Short Story

it is life, Mama!” Mama: “Oh—so now its life. Money is life. Once upon a

I nod, straightening and we’re moving out, keeping to the shadows of the alleyways and overgrowth. Thorn glances back at me after a while, before putting a hand on her hip. “Still think we should have left her behind. This thing goes bad and she’ll freak in the middle of gunfire. She looks like someone who tends to lose their marbles.”

"she always looks like that" I quietly tell myself so I won't worry later on.

It all began with an R2-D2 lunchbox and a box of gummy candies that cost a dollar. As a child, I've always had an affinity for making money. Initially, I believed this skill came from my name, Matthew, an apostle who left his great wealth to follow Jesus, or rather the Lord answered my mother who prayed for me to be successful. Nonetheless, the ability to sell and communicate to others came naturally. As I navigated the aisles of foodstuffs contained within the 99-cent stores, I saw not cheap food to consume but rather an opportunity. I stared intently at a brightly covered box of candy and seized it immediately. It was an early Monday morning; I was in the third grade preparing for school. I clutched the R2-D2 lunchbox close to my small chest; it measured no larger than a sheet or paper and no greater height than four inches. I managed to stuff ten packets of gummy bears in that bag that I planned to sell for fifty cents each. As I stepped into Ms. Scott's third-grade class, I immediately advertised wares, within seconds my peers flocked to me like sheep as I announced each aphrodisiac packet of worms cost fifty cents. Within seconds, a dollar investment became five dollars. An overwhelming sense of satisfaction began to take hold, and so began my passion for selling.

He walks right up to her and stares in her eyes. Those eyes lock on his eyes, terrorized. He pulls away and holds her wrist, taking her pulse.

“Safe?” I counter. “You were going to kill her! Maybe that was safe where you were from, but right now, that’s considered creepy!”

I focus on the negative emotion again and gaze around the room until I make eye contact with the girl from earlier, I can see her more clearly now that she’s looking at me. Her hat says Reyes Tasty Treats Shop in gold letters, her hair is a deep brown and get darker near the top of her head, and her green eyes are tinged with brown and brimmed with tears. She glares at me with all her might and I see a tear escape her control and she looks down at her desk to hide her face from me.

He sights, "I know nothing about her. I'm going to screw this up." He try's to suppress his rising panic, but fails.

We wait and wait for about another hour or so. Henry still hasn’t returned and we are starting to get worried. I look over at Bertie to see how he was doing. He looked bad, he had cut his face next his noes on his cheek while we were running out of there, and the blood had dried on his cold face. He honestly looked like crap. He looked worried, cold, hungry, and pale. I wasn't in the greatest shape myself. I was terrified at, whatever that thing was. It was grey and left this, goo trail behind it as it walked.

I place the apple down, exhaling deeply. These apples could be her death. “Kallau,” I whisper. “This food is the property of the Order. You do remember the punishment for stealing, right?”

The desert air was cool that night. Scattered shards of moonlight cut through the thick overcast, like spotlights sweeping the arid landscape. Luckily, I was posted with Raymond. He was far less chatty than the other group members. We were stationed on the eastern wing of my group’s watch zone, where we were responsible for disposing of any ‘foreign invaders’. That was our mission, kill all who try to cross the border. At least that's what my dad told me. The padded butt of my AK-12 assault rifle was firmly nudged into my shoulder, feeling as if it was attached to me after two hours of sitting. I fidgeted with the safety out of boredom, something Dad had told me not to do. It was my twelfth outing with the group, as I had only turned

Cynthia sat near Julian as if they were back to the very first time they met back on that cold winter day where even despite the below freezing temperatures in the midst of January, Julian made his departure off the stage dripping in sweat, so much so that the towel he had used to wipe his neck and forehead flooded the room with the scent of slightly unpleasant body odor, though Cynthia had gotten used to it in a matter of minutes.

“Hi, my name’s Megan and I’m with the school newspaper. Could I ask you a couple of questions?”

You’re the founder of the business, you’ve poured your heart and soul into it, and you are

"Nothing." She is being very secretive and suspicious I better go in the kitchen to check. I went in the kitchen but I didn't see anything, everything seems normal, until I turn and saw a figure on the counter twiddling a knife.