M for Monotonous

Sophia opened her bedroom door, plonked herself down on her bed and sighed exasperatedly. Life was so boring! It was so boring that she could predict exactly what was going to happen in just a little less than a minute. Mum was going to call to her and say that she had just realized that she had got back from school and tell her to freshen up and change for dinner.

"Sophie! I just realized that you got back from school! Freshen up and change, dear!" a voice called from downstairs.

"Mm, yeah, Mum, give me two minutes," Sophie said with a triumphant smile.

She opened her wardrobe and put her head in, waiting for her younger sister to fling open the door and scream that she had lost her teddy bear. Five, four, three, two, one…

"Sophie! I lost my teddy bear!" screamed Emma, bursting through the door.

"Huh, surprise there, Em. Let's see, every single day, you play with your teddy bear under my bed and then forget him there when Mum calls you for lunch. Maybe it's there?" Sophie asked her sarcastically,"now, get out, I need to change."

Emma made a face at her and ran out. Sophie pulled open her wardrobe again. Most probably, the first outfit which was going to come out of it was her Hamburg Hoodie and a pair of tights, which was a combination she'd worn at least fifteen times already.

She dressed up in her hoodie and tights and went downstairs and seated herself at the dinner table. Now her father was going to come in through the front door, holding his messenger bag, and jovially announce that work had been amazing and ask her how school was. So monotonous. Wait for it… wait for it…

Her father came in through the door. Check. Messenger bag. Check. Jovial smile. Check.
Boring, boring, so boring! Then, he set his bag down on the dinner table and took out a tiny box. 

"Sophia, guess what? We got you a new phone!!" he exclaimed.

For a second, she was speechless. And then she squealed.

K for Kudos

Amelia trudged along the snow-covered path, pulling her jacket securely around her. Her blonde hair was whipped around by the harsh wind and the leather handbag slung over her shoulder was being swung from side to side. She walked without missing a step, even when a stray cat suddenly leaped across her path.

"Hello, Ms. Adams! How're you doing on this fine, frosty day?" the man she was passing at that moment asked.

She stopped and squinted at his face through the snow falling in front of her and then smiled her usual warm, friendly smile.

"As well as I could be doing on a day as dreary as this one, Michael! Thankfully, work ended early, eh? And please, it's Amelia, not Ms. Adams!" she said, trying not to sound as miserable as she felt.

"Yeah, work ended early for me too. Sorry, I got to go now, Lara'll be waiting for me. If I'm late for dinner one more time I have no idea what she will do!" he replied cheerfully and waving goodbye, he turned around and walked away.

She waved back and continued to walk, recalling the scene that had occurred in her office just that morning. Work ending early, her foot! One of the younger employees had submitted an article late and her boss immediately began to yell at her. After waiting for about a few minutes, she had begun to defend her colleague. She had screamed at the manager quite a bit, actually. It had resulted in her getting fired.

Reaching her apartment block, she put her hand in her handbag, fumbling for her residential card. Where was it? She knew it was somewhere there! After searching for it for about two minutes, she decided to call security and ask them to let her in instead.

"Hello! 0404 please!" she crisply said into the intercom, after pressing the green button.

The door swung open. She stepped into the lobby of the building and got into the elevator, which was thankfully at the bottom floor. After getting out and reaching her doorstep she looked around to make sure nobody was spying on her and pulled open the door, which seemed to have lost the ability to lock itself. Since nothing ever got fixed at Block 65, she had decided to leave it unlocked.

Freshening up and changing into her comfortable nightgown, she settled herself onto the sofa for the most depressing part of the day; looking at the album. Turning to the first page, she readied her mind for a reminiscing session. Ah, there was the first medal she's ever got in gymnastics, a silver for the United states. She had been happy then, hanging out with friends. Life was a roller coaster, she would say, just sit back and enjoy it wherever it takes you. 

Looking at several more silvers and a limited amount of golds and bronzes she smiled sarcastically. 

Look where the roller-coaster has taken you now, she thought contemptuously, in a dump of an apartment with a bunch of people thinking you're a fool. And what do these medals mean, eh? Kudos from the past, that's all they are. They aren't going to help you in any way.

Closing the album with a sharp click, she made a wry face. Her life didn't have any glory or happiness in it. All it had were an alarming amount in electricity and water bills, no parties or relaxation and quite a lot of stress.

"Useless kudos," she said angrily.

J for Jejune

She was beautiful. Her slim, tapered fingers seemed to dance over the keys of the piano and she was smiling like an angel. The black, polished bench upon which she sat matched her shiny black patent shoes which kept holding down on the gleaming golden paddles below her instrument. Skills…

Angela Simpson led quite a difficult life. Fending for her son, daughter and herself all at the same time was quite a struggle but she managed it. The song she had been practicing for this concert however, was special. It had a melancholy tune at the start, with a build up to a fast, lively one which made people want to clap along to the beat and you had to actually feel it to make the audience actually relate to the song.

Her simple, flowered dress was pink and yellow, and she had a matching sparkly clutcher in her hair. Ah… her hair. It was done up in a chic ponytail which made her look even more elegant as usual…

She finished the song with a flourish.  Slowly turning around to a silent audience, she glanced around the audience uncertainly. Looking at their faces, she suddenly felt a slight sense of triumph. Many of the people were looking at her with tears in their eyes, dabbing at them with their handkerchiefs. She got up off her seat, feeling like crying herself. She had worked so hard to perfect her technique and finally, she was experiencing the sweet sense of victory.

She was standing up now, looking a little like she was going to cry. She ran a hand through her hair and smiled, looking just beautiful. She was unreachable, to a jejune boy such as himself…

"I would like to dedicate this song to my son, who suffers from learning difficulties and has been one of my main inspirations. He struggles on day after day and yet is so brave. To my son, Jack Simpson!"

She was coming towards him now, reaching out for him, crying into his hair! What was happening? Why was she doing this, this unknown beauty? And then he remembered.

"Oh, Jackie! I love you so much!" she snuffled, sounding much younger than she actually was.
"Mom?" he asked, in a surprisingly deep voice.
She squealed in joy and tears spurted out of her eyes.
"That's the first word my baby's spoken!"

I for Insatiable

"And, finally, to our most generous benefactor, Mr. Andrew Dawson!"

Andrew smiled benevolently at the crowd of people gathered before him and straightened his tie. He slowly got up from his seat on the stage and waved to the crowd. As he walked to the announcer, Mr Jeremiah Fox, he gestured politely at the crowd to stop clapping. Taking the mike from the announcer, he pushed his spectacles up his nose.

"My dear audience, please, do not give all the credit to me. I have been helped along the way by so many people, to whom I am very grateful to and would like to thank when I am giving this speech of mine. First, Mr Jeremiah Fox himself, who has helped me so much along the way. A big round of applause to him!" Andrew said loudly, shaking Mr. Fox's hand.

Yes, Jerry had helped him a lot indeed…with a tiny bit of persuasion of course. After all, could he say no when Andrew and a few of his goons had stormed his posh mansion with the news that they had kidnapped his wife and teenage daughter and would keep them hostage until he 'helped' them?

"The next person I would like to thank is obviously my business partner, Noah Watson. He has supported me so much ever since I have started my career, provided me with so much advice about my job which has helped me to improve my business skills quite a bit," he cheerfully announced, "sadly, he is not present here."

Ah, Noah. His faithful business partner was currently locked up in his office; a few of his thugs were guarding him with the help of some top quality guns and a few sharp knives, if things got too out of hand. He had supplied him with quite a lot of useful information about bank vaults, pass codes, and locations of important jewelry stores.

"So that is the end of my short speech. Sorry about it," he loudly proclaimed as the audience began to boo, "but I'm not too good at this sort of thing. Handing the mike over to Jerry, he stayed in his position.

"Thank you, Mr. Dawson! Now, our company would like to award you with a certificate of appreciation and a trophy of thanks," Jerry said, looking uncomfortably at the 'generous benefactor'.

Andrew stepped forward and accepted his award, while turning his back to the vast audience, who were eagerly looking at him to view this grand prize. Looking down at the stack of dollar bills being pawed over to him, he curled his lip in distaste; his insatiable greed for money would never be satisfied.

"Really, Jerry? Just this much? I'll be expecting at least one mil' more from you. Or else, I can always just take a few of your loved ones hostage again," he muttered coldly into Jerry's ear. 

Facing the audience again and looking around the magnificent auditorium for what was probably the last time, he confidently announced with a rather strange smile,
"Thank you all for coming! Thank you! I hope you didn't regret it!"

And then, with a stream of fire and smoke, a bomb exploded in the midst of the audience.

H for Hawkshaw

"Mr.Williams? The press is waiting outside and by the look of it, you'll have to answer some questions if we want to get to the car."

Peering out of the window of the jewelry store, Ross Williams saw the huge crowd of people gathered outside. There were at least fifteen journalists clustered around the front door of the store, clamoring for 'the detective who is investigating this case' to come out and give them a summary of his investigation.

"Come on, Dan. We'll have to face them," he said wearily, gesturing to the door.

His faithful assistant, Daniel Rivers, pulled open the door and held it for him, sighing exasperatedly.

Ross stepped outside, shielding his eyes from the camera flashes, dimly aware that he was being followed by Dan.

"Mr.Williams! Please tell us how the investigation is going on!"

"Have you found any clues, any suspects?"

"Do you know where the stolen artifact might be hidden, sir?"

"Ahem, all this information is classified and I will enlighten you when the police see fit to do so," Ross calmly replied, "now, please give way to us, I am quite hungry and would like to go home for my evening meal."

The journalists and photographers reluctantly gave way to him, grumbling loudly. Ross got into his Aston Martin and muttered his destination into his driver's ear, wishing he could block out the noise of grumbling journalists. Dan placed a sympathetic arm onto his arm and softly said,
"Have you got any clues, sir?"

Ross nodded, looking a little doubtful, and took out two objects wrapped in cloth from his messenger bag and placed it on the seat between both of them.

"Not much, but yes, a few. I'm actually quite sure that they don't mean anything."

Pointing to the first object, a thin, fraying piece of blue thread, he said,
"This is almost useless. It could show that the thief was wearing blue, but it could also belong to a customer. Besides, hundreds of people in the city wear blue and we have almost no chance of finding the thief with this."

Carefully tilting the red cloth on which the objects were kept, he slipped another minuscule object off it and smiled ruefully.

"Another object I found on the ground. I was poking around in the glass case where the jewel was kept and found a piece of tarnished silver. Looks like it's meant to be a rose," he guessed, wondering whether the rose was supposed to be one of the store's displays.

"Well,sir, I can tell you something for sure. Those objects mean nothing!" Dan said, disappointed.

Ross leaned against his seat and wondered, not for the first time in his career, why he had decided to be a hawkshaw in the first place.

G for Gimrack

Max yawned loudly and slowly pushed himself up on his bed. 

"Anne? Have Mum and Dad gone to work already? Did they leave me anything?" he called.

His babysitter for at least five years, Anne was one of the people he was most close to.

"Yes, sweetie, they've already left. They said to tell you that they would be back in the evening. Cheer up," she replied, putting her head around the doorway.

He smiled cheerfully at her though he was quite disappointed inside. His parents were shipping directors at the company Garrett's. He knew that they were very busy people and all but couldn't they take half a day off for their only son's birthday? 

Yes, it was Max's birthday and he was expecting a whole lot of people to call up and wish him, the majority of them his parents' colleagues whom he had never even had a proper conversation with. He was also very sure that he would recieve a huge load of presents, from family and friends of his and his parents' colleagues.

Slowly swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he looked around his massive bedroom. His wooden desk and chair had been polished until they shone. His wallpaper was a bright, sky blue painted with all sorts of birds which seemed to be flying toward his wardrobe which was so big that its top touched the ceiling. The room decor had not been his choice; his mother had decided it based on her interests.

After he finished brushing his teeth with his top quality toothbrush and toothpaste, he walked downstairs to the dining room. Seating himself at the dining room, he suddenly realized that there was no trace at all of his parents ever sitting down at the table and eating. This was thanks to the maids, he supposed, and began to wolf the food on the plate in front of him. 

The bacon was fried perfectly, the sausages were just how he liked it, and his omelette had that slight taste of tomato which he loved, all as usual. Sipping the freshly squeezed orange juice in front of him, he wondered how much more perfect it would have been if his parents had been here with him.

"Max! Max! Remember you have your play date after this? You must get ready!" Anne yelled from somewhere upstairs.

Max sighed inwardly. His 'playmate', as Anne would say, was a stuck-up boy who liked to play pretend with toy soldiers and clockwork toys. He ran up the stairs to change into his formal clothes. It was only going to be for two hours after all.

After he had changed into a simply awful white shirt with a supposedly smart blue suit, he decided to go to the living room to wait for his tiresome guest. His mother had chosen this playmate of his. If only she knew her son's interests. His parents treated him a lot like a gimrack; giving him things, dressing him up well,making his life perfect. In other words, his parents gave him everything but time.

F for Felicity

Tiny droplets of water had settled on her long blonde hair, making each strand sparkle like diamonds. Her swimsuit was surprisingly completely soaked through, given the fact that the water just came up to her knees. Wading further in, savoring the feeling of the water lapping at her legs, she screwed up her eyes to avoid the salty water from getting into them.

"Come on, Lisa! Don't be such a spoilsport!" her cousin, Matt, shouted indignantly.

"Yeah! We won't have any time to play if you don't come in right now!" his younger brother, Scott, said, trying to simultaneously make a face at her and splash her.

The oldest and the only girl in the three cousins, Lisa couldn't help thinking how much more fun it would have been if Matt and Scott were a little more sympathetic.

"The water's freezing cold! Just give me a little time,will you?" she called back to them, making a face back at Scott.

Matt and Scott both sighed in exasperation and glanced at each other. As she caught sight of their expressions, she felt amused. The brothers were hilarious! They were irritating a lot of the time, but as you got to know them well, they were actually quite nice and meant well.

"Alright,I'm getting in! In fact, I feel good enough to have a race! Ready, steady, go!" she said, deciding to surprise them and suddenly plunging into the water.

Matt and Scott looked at each other in disbelief and then followed her, Scott squealing in excitement.

Cold, cold, and freezing cold was an accurate summary of how she felt underwater. White, frothy bubbles were rushing past her and the blue water was hardly stinging her eyes! As she kept swimming, she stopped feeling cold, and let herself enjoy the underwater beauty around her. It was amazing! The deep brown rocks beneath her were swarming with sea life which included colorful fishes, sea turtles and even starfish! Swimming right beside her was a shoal of shiny, silver fishes with an almost serious expression. Intense happiness swept over her and she smiled at the familiar feeling of felicity.

Suddenly, somebody tapped her on her back. Shaking her head, she brought herself back to reality. She turned around and found Matt, his mop of chocolate brown hair messy, his blue eyes shining with wonder.

"It's really pretty,isn't it, Lees?" he asked her," Anyways,we need to get back now;the adults are calling us and Scott got left behind."

She nodded, and shouting in delight, both of them dived back into the water for the race to the shore.

E for Empathize

Andrea had spent her whole life riding across the plains. Everyday, she would wake at the break of dawn, put on her breeches and go to the stables to let out her horse, Starfire. Everyday she would lead her horse out of the ranch and go round up the grazing horses in the fields. It was tiring work, but Andrea loved it. She loved anything she did, as long as she did it with Starfire. As a matter of fact, only if she did it with Starfire, she would do it. Otherwise,there was no point in asking her; Starfire was her body and soul. Starfire was her life.

Until Starfire died. Andrea had never imagined anything like that would ever happen in her life. She had always pictured herself and Starfire riding across the plains forever. She hadn't even believed it when it happened. She had thought it was a nightmare, a horrible nightmare. She had kept on trying to get out of it but it was impossible,since of course, it was actually happening. Starfire was gone. She was reminded of it wherever she went. 


At Mr.Smith's shop, she would gaze longingly at the horse-shoes displayed on the wall, wishing she could buy one.

"What's up, Andy? Do you want one for Star?" he would ask, ruffling her brown hair.
Andrea would usually just walk out, but one particular day,she stood her ground.

"Uh, Mr.Smith, Starfire passed away a few days back," she said loudly, trying to hold back tears.

"What?! When did that happen,sweetie? Why didn't you tell me?" he asked indignantly.

"It was the 17th. The funeral's scheduled to be on the 23rd," she said a little sheepishly, deciding to ignore the last question.

She knew already that the date would always cause her dreadful pangs of pain in her stomach. 

"17th of February, you mean? How did it happen?" he asked worriedly.

This was when she decided to walk out of the shop. It was like mental torture when she thought of it. Starfire had died of a disease called tetanus. It had all began when Starfire came back from her daily morning graze with a cut on her right hind leg. It was quite shallow, just a scratch, so nobody thought to clean it or bandage it. In fact, nobody had even noticed it. However, as the days progressed,she had begun to act a little strange. She had always had a slightly mental expression on her face and had perspired a lot. She had seemed to have a fever but it was nothing serious so nobody had worried. Until one night, she just passed away peacefully. 

On the morning of the funeral, she got up and stared at herself in the mirror beside her bed. She looked at a pair of dull, green eyes, framed by a mop of tangled brown hair and looked away in disgust. What had happened to that vibrant, young girl? How had she changed so much? Pulling a notebook out of her chest of drawers, she began to write.

23rd February,1984 Ever since Starfire's death, I have felt as if there is no happiness in my life. I mean, I don't have a soulmate to go riding with in the morning anymore! Sure, Mom and Dad say that I can have a new horse, but it won't be the same as STARFIRE. Will it? Anyways, I guess I don't really try anymore.  Like, try to have fun and stuff. But I honestly don't know WHY. Why am I feeling so sad? Mom always says that you can only feel what you WANT to feel. But I don't want to feel sad. So why am I?
It's because of the people feeling sad FOR me. I can literally feel their sadness, seeping into the nooks and crannies in my brain. They're trying to empathize, I guess. I can't really tell them not to. So maybe I should block them out. Stop feeling sad and have a positive attitude myself. Be the change, instead of waiting for people to change me. 

She closed her notebook, sighing a little bit in relief. Noting down her feelings always helped.

D for Desolation

He scrabbled at the rocks above him, gasping in short bursts of breath. Just a hundred more meters or so and he would make it; he just had to keep climbing, he had to, or else he would surely die underground.

But what was the point? He had no friends, no family, no home. He had nowhere to go and was an outcast to the rest of the world. Once upon a time, he had lived with his family, had many friends, had a home to go to. However, all of them had slowly moved away from his life, either passing away, or relocating to other cities and towns. 

As he lost his family's support, he lost the money to pay for his house as well and he was forced to leave  his neighborhood. At the time, he had been desperate. He was a bankrupt, uneducated man and had very few choices open to him.

With a sense of reluctance, but understanding perhaps, that he had no choice, he had decided to join one of the few links to his previous life, a mountaineer named Graham. Graham had been a childhood friend of his, a classmate who had helped him with schoolwork. 

Mountaineering was dangerous work. Graham worked for a company called Iced Mountain, which employed men to climb to the mountain's peak and melt the ice at the very top. Then, a helicopter was supposed to pick up the freshly melted ice that was refrozen to be sold. There was a lot of competition between companies and that was when Iced Mountain decided to make mountaineers climb up the mountain, instead of sending a helicopter up to the top. It was slower, and more dangerous, but it meant money, and money was what the company cared about.

He could distinctly remember the last mission he went on. Graham and a few others, including him, were supposed to get to the top of this particular mountain before it was discovered by the public. It was going to be the Iced Mountain company's biggest project. It was all going well and they had almost reached the peak.The mission was going to be a success and Iced Mountain was going to be a universal super company.

Until he fell into a small gap in the snow. Nobody had noticed since he was at the back of the group and he had fallen without any alarm being raised. Thanks to his safety equipment, he survived the fall with a few minor bumps and bruises. Though he was not too experienced, he immediately knew that there was no chance anybody would hear him from so deep below and his best chance was  to try climbing up. He had been quite confident that he would live,  considering the fact that he had a reasonable supply of food and water.

Now though, two days later, his food was over, his water had fallen deep into the pit a while back, all of his safety equipment had been damaged quite severely and his backpack was considerably weighing him down. An overwhelming sense of desolation came over him. There was no chance he would ever go back home alive, he realized. Even if he did get out of the pit, it was a long way back to the bottom of the mountain.

He smiled sadly, remembering how his life used to be. No treacherous mountains, days full of sunshine and song, and of course, fun and games with his family. Reflecting upon these memories, he realized how many years had passed in his life, how many of those years spent being idle and useless. There was no way he would have lived happily without anybody he loved anyway, he thought to himself. And consoling himself with this fact, looking up at the distant sunlight for one last time, he let go of the rocky outcrop and allowed himself to fall into the dark abyss below him.

C for Cacography

"Rebecca Thompson!" Becky's teacher, Miss Anderson called her from the front of the class.
Becky, who was engrossed in a most interesting conversation with her best friend, Lily, was quite reluctant to get out of her chair and walk to the teacher's desk for an almost certainly long, boring discussion about her latest marks for her Math paper. 

Of course, she wasn't nervous for her marks! The lowest grade she'd ever got was an A and that was for Chemistry, her worst subject. The only thing which irritated her teacher was her bad handwriting, or cacography, as Miss Anderson called it. Her Ls looked like Es, she always missed out the line on the T, trivial things like that. Still, she did not want to waste her time listening to her teacher's remarks.

 By this time, she had already reached the front. She sat down in the chair opposite to Miss Anderson and flashed her a winning smile. Her teacher frowned at her, something which she had never done, and pursed up her mouth.

"Take a look at your paper, Rebecca," she said sternly, pushing the test sheet towards her.

Becky shot a confused look at her teacher and accepting the paper, opened it to the first page. And gasped. There were at least thirty red slashes on the paper, almost covering her writing.

"Rebecca, I am very disappointed. As you already know, this is the end-of-the-year paper and a fail will mean summer school. There are silly mistakes and your handwriting is hundred times worse than usual! You have performed the worst in the class in mathematics and I hope you are ashamed! Oh,and I also suggest practicing your handwriting for at least two hours everyday!"  Miss Anderson proclaimed coldly.

"I…well, I…Miss, I studied for at least three hours! I have no idea how this could have happened!" Becky said, not really wanting to meet her teacher's eyes.

In reality, she had hardly studied at all. Sure, she had been in her room for three hours, but instead of studying, she had been reading the newest Harry Potter book which was actually quite long. She had been very confident, seeing as she had not studied at all for the previous math quiz and got full marks. She wished that she had studied now. She wished that during the test paper she had checked her answers more thoroughly. Most of all, she wished that she had worked harder to improve her handwriting. If she had, she would not have to go to summer school with all the bogus students in her grade.

As Diana Anderson looked at her, her face softened a little bit. 

"Rebecca, I know that you are not a bad student. You were always the highest scorer on every test I gave you and you are mostly well behaved in class. I wouldn't send you to summer school, but I'm quite sure you know that I cannot decide. However, there have been students who have gone there for barely a week and then shown a large improvement in their studies. Those students are then given a new set of test sheets and based on the grade awarded on the test paper, they either continue summer school or stop. Such is the rule in this school," Miss Anderson said, patting Becky's shoulder sympathetically.

Becky looked up again, a little more cheerful.

"Thanks,Miss. I'll try being one of those students," she said with a small smile.

She stood up and walked back to her place.

While this long conversation was going on, the class had begun to get curious. Was Becky Thompson actually getting told off? The star student of the class was being scolded for bad marks? 

As soon as Becky got to her place,her classmates had began to bombard her with questions.

"What was Anderson saying,Becky?"

"How much did you get? Was she mad?"

 "Ooh…was she disappointed in your handwriting? She always is, isn't she?"

All Becky did was shake her head and put a finger on her lips, smiling. She tilted her head towards Miss Anderson and shushed them. She would have to deal with her parents' questions later anyways.

B for Breadwinner

"Smith! You better start working harder! There are many people asking for a position in this mill, most  of them stronger and more capable than you are! Watch out, or you'll be out of here in a blink of an eye!"

Jason Smith's forehead glistened with sweat as he started walking even faster to the large pile of bales of cotton at the end of the large room he was working in. The breadwinner of his household, Jason had to work night and day to earn enough money to sustain his mother, father and sister. Both of his parents were too old for any kind of work and suffered from arthritis. His sister went to the village school, and was too young to work at the mill anyway. Besides, she was frightened of the older men who worked there. In reality, working in the  mill wasn't too bad. He had mates there and got free meals. It was the constant worry that he would lose his job and that his family would starve in the winter that was unsettling.

As he mused upon this, a commotion began around him. The door opposite the cotton bales had been flung open and a man who was apparently talking to himself had staggered in. Jason sighed, walked towards him and gently tapped him on his shoulder.

"Excuse me? This is a textile mill, not your house, mister. You better get out before the authorities come," he said softly, not wanting to startle this bizarre man.

"Jason Smith? Is it really you!?" the man suddenly gasped out, his deep brown eyes shining with disbelief.

"Why, yes… how on earth do you know my name?" Jason asked, confused.

"It's me, Jason! Artie! In other words, Arthur Smith, your cousin brother! You used to come and visit my family and I when we were kids, remember? Come on, Jason! Up in London, remember?" the man asked excitedly.

Jason had no memory of this man and was about to say so when a distant scene rushed to his mind...he was in a carriage in London, when he was just a child, a carefree child with no worries. He was walking up a set of stairs into a grand mansion. He was playing with Artie and his tiny wooden cars.

He was having fun and laughing, something he had almost no memory of doing! In just a minute,he believed this man and trusted him.

"Artie! I cannot believe this! But…what are you doing here?" Jason asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Ah, yes. Forgive me for my apparently crazy behavior…I was merely talking to myself and trying to build up the plot of the story I am about to write.  And yes, before you ask, I am following a career as an author and I have decided to write a small story about your little town. You know, what country life is like, etcetera," Arthur Smith said with a smug little smile, suddenly changing his manner of speaking , "how about I stay in your house, hmmm?"

Jason was expecting something like this to happen. What could he say? Arthur was family after all.

"Alright, Arthur. You can stay," he said with a cheerful smile.

Inside, he was already in despair. One more person to take care of. One more mouth to feed. Would Jason and his family survive the winter?

A for Arachnophobia

Estelle had been waiting for this moment to come for a very long time.The moment of victory, when she would feel a sense of triumph that she had hoodwinked her parents into thinking that she was having a sleepover at Tracy's, when she was actually going to explore the old, abandoned house in the neighborhood. Instead, all she felt was fear. Fear of the unknown.  Fear of spiders. In other words, arachnophobia. As she looked up at the cracked, dusty windows, she spotted at least five cobwebs of different sizes and shuddered with disgust. Should she go in or not? Should she sacrifice all of her hard work, deceiving her parents and lying to friends, just because of a few tiny spiders? Of course not. She could handle it. How hard could it get? She took a deep breath of the pure night air, took hold of the old-fashioned door handle in front of her, twisted it, and plunged into the darkness that lay beyond it.

Estelle quickly took out her  torch from her bag pack and switched it on. Blinking her electric blue eyes in the sudden bright light emitted from the torch, she peered around what she supposed was the hall. Her throat suddenly seemed to close up and she broke out in a cold sweat. Spiders. Dozens of tiny, black spiders were scuttling right towards her! She was going to get poisoned! As her legs slowly got rid of the numbness caused by the spiders, a sick feeling built up in her stomach. All she could think of were deadly spiders and what would happen to her if she let even one of them come anywhere close to her.

She ran for it. She turned around, somehow got the door open with her violently shaking hands and ran for it. She would keep running until she reached home. Home, which was free of spiders. Home, with family.