The autumn of 1944 was particularly cold in northern Romania, and Anselo found himself huddled very near the warm glow of his campfire on most nights. He had been traveling for months, trying his best to lead his new Soviet “comrades” through the mountains of his homeland, so that they may be able to help liberate Transylvania from Nazi control. Thus far all he had known was bloodshed and hardship, but it seemed that the Soviets were making ground, and he had heard recently that the Allies had launched a full invasion in the west. When will it all be over? He thought to himself as he wrapped his  patched coat as tight as he could to his ever thinning…

“Boy, you’re entirely too old to be pussyfooting with a grown hog like that. If you intend to do a job, then do it, don’t hesitate,” said the blood-soaked farmer. I looked down at the horror stricken pig with pity in my eyes. It seemed to know what would happen next. The poor creature was beginning to squeal. It was too similar to the cries of a human. I felt sickened, like I was witnessing a murder. With one slash of the knife, one squirt of the arterial spray, one choked squeal, the job was done. James “Jimmy” O’Neil, a no-nonsense farmer old enough to feel the aches of a body abused by hard work, yet not old enough to…

Richard removed the lightswitch to the basement stairwell. It wasn’t that he simply disabled it, no. He removed the entire thing. Plastic covering, screws, the switch box—all of it. Though, he had shut off the power to the basement for good measure, too. Every once in a while when a worried family member or friend or even his colleagues from work would stop by. Sometimes they just wanted to say hello. Sometimes they wanted to bring him food, worried about how much weight he’d lost. Other times they would come by with the name of a counselor they hoped would be a good fit for him. He didn’t mind those visits. He enjoyed the company, even if it was his…