A Dae With Daehyun

Christina held the laminated concert badge in her hand, which read "B.A.P all-access VIP pass" along with a few pictures of the members of B.A.P on the front. Yongguk, Himchan, Youngjae, Jongup, Zelo, they were all there, in strange yet seductive poses, or at least seductive to Christina. She still couldn't believe that she won the pass in a boxing contest, pulling off a come-from-behind victory in the 32nd round against a seven-foot tall, steroid abusing, sexually frustrated lady that went by the name of "Shalilian."

How did she win the badge? Because of her sheer strength? No, she was actually quite weak. Determination? Almost.

Love. She won because of her love for B.A.P, unmatched by any other. As she held on to the badge attached to the black B.A.P lanyard wrapped around her neck, she glanced at all the members posing on her badge, but really only looked at one person.

Daehyun. She loved Daehyun.

The Purge

12 hours. That's all we have to endure. Once a year, every year, we have to make it through one night. Twelve hours. That's all.

Because once a year, every year, all crime is legal in America. All crime, including murder. Especially murder. There will be no government intervention, no police, no ambulances, and no firefighters available during the entire night.

Why does this night exist? The government claims that it "purifies" Americans, lets them "vent" their negative emotions.

But that's true only for those who can afford weapons, those who can afford protection, and those who are important enough to be exempt from the killing. Everyone else that doesn't fit into those categories dies.

I can't afford weapons. I can't afford protection. I'm not important to society. And neither is my seven year old daughter.

The Medical Compound

I'm sick. Totally and utterly sick. I've been bedridden for twenty days now, and there's no sign of recovery any time soon.

I can tell mom's becoming quite worried. She's taken my temperature every two hours. Every meal I've had for the past few weeks had been chicken noodle soup. Every four hours, she replaces the wet rag on my forehead.

It's been relaxing, to be honest, spending day after day watching TV, or surfing the Internet on my laptop, or reading. It really isn't that bad, even though I'm probably never going to recover. You know why?

Because I'm not sick. I'm just a genius. And starting from today, I'm on permanent vacation.

To the Ends of the Earth

October 25, 2024
Time to Impact: One Year

We lay side by side, on a vast emerald field, looking up at the night sky. A gentle wind glided over our thick winter clothes and scarves, running its hand over the fabric to flatten it. Blades of grass swayed with the ebb and flow of the breeze like waves across a viridian beach, occasionally breaking against towering islands of bark and wood. Hand in hand, we floated through a deep green ocean, surrounded by an archipelago of trees that sprinkled their leaves down on us like amber colored confetti, as if celebrating us.

But this was no time for celebration. This was a time for mourning.

Corvus C. Row

Hell yeah. Another day. I was still alive.

The light from the sun woke me up. I slowly got up and stretched lightly to jolt myself awake for what was about to be another day in my life. I turned my neck, cracking the joints as I exhaled in relief. I looked beside me and there was my wife, Brachy, still asleep. She was so hot, and everyone else I knew was so jealous that I married her and they didn't.

I sighed. 

Wait, no. No I didn't. I cawed. As loud as I could. I cawed as I jumped off the tree branch that I slept on all night and flapped my way to the ground, cawing and cawing the entire drop down until at the last possible second, right before I would have turned into a black bloody pulp, I spread my black wings and glided safely to the ground. I pecked the shit out of a worm that I saw crawling on the ground and immediately devoured it. 

"Caw, caw," I screamed at the ground, which meant "The early bird does get the worm" in your language. I said it to taunt the worms beneath the earth, to make them fear for their stupid little lives.

Fear for their stupid little lives because I, Corvus C. Row had awakened. I was a goddamn crow. And I was ready to conquer the world.

The Test

This was it. The AP World History test. Eight months of study (really three days of cramming) led up to this moment. Outside our school library on a chilly Thursday morning, I held a piece of paper in my hand listing major civilizations, technological improvements, and events by time period which I studied frantically, as if trying to condense all of human history into a tiny, easy-to-swallow pill of knowledge. An impossible task.

Behind Closed Doors

Ten years, I've lived in this house with my parents. I've been allowed to roam the entire house, explore every speck, tile, and corner of every room. I know the exact layout of every room, closet, and bathroom, down to the furniture.

Except for one. A wooden door, exactly the same as the other ones. Painted snow white, with a glossy finish. Cold and smooth to the touch, like a silk curtain. A brass, round doorknob with a small keyhole. Father says to never open it under any circumstances.

But you know... there's nothing as tempting as a locked door.