There once was a little lamb named Carlos. He had thick white wool and always wore a huge smile on a face. But that all changed when he got to high school.

“It’s called an exam,” Mrs. Lamb Chop explained. “You’ll be taking one for each class, and it will be an assessment of everything you’ve learned this year.”

Carlos gasped in horror and began to cry. He kept crying and crying until all of his wool was sopping wet.

The next day, the farmer came, for it was time to shear all of the sheep. Their soft wool was very valuable. So the farmer began collecting their precious wool, throwing it all in a bag. The sheep didn’t mind. Then it was Carlos’ turn to be sheared. The farmer picked him up and froze. His wool was stained, sticky, and crusty from last night’s cry! No one would want to buy disgusting wool like Carlos’!

The farmer sighed sadly and set Carlos back down on the ground. Carlos did not get sheared at all that day, or ever again.

Years went by, and Carlos’ wool just grew and grew. Eventually, it engulfed him completely, and he suffocated.

Kristen lived in her lavish, hip, modern high rise apartment, in the middle of the fashion capital of the world. New York was the place to be if you wanted to succeed in the fashion industry, and Kristen knew that first hand. Kristen would wake up every morning, drink her pre-made “Green Machine Power” smoothie, throw on her beloved Prada shoes, grab her red Gucci handbag, and fly out of the lobby doors. Her chauffeur, Maurice, was already waiting with her Limousine. Maurice would then drive her to the Tommy Hilfiger headquarters,  where she’d spend her day creating New York’s next new fashion trends. However, today Kristen’s routine was disrupted when she galloped a little too fast out of her bedroom and accidentally hit her head on the door frame. After all, Kristen was a West African Giraffe, and had a very problematic, long neck.

Riding in the passenger seat down I-5, the California sun shining through and my long auburn hair flowing back behind me. I look to my right and see a long black minivan catching speed in the lane over. Two tall-looking women in the front and a small boy in the back. He sat criss-crossed in his seat with his thumb in his mouth, holding a blanket in the other. His big baby blue eyes met with mine and he immediately bent down as if to hide. I simply smiled and looked away, laughing at the young one. “Hey what’s this song called?” I asked my sister in the driver’s seat as I turned up the music.

“Oh I don’t know some pop garbage probably,” she replied.

I shrugged and looked out my window again to see the minivan still riding alongside our car. However, this time something caught my eye. The young blonde in the back seat was staring right at me and holding up a piece of paper against the window, seeming as if it was a message he wanted me to receive. I squint and read aloud the message he wrote, “Help Me.”

Captain’s Log

Day One :     We have made landfall at 0600 hours Scaron-Galactic time. We have proceeded with the unloading of the cargo and have started construction on the Laboratory. We scanned for any life-forms on the planet and have found we are utterly alone on this desolate moon. This is the perfect place for the experiments to take place.

Day Five :     The experiments are proceeding as expected. We have made sufficient progress that we can now move to animal testing. If all goes well, we will move on to human testing.

Day Sixteen :     We have begun human testing of the cargo. The lab is secure, but my men have reported odd sightings out in the wastes. Shadow shapes that appear in the corner of their eye, but disappear when they look to see what it is. The shapes don’t appear on the radar either, so this is a bit worrisome. However; with any luck, we won’t have to deal with these shapes before we are ready to leave this moon.

Day Thirty-One :         Something terrible is happening here. People have been disappearing into the night, and their remains have been found out in the wastes, almost as if som

There was a baby cry, my cry, Mer's cry. His baby, Vincent's baby, mothers baby, our baby, me. Mer needs food, he can't feed himself. Mer needs to be changed, he can't change himself. Mer needs love, cause no one else is going to love him. 

The apartment was cold, we were shaking. She wrapped Mer up in an extra blanket.

"Mommy's sorry it's cold. I couldn't pay the heat and electric bill. No lights, no electricity, no heat."

Mer keeps smiling up at her and makes a sound she assumes is me talking. 

"My job only pays so much. Mommy's so sorry."

She sang Mer a song before he drifted off to sleep. Mer was his father's child alright. From his Dark black unruly curls on his head, blazing blue eyes and olive sun-kissed skin, but tonight he was going to belong to the Shamans.

She walks into the office and places Mer in a carrier made for him. Once Mr. Shaman pays her, she gets ready to leave.

"His birthday is January 1st, New years," she looks over at their oldest son, twelve-year-old Daniel, "take god care of him." And with that, she leaves and commits suicide.

Finn couldn’t believe it. Amy, Finn’s wife, had just got into a coma due to a car accident. Finn almost burst into tears at the thought of losing her.

Why God, why, Finn thought.

Just then, Finn had an urge to visit her in the hospital. As Finn drove to the hospital, Finn thought about what would happen if she ever woke up. He had never experienced someone waking up from a coma himself, but would she have to recover in any way? If so, how long would it take for her to recover?

Once Finn arrived at the hospital, he got a call from an unknown number, but he ignored it. Finn walked into the room and was shocked to see Amy awake. A nurse walked into the room just as Finn was starting to wonder how come they didn’t notify him.

“How come you didn’t tell me she was awake?” Finn asked.

“We tried to call you, but you didn’t answer.” She replied.

The nurse walked out shortly after Finn was at a loss for words, but Finn didn’t care, he was just happy Amy was awake.

The End.

25. He would take 25 pills.

One pill for how unattractive he was.

Another pill for that girlfriend that cheated on him.

Three pills for the three people who called him fat that day.

A pill because he didn’t get onto the basketball team.

Two pills for his broken home; one for each of his parents.

A pill for each of the friends that had left him this year, that makes four.

A pill because he was failing math.

Another because he was failing science.

A pill for each of the colleges he didn’t get accepted by (six).

A pill for the boyfriend he never got because he was too scared.

Three pills; one for each of the meals he didn’t let himself eat today.

A pill because he was scared of the future.

25. He would take those 25 pills. And if it killed him, then so be it.

I propelled down from the ceiling, going through my normal process. The harness was still uncomfortable. I should’ve had that fixed. My heeled boots made clicking sounds as I hit the ground and started moving. 

“Just down this hallway, just down this hallway,” I muttered to myself.

I was looking for the Black Diamond. It was supposed to be the biggest diamond in existence. And I was hunting it. Seeing the headlines scream “Diamant Noir Strikes Again! Infamous Thief Steals Priceless Gems!” was so very satisfying; and yes, being known as the Diamant Noir added so much incentive to steal my namesake. Plus, I was in Paris. Might as well try my luck.

I rounded the corner, and I saw it, sitting in the case. Gliding up to it, I carefully removed the glass. The lack of security was surprising. I picked up the gem, and the texture felt strange to my fingers. It didn’t feel like a diamond should. Lifting it fully out of its case, I got a better look at it. I couldn’t hear the blaring alarms in my ears or feel the guard as he pinned me. The Black Diamond was a truffle.