talesfromalostboy

[talesfromalostboy]

Five Years Later - WIP

              Five years ago, I tried to kill myself. I was a transgender teenager growing up in Alabama. It was expected. Today, in Orlando, Florida in a more accepting community, I still want to kill myself. Depression kind of does that to you (I’m still here).

              Growing up is realizing your friends don’t need you as much as you need them. It’s realizing that you’re only good for shift trades or somewhere for free to stay in Orlando or an excuse to go out drinking because it’s your twenty-first birthday (This just means making new friends). It’s realizing you only have one real friend because the best friend that was there the day after you tried to kill yourself won’t even talk to you anymore even if she says she still loves you (You texted her the next day. She still loves you even if she’s far away).

              I got my dream job at the age of twenty. I was going to be a character performer at Walt Disney World. Depression didn’t even let me enjoy that. I had too many attendance points to even go seasonal after my college program ended, and they always had too many people in my height range anyway (They also worked you forty hours a week in a heavy costume while you were balancing schoolwork, social life, and Literally Having Depression). Now, I’m left at a company that has me questioning my morals daily, and I can’t even say the name of it without feeling a guilt in the pit of my stomach (Which is why we look for a library job or even a museum job).

              After my first semester, I decided I wanted a French minor. I wanted to be just like my older brother and my mom. Languages were something I was good at. Les devoirs were something I wasn’t good at because there was always a voice in my head that said “Fuck it.” I could have gone to my counsellor, or I could have pushed through, but when my 100% was wasted on trying to get out of bed every morning to go be another number for a mouse, I didn’t have the energy for conjugations. I ended the class with a 68. I passed my third French class, but not enough to continue on in the steps of starting the minor. (Guess who’s working on that minor right now?)

              Right now, I debate calling the Suicide Hotline or UCF’s Crisis Line, but I know it won’t matter (You called and the lady was very helpful. We’re going back to a counselor). I’m someone who wants to die with a fear of death. Plus, I don’t want to be forcibly hospitalized because I can barely afford bills right now.

              Instead, I sit and wallow in my loneliness. I call my dad because I know he’ll always listen. I’ll talk to online friends, but it’s never the same as speaking to someone face to face. Nothing can fill the void of getting to talk to someone and laugh with them by your side. To cover up your sadness in person with goofs and funny voices (Your roommate comes back for an entire year in a week). When you type, you can’t do that. The truth somehow comes out.

              No, the only thing keeping me alive is my cat. She’s a mouth I have to feed. She’s someone to always talk to even if she just stares back. I know she needs me as much as I need her, and I crave more of that. She may bite me or meow too loud at night, but at least she needs me (Hell Yeah She Does).

              In five more years, I don’t want to be writing another five years later (You won’t be). I’m trying so hard to stay alive, and I’m trying so hard not to have anymore attempts. But, I’ve given the warning signs, and no one listens. Tomorrow, I could go to work and make a funny joke about not sleeping because I was crying all night and nobody would realize. My story isn’t over.

[talesfromalostboy]

Publishing for Fun and Profit

So there was a list going around tumblr for a while that made it to my dash of literary journals that accept open submissions (and will pay!), but upon inspection about half of them were closed indefinitely, and I found quite a few other places that looked interesting through further research, so I wanted to post my own list. 

I tried to focus on things that paid professional grade (at least 6 cents per word), were friendly to speculative fiction, and specifically encouraged diversity and writing about marginalized groups.

(Please note that as of right now I have never submitted or been published with any of these, so if anyone has experience with them, good or bad, please feel free to message or reblog this with your experiences.)

Speculative Fiction

Strange Horizons — Speculative fiction (broadly defined) with an emphasis on diversity, unusual styles, and stories that address politics in nuanced ways. 8c per word. Up to 10,000 words, under 5,000 preferred. Responds within 40 days. LGBT+ positive.

Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine — Sci-fi, fantasy, horror, etc. 7-12c per word. Up to 25,000 words. No response times listed.

Asimov’s Science Fiction — Primarily sci-fi but accepts fantasy and surreal fiction, but no high fantasy/sword and sorcery. Prefers writing that is character driven. 8-10c per word. 1,000-20,000 words. Responds in about five weeks.

Evil Girlfriend Media — Horror and urban fantasy centered on female empowerment and defying gender stereotypes. $100 flat payment. 4,000-7,000 words. No response times given. LGBT+ friendly.

Beneath Ceaseless Skies — Fantasy with a focus on secondary worlds and characters. 6c per word. Up to 10,000 words. Average response time 2-4 weeks.

Fantastic Stories — Speculative fiction with an emphasis on diversity and literary style. 15c per word. Up to 3,000 words. Responds within two weeks. LGBT+ positive.

Fiction Vortex — Serialized fantasy and speculative fiction. $300 for featured stories, $50 otherwise. 3,500 words or less. No response times given.

Shimmer — Speculative fiction with an emphasis on diversity, strong plots, vivid characters, and beautiful writing. 5c per word. 7,500 words or less (will consider longer words with query letter). Usually responds within two weeks. LGBT+ positive.

Clarkesworld Magazine �� Sci-fi, fantasy, and other speculative fiction. 10c per word up to 5,000 words, 8c per word after. 1,000-16,000 words. Responds within days usually, gives a tracking number.

Apex Magazine — Speculative fiction of all kinds. 6c per word, +1c per word for podcast stories. Up to 7,500 words, all submissions over will be auto-rejected. Responds within 30 days.

Heliotrope Magazine — Speculative fiction of all kinds. 10c per word. Up to 5,000 words. Responds within 30 days.

Lightspeed Magazine — Speculative fiction of all kinds, with creativity and originality in terms of style and format encouraged. 8c per word. 1,500-10,000 words, under 5,000 preferred. LGBT+ positive. Submissions temporarily closed for their main magazine but is accepting for their People of Color Destroy Science Fiction special.

General Fiction

The Sun Magazine — General fiction, likes personal writing or writing of a cultural/political significance. $300-$1500 flat payment  and a one year subscription to the magazine for fiction (also accepts essays and poetry). No minimum or maximum lengths but over 7,000 words discouraged. Responds in 3-6 months. Physical submissions only.

One Story — Any and all varieties of fiction, “unique and interesting” stories encouraged. $500 payment plus 25 contributor copies. 3,000-8,000 words. Usually responds in 2-3 months.

Camera Obscura — General fiction. $1000 for featured story, $50 for “Bridge the Gap” award, no payment for other contributors. 250-8,000 words. Response time vary, running just over two months as of now.

Flash Fiction 

Daily Science Fiction — Speculative flash fiction (including sci-fi, fantasy, slipstream, etc.). 8c per word. Up to 1,500 words, but shorter stories given priority. Response times not listed.

Vestral Review — General flash fiction. 3-10c per word depending on length to a max of $25. Up to 500 words. Response within four months.

Flash Fiction Online — General flash fiction. $60 flat payment. 500-1,000 words. Response times not listed.

Novels/Novella

Riptide Publishing — Any LGBTQ manuscripts between 15,000 and 150,000 words. Currently especially interested in lesbian romances, trans stories, asexual/aromantic stories, romances with a happy ending, and genre fiction such as urban fantasy. Also has a YA branch.  LGBT+ positive.

Crimson Romance — Romance stories of all kinds, currently seeking LGBT+ stories with a focus on emotional connections and relationships, especially m/m romance. Novel (55,000-90,000 words) or novella (20,000-50,000 words) length.  LGBT+ positive.

Kindle Direct Publishing 

Kindle Direct Publishing — Allows you to set your own prices, create your own cover art, and make royalties off of each sell. Any and all genres are welcome and if you’re prolific and smart about how you’re publishing you can make pretty good money.

General Guide to Kindle Publishing — Gives a good rundown of the publishing process on Kindle.

101 Guide to Kindle Erotica — Great guide with lots of resources about how to make money publishing erotica on Kindle.   

Publishing Comics/Graphic Novels

Here is a list of potential comic companies and what kind of open submissions they accept.  

Here is a list of literary agents who accept graphic novels. 

[talesfromalostboy]

“Nurture Me” - first draft poem by Ryan Johnson (from that same sound unit as “The Letter S”)

Nurture me and tear me apart, so that I can remember that ancient ache in my heart

Shelter me and fill me with guilt, so that I can remember this strained relationship we built

Hear me and ignore my cries, so that I can remember all of my terrible lies

Carry me and abandon my needs, so that I can remember the hiding is all for your greed

[talesfromalostboy]

The Forest of Mendax: The Village Witch and the Mischievous Sprite - second draft short story by Ryan Johnson

It all started with a tree in the midst of an unnamed forest. A small sapling which, in time, would grow to become the tallest of its kind. But, that is possibly because it is the only one of its kind. This tree harbored magic. Something that eventually would become a rumor amongst humans, but they never knew how right they were.

Speaking of the humans, they were the next ingredient. They made up myths and stories all about the forest that they lived within. Stories of creatures and spirits. Stories which eventually became me.

The tales of the Forest of Mendax were all true, and those that started them knew this. After all, that was when we lived in peace, and they would traverse through my forest carefully with respect to each spirit and animal they came across.

This was when I met her.

Long before I was named Dax, I met a marvelous woman named Selene. She was believed to be a witch, or at the very least, blessed by the beings of the forest. When in fact, Selene was the brightest young woman I had ever met. Thankfully, this was before the times that I had seen many other young women nearly as bright as her burned for such “crimes.” Instead, it was a time when she had earned herself praise and admiration for helping cure the sick and spinning tales with the vocabulary of someone twice her age.

We often had long intellectual conversations within the trees.

“Humans do not eat worms!”

“Aye, we do,” she plucked the squirming creature from under a log, still covered in dirt. “In fact, we only eat worms.”

“I have been here since humans have, and I know you do not eat worms! Not once have I seen a human eat them.”

“But you can’t come into the village, can you, my mischievous sprite?”

If I were in a physical form, I would have glared, but she never liked it when I didn’t show my true self. That is, unless I was helping her gather what she would need from the forest for a sick villager. Then, I would always take the form of a sprite—once she described what they looked like.  

“Even if I did come into your village, I don’t think your kind could find enough worms to survive.”

With that, she dropped the worm and wiped the dirt off onto her tunic. “Well, there’s something we can agree on. Now, are you going to help me find the wyech root or not?”

“Of course, of course,” I took form instantly and waved my shining blue hands. “If I were to not help, what kind of friend would I be?” Landing softly beside her, I started the walk deeper into the woods and towards my tree. It would have the answers. None of the other spirits would know what a wyech was, or they would be lying to save their own roots.

“Sprite, from what I have researched, the wyech should be a blueish tree with the brightest of green leaves,” Selene stated as she followed behind. She was always one step ahead.

I turned on my heel and faced her, feeling my cheeks grow warmer. “I knew that. I just assumed we would find higher ground to look for it. Besides, you have never seen the view from my tree at the top most branch.”

“Can you not ask the other sprites?”

“They would lie! Although they know the root may grow back, sometimes we do fear that humans will grow greedy and come back continuously for the resources. Therefore, we search from above.”

“Yes, but, Sprite, it is only me. Your most trusted human.”

She was right. Showing off my tree would have to wait for another day. Instead, I closed my eyes and willed the others to me. There was a gust of wind, and then there was the babble of several voices.

What is it?

Why have you summoned us?

Should you not be at your tree?

Meddling with the humans again?

Keeping my eyes closed, I asked them, “Which of you is the spirit in charge of the wyech tree?” There was no response, but I felt a quiver within the branches of a nearby tree. Found it.

The spirit emerged just as I tried to start in that direction with Selene in tow.

“Guardian, you must know, that tree is the only of its kind in the forest.”

“Have you not spread its seed?” There was a slight scowl on my new face, but I was quick to hide it when I saw the discomfort it brought my human friend. I didn’t want the humans to fear me. We had worked together so well for so long.

“It has not been growing,” they seemed exasperated, as if I was asking too much. “Please, I know you wish to help these humans, but the forest must come first.”

“Selene, what are you trying to cure?”

She thought for a moment. After all, she always said it was hard describing human illnesses to someone who could never be ill. “A strange and bumpy rash that has spread across a boy’s stomach.”

“Is it deadly?”

“We don’t believe so, but illnesses in children and elderly can lead to death more frequently.”

Now, I was in between a human and the spirit of a rare tree. If it would not cause death, I could not trade the life of one of our trees for it. However…

I winked to Wyech before turning back to Selene. “It has just occurred to me that I know where we can find another of these trees. After conversing with the spirit, I know where to find the root. Describe the tree to me again and how it will heal this little boy.”

As we started the walk in the opposite direction, I felt all of the tension in the forest evaporate. The spirits knew where my loyalties lay. Although it may be unfair to lie, it was for the good of the forest. Plus, I was still going to offer a solution.

Eventually, I waved a hand to cause an enchantment on a tree just out of human sight. The size and shape seemed perfect, and, thanks to my abilities as the spirit of this unnamed forest, I could control the tree’s abilities. Therefore, this was the perfect dupe for the wyech tree. When we approached it, I took a knee, buried my hand in the dirt, and I plucked out the root before handing it off.

“I’ve heard wyech root tastes wonderful with worm, Selene.”

“Oh, be quiet, you sprite!” Selene attempted to shove me, but I was quick to fly straight up and out of her reach.

“Is that all you will be needing?”

The young woman nodded as I floated back down to be at her side.

“Well, then, I must see you off to the edge of the forest. Until our next meeting?”

“Until our next meeting.”

With a melancholy smile, I took her hand and teleported us back to the entrance of the forest. She crossed the tree line, and I stood back to disappear into my forest once more.

Eventually, Selene would come to visit with a little boy of her own. A spitting image with the same dark features. He always enjoyed hide and seek while his mother gathered her supplies. Then came the little girl, who her mother thought would be the next gifted healer within the town, but instead, she took more to hunting.

Then, after growing grey, Selene stopped visiting me. I remember that day like a knife digging into a fresh wound.

“Sprite?” Her frail voice called as she walked with a cane into the forest.

I was quick to her side, materializing and offering a bright blue arm. “Hello, my dear Selene! What may I help you find today?” It was silent. I held my arm for a moment and then two but lowered the appendage when she kept her hands firmly on the cane. “Have I done something wrong?”

She refused to look at me, but when her deep brown eyes met mine, I saw the grieving already. “My dearest sprite, I am unable to journey further into the forest. My legs have become too weak, and I fear my eyesight is giving away.”

“Nonsense! I will help you!”

“You will not.”

The three words stung, and I took a step back. “I will not?”

“No, sprite, I want my journey to be finished. I will stay in my village from this day forward. There is a new ruler over the land who does not wish for me to continue my practice.”

“Is there? Let me see this ruler and I will turn him into a fool.” There was no smile on her wrinkled face. No hint of the joy behind her eyes. There seemed to be no changing her mind. This was…

“Goodbye, my gentle sprite,” she reached out and placed a hand on my cheek. If I had a heart, I believe this was the moment it shattered. The moment I lost my dearest friend.

“I don’t want you to go.” It was like a child, begging their parent not to leave. “Please, you can stay here. I can protect you.”

There were no more words as her hand dropped back to her side. A melancholy smile appeared on her face, but this time, I knew it was true misery. I couldn’t bring myself to force a grin. Instead, I had to dissolve. I had to be rid of my form, so that she wouldn’t see me crumble.

From the highest branch of the tallest tree, I watched as she disappeared back over the forest’s edge and into the village.

“Goodbye, Selene.”

Her children believed I was a story from their childhood or an imaginary friend. I was not even allowed the spitting image of her as they grew older and grew their families. I was offered no piece of my first human friend.

There are days I wish that I had stolen Selene away and had kept her with me within the forest.

Days I wish we could go back to being the village witch and the mischievous sprite.

[talesfromalostboy]

New Dax story queued for tomorrow!

[talesfromalostboy]

“Nope,” I whisper as I exit out of a fic with no paragraph breaks.

[talesfromalostboy]

i’m so sorry i didn’t stick to my schedule last week! school got rough and suddenly i was in a whirlwind of accepting a job

there’s some poetry fragments i have, and a first draft new dax piece (that i would like to revise before posting)

but updates will be coming soon!

[talesfromalostboy]

The Letter S- aka “my professor told me to have fun with sound” by Ryan Johnson

Slithering serpents, silver snakes, silently sneaking, silently gapes

Slithering serpents, silver snakes, surprisingly sobbing, surprisingly breaks

Slithering serpents, silver snakes, strangely slinking, strangely away

Slithering serpents, silver snakes, shed their skin to show what awaits

[talesfromalostboy]

for all you writers out there:

donjon has tons of generators. for calendars. for demographics of a country and city. for names (both fantastical and historical) of people, nations, magics, etc.

this site lets you generate/design a city, allowing you to choose size, if you want a river or coast, walls around it, a temple, a main keep, etc.

this twitter, uncharted atlas, tweets generated maps of fantasy regions every hour.

and vulgar allows you to create a language, based on linguistic and grammatical structures!!! go international phonetic alphabet!!!

[talesfromalostboy]

writing schedule for the week:

3/18/2019- paper for school  3/19/2019- Dax short story first draft 3/20/2019- poetry (posted here) 3/21/2019- Charger chapter  3/22/2019- Dax short story second draft (posted here) 3/23/2019- Charger chapter 3/24/2019- break day

[talesfromalostboy]

my writer-dudes, if planning a plot outline on your own is too daunting, find a plot worksheet! if one is too detailed, try another. here are some at different levels of detail:

Novel-Factory — The Premise

Novel-Factory — The Skeleton

Writer’s Digest — At-A-Glance Outline

Save the Cat by Blake Snyder — Beat Sheet

Story Engineering by Larry Brooks — Story Structure

Jami Gold — Basic Beat Sheet

Annie Neugebauer — Novel Plotting Worksheet

happy plotting!

[talesfromalostboy]

Broken pieces

[talesfromalostboy]

[talesfromalostboy]

CALLING TRANS AND NON-BINARY WRITERS

Hello! My name is Charlie and I’m a trans boy from England. I want to create a Tumblr blog specifically for writers of the non-cis variety, to discuss and uplift each other in a market where we are next to invisible.

I’m currently studying Creative Writing at university and hope to build this platform with the intention of showing the publishing market that people want to read books, by trans and nb folk, about trans and nb folk.

I’m followed by a fair few writeblrs so ask that if you are a writeblr please reblog this post, but specify in the tags whether you are cis or not. I would love the help of spreading this post by cis allies however I would prefer if the blog I created was specially for trans & nb folk for the aforementioned reasons!

Please message me if you would be interested in being an admin for the blog! I would like to know: your name, pronouns, age, location (country/ state), what genres you enjoy writing and finally, why you’d like to be admin/ what you think you could contribute to the network.

Thank you kindly dears!!

[talesfromalostboy]

THE LOST BOY- second draft poem by Ryan Johnson

He came into this world as a burst of lighting The sky filled with his screams At least, that is how the tale is told They never allow you to ask much

The stories are all true All the tales that fill your head I carry this painful burden. A secret. But you can feel it

You can feel the change in the air, The shift as you step into the starlit woods The wind caresses your cheek, and You feel the same as you once did as a child

You’re carried away. You twirl and spin, And for once the world feels weightless again You think it’s your imagination, but then, You can once again see as a child

I may lie and hide, but you see me. You see me on the topmost branch, staring and afraid. A game of hide and seek that you have won You have finally won.

Once upon a time, a young boy lost his way, Alone in the woods, taken by the fae He is reborn. Surrounded by lightning and wind. And her face is one he never thought he’d see again

I came into this world as a burst of lighting The sky filled with my screams That is how they changed me The boy you knew long ago

[talesfromalostboy]

CALLING TRANS AND NON-BINARY WRITERS

Hello! My name is Charlie and I’m a trans boy from England. I want to create a Tumblr blog specifically for writers of the non-cis variety, to discuss and uplift each other in a market where we are next to invisible.

I’m currently studying Creative Writing at university and hope to build this platform with the intention of showing the publishing market that people want to read books, by trans and nb folk, about trans and nb folk.

I’m followed by a fair few writeblrs so ask that if you are a writeblr please reblog this post, but specify in the tags whether you are cis or not. I would love the help of spreading this post by cis allies however I would prefer if the blog I created was specially for trans & nb folk for the aforementioned reasons!

Please message me if you would be interested in being an admin for the blog! I would like to know: your name, pronouns, age, location (country/ state), what genres you enjoy writing and finally, why you’d like to be admin/ what you think you could contribute to the network.

Thank you kindly dears!!

[talesfromalostboy]

Short Excerpt from Charger (Chapter 1: Alone in Alva City) - Draft Two of WIP Novel

The cool glass was my only relief from the intense electrical buzzing of the train. Each volt seemed to flow through my veins as I tried to only focus on the city’s buildings whizzing by. It would only be one more stop before my street. I just needed to remember that, even as the train nauseated me and kept me too aware of my surroundings.

If the other people on the train were paying attention, maybe they would think it was odd that there was a kid travelling alone with one leg over a case of water bottles and a stuffed backpack under the other. The kid in the gray sweatshirt against the window seemingly suffering. But, then again, it’s a city. There are kids like me every day, and no one bats an eye. Plus, I’m sixteen. I don’t need as much help as the younger kids out there.

The train came to a screeching halt and pulled me from my thoughts. Most of the other passengers began to gather their belongings and step off the train. It was just me, an elderly couple, a businesswoman, and some guy in his thirties going to the end of the line. However, if I planned on getting off the train, I had to start my preparations then.

I shifted away from the cool window and kicked the case of waters more towards the edge of the seat. Then, grabbing my backpack, I slung it over my shoulders and started doing the half crouch as I prepared to stand up. The train began to move once again, and I had to use all my willpower to ignore the energy pulsing in my body.

As we passed through a tunnel, there reflected her staring back at me. A reflection of someone that hurt to think about. Her bright blue eyes. My bright blue eyes.

I averted my attention to my tattered Converse and sniffled before grabbing the packaging from the edge of the seat as soon as the train stopped. All of that pent-up energy from the train ride made me the first out the door, but someone was following close behind.

“Hey kid!”

Words that made my blood run cold. I debated if I should turn around or if I should run.

“Hey, you left your string or something in your seat.” It was then decided I would turn to see what the hell my string could mean. When I looked back, there stood the thirty-something year old man holding a bracelet, which really did look like string and was in fact mine.

Avoiding speaking, I trudged back to him, trying to balance the water bottles on one hand as I held out the other for the bracelet.

He carefully put it in my hand before holding his hands out. Was he trying to get me to hug him? The look of disgust on my face must have been apparent because his face soon became a deep shade of scarlet.

“Oh, you think I’m trying to… No, no. I just thought since you weren’t speaking, I wouldn’t speak, and,” he pointed at the package of water I was holding, “that looks heavy. If I know anything about this area of Alva, it’s that the nearest apartments are at least a couple of blocks away. Let me at least get that closer to them.”

Shit. There was no way out of this one without talking. I mustered up the deepest voice I could, “Oh no, I’ve got it. Thanks though.” He shrugged and started on his way, but I was quick to realize I was in a predicament now that I held the bracelet, and I knew I absolutely couldn’t lose it. I tried shifting the water, I tried sliding it on with a couple of fingers, but to no avail. “Wait, actually, can you help me?”

He stopped and turned back towards me. I waddled over with my unbalanced water and he easily lifted it from my arm. As he did so, I retied the bracelet to my wrist. It was a gift from my brother. I couldn’t lose that.

“I promise I won’t walk you to your front door or anything. Cities can be creepy enough at night. Though, I’m sure a tough guy like you could handle it,” he said and started towards the stairs while I quickened my pace to match his long strides. At the very least, he wasn’t misgendering me. Though, he probably also assumed I was twelve. “My name’s Peter, by the way.”

Perhaps, it was the month of no real human interaction, or maybe it was this entire situation making me feel uneasy, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. After all, I didn’t know if he could be working for them.

“Did you do the grocery shopping for your family or something? It seems like you’re carrying a lot of stuff.”

“Yeah, Mom sent me out with some cash and I just got the essentials for the week.”

He nodded before taking a right at the base of the stairs that went down from the train’s platform. It was late enough that the streets were nearly deserted. Not that this area wasn’t always nearly deserted.

“So, is there a story behind the string?”

“It’s not a string. It’s a bracelet. My brother made it for me when he went away for camp his freshman year of high school.”

Peter nodded and looked down to the water he was carrying before shifting the weight. “That’s pretty cool of him. So, would a more appropriate word be cord?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

We walked in silence then for at least the first block. He seemed to be processing something, but I couldn’t be sure what. When we reached the crossing light, I finally got the answer. It was as I pressed the button and felt that jolt of electricity that I got the answer to how old he thought I was and why he was walking me close to home.

“So, is there a reason your parents didn’t send your big brother with you? I mean, you’re what? In middle school?”

“High school actually. Plus, my brother’s away right now.” It wasn’t a lie. “He’s stayed at his university over winter break.” That was a lie.

“Oh, that’s cool. I always went home during my breaks.”

Once more, there was silence, but being in the presence of someone else and having an actual conversation for longer than a minute really felt nice. But all nice things come to an end. Eventually, we reached the apartment building. CitiSide Apartments, some of the most run-down apartments in Alva. The brick needed a good power washing, and the windows looked like something was growing on them.

He set down the water and offered over a hand with his warm smile, “Well, it’s been nice walking with you… Kid?”

“Lucas. My name’s Lucas.” I took his hand and shook it. “Thanks for the company, adult.”

Peter shook his head and offered a wave, “Alright, Lucas. Stay safe and stay warm.”

I watched as he started the walk back to towards the train. He was probably only in this part of town for the bar. Maybe, I should have asked. I lifted my water bottles off the pavement and sighed heavily before facing the abandoned bookshop across the street. If only I lived in the run-down apartments. Instead, Cherry Tree Books was what I had to call home. With no mother, no father, and no brother waiting inside for me.