“I don’t even know where I’d begin,” I told the suited man sitting a cross from me, “and even if I did, it’d more than likely just end in me being put in an asylum.” His face never changed. Stone-cold eyes stared through me. He looked decently dressed at a glance—until you noticed the coffee stain on his tie and the tag still hanging from his shirt. “What about from the beginning?” he barked, never looking away. “What beginning? The one that’s about to happen or the one I saw?” Annoyance wavered on his face, we had been siting here for an hour now, the cold cuffs digging into my skin every time I shifted. There was no true way…

The mind is a complex thing that no one can truly hope to fully understand. You can study it all day long but there are things inside that defy all human logic. In a way we are all prisoners to our own thoughts, and some are hard to escape. I used to love riding my bike. I got my first one when I was ten and still have it at age seventeen. I rode it most days, basically any chance that I got. There was nothing like pedaling around in the nice weather with a cool breeze blowing in my face. We lived in a large neighborhood, and I always made a big loop completely around it. It would take…

There were six of us when we left the trading post and traveled in the western direction, following the river in the shadow of the Inech mountains. The market we had visited was one of the few places in the world where a ragtag group like us did not stand out from the crowd. During our travels, our leader often drew quite the attention, yet here in Nassudrall the hulking shaman was barely worth a fleeting glance to most. Ch’Goa we called him; the closest approximation our tongues could produce when trying to say his true name. He stood almost as tall as the natives even though the years had bent his back, his leathery skin was brindled with age…

Chapter One: First Contact Our journey began at the end of everything. The world had ended, but ours had just begun. We had lived our lives in solitude, confined for as long as we could remember, but that was about to change. “Hello? Can anyone hear me?” I asked seemingly no one. After a while, a voice I’d never heard rang out. “Hello! Yes, I can hear you. Who am I speaking with?” The British voice crackled out, and a wave of excitement overcame me. “Hi! This is Ethan, who is this?” I replied, waiting for a response. My feet tapped the concrete floor with excitement under the dim light of the overhead lamp. [Ava]: “Hello, Ethan! This is Ava.…

Let me start off by saying that Peter Terry was addicted to heroin. We were friends in college and continued to be after I graduated. Notice that I said “I”. He dropped out after 2 years of barely cutting it. After I moved out of the dorms and into a small apartment, I didn’t see Peter as much. We would talk online every now and them (AIM was king in pre-facebook years). There was a period where he wasn’t online for about five weeks straight. I wasn’t worried. He was a pretty notorious flake and drug addict, so I assumed he just stopped caring. But then one night I saw him come on. Before I could initiate a conversation, he…