CEA Greatest Anthology Written

By Celenic Earth Publications

OFFICIAL ATTEMPT AT A GUINNESS WORLD RECORD!!

Welcome to the greatest anthology of short stories you will ever read!

Writers from all over the world, whether they are absolutely new in the writing world, or have some books already published behind their names, have come together in one glorious volume to bring you some fantastic tales.

From Romance, Fairy Tales and Contemporary Fiction, to the hard hitting Horror, Fantasy and Science Fiction, we’ve made sure you get a bit of everything. With over 100 stories for you to enjoy, this Volume will surely keep you busy for months to come!

Here are the writers who have brought you these amazing tales:

Adam Leggett, Adrian Johnson, Alistair Davidse, Amanda Desiree, Amanda Rebello, Anastasia-Alexandra Nenova, Andi Hodgetts, Andrew Troth, Angelique Pacheco, Annie Louise Twitchell, B.E. Scully, Barry N. Cox, Benson Sibigam Isaac, Brigette Ronne, C.M. Sheely, Candice Cloete, Carina Merritt, Caroline Reid, Catherine Taylor, Chantelle Salt, Clare Howie, Cynthia Booth, Dani J Caile, Daniel Hall, Darren Goossens, David Shorb, Dean Clark, Debbie Stansfield, Dion Perry, Donna Marie West, Eric J. Guignard, Erik T. Johnson, Erin Fitch, Frank Roger, Gaetane Burkolter, Gemma Tarr, Gerry Huntman, Godfrey Coppinger, Grannd Kane, Gregory L. Norris, Heather Wilson, Hilda Wilson, Jeffrey A. Cooper, Jeremy Lackey, Jessica C. Joiner, JG Faherty, John Irvine, John M. Floyd, Jude Cocaigne, Kaaron Warren, Karen Morall, Katrina van Oostrum, Keith Disley, Kendell M. Jones, Kindra Sowder, Krista Lynn, Kristi Anne Shorb, Kylie Pfeiffer, Lawrie Leve, Lecura Bonner, Leonie Harris, Lisa Morton, Lucio Rodriguez, Lucy Taylor, Lynette Greenfield, Madge H. Gressley, Marc E. Fitch, Marian Maplesden, Mav Skye, Miodrag 'Michael' Milicevic, Mira Fahlan, Mirren Hogan, MK Clark, Molly Neely, Mouse Diver-Dudfield, Naomi Lucas, Nathaniel Kaine, Nerisha Kemraj, Nikky Olivier, Oz Monroe, Pamela Jeffs, Peter Deelman, Pragashnie Naidoo, Ray Daley, Raymond Little, Rebekah DeVall, Richard Matthewson, Robbie Jackson-Keenan, Roy C. Booth, Russell Smeaton, Seshadari Moodley, Shaakirah Motete, Shameez Patel Papathanasiou, Shane Porteous, Shaun M Jooste, Silvana G. Sánchez, Stacy Savage, Sunayna Pal, Suzana Sjenicic, Tega Greats, Tejal Singh, Theolin Thembo, Tracy L Carbone, Travis Ludvigson, Walter Rhein, Wesley Rolfe, Wondra Vanian, Zena Shapter

So delve into our largest volume ever, and find the stories that you love the most.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celenic Earth Publications
• Release date: Oct 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9780994719072

Celenic Earth Publications

Celenic Earth Publications is a South African publishing house assisting authors getting published locally and internationally in ebook and paperback format. It was created by author Shaun M Jooste when he realised how many writers struggle to get their work published, in a process that is deceptively easily. The publishing house empowers authors to learn the process while publishing their work with the hope that they will one day be able to publish themselves through self-sustainability.

Book preview

CEA Greatest Anthology Written

BY CELENIC EARTH PUBLICATIONS

Copyright ©2017 Celenic Earth Publications

ISBN: 978-0-9947190-7-2

First Published in 2017 by Celenic Earth Publications, Cape Town, SOUTH AFRICA

www.celenicearthpublications.wordpress.com

Printed and Distributed in South Africa by Groep7 Drukkers, Kameeldrif East, Pretoria

www.groep7.co.za

All Rights Reserved. The entire volume and stories are protected under the rights of the publisher. Writing styles and cultural grammar of each writer in their respective parts of the world have been retained, and therefore will differ among stories.

No part of this eBook, whether text or images created by the authors for the purposes of this volume, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author or publisher. Every author retains their rights over their own story, while the publisher retains the rights for the entire volume.

These are works of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Warning- This book is suitable for adults (18+) only. Certain genres and stories may contain mature content, personal views of racial discrimination, as well as offensive language. Do not read if you are offended by such content or if you are under the age of 18. The acts that occur in this story are not meant to encourage similar acts in real life.

Celenic Earth Publications does everything in its power to maintain the authors’ ‘voices’ in their stories, giving everyone a chance to practise their writing craft and grow through the experience. While constructive editing has been done to ensure minimal errors in spelling and grammar, other writing elements have been maintained. The publisher makes every effort to point out to the authors matters such as inconsistencies and unnecessary hyperbole, but retains the authors’ style of narrative.

OTHER CELENIC EARTH ANTHOLOGIES

CEA Writers without Boundaries (Local General Fiction)

CEA Through the Dark (Horror)

CEA Past your Reality (Fantasy)

CEA Into the Beyond (Science Fiction)

CEA Past your Reality (Fantasy)

CONTENTS

CONTEMPORARY, HISTORICAL & ROMANCE

NAOMI AND PETER - Pragashnie Naidoo

MADRENA Suzana - Sjenicic

THE PARK RANGER - Nathaniel Kaine

I COULD DIE LAUGHING - Lawrie Leve

DEAR CAROLINE - Jeremy Lackey

APRIL FOOL - John Irvine

FANNY - Erik T. Johnson

THE CLOUDY COLT - Gaёtane Burkolter

THE SINGLE MISTAKE - Lynette Greenfield

ONLY IMPROBABLE - Leonie Harris

THE STORY OF A MUSE - Naomi Lucas

LAYLAH’S LIGHT - Chantelle Salt

THE AWAKENING - Peter Deelman

THE LOVE STORY OF MA AND BABA - Sunayna Pal

I DIED, I WENT TO HEAVEN - Anastasia-Alexandra Nenova

TATERTOTS AND BEER - Oz Monroe

SHORTBREAD - Seshadari Moodley

BELLA AND THE MAN - Andrew Troth

LIFE IN PHOTOSHOP - Mirren Hogan

MATRYOSHKA - Keith Disley

AN HEIRLOOM SPIRIT - Molly Neely

THE HIGHWAYMAN - Mouse Diver-Dudfield

OUTLAWS AND UNCLES - Katrina van Oostrum

THE BIRDS OF CHANGE - Angelique Pacheco

CITY OF DREAMS - Lisa Morton

BUTTERFLY PEA TEA - Tejal Singh

FORGOTTEN KISSES - Gemma Tarr

MAGGIE’S SONG - Godfrey Coppinger

ONE DATE IS DANGER - Cynthia Booth

DOUBLE TROUBLE STRAW BLONDS - Dion Perry

THE SHADOWS’ LEGACY - Wesley Rolfe

CRIME, MYSTERY & PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER

INNER DEMONS - Andi Hodgetts

FORGIVING VENGEANCE - Tega Greats

LIVING - Dani J Caile

THE JAGUAR - Karen Morall

CLICK - Shameez Patel Papathanasiou

UNDERNEATH THE SURFACE - Benson Sibigam Isaac

NOA - Shaakirah Motete

THE GAME - Heather Wilson

A JIM BEAN CHRISTMAS - David Shorb

SHOT TO THE HEART - Catherine Taylor

THE STOCK TIP - Jeffrey A. Cooper

THE DETOUR - Donna Marie West

CONFESSION - Marian Maplesden

UNCLE TOBY - Barry N. Cox

PHILIP’S ENIGMA - Hilda Wilson

SEVEN SINS - Nikky Olivie

THE THEATER MASKS - Stacy Savage

FANTASY

THE QUATERMASTER’S DINNER - Roy C. Booth

TONDO - Travis Ludvigson

A BEAST LIKE A CHILD - Walter Rhein

UNDEMONIZING DEVLIN - Amanda Rebello

PROMISED - Silvana G. Sánchez

TINKLES THE FAIRY - Brigette Ronne

THE PLACE WHERE TWO EAGLES MEET - Gerry Huntman

THE GIRL WITH THE RED HOOD - Jude Cocaigne

THE TENTH FLOOR - John M. Floyd

WALTZ FOR ONE - Caroline Reid

THE ROMAN WAY - Mira Fahlan

TWO BROKEN WINGS - Darren Goossens

THE LAST TOOTH - Candice Cloete

WANTING THE BEAST - Zena Shapter

QUEEN MUIRGHEAL’S CURSE - Wondra Vanian

THE SHADOW OVER CAMELOT - Gregory L. Norris

ON EARTH AS IT ISN’T IN HEAVEN - Shaun M Jooste

NYSSA TALES: WOLF DOWN - Kristi Anne Shorb

THE PACKAGE - Madge H. Gressley

PENANCE OF A PANTHER - Annie Louise Twitchell

HAPLESS HERO - Robbie Jackson-Keenan

WITCH HOLLOW - Lucio Rodriguez

THE EVENING STAR - Amanda Desiree

THE MIST - Kylie Pfeiffer

THE CODE TALKER'S CANT - Miodrag 'Michael' Milicevic

TAHRODIIS - Grannd Kane

WHISPERING CREATURES - Debbie Stansfield

FOR MY BROTHER - Rebekah DeVall

HORROR

THE DARKEST FEELINGS - Dean Clark

SNAKE CHARMER - Russell Smeaton

THE GRANDFATHER - Daniel Hall

THE GIRL WITH THE BLACK EYES - Lecura Bonner

SECRETS AND WHISPERS - Clare Howie

THE UNWANTED VISITOR -Nerisha Kemraj

SIREN OF THE SWAMP - Eric J. Guignard

FECUNDITY - Lucy Taylor

FIRSTBORN - Pamela Jeffs

STEP MOTHER - Kendell M. Jones

THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE BETWEEN ROADS - B.E. Scully

ONE HELLISHLY HOT NIGHT - Krista Lynn

BURIED DEEP DOWN – E.M. Fitch

INSTINCT - C.M. Sheely

PROVIDENCE - Tracy L Carbone

THE RUINATION THEATER - Adrian Johnson

THE ZBRUCH IDOL - Marc E. Fitch

KILLING ANGELS - Mav Skye

SCIENCE FICTION

BATTLE FROM THE BELLY - Shane Porteous

THE DIRTHEADS OF DUKE STREET - Ray Daley

HYPERSPACE IS A HARSH MISTRESS - Richard Matthewson

MEMOIRS FOUND IN A MICROCHIP - Frank Roger

THE OTHER SIDE - MK Clark

JUST ANOTHER DAY - Adam Leggett

THE PHOENIX - Theolin Thembo

THE END OF SCIENCE - Raymond Little

DESTINATION UNKNOWN - JG Faherty

THE GOSSIP WRITER'S NOTEBOOK - Kaaron Warren

THE ELPIS MISSION - Alistair Davidse

THE STORY OF EMERSON KING - Kindra Sowder

JUST ONE MORE - Carina Merritt

GIANTS FALL - Jessica C. Joiner

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

When I applied to break a Guinness World Record in April this year, the last thing I expected was that it would be approved. Even when I was informed that it was approved in July, little did I realise just how much work I was getting myself, and so many others, into. None of this could have been possible without all the support I have received over the last few months. As a well known introvert, this was one project I could not by its very essence do alone. I stepped out of my shell, I braved the wild, and met the most fantastic group of writers I could have ever wished to be part of on this fantastic journey. To every one of you that submitted stories to this grand piece of work, I applaud you for taking this marvelous step with me, not only in writing and submitting, but also all the sharing, likes and posting on social media to get the word out.

And then there is the special thanks to our sponsors, who went to task in pre-ordering copies for the launch. You’ve made our task of reaching the target number of copies we needed to print and sell so much easier. We reached 10% of the goal through your contributions alone! As promised, here is the list of sponsors that contributed towards reaching our Guinness World Record goal:

Superhero Sponsors

(Multiple Paperback Preorders and Donations)

Andi Hodgetts, Freya Niamh Hodgetts, Melvina Hodgetts, Yara Singh, Lynette Greenfield, Maree Porteous, Shaazia Rego, Carlos Rego, Arrabella Rego, Giavanna Rego, Elijah Cairo Dawson, Naomi Lucas, C.M. Sheely Consulting Australia, Madge Gressley, Suzana Sjenicic, Robert Jackson-Keenan, Alistair Davidse, Karin van Oostrum, Cevan Oostrum, Angelique Pacheco, D van Wyk, Yvette Pacheco, Robert Keenan, Marian Maplesden

Legendary Sponsors

(Paperback Preorder and Event Donation)

Julie Cocaigne, Matthew Worrell, Becky and Heather Matthewson, Sandrae Burton

Master Sponsors

(Paperback Preorder)

Dean Clark and Ashley Villanueva-Clark, Ronald Clark, MK Clark, Gemma Tarr, Godfrey Coppinger, A Salie, G.A. Howie, Lauren Bonner, Leonie G. Harris, Chantelle Salt, Tracy Carbone, PF Watson, Donna Marie West, Gerry Huntman, Karen Morral, Eugene Dick, Ruth Omar, Peter Deelman, Michael Papathanasiou, Christine Ashworth, John Irvine, Andrew Reece, Marolyn Diver, Maja Mirkovic, Pamela Jeffs, Kindra Sowder, Michael Lochrie, Linda Crosby, Christina Hunter, Wesley Rolfe, Becky J. Lucas, Hilda Wilson, Jeremy Lackey, Grannd Kane, Carina Merritt, Naomi Goosen, Hal E. Jenkins, Chris Clarke-Williams, Zena & Bill Shapter, Samantha Smith, Adam Leggett, Amanda Desiree, Jordan Williams

Hero Sponsors

(Paperback Donation)

Adam Leggett

Novice Sponsors

(Ebook Preorder)

Lynette Greenfielld, Naomi Lucas, Diederik van der Eems, Leonie G. Harris, Amanda Lawson, Alexandra Butcher, Bobette Doerrie, Tomohawk Mcginn, Anil Hazari, Friedrich de Wet

Initiate Sponsors

(Donate to Printing)

Ruth Omar, Awilda, Kindra Sowder, Marija Drakulovic, Alexandra Butcher, Lise Muchna, Elizabeth Holland

And of course there are our organisational sponsors, who has made every effort to assist us in making our event a success by providing merchandise or sponsorships, or by creating awareness to others by spreading the word. Here are the fantastic entities that supported us and we thank you eternally for your role:

AIR ENTERTAINMENT, GAMETYRANT; SALTY GOAL PRODUCTIONS, ANTREYA STUDIOS, GROEP 7 DRUKKERS, JUICE BUBBLE, NECTAR & INK, PAROW EAST PRIMARY

Further thanks is extended to my Events Management team that aided me so much during this whole process, from the cradle to the grave, and not only for the event itself. My gratitude for your unwavering loyalty and commitment will be written among the stars for eons to come.

Tamarin Jooste - Director of Administration

Candy Mellor - Marketing Director

Brent Peters - Director of Photography

Finally, a special thanks goes out to my wife Tammy, and my children Nathan and Avril, who endured the time I worked so hard on this anthology and all the nights and weekends I put into this. Thank you so much for your love and patience. And to Andi Hodgetts and Candy Mellor, your unwaivering support got me through the hardest patches. You won’t believe how much I appreciate it.

And to my Lord God, my dearest Father in heaven, to whom I dedicate my entire existence, thank you for answering so many prayers towards achieving this momentous goal and for giving me the strength to do everything that I needed to do.

Shaun M Jooste

Director: Celenic Earth Publications

Event Director

Contemporary, Historical & Romance

NAOMI AND PETER

by Pragashnie Naidoo

(Children’s story)

www.pragashnienaidoo.co.za

www.facebook.com/naidoopragashnie

www.twitter.com/PragashnieN

Naomi and Peter are back down on earth to guide two little souls safely at their new home.

They are going be great and bring great healing to this world, says Naomi.

Peter as usual does not have any comments. He is here just to make sure that Naomi is taken care off. He is her guardian angel, because guardian angels have guardian angels too. Naomi is very childlike and care free; that is how she has always been and will remain to be. It is who she really is. Peter feels responsible for Naomi like any big brother would. They are siblings that have always been together for thousands of years.

Naomi loves being down here on earth, but she loves being up there even more, as she gets to help little souls journey down to earth. Such special little souls. Up there she grooms and prepares them for the big great world down here. She helps them find their main purpose and explains that even though they have a purpose to fulfil they still have free will. Life is such though, that when you are not aligning with your true purpose, you would feel something is missing and would always be magnetically drawn to your true purpose. You will always feel it in your heart and it never ever comes from your mind.

It is always free will, no matter how you look at it, because right now you are choosing your life purpose. Are you not? she lectures to the souls.

She is now back here to help these very special twin babies that are coming down. Together they have chosen to do great things; great things to shift consciousness, the entire consciousness, so the world can soon be saved.

Naomi feels the earth beneath her feet and wiggles her toes as the soft sand grains glide over and in between each toe, which she finds it quite ticklish as each grain that rubs between each toe sends her into stickles of giggles.

She takes a deep breath in, smelling every tiny scent passing into her nose.

Smell earth, Peter, she coaxes.

Peter just looks at her. She is about five years old and sometimes she is seen as three years old. Today she looks the part of the five year old. She is wearing her pretty little blue and white frock. Her hair is tied back into two locks of ponytails with red ribbons tied up in a pretty little bow. She has this habit of playing with the locks on her hair by taking her index finger and twirling it into the locks.

As usual she does not like shoes. She tells him, Peter, when you come down to earth, YOU. MUST. FEEL. THE. EARTH.

She loves skipping along and singing her favourite tune,

Hoppitty, hoppitty, skippity jump

Down to earth again I have come

Down to earth I have come again

To help twin soul’s life to begin.

Hoppitty, hoppity, skippity jump…

She usually uses the word ‘another’ in place of ‘twin’ when there is one baby she needs to guide down to earth. Peter could hear her in the distance now as she has gone quite far away from him, hopping and skipping.

Peter is just an ordinary looking boy around the age of seven years old. He looks very much Irish. He wears a navy blue Irish derby hat that allows for the fringes of his hair to be shown all around the edge of the bowl of his head. He is very formally dressed. His black shoe laces are neatly tied up in a knotted bow and you can see about 3cm of his white socks between his shoes and navy blue pants. He has a long sleeve white shirt with a neat little bow tie and braces to hold his pants in place, both matching the color of his pants. He is very prim and proper. Even his angel wings are tucked away neatly on his back.

Tsssshhhh!!!!!!!!!! Woooooshhhhhh!!!!!!!! Clutter!!!!BANG!!!!!!!!!.

Peter rushes off, opening his beautiful, majestic wings to fly to try and catch Naomi’s fall. He was a second, bit too late.

Chuckle! Chuckle! Chuckle! Giggle! Giggle! Giggle. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!

Now Naomi is kicking her legs with her back on the floor and holding her tummy as she goes from small chuckles and giggles under her breath to ripple effects of roaring laughter. Peter does find this very funny. Naomi is always banging her wings into everything, thinking that you can fly on the ground without her huge white wings crashing into any objects before her.

Come on Naomi, You know this is not the open sky, frowns Peter.

I know Peter, but it is so much fun. You should try it someday. You need to lighten up Peter; you are so serious all the time.

By now Naomi is up on her feet. Peter is next to her helping her up. I wish Naomi would be more serious at times, thinks Peter.

They might have landed about an hour early according to earth time. Naomi and Peter do not know the concept of time but they had to get used to it during earth visits. Sometimes they land a whole six hours early for birth occasions so they do not miss the main event. Naomi does not mind because she likes getting lost in the wonderment of the earth.

Peter starts walking towards the front door of the house. Naomi picks herself up and does not even care to dust of the sand that is stuck in the feathers of her wings. She loves the feeling of them rolling around in her feathers trying to get back to the ground.

She decides to walk behind Peter strutting and pretending she has pockets like Peter. She puts her hands in her make-believe pockets and tries to step on his footprints. She does this for a few steps, but then the mini playground catches her left eye. She completely forgets about Peter and following his footsteps and goes back to her hoppity skippity and jumps towards the swings and slides.

She climbs the wooden ladder and lands on a wooden platform. It looks like it was left unfinished as the wooden platform has four poles sticking up from each corner. It was probably meant to have been a little house. The hands of the tree above her head gently tug her pony curls making Naomi squeal a small little Ouch! The special little souls would love it up here, because the view to all the other great big trees in the area stand tall, magnificent and glorious. Even though Naomi has wings she still loves seeing things from the eye view of the little earthlings.

She is so fascinated and interested by being on earth, because she always sees everything from above. When you see everything from above you get to see the whole wide world, but you never get to see the little details of prettiness. You never get charmed by all the colours, shapes, sizes and textures when you are way up above. You never get to see how the leaves hang from the trees or see how the little veins on the leaves web out and you never get to see the pretty purple, pink, violet, orange and red flowers. You never get to see how tiny the sand grains are and how they feel between your fingers and toes.

She runs her fingers on the fine leaves of the evergreen tree. She stands there mesmerised at how huge the tree looks above her, although she is about fifteen ladder steps above the ground. She pulls one of the branches to her nose to smell the sweet flavours of the tree.

Ha! She remembers what she came up here to do. To go back down of course!

Peter has already reached the house, but the main big door is not open. Nobody can see Naomi and him, only the little babies that would be born soon. He turns around thinking Naomi has followed him directly to the house, only to watch her as she sits on top of the slide and wiggles her butt to push herself down the slide. He hears her go Whowwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeee! Whoooooooooooooo!, landing on her butt again at the bottom. Her wings open up underneath her, helping her, as she picks herself up back onto her feet.

Peter just looks at her blankly. She sees a no-expression on his face and decide for herself that he is such a party pooper.

Come Naomi, you need to keep time here on earth. We are not up there where time does not exist, he hisses and whispers to her.

She looks a bit confused by this. Why would he want to keep his voice in a whisper? It is not like anyone can hear him? she thought.

She opens up her majestic flyer and lands quickly where he stands in front of the big main door. There is a big window to the left of the big main door and they can hear the voices inside. Naomi and Peter move to the big window and look inside. Here goes Naomi again, muffle giggling into the palm of her hands. Her eyes open wide and light up as she sees the new-Grandpa-to-be, sitting in a big armchair with his head tilted back on the headrest. His mouth is wide open allowing this most fuzzy funny sound that comes out of him. It sounds like the rhythm of somebody using a saw to cut wood.

Kkkrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!! on the in breath and Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!! on the out breath, with the Zzzzz being a whistling sound.

She spots a spider on the ceiling above his head as it is spinning its silk down to the new-Grandpa-to-be, heading directly for his mouth. Naomi’s eyes pop open even wider in shock, wondering what is going to happen as the spider comes closer to the new-Grandpa-to-be’s open mouth. The spider get even closer now and Naomi does not know what to do.

As new-Grandpa-to-be does another kkkkrrrrrrrrrr, while breathing in, the spider is sucked gently into his mouth as far as his perfectly false teeth. On his whistling, Zzzzzzzzz the wind from his mouth makes the spider float above his mouth for a short second, before being tossed slightly in the air.

This kkkkrrrrrrr, spider in the mouth, whistling Zzzzzzzz, spider gently rolling upwards in the air happens a couple more times before the new-Grandpa-to-be is awakened by a loud voice.

Get up! They will be here soon and this is how you want them to meet you, snoring your guts away? scolds the new-Grandma-to-be. Grandpa gets up, startled. He grunts under his breath and wiggles his nose and mouth before giving a loud sniff like he had just been tackled by a spider’s web and like he has a big snort up his nose.

Naomi can now breathe easily again as the spider was saved and starts its way back up the silk it spun in the great attempt to run away from the one that tried to eat him by accident.

The time is near. The new Mom and Dad decide to bring the special little twin souls onto this earth in their new home. The Mom wants her babies to be brought here with gentleness, love and care. They want their creations to not be harmed by all the medicine the doctors would give the Mom, if she had to go to hospital.

For this they hired a very skilled lady who would help the Mom to do this. She is Ms. Doula the midwife. Not only will she be able to have her special little souls come into this world with gentleness, love and care but they will also be born into something they are already familiar with, and that is water. She wants their journey to be peaceful and easy and not to have too much disturbances as they got here.

Ms. Doula has been with the Mom and Dad from the time they knew the special little babies were in her tummy. She gave her lots of antenatal and breathing exercises to do that will help with her body and her mind. She even helped the Mom to manage pain by practising something called hypnosis. It is where you go into your mind and teach your mind to block out the pain.

To the right of the big front door are another two big windows. Now that the new-Grandpa-to-be is up and the spider has safely hidden itself on the wooden ceiling, Naomi decides to check out the other two windows. Peter happily follows her this time. They get to the first window on the right of the big front door; Naomi holds her head with her chin on her palms and her elbow on the windowsill and starts admiring the room for the twin souls.

Everything is double. There are two cradles in the middle of the room, two car seats stored in the corner of the room, two chests of drawers against the wall of the door to the room which is stocked up with cloth nappies and natural toiletries, and closer to the window where they peaked in from is a double pram for twins. They already have an idea that they may be a boy and girl, but keep the room a pretty colour of soft lilac. The cradle is covered with white frilly material and inside each cradle is baby blankets and flannel coverings.

Peter has his right elbow on the windowsill too and his chin placed on the palm of his right hand. He likes all the attention to neatness; everything has a place and the tidiness and cleanliness of the room makes him feel at home.

They dazedly look into the room, not particular interested in anything, but are interested in everything all at the same time. They hear Ms. Doula say, They are almost here.

The happiness and excitement inside the house ripples through Peter and Naomi, making their toes and fingers tingle with joy, for Naomi is especially overjoyed. They hurry to the next big window and see the Mom in a medium sized blue plastic pool that is placed in the room. She is inside the pool whilst the Dad is sitting on the floor next to her holding her hands and rubbing her back. The new-Grandma and new-Grandpa to-be are in the passage outside the closed door in the house. Ms. Doula is checking the Moms pulse to make sure she is alright.

Naomi and Peter close their eyes, sending their loving and compassionate energy to the Mom and the twin souls. Their job right now is to make sure everything goes very well and to help the Mom and the twins not feel much pain.

They hear a cry and Ms. Doula says, Here Mom, hold your little baby girl.

The Mom with tears of joy welled up in her eyes takes the baby girl and places her face down on the right side of her chest, cherishing her closely. Ms. Doula holds the baby boy in her arms and there is a white look of horror and dismay as she shouts, The baby boy is not breathing!

Naomi opens her eyes and wills herself into the room with Peter close behind. She looks at the boy baby and blows into his face a white silvery light leaving from her mouth. Nothing happens. She takes a little deeper breathe in and blows a little longer white silvery light into his face and still ….. nothing happens.

Peter knows Naomi has this. The one thing that Naomi is serious about is making sure that life is given to those that struggle a little on their journey to get into the world. Naomi stands with her left arm stretched towards the sky like an antenna and she opens her right palm with the fingers pointing towards the baby’s nostril. She takes a deep breathe in and blows a bigger white silvery light using her open palm to direct the energy correctly into the baby boys nostril.

There is a huge cry of Waaaaaaaaahhhhhhh, waaaaaaaaahhhh, waaaaaaaaahhhhhh, like a loud siren.

Naomi jumps up and down in glee. Ms. Doula places the baby boy next to the baby girl on the left side of the Moms chest. The Mom hold her babies for a long time, because the skin to skin contact makes both babies feel safe, secure, warm and loved. It is time now for them to get warmer and meet the rest of the family who are impatiently waiting.

The Dad picks the girl baby up and takes a look at her before wrapping her up in a flannel sheet. This is when Naomi has a quick look too.

Everything is perfect. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 fingers, and she repeats that with the other hand.

Then she looks at the toes. 1, 2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 perfect wittle toes, she coo-es in a somewhat baby language.

The baby girl opens her eyes and Naomi whispers, Hello little soul; remember me? I am your guardian angel. I am here to watch over you in this life. The baby girl turns her head slightly towards Naomi and blinks her eyes as she and her brother are the only ones that can see Naomi and Peter.

The Dad says to the Mom, Look, she is talking to someone. It is probably her Guardian Angel.

He snuggles her into her flannel sheet and places her on the bed. He then takes the baby boy and also inspects him, giving Naomi a chance to scan this little soul too. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10, Little fingers and 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 little toes.

He also looks at her and blinks, and the Dad also notices him doing the same thing his sister did. The Dad asks the Mom, Do you think they both have the same Guardian Angel or two separate Guardian Angels, love?

They probably have one Guardian Angel and that Guardian has her own Guardian Angel, the Mom chuckles as Ms. Doula helps her get dressed and ready for her babies to meet her parents who are still impatiently waiting outside the closed door.

Hello little soul, remember me? I am your guardian angel. I am here to watch over you in this life, Naomi gently whispers to the boy’s soul as his dad tucks him into his flannel sheet.

After everything is cleared up, the now new-Grandpa and new-Grandma, as they could not wait any longer, hear their daughter say, Come in Mom and Dad, and meet your grandchildren. They hurry and fuss into the room.

The new-Grandpa and new-Grandma take one baby each to hold in their arms. They coo-ee at the babies and then they exchange babies so they each have a turn to hold the precious little bundles while they coo-ee some more. Their love in their eyes makes Naomi tear a bit. The Grandmas and the Grandpas of the world become earth Angels when they become Grandmas and Grandpas.

Naomi and Peter get out of the way and go back outside to watch from the window. Ms. Doula and the Dad clear the room out, taking away the pool of water and all the other mess. They then bring in the cradles from the other room and place it beside the bed next to each other. Well I guess the Mom and the Dad do not want their precious little babies too far away from them.

The Mom and the Dad relax on the bed with each having a baby in their arms whilst the new-Grandma and new-Grandpa help getting supper ready.

The babies are snug as bugs in the arms of the Mom and the Dad. They just sleep peacefully until it is time for them to eat and that is when they howl their lungs out. The Mom breastfeeds them and they are all very happy satisfied.

The Mom and Dad decide to name them Nimi and Peetra.

Naomi look at Peter and say, They are beautiful Peter, as they walk with contentment towards the swings.

To which Peter replies with a peaceful smile, Yes they are Naomi. So what is their actual purpose together Naomi? I never understood properly. They both take a swing and sit on them.

It is what EVERYONE’S purpose is Peter, opening up both her hands into a grand gesture in front of her on the word everyone. It is to live the GRANDEST VERSION of WHO they really are. It doesn’t matter what their purpose is as long as their purpose brings fulfilment, joy and peace.

I thought I heard you say they were going to change the world and do great things and bring tremendous healing to the world, Naomi?

Of course they are! ALL humans do. They just sometimes forget, she says as she drops her head slightly looking at her wiggling toes.

Ok, says Peter. I get it!

They both sit on the swing looking at all of creation, the trees, the flowers, the insects, the great big sky. They become in- sync; they both get off their swings together, open up their majestic white wings, smile at each other and flap their wings into the great big vastness of the sky, dancing playfully in the air in the far off distance.

MADRENA

by Suzana Sjenicic

https://www.instagram.com/suzanasjenicic/

https://therapists.psychologytoday.com/rms/name/Suzana_Sjenicic_MA,LMHC_Ridgewood_New+York_260564

Bright light shining through the cracked wooden door straight into my eyes woke me up, and made me aware of the disgusting smell I was engulfed in. An acrid mix of sweat, wet clothing, blood and tears reeked throughout the barn. I lifted myself from the cold cement floor, my hair greasy and sticking to my right cheek on which blood was smeared by tears and dried overnight. I couldn’t even remember what happened for a moment; reality and dreams were so easily mixed these days. I looked around me and found five other women on the floor, some of them managing to climb onto bales of hay for a small bit of comfort and warmth. I didn’t care at this point; I was somehow used to the cold after only a few days of being here. This moment lasted an eternity, before I realized that somebody had cracked the door open – I turned my head, arching my neck painfully in that direction and saw the silhouette of a tall man wearing a uniform and a rifle over his shoulder standing in the doorway. I could not see his face because the sunlight was so bright. He appeared to be chewing something, and threw a piece of wrapping paper on the floor. I tried sitting up, but the sudden sharp, stabbing pain in my ribs made me groan and fall back quickly. The tall figure moved towards me and kneeled down in front of my feet. I managed to move up away from him a little, but was quickly stopped by the wall. I had no intention of trying to run away, the worst has already happened.

He chewed gum, his mouth half open, blue eyes traveling around my face, as if they had no particular interest in anything. He appeared relaxed and not particularly disturbed by the view. His warm slender fingers removed the hair stuck to my cheek and I winced as it pulled on my wound.

Sorry, his masculine, yet soft voice whispered. Blue eyes looked around and he slowly got up, decisively extending his arm towards me to help me up. Confused, I accepted it; I felt comfort around this man for some reason. I trusted him, and that was no common feeling these days. My entire body ached. My skirt was stuck to my calves and knees as I got up, my sweater disheveled and exposing my shoulders, buttons of my blouse ripped, making the now off-white lace of my bralette show. I tried to pull myself together, to cover my exposed body, but multiple rips and tears made that impossible. I glanced at the tall figure walking next to me; he appeared to pay no mind to my efforts. He adjusted his rifle and lead me in the direction of town. I was unsure of where we were headed and what would happen to me, but I walked and followed this stranger blindly, as long as the road took me away from that barn in which the smells of bodily fluids polluted the air, making it impossible to remember any positive moments ever experienced in life.

We arrived at the busy street on which seemingly, everything was fine. Them and us, all mixed, as it was always the case. Women carrying baskets filled with groceries and flowers, pushing carriages with small children clueless and smiling. It was a hot summer day, and sidewalk cafés were almost full, as if nothing was happening. People decided they were better off living their lives normally, for as long as that is possible. Some of them even gave up on going to shelters, as they believed that whatever is meant to be will happen. Mothers whose sons were drafted never went, as it didn’t matter to protect their lives while their babies were on the front lines. The sight of people cooling off with cold beverages, reminded me of the thirst which at this point burned my esophagus. I licked my dry, swollen lips, not taking my eyes off the glasses and bottles spread around the checkered tablecloths. He firmly took me by the forearm and led me to a small alleyway by the café we were approaching.

A small wooden door in the tall brick wall creaked open, and a tiny elderly woman appeared. Her head was wrapped in a black scarf, her long skirt and apron also black, covered her entire bony body. Small shaky hands stuck out and took mine. My gaze turned towards him, but his face, as usual, showed no surprise to what was happening. The woman took us into a cold, dark room, with a wood fired stove and tiny table in the middle of it. There was an old couch covered in colorful blankets, featuring all kinds of shapes and geometric figures.

The woman pointed to the couch and said to him, Sit son, sit, not letting go of my arm, which she proceeded to pull towards another room with a curtain in the doorway instead of doors. This room was similar to the first, only a little brighter and with hygienic tools littered all over; two buckets, one empty, the other filled with water, some used shampoo bottles and soaps, a bath sponge, and a small towel casually thrown on top of the chair. The woman let go of me, and pulled open creaking cupboard doors, taking out clean pieces of clothing that appeared pearly white and well ironed by somebody who is well versed in the task. Her skinny legs appeared to drag her leather shoes with a lot of effort, as they slowly moved back towards me.

Take this dear, freshen up. I will be waiting outside, call out if you need anything. Her eyes smiled and her bony old hand gently touched my sweaty cheek. I smiled for the first time in what seemed to be ages. She slowly dragged her feet to the other side of the curtain, and my eyes followed her, remaining fixated on the white cloth hanging in the doorway for a few long moments.

There she is, smiling eyes of the old woman greeted me on the other side of the curtain. He got up as I walked in, his eyes traveling up and down my body dressed in an oversized white T-shirt, a little too big on me, and a flower patterned skirt that came down to my ankles. I felt my face blush and lowered my eyes to the table on which food was displayed. Freshly cut pieces of cheese, some fruit, water, coffee, and a modest plate of cold cuts were displayed next to the sliced loaf of bread from which a few pieces were missing. There were crumbs on the table alongside a used knife, so I assumed he had already started his meal.

Sit dear, sit. Have some food, you must be starving, the sweet old lady motioned to the one empty chair out of the two in the room, as she was sitting on the other one. Old couch creaked loudly as he sat down on it, his mouth full of cheese, forehead glistening with sweat.

Have something to eat, and let’s go. I heard him speak for the first time since we left the barn. His eyes were fixated on the plate in front of him while he spoke in a monotonous voice. We have to be quick. If anybody stops us, you’re my wife and I’m taking you to the doctor. You can’t speak. Madrena will give you a shawl to cover your head. Make sure you look at your feet when we walk, don’t ask questions and don’t answer any, even if you’re asked. I nodded my head while pushing a dry piece of bread in my already full mouth. I gulped water glass after glass, and it filled me up more than food did.

The day was hot and humid, and the light breeze was warm enough to make breathing more difficult. I was wrapped in an old black shawl that smelled of the old lady’s cupboard, and carried a scent that reminded me of my great grandmother. I walked quickly to keep up with the tall soldier who’d been accompanying me on this journey through the village. Dust was everywhere. It had been a dry season. I heard sounds of the sirens somewhere behind us, and soon after, a loud detonation shook the air. They attacked again, this time it was by air. I was so focused on getting out of that barn, that I forgot about what was happening in the past couple of weeks. The noise brought me back to reality, and last night flashed before my eyes. I recalled the strong grip of tall uniformed men, screams and traumatized faces of the women around me, their clothes ripped, blood dripping down their bodies… I could not feel anything. I was immersed in their suffering and felt so much pain for them, that I forgot to feel my own. When it was all done, I learned that my face was wet with tears, my blouse ripped, my thighs sticky, and a stream of blood dripped down my cheek…. I don’t recall how I got that.

While we walked hurriedly through the back streets of the village, a flashing memory crossed my mind. You…, I was terrified. You’re one of them. I shook my head and started to walk backwards, glancing at the stitched crest on his right sleeve. A strong grip, very much like the one last night, clasped my shoulders and I was thrown onto the front seat of a Jeep, kicking and screaming. Big hands covered my mouth, and once again, I heard his calm, monotone voice.

I am. I am. But I want to help you. I was there last night, I saw what happened. I couldn’t stop it…. I’m sorry. He let go of my face and buried his head in his arm. He wiped off sweat off his forehead and started the car. I’m taking you to the safe place. I promise. I calmed down and did not utter another word.

* * *

Rushing to make it to work that morning, I accidentally ran into a man walking towards me, and spilled my coffee all over my white blouse. I cursed loudly and moved aside to find tissues in my bag that I put on the sidewalk and kneeled next to it rummaging angrily. Sunny day suddenly got darker, as a figure covered the sun to hide me from it. I lifted my head to find a tall, broad-shouldered man standing in front of me, looking down. I could not see his face, but I remembered this feeling. The same feeling of safety born in my body four years ago. He lent me his hand, just like back then, in the barn. One of his crutches fell on the ground as we hugged without saying a word. I hold that hug dear to my heart forever; I had never felt so safe, so overwhelmed with gratitude. I looked into the blue eyes of my savior that were before mine every night for the past four years. I took a step back, holding his hands and glanced at the crutch on the ground. I quickly learned about how he lost his leg over a cup of coffee, and how he was spared the atrocities of the war that had gone on for the next three years. I did not make it to work that day.

The days we spent together were like a dream. Affection and passion we shared was unlike any other; we found pleasure in the smallest things and were able to make the best out of even the most insignificant of situations. There was something special about hiding, about taking long walks in the parks, feeding pigeons at the square, throwing coins into the fountain and making wishes about our future together. I was happy, truly happy. The way he held me protected me from everything I did not want to face; there was no reality when we were together – we were it, and nothing else mattered. I spent many nights embraced by his strong arms, my head on his chest that I called my home. I listened to his heart and counted every beat. Then I remembered to look at the time, quickly get dressed and run home, giving him the most passionate kiss by the door, as if I’ll never see him again.

I was engaged to be married to a wonderful man, a friend turned boyfriend upon my escape from the war. I moved to the neighboring country, and soon after met my fiancé while I was searching for a job. Rather, at the coffee shop, frantically circling job ads in the newspaper, when he asked to sit with me because all other seats were taken. He lured me into friendship fairly quickly, and after being friends for about a year, we spent another year dating, and decided to get engaged. I was happy with him, he was nice, caring, and we kept that friendly note in our relationship to this day, which, I am sure, helped us keep going for this long. I had always been honest with him, until that summer day four years upon our first meeting, when the crutch hit the ground. That day, I was lured into my past, and I found my home.

Weeks were going by so quickly that summer, and I tried to inhale every moment spent with him. I absorbed every kiss, imagined that his fingers were engraving caresses into my skin, that his body somehow became a part of mine and that he’ll always be there. Every time we would meet, I held onto him tighter, and every time… I felt the need to sob. To this day, I don’t know for certain what that was about, although I now may have a vague idea. That summer, I spent my lunch breaks with him, met with him after work, escaped on the weekends when my fiancé went fishing with his friends, stayed out some nights telling my fiancé that I was having a dinner with girlfriends. I learned to lie when I never lied to him before, and somehow, it felt okay. Hurting him was never my intention, and my heart sobbed at the thought that that’s exactly what I was doing to the man who loved me the most; my heart sobbed, but I did not feel guilty at all. I felt happy. Truly happy, for the first time in my life.

Three months later, we continued to see each other as much as we could. Days and nights spent together were filled with laughter, passionate love making, tears while reminiscing, and sharing our lives before us. We never felt the need to tell one another how much we loved each other, except for the first time; one look into the blue eyes reminded me of it every day. The foul smell of the blood, sweat, semen, and saliva that was engraved in my nostrils forever, could not ruin the memory of my first encounter with those eyes, and the soothing feeling that overcame my entire being on that hot, sticky summer day, just like this one.

Weeks were going by, and I noticed him coughing increasingly. He attributed his cough to the heaviness of humidity on summer days, to months spent in the dusty villages prior to the loss of his leg, to inhaling post-detonation smoke, but I felt something was wrong. I begged him to go to the doctor and he wouldn’t. I thought he grew thinner over time, but he denied that too. My wedding was planned for September, a little over a month from now. I didn’t know what to do. My fiancé did not deserve that I leave him, but even less did he deserve that I go to bed every night dreaming of another man. I mentioned my dilemma while laying on his chest one evening, at dusk, with the last of the sunrays bathing my bare shoulder caressed by his thumb.

You will marry him. I lifted my head to look at him, and was met with a motionless face with his eyes fixed on the ceiling above him; he did not look at me. A lump inside of my chest grew rapidly, pressing into my throat that was now burning with tears that fought to remain where they were. I could not fight it and poured my heart out on that bed, the last wisps of sunlight warm on my bare back, my tears warm on the white sheet that covered my hips. I planted a wet kiss on his lips as my tears continued to drip on his motionless face. He didn’t return it. I pulled away to look at the blue of his eyes again, and that ocean allowed a single tear to escape its bed. And then another one. His hand grabbed the back of my neck, and he pulled me towards him for a kiss filled with pain, anger, and regret that we couldn’t love each other ever more. That night, we made love like never before. Like it was the last time.

* * *

Madrena turned five that summer, and on her birthday, had a dream that her granny came to visit and had white wings on her back. She took her to a beautiful garden to pick flowers for the dining room table for her birthday party. This was the first birthday party my husband’s mother missed since she passed away exactly one year ago.

Mommy, why did Granny have those white wings? She’s never worn them before when she was here.

That’s because she is an angel now, sweetheart. Remember Granny went to play with baby angels and sing them lullabies because they couldn’t fall asleep easily? She is now your guardian angel. I smiled, and touched my daughter’s rosy cheek, while motioning to her to sit on my lap so I can comb her hair.

Do you have your own guardian angel, Mommy?

My gaze followed the length of our backyard through the window, and eyes swelling with tears, I whispered, I do honey, I do…

"Who is your angel? Can I see him? Does he take you to pick flowers in your dreams, too?

He does honey… Do you want to come somewhere with Mommy? Madrena nodded her head.

White roses in her hands, just like the ones she picked in her dream with granny, Madrena accompanied me to my guardian angel’s home for the first time. Her little hands held the bouquet tightly, while her Mommy hid tears behind her dark sunglasses. Salty drops escaped the shade of the dark plastic, and unstoppably rolled down my cheeks, my chin, leaving a trace all the way down to my heart that was aching every day with the same intensity for the past five years.

This is where my guardian angel comes to pick up his mail, honey. Do you want to leave those roses for him here? I kneeled down, putting my arm around my daughter’s tiny waist. She nodded her head, and moved to put the flowers by the stone that read: To my Savior. I will love you forever. She turned and walked back towards me, her little dress waiving in the wind. Her eyes were just like his.

THE PARK RANGER

by Nathaniel Kaine

http://nathanielkaine.com

They stood before me, all gathered at the base of the fire tower I occupied. It had started with a few, and then came hundreds, and now thousands, all occupying this out-of-the-way national park I called home. Grown from a single tweet, and now me, a veterinary school dropout turned Park Ranger, Mr. Internet as my coworkers had called me, surveyed the area below. There stood campsite upon campsite, trailers, buses, makeshift lodgings, and the thrall of people who stood, silently waiting for me to speak.

I turned and looked at my cat, who I had put in my backpack for the climb up, and his return gaze was, Way to go, dumbass. See what you started.

I could only think of one thing, a single line from a 70's disco song, and I shouted it at the top of my lungs, We are family.

The response from the crowd was deafening, the roar of the beast I had created now rumbling in the valley below, echoing for miles to be heard.

I looked at my cat, Now what do I say? as if he would respond. I could not think of anything except Martin Luther King Jr.’s famous quote, We shall overcome.

The crowd went crazy again. Thousands of lighters and flashlights illuminated the night, like lightsabers from a Star Wars Movie. I was running out of quotes.

What in the hell had I done? I was in way over my head.

I thought back to how this all started, and almost regretted putting that first tweet out. I was pissed off at the newly elected President, and what he wanted my organization, the National Park Service, to do. He wanted us to remain silent. We did not have a voice and he had put a moratorium on our speech.

I decided to give us that voice by creating a fake Twitter account, eventually classified as a rogue account, in protest. I was the first to speak out and I had no idea of the beast it would create. After I went live, I was followed in immediate succession by rogue accounts from other agencies. The government decided to crack down on the accounts, account holders, and anyone that supported them. First, it was NASA, and then they went after the CDC, EPA, FDA, NOAA, USDA, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, National Weather Service, U.S. Postal Service, and any governmental or quasi-governmental agency that had anything negative to say about the President. A secret police force was created, with the backing of the FBI, CIA, and NSA, and they started arresting the top officials from the major agencies that had been causing the problems. Fortunately, they never found most of the people who actually created the accounts, and were met with failure when they tried to shut them down. The social media site owners were not having anything to do with what the government wanted, and started moving their operations offshore, so the federal government could not touch them. The President went so far as to implement an executive order banning the use of social media sites in the United States, under the guise of protecting national security. Not only was he laughed at by Congress, but there was such an uproar by the American people, many his own supporters, that the U.S. Supreme Court intervened. With the help of a filing by Congress, they ruled his executive order unconstitutional and he rescinded it within twenty-four hours. That had been a pattern for him; write an executive order, get ridiculed as no other President had before, and then rescind it. It was as if he was testing the limits of his power.

They even came after me, when all I wanted to do was parody the sheer insanity of what the President was doing through his gag order. They did not catch me as I went on the lam. Having been a Park Ranger for over 15 years, I knew a number of the parks well enough to hide from anyone. My Park Ranger buddies helped by feigning ignorance whenever the authorities came looking for me. With a laptop and hacked wireless signal, I was able to continue broadcasting my discontent about the government, and it spread like wildfire. Being a Park Ranger, and very familiar with wildfires, this was one conflagration they could not extinguish. The President became desperate. The discord against him and his policies was escalating, and with the Supreme Court and Congress firmly entrenched against most of his executive orders, he decided to take drastic action. No agency was allowed to speak out against any of his changes, nor rebut the lies that were coming out of Washington, D.C. Eventually, military appointees of the President occupied the agencies under scrutiny. It was not long after that when the people started to realize that the President of these lovely United States was attempting to impose a dictatorship, through use of the his executive orders. The power of an executive order would allow him the ability to dictate the use of military forces inside the borders of the continental United States, and now with military appointees running all the major agencies, what most people thought would never come, did.

With the backing of the military, he occupied Washington D.C., taking over Congress, and most government buildings. All of the Supreme Court justices were arrested for treason, and spirited away to some unknown location. This all happened on January 1, near the end of the first year of his presidency. He had feigned a coup against himself, and used the military to establish martial law in the capital. The biggest problem was that nobody could prove it. With his public relations machine running at full strength, and having their hooks into most of the major media outlets, which he previously touted as being fake news, he made it seem legitimate. Most people knew he was full of shit. For those news media outlets who attempted to report anything differently from those he controlled, they were immediately silenced, and their management taken into custody for attempting to incite civil unrest, and treason against the U.S. government. Most of the American public was not sad to see many of media clowns thrown in jail, but not at the cost of one of their most basic freedoms; freedom of the press, even if most of it was bullshit. From that point forward, the airwaves pumped out only pro-government rhetoric, and they fought hard to control the access to the internet. Most of the big providers had their management teams leave the United States as a precaution, leaving only the bare minimum of staff at their facilities.

According to the government, there was anarchy in the streets. Sure, people were pissed off and wondering what the hell was going on in D.C., but there was no rioting. Too many people, too far removed from politics, were glad that someone, aka the President, had finally done something about the Supreme Court and Congress. Most people did not like the government anyway, and as long as their benefits did not stop, they did not care what happened in D.C. What they did not realize, is without Congress and the Supreme Court in place, the President was pretty much free to do what he wanted. The ones who saw it coming went into hiding. I was already there, so I had grown comfortable with it. I was a Park Ranger and was used to uncomfortable living conditions.

As if a 21st century version of the Manifest Destiny was realized, the implementation of martial law began; its origin on the east coast in a small town in Massachusetts. You guessed it, Concord, where a riot took place and the National Guard was sent in and the Governor declared martial law. The National Guard troops were eventually supplemented, and then replaced by active duty army troops, putting the President and the Joint Chiefs of Staff in charge of the operation. It grew from there, the martial law expanding to the larger cities on the east coast, and then westward. The more martial law was implemented, the more riots occurred, creating the greater need for martial law. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy, carefully orchestrated by the President. Martial law, more riots. More riots, martial law. Everyone was playing into his hands. He disbanded his cabinet, had them all arrested, and then