I opened my eyes, a hooded figure stood before me. “Welcome to Hell.” the figure boommed. I was confused “Where am I? And who are you?”The hooded figure spoke again “I am death, and like I said before, you are in Hell.” “What have I done to be here!” Suddenly memories of my life flashed before me, I understood now. “Where are we?” I asked. “Hell, duh,” replied the impertinent spirit. “ No, I mean what is this room, I thought that Hell was going to be all firey and scary and stuff.” Death replied “Man, you are really bias aren’t you? Does everyone think that? Well anyway, we are in a chamber that I call the room of judgment.” I was speechless. Death kept going “I have to give you a test then if you pass it you go to heaven and if you fail, you stay here Hell” I finally understood, “Then let’s get right to it.” After what seemed many days I was done, and death gave my an answer “Well looks like you just barely managed to pass.” My body suddenly felt as light as a feather and I was lifted up to heaven.

Everytime her nightmares tricked her by beginning off like a normal, casual dream.

It was daytime and she was outside her school — Calibri High School sitting in the middle of the the big, wide lawn that was next to the parking lot. 

Rowan looked all around her at the vacant campus. There were no cars parked in the parking lot or students on campus or teachers or anyone.

She didn't feel anything in the dream, the air around her was temperature-less. Huh? Was all that Rowan could think. When she made her way off the lawn and walked through the school’s double doors she instantly  looked all around her and could tell that it was empty. Stupid place

Rowan was sort of growing paranoid. Usually when she was in a dream, for her was like watching an already filmed movie with the inside of her eyelids serving as the white movie screen up against her eyeballs. THIS time it felt like her entire, whole physical body had been PLACED inside the movie, like it was happening live or something. 

She walked down the very empty hallways, past the main office, past the school’s trophy/award display, and up the steps to the top floor. As soon as she stepped foot on the top floor she felt a looming presence— or maybe that was just her expecting somebody to be there?

Stupid boring school.

When she turned down a hallway suddenly she knew where she was going. 

Mrs. Myers room.

 Room 216.

And the presence no longer felt uncertain, she knew there was someone or something waiting in that class. Rowan didn't know who and she didn't make that much assumptions either. 

Mrs. Myers?

She expected to walk in and see the French teacher doing something on her computer at her desk in the back of the class. But she enters a simply empty classroom 

Why this room? Rowan thought

Goosebumps raised on her arms.

Rowan blinked and everything around her disappeared and reappeared in 2 quick flickers. Quicker than you can snap your fingers.

Kids.

The classroom was full of students. And noisy.

It was like an average school day suddenly. Kids chatted loudly while sitting at their desks, some sitting on their desks. A dozen were on their phones while a few threw paper balls & airplanes across the classroom at each other. 

Rowan looked all around her.

Whaa 

 she felt surprised to see them along with a pinch of awkwardness 

Something that wasn't exactly a thought raced through her mind that went a little like 

Are these people real?

Not knowing what else to do, she slowly walked to the closest empty desk next to her and sat down very puzzled. That's when she noticed that she was dressed in her boring usual black and white school uniform. 

“Hey Row!” said a voice 

She brought her attention to the desk to the left across from her. Forestt sat there with a smile on his face and his hands clasped together in front of him on his desk. 

Okay this seemed cheesy to Rowan.

 He literally showed up out of no where she thought. How could she have not noticed Forrest, her best friend sitting down when she walked across the classroom a minute ago? She would've said hi. 

Rowan didn't say “hi” though, she just narrowed her eyes and stared. She believed everything that was happening around her just as much as you would believe that it was your grandmother lying in that bed if you were put in Little Red Riding Hood’s position in the fairy tale. If you had a brain of course. 

Eyes aren't enough obviously (take a look at little red riding hood!) 

Obviously not wanting to engage in conversation with Forestt she turned in her seat studying the students around her. She came to focus on a student dressed in all black standing to the side leaning against the wall. She had coal black hair and pale skin, a round chin and wore a lace string choker around her neck. Her expression was cold and her arms were crossed and her attention was torwards the other side of the room. 

For some reason she stood out to Rowan more than anyone else in the class. Could she have been the reason for that odd feeling Rowan felt before? 

There was no way of knowing but the girl did look cold-blooded. Rowan turned her attention to the students she was staring at behind her 

It was four boys who were insanely annoying and disruptive in French. 

To the teacher mostly anyway.

Carl, Rick, Jones & Blake all stood together by the table chatting their butts off and making each other laugh hysterically. 

Carl & Rick, best friends; were really popular for simply being super cool jokesters in class. They were naturally hilarious and constantly making everyone laugh. Everyone secretly appreciated having them in room 216 no matter how many times they rudely blurted out while the teacher was talking or disrupted the class. It was fun to have them in class for everybody except Mrs. Myers. The two boys gave the old lady headaches.

Ro simply knew this because she saw her taking aspirin at her desk several times a day like it was a lifestyle for her. 

Jones was also really popular and liked too. Not just for being a hottie but he always dressed like a million bucks 24/7. 

When he came to school his clothes were always neat and clean with his hair in the same sexy oiled back hairstyle (like Link from hairspray.) 

Ro watched him eating fries at lunch and always wondered how he could eat them all the time without making a mess and getting ketchup on himself (like she happened to do a lot). 

And he smells like hairspray and blueberries. (That's what the girls say anyways.) 

Jones’s smile was cute enough to light up a Christmas tree. 

Rowan, like anyone else heard the rumours about him kids spread 

“He comes from serious money”

“Dude I hear his grand parents are loaded”

“Probably spoil him down to the core”

“I hear he dips his candy apples in gold instead of chocolate” 

“Dude, shut up” 

“No, really dude my uncle has a friend who's a fisherman who said he sees him down at the docks on his old folks yacht every summer.” 

“What, no way”

Rowan found the gold candy apple thing ridiculous but couldn't help but imagine Jones posting a selfie of him with a golden candy apple on his instagram.

Blake, the last out of the crew was as equally popular as Jones and even cuter. He knew a lot of people around school. He was a super friendly guy and he had this hypnotic, dreamy smile that could make anyone feel super special; whether he was talking to you or simply just smiling at you in the hallway. He made friends super quickly and pretty much never gets any beef with anybody.

You'd have to be totally brain dead not to like him and go to Calibri. That was Rowan’s opinion atleast.

Ro had had her eyes on Blake since 5th grade. It was a crush, she just was too afraid to admit it because it downright annoyed her how much she was crazy for the guy. 

She couldn't help getting extremely shy around him and she hated it. Rowan was not a shy girl 

She gave him an attitude for some reason in school and she didn't even know why.

You’re so stubborn! You treat your crush like a big “AVOID ME” sign Ro sometimes said to herself without meaning to. 

It's not like she felt like he was too superior & popular compared to her. Maybe it's the other way around! 

You’re not special. You're not too good for him! Stop acting like it. 

Rowan noticed the girl in the corner of her eye move she turned to see that she had stopped leaning on the wall and watched her uncross her arms. 

She blew a strand of hair away from her face with a huffy breath if finally making a decision. Her cold expression never left her face. 

Ro wanted to know more about her so she grabbed her arm when she walked by her desk. It was clear she was on her way over to the group of chatting boys. 

Round chin paused and looked at Rowan’s hand on her arm as if it was the filthiest thing that could ever touch her on the planet. Her facial expression changed to a snarl. 

“Hey, what's your na—”. 

The enthusiastic voice Rowan tried at dropped. 

Rowan paused and stared at the girls shoes as the ends of her vision blurred mystically and her ears filled with the sound of whispery hisses and whispers that were words that weren't English that she could barely make out. 

Huh?

They seemed to be a warning; trying to give her info,  let her know something about the girl. She was definitely sure she could only hear them

The girl paused at first acknowledging Rowan then brutally head butted Rowan making her gain a dizzy headache. She fell to the ground on her knees, then to her side and laid down on the floor like she was going to sleep as she blacked out with the dream world she was in fading away all around her, she could feel it dismissing slowly along with the room full of talking kids. 

It made her glad the dream was over. 

It was surely telling her to watch out her the girl’s existence, right? Or just to not approach crabby, goth dressing girls. 

            He stares at me.

            “She punched me,” he says.

            “Do you have anything to say?”

            I look down.

            I can’t.

            He’ll hurt me.

            He told me horrible things.

            He whispered them into my ear as I was on the ground.

            “Don’t tell,” he said, his breath smelling of beer.

            I tried to punch him. I tried to use the tactics I could remember searching for on those late nights.

            He swore at me.

            Told me I was fat and ugly.

            He left soon.

            Eventually, I got up.

            I didn’t say what happened.

            I bought pepper spray.

            I now have insomnia.

            I stay up all night, typing in the same things.

            On the nights I sleep, they fill with nightmares.

            My heart speeds up every time I see him walking through the halls.

            Does he know this?

            Does anyone know this?

            “Cathy!” He barks. “What do you have to say?”

            He’s staring at me, his eyes wavering at me.

            Don’t tell, they say.

            I see something in his eyes.

            Hidden.

            Fear.

            I am the predator.

            He is the prey.

            “Yes,” I say. The words form in my mouth.

            My words.

            His eyes fill with terror.

            “I do have something to say.”

Jess was quite a small mouse. Although he was quite a smart one too. As a child he would climb up the tallest pine tree he could find. The wind would sway him back and forth; Jess could see where the trees of the seemingly endless forest met the sky. The young mouse often searched the sky looking for something else to meet the horizon. Yet the trees dark tops were the only things that it met. This left Jess wondering if there was something else, past the forest.

It is now winter and Jess’s childhood has left him. He resides at home reading book after book; waiting for the day he leaves for auxiliary school. His novels contained fables of lands beyond the dense woods. He had read of deserts, mountains, and the tundra. Each night he dreamed more of visiting those places, but each day he was reminded of his commitment to acedemy. When the date of departure came Jess exited his home to begin his journey to the institution. Jess remembered the trail to the academy was east; however, after some thought he turned west and smiled. I hope there are mice in the mountains, he thought.

The night sky above me holds the silver stars and great darkness but holds no moon. The fact that the sun drowned in the canvas of blue just to let the moon come up for air amazes me, but the luminous pearl is not afloat above my petals tonight. Without its opposite, the sun must feel incomplete, causing the night sky to seem flawed and empty.

Just like the sun and the moon, without my menacing thorns, I feel incomplete. And just like when the sun yearns for the moon every night, I long to let my weapons escape the veils of my petals. Without my perilous features, I can’t be perfect nor can I be real.

Perfection within me is only possible with all of me - not half of me. I can’t be perfect without my colorful petals, nor can I be perfect without my menacing knives; I need both. When they come together, they create me; a dangerously beautiful rose that just like the sun and the moon, feels incomplete without the other. Perhaps, we can only become perfect when our unique imperfections come together to create something beautifully united in the flaws of this divided world.

I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of stars makes me dream.

Once upon a time, there was a princess who was loved by the stars - but every time she awoke they were gone.

“Your highness! Please wake up!”

Rubbing her eyes, Lucienne rises from her bed and knocks into a watercolor painting. Glass shatters.

There’s a frenzy of shouts, and her door crashes open.

“Your highness. You need to be more careful!” The servant says, meeting her eyes. “I suppose it can’t be helped.”

The servant helps her up and they head downstairs, bits of a conversation cutting in.

“...pollution...”

“...eyes...”

“...princess...”

The servant pulls Lucienne to the dining room. The help bows, avoiding her eyes.

They eat together. Isolated in a tower, Lucienne takes all the company she can get.

“How were the stars yesterday?” She inquires.

There’s an awkward pause before someone exclaims, “They were beautiful!”

Lucienne smiles at the thought of their glow against the night sky. Just once, she’d like to see the stars again.

After eating she returns to her room, contemplating the words she heard earlier. No, she didn’t just hear fragments. She heard everything.

“She’s so stupid. Pollution makes seeing the stars impossible.”

“You know how her eyes are. Don’t bully a blind girl.”

“Who’s bullying her? She thinks she’s a princess.”

No...  I can see.

I can see the stars.

I swear I see them.

I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of stars makes me dream. 

I should have listened, he should have thought.

Below him, the forest’s burning away, heavy pine smoke burning away at his lungs and stinging his eyes. “Jean, you are never to go to them!” his sister had all but screamed, and he knew she was thinking of their father, dead before he was born; of their mother, dead last year; and of little Miram, dead just last week. Her eyes were still red in the morning, now.

At least he’s deep enough in wilderness to avoid disaster to the city, five days away from their old village. He helped her thatch the roof just a few days ago, carried the straw through cobbled streets choking with filth and consumption. The market vendors will feel sorry enough for her that she’ll be able to afford the carnations.

It’s cloudy enough that it might take a day for someone to notice. Strangely, he feels almost calm, eyelids falling.

“Little boy, are you giving up now?” a voice asks, a rumble that he knows is the dragon, and he knows he doesn’t regret this. He can’t, and he can’t stop, now. He knows, now.

Aubrey opens his eyes and burns, grinning.

Change

Dust, dust is everywhere.

Sweeping across this barren land that is unknown to me

I try to stand up but  the wind pushes me down again

I think back to gym class, counting the amount of push-ups we could do

Racing to see who the fastest, yet here I am not even able to stand up

The only thought that runs through my mind:

I am different

The sun is blazing down on me like it’s ready to feast on every single piece of flesh

“Run into the jungle, wait for me at the blue capsule”

I see a figure running in the distance, it’s arms dancing in the wind

“Even if you don’t see me you have to jump”

I remember falling through time ‘till here I am

In this desolate land where the closest thing to a person is a dust ball

“This is the only way it will work”

The figure is closer

It stands in front of me, leaning on its left side

Its head tilted

“I will come, I promise”

I will wait until you come

I promise

It holds out a hand

I take it, with one thing in mind:

“I promise”

The golden sunset of the Serengeti taunts me. It knows that elegance can conceal evil- it knows what happens before nightfall. My heart is pulsing fast; and I want to surrender. I-

Boom. That abrupt crack sends my heart and body into a temporary paralysis.

Boom.

Another one.

The only option I possess now is to run; to run to the towering fence and jump it. With no time to rationalize, I launch myself forward. Ten seconds later, I soar to meet the top of the fence. Suspended like a thread, I attempt to swing over.

Boom. Spasms fire up my arm, weakening my grasp.

Boom. Pain explodes up my leg.

Stillness.

With a heavy huff, I use my last bit of energy to hoist myself over. I succumb then, agreeing to meet the other side with an excruciating thud- but knowing I will be free. I plummet into a trap instead.

I instantly feel the pain, and the draining blood. I glimpse to one side, and spot the vertically lined sharp utensils.

And before my last breath, I hear them.

"We've got him now,” I hear one of them say. “We got our gold winnin’ lion". 

<MESSAGE DOWNLOADED: LOG, CAPTAIN KELLEY, 2390/12/2.> Thirty years ago, as we all know, the United Space Agency ship Inspire was lost, assumed to be caught in a sudden flare of heavy-duty radiation from the star of an unstable solar system. The interference scrambled all but their first, primitive radio distress call, a leftover of a bygone era, so slow it only reached us a few days ago. Our away team… three of our bravest, reached the ship last night, and have since surprised us with happy messages of survivors and their reactions to news from home. We’ve had images of the Inspire crew, video reactions that have already gone viral. My crew, of course, is itching to go join them for a well-deserved break, now that our sensors are clear of leftover radiation and our first scans of the old ship are coming through. Now, my only question… how do I tell them there are no signs of life onboard?