Consistency : 08/01/2022

It was so beautiful, yet it was so short. It felt as if it went on for thousands of years, as if it’s existence defined my life, as if it was the beginning to my truth and the end of my sorrow. It engulfed me totally and proved omnipotent in my world, my universe–it was so ethereal.

It was my love.

My love that I gave like it was a present for all. My love that I slaved for in return for a meaning to my life. It was my love, and even though it seemed so real, it was anything but. That may have been why it was so ethereal; but I know, deep inside my soul, that is the reason it was so ephemeral.

For who can keep what has never been? It did not matter what I considered my love to me, nor did it matter how much meaning it held. The universe did not care that I needed it to survive, that my love kept me from converting into a desolate husk of a being. That my love kept me from losing myself, the universe did not care. I could not keep my love. Perhaps, because it had never been true.

I called it my truth and I held it dear when the real meaning to life was nowhere near. I believe the universe was trying to save me a headache, but instead it left me with overwhelming heartache. One I may not be able to conquer. One that may consume me whole.

So now, I think and ponder and lust for my love, though I know I may never have it once more. For my love… it was never real. Beautiful, yet so, so ephemeral.

This is Video’s submission btw lmao.

It’s not often that you find someone you love, so when you do, they say fall. Fall into that love as quickly and forcefully as you can, just fall and trust with everything you have and forget every worry. So, I fell. Falling into the abyss-like hell of loving you, it’s too bad forever is only three months long nowadays. I think I saw you first, with your perfect hair, teeth, eyes, sitting by yourself like you’re the main character of a fan-fiction written by a child, reading. Your hair in a stupid messy bun, you sat and read whilst occasionally pulling strands of your hair behind your ear. I knew in that moment, I needed to talk to you at least once. So I went up to you, I started the conversation, you used your wiles as bait and I was hooked. For three months you tethered me along, with your “I love you”s and your “I miss you” but never “you’re my girlfriend” never “I hope you’re my forever“. Like a lost puppy, I ignored the giant glowing red flags and went with it and you played with my love like a dog does with its toys. I’m mangled and torn up by the violence of your betrayal. Your tone changed when a prettier woman came through, one who was better at loving you and being loved by you than I ever was. So, now, I sit here, bitter and cold as you drain my life of joy and burn it into ashes. My three month love, my big mistake, you are one I will never make again.

Day here

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Some moments may seem like they last forever, but they don't. They seep away—one by one—into the cracks of memories, stealing away time and making you forget who and what you are.

In the space between one moment and the next, you can fall in love. All it takes is one ephemeral glance, one brief touch, and you're lost in the sensation of falling, falling, falling.

You grasp for the moments but they are always out of reach. You try to remember but you always fail. You remember falling but you don't know for who and when.

The memories sit barely out of reach, hindered by the shadows in your mind. Who are you?

You'll never know.

Word count: 152 ✨

Florence’s first performance was spellbinding: perhaps literally, perhaps not.

She was obviously nervous at first, a slight tremor in her voice, but soon eased into it as the story progressed. It was told in the style of an old folk tale, discussing how a miller’s daughter came to find refuge in an abandoned city. Describing her journey through a storm, the audience shivered; Florence simply smiled at them. It was her doing, after all.

She knew she would be safe when she found a path of glowing amber leading the way to a tall windmill.

The floor lit up just as she described. She seemed to call the gemstones forward. They weren’t solid… they collected into three glowing orbs of light dancing near her face.

That moment there.

That moment, her face bathed in golden light. A moment of perfection.

That was the moment Erica realised what had been obvious all along.

Word count: 786 ✨

The silk running through her body could not console the sorrow of her resigned heart. Her bare feet, caressing the stones of her path, felt like knives trying to stop her. Ah, nature had always been her space of comfort until this moment, the forest that had welcomed her for years was now nothing more than a tomb of dark oak and moss.

Devotees surrounded the young girl's passage on the cobblestone path, hidden in a forest, dressed in ceremonial clothing, the young girl's garment glistened with luxury and quality, whitish silk, filthy purity. Her face hidden by a veil, no one could see that the face of duty was only half the age of those devotees who chanted rejoicing for the priestess who would put an end to the evil of the village.

Each step carried with it a memory of the last five years in the temple. Voices chanting the greatness of sacrifice as the most immaculate devotion, but she did not agree. While evil was to be eradicated, could it not be influenced? Try to change it first? If only the Supreme Deity was able to judge, what were they doing walking toward the end of a life? The weight of the dagger in her outstretched hands in front of her threatened to unbalance her. Before she had been rescued by the devotees, she had lived free in the forest, one more spirit of all those who now watched silently in the darkness of the leaves, she could run away now, leave everything behind, let someone else take the step. But wouldn't she be committing with the next priestess what she reproached of these devotees who surrounded her like prey, instead of salvation?

The young girl pressed her lips together and her sight blurred, the feelings of her heart bound by duty and guilt, the eternal path a moment ago lasted only an instant when she stopped thinking, the moment she resigned herself, to the life about to be lost under her hands. A temple in the middle of the forest stood like a rose among wild flowers, but she knew that this reddish color was not for love, but for obedience. Immaculate filth.

Arriving at the small esplanade in front of the temple, the devotees chanted with care, the young priestess dancing the steps of death. The chief priest who accompanied her did not take his eyes off her at any moment, satisfied with the spectacle. Finished the last rituals, the priest and the priestess entered through the main door of that mystical place, made of marble, silver and gold. But no matter how shiny, the blood marks contrasted with the same intensity that had left them there. They passed into a room so small that there could only enter one person, with a circular symbol in the center, the priestess walked until she reached the center, and there she could notice that the symbols were not drawn, but engraved on the floor, where the blood that would mark the end of the ceremony would run. In front of her, a window and the ceremonial dagger in her hands.

That was all? This was all her life was worth? The time had come, but the buried feelings only resurfaced with the life they were trying to protect. I want to live. I want to live! I want to touch the clouds that caress the earth when the sun is barely awake, I want to drink from the rain that gives life with every drop, I want to grow until my hair turns silver and shines in the moonlight. I want to do everything that can be done, meet everyone I can meet. So what if his life stops the evil for a year? If it comes back anyway, what's the point of giving your life for a moment for others?

The young girl clenched the dagger in her hands until they became one with her dress. She could not jump out of the window, as it was made to resist evil, what she had become, but the priest was only there to command the sacrifice of life, not the one who resisted, since they could not kill with their own hands. With determination, the young girl turned in haste and threw herself at the entrance with her whole body, however, the illusion of life lasted only the instant of thinking it.

The priest was closer than she thought, and as she felt the life slipping through her fingers, she watched her hand clutched in the priest's hand. She had ended her life, just as it should be. And she understood why there was no precedent, why obedience, why... the possibility of hope.

((otto here hi >:) ))

A day is only 24 hours. No one really dwells on that for too long, or the concept of time as a whole, but it does go by very quickly. It feels as if it does, at least. One moment, you're waking up in the morning, and the next, you're preparing for bed. It doesn't just apply to days, it can also be said for weeks. Months. Years. Weekdays and weekends blur together if you don't stop to catch yourself in the present moment; months will come and go one after the other with such ease that you almost don't notice it. At one point in time, you're a child with all the joy and cluelessness in the world, but you blink once and it's as if in that very next instant you're right at the border of adulthood. It's exciting. Scary, but almost in a good way. And before you have the time to really think about that too much, you're ten years older again and it's all more of a distant memory than anything else. I think it's important to stop to think, often, about where you are right now, and what's happening around you right now that you might otherwise miss. And that's not anyone's fault, either, because a lot goes on in the world and time doesn't wait for any of it. A day is only 24 hours.

The boy stared at the gossamer butterfly resting on his finger, wings sheer-white and delicate, gently opening and closing like a dying spirit taking its last breaths. He, like the butterfly, was dressed in white, his hair deathly pale as well, his eyes dark and soulless, fixated on the creature before him.

“Brice, what are you looking at?” A voice sounded through the door, and the boy quickly looked up, cupping a hand over the butterfly.

“Nothing!”

“It had better be nothing when I come in here later.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The boy let out a long sigh, then climbed over to the cell window, and let the butterfly go through the bars on the fresh summer breeze. “Goodbye…”

When they came in to give him his food later, they found the boy Brice in his usual spot on the padded floor, staring at the blank white walls.

There was once a boy who lived young and died young.

He knew that he would live no more than twenty- the doctors had told him so as a child. At the time, perhaps he did not grasp this concept, the fine line between life and mortality, the way white could fade to black so abruptly. As he grew older, he recognized that death would come for him sooner than everyone else. He would not experience the finer things of life, let alone adulthood. He would not experience growing old or settling down, he would not do many, many, many things.

Yet he persisted. Why? He asked himself. Why do I have to be the one to shoulder this burden?

There was no answer. Life and death were equally silent in that regard. No matter how much he asked, no matter how much he begged, there was no answer, no solution, no way to fix things.

And so the boy grew and lived and died.

The boy became as silent as life and death themselves, his questions answered by the plain, cold expanse of nothingness, the loss of existence, the short, short life of a single being.

And that was the life of a boy who lived young and died young.

Ephemeral. The lifespan of a bug that wakes by morning and dies by dusk. Like a flower that blooms for only half a day.

That was the only description Sam could come up with for what she was doing. She hadn't been feeling quite right for a while now, and she was doing everything she could to fill that void... but everything was just ephemeral. A quick race, a sudden burst of passion that was smothered just as fast, going out and relishing in meeting with strangers who she was never going to see again.

No matter what she tried, by the end of the day all that was left for her was this horrible, all-encompassing feeling of being drained emotionally. Sleeping, having a coffee and then going through similar motions, living a rollercoaster day by day.

One day though, she got a call. It was about something horribly trivial, again. God, her mother was always calling to talk about little and inconsequential things. She usually didn't hate it at all though, she liked listening to her and quipping in with a few words as well.

After she ended the call, another, single message arrived. It was an old friend of her, who she was well acquainted with but couldn't meet since they graduated from university. A simple 'how are you' was blinking on her small screen.

A small smile made its way onto her face. She was going to be just fine.

Some things weren't ephemeral.

Eons pass by in the blink of an eye when facing eternity.

Immortality weights heavy on Time as he clicks Moments into line and plays with them a game of poker and he keeps loosing, with Memories at stake.

Tick tock goes the clock. Tock tick. Tiok Toik. TiCk tOcK. Kcot kcit. kit cot.

Tick tock.

Ever on and on.

Time sees all and knows all things, since everything passes him by.

He sees Love and Birth and Life and Death and Sorrow.

He keeps watching over Us.

He always had, will always do.

But time and time again Time sighs and tries to gamble with Moments for a little bit more time for some of Us. Putting Memories at stake, since it's all he ever keeps.

But time and time again Time loses his games and has to admit: our human lives are mere Ephemeral at the scale of Time.

Earth came to be, one of the trillions of planets in the wide universe. It was born fleeting and insignificant, a planet made of water and earth. Water enabled life, and life crawled on dirt.

More than four milliard years after the birth of earth, Humans came to be, one of the many lifeforms on earth. Humans found fire, eradicated many lifeforms, and grew into larger communities.

More than two-hundred-thousand years after the birth of humans, they worshipped the sun, as the giver of life, and built a society of prosperity.

Less than five thousand years later, humans observed the sky and tried to make sense of the universe.

As they explored space and looked further and further into the beginning of the universe, they made an astounding realization: the universe was born, and will eventually die.

They sought a way out. First, away from the sun, set to die in around 7 billion years.

Five hundred years later, humanity colonized Mars, the first interplanetary leap forward. To adapt to the developments, humanity killed tradition.

Five thousand years later, humanity left the solar system, leaving behind earth. To survive the light years spent travelling, humans killed their need for sustenance. They no longer need food or water to live.

More than seven milliard years after the birth of humans, the sun died. The earth died shortly after.

Much like a water droplet fighting the Sahara, Earth fought against the sun, and evaporated thirty seconds later. No human watched. No human alive called earth home.

Humans settled in space, running towards the centre of the universe as solar systems, asteroid belts and galaxies drifted further and further away. In their great fear, humans killed the concept of friends, family and home.

A hundred trillion years after the death of earth, the universe reached maximum entrophy. Humans killed their existence.

Word Count: 251

You should stop, she wants to say.

"Let's go," she says

.

Shinichi doesn't move. He remains crouched, rooted to the ground, feet unable to part from the faded presence of his ever-transient love. Shiho wonders if he's aware how centuries always pass in a blink of an eye before his love wakes, reincarnated once more. She wonders why he yearns and grieves every time for a life over in a blink, when time for them passes ever consistently.

(She wonders if the hollow in her chest can bear to ring empty for another century.)

"We can still make it in time to the Holmes exhibition in London," she tries once more.

I'm getting tired of watching you like this, she means to say.

Millenia has passed as swift as a lark, as fleeting as sunset in encroaching dusk. As Shinichi begins to move, slowly standing up, Shiho remembers her first waking moment as an ageless, undying being. She remembers light steps, boisterous laughter, and the joy she shared with her best friend, her companion, as they realize in tune how much time and fun they can have for infinity.

So much time, she thinks, that it's gone in an instant. Here she stands behind him—a hollow shell of a once joyful, selfless best friend with a hollow crevice in her chest as a heart.

As Shinichi turns to her, a small, somber smile painted on his thin lips, the last shriveling piece of her heart aches.

And Shiho makes a decision.

I sit on the beach, the hot sand stinging my butt through my pants. I try to tune out the various screams and chatter of the rest of my classmates behind me, focusing intensely on the vast ocean before me. Just as I’m about to question why I agreed to come to this school-planned party, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“Hey, Marks!” a familiar voice says.

I turn, jumping slightly as I see my crush, Mary Sue, squatting beside me. As one of the most popular girls in the school, I wonder why she’s talking to a nobody like me -- let alone how she even knows my name.

She leans close, her blue eyes glittering like the waves behind us. “Wanna see something cool?” she whispers.

I eagerly nod, not using my voice out of fear of it cracking.

Mary Sue gives me a big grin before grabbing my hand. She pulls me along as we run down the beach, her hair whipping and twisting in the wind like a flame. Away from rambunctious students, away from the teachers who don't want to be there, Mary Sue pushes me into a small crevice in the rocky cliff overlooking the beach.

It’s pitch black as I stumble inside, my shoes sloshing in what I hope to be water. Mary Sue slips in a moment later, and I’m suddenly aware of how small this cave really is.

“Why are we here?” I whisper.

Mary Sue shushes me, her breath warm on my face. “Just watch,” she whispers.

I hold my breath, scared and possibly excited about what might happen next.

Suddenly, a flicker of light cuts through the dark before petering out just as fast.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Shh!” she says. “Just look down.”

I don’t exactly care if I crush on her; this is just plain weird! As I gather my courage to announce my leaving, the light flickers back. I can’t stop my mouth from opening as I look down.

In the center of Mary Sue’s hand is a small flame. It performs a twirling dance, spiraling up into a thin column before falling back down again. Mary Sue giggles, the light catching her wide smile. I allow myself to laugh with her, the flame snapping away from my breath.

I make the mistake of blinking, the cave an inky black once again as I reopen my eyes.

“Did you see it?” Mary Sue says, unable to keep the smile out of her voice. “Pretty cool, amirite?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, feeling my own smile take over my face.

“I showed you because I think you’re good at keeping secrets,” she says, suddenly serious. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“No.”

“Good! Okay, bye, Marks!”

And with that, Mary Sue left out the tiny hole. But I remained, the afterimage of the flame still burning in my eyes against the dark. Question after question pops into my head, but one of them stood out among the rest:

How did that moment go so fast?

A Moonless Night

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary What time doesn’t heal, it destroys.

Takuto’s body stiffens with memories and thoughts he wants to let go.

The nights when the moon was absent from the sky captivated Takuto.

After starting his recovery from the cognitive mayhem, Takuto found the moonless nights to be his favorite. Especially when he couldn’t sleep, when his mind roared so loudly that freight trains could never compare. He would stay up until dawn, watching the night pass by from where he laid beside his window. Letting the silence gradually fill his mind would ease himself to peaceful slumber by the morning.

The darkness of his room hiding him, the feeling of being non-existent, became what he called his own freedom. The emptiness of the city was against the fullness of his mind. One that went on and on, seeking no end but someone who would listen. Yet, he couldn’t entertain his thoughts, not when his body ached and groaned when he moved on his bed.

The bruises on his face still remained, and his hands were still a bit pale. Takuto didn’t know when he would be able to stand up from his bed. The most he could do was sit up and use the wall as his support. But the least he knew was he wouldn’t be getting up in the next few hours or so. Not when his body shivered, and every movement took a few breaths to complete.

He gasped as he adjusted his position. Small shocks of pain coursed through his limbs, and stopped at the tips of his fingers and toes. He was sitting upright, cross legged with the blanket on his lower body, and leaning against the window frame.

The stars were looking for the moon, but he wasn’t. The feeling of searching for something he would never reach; He didn’t find anything exhilarating with it.

Takuto glanced down, and scanned the neighborhood from his window. His head gently tilted to the side, and he eased his arm onto the window frame. With his raised hand, he traced the rooftops and street lamps, and took in the soft yellow hue the small pricks of warm yellow light brought.

At times, he heard a few vehicles to his left, far away from his sight. It made him narrow his gaze in confusion, before continuing on with idly drawing the neighborhood into the air. Maybe there were people who were looking for something, looking for their moon as they followed the path to reach it. Takuto only knew that the path he himself was on wasn’t like others, that he didn’t have it as bad.

Or, so he convinced himself at least.

Never ending nights, surrounded by the darkness of his room was all he grew to know as of late. He stared out of his window, his eyes half-lidded. Whilst his hand, raised and against the other side of the window frame, following the neighborhood’s rooftops and lights he knew by heart.

Recovery was a slow, difficult process to wrap his head around. He knew of the concept, of the simplicity when it’s merely a fever or a cold, but this was neither. This was something more, he was adjusting to the world after waking up from a coma. And perhaps, his own mindset would lead him to his demise sooner than later.

Takuto was thinking, perhaps a little too much but nobody else was there to scold him. There was no one who could say he needed to rest instead of looking out the window. The apartment had long grown cold and empty, and his phone hadn’t lit up since the daylit hours ago.

He often heard people say that awful events were the only cause of downfall and tragedy when he was still a counselor. And for a while, he believed it as well, because they were right. A life of suffering and pain would only follow awful events, and even his former fiancee wasn’t free from it. She was going to live out the rest of her life with him, but she soon became a brief flash of beauty in Takuto’s life.

And in a blink, the train of thoughts were gone once more.

Takuto sighed. He hated how his thoughts, one way or the other, circled back to her. Not that he blamed his former fiancee, never would that thought even cross his mind. But at times like tonight, he wished that he could forget her. He wondered if it would be better to never have her presence in his mind anymore, yet he couldn’t bring himself to think of the outcome of that possibility. He knew he was hurting himself with his thoughts, but they were somehow comforting in a way he couldn’t explain.

A heavy exhale departed from his chest, and Takuto shook his head. Or, banged it against the wooden frame he leaned against. He couldn’t tell what he did from his exhausted daze.

The darkness of his mind matched the moonless night. The only moments where he felt accepted. The only moments where the light let him be. As hopeless it may seem, he was captivated with how it accompanied him. For comfort, or for the mere presence alone, he didn’t care. What mattered was he could be free to be with his thoughts without any distractions.

Takuto let his mind take over him with another deep breath. It made way for many thoughts to rush through, many ways for him to feel something else other than the pain his body possessed. They weren’t foreign, but they weren’t familiar either. He didn’t need help, he merely needed to breathe at his own pace and comfort.

Takuto was sitting in the dark of his room, comforting himself by letting the thoughts trample him. Tracing the still neighborhood in front of him was like tracing the paths his thoughts took; The only way to ease the chaos in his mind. The darkness was the same, but everything else changed with each night.

Ironic as it may be, when he first decided to stay up late, it was to finish another page of his cognitive research. The full moon was shining in the sky with pride, lighting the neighborhood more than the old city lights could ever have. He remembered that night too well, despising the light that was too bright for his mind. More so when he couldn’t help but capture every detail in a painting in his notebook afterward.

When his finger finished at the last rooftop, Takuto pulled himself away. His fingers curled into his palm, and his nails gently dug into his palm.

Takuto wasn’t looking for his moon, he was running away from it. Fleeting from the feelings that made him vulnerable, from the hope that he could make it through his recovery. Maybe he liked the feeling of the darkness wrapping itself around him. Maybe he had gone too far with avoiding proper rest. He was like the evening, hopeless.

Taktuo pulled away from the window frame and laid back down on his bed, with his back facing the window. His gaze briefly glanced towards his phone, and he sighed. He promised himself to talk to someone tomorrow. His eyelids turned heavy, harder to keep from falling over his eyes.

The darkness of his mind disappeared with the rising sun. The moonless night he loved so much lulled him to a gentle slumber. The stars, ephemeral as they were, departed from his presence.

It was the first time Takuto had a much more comforting sleep.

Nothing that comes into the apartment lasts less than a pizza. I've tried everything to get my roommates to lay off at least a slice for when I come back from my part-time, but every single time I open the door, the first thing I spot on the counter is an empty box of pizza.

Today, however, I had a very special idea to stop them from eating the whole thing at once. When I called to set up the delivery, as I usually do before I take the car for myself, I asked them to send the nastiest pizza I could come up with: a pineapple-bacon pizza drizzled with barbecue sauce. Surely that'll convince at least Jude to stay away from it, I thought. He's the jock, so I'm guessing he's the one that hogs every slice to himself and maybe gives Ray a slice or two.

I didn't even have a chance to open the front door when Jude approached me on the porch asking me, "What the hell, dude? You trying to torture me, my guy? What did I even do to deserve this treatment?"

"I've tried telling you more times than I can count, but I never get at least a slice left in the fridge when I get back!" I told him.

"No, dude, you don't get it..." he mumbled in his unique surfer voice, but it fell on deaf ears, as the creak of the front door cut out most of what he said after that.

The moment I stepped inside the living room, I realized that I'd made a grave mistake. Ray let out an uncharacteristically loud burp, adjusted his glasses, and put down the grimy game controller he'd been holding in front of him.

"Heya, Ben," he told me. He flashed a toothy grin at me, revealing gunky maroon sputters going all the way up his cheeks and his set of stained chompers. "Great choice of pizza. I wish I could have saved you a slice, but you know how much of a barbecue sauce enthusiast I am."

It’s often been said that nothing lasts forever, but I think a certain naivety led me to believe this would. I never knew how long I’d have here. My missions could take any amount of time — a few hours or several years. I was remiss to call this a mission, but if not that, what was it really? I’d never be able to truly stay here with her, and I know, inherently, that if I don’t close the mission soon… It will be finished for me. Tilting my head back to lean against the stone wall, I catch a glimpse of her. My mission: Q-4825. The sentinels had been rather strict that I should never know the true name of my missions, for it would sway me from my real purpose. Q-4825 was meant to be a mark. Another in a never-ending list of jobs that seemed to grow with every passing day. At the debriefing, I’d been given an estimate that this job would take at maximum, two hours, and if I were to take any longer than that, I would be decommissioned and another would take my place. “You can consider this a cursory training mission. It should be brief in its entirety, and short-lived in your memory database. This is the beginning of a new occupation for you, should you succeed. Failure will result in immediate decommissioning and disposal.” I had two hours to remove Q-4825 or be removed myself. What they had neglected to tell me in that mandatory debriefing, was that Q-4825 was a child. This promotion was a calculated decision. They knew I wouldn’t pass the cursory trial, and that the mission and promotion would be short-lived. I wasn’t capable of doing what they asked — what person with any self-respect was? I’d been here for nearly the full length of the mission before Q-4825 noticed me and ran over, a bright smile stretched across her face and a stuffed turtle in her hands. “Hi!” She chirped, waving and nearly stumbling from excitement as she stopped in front of me. “Would you, uhm, like to play a game with me?” I let my eyes focus on her for a moment, wondering if it could hurt anything if I said yes. Her eyes were wide with a sense of wonderment as she looked over the gear I was wearing, and only then did I remember I was outfitted like a soldier. It had been meant to instill a sense of safety in her, and I suppose it had. I appeared to be military, so I should be trusted. “Please?” I chanced a glance at my watch, seeing that I didn’t have time to see this through but I couldn’t say no to the doe-eyed look she was giving me. As her bottom lip jutted out and tears threatened to spill over, I heard a voice come through my communications device. “Has your mission been completed?” The words were laced with static and I held up a hand to Q-4825 before gesturing to the ear piece. I would just be a minute, and she nodded happily. That was as good as a yes to her. “Agent. Has your mission been completed?” “No, sir.” “It has not?” “No, sir.” “Understood, Agent. A group will be sent down for—” The supervisor’s voice drifted into the background as Q-4825 stepped towards me once again. She pressed the stuffed turtle into my hands. “This is Todd the Turtle. You seem sad; maybe he can help!” “Well, isn’t Todd the cutest turtle I’ve ever seen. And your name?” “I’m Quinn. With two N’s though.” “Hm, well, Quinn with two N’s, it’s wonderful to meet you.” I flashed her a tight smile and pressed the turtle back into her arms. “Now can you take little Todd to get somewhere safe? There’s bad men coming. That’s why my earpiece went off.” “Yes, ma’am! We can play after though, right?” I didn’t speak; instead, I just gave her a nod and waved her off. Quinn bolted through the streets and out of my sight immediately, hiding behind a nearby building. I let out a soft, frustrated sigh and slid to my knees. Tearing the earpiece from my ear, I crushed it and threw it against the wall as I heard boots against the pavement. “Mission Codename: Ephemeral, completed, sir.” That was the last thing I heard before everything went dark.

An Ephemeral Meeting

We had met in the school yard on a blazing-hot summer day. I was listening to my Taylor Swift Spotify soundtrack at the time; I didn’t like reading and I didn’t like crocheting and I didn’t like any other hobby so I usually just passed the time by vibing.

As a song came to a close, a girl from my grade stepped over into the shade where I was. We both were leaning against the big oak tree in the middle of the buses’ roundabout. All she did was cross her arms relaxedly over her blue, plaid shirt, and smile at me. I smiled back. It was nice she didn’t say anything, and it made me feel good that even though that was, she still acknowledged my presence—a lot of people in this city would pass you without looking at you, and it would have you wonder if people even could see you.

“Want to listen?” I asked, offering an earbud.

She nodded shyly, her long auburn hair cascading over her shoulder, and pressed the left earbud in her ear.

We stayed like that until the bell rang.

The next day, I searched for her in the school yard. I still hadn’t caught her name, but I planned to find out.

I couldn’t find her.

I’d scanned the shady spots where she might’ve leaned, and I’d looked behind the portables, but no sign of the girl with long auburn hair.

And not the next day, either.

Or the next.

I started to wonder whether she would come back. Only one person could give me the answer to that, I knew, and so when a week had gone by, I sat on the bench beside Mindy. Mindy, who knew every girl in school. Who was currently in a conversation with her friends and visibly annoyed about my interruption, because why would a stranger (and therefore a nobody; she knew all the cool people) choose to sit next to her?

Knowing it was awkward for us all, I got to the point and inquired, “Do you know a girl with reddish-brown hair? Slightly shorter than me…winged eyeliner.”

“Um. I guess I do—you’re talking about Kate, right?”

Kate. A nice name. “I think so,” I told her with a laugh.

She gave me a weird look, like, What do you mean you think so?

“I met her this one time and I just never caught her name,” I explained. “Thanks.”

“Oh. I see.” Mindy put a finger with a manicured nail under her nose and sniffed.

“I haven’t seen her in a while. Do you know where Kate’s been? Is she sick?” I prodded for information.

“No, she’s not sick. I wish she was just sick. But, hah, I guess she was. Sick of us and this town. Not even this town, actually. This country. Moved out to Canada. ‘What’s even in Canada?’ I’d asked, ‘cause really, I don’t know anything about Canada. I don’t think too many people know either. Not even she knew.”

“Ah,” was all I could manage. My heart sank, and with it the possibility of a new friend. Six months at this school and no friends, and I really thought Kate would’ve been a friend. But she left and so the only promise of my social life, which lasted for fifteen minutes, left with her. A fleeting chance that never actually existed.

There were two dead flies on the sill, an inch apart.

Lin stood in the morning light cascading though the window, and thought this was odd in in several ways. First of all, there were three maids. Why would there be a chance for not only one, but two flies to be seen together, dead and in plain sight? Secondly, why two at the same window in a house with sixty-three windows? Were they friends?

"Why do you assume they were friends? They could have been enemies. Maybe they fought to the death." Fei blew the corpses aside. They tumbled into the corner and embraced.

"Houseflies only live for up to twenty-eight days," Lin replied. "If they hated each other, they could have just left each other alone. Why waste their time fighting?"

"They're flies. You think they can have the ability to so clearly distinguish gains and losses?"

"That's true," Lin said. "But I am exercising my human nature in attributing meaning to things that are without sense. If they were friends, did they come into the house thinking they were embarking on a grand adventure? And if they were enemies, then what were they fighting over?"

"Does it matter either way? They are dead."

As if on cue, a maid approached and shot an embarrassed smile at the two children before sweeping the two dead flies into a dustpan. They gazed after her as she descended the spiral staircase with her cargo, shielding it from stray winds.

"Do you want to play Go?" Fei asked at last.

"I get black."

"I had a pen pal one time," My grandmother once said, "And I truly did think we were getting married."

A story such as that never seemed as interesting to the child I was eight years ago, but with time I began to understand.

She loved to talk about her dear Francis, a great and strong soldier with a weakened. He wrote to her of the battles he had faced, inward and outward, and she did as well.

When the world spun fast enough that Grandmother found herself dizzy, she always found a new letter on her door steps. Francis made the world stop, she told me, the words on yellowing paper enough for her to pick herself back up when she fell to the harsh cold.

"Where is he now?" I remembered asking her that, impatience taking a rein on my tongue. Back then, I couldn't tell what she felt at hearing that, water welling in her eyes, wiped away quickly like spilt ink.

Still she smiled, patted her wrinkled fingers on my head, and told me that a moment which came quick and sharp was bound to end the same. There were no more letters, and she had no idea where he was. The last she had ever mentioned of Francis was a question.

"Why did a time so short leave a lifetime's memory in my heart?"

In the darkened midnight, I whispered my answer into the night air of the balcony, "Love."

[WC: 245]

Their eyes met across the room, a familiar intensity sparking between them. A soft smile danced across her lips; a challenge issued just with the raise of an eyebrow. His answering nod made her eyes twinkle. She went back to mingling with those around her, slowly making her way through the crowd, her hand snagging a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray. Making small talk with those around her, her gaze would sweep across the room, trying to keep a track of where he was. It was after all a game of cat and mouse, only difference here being, only at the end would they know who ended up the cat and who the mouse.

Seeing him across the room where she had been originally, her eyes met his once more, determination igniting in them both. She began to make her way through the crowd once again, this time instead of going around the room, she went straight across, only changing direction as he continued to circle the room.

So caught up was she in giving chase while simultaneously staying out of reach, she bumped into someone, their laughter breaking her focus. Looking towards the person apologetically, she saw one of her oldest friends. She beamed at her, gathering her into a hug.

“Oh my god! Sam!! How are you? Oh, I can’t believe you’re here! I have missed you so so much!”

“Me too babes! I see you and that husband of yours are still up to your usual games hmm?”, an eyebrow raised in question, eyes looking past her shoulder, watching someone.

“Ah Sam- “

“Why hello Samantha! Glad to see you keeping the wife company!”, a handsome man approached the two, one hand holding a champagned glass, the other tucked into his pant pocket.

"I see you and Mel are still up to your old game Christopher!"

"Don't call me Christopher!"

"Don't call me Samantha then!"

Eyes darting between the two, Mel rolled her eyes good-naturedly at their usual bickering.

Seeing that both were done, she turned to Sam, visibly pouting, “dammit Sammy! You made me lose so early tonight! He is going to be insufferable now! I have lost three times in a row! And within minutes this time.”

“Now Mel, you say it as if the past few times haven’t been short-lived as well,” Chris teased her, eyes twinkling at seeing his wife pouting even more.

“Aww babes, I am sorry! But remind me, why again do you play this game at every gathering you go to?” Mel asked, her eyes darting between the two lovebirds.

The couple looked at each other, both wearing a small smile, their love for each other plain to see. Wrapping his hands around Mel from the back, Chris bent his head to rest his chin on her shoulder, giving Sam a cheeky smile.

Shaking her head at his antics, Mel looked back at Sam and said, “it keeps things fun, especially when we are at office parties. Those tend to get so boring. Even as short lived as the chase usually ends up being, the excitement of playing this secret game without letting anyone find out is thrilling.” [WC: 531]