A Story A Day. Story 300 of 365: Halloween (Part II).

Halloween was Dougal's favorite holiday. Or rather, it was his favorite day of the year as it was the only day when no one would stare at his face and the skin on his arms. People would dress up to go out that night, but Dougal didn't need to, and hadn't needed to since he was sixteen, more than twenty years back. He remembered those times, he was reckless and proud, and took everything for granted. 

Dougal stared in the mirror and a face like melted rubber stared back at him, his nose was barely more than a stub, his lips a line. His golden hair was all gone, his head bald as an egg. His blue eyes, behind hardly functional eyelids, were still the same, but they were the only thing that had remained unchanged. 

Sometimes it still hurt, it burnt. Some nights he would wake up feeling his skin melt off again, the tendrils of the acid tracing scars in his flesh. He would wake up screaming, clawing at his face with his disfigured nails, the same as he had done  when Fingal had poured the acid on him. He remembered vividly that day, it is not usual to have your life changed for worst. He still hated Fingal for ruining his life, the boy had claimed he had done it to avenge his sister, but Dougal always thought he had made it out of envy. Regardless, Fingal had killed himself after dousing Dougal with acid, therefore the truth remained undiscovered. After all those years, and after all that suffering, Dougal still didn't admit that what he had done to Opal was horrible. But at least, his twisted mind was finally reflected on his twisted appearance. 

A Story A Day. Story 299 of 365: Halloween (Part I).

Halloween was Dougal's favorite holiday. As a kid it was the promise of candy and the game of dressing up, as a teenager was the possibility to whatever he wanted to be. However, at sixteen, being the most popular kid in school, there were little things he wanted to be apart from himself. Tall, blond, with deep blue eyes, and a killer smile, definitely he wouldn't change himself for any other. Yet, Halloween still retained all its allure, and even more, as his friends were throwing parties all throughout the town. If he was lucky enough he might even met a girl he had been eyeing around high-school.

Fingal on the other hand, couldn't hate Halloween more. He was on the opposite side of the spectrum from Dougal, and he was bullied continuously at school. He hated parties, and he hated anything that had any kind of relation to his classmates. However, that night he had been forced by his parents to take his younger sister, Opal, to a party. Opal was fifteen, only one year younger than him, and had taken all the charm from the family, she was lean, beautiful, and smart, although a little naïve, and therefore Fingal had to chaperone her.

When Dougal arrived at the party Fingal and his sister were already there. Opal was talking to some friends, and Fingal was standing a couple of steps behind, watching all of her moves. He saw the look Dougal threw at her, and didn't like it a bit, he decided to keep an eye on him. Dougal disappeared for a while into the kitchen and returned with a couple of cups, he handed one to Opal, winking an eye. Her friends vanished suddenly, as if the presence of a male was able to have them fleeing, Fingal stood his guard, however. At first they were talking innocently, but soon the young guy started making approaches by subtly touching Opal, first in the arm, then on the waist, until he whispered into her ear.

-Why don't you send your brother back home?
-I can't, I have to go back with him.- she explained.
-I can take you home, babe.
-No, I'd rather he took me home.
-Ok, then. Why don't we go somewhere more private?

He gently took her into a room while silently telling two of his friends to keep an eye on Fingal. He woke up several hours later on the floor of an unknown room, someone was crying next to him. He tried to stand up but couldn't, all his body screaming in pain, he then remembered being beaten up until he blacked out. With an effort, he incorporated to see his sister lying on the bed, curled in a ball.

-Opal! Opal! Are you okay?- he asked knowing he wouldn't like the answer.

She simply shook her head, her eyes full of tears. For what Fingal could see, it had been torn into pieces. Fingal knew what happened, and he blamed himself, and he blamed Dougal. Several days later, when he was discharged from the hospital, and could go back to school, he faced the popular boy.

-Dougal, I know what you did to my sister, and you'll pay for it!- he shouted in the middle of the cafeteria.

A chorus of laughter accompanied his words, but he knew that those would turn to tears as soon as he had done what he had it mind.

A Story A Day. Story 298 of 365: Apparitions.

It was late in the evening, and all of Ari's labmates had already gone home. He was a night owl, however, and prefered to work late and sleep in. Many of his colleages had told him that they didn't like the lab at night, it was full of weird lights and noises, making it the creepiest place on earth. He didn't care, he knew that the machines made noises, but it was because they were working. And he was never alone as the security guard made his rounds every thirty minutes, they had become fast friends as soon as the older man had seen Ari spending all his evenings in there.

On that particular day, Ari was working on fume hood which had a glass protecting him from the toxic gas. Every time he moved, he would see part of his reflection on the glass, making it look as if there was someone behind him. More than once it did seem there was actually something behind him, but he told himself he was being silly, that it would have been some light blinking. He went through his stuff, completely focused on his experiment, listening to some old rock classics on his phone. It shouldn't take him too long, he realized. As he raised his stare to check the time, he meet another pair of eyes on the glass. It weren't his, it weren't the security guard's. They were the eyes of a young woman who had her hair up on a tight ponytail, blue eyes behind safety glasses. With a blink of an eye, she was gone. Ari turned around, looking for her, but there was no one behind him. The air was chillier than usual, and he felt uneasy, so he finished his job as fast as he could.

The following day, after having slept on it, Ari decided it was just a matter of his exalted imagination, that he had been tired and he saw things that weren't there. So he stayed on his schedule, and completely forgot about what he had seen. However, around the same time, she appeared again. He saw a flash of blue, her blue eyes, on the glass but that lasted a second, next really cold air blew on his neck, and he heard a soft voice telling me "Get out of my lab". Ari dropped everything and ran away, bowing to never go again to the lab at night.

A Story A Day. Story 297 of 365: Twins.

Caroline and Cornelia were twins, they looked like two drops of water, undistingishable even for their mother. When they were younger she tried to dress them differently, to tell them apart, but they would throw a tantrum demanding for their clothes to be exactly the same. Pam, their mother, gave up thinking that they would end up dressing differently as they grew older. However, Caroline and Cornelia had a very tight bond, they didn't consider themselves two different people, but one in two bodies. They always knew what the other was thinking, because they were one mind. And because of this, they kept dressing the same and doing exactly the same things. It was uncanny.

When they were old enough to move out, they rented a flat together. Both worked in the same company and did the same thing. They also had the same friends, and the same enemies, and they had never had a boyfriend because it meant that they wouldn't get to share him, that one of them would have something of her own. As the years passed, they became more and more jealous of their relationship, pushing people away, paranoid about people wanting to distance them. By their forties they didn't have any friends, all of them having flown away from the craziness. By their fifties they had stopped talking out loud to each other at all, and they always completed each other sentences when the spoke to other people.

It was around that time, when things became crazier. One day as they walked down the street in identical outfits, identical haircuts and identical strides, a young woman stared at them for maybe a second too long. They became obsessed with her, thinking that she was judging them, that she thought she was better than them, they would show her. Cornelia and Caroline followed the girl around until they found the perfect occasion, as they cornered her in an alley and hit her with baseball bats, they shouted "Yes, we are creepy, and we love it". No one heard the woman's cries for help, and she was only the first of their victims. 

A Story A Day. Story 296 of 365: Different.

-No one can ever see her.- William whispered to his wife, carrying a little bundle.
-But, it's our daughter!
-She is, Maggie, but we both know what they will call her. We need to move to the countryside.

Ten years after that conversation, after the birth of Helen, they were still living in the countryside, it was a beautiful place, and they had everything they needed to live. They hardly ever went to town, and if someone had to it was always William or one of the boys. It was a happy family. Helen had grown into a little woman, oblivious of what made her different because she had never been treated the part. And maybe because of that, she started to wonder why couldn't she meet people from the outside world.

One night, when the children were already in bed, Margaret discussed about it with her husband.

-Dear, Helen has been asking a lot about outside world lately,... I think we should do something about it. We can't keep her hidden in here all her life.
-We have talked about this before, Maggie. Do you know how they treat people like her? You know it as well as I do. You have seen it too. Do you want that to happen to our sweet little daughter?
-And what is going to happen when we die? Who's going to take care of her? Who is going to protect her? Wouldn't it be better for her to get to know the real world?
-NO!- William said slamming his fist on the table, Margaret was startled, her husband was usually calm. He started crying.- I don't want her to suffer. Every time I see her playing with her brothers, I imagine how different would it have been if we had stayed. I imagine townsfolk throwing rocks at her. I imagine someone taking her from us, and putting her in a freak show. I don't want that life for her.
-So what are we going to tell her?
-I don't know, but we have to find the way to keep her protected from the outside. From the pain of other people's judgement. From the freaks outside.

A Story A Day. Story 295 of 365: Evermore.

The phone rang, in the middle of the office noise Bahram managed to pick it up. It was Magnhild, his girlfriend, telling him something about spending the weekend in the mountains. He dismissed her quickly both because he was busy and because he could barely hear her, and spent the rest of the day worrying about other things. They had been dating for more than three years, and they were already living together, but of late, Bahram wondered why was he still with her, whether he loved her. The answer of course was no, not anymore. He had been wondering how to tell Magnhild, and was scared of what would be her reaction as she was extremely possessive. While driving back home he thought he would let the weekend pass, and then tell her he didn't think they should be together anymore.

Magnhild had everything arranged, the place, the meals, the excursions they would go to. She was like that, she always did things without asking him, thinking that she knew what was better for the two of them. Bahram hated it, but he decided to put up with it as it was the last time it would happen. They were going to a house Magnhild's parents had bought some time ago, but hardly used, up in the mountains. It was early fall so it would be beautiful, but still there was hardly anyone up there, the closest town being about ten miles away. Bahram was silent during the long ride up there, while Magnhild, in her excitement, chatted without control. It was late at night when they arrived, and they went straight to sleep. The next morning Bahram woke up to the smell of toast and coffee, Magnhild had woken up a couple of hours before, gone into town, and prepared breakfast, she was radiant with energy. They had breakfast by a huge window overlooking the valley. She commented on how nice would it be to bring their kids up there during the summers, and Bahram simply bit his tongue. During the rest of the day Magnhild kept making comments about how could they keep using that house as they grew old, and Bahram was feeling more and more angry. He tried to keep calm, but in the end, during dinner, he lost it and exploded.

-We are not going to come here when we retire because I can't stand you anymore.

-What do you mean?

-I'm breaking up with you. I'll be moving out as soon as we go back home.

Magnhild stood up, coldly, and went to the kitchen. She returned with two glasses of whiskey.

-Drink.- she said.- I think we both need it.

As they finished the glasses, she stood again to refill them.

-Let's drink to our future.- she said, raising her glass.

-Magn, I told you, there will be no "our future".

-Yes, there will, but it will be a short one.

-What do you mean?- Bahram was scared, she was even crazier than he thought.

-We will never be leaving this house.

-WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

-Shhhhh! The angrier you get, the faster you die.- Magnhild replied, laying down in the couch.

A Story A Day. Story 294 of 365: Shame.

No one at the school had ever been to Alexander's house. Everyone knew he was wealthy because a limo would drop him off and take him back. He was the only rich kid at the school, where kids from mild to low-income families went. It wasn't a bad school, and it advocated for inclusion regardless of social status or skin color. That was probably the reason Alexander, the odd one, had fit so well. He looked happy, and was an excellent student. He also had lots of friends, despite of it he had never taken them to his house. Some assumed that it was out of humility, that he didn't want to show off and rub his privileged upbringing on his friends. The truth was different, however.

Alexander bid farewell to his friends before jumping into the limousine.

-Good afternoon, David. How was your day?- he asked politely to the driver.

-Not bad, but it does improve when I come pick you up, Alex.- he smiled through the mirror.- How was school?

Alexander explained him everything while he changed into a school uniform. He struggled getting the sweater on, and his hair was a mess when he finally succeeded. He fished for a comb and combed his hair back to place. He looked like a proper rich spoiled kid, quite different from the boy in sneakers, jeans and a sweatshirt that had jumped in the car. Changing back to his clothes always made Alexander feel depressed, he was tired of that farce. Of having to pretend going to the private school his parents were paying for, while actually going to the school he had chosen. They would never understand, and they did actually not care much about their son anyway. There was only one thing they cared about.
As usual, when the car approached the gates of the manor, Alexander grew sullen. The butler was waiting for him at the main door and opened the limo door as soon as it stopped, Alexander took his bag from the seat and got out, his clothes safely stored in a secret compartment. He was lucky to have David who had helped him so much. Immediately after arriving to the house he went to his room and got changed into the clothes the maid had laid out for him, to judge by them, they were going to have guests over for dinner that night. He was not wrong, as soon his mother entered the room telling him that his father had an important businessman come over for dinner.

-He has a son of your age.- she added.- You will have fun.

Alexander doubted it, but smiled politely. It was barely past seven when the guests arrived, an ageing man with silver hair, his trophy wife, a blonde at least fifteen years younger, and their son, a short boy with cooper hair who was supposed to be fourteen, but looked ten. As Alexander had predicted it was a bore, and he was soon thinking about other things oblivious of the conversation that was going on.

-Alexander!- his father shouted.

-Father?- he asked innocently.

-Can you explain me how it can be that you and Mr. Richardson's son are supposed to go to the same class, yet he has never seen you?

Alexander grew pale. What was he supposed to say? How would he protect his secret?

-I, I, I...

-Go to your room, we will talk about it later.

Alexander left the dinning room, his mind racing to find and excuse. When he was already out of it he overheard his father apologizing.

-Excuse him he has all sorts of crazy ideas, like that poor people have the same rights as us, some environmental nonsense, and all this. I don't know where he has picked them up. We have always told him that rich people are better than poor people. What will be next, claiming all races are equal?

The dinner guests burst into laughter, while Alexander ran to his room furious. Those were the real monsters.

A Story A Day. Story 293 of 365: Confinement.

When Amanda understood no one would believe she was the one causing all the deaths, she decided to do her best to never be loved again. She was twelve by then, and she had gone through almost a dozen adoptive families. She became unruly and violent, and in the end no family wanted to adopt her. She spent the rest of her teenage years in the orphanage, avoiding human contact as much as she could. She was forced to go to psychologists and psychiatrists, but she wouldn't listen to them, she would basically sit on the chair, brooding on her thoughts, blocking all the noise. It was a hard life, but it was still better than knowing that the people you care for die because of you.

On her eighteenth birthday, Amanda flew. She ran away as far as she could, hiding from human contact. She fell into a deep depression, wondering what had she done wrong to deserve such a punishment. And it got worse, soon any kind of life that lived close to her started to die too, first it was the insects, and then other small animals, finally all the plants that lived close enough dried up. At first, it took months for this to happen, but, as Amanda grew older, it took less and less time, in the end she would leave a trail of desolation wherever she went. She had death deep inside her bones, but it would not come for her.

A Story A Day. Story 292 of 365: Sirens.

Sirens could be heard in all the neighborhood. Everyone was awake, looking at the street from the windows or the front porches. No one knew what was happening, they could only see the orange and blue lights that were flooding the street. The police was barricading Láska house. Inside young Amanda was crying, holding her knees against her chest.

-Not again.- she sobbed.- Not again.

The police broke in the house. There were no signs of violence, but there were four bodies in the living room, mister and miss Láska and their young sons. The emergency call had come from inside the house, but it hadn't been too helpful. A crying young girl had said something terrible had happened, and hanged up after giving the address. Finding the girl was a priority, they needed to make sure she hadn't suffered any injury. They found her on her bed, curled up against a corner. A policeman approached her and patted her softly.

-Are you okay, sweetie?
-It's my fault, it's all my fault.- Amanda sobbed.
-Don't be silly, it's not your fault, you're a sweet little girl, aren't you?

The policeman took her from the bed and held her on his arms, he carried her to the car and drove back to the police station. That house wasn't the place for a six-year-old girl. Amanda was exhausted and fell asleep inside the police car. The policeman put her to sleep in their resting room as soon as they arrived to the police station, she was sleeping like an angel.

Everyone was puzzled about what had happened in the Láska house, and they wanted to know what would happen to little Amanda. People pitied her as soon as they discovered her story, she was an orphan, her biological mother having died not long after she was born, her father some months later. She had been adopted several times and every time tragedy had struck her life. Soon, there were dozens of families asking to adopt the poor girl. However, Amanda insisted that she was okay, that she didn't need a family, but no one ever listened to her. No one would believe she was cursed. No one would believe that everyone who loved her died.

A Story A Day. Story 291 of 365: Pain.

It all started with a mild back pain. Sharma thought it would go away after some days, but it didn't. No massages or pain-killers could help her. She went to the doctor and underwent thousands of different tests, but nothing was wrong with her. When she was already used to it, her knee started to hurt. Soon enough there were no parts of her body that didn't hurt. Pain would keep her up at night, and when she could fall asleep from tiredness, sharp knives would wake her up almost instantly. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't focus on anything, every day she wondered what new pain would appear. Nothing would put her out of the pain, nothing.

Sharma never feared anything, but she did then. She feared pain. She feared the crippling pain she faced every hour, every minute. She feared life, because she knew her only release was death.

A Story A Day. Story 290 of 365: Forgotten.

A sharp scream. Diggory opened his eyes, where had that come from? He was suddenly hit in the face with a pillow. More screaming. He saw his wife holding against a wall, using a cushion as protection.

-What are you doing in my house?- she shouted.
-What are you saying? I'm your husband!
-I don't have a husband. Leave before I call the police.

He looked around and saw that the pictures of their wedding had disappeared. His shoes were gone, and he didn't dare to look in the closet, but he had the feeling that there would be nothing of his. He left the house in a hurry, still on his pajamas. Diggory didn't understand anything, it was a crazy way of getting rid of a husband, and his wife had never been a good actress. He decided to walk to a friend's house, to see if he could help him. It was early, but it was an emergency, so he hoped his friend would understand. He rang the doorbell and waited. His friend opened the door, with a look of confusion in his face.

-Can I help you, sir?
-Dan, it's me! Diggory!
-Who? I don't know any Diggory.
-Of course you know me!
-Please, leave now.- he said slamming the door.

Diggory found himself alone on the street once again. He decided to check in the shops he used to shop, at the coffee shop he used to go, but no one seemed to know who he was. He was denied entrance at his work, the fingerprint reader wouldn't recognize him. He decided to go to the police station to see if they could help him. However, they had no record of him, nor did the local government office. After calling his parents and being told they never had a son, Diggory had to face it, the life he knew didn't exist anymore, nor had it ever existed.

A Story A Day. Story 289 of 365: Saint.

Veronika was a tease, she loved flirting with boys, specially the ones that looked shy and innocent. She did it playfully, but more than once she had ended up dating the guy she had been teasing. At that moment she had her eyes on the new accounting manager, he was young and looked even younger. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't too tall, maybe it was his blue eyes or his baby face, or maybe the fact that he turned red every time someone mentioned sex. Truth be told, Veronika kind of liked him, he seemed to have never done anything wrong in his life, and he was rapidly nicknamed "the Saint".

It was soon clear that the Saint was also interested in Veronika, being hardly able to hold her gaze. She waited for some time for him to take the first step, but when it was clear he was struggling to do so, she did.

-Hey, dinner on Friday?- she asked casually one day.

He seemed to be about to choke, but managed to reply.

-Sure.

-Good, I'll send you a memo.

On Friday, Veronika arrived late to the restaurant only to find him anxiously nipping some breadsticks. He polished nice, she had to admit. Veronika herself was wearing a show-stopping red dress. He turned the same color of her dress, once more, as he saw her, and she gave him a pleased smile. The dinner was uneventful, they basically talked about his charity work and about the activities they did out of work. When it was time to go home, Veronika insisted on going to his place, so he could show her his record collection. He was reluctant, but ended up accepting.

He had a big flat, nothing too ostentatious, but nice. Veronika made herself comfortable on the sofa and asked him for a drink. He obliged without a question. With a glass of wine on one hand, Veronika decided it was time to go a bit further.

-You know why I came here?

He avoided the question, trying to sit as far from her as he dared. Veronika looked at him intensely.

-Let me ask you something. Are you a virgin?

He turned red, but shook his head. After taking a sip of his own glass, he explained.

-I,... it's just I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, I'm not that kind of guy.

Veronika didn't say anything, she just crawled on the sofa and kissed him. He kissed her back passionately, taking control. He did know what he was doing, he clearly knew what he was doing. As she lay on the sofa, her clothes scattered all over, she realized he didn't look as shy. He had a sly smile on his face. She wanted to ask him something but found herself slipping into a dreamless sleep.

When she woke up she found herself in a dark room tied up by hands and feet. She tried to free herself, but moving sent waves of pain through her body. Her fingers hurt and as she tried to move them she could appreciate that at least half of them were broken. As her body woke up she could also feel dozens of cuts on her skin. What was going on? The light suddenly lit up. She was in a white windowless room. The bright white light hurt her eyes and they started to water.

-Good morning, Veronika.

-What's this? What do you think you're doing?

-Well, you wanted to play, didn't you? This is how I have fun.

Veronika couldn't see anything, and nothing had prepared her for the sharp pain she felt as he pulled out one of her toenails.

-I told you I enjoy taking things appart, TVs, computers,... women. Now, be a good girl and don't scream too much.

A Story A Day. Story 288 of 365: Bones.

Ole and Maryam were really excited about moving into their own house. They had been dating since high school and had been planning to move in together for a long time. So, when the opportunity appeared, they jumped at it. They had found the perfect house at a bargain of a price. The owner was having some economic difficulties and he needed fast money, so he was selling it under market price. It was a big house with a garden and thousands of hidden spots. Apparently, the original owner had built it with his own hands, down to the entrance mosaic, an exquisite piece done with small cut white stone.

Maryam and Ole couldn't believe their luck, they were barely twenty-six and were already moving into their own place, and they didn't need to do much in it. Of course, Maryam would have liked some more windows, but there was always time to open a hole or two on the walls. By then, the most important thing was that they were living together. For some time, life was perfect. However, at one point, when they had been living there for three months or so, Ole had to go on a business trip. Maryam was on holidays at that moment, and decided to put some order in the unoccupied rooms. While cleaning up she discovered a hidden room, full of books. In there she found the blueprints of the house, and, apparently, there were many more hidden spaces. There was also a folder with drawings. She took the folder and the blueprints out of the room and into the living room. It was interesting, but not out of the usual. Almost at the end she found the drawings for the mosaic of the entrance, it was entitled "Lyra", maybe after the wife of the first owner. Maryam looked closely, there were annotations circling parts of it. Ribs, femur, skull, radius. Maryam shook her head before she understood what it meant. She ran to the entrance and kneeled on the floor touching the stones. Bones, they were bones. And Maryam had the feeling that they were human.

A Story A Day. Story 287 of 365: Push.

Rush hour was probably the worst time to get on the tube, specially if you had all the time of the world on your hands. However, that was exactly what Mark was doing at that moment, as he had been doing for more than a month. It was a rainy day, which only meant more people crammed into an overcrowded wagon, plus wet umbrellas. It was perfect, Mark thought. The tension in the air, the grim mood floating around, it was the ripe occasion.

Mark had been planning it for a long time. He was a lonely man who found himself even lonelier when he lost his job and his girlfriend. If he had gone to a psychiatrist he would have probably been diagnosed with a wide spectrum of mental illnesses. Yet, he had never gone and he thought his mood swings were normal. After that low in his life he started being paranoid, convinced someone was surveiling each one of his moves. 

That day he was ready to unravel the plan he had hatched. His eyes starwd at the monitor, nervously. Two more stops and hell would break loose. He tapped his foot, the subway was running late, he was sure the government was behind it, that they knew what he was about to do. Mark was standing cornered next to a door, and every time people got in or out they would push and step on him. One more stop. Only one more. He was counting down the seconds, his thumb on the button, waiting for the doors to open. He felt the explosives belt against his skin. He was sweating, both because he was nervous and because of the heat. The doors opened, and as they did a stampede of people battled to get through the narrow door. Mark found himself pushed out of the wagon. In a blink of an eye he was alone on the platfprm, the remote lost somewhere put of his reach. 

A Story A Day. Story 286 of 365: Sleep.

-Every time I close my eyes, I'm afraid it's going to be the last time.- I told my psychiatrist, fidgeting nervously, it was the first time I had expressed that fear out loud.

-Everyone fears death, Álmos, it's normal.- she said while looking through pages of notes. 

-It's not that Sláine.

We had know each other long enough for me to call her by her name. She has helped me beat depression, and was still working on my myriad of phobias. It helped that we were of age. I always had the feeling that she understood what I was going through.

-Then, what is it? 

-You know I don't need to sleep much, or I didn't, at least.

-I do remember your neurologist talking about it, yes. And I also remember telling you that sleeping was key for mental health and you trying to prove me wrong. 

-You know I'm always up for a challenge.- I smiled.

She waved her hands, leading me on.

-Ok, so I've been finding myself in the need of more and more sleep of late.
-And?
-Well, what if I need to sleep more and more hours every day? What if one day all the hours in it are not enough? What if I go to sleep and never wake up again?
-Do you mean like the Sleeping Beauty? Then, I'll find you some pretty princess who fights the dragon and wakes you up.
-Sláine! I'm being serious.
-That was very unprofessional of me, I know.- she said embarrassed, scratching her head.- I don't know what to tell you, Álmos, I've never come across something like that before. I mean, you are worried you're going to sleep forever, you're not afraid of dying, just of never waking up.
-That's it.
-And what am I supposed to do? Watch you sleep and wake you up every now and then?
-It's either that or me not sleeping anymore.

A Story A Day. Story 285 of 365: Settle.

Jane looked in the mirror and didn't like what she saw, she was too fat, too short, and too ugly. Luckily, she thought, she already had a boyfriend. They had been together for a long time, it wasn't the best of the relationships, but at least she had someone who would share his life with her. It didn't matter she wasn't really happy, it didn't matter she sometimes wondered how would it be to be with someone else. Nothing mattered, because she couldn't get anyone better than Josh. Sure, he wasn't perfect, he was far from that, but he was there for her. Jane was scared of doing things on her own, so he was a life-saver.

Sometimes, when talking to her friends, she would complain about things, and they would always tell her to dump him, why was she still with him? She would only say that they didn't understand how relationships worked, and that they would when they found the one, fooling herself into thinking that Josh was right for her.

Jane's friends saw it differently, they had known her from before she had started dating Josh, and she had changed for worse. Josh was a manipulative douchebag, who would make her feel bad about herself and push her into doing things she didn't want to do. Jane had become submissive, giving it all for him, and, despite knowing deep down that she wasn't happy and that she didn't love him, she was too afraid to break up. Her friends knew that she though she would never be able to be in a relationship again if she left him, that she though she was hideous, but that sense of insecurity had been instilled by him. Josh was just a parasite living out of Jane's vital force, draining her energy until she became the weak housewife he wanted.

A Story A Day. Story 284 of 365: Bride.

White was everywhere to be seen, on the flowers hanging from the church benches, on the drapes by the windows, but most of all, on her dress. Siv looked at her reflection in the mirror, white satin against her lightly tanned skin, white lace on her fiery red hair. She sighed, she should be happy, but she was having too many doubts. Her mother accommodated her veil and kissed her cheek "You look radiant" she said. Siv's father took her by the arm and gently walked her towards the altar. Mayrbek was waiting for her, tall, dark, handsome, always handsome, his black eyes shinning with emotion. However, Siv kept glancing towards the other side, avoiding his stare. The ceremony was going as planned, her feeling of uneasiness growing as the moment approached. Finally, the priest asked Siv whether she wanted to marry Mayrbek.

Silence fell in the church at her response. No, she had said no. Siv tore off the veil and turned around, facing the expectant congregation. She couldn't marry Mayrbek, she explained, not because she didn't love him, she said, but because she loved someone else more. Having said that she walked towards the bridesmaids and took blond Dakota by the hand. Without another word they both ran out of the church, leaving everyone paralyzed. Siv had been on the verge of loving the love of her life forever, and nothing would be able to stop her.

A Story A Day. Story 283 of 365: Touch.

From early infancy, Risa had hated being touched, she would cry whenever a stranger touched her, and her parents knew better than trying to comfort her with hugs, as she would actually wind up more upset. They did even take her to a psychologist, to no avail. People told Risa's parents that she would change as she grew up, everyone needed human contact. However, that was not the case. Risa learnt not to make a fuss every time someone touched her, but she would still become very upset, and a simple contact would ruin her day. She had long avoided the underground and any kind of crowded spaces. It took her longer than her friends to engage in any kind of intimate relations. Surprisingly, she did enjoy them, even if it meant letting guys touch her more extensively than anyone had before. Once she was in the mood, she completely forgot about it. Yet, as soon as it was over, her phobia would come back rushing. She couldn't stand sleeping in the same bed as the guy, and cuddling made her extremely uncomfortable. She would usually run away as soon as she had her clothes back on, or invite her guest to leave. If there was no other option but to stay, she would spend the night awake. More than once she had simply looked for another place to sleep, which had sparked some awkward mornings after. Because of her phobia, she was unable to let anyone in her life. Although, probably, that was just a cover to avoid having to open her heart to anyone.

A Story A Day. Story 282 of 365: Memory.

She woke up feeling dizzy, the warm sheets against her skin. She realized she was completely naked, and that surprised her, she was unable to sleep naked. She turned around and saw that she was not alone in bed. What had she done, now? Her boyfriend would kill her, yet, she didn't remember a thing. She got out of bed slowly, sure that she had had sex with the stranger. She tiptoed around the room and into the bathroom, when something left her frozen on the spot. Another woman was staring at her. The other woman kind of looked like her, only a bit older and with another hair cut. When she discovered that it was herself staring at the mirror, she left a muffled scream escape. Footsteps came from the bedroom, and the stranger stood completely naked by the doorframe.

-Are you okay?- he asked genuinely concerned.
-Who are you? What happened to me?
-Did you drink too much yesterday, honey?

The scared look that crossed her face, let him know that that was not the problem.

-Are you okay?- he repeated clueless.
-You tell me!- her pitch was getting higher and higher as she panicked.
-Okay, honey. Let's go dressed, and we will take you to the hospital.

They got inside a car she didn't know, and drove through streets she barely recognized. She was hyperventilating on the verge of a panic attack. As soon as they arrived to the hospital, she was rushed to get a CT scan, while he waited outside. The neurologist talked with her husband about what could it be, puzzled because she was relatively young. However, the results were clear, she had had a stroke, yet the doctor had never seen one of such characteristics.

-Will she recover?- he asked, while looking at her. They had given her sedatives, although it was not recommended, to block all the new stimuli she was receiving.
-I don't know. Maybe she will never be able to remember the years the stroke has wiped away, maybe some memories will remain. Only time will tell.

He stared at her, wondering how would it be, trying to understand how much work would it take to have his wife back.

A Story A Day. Story 281 of 365: Ocean.

Dylan looked at the ocean while rowing on his boat. It reminded him of Eileen. It could be both tame and wild, ever changing, inscrutable, willful, always full of secrets buried so deep no one could ever reach them. Volatile Eileen had the eyes of the color of the ocean on a stormy day. Nor blue, nor green, nor grey, but all of them together. He missed Eileen, he had missed her since she had left him alone with the ocean. Dylan never told her, but for him, her and the ocean were only one. However, as he had learned to navigate the treacherous waters, he had never learnt to steer at her moods. Eileen was explosive, but also sweet, and she knew what she wanted. It was her who had gone to Dylan on the first place, forcing him to take her to Mermaid island. What had she wanted to do there was a mystery to Dylan, yet he obliged. She made him take her a dozen times before she found her way into his bedroom. Back in hindsight, Dylan had been a paper boat at the mercy of the currents. And, just as she had arrived, she flew. One night, she slipped back into her clothes and jumped out of the window without a word. The following day was a windy one, the ocean crashed violently against the cliffs, and Eileen was nowhere to be seen. More than twenty years had passed and yet Dylan still remembered her. He saw her in his beloved ocean, in the storms, everywhere, wondering that, maybe, the following wind change would take her back.

A Story A Day. Story 280 of 365: Control.

Order. Planning. Control. Those were the words that gave meaning to her life. Lia was a perfectionist and a control freak. She had her days planned down to the t, with a delicately crafted schedule that helped her maintain sanity, or so she said. She would never do anything spontaneous or unplanned. It was beyond her understanding how people could do anything without carefully planning it. Her obsession went too far, as when her plans were deranged she would feel anxious and out of place. She had nightmares by only thinking that something could go in a different way as she had planned. Sometimes, she would wake up covered in cold sweat after dreaming she missed an appointment. She tried to add some spontaneity to her life, after she had been told that it was not healthy to live like she did, but it was planned spontaneity, and, therefore, completely useless.

The worst about it all, the thing that Lia didn't know, was that, because she was always concerned about her plans, she never enjoyed the things she was doing. However, it was not easy to let go, and Lia spent all her days worrying about her plans, about controlling her life without getting to enjoy it.

A Story A Day. Story 279 of 365: Planes.

Liam closed his eyes and breathed in. He could feel the vibration of the plane wings on his seat. He could hear all the noises it made, from the rumbling of the internal mechanisms to the ocasional beeping of the alarms. Yet, above all he could hear his fellow travellers, the screaming kid, the arguing couple, the drunkard, the annoying old lady who complained about everything. If there was something Liam hated more than planes, it was planes cramped with annoying people, and apparently there had been a competition and all had been put on his plane.

He forced himself to breathe once more. A young kid was seated just behind him and started kicking the back of his seat. He turned around and asked the kid's mother to make him stop. She stared at him coldly and told him that the kid was nervous because it was the first he flew, but she said nothing to her son. And the kid kept kicking, Liam took patience and plugged in his headphones to isolate himself from the environment. He finally fell asleep, only to wake up when someone started shouting. Apparently, the obnoxious woman was having a rage fit. Liam couldn't take it anymore and stood up, walked up to the woman and without a flinch he snapped her neck. The dead woman had the same expression of surprise than the rest of the passage. Liam looked at all of them and calmly said: 

-Now, if you don't mind, stay put and silent for the rest of the flight, and make sure none of you annoy me in any way. 

After that he sat on his seat. The kid had stopped kicking, and everyone sat frozen on their seats, a chilly peace invading the plane. 

A Story A Day. Story 278 of 365: Town.

The wind howled through the empty streets, the ocean crashed wildly against the stony shore, and the ice cracked under Eira's feet. Her car had broken down just outside the town, on the road, and since no one had passed by, she decided to brave up and face the freezing cold. She pulled her woolen cap as far down her head as she could, and pulled up the neck of her jacket, regretting not having taken a scarf. She looked around, trying to find a shop or a bar that was open, but despite being almost midday all the doors were shut closed and there was no one to be seen. She would have to ring a doorbell. She walked up to the closest door, frost covering the overgrown grass on the front yard. The curtains were open, but there seemed to be no one inside, she rang and waited, without response. She walked up to the next house, to the same result. There seemed to be no one in town. Eira had another look at the empty streets, the houses looked taken care of, but there were some signs of abandon already. They were faint, but they were there. Looking further, she saw how it looked like people had left in a hurry, some doors were not closed, they were only ajar, and a simple shove made them fly open. Inside the houses, forgotten items were scattered on the floor. It was an abandoned town, and no one was able to help Eira.

A Story A Day. Story 277 of 365: Graveyard.

Morana was fascinated by abandoned graveyards, her face would lit up every time she stumbled across one during her travels. She would walk among tombstones, gingerly, carefully placing her feet on the grass. She would caress the old weathered stones, trying to make out what the engraved letters used to say, fascinated at the dates of death, the ages of death, wondering what was the story behind those tombs, wondering what had killed them. The thought that there were bodies under her feet made her feel alive. She knew that most of them were little more than dust, yet she liked to imagine that maybe one of the stones would break open and a rotten body would be uncovered. 

This obsession wasn't something she would keep secret, she was quite vocal about her incursions, and, although her friends thought she was crazy, they respected her. Apart from that, she was a fairly common girl who studied, dated boys, and liked spending time with her friends. She wouldn't usually tell the guys she dated about her fixation with graveyards, at least not until she was comfortable enough with them. Such was the case with Bion, they had met about a year before, and he fell instantly for her. It took her longer, but as a dripping drop finds its way through the stone, his love found a way to her heart. When Morana told him about her obsession, they were still not dating, she still considered him only a friend. Impulsively, he told her he wanted to go with her on her next excursion, even if he was terrified. She was so delighted about finally having a companion, that she didn't see the way he shacked and the stare of sheer horror that appeared in his face as soon as they reached the cemetery. He was covered in cold sweat, even if it was a warm sunny day, seeing her flying from one tombstone to the other like a butterfly. 

From that day on he accompanied her every time, suffering through it, but seeing her happy compensated it all. However, she was convinced he liked those outings, that he actually enjoyed them, and she risked it more and more every time. At one point, she told him she had a surprise for him, and, during a clear summer night, she took him to a deserted graveyard. The moon was full, and the stones shone pale against the dark grass. He was surprised and speechless, which she interpreted as a victory. It had taken her long to find such a graveyard. It had been abandoned for a long time, and the stones were cracked, some of them laid on the floor on their backs after the time had taken them down. The cemetery was surrounded by a low crumbling wall, and a rusty iron gate closed the entrance. Morana pushed it firmly and the gate opened with a creak. Bion could feel all his skin crawling. Was he willing to go that far for love? She didn't let him consider, as she took him by the hand and shoved him inside. She lead the way towards the ruins of a church that had been erected in the middle of the graveyard. Barely a couple of walls remained, and of them some impressive craved windows. Some of the stones at the top were charred, so presumably the church had fallen down during a fire. The town folk had decided, then, to use the newly recovered grounds to expand the graveyard, and several tombstones had been placed between the church walls. Despite of already having seen it, Morana was completely fascinated, the moonlight gave it a mystical feeling. Bion was too terrorized to speak, he feared that if he opened his mouth his heart would escape through it. They walked among the tombs, or rather over them, as it was so packed it was difficult to find a spot of grass. She explained him the story of the place, and how an illness had claimed three quarters of the population around one hundred years before. Most of those tombstones were from that period, wasn't it fascinating? Grandchildren and grandparents had been buried at the same time, and the tombs remained open until the plague had passed. Almost every family had lost at least two of their members, and those who remained decided to flee the place, so no one remained to take care of it. She spoke and spoke, yet he didn't hear anything, his imagination kept confusing pieces of stone for fingers and limbs, sure that the dead would get out and chase them away. 

A Story A Day. Story 276 of 365: Tension.

They crossed on the street, and as they did they looked into each other's eyes. A spark ignites on that split second they had seen each other's souls. Once he was on her back, she smiled, knowingly. He didn't know yet, but they would meet again, it was a small town after all. And they did met, the following day, at the bakery, he was queueing when she passed by. "It's my chance" she thought, before getting inside to queue after him.

-Good morning!. she announced with a clear voice to everyone who was in the shop.- Who's the last one?- she asked innocently.

-Me.- he said firmly. Again, that spark.

-Oh, you're new in town, right?

-Indeed.

-Give me a call whenever you want to go out for a drink.- she said boldly, handing him a card. Then, she seemed to remember something, and told the surprised baker - Marie, I'll come later, I forgot I had to rush somewhere else.

She was surprised at her own boldness, but how many times would she feel something like that? It was worth trying. He must have though something similar, as he called her that same evening.

-Fancy a drink?- that was all he said.

-Sure. Meet me at Murphy's, you should find it easily.

When she arrived, five minutes late. he was already inside, sitting on a table with two beers in front of him. She didn't know his name, and didn't even want to ask. They talked about lots of things, trying to avoid personal subjects, it was a silent agreement, none asked the other one anything remotely private, The first beer was followed by another one, and before they knew they were laughing and singing along. When the pub closed, they headed back home. They walked closely, accidentally touching every now and then, her bare skin against his shirt. The closer they were to her house, the more tense she was. Something had to happen, for sure. She took the keys out, wanting to throw herself into his arms, wanting him to kiss her. They looked at each other. Yes, there was a flame. She put the key in the lock and he only said.

-Well, I'll see you around.

A Story A Day. Story 275 of 365: Walk.

After a bad break-up, and in the middle of a quarter-life crisis, Lena decided to go away and find herself. Despite not being the sporty type and never having walked more than a couple of miles, she packed her new backpack and set off for the wilderness. Map in hand, she headed for the mountains, without a route, looking for the higher summits, challenging herself, pushing the limits. She would walk every day until she was too tired to continue, she slept until she had had enough, and ate whenever she was hungry. And she was happy with that life. At some point along the road, when she didn't know which day of the week it was and it didn't actually matter anymore, she realized she didn't need much to be happy, that she had been overcomplicating her life, and, knowing that, Lena could at last be fully happy.

A Story A Day. Story 274 of 365: Work.

When Amalia started working in that company, she was excited, it was her dream job, her boss seemed nice and understanding. For some time, everything looked perfect, she was happy, her boss would talk to her almost every day and be open about her ideas. She worked long hours, but she was enthusiastic about her job, so she didn't mind. After a year, problems started, Amalia's work wasn't going as expected, and her boss was starting to become nervous, talking down to her. Amalia worked harder and harder, but it was going nowhere. The more Amalia worked, the worse her boss treated her. She would suggest changes in the way she was working, to improve, but her boss wouldn't listen, yet she would suggest exactly the same thing to Amalia some days later.

Amalia started working on weekends and even longer hours, in hopes her boss would realize how much effort she was putting in, but her boss still thought she was not working hard enough. Amalia started hating her job, she would overwork herself, crying herself to sleep. But whatever she did, it didn't change a thing.

A Story A Day. Story 273 of 365: Strong.

Lucille was a strong-willed woman, independent and sure of herself. She had always decided where her relationships went and when did they finish. Until she met Albert. He was the perfect man for her, intelligent, strong and independent. When Lucille first met him, she thought they could work, and she fell in love. She fell in love as she hadn't fallen before.

However, Albert was too independent for her. Lucille, the one that always made men wait, was not the one who waited for a phone call, for a text message. Her mood swung as his attention did, and Lucille had the feeling that his feelings weren't as strong, that, for him, she was just a way to spend some time, until another came along. Lucille's week passed in periods of hating and loving him, not daring to confront him.

She almost didn't recognize herself. When did she become a toy to play with as he pleased? Yet, for every time she stayed strong telling herself she didn't need him, came another one where she wondered where would she be able to find another one like him. Lucille was addicted to him because she was having him in small doses. She who had always hated girls who were always worried about their boyfriends, had become one of them. She hated herself because of it, she hated herself for not being strong enough to stand up and ask for what she deserved: truly undivided attention, not the scraps of someone's love.

A Story A Day. Story 272 of 365: City.

Lots of adjectives can be used to define cities. However, confusing is not usually one of them. Yet, that was the word that best defined it, confusing. It was as if a big city had been crammed into a small one, and they both had ended mixing up. A city where you could be walking through what looked like the poorest of the streets and end up in a raging commercial center. A city that worshiped the river, but forgot the sea. Where there was no sight of the ocean but the seagulls flying overhead. It was a difficult city, one that is not easy to understand, one you have to work to enjoy. Where things were scattered all over, as if someone had thrown the pieces on the hill. As if someone who had never seen a city had stitched it together from scraps. Walking around it was a journey of discovery. Residential spaces pooled together around monuments that sprouted like mushrooms in the middle of the forest. Large open parks made streets take detours. There must have been a connection, but it was too faint to see. There was no continuity, modern buildings appeared in the middle of historical settings, empty streets in the middle of busy areas. Bridges crossed the river whenever, not following any logic. Maybe it was confusing because it was illogical. Maybe it was confusing because it was different from everything else. Or maybe it was just plain confusing and it didn't need to make any sense.

A Story A Day. Story 271 of 365: Unwanted.

She talked to him in a friendly manner, she was very outgoing and she though he was a nice guy. It was something she did, she always spoke nicely to people she liked. Making friends was easy for her, thanks to that. They had met in Spanish class, and discovered they went to the same university, although they had never met. After that, every time they met at the train station, they would go together to their respective classes.

Everyone who saw them walking together knew that he was in love with her, the way he stared at her, and how he spoke, those were tale-tell signs. However, it was clear that she didn't reciprocate, and that she didn't even know. Some of her friends considered telling her, but, for one reason or the other, they always backed out. It was only matter of time for him to take the first step.

In the meantime, she remained friendly, and would invite him to join her and her friends in all manner of activities. He joined her, and wondered when would he have an opportunity. He was hopeful she liked him back, ignoring the fact that he had seen her lots of times alone with another guy. She never treated him differently from the other people, but he always saw signs out of thin air. She had to like him, he thought, why would she even talk to him if she didn't?

Her birthday arrived and he decided it was already time for her to know the truth. It was time to confess his love for her. He had everything planned down to the t, nothing could go wrong. He was already seeing their children playing outside a big house. He invited her for coffee before going to class, and, as they sat on the coffee shop, he told her he loved her, that he had done for a long time. She was perplexed, she had never expected that. He told her she had always been nice to him, that there must be something inside her heart too. The words that came afterwards shattered his dream. She told him that she only liked him as a friend, that she was flattered, but that she had treated him as she treated everyone else, that she didn't think there was any reason for him to think otherwise.

A Story A Day. Story 270 of 365: Switched.

The room was white and impersonal, as hospital rooms tend to be. Katherine was lying on the bed, exhausted even if she had done nothing but lie down during the whole day. Her mother sat by her side, worried, a teenage daughter is not supposed to be sick. They had been in the hospital for a week, after Katherine had gone down with a fever. As soon as they had been admitted to the ER, it was clear that it was something else. When the diagnostic arrived, Katherine's mother couldn't believe it, leukemia, the doctors said in fancy words, but it was cancer anyway. They told her they would start the treatment immediately, that there was no time to lose. They also told her that Katherine would need a bone marrow transplant, so they would need to test the whole family for compatibility. That was what they were doing at that moment, waiting for the results. When the doctor arrived to the room, Katherine was awake, the nurse had brought her some food, but she wasn't able to keep anything down, so she didn't even take a bite. The doctor asked for her mother to join him outside, in a somber mood.

-Mrs. Addison- he started- We have received the results from the analysis.
-None of us is compatible, that's what you are going to tell me.
-Exactly, none of you is compatible. But there's more,...- he hesitated to continue.- Your daughter is not your daughter.
-Of course she is! I gave birth to her after several hours of labour! I remember how much she cried, and how they brought her to the room afterwards, the cutest little thing.
-I have read the medical history. Yet, she is not your daughter. Genetic testing doesn't lie, and her DNA doesn't match yours or your husband's. Katherine is not your daughter.
-But, but,...
-The only possibility I can think of is that she was switched at birth. That's the only explanation. Are you okay, Mrs. Addison?

Katherine's mother had gone pale, her eyes wide open. The doctor took her to the nurse's room so she could lie down. When the color returned to her face, she was able to speak again.

-How could that happen? Does this mean that Katherine is not my daughter? Doctor, I raised her, she's my daughter! And if she's not my baby,... where is my real daughter? I want answers!

-And you will have them. Yet, we need to find Katherine's biological parents fast. They are the best chance we have to find a compatible donor. It's Katherine's best chance at life.