Reo Sterling the corpse collector.

"..."

"Hey."

"..."

"I'm talking to you."

"..."

"Reo."

"......It's been a great while since I have retired here." Reo's tired voice choked out. She glanced over at the voice addressing her. "Nostalgia transcends the rest of the Good Lord's faculties. Pardon, I say." Reo held down her sunhat as a gust made the purple ribbon around her cap flutter in the wind. Her rustic black dress and robes shimmered wildly as the wind kicked up. The girl was somewhat tall and of a slim build that made her lean into the breeze; she was as pale as the dead and it was to no one's surprise that in her exorbitant attire, she was sweating a great deal in the sublime rays of resplendent sun.

"We're almost done." a blunt and hollow voice murmured. "Only a few more are left."

"Only a few more, you say..." Reo paused. Her eyes were dreary. She was tired. She had been working for so long, the young girl's sense of time was almost distorted. "I haven't forgotten. Believe you me, I haven't. The tautological nature of the ritual's just exhausted me at this point, it has." The girl stumbled forward a bit while a slightly smaller child trailed behind her.

"A pity." the child rebuked. "But we're close to being finished. This isn't the time to suddenly slow down."

"T'was never anything good that come from expediting through a delicate process. Patience, child. Hastening a task like this will only lead to trouble, I assure you."

"Of course." Mog Caravel rolled her eyes. "As I would expect anything but the slowest and most delicate work from you." Reo sneered at the sardonic jab with what little energy she could muster.

"If we worked as fast as that tongue of yours, the ritual would be done before sunset."

"Well it won't be done any faster by meandering about." Reo ignored the quip. She droned about through the empty streets in silence. It was a late Summer day in July, and everybody retreated into their houses to avoid the scathing sun.

"This place..." she muttered to herself as she walked. "I'm glad nobody is out."

"Don't want anybody recognizing you, do you?" the child replied.

"I won't be driven out this time, I won't." she meekly whispered under her breath. "I'm almost done. Just a few more, and I can finish the ritual..." A vague, weak smile danced across her face for a moment as she reminisced inside her head, doing anything to take her thoughts off the unshakeable emptiness that was was slowly overtaking her for so long.

* * *

"These are tough times for all of us, we can't complain."

"Well, da depression can't last forever, can it?"

"Don't know. The economy doesn't seem to be picking up."

"It will. Can't yall see that things are on tha upturn?"

"Of course, the dust storms seem to be dying down a bit."

"And well o' course, ya heard da rumors, right?"

"Oh, THOSE rumors?"

"I believes it when I sees it. Ain't no such thing as a mystic."

A small crew of four to five workers were out in the blistering sun. They were the only group of people out at this hour. It was a rare time the dust storms had settled down and the sun was out, and no matter how imposing the mid-July heat was, work needed to be done. Namely the replacement of a rickety church whose windows were blown out and had its roof collapse in on itself after the piling dirt on the top came too much for it to bear. Not that it needed to be rebuilt, though. The pious era that the town was evolving in had no need for a higher power to look up to. In the Great Depression and Dustbowl, a few people saw it as divine reckoning for a decline in religious thought. But the majority of the townsfolk thought God had turned his back on their tiny little settlement and felt that they weren't going to wait for the big man upstairs to intervene.

But there had been word going about the dusty little town that there was a young girl, no older than fifteen or sixteen years of age, going around the county and curing people of illness and pain. Given the dawning of the era where science could fix everything coupled with the economic slump and the swirling storms, the local folk had a great deal of trouble believing that somebody had the miracles of healing at their disposal. Waiting for that kind of mythical haberdashery to magically fix their lives didn't suit them particularly well, but there were a choice few who believed that something was amiss.

"It's true, you know? Ms. Harris hasn't seen better years since her 40s."

"And little Sebastian got dat polio, right? Dat's something even da president can't fix, but mah child's up and about now."

"Yeah, I heard 'bout dat. Can't explain dat, but I ain't waitin for some holy priest to be fixin things 'round here. Ain't nothing good came from standing 'round praying that somebody help ya. Gots to pick yoself up off ya own two feet and work for it yoself."

"Sometimes bad things happen to good people, Clemence." one of the younger workers interjected. "Sometimes something happens and there ain't a damn thing we could do about it. We're only human, after all. Sometimes we need a bit of divine intervention to help us out." Some of the workers laughed.

"It's nice to be optimistic, ain't it?"

"I wish I was still young." They laughed a bit more. "Isaac, God won't pay your bills. He won't give you a job. And if he did, I sure as hell would bet he ain't gonna let you keep it for long."

"Bah, I know things are rough, but there's no need to be discouraging." the young man muttered. The sun was starting to go down. "Are we gonna keep working or what?"

"Nah, I think we's done for today. Hopefully it's gunna be clear tomorrow, too. Can't ever tell wit dis kind of weather."

"Alright, then I'll finish up here." Isaac said. "You all can go home now. I can clean up."

"A'ight. Be sure to block up them windows. If the storm comes rollin' back in, we don't want a dirty church that ain't finished. God might get right mighty pissed if we let that happen." The jaded old codgers laughed and went home. Isaac on the other hand cleaned up the carpentry supplies, put them in the church, and went home himself afterward.

Isaac Milton's house was pitch black when he got home. The windows, the ventilation, almost everything was patched up or being filtered. He only lived with his younger sister. Despite being around eighteen to twenty years of age, he was quite the autonomous individual. His young sister was all he had left, and she was sleeping in the other room. Her breathing was strained, and she was likely ill. Isaac was getting ready to get some rest as well, but he heard the wind kicking up.

"...Aw shit, I forgot to block up the windows." He sighed and he grabbed some tarps he wasn't using and left his house again. He secured the door tightly as he left to keep his house as clean as he could. The wind was getting stronger; what exposed skin he had felt a tingling sensation as he was getting sandblasted. The sun had just set, and with the dust sweeping into the air he couldn't make heads or tails of where he was, but he headed in the general direction from his house that he usually took to the church in order to finish it.

But he never found the church.

Young Isaac Milton wandered for a bit before his lungs were filled with dirt, his eyes were filled with dirt, and his clothes were filled with more dirt. He eventually succumbed and hit the ground in the middle of a nameless road that which he hadn't a clue as to how he had gotten there. As he lay there, it got harder to breathe. So he slowed down. And eventually he stopped, and he felt like he was going to sleep.

"Hmm... you are coming to, it seems?" a feminine voice said to Isaac. Of course he had trouble hearing it since his ears were filled with dirt and the wind was roaring like a locomotive. He coughed and sputtered and wheezed and sat up. He was inside the incomplete church with the four dainty windows blocked and sealed up. A dim candle illuminated the room as his teary, filthy eyes slowly regained their sight.

"A road is a queer place to take a nap." that same voice said to him. "Had you been torpid a little while longer, you would be in God's house of worship for altogether a different reason, you would've." A young girl sat next to him. She was in an overly-elaborate dress filled with volume, and if not for the layer of dust on the entirety of her being, he would almost assume that she was the daughter of an aristocrat. That was a slight bit concerning since she was in a half-finished church in the middle of the night during a dust storm.

"Who are you?" he weakly coughed out, remnants of his lungs still filled with dust.

"Reo Mitira Sterling." she stated. "I've only been living here for six years, I have. I find it mildly insulting that you would not know the residents of your own little town by name." Her haughty manner of speech had a kind of regal fulsomeness to it that made her difficult to follow, even moreso to somebody who nearly died and has just regained consciousness.

"...Why am I alive?" he asked.

"I saved you, I did."

"I must've inhaled at least a pound of dirt."

"That you did."

"Did you just pull the dirt out of my lungs?

"Yes."

"How?"

"I choose not to disclose my methods." There was an awkward silence, made more awkward with Reo's stern look on her face.

"......You didn't do anything indecent, did you?" he said in a suspicious tone. The girl paused and thought for a moment, caught wind of his implication, and blushed furiously.

"DON'T BE RIDICULOUS, YOU PILLOCK!" she shrieked. He let out a laugh as she was trembling. "...That being said, my residence is on this street. I suggest we retire there until the sun rises tomorrow, I say."

"That isn't helping your case."

"CEASE YOUR TONGUE! I SAVED YOUR LIFE AND I WILL HAVE NONE OF THAT IMMODEST DISCUSSION! NOW YOU CAN STAY IN THIS CHURCH IF YOU WOULD LIKE BUT I INTEND ON GOING HOME, I DO!"

"Well, I'm extremely grateful. I'm glad you saved my life. I thank you for it."

"It was little trouble, I was on my way home. Now let us vacate this dusty shack."

"It's not a shack, it's a church..." he said.

And so they vacated. Reo Sterling's house was only a bit further down the road. Certainly closer than Isaac's, whose house was also in the direction opposite that the wind was blowing. It was something almost unheard of for a young upstanding man of faith to do, but he had no choice but to room with the girl he just met that night.

"Mother, I have returned." Both Isaac and Reo forced their ways into the house and quickly closed the door before the dust could get in. Her mother was in the kitchen, standing over the counter. She didn't say anything or acknowledge her daughter entering the house. Isaac knew something peculiar was happening, but figured it was best not to ask. Like why Reo was out at night during the dust storms only to come home so late. Perhaps her mother was giving her the silent treatment, but it was no business of his to ask. Her mother brought the two some tea. When Isaac glanced at her, she was pale. She clearly hadn't left the house in some time. Her eyes were a cold, tired gray-blue, yet her face was still young and a touch beautiful. She was like a mannequin, and didn't say a word as she went back to the kitchen. Reo was wiping her face and shaking her hair out as she sat at the table, wiggling loose the coat of dust on her a bit.

"This is a very nice house." he said.

"Yes it is. T'was difficult to build in this weather, but my father left behind a great fortune when he gave up the ghost."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. When did he pass away?"

"A very long time ago. I cannot recall at the moment."

"Well, your mother's aged well considering the grief that's probably struck her." Reo didn't say anything. Isaac felt like he was saying too much.

"Both of my parents have passed away, so I can understand what that's like." he said.

"Oh?" Her eyebrow raised as she sipped her tea. Her upright and proper posturing clashed with her dirtied appearance.

"My father was sent off to die in the Great War, and my mother shortly died of despair afterward." Reo remained silent. "I suppose I'm getting by fine on my own, but I worry about my sister. She's still young, and she's been quite ill for the past several weeks."

"...That is a tragic turn of events, it is. You have my condolences." Her taciturn face shifted into a more melancholic look. Isaac shuttered a bit.

"I've lost a lot already... I don't know if I can lose anymore, though." he said, his voice cracking a bit. "I'm quite glad you saved my life, though. I wouldn't want to leave the poor child alone."

"......No you wouldn't." Reo said. "Being alone... is a very unfortunate feeling. I'm all too familiar with it, I am."

"No siblings?"

"None."

"Well, at least you have your friends, right?"

"I only abscond from my residence after the sun falls. I've yet to converse much with the local populace, I have."

"...I see."

"If anything," she began, "You're the first person I've talked to in a good long time, you are. I cannot even recall the last time I've spoken to somebody for more than five minutes."

"Well, I guess I'm your first friend here." Isaac cheerfully stated.

"...I suppose you are." A smile crossed her pale, dirtied face. If it weren't for her being recently ravaged by all the dirt, she would be quite a beautiful girl. Although there was still one nagging question he need to know the answer to.

"Forgive me for asking," Isaac began to say, "but what in the Lord's name were you doing out there so late?"

"Collecting the dead."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Collecting the dead, I say."

"...No, seriously."

"You call me a fabulist?"

"No, but that doesn't sound right. Are you a mortician?"

"I thought you were dead yourself, I did." she continued. "I was going to collect you, yet I sensed life still in your lungs and chose to save you instead."

"......Are you the mystic people keep talking about?" he said, leaning in his chair towards her. "Are you the one going around healing people and saving their lives?"

"If that is what people are calling me, then so it must be." As shocked as he was, he couldn't remain speechless. His curiosity pushed his words out.

"...How does it work?"

"I pray, I chant, and I focus. That's all it takes."

"And people are magically fixed of whatever physical ailment plaguing them?"

"Yes."

"......And you're keeping quiet about it?"

"Yes."

"Why? You have a miracle, a gift, something incredible. If more people knew about it, you could be saving even more lives."

"Lives are not just physical ailments, they're not." she sternly said. "Even if one was cured of all sickness, misfortune will still fall upon them. That is what the soul does."

"Hmm?"

"The soul feels sorrow. The soul feels envy. It feels anguish. And it feels loneliness. Those are things I cannot cure with my 'gift.' This mortal body of mine, I have found ways to keep it healthier than most, but it cannot fix those things." She took a sip of some more tea and continued. "The soul has far greater power than anything these mortal bodies can comprehend. I have understood a bit more than most people, but it is still very little, it is."

"...I guess you're right. I guess miracles couldn't mend a broken heart or loneliness."

"The essence of people can be used to fix our mortal bodies, but that is the extent of what I understand and what I can do." One particular sentence gave him pause.

"...What do you mean 'the essence of people?'"

"The soul."

"So wait," He thought for a bit, and a stark look overtook his face as the realization came through. "You're using the souls of people... to heal them?"

"Your assumptions are correct, my friend."

"That... that's horrible!"

"I do not collect the souls of those with the breath of life still within them." she refuted. "I only collect the souls of the recently deceased, and they would simply disperse otherwise. I am merely a corpse collector of sorts, I am." There was silence. It didn't bother Reo; she was used to it. It was an awful lot for a normal young man like Isaac Milton to take in all at once. But his curiosity still got the better of him.

"...How do you find them?" he asked.

"I can sense them as they leave. They cry and they mutter and they lament and so I catch the few I can and I collect them, you see."
"...B-b-but... they're the souls of people... what happens to them?"

"They are left to dance in the ether until they disperse and become a part of the world again, but instead I choose to give them new life in the person they're used to save. Is that not a better cause than to wander the Earth alone only to eventually disperse? I say it is, I do."

"I suppose..."

"I can even sense one or two of them tonight that will probably depart from us." That made Isaac wince. The girl could predict when somebody was going to die. It was unsettling to him. "But I have been missing them as of late. This weather poses a steep exigence to work through, it does." As it would. As strange as the girl was, she was probably still a mere mortal, if not a blessed one with an unusual skill.

"Are those all of your questions? It matters not, it doesn't. I believe we should retire for the night. Follow me to your room, I say." She stood up and led the contemplative Isaac to a spare guest bedroom. It had no dust in it. He stripped off his clothes.

"Leave them at the door." he heard Reo. "Mother will clean them as best she can for you tomorrow, she will. Wear something to sleep in the closet." He listened and opened the closet. There were a pair of spare men's pajamas in there he put on. As he undressed, he couldn't help but notice that he had a chipped rosary around his neck that he never had before. Probably hers, he thought, as a blessing from the house of the Lord.

"Question, Reo."

"One more, then I am going to sleep."

"You still never told me why you haven't told anybody about this."

"...It's beyond the realm of most human comprehension and rationality, it is. Some things are simply best left unspoken."

"Then why are you telling me all of this? What makes me different? Why should I know?"

"Because you asked."

"Why are you answering me, then?"

"You are my friend, that is why." It was unsettling but a smile couldn't help but cross his face upon hearing her say that. "That was four more than I stated. Now I bid you a good rest. I shall wake you in the morning to escort you back home." With that, he blew out the candle in the room and lied in the soft bed. It was eerily peaceful in the room; as if he could fall asleep and never wake up. The bed was unfamiliar to him, but comforting as it swallowed and pulled him into slumber. When he woke up, he had breakfast and talked for a great while with his new friend, Reo Sterling. Their philosophies on life were well understood by now; Isaac discussed his work, his family, and what little things of interesting he could bring up. Reo was almost exhausted from all the talking she had to do. She was never inclined to be talking so often so she became used to saying as much as she could when she spoke. But she didn't at all mind; it was the first genuine human company she had in a good long while. The day seemed to be off to a fantastic start for Isaac, that was until he left to go back home and check up on the church.

* * *

"......I... I-I don't want to believe this."

"...I'm real sorry, Isaac. When I came outta my house ta' go ta' work dis morning, there's where I found 'er." Isaac couldn't speak a word. His eyes were bleak. There he stood, inside of the incomplete church. A window blew out in the middle of the night and filled the church with dirt. That wasn't what he was upset about. What he was upset about was a tiny lump in the church, almost like a little pile of dirt. It was of a girl curled up as tightly as possible to endure the storm last night.

"...S-she... she went looking for me when I didn't return home..." He was weeping. He pulled her lifeless body out of the dust and clenched her tightly in his arms as the wind blew even harder.

"Listen, Isaac," Clemence said. "Y'all shouldn't be working for da' rest of da' week. We'll clean dis up and we can finish up da church on our own. You should go home and get some rest." His face became caked with dirt after the tears made the dust stick to his face. He looked up and saw the madam with a parasol standing in the distance, watching him. He got up and ran to her as quickly as possible.

"R-Reo...... s-s-she's gone." he grabbed her shoulders crying. "ONE OF THE ONLY THINGS I HAD LEFT WAS TAKEN FROM ME!"

"I... I..." she had no idea what to say. She never stuck around after watching somebody die to see the aftermath. It was jarring to her to see somebody, her new friend, in such despair. She eventually started crying, too. "If... if I hadn't invited you back to my house..." her voice was cracking. Isaac immediately looked at her.

"NO!" he shouted at her. "T-this... this isn't your fault. You couldn't have known... something like this would've happened."

"B-b-but I sensed a soul leaving last night... I could've done something..."

"I... I knew she was ill. And I knew that she gets lonely often. She pulled reckless things a lot as a child. I should've assumed that she might've become worried if I didn't come back home..." Reo couldn't find any words to speak. Her vocabulary, as exhausting as it was, couldn't find anything.

"...I... I want her back." he weeped. "SHE WAS ALL I HAD LEFT, I WANT HER BACK!" He then paused, and looked at Reo. "......R-Reo, do you know anything about that?" Her face had an ill reflection on it.

"...I-I don't know if I can do anything about that." she meekly said. "...The human soul is a fragile yet powerful entity... conjuring one back is something I am not capable of doing, I'm not."

"C-Can you try at least?" he asked.

"I... uh..." she stuttered.

"I'M BEGGING YOU, CAN YOU TRY SOMETHING? ANYTHING!?" he desperately pleaded. She gulped nervously.

"I... will look into it." she said quietly under her breath. "B-b-but no promises, I say. What you are asking may be something beyond the spectrum of mortal hands." He didn't care, it was something he wanted to hear.

"OH THANK YOU!" he cried, hugging her as tightly as possible. Her face lit up as red as a stop sign.

"I... I must get to work." she bashfully said as she shuffled off back to her house. "But..."

"...But?" Isaac was curious.

"...I'm going to need her body."

"For what?"

"Souls disperse, I have said." the girl stated as she pulled her eyes away from him. "Any residue of one's self is in the body the soul inhabited. Your sister's essence is left behind in her body, so I will need it as a vessel."

"...R-right." Isaac picked up his sister's body and wrapped it tightly in one of the tarps used to block the windows and carried her to Reo's house. What ensued over the next several days was Reo staying up every night feverishly studying, working, researching, experimenting. It was appropriate, since the dust storms kept her inside her house. She had no clue of what her friend was doing, but it twisted something uncomfortably in her heart just thinking about it, which motivated her to work even harder. Eventually though, she became enlightened and decided to try a ritual of sorts that she gained knowledge of.

There was a knock on the door. A week had passed, and for once in a good long while, the skies were clear again. The door opened, and there stood Isaac Milton. He had a submissive and melancholic aura about him, but within there were faint traces of optimism.

"Um... hello, Reo." he said. She stood there for a minute, and started to cry.

"...I-I-I tried, b-but I couldn't do it..." she squeaked out. "I really tried, I did... I'm sorry..." Isaac let out a bit of a sigh.

"Well, yes I suppose that's something that's too much to ask. I was irrational at the time. I'm sorry for asking such a thing of you..." he said, patting her on the head. But as she continued to speak, her voice rose.

"B-BUT I'M CLOSE, I AM! I JUST NEED SOME MORE TIME!" she asserted. "I... I need to collect enough rogue souls meandering about, then I'm sure I can call her back..." Isaac looked on with a bit of hesitance.

"I... I don't know if that's dangerous to keep doing or not, Reo."

"BUT I FELT LIKE I TOOK HER FROM YOU, I WANT TO FIX THIS, I DO!"

"...You didn't. I told you that. Please, just don't do anything reckless, okay?" Despite hearing that, she kept her resolve.

"I... I don't want to disappoint my friend. I'm going to do this. I just need to collect some more."

"Reo..." And the conversation ended there. She slumped gloomily back into her house, her cold mother still in the kitchen, not saying a word to her. She couldn't bear to look Isaac in the eye until she accomplished what she set out to do for him. His facade couldn't hide anything from her; an immense lonely sorrow permeated the air around him, and she wanted to help him get rid of it. She spent every night braving the dust storms to wander the streets of the town, looking for any remnants of people she could find. She managed to amass a small fortune of souls over the course of several days. One night in particular was when something had happened.

It was a clear night, one of few. A shriek could be heard coming from a lone house on a road away from the rest of the town. Reo immediately sensed the presence of the recently departed in there. She was overcome with grimness as she made her way towards the house, remaining out of sight from the doors and windows. As she approached, she heard the sounds of domestic dispute indoors. The door suddenly burst open and a woman was running out screaming. A man stood out of the door with an old rifle and shot the woman dead before she got far.

"THAT'LL FUCKING TEACH YOU, YOU BITCH!" he belched out. He was clearly intoxicated and in a fit of rage as he gunned down what Reo assumed was his wife. She was shaking with fury at what she witnessed. The wind started to kick up again. She managed to crawl out of the bushes, and the man immediately noticed the young regal woman looking at her. His anger quickly turned to fear and paranoia as he started hysterically crying and pointed the rifle at her.

"Confess." was the only cold word that left her mouth before the man's body went limp. A faint blue wisp was pulled from his body into her hands as it as pulled into a small ring she wore. She stood there for a second, breathing in what had just happened. She sighed, and then held out her hand and pulled in the murdered woman's soul as well.

"What I'm resorting to, I don't like. But I cannot watch it go to waste." She let out a prayer. Murdered souls and the souls of evil people were the same as the souls of the altruistic and righteous, but it still left a bad taste in the girl's mouth.

"...What in the Lord's name are you?" she heard a voice and turned around. It was Clemence, one of the carpenters working on the church. "Y-y-you's the one Isaac's been talkin' to! HE'S BEEN COLLABORATING WIT THE GOD-DAMN DEVIL!"

"...Oh no."

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" He fled from her and ran back towards the town. He was going to tell everybody what she did. Her head told her he was going to tell the townspeople that she murdered a family, that she robbed a man of his soul. The most pious man in town had the fear of God put into him and he was going to let everybody know it. She couldn't let him do that. She chased after him into town. She saw Clemence, banging and yelling on Isaac's door.

"I JUST SAW YO DEVIL FRIEND KILL OFF MR. HARRIS! WAKE UP, ISAAC, WAKE UP!"

"I would advise against that." a cold, disembodied voice said. He turned around, terrified, and saw something that scared him even more.

"I hope you've enjoyed the last moments of your life, Mr. Clemence. But you have something we want." Mog said, standing at the door. The wind started blowing harder and the dust storm was returning.

"W-W-WHAT ARE YOU? YOU'RE SUP--"

"Confess." His speech was cut off as his body hit the ground, his soul pulled out into Reo's delicate hands. She saw the lights come on in Isaac's house.

"Clemence? Is something wrong?" she heard him shout. Reo started trembling uncontrollably and crying a bit. A bleak fear and panic swelled inside her.

"N...N-NO! I WON'T LET HIM SEE ME DOING THIS!" she wept. She grabbed Mog's hand and ran as fast as she could. The direction mattered not; whichever was the quickest way out of town. And Reo left for a long time after that. She knew that something terrible would continue to happen if she stayed there; if he saw her at the door over the cadaver she just robbed. So she fled. She was left to wander the countryside, but she knew she had a mission. For a great while she wandered and cherrypicked souls across the country with Mog. She did it for such a great long while that she was slowly forgetting why she was gathering them in the first place. Death did not phase the girl, she saw it enough at this point. She simply wandered and fought off Mog's nagging quips to keep working, nothing more. The young, grating girl was no company for Reo. All she cared about as pushing Reo to keep collecting. It was a monotonous life to impose on herself so much.

* * *

"I am simply visiting my mother since I have been out of town for so long, I say. We will get back to work soon. Have I ever misled you before, Mog?"

"Well there was that time in Chicago with those delinquents..."

"Yes yes, but I am not one to deal with those brash ruffians, I'm not."

"And that time passing through Omaha..."

"Conniving tods riddled that cesspool of modern society, they did."

"And that time in Philadelphia..."

"Beggars falsifying their shallow lives for pity and money. It was naive to think that those connycatchers wouldn't spend their money on something illegal, I say."

"They recalled that amendment, alcohol isn't illegal anymore. It was illegal when we left here." Mog responded.

"It should have stayed illegal, it should've. T'wasn't as if anything good came from a bunch of worthless knaves standing around consuming alcohol for the entirety of the day. Nothing at all."

"I think your methodology of thinking might be a bit dated..." Mog muttered. Reo's blank, exasperated look blushed with frustration.

"I am a full four years older than you are, what is a child to be catechizing I on my methodology of logic!? My syllogistic methods of deduction?!"

"If you put as much effort into our task as you did that garrulous and redundant manner of speech you have, we'd be done already."

"This topic again, I see." Reo sighed. All the energy and empathy left her voice again and she lifelessly slumped her shoulders back down, walking through the streets. There were more cars on the roads; industrialization will do that. Mog paused a bit, and started walking away from Reo before she could notice. And when she noticed, she sighed and left to look for her. She wandered a few blocks before she found an old house that had been remodeled. Mog was standing in front of it.

"We only need one more soul. There's one in there getting ready to leave." she pointed. Reo sighed.

"Yes..." she slumped and knocked on a the door. No answer. She simply let herself in since she assumed the recently departed was alone. The house had a rustic look to it and the house was musky. It smelled like stale dust. She walked her way into the bedroom, and there an old man was who recently died. He had a smile on his face as he wore a rosary and had a book on his lap. His humble old soul hovered above him and she pulled it in with what little strength she had left. She stared at it for a while, and started giggling.

"Hehehe... it's done. This is enough... I HAVE ENOUGH!" She mustered her energy and did a joyous spinning dance as she left the house. Mog was out there, already walking back to Reo's house.

"Come on, the ritual won't wait all day."

"Give me time, I say..." she said, winded as she caught up to Mog. She entered her house, and there her mother was, still in the kitchen at the counter. She didn't say a word like usual. Reo did not care. The end was in sight for her. She pulled Mog into the center of her room and Reo pulled off her ring.

"This should have enough, it should." She put the ring on Mog's tiny finger as she blankly stared at it. The light in the ring started to shine brightly. Eventually the light starting shimmering and filling up the entire room. Yet nothing was happening; there wasn't enough souls gathered, even after all of Reo's hard work.

"NO, IT STILL ISN'T ENOUGH?! WHY ISN'T IT ENOUGH!?" But the light continued to shine even brighter. Reo felt her own soul being shaken and pulled in by the light, but she fought it. The ring was reacting violently to the ritual; there were enough souls to start it, but not enough to complete it, and thus the ring tried to pull in more around it. It was a terrible vacuum that Reo fought her hardest to resist. Eventually the light burst out of the house. She was virtually blinded by the radiant display, and its reach was unknown as to how far it went. But within an instance, the light was immediately pulled back into the ring. Reo managed to keep a hold onto herself as the ring stopped reacting. Mog was on the ground, and she slowly opened her eyes.

"..Uuaah......" she moaned.

"...My dear my dear, did it work?"

"...Where's my brother?" she asked. Reo paused for a second.

"......Oh right, your brother." her voice sounded strained. Mog got up and ran outside. Reo rolled behind. Her mother didn't notice; she still stood in the kitchen. When they went out there was nobody on the streets. Nobody around them. The cars were empty in the middle of the road. The wind and the sound of running cars were all that could be heard. The lonely meandering silence was overwhelming. The girl ran off while Reo was coughing and wheezing from exhaustion to keep up. The sound of footsteps pierced the silence and it was the only living sound being made now.

While she ran, she ran by the old church. It looked as if it was completed, but it was rapidly falling into disrepair with the local foliage overtaking it. The windows were smashed. The dust gathering inside wasn't from a storm but from disuse. She stopped and stared at it for a bit before running off in pursuit again.

There was the house that Reo was just at, and as the girl ran in, Reo thought about the house and stared at it for a while, and a terrible nausea swept through and shook her body. She trembled and walked into the house that still smelled of dust. As she walked into the room where she found her last soul, there Mog was, crying and grasping a family portrait.

"He... he can't be gone..." she cried.

"...Child..."

"I DON'T WANT TO BELIEVE IT! I'M GOING TO FIND HIM!" Mog screamed as she ran past Reo out the door. Reo sat on the bed and saw the chipped Rosary where a human body used to be. She picked it up and put it on. It belonged to her, after all. When she went outside, there was nobody waiting for her. The faint sound of clacking shoes was all that could be heard, slowly petering off as Reo stood there. She wanted to follow it. It was only a matter of time before her body started aging and giving out on her without any souls to keep her alive indefinitely any longer. A thick, lonely melancholy hung over again as that clacking went silent, and she knew it was too far away for her to catch.

"I don't want to be alone any longer." she said under her breath. Her empty self began walking down the street, hoping to hear those footsteps again.

A vague look into the future.

"So Mr. Phillips, back again are we?"
"I honestly don't even know why the hell I'm here this time."
"Well you know whenever you act up, you have to come to these little sessions of ours."
"What did I do? I can't even believe I'm being held accountable after what happened."
"Mr. Phillips, your wife is in the ICU at the Eden Medical Center."
"We were BOTH at the hospital; I was stabbed twice for Christ's sake!"
"Either way such a violent response is something that should be evaluated even though the court case hasn't been completely settled yet. I'm not accusing you of anything, this is just done to get a general understanding of your psychology for the court to evaluate." A loud scoff tainted with alcohol echoed throughout the sterile white office. Carl sat disgruntled in a chair too low to the ground for his spindly legs to make themselves comfortable. The therapist opened up a thick melanin folder onto the desk and began tapping a ball-point pen against the table.

"So, how would you initially describe the relationship with your wife before this particular episode?"
"Well how the hell do you think? She's pretty fucking cheap, you know. If she didn't mind buying wine more often then I wouldn't have to go out drinking." His sharp brown eyes turned away in a condescending sneer.
"According to some reports from your neighbors, there appeared to be a lot of yelling going on in your household this time."
"According to who?" Irritation could be heard crawling out of his throat. "If you're listening to the Andersons next door, I can tell you they're more fucked-up than we are. Whenever Margery left the house on Friday nights, Marty would literally have a van parked outside his house full of these strange guys in leather, and they would just play Rufus & Chaka Khan for three hours. That's not normal behavior for a sixty-three year-old man. Go evaluate him instead." A look of bewilderment briefly danced across a stern face before the therapist's eyes darted back onto the folder.

"Well to you, what prompted this fight?" the therapist asked.
"She's a bitch, that's what prompted it."
"How?"
"She gets her panties in a knot over the most arbitrary things. She's a god-damn dictator."
"Name a particular situation she overreacted to."
"Well I was out drinking one night..."
"I'm going to stop you right there." The only thing being heard in the room were the scritches of the pen against the document. The psychologist continued. "I believe this was one of your previous arrests. You drove home drunk and nearly put the car into the house."
"A lot of people drive drunk. My mother drove drunk constantly and nothing ever happened. Never got caught either."
"Mr. Phillips, it wasn't even your car."
"Well all right, I guess she kind of had a right to be a BIT upset."
"You were arrested on assault charges that night as well."
"I didn't even hit her that much."
"She had to be hospitalized for three cracked ribs." A coy smirk crossed Carl's face.
"Ah, it's amazing what you can do with a whisk when you have a little bit of ingenuity." A sigh escaped from the therapist's mouth alongside a bit of patience.
"This is the fifth time you've seen me, Mr. Phillips. Your alcoholism is becoming a more severe problem every time one of these incidents arise. You've been missing your AA meetings, so you don't seem intent on fixing this."

"Listen, these kinds of situations only arise in the first place because I'm not drinking at home." He put his feet up on the therapist's table as he began to stretch. "I remember the good ol' days where we'd actually stay at home drinking. It was perfectly fine back then."
"She seems extremely upset that you're out drinking that much."
"If she was still willing to drink with me at home, then maybe I wouldn't be out so much, would I? But no, she's not willing to do it so fuck her."
"Why do you think she's stopped drinking?" Carl shrugged his shoulders.
"Hell if I know. Probably those friends of hers." he muttered. He sat up and leaned towards the therapist. "She's a firebrand, but her friends, they're nice Christian folk."
"And?" The therapist waved for him to continue.
"They think that her doing something like that so often for recreation, it isn't morally just. In some cases they're right, but who the hell are they to judge?" his voice began to rise, but he quickly regained his composure. "We're married; she's allowed to indulge and enjoy herself. It's unfair to her and unfair to me." There was a tense silence that seemed to freeze the air in the room.
"I don't mind the fighting." he said, his normally-erratic voice now mildly solemn. "We're both pretty fucked-up people, so it's something to occasionally happen. And we're masochists, so go figure." The therapist winced. "But that was something to spend time together over. And if she doesn't want to, then I'll just go out and get my fix instead."

The therapist looked at the clock and noticed the time.
"Well, it appears our session is done for the day. I'll see you next week after the court case is settled, alright Mr. Phillips?" Carl nodded as he stood up.
"Now with that said and done, want to go out and get a beer? I need a drink after all that intense talking." He sounded completely unsympathetic.
"Mr. Phillips, you're really something else, aren't you?" The therapist's eyes rolled as she took off her glasses. A smirk crossed Carl's face. "Fine, my shift's up anyway. You're not saying a word, though. I'm not getting paid anymore to listen."
"Of course."

An ode to commercialized love.

So today I AND NOBODY ELSE was driving home from school today, reminiscing like many of you, saying "Oh gee, it appears I'm going to have to watch lonely people mope about and lovey-dovey couples try to suck each other's fillings out of their mouths for the entire day, just like last year," and it makes me glad that I don't give two and a half shits about Valentine's Day. I mean, who should, right? Well, I can see the reasoning for it behind men; a guaranteed night to get laid, and for women, a guaranteed night to get free shit. But really, if you have a significant other, do you idiots really need a day for an excuse to go "OH WE'RE SO IN LOVE, LET'S GET SOME RUSSIAN-ROULETTE CHOCOLATE AND ANTACID HEARTS TO CELEBRATE THE OCCASION!" or am I just missing something? What the fuck is stopping you from doing that any day of the week? It's just like Halloween; I don't need an excuse to dress up like a gay superhero and go around to people's houses asking for candy, because I'm an adult and I can do whatever the fuck I want. I get drunk and wear green on any other day of the week. I don't need St. Patrick's Day to tell me that I can get blitzed out of my mind with my fellow Irish-Americans who don't understand any of the cultural significance behind the holiday. DON'T USE A DAY AS AN EXCUSE.

And plus it costs money, and I'm fucking broke. It's a holiday to get you to buy shit, is what it is. For the money I waste constantly, I don't need a day to make me buy more shit for my gal; I already have anniversaries and birthdays to remember. Those are more important since they actually mean something. Valentine's Day is not a real day of celebration. But you didn't come read this post to hear hear me bitch about Valentine's Day and I wouldn't expect you all to stop being consumer whores because one bitter and isolated prick told you to. I have a life lesson to hand out.

In High School, it was 2005. Valentine's Day. For a man just getting over a year-long fling with somebody, it wasn't exactly the Holiday I wanted to partake in again so quickly. But this dumbass I knew had other ideas. His name was Jacob Warner, and I have to tell you that this bastard depressed the Hell out of me. Jacob was an... odd fellow, I guess you can say. He wasn't really a friend, but he still insisted on talking or hanging out with me, regardless of my seething dislike of him that he seemed to overlook. But he was autistic or had Aspergers or some other magical excuse mental illness that somehow seemed to pardon his behavior of acting like a socially-retarded creeper. If I have anything positive to say about the idiot, it would be that he eventually influenced my at-then budding tastes in Japanese culture and the like.

He was caught jerking off to Pokemon hentai in the school library, by the way. Food for thought for what kind of person I had to deal with on such frequent occasion.

Now because he was the first true lonely anime game nerd I met, he's influenced my outlook on those kinds of people a lot from that point on. It isn't favorable, if you hadn't noticed. Again, it wasn't like he was particularly ugly or fat or anything; he just had the social capabilities of a cabbage rotting from the inside. But he was REAAAAAAAAAAAALLY lonely. He nursed a crush on a neighbor girl for the longest time, and it was fucking creepy, too. She was in middle school. WHAT THE FUCK, MAN? YOU'RE A FUCKING JUNIOR IN HIGH SCHOOL, YOU SHOULDN'T BE EVEN LOOKING AT THAT SHIT. That's right; he was older than I was. Did he just start going through puberty? This of course was when I first learned what a lolicon was, but again, whacking off to nudes of Misty in the school library so I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised.

It was unnerving being around this creeper constantly talking about her. And I mean TALKING about her. Things that most people would consider Freudian slips. These weren't slips. He discussed his first date with her, how it would go, what they would buy, their first night ohgodohgodohgodohgod, the marriage, the ring, the honeymoon, the beautiful house they'll live in, the works. Dude, who gives a fuck if you're going to get her nice shit? YOU HAVEN'T EVEN ASKED HER YET.

"Do you even talk to her?" I impudently asked.
"What? I have. A few times."
"'A few times?'" I sighed.
"Five or ten times, maybe." he responded. I paused.
"......How long have you known her?"
"About six or seven years."
"......You don't even know how she acts." I drolled.
"I have from talking to her."
"You talked to her at the worst, once a year. That's not enough to know somebody."
"You're single just like I am, what would you know about dating and asking people out?"

Ooh, wrong thing to say, Jacob. Wrong thing to say to somebody just getting over a relationship. Shit was going to get real, now. I had to literally grab the side of my face to keep my eyebrow from twitching so violently while I occupied my hand with something to grab other than his flimsy throat.

Of course I had to excuse it; the silly rotting cabbage probably just didn't know any better. I'm being bitter; I have no right to dampen somebody's vain and unrealistic attempts at love, even if I know it's going to end in failure. So I agreed to help him in any way I could if he needed it, which wasn't much since I was a drunken emotional wreck at that point in time.

"Ask her how she feels about me."
"....Dude I would bet that she probably doesn't even remember your name."
"JUST DO IT."
"FUCK, ALRIGHT ALREADY. You fucking retard, where the Hell do I ask her?"
"At her house, It's on the street parallel to Union next to mine when we walk home."
"...I'm not fucking going to her house." Of course I wasn't. If there was a drunk man with a glazed look of embellished friendliness in his eyes knocking on some stranger's door asking if he could speak to his daughter, somebody would be getting arrested that night.
"Then catch her after school. She goes to Stella Brockman if you remember where that is."
"Fine, I'll do it tomorrow."
"Won't you be in school?" he asked.

I wouldn't. Class sucked that day so I just left early. Hah, a teenage alcoholic cutting school to go talk to a middleschooler on Valentine's Day. Where's Chris Hansen when you need him? I'm eventually going to be trolling Craig's List for young preteen whores looking for fun while their parents are at work if things keep up at this pace. But class was getting out at the school, so now was my chance.

"Uh...... is your name Milly?" I was nervous. Well why the fuck wouldn't I be, this is taking creepy and kicking it up to eleven.
"You're... Lucas, right?" she asked. "That guy Jacob occasionally walks home with?"
"...Y-y-yes I am." I did not like where this was heading.
"What'd you need?"
"Well, truth be told..." I was pausing a lot. Words cannot express how uncomfortable I was. And to make a man uncomfortable who's flashed 5pm traffic while drunk is nothing to scoff at.
"......Oh god, I almost forgot what day it was." she said, blushing a bit. "Don't tell me..."
"NO, GOD NO. IT'S JACOB, I'M SPEAKING ON HIS BEHALF."
"Oh..." she almost sounded disappointed. What the fuck? "I suppose I didn't take notice of what day it is. I don't much like Valentine's Day. People only care about buying things for each other, anyway."
"True," I agreed. "It's a commercialized holiday to force us to buy things for people we like, as if we need an excuse."
"It's almost pathetic how some people act on this holiday, like it gives them a reason to finally say something." She seemed just as embittered and cynical as I was. It was like finding a comrade, but that's not what I was here for.
"But right, about Jacob..." I continued.
"I don't like him. He's a creeper. I just act nice to him so he'll leave me alone. If he wasn't so awkward, then maybe." HA, FUCKING CALLED IT. "Besides, isn't he a Junior? That's kind of creepy." I laughed.
"Yeah, yeah it is. I honestly don't know why I'm doing this for him."
"Besides, somebody a bit younger would be better..." she said, shuffling her feet a bit. She started blushing a bit.
"Hmm?" I looked at her. I paused for a bit. "...Oh. OH. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh dear." This was a turn of events I wasn't anticipating. This wasn't good, either. It might've been the hangover impairing my judgment, but she was pretty cute. WHAT, NO, BAD THOUGHTS. She had a hell of rack for just turning 14, to--GET OUT OF MY HEAD, NO. Her eyes were a nice blue colo--DUDE SHE'S IN FUCKING MIDDLE SCHOOL, SNAP OUT OF IT.

"I HAVE TO GO." And I sprinted out of there before she could respond. I sprinted as fast as I fucking could. I was outrunning cars. I sprinted back to my house as quickly as possible and then took a cold shower for 2 hours. The following day I skipped first and second period and avoided Jacob for most of the day despite his insistence on trying to talk to me. I was sober for the first in a while, too. I was crazy paranoid, thinking the government was going to arrest me for some creepy pedoshit or metaphorical rape or something. Eventually though, I caught Jacob on the way home, and he stopped me. Fuck, no way out of here.
"So did you tell her?" he was impatient.
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Yeah I did."
"Well? Did she have anything to say?"
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Yeah she did."
"Well, what?"
"Uh......" I didn't know what to say. I never told a stalker that he had no shot. He might go fucking crazy and activate his retard strength to kill me or something.
"HEY LUCAS!" I heard a girl shout.
"...Oh fuck me." I muttered. She would if I let her, probably. She came scampering out of her house next door. She had a nice skirt on and was wearing a Super Mario shirt. OH GOD, WHY MUST YOU TEST ME WITH SHIT LIKE THIS?
"You left before I had a chance to say anything." she said, pouting her lip a bit. There was a blank stare on Jacob's face.
"...Say what?"
"Well, it wasn't so much saying something." She grabbed my collar and pulled my head down to kiss me. Not a peck on the cheek. Right on the lips, with her tongue waging war against a resistance in my mouth fighting for everything morally just in the world. But damn it all if I didn't enjoy it. What the hell were they teaching Middleschoolers these days? But as pleasant as that was, Jacob stood there in front of me. His stare was blank. It was empty. The look on his face was empty. When you looked into his eyes, you could only see a bleak void inside them. Inside them, was the other side. And there was nothing there. And if I didn't leave, I would be there and quickly fade into emptiness like everything else. I grabbed Milly and ran like Hell.

"WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO FUCKING KILL US, I JUST NTR'D HIM OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET."
"Ho hum, that's what he gets for not acting normal~" she said harmoniously.
"And I can't date you, you're in Middle School." I stated. "I have enough terrible things on my conscience as it is, I don't need another one."
"Who cares?" she adamantly said. "What's the worst that could happen if we get caught?"
"We will get caught, I'm a drunkard with the subtlety of a hummer driving through a minefield." Of course, she didn't much like to hear that. And to be honest, if I didn't know her age, we would probably be at home filming evidence that would inevitably be used against me in court.
"...What if we wait until I'm in High School, then?" she inquired.
"......Yeah, then it'll probably be alright then." Kind of fucking arbitrary, but that was all it took to suddenly put the situation in the clear.
We remained friends after that. Occasionally lending each other games, talking about random shit when we were bored, those kinds of things. Of course, the disappointing part was that due to the events in my life where I was to be evicted from my apartment, I lost contact with her during the move. A damn shame since she was in fact going to the same High School I was.

As for Jacob, he was still standing out there when we got back, in the same position, with the same emptiness from his eyes punctuating the dim atmosphere on the street. She went into her house and I went home. Never saw the fucker again, and neither did she. Did he move? Did he kill himself? Beats the piss out of me, I didn't care and I was glad that he was gone. If the dumb bastard would've confessed himself, he would've had his dreams crushed by her instead of letting me grind them into powder.

So I could've gotten it on with jailbait, yet my morals got the better of me. I don't know if I should feel proud or stupid or regretful. Although crushing a waterhead's dreams of love was something to be proud of. IF I CAN'T BE IN LOVE, NOBODY CAN. AHAHAHAHAHAHA.

...Well fine, I suppose I'm still a bit bitter. Happy Valentine's Day.

The inner-workings of my mind are an enigma.

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The pond within the forest.

His face as bright as a strawberry, Nemo couldn't fully grasp the situation he was literally being dragged into. The young girl who followed him into the woods was taking him to her home and he wasn't entirely sure why. He tried to make sense of the situation, like wondering why this girl took a liking to him while everyone else reviled or ignored him. Why him of all people? Did he not disgust her? Or was she simply going to play a cruel joke on him? That didn't seem likely either since he doubted the idea that anyone could bear his company long enough to trick him in the first place. His mind was filled with meandering thoughts as he obediently followed Nia deeper into the forest.

* * *

"It's such a pretty pond, isn't it?"
"Huh? Oh... yes."
There was a silence that pierced the woods as Nemo sat next to Nia on a simple stone in the back of her cottage. Her grandfather was out, and thus the two children idling about by themselves. Nia talked about the surrounding forest. She talked about how she just recently moved there from the continent to the south, how she wasn’t used to the colder climate, and how her grandfather seemed to be a simple merchant for a living. While Nemo listened to her every word, he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the pond.
He could see the bottom, it was so clear. Most ponds in the forest might’ve had some wildlife or local people of sorts to dirty them, but it remained pristine and untainted. With the enormous roof of trees over them, a small slit in the canopy just large enough to deliver a single ray of sunshine danced elegantly across it. The light made the pond bloom with color, giving perfect reflections of the pink and blue flowers surrounding it while the shadows of the foliage created an enchanting orchestration to sing on top of the surface as the wind blew.
"Nemo, you sure zone out a lot, don't you?"
"Well... I wouldn't say tha--"
"I still find it kind of weird that you don't really like those wings, though."
"It's not that I don't, but people in general seem to--"
"Can you fly with them?"
"Probably not. I don't believe they're big enough..."
"You talk kind of funny, though. You're not really from around here, are you?"
"Ah..."
She was right. Although he was born there, Nemo grew up in an entirely different environment than the forest he was in. Despite being only seven years old he was extremely eloquent and formal; a self-aware boy who chose his words carefully as he spoke.
“So where do you come from?” she asked. This question made Nemo’s mind twist like a snake as he quickly thought of a way to evade the question. She couldn’t know where he was from.
“Um... well...” he stuttered.
“I assume you've lived in the sky, right?”
“Ah.” Nemo was taken aback. So she knew.
“I see a lot of Caelestians. My parents were merchants, so they moved around a lot.”
“...Were?” There was a hint of morbid curiosity on Nemo’s lips.
“They died recently.” There was a hint of resolve in her voice; if she was melancholic, she certainly didn’t show it. “I really didn’t know them too well. I was always in my house with my maid to keep me company. They were always out for business. Then one day we got a letter saying that they were executed.” Nemo was beginning to become a bit restless.
“I’m... sorry to hear that.” was all that could escape from his mouth. Nia began to smile, though.
“On the other hand, I got to start living with Grandpa. So I got to move and get out. Now I’m here meeting you, so I guess it worked out, right?”
Nemo’s mind stumbled a bit. Nia talked on for hours about how she used to be the daughter of rich aristocrats. Her parents supplied and managed the trading of ore across the kingdom when she lived in isolation in the mountainous country to the south. She lived within a large manor that managed to stand within the techerous and stormy clifftops. Eventually the business was caught selling and trading materials with a Caelestian refugee camp tucked away in the mountains, and her parents were condemned for treason against the kingdom and executed. Nemo was disgusted as he heard the story; the hatred between the two warring races was still as strong as ever.
"Huh? Nemo, do you hear something?" she asked him.
"Hmm?"

* * *

"We can't just let that half-breed come wandering into our village!"
"One of those despicable Caelestians must've let the boy off his leash."
"A boy who looked that innocent, I just couldn't shake off something sinister about him."
"I was so scared..."
The village was up in arms. Talk about the hybrid echoed throughout the streets and fear spread throughout the small town like a contagion. For a small isolated village in the woods to have such an encounter was unheard of.
"His mere presence could've cursed this entire village to damnation!"
"I hear they can harvest the souls of Genomians and use them to conduct sinister spells."
"The air itself just feels tainted after having that mongrel wander in here!"
The outcries couldn't be silenced. As a crowd gathered in the town square, the mayor stood up above them all.
"We cannot allow this sinister beast to defile our village!" His aged voice grinded out, eroded from decades of smoking. "We must find it, and eliminate it." The mob roared in agreement as they gathered whatever they could use as a weapon. Those too afraid retreated into their houses to hide.
"Let us make haste into the woods and put an end to it!" A wrinkled hand pointed to the north where the boy headed, and the crowd surged out of the village. The only person who remained in the town square was a lone man with a walking stick. His eyes bandaged shut, he was escorted into an inn by one of the housekeepers.
"Those people are best not to earn the ire of that child." was all that could be heard under his breath as he walked inside.

* * *

"No..." Nemo heard the chanting.
"HALF-BREED! HALF-BREED!" rang throughout the forest, slowly edging its way towards. The children peered out the window. Down the road the crowd could be seen marching closer and closer, and with every chant becoming louder and louder.
"HALF-BREED! HALF-BREED!" Nia's eyes narrowed.
"Nemo, you head out back through the pond. I'll tell them you weren't here."
"B-b-but..." his voice stammered.
"Just do it, they're going to hurt you."
"Nia, they'll know. They'll know I was here and they'll know you let me go." But she didn't care. She rushed him out the back. Nemo was conflicted as he stumbled to his feet and tripped into the pond. He wanted to run. He was terrified. But he did not know what was taking place at the front of the house. What she was saying to stall them. But a confirmation of his worse fears pierced his ears as much as it pierced his heart.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!" A sharp, agonizing scream rang through the woods. The boy's spirit sank as he attempted to rush back into the house, sloshing through the pond to regain his footing. But the mob flooded from around the house to where he was. All eyes were locked on Nemo as he remained motionless.
"There's the half-breed!" rang the mayor's voice, riddled with malice as he stepped into the shallow pond. He grabbed Nemo and lift him by the collar as his slender legs swung erratically.
"You monster." he coldly muttered as the mob came in closer. "THIS HALF-BREED HAS NOT ONLY DEFILED OUR LAND, BUT POLLUTED THE SOUL OF THAT LITTLE GIRL!" Nemo's eyes began welling up with tears.
"You will die here, and the curse will be lifted from this land. That tragic girl's corrupted soul tried to save you of all things." Nemo's right hand gripped the mayor's arm as tears continued running down his face.
"......What?" Nemo's meek voice began to crack as the mayor banished a small knife.
"May Rhah have mercy on you, you vile beast. May that girl's soul rest with the shedding of your blood."
"NO!"
Nemo fell into the pond as the mayor shouted and flailed in agony while being engulfed in an intense fire. The mayor's body dived into the water and attempted to put it out but to no avail. The mob immediately started screaming as the little boy stood with a dead gaze staring at the pond, now darkened by the ash of the burning, screaming man slowly letting the life escape from him. A single cold, lifeless word pierced the crowd's terrified banter like a knife.
"......Die."
Before the mob could disperse, another massive wave of fire blasted through the air. The heat was so intense that the entire group was almost incinerated instantly. In a flash, a dozen or so shriveled, charred masses fell to the ground. The boy held up his hand, and immediately all the fire in the area gathered back into his palm as he clasped it shut. As soon as those fires died out, Nemo's composure broke and he began to weep. He ran to the front of the house as fast as he could, seeing a small trail of blood leading up to a tree that Nia was slumped against.
"N-N-Nia...?" Nemo's hands were shaking as he pull her hands away from a large piercing in the middle of her chest.
"......Nemo?" a weak voice choked up. "Why... why didn't you run you idiot...?"
"...This...this wasn't supposed to happen..." Nemo was sobbing uncontrollably as he firmly grasped her hand. He could feel the heat leaving her palm.
"Am... Am I going to die?" Her shining eyes dimmed as her grip on Nemo's hand loosened. Nemo stopped crying as he embraced her. A single gust of wind could be heard rustling the trees.
"......No, no you aren't." He took off his muted azure robes, now darkened by soot and damp blood, and wrapped Nia's slender frame in it. Without a word he picked up her weightless body and started walking down the road.

The castle in the sky.

This is the first out of three parts to a fantasy piece I wrote in a college class a long-ass time ago. It's a bit of a downer, so if you're expecting morbid humor or anything along those lines, don't bother with it because it isn't here. Yes, it's a "SERIOUS" piece of writing. Yes it might be a bit corny or forced or depressing. Fuck you if you don't like it, it's radical change of pace from what I usually write. All three parts should be up by Friday at the latest.

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There was a young boy who lived in a castle in the sky. Why he lived in the sky, he did not know. He was kept there for an undisclosed reason, only occasionally seeing his parents who worked late into the night. He was lonely, as to be expected. A strong melancholy hung in his heart, but he would never dare show it. There were three cruel hostesses who took care of him in his parents' absence that exploited the boy's distress for their own amusement. They were wicked women who looked upon him with malice and saw him as a monster, yet the boy did not know why. But he was too afraid to question it; if he acted out, he would be teased, beaten, even tortured by the women. But they were beautiful, and whenever his parents showed up they would mask their sadistic souls with serene and elegant smiles. It was out of fear that the young boy would act as if nothing was wrong.

There was one particular day where the young boy's father was to visit the world below the clouds for a single week. The child pleaded with his father to go with him. Amidst initial protests from both his parents he was finally able to leave his accursed home, if not just for a little while. This was to be a joyous occasion, as he would be able to return to the majestic forest in which he was originally born in before he was locked away above the Earth. The father had to conduct bureaucratic business on the land in a close city, so the boy decided to venture off into the wood on his own and was told to stay out of the nearby village. He did not care, as long he was back home in peaceful tranquility.

As a mere infant he remembered the bark spires that held up a beautiful sky of leaves that swayed above his head. He remembered how in the spring they would be a vibrant aquamarine color that slowly turned to an elegant green before becoming weathered and brown, eventually wilting in the winter. But eventually his curiosity got the better of him; he wanted to see the small village he left behind. And while the forest was just as beautiful as he remembered, when he made his way into the small settlement the past began to dissipate and fade away within the grim reality of the present. The people who lived there were afraid of the boy. He was young and innocent, but he could see the fear, the hatred, the same amount of disgust he saw in the faces of those terrible housekeepers who abused him.

He had a frail, angelic appearance which didn't make him as inconspicuous as he would've liked. Despite being probably no older than six or seven his hair was a stark silver color, as were his eyes. His delicate frame was draped in muted azure robes as his pale ebony skin tone almost made him radiate. But perhaps his most eye-catching feature was a pair of small elegant wings sprouting from his back. He was altruistic, and amidst his sorrow always wore an endearing smile. But to those people watching him, he was no angel. The young boy was a half-breed.

He was the result of a forbidden relationship between two kinds of people who were mortal enemies; the people of the sky and the Earth-dwellers. He should not be alive, as most half-breeds died at birth either by defects or willingly out of shame, as if to enforce the unholy matrimony between the two enemies. And yet he still breathed. The young boy had no place where he could go without being judged. Despite being born on land he was moved into the castle in the sky because the Earth dwellers feared him like they feared the angelic people who lived up there. He was an abomination, a blasphemous creature whose existence served to remind those of a great betrayal that had taken place. Yet he had no place in the sky either, as they saw him as a mongrel, a worthless and inferior byproduct who lacked the elegance of the angels and the resilience of the Earth-dwellers. And because of this discrimination his parents chose to isolate him, to hide him from the prejudice that existed wherever he lurked and kept him locked in that wretched castle. The prison that was constantly torturing him was ironically meant to serve as his sanctuary.

Streets were evacuated while he timidly walked down the barren roads, his conscious being smothered with paranoid eyes lurking within the reticent houses. Like an ugly little secret eventually being uncovered, the young boy finally began to understand what he was. The facade, the empty smile he always used as a mask wasn't enough to hide behind anymore. In the middle of the streets he lifelessly collapsed to the ground and buried his face into his arms as he wept uncontrollably. Of course this created some deal of conflict among the populace, because while he was by all definitions an abomination, he was still a child and he was still heartbroken. But no one dared approach him; superstition surrounded the half-breeds and people were terrified of what supernatural or unholy abilities they could conjure. Eventually a young mother slowly made her way out of her house to approach the boy. Despite her attempt at good will, he still saw her face was stricken with trepidation. He immediately shouted at her to keep away from him as he stumbled to his feet and ran off into the woods in tears.

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The boy’s sobbing could be heard in the deepest corner of the forest. He sat curled up behind a tall and majestic tree, his arms wrapped around his knees as he prayed for his father to find him and take him back home. But with the rustle of bushes nearby, his weeping went silent. The air suddenly became tense; he felt as if he was being watched. He cautiously stood up and slowly inched toward the shrubbery. His face drew closer to it, sweat beading down his face until suddenly...

"HI!"

The boy let out a scream while he stumbled back and fell to the ground. Through his bloodshot eyes he saw a small girl roughly his age was peering through the bush. Garbed in a plain white dress, her bright hazel eyes and graceful smile peeked through her pine green hair as she quickly scanned the boy.

"What's wrong? Were you crying?" she energetically asked. His eyes still damp from tears, the boy quickly wiped his face to regain his composure. "I saw you run from the village so I decided to follow you and see what happened," the boy heard the girl say. But as his hands left his face, he realized she wasn't in front of him anymore. He looked around for her before he felt a tug from behind.

"Ooh, where did you get these wings?" She felt the soft delicate feathers on his tiny wings as the young boy attempted to pull away from her. "I think they're pretty!" After hearing that, the boy's lower lip began to tremble as he blushed tremendously. He started to cry again, but this time it wasn't because he was upset. In fact, he was elated that this young innocent girl who followed him didn't judge him. She wasn't afraid or disgusted by him; in fact she complimented him, something that he never really heard before.

"My name's Nia! What's yours?" The boy didn't quite understand. He never really gave his name out to anyone, because nobody ever bothered to ask. He was always a phantom to most people, ignored and never referred to directly. Eventually he managed to gather the courage to speak.

"Um... it's Nemorin." he meekly replied.

"That's a nice name!" the girl stated. "Can I call you 'Nemo' for short?" The boy nodded slightly as his tears began to dry. Nia grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on, my house isn't far from here! My Grandpa won't mind if I bring someone over. I have this neat little pond in the back. You should come see it!" The shy little boy felt the girl's exuberance course through his body as his legs regained the strength to stand. As he was dragged to her house, another smile crossed his face. For once, it was a genuine, earnest smile.