The End of an Era

I emptied the remnants of my locker into my backpack. I tried my best to shove my deceased grandfather’s coat inside along with my used Tupperware and binder full of training notes from my first few months on the job. I disposed of the trash from the pockets of my work apron, and folded it neatly before gently placing it on my, now, former employer’s desk. For some reason, I decided to keep my magnetic name tag, sealing its fate upon my refrigerator door once I arrive home within the next hour. I finally managed to securely fasten the zipper before I released a soft sigh, staring into space. I waited for tears to stream down my face at my realization of the end of an era, but it never came.

I walked towards the sales floor to punch out of the computer system for the last time. My co-worker stood beside me as she did her usual shutdown of the secondary register fifteen minutes prior to locking the doors for the night. She noticed my presence but didn’t glance in my direction until I told her that this may be the last time I ever saw her again. Her usual, stoic face morphed into one of solemnity. We shared a chaste hug before I left. The short trek up the hill towards the bus stop seemed so distinguished, yet other people strolled around me in either direction, as if it was any other day. They had no clue how important today was for me. I wondered if anyone I had past by also considered today as the beginning of a new opportunity.

Good Stems From Evil

I had a friend who asked me one time, “Why does evil exist?”

And he caught me off-guard, but then again, he was very religious and he tends to question a lot of arbitrary things, to the point where he becomes a nuisance.

So I told him that “the existence of evil is necessary.”

He said, “What? Why? Why would you say such a horrible thing?”

And I said, “Yes, there’s a lot of horrible things that go on in the world but there’s so many beautiful things that go on too. And it’s the evil things like the natural disasters and hunger and homelessness and things like that that bring people together. For instance, like charity, nonprofit organizations, soup kitchens… like people are actually willing to volunteer some of their time without getting paid just to help someone else get fed. How great is that?! And there are state benefits for people who aren’t as fortunate in paying their bills or taking care of their children financially. And nonprofit organizations… People, who spend their whole lives creating something from nothing to aid others, and they don’t even expect any compensation either. I don’t think there’d be as much compassion for each other if we were all perfect… Okay, not perfect, but fortunate, if we were all… good. We wouldn’t need to be compassionate. It would be like, okay, so that person is okay, I’m okay, so we’re just gonna keep it moving.”

My friend nodded slowly at me. It looked as if he was going to interrupt me, but then, I guess he wanted to give his loquacious nature a rest.

“People wouldn’t be able to relate to each other on a deeper level, they wouldn’t be able to have opportunities to help each other because there would be no need for that. So yes, horrible things do occur in the world. Murder, rape, poverty, starvation, violence…”

His eyes widened at the mention of the word “rape,” as if it was an evil incantation of some kind, a form of dark magic. I’m surprised he didn’t utter a prayer or something.

“However, I wouldn’t suggest overlooking the good either. The good that already exists, and the good that stems from evil. I believe, with all my heart, that there’s more good in this world than there is evil because odds are that someone else went through something as horrible as you. Maybe not as severe, or perhaps more severe than you. I don’t always say ‘oh, woe is me’ because we are all in between two very opposite extremes.”

My buddy smiled as his eyes phased into a more crimson tint. I felt the sensation of flattery because I knew he was now resisting the urge to indulge in potato chips that were becoming stale in his cupboard.

“And that’s okay! We’re all in different walks of life. Just the fact that we can stick together like at AA meetings or at psych wards where we can meet new friends, we can meet other people who understand what we’re going through in one way or another. How wonderful is that? And the fact that the human experience doesn’t comprise entirely of the good and the bad, it’s not all black and white, there’s a gray area. And that gray area gives birth to so much life. And I’m just grateful that I’m a human being, that I’m a person, and that I can analyze and accept and acknowledge that good stems from evil. The existence of evil is necessary indeed. It seems like sacrifices must be made for the greater good. For society to evolve, for people’s perspectives to broaden, and open minds to cherish all the new innovations and new ideals that come from the darkness.”

My friend just stared intently at me. He probably thought I was some sort of prophet at this point. Or maybe I’m just overselling myself, and he’s just stoned off his ass. But I like to think, at least, I finally rendered him speechless.

Xrotica: Another Bear Enters the Cave

So while Dee had been absent since the events that occurred in Xrotica 3, I haven’t just been sitting idly by, waiting for him to call. There’s other men I fuck with. And now that it’s Summer vacation, I have plenty of time to spend with my fuckboys in between periods of looking for a Summer job.

Another fuck buddy I have (let’s call him: “Pro”) got in touch with me a couple nights ago on Growlr. He complimented my profile picture and I did the same. Pro asked if I recognized him. I told him yes. He was actually a teacher I had a while back in high school. A teacher that I actually had quite the crush on for the longest. And I told him just that. I asked if I was too forward but he assured me it was okay. Pro wanted me to initiate whatever would happen next. We were just talking, beating around the bush. I can tell that he didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable or perhaps afraid that a man twice my age, who was once in a higher hierarchy than I was, would want to get intimate with me.

I never had sex with a teacher before, but I always fantasized about it. I watched the teacher and student pornos sometimes to envision this beautiful older man bending me down on his desk to teach me a private lesson I had to stay after school for. Just the thought of it made me precum as Pro and I continued our chat.

He said he was bored and that we can hang out anytime. I told him he can could come right then and there. Why wait? We’re both free. I could host and he could drive so it worked out. So Pro gave me his number and told me to call him in that instant. We talked some more. There was still barely any sexual innuendo uttered between us.

Eventually, he arrived downstairs with a bottle of Hennessey, Red Bull, some Cool Ranch Doritos, and a deck of playing cards. I led him into my bedchambers, but I made sure to hide any condoms, lube, and porn that was laying around my apartment so that it wouldn’t be too obvious. All Pro said was that we were going to drink together, but I had this twinge in my groin that suggested I was going to get lucky tonight.

I told Pro to get comfortable. He placed his belongings down on my living room table. Half the bottle of Hennessey was already consumed. A drunk driver… how reckless. Recklessness is an aphrodisiac, at least it is to me. He told me to finish the rest. I mixed the remaining contents of liquor with the Red Bull before my head was swimming. He hadn’t undressed yet so I didn’t either. Pro asked if I wanted to play strip poker and I said sure. First, he lost and I requested for his shoes to come off. Then, I lost and he wanted me to take off my jacket. And as we were playing, I felt butterflies and goosebumps caress in and on my body respectively. I was going to have sex with my teacher! It seemed surreal, like a dream morphed from nonexistence into my own realm of reality.

Pro had this sexy smile the whole time. The same way he stared at me so long ago. He would be in the middle of one of his interesting lectures, and then he would suddenly flash that exact smile at me while his crow’s feet near his dark eyes highlighted his delight in my presence. Like Dee, he was also a much older hispanic bear that took plenty of interest in my young rican cub body.

At some point, I was completely naked. His eyes soaked in my nudity so his future self could reminisce on this event during solo missions on lonely nights. That’s when he won the game.

We both stood up in unison. Pro knew I wanted him to even the playing field. I glanced at my own body and then at his. I relished in the sight of the mature male figure I had once only imagined would look like in the classroom. The carpet matched the drapes. White hairs swirled with dark brown. A mixture of light and darkness growing all over him. I wrapped my arms around him and allowed our tongues to embrace. I lost myself in our ravenous kiss. I wondered if he was thinking similar thoughts of me all this time as long as I have, or if this idea just occurred to him that night. It was so warm. I felt his face with my sweaty palms and began to kiss his neck before he silently ushered me to my bed. Pro laid down on his back first. I climbed on top of him, but he patted the area of my sheets beside him. So I laid there next to him and sucked his nipples. His nipples were huge, even slightly bigger than mine. I nibbled them like a kitten getting nursed by its mother.

Confessions of his dirty mind came in hushed whispers directly into my right ear. He admitted that he wanted this since he saw me in a play where I was dressed as a woman. One of my questions were put to rest. Pro wanted to fuck me that night in the parking lot outside the school while I was still in costume. He knew I wanted him back then like I was having him at that moment. There were times he wanted me to follow him into his office after class so I could deep throat him in the privacy of his workplace. Sometimes, Pro even fantastized about me and another student tasting his front and back at the same time. All these hidden truths came to life in my mind as I continued to abuse his nipples up until he grabbed my head and pushed it onto his dick. His pubic aroma eradicated my sinuses. I indulged in his bulge until the magic inflating it reached full potential. He ordered me to ride his dick with my fat ass. I asked if that was my latest assignment. He vigorously nodded while he made me his bitch. That was my nickname. Bitch. As I rode him, I choked him and he held my thighs roughly. Soon enough, his hips started to cramp. His agility and stamina made me forget how old he really was. I got off him and I gently massaged where his pain was. Pro moaned at the soft feel of my touch. Then, I rested my hand on his face and asked if he was okay. He confirmed.

That was when I went on my hands and knees. Pro grabbed the lube and a condom. He smeared my ass with it. I wished my bear licked my honeypot before refilling it with honey, but it must have slipped his intelligent mind in the eagerness to penetrate me. I gasped in excitement at the exact second it slipped in. I yelled aloud my wonderment as to whether or not I was being a good boy. He patted me on my back with praise. Aye, papi! Daddy! Fuck me! fuck me! FUCK ME! It took a long time but Pro didn’t even cum. He became lethargic so we laid back down and jerked off together. He urged me to give him my “leche” because my milk belonged to him. But it was Pro’s volcano that erupted all over me first. It was so warm, glistening under the light of the TV. My TV tried so hard to drown out the sounds that Yogi Bear and Boo Boo made in the middle of the night. This made me so fucking horny! But it still took Pro to finger my fat ass for a few minutes until I finally was able to serve him the milk he so desperately craved.

Artificial love continued to feign such realness when we piled into my shower to wash up. I rubbed his cock with soap and water to scrub it nice and clean. I told him he was adorable, so fucking cute, that I wanted him to be my teddy bear to hold for the night. Unfortunately, Pro couldn’t stay the night. But he did linger a bit longer. Pro and I talked shit about the other teachers and that he actually fucked another teacher I had that same year.

At one point, we had a little heart-to-heart. It was wonderful! We spoke of past relationships and we shared things in confidence. Then that smile came back and he suggested we take part in a threesome. On his phone, he revealed his other fuck buddies’ pictures and videos as a means to shop for a third addition to our sin. One of his black friends had a big fucking cock! Pro mentioned he wanted to watch me get fucked by this friend of his. However, I suggested that Dee should be that third addition. He said he’ll let me know and for me to send him a picture of Dee once he left.

So, Pro made sure that he had all his stuff. But he let me keep the bag of Doritos and the deck of playing cards. Pro said I should practice with the cards for next time I hosted for him. How sweet!

Finally, we both hovered around my front door. I wore my undies and my jacket with my hairy chest showing while Pro was now fully clothed once more. He gave me a kiss goodbye. Yet I pretended for a brief second to trap him in my apartment. It was cute. Pro made this face until I unlocked my door. He turned around on his way out to further soak in my image to embed it for future use. I gave him a very flirtatious look before I playfully closed the door in his face.

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The Metafiction Approach

I ran down the corridor in haste for no reason. The professor isn’t even here yet. So I decided to unsheath my phone to begin yet another blog post. I’m trying to recall all the new words I learned throughout my searches of other blogs’ contents throughout the week. Man, the sentence before this one was quite a mouthful, huh? I used the word “throughout” twice in one sentence. I don’t think I ever did that before. I hate using the same word more than once in a brief period of time. One by one, other students began to slip into their seats in the panopticon set-up that is the classroom. What is a “panopticon?” Well it’s a systematic way in society for authority to look down on citizens. That sounded subjective though. But in this case, there’s desks that all the students sit in to face the teacher. If that explanation and example wasn’t clear enough for you, then look it up yourself. I just noticed my history professor is five minutes late. Not bad. I hate history class anyway. You’re probably thinking hate is a strong word. If so, then maybe I’ll replace the word “hate” with “dislike” like so: I just noticed my history professor is five minutes late. Not bad. I hate dislike history class anyway. Suddenly this lady walks in holding a couple piles of handouts. My history professor is a guy (probably gay but way too old for me) so maybe our boring lecture will be replaced today. I used the word “replaced” twice now in the whole post. Now I have to go on Google to search for synonyms for “replaced.” I’ll be right back…. Okay, I’m back. “Superceded.” … so maybe our boring class will be replaced superceded today. Eventually, the teacher came in and it seems to me like the lady is a friend of his. They hug and giggle and soon enough, he’s introducing my classmates and I to her. I forget her name as quickly as she says it. I usually don’t bother remembering females’ names for their existence is irrelevant to me. The purpose of her visit was to announce that next week will be Advisory Week. This information is actually quite useful to me so I listen intently, making notes in my train of thought to write down when she leaves. Why did I wait until she left to write down her important words? I look back and I can’t find a plausible way to answer this question. Now my history professor resumes his teachings. US History is such a yawn fest yet as opposed to his prominent humorous personality, the ambience of the lecture hall is at a perfect equilibrium between a mundane curriculum and an outspoken jester teaching it.

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One Bad Day

I sat confined within the metal bars compressing me to a condensed version of an ambivalent world. Psychologist-infested daily routines didn’t always comprise my life’s entirety. It only took one bad day to rid me of my innocence forever.
Shadows spilled underneath my cot, behind the rusted toilet several paces away, and they ran away from the fluorescent lights twitching out in the corridor.
Red eyes glowed at night to accompany the darkness I fed earnestly throughout the day. It was an effective way to lose weight.
Years passed and so has three in-mates that took the pleasure of being my roommate. It came to the point where my past branched off into infinite alternate realities. That happens when you reach a certain age. Memories evolve into better or worse things depending on your mood.
I haven’t been outside since I moved in. The normies in their hospital scrubs always shut out the outside because I don’t deserve it anymore. All the other Malvolos lost their rights to freedom too, they kid around with me.
At a certain time of day, the leader of the normies announce from the walls that the lights must go out. We retreat back into our catacombs while being driven out of the community room like cattle.
I don’t bother talking to the other outsiders because I sleep alone regardless. Nothing new happened since The Assault. So I laid in the dark letting the last remnants of my eluded past reframe my dreams once more.
The Sun always radiates as bright as I remember. Maybe it was a tad bit brighter back then. The birds chirp as they perch themselves onto the trees my mother constantly refused to cut down. Her baby blue car is warming up in the driveway. My older brother (always was taller than me) sits in the front seat while my mother says her goodbyes to my stepdad. She is plotting against me with him. Then she glances at me, massaging her back and leaning on her scepter, and asks me if I’m positively sure if I want to stay at home instead of going with them to the local supermarket. I assure her that grocery shopping with her was as boring as school.
Then suddenly it’s nighttime and I skip forward past the awkward stage of puberty into the fathoms of adulthood. I’m closing up shop. Putting away spare boxes into the complacent shelves. I walk up to the entryway door to transform the “come on in, we’re open” sign to the “sorry, we’re closed” sign. But there’s this really sexy twink knocking softly on the glass. I yell out that we’re closed but he insisted on coming in to talk to me. He wants me to do it to him, I’m positive.
So the car drives itself away like fate so anxiously wanting to lay down its foundation. I give a quick smile to my stepdad just to be polite before going into my room to play some videogames. But that smile I flash at him is a green light for him to pursue me.
I lead him to my office in the basement where I let the cobwebs materialize out of thin air. The young man looks so happy with his manila folder (most likely holding his resume) gently against his chest. He says he heard a lot about me from the press and assures me that he wants nothing more than to work for me.
I just want to go home. But he sits down across from me. He unzips his white jacket, beckoning me to admire his physique. Then he carefully hangs his hoodie on my coat rack. His shirt is a v-neck. The young man has tempting-looking chest hair. It is more than obvious that he yearns for my touch.
He knocks on my door and told me to help him clean up the house to surprise my mother when she gets home. I reply if he pays me money, I’ll do whatever he wants me to do. My stepdad giggles playfully as he barges into my room and unplugs my game console. That is the last straw. He answers my unexisting plea to take away my virginity. It sucks cus the least he can do is pay me afterwards but sometimes he doesn’t.
I get up soon after the young man sat down to lock my office door for privacy from my employees who went to their respective homes an hour before. I tell him that I’m not currently hiring at this point in time but I can reconsider if he admits he’ll do anything if I pay him to do it. I stole his smile. A scared expression is left behind on his face while I tear his smile off his porcelain face.
Masturbation had lost its fun since I no longer had an audience. The buzzing of the night light kept me up all night long. I didn’t sleep a wink. I crack myself up sometimes as my laughter fills the empty void. Just when I think I lost my mind entirely, I lose it a little bit more. I can no longer plant this seed anywhere other than my bedsheets. My bed wanted me to cultivate this undead garden, hardening along with the red eyes across the room reminding me that I had an audience after all. A sexy doctor peeked into my room, beckoning me to take his smile away from him too.

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In distress

Part two of Damsel

A stained piece of parchment had been delivered to the king’s residence. A servant, whose domain was the front lobby, found it odd that the letter had nothing written on the outside. Usually a note’s exterior donned the name of who it’s from and who it’s addressed to. A turquoise insignia was melted onto the paper to seal it securely. He immediately made his way through the radiant labyrinth of mess halls he knew so well after 15 years on the job.
Upon entering the king’s chambers, the servant still clasped the bronze doorknob even after the fact to see the queen nursing herself back to health again. Her face was painted black and blue from a palette of limited colors. She gasped at the sound of the doorhinges being swung on its axis in fear of her loving tormentor.
Oh dear, he thought to himself, the king is drunken on the shipment of ale that arrived early this morning…. So he went by her side, standing near the window outlooking the courtyard in the center of the kingdom’s folly. Perhaps this letter held the contents of news that could cheer her up, the servant thought to himself before nonchalantly handing it to her.
A quick smile flashed on his face for just a split second like most people do when they sympathize with someone. But the queen didn’t imitate it for she wasn’t as positive and hopeful as he was.
A letter opener had been picked up off her husband’s study to carefully unfasten the piece of parchment. Together they both peered at the words scribbled in haste saying, “Have you wondered where your daughter was all day? In case you were, I’ll have you know I have your precious little girl. Meet me at the dock in Cape Forke by dawn with one million shillings or your kingdom will suffer a great loss.”
No! Terror was paved on her face. Tears streamed down in waves. Her manservant lended his royal highness his handkerchief before beginning his departure to find the king for aid. But she already knew this and forcefully grabbed his arm and shook her head fast.
Instead of alerting the king of the sudden leap of absence, they managed to make it to the vault where all their gold and other worldly possessions stayed covered in dust. The queen filled up bags and bags of shillings as the servant held a wheelbarrow in place until there was as much as the kidnapper desired. All while the queen snifled every few seconds in realization that her daughter was in grave danger! As if she wasn’t already under the king’s rule.
Both of them stealthily journeyed through the halls without getting detected by another soul. The queen eventually reached the back doorway trailing behind her servant before lightly closing the doors behind her. But incidentally, they were left open just a crack.
Dawn neared its approach into that day’s existence. The zenith of darkness before light would encase their world once more. The wheels of the wooden wheelbarrow skipped on the planks on the dock like a schoolboy skipping towards the playground. Once they nearly reached the outstretched hand of the Cape, they stopped midway before a ship pulled into view. The woodsman tied his boat onto the dock’s edge.
The queen and her only friend watched anxiously as the mysterious man rudely ushered his captive into plain sight. A sob held in since opening the ransom note rushed out of the mother’s mouth in uncontrollable bursts. Isra wasn’t even crying nor struggling for her freedom, however. So at once, the servant began to make his way to the kidnapper with that he was requested to give him.
Suddenly, the Sun finally managed to peek out into view, blinding the criminal temporarily. Isra snatched the dagger from his makeshift robe-belt, stabbed the evil man square in his chest, grabbed the wheelbarrow and all its contents, ran back onto the boat, and cut the robe tying her to her past before sailing away.
The mother yelled fearfully, reaching her hand out towards the distant ship sailing off into the horizon, her hope getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared altogether. She would have probably dived into the ocean if it wasn’t for her manservant holding her back. So the queen sink onto her bruised knees with a yelp of pain, fully aware that she had to go back to the king empty handed.

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Damsel

Isra was such an odd name for a child, especially one from royal descent. At a ripe age of 13, such high expectations were placed on her for she would be the Queen someday.
However, she differed from her mother in many ways. Children should be seen and not heard,ย no one ever let her forget it. Her mother constantly reminded her that it’s always been that way. Rebellious preludes slowly tore Isra away from her family.
Her mother’s vacant, grey eyes bore into her before the curtain call. Any talk of adult things drowned out Sunday’s sermon with the help of locked doors.
The princess grew annoyed with being ignored. Sounds of anguish reverberated from the other side. Screams of agony emanated from the living alcove. But only her parents were in there. No kings of foreign nations. No queens of Saigon bent on revenge.
Perhaps some wars were fought at home.
Her long, blonde hair swayed valiantly as she jolted towards her bedchambers to collapse in seclusion. But before she reached her anticipated destination, Isra decided to trek out of the castle grounds instead. The bellowing wind sighed when the main doors were pushed wide open in a frenzy.
A lot of Isra’s studies were indoors and free time was hard to come by. But whenever leisure left holes in her daily routines, she treasured the outdoors. Birds intrigued her the most due to their fragile yet omnipresent nature. Wings granting the ability of flight, able to fly away at any time.
A bluejay landed on her index finger while she meandered down a hidden dirt path protruding from the open space and into the emerald canopy stretched over her. It bobbed its head instinctively in that awkward movement that most animals have mastered. Melodic chirping made Isra giggle soundlessly. Inevitably, it let go and dove into the open blue towards the heavens from whence it came.
Where the light recently bled through the openings made from newly bloomed leaves on outreached branches, a rush of cold air undulated heavily until it was as if the moon took its place prematurely.
Suddenly, a handsome yet middle-aged man stood against the bark of an evergreen tree. Obsidian locks spilled out of his hood. His hair may have been long but there was no essence of femininity surrounding his persona at all. Green eyes peeked out from beneath the fathoms of his robes.
The young girl’s mouth formed an “O.” All the air had been sucked out her lungs yet vehement attempts occurred to regain all oxygen. Fear took its toll. Isra saw the foreigner reach lucratively for a dagger held snugly in the robe tied around his slender waist. She didn’t wait for him to take anymore steps closer than he already had. Thank the Lord Isra chose not to wear the uncomfortable heels her mother wanted her to that day. These wooden shoes sufficed for running away from strangers in the woods. She dared to peek behind her to acknowledge that he didn’t even budge. Her glance aimed forward once more, but to her utmost dismay, Isra tripped over a makeshift snare. Ultimately, the snare enacted a net to snatch the princess straight from the earth to mid-air. A ravenous shriek escaped her chapped lips. The woodsman, she realized he was, strutted towards her before her vision failed her….

(To be continued in… “In Distress”)

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Through the eyes of a trusted companion

Waiting for him to wake up is time allotted by anxiety. He looks so peaceful even though dried-up tears became eye crust throughout the night. I hear the bed creek louder than before. Not just stirring in his sleep but actually back from slumber. I indulge in this delight more than I ever had in the company of anyone else. He gets up and heads towards the toilet. I follow him and coil my body besides his feet. He’s so warm and affectionate. It always seems like the sadness he felt the night before is suddenly forgotten for around the first minute or so before he starts to mutter under his breath again. That guy who used to come over to visit my owner doesn’t come by anymore. I never saw master more happy than when he was with that other guy. He’s so lonely now and it kinda makes me feel bad about myself because I don’t make him as happy as that guy did. Nowadays this new guy has been showing up quite sporadically but he’s different. There’s no feelings behind their union. Like they’re using each other for artificial love. Anyway, after he’s done doing his business, I watch him disconnect his phone from its charger to check if anyone recalled his existence during the night. A sigh is released when he places the phone down to refill my food and water bowls. Talking to me like I’m a baby as if he forgot my procedure to get spayed this Summer was the epitomy of my adulthood. But I forgive him. Apart from his condescending and facetious nature, he is a misunderstood caregiver and I appreciate him everyday. He’s so loving and gentle when he wants to be. I nimble a little of food and slurp a bit of water until I look behind to see him waiting for me on the couch. I leap onto his lap. Immediately, he pets me and holds me so tenderly. Sometimes, I think he would prefer a man over me but I can never be sure. I could never muster the courage to ask him. It’s not like he can speak my language anyway. I tend to jump back down when he transitions from baby-talk to silence. I head back to my litter box and become fixated at the fact that he needs to giddy up and change the litter. What’s stopping him from cleaning his dishes or refilling my litter box? It’s a beautiful, sunny day outside yet he’s inside sulking and texting on his phone. Afternoon approaches quickly today. I try to take a nap near the door but then someone starts knocking on the other side. I was startled by the abrupt sound. My master jolts up from his seat to allow the new guy to walk in. They always begin the visit with idle chit-chat until the speaking stops and is replaced with a lot of touching. I don’t want to see this so I disappear into the bathtub until I eventually hear the door close once more. My owner takes off that mask he puts on when he’s around others of his kind. That depressing, lonely look he hides so well. I know to get out the bathroom so he can wash the shame from his body. The air-conditioner is on and I’m feeling good. Nightfall arrives inevitably. He prays on his knees beside his bed. Poor guy has the whole world in his prayers. I admire how no matter how low he feels, he never gives up anything he has to do. Finally, he crawls within the fathoms of his blanket atop his bed. The lights are off and I automatically know to take my place on his stomach. He pets me again until his drowsiness knocks him out cold. Taking him out of reality temporarily. Stealing him away from all his worries and cares until the Sun pulls him back to me once more.

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Demon Apocalypse (A 55 Fiction)

The world was left in disarray. There was nothing anyone could’ve done to save our planet. Even the nation’s armies couldn’t join forces to oppose the demon frigates.

It comes to show how little we differ from Hell-Dwellers. No two nations got along to work together.

We’re doomed now.

But the underground Human Resistance remains…