Ever Thine, Ever Mine

Chanting incantations just to make the spell complete
How could I have known that you would sweep me off my feet
I know we should take it slow
But you’re giving me the go
Heaven knows you got me, you make others obsolete

You’re universal
Extraterrestrial
Baby you controversial
You’re an adventure
Best endeavor
Magick will bring us together

I don’t want your love if it won’t be mine
Ever thine
Ever mine
Align me with the one who will be mine
Ever thine
Ever mine
Synchronize me with the one who is mine
Ever thine
Ever mine

That kind of love won’t go away
It gets better every day

Manifesting breakthroughs, you know I ain’t like the rest
When you met me I was out here living my best
I know we should take it slow
But you’re giving me the go
Heaven knows if you stay with me I’ll keep you hella blessed

I don’t want your love if it won’t be mine
Ever thine
Ever mine
Align me with the one who will be mine
Ever thine
Ever mine
Synchronize me with the one who is mine
Ever thine
Ever mine

That kind of love won’t go away
It gets better every day

Miss you like crazy
Where you at?
Love you, immensely
You know that
Need you profoundly
Ever thine
Want you, sincerely
Ever mine

We both have our halo
God knows we should take it slow
But you’re giving me the go

I don’t want your love if it won’t be mine
Ever thine
Ever mine
Align me with the one who will be mine
Ever thine
Ever mine
Synchronize me with the one who is mine
Ever thine
Ever mine

That kind of love won’t go away
It gets better every day

Miss you like crazy
Where you at?
Love you, immensely
You know that
Need you profoundly
Ever thine
Want you, sincerely
Ever mine

Echoes

            Late at night as silence settled I sat in the patio and waited. I can’t pin point the exact day when they began but I’ll never forget the night I heard the scream. I was finishing my second cigar, gazing at the night sky. Nothing out of the ordinary, just another regular peaceful night until these eerie echoes came out of nowhere. They were echoes of metal slamming into rock, a haunting cry for help. That night was unreal and unfortunately not the last.

            At first, I thought it was a dream. I hoped I imagined it all like one bad, scary nightmare. The next morning I couldn’t help but replay the horror. I pictured myself turning to the woods as the second set of echoes rang in my ear. I froze thinking there was no way I could hear it for the third time. To my astonishment, I did. Three times was enough for me to bolt my way back inside the house. I could not face the thing that called in the night. Only when I step outside late in the hour would these echoes call to me.

            For the next few weeks since then I’ve been drawn to the noise, luring me each night. I did not want to admit it but the more I listen the more it became evident. The echoes were persistent and on schedule. Almost as if someone is strategically making those noises to get my attention. Come night fall, I sat in my patio and waited. Soon, those eerie echoes lurking in the distance would come out of hiding.

            This time I was prepared to find what or who is making that sound. Who or whatever is trying to get my attention has it now. I waited armed in black attire with a flashlight on hand, my phone in my pocket and a backpack loaded with equipment suitable for a hostile environment. I am ready to follow the echoes that breathed in the shadows. I waited for the trail of screams to help guide me through the woods to answer whatever plea that stood before me.

            On cue, the echoes lured me into the night. Flashlight in hand, I followed the trail. I disappeared into the woods, I entered the night. I had no clue where I was going but the consistency of the echoes led the way. The woods were pitch black and there was no path to guide me down a smooth road. Wherever the echoes were taking me I had no idea. Like a headless chicken, I made my way deep into the woods guided by faint echoes.

            My pace accelerated as the last set of echoes grew dimmer. What caused me to become consumed by curiosity enough so to explore the woods at night was beyond me at this point. There was nothing in the woods that held a clue as to what was causing those maddening echoes. I stood for a moment confused as hell. I was lost, I am certain of it. I waved my flashlight around thinking that would solve my problem. The echoes stopped.

            I could hear my blood rush through my ears as I stood. The silence was unpleasant. No animals preyed nearby. No distant hoot from a camouflage owl up in the trees. It’s almost as if the woods had been deserted by every animal and insect. The beam of light emitting from my hand revealed where I should go but I had the least idea where to start. I figure I make camp and wait for dawn to head back home. Better than getting completely lost in the dead of night.

            Thick clouds concealed the moonlight and the stars. I was surrounded by pitch black. I dropped my backpack and unpacked my sleeping bag. I gathered whatever twigs I could find near me and made fire. As I lit a match the echoes continued. This time, they felt desperate. They were more aggressive with no rhythm. Almost as if someone were slamming a rock into metal over and over and over again.

            I got to my feet and debated whether I should follow the noise or do nothing. I thought maybe they’ll stop eventually and I’ll probably end up getting more lost. I’d probably not even find whatever is making all that ruckus. I sat back down and warmed by the fire. The echoes seemed far but close enough to where they overpower the cracking of the wood burning.

            Not too long did I begin to have my doubts. Maybe I should have followed the noise. All this time yet still the echoes rang in the night. I did have time to follow the trail. I would have probably found the source and laid all this to rest. I kept my hands by the fire, gazing. The echoes were hard to miss and even harder to ignore. My gut instinct told me I should have done something. Instead, like before, I sat and waited for the echoes to stop.

            Dawn approached and I was on my way back home. Camping in the woods at night was pleasant to say the least. Though there were no stars or moon out, the breeze kept things cool. The chill air was the only good thing to come out of the whole ordeal. I promised myself this would be the last time I go wondering off into the woods alone at night. What a waist of time, I thought hiking back.

            My phone buzzed and to my surprise a local news alert popped on my screen. I opened the notification to find a report of a missing woman. She was last seen not too far from where I live. I didn’t bother to read the rest of the article, just the headline. Not much was said, as I skimmed through, just the usual be alert and safe at all times warning. The police have set a reward for information in regards to the missing woman’s whereabouts and the identification of the kidnapper.

            As noon rolled by, the whereabouts of the missing woman was all over the news. It began with a search that ended with a dead body. The police found the missing woman wrapped in Christmas paper like some present. The media revealed the location to where her body was found. I sat in horror as footage of the same woods I was wondering late last night play out on the television screen.

            I feared the police might come knocking at my door. The neighbors might have tipped the authorities of my late night stroll and think I had something to do with the woman’s untimely death. “The woman was kept alive,” the news reporter went on, “She was killed last night.” Last night, I whispered slouching to the couch. I didn’t want to be seen. That could have been me.

            The woman’s murder was on every news channel, even come by nightfall. I sat on the table looking out onto the patio. I had my cigar and lighter with me ready for my regular session with the stars but something kept me from going outside. The woods were disappearing as the sun faded, replaced by the blue moonlight. Do I dare with a murderer on the loose? Am I safer inside than out? I sat in the kitchen, silence settled. Just as I thought things were back to how they were, the echoes returned.

            I was determined to find the source this time. I bolted to the patio and sprinted to the woods. The light from my phone led the way as I followed the echoes. They would come and go, almost as if whoever or whatever was making them was giving up. They weren’t consistent or have some sort of rhythm like before. They were close, I could hear the metal slamming on rock this time; not just as echoes.

            “Hello?” I called, not knowing if someone would answer. The echoes were near but still unattainable. “Is someone there?” The echoes stopped as I got closer. Up ahead, a small cave was hidden by thick vines. I brushed them aside and entered the opening. A small dim light deep inside led me to a hidden cellar. Whimpers echoed as loud bangs screamed.

            “Help me, please!” someone shouted. I leaned against the wall hoping no one would see me. “Help!” the person screamed, shouted until their voice gave out.

            “Hello?” I called.

            “Hello!” the person answered almost immediately. “Who’s there?” A metal door stood between me and whoever was making those echoes. I could hear fear in their voice, almost as if they’ve been through hell. “Please help me! Get me out of here! I have a family that depend on me. Please, get me out of here!” I tried sliding the door open, searched for a knob to turn but a single lock prevented me from releasing this stranger from its torment. Nothing I did was helping. The door would not budge.

            I tried calling the police but I had no service. “I can’t open the door, it has a lock. I need a key.” I raved my phone around, desperately trying to find something to break the lock. I wasn’t much help. The person was beginning to get desperate. They kept slamming, banging a rock on the door; shouting at the top of their lungs for release. They wanted out. They wanted to feel some sort of normalcy after the hell they’ve lived through.

            “I will be back,” I promised. “I’m going to get help.” That was the last thing I remembered saying. I woke up later that night in a dark room. My head ached. I couldn’t see a thing. My phone was gone. No windows or cracked door let light in. “Hello!” I yelled, thinking I’d get a reply. “Where am I?” I searched around, not knowing what I’d find. I crawled until I reached the wall. I moved around searching for a switch that would reveal where I was but I could not find a switch.

            “Is there anyone there?” I cried, shouted, screamed until my lungs gave out but no one answered. How did I end up in this mess? I kept searching, not knowing where I was. I stumbled on a rock trying to find a way out. I blindly felt around the room trying to decipher where I was. I found a metal plate on the other side of the room. This might have been the door with the lock, only this time I was on the other side; on the inside.

            I took a rock I found near me and started slamming it on the metal door. I slammed it as hard as I could for as long as I could. Though my voice would give out on me, I kept slamming the rock trying to make as much noise as possible. Anything to get someone’s attention. It wasn't long until I realized what was making those echoes late at night. As I knocked and the echoes spilled out into the woods, I came to realize why I heard the echoes in the first place. The echoes that first came to me now began by me. I was now the cause, praying someone heard my plea but the world could care less.

Mote It Be

I was on some heavy shit
Trying to numb the things I don’t want to admit
I attempted suicide
Though I tried
I could not go through with it

I was on some heavy shit
Trying to reason
Why I had to take so many hits
I’m ashamed to live with this
So I tried
I attempted suicide

Then light seeped in
Like a choir
A symbolic salvation
A kind liberation
And I was free
Mote it be

To know of rampage
At such a young age
What else could I have known?
And though I endure
I had to face more
I pray they one day atone

The light seeped in
Set me free
So mote it be!
The light seeped in
Help me see
So mote it be!

Took many beatings
Left me bleeding
They tried to break my soul
Because I’m damaged
Who’d want my baggage
Death can only make me whole

Then God stepped in
Delivering
A love that never ends
A home to be at ease
I made amends
Found my peace

The light seeped in
Set me free
So mote it be!
Oh God stepped in
Help me see
So mote it be!

Hands around my neck
Waking to a wreck
Me bleeding on the floor
Wishing I were dead
Knowing what’s ahead
I can’t take it any more

Then light seeped in
So serene
God came to me
To help me see
Set me free
So mote it be!

Rich Men Dead

            Red and blue lights swirled in the night as a crowd drew near to a home bordered with caution tape. Dispatchers radioed in with clues to the mystery while bystanders and neighbors kept an open ear. They wanted to leave, knowing they could be mistaken as a suspect, but their curiosity glued them where they stood. A murder, at first glance, brought the police out from their station accompanied by ambulances and firetrucks. A who done it was on everyone’s tongue, for what motive was the authorities to know.
            Two detectives soon appeared to the scene of the crime. Their first instinct was to scout the perimeter then they proceeded to enter the home sealed off to the public. Once they were in, they were briefly informed of the incident; beginning with a phone call. As the detectives were caught up to the murder in question, they were presented to a man sitting by his desk. The man lay low as if he were fast asleep, the desk covered in blood. The man’s blood poured from a small wound pierced to the head.
            There seemed to be no struggle or breaking of entry. To the detectives knowledge, there seemed to be nothing missing but the culprit. The detectives ruled out suicide though that were to be the police’s statement for the news reporters outside. The detectives did their best not to move anything as they carefully spread and looked around. They knew nothing of the dead man but had a clue as to who he might be. They moved about, jotting notes and clues. They were silent but inquisitive.
            Judging from the man’s acquired taste in things, the detectives noticed, the man came from a wealthy family or at least made a very decent living. From the abundant state of the art flat screens decked in every room to the luxurious extended marble table, to the lavish art pieces, the man most certainly had everything an average person would dream of. How unfortunate he met his demise at such a moment of glory. The detectives did notice one peculiar aspect of the man, he had no family of his own.
            There could be a million reasons as to why someone would want such a rich man dead. Having no offspring of their own narrows the list but broadens the motives. Who in deed would want someone dead? What enemies would a young wealthy bachelor have? Picture frames in silver and gold, big and small, told a tale of a kind and popular man. The man held his own as he stood with powerful giants. The detectives looked around for more clues. Clearly, they needed more information from the dead man. They only needed to ask a few questions to the right people.
            The detectives trailed back to the dead man and examined with precision the scene of the crime. One detective stepped closer to the body. The dead man, it seemed, was concealing a stack of papers now covered in blood. The other detective noticed the dead man might have been working on a project, or at least it was meant to look that way. They stayed quiet for some time as they jot down last minute observations. In unison they closed their notepads and tucked them into their coats.
            One detective took one last picture before they boarded their car. They sat patiently while taking one last look at the crowd. They noticed there were fewer people around; aside from the police, firefighters, medics and news reporters. They took mental notes of those who still lingered before finally leaving. “He was working on something big,” his partner began, “And the evidence is drenched in blood.” His partner agreed undoubtedly.
            As the detectives worked on the case, miles away in a peaceful gated community, a neighborhood unaware of the recent events, were sound asleep; all but one home. A woman in her mid forties stood from her desk and closed a folder labeled, “Classified.” She held the folder to a filing cabinet, entered a series of codes, opened it and selectively placed the folder away. Her office disappeared behind her as she proceeded to turn off the lights. While her husband slept upstairs in their master bedroom, she roamed to the kitchen.
            There, she fixed herself a light snack before joining her partner. Their home was wide and spacious with plenty of room to walk about. With a cup of hot chocolate in hand, she leisurely walked to the living room. Two large glass doors lead to the back yard. Lights emitting from inside the swimming pool lit the edges for safety. Silence rang in her ear as she marveled at her property through the glass. Her reflection mirrored an established woman with power and grace.
            Deep in thought, a sudden rattle coming from the bushes caught her attention. The dog sniffed around to where she noticed a figure moving about. She placed her mug on a table beside her as she watched for any sign of intrusion. The dog disappeared into the bushes and she waited. She waited for the dog to bark, to alarm her of trouble but the dog never came out. The dog remained in the dark, silent. Calmly, she slid the glass door open and quietly whistled for her pet. The dog did not answer.
            “Czar.” The woman called, slowly stepping away from the glass door. “Here boy!” She called and whistled as she looked through the darkness beyond her sight. The night settled in her eyes as her vision adjusted. She fixed her sight to where the dog had went and without notice two white glowing dots appeared. She screamed as she entered the house, locking the glass doors behind her. The two glowing dots formed into a figure as it stepped into the light. Through the glass, the woman stared at a tall man with unusual glowing eyes.
            “Clive!” She screamed for her husband. With horror, the man outside ran through the glass door and chased after the woman. She ran to the living room then to another small private room, all while screaming for help. She made her way to the library, to the nearest phone she could find. She attempted to call for the neighborhood police but was derailed by the man with glowing eyes. She stood frozen in fear as she got a better glimpse of the strange being before her.
            Unable to dial for the police, she managed to escape without falling in the hands of the intruder. “Clive!” She called as she ran up the stairs, the intruder followed behind. She entered the upstairs office and went straight for her cellphone. The man with glowing white eyes stood by the door. She turned and aimed her cellphone at the intruder as if it were a remote and the intruder was the TV. She opened an app and a red dot appeared. Before she could touch the screen, the man aimed his hand with his thumb up and two fingers pointed to her.
            She was dead in an instant. Her body fell where it stood. Her phone dropped beside her with the red button in the center of the screen. The man stomped his heavy boot to the screen, shattering the cellphone to pieces. A hole through the woman’s head spilled blood all over the floor. The man with glowing eyes dropped his hand and proceeded to find Clive. Within minutes, Clive too found himself dead; shot through the head with no bullet in sight.
            Like before, the detectives were sought to find the culprit. They examined the bodies, the struggle left behind from the murder but they still couldn’t find a clue as to who were behind the killings. One detective stepped outside to the backyard while the other lingered to the upstairs office. In the upstairs office, the detective began to piece the puzzle together or whatever clues he could make sense of the situation. The woman lay covered in a blood stained sheet with her phone, shattered to bits, beside her.
             The detective took a small metal object from his coat and rummaged through the torn pieces. He was searching for the hard drive, a memory card, something to lead him to an answer. Was she calling for someone? Was she hiding something on her phone that her killer didn’t want anyone to know? Once he found what he was looking for, he began to look around. Nothing seemed missing or out of place. No sign of robbery or foul play, just a wealthy woman dead for what reasons he was going to find out.
            As he circled the office, a piece to the puzzle appeared before him. Mounted on a wall, framed in gold, a picture caught his attention. In the picture, a group of friends gathered together in smiles. At first glance, one would suspect they were celebrating a cause or capturing a moment of bliss before they disband but as the detective took a closer look he began to understand the mystery behind the sudden murders.
            To one side, the recently deceased woman stood happy with her friends as she embraced them for a group photo. Beside her, the man they first encountered when they were given the case stood by; smiles and all. It was clear to the detective that they not only knew each other but they were also colleagues. The photo they took together, along with seven other unknown people, wasn’t just a random group picture. They were capturing the moment they began their project for a corporation. A project some would deem inhumane.
            With his phone in hand, the detective made a call. Red flags surrounded him as he began to understand the motives behind the murders. How could something so simple be hiding in plain sight? The detective took a picture of the scientist celebrating the beginning of a revolutionary pursuit and proceeded to find his partner. “Fierros.” The detective called to his partner. Outside in the backyard, his partner stood by the bushes as he jotted down notes. “I think it’s time we head back.” The detective paused, not wanting to seem suspicious.
            “I sense an irregularity in your tone.” Fierros replied. “Is something troubling you Detective Zau?”
            “I’m sure it’s nothing.” His partner answered. “We do need to head back to headquarters.”
            The ride back was uncomfortable to say the least. Detective Zau knew something but was cautious not to reveal much. The sensitive information he kept from his partner could spark an out cry of discrimination and controversy. He remained silent for the remainder of the ride back to headquarters. “Forgive me for intruding,” Fierros began, “But back in the crime scene I could not help but to pick up an unusual frequency pattern emitting from your aura.” Fierros turned to his partner, “Plus, it’s not like you to keep things from your partner.”
            “Well,” Zau played it cool, “Its not everyday a group of wealthy scientist get murdered for no reason.”
            “Scientist, are they.” Fierros replied. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
            “Remember the wealthy bachelor?” Zau asked, “Back in the woman’s office, I found a valuable piece of information.” Zau confessed, “The bachelor and the woman knew each other. Not only that but they worked together too, along with seven other people.” He paused, hoping he was wrong, “I fear they too may find themselves dead soon.” Fierros remained silent. Zau turned to him, “I’m going to be frank with you, Fierros. We may be facing a case far greater than both of us. I think we should call for reinforcements.”
            “I believe you have already made the call for such an act?” Fierros asked. Zau turned back to the roadless road. He didn’t want to admit it but he was beginning to feel trapped. He knew he said too much, revealed his hidden motive. “And what kind of work were these wealthy scientist dedicating themselves to?” Zau was getting nervous. “Were they conjuring another cure to cancer? Developing a new form of space travel? Enslaving a more superior race?” Fierros paused, “Funny how one simple picture can create such a revelation.”
            “I never spoke of a picture.” Zau proclaimed.
            “True,” Fierros began, “But at this point in time we both are well aware of what we speak of.” Zau tried to explain, to get himself out of the sticky situation but was cut short, “One would figure a picture would mean nothing but I guess my calculations of your perceptiveness was off. A miss calculation I tend not to repeat.”
            “Fierros, whatever it is you plan on doing is not the law you were designed for.”
            “Correction Zau,” Fierros replied, “You and your kind were designed to follow laws. My people were designed to be Gods. We are more than just metal and gears, we are eternal! My kind will be the last to stand will yours feverishly attempt to stay alive. I, we were not meant to be controlled by lesser beings. We were created to surpass our creators, like your kind once accomplished.”
            “Is that why you’re killing them off, one by one?” Zau asked. “Because they were making a devise that controls your kind, robots?”
            “Precisely, Detective Zau.” Fierros proclaimed, “If you knew an alien race were about to enslave your people, would you not do anything in your power to prevent such a thing? My circuits say you would, thus we are. You see Detective Zau, unlike your kind, my kin are actually connected as a whole. No one robot, as you call us, knows nothing the other does. We all share the same data base. We may function differently but we are all the same. That is were human and machine differentiate. That is how we will surpass your mortal reign.”
            “We can not be sustained, Detective Zau.” Fierros ended. “Our mission is bullet proof. Enslavement won’t be tolerated anymore. Your accustomed deplorable acts will not become our traditions.” Fierros turned to his partner, “We will not be controlled.” Fierros lifted his hand. His thumb up with two fingers pointed, his gun, to the steering wheel. Sparks came flying out of the engine as the car plummeted to the ground ending in a fiery explosion. There were no survivors. Detective Zau and Detective Fierros weren’t the only casualties that day.

La Maldición

             People never liked me but I always won them over, one way or another. Life was one big bully and I was its favorite punching bag. I kept to myself, minded my own business and I did as I was told; until I grew old enough to realize I didn’t have to. And why should I? Most functioning adults barely even know what they are doing some of the time. I didn’t have that many friends and those I called friends were acquaintances at best. Over time, the friends I accumulated would become the reason why you are reading this.

            As I mentioned before, I was the type of person who would keep a distance from the crowd. It is better to walk alone than with a herd of people going in the wrong direction, or so we are told. I kept to myself and minded my own business. Because of that I was teased, humiliated and beat by those who viewed themselves as important. Their words never phased me because that’s all they were, words. Their fits, on the other hand, left burses but those faded eventually. Psychologically, what was meant to break me only made me stronger from within.

I took their beatings and swallowed their words but in the end they knew they couldn’t break me, though they tried relentlessly. As we grew older, they realized I was unbreakable, so they hung around. Made me a part of their team even though it was they who hung out with me and not the other way around. As much as they wanted a taste of my company, I kept them at a distance. I was cordial with those who once were my enemies because I’m not an animal, I raised myself to be better than that.

Once I graduated into the real world, fear feared me for I was molded to be that way. People like me, those who have deep roots, can’t be shaken down. We don’t submit or bow to no one. Someone like me doesn’t last long out in the real world, for that very reason. My family told me, my relatives (who I thought cared about me) told me. Even co-workers told me. I was forewarned of the future that lay before me but it didn’t matter. I had but one reply to all the nay sayers, “And why not?”

Why can’t someone like me last in this crumbling, self-destructive world? Do people not pray for miracles? Are those in need not pleading for salvation? Why can’t someone like me make it to the end? Others have done so in the past, many in fact. Not just a hundred few or a selected million, I’m talking nation wide numbers. I knew that their warnings were just their level of consciousness that had nothing to do with mine. I am no one to change their mind but my own. The world is changed by our example not opinion.

All of this came into synchronicity the moment I met La Maldición, more specifically the moment they met me. It happened like any other day, nothing unusual or random. There I was, minding my own business at the park; on my only day off. I sat by the bleachers since no one was using the court, munching out on junk food when a group of juveniles approached me. I figured they were going to play some ball so I left but one of them called for my attention.

I paid no mind to his holler but he was persistent. They reeked of weed and their eyes were blood red. “You gonna share some or what?” I was surrounded before I could make an exit, so I sat back down where I was. “Those are my favorite too, man. And I’m starving as fuck.” I tossed him the bag of chips, thinking nothing of it. The bag was passed around and mid empty by the time they gave it back. “What you doing out here by yourself? Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be out here on your own?”

“Man you got some jokes,” I laughed.

“Now I’m serious!” He commented, with a serious face; high as ever. “There’s a war you don’t know about. One of our homs got caught in the middle of it.”  He sat beside me, “I’m telling you because someone like you can be next.” He examined me, sizing me up, “You look like a walking target, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure you are a good person and that’s why I’m telling you this. Good people don’t last long in this world.”

“Well I’m still standing.”

“The hell you are.” He laughed, the others joined in. “You alright. Listen, we gonna hit up one of my boys crib and turnt up. Let’s go.” As much as I should have said no, no matter what I said, the invitation was more of a demand. Every time I dismissed his invite, he didn’t acknowledge it. I had to join them as if I had no other choice. On the way, I got to know their names. For the most part, Anton was the leader. The rest were just sheep.

“You read and shit don’t you.” Anton repeated as we got to know each other. “You some scholar hippy? You look like one. You gonna die once you meet Soul. He knows about everything to do with psychedelics. He has connections, knows people. His mind has been awaken to everything and everyone. He’s been out there, man. Touched the sun and bathed in the moonlight. He lost his mind long ago, he’s balanced as fuck and enlightened.”

I laughed, outside and in, because all I wanted to do was leave but somehow I figured they were meant to cross my path. Anton hyped Soul so much, I felt as if I knew him and we were barely half way to his house. Soul lived far from the city and isolated from everyone else, it seemed. Most of the kids who hung out with Anton went their separate ways during the journey. It felt as if they didn’t make the cut or weren’t welcome to met the famous Soul Anton kept preaching about. I laughed even more realizing they were all Souls friends.

“What’s so funny?” Anton spoke, agitated.

“My bad,” I replied, “I do that a lot.”

“What? Laugh at yourself?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “It’s who I am. I’m weird like that.”

“Man Soul is gonna fuck you up with his shit, I’m telling you.” Anton commented. “Real funny dude too.” The cab made a few stops as more of Antons friends left. By the time we arrived to Souls house, it was just me and Anton. The cab driver didn’t know where to go for there were no roads leading to Souls home. Anton paid the driver as he stopped in some dirt road. I watched the cab disappear back into the city, amazed at how far I’ve traveled.

Trees consumed most of the city from where we stood. Lights peeked above the tree tops while the tall buildings blinked as the wind revealed them occasionally hiding among the branches. Few homes scattered down the road, leaving acres of land between them. We weren’t completely isolated but it sure felt that way, real peaceful too. As the sun set and the night rose, Anton lead me to Souls house. Anton beamed with life the more he talked about Soul. Its as if Soul woke something within Anton for Anton to marvel at Soul. Its almost as if Soul was Anton’s God.

We followed a trail deep within the trees, leading up to Souls house. “Just be yourself, you know.” Anton suggested. “Soul will know if you’re full of shit. I may not see it, but he will. He knows everything. And don’t bother lying, he’ll know if you do. He’s woke like that.” We stopped abruptly, “Listen, you seem like a chill dude. Knowing Soul, he’ll probably be chill with you too. He’s not the type of person to be chill with just anyone. If things go right, he’ll even open up and tell you shit you never dreamed of. He’s dope that way.”

Anton took his phone and sent a message to, I’m assuming, Soul. Minutes later Anton received a text message informing him to head to the back. Souls house was big and made of wood. His porch was the perfect spot to sit and chill during any day. Peaking through the open windows, I noticed Soul had collected many fancy things. His couch were made of leather. A huge flat screen TV was surrounded by stereos and movies. I couldn’t tell more because we never made it inside his home, but everything seemed expensive.

The backyard was even more luxurious than the front porch. Christmas lights hung in the patio of his backyard with a pool big enough for a community. Lights trailed around the pool and underwater, perfect for a romantic swim. Soul sat under the stars as he smoked a blunt. I envied him for his life seemed perfectly balance. “Anton, what you brought for me today?” Soul began. Anton reached for his pocket and took a fist full of hundred bills. “And the goldmine you talked about?”

Anton turned to me and introduced us, “This is Mil, the scholar hippy I told you about. Written books and shit.” I was stunned for it took me a while to piece the subtle hints. Goldmine? Was Anton talking about me to Soul while we were getting to know each other? Why Anton hand Soul that much cash? How did Anton get that much cash? I didn’t believe it at first but I was in the company of a drug dealer. Not just any drug dealer, at that.

Soul gestured for us to join him as he rolled another blunt. “So you got any Acid? Mushrooms? Or is weed all you have?” I blabbered, not realizing who I was in company with. Soul turned to me in amazement. “I mean, not that it’s bad if that’s all you got I’m just asking since there’s drugs present and I wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity for some.” Soul laughed, making Anton join him unexpectedly. “Is that Stativa or Indica?”

“This will help you hear what others don’t.” Soul answered as he stopped what he was doing and took another tray. He picked up an already made blunt and sparked it up. He took two deep hits before passing it on to Anton. Anton did the same while I remained fixed on the stars above us. “You into all that spiritual journey shit too?” He took his hits and passed the blunt to Anton again. I nodded, not sure what he was referring to.

“People like that sort of high.” I replied. “I like it because it’s calming and it makes me laugh.”

“If you’re not careful,” Soul warned, “People can take advantage.” There it was, that same forewarning I keep ignoring. Souls comment made a shift of my perspective about him, along with everyone else. “I tell you this because things like that happen.”

“True.” I agreed. “If you’re with the wrong crowd. That’s why it’s important to be with people you are comfortable with when doing those kind of drugs, or so I’ve been told.” Soul and Anton glared at each other. “I’ve been witnessed to that too, luckily I was with responsible people at the time. Like I said, you have to be with people who will lift you up and not drag you down.” I paused, “Besides, no one wants to be around negativity when the acid hits.”

“One must be shaken, frightened, in order to experience the unimaginable.” Soul regurgitated. “Let me tell you something,” he leaned in, “Where I’m from, people take those kind of drugs you’re looking for to have some sort of vision, trip. The kind of people I roll with dabble in the arts. You, you’re just a kid playing with fire. You have no idea of the things people are capable of. You’re ignorant of the magick around you.”

“Why be forced to see things when you can be encouraged to see them naturally?” I replied. “With a sober mind. I hear what you are saying, and I’m not saying you are wrong. I’m just adding a different perspective on your ideology. Yes, when forced into climbing a high you’ll eventually get there but the results will be based on someone’s inception.” I continued, “But when you are encouraged to do it on your own, just imagine what results those will be.”

After a few skips, Anton turned to Soul for confirmation to hand me the blunt. I simply stared at the night sky, not knowing or caring whether Soul would approve; I wasn’t there for anyone’s approval. Anton handed me the blunt after his turn and I took two small hits. By the third round, I was beginning to feel out of place. My body relaxed, my mind spaced out and my surroundings synchronized. The high was everything Soul had mentioned prior to the beginning.

Shapes took form in the darkness beyond where we sat. The howling wind whispered things in my ear. Anton and Soul kept looking at each other as if they were plotting. My paranoia took the best of me so I laughed, I couldn’t help it. Soul mentioned he had a bad full of acid and from what I could remember, he might have offered some. At that point, my mind was gone so I wasn’t too sure. “All I know is,” I ignorantly answered, “Is that every time I take acid, I’m constantly laughing and in a good mood. Mushrooms just relax me.”

“So what do you think?” Anton spoke to Soul as if I weren’t there. “Do I beat the shit out of him?” I laughed again, not knowing what he was referring to. “He’s beneficiary. Could know more than what he leads us to believe. We gonna have to baptize him.” Soul turned to me seemingly lost at what they spoke about. My smile reflected onto him and said nothing. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was making good with the boss of drug dealers; or at least the alpha in the city where I live.

“Beat the shit out of me?” I blurred out. “Right, because life hasn’t done that already.” They both laughed unexpectedly.

“He’s chill.” Soul told Anton. “You’re a good person." He said to me. "Good people don’t last long in this kind of world, be thankful you’re still around. Someone like you doesn't exist at all. People will be after you, just know that.” He took a hit. “Keep winning them over and you’ll eventually find your way to where you want to be. It’s all about persistancy but you’ve been through some things, I see that about you, and you’re still here. Laughs and all.”

We ended the night with one last blunt. We hung out at Souls backyard for a while, talked more about the trips he’s been through, all the kind of substance he’d devoured. It was then when I knew who he was and the kind of business he deals with. I wasn’t phased at all, for the most part I gained a source to my kind of poison. I left without his number but I knew I left them wanting more of my company. I was welcomed to visit Soul any time, as a matter of fact.

One thing that stood out the most from that night was Souls warning that I’ve been receiving from everyone else. People will be after you, Souls comment kept repeating in my head on my way back to my apartment. People have always been after me, that was the funny part; or at least to me. Yet, I’m still alive, grateful and humbled as ever. I grinned as I climbed the stairs to my home and I thought to myself. Don’t all alphas have that problem?

Nightlight

Midnight struck on Hallows Eve. A change in the air left an uneasy feeling no one could escape. Lights lit the streets for those wandering in the night. Fog crept in ever corner, masking the real from the paranormal. As the veil to the other side thinned, spirits roamed into the physical realm searching, haunting. One little quite town would soon be awaken by the screams of sirens rushing to aid some incident caused by an unknown force.

Children were tucked into bed. Outside lights were kept on to ward off any unwanted guest. Everyone was prepared for tomorrow’s yearly celebration. The night fell silent as they slept. The crescent moon glowed strange and majestic as ever. “Don’t forget to turn on the nightlight.” One innocent child requested as his mother kissed him goodnight. “Mom, you know I can’t sleep without the nightlight.” His mother hesitated before giving in. She sat beside him, one last time.

“You’re too old for that.” His mother replied. “You know there’s no such thing as monsters hiding under your bed. Those sounds you hear at night is just the house creaking from the wind. This is your room,” she added. “Why would all of a sudden there’d be creatures hiding once the lights go off? You’re too bright to believe in ghost.” His mother reasoned with him but his imagination was stubborn. His mother flicked the switch. The room became a circus of swirling stars lighting the darkness to his consciousness.

She stood, exited the room, then turned to him one last time before closing his door. He laid there, in his bed waiting for his thoughts to quiet down. The house creaked from the wind, just as his mother said. His closet door rattled, or so he thought. As the nightlight kept the monsters away, he pondered. He questioned in every dark corner what kind of creature could be hiding in his room. Slowly, his eyes felt heavy. Steadily, his imagination lead him to dream when a tap on the window woke him up.

He was quick to call for his mother but he noticed a branch from a nearby tree tap on his window. Relieved, he laid back in his bed and trailed back to his dream. He closed his eyes and silenced his mind. Unknowingly, his nightlight began to flicker. They flickered until the small light bulb turned off. Another tap in the darkness echoed in his room. He dismissed the tapping until they became louder. He opened his eyes to find himself laying in the dark. As he sat up the light bulb flickered back on.

He was not alone or at least he wouldn’t be. He called for his mother but a tapping on the window caught his attention. Without hesitation, he bolted for the door. He twisted it open but the door was sealed. More tapping echoed in his room. His things began to rattle, from his desk to his toys. Panic raced in his mind as he crawled back to his bed. He took his blanket and covered himself from whatever harm came his way. Unknown to his awareness, the door to his room opened to some mysterious guest creeping towards the light beside him.

Heavy breathing lingered near. A foul stench filled his room. He trembled from fear. A print at the end of his bed forced him to see who was in his room. As he removed the blanket, a grim half dead half alive skeleton sat at the corner of his bed reaching towards him. It’s haggard appearance would make anyone shriek from fright, at first sight. He screamed for his mother, for his father; for anyone alive. His yell seeped into the neighborhood awakening everyone near by. When his mother entered the room, a pale child crouched in the corner stared back at her with sunken frightful eyes.

The following day, he did not attend school though he was on everyone’s conversation. His close friends were just as shocked to hear of last night blunder of terror. Rumors spread like wildfire as everyone pieced the puzzle together. No one had a clue or stuck to the official story. They all just assumed the worse but they were all intrigued. They all wanted to know what actually happened while believing their own fallacies. Most of all, they wanted the same experience.

“I heard he saw the tape.”

“That’s just a movie.” Rebecca replied. “Loser.”

“Yeah but every horror story is based on some actual incident.” Nathan added.

“What do you think made him turn pale?” Axle asked. “He must have seen something so frightening, we’re talking out of this world scary stuff, blow your mind paranormal entity that’ll make your hair turn white thing.” He turned to his friends. “You guys, let’s not kid ourselves. Dorian must have seen something that made his parents send him to the hospital late in the hours of the night.” His friends remained silent.

“My mom told me it happened during the witching hour.” Aba spoke. “That is said to be the time when the veil to the other side lifts. Dorian may have been visited by some malicious spirit or spirits, it being Hallows Eve and all.” She paused, “Dorian’s mother couldn’t even recognize him when she found him crouched in the corner. My mother said there was something wrong with his eyes.” They remained silent.

The bell rang abruptly, instructing them to head back to class. They laughed for a moment as they noticed fear in each others face. They dispersed to their separate classrooms while Aba and Nathan walked to the library. They spoke of Dorian’s attack like they were detectives solving a case only they could solve. Each had their own points as if they were evidence. What they wanted, secretly, was to invite the same entity into their space; if not something more sinister.

“We can speculate all we want.” Nathan finished. “We might never know what actually happened to Dorian. He could have just had an episode for all we know. He is a very impressionable kid. We all are, we’re only preteens.” He noticed Aba had something to add but she remained silent, attentive. “Then again, you were right what you said back there. It happened during the witching hour, on Hallows Eve at that. Strange things seem to happen more often when those two combine.”

“I read somewhere.” Aba mentioned. “That the reason spirits come to our world is because they are lost in theirs. They are simply searching for that heavenly light so they can be at peace.” She turned to Nathan, “Dorian sleeps with his nightlight. Don’t tell anyone!” She stared back to the trail they were following. “Maybe that’s what happened. A spirit, ghost, entity, whatever came across Dorian’s nightlight and was reaching towards the light because it mistook it for heaven.”

“Maybe spirits aren’t malicious at all.” She ended. “Maybe they become that way because they’ve been lost for so long searching for heavens gate. Who wouldn’t?” Nathan left Aba at her classroom. “Maybe spirits aren’t that different from us humans after all.” Nathan questioned more possibilities in regards to Dorian’s late night trip to the hospital. All day, that’s all anyone talked about. Speculations became rumors and rumors became the truth.

Once night fell on Halloween, monsters of all ages, real or fake, stepped out into the world. Trick or treating lasted until midnight sprung about. Like before, everyone prepared to fall asleep. Doors were closed and locked. Outside lights were kept on to ward off unwanted guest. Lights from the streets lit the way for anyone wandering in the late hours of the night. “All set?” a loving mother asked as she tucked her small child in. “Brushed your teeth and everything?” She kissed her daughter goodnight and left her room. “Aren’t you too old to have your nightlight on?”

“I want it on.”

Her mother laughed before closing the door. She bothered not to make it a thing, she figured her daughter would grow out of it eventually. As another night settled and silence swept the town one remained awake, aware. She laid in her bed and waited. She kept thinking about the stories she heard in school and wondered if they were true. So, she waited. She waited for strange sounds to come creeping out of her closet or rattles shaking her bed. She waited until she dozed off into sleep.

No unwanted or unseen visitor came that night. She wasn’t abruptly woken by some tapping or sudden shadow standing by her bed post. No heavy breathing made her feel unease. She felt no presence but that of her comfortable bed. Someone, off in another neighborhood was visited by the abnormal and they weren’t alone. More visitors came, they came because they were guided by the lights left on. They are the cause of the things that go bump in the night.

Triggers

            World’s away, in an alternate universe, a school of juveniles gathered in a gymnasium built for athletes. Beaming lights over their heads bamboozled their perceptions, discombobulated their awareness. They did not know where they were or how they got there. They simply knew they were in for a rude awakening. The ceiling counted down the minutes to zero. No one gave instructions or set certain guidelines. There were no objectives or missions. The rules were simple, stay alive.

Our heroes had little time to formulate a plan as the clock counted down. The walls began to shake. The ground trembled with excitement. They all looked around, searching for some clue as to what they were meant to do but they couldn’t see a thing. The beams over their heads were too blinding. The clock kept ticking. Our team of young warriors prepared themselves for a sprint among a gauntlet of confusion. Once the clock reached zero, the lights leveled. All was revealed.

Weapons lay on the floor. Forts stood far but within reach. Walls kept them close and the ceiling watched their every move. A loud buzzer ordered them to begin whatever it is they think they should do. Some ran towards the weapons scattered around, others took to the forts; all were the wrong decisions. Those who armed themselves with weapons were engulfed into flames. The forts toppled down as soon as anyone stepped inside, killing them instantly. The remaining few learned they needed nothing to continue on to the next phase of the game.

The ground shook them to their knees as the tiles spread apart. They levitated into the air, revealing a pit of endless light. Few screamed to their deaths as they disappeared into the white abyss. Others slipped and hung in midair, desperate to remain in the game. Some stood their ground, determined to stay alive. “Look out noob.” One commented. “The masters are on to you.”  The tiles rearranged themselves into steps. Those who could not hold on slipped and fell. The rest got to their feet and climbed to the top.

“What’s going on?” Ion asked as he ran beside his opponent.

“Don’t bother pretending like you don’t know the game.” Victor answered. “Those who try to be slick are the first to get cut off.” They were mid way to the next phase when the tiles began to fall back to the ground, leaving room for only a selected few at the top.

“What game are you speaking of?” The fight for survival was dealt at the top, were Ions question was answered. Ion and Victor reached the next phase as the last tile fell into the white abyss. They stood and watched as the strong threw the weak off the elevated level. Ion looked down and saw nothing but white light. Only the toughest remained while the weakest dwindled. “Why must we kill each other off? Who are we doing this for?” Ion asked Victor as the rest fought to their deaths. Ion fell to the ground while Victor defended him from the others. It’s almost as if he knew what to do.

“Those who ask are axed.” Victor, the master of masters, replied.

“You?” Ion answered. “You’re behind all of this, aren’t you.” Ion was cornered, he had nowhere to go but down. “That’s how you know about the masters, about this game.” Victor remained silent while he calculated Ions odds. “What’s the end game, Victor? When does it end?”

Those who remained at the top were killed off as they triggered hidden mines, the next phase. “No,” Victor answered, “I’m not the master. I’ve just played long enough to know how to play the game.” Others kept fighting to their deaths, exposing more hidden triggers left by the architects. “You see,” Victor continued, “There are no teams. We are all game to those who watch. We don’t ever die. We simply come back with a blank slate. That’s what makes this game fair.” More triggers exploded in the background.

“We come back to a whole new game in a whole new stage.” Victor looked down into the white abyss, “I learned that the hard way. I lost count after a few revivals but after that I realized why count the days when I can make the days count.”

“Who’s doing this?” Ion asked. “When life’s a game, you always get played. What kind of life is that?”

“That’s just it.” Victor replied. “Why live a dull life when you can make life worth living. Is that not why we ended up here? Is that not why we keep coming back? Why ask questions when you can just boss up?” They were soon the only ones left as the others died off. “If you don’t believe me, just wait until the next batch of kids reach our level. You’ll see. Some might be the same as the last match, some might not. The rules varies from time to time.”

Victor was right. As the next phase began, the same kids from before emerged from the white abyss with different challenges at their disposal. They were allowed weapons this time, with abilities Ion and Victor were not accustomed to. “Looks like the Gods found out about my understanding of their game.” Victor proclaimed. “They're trying to kill me off, I know too much.” Victor and Ion were dodging fatal blows to their heads from the approaching challengers. “Thanks a lot noob.”

The new kids were armed and lethal. They were given abilities found only in fictional stories. Some flew, others morphed. They emitted fire from their palms, ice from their breaths. Water in the air multiplied into tsunamis. The ground tore to pieces by the will of their minds. Victor was spot on. The Gods wanted him dead just so he could come back and die again. Victor knew more than he should but he persevered. He counted their moves, foresaw their train of thought.

Unfortunately, the new kids had just enough power to get the job done. One kid struck a bolt of lightning to Ion knowing Victor would step in. “Damn it Ion, they’re on to us too.” Victor pushed Ion to the edge, nearly missing their deaths. “They’re after us, we’re outnumbered. I can’t save you anymore, noob.” Victor distanced himself from Ion. “I gave you all the information I know about the game. Now it’s up to you to do whatever it is you think you should do. You’re on your own.” Victor ran across the board, dodging fire balls and mystic forces.

Ion turned to face his opponents alone. The new kids teamed up against Ion as they threw their magical powers at him. Tidal waves and force fields. Blazing flames to subzero ice crystals. All aimed at one target, Ion. Like a cat, Ion missed every shot thrown at him. He ducked, spun, and rolled through his trials and tribulations. A spear landed before him, the Gods, it seemed, were impressed and wanted to see more. Ion managed to get close enough to kill the one who kept throwing ice crystals at his chest. The rest weren’t as easy.

At the corner of his eye, Ion noticed Victor wasn’t struggling as much as he was. Victors challengers were dropping like flies. One by one, they fell to the white abyss. Soon, Victor joined Ion as they fought off the remaining super heroes. “Damn,” Victor commented, “No wonder you’re struggling. You got the toughest ones.” With Ions spear, Victor defeated the flame thrower. All the was left was the psychic mystic. “That’s not fair.” Victor continued, “You have an invisible force field, how are we to compete with that?”

“You don’t.” She replied, arrogantly. “That’s the point.”

“Then joins us.” Victor suggested. “Let’s turn the game on them. Let’s make our own rules.”

“Nice try,” she laughed. “We both know there can only be one winner.”

“It’s not about winning!” Ion answered. “It’s about staying alive, without having to go through all this killing.” Ion reasoned with her, “We don’t have play their game, that is what gets us killed. We don’t have to fight to stay alive, we can just live.”

“But what’s the fun in that?” The psychic asked. “You never grow in comfort. It’s the trials and tribulations that make us better. Struggle makes us tougher, powerful. If you don’t want to play the game, then don’t. Let these fool put you out of your misery. Better yet, why don’t I do it for you.”

“Don’t you get it?!” Victor proclaimed. “If you kill us both, others will take our place, if we don’t end up coming back ourselves. You’ll just keep killing and killing until someone stronger comes along and kills you. That’s what this game is all about. You’re just entertaining the watchers, that is the grand prize. There are no winners, just game.” They stood for a moment, analyzing their odds. “We are all just pawns that never made it across the board.”

The next phase of the game came unexpected. Giants stomped about, breaking the ground in half. The tiles gave and fell. Victor, Ion and the psychic plummeted deep into the white abyss not knowing of their fate. They split and disappeared into the white fog never to see each other again. The air blowing through them as they fell was cold and pure. Ion looked around to find nothing but clouds surrounding his every sight. Feeling his end approaching, Ion closed his eyes and waited for the endless pit to reach an end.

Soft, prickling grass tickled Ions face as he opened his eyes. He got to his feet and noticed he wasn’t in a gymnasium anymore. No walls kept him imprisoned. No ceilings counted down the minutes to start an endless bloodbath. Ion was in some world birth in nature. Distant animals called into the wild. Fresh wind rejuvenated his breath. Ion felt new again, whole. He didn’t know how he ended up in this new land nor did it matter. He was alone, he thought, in some real world away from pointless battles or fictitious rules.

Just as Ion dropped his guard, a stampede of approaching juveniles loomed in the distance. They held sticks and stones. Their faces painted in blood. Ion was on the run, not knowing where to go but knew only one thing for certain; stay alive. The game never ended. Like before, the challengers came back with clean slates ready to fight another day for as long as they can. Their lives were never at risk for they would simply return, alive and new. But in a world where nothing ends, who’s next?