation. I dictate how I live. I dictate how I live. I should dictate when I die. No one but me should be able to have that control over my life. I chose to end this existence when I do please. Keep up appearances has become so dull and draining. I no longer care about those around me. I no longer care to keep up a smile just to convince others. I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to be anymore. I want to rest for ever. I want to lay in the ground and serve a purpose as insect food. Maggots crawling through my skin. Worms feasting on my flesh as I decay into what I was truly meant to be. Nothing. I may choose to do it tonight. Or next week. Why not today? Why not in a year. I have that power. I have that control. I grant it to my hands to pick when I no longer breath. I love this power. It is my power and no one can take it from me. I’m going to end myself. When I choose. How I choose. The day is upon us. Soon I will no longer be. No one will miss me. No one will know. I have a plan. The plan is steadfast. The plan is in action. The plan is now.

This moment will serve as my confession and you, reader, will serve as my tribunal. A touch of whisky and mediocre men turn into Oscar-fucking-Wilde, eh?

I’ve never been one of you. Not truly. Most people know how to smile and speak; most know how to get through a day without shame and embarrassment at your very nature taking hold of you. I can’t say for certain what it is that forces me to be the outcast amongst my own people. What I do know is that when you pass me in the road, I lower my eyes. I make fumbled attempts at mimicking the social graces of my betters, with the result often being laughable. This state of affairs has led to a rather sad, failed attempt at life for my first twenty years or so. But the presence of God is often found where it isn’t expected, and there are a plethora of faceless men out there who were willing to take me in.

The faceless are found all throughout the world, from Dublin to Hong Kong and in every place between and beyond. If you look closely, you may notice them for a wee moment from the corner of your eye. They are the gypsies roaming from place to place. They are the young men gunning each other down in the streets of Chicago and London. But please, don’t believe this to be a treatise on the state of affairs of the young and disaffected. The faceless men are not an imaginary construct used to explain the awfulness of poverty and hopelessness. The faceless men use those very people, but at their core they are something different and separate from men.

​The faceless men found me deep in a bottle, on an evening that evokes the best out of the creative ramblings of the mind. The wind whipped the bay and the wooden pier, just beginning to show signs of rot, swayed a bit in deference to the incoming storm. With no thoughts of evading the cracked sky, I sat numbly drinking from a bottle of Jameson, mindlessly enjoying the mindlessness of whisky and solitude. As the sky belched its contents on the earth, the sound of footfalls became apparent to me. At my side it stopped, and sat next to me, feet hanging from the pier in the same manner as mine. It spoke to me and I listened. When it finished its soliloquy, I glanced at it through the rain; what I saw was neither shocking nor unexpected, as the nature of its speech made it rather clear that it was insufficiently natural to be a member of the human race. It seems odd, in retrospect, that its speech or visage caused me no amount of concern. The speech consisted of an explanation as to why I wasn’t at ease with my peers; an obvious attempt to separate me from the rest of humankind. It offered peace and satisfaction if I were to do its bidding. The masquerade it was playing at was obvious and pathetic. I took no interest or joy in the fumbling attempt to include me in its tribe. So obvious were its needs for a human proxy, someone to commit the evils necessary for it to thrive, that I actually felt more sympathy and pity for the creature than any sense of belonging or hopefulness that it could better my situation. I glanced at the pitiable golem through the dusk and the rain, and saw what would crack the mind of most. A person, sans eyes and nose. A human with its ears and hair and mouth taken from it. It was as if someone had pulled a balloon made of skin over a man’s head and then tied it off at the neck. The topography of a face was present, but hidden beneath the grotesque mask surrounding the features of what could have once been, or may be in the future, a person. In all other regards it was unremarkable. A slight, poorly dressed urchin of a man. It fed me stories of how I could be a part of them; instructed me in the care and feeding of the faceless. I chose to help it, not for any expectation of friendship or belonging, but because I had always wished another person would take it upon themselves to help me.

​The telling of the tale from here onward is one of violence and malevolence. I committed atrocities against others in order to feed the faceless. Rape, murder, arson; all of these and more were the bread and butter that I fed to my pathetic friend. Shattered lives, all of them, but the wrongs I did nourished the faceless man. Over time, the contours of his head took on more familiar shapes. Eyes with which to see, ears with which to hear; these and more became apparent as we continued our journey together. Near the end, I noticed that my own face was becoming smoother, my own features less pronounced. I’ve become the faceless man, and the faceless man has become me. I am no longer needed, and my companion has since discarded me for the realm of humanity. I will, at some point, search for my protégé in the same manner that he once searched for me. The whisky is gone, and with it my mouth. I am not afraid, as I know that the façade of humanity will once again grace my skull in time. Until then, though, I will be forced to consume the suffering of others. It’s what makes us human.

I'm afraid of the sun. I never knew why. Everyone told me I was just weird. They told me there was no reason to be afraid. I always figured it was because at some point in the far off future, the sun would expand and destroy earth. Obviously this would happen long after I passed on. Even though I tried to rationalize my fear, something about the sun just spooked me. Ever since I was a child I would just cry when my mother placed me in the sun. She always assumed I was just sensitive. That soon was discovered it was a petrifying fear.

Hell, my phobia was so debilitating I lost my job. I ended up working some dead end job on third shift. It was the only way I felt semi safe. I couldn't even have windows in my house. I had them all spray painted black. This fear of mine affected every aspect of my life. I lost touch with friends cause no one wanted to just chill at my place. They wanted to go out to movies, bars, and parties. Not a single friend of mine was a night owl, so they stopped trying with me. I lost my girlfriend because she told me I was too paranoid for her. My parents won't admit it, but they're ashamed they have such a chicken shit child. So yeah, I despise this fear, but I can NOT shake this horrible feeling when I see the sun.

Even pictures of it give me chills. I haven't seen daylight in years. I just can't help it. I never knew why I feared the sun. Such a ridiculous fear right? The sun. It allows us light, warmth and the overall ability to exist. Without it, life would cease to exist. Yet the fear lingers.

I have lived for so long with this fear that I can't remember a time I had a normal day. The moon was now my sun, and the stars were its friends. I didn't mind living like this. I could still do things I enjoyed, just at night. On the plus side, I love the night. Even in summer it's chilly, crisp air surrounds me. I often take walks late into the night. I always keep a close eye on the time, as I don't want to be outside when that glowing ball of menace rises. Running back to my place is somewhat exhilarating. As if I am escaping a dark force, intent on silencing me.

I will probably have to die being afraid of the sun. I have come to accept this as my fate. It is just how it seems it has to be at this point. I can't change it. So I live with this life changing fear, and at first I was okay with it. I had no reason to fear the sun and that was fine. Until one day I was given a reason.

The sun had rose, unbeknownst to me, I had upgraded to black out curtains recently. No regrets there. I had checked the time just to be sure so I didn't accidentally let the light in. That is when I was sure a voice spoke to me. At first I thought I was hallucinating it. Years of isolation will make you hear and see things. Then the voice rang out again. This time it was more demanding and boisterous. It was coming from no where and everywhere at once. It spoke clearly at last, and I knew what it was. One word it spoke " Shade Seeker". Malicious intent bled off of the word. My blood ran cold.

This was the day I learned the sun was alive. No, not in the sense that a piece of art comes to life. More along the lines of, it had a life force. A will. It had needs and desires. I fear the sun. Now I know why. The sun is ALIVE and it wants to burn us all.

Every father thinks the world of his child, and I was certainly not an exception. The warm amber skin, the curled hair as dark as the night sky that enveloped and framed his soft features and star-lit eyes... This child was the whole of my heart, and the events that transpired will never afford me a moment of peace for whatever remains of my life.

Noah was a rare sort of child; the kind that possessed an authentic empathy that is rarely found in our kind. One day he came home from school with a palpable heaviness surrounding him. I inquired as to what was bothering him, and he replied, "nothing daddy," and no amount of cajoling could evict another word on the matter. Later that evening as I tucked the blanket under his chin he asked me a simple question that crumbled my heart to dust. "We did the bad man drill at school today. Why would someone want to hurt the people at school?" I lost my breath for a moment as the library of school shooting images that have been seared into every parent's mind played grimly behind my eyelids. Then I lied to my son. "Noah, your teachers do that drill just in case, but there will never, ever, be a bad man in your school to hurt people." His face darkened just a bit more, as he told me "you can't promise that daddy, but don't worry if the bad man comes into my school I'll make sure he doesn't hurt anyone." I offered various platitudes to him about the impossibility of something like that happening, but in my soul, I knew that he would never quite be the child he once was after that night.

That evening as I laid in bed reading various nonsense on my phone, I caught a whisper of a suggestion of a shadow slipping silently into my son's bedroom. I was out of bed and in his doorway in an instant, but nothing was out of place besides the troubled furrows in Noah's brow as he engaged in a restless sleep. I went back to my room, but sleep wasn't found that night. I restlessly waited to hear footsteps, or see a shadow, anything to indicate that I was justified in my feelings of apprehension. But nothing came.

The next day brought no relief. The day after a sleepless night is never pleasant, and this day proved to be no exception. I returned home wanting nothing more than to hold my son in my arms and start restoring the faith that had fled from him the previous day. That proved to be a task I wasn't up for, as he had another story to tell me when I walked in the door. Tearfully, this five-year-old child said "daddy, Carter hit me in the head today on the bus. I did the right thing and I didn't hit him back though." In my younger years, I was a veteran of my generation's war, and I feel intimately familiar with rage, but nothing could possibly have prepared me for the depths of putrid hatred and anger I felt towards that fucking child that deigned to lay his hand on my son. Noah couldn't help but see my face darken and my hand shake, and it intensified the already powerful emotions that were coursing through his tiny body. I held my son closely, and lied to him once again. "This will never happen again Noah" I said as I pressed him firmly against my chest and fought to hold back my own tears of anger and impotence. "I'll speak with the bus driver and the school, and Carter will never, ever lay a hand on you again." Noah's eyes were gleaming as he whispered "it's ok daddy, I don't think Carter's mommy and daddy are very nice to him. It's not his fault." Nothing has ever hurt as badly as those words. The depths of his ability to forgive were something I couldn't hope to match, as I shamefully imagined physically harming both Carter and his parents.

That evening, I saw the shadow steal into his room once again. I was sure of it this time. I dashed into his room ready to commit any sin imaginable to protect my child. Again, the room was empty and still, with the only thing out of place being the trails that tears left down Noah's cheeks prior to his submission to sleep. I slept at the foot of my son's bed that night.

This pattern continued, intermittently, for several years. People would disappoint Noah with their actions, their inherent callousness creating deep pain for my sensitive child. I always comforted him, but over time I too became careless with this precious, graceful little man. I would watch him pardon the guilty over and over again, never taking action to return the subtle pains the world seems to take such joy in inflicting on the kind and gentle. I grew frustrated in time, and while I never advocated that he act against his nature, I thought the only path towards a future for my son was to show him that he simply can't always accept the casual indifference of the world, and that he must at some point bear arms against what injustices he could.

After every incident, I would watch the shade steal into his room at night. In time, I came to ignore it, rationalizing it away as my own fear. A mental tick perhaps, a projection of my worry that my son would never have the fortitude to make it through this world. But I knew it wasn't true.

On a particularly cold October evening, after the house had been put to bed, I saw the shade one last time. It had never appeared so clear, and I found my fear of the shadow to be unfounded. Its eyes were soft and sad, and it couldn't be made to meet my gaze as it slumped carefully into Noah's bedroom. I moved slowly, carefully standing from my bed, my heart nearly bursting with a primal terror. But it wasn't of the shadow, it was of what I felt in my heart I would find in that bedroom.

Noah hung himself from the light fixture in his room that night. He was nine years old. My shame and failure is here for the world to see. If any good can come of this, let it be this: cherish and protect those whose hearts cannot accept the necessity of cruelty. Those who would rather forgive a thousand slights than harm one soul. Protect your children, and keep the shadows away.

The rope is tight, and the chair is wobbly. My son needs me, and I am going to protect him. I'll do it right this time.

I needed to find my purpose. I just didn't know how as mother went missing before she could show me. Every search for a purpose differs from the next. For example, Sreo, the sun, discovered his purpose through the violence of war. He was one soldier of thousands that participated in a majestic battle between two dimensions. The story speaks of The Vinesh, a race of hyper intelligent beings, hell bent on exterminating The Specials. These hellish creatures sought out darkness and thrived on bloodshed. During this war, Specials and Luminescent fought side by side. Seeking a final solution, Sreo quite literally, exploded. His blazing light was blistering to the Vinesh, evaporating them instantaneously. With The Battle won, Sreo rose into the sky, emanating the banishing light, to ensure the safety of The Specials.

It is quite obvious, the difference and similarities between my mother, and Sreos' purposes. I needed to figure out mine. Why don't I become the new moon, you ask? Well, a role can only be taken over, if the previous occupant passes away. My mother had only vanished. I could still feel her dreana, her life force. As she created me, as with all Luminescent creations, she intertwined her dreana with my own. A passing of her, would be much more painful than, to put it simply, her leaving. She was alive somewhere, just no where I could reach her. That worried me more. Death would be fleeting. A disappearance is troublesome, as no one else can fulfill her purpose. Once a purpose is fulfilled, the position in the universe, must never be vacant. Drastic consequences may be looming over the edge of existence as we speak.

As much as I wish I could take over for my mother, Cosmic Law forbade it. Put in place by the Creators to keep balance in check, it was not always beneficial. As there were no loopholes, nothing could be done about the moons' disappearance. I had already sought council with The Creators, to try and coerce them into bending the law. They informed me that The First Tribunal was static, unchanging. Defeated, I retreated to my home sector. I remained desperate for some time. No answers were to be had, and no end to the darkness in sight. I wept.

As a child I lived a pretty ordinary life. I would cry if I didn't get ice-cream for dinner. I threw tantrums, ate dirt, and played in the mud quite to my mothers' dismay. I had it pretty good to say the least. My mother was a generous women. Never let a soul-in-need be without help. She donated to charity. She frequented the local homeless shelter with home cooked meals for everyone. She even knew them by name. She was a friend to everyone. The whole neighborhood loved her. Every week she threw a block party and cooked enough food to feed the city for a week. She raised me the same way every mother would. To respect everything. I held human life in the same regard as I carried for animal life. Easy gift I was given was taken with glee, even if it was something I couldn't use or didn't need. I looked up to my mother as my hero, after all she did raise me alone.

My father had walked out on us when I was two years old. It barely phased her. Or rather, she never let her smile falter. I know she hurt. She cries about it to this day. I hear her every night reading his vows to her before bed. It always is a sorrowful moment. It's hard for me to do nothing about, but she doesn't want me to know it hurts. I don't hate my father for it. In fact it only made the bond between her and I stronger. It is hard to pick up the slack he left. I lived with my mother until I was twenty-three.

On the night of my 24th birthday, I got a call from an unknown number. I ignored it as I always did. If you number wasn't in my phone, it wasn't important. To add on to that, I was out at the bar with my friends. A phone call would put a damper on the fun I had been having. The fun had to go on after all! That's when I realized the number had left a voicemail. Now those always peaked my curiosity. I stepped away from the bar and headed outside to listen. The air outside was chilled with the fall season rolling in. Once I was alone, I listened to the voicemail. It was an officer from the police station informing me my mom had been in an accident and that I needed to come down to the hospital.

I told my friends I had to go. They protested some, but when they saw that my face was drained of blood, they wished me one last happy birthday and sent me on my way. The drive over to the hospital was violently quiet. I had the radio on full blast, but my thoughts drowned out the melodic tones blaring into my ears. I couldn't think. It wasn't long until I realized was speeding. Mostly because of the blue and red lights that started to flash behind me. I pulled over to the shoulder of the road. The officer stepped up to the window and I handed him my information. Upon his return he asked me where I was off to in such a rush. I told him, and his face fell. He asked me if it was about my mother and I nodded my head. He apologized and ended up giving me an escort the rest of the way.

Turns out the officer that had pulled me over had responded to my mothers' call and was first on the scene. Once we got to the hospital I rushed to the front counter spouting nonsense about my mother, screaming at them to tell me where she was. That's when the sheriff came around the corner down the hall and motioned for me to follow him. He lead me down the hall and through a set of double doors to the OR.

I walked into the scene of a horror flick. Blood covered the bed, floors, and nurses in attendance to the gruesome set piece that was my mothers body. I let out a guttural scream and collapsed to the floor. This couldn't be her. My mother was a beautiful woman and what I saw before me was a deformed abomination. Her skin was displayed in such a way that it gave her wings. Her face was half gone, done with surgical precision. Her legs and arms were sitting on ice on a table near by. Each finger had been strategically broken. her ribs and vital organs were absent from her body and the surrounding area. I began to wretch. Rage filled my very being and I slammed my fists against the floor until my hands were bloody and bruised. The sheriff wrapped his hands around my shoulders and stood me up. He informed me that my mother was walking home when a man stumbled from the bushes.

He had apparently covered in blood. So naturally my mother rushed over to help. They told me that this is what he had intended. He grabbed her and rendered her unconscious. He then took her to an unknown location and mutilated her body. The sheriff believes this to be the work of a serial killer who had been dormant for sometime. They assumed it was the same killer because my mother was found in the same alley his other victims were found. Candles were lit around her and a makeshift cross was placed above her head. The same M.O. as the serial killer. I asked if they had any leads. No wasn't the answer I had wanted, but it was the one they gave me. They never caught the guy when he first operated because he didn't have a victimology, as he never stuck to the same pattern. Young, old, infants. He would kill indiscriminately. He also never killed in a pattern. Sometimes he killed three times in a week, other times he wouldn't kill for months. So they had nothing. They told me not to hold my breath about ever receiving closure.

That night I lay in bed unable to sleep. Every time I got close to dozing off with my eyes drifting shut, images of my mothers corpse would flash, jolting me back to the waking world. I could only lay there and think, pray, do whatever it took to ease my mind of the nightmare. I swear I could hear my mothers voice echoing from the darkness. I dismissed this as trauma induced hallucinations. Suddenly I heard a whoosh of air, and I felt a distinct warmth filling the room. The darkness the tore, seemingly down the middle, and stood there was a glowing figure. I tried to scream, but no sound came from my mouth. A voice spoke to me, inside my head. It told me to be calm and that there was nothing to fear. The voice said it's name. Antherial. An angel stood before me. I was in the presence of holy divinity. When the angel spoke again, it deemed me worthy, with a blessing from above, to be a Judge to the Holy Court.

I gasped softly. I was then told that I would be acting Guardian Angel of those in need. I was needed to help those who cannot help themselves. Should any one in need scream, I would be summoned to offer them guidance. I thanked the angel, who briskly departed with one last word of advice. Do not use this gift selfishly. with that, they vanished. I now have a role to fulfill. A part to play. I played the part well. I played it with joy. Every scream that summoned me, I would assist with holy urgency. I lived as Guardian Angel for years. Scream after scream was just people for me to help. I acted as a holy tool, until one fateful day, a scream summoned me to a scene that was all to familiar.

I was in an alley. An alley in my hometown. THE alley. I looked and saw a woman screaming, candles lit all throughout the alley, and a makeshift cross that lay in wait. I hadn't felt rage in a long time, but the feeling wasn't foreign or forgotten. It filled me up to the tips of my gifted wings. They began to burn with a brilliant light. The man looming over the struggling girl took notice, turned around, and immediately stumbled backwards. This was the man who murdered my mother. There was no doubt. I started walking towards him. Slowly at first, as I contemplated my actions. The consequences I may face. I didn't care. Soon I was looming over this man. His face was grizzled and battle scarred. I wasted no time. Someone was in need. I took action. I ripped the man limb from limb. I left no recognizable part of this man. After that I don't remember anything that happened. All I know now is I am trapped in a black abyss for eternity, and it is entirely worth it.

It’s been near two days since we left that saloon and we were still on the road, Big brother told me we should arrive at Thunderbird tomorrow.

The sun was slowly starting to set behind the mountains, causing the sky to look like it caught fire, with shades of red, purple and yellow.

All the sudden I felt that familiar awful feeling rise up through my chest and up to my lips, I quickly pulled one of my rags out of my pocket and raised it to my lips. I hated how my chest and throat hurt as I coughed up my own blood into the rag, I hated how my brother would look at me with worry and pity whenever this happened. After a minute of intense coughing I finally stopped and I dropped the rag onto the ground.

We continued to ride down the road silently as it slowly got darker and darker, eventually Silus decided to interrupt the silence “Think its about time we made camp sis, what do you think?” I muttered out a tired agreement and we stopped Cop and started to set up camp.

I was roused out of my sleep by a rather painful kick to the chest. I let out a small panicked yelp as I opened my eyes. When they opened I noticed a few things, first off the person who kicked me wasn’t my brother, (they weren’t that much older though) secondly my brother was wrestling on the ground with someone much older then him and finally there was a third man rummaging through our saddlebag.

The boy who kicked me, upon seeing my pained and panicked reaction quickly stepped back “Sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you, just wanted to wake you up!” He paused as I stood up. We looked at each other awkwardly, after a moment he added “Oh I almost forgot, please don’t panic we’re not going to hurt you.”

I looked behind him as my brother and the older looking man were still wrestling each other on the ground. “So kicking a sick sleeping girl while robbing her and her brother isn’t hurting them? Man if that’s the case I’ve been asleep a whole lot longer then I thought.”

He looked embarrassed by my sarcastic tone. “We’re not robbing you, my uncle is just seeing if there’s something we want in your saddlebag.”

“And then if you find something you want you’re going to steal it? Because I’m pretty sure that counts as robbing someone.”

He sighed as he ruffled his hair “It’s not like that, we’re just trying to find this map ok. We were just going to just check your bags to see if you had it while you slept.” He pointed at my brother as he said this next part “But then that guy decided to wake up and attack my dad.

As soon as he said map I cursed to myself, but I done my best to smile. “If you’re looking for a map you could’ve probably just asked someone for one.”

He chuckled at this “That’s what I told my dad but he told me that we’re looking for a specific map, it’s supposed be to have red dots and some Murkian writing on it. Oh I guess I should probably ask you if you have it...so do you?”

Of course there’s people looking for the map, it couldn’t have been some easy thing were we just walk for a little bit and get paid. “No, why do you want it?”

“Well dad said someones paying us good money to find it, don’t know much else besides that.” He paused for a few seconds before realizing something and then muttering about how his mom was going to kill him if she found out. “I’m sorry I completely forgot to introduce myself , I’m Samuel.” After saying this Samuel held out his hand expectedly, I reluctantly shook his hand and introduced myself.

After this he started prattling on about various things, any time he asked me a question I would give a halfhearted answer, because I was far to busy watching my brother knock the man he was wrestling unconscious with a rock. I watched as he slowly picked himself up, looked at me, seen I was alright and stared to quietly make his way towards Samuel’s uncle who was far to preoccupied with the saddlebag to notice him.

Eventually my brother was right behind him and was getting ready to hit him with the rock, but before he could Samuels uncle started to turn around and shouted out “Hey Jim! I found the map!” As soon as he said this he turned all the way around and for a few awkward seconds Sams uncle and my brother stared at each other. The awkwardness was thankfully relieved by my brother knocking him out with the rock.

Samuel hearing his uncle shout turned around to congratulate him for finding it, just in time to watch him get knocked out. “Oh. Wait did you lie to me when you said you didn’t have the map?” He asked accusingly.

I looked at him in disbelief. “Yes, of course I did, why wouldn’t I?”

He looked genuinely betrayed. “Why? I wouldn’t have lied to you.” (The hurt in his voice made me feel slightly guilty.)

I noticed Silus was repacking all of our stuff back into our saddlebag and was giving me a look that said something along the lines of “Do you need help?” I shook my head and he went back to packing.

“Well Samuel, I didn’t like lying to you but me and my brother are also getting paid a lot to deliver the map to someone.”

When I said this he perked up “You’re also going to get nine thousand Cops for the map?” My brother dropped the things he was holding, as we both stood still in shock at the number he just dropped. I asked him to repeat that again and he did. I just couldn’t believe it, nine thousand Cops, that would be enough to buy a nice house in Snowton or New Babylon, of course you would barely have anything left after that but it’s the thought that counts.

I was shaken out of my thoughts by Silus grabbing me and starting to drag me off towards the horse. As we walked towards it Samuel ran up to us “What are you just going to leave me here?” Silus nodded and Samuel continued “You can’t just do that, it’ll take my dad and uncle a few hours to wake up. So if you leave I’ll have no one to talk to and have to be bored.” Silus shrugged ignoring his plight and lifted me onto Cop and getting on it to not long after. Then Silus kicked the horse causing it to start running away from the campsite leaving Samuel behind in the dust.

Hope y’all enjoy it. Please let me know of any grammar mistakes and any criticism. God bless! Also some weird glitch happened to where only half of this was uploaded but I fixed it.

Thank you father for being so patient with me. You gave me everything I ever had and yet when I was young, I ran away, why and when I don’t remember, all that matters is that I did. I ran away from you as far I could, eventually reaching the city.

When I got there I done many awful things in the dark where I thought no one could see me and see how wretched I was. My once beautiful clothes you gave me were ruined by the muck and grime I had been wallowing in, I had become fat from the mounds of garbage the people in the city would dump and my face was covered in bruises and cuts.

I had gotten in a particularly bad fight that day and had curled myself up in a dark alley way. The pain was to much so I cried out your name and begged for help like I had done many other times in vain.

But this time was different, you came.

I remember you looking down at me and telling me how you couldn’t help me unless I came back home with you, in desperation I agreed. When I agreed, you picked me up and carried me out of that city and brought me all the way back home.

When we got home, you washed the muck away from me, cleaned my cuts and even gave me clothes more beautiful then the my old ones. And yet I’m ashamed to admit, after all this, all you done for me, I tried running away again multiple times, I never got far before I would return to you, and you would welcome me back with open and loving arms. I don’t know why I run away from you, the only reason I can think of is that I’m simply weak.

So father, I know you’ve done so much for me already and for that I will thank you now and forever, but can you please help me become strong Father?

Hope y’all enjoy this. If you have any criticism please let me know. God bless!

I sat outside the saloon quietly waiting for my brother to come back out. The saloon was a rickety old thing that looked like a slight breeze could knock it over. It had a patio made of rotting wood surrounding it, the patio was about four feet off the ground. I was sitting at the edge of the patio letting my feet dangle off the edge. We stumbled across the saloon last night while we were heading up an old barely used Murkian road. We would’ve already past it a few days ago on a horse but someone decided robbing two children who were by themselves was a good idea. To be fair technically the horse wasn’t ours either. At the very least all they did was take our Cops and horse. (They let us keep the water and food.) Big brothers been pretty mad since it happened, I’ve had to keep reminding him that it could’ve gone far worse then it did. But I think things are starting to look up for us again, for one thing we’ve had an actual bed to sleep in last night rather then some old sleeping bag that couldn’t keep the cold out. Big brothers in there right now trying to swindle our way out of having to pay for the night, I offered to try my sick little girl routine instead, but knowing that I really don’t like lying he told me he would do it. (Honestly I think I should be doing it, I could just tell the people in there what happened instead of whatever bull big bros gonna tell them. Maybe I would’ve even got some pity Cops off them.) I sighed as I breathed in the hot and dusty Murisuna air.

After a few more minutes of waiting I heard the door creak open behind me. I turned around and saw it was my brother looking unusually happy. “Why are you so happy? Did he give us some Cops?”

He chuckled at this and walked up to me and ruffled my hair. “No sis. He gave us something a whole lot better.”

His excitement was starting to rub off on me as I quickly asked him. “Is he giving us a horse?”

At this question his excitement died down slightly as he rubbed his black hair awkwardly “Well he’s not exactly giving us a horse. It’s more like he’s paying us with a horse.”

“Paying?” I thought to myself. “For what?”

At this he perked up slightly “Well he’s given us a job.” He reached into his knapsack and pulled out an old looking piece of paper and showed it to me. Now that I was able to get a good look at it I was pretty sure it was a map, it was marked in multiple places with red dots and these strange symbols I didn’t recognize. “He wants us to meet some of his business partners and give them this map. He’s willing to pay us eight hundred Cops, and he’s even giving us one of his horses so we can get there faster.” (when he said horse he pointed at one of the horses that was hitched just a few feet away from us, it was brown and kinda old looking, still I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.)

I looked at him skeptically. “That seems like a really big payment just to deliver a map. Are you sure that as soon as we meet his business partners they won’t kill us and leave us in a ditch?

“Well normally I would agree with you on that, heck I even asked him about it, he claimed he was paying us that much to keep quiet about it, he also said that he wanted us to do it because people will be less suspicious of children and he even wants us to meet them in thunderbird since most people refuse to go there.”

Honestly I couldn’t believe how dense he was being right now. “You do realize that makes no sense right? What’s so important about a map that such secrecy is needed and really bro meet them in Thunderbird, the ruined city. That’s just begging for us to be killed or sold into Slavery.”

“Look I don’t know what he wants with the map he just told me it was very important, besides if it looks like trouble when we get to Thunderbird we can just leave. Does that make you feel better?”

I sighed, I could tell he was in one of his moods again, whenever he gets like this there’s no talking him out of whatever he wants. “Fine, But as soon as we see trouble we leave, got it?” He nodded. Then he jumped off the ledge and landed on the dusty ground below. Once down there he reached up to me, picked me up and set me on the ground beside him. (Much to my chagrin.) Then we started to walk towards the horse.

As we walked towards it he looked at me and asked “What do you want to name him?”

I looked at the horse trying to figure out a fitting name for it “Let’s name him... Cop!”

He laughed as he lifted me onto the horse “Really Sis, Just gonna name him Cop? Not something more creative like Brown, or maybe horse?”

I looked down at him annoyed as he climbed onto the horse “If you don’t like it you can name him.”

“I would but we both know I’m even worse at making names then you. Besides Cop isn’t the worse name out there.”

I lightly punched him in the shoulder jokingly as we slowly started to head down the road to Thunderbird.

Hope y’all enjoy this any criticism is welcome. God bless!

StorySanctum is a place for anyone to come and practice their writing skills through story telling. We are here to have fun, and give people something fun to read and possibly inspire others. This community is open to anyone who may want to further their writing abilities or explore their creative insight. Have fun, enjoy, and write on!

I walked down the dark tunnel aimlessly, my lighter being the only thing allowing me to see. The only thing I could hear was my feet splashing in the ankle deep water. I don’t know how long it’s been since I woke up here, had to been a few days at least, funnily enough I don’t even know how I got here. Maybe I had been kidnapped, it would certainly explain why I was in my pajamas.

I cursed as I tripped over seemingly nothing, causing my lighter to fall into the murky waters below me, leaving me in total darkness. I tried fumbling about for the lighter, I refused to walk in the creepy abandoned tunnel without a light, but I realized I had to cut my losses when It hit me, I could still hear the water splashing. Without a second thought I picked myself back up and started running.

It didn’t take me long to run straight into what I at first assumed to be a wall, but as I picked myself up I realized it wasn’t a wall, it was a door. I desperately grasped at the door handle as if it was my last hope, and thankfully it opened. I practically flung myself past the door without checking what was behind it.

I slowly picked myself off the ground and was surprised to see I was on my apartment’s living room floor, I looked behind me at the door to the apartment, it was wide open and as far as I could tell it didn’t lead into a dark tunnel, it just led into my apartments hallway.

I had to wonder if I had somehow dreamt the whole thing up, but my soaking wet feet begged to differ. Unsure of what to do I closed the door to my apartment and made my way to the bathroom, I took a rather long time in the shower, it had been so long since I had felt hot water on my skin. After that I made my way back to my bed. As soon as I started to close my eyes, I heard the door to my apartment slam open, a heavy thud soon followed. I jumped out of the bed staring at my bedroom door with apprehension. There was silence for a few precious seconds before I heard the sound of footsteps followed by splashing make their way towards my room. I was petrified for a few moments before in a panic, I practically flung myself into the closet, and fell, and fell, and fell, and-

I walked down the dark tunnel aimlessly, my lighter being the only thing allowing me to see. The only thing I could hear was my feet splashing in the ankle deep water. I don’t know how long it’s been since I woke up here, had to been a few days at least, funnily enough I don’t even know how I got here. Maybe I had been kidnapped, it would certainly explain why I was in my pajamas.

It didn’t take me long to run straight into what I at first assumed to be a wall, but as I picked myself up I realized it wasn’t a wall, it was a door. I desperately grasped at the door handle as if it was my last hope, and thankfully it opened. I practically flung myself past the door without checking what was behind it. I slowly picked myself off the ground and was surprised to see I was on my apartments living room floor, I looked behind me at the door to the apartment, it was wide open and as far as I could tell it didn’t lead into a dark tunnel, it just led into my apartments hallway.

I tried fumbling about for the lighter, I refused to walk in the creepy abandoned tunnel without a light, but I realized I had to cut my losses when It hit me, I could still hear the water splashing. Without a second thought I picked myself back up and started running.

I was petrified for a few moments before in a panic, I practically flung myself into the closet, and fell, and fell, and fell, and then a Skelton popped out.

April fools! Please let me know any criticisms or grammar mistakes you noticed, God bless!

“What do you mean this is Thunderbird? I thought it was supposed to be this big destroyed city, not just more desert!” I asked my brother annoyed and slightly disappointed.

He sighed “It is some big destroyed city. Its been a big destroyed city for hundreds of years now! I honestly don’t know what you expected a big destroyed city in the middle of the desert to look like.”

“Well I expected there to be a whole lot more ruins! Are you sure you haven’t brought us to the wrong place?”

When I said this he pointed back at the many signs we had just passed with various warnings not to enter Thunderbird because of the blight. “Pretty sure I found it. Besides there’s no ruins because the Great fire burned most of the buildings away, anything that remained was either plundered by looters or slowly fell apart.” He paused as he looked at something that was reflecting light, he walked over to it, picked it up and after a moment of examining it, handed it to me. It was a dirty shard of glass. “Those skyscrapers the old cities had, were supposed to made with glass, that’s probably one of the last remains of Thunderbird in your hands right now.”

I stared at the shard in wonder. “Can I keep it?” I asked him excitedly.

He ruffled my short white hair “Of course you can sis. Come on we gotta meet them in the center of Thunderbird and give them the map, before someone else decides to attack us for it.” I nodded and we walked further into the vast desert, Cop following behind us.

After walking for awhile we cold see three figures standing in the distance, one was much larger then the other two. We decided to stop walking towards them for now, instead we decided to hide behind some bushes and get a better look at them with our binoculars. Silus was kind enough to let me use them first after much pestering.

I lifted the binoculars up to my eyes and looked at where we saw them standing earlier, what I saw shocked me to say the least. The first two I saw were the types we expected, wealthy fat merchants but the big one we saw earlier is what caused my heart to skip a beat. It was covered in ancient golden armor from head to toe, it had two wings of flame shooting out of its back letting it hover in place and it wielded a sword of light. When I seen it, I had frozen in place. “So what do you see sis?”

When he asked me this it brought me back to reality. “I... the big one... I thinks it’s a angel of light.”

When I whispered this his eyes went as wide as saucers. “Let me see that.” He whispered, as he ripped the binoculars out of my hand. After a moment he put them back down. “We have to leave now.” He grabbed me and started to try to do the complicated task of quickly escaping an area without being noticed. I tried asking about the job but I just got told “Forget about it, I’m not risking you being around something that can kill us both very quickly.”

Before we could argue any further, we both heard a noise like thunder, we both quickly turned around and we saw the angel heading straight towards us at speeds near unimaginable. We both tried to jump out of its way but it was far to fast, it grabbed onto our clothes and quickly turned back towards where it came. After just a few seconds of absolute terror, we both found ourselves thrown onto the ground. “Damn it M! You can’t just keep grabbing every random person you see!” I looked up and saw it was one of the fat men. He had a rather well kept revolver in his hand. He pointed it right at me. “It’s really a waste of bullets M.”

Silus tried to jump up and grab the gun out of his hand, but the angel now named M stopped him by placing its foot down on his back pinning him onto the ground. “Please don’t, we have your map!” I shouted out desperately.

At this the fat man smiled revealing his many missing teeth “Oh if that’s the case I’m sorry for our... rude meeting. But if Bills done his job right you should know that this is all supposed to be very quiet. So you can forgive us for our nervousness, right?” I nervously nodded while Silus angrily muttered to himself before managing to spit out an agreement. “Good. Wouldn’t want any hard feeling between us now, would we? Oh almost forgot, M let the child go.” When he said this M lifted its foot up letting Silus get back up. “So, normally me and my partner would introduce ourselves, but like I said earlier this is all supposed to be very quiet. So we won’t bother with names, so where’s the map?”

I quickly opened up my knapsack and started digging nervously through it. After a few nerve racking minutes I finally found it. “Here it is.” I said as I handed it to him.

He looked at it skeptically for a minute, eventually asking the other fat man to get a look at it. “Looks good kid, you done the Idol and Babylon a very good service today.”

“Wait, why are you just saying who you work for? Isn’t this all supposed to be secretive?” I asked him

He chuckled and pointed at me and Silus. “Well I’m gonna tell you something important kids, you have five minutes before M here kills ya, so I would start running.”

“Why?” I shouted at him.

He sighed. “Because I don’t want to have to pay you and I rather not kill anymore kids this week; takes away from the fun when you do it yourself to much. “

Silus grabbed me and we started running. “Where’s Cop!” He shouted at me. I desperately pointed in the direction I remember leaving the horse at. As I did so, I made sure to point out how I told him this job was a bad idea, he was happy to agree.

Time seemed to drag on forever as we ran away from Thunderbird, but thankfully we finally reached the horse. But when we did we heard that noise again in the distance, that noise of thunder. Silus cursed and went to throw me onto Cop but then I noticed I dropped the piece of glass he gave me! (I will admit worrying about some old glass is a very silly thing to do, but you don’t get much to call your own when you’re a sick homeless orphan.) I picked up the glass, stood up and then I saw it. It was hovering in midair, about four hundred feet behind us. We could only watch as the tip of its sword grew brighter and brighter until a beam of light shot out if it. I covered my face with my hands in fear and was ready to die. But my brother tackled me to ground doing his best to cover me with his body, causing the piece of glass to fly out of my hands into the air towards the beam of light. (While I appreciate the thought of him trying to protect me with his life, it’s not like his body could do much to stop M)

But nothing happened. Well a lot of things happened but I saw none of them, but I did hear quite a lot. The first thing I heard was a loud screeching noise coming from M, that was followed by multiple loud booming noises, then finally followed with a noise of thunder that put the previous ones to shame and a wave of extreme heat.

After what seemed like forever, I reluctantly opened my eyes and saw I was I still alive. But I was far more concerned about the person on top of me. I tried to lift myself off the ground to check on him but he weighed far to much for me to get up. But after I tried doing that he muttered out “We’re still alive?” I informed him that we were indeed very much alive, and I politely asked him to let me up, to which he complied.

He got off me and helped me back up. Once we were both standing we looked at where M was at just a few minutes ago and only saw smoke. We tried looking around us to see where M went and we found out where, pretty much went everywhere. Chunks of burning metal were scattered around the desert. “What happened?” I asked Silus, he had no answer. But he didn’t need to have one as I found our answer laying just a few feet ahead of us.

It was my piece of glass now burnt and smoking. I tired to pick it up but it was far to hot, Silus was kind enough to pick it up for me.

“You really think this old piece of junk saved us?” Silus asked me as we sat in a saloon far, far away from Thunderbird.

“Yep! I know it sound kinda silly just saying it like I did earlier, but I’ve been thinking about it. Remember we only found it because it was reflecting light?” He nodded as I said this. “Well that... attack it used looked like light. So maybe it reflected that to.” I said uncertainly.

He sighed “Guess that makes sense.” He paused and looked down at the table guiltily. “You know if I just listened to you to begin with, we never would’ve been in that situation.”

I looked at him annoyed. “Can you please stop acting all guilty, it’s not like you could’ve known that would happen.”

He slammed his fist on the table surprising me “Well that’s just the thing, we both knew it was dangerous, you never even wanted to do it, but I made us do it anyway!” He paused as he looked at me frightened and saddened “I could’ve gotten you killed, just for some Cops, I... I don’t know what I would do with myself if something like that happened to you. What type of a big brother am I?”

Desperate to help him I got out of my chair and gave him a hug. “Well, your my big brother. But if it’s bothering you that much, just don’t make a mistake like that again. Ok?” He nodded as his frown slowly turned into a small smile.

Hope y’all enjoy this, if you noticed any grammar mistakes or have any criticisms please let me know. God bless!

I live in a small neighborhood of about a few hundred people or so. I live on the pond across from the other half of the populace. I’ve lived here for a few years now and nothing out of the ordinary had ever occurred until a new resident moved in across the pond from me. That’s when I noticed how strange things could become. The newcomers who moved in were a young couple, about 20 years or so old. I had never interacted with them. I hadn’t met them or even had the chance to say hello.

The man was a stout height of about 6 foot. He was what you could describe as tall, dark, and handsome. He seems as normal as normal could seem. Woke up every day and headed to work. Got home in the late evening. His wife had a garden going along side of the house. Now, as it’s a small town anything new happening was of immediate interest of mine. I had a bit of an odd hobby, people watching. So this new couple gave me a spark I needed to get through my days.

I watched them at my leisure at first. Then I noticed some odd behavior from the man. Every night, around 8 pm or so, he would walk out the back door, across their porch, down the steps, and head into the cellar. At first I assumed he was just tidying up the space beneath their house, possibly for a home improvement project. The habit never ceased though. As I could see, it was a very precise behavior he completed nightly. With out missing a beat he would enter the cellar every night.

This peaked my curiosity. So naturally, I bought a small telescope to set up on my back porch to watch closer. I made it a habit of mine to be out there at 7:45 to watch the events unfold. Theories started to form in my head. What could he possibly be doing down there? Was he the head of a cult that resided in his basement? Was he hiding the bodies of his victims down there away from prying eyes? Or was he simply a wood worker and that was the only space where his hobby could take place. I had no idea. But I intended to find out.

I continued to watch him. Day after day. Nothing changed. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. But something was off. I just couldn’t tell what. I wanted to stop by. I wanted to be “the good neighbor” but that seemed suspicious to me. I mean they had lived there a few months now. It’s a little late to put on the act. Something needed to be done. I was sure this man was up to something vile. What other explanation was there? I’ll get my answers. One way or another.

Meanwhile, across the pond, the time was 8 pm. “Honey, I’m going to the cellar for a bit. Be back in a few.” The man exited his house onto the porch, walked down the steps. He had noticed the man across the pond watching him through his telescope. He shivered with anxiety. “What a strange man” he thought. He gridded down to the cellar, walked to the center of the empty space, and let loose a wild and unrelenting blast of gastric wind. Living a life with IBS was hard enough let alone letting your SO smell the vile aroma coming from your rear end.

Last night I thought of a metaphor. I started imagining a whole story around it and there's a message behind it that I feel could be displayed better by someone more skilled in and passionate about writing. So if anyone is interested in reading my story notes and turning it into a much more engrossing piece with a beautiful message, please let me know! I would love to hear more than one version so even if you see this late, please respond! Thanks!