String theory, for those of you who might not know, is the theory that in order to make a good friendship bracelet you must have at least four colors, ie strings. Having less than or equal to three string colors would result in the disaster of an imperfect friendship, according to theory.

“Mayhaps this wasn’t the most effective murder weapon,” she said, shaking blood from the dark green rubber in her hand. One look into the enchanting eyes of a Long Furby was all it took for one to combust into nothing but a pile of blood and crunchy bones. And so, when she was chosen for this mission, her family’s elders had blinded her, some cold hands and cold blades, and assigned her an expendable guide.

Our story starts 10,000 miles under the surface of the Earth. Crash Bandicoot, the evil raccoon tycoon, is angrily waving its tiny raccoon fist and demanding that we drill more resources out of the Earth’s core. I groan internally and start my drill up again, flinching at how loud it seems.

It’s a long and arduous process, to properly sow, grow, and harvest a child. First you have to plant them in some soil—not too deep, you understand, but not too shallow—and wait for them to furiously pop out of the dirt. Then came the fun part where they would grow at a rapid rate, but as it turned out, children had similar properties of vines and given a good support fence, could easily grow up to 15 feet.

The newest case in the detective’s office left him concerned and almost terrified. According to the case file, a teenage boy had robbed a factory that canned beans, and despite witnesses saying he had performed the heist solo, he had stolen at least 15,000 cans of beans. How could he have accomplished this incredible feat, had he been working solo?

Once there was cheese crumbling down a countertop and it rolled away from me. However, I thought it fell into the drawer of doom, but when my rat hit the ground it defenestrated the pillow. Suddenly, a bird applied mascara with God and humbly watched anime on rainbow, heavenly mode while cheese napped.

The little boy frowned and folded his arms at the monster in front of him, stubbornly pouting his bottom lip. "I don't believe you're real. Momma said that things like you are just a figlament of imagination," he said, stammering over the word "figment."

As winter nears, the autumn projects its scattered polychromy in bouts of orange, red, and yellow among the trees: the leaves grow heavy with infusions of crimson and soft gold, the trees droop with submission to the upcoming season. There is something in these fierce, melancholy, colors that subdues the eye and makes the human heart aspire for what was.

Now, the concept of magic was not unfamiliar to Zachary. He went to a public school- everyone knew magic existed in some capacity. It wasn’t quite intertwined into their daily lives, per se, but of course there was the odd “miracle” or “vision” or whatever that people got. People still dreamed about superpowers as if they were fantasy.

“I swear to God, if you get us arrested--”

“Sshh!”

Penny glares at me. I know she hates being hushed, but we’re standing next to one of my students’ living room windows at two in the morning, and I do not want to wake anybody up.

Your voice surrounds me

wherever i go

Complete silence seems eons away

It seems almost impossible to forget the hymn of your voice

and the softness of your words

There is a man, and he lives in a house. The closets are lined with dress shirts, the doormat with dress shoes. Each morning, he wakes, gathers the bits of himself that have drifted to other parts of the room, loose foggy parts that have trouble reintegrating. Each morning, he wakes and goes to work.

The Flowers

There are petals and then petals and petals and then petals and petals and then petals and petals and then petals and petals and then petals and petals...