Admin Note: This story was originally published on Monday December 2, 2016 at 11:18:34 am. This story has a slight sardonic twist in the second chapter that plays out into the third that I think most readers will pick up on. Leila is never a straight writer so be prepared for the twist. ~ Sephrena.

The diamond glinted in the sunlight.  Victor smiled brightly.  The silver band made the ring all the more spectacular.

I was transfixed.  

“Well?  What do you think, Casey?” 

“Lovely isn’t it?” says the tourist with his camera aloft, holding it steady. The shutter clicks in rapid succession. "I’ve traveled here many times before and the view never disappoints me."

I see it differently. It was never sunny, though I’d been here on the clearest of days. I usually came here after those rough days. Today, I had to lecture about my transition. Living it was one thing. Explaining it to students was another. Sometimes, I wonder to myself if it was worth it.

It was the most difficult letter Lori ever had to write. She knew she couldn’t be free of him until it was finished and filed. When she was small, she was shamed by the torment. Day after day, the abuse mounted—but living well was the best revenge, wasn’t it?

I’m screaming from under the covers of my bed again. My shriek pains my own ears. It's a shriek that chills the blood. I rarely sleep at night. When I do, the lights are 'on'. I must have fallen asleep in the afternoon. The darkness and silence envelop me and fill me with fear. I can feel him in the room. Feel his presence. It’s like he’s watching me. Stalking me. Celia rushes into my room. Mom’s working late again. My younger sister pulls me into her arms. I tremble with fear. I didn’t use to be this way. This—afraid. Ever since… Him… His ghost haunts me. It’s been a year since we were rescued. Celia now dwarfs me. She’s bigger and now she’s my protector. I begin to sob as all of the fear melts with Celia’s presence. “Shhh. I’m here. Shhh. He can’t hurt you anymore." All the treatment and therapist in the world can’t free me from him. Even in death, he assaults me.

I calm down bit more, “I’m so sorry.” Her apology takes me back to our captivity. Celia was the lucky one. She was left unharmed… At least physically. She hugs me tighter, hoping to squeeze the memory from my soul. It just brings it to the surface…

Dr. Winter continued his visits with me over the next few days. I hate him. He says he’s helping me. He just keeps pressing.

Chapter 3
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"Bethany Carl," she whispers, motioning me to follow- quietly. She stealthily helps me towards the dumpster. Fortunately, we are not discovered. As we reach it, I see an almost invisible door on the side of one of the buildings slide open silently. She pulls me through quickly. As I glance backward, I see the opening fade. In its place is nothing but common brownstone, like everything else around the clinic. "We can talk freely now, Stacey," she says. "The walls are completely soundproof."

The Mandela Shift
(c) 2017
A collaborative effort by Haylee V and Leila

I’m scared to walk home alone. After the events of today, I don’t want to be alone. I reach the gate that exits the school grounds, and I eye it nervously. Come on Aaron. You’ve done this before. It’s just a walk home. I don’t know why I’m so apprehensive about walking home alone. I’m not used to being this paranoid. What did I think would happen to me? I look down at my skirt. My legs bare to the no-show socks. My heart is pounding. My stomach is in knots.

The girls left for their respective classes, and I was on my way to mine. I caught Dr. Corning’s attention. Actually, I think my uniform caught her attention.

“Miss Stewart, may I see you in my office for a moment?”

That didn’t take long.

We arrive at the hospital, it’s about half past 6. I was expecting to head for the same critical care ward that I had seen Amber last. Instead, dad leads me to a different floor. Amber’s condition must have improved. We enter to find a smiling Amber just finishing dinner. “Aaron!” the excitement in my sister's voice makes my heart swell with joy. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

“No mom, everything is fine!” Yvette stands in her living room, phone to her head, a crumpled tissue in her other hand. The new diamond on her ring finger glinted from the sunlight that shone into her apartment. The hormones had made her much more emotional now that she was back on them.

Smoky Corners 6-V: JC Salinger

Whoever heard of Smoky Corners, Montana? You can’t even find it on a map, unless you are looking for it. It’s perfect…

I needed a place serene, someplace to get over… Well, get over everything. My wife, Sophie, had been shot in front of me by her lover. She had obviously been cheating on me. I couldn’t write anymore. My publisher was begging me for another book; I was empty. I don’t know what drew me to an old road atlas. Google seemed to have taken over the map, literally. I remember driving through the northern half of the US in my youth. I was trying to find myself. Jack Clay. Well, that was who I was when I started out. Funny, that’s who I’m trying to find again. So, Jack Clay, welcome to Smoky Corners, Montana.

We sit waiting for word from the doctors. Hours go by. Mom and Dad huddle on the couch. I curl up on my side on the other couch. Mom and Dad have offered to take me home. None of us really wants to leave. I’ve stopped watching the clock hours ago. It only made me more agitated. I can’t concentrate. I don’t have my books or my backpack. I have nothing to do but sit in silence.

The icy chill in the air tested the limits of her resolve. Where was he? She shivered along with everyone else on the roof of their apartment building ready to watch the fireworks display to ring in the new year. Did he change his mind? Harmony stood there, her wool coat pressed against her skin trying in vain to keep her warm.

After my first practice, I’m stiff, sore and there are spots on me that hurt like when I was beaten by bullies in Junior High. I’m out of shape and it is apparent I know nothing about cheerleading. Coach Tompkins wouldn’t let up on me. I think she’s determined to make me quit the team. The rest of the girls still hate me. Monica absolutely hates the idea of me on the squad even temporarily.

Author's Note:

There's an old tale by Hans Christian Andersen titled The Little Match Girl which served as the inspiration for this story.