The Impassioned River

by John

The sun glowed down in a particularly happy manner this morning, for it was not glowing down on any old thing, but upon what Agnes supposed was surely the happiest sight to be seen, the nearlywed Agnes and Edmund. She tightened her grip on Edmund’s hand, and positively radiated joy. The Magic Kingdom of Disney sprawled out before them, a world full of dreams coming true and great photo opportunities. She could think of no better way to celebrate their hard-won victory than to blissfully waft about in such a place as this. She looked up at Edmund, the cleft on whose chin was deepened by a broad grin.

“Why are you grinning like that?” she asked him.

“Thinking of our wedding,” he said simply.

“But it’s not for another 8 hours,” she said, “Wasn’t that what we planned?”

“Oh,” he said, “It was. But somehow I managed to sweeten the plan.”

“But how could it possibly be better?” His grin broadened even more upon hearing this.

“Somehow I pulled a few strings and booked the ceremony inside the Disney Castle itself.”

“Oh, Edmund!” Cried Agnes, disbelievingly, “However did you manage that?”

“Let’s just say I’m much more resourceful since we found one another. Mildred was ever-so-stifling to my overly resourceful mind.”

“And Lucius was clipping my wings so I couldn’t outfly him! We’re so much better for each other.”

“Which is why we are to wed,” he said, “and until then we must occupy our time frolicking. Where shall we frolick first?”

“Why, Edmund, I know just the place!” And before his baritone voice could utter another word, she had him by the hand and was running off with it, compelling him to follow.

* * *

Very nearby, however, the sun did not seem to be shining down in a particularly happy manner at all. Its rays fell reluctantly upon two rather sullen people, who were standing perhaps ten yards from the dust cloud Agnes and Edmund left. The tall man, who smelled of musk, turned to the woman at his side and said,

“Did you hear them? Speaking so lightly of this whole affair?”

“Using our names, even!” spat Mildred venomously, “For all to hear and judge us just because we are evil.”

“But did you hear the worst part of all?” Lucius said, “They are going to be married today! In this very theme park!”

“No,” Mildred said suddenly and slowly, “My Edmund said he was planning on it. That does not mean it will happen.”

“Planning,” Lucius mused, “Planning, you say. Well… while it is still in the stage of planning, I suppose—”

“—It’s still subject to not happen if we have anything to say about it! I will have my Edmund back if it’s the last thing I do!”

She said this rather loudly, but none of the other tourists seem to take heed, as tourists spouting lines from obscure Disney movies was not so uncommon a happening in that day, though perhaps not so passionately as Mildred was shouting. Indeed, the nearest Classic Disney Character, Goofy, was eyeing them with suspicion, wary that they might begin to upstage him.

“Then we shall have to begin a bit of planning of our own,” Lucius declared, “I know my Agnes’ weaknesses.”

“And I know my Edmund’s’!” she cried, although she then passed into a moment of silence. She seemed to be pondering a weighty issue in her mind, when she suddenly said, “Oh, why didn’t I think of it before? He doesn’t swim! I know he doesn’t swim!”

“He can’t swim?” Lucius asked, incredulous.

“I don’t know if he can or not,” Mildred said distractedly, “All I know is that he doesn’t. I don’t think he approves. In any event, all we have to do is get him out of the way. Once he can’t protect Agnes, she will be an easy target.”

Lucius froze.

“I don’t know about easy,” he said carefully, “The only time we were ever assaulted on the street, she

* * *

brought down all of our attackers within five seconds,” Agnes laughed, as they waited in the line for Space Mountain, “It was no challenge, really! Why, after years of my dakentaijutsu training, it was hardly a thing. Nothing but a series of well-timed roundhouse kicks. It is wonderful I was able to practice like that whilst Lucius was courting me. I hardly ever got to do a thing like that in those days.” She looked at the ground as she said this, her golden locks filling most of her line of sight. She suddenly grew very quiet, and Edmund noticed her eyes moistening, as his senses had grown very well-attuned to that sort of thing.

“Agnes,” he said tenderly, “Don’t let the past haunt you so. Someone with locks as golden and long as yours shouldn’t ever dwell too much on poor character judgments made in the past. Why, I don’t suppose they’d call it progress if we were always at one hundred percent.”

“Oh, Edmund,” she said, her voice breaking, “There really were too many ideas in what you said for me to register exactly what you’re trying to tell me, but it’s comforting all the same. Oh, enough of the past, when there is such a wonderful future up ahead!”

“Of course, Agnes,” Edmund crooned, “We shall be married and, appropriately, we will live happily ever after, with so many new adventures to have and dakentaijutsu to perform on assaulters and children to rear.”

“Why, Edmund!” Cried Agnes, “You practice dakentaijutsu, too? I never knew!”

“I thought all real men knew dakentaijutsu!” He exclaimed, “Why, doesn’t Lucius?” She laughed.

“Well, to give you an idea, the night we were attacked, after I broke their legs, I found him

* * *

certainly not curled into a fetal position in the corner! What slander is this?” demanded Lucius.

“It’s just the rumor that’s circulating, Lucius,” Mildred said, “You needn’t be so touchy.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” he said again, his lip quivering firmly.

“Fine.”

They sat in silence for a few more moments. A little child nearly spilled her ice cream on the ground in front of them, but another classic Disney character, Pluto, dashed to the earth in time to catch the icy ball and deliver it back on the child’s cone. Both were pleased. A bird passed overhead, its loud tweet forming a noticeable Doppler effect.

“So,” said Mildred, “We ought to have an actual plan of some kind if we intend to prevent this wedding from happening.”

“We ought to.”

Two adorable squirrels darted across the grassy square they sat in, followed by two smiling Disney security men running with giant nets. Solar rays aimed at them were blocked by a large tree which stood behind them, causing large-tree-shaped area of significantly less-bright ground to appear, within which Mildred and Lucius stood.

“Then,” said Mildred, “Let us invent one.”

“Let us,” Lucius concurred.

Mildred, by the way, was dressed in a black satin blouse which was abundant in lace and ribbon. This over a modest black skirt which was fashionably tattered at the hem, and knee-length motorcyclist boots. She radiated exactly what she intended to radiate. And it wasn’t safety. But it wasn’t tacky either. Her features were drawn in a look that was intensely

“I have it!” cried Lucius of a sudden.

startled.

“Have what?” she asked, recovering.

“A plan!”

* * *

“I must say,” Edmund said abruptly as they approached the cheerful toots and swirls of It’s A Small World After All, “I don’t like the looks of this?”

“What’s not to like?” asked Agnes incredulously, pointing out the exceedingly great joy of everything about the attraction.

“It’s all so suspiciously happy,” he said, “one cannot see this many smiles without something dark lurking beneath.”

“Beneath where?”

“Beneath,” he said simply, “Nevertheless, if it’s what you truly want, my Agnes, then let us go.”

“Oh, Edmund, of course it is what I want!” And they ran through the flowers, much to the initial anger of the gardeners, though this was cooled when they noticed how the flowers were not trampled by this happy couple, but how new ones sprung up from beneath their feet every stride they took. Eagerly they raced to the entrance to the river, which was easy enough as there was no line at that time (presumably the other tourists lacked dakentaijutsu skills and were still in line at Space Mountain). Within moments they were in the small boat, and it was moving, albeit slowly, down the small river-tunnel. As they moved forward, they were greeted by the swelling chorus.

It’s a small world after all,

Rang out the animatronics in adorable unison,

It’s a small, small world.

It’s a world of laughter,

It’s a world of tears,

It’s a world of hopes,

Suddenly the voices lost their child-like, innocent tones, and began deepening exponentially, like a record slowing,

Iiiiit’sss aaa wooooorrrrllldd oooooooooof ffffeeeeeeeeaaaaarrrrrrrrsssssss,

and they stopped altogether. The lights went completely out, winning a shriek from Agnes. The water was stilled and their boat was paralyzed.

“What’s the meaning of this?” cried Edmund, expecting answers from something. The lights came on again, this time much brighter. A man’s amplified voice rang out,

“Truly, this world is too small!”

“Why, it’s Lucius!” cried Agnes.

“Too small for the two of us,” cried Edmund, “What is it you want?”

“You, of course,” came a silky female voice. Edmund’s mouth fell agape.

“Mildred,” he uttered huskily, “How did you find us here?”

“It wasn’t hard: happy couples tend to advertise themselves a little too well,” she replied, “Especially ones with blogs who like to post their travel plans in bouts of ecstatic joy. But I digress: I’m afraid this happy couple won’t be happy much longer.”

“Nothing you can do can destroy our love!” Agnes cried out.

“It’s too small a world for that,” came Lucius’ voice, “so of the four of us, I think two will have to pass through it much faster than expected!”

“Good luck, Edmund!” Came Mildred’s voice, and the animatronics started up again, in triple-time.

There’ssomuchthatwesharethatitstimewe'reawareitsasmallworld

The water began churning at alarming speeds, soaking them thoroughly. Water sprayed up the walls, and the boat shot forward at wholly family-inappropriate speeds, rocking like a storm-tossed vessel whilst the animatronic dolls spun and flailed violently, occasionally losing hands or catching fire, being extinguished as the water sprayed them. Edmund and Agnes clung to each other frantically, yelling at the top of their lungs for help. Edmund shielded his face with one of his trembling hands. Agnes spared a glance up ahead, and her heart, without any pun intended on the part of the writer, sank. About ten yards ahead, the boat was going to take a sharp corner. She knew it could not make it. Not with them still inside.

“Brace yourself!” She shouted.

“Do what?” Edmund shouted back. She clung ever tighter, her muscles tensing and her heart pounding. “No really,” Edmund shouted again, “What did you—”

Impact.

For a stunned moment, Agnes was quite unconscious of anything. Recovering, she perceived she was underwater. It was significantly calmer down there, she thought. Darker, too. In fact, entirely too dark. Hadn’t the lights just been blaring? She let herself float, to orient herself a bit, and quickly discovered which direction was up. In that direction she swam, and in moments broke the surface.

The lights were dimmer. The river was flowing at a normal pace, and some five yards ahead was their boat, splintered and cracked, but still floating along, now outside their reach. The dolls had ceased their frantic dance and were now jubilating at a healthier pace. And Edmund –

“Oh my golly,” she cried aloud, “Where is Edmund?” She looked around, and he was not to be seen. He must have sunk, she concluded, and dived down to find him.

It would be instructive to the reader, no doubt, to pause at this time and contemplate the magnitude of the love between Agnes and Edmund. It is defined something like the love between Buttercup and Westley, to the effect that it cannot be tracked with a thousand bloodhounds or broken with a thousand swords, only that their particular love heals all wounds, and casts even the darkest shadow in golden light. As such, Agnes was easily able to spot Edmund at the bottom of the now-tranquil river, notwithstanding the relative darkness in which he was shrouded. Mustering all of her strength, she reached him and hoisted him to the surface, which surface they broke, both heaving for air. She supported his head on her shoulder so he could recover while she treaded water for the both of them.

“Thank you, Agnes,” Edmund said, somehow more handsome when wet, “I was beginning to panic.”

“Edmund!” cried Agnes, “You were conscious?”

“Of course, my dear.”

“Then why didn’t you swim to the surface?” she asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t swim.”

“You can’t swim?”

“I can swim all right, but I don’t.”

“Why don’t you?” she asked, beginning to tire treading so hard.

“I feel it is improper,” he said simply. Her legs were beginning to cramp.

“Improper?” she inquired breathlessly, struggling to respire, “How so?”

“Well,” he said coolly, “If man had been meant to swim, he’d have been born with fins like a fish has, and we eat fish. It doesn’t seem proper to me.”

“But Edmund,” she said, “I can’t tread water for both of us indefinitely!”

“I know,” he said, “Therefore I shall call for help and you shan’t have to. Here,” he said, pulling his cell phone from his pocket, and then tossing it back into the water. “Aha,” he said again, “It is waterlogged. That will never do.”

“Oh, Edmund,” gasped Agnes, “Whatever shall we do?”

“Well,” he said, “If I could just have a moment to think things through…” but as he spoke, another voice was heard. It was a man’s voice, but not Lucius’. It came from further up the chamber from which they had come. His voice echoed quite too much to understand what he said just yet, but he was getting nearer.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, “The other tourists on this ride will be able to help us! Normally the boats don’t ride at such a reckless pace, so we should not fear being rammed by them, and at such a calm speed we can ask for help!”

“Wait,” Agnes gargled as water began to enter into her mouth, “I can hear him now.” They both strained to hear the man’s words over the sound of Agnes’ struggling.

“Can you hear me now? Good. Can you hear me now? Good. Can you hear me now?”

“Good!” cried Edmund, “It’s the Verizon Wireless man!”

Within moments he was close enough to see them. Edmund wove to him in a friendly fashion whilst Agnes floundered.

“Can you hear me now? Good – I have some people trying to talk to me,” said the Verizon man, and he turned his attention to Edmund and Agnes, politely asking if he could be of service to them.

“You certainly can!” Edmund said, “As you see, we fell into the river and our cell phones have been waterlogged. Our wedding is shortly, and we have to get out and get cleaned up, and I don’t swim!”

“You can’t swim?” the Verizon man asked incredulously.

“Of course I can,” Edmund said, “I just don’t. Now, we need to reach someone who can help us out. Can I borrow your phone?”

“Better,” said the man, “Come on into the boat. It won’t tip over.” He kindly helped Edmund into the boat first, because he didn’t swim, and then helped in Agnes, who collapsed in exhaustion, albeit a happy one. They continued on their way through the ride, and over the din of the singing animatronics, Edmund told the Verizon man of what had happened, and how Lucius and Mildred would stop at nothing to ensure that Edmund and Agnes not be married that day.

“We desperately need to call for some sort of help,” he said, “The Disney park Security, or the police, or some form of protection.” To his surprise, the Verizon man laughed gaily.

“Oh, sir, that won’t be necessary,” he said mirthfully, “I think we pretty much can get the situation under control. So, what were the names of your exes, again?”

“Mildred and Lucius, respectively,” Edmund replied, confused. The man put the cell phone again to his ear.

“Can you hear me now? Good. Listen, sorry to hold you so long, but I have a situation.”

“Who are you talking to?” asked Edmund. The Verizon man looked at him strangely and said, with a twinkle in his eye,

“Chuck Norris.”

* * *

Deep in one of the turrets of the Disney castle, an unwelcome voice was heard.

“Quickly, quickly, quickly!” repeated Lucius to Mildred as she stacked more dynamite in the table in the turret room where the wedding was to be held.

“But not quickly enough,” came an all-too familiar voice from the mouth of the hall. Lucius and Mildred looked up, agape.

“But I didn’t hear you come in,” stammered Mildred.

“That’s not surprising,” Chuck Norris said.

* * *

Some hundred or so yards above the Disney castle, the Disney Vultures noticed a tendril of smoke coming from one of the turrets which smelled distinctly of fear. They caught one another’s eye, and, with grinning beaks, swooped down and began circling overhead.

* * *

“And with the loveable power vested in me by generations of tradition and old American past times,” said the man dressed as the loveable Mickey, “I now pronounce you man and wife.” There rose up a cheer from all around them, and Edmund moved in for the kiss, which S. Morgenstern has already described in great depth in his work.

“You may kiss the bride,” added Mickey awkwardly. A series of fireworks cracked and boomed overhead, filling the room with brilliant greens and reds and blues and yellows, and by that point the dynamite had been safely removed by the hazard crew, so the fireworks were pretty much the extent of it. The cake was cut and presumably distributed, and the string quartet began to play a minuet. Edmund took Agnes by the hand and they walked to the middle of the dance floor, inaugurating happily ever after with a dance.

Meanwhile Chuck Norris continued beating people up.

A Day To Remember

George stood in the line to enter "The Happiest Place Ever" theme park. Since the line was so very long, he thought he would chat with his friend Bob on his cell phone. When he finally got to the cashier's window, he kept the phone against his ear with his shoulder, paid for the ticket and walked through the park gates while continuing his conversation. He was still talking while he rode the "Giant Grizzly". He walked over to the "Enchanted Lake" boat ride all while he visited on his phone. George continued the same call while he munched on lunch apologizing for his muffled speech. He talked as he walked to the "Haunted Hallows", waited in line (still conversing with Bob), then sat in the black chair when his turn came to ride into the gaping front door. . . all the while chatting. He stayed on the phone with his friend the entire day. When it got dark, he walked out of the front gates, got into his car, and drove (with his phone still glued to his ear) to his house. He talked as he went up to his room on the second floor. He laid down on his bed and said "talk to you later, Bob," then closed the phone and tossed it onto his nightstand.

George's mother tapped softly on his open bedroom door.

"George dear, where have you been all day?" she asked.
"I don't remember," he replied.

And he didn't.

Jack All Alone

When people talk on cell phones the dendrites in their brain tissue align with the organized electrical pulses emanating from the device being held in such close proximity to the brain’s axons. Especially when humans engage in conversation (it doesn't matter what the content of the conversation is), the auditory cortex is uniquely activated into a theta-matrix pattern, enabling interface with the phone transmission system. The brain, as it were, actually extends itself throughout the cell phone network. --Journal of Neurophysiology, 81, p.1031

The invention of the cell phone made it all possible. All of humanity the world over (except Jack) was prepared for the jump to a new level of existence: the Fusion. People everywhere were to be ready with their cell phones turned on and fully charged. At 6 p.m. everyone in the world would start talking on their phones--it wouldn't matter what they talked about--the content was irrelevant-- they just had to be talking. When the surge began the great change would begin to transform the entire network--just keep talking, talking, communicating, everybody, the entire human race, all at once (well, except Jack). At 6 p.m. humanity would make its next great evolutionary leap. Just as billions of years ago subatomic particles had organized to form atoms, and then atoms had formed to make molecules, and then molecules to become living tissues, then tissues to become organs, then organs to become animals--now the human animals would organize again, to become a newer, even greater, organism, a great Fusion. The event was perhaps best anticipated by a contemporary poet:

A great butterfly emerges from the Cocoon of Solitude
Rise up, embrace the sun
Dance with Sirius to the tune of the Spheres
Commune with Psi to heal the Earth
Consort with the hadrons and rejoice in Entanglement
Many will become One
Other will become Self
Selah
--by Randt Breldy

[except Jack, of course]

Jack was the only person left on earth who was not planning to participate in the great Fusion.

Dr. James visited Jack every Tuesday when he visited the hospital. But time was running out; the Fusion was to occur this evening. "I'm going to have to be blunt with you, Jack. You are not willing to join the Fusion because you have built up a mental barrier which is brought on by acute celphonaphobia, an irrational fear of cell phones. "
　
Jack made no response.

"I believe that when you were a child you developed a jealousy for your Mother talking on the phone because she used it to talk to your father, and not to you. As you grew up, this jealousy developed into a rage which you internalized and exiled to your preconscious mind. Now it surfaces as a fear of cell phones, and transfixes you whenever you come in contact with one."

Jack finally spoke. "No, Doc, it‘s not jealousy, it’s not fear. And it’s not even cell phones. I just like to go off and be alone sometimes. A man needs his solitude when he needs it. Why would I want to go and join a great universal mind? I would never be alone again."

"No, Jack, your wrong," Dr. James replied ardently. "You can’t see it because of your denial pattern. In reality, your desire for solitude is a rage-engendered fear channeled as repulsion seen through the eyes of your former childself, but without the ambivalence of conscious decision making. ”

“No, Doc, that’s not it . . . at least I don‘t think . . .”

When 6 p.m. arrived, all people everywhere, of all nations, kindreds, tongues, and peoples, were busily engaged in conversations with loved ones, friends, and even strangers, over their cell phones.

(Except Jack, of course, who sat at the table in the rec room and faced the wall). And then suddenly, all in the room went silent. After a few moments Jack slowly peered around. Everyone was perfectly still, perfectly quiet. Even grouchy Nurse Nettles said no word at all, but just stood like a statue, one hand pointing a scolding finger at an undetermined victim, the other hand holding her cell phone to her ear. Dr. James, himself, was statuesque and transfixed in thoughtful conversation, no doubt to another statuesque important person at the other end of the phone connection. Slowly Jack rose and tiptoed out into the hall. Maybe this was his big chance to finally escape, while doctors and nurses were all caught up in this strange cell phone epiphany.

As it turned out, nobody confronted him as he walked out of the main door and out onto the street. Outside, the people were also stationary and still, standing or sitting, holding their cell phones, in the same positions they had been in when the great Fusion began. Jack wandered through the perfectly quiet streets, poking his head into various buildings, looking for any sign of animation, but there was none. "I'm free! No one is stopping me! I can finally be alone! I will leave this place and go out to the country and find a quiet place to sit and think," he said to himself. And then a thought came to him: "But right here it is a kind a solitude in its own way isn't it?--these people are all catatonic, they don't notice me at all, I am alone, even here." Jack walked around some more as the sun sank below the horizon and everything was suddenly draped in shadow. "What has really happened to these people?" he wondered. "Are these people all insane?"

And then a frightening thought hit him: "Are these people dead? Maybe they are all dead and I'm walking around in a graveyard." He shuddered. "I don't want to spend the night out in this graveyard!" He began to walk and then run, heading for the hospital, the only familiar place he knew. Back in the rec room all of the people were still in their same positions. Nurse Nettles was still holding her phone, a still life pantomime of her former self. Dr. James was still on the verge of making some important point. "If outside it's a graveyard, then in here it's a tomb. But there's no place else to go. What else can I do?"

And then Jack began to think: "I need to find out for sure if these people really are dead or alive." He approached Dr. James and took his wrist. Was there a pulse? He couldn‘t tell. “Dr. James, Dr. James, wake up!“ He shouted. Nothing. He slapped the doctor across the face. Nothing. Then an idea came to him. Jack rushed to the hospital bulletin board and pulled a thumbtack from it. “Dr. James, you tried your therapy on me--so now I'll try my therapy on you," Jack said. Jack took the man's hand and placed the point of the thumbtack against the his fingertip. "Wake up, Dr. James!" he cried and forcefully plunged the thumbtack into the doctor's finger.

Immediately Jack began to hear a high pitched wail--an inhuman sound which seemed to rise from the throats of all the frozen people around him. Dr. James turned and looked straight at Jack and cried, "The Body is being attacked! There is Infection!" At that moment the room exploded into action. All of the people rushed towards Jack. Dr. James tried to grab him but he jerked away. As the other people converged on him he twisted and pushed his way free, running for the hall. He made it outside, with the doctors and nurses running after him. Outside, the high-pitched wail was ubiquitous throughout the town. People everywhere were in commotion, and all of them were running towards the hospital, towards Jack. He darted around the building and climbed over a chain link fence. He kept running--around bushes, behind cars, across streets, down alleys. But wherever Jack ran, people were there already, converging on him, like leukocytes defending a body against an infectious disease. The people with their cell phones had in fact become the cells of a great Organism.

Of course it was no use. Jack was surrounded and taken. Strangely, they were not angry with him; in fact they did not interact personally with him at all. The collective Organism seemed to be somewhere else--dancing with Sirius to the tune of the Spheres. Jack was just a small thing, really, only one small cell, from the great Organism’s point of view, and easily neutralized. Jack was taken and confined at the local jail. But Jack did end up getting plenty of what he had been craving: solitude. There was no other person left who would ever need to be sent to jail. Jack’s confinement was completely solitary. His food anonymously appeared under the door, and that was the sum total of his connection with anyone. Of course no one ever came to visit Jack (in fact no one ever came or went anywhere at all--the people were back to standing like statues). However, Jack did have one potential link to the outside world, should he ever want to use it while sitting all alone in his little room: they had provided Jack with a cell phone.

The Voice

by Adele

I’m silently fuming as I climb off the merry-go-round.

She hops off behind us and catches up, linking her arm in mine. “But seriously, those horses need a paint job, or something. And what was with that cheesy old music?”

In the most nonchalant voice I can muster, I reply, “I guess everything here is a little old, Cassie.”

She laughs. “That’s for sure. And why is the food so crappy? That hamburger tasted funny.”

And it was free, I think, biting my tongue. Because Sam and I paid for it.

Out loud, I just sigh.

Sam adds, “I didn’t mind the food at the Fry Shack. The shakes aren’t half bad.”

“Eh,” Cassie shrugs.

When she heads for the restroom up ahead, Sam sits down under a tree.

“I am so sick of her!” I burst out in a whisper, pacing back and forth in front of him. “Why can’t she just be grateful for once?”

Sam catches my hand and squeezes it reassuringly.

“She. Drives. Me. Crazy.” I mutter. “You know, she could stand to eat less anyway. She seriously eats more than you and I combined.” And it shows.

Sam pats my hand. “I know you love this place,” he says. “Just relax and have fun.”

“Kinda hard when nothing is ever good enough--”

I see Cassie approaching and quickly shut my mouth, giving her my best smile.

“Should we start heading toward the exit?” she asks cheerily. “Or do you guys want to go on more rides?”

“We’ve only been here for two hours.” Sam says, then adds in a spooky voice, “You still haven’t seen the House o’ Horrors.”

Cassie laughs, “I’m sure it’s real scary.”

“Thirteen floors of scariness,” Sam says. “With a dizzying view from the top. Come on, you’ll like it.”

“All right,” Cassie shrugs. “If you want, we can go.”

“I’m going to wait this one out, guys,” I say, sitting down on the grass under the tree. “I think I need a break.” From you, Cassie.

They promise to call me when they finish with the House o’ Horrors. They walk off, Cassie launching into a description of the awesome haunted house “back home.”

I kick off my sweaty shoes and lean against the tree.

That’s gratitude for you. Sure, she’s been through a lot, but then, so have we. And a simple thank you wouldn’t kill her for all the things we’ve done for her. Why doesn’t she just go back home if everything is so much better there?

After a few minutes, my phone rings. I look to see who it is.

Yep, Cassie. Apparently there isn’t anything here that can entertain her for very long. Nope, nothing is ever good enough.

I sigh and flip my phone open.

“Done already?” I ask.

No reply.

“Hello? Cassie? Are you guys done?” I say after a moment.

Still no reply.

I am about to hang up when I hear the voice.

“And it was free. Because Sam and I paid for it.”

Confused, I pause. Is that my voice?

Then “Um…” I hear Cassie’s voice say.

“I am so sick of you!” The voice, my voice, seems to be yelling from the phone. “Why can’t you just be grateful for once?”

A moment of silence, and then I hear Cassie say, “Aunt Laurie… I’m sorry--I didn’t--”

And there I am again, unmistakable.

“You. Drive. Me. Crazy!” my voice is shouting. And then, “You know, you could stand to eat less anyway. You seriously eat more than we do, combined. And it shows.”

There is another pause, longer, and then I hear crying.

“Cassie, listen to me, I’m not sure what’s going on,” I finally attempt, standing up and holding the phone with both hands. “Listen, where are you guys? Did you--”

The voice on the line suddenly continues with a nasty edge. “Nothing is ever good enough, is it? That’s gratitude for you. Sure, you’ve been through a lot, but then, so have we. And a simple thank you wouldn’t kill you for all the things we’ve done for you. Why don’t you just go back home if everything is so much better there? Oh, that’s right, because they don’t want you. Nobody does.”

I gasp, my stomach churning at the terrible words being spoken. I want to stop them, hang up the phone, do something.

I hear Cassie’s voice, quiet and full of emotion. “You’re right. You’re right, Aunt Laurie.”

“No! That’s not me saying those things! I’m Aunt Laurie! That’s not me!” I shout into the phone, knowing it’s useless. Knowing Cassie won’t hear me.

And that is when it hits me.

Those are my words. I have muttered them to myself, or to Sam, or to really any person who will listen and feel sorry for me, give me a sympathetic pat on the back and a knowing look when Cassie has turned the other way. When she isn’t watching.

I listen, numbly, as the voice continues. It’s softer now, crueler.

“No, all we have here are crappy hamburgers and lame old merry-go-rounds. Definitely not good enough for someone like you. Maybe you should leave. Maybe you should try what you tried before, but this time do it right.”

I drop the phone in horror. I have to find Cassie. Is Sam with her now?

Oh. The House o’ Horrors. With its thirteen stories and old, creaky handrails on the roof.

I run as fast as I can, past the souvenir stands and the rides and the cotton candy. I cut through the line, shoving the handful of people out of my way. They stare at me and yell but I keep running, finally diving into the elevator and pushing the button labeled ROOF.

Then I am at the top and I see her. She is leaning over the railing.

“Stop!” I scream as I run toward her. “I didn’t mean it! I’m so sorry I hurt you, Cassie! Stop stop stop!”

And then she turns to look at me, frustration on her face, and confusion.

“What?” she asks as I grab her arm. “What are you doing?”

“Where is Sam?” I pant, trying to catch my breath.

She looks at me, irritated.

“I accidentally dropped my cell phone over the railing about ten minutes ago. He went to go find a maintenance guy or something to see if it can be salvaged in all that junk down there. My brand new phone! Soooo annoying.”

She gestures around her. “And really, what a joke. The merry-go-round was scarier than this.”

"The Character" by Ryan Cole

“Don’t you ever get tired of being someone you’re not?” Jessica asked. “You know, your whole job is to just look like a character from some movie and act like he acts.” She smirked. “I know I would never want that job.”

Martin sighed. It is true, he thought. People came up and got their picture with him at some movie theme park because he looked like the actor who played action hero Thomas Page, an accountant by day, and super-spy by night. It was uncanny, his striking resemblance to Page. People had been telling him it for years.

Martin had moved to southern Florida four years previously to attend college, and the theme park was the perfect job. Work two nights during weekdays, as well as Saturday and Sunday, and the pay was phenomenal. However, the park wanted him for more than just that. He was as big a spectacle as some of the rides. So Martin dropped out of college and worked every Tuesday-Sunday at the park. The pay was even better, but he wondered how long he could go on imitating someone else.

“Well, it’s just temporary. Until I find something else” Martin responded. “Plus, you can’t beat the money. I’m making more than half the managers around here.”

“True, but you’re not going to look like Thomas Page forever, you know. What then? What are you gonna do then?” Jessica said.

“I…I think…I…I’ll figure it out,” he replied. Martin looked at his watch. “Listen, I have to be by the Desert Midnight ride in ten. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see ya Martin.”

-

“Can I talk to you for a few minutes, Martin?” Mr. Reaver said. It was three weeks later, and Martin was walking into the men’s employee locker room to get changed into his Page outfit.

“Sure, what’s up?” Martin felt comfortable with his boss. He knew Mr. Reaver appreciated a hard working employee like Martin, and park attendance had gone up due to Martin’s appearances at different events around the park. This was sure to be more good news.

“Martin, we finally got the approval for a Thomas Page show at the Cave of Fear arena. The exec’s want you to star in shows at 5:30 and 7 p.m. every night,” Mr. Reaver said, with a satisfied look on his face. “This is a big deal. People will be lining up. The new Page movie comes out in a few months, and they want the show to be ready on the night of the premiere. It’s gonna be huge.” He smiled. “How ‘bout it?”

“Wow, of course, I mean, yeah, that sounds great! Perfect.” Martin was excited. His own show! “When do we start rehearsals?”

“Next week. The script is finished, and it’s being staged right now.” Mr. Reaver replied. “The stunts are minimal, and we want you to do your own stunts, so it’s authentic. Is that alright?”

“Of course it is!” Martin replied.

“I knew you’d be in.”

-

Driving home that night, Martin couldn’t stop thinking about the show. I’m basically being paid to be the real Thomas Page, he thought. This is big for me. I’m finally becoming who I’m supposed to be. My own show.

-

For the next few months, Martin attended rehearsals, fight and stunt lessons, and acting classes on top of his regular park duties and appearances. At nights he watched the Page movies (all seven of them) and memorized mannerisms and dialogue. He wanted to be sure to deliver each line just like Page would.

-

On the opening night of the show, Martin was anxious with excitement.

“You’ll be great, you’re totally prepared,” Jessica said reassuringly.

“Yeah, I am. We all are, it’s gonna be the best,” Martin replied. He did feel confident.

During the shows that night, the audience gasped with wonder, screamed with fright, and cheered with amazement in all the right places. Martin’s stunts were flawless, and the delivery of his lines was spot on. Everything was perfect.

After the show, nearly 200 people stayed to take pictures with Martin. Wow, he thought. This is bigger than I thought. They loved it. They loved me.

-

The shows continued and seemed bigger every night. Martin basked in the growing fame. Park guests came in throngs just to see the shows and see this man who looked and acted just like Thomas Page. Martin had never been so popular. The park executives were thrilled with Martin and gave him raise after raise, and more and more perks.

Martin’s co-worker’s started calling the park Pageland, because that seemed to be the only thing people wanted to see anymore. Park guests went crazy to see Martin, to get a picture with him, his autograph. The park even offered a weekly “Win a Date with Thomas Page” contest for a lucky female guest. The only catch was that Martin had to act like Page the entire dinner. He didn’t mind. He was who he was.

Martin also patterned everything about his life after Page: his hairstyle, clothes, even his handwriting. Outside of work, Martin started reading books about accounting, bird watching, and how to woo women, because these were a few of the things Page had extensive knowledge about. In public, people would stare at Martin and eventually approach him for a picture or autograph. I don’t need to be at the park to get attention, he thought. Everyone loves me wherever I go.

-

When Martin got to his apartment after another successful night at work, his iPhone rang (company gift, of course). It was his Mom.

“So how have the performances been going, honey?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s been the best. There are always hundreds of people just waiting to take their picture with me; they love it.”

“That’s so great, Martin,” she replied.

Martin, he thought. Woh – that’s me. At his request, nobody had called him Martin in the past few months; he really wanted to become Page and get into the part.

She continued, “I know you’ve put a lot of work into this. You’re a hard working man.”

“Well, it’s taken a lot of time, but it has really been worth it. I feel…like…like I’m doing the right thing. This has really been more than I ever thought it would be.”

“Yes, well, you’re turning into quite the actor!” She paused, and then spoke more seriously, “I’m proud of you, son. I want you to be happy.”

He paused. “I am. I have all I need…thanks.” There was another pause. Longer though. “Hey listen,” he continued, “I’m pretty tired. I better get going.”

When he got off the phone, Martin realized he was looking in the mirror.

"Finished" by Camilla Cole

“It’s just such a waste” Roberta Hollingsworth, director of special potential projects, said. “I mean, look at the test results, look at the case studies, look at the overwhelming amount of data collected over these last three years. Surely a little more time could be spent on case #3147 before we pack everything away in the archives and throw our hands up in defeat. Surely such potential merits re-application.” Director Bateman was pacing back and forth across the room as she delivered these last lines, brow furrowed in deliberation, his finger and thumb rubbing back and forth along his jaw line. He finally came to a stop right in front of where she was standing.

“Hollingsworth, you know I agree with you on how high the potential of this case has always seemed. How close success has felt. But how can you argue with the number of failures we’re looking at here?” He slammed the back of his hand against the packet of papers he was holding in his other hand. Roberta took a deep breath. Bateman’s proximity was a little unnerving, but she steeled herself and stood her ground.

“Just give me one more chance,” she pleaded, matching his penetrating stare with an equally compelling one of her own. “It’ll be worth it, you’ll see.” Finally Director Bateman shifted his gaze and backed away. Turning and walking to his desk, he spoke softly, the words barely discernable, over his shoulder.

“Alright Hollingsworth, you can have your one last try. But I’m warning you,” he added as she breathed a sigh of relief and turned to go, “if you don’t succeed it really will be your last chance…ever. Doing anything. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” she murmured and exited the office.

******

Case #3147 sat in the chair next to the window of his room and stared out at the desolate desert landscape that stretched for miles and miles in every direction. There weren’t even any cactus or desert trees to alleviate the dreariness of it all, only scrub brush and the occasional pile of crumbly rocks. Not that he had ever been allowed to roam around and see this up close for himself. They gave him everything he could possibly want here; everything except the choice to leave, or at least to go outside and walk around. He sighed.

“3147, Jared, come away from the window please. Sit right here.” Hollingsworth was back, bearing a cup of coffee, gesturing for him to sit in the seat opposite her at the table. Jared sighed again and slowly got up. He had been hopeful that she wouldn’t return. With her endless ideas, endless projects. He felt a small sense of surprise that she had gotten them to give her one more chance. She must really believe he could do it.

“Now Jared,” she said, “we’ve got a really exciting one for you this time. I think we may have found the missing link.” Her mouth twisted into what she must have thought passed for a winning smile but Jared didn’t smile in return. He just sat there, waiting.

“Aren’t you curious as to what it is?” Hollingsworth asked, tilting her head in what she probably assumed was a charming, humorous way and Jared wondered if she had ever had work done. There was something so fake about everything she did. So forced.

“J-a-r-e-d...” She drew the word out like a glob of stretchy sticky bubblegum from the mouth of a thirteen year old girl and Jared almost winced visibly. Not that she would notice. She didn’t seem to notice much where he was concerned. Which would explain why she was here. Again.

“Fine, if you’re not going to ask, I’ll just tell you,” she finally said when he had failed to respond once again. Her short, black, Hilary Clinton bob which never seemed to look different from day to day almost quivered as excitement overtook her. “This idea came to me two weeks ago in the middle of the night and I woke up already writing it down on the pad of paper I keep by my bed.” No surprise there, Jared thought humorlessly. This was a standard for Hollingsworth, the middle of the night ‘epiphany.’ “I honestly couldn’t sleep the rest of the night after, as the brilliancy of it all overcame me.” She was getting almost poetic, a sure sign something bizarre or impossible was about to follow. She took her customary deep breath.

“I’m going to have you build a roller coaster.”

******

Roberta watched Jared’s eyes widen with the customary look of exhilaration. He did it every time. Every time. So she didn’t let her hopes rise too high yet. It was hard though, knowing in her heart of hearts that this really was it, that she had finally found the perfect project for him. She felt like shouting it out to the whole world. Instead she just smiled. Her best, most winning, smile. Jared pushed away from the table and stood up and she could tell his brain was already going a mile a minute.

“A roller coaster,” he said slowly, “an entire roller coaster all by myself.”

“Every tiny teensy bit all by yourself, from the physics to the physical,” she said, smiling at her own clever little play on words. This time it would be different. It was a sure thing. You’ll see, Director Bateman, she thought triumphantly as Jared ran out of the room, yelling for Marshall Core, the company engineer. And when Jared’s done you can be the first to shake my hand and tell me what a genius I am.”

******

Jared worked and worked and worked. He took small naps and then he worked some more. Drawing up plans. Doing the math, building the scale models, testing them out with miniature electronics he made with the limitless supply of anything and everything he could ever need that they brought him. He worked and worked and finally came up with the perfect prototype. It was flawless; it couldn’t fail. He began to measure the area they had set aside for him in the huge indoor arena. The coaster would be a mind-boggling two hundred feet high and a half a mile long. It had twenty-nine loopdee loops and twenty seven spirals. It went forward and backwards and sideways and then did it all in reverse. It went underground and wrapped around itself so that it was impossible to distinguish where it was going next. It was a dizzying, terrifying, majestically twisted master of mayhem.

He began to build. He knew he had all the time in the world but he set to it with a frenzy he had never felt before. Never before, in the countless number of projects Hollingsworth had set before him, had he ever felt this way. He was exhilarated, illuminated, intoxicated by the roller coaster, and he had never felt more alive. As he nailed each nail in place, welded each joint, operated each wheel loader, bulldozer, and jib crane his life seemed to finally take on new meaning. As the days, the weeks, the years passed, Jared finally felt he had found it. His thing.

******

Roberta took a deep breath and cringed at the pain in her side. That gall bladder surgery had really worked a number on her, and though she was loath to, she had to admit to herself that she was starting to feel old. But it didn’t matter; it was almost over, this endless observation of her masterpiece unfolding before her eyes. Case #3147 was almost done. Jared was almost done. After five and a half years of almost constant work, the roller coaster was nearly complete. He had slowed down a little the past few weeks, but that was understandable considering how hard he had been working, she told herself reassuringly. He had said there were only minimal things to perfect, small almost insignificant details to finish and it would all be over. And it’s all because of me, Roberta crowed inwardly. All because I figured it out. Things were finally coming to a head.

“Uh Ms. Hollingsworth, ma’am?” a nervous voice came from behind her and she whirled around to find one of the material fetchers poking his head around the door, looking terrified.

“What is it?” she snapped. She hated to have her quiet little moment of relish interrupted.

“Uh, it’s just that there’s something you should probably see,” he said and ducked out before she could demand further explanation. She took another deep breath, ignoring another stab of pain this brought on in her lower abdomen, and stomped out of the room. As she briskly walked down the hall she noticed more and more fetchers hanging around, and as she approached the wide doors to the arena where Jared was working she could barely squeeze through, there were so many of them.

“Move it!” she yelled and most of them scrambled to get out of her way. Finally, having entered the huge arena, she pushed her hair back out of her face and tried to locate what everyone was gawking at. Then her eyes locked on something and a well of dread began to froth and bubble in the pit of her stomach.

“No!” she screamed, “This can’t happen!”

Jared was sitting on the floor, the giant monstrosity he was so close to completing looming up behind him in all its almost-perfect splendor. There was a look on his face. A look Roberta had seen before. Too many times to count. It was a look of… absolute boredom. He looked up.

“Oh, hey Hollingsworth,” he said and then looked away as if the look of terror mixed with almost unhinged desperation on her face was something he saw every day. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” she asked, incredulously. “WHAT’S UP? THAT!” she shrieked, pointing up to the endless rails and plastic molding behind him. “THAT IS UP AND IF YOU DON’T GET UP AND FINISH IT RIGHT NOW I’M GOING TO BLOW YOU UP!” Jared just continued to stare at the floor in front of him, making circles in the dust around his feet. He sighed.

“No.” Roberta said, quiet now. “No. This will not happen this time. I will not fail.” She slowly looked around at the gaping faces of the thirty or so fetchers who had quietly congregated in the arena during the exchange between her and Jared.

“Look at me,” she commanded, slowly revolving in a circle, catching each and every one of their eyes. “He finished, do you hear me? Jared finished the coaster before he sunk back into this pathetic state of lethargy.” At the look in her fiery eyes each and every fetcher began to nod slowly. A small smile crept over her face.

“Now clean this place up,” she ordered and everyone started moving at once. “Take this sorry excuse of a piece of human waste and lock him in his room,” she added quietly to the two fetchers nearest her and they hurried to grab Jared’s arms and drag him out of the arena.

“This victory is mine,” she said softly, under her breath, “and no one is going to take it from me.”

******

“I must say I’m astonished Director Hollingsworth,” Director Bateman said, a look of grudging admiration on his face, “I didn’t think it could be done. But you did it.” Hollingsworth basked in the praise. Not that praise from a colleague, and mere equal, mattered much to her. She had been given much greater compensation, verbally and monetarily, from much higher up than Bateman, which was something he would never attain. But she just smiled benevolently at him and took her dues.

“Where’s case #3147- what’s his name, Jared?- by the way? I thought he’d want to be here for the big day.” Bateman’s question seemed perfectly innocuous but Roberta’s eyes darted to the few fetchers in the arena anyway, trying to gauge if anyone had let anything leak about Jared’s current state of interest in the whole project. No one looked guilty though so she just plastered a winning smile on her face and responded.

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” she asked. “Jared came down with a really bad flu right after he completed the coaster. He’s recovering in his room.” Bateman shrugged and walked away after a few seconds and Roberta heaved a sigh of relief. No one would care that Jared wasn’t here, she reminded herself soothingly. He was just a case number, a machine of sorts. She needed to calm down so she could enjoy this.

“Director Hollingsworth,” President Pupin said, smiling as he approached. “If you wouldn’t mind coming this way, we’ll get this thing started.” Crowds gathered and cheered and cameras flashed as President Pupin took his place at a microphone placed in front of the start of the roller coaster, Roberta at his side.

“Hello all,” he said, “welcome to this momentous occasion. As you know, case #3147 being cracked is a historic event. After two thousand, five hundred and twenty-eight different projects, he has finally completed one!”

“Two thousand, five hundred and twenty-nine,” Roberta corrected, leaning into the mic with a self-effacing smile, and the crowd chuckled appreciatively.

“Excuse me,” President Pupin laughed.

“Now, we all know why this case was finally able to be solved,” he continued and Roberta felt her cheeks grow warm. This was it. “And that’s why we’re here. To celebrate the amazing, unprecedented success of Director Roberta Hollingsworth. Without her, case #3147 would just be another bunch of boxes for the archive room.” Cheers went up and President Pupin had to hold up his hand for a full thirty seconds before silence reigned again.

“One last thing,” he said, and a growing excitement seemed to overtake him. “There’s just one more thing and then we can watch this amazing roller coaster make its first trip.” Roberta turned her head questioningly to look at him. What was this?

“As a special celebration of her success… we would like to let Director Hollingsworth be the first to ride!” The crowd went wild at this but Roberta felt her face freeze. What? Her blood felt like ice in her veins.

Before she knew it, Roberta was being ushered by President Pupin over to the roller coaster cart. He buckled her into her seat and pulled the padded restraint bars over her shoulders. Her body was as limp as a rag doll; she watched it all in a daze. The crowd continued to roar as he shook her hand and gave a fetcher the thumbs up to start the ride. Cameras flashed and giddy faces flew before her eyes as the seat jerked forward.

The last thing she saw was an image in her mind of Jared. Sitting by the window. He sighed.

******

“Help, help!” Director Bateman hollered into his cell phone. “There’s been an accident!”