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Mylar 7.

Mr. Villegas seemed awfully chipper teaching us about the unit circle that morning. Instead of his usual grey suit, he had donned his coach jacket and khaki shorts. On his sandaled feet was an exposed tattoo of a flaming wheel. We were all very confused. We gaped, dumbfounded, at his makeshift semaphore. A handful of students, different ones each time, shouted out the answers as he moved his arm around the pretend circle. "Pi." "Two-pi over three." "Pi-half." I couldn't help but to try and figure out what was going on. "Mr. Villegas, why are you acting so weird today? Where's your suit?" Mr. Villegas smirked lively. "Why, it's the Mylar 7." "The Mylar 7?" I asked, slightly concerned. "What is that?" "Well, it's the Mylar 7! Don't worry too much about it." Mr. Villegas didn't stop moving his hand around the circle, and we didn't stop calling out answers until class was finally ove...
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The Ministry of Riddles.

It was undeniable. He was in love with the World Leader. Riddle Master Lans watched the World Leader lovingly as he brusquely rotated the book in his strong, shapely hands. "Oh no, sir, please don't do that!" Lans spoke up to stop the World Leader from opening the comically large latch keeping the book shut. "Why not?" The World Leader asked, slightly insulted. "And don't tell me about the reports. I've read the reports. I don't believe them, or you." Lans had already opened his mouth during the World Leader's rebuke to defend himself. "Sir I can tell you, with the full authority of The Ministry of Questions and Conundrums, that the reports are 100% true." Lans's upper lip swallowed up the lower in a cheeky grin. The World Leader remained unconvinced. "You mean to tell me, Lans, that the answer to life's meaning is funny?" "I saw it with my own eyes, your grace. The moment that RM Tuyen laid eye upon the...
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The Beautiful Death.

"That one there looks like a dog," said Miles, pointing at a bright, orange cloud in the sky. He turned on his side and looked at Sabine. She was biting her nails again. She had chewed them so far down, she'd made her fingers bleed. "Sabine." Miles called out to her, but there she laid, still as a rock and staring blankly into the sky. "Sabine, look at me. Sabine!" Sabine jolted. She pulled her fingers out of her mouth. "Do-do you think it'll hurt?" she asked. "I don't know. I don't think so. It'll probably be quick. But, we probably shouldn't think about it." Miles pulled his hand up to his face to also chew on his own fingernails, but stopped himself a moment before. Does it really matter at this point? He didn't know how much longer he could hide it. "Come here, Sabine. Lay on my chest." Miles adjusted himself on the dense, almost endless mound of flowers growing around the two of them. Sabine cr...
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Autumn in America. (Forward, Part I)

CASCADIAN REPUBLIC ARCHIVAL INFORMATION SUBJECT NAME: Horacio E. BORN: (REDACTED), California, United States, 1993 (Modern Territory claimed by Los Californias) ETHNICITY: Peruvian-American, Second Generation OCCUPATION: Engineer, Scientist, Revolutionary Leader SPOUSE: Jeanette C. (DECEASED) CHILDREN: Michael E. (DECEASED), Martin E. (DECEASED) FOREWORD I’ve always loved autumn as far back as I can remember: it has been my favorite season. The changing leaves, the shortening days, and the cooling air bringing relief from the oppressive late summer heat. Autumn meant Halloween, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas was approaching. Family, friends, breaks from school, good food, candy and, most importantly, presents. The rains were coming soon and, with them, that pleasant aromatic mix of wet earth, creosote and desert sage in the Mojave. Autumn also meant school, but that was okay. It was offset by the fact that, with the dwindling of the sun, you could better justify staying i...
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