Rail Yard Ghost - Guest Author: Samantha Shattles

(Hello Lovelies: As promised, today you get to check out the tale from our guest author, Samantha Shattles. While I normally like to place my words to you at the end of the story, I feel the need to warn that the story in question is a bit more graphic than my own pieces, and I would say reader discretion is advised as the tell contains scenes of gore and suicide. If you're not comfortable with that, no worries whatsoever. You're welcome to return shortly for more Xenophobia. Otherwise, please enjoy the words of Samantha Shattles.

Please note: she currently doesn't have a site of her own, but maybe we can convince her to do so or to join RB Publishing. Either way. Enjoy.)

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***WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT*** Trigger Warning: Suicide/Gore

We hunkered down in the thicket of wild blackberries next to the tracks. Matisse pulled off his boots and massaged his aching feet. Artemisia wrinkled her nose at the smell coming off her brother's socks. Dante opted to keep his boots on. He became more fascinated by the prospect of fresh produce. I, however, had my eyes glued to the tracks, almost shivering with anticipation at the thought of getting on another train.

"We won't be catching out from here," Dante said, popping a fat berry into his mouth. "Nothing but hotshots. Still gotta hike a ways down. It's an okay place to camp for the night though."

I nodded absently. I was still high on the rush, even though we'd been walking for two days. Dante nudged me, offering a few berries. I popped them into my mouth and felt my face shrivel up at the tartness of them. Better than nothing though.

"I need to piss," Artemisia announced, standing again and trudging off a distance.

"Hey, don't sit in it this time," Matisse called after her.

"GO FUCK YOURSELF!"

The twins cackled in unison. I gave them a scathing look as I shoved another small handful of berries in my mouth. As a girl, going to the bathroom was difficult enough. Having boys around to remind you of mishaps made it that much worse. Artemisia didn't really need my help though. She had dealt with the two since she was four. They weren't even phased by my look.

Matisse waved it off. "She's not really mad. If she was she'd chuck a handful of hot shit on us both. Besides, what are little brothers for?"

A pain twisted in my chest and I looked away, struggling to swallow the fruit over the lump in my throat. I was not going to cry now. Crying wouldn't change a thing about what had happened. But, damn, I missed my own little brother. His cries rang in my skull and I could still almost feel his little arms around me from his last hug. There was no way of knowing if I made the right decision or if I made his life a living hell and there was nothing I could do even if I knew.

"Little brothers are not for pissing off their older sisters," Artemisia snapped, slapping Matisse upside the back of his head with a loud thwack. He just laughed as he rubbed the sore spot, Artemisia shaking out her sore hand. I managed a smile. It was nice to see Matisse laughing. He was too serious most of the time.

I nearly leapt out of my skin as hands cupped my face. Dante was staring at me with a great deal of concern, his thumbs wiping at my cheeks. I had hoped he wouldn't notice. But he did, like he always seemed to and I knew that he knew why I had fat tears rolling down my cheeks. He pressed his lips to mine, softly and chaste. My stomach fluttered but my heart twisted. I wanted to smile and break down at the same time. It was more emotion than I wanted to deal with. He pressed his forehead to mine, his fingers sliding into my hair.

"It's gonna be okay," he said softly. "It's gonna work out. Alex is never going to forget you or how much you love him. You'll see him again."

His other hand took my wrist and he gently stroked my brother's initials tattooed there. I wanted to believe he was right. It was just hard to see it the way he did. Alex was my life, my reason for living through the horrible things I endured. And now I didn't have him anymore. Dante had a lot of empathy for me because he missed his little sister, Georgia. But he knew he could go home whenever he wanted, while I was exiled, so he did his best to comfort me. All I could do was nod along to his words.

"We should play something. Cheer Fox right up," Artemisia chirped. Matisse was already opening his violin case. I nodded quickly at the suggestion. Nothing boosted my morale as much as watching the three of them play.

In no time the thicket was filled with their music: Matisse and his fiddling, Artemisia with her small banjo, and Dante on his travel guitar. Eventually, I joined in with my harmonica, stopping only to sing along to the songs I knew. Punk rock never sounded so good.

Between songs I heard the familiar high singing of the rails. A train was coming. I crawled out of the bushes to watch it go by. Aside from riding the freighters, nothing was better than feeling the blast of wind as one barreled by. Dante was right behind me. I could already see the bright orange engine down the line a ways. They must have spotted us too because the horn shattered the air, sending shivers up and down my body. I heard Dante chuckle.

That was when I saw her, crouched in the grass across the tracks and up the line from us. I'm not sure she saw us, but she probably knew we were there because of the music. I instantly got a bad feeling in my gut, though I wasn't sure why. The train horn blew again and the woman tensed. Dante's fingers curled around my arm and he tugged gently on me. I pulled away, wanting to see the train. It was almost to us, engines roaring and horn blasting. The woman stood up and Dante tugged on me again.

I made a sound as the woman threw herself in front of the train. She was trying to lay on the rail when it hit her with an audible THUMP. She flew a few yards towards us before hitting the ground, the train overtaking her quickly and running right over her. There was a mist of blood and screeching of emergency brakes being applied. Her torso, or what was left of it landed in front of us, dead eyes staring past me. I couldn’t tell if she had been pretty before now, she was just gore on the ground in front of me, around me. The smell was gagging me already.

"Holy shit," I heard Matisse say. "Holy fucking shit."

"We need to go," I heard Artemisia gag out.

I just stared at the pile of oozing meat at my feet. The train was slowing, the screeching deafening. Artemisia was trying not to vomit. Matisse was shuffling around behind me. Dante was talking. And the eyes rolled around one last time. I've lost my god-damned mind, I thought. My legs turned to jelly and I collapsed, screaming. At least, I think it was me screaming. My throat felt shredded after and I was fairly sure my lungs were inside out by the time I stopped. A few seconds felt like hours. Dante hauled me to my feet and gave me a good shake.

"Stop that! We have to go NOW," he barked. He was scared. He gathered me up against him and pulled me along back into the thicket. Matisse had his boots and pack on, looking ready to bolt. Artemisia had already started down the trail, not waiting for her brothers or me. Dante shoved my pack into my arms and pushed me along as he grabbed his own things. I stumbled over a rock and Matisse caught me before I could eat shit. I heard the train jolt to a halt finally as we followed Artemisia's tracks.

I was on autopilot. I had never seen anything so horrible in my life. Sure, I had cleaned up roadkill and half eaten, maggot infested rodents that my cats or coyotes had killed. But that been a person. I had just watched a person die. I saw a person get obliterated. And Dante had known it was going to happen. He had tried to pull me away from it.

I was numb for the rest of the day and well into the night. None of us felt like playing music when we finally made camp for the night. Artemisia, tough as nails, went a little ways from camp to cry privately. Matisse followed her just to watch her back in case of any big animals that might want to make a meal of her. I stayed with Dante while he made a fire. He was quiet while at his task. I sat cross legged with my pack in my lap, hugging it tightly.

 

"You knew," I said finally, my throat still hurting a bit.

He nodded.

"How?"

"Not the first time I've seen it," he sighed.

 

Not the first time? He had seen something that awful before? And he was okay? I reached out and touched his shoulder. He sighed again.

"It was while we were on the road. Some rest stop in gods only know where. My folks had stopped the bus. Smoke break. Pee break. Some kind of break. Matisse and I were maybe... 8? He was in the bathrooms with Mom and Artemisia. Dad was checking the engine or whatever and I wanted to help. A train was coming and I got excited. Then all the sudden, this guy got out of his car and just ran up to the tracks...."

I stared at him. He said nothing else, just prodded the log in our little camp fire with a big stick. I scooted closer to him until I was right against his side.

"I've seen people fall under trains while catching out," he continued. "Dumb first timers who read an article on it and thought they could do it. I've seen people killed at rail crossings because they were dumb enough to think they could actually beat a fucking train."

I put my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me and sighed again, rubbing my shoulder gently. "I've seen a lot of shit, Foxy. A lot of shit. I'm sorry you had to see it too."

"Why do people do it like that," I asked, sadly. "It's so fucked up."

"It's fucked up any way you do it," he replied. "There is no clean way to kill yourself. You're always going to fuck up the people around you by doing it. Especially the person who is unfortunate enough to find you after."

I nodded. I had no room to talk. I had scars up and down my arm from trying to find a way out of my misery. No wonder Dante was reluctant to let me come out here with him and Matisse. He'd seen some shit. He was afraid I'd get an idea to do it. Maybe he was scared that seeing it would make me want to do it. I shuddered hard and his arm tightened around me as he prodded the log again.

"Do you think Artemisia is okay," I asked.

"She will be. She's never seen a suicide like that before but she's seen her fair share of shit. She will cry it out and then it'll be like it never happened. That's how she rolls."

"And Matisse?"

He shrugged. "Same as me."

"You?"

"Okay. I got you to look after. You?"

"I feel fucked up," I said, sullenly. "Like... I don't know how to describe it. It's just..."

I gave up trying to put it into words. His head rested on mine and I knew he didn’t expect me to keep trying to explain it. He already knew because he had been in my shoes before. I sighed and then yawned. I was exhausted but I had no desire to sleep. And definitely none to eat. Sex was also out of the question. I just stared into the fire until my eyes watered, hoping the heat would burn the image of gore out of my skull eventually. Booze sounded like a fantastic idea, but we were at absolute zero there too. There was nothing for it.

Making some Changes

Hello Lovelies,

So, I wanted to take a moment and do something that I don't think I've ever done before. It's not something I intend to make any habit of in the future and generally would like to have a better control on but...

I would like to rework the last chapter I posted.

I know. It's a touch unprofessional. But as it stands I'm just not satisfied with Xenophobia Chapter 18. I don't think I need to tell anyone that yesterday was...a day.

I'm sure plenty of you know I'm American. While I always try to avoid saying anything about my political affiliation or influencing anyone in any given direction, the election yesterday deeply affected me. It's given me legitimate fears about the safety of my loved ones, my friends, and my family and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that there was discussion of immigration elsewhere due to fear that those I care about might be hurt or killed in the coming months or years.

That said: I wasn't at my best yesterday. While I tried my damnedest to focus, I was unable to and it affected the quality of the work. On top of that, I forgot some things that I had meant to include (a very big 'thing' actually).

So, as it stands, I intend to rework the chapter and re-release it. My intent is to post the redo tomorrow. After that, we will likely post the work from our guest author, Samantha Shattles, on Friday.

I sincerely apologize again and have no intent to make this a regular happenstance. I always try to release quality pieces but, as it stands, I was not mentally in a great place yesterday and would feel worse about leaving subpar material out there instead of owning up and fixing it. Have a wonderful day, lovelies.

- RB

Xenophobia - Chapter 18

    "What do you think is happening?" asked Ferris.
    Darrian looked over at him and shrugged before returning his gaze to the hologram over the conference table. Before him floated the image of the long dead Guillae that lay quietly on a cold metal operating table.
    Through some skillful infiltration of the humans' technology, the analytics' team had managed to gain control of a camera on one of the personal computers within the laboratory environment. It had been risky, but none of the humans had noticed. They were too preoccupied with their discovery.
    At first, the laboratory the humans brought the Guillae to had been a hive of activity. At least a dozen humans could be seen milling about at any given time while four others operated carefully on the body. For hours, the council watched as the human scientists dissected, examined, and catalogued the specimen carefully.
    Finally, the main scientist extracted a long slender object from the Guillae that Darrian felt positive was a seed pod based on its appearance. The scientist had fled in excitement somewhere off camera. He was just as quickly followed by everyone else in the surgical theater.
    That had been over an hour ago.
    The council waited patiently. Watching. They listened for any sounds or watched for any movement, but nothing came.
    As time passed, Darrian felt more uneasy. What was happening behind closed doors? While the analytics team had been good, there were inherent risks to infiltrating the human systems and it was even more dangerous to try and hop around until they found anything. They simply couldn't risk looking around further.
    It would seem that Harris felt the same.
    As if on cue, the image of the laboratory blanked out in favor of Harris' form. He was lounging with the face plate of his robotic exosuit wide open and looked exhausted.
    "Update us when you have more, Captain." said the old judge placidly.
    "Of course." groaned Harris, who entered a sequence on his control panel before the image disappeared completely.
    It was hardly proper protocol, but Darrian didn't feel like he could blame Harris. He looked like Darrian felt at this point.
    The table sat in silence for several minutes. No one knew what to say. While they certainly hadn't seen anything bad, they had all been left with an uneasy feeling about what was happening on Mars. It didn't help that they'd been in the meeting far longer than intended.
    "Well..." said the old judge with a mechanical sigh. "I don't believe there is anything else we can cover today-"
    The door of the meeting room slid open, grabbing the attention of some of the over-tired councilors. They looked over with dreary interest until they saw who it was.
    Jin'thun.
    Darrian sat straight up and many of the councilors looked at him agape with awe.
    "I see you've returned." said the old judge, nonplussed.
    A wave of annoyance passed over the Gorderian ambassador's features, but he quickly made his way towards his place at the table. All at once, the table exploded in a buzz of questions and excitement.
    "I have-" started Jin'thun.
    "What did they say?" demanded Ferris.
    "If you-"
    "Where have you been?!" asked Ugul.
    "Look-"
    "Enough!" snapped the old judge, bellowing over the noise.
    The table fell silent except for Jin'thun who sat there, his eyes closed and a deep guttural growl emanating from his throat.
    "Thank y-"
    "Took you long enough." grumbled Cagool incredulous.
    Jin'thun let forth a bellowing roar in Cagool's face and jumped from his seat. Many of the other councilors recoiled and Darrian felt surprised that the Gorderian hadn't taken a swing at the Yool right there.
    "Now." growled Jin'thun, looking around the table as if daring someone else to interrupt him. "I come with the results of your plea."
    "And what has the Gorderian government decided upon, Jin'thun?"
    The ambassador eyed Cagool menacingly but the Yool simply shuddered where he sat.
    "We will be sending aid to the humans."

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Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)
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Start at the Beginning

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Schedule Changes and New Writers

Hello Lovelies,

I wanted to take a moment today and address a change I intend on making. For anyone who has been following me for a while, you've surely noticed some ups and downs when it comes to making schedules. More recently, I have moved from trying to do something everyday to something every other day in favor of every other day.

There's a couple of reasons for this.

First off, when I was producing every day, my goal was just that: raw production. Keep myself working. Keep myself going. And just keep making THINGS. However, since I've started working on Xenophobia, I've had a different purpose. Writing for the purpose of telling and completing the story. It's a great deal more satisfying and allows for more structure without rampant randomness.

So, given I've had a number of changes recently from a medical and career standpoint, I'm going to embrace this change. My current goal is to produce every other day with the exception of Friday. This means that all new writings should be put out on Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. Three times a week. I feel it's a good goal that is more feasible to meet, more reliable for readers, and allows me to produce high quality content without tearing out my beard hair.

One last thing! I know once in a while, I've received the question of "why I call it RB Publishing"? The answer is: I never intended to work this alone, but rather as an opportunity to publish multiple authors. I wanted to use my own site and my own works to draw attention to other talented writers and artists. As such, I'm happy to say that we will be adding a wonderful young author to our midst in the coming days. I don't know how often she might join us, but keep an eye out for her works here soon. ;)

That's all for the day. I intend to put out the next chapter for Xenophobia tomorrow (per the schedule), but I felt it would be better to give you guys a proper journal entry than simply tacking it onto the bottom of the chapter. I hope all is well and wish you the best!

- RB

Xenophobia - Chapter 17

    "I don't understand." said Darrian in confusion. "What do you mean that the Guillae would work to the humans' benefit?"
    "Just that." A'alan't 32 stated. "The Guillae aren't some conquering race. They're little more than sentient plants. Their goal is to grow, not destroy."
    Darrian stared at her in disbelief, trying to put together what little that he'd heard before. He realized that this was next to nothing, with the exception that they tended to destroy any planet they inhabited for an extended period of time.
    That's when the question occurred to him.
    "Wait. How do you even know this?"
    "As I said," A'alan't 32 responded with that cautionary tone of annoyance he'd heard before. "I've been researching them since they were first mentioned."
    Darrian considered the silence he'd received from the old judge. The blank archive entries he'd found when he'd gone to investigate. The security clearance required when he asked about the hard copies of data.
    "I gave up looking after the first cycle." he admitted. "Where'd you find this supposed research?"
    Her expression softened and she appeared bemused.
    "I think you forget that I'm not bound to Consortium resources. My species was old when the Merrenians were first crawling about in the dirt. Long before you ever discovered robotics and even longer before you founded the little council we hold now."
    Ignoring what felt like an unnecessary jab at his species, Darrian asked, "So this is Bivvie knowledge then? Local archives or something?"
    A'alan't 32 nodded softly in agreement.
    "We've been studying the cosmos for a very long time." she said with a tone that showed there was no condescension; she was stating a cold, hard fact.
    Darrian studied her for a moment, choosing his words. He'd wondered about this creatures since they were first mentioned and here was a possible wellspring of knowledge. Yet...
    "Why didn't you bring this up earlier? When the old judge refused to answer."
    "For the same reason." she said. "If the old judge did not want to answer any questions, then I would imagine he wouldn't much like it if I shared what I knew."
    A bad feeling tugged at the back of his mind. The Consortium's purpose was knowledge. Review. Understanding. Why would they not want knowledge shared? The Bivvie almost never shared their hidden knowledge, so the fact that they would share something sooner than the Consortium was even stranger.
    "Fine." he said, feeling like she wouldn't give him anymore of an answer if he tried to dig. "You said that you think the Guillae might work to the humans' benefit. Why?"
    A'alan't 32 drifted around the large meeting table and settled by his side. At this distance, he could see little crackles of blue energy that seemed to bubble beneath her semi-transparent skin.
    "Well," she began, "as a whole they don't really seem to intend harm to anyone. At least, no anyone who hasn't directly harmed them first."
    "But they destroy planets?"
    "Strictly speaking. The Guillae are some confused cross between symbiotic and parasitic, in nature. The atmospheric disturbances and depressurization are a byproduct of their existence. It's not intentional."
    "Symbiotic?"
    "Do you remember the hologram of Mars? Back when the Guillae inhabited it?"
    Darrian thought back to the image. To the blue, brown, and green orb that turned into a brilliant, emerald sphere before his eyes.
    "I know it turned green." he said with a nod.
    "The Guillae expand. It's in their nature. They build and they grow, but not in the same way most civilized races do. They have a love of living things."
    "Are you suggesting that..."
    "I'm suggesting that, unlike most other races, they have a disinterest in trading soil for metal." she said sharply, cutting him off.
    Darrian stared at her quietly. At her blue, fluttering form. How she seemed to be there and not at the same time.
    He'd heard before that the Bivvie hadn't looked this way long ago, but rather had made themselves this way over eons of technological advancements. Pushing themselves to see how far they could go. Pushed so hard that they seemed to exist almost as an energy form more than a being of life and blood.
    "The Guillae..." she said with a sigh, "They tend to help those around them. They help them flourish. They've even been responsible for some sentient races escaping their planets long before the destruction of their atmosphere."
    "So, if the humans resurrect the dead Guillae...Ressurect? Is that right?"
    "Birth more might be more appropriate."
    It didn't feel like it, but he wasn't going to argue.
    "If they manage to birth more Guillae, you think they might help the humans then? Somehow?"
    "It seems likely based on what I've seen about the species."
    Darrian felt a weight start to lift off his chest. There was still the threat of the Tulgucks en route. Yet, the idea that the humans weren't going to wake some kind of monster was reassuring.
    "The only thing is..." A'alan't32 said quietly.
    "Is what?"
    A'alan't 32 remained quiet for a moment, seemingly staring through him. He got the sense that she was struggling with whether or not to tell him something.
    "Well, you already figured out that they feed off of water." she said.
    "Correct. It's why they target water heavy planets. Right?"
    She nodded.
    "Well, the humans have an oddly high water content. Anything from fifty to seventy five percent." she said thoughtfully.
    "You think they will attack the humans then?" Darrian asked quickly, feeling panic swell again.
    "No. No." she said quickly, shaking her head. "Not attack."
    "But...what...?"
    Once again, she simply to stare through him. Thinking. Debating.
    "It's nothing." A'alan't 32 finally said with that same reassuring tone from earlier. "I'm just overthinking things."
    Standing from her place at the table, she gave him another little smile before making her way for the door.
    "Have a good evening, Darrian."
    "And you, A'alan't 32."
    He watched her go, but didn't move. He couldn't help but feel she'd intentionally cut him off. Like she knew something that she had thought better of to share. If the Guillae wouldn't attack the humans, what would there to be worry about? 
    This could prove to be an exciting learning opportunity. The old judge's words echoed in his mind as he made his way for the door and back towards his office.

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Xenophobia - Chapter 16

    After the meeting adjourned, Darrian found himself unwilling to return to his office. Everything had happened so fast. Was happening so fast. It felt like every time he rounded a bend, something else was already there waiting for him. 

    He just wanted time to recuperate. Needed it.

    Now, watching his fellow council members collect their things, he couldn't help but wonder how many of them felt the same as he did. A few of them wore anguished expressions. Even more seemed to walk with a heavy weight on them.

    All except Cagool, Darrian thought as he watched the slimy Yool slide out the door.

    His gaze drifted down to his datapad where the last reports were still open. Little more had been revealed regarding the Guillae. Despite the old judge's rather cryptic comment, he had no more to say on the creatures that Darrian had no real knowledge of. 

    Despite their best efforts, the councilors' willingness to participate further in the meeting quickly dwindled. While they attempted to review a number of other minor bits of information from the analytics team, their efforts fell flat. Their minds were all too preoccupied with questions.

    Too many questions with no definitive answers.
    "Are you okay?" asked A'alan't 32.
    Darrian looked up and then quickly around the room, only to realize that they were that A'alan't 32 was the only other one in the room. Everyone else, even the old judge, had gone.
    Glancing back at her, he hesitated before responding. Instead, his gaze drift down to her body. It never really struck him before, but she seemed so...odd. Her form seemed to phase in and out in place. Like, for just a minute, she would be solid. Then, just as quickly, she might have well have been a hologram. Little more than floating blue and grey energy.
    Even more strange, A'alan't 32 always seemed to be different with each flicker of light. One minute she might be child sized. The next: an old woman. Most times she seemed notably female. Other times, he caught a glimmer of a very powerful male form.
    This was, of course, the norm for any Bivvie; their species being what it was. But, in that moment, sitting in the empty meeting room with only her. It struck him as almost disturbing.
    Alien, he thought to himself.
    "Yes." he said, shaking off the antagonistic thoughts about his fellow councilor. "It's just everything that's happened recently."
    "I understand." she said reassuringly.
     Neither said more for several long moments. The silence drew out as they stared at each other from across the table.
    "What do we do?" he finally asked.
    "There's not much we can do." she reiterated the plain truth that was often mentioned whenever that question was brought up in meetings.
    "I know. It's just..."
    "You feel helpless."
    Darrian nodded his agreement.
    "Tell me." she said. "Is it everything that's happened or is it something in particular?"
    "Pardon?"
    "I'm curious. You've always seemed relatively solid. Stable. You have your opinions yet listen to others. You live with caution, yet are fueled by compassion. A perfect example of the Merrenian way."
    Darrian said nothing, but her words made his guts feel rotten. Maybe it was just because Merrenians always strove to be better and 'perfect' was more of a backhanded insult than it was a compliment for them. Or maybe it was because he remember the bigoted thoughts he had of her just moments before.
    "Thanks?" he said shakily.
    "Yet today." she continued. "Here you sit. Crestfallen. Dejected. Depressed."
    "I'm not depressed." he retorted quickly.
    "But you are quick to snap." she observed. "Do not negate your own feelings. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
    He opened his mouth to respond, but quickly swallow his words.
    "I understand." she said again with the softness of a mother calming her litter. "But I must ask again: Is it something specific that got under your skin today?"
    Darrian looked up from his datapad and stared at her for a long moment. Her expression seemed kind but calculating. Reassuring yet unwavering in her curiosity. He replayed the events of the last few meetings over in his head. Considering if there had been something specific.
    And it all came back to the same thought.
    "The Guillae." he said quietly.
    "What about them?"
    "The old judge told us how these things seem to consume all water they find...use it to make their plants. Use it to replicate themselves..." said Darrian with more remorse in his voice than he had expected. "The humans rely heavily on water. Hell. Their BODIES are mostly water. We don't know what the Guillae are going to do to them."
    "True." she agreed. "But all in all, I don't believe the introduce of the Guillae will prove hazardous to the humans."
    This came as a shock to Darrian.
    "Why?" he blurted out.
    "To be candid, I've been researching the Guillae ever since they were first mentioned." she said with a hint of a smile. "And I'm pretty sure they will be working to the humans' benefit and not their downfall."

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Feliz Dia de los Muertos!

Hello Lovelies,

So, first allow me to apologize that there is no story today. As it turns out, I've had the last few days off, so I've been more busy than ever, ironically. With my wife at work, it's been my responsibility to prepare for Dia de los Muertos. This has involved shopping, setting things up, and a LOT of cooking and cleaning. Lord only knows how much Pan de Muertos I've made, but it's enough for many of our friends and family to enjoy as well. This is not to mention the shredded tri-tip tacos for dinner that were cooking for nine hours. All in all, I've spent something like twenty hours in my kitchen over the course of the last two days.

So, instead of doing a rushed and half-assed chapter, I wanted to take a moment and wish you all a Happy Dia de los Muertos!

For those who do not celebrate or may not have heard of it, it's a holiday that is often described as Mexican Halloween. However, it really is so much more. It's a three day holiday (31st, 1st, 2nd) where the dead may visit the living. It's a time of remembrance that celebrates the wonderful lives and things left behind by those we love that have passed on. When we lose those we love, mourning is for us, but remembering is for them. For in remembering who they were and how they made us who we are, they live on forever no matter what lines separate us.

I hope you all have a wonderful evening and, if you do celebrate, you remember those you've lost with fondness, not regret. As for my own regrets, I promise you will have a chapter 16 tomorrow come hell or high water.

<3 Feliz Dia de los Muertos, everyone. Tenga buen noche. <3