“I not only use all the brains I have, but all that I can borrow.” -- Woodrow Wilson.

This is my cousin K.
She loves to play with kittens. Someday she wants to live in a kingdom with a handsome king.

This is my uncle L.
He takes care of the lawn. He pushes a large lawn mower while he drinks lemonade, and he rakes up leaves.

This is my mommy M.
She owns a miniature monkey. She makes marvelous muffins that she feeds to her monkey, and she drinks milkshakes.

It was in my first summer spent in China that I realized meat wouldn't be reentering my life. I had considered becoming a vegetarian before but the disapproval of my family is what stopped me. I could not become one of those sick, pale girls who look like they were about to pass out. For most of my life I was a junk food girl, shoving down fast food hoping that if I was fast enough I might not be able to taste it. It seemed sort of like a challenge, eating as much crap as I could just to prove to others that yes, I do have a freakishly fast metabolism. I never questioned where the food came from, as long as it appeared on my plate that was fine with me.

Victoria Stone kept fidgeting as she tried to get comfortable in those modern metal seats these airport terminals now have. Her new stepsister Eve Shrowder and her were waiting for their plane to arrive, witch was now two hours delayed. The New York LaGuardia airport smelled like stale coffee, carpet and junk food all mixed together in a interesting but unpleasant odor. Sitting in terminal C2 with a person you have no interest in being with isn't Victoria's idea of fun. She would rather be at her dorm putting her photography portfolio together than being in this brutal situation.

Tanya let her eyes roam the overhead sky as she stretched in preparation for her run. Slightly grey and hazy, a firm breeze whipping around her body; a storm was definitely on the way. She set off at an easy jog. Out here, in the open air, it was just her and the road. No complications, no histrionics, no hesitancy--just one foot pounding the pavement in front of the other. Tanya increased her pace, letting the repetitive thunder of striking feet wash over her charged nerves in a soothing flood. Life was hard, but this--this was easy.

I’ve lived in Sourcestone my entire life. I’ve visited, conversed, and argued with most of its three hundred occupants, at one time or another; over the past 16 years. I’ve also noticed the disappearance of numerous young girls.

“They ran away.” Dad assured me, along with all the elders.

So I let it go, even though it didn’t make sense. Why only 16 year old girls, and never boys? But even stranger…how is it, a new 18 year old boy shows up, shortly after a girl goes missing?

How quickly can one human life unravel? In my experience it had taken fully around nine months and three weeks. Roughly the gestation period for a human being, funnily enough. I sat in an over brightly lit room full of hard plastic chairs, industrial gray, lest they lend either color or spark to the utilitarian room. Kafka-esque my literature professor would have said.

I sighed deeply and shut my eyes.

I needed this job.

I am the oarsman on the River of Styx, it has been my burden since the dawn of man. For a toll of two coins I take those souls, who have passed, to their final destinations. I have seen all types, I have smelled the swine, and touched the roughest of them, any yet, my work here is not done until the last man pays his toll and takes his ride to the very end.

As the mortal's clocks strike nine, the first of this evening hath arrived. A soul of pure evil is at my gate, to take him now or make him wait?

Cool water flowed over my shoulders and down the front of my sweat laden shirt. I was sitting in a rock chair sculpted by the passage of a jungle stream. Beyond the sound of the falling water, silence extended indefinitely. On either side dense foliage formed an impenetrable barrier.

I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with virgin air unsoiled by man. The sun's rays filtered through the canopy, creating stencils of light on leaves the shape of elephant ears.

It was discovered to be no joke.

April was really dead. Mae shook her head sorrowfully as she stared at what she now realized was her sister's body. The smell of gun powder still lingered in the air and the shot seemed to echo all around her. How could April have been so stupid? She knew Mae was on constant alert since her stalker, Fiona Grace, had been released from the psyche ward earlier that month.

Had it really been her sister that sabotaged her car causing it to stall on this back road? Had she really been the one to follow her around all week?

John passed through the white bricked hallway and turned a sudden right into the open doorway, the sudden turn and attempt of lining his shoulders and body perfectly in the middle of the doorway was a mini challenge of his that he did for his own amusement, of his drawing/cartoon class. His teacher, Mr. Apollo, was a retired "imagineer" or something for Disney, or whatever they call the people who draw stuff for Disney, so he was able to convince the school to allow him to teach a cartoonist class; which in John's opinion was awesome. Mr. Apollo was an older, short man. He had a long white beard that hid his usual smile he had. Often he wore clean, solid colored, lose fitting button-ups and relaxed khakis. Although, he was permanently slightly bent from old age, his voice reeked of youthfulness.