THE KMC SHORT STORY CONTEST - #1 - Aug 2006 - Freewrite!

INTRODUCTION

Welcome to the guidelines for the First Annual KMC Short Story Contest!

With each Short Story contest, there will be a genre that defines what the story must be about. The genre is completely decided on my whim and fancy, whatever I feel like choosing. And only I choose, or else! 😱

Also, I might, from time to time, include a special rule in addition to the genre, such as 'You must use Stereotypes!' or 'This character that I made must be included!' and whatnot.

All whim. 😄

Story length is 10,000 characters minimum (one post) and 20,000 characters maximum (two posts).

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NOTICE

Keep in mind that
THE RULES OF THE GENERAL FICTION SECTION APPLYas well as THE RULES OF KMC ITSELF Short Stories with explicit imagery or language must be censored (*'s for language, [spoiler][/*spoiler] tags for passages).

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GENRE

For the First KMC Short Story Contest ever, the genre is...

...absolutely nothing!

You can submit a short story about whatever the hell you want to write.

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SPECIAL

No random whims have I for the first contest.

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JUDGES

For all contests, there will be a panel of three or four judges, depending on number of contestants and volunteer judges.

For the first contest, we have the following.

CAPTAIN REX - I moderate the GenFic and am hosting this contest, so why not? 😛

LANA - Fellow moderator, skilled writer herself, and picky! She'll tear your story apart, so aim to please. 😉

VINNY VALENTINE - He volunteered. Don't look at me, I have nothing to say other than he's written a story or two that I found good. ermm

DIGIMARK007 - Also volunteered, in the event that I should need a fourth judge. With the turn out we got, he's needed! 😱

SYREN - She didn't know if there were any requirements besides "loving to read and having a near perfect grasp on grammar and punctuation." She got the job. 😄

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CONTESTANTS

In order of showing interest via Private Message.

DanZeke25 x
Punkyhermy x
Diamonds x
The Phantom x
Thorinn x
SpikeSpiegel x
newjak86 x
Dusty x
The thinker x
Fëanor x
Spideys Sister x
TheKingofKINGS! x

The majority of the posters come from the OTF, but other members hail from places like the Star Wars Vs., Star Wars RPG, Comic Book Vs., Harry Potter forum, and the General Fiction forum itself (as well as its subsidaries).

EDIT- The list above shows only those that actually submitted.

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OTHER GUMF

Should be interesting to read everything entered.

The contest begins August 1st, 2006.

All stories must be entered by August 30th, 2006. Knowing me, I'll let a few slide if they come in late.

Good luck, writers.

SAMPLE

This is a sample story, written by Lana in February 2004 for her creative writing class. This is approximately how long your short story should be, more or less. Don't write a novel, we won't want to judge it.

In addition, this is the format.

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The Matrix: The Sadalsud
written by Lana

This was supposed to be a simple mission. Get in, get the potential rebel, get back out.

'As if anything could ever go that simple...' Charon thought to himself as he and two of his crew, Dragon and Andromeda, ran from the three Agents.

"You think we've lost them yet?" Andromeda asked as they turned into an alley.

"I don't know...but we need a way out." Charon replied, pulling out his cell phone. But before he could dial, it started ringing.

"Astraea, we need an exit!" he said into the phone.

"Yeah, I've got you one. It's a payphone inside a warehouse four blocks north of where you are. But we've got problems." Astraea replied. The sound of frantic typing came over the reciever.

"More trouble? What now?" Charon asked. The three of them burst out of the alley onto another street.

"Your little agent buddies called for backup, so you've got about 20 SWAT team members waiting for you. Not to mention the fact that there's some calamari snooping around the ship." Astraea replied, a hint of worry creeping into her normally sarcastic voice.

Charon swore, and responded, "Have that hardline ready for us."

"What's this 'more trouble'?" Dragon asked as Charon put his phone back in his pocket.

"SWATs and sentinels." Charon replied.

"So we're fighting our way out." Andromeda stated.

"Don't forget the Agents." Charon said.

"Like we could ever forget about them..." Dragon muttered. From somewhere very nearby they could hear a police siren. The three of them continued to sprint down the street.

"The exit's in that warehouse...LOOK OUT!" Charon shouted as they ran around a corner and were immediately met by a hail of bullets. They ducked back around the corner, drawing their guns.

"Looks like we're outnumbered by at least six to one." Dragon commented, checking to make sure his Glock was fully loaded. Charon, going more for heavy firepower, was carrying an M16. Andromeda was armed with an Ingrams, but since she was primarily a martial artist, on her person was a number of concealed knives and daggers.

"Let's go. Watch your back." Charon said.

"Don't worry, I don't intend to get killed by a few coppertops." Andromeda replied before dashing back around the corner, gun out and blazing. By the time her two male counterparts had caught up with her, three SWATs were already down and she was ducking behind a mailbox, reloadng her gun. While she reloaded, Charon and Dragon opened fire, dropping five more SWATs. They ducked down, reloading, as Andromeda ran out, quickly emptying her clip into two SWATs. Dropping the now-empty gun, she ran up to the nearest SWAT and kicked him squarely in the chest, dropping him, while Charon and Dragon each took down three more SWATs. At this point there were only three SWAT team members left. While Charon and Dragon reloaded, Andromeda drew a knife and lunged at one of the remaining SWATs. Before she could complete her attack, though, they opened fire on her. She tried to twist out of the way, but was unable to; she was hit in the arm and the side. She fell, and her knife only slashed across the SWAT's arm, instead of this throat, as it had been intended.

"Damnit!" Charon shouted, jamming a fresh clip into his assault rifle and firing on the three SWATs. He and Dragon ran towards them, both shooting, hoping to distract them from the wounded Andromeda. The SWATs fired back at them, but they never stood a chance; they were down before they could do anything but graze Dragon's arm with a lucky shot.

"You okay?" Charon as Andromeda, as he and Dragon helped her up.

"Yeah." she replied, holding her hand over the bullet wound in her side. Charon's cell phone began to ring.

"Get to that hardline, now." Astraea said as soon as he answered it.

"What's wrong now?" Charon asked.

"The squiddies are starting to get nosy...and the Agents have almost caught up on you. Oh, and Andromeda's vital signs are starting to go erratic; I think that bullet hit something important." she replied. He looked over at Andromeda, who was indeed looking considerably worse than she had only moments before.

"Okay." he said, hanging up and putting away his phone. "Come on, our exit's in here."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dragon asked as they moved toward the warehouse as quickly as they could. He was helping Andromeda walk, and she was leaning rather heavily on him.

"Yeah, I'm fine." she responded, despite the fact that she winced with pain with every step they took and her face was a chalky white.

"Astraea thinks that the bullet hit one of your vital organs." Charon said as he picked the lock on the warehouse door. On the far wall, near the other door, was a payphone; it was ringing. The had made their way about halfway across the large area, when --

"There they are."

"The rebels."

"Do not allow them to escape."

Agents.

All three of them.

"Damnit..." Dragon said. "Could anything else go wrong?"

No sooner than he had said those works, the three Agents drew their Desert Eagles and opened fire. The three rebels ran for what little cover they could find, but not before Dragon was hit in the shoulder.

"I...ahh...think we're in a bit of trouble..." Dragon commented. Charon chose to ignore this, and glanced around the room. There was very little cover between where they were hiding and the payphone, a distance of about 250 feet.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious..." Andromeda muttered in response to Dragon.

"We're just going to have to run for it." Charon stated. "There's almost no cover so be careful and take whatever you can."

Andromeda peeked around the corner of the crate they had ducked behind, and quickly drew her head back when a bullet hit about an inch from where her face had been.

"I think the Agents are starting to get a little bit pissed." she said, glancing back the the others. Dragon snorted in response, and muttered something along the lines of, "And you call me Captain Obvious..."

"How far from us are they?" Charon asked.

"About halfway between us and the entrance." she answered.

"Okay. This is what we're going to do. You two will run to the hardline, and I will distract the agents." he stated, knowing that his two crew members were not going to like this plan.

"What do you mean, you'll distract the agents?" Andromeda asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I'll fire at them to try and keep them away from you so you can get out." Charon said. "Look, you two are both injured--"

"Ha, it's only a flesh wound." Dragon broke in.

"--and I'd rather like for all of us to get out of here alive. Now, we're wasting time that we don't have. I'm the captain and I say move!" Charon continued, glaring at Dragon and Andromeda before leaping out from behind the crate, firing his M16 at the agents.

"He's insane." Andromeda simply said.

"No kidding...c'mon, let's get the hell out of here." Dragon responded. They began running across the room as fast as Andromeda could, when she looked back and noticed something.

Charon was only fighting one Agent.

"Shit...where'd they go..." she said. Dragon glanced at her, and they both heard Charon shout.

"LOOK OUT, THEY'RE TO YOUR LEFT!"

Charon almost forgot the fact that he had been fighting an Agent as he watched what was happening in horror. As soon as he yelled his warning, the two Agents stepped out from the shadows, guns extended. A moment later, it was over, both Andromeda and Dragon lying on the ground. Charon didn't know if they were still alive, but he knew that if they were, it wouldn't be for too much longer. Enraged, he spun back around to face the Agent he had been fighting.

"Weak humans...as if there is any doubt of our superiority." the Agent stated arrogantly, smirking. Charon charged at the Agent. With one hand he swung a fist at the Agent's head, while the other hand drew a hidden gun--a Desert Eagle. The Agent, blocking the punch, didn't notice the gun...and fell to the ground as Charon shot him in the chest. The body briefly flickered green, and then became that of a young police officer. Charon looked up and over to where his two fallen crew members were; the two Agents were gone. He didn't know where they were, and frankly, he didn't care. He sprinted to where they lay, and dropped down beside them.

"Oh, damn...Dragon, Andromeda, you better still be alive..." he mumbled. Neither were moving, and they both appeared to be unconcious. He felt Dragon's neck for a pulse, but there was nothing. Clenching his fist in anger, he turned to face Andromeda. He checked for a pulse, inadvertantly letting out a sigh of relief when he found one, though it was very faint.

"Andromeda...wake up..." he said, hoping that she would, though deep down he knew she wouldn't. She had been hit three times by the Agents, twice in the stomach and once in the chest. He waited a few seconds, and then checked for her pulse again; it was gone. He jumped as his cell phone rang.

"Yeah?" he said, answering it.

"They're gone. Both Dragon and Andromeda are gone." Astraea responded. She waited a moment before continuing. "Charon, please, get out of there already. I don't know where the hell the Agents went, just get out of the Matrix already before they come back."

"Okay...I'm leaving." Charon said. He stood up and pocketed his cell phone. Looking one last time at the two fallen rebels, he walked over to where the payphone was ringing. He put it to his ear and was gone in a flash of green code.

When he woke back up, he was sitting in his chair aboard the Sadalsud. Astraea stood near him, and she looked as though she had been crying. Charon glanced away from here and over to the two chairs where Charon and Andromeda's bodies were, a horrible feeling of guilt washing over him.

"Charon..." Astraea began, helping him up.

"It's my fault they're dead." he stated. Astraea narrowed her eyes at him.

"No, it isn't. The whole mission was screwed over from the very beggining when you found out the potential rebel had been captured by Agents. You tried your damnedest to get out of ther there safe. Plain and simple, it was no one's fault but those bastard Agents." Astraea said, her tone sharp.

"But I let the Agents get them." Charon said.

"There wasn't anything you could do about that...and what were you thinking taking on three Agents by yourself anyway? Did you have a death wish? And if you want to die so badly, you may just get your chance." Astraea replied. "I think the sentinels have found us."

"Damn..." Charon said, forcing himself to put his feelings of guilt behind him. They both moved to the bridge and took their seats. Charon swore when he looked outside; outside the ship several dozen sentinels idly flew around, occasionally extending a sensor.

"Charge the EMP." he said. "And don't make any sudden moves." She nodded, and slowly turned and began charging the EMP, their main weapon against the machines. Charon began powering up the ship as quietly and carefully as possible. The ship was nearly completely powered up, when one of the sentinels looked directly at the ship. One by one the other sentinels followed suit, sensors extended.

"Oh shit..." Charon said. Astraea looked up frantically.

"The EMP isn't fully charged yet!" she responded.

"Then we'll have to try and run." he answered. Taking the controls of the ship, they began to move.

"If they didn't know for sure that we were here before, they certainly do now..." Astraea muttered, trying to hide her nervousness. The ship was now flying through the tunnel, sentinels following behind them.

"Bastards are staying just out of EMP range..." Charon commented as he piloted the ship.

"Just our luck..." Astraea added.

"Is that EMP charged yet?" he asked.

"No! It shouldn't take this long, either!" she replied. Suddenly, the sentinels swarmed the ship, latching on and using lasers to cut through the engines.

"It's charged!" Astraea shouted.

"Hit it!" Charon ordered. She hit the red button, and a blue electromagnetic wave swept through the ship and the machines outside. The Sadalsud came to a rocky halt against the side of the tunnel, tilted to one side.

"Astraea? You okay?" Charon asked.

"Uhh...yeah..." she replied, wiping blood from a cut over her left eye and pulling herself back into her seat. She looked out the window and her eyes widened.

"What is it?" Charon asked, afraid to follow her gaze. She just pointed, silently, and he forced himself to look. Not all the sentinels had given chase, and now a group of them were moving towards where the Sadalsud lay.

"I don't think we're going to be able to get out of this mess..." he said, looking at Astraea. She nodded in response. The EMP had also knocked out all the ship's systems, and left them sitting ducks. The swarm of sentinels flew at the crippled ship, and Astraea shrieked as one broke through the hull of the bridge. She tried to run for it, but the machine was faster than she; she was pinned to the floor, impaled through her lower back by a metal tentacle. Charon managed to get out of the bridge, but he knew there was no point to running now. He heard a distinct whistling sound that he recognized as a bomb.

"This is it..." he mumbled to himself. He closed his eyes as he felt the impact on the side of his ship, and was quickly overtaken by the fireball of the explosion.

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Once again, good luck.

Lastly....

Please only post your entry in this thread. Discussion of the contest can go HERE in the General Fiction Discussion thread.

I'll reopen this thread on August 1st.

And Her Name Was Delia

Heaven. What is it really? Is it happiness? Is it that floating feeling you get when she walks by? Is it that place you go when you die? Who really knows what Heaven is? I know for sure what Hell is though. Hell is knowing she'll never look at you like that. Knowing you'll never be more than friends. Knowing she'll always be with him.

Yes, Jonathan, your other best friend. The one who knew how you felt about her for so long, and than took her from you. It’s knowing that you missed your chance to get her, missed your chance to turn your back on him, and missed your chance to live happily. Hell is my life. My name is Eric, and her name was Delia.

My alarm clock buzzes again. Another sleepless night I spent thinking about her. The third in a row. At least I get to see her today.

"Maybe," I think, "I'll tell her how I feel." I tell myself that every morning, yet I never tell her. Maybe I should. Before her and John started dating, I always though she liked me better, but, like always, I'll keep my secret to myself.

I get up and tiredly trot to my bathroom. I stare myself in the mirror. I have short, light brown hair, blue eyes, and an (I guess) decent-looking face. I rub my eyes, and take off my sweats. I turn the hot water all the way up, and step in the shower.

After a few minutes, I get out and dress myself. I brush my teeth, and rush downstairs. I look at the clock and run out of the house to the corner. I'm about half and hour early for the bus, but it gives me time to think.

Why did he take her from me? We'd been best friends for so long. He knew how I had always liked her. Ever since second grade. Now we're in high school, and the only thing that changed is her availability.

The bus comes, and the door opens. I take my usual seat at the front (less walking) and take a little nap. After a dream (about the History teacher killing puppies?) I woke up, and the bus arrived at school. I trudge along to my locker and get a few books and supplies for the day.

Her locker is right next to mine, so I always act like I'm getting something so I can get a word in with her. After a few minutes, she arrives at her locker, accompanied by her friend Erin.

"Well," Erin said, 'I've gotta get to class, so I'll see ya, Delia."

"Bye," she responded. She had a beauty matched by no other. Her dark brown hair graced her shoulders, and danced in the sun. She was lean, not chubby, but not skinny, or anorexic. The girl of my dreams that I've know all my life. I've always known that I'd love her, but I didn't know that she'd drive me crazy.

"Hey Delia," I mutter to her. She knows that I'm usually more confident, so she figures that I'm tired, which I am.

"Morning Eric," she chipperly replies, "You're a little tired thing morning, eh?"

"Yeah," I respond. I almost tell her I spent all night think about her, but instead I elaborate, "Late night, cramming for the History test."

"Oh yeah," she said, "I forgot you and John have that History test today. Well good luck with that."

"Thanks," I grumble. She starts to walk away as I add, "See you this afternoon." She gives a wave and continues walking her class. Business ethics. We only have one class together, physics. The hardest and most boring class on my schedule.

I go to the cafeteria to get some coffee so I'm actually awake for my first class.

As I zombily walk into the cafeteria, I go to the coffee machine. Black coffee costs a dollar fifty. I dig through my pockets and pull out six quarters. This means I won't have lunch, but good grades is a good reason for sacrifice. I put the quarters in the machine, put the cup under the nozzle, and make my selection. The coffee falls into the cup, and I walk out with it.

Walking a little quicker, I take a few sips of my coffee. Hot, sugar-less, and cream-less, just how I like it. The bell rings, and I'm late for class. That means detention. Oh, well, it's not like I have much to do. Sure, Dad'll be pissed, but I don't really care, I'll get my homework done, at least.

I finally make it to class about seven minutes late. Mrs. Gretchens, the ***** that teaches French. She's from Spain and teaches French class. A tad ironic, but I get great grades in this class. French is too easy. She scolds me for a little, and gives me a detention slip.

I take my seat in the third row, and barely pay attention. We're covering the verb "avoir." Simple material I've have mastered since fifth or sixth grade. I go in a daze, and think about Delia. Flashbacks of past moments, possible future scenarios, and just her sitting somewhere.

"Eric!!" Mrs. Gretchens snapped, "Congegate the verb!" I think for a little bit, and realize I don't know which way to congegate it. I look at the board and by process of elimination find the answer.

"I have- J'ai," I state.

"Good, Eric," she replied, "I didn't think you were paying attention." Of course, I didn't, I just have a skill of doing that. A little too well actually. The class drudges on, filled only with bore. The bell rings, and Mrs. Gretchens stops me before I leave.

"Eric, I want to speak with you," she states.

"Hmm?" I grunt in reply.

"Eric," she says, "I hate giving you detentions, I really do, but there's a problem in your behavior. You're late, you seem distracted. I mean, you've mastered the material, but you get B's because you don't participate. Is there a problem at home...?"

"No," I reply shortly.

"Well, there is a problem," she says, "and I want you to fix it."

"Alright," I say, "I'll work on it."

"Good," she says, "Now go to class; we don't want you getting another detention."

I walk out without a goodbye. Lucky for me, this is my free period. What day is today? Thursday, that's it. John has his free period right now today as well. I'll try and find him, for a little chat.

I walk to my locker, and there's John, with Delia. They're talking about something, but I can't hear it seeing as I'm about fifteen feet away from them, and all the clatter. I walk up to them and start listening.

"Delia," John says, "You know I don't like hanging out with Erin and Kelsey. Kelsey is alright, but I can't maintain an intelligent conversation with Erin."

"John," she whines, her voice is beautiful ever when she whines, "I'm not asking you to do this for you, and I’m asking you to do this for me."

"I've got soccer practice though," he replies.

"Fine," she says, "don't come. But I'm not going to your brother's birthday party this weekend then."

"I'll go" I butt in, "I like Kelsey, and I can always make fun of Erin."

She lets out a short laugh and responds, "Alright, meet me outside the Cole Cafe at five today."

"I'll be there," I reply, with a smile on my face.

"I gotta go to class," she says, "Bye Eric, Bye John." She kisses John, and walks away.

"Man," John says to me, "Why did ya have to do that?"

"Do what?" I ask, as I open my locker to grab some books.

"Go and hang out with Delia's friends." he said. He wasn't happy.

"Because I like Delia, and her friends," I reply.

"You're makin' me look bad."

"Well, you did ask her out, even though you knew I loved her."

"So?"

"So? It's against guy code."

"That's another thing I don't like about you two."

"Hmm?"

"The fact that you love her. I don't want you hanging out with her as long as we're goin' out."

"Well, maybe if you'd respect my feelings, I'd respect yours."

"Man, forget it. Just chill, I acted on it first."

"Whatever, I'm leaving."

"Peace"

I walk away from him, and arrive a little early for my next class. Nothing eventful happens for the rest of the school day. During physics, I look at Delia, and serve my detention after school. Around four, I got home.

About half an hour later, I drive up to the Cole Cafe, and meet up with Delia, Erin and Kelsey.

Kelsey greets me first, "Hey, Eric."

"Hey" I respond.

Then Delia greets me with a hug (yes!), "Hey, Eric, glad you could make it."

"Thanks, Deal," I say, "Hey, Erin."

She just nods, which is weird of her. She's usually a gossip machine.

We get a table at the cafe and order some grub (which Kelsey graciously paid for.) We start talking about a lot of things, classes, people, Erin's gossip, and their boyfriends.

"I just can't believe Brian cheated on me!" Kelsey semi-yelled.

"Well," I reply "He IS an *******."

They chuckle a little, as Erin proclaims that she broke up with her boyfriend...AGAIN.

"Well, you girls may have your problems, but John is the best guy a girl could ask for," Delia added.

"I'm not so sure," I say.

"What do you mean?" Erin inquires, as Delia and Kelsey look on eagerly.

"Well," I go on, "When a girl has a boyfriend, there can be a little chemistry, but to really love him, you have to be different. Opposites attract, and you and John are too similar."

"Well, Eric," she says, in a challenging tone, "Can you suggest anyone who would be more suitable?"

I think for a little, and lie, "Nope."

"Well, then, I guess he's the best I'm gonna get, and the best is pretty good."

They laugh, and I chuckle, and after the meal, we all leave. I go home still unfulfilled, and have gotten no further in any aspect of life. Let's just hope I can get some sleep tonight.

My alarm rings and I wake up. I actually got a half-decent nights sleep. Popped a couple of Nyquil’s, and hit the hay. It's a good thing too, or I might have just passed out. I definitely have an insomniac problem, but I don't really care. I find I'm more efficient when using all twenty-four hours in the day.

I grab a shower, get dressed, and grab some toast before walking out the door to the bus stop. I'm still very early, so I've got time to think. Yesterday went alright, I guess, but I missed a good chance to make a move. Probably the millionth time I've done that with her. The bus arrives as I take my usual seat and take another nap.

I have a pretty basic morning routine, but if it gets thrown off, I probably won't be right the rest of the day. The bus arrives at school and I walk out of the bus, and into the school. My locker's on the fourth floor, so I have to do a little stair-climbing, but at least I'm not as tired today.

I arrive at my locker, and Delia is already there, getting her books and what not.

"Mornin'," I say to her.

"Hey," she says in reply, 'Thanks for coming yesterday, it wouldn't have been as fun if you or John didn't show."

"No problem," I reply, 'It was fun, and I got free food."

She chuckles, and says, "I'll see you later," as she walks away. I sigh and return to my locker. I grab my French book, and go to class again. At least it's Friday.'

I arrive at class on time, and sort of participate, just to make Mrs. Gretchens happy. The class ends, and I go one with my other incredibly boring classes. Lunch comes around and I take my seat in my usual place. John and Kelsey join me, and Delia arrives moments later.

"Alright," Delia says as she sits down, "What're we doing today?" Usually on Fridays, we all hang out and do something after school.

"We could go catch a movie," Kelsey suggests.

"But what movie?" John asks.

"There's nothing good out really," I state, "How about we just go Natoli Field and chill? I'll order some Eddie's, and we’ll have some fun." By the way, Eddie's is the pizza shop in my neighborhood.

"Sure," says Kelsey, "I'm up for it." John just nods, and Delia gives a notion of general agreement.

"Alright," I say, "It's settled then. We'll meet at Natoli Field." I pick up my (now empty) lunch tray, and walk away, salute the group, and walk out of the cafeteria.

After lunch, I head to my locker to grab some books. Then I go to my next class. History. The teacher passes out the tests. B+, not bad. It's a double period this afternoon and then school's out. After an hour and a half of World War II, the bell rings, and I rush out of the school.

I hop in my car (a 2006 Ford Focus) and drive home. I grab another shower, and change my clothes. Just when I'm about to leave for Natoli, my cell phone rings. It's Kelsey?

"Hello," I answer.

"Eric," she says ecstatically, "You'll never believe what happened!"

"Hmm?" I ask.

"Delia and John broke up!"

"What? How?"

"Well, Delia told John about what you said yesterday, and he said something about how you were intrusive and just wanted her for yourself. And she was all like, 'I thought you and Eric were friends. Even if you're not, he and I are, and I don't want you badmouthing my friends.' So they kept arguing, and eventually they broke up."

"Wow," I said, grinning from ear to ear, "So, how'd Delia take it?"

"Well, she's pretty broken up about it. She couldn't stop crying. She said that she wasn't coming today. John probably won't show up either. And seeing as it'll only be me and you, I decided not to come."

"That's cool, Kelsey," I reply, "You guys just save me ten bucks."

"Ha-ha," she laughs, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Awesome! There is no way I couldn't take advantage of this. This is just so perfect. I've been playing the cards just right, and they finally broke up.

"Tomorrow," I say to myself, out loud, "I'll tell her how I feel."

After another sleepless night of anticipation, I jumped out of bed. Did my usual morning routine and grabbed the bus to school. I hurried to my locker, waiting to tell Delia of how I felt. The anxiety I've been feeling for so long finally released. After a couple minutes, she arrived at her locker.

"Hey," she mumbled. Apparently she was still a little broken up about the break-up with John. Usually I'd spare her feelings, but I promised myself I'd do this.

"Hey," I replied, "listen there's something I wanna talk with you about."

"If it's about John..." she started.

"It's not about John," I cut her off, "I've got to admit something to you. Over the years, we've gotten to be really good friends. We've hung out, we've had some laughs, and we’ve done a lot of really fun stuff. In the midst of it all, I fell in love with you. Maybe it wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. I can't stop thinking about you. I've had sleepless nights spent thinking about you. I've been going crazy over you Delia, and I love you."

She just stares at me for a while, speechless. She appears astonished, but eventually she spoke.

"Eric...I can't....I-I just can't. I'm sorry." She ran off down the hall, possibly sobbing. I had a feeling it'd turn out this way.

I start walking to class. At least I felt better having told her.

Suddenly, I hear loud popping. Sorta like firecrackers. There's screaming, people running. I'm just thinking what the hell is going on? Then I see two guys with pistols running in my direction from the other side of the hall. I realize I'm in deep shit and run.

One of them in a thick heavy German accent yells, "Mrs. Gretchens, you're gonna Die!"

I quickly realize I'm right outside her classroom door. Shit, shit! They're firing off bullets like they have way too many in their pockets. I try to duck for cover, but I suddenly feel a sharp pain in the back of my head.

-----------------------

"Welcome Pittsburgh to the 6 o' clock news, I'm James Monroe, here with my co-anchor Shellie Hardst. Our top story for tonight, there's was a shooting at a local public high school. Two eleventh grade students came into school with .44 magnum handguns. Apparently they tried to kill a teacher, but in the process they killed 7 other students. We've only got the names of 3 victims. Samantha Welsh, Ian Jest, and Eric Inter.

End.

“So, what are we going to do, Jamey?” asks Paul, amused at the circumstance he unwittingly found himself in, although not alone, which I myself was not so amused to be in as well.
“I don’t rightly know, at this moment,” I answer, “it’s a bit of a quandary.”

I was, at this moment, in a bind, wondering how I had ever gotten myself into this...dilemma. Damn that Andrew, I thought. I was pacing the floor quite animatedly giving Paul the sense that he was watching one of those shooting games that had a target of ducks or something like that, slowly moving across while some hapless fool trying desperately to impress his date by showing his prowess with an air gun at a carnival. Not that Paul or I had ever had the pleasure of experiencing such an excursion.

The reality of my desperation was evident on the contorted face I wore, that at any moment would now surely be etched forever, thus Paul’s inner turmoil of not laughing his fat bottom off at my expense.

“You know, you do look rather silly pacing about like some soon-to-be father unsure of what to do while your wife’s giving birth at a hospital.” Paul couldn’t resist.

I paused a moment, just to give Paul one of those really short and sarcastic “Ha. Ha’s.” that pretty much drove my current situation to the fore. I, and I alone accepted this responsibility for the both of us, reluctantly if not unwillingly, when Andrew had asked this small favor. Not so small now, I thought.

“Can’t you be serious for one minute,” I say after Paul’s satirical laughter.
“How can I be serious watching you going on about like that?” he says, “I mean, look at you. You’re going about this like you’re trying to solve all the world’s problems.”
“Well, yes, the world’s problems are tiny in comparison to this,” I counter. Then my face had lit up as if a virtual light bulb had just been turned on above my head.
“I know,” I say very enthusiastically which frightened Paul, “you’re the youngest one of us, right?”
“Yes?” the ‘yes’ Paul says was drawn out long and slow, and full of suspicion.
“Right. Then you must have some memory of how it was when you were…um…that old, right?”

I had at least had the decency to make a face that rather resembled someone who was not sure of a thing asked or that I might be struck for some offence. Paul could do nothing but gape blankly at me, who looked cartoonish now that I thought about it. It then—Paul’s face—melted into a look of astonishment, which soon was followed by incomprehension. I had realized the absurdity of having asked that of Paul. And at the same time, I had thought what Andrew was thinking, knowing that Paul and I are not quite the experts in an area dominated by married people.

It was Andrew, who fell first. The “L” word had somehow crept its way into the Wentworth’s vocabulary. Andrew fell head-over-heels-madly, and touched with just a pinch of stupidity, in love. Having said that, both Paul and I not realizing then, that when the “L” word worms its way in, more like burrow I once said, it is more than certain that not even God can stop the “M” word from following in its footstep. I theorized and, Paul concurred, with a dose of sobriety that those “footsteps” were in reality “goosesteps”.

But we were happy for Andrew. However, we were not happy, though we would never say it to Andrew’s love-struck face, about our trio becoming a quartet. Even if we had wanted to alienate Emily Berkshire—the Emily Berkshire of the Berkshire Estate, which meant old money, which meant a title her father had, which meant a place in the House of Lords—it would do little good in the way of keeping the once fortified Wentworth trio together…well, as a trio.

Then one day, Andrew had asked me if I wanted to have lunch with him, as he had something very important to ask me. So of course I said yes. And there I was, fashionably late for our luncheon, that being at noon, yet Andrew was by far later than I. How the man does it, boggles any imagination to which I’m yet capable of comprehending.

“So, fancy meeting you here, Jamey,” he says with a bit of posh and a smile that I so wanted to hit him with.
“Did you not say, ‘twelve noon’?” I say a bit harshly.
“Of course I did.”
“Well, according to my watch it’s almost one.”
“And? What of it?”
I swear, if he weren’t my brother and so damn smug—actually I have no idea what I’d do.
“How is Emily?” having nothing else to say at this moment.
“She’s fine. She’s asked about you.”
“I’m sure she has. I suppose she has another one of her lonely old Hagathas she’d love to set me up with?.”
“Nothing of the sort, old boy.” Which is followed with a snort.
“And my nephew—uh, what is it?” I begin to sweat, realizing that I’ve forgotten what my nephew’s name.
“Sheldon?” Andrew says, ignoring my ignorance once again.
“Yes. Sheldon. How is the bra…I mean—my nephew?”
“Actually, he’s doing very well. He should be walking soon, I should hope.”
“Ah. That’s all very grand.”
“You should get one,” again he snorts. God, I hadn’t realize no matter how much I love Andrew, he can be very irritating. Sort of like having an itch you can’t reach.
“Right. The fate of the world hangs in the balance on whether or not I should have a child.”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” he retorts, “by the way, I was wondering if you and Paul could watch Sheldon this weekend.”

And that’s when I realized that the fate of the world did hang in the balance. And it was teetering towards anarchy and chaos. I was about to say no when Andrew made a case of it, saying that it would do me and Paul good and might open our eyes to new possibilities that we haven’t yet explored. I had wondered what those possibilities were. To this day, I’ve yet to figure that one out. And why, of all the people in the world more qualified than I or Paul, would Andrew want us to watch over his son? Has he gone mad? Has marriage made him a drooling idiot? Is this my fate should I decide to follow in his footsteps, down that aisle of hopelessness and sex with one person for the rest of my life? Oh God, shoot me now while you still can were all I could think of in prayer.

“Are you bloody daft? Paul says after a heart beat or two. “Jesus, Jamey. I may be the youngest of the lot, but I certainly am not so young to even remember something like that. And who would want to? My God! That’s, that’s, I dunno what that is, but I do know that just doesn’t seem right.”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

I was beginning to feel sheepish and would have written this fiasco off as one big comical farce, if the reality of this fiasco had not been sitting on its diapered bottom before us. We were both eyeing the object of our objection. It sat there very calmly and very collectively returning our puzzled gazes back at us, but no less puzzled as we were. And who in their right mind would name their only begotten son Sheldon, I thought—or did I say that aloud?

Sheldon, being only a year old—or is he two? did his best to look as cute as is allowed for a baby. But my armor was thick, and Paul seemed indifferent, so no matter the amount of cooing and mewling—which was a godly amount—and the googly eye, and for that matter the cutesy wootesy little laugh the bugger (my word) did, it had no affect on us whatsoever. Paul would have had at least the clarity of mind to not accept a responsibility that made women seem less troublesome. Better to face a horde of sword-wielding-death-in-their-eyes brigands than caring for a baby, Paul once said to me, after Andrew and the ever gracious and very beautiful Emily Berkshire-Wentworth had dropped Sheldon off in our care, especially when that baby is now quite happily sitting in a distinctly aromatic poopy diaper.

After a bit of suspenseful silence, Paul, who was still holding back, rather weakly, the gale of laughter that would soon burst if not for the discomfort I was eloquently displaying, says:

“Jamey, have you never done this before? I mean you’ve dated single mothers and all that. I remember that one…what was her name…oh never mind, you were with one for about two years, right?”
“Oh, and that qualifies me as an expert on child rearing, just because I dated…”
“Jocelyn!” Paul blurts out, being pleased with himself at having remembered.
“Right. Jocelyn. And what of it? I was more concerned with the mother than those attention-grabbing brats. This is altogether something different. This is our bloody nephew for Christ’s sakes. He’s…. he’s, he’s family.”
“Right, and you my big brother are going to do your duty, while I’m going to rifle your fridge for a beer.”
“Is that all you can think about, is beer?”
“God, no. In fact, I am a bit hungry. Got any chips?”

Unfortunately for me, I did not see the devilishly wry smirk on Paul’s face; else he’d have gotten more than beer and some chips from me, so help me God. Paul rises from the comfy-soft brushed-leather sofa chair to see about some food and a fat bottle of beer, leaving me to face Sheldon alone.

“Jamey?” Paul cries out.
“What?”
“Why didn’t Andrew just leave Sheldon to their nanny’s care,” he yells out from the kitchen. He was, by now, deeply engrossed within my slate-grey refrigerator.
“If I knew that,” I say, “I wouldn’t be in this mess, now would I? Maybe he thought it some funny joke to be played on me.”
“Did you not ask?”
If there were ever a case of stupidity, I had just found it. Why didn’t I ask? Was it some innate need to prove I can do this? God, I hope not.

I had imagined that Andrew was having a good laugh right about now, with Emily his co-conspirator. Hoping and praying to all the gods I knew that when Andrew did laugh, he’d humiliate himself with a little bit of phlegm-green snot gunning out of his nose. The bugger. By then Paul had returned, sans food of course, but he did have a good bottle of dark. I was painfully annoyed, I could use a bit of a drink myself. But what I’m about to do requires a clear mind. Sheldon, although supremely oblivious, did seem to notice that something was not right in and around the area of his tushy bottom. Was that agitation, or gas? It was a toss up.

“Right. Paul. Go check the baby’s bag and make sure we’ve the necessary supplies.” Paul went to the bag.
“I’ve got diapers,” Paul says, “my count: ten it would seem. There’s some clothes, some bottles filled with some sort of white liquid.”
“Milk…I think.” I answer.
“Right. A box of some moist-towelletes, by my guess.”
“Right. To cleanse the hands,” more guess really.

I then struck a pose that strikingly was similar to a professor at Uni I had once seen make when said professor paused to gather his thoughts: one hand on the hips, the other by the mouth. Like the statue of ‘The Thinker’ only it was me, or was it the professor striking that pose? The next series of event happened quickly and with meticulous methodology and efficiency that even Paul, or I, for that matter could hardly recall, even if we had the wherewithal to recall said event without feeling a tint of nausea of the whole ordeal.

I ordered Paul to take the pink and flowery baby bag and place it right next to the kitchen sink. At the same time, I stooped down, lifted baby Sheldon from the floor, then I held him in a way that invoked a fear of contamination from some infernal microscopic bacterial infestation that would render me an invalid: as far away from my person. I flinched my head sideways comically to the left, in the hopes of not getting too near the malodorous odor of Sheldon’s poop laden buttocks. Had it not been for the soiled diaper holding Sheldon’s baby-size defecation, he would have left a trail of the brown stuff, which had the consistency of melted ice cream, on my beautiful wooden floor.

I wanted to gag at having visualized that imagery, however gross it seemed. And all the while, running through my mind were: Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! I then shuffle-stepped my way in to the kitchen now occupied with Paul who was smiling. Smiling? Why is he smiling? My face pulled and pushed that amazed Paul, never having had seen such an extraordinary display of human facial contortion of such a magnitude. Sheldon could do nothing but coo in indifference. It was then that Paul’s eyes went wide when I passed Sheldon over to him like a ball in a rugby game. If it weren’t for my bestial grunts, Paul would have refused outright. Freed of my seemingly compliant package, I rummaged through the pink and flowery baby bag, which screamed banality, for diapers.

I grabbed three diapers just to be on the safe side, and a change of clothing and the box of moist-towelletes. Carefully laying out the contents in a neat and orderly fashion, being the stickler for organization that I am, I turned on the tap. By now Paul had seen the brilliance in my task, however remotely comical it seemed. We waited, in what seemed like hours, even though it had been only a couple of minutes, for the tap to take on a feeling of warmth, but not too hot as to scald poor Sheldon’s bum. We can’t have that, now can we?

While Paul held Sheldon at arms length, I relieved the-hanging-by-the-armpits Sheldon of his clothing. I motioned Paul to the sink, and stripped Sheldon of his soiled diapers very carefully, I might add, so as not to spill whatever content it may have, which was obvious by the old cheesy smell, lingering in the air. I carefully gripped said diapers with my reluctant fingertips and discarded it in the trash bin, all in one quick motion. I quickly took the sink hose, common to all modern household kitchen sinks, and sprayed the rounded contours of Sheldon’s lovely stained bottom.

I was satisfied with my handiwork and the sparkling shiny cleanliness of Sheldon’s very pink bum after a minute of spraying the poor babe who was unaware to the goings on. When I had finished washing and cleaning Sheldon of his poopiness, we debated over the correct method of diapering a baby. Had Sheldon been cognizant of the debate, he most assuredly would have been amused to no end. With his diapers finally on, Paul then propped Sheldon like some trophy atop the kitchen counter of glazed marble, as we stood there admiring our efforts.

The smiles we wore were one of content and relief of a job well done. We had beamed with pride and felt as if nothing were beyond our ability, however lacking, to attain. We have now reached that unreachable stratum of manliness that we had not thought, or dared never, to enter. We now surmised that we were on the same level with our astute elder brother Andrew and without the risk of marriage, of now knowing how to change a baby’s diaper. It all seemed so easy. All this fuss and for what? We were men before, but now we are men.

“I say this calls for a bottle of champagne. What d’you say, Paul?”
“Why, Jamey, to what, pray tell, would be the occasion? Oh wait, let me guess. Our superior intellect at addressing a problem so dire, but never letting it overcome us in our moment of utter despair, and having come to a beneficial conclusion that garnered us a favored result.”
“Well, I may not have said it in so many words, and frankly you’ve lost me there a bit, I should think. But yes. Whatever it was you said.”
I took out my finest bottle, of which I had many and in various years and labels. When I had uncorked it, the last sound we heard after the anticlimactic pop were of Sheldon’s ear-piercing scream:
“Waaaaaaaaaaah!”

fin

Nick Wendo, 23 years old, lives in a small house in Boston, Massachusetts with his brother Jeff. Well, I guess you could call him his brother. He is the other half of Nick’s body. Jeff controls the left part of the body, and Nick the right. It’s a miracle they are still alive, and even more of a miracle that they both can function normally.
It was really hard for both of them to do everyday things, like going to the bathroom, taking a test in school, sleeping, and even walking, but they eventually got used to it and now have very few problems while doing stuff.

The phone rang.

“Answer that, Nick.”

“I can’t until you move your damn leg.” responded Nick.

“Hello.” answered Nick about 5 seconds later.

“Hello.” said a man in a soft, spooky voice. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” Confused, Nick replied “Uh, Halloween, I guess. Why?”

“Who is it?” asked Jeff?

"I don’t know. Hey. Are you still there?”

“Yes, I am.” There was a short pause. “Can you please tell me your name?” said the man.

“No. Why? Who are you and what do you want?”

“I just want to know who I’m looking at.”

“Oh, ok. I’m Nick and this is my brother Jeff.” he gave the phone to Jeff and he said hello. “Wait. Wait a second. What do you mean you want know who you are looking at? Who are you? Where are you?” Nick was starting to get scared.

“Nick, I am you father.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“No you’re not!”

“Yes I am!”

“No!” screamed Nick as he slammed down the phone. Jeff asked who it was and Nick told him what happened.

“Ha! Our father! Is he gay or something?” Jeff likes to call people gay. The doorbell rang. They answered the door and the first thing they saw was a guy in a suit with brown hair and sun glasses on point a gun at them.

“Hello, Mr. Wendo, and Mr. Wendo. It’s nice to finally meet you.” said the man.”

“You’re the guy on the phone!”

“What? No.” Out of nowhere came a bald man in a long leather jacket. He was wearing glasses, but only the front part of them. He pointed a gun at the man.

“Morpheus!” said the man. Morpheus shot the man in the foot. “We have to go, now.” said Morpheus as he motioned for them to follow. He started running. It was really hard for Nick and Jeff to keep up. The man started to laugh.

“Morpheus!” he screamed, still laughing. “He can’t be the One! He can barley run.” Nick and Jeff stopped. And ran back to the man. “Why don’t you shut up!”

“What are you gonna do? You can’t do anything!”

“You’re making me angry.” said Nick

“Yeah, me too.” said Jeff.

“You’re not gonna like me when I’m angry!”

“Me too.” said Jeff. The man laughed and punched Nick in the face. Then Jeff.

“AAAAHHHHHHH!” they both screamed. The next thing they knew, they were a Hulk with two heads. Both heads turned to the man, and then they grabbed him by the waist.

“Please. Please, let me go.” said the man, who was about to cry. Both of them shook their heads. Then Nick’s head bit off the man’s head, and then threw him hard onto the ground. Morpheus, who had stopped to watch, laughed.

“I think he is the One.” Morpheus said to himself. The two-headed Hulk turned to Morpheus.

“Ok, now. You can turn back to human form.” They didn’t listen. Instead they ran over to Morpheus and picked him up by the waist.

“What are you doing!?” screamed Morpeus. You could hear fear in his voice. “I know. You want me to sing you a song.” Morpheus started singing, hoping he would make them calm down and turn back to normal. Since Morpheus is a horrible singer, it made them even angrier, so they just threw Morpheus. He flew about the length of three football fields, and was about 300 feet in the air. Morpheus was about to fall to his death when out of nowhere a man in a costume caught him and somehow brought him to the top of a building.

“Who are you?” asked Morpheus.

“Just your friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man.” he said and then webslinged away.

“Who a-are you?” asked Nick a few hours later, feeling scared now.

“Who was that man? Why am I, I mean we, why are we the One?”

“Yeah, and since we are not technically one person, can you call us
the Two?” added Jeff.

“Yeah, I suppose. Now, I know I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” Morpheus went on to tell them all about the Matrix.

“And what does all that have to do with us?” answered Nick.

“There is a ring, hidden in the Matrix. You have to find the ring and destroy it. You have to before You-Know-Who gets his hand on the ring.

“No, we don’t know who.”

“Oh, yes that’s right. You don’t know him either. Okay I will only say his name once, so listen. His name is…. Voldemort.” A man appears out of nowhere and slaps Morpheus across the face, and then disappears. “You see? That’s what happens when you say the name. Now, You-Know-Who is the leader of the people we are at war with. I’ll explain that later. He is leading all the people to find this ring. We think we know where it is, but the only One, or in this case, the Two can get it. That guy, he was an Agent, also known as Mr. Smith. He works for Voldemort. But there are over 4000 of that exact same guy. He can turn any person into himself. Sort of like cloning. He wanted to use you to get the ring. He would have never killed you though.

“He also has many more people, or creatures, in his army. He has: dementors, Venom, Carnage, lots of other comic book villains, zombies, Shrek, ,robots, those evil looking things in LOTR, and he also has that thing from End of Days. It is a spirit that can go into and control anyone’s body. He also has much more in his army, but I cant think of anything else right now.”

“Wow, how the hell are we gonna beat them? Who do we have?” asked Nick.

“Well, we have you two.. You have many more powers that you know of. We have the Hulk, Spider-Man, Batman, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Will Smith, Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees, Harry Potter, Gollum, The Mask, the Fantastic Four, the X-Men, and others I can’t think of. Okay, I am very tired, I’ll tell you more tomorrow.

“Wait, I want to see something.” Nick said as he grabbed a baseball bat that was laying on the ground. “Voldemort.” said Nick loudly. The man appeared again, and was about to slap Nick. Nick then hit the man as hard as he could with the bat. He turned to Morpheus and said “You can say Voldemort now.” Morpheus just laughed.

“Wake up!” screamed Morpheus the next morning. “We have to go. Now!”

“But, wh-”

“There’s no time for questions.” Morpheus interrupted. “Now let’s go.”
About an hour later they arrived at a tall skyscraper. They went up all they way to the top, where all the people Morpheus mentioned yesterday were waiting for them.

“Hey, Nick. Look! It’s Arnold Schwarzenegger.” They walked over to Arnold. “Sir, it’s an honor to meet you.” said Jeff.

“Shut the hell up and get out of my face.” answered Arnold.

“But, sir.”

“I said, shut the hell up ad get out of my face!”

“Hey! Don’t talk to my brother like that!” replied Nick.

“What are you gonna do? Turn in to some two-headed Hulk? Ha! You make me laugh.”

“Maybe we will.”

“SILENCE!” screamed Morpheus. Everybody stopped talking. “I brought you all here to- wait. Why is Fat Albert here?” Everybody turned to Fat Albert. “Fat Albert is gay. Kill him.” said Morpheus. Michael Myers walked over to Fat Albert and stabbed him in the face. Blood poured everywhere. He then picked up Fat Albert and threw him out of the window. He landed on a parked taxi cab. “Ok. Now, I have been informed, from a very reliable source, that Voldemort has found out where the ring is, and that he and his army are going to get it right now. We all must jack in to the Matrix and stop him. Now!”
There were plenty of seats there for everyone. And after a little while, they were all jacked into the Matrix. Who knows what lies ahead of them.

They were in the Matrix, and Voldemort’s Army was right in front of them.

“Morpheus! You’re retarded! If we are the only ones who can get the ring then why are we in here? Voldemort can’t get the ring without us.” said Nick.

“It’s ok. I’ll just call Link.” said Morpheus. “Link, I need the nearest exit for Nick and Jeff.

“Sir, I’m right behind. You jacked me in to.”
Morpheus turned around. “God damn! You should have told me Nick!”

“Me? It’s not my fault your retarded.”

“Yeah well you are the Two. You are supposed to know this stuff. Oh well, there’s nothing we can do now. Go hide over there somewhere,
Voldemort doesn’t know where you are yet.” Nick and Jeff did so, and now Morpheus’s Army was charging and Voldemort’s Army. All hell was breaking lose. Michael Myers stabbed about eight agents in the head, but then Shrek came up from behind and snapped Michael’s neck. The Hulk was taking care of about 1000 agents by himself. Spider-Man and Gollum were teaming up on Venom, but Jet Li came to even the fight. Spider-Man tried to web Jet Li, but he dodged it and the web wrapped around Gollum. Then Jet Li jumped up and round-housed kicked Gollum in the head, sending him flying ten feet away. Then Arnold came and ripped Jet Li’s throat out. Chuck Norris then came up and kick Arnold in the head. Arnold responded with a right hand to the head.

“Hey everybody! Arnold Schwarzenegger is fighting Chuck Norris!” screamed Will Smith. Everybody stopped what they were doing, and gathered around to watch. Even Jesus came from the Heavens to watch. Arnold and Chuck were staring at each other, they both looked around at everyone watching them. Then, as if they read each others minds, both started fighting everybody. Chuck took out the whole Fantastic Four with one kick, while Arnold picked up Shrek and threw him onto Harry Potter, squishing him to death. Shrek got up and attempted to punch Arnold, but Arnold blocked it, and then gave Shrek and headbutt which knocked off Shrek’s head off entirely. Arnold and Chuck took out a good portion of both Armies by themselves, until Wolverine stabbed Arnold in the eyes with his claws. Eventually, everybody began fighting each other.
Morpheus walked up to Nick and Jeff.

“We need you to come out. We’re getting our ass kicked.” Nick and Jeff followed Morpheus. They were met by about 50 zombies when Morpheus tripped them.

“Get them.” said Morpheus, and all the Zombies started attacking Nick and Jeff. This time, instead of turning into a two-headed Hulk, Nick and Jeff turned into Arnold Schwarzenegger and Chuck Norris. Nick was Chuck and Jeff was Arnold. They killed all the zombies easily. Then they turned to Morpheus, and Jeff grabbed him by the throat. The creature from End of Days emerged out of Morpheus body and speeded away. Jeff dropped Morpheus on the ground.
Morpheus and the Two joined in on the fighting again, and eventually everybody was dead, besides Nick and Jeff, Morpheus, and Voldemort. But Voldemort didn’t fight at all. In fact, nobody knew where Voldemort was.

“VOLDEMORT!” screamed Morpheus at the top of his lungs, hoping Voldemort would show himself. Then, out of nowhere, the same guy appeared with a bandage around his head and a bat of his own in his hand. “Oh shi-” That was as far as Morpheus got, as the man whacked him over the head with the bat.

“Holy flying f*ck! Morpheus, are you alright?” screamed Jeff.

“Dude, he got hit in the head with a f*ckin baseball bat. He’s not alright.”

“Oh shut the f*ck up. You knew what I mea- who is that? Is that- Winnie the Pooh?”

“I would just like to say that you two really know how to fight. I enjoyed watching that.” said Winnie the Pooh. “I actually enjoyed that so much, I’m going to watch it again.”
Winnie got a small time machine out from his pocket, and set it back 3 hours, the exact time the fighting started. Everybody was back and fighting, and even some people that weren’t even there were fighting. Nobody knows how the hell that happened.

“Dude, where did Conan O’Brien come from? Is he on our side?” asked Jeff.

“Sh*t, I hope so. Nobody can beat Conan. He is one of the people where, the minute you look at them, you can just tell that they win at life.”

Conan O’Brien turned Super Saiyan, and did a Ka-Me-Ha-Me-Ha Blast that knocked out 300 agents, and Chuck Norris, who just happened to be standing there. Zinedine Zidane then head butted about 30 agents by himself with his huge bald head. Conan, trying to show him up, then head butted Shrek, who went flying into 50 agents.

Barney and Mr. Rogers started fighting, but Michael Myers ruined it by stabbing them both in the head. Chaos ensued, everybody was fighting.

“HEY HEY HEY!” Fat Albert was back, and everybody immediately stopped fighting and ran towards him. Wolverine stabbed Albert in the eyes with his claws, while Jet Li kicked right through his huge stomach. After Fat Albert was dead, they all took turns taking a piss on him, then started fighting again.

The brawl went on for hours, until a mysterious man, dressed in all black, and a black ski mask, came and single handily killed everybody with just a paper clip. He then walked over to The Two.

“So, you are The Two. I am Nigel. I know what you are thinking. How in the world did I kill all those people, without having my cell phone fall out of my loose pocket. I know, it was amazing. Nobody else can do all that, AND keep their phone in their pocket. That kind of thing takes a lot of training.” Nigel then proceeded to walk away, when Jeff’s leg reached out tripped him. Sure enough, his cell phone fell out of his pocket.

“That’s it. You are done. You think there is only one person as skilled as me? Wrong. There is a whole army, and they are waiting for the right time to kill you! When Voldemort says the time is right, we will end your pathetic life.” After his little speech, Nigel walked away.

“What a tool.” said Jeff, while laughing. “What was his name again? Nate? Nigel? Nick?”

“I’m not sure. Hey! Maybe it says his name on his cell phone.” Jeff walked over to the phone and picked it up.

“NOKIA. Man, I was way off!”

“Okay listen, we have to find the ring as fast as we can. DanZeke25 needs this story to end soon so it is not too big to submit into the short story competition. So lets get the ball rolling here.” Morpheus explained to The Two.

“Who the hell cares about DanZeke25? We’ll find the ring when we damn well please.” After Jeff said that, a guy appeared out of nowhere and shot him in the leg. Jeff seemed to forget that DanZeke25 was writing the story and could kill him anytime he wanted.

“Oh, so that’s how it is? You’re going to kill us?”

“Maybe.” replied DanZeke25.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Jeff said, while sh*tting his pants. “Hey, why the hell did you do that?”

“Because I can.”

Meanwhile, in Voldemort’s lair…

“Listen, guys. I know we have trained for a long time for this day. 25 years, to be exact, but I have other plans. So if we can not kill The Two today, or find the ring and destroy the world, then we will never do it. I have to start filming for the fifth Harry Potter movie. I hope you guys understa- WHAT THE HELL?” Ali G emerged out of nowhere and slapped Voldemort with a wrench. All the Nigels tried to ambush him, but they were no match for Ali G.

“So, your name is Nigel?” Ali G asked to the last Nigel left. “What is that, Swedish or something? That’s a really funny name. That’s a name a batty boy would use. Me crew told me that you were planning to kill me main men The Two. Is this true?”

“Yes.”

“Booyakasha!” screamed Ali G as he punched Nigel so hard his head fell off.

“Well, look at that. That’s the ring me main men Nick and Jeff are looking for.” Ali G bent over picked up the ring, and put it on his finger. “I don’t see what’s so special about this bling.”

Meanwhile…

“So that’s our plan to find the rin- what the hell?” Smoke appeared all around Nick and Jeff. When the smoke finally cleared, Nick had his own body, and so did Jeff.

“Somebody has found the ring. It is over.” said Morpheus.

“Well, now what?” asked Nick.

“Nothing. We all live happily ever after.” And they all lived happily ever after. Except for Jeff, who got in a horrible car accident and was paralyzed from the waist down two weeks later. He will stay a virgin for the rest of his life.

“F*CK!”

The End.

If you can't understand what Ali G is saying, look up the Ali G glossary on google.

Lighting and Thunder Clash

The mist was layered heavy with only the dark, shadowed outline to guide Veela in his direction. It hadn’t been but three days since Master Yoda had offered this mission to her. The objective was simple find the fallen Vandom Darfer and stop him from doing anymore harm. She quickly found his hiding place on one planet before he fled here to this hell hole of a planet called Onardum. It was easy to follow him probably because he wanted her to find him as to his intentions she could not know for sure but knew to expect the worse.

It was cold and the steam rolling from her breath blended into the fog surrounding her as droplets of rain pattered on her head. The dark figure grew sharper as they came closer to one another. As soon they reached six feet apart they stopped and stared at each other. His body was still clouded in shadow and she could not make out his face but by now could at least see the stone chiseled outline of his body, almost like he had been sculpted and not born. Vandom’s dark cloak was hiding his great strength beneath the ripples of cloth. She on the other hand was of a different breed. Her Jedi Robes described no sign of glory or greatness they seemed loose and two sizes too big. Her long hair had shown flowing to her shoulders swinging from side to side in the gentle, icy wind. Had it not been for Force she would have been more suited to the damsel in distress role then a Jedi.

The droplets that had been few and far between now picked up the pace almost as if they knew what was coming and wanted it to stop before the battle had begun. Veela made out a blur moving, figuring it to be his hand she decided to reach down for her lightsaber as well. As her hand gripped the round holster she saw a flash of red and some crackling as his lightsaber had ignited into action. It was funny how he wasted no time in changing the color from blue to red just as her green saber had been turned on.

Weird she thought looking down at the two sabers. The mist had distorted them as the light reflected through it bending it making them both look like streaks of lighting and with any slight movement the crackling of the saber almost reminded her of thunder. The oddest thing was how the light from the sabers was being changed going the mist. His saber was giving off a purplish hue while hers a yellowish one almost making them seemingly a demon and an angel. This would be a true fight between the forces of light, and the legion of chaos. Well at the very least she thought at least it won’t be hard to track each other now.

He raised his saber over his head in perfect form flawless splitting his head in half with a slight lean. She quickly matched his form leaning all her weight on her right foot barely touching the ground with the left so she would be able to move quickly in case he lunged even though she knew he wouldn’t. He picks up his left leg bringing it over his right placing it on the ground and slowing sliding the right across all the while keeping his saber steady and his shoulder square simply beautiful in its grace. She did not have time to admire this fluid motion as she quickly duplicated the move so to not loose an advantage early with her grip tight as the drops of rain hit the blade causing a sizzling sound and making little puffs of water vapor.

She perfectly matched him almost like a mirror it seemed but what do you expect from two people who’ve been trained by the same person and sparred for years. Count Dooku had taught them both very well and she knew every aspect of him. If Dooku had still been part of the order he would have been sent but sadly that was not the case and she was all they had the only person in the Temple who could beat Vandom at his own game. They had trained since being Younglings when Dooku had taken both of them as his Padawans. Many hours had been spent clashing sabers and learning the gentle graceful form their Master employed. They had fought so much they knew what the other was practically thinking and just how to fight the other. Vandom had always been the stronger in everything both in body and the force. Despite that terrible truth she had managed to keep up with him only because she knew everything about him.

They had repeated the motion in almost a complete circle by now and with the next step she knew what was about to follow. Same old Vandom she though always one for a little theatrics even though not single word had been spoken. The right foot had just finished sliding behind the left. Veela kept all her weight on the left foot with her heel on the ground ready like spring coiled up and her right foot about a foot behind her with her toes on the ground.

Just then he launched himself forward just as Veela saw it coming as soon as his weight was leaning forward. He always liked to be the first one to attack. She quickly pushed of her back heel putting her weight on her right foot now. Just as the crimson blade cut where she was. The lightsaber had seemingly cut through the mist itself with even a louder crack then before.

Without hesitation she quickly brought her saber down and it literally looked like a flash of greenish lighting striking at him. He matched this by bringing his saber back up to counter. She quickly spun the saber around his so he wouldn’t have the posture advantage. At the same time they both brought up the sabers back over their head. Veela continued to place her weight on her back foot to retreat quickly. She knew she couldn’t try to overpower him he was to strong for her; she had to be on the defensive and wait. She noticed the tip of his front foot lifting that meant he was about to attack. He brought his saber down trying to strike her in the waist. She duplicated the motion to counter while moving backwards. Their sabers clashed and for a brief moment thanks to fog it looked like a mini rainbow. Can’t wait though Vandom was already bringing his saber up and was coming back down from the other side she had to hurry to match up. She just barely stopped his attack before he came back up. She knew this one would be a straight strike down upon her and had already been ready for it. This time instead of dropping her weight on the back foot she shifted to place everything in the front. Coning forward she was able to get underneath his incoming attack. Placing her left hand up to stop it she began to thrust with her right hand about to pierce him but he was ready as well. He used the force to jump back a good four feet from the blade but because of the fact he had to do this of balance on his front foot he landed awkward and was stumbling. Veela couldn’t wait she had to attack this was her chance. Bringing the saber over her head she rushed forward but before she got close enough Vandom had already been ready to counter.

Placing the palm of his hand up towards her, Veela quickly saw the mist rush past her face with great force just as her feet left the ground. She spun backwards to lend on her feet and just as her front foot touched she quickly ducked as the Saber came over top her. She brought her saber around over her head bringing it down. Blow after blow counter after counter neither of them seemed to be gaining any ground this fight. Between the sabers clashing and crackling and the mist it seemed as if a furious Thunderstorm was happening all around them. Even the cooling Rain added to it as steam rose from their bodies.

She brought her saber from the side to finish him but he was able to match her as the blades slide by one another she quickly changed hands inverting the saber in her left and quickly started to come back but he had done the same thing. There was only one thing to do and that was put her right hand up to stop his left. He was doing the same thing though and before she knew it she had become engaged in a test of strength with him which is not what she wanted. Vandom quickly overpowered her forcing her on her back. Her saber hand had been forced to her side and now his was closing pressing the blade to her neck with her other hand pinned between her body and his hand there was nothing she could do now. He had begun to lean closer by now Veela could see his twisted smile even through the fog as it gleamed with a purplish hue from the saber. The Saber was as close as it could be without touching her throat and his face as close as it could be without………..

Kissing her, his lips were touching hers. She tried to keep herself calm but in this moment she almost couldn’t help it she grabbed him as his saber turned off and he wrapped me in his arms and we began to embrace like we did that first time. Like I said I knew every aspect of him just like he knows every part of me both in mind and body.

He lifted his head, “I remember how this fight ended the last time we tried that,” as he began to caress her face with his hand. She was panting now his touch was soft even now in this wet, cold air she was so warm and hot at the moment. She brought up her right hand and brought his head back down to hers to embrace him once more. His kiss was like sweet nectar.
In between one kiss he said, “Looks like Yoda was stupid for sending you.”

He brought his head down as his hand began to run down my leg it felt so good. Just then his eyes widened and his head jerked up. Veela heard the quick crackle of the blade coming on and could see the yellowish hue highlighting behind him. She turned the saber off and pulled him off her. She got and watched him die right then and there speaking of how cold it was. She turned and pulled her hood up and started to walk off to the ship.

A small tear escapes her eye and rushes down her cheek. It freezes before it ever gets past her mouth. She thinks that sometimes Yoda scares her with his wisdom. That he somehow knew about their relationship and that he would make himself vulnerable to her blade. The mist was growing heavier and now the rain has turned into ice and she feels colder now than ever before both on the outside and in.

I can't remember what day or what time of night it was when it all began. I just remember I was too young to understand. To understand what was happening in my parents room. With their old boss. All I know is they went on that plane and never made it home.

8 years later and a whole lot more mature, I sit in my lower east side shop with him. The man I know no one can take from me. Working on the project that could get the landlord of our backs and under our feet. Nearly done; a few scattered pieces around the city but not too much missing.

The silver against black I glared at me. My prize, hard work and dedication won me. Rays and my own. I wasn't going to hide the fact that this was mine. I was going to show off for all I was worth to get back at the man who stole everything from me. My family. My work. My life. But that was all about to change. All of it.

They called him Shockwave Dave because when he spoke you could swear there was an earthquake going on in the city. Gravis had kept a close eye on me since I was about 3. Making sure this child prodigy didn't out due him. Lucky me. His eye wasn't close enough for this.

'' Now, Kay, I told you before. We went through everything.''

" Yeah, I know, Ray, I know." I muttered.

I strapped the long black mesh strap around my waist. The Belt itself was heavy. My many worries of the mesh being too thin returned as the buckle sagged low.

" Keep it short and sweet. Can't overload the memory now.''

''Ray, I got it.''

His eyes stayed on the buckle as it began reacting.

" We finish this you never take it off again."

" Raymond!"

He stopped. I hit the largest nerve in his body. He knew it was all over if he flipped now. I couldn't screw up another test run. The last two blew the circuits. Repairs were expensive and as good as Ray was Income was bad. I thought it over. I get the last 10 circuits we're in business. The Image wouldn't be a secret. And I would get even. Life would be better.

" We get this done and we get that Full Metal for you."

His eyes shrunk. He'd had been wanting a Full Metal since before I'd met him. The latest technology. THE best. The Full Metal was "live" metal. The Full Metal got its name from that kids show Full Metal Alchemist. The Full Metal is bonded to the patients nerves. The nerves then "grow" inside the almost hollow inside. Almost being the support beam steel ''bone''. Blood flows and the Full Metal give feeling actual feeling in the lost limb again. The only difference was that the Full Metal is gold colored and metal. Ray could care less.

''Don't screw it then, Kayna."

''Don't screw it then, Kayna.'' I retorted.

Being 18 and the very intelligent person that I was, I enjoyed reliving the childhood I missed.

'' Try something simple...."

''What the hell is simple? I'm not sure superpowers are considered simple."

"Try going invisible."

Simple? E=MC2 was simple. Making yourself invisible.... You do the math. I head swirled as it always did when we tested the belt. I looked down. The skinny stick figure that was myself had almost completely vanished. Rays eyes began to move swiftly over the computer screen. They hadn't gotten wide yet so it was a good sign. For now...

" Maybe this is a jinx..."

" It's okay, I- It's okay..."

His tone wasn't helping the fact that I could tell this was gonna blow up in our faces...again.

''Almost gone, Kay, so far so good..."

My heart raced at a speed I didn't think was possible. Ray was getting his hopes up. Higher than usual. I began to worry if that was going to cause him to make a mistake. He would screw up out of his own vanity then be all moody about it later. I still wonder why I fell in love with him.

" Just a little...YES!"

His optimism was over-rated but, by the sound of it if I could keep this up just a little longer then The Belt would be ready and we could be doing something a little more useful than running a Mech Shop on the lower east side. We could make things better.

"IT WORKS!''
Finally. We were set for life. I would become The Image permanently. Not going back and forth for repairs. I could stay out all night and just sit.

''Now, all we have to do is get the upgrades and you won't have to use the basic low-grade powers."

"Low-grade? What do you mean low-grade?''

'' You're only limited to about 10 or so basic powers. Most are easy-peasy, but others you really have to concentrate on when you use them, Kay. ''

" Yeah, yeah... "

I was dying of anticipation. My heart punched my chest. We'd done it! After almost 3 years, It was done...But I was still being smart-mouthed...Typical. Ray came up behind me while I stared a the completed piece of art.

" Lets go out! Celebrate. Just you and me..."

He wrapped his arms around me and I accepted it. He was right. This should be celebrated but not with seriously expensive alcohol. Maybe something a little closed to home.

-------------

Man, oh MAN, was I sick the next morning. This wasn't like any hangover I'd had before. Ray would have had a fit if he'd seen me throwing up as much as I did. Him being an ex-doctor, he would have gotten out his instruments and spend all day trying to figure out what was wrong. Luckily, he didn't wake up until about 11. And when he did, boy, was he excited.

" Gooood morning, Kaynelle. "

" Do you want me to hurt you? "

" I almost forgot I'm not allowed to call you that...but it's spite. "

Not allowed? Banned is more like it. Kaynelle is not another pet name. Oh, no. That’s the boss of things NOT to call me. Kaynelle happens to be my full first name. I hate it worse than Dave Gravis. Oy vey...I'd forgotten about him. Until, of course, when the bell rang. Ray answered it and he stood there talking for the longest time. Then Finally...

" Uh, Kay...? Sweetie...Gravis wants you at his office. "

" What? Now?"

" Uh,...yeah. Now. "
Crap. Crap of all types of crap. He can wait till I've eaten to send out his troops to get me for my monthly "inspection"? That’s when he sends his cronies in to sniff out the place for my inventions and his definition of " weapons of mass destruction". A.K.A. The Belt.

"Um, can I get my bag first?"

The messenger poked his head into the shop.

"Well, I suppose. But nothing more."

Bingo. Just what I needed in order to get The Belt and run. But wait...It would be oh so much more fun to ambush him in his own territory. Have him fall in front of his followers and colleagues. Man, for one of the good guys I sure do think like the bad guys.

"Let's go."

--------------

"My dear, dear Kaynelle..."

" Gravis, How long have we known each other?"

"What is it? 8 years now?"

"So why is it you still don't trust me? "

"My dear...I DO trust you...It's the boy I don't trust."

Who Ray? HA! That’s funny! The guy got his masters, was a doctor for about 3 years, and lost his leg in cross fire and Gravis doesn't trust HIM! While I am the one doing all the planning and creating.

" But the shop raids...are they truly necessary?"

"Why of course. If, they weren't why would I issue them?"

"I donno. I'm not you."

"18 years old and still not an ounce of maturity behind your genius."

"I think its natural."

"-Or hereditary..."

I almost lost it when he said that. It's one thing to insult me and my boyfriend, But insult my parents that I'm almost sure he killed...That’s where I draw the line.

" You are almost exactly like your father. Smart but oblivious to reality. Living with your heads in the clouds thinking you can cure cancer. Your father was a fool to believe he could do it. Even more foolish to ask for funding from ME."

I was using every last piece of self restraint from attacking him right then and there.

"But I felt bad for your mother...falling in love and marrying that idiot. I took pity on her and took you in. Gave you the best, or TRIED to. You wanted to be like the other girls so I put you in a public school. Honor rolls every year. Valid Victorian in all three of your graduations, Prom Queen, Lead parts in school plays... I gave you EVERYTHING! "

The room shook violently. I told you That’s why they call him Shockwave Dave.

"Yet you come to me saying I've had enough."

" I have. I need my distance from you. I need my space. You need to stop babying me and spoiling me. I have to grow up alone. It's the way it has to be."

He paused probably astonished to hear some mature words come out of me. He was probably about to kill me for talking back. I'd done it before when I was little and didn't know any better. He beat the holy snot out of me. Like I cared.

"You need your space? I suppose I haven't been distancing myself from you."

" Are we being honest here?"

" Is there something you'd like to say that could get you hurt, Kaynelle?"

"Sorta."

He stood there deciding if he wanted to know or if he should beat the bull out of me.

" Fine...I'm a generous person...you have a good minute to tell me anything you want to say. ANYTHING. Go."

It didn't take me too long to think about the things I had built up.

" You don't know how sick you make me. You make me so fricken sick to my stomach. You may just not know. You may not think you do but you do. I got a million reason off the top of my head to go off on you. If you only knew how much I hate you for everything you've done to me and Ray. People are so scared of you we've lost more than 2/3rds of our costumers because of my connection to you. And yeah I may have wanted to be like the other girls a few years ago, but now I want to be my own person. I'm legally an adult and you have no custody over me. This is my life now. And if you stand in my way I will not hesitate to try and kill you.

" TRY is the word, Kaynelle. Anything else?"

I took the deepest breath possible.

" Yeah...I'll never forgive you for killing my parents."

The tension of the room convulsed as I said that. I'd slipped farther than acceptable and I was about to loose my composure. My entire image....so to speak. His face clenched imagining his next move or the move he'd want to make. It was the most quiet tense moment I'd ever experienced.

" Repeat that, Kaynelle. I don't think I heard you."

" I said, ' You killed my parents'. You must have."

" My, dear...."

Crap. Crap. Oh, this is the biggest piece of crap I've gotten myself into. The biggest.

" This is a grave YOU have dug-"

" I dug two graves already. My Parents."

Shut up, Kayna! Shut up! That’s the dumbest thing to do!

" I've been nice for 8 years...But I am beginning to lose my patience with you."

" Forgive me for not being scared."

I was getting cocky because he was hesitating. He slowly and restrainingly walked over. My heart forced itself to stop.

" What is it? Have you gained some maturity in the past few minutes?"

" I always held it back because I thought I was supposed to be scared of you. It was just the way I was brought up. You think because you run most of my life you can sit here and do what you want?"

"Yes."

"Now it's different. Now I call the shots!"

And with that I clicked on the belt and it began to whir and glow. I glanced down and made sure it was working. It was. My figure began to disappear just as it had when we tested it back in the shop. Gravis' eyes grew wide and fearful. He should be scared. He was in huge trouble now. With me.

To Be Continued...

The dark green, topless jeep drove at a steady pace across the desert road. It was always a horrible experience to drive these roads for the Sanzo Party, as they were so called. In the drivers seat as usual sat Cho Hakkai. In the passengers seat sat Genjo Sanzo. Sha Goyjo sat on top on the back of the car, his legs resting on the seat while Son Goku sat in the seat, away from Goyjo. The usual seating arrangements for the party. Each wearing the same thing, monk clothing to keep the desert heat and sand away from their bodies.

Hakkai wore glasses that were had the left half missing, which didn’t matter much for that eye was permanently damaged after he tried pulling it out a long time ago. He also wore ear clips on his left ear, which in reality was a Youryoku Power Limiter, which suppresses his demon form. Goyjo had a headband which would be noticed if you look under the hood of the monk clothing. The word Joy is imprinted in Japanese on it. And Goku had a golden headband which was, like Hakkai’s ear clips, a Youryoku Power Limiter, which suppressed his demon form. Sanzo had his red dot on his forehead which marked his the monk that he was, even though most agree it is strange that he got the title of Sanzo when he was against most of what the monks were. He never cut his golden hair, he smokes, swears, gambles and pretty much everything the monks were against.

Each had strange colored eyes. Hakkai with his emerald green eyes, Sanzo eyes were purple, Goyjo with his red eyes that matched his hair, and Goku with his strange golden hues.

Hakkai kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding the hood of the monk robe shut. Sanzo was working to light his cigarette, cursing the lighter that died on him. Goyjo was luckier than Sanzo, he was already smoking a cigarette, looking out into space. As for Goku, he was complaining about his usual hunger.

“Will you shut up you stupid monkey,” yelled Goyjo, turning his head to Goku. “Your whining is making the heat worse.”

“But I’m hungry,” Goku continued to whine.

“Shut up, damn it!” Goyjo yelled again, this time ramming his fist into Goku’s face, knocking Goku’s hood down to his shoulders. He yelled with rage and he jumped at Goyjo to hit him, but Goyjo kicked him back off to the end of the jeep. Once more, Goku jumped at Goyjo. Gunfire went off, silencing the both as they started to fight. Sanzo had his anti-descending gun held up toward the sky.

“Both of you shut up,” he bellowed. “Your damn fights are really starting to get on my nerves.” Hakkai used his hand that he was holding his hood shut and held his right ear.

“Can you shoot that somewhere else besides my ear?” he said, smiling as he always did. “Maybe shoot it in between them? Maybe that would stop their fighting.” He smiled still. Ever since the death of his wife and the day he killed a thousand demons and became one, that is all he ever really did was smile, which usually confused his comrades on if he was joking, being serious, or anything. It actually kind of scared the others of the Sanzo Party a bit.

No one spoke for about ten minutes till Goku started up with his whining of his hunger again. As they neared the town, Sanzo finally did something about Goku’s whining. With one swift hit of a paper fan, Sanzo hit Goku across the head hard, yelling two words that seemed to leave his lips a lot, “Shut up!”

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The crowd around the market of the strange town was rather large, it was hard for the four to get around, much less Goyjo, Hakkai, and Sanzo to keep hold of Goku from running off to a food stand. In fact, his complaints for food were louder than the crowd itself. They still wore their monk clothing, but with the hoods down, revealing Hakkai and Goku’s brown hair, Sanzo’s golden hair that has got a lot of trouble with Goku with, and Goyjo’s blood red hair that marked him a half demon. They snaked their way through the crowd to a hotel of some sort. Of course, it was as crowded inside as outside.

Hakkai joked with the others, “I don’t think we will have a room to stay in with this crowd.” He struggled to the counter. Hakuryuu, now out of it's jeep form and in his dragon form, sat on his shoulder, watching around him, as he leaving Goku, Sanzo, and Goyjo behind. He ringed a small bell at the counter as a young woman walked up to the counter, her brown hair covering her face as she walked up. Earlier some men were trying to make a grab at her behind, and she was still upset about it. She wore a gold necklace around her neck with a green emerald in it. She looked up, her hair parting in front of her face. Hakkai gasped, his eyes widened, and with a soft breathe, he choked out, “Kanan?”

It was loud in the inn, but for Hakkai it seemed quiet, the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat and hers. This was in fact his wife, Kanan, the one who murdered herself and her child, the child that was impregnated into her by the hundred eyes demon.

She stared blindingly into his emerald eyes. “Cho... Cho Gonou?” she stuttered out Hakkai‘s old name, the name that was the shame of his past. “Gonou!” She jumped over the table and into Hakkai’s arms. Tears streamed down Hakkai’s shaded eyes, down his cheeks and onto Kanan’s hair. She looked up to him. “Cho Gonou is that actually you?” All Hakkai would do was nod. He didn’t have enough strength from his tears to speak.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Goku, Goyjo, and Sanzo sat at an empty table in the inn, waiting for Hakkai to finish signing them in. Goyjo and Sanzo were smoking, while Goku laid his head on the table, groaning on how hungry he was. Goyjo was getting annoyed on how slow it was taking Hakkai to get them a room. He was getting impatient. He turned his head, puffing out a bit of smoke, to the front counter, seeing some woman in Hakkai’s arms.

“What’s this?” asked Goyjo to the others, his eyebrow raised, his crimson eyes enjoying the sight of Hakkai finally with someone. Sanzo switched his gaze from the annoying Goku to the woman hugging Hakkai.

“I don’t think that is any ordinary girl," said Sanzo in a calm, but sort of serious voice. "Didn’t Hakkai show us a picture of this person before?”

Goku stopped his whining and turned his attention to Hakkai and the girl. “I don’t know, no one tells me or shows me anything anymore.”

Ignoring Goku’s comment, Goyjo answered Sanzo’s question. “Your right. I remember this girl in a picture Hakkai showed me before... isn’t that his wife? Or is it another person that looks like her?”

“No,” said Sanzo. “This is her. I can tell. But how can she be alive, Hakkai told us she was dead. Unless Hakkai lied to us, which I highly doubt since we are talking about Hakkai, this can’t be his wife.” Goyjo stood up and was about to walk over to them, but was stopped by Sanzo’s hand on his chest to stop him.

“Why are you grabbing me? Let go!” Goyjo tugged to free his shirt from Sanzo’s grasp.

“No,” he said to Goyjo for a quick answer. “Let Hakkai have his fun. But I still find it strange that this person should be dead and yet is still alive.”

Goku, who lost interest in the conversation, whined loudly, “I’m hungry!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hakkai looked into his wife’s eyes. “How can this be?” he asked. He didn’t want to know the answer, but he knew he must know. “You died...”

“I... Listen, it doesn’t matter right now,” she told him, putting her hand on his cheek. “We are together now and...” Kanan was cut off by a loud yell from a group of three people at a table near a corner of the inn.

Goyjo was the one yelling at Goku, “Will you shut up, you stupid monkey! I‘m tired of your whining!”

“Stupid monkey?!” Goku stood up, yelling back at Goyjo. “Well I am sorry but I am hungry damn it, you perverted water sprite!”

“Stop calling me that, you stupid monkey! You want something to eat, eat this!” Goyjo picked up a candle on a table and the wick blew out. He started to cram it down Goku’s throat when there was once more gunfire. A hole resided within the candle’s wax, Sanzo’s gun pointed at it.

“Will you two just SHUT UP!” he yelled, hitting both across the head with his paper fan. Hakkai stood, scratching the back of his head, watching them, a smile on his face, his eyes closed.

Kanan asked, “Who are they?”

“My companions,” he chuckled. “Oh yea, which brings me back to this, can we get a room for us tonight?”

“Yes... sure,” she answered with a smile. “I can get anything for you, my dear.” She now noticed the small dragon on Hakkai’s shoulder. “Who’s this?”

“Who? Oh him? His name is Hakuryuu,” he told her. Hakuryuu gave out a loud “Kyuu!” as a hello to Kanan. She reached out to pet the dragon, but moved her hand back quickly as Hakuryu nipped a bit at her hand. “Hakuryuu!” snapped Hakkai. “Be nicer to her. She is family.” But Hakuryuu give s slight growl with a puff of smoke from his mouth. He turned his head, nipped at Hakkai’s ear and jumped into the air, flying out a window.

Running after his dragon to the window, Hakkai yelled out. “Hakuryuu get back here!” No answer. Hakkai sighed as he was tapped on the back. He turned, expecting to see Kanan, but was startled to find Goku.

“Can we get some food now?” Goku complained. He seemed to have a large bump on his head. Sanzo must have used his fist, thought Hakkai.

“Ok... let me... Excuse me... please move... get out of my way please,” exclaimed Hakkai as he walked back to Kanan. “Kanan. Can you get some food up to our rooms?”

She nodded, her smile never leaving her face as she turned and took a key with a number tag on it, twenty-five. She tossed it over her shoulder to him, in which he caught it.

He walked to the staircase, and went up, the Sanzo Party following. They went up two flights of stairs to the top floor, and the furthest room from the staircase. All filed in after Hakkai opened the door, Goku shutting it behind them, still complaining of his hunger. They all sat around a small table on the floor, each taking a seat in one spot.

They quickly threw off the monk clothing. Underneath was their usual clothing. Sanzo was in tan colored robes that covered his entire body and most of his arm. And on his chest was probably his strongest weapon. The Evil Sutra. Hakkai wore a dark green long sleeve shirt tucked into khaki pants. He also had a light purplish sash across his chest. Goyjo in his white tank top that seemed a bit large and baggy, with a blue vest over it. And bagging khaki pants that only went down to his boots. And Goku dressed in his red, black, and tan shirt tucked into blue jeans. Topped off on his back a orange cape.

There were only two beds, which meant two people would have to sleep on the floor. And just like what happened before, they were going to play for the beds. Sanzo pulled out a deck of cards from one of his pockets and set it onto the table. “We shall all draw one card at a time, and the two with the highest cards, win.” He started to cut the deck as he spoke, then put it back in his hand and shuffled it. He then placed it back in the center of the square table. Each one drew a card, and looked at it. Goku chuckled.

“Show your cards,” Sanzo said calmly, but he didn’t turn over his card for the others to see. Goku turned first.

“The ace of hearts!” Goku gloated.

Goyjo laughed, and then showed his cards to the others. “Sorry Goku, but I got the ace of spades,” he mock gloated Goku, who was steamed, but not mad knowing he still stood a chance at getting a bed. Hakkai laughed softly, and looked at Goyjo and Goku with a smile.

“Well, I guess it seems I get a bed then,” Sanzo said, standing up, still not showing his card. He walked to the farthest bed and sat on it. Hakkai responded as well, getting up and going to the other bed, and sat on it.

“Looks like I get this one too,” said Hakkai.

Goku jumped with Goyjo. “What do you mean you both get the beds?!” both yelled at the two. Throwing their cards forward, Sanzo’s and Hakkai’s cards landed on the table. Sanzo’s a red joker, Hakkai’s the black joker. Goku stepped back, and fell onto the mat floor.

“Not again... and I am still hungry” he whined.

Goyjo fell at Hakkai’s knees, begging, “Hakkai, please, don’t let me sleep on the floor that stupid monkey! Can’t you go sleep with your wife?” This of course, hasn’t crossed Hakkai’s mind at all. Before he could answer, there was a knock on the door as it open. Kanan walked in with another young woman with brown hair. Both carrying trays of food. Goyjo counted them. “Three? Three trays? There are four of his here you know.” Hakkai shot a glare at Goyjo that actually shook him.

Kanan smiled as she and her other maid placed the trays on the table. “I was hoping for Gonou to eat with me,” she told them, “But if you want, Gonou, you can eat here.” Hakkai, of course, didn’t turn down the offer to eat with his wife that he hasn’t seen in years. This gave him the time to catch up with her. Both exited, but Goyjo didn’t let the maid leave empty handed. With a swift smack, the maid left the room in five minutes, fixing her skirt, saying as she slammed the door, “Pervert!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the bottom floor in room one, Hakkai and Kanan sat at a small table, eating in silence. It was until they had finished their meal, they talked.

“What happen to the child?”

“I killed it,” she said bitterly. “But it still pains me you know.”

“But how did you live as well?” Hakkai kept asking.

She sighed, and moved across the table to him, and leaned onto his chest into his arms. “Let us stop worrying about that. That was in the past. Let’s worry how we are going to deal with everything now.” She looked over to the bed. This is strange, she never acted like this before, Hakkai thought. But before he could say anything, she pushed Hakkai onto the bed and got on top. She covered them with a blanket...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A hour passed, the both lie in the bed, Hakkai’s hands behind his head, relaxing as his wife lie next to her, her right arm bent over her body, her hand resting on his chest. Both were naked below the sheets. Though Hakkai still wondered why Kanan acted this way, he didn’t say a thing yet.

“I love you,” she said. “Cho Gonou.” She turned onto him and started kissing his neck, then sucking on it.

His face paled. "Your... not... Kanan...” But he eyes went plain white, and he fell limp. His body was turning white as he felt the blood being sucked from his body.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well it seems Hakkai won’t be coming back,” Goyjo exclaimed. “And since I was in third place, I get his bed.” Goyjo said, sitting onto his bed. Goku lie on the floor, asleep. Goyjo looked over to Sanzo, who sat on the edge of the bed, starring into space. “Aren’t you going to go to sleep?”

Sanzo shook his head. “Something doesn’t feel right.” He said, standing up and walking to the door. “I am going to go find Hakkai. I want to talk to him.” Goyjo waved a small goodbye and fell straight to sleep on the bed he didn’t earn.

Sanzo walked down the staircase and asked the maid from earlier where Kanan’s room is. He thanked the maid and walked to room one, and knocked on the door. He heard a moan from inside, not of moan of pleasure as he would have expected, but a moan of pain.

He pulled out his anti-descending gun, and shot it at the door, shattering it to pieces. He saw both of them naked on the bed, the sheets covering only Hakkai‘s waist area. He saw someone sucking the blood from Hakkai’s neck, but it wasn’t Kanan. It was a demon. A demon with larges fangs that bit into Hakkai’s neck, pointed ears, and hair that went off the bed. It also had skin like a bug. Sanzo pointed the gun at her.

“Let him go, leech demon,” Sanzo said, his voice still calm. She turned to Sanzo and looked at him, licking her lips.

“You will get your turn... don’t worry.” And she moved back to sucking on Hakkai’s neck, blood was starting to flow down onto his chest. Before Sanzo had a chance to fire, there was a crash from behind him in the lounge of the inn. He turned to see the room full of leech demons, licking their lips, ready to get a bit to eat. Some of them jumped at Sanzo, but were destroyed a metal crescent moon shaped weapon that was attached to a chain, that lead of to a poll above him. Goyjo jump down from the third floor, in front of Sanzo, Goku landing next to him with the Nyoibou, his long red staff with two gold balls at the end of it.

“We will fend off these demons, while you help Hakkai.” Goyjo said.

“Alright,” Goku yelled with enthusiasm. “Been a while since I kicked some ass.”

Sanzo nodded and turned back to the room where Hakkai and the leech demon were. But only Hakkai was there, lying on the bed, fully dressed. Sanzo walked over to Hakkai and shook him. He was still warm, which meant he wasn’t dead, but he was awfully pale.

“At least she was nice enough to dress him,” he muttered to himself. He heard her jumping down from the ceiling, and was fast enough to out move of the way with swift feet, but she grabbed his leg and tripped him. She bit into his leg, and started sucking the blood from it. Sanzo’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he lost a lot of blood quickly.

Goyjo and Goku walked in, unprepared for the shock of the leech demon jumping at them, sucking onto Goyjo’s neck first, holding Goku down, then once Goyjo was out, she started onto Goku’s. Before she was about to kill the monkey, a green chi ball hit the leech demon on the back.

She looked back to see Hakkai standing on the bed. “Your not... Kanan,” he said to her. “Who are you? How did you look like Kanan?”

She chuckled and stood up. “Who I am you will never know, but I will tell you one thing. You forgot to kill one demon back at the castle where your wife died. Remember, the place you became a demon!” Hakkai eyes opened wide as she spoke, retelling the story. “And once you left, I came out of hiding, and drank her blood. I am able to turn into anything I drink. Either your wife,” with this said she shifted to Kanan, “you friends,” she shifted one by one into the Sanzo Party, “Or you!” She turned herself into Hakkai.

As Hakkai saw himself in front of him, his heart began to race. He was scared, seeing himself. And the past made him want to end himself as he thought of it. This was his chance to destroy himself without killing himself. He took this chance, and held his palm at her. “You will act as no one any more.”

She laughed, “You don’t have any energy left to kill me.” But the green glow of a chi ball still appeared as he it grew bigger and bigger. It was now she who panicked, she had nothing to stop the energy ball as it was thrown at her. She only ended her death with a scream and was obliterated. Hakkai fell back onto the bed, his back against the headboard and passed out.

Hours passed. They now walked the desert rode, looking for Hakuryuu. “I should have listened to him,” Hakkai said, looking down. He was behind the others, walking slowly. Sanzo stopped till Hakkai caught up with him, and he started walking with him.

“Love can make people do crazy things, Hakkai,” Sanzo told him. “That is why I never decided to fall in love. Besides, we will find Hakuryuu. He couldn’t have gone far.” Hakkai sighed, and looked up toward the starry sky. And there he saw a glint of silver scales come rushing at him.

Flashy Storytelling by Dusty

New York train station. Not many places could possibly hold a wider range of different religions, beliefs, stories, and folk tales for one to hear but this place and the New York airport. In all parts of the world, stories are the oldest form of history. Everywhere, anywhere, anything can tell you a story. Rings on a tree trunk tell a person the tale of age and survival. While murder scenes tell of revenge, struggle, and death.

However, the most vivid of stories are spread by word of mouth. But actions speak louder than words.

He is known only as ‘The Storyteller’. Storytelling has been a pastime for him and he tells of his favorites before leaving a partner of conversation. Not because it benefits. He enjoys it. The Storyteller is Aging. At first glance, he would appear to be around his mid-fifties, with silver hair, a Medium build, and eyes sharp as razors.

The Storyteller has no destination within the station today. Often, he journeys to the station just to gather new stories, so that he may conjure more stories of his own and send them out into the recycling world of entertainment.

Train 269. That’s the train. The Storyteller boarded the train with his hands in his pockets and his eyes surveying the faces of the trains passengers. A private four-seat booth was best for this kind of work. It’s quiet, and nullifies all outside hassle.

Plenty of booths were passed up without peering into the inside to check for listeners. The Storyteller ignored the people in the aisles with a straight path and let them move around him. An old man moves for no one.

Finally, a booth that caught his eye. The storyteller turned into the booth, sliding the door behind him, and sitting across what appeared to be an unorganized man, just trying to get from point A to point B. Maybe forty.

The Storyteller sat down, tossed his bag by his right side, and placed his hands on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the man. He squinted for a moment, and began to speak.

“Hello.”

“Hey pal, what can I do you for?” Replied the passenger.

“Could you possibly endow me with the knowledge of your name?”, asked the storyteller.

“The name is Grey Bickle. Thanks for asking. You wouldn’t believe how long it’s been since someone has asked me what my name was.”

“What is your occupation as of today? As of now.”, the storyteller continued.

“Right now? Right now, I sell cars. Among some other things.”
“That must be quite exhausting.”

“Depends on the time of the year, really. Most cars are sold around December.”, Replied Grey.

“Yes, but I am not here to buy a car, Grey. I am here to make a proposition.”

“Okay? What kind?”, asked Grey.

“Since you were not attentive enough to ask, I am a writer. A storyteller if you will. Earlier this morning I put the finishing touches on my momentous short story.”

“Sounds cool.”

“Yes, indeed. I came to bring it up because I wanted you to read it, critique it, and give me your opinion on how it affected you after reading it.”

“I can do that.”, replied Grey.

The storyteller reached into his bag and pulled out a small amount of wrinkly papers for Grey to accept.

“Its characters and its story mean the world to me. Thank you.”, said the storyteller with a serious tone.

Grey held the papers up to his face and began reading.

===================

“The Eyes of Red”

I sat in my office while staring at the broad who won’t stop the leak that sprung from her eyes. Ever since she walked into my office, she’s shed enough tears to keep Shamoo alive. She informed me that her husband was killed in cold blood, and she can’t even find the body. The only way she knew , is by a little photo she displayed on my table. And if that’s not bad enough, her kids were abducted and she wants me to find the bastard who ruined her life.

I’m a private eye. I’ve always wanted to be a private eye. Photography has always been a strong hobby of mine, and I love puzzles. Life is routine, and so is photography. Photography Is life.

Aim.
Click.
Flash.
Capture.
Turn.
Walk away.

The broad is almost done explaining everything. It’s mostly the same thing over and over again using different words. Right now, the only thing on my mind is my wife. She promised me a romantic night on the town while little Red stays with my mother. Little red is almost 8 years old. I’d say that’s not bad timing for a thirty-year-old like myself, huh?

Finally the broad leaves and I strap my camera around my neck and head out the door.

The night was exactly as I described.. Romantic. Who doesn’t love romance? Anyway, it’s 8 in the morning and I’ve got to go look for some potential suspects. The broad gave me a few tips of where he might be, and where he was last seen. I toss and turn at a few of the options and finally choose a possible location.

It’s a bar. A bunch of lowlifes with their mouth agape and eyes fixed on a dancing brunette. I’ve been around the block of life, and in these sorts of places, the big boss room is usually in the back room. Basically, the door behind the bar. I fasten my camera around my neck and take a seat on the empty barstool.

“What’ll it be sir?”, he asked me.

Now, I don’t drink, and I’ve got to find a way to move this jerk so I can walk into that room without hassle. So what do you do? I’m great at reading people. I just have to scan this guy and figure out what makes him tick. He’s young. Twenty-one probably. I can say this confidently because nobody my age wears his car keys on his belt-loop. Kids only do that when they want to show off a new toy.

I looked at him and cleared my throat.

“Do you know anyone who drives a black chevy? I almost died out there from all the smoke coming out of the drivers side. At first, I’d say the owner should start rolling his windows up. Unfortunately for him, that’s not his biggest problem. The damn car is on fire.”

It worked.

The youngster ran out to the parking lot like he actually had something to lose. By the time I said “Black Chevy”, he was sweating like a whore on nickel night. Now the coast is clear and the door is a straight shot. I walk around the bar and slide past the door.

Just an empty hallway filled with rooms of people playing cards and drinking booze. The door at the end of the hallway looks promising. It has some text on the front, it only reads “Tune”. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but I walk in anyway. It’s just a guy sitting in a tall chair eating Chinese food. He looks like a seal and burps every 5 seconds.

“And what do you want?”, he said.

“To talk, Mr. Tune. I’ve got a hot piece who wants to know who killed her husband. She pointed a finger at you. And I’m here to confirm.”

“Hot piece!? Does she work here?”, he said after several burps.

(Cont'd)

I can tell that this lard had nothing to do with her husband. He can barely reach from his waist to his plate. Let alone pull a trigger. I pull out my camera as well as my eagerness to get out of this shit hole of a titty bar.

Aim.
Click.
Flash.
Capture.
Turn.
Walk away.

Next morning, I wake up, strap on my camera, kiss my wife goodbye and go out looking for more souls to capture with my lense.

A whole bunch of nothing. I ask questions and take pictures anyway. It’s been a long day. Maybe I’ve overlooked something. A picture says a thousand words. You just have to figure out what those words are.

I’ve become more and more suspicious as I ask around. It seems like the more people I talk to, the more people suspect what my next question is going to be.

I need liquor and I need it now. I stop by a bar and grab a few bottles and drink one to the bottom. I’m pretty tolerant when it comes to the stuff. After one bottle I can actually feel it getting into the blood and into my head. I hold my stuff and act fine. It’s time to go home now. Dinner can be tasted already.

My car pulls into the driveway when I notice that mom came home with my boy, little Red. It’ll be good to see him again. He’s been gone for two weeks. Oddly enough, mom left her car door open. She hasn’t done that since I was a kid.

It’s only halfway up to the door when I notice there is blood on the pavement. I rush through the door to hear an empty house. My son should run and hug me at the waist at any second now.

He doesn’t come.

I’m worried now, and I walk into the kitchen to see my wife on the ground setting in a pool of blood. I pick her up and begin to bust. It appears she was shot about four times in the stomach. Who could have done this? Then the thought shoots up into my brain that Mom and Little Red are here somewhere.

I run into the living room and only get a glace at what has happened. A glance is enough. I only need to say that I’ll never see my boy grow up into a man. He’ll never take care of me when I grow old. What have I done? Why is this happening?

Something catches my eye on little red and I pick it up. It’s a piece of paper that reads:

“You meddle. You see what happens. There are a million ways to die. Three have been placed unto your feet.”

===================

Grey finished the story and looked up at the storyteller with a disturbed look on his face, and a hint of disappointment in his eye.

“That’s it?”, said Grey.“That’s tragic. Where’s the happy ending?”

“I prefer to be real, Grey. Like my stories, life does not have happy endings.”

“Then what is the point of the story?”, asked Grey.

“A point is determined by the reader. You, better than anyone, should be able to find that point.”

Grey looked down at the paper and his eyes swung open as he looked back at the storyteller.

“What did you say your name was again?”, Grey said.

“To the average man, my name is simply “The Storyteller”. But you sir, can call me Red.”

Grey set the papers beside him and stared the man down. Red reached into his bag and pulled out a silenced pistol and began to speak.

“For almost twenty years I’ve been hunting you down. Finally, I get the chance to take revenge on you for taking my beautiful wife and son from me, and snatching my mother from her rightful place in my heart. You ruined my life, and now I’m going to stop yours. Prepare yourself.”

“You can’t do this. You don’t have what it takes to kill me like this.”

Red’s face bore a devilish smile.

“There are a million ways to die, Grey. You said so yourself.”

Grey stood up and Red was ready to fire.

Aim.
Click.
Flash.
Collapse.
Turn.
Walk away.

The End.

I Pray, Never Forget
Disclaimer: The song and characters do not in any way belong to me, credit goes to Amanda Perez and JK Rowling. I am not making any money from this.

You know with each day that passes by, I pray to god I'll never forget who you are. You mean everything to me.
I love you...
Oooooh, Ooooooh
Ooh I pray, mmmmmm

"Harry!" she cried. She reached out, out, out...
Ginny Weasley screamed as he fell to the floor, lifeless.
"HARRY!!!" This time, she screamed his name.
"Ginny!"
It was her mother.
Ginny opened her eyes. A dream, just a dream...but no. It had happened, and Ginny had to face that fact.

You were in my dreams,
Before I even knew there was a you and me,
Now I can't wait to see your smile,
When I wake up each day,
It makes it worth while (ooh),
With the kinda love you plant inside,
Especially with a heart so empty as mine.
All the soft tenderness,
Is the one thing that I don't wanna miss.

"Mum, oh, Mum..." she breathed.
"I know, darling, I know," Molly Weasley sat on the bed and pulled her daughter into a hug. "It's going to be alright," she whispered into Ginny's hair, and rocked her back and forwards.
"No. No, it's not," Ginny pulled away and looked at her mother, "What time is it?"
"It's..." Molly looked at her gold watch. An anniversary present, from her beloved husband, "Half two...why?" Realisation hit her.
"Ginevra Weasley, there is no way you are going down to Godric's Hollow, not at this time of night. I will not allow it. Not at all."
"I have to," Ginny whispered, "I need to see it...the place where th-they...d-died. I can do it. In thirty minutes, Harry Potter will have been...gone, for twenty-four hours. I need to be there. I loved him. I still love him. Please. I need to see all their graves."
"Fine. But Tonks will take you. You-Know-Wh, oh, scratch it, Voldermort may be gone, but there have to be a few Death Eaters that escaped and are hungry for success, as was Voldermort, out there. We cannot be too careful."

I pray,
When it's time for me to say goodbye
I'll never forget looking in your eyes,
I pray,
That I feel your touch
And that God doesn't forget in our love,
I pray,
When I close my eyes,
I can still see visions of you on my mind.
I pray,
That I see you in another life,
I pray that you're still by my side.
Oh I pray.

Fifteen minutes later, Ginny and Tonks were standing side-by-side, about to disapparate.
"Ready? Are you sure you want to do this?" Tonks asked.
"I'm as ready and sure as I'll ever be."
"Here we go, then...on three...one, two, three!"
A pop, a cough and the feeling of being squeezed through a tube later, Ginny and Tonks were standing in front of a gate. Behind the gate were nine new-looking gravestones; Harry's, Aurthur Weasley's, Charlie's, Lupin's, Neville's, Mad Eye Moody's, Fred's, Hermione's and Fleur's. Also behind the gate were two old, battered gravestones: Lilly's and James'. There was a memorial for Dumbledore, too. They brought tears to Ginny's eyes. She shivered, but not because it was freezing temperature out there.
"I-I d-didn't bring anything..." she stuttered. "How can I give something? I'm not using my wand, you know I won't."
"They may be gone, Ginny, and I know you vowed never to use your wand again, but look. If you're in trouble, what are you going to count on? Even for the simple things, like to wash the dishes, you use your wand for practically everything. You have the right to use your wand. You do have it, don't you?" Tonks said quietly, but it sounded like she was shouting in the silence of the area.
"Of course. I just...I just feel bad. They used their wands to kill some of Voldermort's most trusted followers, but they all died, in turn, by a wand."

Everything that you give to me,
Only comes in a fantasy,
It seems like life goes so fast,
But in this time I wanna make it last. (I pray)
I hate that we live to die,
But only God knows why (I pray)
We all have a purpose,
And to see you again It'll all be worth it.

She took out her wand and rolled it around in her fingers.
"Let's go in."
The gate swung open as Tonks entered the small 'garden' around a tiny cottage, swamped in ivy. It was probably all the ivy and weeds growing up the walls that was keeping the house standing.
Ginny tore her gaze from the building, and looked at the gravestones instead. She silently walked along the line of headstones and back again. Once more she made her way up the line, but stopped at the middle. This gravestone, the biggest of the new, was Harry's. On the very top, there was a lightning bolt the exact shape of Harry's scar, only much thicker. Underneath, there was his name and a description:

Harry James Potter
Harry James Potter died in the event of killing the Darkest wizard of all time; Voldermort.
Mr. Potter annihilated "He Who Must Not Be Named" but died himself shortly after, of exhaustion, against his father, James Potter's, grave.
Potter first weakened Voldermort considerably at the age of just one, and became the Boy Who Lived. He then lived for ten years in a Muggle household, the Dursley's, who where his aunt's family. He was, apparently, bullied and forced to do everything for these Muggle's since he could walk. Nobody knows the full story of what went on, but it was awful.
May his soul live on.

I pray,
When it's time for me to say goodbye
I'll never forget, looking in your eyes,
I pray,
That I feel your touch
And that God doesn't forget our love,
I pray,
When I close my eyes,
I can still see visions of you, on my mind.
I pray,
That I see you in another life,
I pray that you're still by my side.
Oh I pray.

"You avoided death so many times, Harry, why couldn't you do it again?" Ginny asked. "I loved you. You know I did. And still, you went and died, leaving me alone. You promised me everything would be all right! You PROMISED! YOU SWORE TO ME, YOU - you made me believe you - I TRUSTED YOU!"
Ginny tried to cast a spell at his grave, to cause damage to it, but of course, she couldn't do it. All that came out of her wand were orchids, roses, lavenders, lilies and all sorts of different petals.
"I love you," she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks, her anger gone. "Tell me if you love me. If you do love me, if you are Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, you'll be able to show me."
I would say it what happened was sudden, but it wasn't, not really.
The temperature around Ginny warmed, and a breeze wafted around her feet, whirling leaves around. The air washed over her like a warm bath, and she felt comforted by this. It was like looking into Harry's eyes all over again. It brought tears to her own eyes.
'Who would have thought it?' Ginny mused to herself, 'Ginny Weasley, Gryfinndor's gossip queen, who had a different boy every month, who never, ever cried, is standing at a gravestone, crying over Harry Potter.'

I wish that I could stop time,
I wish that I could rewind,
To the very beginning of every second of my life.
To ask God on my hands and knees,
To never let me forget, all my special memories.
See I'm only promised today,
And if it's my time to go,
I don't want the love of my life, to ever fade away,
So one last time,
Let me open my eyes.
To see, what my life used to be like.
Oh God.

The wind around her feet got stronger, and travelled up her body, to her head. Her whole body was encased in pleasant heat, and it was fantastic after the cold she had just felt.
"Ginny..."
"Tonks?"
"Hmm?"
"What did you say?"
"I didn't say anything, Ginny."
'Wait...what was that, then? I'm hearing things, I must be,' Ginny thought.
"I love you, Gin...bye..."
The warm breeze gradually stopped, and the ice cold gripped the air once more. Ginny's insides, however, stayed warm.
She looked around, and at her feet, the flowers and petals had been rearranged into words:
"I love you, G,
Never forget me,
H"

'That wasn't the wind...' Ginny's mind felt smoothed out, like it had been ironed -which was a great improvement on the tangled mess she had been feeling for the last 24 hours.
"Harry..." she whispered.

I pray,
When it's time for me to say goodbye
I'll never forget, looking in your eyes,
I pray,
That I feel your touch
And that God doesn't forget our love,
I pray,
When I close my eyes,
I can still see visions of you, on my mind.
I pray,
That I see you in another life,
I pray that you're still by my side.
Oh I pray.

Ginny knelt on the soft, warm earth in front of Harry's grave. She ran her fingers over the writing and the scar, and her tears vanished.
"I know, Harry. I know. Never forget," Ginny pressed her hand just below the scar, "I love you."
Ginny stayed where she was, reading and rereading the writing on his stone.
"Ginny."
She looked up, and saw Tonks, who was resting a hand on her shoulder.
"Come on. We've been here nearly an hour. Your mother will be worried."
Ginny got up and smiled at Tonks.
"Yeah. You're right. Come on."
She linked her arm through Tonks'. Her best friend, One True Love and most of her brothers were gone, but Tonks was there for her, and she had to make the best of that. They walked to the gate, but Ginny held back.
"Wait one sec, there's something else I want to do," she said.
She ran back to the grave and conjured up some more flowers. She cast a spell and they were rearranged to a heart with Harry written across the top, and from the y, there was Ginny's name going down.
While she was walking back to Tonks, she looked over her shoulder and at the stones once more.

You know with each day that passes by, I pray to god I'll never forget who you are. You mean everything to me.
I love you...

"I love you."

~Fin~

Disclaimer: All things Batman mentioned in this do not belong to me.

Note : Excerpt from a RP saga based on DC's Nightwing that i'm a part of at this other site.

We burst in through the skylight with too much of a resonating crash. I crouch down low as soon as I feel my feet slam against the hard cement of the floor. Glass shreds shower down upon us and some of it bounces off the hardness of my cowl.

Up ahead down the hallway runs a man. Even from the view of his backside I can tell that his movements are swift. Fluid. Agility reeks out of every step he takes while dashing down the hallway. Agility of the kind which should be foreign to an average inmate…

“That’s him!” Nightwing’s voice rings sharp in my ear via the comm. Before I can respond, his blue and black form tears down the hallway after the figure. I myself start to break into a run, following the two warily.

It is when we chase the man to the almost end of the hall that I am made to elicit a gasp. The turn of his head and the revealing of his face is swift. As much as the manner with which he instantly throws the sharp shiny dagger at us. The metal of the weapon glints as it hurtles towards us, forced to an abrupt stop inches away from the glowing slits of Nightwing’s mask as his gloved fingers wrap around its handle in a firm grip.

Silence ensues for a second or so as I watch Nightwing release his breath slowly, “And we haven’t even gotten started yet.”

Nightwing throws the dagger to the side and lunges forward at his attacker as if without missing a beat. I follow suit and we chase the man down the hall to the point where he slips inside the last open cell to the right.

A second dagger is thrown at us upon entering. This Nightwing blocks expertly with his gauntlet and sends it flying across the hall. We step inside. I see the man in clear view for the first time. His black beard is prominent under the illumination of the tube light overhead. Dangling from his ear is a gold hoop which glints as his tall, lean form stands against the wall, his black, shadowed eyes looking Nightwing up and down.

Nightwing cautiously steps towards the man, “What does Ras’ Al Ghul want from me?”

I eye the man, making sure to have my hand wrapped around a batarang, ready to strike if needed. He doesn’t seem threatened or even obliged to answer. Something which gives me ominous vibes about him. His eyes meet mine and after a moment of silently regarding me, he turns his gaze back to Nightwing and responds, “He’s got great plans for you …”

I make sure to keep my eyes on him as I can’t help but think over his words. Is he being sarcastic? It is Nightwing who breaks the momentary silence that had seemed to settle between us, “Get to the point.”

I start a little as the man’s black eyes abruptly lock with mine. He smirks a little, “Such scrutiny is unnecessary at this point.”

My fingers do not loosen their grip on the batarang and I continue to stare at him in silence a bit unsure of the situation. Nightwing takes a step towards him with a determined air. “Answer the question.”

He clutches on to the front of the man’s uniform and attempts to force his face down to his eye level. The man lets himself be lowered a bit so he is face to face with Nightwing. But when he speaks again it is with as unflinching a tone as ever, “Such arrogance can only stem from a false sense of strength.”

He pushes Nightwing away from him, forcing himself free of his clutches with a surprisingly strong force. Nightwing seems as taken aback as myself and reacts immediately by producing a batarang and aiming the sharp blade of it quickly against the man’s throat. Irritation is evident in his tone as he grunts, “I think we’ve had just about enough this, don’t you? Let’s get back to what we were supposed to be doing-”

There is a commotion downstairs. I turn my head in the direction of the noise coming up.
“I’ll take care of it.”

I run out of the door and leave Nightwing alone to deal with the man. The disturbance downstairs most likely has something to do with cops. And that’s not what we need right now what with the way this ‘interrogation’ session is going…

After ensuring that the hallway is clear I walk across and crouch down before peeking at the sight below. Yes. There are a couple of cops that are making their way up the stairs from a few floors below. I activate the comm. immediately and inform Nightwing, “We don’t have much time. The cops are here.”

I take out gas pellets off of my belt and throw them over the railing. I watch as they hit the ground and explode upon impact, bursting into masses of tear gas. Leaning over the railing a bit, I peer down and notice the gas taking its effect on the ones among them who had hung back to inspect the outburst of it.

Moans and sporadic groaning can now be heard amidst the growing clouds of gas. I step away from the railing. Here’s hoping Nightwing is getting the answers we need…