Serena

Carver Lawson, Special Projects Manager

Serena was a lucky and gifted girl. She had a loving family and was naturally bright and observant. Her hardest problem in life so far was boredom. She had just finished freshman year of highschool and had expected more from her education and society. Her disappointment with the lack of challenges in life was a regular feeling for her. Ever since she was a little girl she had quickly caught on to how life works. She knew herself and the human condition well and often found herself studying people. No matter if she was out shopping, eating, or with friends she always found herself watching strangers. She would deeply wonder about their life and create a story of where they've been and where they're headed. The fact that so many people seemed to be unaware of the depths they had never stopped fascinating Serena. She didn’t understand how the mundane hollowed out experiences of life could capture and cloud people as they do. If someone tried to start small talk with her she would immediately ask an intimate question. She’d wonder about their opinion on what love really is and if evil truly exists in our world. She craved to know of the weight they carried and how it had shaped their being and character. She wanted to know the truth that existed in people, they were the ocean to her and she was a scuba diver. Unfortunately for her that blunt approach often scared them away, and so she had to learn a more subtle approach.

As her curiosity grew, she began studying psychology in 8th grade and the summer leading up to freshman year. By the time she was in her first year of highschool she had landed on hypnotherapy. She saw the practice as a way of shoving people’s fear aside to plunge into their subconscious. Obviously Serena knew she couldn’t use a pendant and swing it right in front of someone. She wanted a more subtle tool so she could place someone under a trance and go unnoticed. She found the answer by accident when she was eating dinner with family. Her dad was rambling about some game and she was getting bored. As he mumbled on, she started looking back and forth at his eyes in a smooth slow motion. She was counting as she did this and almost didn’t notice him go still and stop speaking. Serena looked at her father in the unsettling frozen state and grew a wide smile on her face. She let her fork fall onto her plate making a noise that shocked her dad back to consciousness and quickly excused herself. Her head was filled with ideas of how to use this new discovery to shape the social structure of her school. She decided that first she would single out the most influential people in the school and use the trance to learn everything about them.

For the next two weeks she found the best athletes, social butterflies, and student government representatives she could and asked her questions. She’d say “What are your principles/fears/desires/beliefs”, whatever questions came to her based on what she’d observed from the person already. When her curiosity was satisfied she would blow on their face causing them to blink and end the trance.

Each person would snap out of it and say “I’m sorry I zoned out, what were you saying?”, and she’d give a soft smile and tell them what they wanted to hear. She could feel every single one of them unfold in her hands and become like dough. Serena was pulling at the deepest part of her peers and she had them exactly where she wanted them. She’d head home after her secret interrogations and write in her journal the progress she had made. By the end of the first phase of her plan her journal contained an in depth psychological profile on all of her targets.

Next week she didn’t approach any of her targets because she knew they were coming to her. She purposely sat alone as often as she could during school to attract the one on one time she wanted. Her method worked flawlessly as she had already bumped into half of her targets and ate lunch with the other half by the end of the week. She had a hot streak going and wasn’t planning on stopping any time soon. The next month consisted of Serena solidifying her new position on top of the social hierarchy she was building. She was intent on making her new “friends” feel close to her and like they really understood her as deeply as she understood them. They bought into her illusion easily as she knew they would and it brought her immense excitement to know her plan was working flawlessly. Nobody even noticed her extreme shift from the quiet girl to an immensely social being, except the friends she had made last year. 

Holden and Charlie were friends Serena had since middle school, and they had spent a lot of time together since then. During freshman year she would sit with them and crack jokes or read in silence and so of course they caught on to the change in her character. When Charlie and Holden approached Serena about it, she simply pushed them into her trance and wiped their suspicions clean. She didn’t want to allow her old friends to throw a wrench in the grand plan she had for her entire grade. Her other friend, Opal, was a different story. 

Serena had met Opal a little before freshman year had started and they always had a strange magnitude towards each other. They were an unlikely duo but perfectly complemented each other. When they hung out freshman year they never had a dull moment, and despite their little time together, they saw each other for exactly who they are. So when Serena tried her trance on Opal it blew up in her face. She said in a cold clear voice, “Forget what you’ve noticed about me and see it as none of your business.”

“What?”, Opal replied shocked, “I’m not just gonna forget that all of a sudden you went from hanging out with us to somehow knowing everyone and being so involved in their lives.” 

Serena was frozen with disbelief and Opal just stared at her waiting for some explanation. Disappointed and impatient, Opal decided she wasn’t finished. “Everyone seems to see it as normal but like a month ago you were just sitting here with us reading your psychology books. But you disappeared without saying anything, you’ve been avoiding us and I haven’t hung out with you once since this all started. Do you even care about our friendship or are you too obsessed with this new goal of controlling these people around you and building some empire?” Opal threw up her hands to add to her sarcastic tone and Serena was still speechless. She could only utter the words “I’m sorry.”

Opal left knowing Serena couldn’t say more. In the empty hallway, Serena processed everything that just happened. What Opal had said cut her to her core. She hadn’t considered that her friends would have been so affected by her changing. She had always assumed she was so subtle and hidden that nobody would miss her. For a moment she felt real. The pain was shocking her back to reality and she realized she needed to make things right with Opal. She devised to reach out on text and find a way to smooth things over from there. 

In the meantime Serena’s boredom would not let her give up her social experiment. She kept up her appearances and even started taking it to the next level. She started using her trance to influence people to be more vulnerable and real. She also decided she needed a boyfriend to keep a greater hold on her influence. Serena turned her whole month into a giant speed date. She’d flirt with a guy and get a date, then cast her spell and ask her questions. None of the candidates captured her and she was soon running out of her most influential options so she started taking it slow. Her school’s lacrosse team was the best sport so she finally gave in and settled for one of them. The relationship couldn’t even be considered a side project to Serena due to Opal. She had sent multiple texts over the course of two weeks and Opal had only now responded. Serena pleaded for them to get coffee so she could explain herself and Opal finally obliged. When Serena sat down to face Opal she suddenly forgot all the words she had rehearsed for the moment. She was left totally on her own.

“Thank you for seeing me and..”, Serena paused to take a slow breath and continued, “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but you still deserve an explanation and an apology because I was treating you like everyone else and you’re so much more than that to me.” So Serena told her friend the whole story from the crushing boredom and numbness, to the moment she found the hypnosis trick, and so on. Despite what she had said she did expect some understanding from Opal. Somehow Serena misread the situation again as Opal’s face was appalled. “Wait… so when you told me to ‘forget what you’ve noticed’ and moved your eyes like that you were just trying to control me and keep up this ploy you created because your life felt numb?” After Serena heard it said back to her all she could muster out was “Yes.”

“What if it had worked? Would we just lose our friendship because you didn’t care to maintain it and I forgot who you were to me?” Opal knew the headspace Serena was in so she kept going but decided to take it easy on her, “Serena I get it. Sometimes life can feel so dull that it is suffocating. I was exactly where you are when we started hanging out, but something about you changed the way I was moving. You understood how I saw the world as so boring but you decided to have fun with it, and you never let the shallowness ever affect you like it is now. This new lifestyle is an erasure of all of that so when you started getting distant it felt like you were trying to erase any connection you had to me.”

Instantly Serena found herself responding, “I could never erase you and I am so sorry you felt like I was trying to get rid of you. I don’t know what would have happened if I did make you forget, but I know nothing in life feels as real as you do and maybe that's why it didn’t work.” She gave Opal a soft smile, “I’ve been in a weird place and it's not fair that I wasn’t considering how it was bleeding over into your life. I’ll give you space and time if you need it, but I’d like to get closer again.” Opal sighed “I’d like that too.”, and gave a relieved look to Serena.

After her talk with Opal, Serena decided she needed to be more real with herself. Her friend had a grounding effect and reminded Serena of what was actually valuable to her. She had been ignoring her own emotions for so long and she knew this. She was finally beginning to accept that she could not run from her boredom and set out to make a change. She went and broke up with her lacrosse boyfriend and stopped subconsciously influencing her classmates. Nothing about her self-made hierarchy or influence brought her any real satisfaction or fulfillment. 

Although Serena was done entertaining her impulses, she still wasn’t done with love yet. Her interest in dating was sparked by her experiments but it had started to grow on her. She liked the idea of someone finally seeing her and understanding exactly who she was, and she now wanted that type of bond. In all of her romantic daydreams there was one consistent guy from her school. He was in her chemistry and history class but all she knew about him was that his name was Elio. He rarely spoke in class and when it did it was when he was called on by the teacher. He always seemed in his own world but somehow maintained enough attention to always answer the questions the teacher asked him. Serena never paid Elio any more attention than that because he was so unknown and didn’t have an influence she could use. Yet, she was still captured by Elio and regularly found herself wondering if he noticed the things she did and if he felt just as isolated as she did. She watched him for a few days to see if she could gather more intel but only came up empty handed, so she took a more direct approach. After their class together Serena quickly packed up her things and stopped Elio before he could leave.

“Hi, I’ve been really falling behind in this class and you seem to understand this stuff effortlessly so I was wondering if you could help me?” Serena shot him a quick smile after. He responded that he would be happy to help her. Elio was flattered that she viewed him as the best choice to tutor her. They made plans to study together after school on Friday and exchanged numbers. 

When Friday came, Elio texted Serena that he would have the house to himself for the weekend and offered to have their study date there rather than the school. Her cheeks grew warm when she read the message and agreed. By the end of the school day her patience had been worn thin and she raced home to get ready to see Elio. She felt so giddy while she pampered herself with makeup and perfume. On all the dates she had gone on she only felt dread but all she felt now was excitement.

When she got to his house she felt comfortable and at ease. Serena was not in her removed analytical state that had become so familiar to her. She asked Elio her questions about the class but kept them short so she could steer the conversation to questions about him. She started small, asking about school and if he has always been naturally academic but before she could go any deeper their natural chemistry took hold. They both began unraveling and talking about everything and nothing. Elio would tell a story about himself and in turn Serena would share a story of her own. The conversation was pure bliss to her. Serena had never crushed on a person so willing to discuss all the deeper parts of life that she loved discussing. She found herself wanting more as the conversation went on and out of habit she performed her trick. Her eyes began swaying back and forth across from Elio’s, and out of admiration for Serena his eyes did the same. They became locked in this trance and suddenly the room was getting darker for Serena. She blinked for a second and was instantly in a flat void with an endless dark horizon encompassing her. She sat upon a tall stone chair and in front of her was a chasm with a pendulum swinging left to right. Across the chasm, she noticed Elio sitting on a chair just like hers with a tall wispy creature standing behind him. Startled, Serena whipped her head around to see a similar tall and wispy creature that felt oddly familiar. She looked back at the swinging pendulum and the darkness that enveloped them and she started realizing she was in her own trance. Serena slowly turned her head back to the creature behind her and the creature seemed to smile.

“Hmph you know he’s not the best choice for our plan but at least we finally found the chemistry we’re looking for.” Serena gave the creature a disturbed look and told it, “I’m done with creating plans to try and control my life. I don’t want to use Elio as a means for my impulses either, I just want to have fun with him.” It only laughed, “Serena I am your subconscious form and I know all of your hidden desires and thoughts. You feel caged to what you call your ‘boredom’ which is actually just your apathy or depression. You’ve been avoiding all of it too and I know you don’t want to face it and that you aren't ready for it. Besides, these people in your life you cherish aren’t always going to be there for you or understand you. We’ve studied psychology to its core Serena and it is psychologically engineered in us that we are selfish self-oriented creatures. These hidden desires you label impulses are inevitable Serena you know it is only-”

Serena screamed and snapped her and Elio out of the trance. Before he could ask what happened Serena told him she accidentally left her hair straightener on and was out the door. She only lied because what really happened petrified every inch of her and she needed Opal. As she raced to her friend's house she heard the echo of her subconscious calling her name. “Serena.”, it whispered. Then again it came but only louder, “Serena!” Serena couldn’t tell if her name was actually being called or not but she felt that it meant she had to hurry to Opal. As she grew closer to her destination the sounding of her name became like a ringing in her ear. The voice only grew louder and more frequent until it shouted her name with a force that echoed in her mind. In one swift motion Serena felt all of her senses shutdown as she blacked out.

When she awoke she was laying on a soft wispy floor. She looked out to see the ever expanding ground and roots of grey wispy clouds above her crisscrossing throughout the infinite landscape. Occasionally, there would be a flash of light through the roots that illuminated the whole of the structure she was in. She stood up and started walking towards the source of the flashes she was seeing. As she got closer she could begin to make out a distant glowing core that was sending out the pulses of light. It was shrouded in a fog and seemed to be the driving force behind the psychic storm she found herself in. Serena assumed the core would be where she could find her way out of this place or, at least, a way to control it. Lost in her thoughts, Serena didn’t notice she had started falling through the clouds until she was hitting the floor. She looked around checking for the light and saw it was still in front of her at the same distance she was before. She started walking towards it again but slower and more attentive. As she was getting to the spot where she fell she touched her foot out and felt it go through the clouds. She lowered her foot further and started testing the ground nearby but was immediately flung back. She got up, frustrated and annoyed at the rules of this place. She knew she couldn’t reach the glowing core or investigate how it was keeping her out. This mental chamber seemed to just want her here, but why? She didn’t understand it, despite her best logical efforts. Serena knew the brain well because of everything she had read from her books so she knew she was in the depths of her psyche. So why was her mind working against her and acting as a cage? Why couldn’t she seem to understand her own subconscious realm?

Serena stopped, “Why can’t I understand myself?” she wondered. It was the first question in a while she was asking herself that wasn’t meaningless. She had been observing others so long that she forgot to observe herself too. The thought made Serena sad and she felt her head go quiet. She just sat there and then laid down and let herself sink into the floor with her limbs sprawled out. It felt nice to finally let her body feel what she was actually feeling. Serena felt her chest untighten and her shoulders release. The clouds started encasing her and she could feel them holding her with a silky touch that lightly tickled her. She sank deeper letting the sadness and blots of depression tucked tightly in her heart expand to the rest of her body. Her eyes were closed as she took deep and shaky breaths so she could allow her body to process the pain. A tear slipped down her face slowly and then a few more slipped out until the floodgates were busted wide open. She sobbed and ugly cried as she let the clouds hug and comfort her. In her emotional release she was slow to realize that the clouds had begun to move her and spit her out right next to the glowing core she was so desperate to reach. She sat up wiping a few of the tears and let out an exhausted sigh to prepare herself to face what was at the center of her mental prison. Upon looking she found within the bright core was a little girl painted in a blue hue that illuminated the surrounding area. The girl was not looking at Serena, but instead was stuck in a frozen state of dissociation with tears that would roll down her face, fall, and then be picked up by the weight of the girl's emotion. Countless droplets orbited around the statue of a girl and this sparked Serena’s curiosity. She looked deeper at the girl wondering what her story was and why she was here in her head. At that moment Serena realized that the little girl was her, and in an instance she took the girl's place in the swirl of tears and blue light and a mirror took Serena’s spot. Sereana felt the tears on her face and looked down at her hands which were now smaller, softer, and more gentle. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the mirror but she could not yet look at herself in this state. The emotion she was sitting in was overwhelming and all she could do was be there in the moment and hold herself. In the quiet of her mind she started to remember how when she was a little girl she would get this same feeling. An unbearable sadness that this world and the people in it had no space for her and no capacity to understand her. She squeezed her arms around herself tighter, not to hug this version of herself but to hug that little girl that lacked the care she needed. Finally mustering up the courage she looked at the mirror. What she once saw as her weakness and greatest fear became her strength right before her eyes. She began to feel unbelievably proud of that little girl in her that had endured the complexity of her emotions and survived them.

In her head she whispered to herself “We made it, we’ve found a place in this world for us and people who see us for who we are. We made it Serena.” She thought of Opal and all the adventures they had gone on and all that they had done for each other, and a smile grew across little Serena’s face in the mirror. She started to hear herself laugh and she cried more but instead the tears were ones of joy. As her laughter echoed in her mind and the joy became radiant, her form began to shift. She watched in the mirror as her body grew and progressed through all the stages in her life until she was once again in her present form. As the versions of her passed across the mirror she felt peace knowing that she had already conquered so much in life. The challenge she was facing now was just another obstacle that would become so laughable and silly to her in the future. The clouds began to lose their gray color and become a soft shade of white and the blue hue began to change into a beautiful mix of colors you would see in a sunset. As the environment shifted it only got brighter until Serena couldn’t see a thing.

When her vision returned to her she was on a stage in her school’s gym with a spotlight shining on her. Upon glancing around quickly she realized she was at her homecoming dance and must have won homecoming queen as there was a crown on her head and Elio was to her right with a crown on his. Frustrated, she realized her subconscious had kept the promise it made and continued Serena’s old goal of social domination and control. The room was silent and she could tell they were waiting for her to speak so she did without holding anything back.

“I don’t know how I ended up here and I don’t mean as in i'm humbled and shocked you all chose me. I don’t know how I ended up on this path to become this person you all see me as. It was some stupid version that I manipulated you all to fall in love with and you clearly did because I am here on this stage. But none of you actually know me, you have no idea what I have been really feeling or doing to all of you this whole year. I was bored and borderline depressed and I took that out on all of you by playing some game of creating a new social hierarchy for us because I thought I could change this school to be more enjoyable for me. But I was wrong, the thing I needed was to change myself because honestly I don’t care enough about what everyone else is up to and all the connections I made with the people who put me on this stage. I don’t want this crown, I don’t even deserve it and yet you all still placed me here because you believed the persona I presented you with and there was only one person who snapped me out of all this. I had felt nothing this whole year until my best friend shattered my delusional lens and pierced into my depths with their eyes and words.” Serena motioned to herself and the crown, “This, all of this, is just some shallow bullshit that I thought would make me happy for a bit or at most shock my heart back to life. But this has never been for me, so I give back my crown. Take it because it has no real meaning.”

It was then that Serena took off the cheap plastic crown and threw it into the crowd. She walked off stage, kissing Elio on the cheek as she passed, and headed towards the back of the gym. She passed the chaos of the crowd fighting for the crown that was already broken due to the poor material of it. Behind the mess she found Opal off by the punch bowl laughing and enjoying the madness her friend had caused. “It’s good to have you back ‘Rena, I missed this side of you”, Opal said with a soft smile. “It’s good to be back, I’ve missed me too”, Serena replied with a wide grin and light chuckle, “Now let's get the fuck out of here”. So they left with their hands held tightly together and their heels in the other. They walked down the road giggling and cracking jokes about the bizarre year they had endured, and for the first time in a while, Serena actually felt alive and like she was right where she belonged.

Cassidy

Carver Lawson, Special Projects Manager

Everyone has heard of the ice queen. There are countless tales of a woman with a sharp tongue and an icy heart, but the village where she grew up knew her as Cassidy. It was a small place where everyone knew each other to the finest detail. A community is exactly what Cassidy needed, but her and her family were the outcasts of the village.

Her father had left years ago when Cassidy was only 5 and her brother was just born. This would have been fine for her but her dad was a con artist. When her parents met and settled down, her dad promised to find a real job. With his reputation, the only job he was able to get was occasionally helping out on the nearby farms. Over the 5 years he gained the farmers' trust and used it to steal from each of them before leaving for good. To compensate, her mother, Joanna, picked up humble jobs of cleaning houses, babysitting, and being a substitute for the town’s school. Since her husband was dead to the townspeople, she became a sort of unofficial widow in their eyes. Cassidy had to become the new caretaker of their house, due to her mom’s newfound occupation. This responsibility left Cassidy unable to attend school until her brother turned 5 and was able to come with her. To make up for her disadvantages, Cassidy stopped in at the library whenever she had a moment of free time. She was there so often the librarians knew her personally and let her check out without the usual restrictions. In her years of independent education she stumbled upon a book about the occult. The pages were filled with herbal remedies, healing prayers, and rituals all relating to archaic medicine. The book reminded Cassidy of her mother. 

As the town widow Joanna had become a wife and mother to all of the townspeople. Through her obligations, she became more than a babysitter and cleaner and was now a midwife and nurse. She had become a nurturing force in the town and was a revered healer. When Cassidy could finally attend school she felt she was too far behind. The forgotten mystical books hidden around the library caught her attention more than any of the historical or scientific ones ever did. Soon it became clear to her that the only path for her to follow was her mother’s path. She stopped attending school and began joining her mom on her outings. They would go from house to house and she would watch as her mom tended to each person with the utmost care. Joanna had all types of patients and her experience gave her the wisdom to alleviate their pains. 

Cassidy tried to learn as quickly as she could to keep up. She studied the symptoms of each sickness and their corresponding cures. She had memorized multiple herbal remedies and decided to test them on her mother’s patients. The first she tried was a sedative tea meant for a woman claiming to be troubled by wicked spirits not letting her sleep. Cassidy made the woman a tea with herbs used for protection and relaxation and handed it to her. After checking in the next day Cassidy found that her mixture was a success and the woman was very pleased with her. The victory left Cassidy ecstatic and pushed her to experiment with her knowledge of the occult more. She started chanting healing prayers in her head while delivering a baby or preparing teas for the ill. She would bless someone’s house upon entering by dropping cinnamon behind her as she walked through the door. Cassidy even began to attempt lucid dreaming so she could pass into other’s dreams and soothe their nightmares while granting them deeper sleep. This ambition was the very thing that brought her heart alive with a fiery passion, yet it would be her very undoing. 

As time went on, her unique style of healing brought her out of the shadow of her mother. She was no longer seen as an apprentice but as a skilled healer like Joanna. Her growing recognition allowed her mother to retire, but Joanna occasionally helped out. By the time Cassidy was fully rooted in her position, she had mastered her craft. The people claimed she had healing hands and that you could feel the heat radiate from her. She was happy with the reputation she had grown, but the pedestal she was placed on attracted the wrong attention. 

During her training with her mother she had met a boy who grew fond of her, but she didn’t return his affections. The man had now married another girl and had his own family but he never forgot Cassidy’s rejection. His son was ill and so Cassidy went to heal him and give him the medicine she knew, but the boy remained sick. She told her former admirer that it was in God’s hands and not hers, she was powerless. Cassidy’s justification was not enough for the man and soon, he spread rumors. She heard that he claimed her hands were icy cold and didn’t radiate heat like they famously did. According to him, Cassidy chose to deny the little boy her gifts, as if she was scheming with death himself. 

Cassidy was unphased by the awful lie and carried on with her practice. She felt confident in the reputation she had built and she knew she worked for her spot among the townspeople. What she had done for others did not matter to those that remembered her as the outcast with a deadbeat dad. Somehow, all the effort she put in was outweighed by where she happened to come from and circumstances out of her control. One of her critics was a girl she grew up with, who lived two houses down from her. When they were young, she and the girl would play for hours outside until they had to return home. The two experienced distance though when Cassidy’s dad left town, and Cassidy’s busy life left little time for reconnection. 

Despite the childhood connection this woman was now claiming that Cassidy was coming for her husband. She claimed Cassidy placed a love spell upon the man after Cassidy had come to help alleviate a cold he caught. The truth of it was that the couple was simply having marital problems and the husband had become unfaithful to his wife. She had caught wind of this and saw her husband eyeing Cassidy one day and so she decided to make Cassidy her scapegoat. Cassidy’s successful yet unorthodox healing methods brought her the reputation and fame she desired, but it also brought jealousy. The people admired her gifts but also feared them. They couldn’t forget Cassidy’s roots and felt uneasy that a conman’s daughter had control over the town’s health. This unspoken tension between the town and her family always existed, but it became heightened by the rumors that grew as Cassidy’s reputation did. She had grown used to the consistent skepticism, but the town began to question her mother and brother about her abilities. 

Cassidy still lived with her mother and took great care of her but Cassidy was rarely at home in the daytime. So it was late when she had come back from her duties to find her door wide open. She slowly entered and saw her mother in their kitchen sitting and she was surrounded by 3 men. They were aggressively questioning Joanna about what she taught Cassidy and if she knew the “secret” of Cassidy’s gifts. Cassidy cleared her throat to let her presence be known and the men turned with guilt ridden looks on their faces. She could see it in their eyes. They knew it was wicked to question a helpless old woman like this. She let an icy glare come over her eyes and in seconds they were gone. The men may envy and despise Cassidy but above all, they were scared of her and her knowledge. She quickly bent down and threw her arms over her mother asking if she was ok. Joanna told her daughter she was fine but looked up at her with a sad smile. Joanna opened her mouth and took a long pause before telling Cassidy that the men visited her brother as well. She demanded to hear the whole story from her mom. Her brother had attended all his years of highschool and landed a successful job as a blacksmith and was raising a happy family. He attempted to remove himself from his familial ties to better fit in with the townspeople. Despite his efforts the men still came for him asking the same questions they had asked Joanna about Cassidy. He rarely caught up with his sister or mother and knew less about their lives than the men seemed to know. He was shocked and felt violated. He knew his family’s beginnings were known by the townspeople, but he had underestimated how much they reminisced on it. When the men left, he went straight to his old home to tell his mother. 

Joanna wasn’t phased by the news. She was old enough to have a clearer memory of when her husband fled town. Her children were too young to realize but for weeks after the townspeople tried to exile their family. They left rotted meat at their doorstep and smeared awful messages along her door, but she was always quick enough to hide it from the kids. After Joanna finished explaining the story she saw the heartbreak in her daughter’s eyes. At the time Joanna didn’t have the heart to tell Cassidy that the townspeople wouldn’t stop there. Cassidy eventually came to realize the people’s persistence on her own. For the next five days the men came relentlessly questioning her and her family. She simply couldn’t take it anymore. Her hands were ice cold when she went to heal others or brew an herbal remedy. The love and care she put into her craft wasn’t there anymore. How could she heal the town when it didn’t want to be healed by her? 

She started to isolate herself more in an attempt to reclaim the fire she had before but she felt too numb. She would go into the market and hear whispers of her name and see fingers pointed her way. One day she overheard someone saying her family must be acquainted with the devil and dark arts. The audacity of the lie caused her to whip her head around and glare at the person. As she stared she noticed ice was slowly forming over his lips freezing them shut. She stopped herself immediately and secluded herself to her home. The last thing she wanted to do was give the people a valid reason to see her as a threat. As her days of solitude proceeded she realized she no longer had a place among the people. She could no longer be their healer with the way they froze her heart, and her gifts could only be used for harm with a hardened heart. 

The idea of leaving her whole life behind was not easy and she began to sob thinking about it. She couldn’t bear to leave her mother to take care of herself and knew her brother wouldn’t take over the responsibility. She also wished to continue their legacy of being healers and loved the reputation she had grown. A reputation she worked years to build and was now destroyed by a week of rumors and critiques to her craft. She couldn’t stand lingering on those thoughts so she focused on her breath. As she inhaled and exhaled her breathing got colder. She let go of her family, her ambitions, and her passion and let herself slip into a numbing feeling. She focused on the freedom she would feel when she left the village for good. Taking her final exhale she let out a chilling breath that she could see clear as day. She proceeded to get up, pack a bag, and leave the house without saying her goodbyes. As she walked into the wilderness she left a trail of frostbitten flora. She accepted that the villagers had their ways and she had hers, but to them she would forever be “The Ice Queen”.

Squeaky Screen Door

Austin Price, Editor in Chief

Sound. It engulfs us. It overwhelms us. It excites us. It terrifies us.  

Hearing. A sense we have. A sense we experience. A sense that can be euphoric. A sense that can be torturous.  

Our ability to hear sound, a gift we are given upon joining the Earth, is both a blessing and a curse. We enjoy the perception of noise. The elongated waves of reverberation. The distant resonations of whispers in the dark.  

Like secrets shared at a sleepover, we digest the sounds of words, slithering off our tongues, and relish the hot air that touches our flesh, while we receive this sacred information.  

The same as many other things, sound can manifest differently. It can be soothing. It can be abrasive. The translation of vibrations into intricate, technicolor stories, all of which can produce varying interpretations.  

Some sounds we crave. Like the sound of an innocent child’s laughter, as they encounter the world before them, without the bruising of reality pummeling their complexion.  

Some sounds we dread. Like the screams of an inhuman killer. Their sadistic screeching, covering the pain of their prey.  

Some sounds we ignore. Like the background clamor of the TV, as commercials break up our preferred, comfort content.  

Some sounds we unconsciously acknowledge. Like the irritating, disturbing plop of water, dripping down from a leaky pipe into a large bucket.  

Despite the physiological hassle of these copious sounds, we accept their existence. Why? 

Because all the sounds above are things we can see. Things that can be recognized by our other senses. Maybe we see them, maybe we smell them, maybe we even touch them. Regardless, there is more than one sense activated by these sounds, ensuring our sanity and encouraging further curiosity.  

But what about the sounds that we can’t identify? The sounds that have seemingly no correlation with actions. The sounds that are not produced by visible objects. The sounds that are abstract from our distinguished reality. How do we explain those?  

Some things cannot be explained. Some sounds cannot be interpreted. Some noises cannot be replicated. Some experiences cannot be proven.  

But what if I told you there was a way to prove these unusual circumstances are apparent to me? Would you believe me?

Unoiled hinges, rusted metal, brittle materials.  

The squeaky screen door serves as an extra barrier between the haven of a home, and the wickedness of the wild.  

It’s strategically positioned to help prevent unwanted visitors from the outside. Insects, rodents, and other small, unfavorable travelers.  

The door serves multiple facets. It personifies the function of other, more elegant household appliances. It acts as a ventilator, welcoming fresh air through its woven squares of mesh, vinyl overlapping vinyl. It provides the benefit of a window. A view to the predators of the world, with a protective lace draped in front of potential prey.  

This squeaky screen door acts as a mediator between the inside and the out. It provides a sense of serenity and neutrality amongst opposing forces, the delightful, and the deadly.  

As time passes, and as things age, changes are made. Parents grow older, children grow wiser. Updates are made, and revisions are emboldened.  

Despite the natural time travel and unavoidable aging of those we love, the squeaky screen door remains the same. It still squeaks upon opening and closing. Its vinyl mesh still stretches taut across the frame, albeit with more scuff marks than before. The spider web of overlying material still lets the outside world peek through, but with more ferocity than before, because of the black substance fading to gray from the strain of constant sunlight.  

The squeaky screen door is a witness to the actions within the home. It watches the parents sit on the couch. Sipping red wine from sleek glasses after a long day at work. 

It watches the children argue as they roughhouse on the floor, an attack completed with hair pulling and constant teasing. 

It watches the grandparents, when they come to visit, as they sit with hands folded, critiquing the mother’s decorative style.  

It has watched the highs and the lows of the family. 

It has served as a witness to great victories, such as when the children proudly showed artwork they made at school, as intentional gifts and keepsakes for their parents to display for years to come.  

It has watched the joy spread across children’s faces when a new family member is introduced. A golden retriever puppy with floppy ears, silky fur, and high-pitched yelps, waiting to turn into echoing barks of warning.  

It has watched the parents enjoy a night away from the kids. Two lovers holding one another, gently swaying to silent sounds of music in the family room.  

It has served as a witness to the great moments, the cherished memories, and the irreplaceable encounters of the family.  

With such a catalog of joyous entertainment, the squeaky screen door patiently observes. It waits for the inevitable moment of a tainted sound, of a sneaky shadow, of an unsettling interaction that the family is not prepared for. 

While a menagerie of happiness and excitement normally perform for the screen door, one night, the unexpected occurs and the act is changed.

The night began like it always does, the soft shades of dusk permeating the room with a haze of sleepiness settling into the home. Suddenly, the mother and father, once tender lovers, come storming in. The man shouts at his wife, venomous anger seeping into a menagerie of cruel verbiage. Meanwhile, the woman cowers beneath her husband. The man that once vowed to protect her, strikes her with the hand that bears his wedding ring. Oblivious to her cries, the man continues his attack on the woman, eventually leaving her abandoned on the floor, with bruises blossoming over her bodice. Purple and blue splotches that require a masquerade of makeup to conceal.  

The woman collects herself, picking her broken body off of the floor and straightening out her now wrinkled clothes.  

As all women do, she composes herself after facing extreme cruelty, prepared to proceed with her evening as usual. Like nothing is wrong, like nothing ever happened. 

As she stands, the woman hears the signature sound of the squeaky screen door. She looks up, nervous that her former protector is back to continue his punishment. However, when her eyes look up from under her tangled hair, nothing is there.  

The squeaky screen door has not moved. The latch is still fastened, the lock is still in place, and the door is still completely shut, despite the verbal cue of opening it produced before.  

The battered woman walks closer to the door, trying to convince herself that she is hearing things. Hearing things she cannot see.  

She has nearly reached resolution from the abnormal experience when she approaches the door and rests her hand on screen. She drags her hand across the scratchy material, letting the familiar coolness of the door comfort her aching body, when suddenly, her hand falls through the door.  

The woman looks up and sees that her hand has pushed through the screen door entirely. She jerks away quickly, shaking her hand out and bringing it into her chest. 

Upon the extraction of her hand, she examines the door. Her eyes graze over the zig-zagged mesh and parades consistent stitching, until the place her hand went through the durable material. The hole in the mesh matched the shape of her fist perfectly.  

Despite this unexplainable event, the woman’s curiosity quickly permeates fear. Fear that her husband will enter, and the unintentional damage she has done. Fear that she will once again meet the brutality of his fist, and the volatility of his temper.  

Quickly and efficiently, the woman grabs her sewing kit and stitches the screen door back together with thin black thread. Her swollen fingers collide with one another, in her haste to repair the door, before her husband sees. As she finishes tying the knot, she hears her husband entering from the kitchen. She grabs her items and goes to hide in the bathroom before he can see her kneeling before the damaged door.  

Her husband storms in, one hand on his hip, the other holding his cigarette. The stench of nicotine threatens to overwhelm the senses, by coating the room with its fumes. However, the squeaky screen door ventilates the smoke, leaving the room smelling as dry and painful as before.  

After a few more puffs, the man opens the door, automatically wincing at the door’s signature squeak, and throws his cigarette outside, putting it out with the toe of his work boot. He stands outside for a moment, looking at the backyard of the home he and his wife, now his victim, have built together. With a long sigh and the shake of his head, he turns back to the doorway ready for it to engulf him in the safety of the house.  

As he turns around and steps forward, he bumps into the screen door head on. The door is closed. The man pushes his face into the mesh, trying to see the culprit. Trying to see the one who shut him outside. His eyes scan the empty room, and he comes to a quiet resolve that he must’ve shut the door behind him and simply forgot.

As the man steps back, and prepares to enter the house successfully, he notices a circular burn in the mesh. The shape and size of a cigarette burn, this dark hole ominously settles right where the man’s chest pushed into the door when he initially tried to enter.  

The man grazes his fingers across the mesh, and drags his hand across the scratchy material, letting the familiar coolness of the door comfort his aching heart. When he pinpoints the spot of the burn, he lets his fingers linger on the ashy splotch. A silent moment of reflection, shame, and pity settles over the man as he pulls his grimy finger away from the burn, opens the door, and heads inside.  

Later that night, as the former lovers lay on opposite sides of the bed, backs to one another, the eldest child, the only daughter, slips down the stairs. With hair pulled back, high heels on, and keys and phone in hand, the daughter prepares to make her daring escape, sneaking out without her parents' permission.  

Moving intently and silently, the girl goes to the screen door, ready to make her exit without triggering the motion sensored lights in the front of the house by avoiding the main entrance.  

The girl prepares to open the screen door, while applying pressure upwards on the door, to lessen the volume of squeakiness she knows is inevitable. Despite this obstacle, the girl is not worried about getting caught. Both her parents are asleep, and their golden retriever puppy, now a deaf old dog, will not hear her leave, he hasn't before.  

The girl begins to lift and push the door, when suddenly, a blood curdling shriek emits from the door. She jumps back away from the door, as if it has a disease and looks around to see if she has awoken the house. 

Upon assessing her surroundings, the girl turns back to try and open the door again. As she does, she feels a weight on her right foot. She peeks down to see the old golden retriever, sitting on her leg, preventing her from leaving. Apparently, this deaf old dog can still learn some new tricks and could hear her attempted escape.  

Accepting defeat, and realizing she won’t be going out tonight, the girl looks down at the dog and pats his head. The dog, content with his victory in keeping his human safe from the sinister world, pants and looks up at his owner with unwavering loyalty and ultimate adoration.  

Resolving to head back to bed, the girl begins to turn back into the house, and walk upstairs, back to bed. The dog follows her. Tail swishing with content. As she reaches the staircase, the girl is startled by another shriek from the squeaky screen door.  

She whips her head around to the door, expecting to see an intruder. However, nothing is there.  

The girl scrambles for her phone, and clicks on the flashlight app, shining it at the screen door. Once again, no one was there. However, upon closer inspection, the girl notices claw marks through the mesh. Deep, thick scratches mutilate the mesh and disfigure the fabric against the tight frame.  

These marks are too big, and too deep to be from a human. They’re too long and too jagged to be from a machine.  

Keeping her flashlight on the screen’s scratches, the girl walks closer to the door, once again, with her faithful pup padding behind her. As she reaches the door, she places her hand on the marks, and drags her hand across the scratchy material, letting the familiar coolness of the door comfort her aching soul. 

As her fingers trace the edges of the scratch marks, the dog erupts with a low growl, rumbling deep in his throat. The girl flings her hand away and looks at the dog, whose eyes are boring into the scratched screen door. The girl stands up, links her fingers under the dog's collar, and leads him up the stairs to her bedroom.  

The next morning, as the different family members traipse down the stairs, all of them stop and take a long look at the screen door. There is no hole in the shape of a fist, with no handmade stitching repairing it. There is no smudge of ash or sign of a cigarette burn in the center. There are no long scratches, or frayed edges at the ends. The squeaky screen door stands untouched, with all marks of pain completely erased.  

The last member of the family, the youngest son, was the only one protected from the ear-piercing sounds of the squeaky screen door. He trots through the living room, excited to run outside and play. The rest of his family observes his innocence and longs to have the same pure joy in life as he does. 

Their jealousy and wonder grow even more when the boy opens the squeaky screen door and runs outside. All while in complete silence. 

Short Story: Words for War

By: Armando Covarrubias, Cartoonist, Writer 

Out of all of the greatest weapons, mankind has ever concocted, the greatest weapon comes from humanity’s biology, specifically his voice. The human word can do so much, bring peace to nations, and create discord and war. As a humble messenger to the dark gods, I know far too well about the power of charisma, how it can be used and twisted for one's self-benefit. For my fight is not on the battlefield, but at the seat of the senate, or that is what I hope will happen. I have been going through this campaign for almost a year, and have developed a large number of supporters. And as I am still currently traveling from village to town, I plant my seeds of chaos in each successful campaign speech I make. For when I am victorious I shall reap the rewards, for my gods.

I am currently preparing myself for my next speech. I wear my finest robes and my most regal armor. Now I will put my charisma into practice. Once the seeds of doubt and discord are planted I shall wait till the harvest. For this war will not be one by guns, or swords, or fists, or magic from the heavenly fools or the sacredly damned. It will be a war won by truth and charisma. Now let us put this into practice.

——

I witness the crowd from behind the curtain chattering up a storm. To which I walked out from the curtains and towards the podium. Upon seeing me everyone cheered and applauded in glee. These people are my supporters, at least that is what they thought, but they are just pawns in my game. “Welcome.” I said, “Welcome, children of the Heavenly Father. Sons of God.” Upon saying those words the crowd goes wild. 

I continue, “I have come to witness your plight, and upon my visit, if I become elected I shall restore this country to its former glory. As our forefather would’ve wanted.” As my supporters cheered I thought to myself how foolish these commoners are. I am not lying, for our forefathers would have wanted this country of ours to thrive. I am just speaking out what the masses want me to say. I speak again, “I have heard of your plights, your cries, your lamentations that could even be heard across the globe. And why would such fine townsfolk such as all of you have to suffer?” 

The townsfolk began to shout saying things such as, “We are low on food rations,” “The inquisition took my son,” “The water is not fit to drink, ”and more things such as that. I then said, “To hear your plight with my ears fills me with sorrow and utter disappointment in the people who are supposedly supposed to be helping the common people.” I ask, “Tell me, worthy sons of God, who is the man who is supposed to be protecting you? Who is it that is supposed to lead you all like the son of man?” The masses then shouted that the bishop is to blame. In voices that sounded more akin to hungry wolves, they shouted “The bishop!” “Bishop Winchester,” “Winchester,” and so on. 

I continued, “But who is this Bishop Winchester? Is he better than the common man because of his status as a holy man?” As I finished the sentence my supporters shouted no. I continued asking, “Is he a mere mortal, a man? Does he not breathe like a man, eat like a man, defecate and urinate like a man. The answer is yes, yet he puts himself in a marble manor that makes cathedrals look like barns. 

“He gets to eat more meals in one day than you all eat in a week. He gets to drink the finest wines and juices the world has to offer, yet here you stand drinking the water that flows from his manor’s sewage system. Water so impure that even rats would puke at the mere taste of it. He wears the most lavished of robes, even the pontificate himself does not wear such beautiful garbs. He dons a massive and magnificent miter that its size can only be compared by this man's ego.” The crowd began to laugh at my quip. I continued, “He has the gall to live a life of luxury as he watches you suffer? 

He sits in his manor where he indulges in gluttony and greed, while you all barely make enough money to survive. The only thing that he is good at besides sitting on his throne like a king, is to send out the inquisition. To take away your mothers, your fathers, your sisters, your brothers, your children. All because he does not like you. So to survive to have to put up with this fool. He is more fit to be a jester than a bishop” The crowd began to laugh again. 

I thought to myself that I almost have their entire support, it is time to reap the fruits of my labor. I spoke again “So I say to you sons and daughter of the holy lord. Will you put up with this clown?” They shouted no. I asked, “Will you stand for this?” Again they shouted with a no. I then asked, “Will we let corruption seep through the pores of the church we call sanctuary?” Again they shouted no. 

I then spoke and said, “It is because of idiots who run the church and by extant the towns they are meant to lead and protect its people like Shepard’s end up leaving their herd to starve. Which is why I plan to make sure that the church has no control over the senate and to disband the inquisition.” The crowd began cheering as a wave of joy. I continued, “And to prove that I am not a man pulling strings I would like to have a little chat with this Bishop Winchester myself.” The crowd began to cheer and shouted my name, Yehudah. Over and over they repeated my name. We began to march towards his manor.

My mission was a success, I have planted the seeds of discord upon the people against the holy sees. The townsfolk will pour onto the manor like a flood. The bishop's guardsmen are prepared against these types of riots, which is why I will be there. I will meet with the bishop, and I already have plans for what to do with this pile of silk and lard. This town is now mine. You do not see any weapons on my hand, only charisma, and a loud voice. This is how war starts.

And this is how wars will end.

The Penitent Soldier

By: Armando Covarrubias, Staff Writer/ Cartoonist

 Forgive me Lord for I have sinned. I have strayed from your light and now I am broken. As I lay on my knees upon your house. As the fear of what is yet to come, an inquisitor, dressed in garbs of red, black, and white with golden embellishments, carries the book in one hand, and the cone on the other. By her side was an acolyte wearing white robes. The inquisitor looked down at me and stared into my eyes, or rather into my soul.

She asks me, “Do you have any idea of the weight of your sins?”

I looked up and responded with a yes.

“Do you know why you have done it?” she asks.

I did not respond, for I was pondering about that. Why did I commit sin? Why did I choose this life of debauchery, manipulation, disgust, and bloodshed?

She then asked me a different question, “Do you know what is to come next?”

My train of thought stopped. I looked up at her and stated yes.

“Then you would have known better than to give yourself up to the unholy gods. You chose the pathway to hell just because ‘the gods’ would have made your life easier.”

It was at that moment I understood something about myself.

She continued, “You were created in God's holy image, and you chose to become an ungrateful little brat wishing you had a different father than the one you had.”

As every word exudes from her mouth I fell closer and closer onto the marble floor until I was on my fours.

“You will not be executed, but you will be punished. Get up.” I look up at her. “Get up!” She shouted as I stood.

Her acolyte seated me onto a chair where the priest would have sat. As I sat down the inquisition gave the acolyte the book, and grabbed a key from her pocket as she put the cone on my head. It was made of iron and had a face on the front wearing a crown of thorns. On the highest part of the cone was a cross painted on the cone. As the helmet was put upon my head the interior had spikes inside. I did not feel pain, rather mild scratch. The inquisitor inserted the key in the back of the helmet.

Before she turned the key she spoke to me and said, “Do not think I find any enjoyment out of this, you have broken my heart as you did to the father.” I could hear her trying not to cry. As she held back her tears she said, “May you learn from your sins.”

She then turned the key and at that second the nails were injected into my skin - piercing my flesh, bone until I could feel it in my brain. I screamed every part of me was in pain. Every cell in my body was in torment, every thought in my mind was a nightmare, every inch of my soul felt a burning sensation more painful than the fiery depths of hell itself. I could do nothing but scream, I couldn’t do anything but scream. I lied on the floor in torment as the acolyte looked on in fear.

From what I could gather, the inquisitor turned to the acolyte and said, “This is the fate of damned. Do not dare to stray away from God’s holy light, and if you do I will not hesitate to punish you as I did to him.”

After that everything went red. I could not hear anything but my screams echoing from the cathedral. This was my penance, and I will not lie, I deserved every ounce of torment. If God is truly merciful he will end my suffering once I have entered the battlefield. For that, I say with whatever is left of my fractured mind “Miserere Nobis.”

SHORT STORY Father Domingo Sits Alone: The Last Confession

By:Armando Covarrubias, Staff Cartoonist

Father Domingo is a Mexican Jesuit priest for the Chapel of All Holy Saints. He is a tall man, with dark brown skin. He has black hair and brown eyes. He is a teacher for the Agnus Dei University in their religious department. He teaches a variety of different classes such as World Religions, and History of Catholicism. He is always seen either in class, eating by himself, at his office, or in his room at the Jesuit house. One day during his lunch break he was greeted by Father Ahab.

“Afternoon brother,” Father Ahab said with a grin on his face. He was a couple of inches shorter than Domingo. He had blond hair blue eyes and was clean shaven.

“Afternoon,” said Father Domingo as he continued eating his burger.

“I have always noticed that you are always by yourself, and I thought that maybe you need the company.”

“Are you intentions true?” Domingo asked.

“Yes, of course that’s why I’m here.” Ahab responded.

Domingo takes in the last bite of his burger, licking his fingers, and says “All right, let's talk.”

“Ok. About what?”

“I don’t know? You wanted to start the conversation.”

Ahab responded, “Yes but I don’t have any plans, we could talk about anything like work, or our hobbies, or our family.”

“Or our love life.” Domingo said abruptly.

“What?!”

“It’s a joke.” Ahab looked in relief. “Well, its confession season, so have you been hearing out any confessions lately?” Asked Father Ahab.

“No, I haven’t heard any confessions. The last confession I heard was five years ago.” Ahab, in shock, said, “Five years! Are you insane!”

“Yes.”

“Jokes aside you can’t tell me that you have not been hearing confessions for five years.”

“But I did.”

“Why?” Asked father Ahab.

Domingo lets out a large sigh. He says, “My last confession was unreal, bizarre, and as far as I’m concerned, unnatural.” Ahab responded, “It could not be that bad.”

Father Domingo abruptly replies, “But it was.” Ahab stayed silent. “The story I will tell you is a story of greed, murder, manipulation, and other things that can not be explained.” He lets out another large sigh and begins to tell his story. “Five years ago before I was a priest at the university, I went traveling to different parishes. More specifically I traveled around Mexico. I was at a confession stand where I met a man who told me his sins. His sin was so great that it haunts his every move.”

Ahab asked, “What was it murder, assault, thievery?”

Domingo responded, “No, he made a homeless lady upset.” Ahab, in shock, said “That's it? That’s why you stopped doing confessions.” Domingo continued “No. That’s just a part of it, keep listening.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you. So yeah, the man was Miguel Reginald. He worked as a delivery boy for a Mexican bakery shop. He had blonde hair green eyes, and white skin. Everyday he would deliver a variety of Mexican pastries such as conchas, cookies, cakes, porkitos, and so much more. Before he would leave, an old homeless lady would show up at the front of the bakery. She would beg for bread or a pastry or something, but he would say no. One day the lady asked if she could have some bread. Instead of saying no, he decided to compromise with the lady. He said if you help me with these deliveries I will give you something to eat. She says yes but only if she eats first. He says no she has to earn it. She screamed in anger saying ‘Me and my ancestors will hunt you down on the eve of your daughters quinceañera, at the peak of your happiness.’ She laughed maniacally as she died on the street.”

Ahab says, “Two things: one, never do a witch voice again, and two he came to confess for not helping that poor ill woman?”

Domingo replies, “Oh she was not ill, I can assure you.” Domingo then continued, “So after that incident his life went uphill from then on. He got a pay raise, he eventually became the manager of the bakery and created a chain of bakeries. He made a lot of money and became a billionaire. He owned a mansion , had a multitude of servants, married a model despite his inexperience with dating and had a beautiful girl named Sarah. Such is the life for those who worship Mammon.”

Ahab asked, “Who?”

“Nothing,” Domingo responded. “ Anyway, his daughter was going to turn fifteen soon, so Miguel planned huge quinceañera for her. With music, good food, whatever you thought your best birthday party was hers was better. On the day before her birthday they decided to go to the park where they used to take Sarah as a child. He was sitting on the bench when he noticed that his daughter stood still. He thought that it was probably nothing, ten minutes later and she was still standing there. At that point he ran up to her and asked her if she is okay. She responded saying, ‘No, because I’m already dead!"‘ As her face turned her skin was yellow, her skin had holes where maggots spilled out. He screamed in horror, she lunged towards him constantly saying, ‘I said I would be back with my family.’ As she spoke faces began to emerge from Sarah’s body. He was scared and confused not knowing what to do. He begs for mercy. The spirits say, ‘We will let you go if you answer this one question: Why is the devil smart?’ His response was, ‘Because he’s evil.’ At that moment it was silent. A red line of blood drips from his throat, and his head falls off, and the spirits left the body of that girl. The next day Sarah had her quinceañera with her mother and father by her side.”

Ahab exclaimed, “Wait what, I thought he died?!”

Domingo said “He didn’t, during his confession he explained that he knew this was coming. So he got one of his loyal servants to swap faces with him so the spirit of the old lady and her ancestors will kill his servant instead. So when I got to see his face he had black hair, his skin was brown, but he still had those green as that he described before. He says to me that even though the spirits killed his doppelgänger, they eventually found out the truth. So now he is haunted by the spirits of the old lady, her ancestors, and now the servant too. As he leaves the stand I saw them.”

Ahab asked, “What?”

“Phantoms,” exclaimed Father Domingo! “Phantoms, ghosts, spirits, remnants of the old lady’s family and the servant who is carrying his own head. I saw ghosts from different time periods such as the Aztec War priests, conquistadors, Spanish inquisitors, Visigoth warriors, and others. I grasped ,y rosary praying that God may protect me, and he did.”

”So that’s the reason why you stopped doing confessions,” asked Father Ahab.

“Yes,” replied Father Domingo. Ahab got up and said, “Well lets just say I’m a bit skeptical about your so-called reason. And by skeptical I mean I think you’re lying.”

“Whether you believe it or not I’m just happy I got that off my chest,” Domingo replied. “I mean this was bad but that was nothing compared to my other past experiences.”

Ahab asked, “What do you mean?”

Domingo gets up, saying, “That’s my cue to leave.” Then grabs his plate and goes inside the cafeteria. Never to tell Ahab the things he has seen, for it can drive most men into madness.