Peel your skin like an orange. Peel your skin until it burns, until it bleeds. And when it heels, peel your skin again. You forgot about the orange that you bought. You left it in the plastic bag, and it rotted. It rotted like you rot. The orange rotted faster because it is more polite. But you can make it better. You just have to peel your skin like you would have peeled the skin of that orange if you were a person. A person like they are. You think they hate you. Maybe they do. Maybe they don’t. They hate you. It doesn’t really matter. Peel your skin, it will make you feel better. It won’t. But it might. You have to try. Peel your skin like an orange. They hate you. Maybe they don’t. Peel your skin like an orange. They could never hate you as much as I do.

Author: 

Matea Zovko

The eternal cycle around the sun, the moon and the clouds, absorbing the rain, the wind and the hearts. Between the last night of spring and the early summer morning, I saw the fairies dancing in the circle. Different faces and different colours glowing in the moonlight. Different shadows of old and young. They have no names, there is no need for them to be called like humans. They have their own whistle, that birds often imitate. And if you are able to replicate it, they will follow you everywhere. I'm not sure if that's always a good thing.

I was once a young girl, just walking through the woods before I joined the circle, now fairies only allow me to observe. I had dreams of life in a cottage outside the town, deep in the forest. And I would become the person my grandma wanted me to be. My parents left me when I was just a baby. They put me in a basket and knocked on her doors three times before hiding in a dark alley. When she opened the door, they vanished. My grandma taught me everything about gardening. And she would often bring peppermint, and lavender, basil and rosemary from the town, and we would plant it in the garden. The smell of lavender always made my nose itch and when I tried to scratch it my grandma would stop me and kiss the tip of my nose. She took care of me since I was born. Slowly teaching me to walk and speak soft and sweet. So that everyone would be enchanted with the way I talk. She thought me how to bake as well and how to cook every one of my favourite meals.

I would wake her up early in the morning. And she would braid my hair. We would then look for vegetables and potatoes. And I would be cooking, while she would knit. Mailman would pass our house at around 8 o'clock and it became a habit to ask him if there was a letter for me, but my parents never wrote anything. I saw a man approaching in the distance, the sun was nowhere near the fairy ring. I watched him take a step closer. He most likely invited himself towards the source of light. I made a sound swinging the branches to scare him off, but he didn't flinch.

It was too late for him. I should have listened to my grandma when she told me about the fairy ring, how once you enter it you won't stop dancing. But I was so young, and she sent me to look for mushrooms outside the city. I was walking and whistling until I hit the wrong tune and scared the dancing fairies, so they pushed me into the ring and like him I kept dancing. I watched him fall and rise from the ground while the letters shattered around. I read the letters fallen out of his bag and he kept dancing until his feet grew roots in the ground. He could no longer move, yet his body kept twisting in circles towards the sky. He grew branches in places of his arms. His last goodbyes were caught in the wind and passed by the house he used to live in.

My grandma found the basket when she went to look for me. She spent every night, singing to the fairies but she couldn't save me. Once you enter the eternal cycle you follow the spring. Summer brings you gifts which animals take in the fall. Winter leaves you barley alive until spring comes back. And when the full moon comes, the mailman and I observe the fairies dancing around the sun, the moon and the clouds. Absorbing the rain, the wind and the hearts.

Author:

Anonymous 

There is a serial killer on the loose. A new victim is found every few weeks and the city is in a state of utter panic. There have been 13 victims already. Or rather, that is how many have been found. Some are saying the police has made no progress on finding out the identity of the killer while others claim an arrest is imminent. No one actually knows how close they are. I have to be careful.

All of the victims look alike, and I fit the description. Everyone has been warning me not to go anywhere alone, make sure to lock my house, make sure to be extra careful. It is irritating. I am tired of their fear. It no longer gives me satisfaction to see them care about my safety. My mom keeps coming over unannounced. Sometimes she makes a little quip about how she has to be careful the killer doesn’t get her too. She is delusional. The killer targets young, beautiful, blonde women, and my mother is old and ugly, and her roots are so obvious even my dad notices them, and that man notices nothing.

She is not the only one that is allegedly trying to keep me safe. My creepy co-worker keeps trying to escort me home, or at least to my car. “You can never be too careful,” says creepy Tom “the killer might get you he he!” he says with a stupid giggle. “Thank you, Tom, but I’ll be fine,” I say to try to dissuade him from walking me to my car again today. This is the third time this week. I think he bribed the manager to put us on the same shifts. “Are you sure?” I walk to my car and get in as fast as possible. “I don’t know why you keep on insisting on driving yourself, we live on the same street, and we can commute. I could protect you from any danger a pretty lady like yourself can come across.” He does a little karate hand gesture as he says the last part. I throw up in my mouth a little bit. “I’m all good, Tom”, I say and slam the door shut before he can say anything else. He waves to me pathetically as I back out of the parking spot.

Mom and Tom are not the only ones making a fuss. The news channels are having a field trip. The killer draws a circle somewhere on the victims’ body, so they have decided to name the killer “The Circle Man”. I giggle every time they say the name. It’s so stupid. The news is laying it on thick tonight. The Circle Man kills on a schedule and is due to kill again tonight. They are warning all women that fit the description not to leave their homes. “I won’t, I promise.” I tell my tv with a little smile. My bell rings. Son Of A Bitch. If it’s my mom again I’m going to lose it. I open the door violently.

“Hiya, neighbor,” says Tom. “You left your lipstick at work, I didn’t want you to worry in the morning ha ha.”. I don’t tell him I have dozens of lipsticks and was probably never going to notice one missing even if that was my lipstick. But I can tell by looking at the cheap, bright blue packaging that it is definitely not. “Thanks Tom, but it isn’t mine.” “Oh really, well keep it anyway, what am I gonna do with it, ha ha.” “Thanks Tom.” I can see he wants me to invite him in, but I would rather invite a mischief of rats to live with me for a month than let him in for five minutes. “I’ll see you at work”, I say finally, and shut the door as Tom lets out a quiet “See ya”. I can finally relax. I open the door to the basement and go down the rickety stairs. I really need to fix them one of these days.

The blow catches me by surprise. I put a hand to the back of my head, and it comes back covered in blood. I step back and narrowly miss getting hit again. “I won’t become another one of your victims, you monster!” “Don’t you feel you’re being a little bit dramatic, Catherine.” “No, I should have never trusted you, you’re sick!” The victim bolts up the stairs. I catch her before she can reach the basement door. “Oh, you can’t go out, you silly girl” I say as I pull her down and take out my knife, “there is a serial killer on the loose”.

Author:

Matea Zovko

 There was a time when I thought our world was the only one there is. In my defense, I was just a foolish Child then, two-hundred years old and oblivious to the Truth. When I finally found out that our Plane was but one of many, decades before I should have had that knowledge, it became obvious why the High Rulers kept that information a secret. Knowing what I know now, there is much more to worry about than what dress to wear or which Helper to ask to do my hair. Indeed, those were simpler times when I did not have to carry the burden of the Truth upon my shoulders.

 Now, as the youngest Child ever to discover what lurks outside our Gardens, I have to keep my mouth shut for another two hundred years, pretend to still be shielded by the veil of ignorance, and have secret meetings with the High Rulers every week. They want to make sure I’m doing the right thing by keeping up with the charades they so meticulously put together thousands of years ago. Born with somewhat rebellious spirit, it is not always easy to be deceiving everyone around me all the time, while fighting the urge to just spill everything out and free myself from the invisible, yet horrible bonds of the Truth. However, because I am aware of the consequences my blabbering mouth could cause, I stay committed to my accidentally acquired role in this play-pretend and pray to non-existing gods that someone else from my generation stumbles upon that careless Sand Sister and her drawings in the White Garden.

Yet I know that is never going to happen again since the White Garden has been sealed off for good and the Sand Sister was banished after my little adventure. Now, only the High Rulers have access to its gates and the Sister who made that forbidden drawing was demoted to being my new Helper. At first, we resented each other for what we had done. She blamed me for running away from the Birthday Celebration and I blamed her for violating the sacred rule of protecting the Truth. But, after a while, we learned how to tolerate each other since we knew we did not have much choice. That day when it all happened, we both had to make a vow not to speak of the accident ever again. Sure enough, it wasn’t hard to keep that vow when the two of us were together, since neither one of us wanted to relive that memory, but it was hard for both of us to keep that secret from our friends.

Every now and again, when I would be getting ready for bed and she would ask me if I needed anything else, we would exchange looks only the two of us could understand. It might sound silly, but those looks were sometimes the reason I would finally be able to fall asleep. Even though she was well over four-hundred years old and it was normal that she knew what I wasn’t supposed to, it gave me comfort that we shared another secret no one could know about, regardless of their age. But, let me now return to the beginning and tell you when and what went so awfully wrong on the Plane of Gardens, the place I call home.

It was about a week before the Birthday Celebration, so you could smell the excitement and sweat of the Helpers almost every time you took a breath. After a new generation is born, we would throw parties in their honor every ten years until they turn four hundred. That is usually the amount of time it takes for another generation to come into existence, and that is when we begin to celebrate the new generation. It is quite convenient really, because the circle of Birthday Celebrations does not get interrupted, just refocused. To be honest, I never really cared much for those parties, but it was a tradition no one could escape from. For those three days that the party would last, we would all turn into pure hedonists. Of course, the hedonistic pleasures would change as we got older and let into different Gardens, yet the celebratory spirit would always stayed the same.

This time around we are celebrating my generation which is turning two hundred and ten. In the eyes of all other generations, we are still teenagers who know nothing about the world. I would always smirk and roll my eyes whenever someone would comment on that, but now I know how clueless we actually are. In just a few days I would be let on a secret I wish none of us ever had to discover. But right now I was sitting with my friends, drinking sparkling wine and making fun of the fuss Jodie raised because her dress was a wrong shade of purple. Her gold, curly hair jumped up and down as she marched toward the seamstress who ordered the wrong fabric, as if the poor woman will be able to do anything about it now. One of my friends, who just ordered us another bottle of wine, told us to pay attention to Jodie’s cheeks when she leaves the dress shop. And, sure enough, they were as red as Amelia’s hair. I immediately looked toward her because I knew she would be theatrically swinging her red mane. Marcus laughed and playfully nudged Amelia’s shoulder to stop. She gave us an innocent smile and waved at Jodie, who was now passing by the terrace we were sitting on.

“Sometimes I feel sorry for her.”

As soon as I said that, all three of my friends gave me a shocked look, and Amelia even touched my forehead to check I’m not burning up and talking nonsense because of the fever. I gently removed her hand from my face, “I’m serious.”

“How can you feel sorry for the spoiled little brat that she is?”, asked Otto, still shocked and wide-eyed. I shrugged my shoulders, watching Jodie as she was about to turn around the corner and disappear from our view.

“I just do. Her parents always gave her everything she wanted and now she doesn’t know how to deal with people who don’t exist just to please her.”

None of us liked Jodie. As a matter of fact, I would be surprised if anyone liked her. Still, there was a part of me that knew it was not all her fault for behaving the way she does. Even though there were no rich and poor in our world, her parents always wanted to be better than everyone else, so it is no wonder she wanted that too. The people on our Plane are truly kind and friendly, yet somehow their smiles become fake and eyes turn empty when Jodie Green and her family come to our town gatherings. Never once have I seen her come to those gatherings with a friend or someone else who wasn’t her mother or father.

Realizing I’ve drifted away in my thoughts, I turned towards my friends who were now having a completely different conversation. They were talking about who they will be bringing to our Celebration as their dates. Once again, I will be the only one in our friend group who won’t bring anyone. Otto noticed I am again listening to what they are discussing and raised his eyebrows, “Don’t tell me, you’re going solo again Raven Hair.”

“I will be going home if you continue to ask me about that.”

Otto raised his hands in front of him to show that he will be backing off while others stared at their feet. Ever since I’ve caught my ex-boyfriend cheating on me during our Birthday Celebration and broke up with him in front of everyone in the Water Garden, my friends knew better than to keep pushing me to find another mate.

“Sorry Raven, you know I didn’t mean to open up old wounds.”

“It’s fine Otto, as long as you talk about your love interests and pretend my love life doesn’t even exist.”

“Well, it doesn’t.”, Marcus pointed out the obvious.

“Then don’t pretend and just talk about something that exists.”, I winked at him and took a long sip of wine.

We stayed on that terrace until the owners told us to go home. To be fair, it was two in the morning, and we weren’t exactly sober anymore. Good thing none of us lived too far from that tavern because I really craved my warm bed and wanted to be in it as soon as possible.

My home was about a ten-minute walk from there and just when I was about to start digging through my purse to look for my keys, I felt as if someone was watching me. Tired, tipsy, and a bit frustrated from that conversation about romantic relationships, I decided to shrug off that feeling and hurry to my door. There is no violence on our Plane, so I wasn’t afraid for my life, I just didn’t want to face whoever was hiding in the shadows.

“Raven.”

My heart skipped a beat. The hairs on my neck stood up and it became hard to breathe. I would recognize that voice from miles away and shudder every time I heard him say my name.

“Damien.”, I breathed, still not brave enough to turn around. I closed my eyes, picturing his face in front of me. I could hear him getting closer.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Raven.”, he said lazily, pausing right before saying my name. He was now just inches away and the smell of his perfume overwhelmed me.

“I’ve been drinking Damien and I just want to go to sleep.”

“I’m not stopping you.”, his words were overly confident, and I could sense the amusement in his voice. I took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and continued to walk forward in silence. If he’s not stopping me, I have no reason to be standing in the middle of the pavement instead of sleeping in my bed. I’m not playing this game with him tonight.

“Puppet”, a whisper, so close I felt the warmth of it on my ear. The smell of his perfume now became intoxicating. It made me dizzy more than wine ever could.

“Don’t… call me that.”, he knew how much I loved and hated that nickname at the same time. Tips of his fingers began sliding down my back as I blurted out, “You won’t take advantage of a drunk girl, will you?”

“Is that how little you think of me?”, he was still thoroughly amused, crinkling the back of my light summer dress as he gently dragged his fingers across it.

Oh, non-existing gods have mercy. We always do this. We spend a night together and then go our separate ways until one of us lets our guard down again. It’s like we’re stuck in a never-ending circle of a game of hot and cold. Neither one of us is ready to trust someone again and the fear of being hurt is what keeps us from admitting that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if we tried to trust each other. There’s no telling whether we’ll ever be strong enough to be that weak again, but even if that were to happen, it sure wasn’t going to happen tonight. That is why I had to gather all of my willpower to look into his eyes and tell him that tonight I am sleeping in my bed alone.

Like always, it was as if he already knew what I was going to say. I turned my face towards his and noticed a sad smile lingering upon his lips. He may act tough, but I’ve looked into those eyes more than enough times to know that the nights we spend together aren’t just about lust anymore. They are an escape we both desperately need but do not always want at the same time. From the expression on his face, I could tell he knew that tonight I didn’t want it. I maybe needed it, but I couldn’t let that urge take control of me. The sadness of his smile reflected in my eyes as I said, “I’m sorry Damien, but not like this.”

“I know Puppet, I know.”, he pulled me into a hug. His palm stroked my hair while my cheek rested on his chest. I could have stayed like that forever. As I slid my hands lower down his back, the keys I was still holding slightly jingled, as if to remind me that it was time to go. When I raised my head from his chest, our eyes met. It wasn’t more than a few seconds that we stood there like that, yet it felt as if it was hours. Before he let me go, his lips pressed into my forehead.

“We’ll talk soon, okay?”, I said under my breath. My hand rose to caress his cheek one more time before I left.

The next day I was exhausted. It was almost 4 am when I finally went to bed, and the Helpers came to wake me up at eight in the morning. Still half asleep, I threw one of my pillows at the poor Helper who began almost yelling to make me get out of bed. Upon realizing what I did, I couldn’t stop apologizing, but her only response was that I should get dressed and come down for breakfast. Needless to say, my morning did not start of that well.

As I opened my wardrobe, I was welcomed with a familiar sight of every shade of black you could imagine. For today I choose a simple, flowy dress because I needed to wear something comfortable if I am going to participate in the preparations for the Celebration that is now only a few days away. Every family has to do their part, and today we are decorating the main square. I am not particularly thrilled about it, but my friends are going to be there, so I knew we were going to have fun. This is the third time in a row that we got to be on decoration duty, and it is way better than being stuck in a kitchen for a week making cupcakes and glittery cocktails.

Downstairs, my family had already begun with the breakfast. As soon as I walked in the dining room, I heard them talking about everything we had to do today. It was way too early to join in on that conversation. Nevertheless, I sat down, poured myself a massive cup of coffee and ate breakfast with my mother and father. The plan was to head out to the main square around ten o’clock, meet up with other families, agree on who will decorate which part of the square, and be done with everything at time for supper. The whole time I just smiled and nodded, because the plan was always the same and there was really no point in going over it, but I guess that became a part of the tradition too. When the Helpers cleared out the dining table, it was time to get our decorations and go to the main square.

The first face I saw when we came was the last face I saw before going to bed last night. Damian was standing by the fountain, talking to his friends. He usually never participates in any of these activities, so I was quite surprised to see him here. I didn’t want to think about what happened last night or even talk to him for that matter, so I was relieved when Amelia showed up carrying a bunch of boxes. She peeked behind them, looking for someone to help her. That someone was me, as I immediately took half of the boxes she was barely holding.

“Raven!”, her big beautiful smile appeared in front of me as I grabbed the boxes that were covering her face. “Thank you, these things are so damn heavy!” I smiled back but couldn’t get any words out of my mouth as I felt a piercing gaze on my back. Amelia laughed, probably thinking I was hangover, and tilted her head towards the benches where we could put the boxes down. She didn’t know about my encounters with Damien, and I intend to keep it that way.

“So, are you ready for some decorating?”, Amelia nudged me with her elbow after we placed the boxes down. We were facing the huge square filled with people who were ready to turn this place into a colorful masterpiece. I looked at her as she stood there with hands on her hips, silently deciding which part of the square she wanted to decorate first. Amelia was always a lot more enthusiastic about this stuff than me and I liked seeing her get excited when she got to decorate the place she wanted. This time she was aiming at the terrace we spent our night on yesterday.

“You know I must be.”, I finally answered her question. “That fence around the terrace looks awfully boring, doesn’t it?”, now I nudged her with my shoulder and winked as her face turned to mine, all lit up. She clapped and let out a high-pitched laugh before she grabbed my hand and dragged me back towards the boxes to help her choose the bows and ribbons we’ll put on the wooden poles of the terrace. We agreed to each start at a different end and progress toward the middle, where we’ll put the big sunflower wreath. Every now and again I would look over my shoulder to see if I could find Damien, but he was lost somewhere in the crowd. Good, I thought as my fingers cramped from tying countless number of bows.

Hours passed. The square looked like a unicorn vomited all over it, which meant we were finally done. Otto and Marcus joined us around noon when we were putting little bells around streetlights. The only help we got from them was when they held us up to help us reach the top of the lantern, but that was expected. Honestly, too many people get assigned decoration duties and it would be much less hectic if the people who really want to be here do all the work. But hey, you can’t mess with the tradition.

It was almost time to leave, so I went to find my parents to help them with the empty crates we now need to carry home. As I was making my way through the crowd, I kind of hoped to bump into Damien, but that didn’t happen. However, what did happen was me finding him laughing and talking with my parents. When our eyes met, the look I gave him was one of those “Oh no, you didn’t.” and the expression on his face told me he thoroughly enjoyed it. Right when I started to mouth “You motherf –“, in his direction, my actual mother turned to look at me. Confused by my angry looking face, she lightly smiled, gesturing that I come and join them.

“Where have you been, Raven? This handsome young man offered to help us with the crates while you were gone.”, my mother’s attention kept switching between me and Damien.

“Well, mother, I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier. Jostling through the sea of people took me longer than expected.”, my arms were crossed, and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. I still didn’t know if Damien said we knew each other, but hoped he kept his mouth shut. Forcing a smile, I made a few more steps towards them, at which point my mom introduced Damien to me. A sigh of relief slipped through my lips, as I nodded and said my name, still holding my arms tightly pressed against my chest.

“I don’t get a handshake?”, Damien asked, feigning innocence to cover up that smug look in his eyes. Now I really, really needed to stop my eyes from rolling because I think they would end up being stuck to my brain. My parents were both looking at me, nervously smiling, waiting to see what will I do. Of course, they expected me to reach out my hand and properly introduce myself to the man I’ve been sleeping with these past couple of months, but that is not going to happen. He broke the agreement on staying out of each other’s lives, knowing fully well that it would piss me off. He enjoyed every moment of me being put on the spot, thinking I’ll be a good little girl in front of my parents. Except I’m no one’s puppet. Not even his. Not even when he has me completely.

“Thank you for helping my parents with the crates.”, I was as polite as I could be and continued before anyone could interrupt me, “Are you guys ready to go?”

“Well, Raven, we are all ready to go. Your mother invited Damien to join us for supper. You know, as a thank you for all his help.” My heart dropped as my father said those words. We share a bed, not a meal, especially not the one including my parents.

“Did you now, mother?”, I managed to mutter the words out. “Aren’t you so generous?”, I put my hand on my mother’s shoulder, mainly to stop myself from passing out. This is happening and there’s nothing I could do about it. Even if Damien did try to say no, I knew this was a done deal because of how persistent and convincing my mom can be when she puts her mind to it. Non-existing gods, help us all.

Back at the house, we were all seated at the table, awkwardly looking at each other, waiting for the Helpers to bring out the food. Thankfully, wine was already served, so I pored myself a couple of glasses. As I was putting the bottle back to the middle of the table, my mother reached out and filled up her glass. Then, she offered the wine to Damien and my father, giving me a meaningful look, “Here boys, before it runs out.”

One of the Helpers came in the dining room with a big platter full of meat, immediately followed by another one who was carrying a bowl of steamed vegetables. Soon enough, the table was full of all kinds of food, way too much of it for just us three. When the last of the Helpers brought in the salads, I just blurted out, “Join us!” He looked at me confused, not knowing what to say, so I added, pointing my hand at the laden table, “Look at all this food, it’s not meant to be eaten by just three people, is it? Call for everyone and we’ll enjoy this meal together.”

Damien was looking down, an entertained smile pulling at the corners of his lips. My parents shared a confused look but didn’t say anything. The Helpers gathered in the dining room, pulling up chairs, smiling at us and waiting for someone to fill their plate first. In an attempt to make the situation less uncomfortable, I extended my hand to reach the tomatoes. Unfortunately, Damien had the same idea. Our hands were touching and hovering above the bowl of tomatoes, and I could swear everyone at the table felt the tension sparked by our touch. My hand pulled back, while my face was stretched by an anxious smile that fooled no one, and probably gave a reason for my mother to ask, “So, you two know each other then?”

Everyone at the table chuckled, confirming my suspicions about them feeling the tension in the air. “Mrs. Melissa, I am sorry for concealing that I have met your daughter before. We often bump into each other at The Oldman’s tavern, but I’ve never dared to ask to join her and her friends for a drink. I deemed it would seem inappropriate to disrupt their little night out.”

Damien’s eyes were locked in by my mother’s gaze, while my whole body went numb. I don’t know if it was the fact he called my mother by her first name or the fact he just made up a lie I must reinforce with another made-up story, but my body refused to listen to me. All I could do was sit there, praying to non-existent gods I haven’t lost my ability to speak.

After I cleared my throat, I managed to say, “We are acquaintances, yes.” Damien raised his eyebrow, curious if I was going to say anything else. I didn’t. Instead, I continued to eat my food, pretending that the silence wasn’t awkward. For a long couple of minutes, the only sound heard at the table was the clinking of our knives and forks. Then my father finally said something about how tasty the food was and began to talk about the upcoming Celebration. Thankfully, the Helpers were in a chatty mood, so the rest of the supper went smoothly. When we finished the meal, I escorted Damien to the door.

“Why did you do this?”, I asked him quietly when we stepped outside.

“Why not?”, a big smile appeared on his face.

“You really think this was funny, don’t you?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, Raven.”, his smile was gone. He put his hands into his jacket pockets, almost as if he wanted to stop himself from touching me.

“If you don’t do this again, I won’t.”, my voice was overly stern.

He let out a long sigh and looked away from me. I couldn’t tell why he was so serious all of a sudden, but I didn’t want to start that conversation in front of my house.

“I’ll message you later, okay?”, the question sounded more like an apology for the tone I used earlier.

“Sure, Puppet.”, he barely even looked at me before he left.

The next morning, I was grateful that my parents didn’t ask anymore questions about him. They were preoccupied with some situation that happened at mom’s work so they didn’t pay much attention to me. While they were talking, I kept looking at my phone. Damien never answered the text I sent him last night, which was unusual. My instincts were telling me that something was wrong, but I just couldn’t figure out what. It was obvious we needed to talk but I didn’t want to force it, so I decided to let it go. Little did I know that that conversation would be my little personal butterfly effect.

As soon as my alarm went off, the Helpers burst into my room to help me get ready for the Birthday Celebration. That day finally came, and I was much more nervous than I thought I would be. A weird gut feeling stuck with me the whole morning until I eventually just shrugged it off. My friends were sending messages to our group chat, discussing the birthday ceremony, so I joined in on the conversation, suppressing that bad hunch. As I was smiling at my phone, one of the Helpers reminded me it was time to put on my gown. For this Birthday Celebration, I chose a black embroidered corset and a long, layered skirt made of deep-purple silk and fine black lace. My long black hair was already curled, with a few locks pinned down at the back of my head, and the make-up was all done as well. Now, I was standing in front of a full-body mirror, putting on a silver necklace with a simple black rhinestone on its pendant and a set of matching earrings. The finishing touch was a pair of purple velvet shoes, with a heel just high enough not to let the dress drag across the floor. With the tip of my finger, I followed the pattern of an embroidered flower on my corset, suddenly wondering if Damien would show up tonight.

The Birthday Celebration lasted for three days and my generation, as Ceremonial Children, was expected to spend the first day at the main square. During the opening ceremony, our High Rulers would give a speech in our honor and then crown us with crystal wreaths. Afterwards followed a big feast for everyone that was at the square, which basically meant partying until morning. We were at that stage now. Half of the people were already drunk, and I was with my friends, laughing at a couple of guys with crooked wreaths who were singing out of tune and barely standing. Marcus and Otto were chatting up their dates, while the guy Amelia came with was one of the drunk guys we were laughing at.

“I knew I should have gone with Liam.”, Amelia complained as her date almost fell over a chair. I put my arm around her shoulder yet couldn’t help but laugh at the sight in front of us. “Next time, I’m going alone too.”, she frowned and looked at me, wanting me to support that decision.

“Next time we can be each other’s dates.”, I smiled and raised my glass to toast with her.

“Wait, I need a refill.”, she quickly grabbed her glass and went over to the bar. When she came back, I noticed a strange look on her face. “What’s going on?”, I asked, slightly worried.

“Come here.”, she took my hand and made me move a couple of steps to the left so I could have an unobstructed view of the bar. “Isn’t that…”

“Tessa.”, I finished the sentence for her. Tessa was the girl my ex-boyfriend cheated on me with, and she was now shamelessly flirting with Damien. What kind of a wicked sixth sense for the men I’m involved with does she have?

A sharp stab of jealousy went through my chest when she put her hand on Damien’s thigh. He didn’t remove it and, for a second, I stopped breathing. All that mixed emotion I felt the other day when he came to my home now seemed so foolish.

“Isn’t she still dating your ex?”, I could faintly hear Amelia asking. When I didn’t respond, she stood in front of me, “Hey, Raven, what’s wrong?”

“I just… need some air.”

“What? We’re outside… Raven!”, I could hear her calling for me as I was marching away, desperately looking for a place where I could be alone. Not even knowing where I was headed, I passed the bar where Tessa was still making a move on Damien. When I came close to the White Garden, I heard someone’s steps behind me. Thinking it was Amelia, I told her I just needed a few moments alone and then I’ll be fine. She stayed quiet, so I turned around to try to convince her to go back to the party and not to worry about me. Except that the face I turned to look at wasn’t Amelia’s.

“Hey Damien.”, I knew better than to let my passive-aggression get a hold over me.

“May I join you?”, at first, I was confused by that question, but then realized I must have unconsciously sat down on the bench because I didn’t remember doing it. Instead of an answer, I gestured toward the empty seat beside me.

“I told her no, Raven.”, he sat on the bench.

“It didn’t seem like that.”, there was no use of pretending I didn’t know who he was talking about.

“Well, not everything is as it seems.”, he answered quietly.

“Why did you ignore my text then?”, my heart was beating so loud I thought he could hear it too.

“Because I couldn’t bring myself to have this conversation over text messages Raven.”

At that moment I was sure I was going to faint. That sick feeling I woke up with this morning came back in all its glory, making my stomach clench.

“We can have it now.”, I could barely utter the words.

“This is not the time nor the place.”, the tone of his voice was low and serious.

“Like there’s ever the right time and place to do anything.”, I regretted how harsh the words came out to sound.

He scoffed at my comment and shook his head, “You’re not going to like what I have to say.”

My heart sank. That was not the response I was expecting. “Is it… someone else?”, to this day I don’t know where I found the courage to ask him that question.

He laughed, almost in disbelief. “You really are that clueless, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”, I raised my head to look at him as he stood up and began walking back and forth in front of me.

“I mean, Raven, that I don’t want to use your bedroom window as a way into your life anymore.”, how he pronounced my name sent chills down my spine. This was another response I wasn’t prepared for, which was obvious when all I could utter was “Huh.”

He began to pace quicker, and his laugh grew louder with each moment I stayed silent. “That’s great Raven, staying quiet after insisting that we do this now.”, his eyes were wide when he stopped to look at me.

“Damien, I’m sorry for…”

“For what, Raven?”, he cut me off. “For not wanting to even acknowledge my existence when we’re not screwing? For being ashamed that I used the front door instead of your window to enter your house? For making me feel bad after you practically kicked me out of your home? For…”

“Stop! For the love of non-existing gods, just stop!”, I couldn’t take it anymore. The accusations would have kept spilling out of his mouth and what hurt the most was that I deserved it. All this time I was the one who was pushing him away, ignoring the fact he let his guard down and was waiting for me to do the same. But I never did and now he shattered me with his words which were all so painfully true and incredibly heavy. My eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t give them permission to escape.

His pacing stopped together with his mouth. When I finally looked him in the eyes, he said, “I told you that you weren’t going to like this.” I almost laughed at that.

“No, I certainly didn’t like it. But I deserved it.”, saying it out loud felt freeing and dreadful at the same time. We both stayed quiet after I said that, knowing very well I had this coming. Then we heard a woman’s voice calling out my name. Amelia.

Damien and I looked at each other and that was all it took to silently agree this was not the moment in which we wanted to be seen together. I picked up my long, heavy skirt and ran through the gates of the White Garden – the garden I still wasn’t allowed into. There were stories all of us Children heard about this place. Some of them seemed like they came straight out of a fairytale, so we didn’t particularly believe that they were true. What I saw that night made me believe otherwise.

As soon as I ran through the huge metallic gates, a pungent smell filled my nostrils. It felt as if every type of flower that ever existed was growing inside this garden and their scent melted into an enchanting perfume. The sensation made me a little dizzy, but I proceeded to walk forward. After a while, the soft grass that I felt beneath my feet turned into fine sand. I took my shoes off and enjoyed the feeling of soft sand between my toes, completely forgetting that I was not supposed to be there at all. When that thought finally occurred to me, it was too late. My gaze had already been set on the Sand Sister who was making intricate designs on the sand floor with her pale, inhumanly long fingers. I tried to silence a gasp by putting my palm over my mouth, but that turned out to be even louder. The Sand Sister turned towards me, her eyes widened in surprise, their piercing blue color visible even through her veil. To free myself from her staring gaze, I looked at what she’s been carving into the sand. The last thing I heard before I fell to the ground was her scream.

I woke up disoriented in a place that looked a lot like High Rulers’ chambers. Thinking I must be hallucinating, I tried to stand up, but it turned out to be a really bad idea.

“She’s awake.”, someone whispered. What the…

“Lay down Raven, you’re not ready yet.”, the same voice said.

“Ready for what?”, my voice was surprisingly raspy. Instead of a response, I got a soothing laugh coming from the same person.

“I know you’re confused. What you just saw wasn’t meant for you yet.”, somehow, I knew that didn’t refer to the drawings in the sand.

When my vision was finally clear enough to distinguish the lines of the face that was leaning over me, I was speechless. My ability to speak abandoned me way too many times this week and I didn’t like that. I also didn’t like the fact one of the High Rulers was staring at me. She laughed at what must have been my freaked-out expression, and gently put her palm on my forehead. It felt like an eternity had passed before she spoke again, “I’m sorry you had to see that, Raven.”

“Did you just… read my thoughts?”, that was something I never thought I would say.

“Maybe.”, her voice was so soft and calming. “Can you describe what you saw in your own words?”

Even though it was worded as a question, my mind understood it was a command and unleashed a flood of memories that was so overwhelming I thought I was hallucinating again. Series of images kept rushing to my brain, making my head spin. “I saw a Plane which resembled our own, except this one was full of pain and misery. People treated each other as if they were enemies and they were divided by their wealth and status. Their Rulers weren’t kind and all they cared about was money, instead of providing safety for their Children. Their Plane was filthy in so many ways that it made people sick, both physically and mentally. There was no real justice, no proper education, no nothing. It was the worst nightmare I ever had.”

“Oh, Child.”, the High Ruler looked at me pityingly as she stroked my hair to comfort me. “What you just saw was the Truth. We don’t show it to our Children until they turn four hundred years old, and the Visions don’t usually show them the worst Plane first.”

It took me a moment to comprehend what she just said and when my brain finally started working again, I still wasn’t sure that this was not just a dream. “Could you repeat that?”, I blurted out, blankly staring at the face of my High Ruler.

“Even better – I’ll explain exactly what happened to you tonight, alright?”

All I could do was nod, as my body felt uncomfortably numb.

“When you ran away from your Birthday Celebration, you stumbled upon the drawing our Sand Sisters usually draws at the Revealing Ceremony. At that ceremony, the generation that turned four hundred years old is introduced to the Truth. We are not the only Plane in this universe Raven. What the Visions showed you tonight was the Reality Plane, the worst world we came to know of. They did that of their own volition, clearly deeming you worthy of knowing about what lurks at the edges of our own existence. All of our Planes exist simultaneously, revolving around each other in a circular motion. The Plane of Gardens is one of the rare ones that possesses the knowledge of the Truth. That is why you will have to keep it to yourself until the rest of your generation is ready to be introduced to it.”

It would be an understatement to say I was shocked upon hearing all this. The High Ruler explained the Truth so effortlessly that it made me shiver. There were plenty of questions I wanted to ask, but as I opened my mouth, all it came out of it was “Huh.” Apparently, that is how I deal with serious situations now, which is a bit ironic since I turned two hundred and ten years old today, and you would expect more words coming out of my mouth after finding out about the existence of the Plane that is an embodiment of a nightmare.

“If the Visions decided to show you the Truth, it means you were ready for it. The tradition was broken for a reason, and we shall embrace it. Don’t fret Child, all of the Ruling Tribunal will help you bear this burden.”, of course the High Ruler read my thoughts. She continued to explain the rules that would govern my life for the next two hundred years, finishing her speech with an announcement that the Sand Sister who made the sacred drawing would become my Helper. A memory from the Reality Plane flashed before my eyes, and I was deeply thankful this was the punishment the Sand Sister had to endure.

As I have mentioned somewhere at the beginning, the relationship between the Sand Sister and me didn’t begin at the right foot. It took us a good couple of years to come to terms with the situation we found ourselves in. It also took quite some time and many meetings with the Ruling Tribunal to realize it was not entirely my fault that the Visions appeared to me. That is why I eventually wished someone else from my generation would be let on the secret I now know is the Truth. However, that wish ceased to exist after constantly being reminded of the suffering the Visions are able to reveal. Indeed, the meetings with the High Rulers weren’t always pleasant and they made sure to warn me about the consequences of spilling out the fact Visions had shown me the Truth before the age approved by our tradition.

Pondering about all of this now, weeks before the Celebration of my generation’s two-hundred-and-fiftieth birthday, I can’t help but think that everything happens for a reason. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I was “the chosen one” because the Visions dug through my brain to insert the Truth in it, but it definitely helped with rearranging my priorities. Damien and I continued the dreaded talk few days after I returned from the High Rulers’ chambers and concluded it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to go grab a drink during daytime. Those drinks slowly turned into a relationship and now he doesn’t have to lie anymore about us meeting at the Oldman’s tavern. Marcus and Otto gave him a proper questioning the first time he joined us, but Damien bought them over with our favorite bottle of wine. Ever since then, I managed to learn how to live with the Truth and not tell it to the people I love, which included the ones I wasn’t supposed to know were already introduced to it. Still, I wasn’t nearly foolish enough to believe that the Truth was the only thing that was kept from us. The looks that the High Rulers exchanged during our meetings probably told me more than they were supposed to. But that’s something I left to the future Raven to worry about. This Raven wants to get ready for her upcoming Birthday Celebration and persuade Damien that the tie he chooses will not be the reason why Tessa will try to stick her claws in him again.

As we were standing in front of a full-body mirror, trying out the clothes for the celebration of my generation’s birthday, Damien looked at our reflection and pulled me into a hug. “No Tessa should ever make you jealous again.” As we were leaning towards a kiss, I wanted to make some corny joke about a girl with another name, but that same gut feeling from decades ago began poking at my stomach. Unsure about what the Visions prepared for me this time, I kissed him deeply, salvaging every moment before I finally let him know that the secret his generation keeps is the Truth that is safe with me.

Author:

Monika Zeba

Mirabel had been sitting in the morgue waiting room for exactly 30 minutes. She knew that because there was a very big, very annoying clock right across from her. She had been staring at the clock, thinking of increasingly elaborate ways to shut it up. It seemed to get louder over time, boring into her head until there was nothing left in the world but her and the big clock. “Are you ready?”, Doctor Martin asked her. She flinched, having not heard the door open or the doctor come in. “I’m sorry but I have work to get to”, he said. He looked at her apologetically. Mirabel got up and followed him inside. She had to do it eventually.

Her brother was lying on a metal table, covered by a sheet up to the neck. At least, her brother’s body was. Kenny was gone and all that was left of him was this emaciated, bruised shell. This body’s face didn’t look like Kenny’s. Among other things, the body’s face was relaxed. Mirabel had not seen Kenny without a furrowed eyebrow or tense smile since he was a kid, before their parents died. There was a loud clock somewhere in this room as well. She couldn’t see it, but she was sure it was there. “We found his wallet on him, so we are pretty sure that’s your brother, but we wanted to make sure as these junkie types tend to steal”, the doctor explained. His face reddened for a moment when he realised he called Kenny a junkie in front of Mirabel, but he didn’t apologise. Mirabel almost started laughing. Kenny wasn’t a junkie. Kenny was the good one, he had been sober for years. She was the trainwreck. She should have been the one lying on a metal table.

“So, this is your brother, Ken Torres?”, the doctor prompted again. Mirabel nodded. Her eyes were burning, and her throat was starting to ich. “I’m sorry, I need a verbal confirmation.” “Yes”, she said quietly. “Okay, I’ll let you have a few minutes with him.” Doctor Martin walked to the other side of the room and shuffled some paperwork. Mirabel stared at her brother. She tried to think back to the last time they spoke. Almost two months ago she called him to ask for money. He probably assumed it was for drugs and refused and they argued for a while. After he asked her for the third time if she was using again, she snapped and called him a cocksucker. He went quiet and so did she. Mirabel was the only person Kenny could rely on not being homophobic towards him during their childhood. She was his big sister, his protector. After two minutes of complete silence, he hung up the phone and they hadn’t spoken since. Worst of all, he was right. The money was for drugs. She was using again.

Mirabel wondered if that phone call was what made Kenny relapse. If she had been the one to kill her brother, her only family left. Doctor Martin returned to the metal table and put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Mirabel wanted to say she was fine, that she had seen plenty of dead junkies, but she was afraid that if she opened her mouth she would start sobbing. The loud clock kept on ticking and Doctor Martin let go of her shoulder, obviously preparing to say she needed to leave. Mirabel was suddenly struck with the realisation this was the last time she was going to see her brother. She wanted to say a few words, brush his curls for the last time, do something. Before Doctor Martin could say anything, Mirabel turned around and left the way she had come in. The big clock in the waiting room had stopped ticking.

Author:

Matea Zovko