Kendal Homan: "Strawberry Silence"

“If you want to go see him, it’s going to have to be today.”

My seven year old heart pounded in my chest; my body shook with every thump. I floated to the car, my legs were numb.
My jeans brushed at my shins when I sat in the car. Playing with the loose threads coming from the holes in my sweatshirt, I wondered what he would think of me.
“Is this enough for him? Do we have time to go home and change?”
“No.”
I smoothed my messy hair down with my hands, all the while pulling my jeans down so they at least touched my ankles. I ripped my sweatshirt off; only to find a stained white t-shirt underneath.
Frustration takes over my body, so  I laid back in my seat and closed my eyes.
“He just wants to tell you goodbye. It’s not like he can even judge you anyway.”
My eyes shot open.
“Is he really that sick?”
“Yes.”
The ride there was deafeningly silent. Millions of thoughts flowing through my brain, causing it to throb.
Breathe in, breathe out.
My mind would not stop.
I needed to speak, I needed to make this right.
“Mom-”
“Do you-”
“Will he-”
“Do you think he loves-”
Did I love him the same?
“Did he actually like me, Mom?”
“He loves you. He always has and he always will.''
My mouth tried to find words to say.
Nothing. No words.
What do you say to someone who loves you more than you love them?
I was face to face with my favorite place to visit. My body now rigid, it picked itself up and pushed out of the car. Lead replaced my legs and heartache replaced my innocence.
The slick sidewalk led me to the front door of the house. My fist lightly tapped the door before I could think.
Stepping into the home, I no longer felt the tenderness and love from the warm colors of the house. The house felt gray and the air was stiff.
His home, once adorned with family photos, now hidden behind different machines to help him live. Thousands of pill bottles replaced the board games that were played on the dining table. His hospice bed in place of the area where I used to play. Life was different now.
There wasn’t a single ounce of health left in that man. The only thing I could do was stare at him; once an avid doll stylist, now lifeless. I held his hand and prayed to God. Hard.
The whoosh of one of the machines cancelled out the silence. No words were exchanged between any of us; it’s not like He could respond anyway.
My chest caved when I had to say three little words. Three little words that I used nonchalantly, now being used as my last words. Guilt weighed on my body.
“Too much hesitation” and “You didn’t do enough”  took over my brain.
All the air left my body.
His stiff, pruned hand outstretched. I tucked my hand into his and gazed at his motionless face.
"I lo-"
"I love-"
I can't finish.
He was a fighter.
A husband.
A grandfather.
And all he gets is a measly "I love you" ?
Thud. . .
Pitter-patter. . .
Thud.
Dog toys were lazily pitched and returned. Adults sat at the table and talked about the service and tombstone. The breathing machine taking up any silence left in the house.
Thud. . .Whoosh
I would take quick glances in between each throw. My eyes raked his body for any sign of the end.
Chest rising and falling?
Check.
Machine still plugged in?
Check.
Like an accordion: in and out.
Pitter-patter.
I picked my body up from the floor and went to the foot of his bed. Childhood innocence reigned my body; the proper VHS tape found its way into my hand and popped into the bottom of the TV. The sound of our favorite TV show rang throughout the room. The light from the screen lit up both of our faces; Strawberry Shortcake danced in the pupils of our eyes.
Straw-Buh-Buh-Buh-Buh-Berry.
My back rested against the hospice bed.
Whoosh.
Too fearful to turn around, like a child running up the stairs after turning off the light.  The room whirled around me; saliva thick in the back of my throat. My body trembled with each thump of my heart.
Straw-Buh-Buh-Buh-Buh-Berry.
Whoosh. . .Pitter-patter.
The room spun faster.
Whoosh. . .Thud
Straw-Buh-Buh-Buh-B-
I turned the TV off.
My feet stumbled as it carried my dead weighted body. I came across the back bedroom; I combed through it, scouring to find the one thing that could make him happy again.
I pulled out the jewelry box; He converted it into a doll closet for me years prior. I pulled
my box of dolls underneath the bed. I pulled the hand-crafted doll hangers from their respective racks and laid them on his chest. I rested one doll on his pruned limp hand.
I spiffied up my doll: the nicest dress and shoes were tugged on her body. A toothbrush smoothed her golden locks. My eyes flickered back and forth between his face and the untouched doll in his hand.
“Your turn,” I whispered.
Whoosh.
He did not want to play, so I cleaned the dolls. 
I burrowed my body into the floor and wrapped my arms around my tiny torso; easing myself back to reality.
Seeking comfort, I looked for my mom; I knew she’d provide it. My mother held me in her lap and rocked me back and forth. I buried my face into her neck and prayed.
He could not play anymore. He was never going to be able to play again.
He always willingly volunteered to play: dress up, dolls, and tea parties.
No more playtime,
Or laughs,
Or hugs,
Or love.
All gone. No more.
The lump in my throat grew five times its size, but the tears never came.
Neither did the sound.
Nothing. No sound. I felt my heart drop. He was gone.

Ashton Stine: "Forevergreen"

The scent of pine cones and evergreen air freshener fills the air, as I enter the dimly lit log cabin.
Nostalgia filled the air. The nostalgia of the holidays, of spending time with the ones you love. I smiled and greeted Marie. She looked thinner than ever, her skin lifeless and almost grey in tint. Her bright green eyes had lost their luminous sparkle, and in their place, a dull grey. The tree in the corner was covered with bright gold tinsel, ornamented in a cheery manner.
I hugged her and sat down in the brown leather chair in front of her, right next to the crackling fireplace. The heat from the fire didn’t seem to warm her.
“How are you?” was the only words I could manage. What can you say to heal it, to make it better? Beads of sweat collected around my brow, even though it was thirty degrees outside and snowing.
“I’m good!” She managed. A weak smile lifted the corners of her frail face. I remember when that smile could light up a whole room.
Memories of my life flash before my eyes. The beautiful ones. Before sickness invaded. Before chemotherapy treatments, hospital beds, IV’s, countless doctors visits, test results with no answers. 
He smiles at me, the fine lines around his mouth showing many years of smiling. No frown lines. 
I took a deep breath. It was already time to start discussing the plans we wanted to put in motion. 
We made idle chat. Work and the weather. How church life was going for him. How many new people got saved. How the church was growing. On and on. My chest got tight, thinking of all the girls with so much ahead of them. I was once that girl, bright eyed and bushy tailed, headed towards her future. But that dream, that fantasy, quickly turned into a nightmare. I watched the dreams slip through my fingers like finely grained quicksand. 
Cheery christmas songs softly play on the speaker in the corner. The wooden logs for walls seemed to add to the cozy, warm feeling in the room. But it is still too cold in here. The evergreen boughs lining the top of the fireplace have twinkly lights wrapped around them, brightening Paul’s face. 
“It’s time to start discussing the arrangements. It’s okay to be upset, it’s okay to cry, it’s okay if you just aren’t ready. I will sit here as long as you need.” He reassures me, squeezing my hand gently. I pull out my delicate piece of notebook paper, which had everything scribbled on it. A reminder that I had tucked away for awhile now. It is time to face the music. 
She began with the mediocre parts. The parts that didn’t really grab my attention, the basics. She started out with the easier to swallow parts.  A lump still formed in my throat. I didn’t know how I would handle it when she left.
She started in on the songs she wanted to be played, the scriptures she wanted to be read.
This was all expected, and I gently jotted down what she requested and nodded. Tears couldn't help but roll down my cheeks.
She paused, her light brown hair covering her eyes.
After a moment’s pause, she lifted her eyes to meet mine again. But they seemed to sparkle in an enchanting way this time.
“But instead of my favorite flower, dahlias, which everyone is going to expect me to request, I want something different. I simply want evergreen boughs on my casket.”
I frowned, my eyes squinting in confusion. “That’s a request I’ve never heard before!” I exclaimed, trying to lighten to mood. A toothy smile peered back at me this time.
I returned to seriousness, asking inquisitively,”But why evergreens? Out of all the beautiful flowers out there… your aunt is a florist. She told me you worked with her for years in her shop. You must know every flower and plant known to man?’
I tilt my head at Paul. He still had a bewildered expression. I smile, and laugh. 

And then I tell him, I tell him why. I want it to serve as a reminder to everyone, a truth I feel so strongly about. 
When I am done, tears streaming down his face. We hug, in a tight embrace. I am so glad I shared it with him, and it  touches him as much as it touched me. 
Walking out of the quaint home, warm and cozy, into the barren frigid winter made tears swell in my eyes even more. Partly from the cold, partly from the experience I just had with Marie. One I would certainly never forget, and I hoped all those that knew her would never forget, either.
One night my wife nudged me awake.
She stood up, in the pale moon lighting streaming from the bedroom window, her eyes reddened from tears. She brushed a few stray tears leaking out of her cheeks away. Her nightgown had light splotches of tears. The sense of dread already made my stomach drop past my feet.
“Marie……”


At the funeral, guests flooded in to remember a dear life. A life ripped from our grasp, too soon. I witnessed many friends and family of Marie’s staring at the simple, lush evergreen boughs on the casket.
Comments in passing by would consist of, “Why those? Out of all the flowers in the world?” A smile tugged at my lips each time I heard the phrase.
When I stood in front of all the guests to read the scriptures Marie had requested, I asked a simple question to the audience.
“Do evergreens falter, even when the snow and rain comes? Even when the frigid winter comes, the other trees wilter under the stress, but the Evergreen is true to the name. It remains Evergreen, staying strong in the bad.”
The audience stared at me, with blank expressions. I left it up to interpretation for them to figure out. A few knowing looks crossed the family’s face, tears streaming down their cheeks. Others looked around at others, huffing and frustrated from their obvious confusion.

Let us all be like the Evergreens. 

Jaden Norrick: "New Eyes"

The first time someone tells me I am beautiful, I am 16 years old.

Sure, my mom and grandmother had told me I was gorgeous, immaculate from birth but their opinions have always been spoken with rose colored breaths.

Sure, whenever I told someone I thought they were pretty, they followed up with their own, "Oh, you're pretty too!" with a smile so cheerful and yet did not fully reach their eyes.

Sure, my audience has always protested anytime I said I was too fat, too tall, too loud, too much. "What? No! You are beautiful!" The slight hitch in their voice telling me their response was ready and loaded, awaiting the trigger words.

But the first time I am told I am beautiful, unprompted, with no expectation behind the words, it is 22 days after my birthday and I am at the grocery store, picking up whip cream for my mom.

I'm wearing jeans and a sweater, my hair is in a messy ponytail I did in the car, I'm not wearing makeup, and I haven't looked in a mirror in two days. My face is relaxed as I set two tubs of frozen Prairie Farms Whipped Topping on the black conveyor belt. I have dazed out, thinking about homework and chores and work, when the cashier's confident voice pulls me back to the IGA checkout line.

"Ya know, you're really beautiful. I love your eyes."

I am, to say the least, confused. My eyebrows shoot to my hairline with surprise. I glance over my shoulder making sure she was talking to me. I was the only one in line. She's putting the tubs in a plastic bag as I say, "Oh, um, thank you." But it comes out as more of a question.

She smiles a slightly crooked smile at me, shrugs her shoulders, and tells me my total. I pull a handful of crumpled bills from my pocket. As I try to straighten them out, my brain is in overdrive. I am racking my mind for how I know this woman, or how she knows me. Maybe she feels sorry for me. Or is playing some kind of joke or experiment.

My brain, trying to find the logical explanation, is racing from concept to concept. It cannot wrap around this idea of a complete stranger saying something nice about me for no apparent reason. I’ve known nothing but fabricated compliments and fraudulent smiles. What’s so different about her?

Before I leave, I turn to look her up and down. She’s wearing jeans and an IGA t-shirt. Her name tag, pinned to her chest, reads “Dianne.” Dianne is middle aged with short brown hair. She has rough, tan skin freckled by fake UV rays. Her eyes are surrounded by deep wrinkles placed carefully by laughter. Her iridescent pink lips are set in an easy smile. I think about her smile all day. It even keeps me awake into the night. I am thinking of this woman, whose life I do not know, as I try to convince the ceiling to be less interesting.

I don’t know what life has used to harden Dianne. But I do know that it did not work fully. Her eyes are still soft. Her eyes still saw me. I fall asleep knowing a stranger saw something that I could not see myself, that I could not convince myself others saw before now. I’m lulled to sleep by a fullness I haven’t known before.

I move through the next day, trying to find others to fill. The woman with shiny grey hair at work. The girl singing to herself in class. The boy with beautiful brown eyes.

They always smile. Sometimes the kind of smile that crinkles their eyes. Other times it's a small pull at one side of their face. These smiles fill me back up. I’m always waiting to spill over again, into the next stranger.

I hope they can’t stop thinking about someone noticing them. I hope they keep filling up others. I hope Dianne knows she started a ripple through this universe that gives others confidence, joy, and love. I hope she knows that, today when I say thank you, I mean it.

Brett Carwile: "Unsafe Love"

Twisted heaps of metal, alongside twisted blurs of people and places, flashed before Anna’s eyes. People whom she hadn’t spoken to in years, places long forgotten, all reunited with her memory in a single instance. A single instance in which she was thrust out of reality and into an alternative dimension removed from the ticking winds of time.

She saw herself baking in the scorching August sun, an intense focus kept on the melting hues of orange and yellow blurring the horizon’s sharp edge. Like the drops of sweat precipitated on the young girl's bronzed skin, it was in this moment that the first drops of doubt and disquiet seeped into her mind.

How does a mother just flat out forget their child? Does mama not care about me? This is why I need a cellphone—my own mother can’t even remember to pick me up. 

She saw the rusted old minivan, the long-awaited vessel of salvation, penetrate the horizon's hazy threshold dividing heaven and blistering hell. “What took you so long? I've been burning up out here for over an hour!”

“I lost track of the time and didn't realize that you hadn't been picked up from schoo-”

“Mama, can I get a cell phone? Nothing like this would happen again...I would be able to call you!”

“I’ll think about it,”

“Also...do you love me?” Having impulsively unleashed the explosive question, her tongue was now bathing in an acidic residue.

Seemingly stricken by the stinging slash, her mother fell silent. A wretched symphony of silence resonated within the minivan for several moments before she spoke once more. “Of course I do, darling,”

Does she really? When was the last time I heard her say “I love you”? Has she ever told me that she loves me? I hear Hannah's parents tell her all the time. . .but mama just leaves me in unloving silence.

With an intense flash, the scene changed. The air of unease provoked by the previous scene faded into warming comfort as the familiar sights of home came into view. In the center of a dingy and cluttered living room stood a large artificial Christmas tree, its sparkling lights and glistening ornaments breathing life, and love, into the dust piled corners. Beneath the plastic limbs lay a single gift, Anna’s name written on the tag.

“Go ahead, open it!” Tearing apart the wrapping paper like a wild animal devouring its prey, she found the gift to be something far more valuable than gold—a brand new phone. Her only desire, the only thing she had thought about for the past four months, had materialized in her own hands! Was this actually happening? Or was she just dreaming? It was all quite surreal—the incident in August would now be nothing more than a distant memory of an era long gone.

“Thank you so much, mama! I love you!” Anna exclaimed, excitedly jumping about the living room in what could only be described as a fit of joy. Her fit subsided, however, when the words hit her mother in the face, freezing it over with an icy glaze. Anna watched her mother’s mouth slowly form into shape as if it were going to emit a thawing breath of love, but nothing came out; she was left in chilling silence. Suddenly, the radiant hues of life and love casted by the tree seemed to disappear.

Another bright flash. Years passed in an instance. A searing itch for freedom and independence slowly began to consume her delicate skin. She wanted to go places, be on her own. She now saw Mrs. Rodriguez, the kind old woman from the driver’s branch. “Congratulations, Anna! Step over here so we can get your photo!” She motioned for Anna to stand in front of the camera. CLICK. It was now official.

Once again, the scene changed and she now saw herself leaving to go to a concert with her friend, Hannah. Before heading out the front door, she stopped by her mother’s room, dark and cast in shadow. “I love you, bye!”

“Ok,” her mother's voice echoed down the hall. As expected, her mother did not reflect the sentiment; she never did. Even though her mother always responded in silence, she dearly held onto the hope that the paradigm would eventually shift.

She no longer saw herself, but rather, her mother. Curled up on her bed, droplets rained from her eyes, creating a puddle of sorrow on the soaked sheets. Attempting to regain her composure, she wiped off her drenched face, and grabbed the cell phone sitting on the bedside nightstand. Turning on the blindingly bright screen, she emptily gazed at its surface for several seconds before slowly tapping on the screen as if to type something. She stopped and stared once again into the screen. Seemingly restraining an onset of precipitation, she closed her eyes, and made one quick, singular jab at the screen. As soon as she had done so, luminous rays of sunshine burst through the window, consuming the dark shadows and drying the dull dampness.

Anna now saw herself in motion on an endless expanse of asphalt.

PING.

“Hey, your phone just went off.”

“Who is it?”

“Uh, it looks like it was your mom.”

“Can I see the phone?” Anna reached for the phone, curious as to why her mother was contacting her at such an odd time.

Unfortunately, she never got to find out.

She now saw herself in the present, her limp and lifeless body lodged in a grave of asphalt and  twisted heaps of metal. Next to her body, lie her phone, it’s bright screen displaying a message from her mother: “Drive safe...I love you.”

Trenton Rafferty: "Perpetual Torment"

The muddy path seemed never ending. Hundreds of men ahead of me, all of us in single file marching in unison. Every man had a look of either exhaustion or hysteria. As we marched on, the tree line grew thinner and the mortar holes grew fatter. We were being sent to our destiny. The marching ended abruptly.
Whistling.
High pitched whistling began to flood our ears. The man in front of me turned around.
“TAKE COVER!” he yelled. The whistling was then replaced with the sounds of hell. Explosions started to erupt on either side of me. I dove into the nearest hole I could see and just curled up into a ball. All I could hear were explosions. Mud began to speckle my body like rain as the bombs ravaged the Earth. Then just like that, it stopped. To me it seemed like ages past but it was only over in a matter of seconds. After the ringing in my ears stopped, it was replaced by the screams of injured men. I slowly rose out of the hole and was greeted by many more. I looked about the battle torn field and saw hundreds of men turned into hundreds of casualties. I pulled out my medical pack and ran to the nearest man. Blood was gushing out of the spot where a leg used to be. I froze and my body became numb. 
Men were scattered about, each one of them begging for my help. I gained control of my mind again and went to help the man in front of me.
“Please help, I can’t feel my leg,” the man cried. 
“You’re going to be just fine soldier.” I lied. This man was going to bleed out in a matter of minutes. I pulled out a morphine syringe and plunged it into his thigh. A look of bliss and relief came over his face.
“I’ll come back for you.” I lied again. This man was gonna die on the battlefield. There was nothing I could do. I ran over to the next casualty.
“Please! For the love of God, help me!” the man pleaded.
It took me a second to register what had actually happened to this poor soul. Fragments of metal riddled his torso along with his lower half that was scorched beyond recognition.
“Please end it.” He pointed at his rifle.
“No, I can help you, I promise.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, I can see it in your eyes. I'm not gonna-”
Before he could finish, he started into a coughing fit. A fine line of blood leaked from his mouth, streaking down his chin like a small stream of fading life.
“Now stop feeding me lies and put me out of this misery,” he begged.
I couldn’t bring myself to even touch that rifle. That is one thing that I vowed not to do. I came here to help people, not hurt them. You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment. . .
I reached into my bag and pulled out another syringe.
“Don’t you dare stick that in me. If you want to leave me to die just leave now,” he spat at me.
I can’t; I will not allow myself to take another life.
“This will help with the pain and it will be over before you know it.”
He couldn’t stop me, for he was immobile. So I took the syringe and before I pierced his damaged skin. . .
“DAMN YOU, DAMN YOU TO HELL!”he yelled.
I sunk the needle into his shrapnel riddled leg and pushed the plunger down. I made sure every last drop of the viscous fluid was gone. Thunder and lightning raged through the sky, and a light sprinkle of rain began to fall upon us. His face was first filled with hate and pain, but then it was left with just hate.
“Leave me.” he uttered.
Those would be his last. With one last coughing fit, he became rigidly still. I sat there with a feeling of guilt and unease. 
“Come on soldier we gotta keep moving, there is a forest up ahead that will give us some cover,” an infantry man said to me.
  
I picked myself up and packed my medical bag. The mud covered the entirety of the bag, along with the blood of my comrades. As I walked with the remnants of my battalion, I began to feel anxious. The sound of marching drastically changed to the sound of gunfire.
“AMBUSH!” The guy in front of me yelled. He went to go for cover but a stream of lead stopped him in his tracks. He flopped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. I dove behind a fallen tree and hugged my legs to my chest. Why me? What did I do to deserve this?
“Soldier, we have to get moving n-” someone said, but before he finished his sentence, he was interrupted by a bayonet piercing his heart. 
“Du bist der nächste!¹” the german infantryman yelled at me.
I was filled with fear and I looked to my left and saw the handgun of one of my fallen comrades. Before the German had time to react, I dove for the gun and unloaded the mag. I filled his chest with lead; I didn’t even take a second to think about what to do. Suddenly, time stopped. I wiped the mud and blood off my eyes. I swore the man had a dark aura around him, and a red gleam to his eyes.
“Who do you think you are?” the demonic aura questioned, darkening my very soul.
“What do you mean!?! It was just my instinct!” I exclaimed.
“Well, you get to pay for your ‘instinct’,” the dark being said.
“I DIDN’T WANT TO DIE! WHAT ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO!” I shouted
“Nothing, for it is human nature to save oneself. This time though, it will cost you dearly.” he exclaimed, piercing my heart.
He cackled loudly and all of a sudden time resumed.
“Verdammt nochmal²” he coughed as he fell to the ground.
I laid there appalled and numb. I just took another man’s life. Was that being real or was it just from shock.  A second later, one of my comrades picked me up and rushed me to the rest of our battalion. The path we were on was very muddy. All of us were either exhausted and or going insane.
In the distance I could see another forest. As I gazed upon the pine trees, a sense of fear and Deja Vu flood my body. I turned to the soldier beside me.
“Weren’t we just in this forest?”
“How would we be in the same forest? We’ve been walking straight this whole time.” he said.
I shook myself and blowed it off as anxiety. I mean who would be sane in this war. We entered the forest and the sound of our marching could be heard throughout it. The sounds of war, the popping of machine guns, the explosions of mortar fire. We were not greeted by the sounds of nature. Nature had receded to escape from the war. If the trees could move, I think they would have been long gone by now. All around us were mortar holes. Everything seemed really familiar. We marched along and as we walked we heard the whistling.
The same. Damn. Whistling.
The man in front of me turned around. The same man that told me not to administer the morphine. How was he alive?
“TAKE COVER!” he yelled, and all hell broke loose.
I dove to the nearest mortar hole. How was this happening, I was just in this hell. Mud began to speckle my already bloody and muddy clothes. Then it all stopped, and the explosions were replaced with the screams of the injured. I tried to find that man. I rose out of the hole and scanned the scarred battlefield. Dread began to fill my body. I saw the same man who lost his leg, begging me to help him.
“How are you here, how are you alive!?” I asked in desperation.
“Please, just help me! I can’t feel my leg!” he whimpered.
I pulled out my bag and when I opened it up, there were no more morphine syringes. They had all just disappeared. The only thing in it was that hand gun.
“Soldier, I..I can’t help you.” I said numbly. I grabbed the handgun and flung it away from me as far as my tired limbs could throw.
“Please, at least put me out of my misery; the pain is unbearable,” he begged. I got up and left him. I wasn’t going to take another life.
The next man I saw was the man with the metal fragments ingrained into his body. “How are you back? A few hours ago I saw you die! How is this possible?”
“What the hell are you talking about, God the pain, please just end-” he said, but before he finished his sentence he started into a coughing fit. The same coughing fit from earlier.
“I’ve already been through this, WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?” I yelled up at the heavens. Rain began to fall on my face, lightning streaked the sky.
“I can’t help you sir, there is too much bleeding!” I explained solemnly.
“Please, just end it then.” the man begged.
I sat there despondent. I was stuck with my guilt. I could not will myself to kill this man.
“I can’t kill you; I am not a killer.” I said.
“Then leave me here to die. Don’t stick me with that damned needle,” he spat at me. I looked into my bag and there was one needle… and the handgun.
“As you wish.” I said. As I went to leave the man to die, my body froze and forced me to open the bag. My hands had a mind of their own, grabbing the morphine and the needle.
“DON’T YOU DARE!” he yelled but after that, my hand plunged the needle into his leg.
“DAMN YOU, DAMN YOU TO HELL!” he yelled at me before he closed his eyes for his permanent slumber.
“I already am…” I said.
“Come on, soldier, we gotta keep moving. There is a forest up ahead that will give us some cover,” one of my comrades said.
I picked myself up and packed my medical bag. I had done this before, I didn’t want to do it again. I regrouped with the remnants of my battalion. We began walking toward the forest. That God forsaken forest. We entered that tree line and it was the same forest.
“Are you absolutely sure we aren’t going in circles, I mean we just got ambushed here!” I said.
“ Are you mad? We have been going straight this whole time. Are you shell shocked or something?” the soldier next to me said.
I begin to feel my conscious slowly go into shambles. This must be some sick nightmare and I need someone to wake me up PLEASE.
“AMBUSH!” the soldier in front of me yelled.
The same man that would soon be riddled with bullets before making it to cover. I dove towards the same fallen tree. All those feelings of Deja Vu became mere memories of this horror I’m living in. It feels like I’ve only been here a few hours. How long have I really been here?
“Soldier, we have to get moving n-” the same soldier from before said. The same one interrupted with a blade to the chest.
I looked on in horror as the German ripped the serrated blade out of the man. I heard the sucking noise as it came out of him. He collapsed with a stunned look on his face as blood gushed out of his chest. Terror filled my body and just as I had done before, I snatched up the handgun. I pointed the gun at him and my finger paused on the blood stained trigger. I could either die to this man, or I could save myself. The German began to charge at me. Time was slowed and I was filled with fear.
I DON’T WANT TO DIE, GODDAMNIT!
I pulled the trigger and the end of the handgun lit up. I just kept pulling the trigger. After a few seconds, the popping was replaced with dull clicking. The German stood in stunned silence, as small red spots began to fill his gray coat. He fell to his knees.
“Verdammt nochmal” he uttered before he fell face first into the dirt.
One of my comrades picked me up and rushed me to the remnants of our battalion rushing out of the forest. We began walking on the path. The one caked in mud. Around me those same mortar holes got bigger.
Then the whistling.

¹You're next!
²Damn it all.

Gavin Swain: "Immovable, Unstoppable"

Sit down my old friends and let me tell you a story, you like stories don't you? Well, this is not a conventional story, like the one with a hero and a villain. This is a story unlike any other.
There was a man who, no matter what was thrown at him, would never bend or break. He would stand his ground and plant his feet, unable to move, he was deemed the immovable man. When the entire world went one way, he would stand his ground and make his own path, standing out amongst the crowd.
There was another, a lady, who no matter what stood in front of her, would never stop moving forward. She would break through any obstacle  presented to her. No matter what way the world turned, she would forge her own path. No matter what stood in her way, she was deemed the unstoppable woman.
One day it seemed like fate stepped in and pushed the unstoppable woman in the right direction, moving her in the direction of the immovable man. She met him while she was passing through a small town on her own business. He was standing tall and proud in front of her, hands on his hips and a smile on his face- she only came about to his shoulders. He had an energy about him that reminded her of the warm sun shining upon a tree which she would sit under when she was younger.
"Could you point me in the right direction?" She said with a light voice.
Her voice.
It was like the sound of the ocean crashing against the jagged rocks of the shore, harsh and gruff, but a certain beauty that drew people in, but could just as easily push them away.
"Of course," said the immovable man, "it's right over that way, but I have to warn you, it's very dangerous that way. Do you need someone to help you? I could." The immovable man's voice took her aback slightly. She expected a rougher voice, hardened with the burdens of life, but instead he spoke softly, like a blanket on a cool night under the stars.
"No, I can do it myself. I'll be just fine." The unstoppable woman said, a little more harshly than she would've liked.
"Ok, I'll be here if you need any help." The immovable man called after her.
The area he alluded to was a giant maze. She couldn't tell it from where she interacted with the man, but this maze was massive; it twisted and turned for miles and miles. It was full of dead ends and wrap arounds that spit her out where she had already been. She ran through it and tackled it head on. The maze would throw obstacle after obstacle at her, but she was so stubborn, hardheaded, and strong that she would meet whatever was thrown at her with unrelenting force. The maze’s walls would shift suddenly to cut her off from the path, but she would just grunt, turn, and go back the way she came from to find another passage.
She traversed this landscape for what seemed like forever. She was tired, and alone, and for the first time ever, she wasn't sure if she could keep going. It had seemed like she had scoured every passage the maze had to offer and she still hadn’t found the exit. When a wall would shift in front of her, she wouldn’t run back the way she came. She would hunch over exhausted, it took all her willpower to keep going. More than anything she wanted to get out of this maze, to find the exit and move on with her journey. But in the darkest of hours she gave up, she collapsed, she couldn't keep going.
"Now do you need some help?" A booming, yet gentle voice exclaimed behind her.
His voice.
At this moment, his voice was a welcomed escape, like a vacation that was long overdue. It was like a blanket that wrapped around her, comforting her and making her feel safe.
The unstoppable woman rose to her feet and shouted, "I told you, I don't need your help, I can do this by myself." In a harsh tone she had never heard come from her mouth before, she shaded with surprise at the amount of anger in her voice. She expected him to turn and forsake her, to leave her stranded in the maze for the rest of her days. She was afraid for the first time in her life. Afraid that the man would leave her, she found herself longing for him to take her far away from this place. She was frozen with fear because she was certain he would leave. But he didn't. Instead he smiled a warm smile and continued walking towards her.
He laid a hand on her shoulder and said, "I know the way out, I could show you if you want me to."
She took his hand and let him guide her. They went down corridors that spiraled downward like stairs. They took shortcuts, and doubled back whenever he accidentally made a wrong turn. When the walls would begin to shift, the immovable man would sprint forward to stand in front of the wall and he would keep it from closing, allowing the woman to slip by.
When they were walking together through the maze the man desperately wanted to talk with the woman, but everytime he thought of something he could say, he second guessed himself and decided it was best not to speak. The woman saw he would turn to her, mouth open and eyes wide with excitement, only to turn to the ground in disappointment.
He was nervous to talk to her.
She decided to take matters into her own hands, so she turned to the man and asked, “So who exactly are you? I know you know your way through here, or at least I’m hoping you do.”
The immovable man sighed a relieving breath and chuckled, “I’m known as the Immovable Man. I encountered this maze many years ago, and I found my way out on my own, but I decided I would go back and help people through it.”
The unstoppable woman looked at the immovable man right in the eyes. His eyes were a gray blue color and held more feeling than any eyes she had ever seen. She wasn’t sure what to say to him so she opted for, “Alrighty,” and kept walking forward.
The immovable man couldn’t help but chuckle as he felt his cheeks growing warm. She was as bad at talking as he was, he thought that was cute. He started her way trying to catch up to her as she turned right down a corridor, “The right way is this way, he pointed to his left.”
She stopped in her tracks and whirled around on her heel and strutted past the man, “I knew that,” she chuckled, “I was just testing you.” She wagged a finger at him as she strutted past. The immovable man was dumbfounded at her confidence, he admired it.
Every once in a while he caught her looking at him. He didn’t mind really, because an equal amount of times she caught him looking at her. She was unlike anyone he had helped through before. She was strong. Just taking a glance at her you could tell she was., She had short blonde hair in a bun on the top of her head that bounced when she walked.
It was nearing nightfall. “I think we should stop here for the night, and we can pick back up in the morning. Normally people don’t make it this far in one day. Usually we stop halfway back there.” The immovable man said with a semi weary voice. He put his back against the maze wall and slid down it.
The unstoppable woman didn’t realize it, but she was feeling tired too. Her legs and arms were heavy and she felt her eyelids grow heavy too. She slid down the wall next to the immovable man, and before she realized what she was doing she laid her head on his shoulder and drifted off to sleep.
The man looked down at her sleeping face, and for the first time in a while he felt peace. He laid his head against hers and shivered. It was getting colder, which must mean they were getting closer to the exit. He drifted off to sleep as he shielded her from the cold wind blowing from the path ahead.
The unstoppable woman woke to the immovable man’s shivering next to her. She got to her knees and grabbed his arm and shook him awake, “What happened? Why are you shaking?”
The immovable man got to his feet and helped her up, "We are nearing the end, that means the maze is going to throw everything it has at us to keep us trapped." The man looked at his feet and took the woman's hands in his, "You have to promise me, no matter what you'll keep hold of my hand. I don't want to lose you this close to the end."
He felt the women's hands tighten in his, "Don't worry," said the woman looking up at him. She put a finger under his chin and lifted his head so he could look her in the eyes, "I promise I won't let go."
The immovable man took her hand and guided her down the last corner where she was taken aback by what she saw. There was a frozen wasteland that stretched between them and the exit, with swirling winds and freezing temperatures, rough terrain and unsure footing. For the first time in a long, long time she was unsure if she'd make it.
The immovable man looked down at her, sensing she was unsure about the last leg. He turned to her and took both of her hands and looked her in the eye. "I know you're scared, I can see it in your eyes, but know I will be with you every step of the journey. If you ever falter, I will be there to pick you up."
The man's voice melted her heart, and she tightened her grip on his hand and nodded to him. They turned together to face the blizzard and stepped into it. Immediately she began to shiver as the cold air stung every inch of her being. She buried her face into the immovable mans shirt, and he wrapped her arms around him. He lifted her off the ground and carried her most of the way to the end, only stopping one time to make sure she was okay.
The cold was unbearable, the air stung her face as they made the trec, but the man never stopped. When they finally reached the end, she looked up at the man’s face. It looked the same as it did when they first met, kind and soft. He set her down and gestured towards the landscape in front of him, “This is it, the end. I wish you the best of luck on the rest of your journey.” The immovable man dropped his gaze and mumbled, “I’ll miss you.”
Reality finally sank in. This was the end. This would be the last time she would get to hold onto his hand, the last time she got to feel powerful with someone.
She surveyed the landscape laid out before her. It was breathtaking. Beautiful grassy fields stretched as far as the eye could see. Gorgeous animals frolicked in the fields without a care in the world. It truly looked like paradise.
“This makes it all worthwhile.” The immovable man quietly said. She looked up and saw, instead of his usual happy expression, pain. “It’s just harder this time.” The man squeaked out looking at his feet.
The woman put a finger under his chin and lifted his head to look into his eyes, “What will you do now?”
“I’ll go back to the beginning, and wait for someone else to stumble upon the maze. Someone always does.” The man grabbed her hand and kissed it, “I wish you the best of luck with everything you do. Whatever you come across, I know you’ll find a way to get through it. I believe in you.”
The unstoppable woman’s eyes filled with tears, “Why don’t you come with me? We could journey together.”
The immovable man stood a little taller, “My place is here. There will always be someone who stumbles upon the maze. They will get lost, and I have to be here to guide them through it. You don’t know how many people have been lost forever in there.” The man turned back to face the blizzard.
The unstoppable woman turned to look at the field stretched out in front of her. Thenshe turned and looked at the man, and he looked sorrowful. She turned to face the blizzard with him and shoved her hand into his, “I want to stay with you. I’ve never met anyone like you. We can show them together.”
The man smiled and glanced at her. Without another thought, they both disappeared into the swirling winds.

Orrin Bromm: "Locked"

501 West Franklin Street, this blue one has got to be it. Turn the radio down; no just pause it. 

I press the black knob and the kick drum and singing stops. Press the breaks and turn my wheel as the gravel shifts under my tires. Put my car in park as I look towards the door.

Oh my god…

Here she comes across the porch towards my car already, and she’s more beautiful in person than in the pictures she’s been sending me. 

Get the door, gotta keep it classy.

I get out from the drivers side and reach the passenger door as I smile and open it for her.

“Thank you!” she says as she smiles at me.

  

As close to the door as you can, keep her out of the cold.

I find a place as close to the theater entrance as I can. I put my car in park, turn to her and say, “Well, we’ve got about twenty minutes before we really need to go in.”

She leans over, and places her alluring lips on mine.

… 

She sits back in her seat, looks forward out the windshield and her cheeks are rose.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never done that before!”

“Uhm, what exactly was that,” I ask with a smile.

What was that! I don’t even care, just do it again. No, wait for later, that’s how to do it.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve never kissed anyone on a first date, I don’t know what I was doing. I just felt like I could kiss you.” she said as she looked down in her lap, smiling the whole time.

“Don’t say sorry, I never said I didn’t like it.”

She leaned over to kiss me again.

You said later. You like her, but you said later, lay out some gentleman rules.

“How about later, hmm?” I said as I grabbed her shoulders lightly, catching her mid lean.

“Ugh!” She smiled, and sat back in her seat.

I smiled, opened my door, and grabbed my things. She got out and followed me inside. I let her buy the tickets like she insisted. “I’ve got a couple of coupons actually,” she laughed as she pulled them out of her clutch purse.

  

When the movie was over, we went back to my car talking. 

And the door.

I got the door again for her, and she just smiled at me this time. I walked around to my side, and got in, but didn’t bother buckling. 

She’s gonna do it again. I’d bet five bucks on it.

I looked towards her this time, expecting her to lean over again. She looked at me and said, “What, you think I’m gonna kiss you again? You said later, remember?” She threw a sideways smile at me with that, most likely being amused thinking she’d played my words against me.

“Well it’s later isn’t it? I said that about three hours ago,” I retorted, throwing the same piquant smile and sass back to her.

“You’re right,” she said. As her smile grew from ear to ear, she leaned forward, placed her hand on the back of my neck, and her lips met mine. This time I let myself be unbarred, and leaning towards her slightly I placed my hand on her side. 

And at 11:41, I took her home.

The clock on the mantle chimes early like it always does. It says it’s 5:55, but it’s usually about five minutes fast.

You’ve got about ten minutes until Mya and Melayna will be here. Go shower, and put on something casual, but well fit. 

I went downstairs and showered as quick as I could, but it still wasn’t quick enough. My mother came downstairs and said to me through the door, “Mya and her sister are here.”

“Okay,” I replied, rinsing my long hair out with urgency. I couldn’t neglect what Mya liked most.

Later when she was sitting behind me on the couch, she insisted I let her braid my hair.

I’ve told myself time and time again I won’t let girls braid my hair, but hey, here’s to betting there’s a lot of things I’d do for her that I wouldn’t do for others.

While she was playing with my locks, ‘Take Me To Church’ by Hozier came on.

I haven’t heard this in at least a couple years.

Just as quickly as I started singing the first verse, she did too. Her sweet alto voice and my rich bass had harmonized well, but as we sang the song, it was as if it was written for us. She got done braiding my hair, and took a video on my phone to immortalize her masterpiece. She leaned over my shoulder, and pressed her cheek on mine as we rocked from side to side, singing, “Offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.” Right then she laughed again.

I’ve got the prettiest, funniest, most wonderful woman in the world leaning and laughing on me, and she thinks she’s the lucky one…

When the song was done I’d had enough of the braid and took it out, giving her back the violet scrunchie she’d stuck in my hair. We sang more songs, talked with Tate and Melayna, and did whatever else we could to entertain ourselves. Nine o’clock came too soon, and her and her sister had to go home. 

I walked them to her car outside, and she was slightly ahead of me. Her sister came out behind me and elbowed me in the ribs saying, “You need to ask her out.”

“What do you mean ask her out? We’re going out.”

“So you are her ‘boyfriend’,” she asked giving me a very peculiar face.

“No, you can date someone and not be their significant other. That by no means doesn’t mean I don’t want to be her boyfriend.”

But you push your luck too far now, and you’ll blow whatever could be ahead. Don’t be stupid.

“Just ask her,” she said as we came up to Mya’s car.

I walked over hurriedly to the drivers side

The door.

I got the door for her, though she knew it was coming, and tried to beat me to the handle. When my hand reached it before hers, she just rolled her eyes at me as she got it. Tate had now found his way outside and was talking to Melayna in the passenger seat.

Make it obvious that you want to be something more, but don’t push it. Just don’t be discreet.

“You know, I’ve known you for ten days now, and have seen you more than half of those days. Sounds something like a boyfriend you know?” 

“Mmm, is that what that sounds like?”

“I don’t know, it’s just what someone told me. Guess it doesn't matter what it sounds like to me though, just matters what you think now doesn’t it?”

She gave me a witty answer to every witty comment I made over the next couple of minutes. Eventually she had to go though, and closed the door after I gave her a kiss. Before she rolled down the driveway though, she rolled down her window, looked back at me and said, “Yes, I’m your girlfriend now.” With that, she rolled her window back up and went on her way back home.

  

Car is washed, Tuxedo is pressed and laid out, wallet and keys are next to it, and phone is charging. Just got to take a shower and get dressed before I go get Mya. 

Hands in my pockets and not bothering to crack a smile, I stood and let my mother take more photos than necessary before she let me head out the door. After what felt like an hour of reassuring her I’d let her know where we were taking pictures, I managed to get to my car and head towards Mya’s house.

Thirteen minutes early, nice.

I pulled into their driveway right as Tate pulled in behind me. As I closed my car door, he walked up to me, arm stretched out for a hug saying, “Wassup brother?” 

“Just ready to have a good time with you buddy,” I said as I embraced him like a brother.

We went inside where Meleyna was ready for Tate, but Mya took a couple more minutes before we could leave.

I’m early, but I like to make her squirm a little.

A grin cracked across my face as she walked down the hallway into the kitchen and I saw her for what felt like the first time, for the thousandth time. “You’re stunning baby girl,” I said for lack of better words.

She’s gonna hate me for this.

I opened the door for her which she rolled her eyes at and just said, “I can get that myself.”

“I know, but I like getting it, makes me feel important,” I said as a smile unfurled across my face.

After stopping several places for pictures, working out some last minute dinner reservation issues, and killing some time, I drove us back to the high school for the dance. Walkthroughs weren’t what I expected. Frankly I don’t know what I expected, maybe a bigger production of it maybe, but it was enjoyable all the same. I spent the next few hours dancing in a circle of people, most of which I didn’t know, but my world was always on my arm dancing with me, so I could have cared less.

Now this is what makes Prom all that it’s cracked up to be. I wouldn’t want to be spending it with anyone else.

The dance was supposed to get over at 11 p.m. but about 9:30 I could tell Mya’s head was hurting her. She was still smiling and putting on a show for everyone, but I knew her well enough and picked up on her little idiosyncrasy she had when she wasn’t feeling well. 

“We can go now, babe,” I whispered in her ear.

She shook her head at me and said, “ No, I don’t want to go.”

We stayed and danced some more until about 10 when I convinced her to go home and rest before we went to the after, which she insisted on going to. She wanted to get a picture sitting on my lap with me holding her before we left though. So she gave her phone to her sister and sat curled up on my lap with my arms around her as we both smiled for the picture.

This, just feels so right.

We checked ourselves out of the dance, and I got the door for her in the parking lot. She was too tired to even give me heck for it. We waited a minute before Tate and Meleyna found their way outside and too the car, and then we headed back to Mya’s house. 

Her mother welcomed us all back and asked how the dance was. I waited for the girls to change before I changed into some more casual clothes to lounge around in before we headed to the after party. I was laying on the couch, watching some show on tv I didn’t recognize, with Mya curled up on my chest. I couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not, but if I had to guess I’d say she was awake because everyone else in the room was talking sonorously despite my asking them to keep quiet. 

See I’d be fine spending the rest of the night here myself.

She was awake when I told her we needed to be leaving if we were going to go to the party. She sat up, got her shoes on when Melayna handed them to her, and we headed out the back door. I got her door for her again to which she finally smiled, “Thank you,” to me.

Go ahead and take a shower, she’ll be done with practice when you get out.

I washed off any evidence that I’d been at practice this evening, and when I got back to my room, I dropped my bag full of homework next to my desk. I situated myself on my bed and Facetimed Mya. She was on her way home from the University having just gotten out of cheer practice. 

I spent the next two and a half hours talking with her, asking about how her day was and how practice was going. I told her about starting my Senior year, and how the football team was looking. I managed to craftily find out some information for her Christmas present I was planning for her. Eventually though, 1:00 a.m. came around, and we both needed to fall asleep. 

“I love you,” she said to me.

“Yeah, but I love you a little more,” I said with a smirk just to rile her up.

I laid there with her on the phone still like I always do, because she doesn’t like to be alone. She always tells me it’s kind of like me being there with her, and she falls asleep easier.

She’s got so much going on between cheer, work, college, and everything else… She tells me not to worry about it, it’s not going to affect us in any way. But I can’t help but worry...

God I just wish I could breath.

I polished off the last of the medicine in the cabinet as I kept belligerently fighting the sickness which had been ailing me for the last nine days. I drudged through the day just looking forward to when Mya would get done with cheer practice and looking at the picture of her all dressed up for church she’d sent me that morning. 

“I Love You” was captioned both in words and in the smile she had adorned.

That evening I missed her first Facetime call at 9:27, and called her back promptly at 9:30. As soon as I heard her voice, I could hear something foreboding in it. I knew the sound for what it was, and it spoke to me before she said a word that I actually heard. I saw goodbye in her eyes. She let it come over me easy, but she was kind enough not to waste time before she told me , “I think it’d be best if we were just friends right now. With all of the things going on between school, work, cheerleading, and my family, there isn’t enough time to think about when to see you next, let alone see you.”

I didn’t hear anything except for wisps of the rest of what she said.

There isn’t anyway you can change her mind. At least not now.

She wanted to go, so the phone call only lasted nine minutes, unlike any other.

I know her well enough, I want to change her mind... but I know I can’t. She’s too strong willed for that…

Just let me get the car door one more time. 
But the door’s locked.