I walked into the kitchen and viewed the battleground. Spilled milk and broken eggs about. My older sister Elain and my Father had gotten into it in the middle of making cookies. I walked around the chicken casualties and spoiled milk spills and opened the fridge. As soon as I started to filter through the contents of the box I was interrupted by a large gruff bark from my dog, Allen. He was a scruff and rugged old basset hound. He trotted over and happily pawed at his empty food bowl.

“Oh Allen you didn’t get fed? Those two should really pay a bit more attention to their surroundings than their dumb planets” I roll my eyes at my own comment. 

It would have taken an answer about the whole thing for anybody to settle down. Allen started pawing more, before tiring himself out and plopping onto the ground, mixing himself in egg and milk. I sigh and grab the dog food, pouring some in his bowl, and eventually find a towel and start drying him as he eats.

“What the heck Jillian! What did you do to the kitchen?!” A loud shriek emerged from behind me. I quickly spun around to meet the furious eyes of my mother, who was glaring at me down like a Christmas blizzard had spun through the house.
“Mom I didn’t,” I start, only to be cut off and met with an icy response from my now irate mother,

“You have 5 minutes to get it wiped up, or I’ll have you spending your Christmas in your room.” The fatigue and frustration on my face must have been visible as she added the last part, as it was now anger that displayed outwardly. Begrudgingly, I pick up the towel I used for Allen and start speed wiping everything down, eventually picking up the dried egg and eggshells and tossing them into the trash. Sighing and fed up with every and my appetite lost, I return to my room in hopes to sleep off the stupidity. My mind racing and exploring my own imagination, all to be interrupted not even five minutes later by my younger brother Daniel darting into the room and tossing a water bottle onto my forehead. 

Immediately I toss it to the side and exclaim with a pained voice, “What was that for Daniel?! Can’t you just stay out!” 

He jumps back and tears well in his eyes immediately, and I tense up knowing what’s about to happen. “I I didn’t mean it! I just wanted to show you my bottle,” he starts to cry. 

His voice is now too shaky to speak. With another heavy sigh, a bleeding forehead and now a headache forming in the middle of my head I sit up and speak light yet stern, “You can’t be throwing things, not at people at least Danny, or you’ll end up hurting someone bad, understand?” 

He nods and picks his bottle up and pulls a bandaid out of his hoodie pocket, offering it up to me and still too choked up to speak. I nod knowing what he wanted and lean my head down, moving my hair out of the way. 

Gently he applies it to my sore and now bruising head then pulls back smiling, “Dad got me these space stickies yesterday and and I put them on my bottle!” 

He proudly presents, holding the bottle up. 

I force a smile, my disdain for space still not powerful enough to crush a young boys dreams to be an astronaut, “That’s incredible Danny, did you tell dad what you wanted for Christmas yet? You still have 3 days at least until Christmas Eve you know,” I manage to spit out. The one holiday I can enjoy was Christmas and everybody knew it was my favorite, even Daniel who shared my love.

“Uh huh! He says I’m gonna have to wait and see what he gets me when I asked him what he was getting me” he said, anticipation pulling at his voice.

Laughing some at his eagerness I pat his head and nudge him to the door, “Well I’m glad you did, but I also gotta sleep Bud, not feeling great and everybody keeps fighting,” I say with annoyance, an argument starting down the stairs already. 

He frowns and nods, upset but also understanding, “Alright Jelly, I’ll see you tomorrow though!” He happily spouts, his toothy grin cute enough to make your worries disappear. 

Eventually he runs to his room. Sighing for what seems the last time for tonight I lay in my bed and close my eyes, the sounds of fighting downstairs melting away gently. Dreaming about Christmas and the presents, eating a wonderful feast for dinner, and spending time with everybody. That was, until, it went downhill. Elain had got into with dad, this time mom backing her up. She claimed that the planets were strictly just coincidental, and that science proves this, while dad retorted that it could mean just as much to science as it does that it means a god is visiting earth. The fighting erupts into a large fight, things get thrown, and the rooms starts to heat up. Daniel runs and hides while Allen gets caught in the middle, and just when they’re about to erupt onto him, I shoot awake, sitting up sharply in my bed. Dripping with sweat, I look at the clock, the display broken but just eligible enough to read “3:06”. Just as I’m about to lay down my head spins, my vision twisting and spiraling, before hitting the ground groaning. I look up and grab a hold of my bedpost, using it to support myself and slowly shuffle along the edge of my bed to the wall. Tracing the wall for more support as I scoot to my parents bedroom and worm the door ajar. Mom and dad haven’t slept in the same bed for a while, and mom was in the room tonight. Struggling to make my way to the bed, managing to kick everything and anything on the ground before finally reaching her. 

Carefully and fearfully I shake her, her sleepy mumbles turning to grouchy complaints, “What what?? If we’re out of something you have to wait till the morning dang it,” she croaks. 

I start to speak but cough violently, only getting out a weak cry for help before falling onto the bed and on her. She jerks awake and looks at me with a large concern. The rest from here was foggy, I’m unsure of what she said as it blurs in my head when I look back on it. I remember waking in my bed again, a damp lukewarm towel on my head and some medicine sitting on my nightstand. 

Confused after waking I go to sit up, only to be hit with a wave of nausea, and wailing out, “Mom!? Dad!?” Feebly I’m able to open my eyes up enough to observe the room.

“Hey Jillian, careful you don’t move too much alright?” A voice came from beside me, dad’s face coming into view, bags under his eyes and worry plastered over his face. 

“Dad? What happened to me?” I manage to cough out, feeling incredibly ill.

“You collapsed onto your mom, and she and I took you to the hospital. They said you got the flu and a bad case of it apparently, you’ve been asleep since then and only conscious enough in the last 3 days to eat and drink,” he says, his voice cracking a bit. 

My eyes widen and I sit up, my voice no longer weak, “It’s Christmas Eve!? I missed everything? The cookie making? Gift wrapping? What about Christmas Eve movie night dad..” I say with tears stroll down my face, unable to contain my emotions. 

Dad quickly and gently grabs my hands and shakes his head, “We waited for the movie night, we decided we couldn’t do any of it without you, besides we said it would be your year to decide on the movie” he says, smiling shortly after. 

I wipe my eyes and lay back down, smiling and speaking with a bit more joy mixed into my voice, “I want to watch National Lampoon’s Christmas vacation.” 

His face twists with disdain but laughs and nods, “Alright we’ll watch it then, come on let’s go get it ready then.” 

He stands and holds his hand to help me up. I grab hold of it and steady myself up, then out of my room. Walking to the living room Elain bursts out of her room in tears and bear hugs me, I groan as I can’t breath and taps her shoulder quickly, her loud bawling now ringing in my ears. 

It felt like forever, though dad eventually pulls her off me and I can breath again, “I thought you died, Jelly! Don’t do that again, got it?” She tearfully proclaims, wiping her eyes. 

I only nod, still catching my breath, and start walking to the living room, when my leg gets heavy and I look down, spotting Daniel hugging my leg.

“Danny I gotta walk dude,” I squeak, unable to move him off.

“You kept scarring us all..” he says, choking back a sob of his own.

“Hey I’m okay, see? Alive and well,” I say, teasingly growling like a zombie, his frown turning to a worried smile and he laughs. 

Eventually he gets off and rushes into the living room where mom was at, sitting on the couch already putting on the movie and patting next to her, “Come here Honey, I’ve got some hot cocoa for you, it’s hot though,” she says, a wave of relief washing over her as I sit down. 

I look around then tear up again, unable to contain my thoughts, “I thought you’d all be too busy fighting to enjoy Christmas with me...” 

Mom and dad look at each other then back at me, dad sitting next to me and putting an arm around my shoulder, “Some dumb planets won’t stop us from spending time with you on your Holiday,” he says, a bit pridefully. 

Elain plops down onto the couch next to Daniel and ruffles through His hair, “Yeah, plus you’d throw a fit if we didn’t at least do movie night you know” she teases. 

I smile widely and take a sip of the hot chocolate, the small bits of hope I’d lost finally returning as I sat there, watching a movie with my family. That day three years ago, although was full of dread and sorrow the last few months before, finally was the small grace and Shining Hope that came of it all. And although they all still fight with one another about some planet's alignment, they will always put it aside for the sake of family, and a holiday full of Joy.

A few minutes later, a small girl wandered up to my handler shyly. I could see tear marks on her face and her shoes were unlaced. My handler bent down to the girl and asked what was wrong, and she burst into tears. I perked my head up, concerned. The moment I sat up, the girl’s head snapped over to me and I thumped my tail on the ground. She giggled through her sniffles, while my handler sighed. He asked her another question while I kept watch, and she quietly answered. From what I could tell, she was lost. My handler reached in his pocket and commed the mall security, and our makeshift group began to walk in the direction of where I knew the treats were, though my handler called it the ‘Office’. Once we arrived, the little girl gasped in delight and ran at an older man holding several bursting bags. The man proceeded to drop the bags and grasp the child in his arms. The nice man thanked us profusely, and my handler and I walked back towards our station. 

I wagged at the only other dog at the mall on the station, who wiggled back. She was a little younger than I, and I was able to help her teach all the tricks of the job (which got me many treats). 

My handler led me between stores as we patrolled the area, I was on alert for any danger, of course. My handler received a few question from shoppers for the rest of the day, but it was mostly silent for me. At least, until I heard the shot. 

Yells and screams began to sound as my handler whipped out his stunner while scanning the area. I glanced down the escalators towards the bottom floor to see a man with an arm around a screaming child, dragging him away by gunpoint. The mean man yelled and shot at the ceiling, setting off a few alarms. My handler’s comm buzzed, and I barked at him while motioning to the man. My handler snapped to attention and we hustled down the back stairs to the bottom floor and glanced around the corner. The angry man’s back was to us, and I could see the other security dog standing in front of him, growling, while her handler held his stunner at the man. I could see both shaking from fear, yet the dog stayed strong. 

Suddenly, the little boy thrashed around and the mean man yanked him up straight and slowly retreated backwards and towards the ledge overlooking the giant Christmas tree in the atrium. My eyes widened and my lips pulled back into a snarl as I began to stalk forward. My handler signaled to me to wait and unclipped my collar. The crowd shouting at the mean man still hung back by the escalators, and my fellow dog stalked forward with her frightened handler. My own handler shouted, and everyone froze. The mean man watched as my handler and I stepped into the light and next to my fellow dog. His eyes widened. 

My handler said something slowly, but I was too busy staring at the little boy to notice. He had snot running down his chin and his red hair was all out of place. He flinched away from the mean man after he shouted, and I looked up just in time to see my handler give the signal to go. Both the other dog and I lunged at the man while our handlers shot their stunners. The mean man laughed insanely and lurched to the side, tossing the screaming little boy over the railing.

I reacted instinctively, leaping on the wide bar. I could hear my handler shouting in the background, along with some shots, but my focus was on the little boy. Luckily, the huge Christmas tree in the middle of the atrium was overlooked by the railings, and I could see the little boy holding onto a limb for dear life. I barked, and leaped towards the tree. Landing on a branch near the bottom, I scrambled for leverage and pulled myself on top while staring up at the boy. I yelped encouragingly, and he began to scale his way down. Once reaching my level, I looked around and saw a shed quite a few meters from the tree. I leapt onto it and then the ground and waited for the boy. He hesitated, and I could see his fear. Realizing he couldn’t jump far, I sprinted to the base of the trunk and stared into his eyes. He slowly crept to the trunk but suddenly slipped. 

I raced over to his falling form, but realized it would be too late. I closed my eyes, and yelped as a form pushed me away. I looked back and saw the nice man from earlier, holding the little boy! He caught him! The little girl ran over to them and hugged them both, and I saw my handler clambering down the stairs towards me. We did a safety check and he hugged me, seemingly relieved. I licked his face and thumped my tail, and for once, he didn’t seem to care. We walked to the hugging group and my handler gave the children permission to pet me. I wagged and wagged, happy that I could save the humans, while a crowd slowly converged on us and began to congratulate my handler and I. 

As I heard later while gnawing on a huge bone, the crowd had helped my handler and fellow dog take down the mean man. My handler said it was ‘an act of humanity to help’ or something, but I didn’t really care. I was watching out the window, the two children skipping to a car while the nice man trailed behind them. The little girl suddenly tripped on ice, but began laughing and pulled the little boy down with her. I thought about that troublesome family as I curled up on my handlers bed that night, and drifted to sleep with the wistful smell of salty pretzels still stuck in my head.

In my last two days, I have taken to raising one of these species; a Flarebloom, as I’ve recognized it. With its bright yellow petals, deep brown middle, and remarkably tall stature and habit for rapid growth, I believe it could be the key to supplying this foreign world with nutrition. I have tried the seeds as well, in a moment of temporary lunacy, and I do happily report they are of a delightfully salty flavor, full of shockingly savory depth to their profile. Perhaps they would have sustained my idler moments in a different time, in a different life. I can only ponder, though, as this is no different time; this is right now, and the consequences of my existence remain ground into the slate of time.

Perhaps I could’ve changed my ways, perhaps I could’ve done it all in a way that logically worked, perhaps I could have been perfect. I shall not spend my last days idly wondering, though. This Flarebloom will outlive me, naturally, and so I must be concerned only with the life that shall continue. As my oxygen wanes, I tend to its leaves, pouring a clear liquid upon it to which it seems to respond well. I look upon it with an emotion I cannot fully place — one of fatherhood or of pride, I can’t quite tell after all of these years — and I look to the skies of this world I no longer know. While I am still lucid, I spot writing engraved into what must be this planet’s equivalent of dirt, albeit it was more tightly packed and hard to the touch. I dusted any obscuring details off the top of the patch, and chronicled the odd text. Any dear adventurer who stumbles upon this text, please; do make sense of these notes. My closest approximation is below;

IF
 

HOPE
 

LIVES
 

IT
 

DRINKS
 

THE
 

SUN

In my last days of light, I do not believe I will be able to make sense of the text myself, but judging by the growth of the Flarebloom, my impact will be felt. 

[End of transmission.]
 

“And where was that translated from, Captain?”

“That planet that died in the blaze of 2220."

“And what planet was that?”

“Earth. And I heard a fertile brush swaying in the wind.”

“Set our paths, then?”

“Indeed, my kindly attendant.”

                Everyone gets back into order and charges forward. I feel the effects of the spell on myself and I instantly feel like even the biggest dragon is but a small bug. I feel fearless. I find my squad in the midst of everyone charging and get in my position. My squad and I are on the far right side of the formation. The captains are in front followed by their squads. The rest fan out into a V. With the mages in the middle. I look into the horizon and see the Yph soldiers crest the nearest hill. I start channeling my mana into my sword and shield. 

               The edges of my shield faintly glow blue, while the edges of my longsword glow a faint red. Shadows fall over the lands and I look up to see boulders the size of 2 story houses come hurtling towards our army. Our mages immediately begin a chant and spectral shields appear above our head and destroy the boulders. The shields dissipate only to reveal a swarm of arrows. Enough to cover out the sky. Noticing that there will be no time for another mass shield spell, a commander yells “Supports up!” The sound of armor clanking and shields rising to the sky is audible. I also raise my shield to the sky.

               I mumble the shield spell I was taught. An outline of my shield appears in the sky. I focus more of my attention and mana into the spell and the shield enlarges. Just enough to cover my squad. As the arrows land on my shield my mana flickers but I don’t let the spell fail. As the final arrows land and bounce harmlessly off of my spell I let my spell dissolve and lean on my knees to catch my breath. I look around and see that most squads had successfully put up a shield spell. Those that didn’t were lying on the ground riddled with arrows.

               I say a little prayer to the gods so that the fallen warriors will peacefully find their way to the banquet of the gods. Another command was issued and everyone started charging towards the imperium soldiers. I stand up and charge along with my squad. Our archers begin letting loose with their arrows. A cloud of arrows flies from behind me. Some arrows glowing white with others leaving behind a trail of colors. Some imperium soldiers put up shields but those who didn’t were struck down. An imperium commander issued a charge and the imperium soldiers ran to meet our army. 

              The armies clashed and the sound of metal on metal rings throughout the field. So do the screams of the fallen. My squad led by Erin tries to go around to a weak spot in the army. An imperium squad breaks off to engage us. A swordsman with a greatsword targets me. He does an overhead swing with the intent to cut me in half. I raise my shield and block the blow. However the swing was enhanced with mana so the force of the swing knocked me down to one knee. The great sword is pushing into my shield. I needed to do something else the swordsman would overpower me. So I angled my shield a little bit and the blade started to slip to the ground. The swordsman stepped back and I got to my feet. I got into a ready stance and charged at the swordsman. The swordsman swings from my lower left up. I catch the swing with my shield again and with the swordsman defenseless. I stabbed him in the neck.

               The swordsman died before he even hit the ground. A scream cut short drew my attention. Our archer had been cut down. I wanted to go help out our archer. But Erin was having difficulty with his enemy. I made my way to Erin and stabbed at Erin’s enemy. The warrior was wielding a great ax and had only leather armor. The stab was clean and went through the enemy's chest. But he didn’t fall, the barbarian whirled around. Wrenching my sword from my grasp. The barbarian raised his ax in an attempt to kill me. I raised my shield and poured all my mana into my shield. It would be very bad if the blow connected. The barbarian was a head taller than me and much more muscular. He wasn’t using mana but the swing he was about to deliver would be as powerful with mana as it was without. But luckily for me, the barbarian had turned his back on Erin. Erin swung his greatsword and cleaved the barbarian in two. I let my mana return to my body slowly and wrenched my sword from the barbarians back.

               “Thanks.” I said to Erin. “Don’t mention it.” He replied. The rest of our squad had dealt with the remaining enemies. We walked over to our fallen archer. The blow had cut clean through the archer’s armor and deep into her. She had died instantly. There wasn’t anything we could do aside from close her eyes, quickly pray for her, and put her bow back in her grasp. Then we moved away the Yph army. And towards the castle. Some groups broke off and we fought them. Our squad didn’t suffer any more casualties but we received some minor wounds. The worst was a cut to the eye on our mage. But that could be healed.

               Our squad runs towards the castle. We enter the keep and see no one. We slowly search the keep looking for our target. As we make our way to the duke’s room. We stop at the door. I nod as I put my hand on the door. Everyone nodded in return and I slammed the door open. We rush into the room and we see the duke trying to escape. As we chase after him, a maid creeps up behind us without our knowledge. A squad of knights appear to protect the duke. As we engage a maid comes up from god knows where and stays in the shadows. I defeat my opponent and start following after the duke. As I am about to go down a set of stairs built into a wall. The maid stabs me in between the cracks in my armor. It was a deep cut. I fall to my knees and cough up blood. The maid looks down at me and pushes me down the stairs. As I tumbled down the stairs, everything started to go numb. I was losing too much blood. Then everything went dark. I could see the light and hear the voices of my parents. 

              I wanted to go towards them. But a memory stopped me. It was me and Erin promising each other that we would help defeat the Yph imperium. I opened my eyes and saw I was at the bottom of the stairs. The duke was standing over me. My side was burning. I then remembered the stab wound. I tried to be as subtle as I could as I focused my mana on the wound and started whispering a healing spell. I was not prepared for the amount of mana it took. Or maybe I had just run out of mana. But I almost blacked out again. Once I was sure the wound was no longer life threatening, I quickly reached out at one of the duke’s leg. The duke squealed and tried to run but I wasn’t letting go. I got up and dragged the duke back up the stairs. My squad had dealt with the knights. But the other swordsman in our squad had lost his right hand. Our squad found some rope and tied up the duke. I then went to try and stop the swordsman from bleeding out. 

            We had won the day. The duke had been captured. Erin carried the duke out of the castle. Our squad came onto a hill next to the battle. The mage casted a spell on himself to magnify his voice. “Soldiers of the Yph Imperium. We have captured your duke. Surrender now.” Slowly the fighting stopped as everyone looked towards the mage and saw the duke. The Yph commander thought for a bit. Then he talked with one of our captains. Then the Yph commander ordered his soldiers to drop their weapons and surrender. This victory marked the change of the war between the Yph imperium and the Holy Vy kingdom.

     The lord of the castle strode into the room as if unimpeded as he sat on the throne made of gilded bone. The two suits of armor marked with the sigil of the castle, retrieving the red cloak from his frame. 

     The lord was a skeletal figure whose skin had turned green and gray; it clung to him like an organism separate from himself. His eyes were empty, empty sockets, empty for all but the blazing, brilliant purple flames that seemed to burn. Ram horns protruded from his crowned skull, they appeared to rip through the skin that had once formed his face in a grotesque and painful way. He wore a black Cassock with a belt of shining gold, and red beads around his neck that were formed with symbols and runes each adorned with silver tassels. 

     His imposing figure was in ill contrast to the sniveling rat-like man who walked in a hunch, trembling and sniveling; his greasy hair matted to his face, that felt as if the skin had been pulled back to a dangerous point. “Master, Ma-Mas-Master; why are you angry?” he wailed like a dog, “I did what you said, I say, I say, I did. I killed ‘em, I killed ‘em all” he fell to his knees kissing his masters shoes” 

     “Get off me, you insidious worm!” he kicked him onto the black stone, “Don’t you see what you’ve done?!” he leaned into the man, casting him in an imposing shadow; his jaw didn’t move as he talked. “I’ve been building my army for an eon, lording over these lands, lording you wretches. And now I’m undone by your hand, by your forsaken prophecy; flea ridden cur”. 

     If malice could manifest itself, these words would have been a thousand arrows in the hearts of man. 

     “I have learned from my predecessors, learned from their failures, and it seems you have not. You interacted with your prophecy, you believed and now my empire will die” said the lich 

“I know master, I know; but I thought–” 

“You don’t think. I am lord, you do what I say” 

“But I had him” he hissed, grasping the air as if he was choking something invisible, “I had him by his scrawny neck”. 

“Shut up, shut up blabbering fool. Just go” he fell back onto his throne the shadow retreating, “Find him now, less I cut you down on the stone and let the other mongrels eat the remains”. 

The Man stopped for a moment considering if he should leave thanks or cry; but rather he ran out, slipping through the castle door like the slimy rat he was. 

Whatever spark that had been struck died as the lord sat alone pondering his fate. A familiar memory slipped into his mind but disappeared with the sound of thunder and yelling in the background.

As I take my daily hike, I delight in the early morning sun rays that shine down to warm my skin. I march down the sloping paths, each of my steps kicking up small puffs of terracotta colored dust while I revel in the beauty of Bryce Canyon. It's not just mounds of red sand and blazing heat as many would assume. The inside of the canyon is ablaze and brimming with plant life and flora. Evergreen shrubs and wildflowers paint rocky crevices. Pine trees stretch heavenward as they seem to brush the magnificent blue sky with their bristles, and, in the winter, drifts of snow blanket the vivid landscape. The canyon walls are colorful stratas of rock and clay, built up over the centuries like a sedimentary storybook, telling the tales of lifetimes long forgotten. The rock formations—the hoodoos, as they are called—are the main spectacle of the National Park. I watch as families and backpacking couples pose under the hoodoos to snap pictures to remember their travels. The tourists don’t know—could never comprehend—the secrets and terrors that lurk within those stony figures. 

The word “hoodoo” refers to the rock formations found in Bryce Canyon National Park. The plain, pretty, stones draw in nature enthusiasts and photographers, and the scientists who tell us that the hoodoos are shaped the way they are because of erosion from the wind and rain. These hoodoos stay where they are. Their purpose? To be seen and photographed. A rock. The Who-Doos are not just rocks, yet the two are one in the same. They are rocks—hoodoos—while the sun shines, but after the tourists leave, once the fiery blaze of sun sinks out of view and plunges the canyon into inky darkness, they are transformed. They are transformed into terrifying creatures that should only exist in the nightmares of a frightened child. They roam the canyon floor by night, hunched over figures like hideous stone snowmen, dragging their clunky limbs along in the dust, with crooked sneers carved into their craggy faces. The most disturbing thing about the Who-doos is their eyes. Eerie, green, soulless eyes that peer out of the darkness. They’re almost… human, the way those eyes comb the lower levels of the canyon, searching, hunting, prowling, stalking. I used to love to look out at the stars. The canyon is the best place to view them, but the presence of these monstrous creatures marrs the experience. Now, I stay indoors for my own safety. The Bryce Canyon Who-Doos stay confined to their own domain, but there’s always a few who are bold enough to make their way out, and into the cliffs. 

About a month ago, I went to dinner with some old friends who had made a surprise visit to town. It had been so long since I had last had a proper interaction with other people. So after the meal was finished, the compliments given, the hugs and handshakes exchanged, I headed on my way. I was driving along the winding road that weaves through the maze of towering plateaus when I spotted several dark figures. There were a few on the overhang, some scattered in the sagebrush, and one right next to the road, barely an arm’s distance from my truck. At first I thought it was the dark playing tricks on my vision, or my weary brain trying to make sense of the oblong shapes I saw in the desert. I tried to convince myself it was nothing. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut and forget what I was seeing. “Keep driving,” I told myself, but when the headlights caught a glare off those ghastly, sinister eyes, I knew there was no denying what I had seen. Not anymore. I’ve been seeing them more frequently. They are too close for comfort. I try to distract myself by observing the local wildlife. I’ve even taken up drawing as a hobby, sketching the mountain goats and mule deer that call this desert paradise home, but every night the Who-Doos creep closer to my cabin. I can sense it, and my cozy little haven no longer feels like enough to keep me safe. It started with small disturbances, things I could overlook. Rocks in odd places, or a rustle outside. A hoodoo that didn’t look quite the same as it did the night before. I’ve tried to make sense of it all. “Must be a gecko” I think. “I guess we had some strong wind last night”, I reason. Anything to reassure myself. To ease the inescapable fear I feel each night when I jolt awake, startled by even the subtlest of sounds. An owl, a coyote, a snake, all of their sounds that once blended into the soundtrack of the canyon night now wake me in a cold sweat. I can’t ignore them. I can’t forget them. I can’t ever seem to feel safe. I don’t go on my hikes anymore. The hoodoos’ still figures send shivers up my spine, and make my hair stand on end. I stay in my cabin. I’ve boarded up the doors, the windows. I know it will never be enough. Maybe I should tell someone. But who would believe me? Rocks that try to invade a man’s home? It really did sound unbelievable. “The crazy old hermit said the rocks are chasing him.” Who could possibly believe me? Then I reach the terrible conclusion that no one will. I have nowhere to go. This is my home. How could I leave it? It’s as if my will is being worn away—eroded—like the canyon itself. But I’ve made up my mind to stay. I will plant myself like a tree, digging my roots into the ground and stay. Nothing will make me leave. 

For days, a cloud of dread lingered above me as I awaited my inevitable fate at the hands of those ghastly stony creatures. Until one glorious, starlit night, they shattered any remaining bit of peace with their arrival. I was seated in a beat-up chair, face in my hands, bordering insanity from sleep deprivation when I heard a noise that truly embodied the definition of bloodcurdling. Primal fear struck every nerve in my body as a jarring guttural cry pierced the tranquil hum of the desert night. No animal could have made such a sound. For a moment, there was absolute silence. I was grounded where I was, trembling with terror. That was when they came. I could hear them, dragging themselves closer. I couldn’t move. Rocky fists pounded the walls and doors. I couldn’t breathe. Their gravelly murmurs grew agitated as they tried to pry boards loose. What would they do when they reached me? Their frustration grew; so did my fear. The door shuddered from their force. I braced myself as stone overpowered wood sending my cabin door into splinters, revealing the faces of my rocky grim reapers. Cold, green, soulless eyes bore into mine. 

The phrase “life flashing before my eyes” didn’t capture what I experienced as they stalked toward me. The Who-doos inched nearer to me and I thought about the life I had lived. They stopped before me. Would anyone remember me? One of them reached out. Was I just another weathered face in the crowd? It placed its hands on my shoulders. What was my legacy? I should have felt stricken by terror but instead I was washed over by an overwhelming sense of peace. Something changed. My skin seemed to tighten where the beast’s hands rested on my shoulders. The feeling crept down my arms. I tried to reach out. Something had changed. I became fixed to the spot I stood, unable to shift, even if I wanted to. Something had changed. Resistance left my body. I had always felt so connected to this place, but now I envisioned myself becoming part of it. Sitting in the bright sunshine, dazzled by the wide range of color, and being within it all. What was this strange metamorphosis? Then it hit me. I was becoming one of them. Upon making this terrifying discovery, I tried to struggle. I refused to be like them. I would not succumb to their spell. What could they possibly want from me? The stone feeling spread till I could barely move my head. In one last desperate attempt, I lifted my face to meet the gaze of the solid one staring back through soulless green eyes. 

But wait, maybe I had misunderstood. “Not soulless…” I decided. I had always been alone, and these creatures did not appear to be intent on harm. Just when I thought my life had come to an end, the very things I believed to be the death of me, offered me a new beginning. With them, I would last for centuries. I could have company, something I had never really had in life. Never really wanted before. The Who-doo responsible for my transformation took me by the hand. I offered a craggy smile to my new friends. They led me outside, just in time to see the break of dawn. We all took our places as the Utah sun peeked above the horizon, and I knew. It was a new day.

The uneven pavement presents a challenge he’d never before seen in the years he’d walked this path.

The years he’d spent here, the years with her, the years of them, and the loss that he’d just suffered.

He pushes on, under the trees with thin, spindly branches arching into the sky. Footsteps hit the ground. Are they his? He doesn’t know. He can’t tell.

Three for a wedding, four for a birth...

There was the faint idea in the back of his head that they’d be together forever. Those dizzy summers of sunny heat and rainstorms and laughing together as they kick water at sunburnt legs.

Red hair that looked so at home in the sun, brown eyes highlighted in a way that the winter never did. A sea of freckles dotted on her skin.

The brown looked more at home than the red speckles.

No. No, he couldn’t think.

His breath came fast.

A buzzing noise was burning in his ears.

He was choking, in the winter air.

Cold pavement. Tiny stones pushed into his hands as he came down hard. The ridges of the sidewalk.

The buzz in his ears was getting louder.

But the scream of metal and hum of people. He could still hear that. His rampant thought cycle slowed, like a poor quality plastic car rolling to a half. Useless and easily breakable. Did that make sense? He couldn’t tell.

Eyes. Eyes on his back.

He turned his back on the trees. Faint caws from ruffled ravens behind him.

Faster steps, from both of them.

Five for silver, six for gold.

Push past people. Watch your feet. Step higher over the street obstacles. Look over your shoulder. Nearly trip. Catch yourself. Look again, walk slower. Breaths rattling in your chest.

Footsteps.

In a sea of people, the way she walks is still distinctive in the heel-toe pattern she practiced when they were seven. Like the princesses and queens they read about in story books, the regal gait she so admired.

The heaviness of her steps. It’s not...it’s not the royal way she learned.

He pulls up his hood, turns his gaze forward, and walks, heart feeling as frozen as his lungs. He shoves past people, leaving them squawking in outrage, anger, upset. He keeps his eyes low and keeps walking. It’s funny, he thinks, past the haze of run, hide, quick, go, go, GO- that screams in his head. To think of them like the ravens that flew in the woods, peaceful until he came around.

She was getting closer. He was walking faster. The crowd was getting thicker. His breath was coming faster.

A breaking point, he realized. This is my breaking point.

Seven for a secret that must never be told.

She really hadn’t meant for this to go so far.

Honest!

He stumbled across her latest scene purely by accident. She had devised the perfect formula to keep him unaware, wool pulled over his eyes. She knew him, knew his schedule, knew the way he thought.

The old abandoned house she had lured the other him to was a favorite of hers, unfortunate as it was that she had to wait so long after last time. Empty rooms, empty promises, it all held exactly whatever they wanted...as long as they didn’t expect fulfillment.

A date she promised. Some peace, she cajoled. Bonding, she offered.

Most were entertaining, she’d give them that. Their last moments were never quite how she expected.

From the lost look in their eyes before they went blank, to the staggered steps towards her with rage carved into their face.

Her latest toy was new, catching her interest with his clever fingers and the way he held his guitar like a baby. It hadn’t been much on her part. All it took was a couple of flirty comments there and near all her attention for a week before he’d do anything for her. One date. Two dates. Even a third.

Far more than she did for any of the others.

Other him was cute, in a cliche movie nerd kind of way. She almost felt bad with the way his eyes followed her without second thoughts and the way his steps mirrored hers.

It was the least she could do, end other him in her favorite place.

Alas. She hadn’t even had time to enjoy this one before fast steps had taken her attention away.

Pale face, gaping mouth. That was the first thing she noticed. The shock on his face reminded her of her first victim, the wrinkled brow she’d smoothed after his passing.

The weapon she held, thrust into the soft innards of the other him, was disregarded. She dropped other him against the wall and stepped forward, hands raised.

Red hot liquid trickled down slowly, yet caught his eyes like a fish in a net.

Hm. Should she lower their arms or not? That was the question here. Before she could decide, or plead innocence, or even open her mouth, he was gone.

That wouldn’t do.

She grabbed the lean blade from the body and followed him.

Eight for a kiss, nine for a wish-

They both knew the consequences. They both knew why he ran. Past the people and cars and heavy pollution in the air. Ideally he should’ve stayed in the crowded area where she couldn’t do anything to him.

But no, he kept going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. His brain chanted. He wanted to stop, to rest, to think, to plan. But he couldn’t.

If he slowed, the image of the gleaming blade kept him going. If he stopped moving, he was dead.

And he couldn’t die. She said so right? That kid from all these years ago, before she surpassed five feet in height and he still had five inches on her, and the triumphant grin he had was marred only by the fist she’d put to his face in frustration.

The one who flopped into his shoulder on late nights, whatever movie on screen far less entertaining than the thought she hid behind closed eyelids.

The one who grabbed his shoulders on the first day of high school and looked him dead in the eyes and told him ‘you can’t die. I refuse to let you.’

The one who had two dogs at home, chewed on all her pencils, argued over the superior superhero series, befriended the ravens. 

She wouldn’t kill him...right?

And ten for a bird you must not miss.

He ducked down another alley, head low. A mistake he didn’t realize he’d made until he slammed head first into a wall. Biting his lip to muffle the instinive curse, he whirled to leave as soon as he could.

The shadow in the entrance said otherwise.

Rather than the panic that sprung to life in the abandoned house, a tired exhaustion hit him. This felt...inevitable. The look on her face wasn’t someone who had caught prey running away, but of getting to the end of a story you’ve read a million times before.

“How’d you find me?” He said quietly. The stone felt cold against his hand.

She smiled. Her eyes were as cold as the stone under his hand. In a matter of cosmic timing, a raven fluttered down. It landed on her shoulder and cocked its head so its beady eye was looking him up and down. She stroked a single finger from its head, down its back.

“A little birdie told me.”