Young Writers Society

Week Twenty-Four: The Backrooms Part Seven
1012 Words

Ollie’s heart pounded in their throat, pulsated in their temples. What happened? The lights had only turned off for one minute, twelve seconds, and four milliseconds. Okay, perhaps the exact numbers were from me, but even Ollie’s mortal understanding of time allowed them to know it wasn’t that long. How did their mother get injured?
“Ma? Can you talk?”
There was no response, just that same wheezing breath. They teared up, walking in a small circle. “Ma! You can’t… you can’t be hurt!”
They went to walk forward before stepping back. “Ma, please. If I walk forward, the lights will turn off again.”
The fluorescents seemed to buzz a bit louder at that, drowning out Ollie’s heart.
“But I can’t leave you here. I’m sorry.”
As soon as they stepped forward, the lights turned off. But they didn’t care. They kept walking through the pitch black. The hallways shifted and contracted around them. Nausea surged in their stomach, pulsating along with the deafening silence.
The lights turned back on. Ollie’s mother was right in front of them, so close they could touch her.
But she was dead.
She was laying on the floor, her skin taking on a grey tint, her eyes empty. Ollie froze, staring down at the corpse with mounting horror.
“Ma?” They knelt down beside her, eyes wide. “Ma.” Their voice cracked, a tear streaking down their face. They gently reached out to check her pulse.
And she evaporated.
Ollie screamed, launching backward. There was nothing left of their mother.
Ollie clenched their fists, trembling. “This isn’t real! It was a trick!” They didn’t know who they were accusing, but they knew it was someone’s fault. “I’m done falling for your tricks! I just want to go home. I didn’t ask to be here.”
The ground of the building started to shake. Was that it? Did it hear them? Were they finally going home?
A wall rose from the ground, crashing into the ceiling. Ollie fell back with a yelp. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t fair! What did they keep doing wrong? Why did the building keep blocking them off from passageway after passageway?
They stood up, thoroughly soaked from whatevr was soaked into the carpet. They smelt of mold and rotten mothballs now. They felt disgustinging. Not to mention, their skin itched terribly. Was the liquid irritating? Could it cause rashes? Or illness? Or death?
Ollie tried not to think about that. They were getting out of here, not dying. If they thought they were going to die here, then they would. It was as simple as that. The mind creates reality based on expectations.
Except when it came to working in an office. Ollie really hadn’t been expecting that one, but it still blindsided them. But now wasn’t exactly the time to think about that. Not with so much at stake.
They stumbled forward into the same four way crossroads again. They didn’t know how they knew it was the same one at this point, but they just did. They knew.
They walked to the center and spun in a small circle. “Wait. No. Wait!”
If this was the same four way crossroad, then that meant all of the other ways were blocked off.
Which meant there was only one way to go.
Which meant there was only one way out.
Which meant there was no room for mistakes.
They shook their head. “No! You’re telling me every other hallway changes, but this one doesn’t? No. I refuse to believe that.”
She sprinted down the hallway she had heard Betsy’s voice in. It was going to be entirely different. There wasn’t going to be anything there. It was going to be-
They ran straight into a dead end. There it was. The same dead end that had screamed at them before. They shook their head. “No. No!”
They turned around and sprinted right back to the beginning. Without a second thought, they ducked into the hallway that forced them face Mr. Coleman and his impossible hill. It would be never ending hallways. It had to be. This place hated limits. Why would it suddenly abuse them? It didn’t make sense.
But there, again, that same dead end. Ollie cried out. “Stop it! Stop doing that!”
They turned around, the adrenaline making them not even care if they were out of breath. They headed right back for the hallway they had just come from. Where this building had pretended to kill their mother. Please. This had to be open hallway. This couldn’t be it.
But it was. Because they just ran into the same dead end. Ollie stopped and stared at it. This was nothing short of cruel now. How could the building treat them like this? Drag them through mold and heartache like this?
“I don’t deserve this!” They kicked the wall as hard as they could. It didn’t hurt, and the wall didn’t budge.
But the building screamed, just like before. But, Ollie didn’t care anymore. They just screamed right back, the high-pitched, whistling screech of the building mixing with the deep, almost guttural yell from Ollie.
The building went silent first. The building might not need to breathe, but it didn’t have human tenacity. And Ollie was full of that at that moment. They heaved for breath, regretting the way their throat burned. There was no water here. They might have just kissed their voice goodbye with that stunt. They made their way back to the center of four way crossroads. Well, there was only one way forward.
Ollie stood in front of the open archway, staring into the never ending maze. If they messed up in there, they’d get trapped in the same loop forever. They’d go insane. They’d die of dehydration.
What would the building make them face there? Their father? An old college professor? What could possibly be worse than their mother dying? They sighed. It was time to find out.
They walked into the maze, immediately feeling the atmosphere shift. This was endless terrain. This is what they were used to.

Week Twenty-Five: The Backrooms Part Eight
1009
Warning: Explicit Depictions of Attempted Suicide

“I hope you’re ready for me. I’m not listening to you anymore.”
The building felt ready. Maybe it was in the way the fluorescents kept humming, or the way the scent of mold seemed to get stronger. The assault that Ollie was getting used to felt more like a battlecry now.
They didn’t bother to keep track of the twists and turns they followed. It was meaningless, in the grand scheme of things. The building had a destination in mind, and Ollie would make it there whether they tried to or not. There was no point fretting about it.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, Ollie was faced with another narrow, one-way hallway. No twists. No turns. Just one way forward. They stopped.
There was a person in the middle of the hallway.
Ollie shook their head. No. There wasn’t a person. It was just the building lying again. Lying because it enjoyed watching them panic. They didn’t even say anything to this person, just squared their shoulders and kept walking.
The person didn’t move. The lights didn’t flicker. Ollie was approaching them. And quickly.
Ollie sped up. That person wasn’t real. They weren’t real. They weren’t—
Ollie crashed right into them, falling to the floor. The other person fell too with an “oomph”, dislodging some of the mold.
Ollie blinked. “Oh, I’m so-“ They froze.
The person was them. An exact replica. They had Ollie’s black shoulder-length Afro with one shaved side. Their dark skin. Their brown eyes. It was Ollie. But it wasn’t. Because Ollie was on the floor, staring at this mimic in horror.
The faux-Ollie stood up slowly. They looked defeated, their posture drooping and their eyes downcast. Their gray pantsuit was covered in thick black patches of mold. Their Afros was dripping with what smelled like the same fluid that was soaking the carpet.
Ollie swallowed. No. That couldn’t be real. Real funny, building, but they weren’t believing in it for a second. They turned away from the mimic and continued down the hallway, head down.
To their horror, the faux-Ollie follow, keeping in perfect stride and walking side-by-side. It sighed.
“I’m tired of this place.” It looked to Ollie like it was expecting solace. “I want to leave.”
Ollie didn’t say anything. They walked faster. It sped with them, its face not betraying if it noticed this change. “I’m leaving today. You can join me. You can leave.”
Ollie still didn’t say anything. They weren’t going to give this creature the satisfaction.
“Will you leave with me? Find peace? Escape this nightmare? I don’t want to leave alone.”
Ollie clenched their fists. They thought of Betsy, of the date where they would finally get on one knee and pop the question. Of Mr. Coleman’s face turning red as Ollie finally quit. Of their alive and well mom getting to try some actual homemade chocolates. It would be beautiful.
“You’re too scared to leave, huh? You’re terrified. But it’s okay. Leaving isn’t scary.”
Ollie growled. “Stop talking! I don’t want to hear it. Not another word.”
The faux-Ollie seemed unphased. They never looked up from the ground. “I’m going to leave. You can come with me. Or not.”
Ollie shook their head and kept walking. They didn’t have to listen to that. They could just keep on walking until this faux-Ollie ran out of steam and vanished. When would that be? Ollie wasn’t sure, but they didn’t care. It didn’t matter.
They made it to the end of the hallway. They weren’t even going to blink. They had been through so many hallways that the end of one meant nothing.
Until they stepped into a room.
It was shaped like a perfect circle, with no doorways to any other hallways. In the center of the room were the first pieces of furniture Ollie had seen this entire time: two wooden stools. Above them, was a rather large ceiling fan without light bulbs attached, hanging dormant.
Faux-Ollie seemed to finally lift its head, looking at the stools straight-on. “I’m leaving. You can either join me or stay behind and mold with everything else.”
It marched towards the stool on the left with this sudden sense of determination. Ollie couldn’t help but watch. Where was this going? Why did the building design a room now of all times?
Faux-Ollie undid the tie around their neck and completely unknotted it, leaving it with a length of fabric. Ollie frowned. They didn’t like that. Something about that seemed… dangerous.
Faux-Ollie started tying its tie again. “You have your tie. Just copy me.”
Ollie took a step back. No. They weren’t doing anything this thing said. Faux-Ollie didn’t seem to care much, just kept messing with their tie. Soon, Ollie could see what it was they were working so hard to make.
Faux-Ollie was tying a noose. Ollie took a step back. The two stools. The ceiling fan. The building wanted them to hang themselves. Why? What benefit did the building get? Was it a living organism that actually got sustenance from corpses? Was Ollie not the first to find themselves down here? They watched Faux-Ollie, a little wide-eyed with terror.
Faux-Ollie stepped onto the stool and started tying one end of the tie to the ceiling fan. Ollie couldn’t tear their eyes away. Was this really what the building expected them to do? Blindly follow a shadow version of themselves to their own demise? Well, it wasn’t going to happen.
Faux-Ollie put the noose around their neck. “I’m going to leave. Because death’s the only way out. And I’m tired of waiting for old age to do it for me.”
Ollie shook their head. “No.”
“And you can leave with me. You can hang right next to me.”
Ollie covered their ears. “No.”
“We’ll both be free. We’ll both be free!”
Ollie squeezed their eyes shut. “No! I said no! You can’t make me! I don’t believe you. You’re not real!”
Faux-Ollie flinched slightly, eyes widening slightly.
“You won’t make me kill myself. You don’t have that power.”

Week Twenty-Six Part One: The Backrooms Part Nine
743 Words
Warning: Explicit Depictions of Suicide

“You won’t make me kill myself. You don’t have that power.”
Faux-Ollie shook its head. “I’m… I’m leaving.”
“You’re dying. You’re not just leaving, you’re giving up.” Ollie sighed. “I’m leaving. I’m finding a way out. I’m going to escape with my life and see my girlfriend again.”
Faux-Ollie held on to the noose. “Wait-“
“I am not going to sit here and die. You can. Go ahead. You’re not real anyways. I’m going to turn around and find a real way. Goodbye.”
Ollie turned around. They didn’t flinch when they heard Faux-Ollie’s clatter to the floor. They didn’t turn around as they heard the snap of a broken neck. Ollie straightened their suit jacket and walked down the hallway.
They didn’t care when they were faced with a single sharp left-hand turn. They just took it.
And stopped dead in their tracks.
It was a very short hallway this time. No rooms. No winding passageways.
Just a single staircase leading up and away.
Ollie approached the staircase, slightly transfixed. They laughed, running their hands on the wood. It was real wood. Real to the touch. It didn’t waver or disappear or smell like mold and mothballs. Ollie tapped the bottom step with their foot and it held.
“Is… is this it? I’m done? You’re letting me go?”
The buzz of the fluorescents softened. The staircase wasn’t lit by fluorescents. Its lights were silent, softer. Ollie hesitated. This… this felt too easy. Yell at one projection and suddenly the exit just appeared? They didn’t trust it.
“I need some sign that this is real. I can’t just blindly walk up these stairs. You can’t expect that of me.”
The building didn’t respond. Nothing changed. Ollie sighed. “I guess that’s my sign. You don’t want to convince me. If this was a trap, you’d have Betsy’s voice calling for me. Or Ma at the top of the stairs. But this is just here. Like you want me to doubt it.”
Ollie shook their head and took a careful step onto the staircase. Nothing happened. Nothing went awry or broke. Ollie took another step. Then another. And another.
It was halfway up the staircase that they saw the light above. Pure, natural sunlight. No light bulbs included. They ran up the last bit of the staircase, laughing madly.
“Betsy! I’m coming home!”
xxxxx
A woman by the name of Elizabeth Marshall marched into the Pinevale Community Hospital, stress furrowing her brow. She made a beeline straight to the front desk, dodging people like she was specifically designed to do so. As soon as a receptionist was free, she dipped over, trying to smile as politely as possible.
“Excuse me? Excuse me?”
The receptionist looked up. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I was told this was where my partner was taken. A person by the name of Ollie Ketcher? K-E-T-C-H-E-R.”
The receptionist nodded dully, tapping away at his computer. “That’s the potential Ikidnapping victim, right?”
“They’re my partner and I’d like to see them. Now.”
The receptionist nodded. “Right. Of course. They’re in Bay Thirteen. Stable and conscious.”
Elizabeth clutched her heart. “Oh thank the heavens. Can I see them?”
“You can. Go ahead.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Thank you.” She practically sprinted further into the hospital, stopping to take a photo of the map so she didn’t miss them.
As soon as she saw a door with the number thirteen on it, she knocked, opening it. It had to be them, right?
And it was. It was Ollie, arm stretched out and connected to an IV. Their head lulled slightly as Elizabeth walked in. “Betsy?” They sounded exhausted.
Elizabeth smiled. “I’m here, darling. You know I’m always here for you.” She sat on the bed, gripping Ollie’s hand. “How… what…?”
Ollie shook their head. “I don’t know. I don’t know. None of it… makes sense.”
Elizabeth brought up Ollie’s hand and gently kissed it. “We’ll talk later, then. When you’re feeling better.”
Ollie nodded. “Good idea. I want to sleep… for like three thousand years.”
Elizabeth laughed. “As long as you do it in increments and I can still talk to you.”
Ollie smiled, not staying anything for a long minute before they finally spoke up again. “I’m quitting.”
“Your job?”
They nodded.
Elizabeth smiled. “Good. You’ve been miserable ever since you started working there. I hate seeing you like that. We’ll figure something else out.”
Ollie hummed. “As long as you’re with me, we’ll figure it out. Together.”
“Together.”

Week Twenty-Six Part Two: Life Part One
293 Words

So, there’s not much I have left to say about last story’s events. Ollie managed to avoid falling into any pitfalls and escaped by phasing through the ground with nothing more than some mold allergy symptoms and some moderate dehydration. After vanishing from the real world for approximately one and a half weeks. It was a miracle Ollie had gotten so lucky, yadda yadda, you know the whole spiel.
There shouldn’t really be any outstanding questions other than, “Oh narrator, what was that building?” And to you, humble reader, I say it was a nightmare to talk about, that’s what. Because it’s not infinite, just incomprehensibly big to the mortal brain. Coupled with the fact that it constantly shifts, it’s set to be a disaster. It’s best to leave it be.
Regardless, we’re not here to talk about that. In the very first story I introduced you to my best friend Death, who is an amazing, wonderful being who cares deeply for humanity and its… quirks. But, right now as I write this, Death is suggesting that I should take the time to introduce you to the other forces that dictate your entire life. So, I suppose I’m here to do that. Because Death is… incredibly persuasive when Death smiles like that.
So, here’s one more introduction for you. Enjoy it. Ignore it. I don’t care. And he won’t after.
In this story, I am introducing you to Life. The main force that you humans cling to for as long as you can. He’s Death’s younger brother.
And the biggest, most unadulterated scumbag this universe has ever seen.
I would call him a sociopath if that word had any actual psychological meaning and wasn’t just a cheap money word tossed around for scraps.

Week Twenty-Seven: Life Part Two
1006 Words

I have existed since before humans have created language and let me tell you that in all your years of existence, none of you have made up a word suitable enough to describe just how much I hate that licentious, vacuous, and downright vile creature.
But you get to meet him. Yay! Congratulations. You get to be just as annoyed as I am. We’ll suffer together.
Now, I could write thousands of tomes about Life and go into every story and detail, but frankly I don't have time for that. Or the patient. Or the willpower to stomach the thought of him for that long. So, you get one story to sum him up. And it’s the story of how he decided to adopt a human by the name of Mallory Pechman as a personal plaything.
I would like to emphasize that Mallory had done nothing wrong. From the moment he was born, Life has gotten all starry-eyed in his demented way and it just went downhill. His childhood wasn’t tragic, per se. He had two parents. They just happened to be in a vicious cycle of divorce and remarrying, completely blind to how they constantly dragged Mallory by the ear. He had no siblings. No friends. Life personally made sure he was always just the right side of awkward to be shunned from everyone seeking the flame of popularity, but not quite odd enough to be accepted as an outcast.
Of course, he never knew why that was. To him, it was all his fault and a personal problem. But Life…
Well, Life was there every step of the way.
I remember exactly when Death found out about Life setting up Mallory’s life for suffering. Death was livid in a way Death never could be at anything else. I wasn’t there, but I didn’t have to be. I still saw it in my mind’s eye, right down to Death’s frustrated furrow.
Death stormed over to Life’s quarters. Death was barely humanoid, a figure of smoke and too many eyes. Death’s hands were wispy, fingers too long. Contrary to what Death’s story may have suggested, Death is perfectly capable of communicating, the only caveat was that it couldn’t be verbal.
So that’s why Death was able to slam Life’s door open, hazy chest heaving, and sign in perfectly clear sign language, “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
Life had his sibling’s ability to pick his form, but he did it less for comfort and more for what he likes to call a sense of pizazz. But currently there was no one to impress, so he looked mostly like a hunk of metal with random points jutting out at unwelcoming angles, sharpened to deadly points. Not that Death could die, but it was the ambience that mattered.
Life sighed. “Oh, I just love it when you’re all vague like that. It makes me know exactly what you’re talking about.”
Death took a deep breath. “Look—“
“I have to be looking at you, or I wouldn’t be able to understand you.”
“—you cannot just decide to interfere with a mortal’s life because you happen to find it amusing!”
Life yawned. “But you interfere with lives all the time. In fact, you kind of… end them.”
Death grew, the smoke making Death’s skin contracting. “You know I don’t make mortals die. I just—“
“How many children did you kill today, Deathie?” Life smirked. “Or orphaned?”
Death’s form trembled. “Don’t change the subject! Mallory—“
“Before you come around and accuse me of ruining lives, maybe you should look within yourself. You are the hated one here. You’re the one that separates families, that leaves people all sad and alone and in pain. I, little ole’ Life, am adored.” He grinned. “That’s why I get to speak. And you get the sidelines as a silent role. No one wants to hear you, Deathie. You’re the thing that’s tearing apart the world.”
Death couldn’t keep face at that. Death shrunk back down into a tightly packed humanoid cloud, smaller than before. “Mallory Pechman doesn’t deserve this.” Death turned around and floated away.
Life just snorted, laughing freely as his spikes receded into his metal skin. To him, it was just too good. Quality entertainment for Death to buzz with sorrow and guilt for things outside of Death’s control. He was laughing like a drunk middle aged man at a bad comedy show. And I could hear every second, and Death didn’t have to. Death had heard enough Death had it memorized.
I just… I hate him. Oh, I wish I could stick his head on a pike.
But that’s what finally pushed Life to take things up a notice with Mallory. Obviously the watch from afar as he floated through life wasn’t working. Life wanted to get his hands dirty. He wanted to ruin Mallory’s life.
He found his first opening when Mallory was seventeen. It was his sophomore year of high school and he was still awkward and lonely. So, Life gave him the one thing that would let him do everything he wanted.
Life gave Mallory a girlfriend.
He had spotted the perfect girl while he was watching Mallory, talking to her group of friends. She was everything Mallory would never get on his own. Not only was she popular, but she was the perfect short blue-eyed blondie that most heterosexual teen boys seemed to trip over themselves flirting with. Not that I know anything about flirting. Or romantic attraction. Or anything of that sort.
Moving on.
Life saw Amanda and immediately knew exactly what he was going to do to introduce Mallory to his new way of living. And all he had to do was hover over her brain and just make her be attracted to Mallory. Nothing else in her personality changed, but suddenly Mallory had a fan.
The first time Amanda flirted with Mallory, he thought he was being played. He saw no reason why Amanda would suddenly want to look at him, let alone flirt.

Week Twenty-Eight: Lifr Part Three

The second time, he just brushed her off. She couldn’t really mean it. The third time was a bit harder to ignore with her gorgeous smile and the way her eyes lit up like she worshiped every word he said.
And the fourth time, Life’s plan fell perfectly into place.
Amanda approached Mallory in the courtyard of their high school. She was in her usual crop top, sweater, and jeans. She smiled calmly, collectedly. Like she knew exactly who’s she was and what effect it had. Mallory was slowly becoming helpless to her demanor., noticing the little things that made Amanda so much more than just the popular girl who giggled over and grammar in text messages and borderline nonsensical emoji codes.
Life found this transition very pleasing. He hovered around Mallory almost every day, just waiting for the perfect chance to direct Amanda to Mallory’s path and watch it all unfold.
Amanda smiled, leaning against the locker next ti Mallory’s. “Hello, handsome.” She giggled, a cheeky grin sprouting on her face.
Mallory’s Face warmed considerably, but he ignored it. He closed his locker with a little more force than strictly necessary. “Amanda.”
She giggled harder. “You remembered this time!”
Mallory sighed, trying his best not to find the way she laughed endearing. Or the way she always found a way to turn the most scornful things he said into something positive. She was a cheery person. And while he tried very hard to find it revolting, he kept being drawn in like some outside force was pushing him into her orbit.
Life, the outside force, just sniggered at this thought process.
Mallory faced Amanda head on, “What do you want, Amanda?”
She sighed. “I would like you to say hi to me just once. That would be nice.”
“And why exactly would you want that?”
She rolled her eyes like he had just asked the most annoying question ever thought up in this corner of the universe. Mallory scowled. “Amanda. I was willing to drop this. Seriously. But you just keep coming back.”
Amanda seemed genuinely hurt at that. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean! The first time, har har, funny joke Amanda. The second time, you’re on thin ice. The fourth time…” He gave her a pointer glare. “And you need to go home and really consider if you’re actually funny or just…” He yelled in frustration.
Amanda frowned, eyes all big and sad in a way that made Mallory feel bad before he remembered exactly what this girl was doing to him. “Mal—“
“I never said you could call me that.”
“Mal. Do you think I don’t mean everything I say?”
Mallory snorted. “Do I think…” He shook his head. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know that I’m a nobody. You’re Ms. Princess with all of your friends and followers. You don’t even spit at people like me.”
Amanda put her hand over her heart. “I know you’re hurt, so I won’t dwell on the things you said.”
“Oh, shove that up your—“
“But let me be the first to say that you’re not a nobody.” Amanda gently took both of his hands, smiling. “And I do think you’re cute. And funny. And everything else.”
Mallory tried to pull his hands away. “But—“
Amanda held his hands tighter. “But nothing. I mean it. Okay? Don’t fight it.”
Mallory shook his head. “Don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”
Amanda sighed. “But I do. I really, truly do.”
Mallory looked away. “But the way I’ve acted this entire time. Everything I’ve said.”
Amanda giggled. “It’s cute that you get all red and grumpy about it.”
Mallory successfully yanked his hands away, gathering his bag and matching way. “No! Not doing this!”
Amanda giggled. “Okay. Okay. See you later!”
Needless to say, they got together two days later. Life was chuckling the entire way.
Mallory called those days the best days of his life. Mind you, he was a teenager and didn’t have many days of his life to compare them to, but it was special to his mind. Amanda and him had a relationship “to die for” according to every peer who wanted something like they had in the vicinity. Life bidder his time, knowing that if he struck too soon here, the blow wouldn’t land the way he wanted to. So he let the couple date happily through their junior year and deep into their senior year.
He waited until their two year anniversary to strike. The day that meant so much to human relationships.
Amanda and Mallory were supposed to have a grand day. They were both eighteen. They both had more freedom than they ever had in their entire lives.
But somehow, Amanda hadn’t messaged Mallory at all the entire day. He expected some sort of good morning text message. Or at least a good morning response. But there was nothing. She didn’t even read his message. He tried not to let it hurt. Amanda was probably busy! He didn’t want to be clingy. Just because it was their anniversary didn’t mean she had to wait hand and foot for him.
So he waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
And a little bit more.
And soon a grand day of being together turned into half a day of Mallory worrying that somehow his girlfriend had completely forgotten that he had ever existed. That wasn’t a thing that happened, right? There wasn’t a special type of amnesia that prevented people from just remembering their significant others. Something had to be seriously wrong.
He hurriedly unlocked his phone, this time deciding to call her. Maybe she slept in and needed something to wake up! He could do that. He could be Amanda’s knight in shining armor.
But the phone just rang.
And rang.
And rang.
And rang some more.
Until all he got was her voicemail. He frowned. Amanda always had her phone on her and it was never off unless she was in the movie theaters. And why would she be in the theater when he was here? Not with her? On their anniversary? That made none of the sense.
He huffed, putting on a jacket and stepping aside. Fine. If Amanda wasn’t answering her phone, he would just have to go to her house. He wouldn’t do this on any other day, but Amanda completely blowing off their anniversary wasn’t like her. She wouldn’t do that. So either Amanda had died in her sleep, was somehow unconscious, or had been replaced by an alien shapeshifter assuming her form. And no matter how he looked at it, he panicked.
Life, meanwhile, the snickering creature that he is, sat in the tree outside of Mallory’s window. He looked like a morning dove, sitting all regal in the barely budding branches. He chittered aimlessly, trying to make what was really hysterical laughter sound like natural birdsong. He couldn’t miss the show: his ultimate opening moment.
Mallory rushed out of his house, sliding into his car. Life made sure to keep him in his line of life. While it was possible to follow him using magic or his very attainable source of all information available ever, Life liked the thrill of the chase. So, he chased. He followed Mallory as he drive through suburbia, barely obeying the laws of physics as Mallory definitely didn’t follow the speed limits.
In four minutes, sixteen seconds, and twelve and half milliseconds, Mallory rolled up in front of Amanda’s house. Life landed on a nearby roof, hopping in birdish excitement. Mallory straightened his jacket, making sure he didn’t look like the hurried rush that got him to Amanda’s door that afternoon, and knocked.
Amanda did not answer. It was her mother, who smiled at Mallory, looking a little strained. “Mallory! Hello. I… wasn’t expecting you.”
Mallory nodded. “I’m sorry to drop in unannounced. But Amanda hasn’t been answering her phone and I got worried. She’s here, right?”
Amanda’s mom sighed. “Mallory—“
“I can just go talk to her. If you’re busy. I’m sorry. It’s just our anniversary.”
“Mallory.”
“So please just let me inside so I can talk to her.”
“She’s not here.” Amanda’s mom crossed her arms. “She left. A while ago.”
Mallory blinked. “A while?”
Amanda’s mom nodded, a look of pity crossing her face.
“Did… did she say where she was going?”
Amanda’s mom sighed. “Go home, Mallory. Okay?”
Mallory blinked. “Yes. Yes, ma’am.”
Amanda’s mom patted his shoulder. “You’re a nice boy. I’m sorry.”
Mallory nodded. “Oh. I… I guess.” He turned around, practically stumbling back to his car.
Was Amanda cheating on him? That’s what she meant, right? That’s why she got all sad and started pitying him and patted his shoulder like someone who had their heart ripped out and thrown to the ground. He got into the driver’s seat, staring numbly at the road. So, that was it? She just decided to quit him. For no reason. On their anniversary. And he was supposed to whet, pretend everything was fine? Go to the same school as her tomorrow and look her in the eyes? Look at every spot where their lives had tangled together and just ache until he couldn’t breathe?
How could he ever do that? How could anyone ever ask him to do that?
He sank his head on to the steering wheel, feeling his heart shatter like some fragile piece of china he was never allowed to touch as a kid. That’s just how he would feel now. Forever. And never anything else ever again.
Life has witnessed everything, barely holding back cheers from his perch on the roof. Mallory’s pain was so delicious in a way nothing else ever could be. That was what Lifr lived for, that empty vacant expression of someone who just had their entire life inverted. Life could do that to people. Life could do that to people and be praised for it, years later. He bathed in the pain, in the dull panic of what-nows and why-gods and how-cruels. He was downright giddy.
And poor Mallory never knew that this was just the beginning. He had no idea that Life was there, singing praises in birdsong because his pain was the sweetest delicacy the celestial had ever known.
I truly hate that man.
Mallory’s life continues to be the same state of disrepair for the subsequent years with really no change from the pattern. This time, Life never let things get very serious. He was saving for something big. He didn’t want Mallory quitting the game before Life got his fair share. So, Mallory tried to date in college. He never found anyone that seemed to like him for longer than a month or two. He failed out of college, his entire career plans going up in smoke. He barely managed to secure a terrible job as a fast food worker, where the grease had permeated into the air and left Mallory feeling like he had been cooked in the grill instead of the sad package of mystery meat he flipped for barely enough money to let his parents keep him in the house.
Needless to say, Mallory needed a change. He hated the way his life had turned out. No matter what he did, or what he tried, he just always seemed to be terribly unlucky. He could never see Life, who knew better than to get caught by a mortal( but he always felt like the universe was picking on him for some reason he could never quite pinpoint. He just wanted a break, really. For any amount of time at this point. Just something that made life seem more than one tragedy after the other. He wanted to be happy. To laugh. To smile.
To feel clean.
He felt lien a soulless husk of a man, so that’s exactly when Time introduced Sarah into his life.
Sarah was a businesswoman that would occasionally go into the chain he worked at.

Week Thirty: Life Part Four
1008 Words

She was always dressed in tailored suits and a cheery smile. It felt strange to see her in such a greasy place. Mallory always felt she was something of a shooting star when she came by. Not only did she look gorgeous amongst the plastic seats and neon wax paper, but she was also kind.
Mallory was desperately in need of some kind.
She would smile at whoever was working the counter. Tell them good morning. Scrunch her hair absentmindedly while rattling off her order.
Little things like that.
Mallory would say that he was in love with her. I would say that he was in love with the idea of meeting someone who could ease his aches away. But he didn’t know the difference. Between the breakfast burritos and soft drinks and longing glances, Sarah became his soulmate.
One day, he decided he would write his number on the wrapper of the chicken sandwich she had ordered. It felt like the day to do it. The birds were chirping peacefully. The sun was shining bright.
And Life was standing over his shoulder, giving him the boost of confidence he needed. Not that he knew that. But Life was already vibrating with excitement, watching from his safe perch until he was needed.
Sarah approached the counter, just like any other day, smiling. “Hello! Malloy, right?”
Mallory nodded, leaning against the counter. “Sarah! What can I get for you today?”
Sarah hummed, her eyebrows twisting in concentration. “How about… a chicken sandwich, please?”
Mallory nodded, punching in the appropriate keys on the register. “Okay, Sarah. Anything to drink?”
“Not today.”
Mallory nodded. “Is that all?”
Sarah nodded. “Yep!”
Mallory smiled, his heart racing at what he was about to do. He took Sarah’s card, flying through the commands before heading back to tell the kitchen.
A few minutes later, he held a warm sandwich in one hand, and a marker pen in the other. He quietly scribbled out his number, shoving the sandwich in a bag as if he was too embarrassed to look at it any longer.
“Order five-seventeen!”
Sarah bounded up to the counter, grinning. “Thank you, Mallory!”
Mallory felt like he had swallowed a hornet’s nest. “Sure. Have… a day.” He scampered to hide in the back, feeling flushed and exposed. Oh why did he do that? Why would he ever do that?
Life snickered at his anxiety, having already tweaked Sarah’s feelings to his liking. Mallory took out his phone.
“Come on. Come on. Just one message.”
Life almost doubled over from the vagueness of his request. Life could just taste all of the ways he could use one message to make Mallory suffer. Maybe it would be Sarah’s number but a family member. Now Sarah was on her deathbed and bleeding profusely. Or maybe Life would have Sarah send over “eww” and nothing else. Or Sarah could take whatever Life gave her to make her stay away from home.
One message was all Life needed to make Mallory feel trapped and vulnerable. But that’s not what Life was trying to do. Life just wanted to guide them deeper into the web. Life needed more time to fully set up his trap.
So, Life grinned and had Sarah send her response a half an hour later.
Hello! Is this Mallory? I’m glad you said something, I was about to give you my number myself.
Mallory was thrilled, grinning so widely that you could see his smile from space. He replied as quickly as humanly possible.
Hey. This is Mallory. Is this Sarah?Mallory laughed. It looked like he won.
It is! Ding ding ding. Your prize? My number.
Mallory laughed. It looked like he won. Yes! Greatest prize! Thank you.
Of course! You’re the one who gave me your number and got all cute about it.
Malloy had to hold the phone away from his face, blushing madly. It had been a long time since someone had called him cute.
Well you’re the one who was cute about it originally.
Sarah sent him three laughing emojis. I can see someone is desperate to fluster me back.
I’m not flustered!
Doubt.
I’m not!
Even more Doubt.
Mallory huffed. I will stop messaging you. Just leave you alone.
Wow. Give a girl your number and the very same day stop messaging her because you can’t handle being called cut. I see how it is. Rude.
You’re rude!
Do you always steal whatever the other person is saying to you or just when you’re too flustered to think?
I will block you.
Sure. I’m scared. Answer the question.
I’m not stealing your stuff.
I’m saying something you’re saying the same thing right after, Where is that not stealing?
I don’t have time to talk about it.
Wow. Okay. I see how it is.
Yep. I am a busy man. With things to do.
Well, then. Maybe we should grab dinner tonight, so we’re not interrupted by your things to do.
Mallory definitely threw his phone across the break room at that, trying not to scream or die or crumble into a million pieces. Dinner? Going to dinner? On a date? With someone who thought he was cute! How was he supposed to cut ice? He fetched his phone, trying to shake out all of the nervous energy in him.
Dinner sounds great. He sent the calmest smiling emoji he could find while he was trying not to scream.
Awesome! What time?
Mallory swallowed and tried his brain to function. Time. People picked times to go on dates. Well, I usually eat around six. I don’t know about you.
What about six thirty?
Six thirty works!
Perfect! What kind of food do you like?
Honestly, anything that isn’t fast food. This place makes me sick of anything with grease on it.
That message earned him another three laughing emojis. I get that. We’ll go somewhere clean and grease free.
That sounds perfect. You sound like you have somewhere in mind.
I might. Shoot me your address. I’ll come pick you up.
Mallory’s heart fluttered. Of course.

Week Thirty-One: Life Part Five
1003 Words

Awesome! See you then!
See ya!
Mallory put his phone in his pocket, his heart doing flips in his chest. That had worked so perfectly, it was hard to wrap his head around it. Sarah and him just clicked so effortlessly. Texting her was as simple as breathing. He always knew what to say, and it felt like she felt the same way. It was even better than the early days of dating Amanda. Sure, Amanda was pretty, popular, and everything Mallory thought he had wanted. But Sarah was sweet and everything he knew he wanted.
Besides, it wasn’t like Sarah was lacking beauty in any regard.
So, Mallory rushed home as soon as his shift ended. He showered, combed his hair, put on the cologne he always saved for special occasions. When six rolled around, he texted Sarah his address, trying hard not to scream at the heart he got in response. It was perfect. Everything was entirely perfect.
Life thought so too, disguised as a fly buzzing on top of Mallory’s coffee table. He couldn’t hold still long enough to get a good look at Mallory’s face, fluttering about in glee. His plan was falling oh so wonderfully into place. And Mallory didn’t even realize it! Mallory played into his hand so willingly, the desperate child begging for any scraps of attention. Life could play him like a fiddle. No! A kazoo. A cheap, second-hand kazoo.
Heavens, I hate him. I hate him so much.
Mallory’s doorbell rang at precisely six thirty one and thirty four and half seconds. He shot out of his chair, scrambling to open his door in what he hoped was a composed manner. Spoilers, it wasn’t, but who was keeping track? He flung his door open and grinned.
It was Sarah, dressed in a simple blue sundress with black flowers. Her hair was tied up into a high ponytail.
She smiled. “Hey, Mallory.”
He made sure not to do anything weird like squeak or squirm or squeal and hide behind his couch. “Hi.”
She held her arm with a wink. “Shall we?”
He nodded. “Yep. That’s why you’re here.” He laughed nervously, intertwining his arms with hers.
“That’s why I’m here.” She led him down to her car. “So. Are you always this cute or is this a special treat for me?”
Mallory’s breath stuttered. “Immediately stop.”
Sarah laughed. “Okay. Okay. I’m being mean. I’ll stop.”
Mallory turned away from her, blushing profusely. “Yeah. You better.”
Sarah opened the passenger door. “After you, sir.”
He frowned. “I thought that was my job.”
She shrugged. “I like mixing things up. Just hop in.”
Mallory didn’t argue again, slipping into the car.
When they arrived at the mystery restaurant, Sarah turned to Mallory. “Okay. Close your eyes.”
“Close my eyes?”
“Yes! It’s a surprise. And I can’t have you ruining it. Eyes closed.”
Mallory sighed, but listened, dutifully closing his eyes.
“Okay. Now I’m going to your side of the car and helping you out. Absolutely no peeking.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good.”
Mallory waited as Sarah got out of the car. He couldn’t help the small spike of panic that came with her closing the door. What if she just left him here? What if the date was just a joke and she wanted to humiliate him? What if she was going to kill him? What if-
His car door opened. “Alright. Give me your hand.”
Mallory barely contained his sigh of relief as his panic died down. He gave her his hand. “I’m trusting you with my life here.”
“I won’t take advantage. Now come on. I think you’ll be impressed.”
Sarah carefully helped him out of the car, holding him steady as he found his footing. She really wasn’t all that much shorter than him, which was another thing that drew him to her. He always thought tall women were so pretty.
“All good?”
He nodded. “Lead the way.”
Sarah started guiding him through what had to be a parking lot. “So I’m taking you to the greasiest restaurant in town.”
“I’m breaking up with you on the spot.”
Sarah snorted. “What? I thought by ‘no grease’ you meant all of the grease.”
“If you weren’t currently guiding me through this treacherous path, I would trip you.”
“You really like threatening people, huh?”
Mallory huffed. Sarah, being the terribly awful person that Mallory was discovering her to be, just laughed.
“Alright. Brighten up. We’re at the door. I don’t want the wait staff to think I kidnapped you.”
“Can I open my eyes now?”
“Yep! Go ahead.”
Mallory opened his eyes, to see in swirly golden letters: The Honey Badger.
Sarah grinned. “It’s a soup and salad place. I figured it was the perfect place to cleanse yourself of heart disease.”
Mallory blinked. “It looks perfect.”
“Their French onion soup is to die for. If you like onions, of course. If you don’t, well no one’s perfect.”
Mallory gave her hand a squeeze. “I like onions.”
Sarah nodded. “Even better. They serve it with this fresh bread with cheese. Oh, it’s phenomenal.”
Mallory chuckled. “Really?”
“Really. To die for.”
“I think I’ll try that, then.”
“Oh, I’ll like you even more if I can consistently drag you to have French onion soup with me.”
“Am I feeding some sort of addiction or…?”
Sarah narrowed her eyes, opening the door and practically dragging Mallory inside. “Shut up immediately.”
Mallory laughed as Sarah led him to the host. “Good evening! For two please.”
The host smiled. “Of course. Right this way.” He grabbed two menus and led them to a booth, gesturing for them to sit down. They both did so, smiling at each other.
“Enjoy your meal.” The host smiled and walked away.
Mallory leaned in. “Okay. Tell me. Am I going to need to send you to soup rehab if I order this soup?”
Sarah snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She looked to the side. “I could stop anytime I wanted to.”
Mallory snorted. “Yeah right.”

Week Thirty-Two: Life Part Six
1004 Words

Sarah gasped. “I could! I absolutely could!”
“That’s what they all say. Oh, don’t worry. I could stop rewatching bad soap operas made before I was born and making fun of all of the characters anytime I wanted to. I just don’t want to.” Malloy crossed his arms.
Sarah snorted. “Okay, that is way too specific. Who hurt you?”
“We all have scars, Sarah. We all have scars.”
Sarah giggled helplessly, covering her face as her shoulders shook. “Oh my god. I didn’t know… I didn’t know I was dating someone with… trauma.” She laughed harder, practically double-overed.
But Mallory had stopped laughing.
He looked down at the table, fidgeting with his hands. Sarah seemed to sense the sudden change, her laughter coming to a squeaky, abrupt stop. “Mallory?”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “That you are.”
She frowned. “What? I was just joking, Mallory. I didn’t think your soap opera comment was actual trauma-“
“But I do. Have actual trauma. Sorry.”
Sarah blinked, like she had never processed that scenario before. Mallory averted his gaze, straightening his side of the table cloth. Sarah’s eyes turned soft as she finally snapped out of her stupor, gently taking Mallory’s hands once again.
“Mallory. Look at me.”
His eyes flickered to hers for a moment before he looked away again.
“Please.”
He took a deep breath and looked back, letting himself linger.
Sarah had a painfully soft smile on her face. She looked earnest. She looked kind. Not the kind that Amanda was. Amanda was sugar, saccharine, artificial. Sarah was… pure.
Poor Mallory didn’t know the difference, but I did. I knew why Sarah and Mallory felt so much more authentic than Mallory and Amanda ever could. It was simply because Life had to completely alter the very foundations of who Amanda was. She was artificial. Who Mallory was dating was simply a projection of who Life needed her to be. But Sarah was already exactly who she needed to be for Life’s plan to work.
But I digress.
Sarah just squeezed his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have made that joke if I had known how it would affect you.”
Mallory looked away, shaking his head. “It’s fine-“
“Hey. No it’s not. If you’ll have me and this turns out to be more than just a date, I would be honored to help you through that trauma.”
Mallory looked down. “It’s stupid-“
“Don’t do that. It’s not stupid. If it’s hurting you, it’s anything but.”
He sighed. “Fine. But it’s the first date. It’s a little too early to be talking about stuff like that.”
“There’s never going to be a right time to talk about it. Might as well do it early.”
“How do you have a response to everything?”
Sarah laughed. “You don’t get far in my field without having that. You’ll get used to it.”
Mallory frowned. “Unfair.”
“Apologies. I’ll change my career field for you.”
“You should. It’s being used against me.”
“Oh, poor Mallory. The world is cruel and working against you.”
Mallory leaned back in his chair. “It is!”
Sarah giggled. “How will you survive?”
“I don’t think I will!”
“You’re dying on me?”
“I am!”
Sarah snorted. “Rude. What a way to ruin a first date. Die.”
“You’re the one and brought it to this.”
“Die and blame it on your date. You’re just racking up points here, Mallory.”
He huffed, opening his menu. She giggled, following suit.
“Hey, Sarah?”
She looked up. “Hmm?”
“We’re going to do this again, right?”
She smiled, reaching over to pat his cheek. “Well, the night is still young. But I’m hesitantly guessing that we’re doing this again.”
Mallory couldn’t quite bite back his grin. “Good. Really good.”
Life, meanwhile, was grinning ear to ear.
Mallory and Sarah definitely kept dating. Each one was better than the last until eventually they spent more time together than apart. Mallory moved into her apartment. Dates turned domestic, more takeout around the dinner table than dressing up to go anywhere. Life stayed outside of their windows as a sparrow or a morning dove, watching them with gleeful eyes as they fell asleep together on the couch.
They were perfect. Utterly perfect.
Which is why Life knelt by Sarah’s ear one day and whispered for her to take a ring and take a knee. Then, he stepped back and just watched.
Sarah didn’t know what possessed her to buy a ring after only half a year of dating. And she had no idea how Mallory would feel about being on the receiving end, but she couldn’t fight the urge. She played right into Life’s hands blindly, following her heart that was tied to a string.
She didn’t know what possessed her not to plan anything, just to use another one of their nights on the couch together. Both of them in greasy pajamas and messy hair. But, she couldn’t stop herself if she tried.
It was late at night. The Tv played just a little too quietly for either of them to focus entirely on it and Sarah curled entirely into Mallory, heart pounding. She sat up, taking a deep breath.
“Hey, Mallory?”
“Hmm?”
“I have… something I need to say.”
He frowned, immediately pausing the TV. “What is it? Everything okay?”
She nodded. “Everything’s fine. In fact, everything is… amazing. Which is why I need to say what I need to say.” She smiled in a way she really hoped didn’t make her look like she was about to throw up.
Mallory sat up. “Well, I’m all ears.” He worried his bottom lip, obviously struggling to keep looking at her.
So Sarah just smiled and stood up. “Mallory, you are absolutely amazing. You’re funny. You’re adorable. You’re handsome. You’re sweet. You’re persistent. Being with you has been absolutely amazing.”
Mallory blinked, scared out of his mind. “Sarah, what are you saying?”
Sarah grinned. “My dearest Mallory Pechman, the most beautiful person who has completely changed my life for the amazing. Will you marry me?”

Week Thirty-Three: Life Part Seven
1012 Words

Mallory froze. “What?”
Sarah got on her knee, taking Mallory’s hands. “Will you marry me?”
“I… I don’t understand…”
She frowned. “Mallory, this time with you has been perfect. If I was sappier, I’d say that life itself was bent to the will of our love.”
Life almost fell out of his perch on their windowsill with laughter. The audacity! Him? Bent to their will? How stupid can that wretch be?
He scoffed and resettled himself, glaring at her. All in good time.
Mallory shook his head. “But… I’m me. Me, Sarah.”
She nodded. “Yes. You’re you. Amazing, wonderful, couldn’t-be-better you. And I want you to be my husband. Can you do that?”
He swallowed. “How can you possibly want that?”
“I’m kind of on my knees here. That answer is going to take way too long for my kneecaps to walk away functional.”
Mallory huffed. “Fine. Just tell me one thing. Are you sure you want this?”
“One hundred percent. All I need is you on board. So, is it a yes?”
He sighed. “Yes. It’s such a big yes, it’s terrifying.”
Sarah practically launched on top of him, wrapping him in the tightest hug. “I love you. I love you so much.”
Mallory melted under her, hugging her back. “Love you too.”
She kissed his forehead. “Thank you for letting me know you.”
Mallory smiled. “Thank you for wanting to.”
“Anytime.”
Life just smirked, wings beating slightly.
Mallory and Sarah were married on June sixteenth, at ten thirty-one. It was a small ceremony, only with Sarah’s family. Mallory didn’t speak to his parents anymore and he didn’t have any friends, mostly just substanceless acquaintances. Even still, the newlyweds believed the ceremony to be beautiful. After all, they had successfully joined in marriage. What more did they need?
Ten months, thirteen days, five hours, and twenty-seven minutes later, Sarah discovered something life-changing. She rushed to tell Mallory, who was in the kitchen preparing his wife a special breakfast of homemade blueberry pancakes. Her face was flushed and she had the brightest grin on her face.
“Mal?”
He hummed distractedly, swirling the berries in the colliander.
“So, you know how I went off the pill? To try to get pregnant?”
Mallory immediately whirled around, still holding his dripping colliander. “Yes.”
She smiled. “Well…”
Mallory squealed. “It worked?”
She nodded. “It worked. We’re… we’re going to be parents.”
Mallory set down the colliander and gently approached her, as if he was scared of shattering her like glass. “Seriosuly?”
“Seriously. I just took a test. My period was late.”
Mallory slowly sank to his knees, staring at Sarah’s stomach in awe. “Oh. I… I don’t know what to say.” He laughed, gently cradling her stomach. “A baby. Our baby.”
Sarah set her hands over his. “Our baby.”
He leaned in and pressed the softest of kisses to her naval, closing his eyes. “You’ve turned me into the luckiest man in the world.”
Sarah chuckled. “You had a rough start. You were due for a break.”
“This isn’t a break. This is heaven.”
“Nothing you don’t deserve. Isn’t that right, little baby? Daddy deserves all of the good in this world?” She shook her stomach slightly. “Oh yes, Mommy! Daddy is amazing!”
Mallory huffed. “You don’t get to speak for their opinion.”
Sarah gasped. “I didn’t! They totally said that completely on their own! I was not involved whatsoever in any way at all.”
Mallory stood up. “The way you treat me is so cruel. What have I done to deserve this?”
“Be special and amazing and love me. So, it’s entirely your fault, really.”
“Victim blaming.”
She giggled. “Wipe up your blueberry water. You got it everywhere.”
He turned to look at the mess currently in front of him and almost went straight into cardiac arrest. “I am so sorry.” Water pooled on the surface of the counter, slowly trickling over the edge. There was a formidable puddle on the kitchen floor.
Sarah leaned over to kiss his cheek. “It’s alright, love. But clean it up.” She turned away. “I’m going to tidy up the living room. Call me in when breakfast’s over.”
He waved a hand behind him as he rushed to grab a towel. “Yep. Yep. Breakfast. Call. Love you.”
“Love you too!”
As Mallory got on his hands and knees to wipe at the floor, he couldn’t help but grin. His days of thinking his life was doomed to eternal torment were so far behind him. His life was amazing now. And nothing could take that away.
Life watched Mallory clean as a butterfly close to a window. He couldn’t smile, but he could internally chuckle.
The taller you build them, the harder they fall. It’s only tragedy if they have something to lose.
In what seemed like a blink of an eye to Mallory, Sarah was suddenly in labor. Their entire life had become so enveloped in preparing for their child, who they had discovered to be a girl they were going to name Mila, that they lost sight of how little time nine months felt. Sarah woke up on December 24th, only to discover her pants her damp. Practically launching out of bed, she shook Mallory.
“Mal! Mal!”
Mallory woke up. “Hmm? What is it?”
“My water broke. Hospital. Now. Immediately.”
Mallory sleepily blinked before the words hit him with the weight of a runaway cement truck rolling downhill. He scrambled out of bed. “I’ll grab the bag.”
She nodded. “I’ll get in the car.”
“Good idea.”
As Sarah left to get in the car as quickly as she could while in labor, Mallory scrambled to grab their duffel bag with everything every parenting website said to bring to the hospital ranging from basic hygiene products to novels. As soon as the bag was in his hand, he sprinted to the car, barely avoiding a head-on collision with the wall. Sarah was in the passenger’s seat, groaning softly. Mallory slipped into the car, trying not to break the speed limit as he pulled out of the driveway.

Week Thirty-Four: Life Part Eight
1000 Words

He tried his best not to glance at Sarah. As much as he wanted to monitor her condition, he still needed to obey traffic safety laws.
Life, of course, was very concerned about the well-being of the happy couple. He was sitting on the side of the passenger door as a gnat, too small for the currently in-labor Sarah to notice. Today was the day. Every plan Life had for Sarah and Mallory was coming to fruition. Every “life brought us together” and “the universe was made for us” was being punished.
I wish I was there to squash his gnat form to atoms.
Mallory settled down, keeping his eyes on the road, and his car at a reasonable speed. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, darling. We’re going to get to the hospital and have a very healthy, beautiful baby girl.”
Sarah nodded sharply, clutching her stomach. “Yeah. Yeah. Just… just drive.”
Mallory nodded. “I know. I know. I am. We’re going to be okay.”
Sarah reached over to squeeze his thigh, trying to be reassuring, but gripping a little too tight as another contraction hit. Mallory didn’t mind. He knew what she meant.
Life just found it amusing.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the road. So many people out today. So many open minds, so much unwilling prey.
It was a great day for Life.
There was one woman in particular that Life was magnetically drawn to. She was driving in the opposite direction of Sarah and Mallory. She was fragile. She was perfect.
Life nestled into her mind from the car. He took over her senses. Wiped the slate clean.
Made the car drift directly into Sarah and Mallory’s lane.
The crash happened in seconds. One moment, Mallory saw a clear road and felt Sarah’s hand. The next, they were weightless. The metal warped and screamed and groaned. Mallory pressed himself against the back of the seat, closing his eyes. He kept his eyes closed when he heard a sharp tire screech. He didn’t open them when he heard a wet snap and sickening crack. Their car flipped once, twice, completely disorientating him. He didn’t know where he was. He felt like he had just fallen through time and space.
When the car finally settled, every muscle in Mallory’s body ached. Groaning softly, he finally opened his eyes, blinking dully. The car was on its side, the metal finally silent. The windshield had completely shattered, showering him with a fine layer of dust.
“S-Sarah?” His voice was barely a croak. “Sarah?” He turned to the right.
Sarah hung limp against her seatbelt, hands loose at her stomach. Her hair hung around her, completely masking her face. She didn’t even flinch.
“Sarah? Sarah!”
Mallory reached out, pawing at her shoulder. She didn’t respond. She didn’t groan. She didn’t even breathe.
She wasn’t breathing.
“Sarah! Sarah, please!” Mallory moved his hands to try to undo his seatbelt, but it was jammed. It wouldn’t budge.
But she never answered.
If Life could cackle then, he would. Finally, he had exactly what he wanted. It was glorious.
The paramedics arrived sixteen minutes and two and a half seconds later. Mallory was in hysterics as they rescued him from the car. “My baby! Is my baby okay?”
“There was no one in the backseat, sir.” One of the paramedics looked down to the backseat, like he needed to make sure.
“No! My wife! She’s in labor! Is my baby okay?”
“Sir.” The paramedic put a hand on Mallory’s shoulder. “Your wife… she didn’t make it.”
Mallory shook his head, sobbing harshly. “I… I know. But… is there any chance… Mila could make it?”
The paramedic sighed. “We used a fetoscope and… there was no pulse. Your baby didn’t make it either…”
Mallory sobbed harder. “No. No! She can’t be! Please!”
“I’m sorry. There was nothing we could do. She was dead before we arrived.”
Mallory buried his head in his hands, crying as hard as he could.
“We need to get you to a hospital, sir. We can save you.”
“I don’t want to be saved.” He shook his head desperately. “Not without them.”
“I… I get that I don’t know you all too well, sir. Or your family. So I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, but I can say that someone needs to live on to remember them. People only die when there’s no one left to remember how they smiled, how they liked their eggs in the morning, how long it took for them to fall asleep. Keep your wife alive, sir. She’d thank you for it.”
Mallory sniffled. “W-Would she?”
The paramedic nodded. “She would. I can promise you that. Life likes to live on. No one likes dying.”
Another one of the paramedics approached Mallory. “You ready to go?”
He nodded. “I am.”
The second paramedic led Mallory to the ambulance, leaving the first paramedic behind. He smirked, watching Mallory walk away. His form melted away, Life turning into a morning dove before he ascended to the heavens, leaving his masterpiece behind.
Needless to say, Death was decidedly not happy. When Death did a soul run and discovered Sarah cradling baby Mila, rage and sympathy exploded in equal parts. Rage at how Life could do such a wretched thing, and sympathy for the poor family that was ripped asunder by him.
Death threw open Life’s door with a whirlwind. “Life! What did you do?”
Life was trying on a new disguise in the mirror, applying lipstick with a sort of pointed efficiency. “Ah! Death! I was wondering when you would come and act all high and mighty. Let’s see, I’m being more loved than you. More wanted than you. And better than you!” Life turned with a predatory smile. “Did I miss any?”
Death quivered. “What made you think you could just kill Sarah and Mila?”
“Oh, I didn’t.” Life crossed his legs. “You did.”
Death blinked. “I don’t kill, I just help pass on-”

Week Thirty-Five: Life Part Nine
1003 Words

Life made a buzzer noise. “Nope. Try again. You are Death, controller of death. I am Life, controller of life. I am incapable of killing anyone. It’s not in my job description.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“What do you mean? All of my powers influence the domain of life. I influence how people live. Where in the world would I gain the power to kill?”
Death’s chest swirled, forming a smokey tornado of pure rage. “By making their lives too miserable to survive.”
Life cackled. “Oh, Deathie! You just tickle me fuchsia sometimes.” His grin was manic, the corners sharp enough to draw blood. He set down the tube of lipstick. “Even if everyone on the entire globe were miserable if you weren’t around to muck up their lives with mortality, no one would have to survive anything. Death only follows you. The whole human condition, dying after a pitiful life, is your fault. Why do you think everyone hates you? If people died because of me, they would hate me.”
“People do hate you.”
“Only the pathetic ones who really deserve torture. And they deserve it.”
“No, they don’t! Mallory doesn’t deserve this!”
“And children don’t deserve to be orphaned, Death. You’re the one who stole Mila’s life. You looked down at her ready-to-be-born form and crushed her soul. You did that. You kill innocent people every day. You are a terrorist, a master of genocide. Don’t talk to me about what is deserved, murderer.”
Death could only glare at that point, fists curled as tightly as possible. All Death could think was how perverse Life was, down to his very core, and how after all of that, his words still rattled Death. Death felt like a murderer most days. And Life knew exactly how to aggravate the wound, the spineless, brainless, arrogant recreant with the appeal of a wet sock filled with army ants. Poor Death could only storm off, knowing nothing would stop Life’s crusade.
Every day, I only daydream of lacing all of his lipstick with battery acid and filling his shoes with uranium. Then fill all of his cereal boxes with live spiders. Particularly banana spiders. And if he’s still gloating in that irritating, mind-numbingly moronic way, there’s always the snakes.
He knows what the snakes are for.
Unfortunately, I am unable to do that. Because I have a job. And that job doesn’t include ruining the lives of people who definitely deserve it. And if I stop doing my job for more than thirty seconds, the whole universe will explode or something. I don’t know. I didn’t ask to be here.
But that’s an entirely different topic that we’ll talk about probably never. Back to Life being the worst thing to happen to this universe ever.
Needless to say, Mallory was decimated by Sarah and Mila’s death. His entire world crumbled at the foundations, leaving a single drowning man in the center of an uncaring world. Every network that could have helped him to his feet, Life pushed away, making sure to keep Mallory in that bubble of isolation. Mallory wasn’t ready to face the outside world yet. He needed Life’s touch.
And after some careful maneuvering, Life was finally ready to give it to him. Life opened a grief counseling clinic and pushed Mallory’s boss to send him straight to it. And Life was lying in wait, like a cheetah that crouches in the tall grass, sharpened claws already out to play.
The first time Mallory visited Life’s Center, he seriously doubted it would work. After all. His grief felt larger than the world, like a black hole that had swallowed all of space and time and left him suspended in pure agony. Nothing felt real except his pain. How could a stranger end that? It felt like something out of a fairytale, and he wouldn’t be as foolish to believe in a fairytale ever again.
He was searching for a Dr. Indra, who was renting an office in a complex of various bail bond places, orthodontists, and empty rooms. Once he stumbled across it, he just thought it was small. Maybe a little dingy. But, he was mandated to be here, so he was here.
A bell rang when he opened the door. The air smelled slightly of old newspaper and heavily of makeup. Mallory found himself in a waiting room with a leather couch that was brown once upon a time on the left wall and a precariously balanced coffee table missing one of its legs.
“Hello? Dr. Indra?”
Mallory carefully closed the door behind him, looking at the mostly blank walls. The only decor was a large poster that simply said: “LIVE.” He couldn’t look at it for too long.
A door along the back wall opened. “Ah, who is it? Let me guess… is it time for our one o’clock, Paul?”
Mallory blinked. “It’s seven pm.”
A woman walked out of the door. She was about as heavily makeuped as one would expect from the smell, with dark red lipstick and a matching smokey eye. She wore a ruffled white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and shiny red stilettos. “Of course, of course. Hello, Mallory. How are you feeling?”
Mallory shifted from one foot to the other. “Like my boss just mandated therapy.”
The woman leaned against the wall, nodding. “Of course. Well, I’m Dr. Indra, and I’m going to help you through this, okay?”
“I’m sure you think that.”
Dr. Indra frowned. “What do you mean?”
Mallory sighed. “Look, nothing personal, but… you can’t fix this. Sarah dying killed some part of me. You can’t fix that.”
“Mallory, do you seriously think you’re the only patient with a dead spouse I’ve treated before?”
Mallory turned his head away. “It doesn’t matter. They weren’t me.”
“You’re not as special as you think.”
He scoffed. “Wow, thanks, doc. Amazing first session. I can already feel the grief start to subside.”
“Well, it’s going to take some time.”
“And you not insulting me!”

Week Thirty-Six: Life Part Ten
1001 Words

“I’m not insulting you. I’m simply stating the truth. You aren’t the first husband to lose his wife and child. I have dealt with cases like yours before.”
Mallory scoffed. “But-”
“But what, Mallory? Do you have a monopoly on grief? Are you the only man on this planet to experience death? Has no one died before your wife? Is Mallory the only widower?”
Mallory growled. “Shut up. Shut up! They were my everything! I lost my entire life in that crash. I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but it won’t work. If they’re dead, then I might as well be too.”
Dr. Indra hummed and sat down on the couch, crossing her ankles. “Then why aren’t you?”
Mallory blinked. “What?”
“If you might as well be dead, then why aren’t you? You’re a big boy, Mr. Pechman. There are a lot of ways to end your own life. So why don’t you?”
Mallory stared at her: the utter nonchalance of her suggesting suicide as a valid answer, the poise of her deadpan stare. He was entirely speechless. What was someone supposed to say to that?
“You couldn’t, huh? Despite your talk about how your life is over and meaningless, you couldn’t do it.” Dr. Indra leaned forward. “Do you understand why?”
Mallory shook his head. He didn’t. It would be so much easier, but she was right. He couldn’t do it, and he didn’t understand why.
“Because your life isn’t over, Mallory. You can’t commit suicide because your life isn’t over. Even if you think you can’t continue, there is a fire in you that needs you to keep living. No matter how hard you try, you can’t let go of that.”
Mallory slowly shifted through that. Not dying. His life really not being over. It felt like a foreign concept, yet she had an explanation for his behavior that he didn’t. Was that enough to believe her?
The whole situation, in reality, was entirely too messy for Mallory to ever comprehend. I cannot sit here and say in this book that Mallory’s ideals of suicide ideation are correct. But I cannot defend Life’s motivations for breaking those ideals. It is simply a situation where neither person is correct, and someone needs to take Mallory as far away from Life’s grasp as possible, but that’s simply not possible. So, in the end, it doesn’t matter who’s correct. Only who won.
And Mallory was 0-4 in the battle for his life, and Life already had points on the board.
Mallory looked at the worn flooring, tracing the scratch marks in the wood with his gaze. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“How old were you when you met your wife?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Dr. Indra just smiled. “Answer the question, please.”
He huffed. “Fine. I was twenty-three.”
Dr. Indra nodded. “Right. So you lived for twenty-three years before meeting her, correct?”
Mallory frowned. “Well, obviously.”
“So, if you could survive pre-her, I’m sure we can find you a way to survive post-her. You made it twenty-three years. You can make some more.”
He sighed. “I-”
“I understand it feels impossible, Mallory. But together, we can figure out a way for you to make it.”
Mallory finally stepped away from the door, collapsing into the armchair. “Okay, doc. If you say so. Tell me how.”
Dr. Indra grinned. “Thank you, Mallory. Now, let’s get you to the subject of today’s session. How do you enjoy yourself? How do you relax and have fun?”
Mallory shrugged. “I haven’t had much fun lately.”
“Any friends?”
“Not really…” Mallory awkwardly shuffled his feet.
Dr. Indra nodded again. “Okay. Okay. Here’s what I want you to do, Mallory. Take notes if you have to.”
Mallory frowned slightly. “Okay?”
“I need you to find a local bar. Find some friends there. Have a few drinks now and then. Loosen up. If the first drink doesn’t work, have another. Keep going until you’re having fun.”
Mallory blinked rapidly. “An alcoholic drink?”
“Well, you don’t go to a bar for soda.”
“Even on worknights? What if I get hungover?”
“Well, another drink usually takes care of that.”
Mallory furrowed his eyebrows. “You want me to go to work drunk?”
“Not drunk, no. One drink won’t make you drunk.”
Mallory nodded slowly. “And this is guaranteed to work?”
“Just try it for a week, okay? If you don’t like the results, we’ll try something new.”
Mallory rubbed his temples. “And how am I going to afford this? Drinking is expensive.”
Dr. Indra stood up, straightening her dress, before sauntering over to the LIVE picture on the wall. “I can help you there.” She took the picture down, revealing an opening filled with cash and strange plastic bags filled with powder. She grabbed a stack of cash and replaced the picture. “This should cover your first week.”
Mallory stared in horror at the picture. “Are you a drug dealer?”
Dr. Indra chuckled as she set the cash on the table. “I’m a psychiatrist. I am legally allowed to prescribe medication.”
Mallory inched away from the cash like it was going to bite him. “Psychiatrists don’t give that much money for alcohol.”
“Have you ever been to one before?”
Mallory looked at her. “Well, no. But-”
“Exactly. You have no way of knowing what actually happens. You don’t know anything about how this works. You have no right to say this is wrong. You know nothing. So just listen to my instructions and do what I say. Because I know what I’m doing and you are ignorant on the subject entirely.”
Mallory flinched. “Yes, doctor. I’m sorry.”
“Never make that mistake again in my office. You don’t know more than me. I am the expert,
and you’re not.”
“Yes, doctor.”
“Thank you. Now take your cash. Our session is over. Same time next week. I expect results.”
Mallory stood up, grabbing the cash. He practically scurried out without saying goodbye, feeling ill and heavy.

Week Thirty-Seven: Life Part Eleven
1011 Words

He first took her advice that Friday, her wad of cash securely in his back account. He had been looking up reviews for his town, since he didn’t exactly think asking one of his work colleagues about a bar would go well, and apparently this place called Magic Anchor Bar was well-liked. To Mallory, it sounded more like a washed-up tourist attraction, but something about juice to alcohol ratios and a “sense of kinship.” Whatever. He was only here because of Dr. Indra. It’s not like he cared.
A good hour after his shift, he was parking in front of the bar. The sign was a blue anchor and curly yellow letters simply saying, “Magic Anchor Bar.” Mallory stared at the sign, with its almost sickly lantern-like glow, and just questioned everything he ever deserved to make it to today. Who had he angered so thoroughly that this is where he ended up? He groaned as he left the car, straightening his button-up. He attempted to look self-respecting, even though he couldn’t find any proof that was true.
“Magic Anchor Bar, here I come…”
Mallory stuffed his hands in his pockets, frowning. He closed the car door with his elbow. His stomach was churning at the music playing loud enough to hear in the parking lot. He just double-checked that he still had his wallet and entered.
The music was atrocious. One first taste, it made him want to physically recoil until the Earth took pity and swallowed him whole. As someone who has monitored things for a long time, I can certainly say that the ground is not kind to you like that. It is controlled by a really large… nuisance. What, Life? I mean, he does make quite a few inconsiderate things. I think it fits.
Because of this, Mallory felt he had no choice but to proceed to the bartender.
The bartender was an older man, right at the cusp of middle-age and becoming a senior. His face seemed to hold an air of… mild disappointment. Mallory couldn’t exactly blame him, since he wasn’t feeling too different.
The bartender sighed. “What can I get you?”
Mallory looked at the wall of alcohol behind the bar and felt slightly sick. He had no idea where to start. He had never drank before, it just never seemed appealing, and now he would feel less confused reading a driver’s manual in Latin than staring at those strangely shaped bottles and variously colored liquids.
He blinked. Had he really picked up nothing about any alcohol in his entire life? His colleagues drank beer during sporting events right? But what color was it? What did it taste like? Why did not knowing frustrate him so much?
Life, who couldn’t spend too much time away from Mallory during a fun time like this, watched this with mild amusement from across the bar. He was nondescript, appearing as one could describe as a, “basic white man.” He leaned against the bar, smirking. Mallory looked like a lost puppy that was about to be hit by a pickup truck, all wide-eyed and terrified. It was adorable. Just when humans looked their best, when their entire world was falling apart.
Oh, that look just stayed with him every time.
So much so that when Mallory glanced at any alcohol he had definitely heard of and knew just enough about to make a decision on what to get, Life deleted that information. Mallory didn’t need to remember that on his own. And looking at him looking so ashamed was really the best thing about the human race.
Mallory stepped back from the counter, red in the face. “I’m… I’m going to need a minute.”
The bartender rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself.” He walked off to help the next customer. Mallory already wanted to go home. What was he doing here? This was clearly a bad idea on all fronts.
“Lost there, handsome?”
Mallory whirled around.
It was a beautiful young woman with shiny red hair and a halter top. She smiled, her lip piercing sparkling in the low bar light. “I noticed you were having some trouble. I think I can help.”
Mallory blinked. “Really? That…that seems sweet of you.” He frowned. Maybe? Was that sweet? He couldn’t tell at this point.
The woman giggled. “I hope it just is. I’m Rosemary. Nice to meet you.”
“Mallory. I’m… new here.”
“You seem new to bars.”
Mallory huffed. “Maybe… new to that too. I didn’t say I wasn’t.”
Rosemary giggled again. “Touchy, aren’t we?”
“I do have the ability to touch things, yes.”
“Not your best work.”
“You hardly know me. How could you define my best work?”
“I just have a feeling it isn’t that.”
Mallory scoffed. In some way, it reminded him almost of talking to Sarah, but their banter was sillier. Rosemary’s was a little more… cutting edge. But still, that back and forth, that twisting of words, he missed it. He missed it dearly. And this was easing that ache.
And Life absolutely hated it.
He liked to keep a tight grip on the mortals around his playthings, but he had not once given Rosemary the urge to speak to Mallory. The idea that she would independently do that was making him furious. How could she ruin his plan of keeping Mallory in his bubble? If Mallory remembered there was a world outside of grief, everything would crumble.
And Life didn’t know quite what to do. He didn’t have anyone else prepared to talk to Mallory. He wanted to keep him isolated for now. But quickly that was disintegrating and soon his hold on Mallory would weaken. Clearly his hold on Rosemary was weak, otherwise she would know to stay away. He was panicking and he didn’t know what to do.
Until the most brilliant idea struck him.
As Rosemary reached over to link her arms with Mallory, giggle all distorted from gin and tonic, her staple drink, Life approached the two of them with a purpose.
“Hey! Get your grimy hands off of him!”

Week Thirty-Eight: Life Part Twelve
1,020 Words

Mallory flinched, turning to this new man. “Excuse me? Is this… is this your girlfriend?” He couldn’t have said “him,” right? Why would this stranger protest on this behalf?
The man looked bewildered. “What? No! Do you know who she is? She’s a prostitute. She’s here for your money. Not you. Trust me, get out while you can.”
Rosemary fishmouthed, looking between the man and Mallory. “What? Who are you? I’m not-“
“Save it, [offensive word for women that proves that Life is still just a horrid moron]! You’re not fooling anyone.”
Rosemary looked at Mallory. “Don’t believe this guy. I’ve never seen him before.”
The man rolled his eyes. “Fine. If you want to play dumb, empty your pockets. Prove you don’t have a business card.”
Rosemary huffed. “I don’t have to prove anything to you. Come on, Mallory.” She tried to pull him away, but Mallory didn’t move an inch.
“Please?” Mallory didn’t know who to believe, but it would be his luck that the only person interested in talking to him wanted his money.
Rosemary looked betrayed, but stopped trying to move. “Fine.” She stuck her hands in her pockets and turned them completely inside out. “See? Nothing.”
But there was something.
A business card, fluttering to the floor.
Mallory bent down to pick it up, his hands shaking. The card was for a business called The Twilight Darlings. Mallory tore his eyes away before he looked at anything else.
Rosemary looked horrified. “That’s not mine. That’s not mine!”
The man scoffed. “That’s what they all say. Scram.”
Mallory was trying not to cry. Of course. Why would it be real? Why would someone genuinely talk to him? Want him around?
Rosemary turned to him. “Please, Mallory. You have to believe me. I’ve never seen that thing in my life.”
Mallory shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”
Rosemary sighed. “Fine then.” She shook her head and walked away, straight out of the bar, and right out of Mallory’s life. And Mallory was alone once again.
The man sighed. “Sorry. Stuff like that just happens sometimes.”
“Not just sometimes for me.” Mallory crossed his arms, frowning at the floor.
“Aw, chin up, buddy. I’m sure you’ll get one next time. You’re incredibly cute.” The man held out his hand. “I’m Jack.”
Life, the man known as Jack, grinned as Mallory blinked, his grief-tattered brain sluggishly trying to process the unsolicited compliment. “T-Thanks?”
Life-Jack chuckled. “Of course. A little slow on the uptake, are we?”
Mallory blinked. “Huh?”
Jack waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. So, did you come here just to pick up ladies?”
Mallory shook his head. “No. Uh, therapy.”
Jack snorted. “Therapy. Self-medicating type?”
Mallory cringed. “Not quite? It’s… complicated.”
“I’m sure.” Life smirked as if he wasn’t the one to give Mallory the orders to come here.
Mallory cleared his throat awkwardly. “What about you?”
“Oh, I’m mostly here for the guys.” Life’s smirk only grew.
Mallory blinked. “Guys? Like friends?”
“Like I’m gay.”
Mallory cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry. That… that exists.”
“That does exist.”
Mallory looked down. “Sorry.”
Jack chuckled. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”
Mallory spluttered. “N-No! Not at all!” His heart was pounding in his chest. His stomach was swooping. “It doesn’t matter. Gay, gayn’t. Doesn’t matter to me.” He laughed nervously, fidgeting with his sleeves and looking at the floor.
Life chuckled. “Oh? Are you flustered by that? Because you now know what I meant when I said you were cute?” He stepped a bit closer to Mallory. He was taller than Mallory and toned. Why hadn’t Mallory noticed that before? He was so toned.
Mallory shook his head. “N-No! Honest. Honest.”
Life smirked one more time before cupping Mallory’s face, watching him go boneless from such a small touch. “Adorable.” Life leaned down and kissed him. Hard. Hard enough that Mallory’s brain malfunctioned from the inside out, leaving him a quivering mess in Life’s grasp. He was so pliable. Just as pliable as Life imagined him to be as he kept twisting Mallory this way and that. Mallory was the perfect toy.
I gagged writing that. And I don’t even eat.
Jack pulled away, gently stroking Mallory’s lips. “Yeah. Not flustered at all.”
Mallory’s face was cherry red, his eyes wide and shell-shocked. “I… I’ve never kissed… a man before…” In all actuality, he had never wanted to. He had been happily attracted to only women his whole life. But sexuality was a genetic trait, which meant that Life could change that.
And change it he did.
Jack smiled softly. “I can tell. You have clueless written all over your face.”
Mallory blinked. “Huh?”
“Don’t worry about it. Now. How about we get a drink to celebrate?”
Mallory swallowed. “I… I don’t know what I want.”
Jack chuckled. “I’ll pick something out for you. Come along.” He wrapped an arm around Mallory’s waist and led him back to the bar. Mallory felt dizzy. This couldn’t be real. Should he ask this guy to empty his pockets? Male prostitutes existed too, right? There was no way that any of this was real.
Jack smiled at the bartender. “Hello, Robert! I’d like a scotch and a golden happiness for my friend here.”
Mallory blinked. “Golden happiness?”
“You’ll like it, don’t worry.”
Mallory nodded slowly. “Okay…?”
The bartender nodded and went about fixing the drinks.
“What is a… golden happiness?”
“Oh, you know. Mt. Dewy, pineapple juice, and some… spirits.”
Mallory waved his hand. “What kind of spirits?”
“Good ones. You’ll like it.”
Mallory sighed. “Okay.”
“Look, I want you to come home with me tonight. Do you think I would give you some garbage?”
Mallory went rigid. “H-Home? With you?”
Jack nodded. “Yes, Mallory. Home. With me.”
Mallory blinked. “Did I ever tell you my name?”
“Yes, of course. How else would I know?”
Mallory blinked. “I don’t remember doing that.”
“Well, I assure you. I did. You must’ve forgotten. It happens. You were very distracted by that [even more offensive word for women that makes me want to assault Life into a molecule].”
Mallory flinched. “I… I guess…”
Jack smiled. “Aww, don’t worry. If it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t have met. Wouldn’t that have been tragic? You wouldn’t have had the best kiss of your life.”