In northern England people made the bodies really dead by ...

cutting the head and arms off and setting the rests on fire

cutting the head and legs off and setting the rests on fire

cutting whole body into pieces and setting the rests on fire

People sometimes worried the dead might have become a vampire because they found out that the body looked like...

the fingernails were longer, there was fresh blood around the mouth

a young professional who puts value on status, money and power

a young professional who puts value on money and power

fell in love and lived his happily ever after

fell in love but his faith was different

Dead, but not down; The Marsters of moody movie magic

Name: Marco Ramirez - “I Am Not Batman” TW: language It’s the middle of the night. And the sky is glowing like mad radioactive red. And if you squint, you could maybe see the moon through a thick layer of cigarette smoke and airplane exhaust that covers the entire city like mosquito net that won’t let the angels in. And if you look up high enough you could see me-standing on the edge of a eighty seven story building. And up there-a place for gargoyles and broken clock towers that have stayed still and dead for maybe like a hundred years-up there is me. And I’m freakin Batman. And I gots Bat-mobiles and Bat-a-rangs and freakin Bat-caves like for real, and all it takes is a broom closet or a back room or a fire escape and Danny’s hand-me-down jeans are gone. And my navy blue polo shirt? – The one that looks kinda good on me but has a hole on it near the butt from when it got snagged on the chain linked fence behind Arturo’s but it isn’t even a big deal cause I tuck that part in and its like all good? –that blue polo shirt? – It’s gone too. And I get like, like transformational. And nobody pulls out a belt and whips Batman for talking back –-Or for not talking back –And nobody calls Batman simple –- Or stupid –- Or skinny –- And nobody fires Batman’s brother from the Eastern Taxi Company ‘cause they was making cutbacks, neither, ‘cause they got nothing but respect, and not like afraid-respect. Just like respect-respect. ‘Cause nobody’s afraid of you. Cause Batman doesn’t mean nobody harm. Ever. Cause all Batman really wants to do is save people and maybe pay Abuela’s bills one day and die happy and maybe get like mad famous. For real.…And kill the Joker. Tonight, like most nights, I’m all alone. And I’m watching…And I’m waiting… Like a eagle. Or like a –no, yea, like a eagle. And my cape is flappin’ in the wind (‘cause it’s freakin’ long), and my pointy ears are on, and that mask that covers like half my face is on too, and I got like bulletproof stuff all in my chest so no one could hurt me and nobody – nobody – is gonna come between Batman, And Justice. From where I am I could hear everything. Somewhere in the city there’s a old lady picking Styrofoam leftovers up outta a trash can and she’s putting a piece of sesame chicken someone spit out into her own mouth. And somewhere there’s a doctor with a whack haircut in a black lab coat trying to find a cure for the diseases that are gonna make us all extinct for real one day. And somewhere there’s a man, a man in a janitor’s uniform, stumbling home drunk and dizzy after spending half his paycheck on forty-ounce bottles of twist-off beer and the other half on a four hour visit to some lady’s house on a street where the lights have all been shot out by people who’d rather do what they do, in this city, in the dark. And half a block away from JanitorMan there’s a group of good-for-nothings who don’t know no better waiting to beat JanitorMan with rusted bicycle chains and imitation Lousiville Sluggers, and if they don’t find a cent on him – which they won’t – they’ll just pound at him till the muscles in their arms start burning, till there’s no more teeth to crack out. But they don’t count on me. They don’t count on no dark night (with a stomach full of grocery store brand macaroni-and-cheese and cut up Vienna sausages), Cause they’d rather believe I don’t exist, And from eighty-seven stories up I could hear one of the good-for-nothings say “Gimmethecash” real fast (like that) just “Gimmethefuckingcash” and I see JAnitorMan mumble something in drunk language and turn pale and from eighty-seven stories up I could hear his stomach trying to hurl its way out of his Dickies. So I swoop down like and fast and I’m like darkness. I’m like SWOOSH –- And I throw a Bat-a-rang at the one naked lightbulb –- And they’re all like “whoa-motherfucker-who-just-turned-out-the-lights?” –“What’s that over there?” –-“What?” –- “Gimme whatchou got old man” –- “Did anybody hear that?!” –- “No, really” –- “There ain’t. No. Bat.” – But then –- One out of three good-for-nothings gets it to the head! And number Two swings blindly into the dark cape before him but before his fist hits anything I grab a trash can lid and –-- Right into the gut, and number One comes back with a jump-kick but I know judo-karate too so I’m like –-- Twice –-- but before I can do any more damage suddenly we all hear a CLIC – CLIC –And suddenly everything gets quiet And the one good-for-nothing left standing grips a handgun and aims straight up, like he’s holding Jesus hostage, like he’s threatening maybe to blow a hole in the moon. And the good-for-nothing who got it to the head who tried to jump-kick me and the other good-for-nothing who got it in the gut is both scrambling back away from the dark figure before him. And the drunk man the JanitorMan is huddled in a corner, praying to Saint Anthony ‘cause that’s the only one he could remember. And there’s me, Eyes glowing white, cape blowing softly in the wind. Bulletporoof chest heaving. My heart beating right through it in a Morse code for “fuck with me, just once, come on, just try.” And the one good-for-nothing left standing, the one with the handgun, he laughs he lowers his arm, and he points it at me and gives the moon a break, and he aims it right between my pointy ears, like goalposts and he’s special teams. And JanitorMan is still calling Saint Anthony but he ain’t pickin’ up, And for a second it seems like…maybe I’m gonna lose. Naw. SHOO – SHOO! FUACATA! --“Don’t kill me man!” –“SNAP! – Wrist CRACK – Neck – SLASH! – Skin – meets – acid – “AHH!!” –And he’s on the floor. And I’m standing over him. And I got the gun in MY hands now. And I hate guns, I hate holding ‘em cause I’m Batman, and –Batman don’t like guns ‘cause his parents got iced by guns a long time ago – but for just a second, my eyes glow white, and I hold this thing, for I could speak to the good-for-nothing in a language he maybe understands…CLIC – CLIC…And the good-for-nothings become good-for-disappearing into whatever toxic-waste-chemical-sludge-shit-hole they crawled out of. And it’s just me and JanitorMan. And I pick him up. And I wipe sweat and cheap perfume off his forehead. And he begs me not to hurt him and I grab him tight by his JanitorMan shirt collar and I pull him to my face, and he’s taller than me, but the cape helps so he listens when I look him straight in the eyes and I say two words to him: “Go home.” And he does, checking behind his shoulder every ten feet. And I SWOOSH from building to building on his way there, ‘cause I know where he lives. And I watch his hands where he lives. And I watch his hands tremble as he pulls out his keychain and opens the door to his building. And I’m back in bed before he even walks in through the front door. And I hear him turn on the faucet and pour himself a glass of warm tap water And he puts the glass back in the sink. And I hear his footsteps, And they get slower as they get to my room. And he creaks my door open like mad slow. And he takes a step in, which he never does. And he’s staring off into nowhere, his face the color of sidewalks in summer, and I act like I’m just waking up, and I say, “What’s up, Pop?” And JanitorMan says nothing to me. But I see, in the dark, I see his arms go limp and his head turns back, like towards me, and he lifts it for I could see his face, For I could see his eyes, And his cheeks is dripping but not with sweat. And he just stands there, breathing, like he remembers my eyes glowing white. Like he remembers my bulletproof chest. Like he remembers he’s my pop. And for a long time I don’t say nothing. And he turns around, hand on the doorknob, and he ain’t looking up my way but I hear him mumble two words to me. “I’m sorry.” And I lean over and open my window just a crack.… If you look up high enough you could see me. And from where I am? I could hear everything.

The story of The Resurrection of Jesus is very amazing. Resurrection: meaning Jesus rising from the dead. Jesus is alive again. Jesus proved to the people that He is the “Son of God”. Would you like to know the amazing story? Let’s read on! Jesus is Alive! After Jesus died a man named Joseph from Arimathea put Jesus in His tomb. Before Joseph left, he and some men rolled a large heavy stone in front of the tomb. Mary and Mary Magdalene made spices and oils as a sign of respect to Jesus, and went very early to the tomb on the third day to go see Jesus' body. As they were just about at the tomb the earth suddenly shook and an angel came down from heaven. He easily rolled away the stone at the entrance of the tomb and sat on top of it. The women looked at each other and rubbed their eyes, they couldn't believe what they had seen. The angel was so bright, almost as bright as lightning. His clothes were as white as snow. There had been guards watching the tomb so no one would steal Jesus' body. When they saw the angel they fell over and they couldn't move or speak because they were so afraid. Christian Living Education 2 SEIBO COLLEGE 5 Then the angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid. I know you are looking for Jesus who has died. But He isn't here; He has risen just as He said He would! Come and see for yourself, the tomb is empty." The women were confused. How could this happen? They were sure Jesus had died, and now He was alive? They looked in the tomb and the cloths Jesus was wrapped in were lying on the ground, and the tomb was empty. Then the angel spoke again, "If you want to find Jesus He's on his way to Galilee." So the women hurried away. They had been so sad that Jesus was dead and now they were so excited He was alive! They just knew they had to find Jesus, and they had to tell the disciples the good news. As they were running down the path they turned a corner, and there was Jesus. "Greetings," He said. The ladies fell at His feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my disciples to come to Galilee, which is where they will see me." The disciples came to Galilee, and had heard by this time that Jesus was alive. They were sitting around talking about it, when Jesus walked into the room and said to them, "Peace be with you." The disciples immediately stopped talking. Even though they had heard Christian Living Education 2 SEIBO COLLEGE 6 He was alive, they were shocked to see Him standing there with them. Jesus said to them, "Why do you look at me like you've just seen a ghost? Why don't you believe what you're seeing? Look at the scars in my hands and feet. It is really me! Touch me and see, I am not a ghost but a real person." The disciples’ mouths were open in amazement because they still didn't know what to think. They were so full of joy, and yet it was so impossible. Jesus understood what they were thinking, so He said, "This is what I told you would happen, that everything must happen that has already been written in the Bible." Then Jesus told them, "You have seen these things that have happened, so stay in the city and soon I am going to give you what God has promised you, the Holy Spirit. Jesus had one more person to see. His name was Thomas, and he was one of the disciples that weren’t there when Jesus met with them. Thomas had also heard that Jesus was alive, but would not believe until he saw Jesus with his own eyes. A week later when Thomas finally saw Jesus, Jesus said to him, "Put your finger here; see my hands. Stop doubting and believe." But Jesus continued, "Because you have seen me, you have believed; but it is more amazing for those who don't see me, and believe anyway." Christian Living Education 2 SEIBO COLLEGE 7 Jesus is actually talking to us when He said this. If you believe in Him, without seeing Him He thinks you're very special! That is exactly what faith is, believing in God even though you can't see Him. When we become Christians Jesus automatically gives us the Holy Spirit to live inside of us. The Holy Spirit makes us know when we have done something wrong. We might feel sick to our stomach, or just get a bad feeling, that is the Holy Spirit reminding us that we are doing something wrong, or that we need to stop and say sorry and ask for forgiveness for what we've done. Do you know what we celebrate during Easter Sunday? We celebrate the rising of Jesus from the dead. We celebrate because Jesus shared His new life with us. Through His rising from the dead, we are saved. We also have new life. What do you think we should do with our new life? How can we thank Jesus for sharing His new life with us? Of course, we should do good deeds. When we say good deeds, it is anything that we do that is good. It doesn’t matter how big or small as long as it is good. It would make Jesus very happy if we stop our bad ways and change for the better

“On this night, we share a roof protecting us from fleets of inequity. Our unification promises a better tomorrow. Those larger than myself, sitting on their marble thrones, sipping blood from cups composed of human skin and singing songs of so-called virtue, grow weaker each moment. Their caravans are revolting. There is hope yet. There is progress! Though tonight may mark a countdown, it is still a celebration. Look at all we have done, not just for Trials but for Palatium Infra as a whole. In four years, when I’m no longer Sovereignty, the Spoiled Purity and his people will continue to strive. So drink! Smoke! Crush up those exotic plants and snort them! We will not falter, weaken, or wane. Our influence is expanding, and somebody new opens their eyes every day. Even the Silbys of Aculeus have reached alarming potentials despite their embittered minds. So long as you relish in tonight, dance, and pray to your “dead” Gods, our revolution shall rise beyond the bounds of class, and when I’m only a commoner, we shall rise again beyond our brainwashed adversaries! Cheers, my people. Cheers!” Followers raised their cups. Some clinked theirs together. Others stood still and screamed breathlessly in agreement. I smiled with courtesy, then stepped off my platform. My voice still rang across the cellar. Speeches before were grander. Those displays were supposed to be emptying, and yet this one left me bloated, swollen tight. I watched as they popped the corks of their bottles and chanted in the name of Purity. Maybe the quality of my words wasn’t what mattered to them anyway, so long as I screamed loud enough. There’s no merit in attacking your people, a voice corrected me. “That’s right,” I said aloud. “Knox, my-my Sovereign!” squealed a nearby devotee, jittering as he stuffed his face with catered pastries. He was one I’d never seen before or had failed to remember. “Look what I’ve found! It’s wine, and not the shoddy Infran kind, either. Earth-made with good fruit! I don’t know how anyone managed to get their hands on this. Maybe some space travel mischief.” He giggled and held up a small glass bottle. “How neat.” “I want you to have it, Sir.” I nodded my head. “Yes, of course. Thank you.” Backing off into the midst of rowdy disciples, I clutched the bottle. What a waste of grapes. It could have been jam instead. Earthly food had a superior taste, ripe with delicate intricacies and nostalgia, but Palatium Infra had mastered the art of alcohol. Why waste your time with a drunkenness so sad and sickening? The booze of trash. Not many more followers approached me. The barren peroration must have upset them. My hands itched to submerge into my suit pockets, and my legs stood suddenly numb, wobbling. Four more years until I’m nothing. But tonight, you are nothing. “Shut up,” I told myself. Tightly packed together in the corner of the dwelling sat the Sibyls. A mound of writhing fabric and tones of skin made up their unified silhouette. I snapped the strap of the nearest gown, balancing on my hands and knees, waving the bottle before them. In their almost rodent nature, narrow noses prodded my way. Their dresses wrinkled and fell to their ankles. Knees dropped, and eyes widened. Many grumbled at me like hungry she-beasts. Those newer ones with faded curtains for hair, sunken eyes, and dirtied nails looked, hid their face, then sobbed. I imagined them in a pack together, fighting wildly against the Spoiled Purity in their rat decorum–biting down with square teeth laced with rabies. “I’ve got you all something,” I said. “Go back off to your pedestal and yap some more. We don’t want it.” A woman rose from the pile and spat. “You don’t even know what it is yet. It's Earth hooch, or more likely a near-flawless replica. I figured you girls would also like a chance to enjoy yourselves tonight.” “Your playmates have been harassing us since the moment you hung the banners and opened the cellar door.” The youngest, with a striking cyan mop upon her head, uncoiled from the mass. What was she now? 20, 21? We celebrated a birthday recently, I thought as she spun around me. “I remember something about a promise. Multiple promises, actually. Are you trying to bribe us into just shutting up and taking it? Because if another sticky, 40-year-old, Earth-born virgin gropes my shoulder, I’m going to have an aneurysm!” the girl continued. “Why not an Infran follower? Do you like it when they touch you?” I returned her accusing tone. “I’m sorry, sweet prophets, that you feel I’ve neglected my duties. I’ll keep a better eye out. Remember, you can always just holler if somebody is bothering you. And Anwen, friend, if I’ve ever tried to bribe you with anything, it was certainly the hair dye. I mean, look at you! Such handsomeness!” I exclaimed. The other Siblys began to encircle her, uttering compliments or even announcements of their envy. Anwen disappeared in a wink with flushed cheeks back into the mound. “I’ll just leave this here.” Smiling, I set down the bottle. ** “141, 143. . .” I counted each step as I trekked the staircase. There was no doubt I lost track somewhere. The ledges kept spawning under my feet, infinitely multiplying until I wasn’t moving at all–swallowing me up in a whirlpool of stone. My tie still hung around my neck, and my blazer remained tied around my hips as a skirt. Streaks of red dribbled off from the cavity in my chest. It was a gorgeous marking, sensual to my fingertips as I traced its edges. Purity, oh, Purity. Purity and his wings of burnt skin. Purity and his many faces. Purity the spoiled. Purity the mutilated. The Silbys did not bother waiting for me. On bare feet, they stormed up the stairs to their room. A trail of red, though in paint unlike mine, streamed after them. None looked remotely near me as they squeaked and gossiped intangibly. I saved them, those Infran broads, enlightened them. As much as they liked to deny it, spit at me, and bask in the thought of their victimhood, in this home, they stood empowered. You’ve done well, my thoughts affirmed, though in the manner of an insincere commentator rather than a hype man. Teeth grace in tile violin goes laundry paper when. It dissolved into an intruding drivel. I rubbed my head and sniveled. “Do you need help, Knox?” called a Silby. Fattened by my coddling, her shadow fell upon me from the doorway steps ahead. I attempted counting again. There must’ve been at least another hundred between me and her. “I’m hallucinating some,” I said, breathing deeply to suppress a burp as I struggled to recall her name. Two syllables. Typically Latin, though sometimes English. Drops of slobber leaked from my mouth. “I’m hallucinating some, Tybal. Do you like your name, Tybal? I would have named you something better. Ty-Tyballinia. No, we’d have to eliminate the ‘ball’ aspect. It sounds too crude.” “One foot in front of the other,” she said. So I walked. Mess greeted me at the doorway. Dirtied culinary obscured the dark wooden countertops, and the sink lay running. I approached the kitchen table, sat, and set my face down upon its cool wooden surface. Assaulting my nose was the smell of neglected flowers, like soil mixed with the kind of sweet cough medicine that would have left me gagging as a child. Open windows whispered songs of the twilight hour through the vessels of busy trolleys and shooting guns. My mouth strained to vomit, but there was nothing in my stomach to regurgitate except the petals of Stulto’s bloom, which came out effortlessly in little sputters. Teetering, I stood up and brushed disgorged plant parts off the tabletop. “Love,” I said as I slogged up yet another staircase. “Are you awake?” She said she’d wait. Somebody’s gotten her. No, she always misses movie night. That sleepyhead, I assured myself. There was a stirring amidst the manor’s cloak of dusk. Portraits of myself, my wife, and my daughter turned to face me as the hallway lights flickered, escaping their quartz frames to penetrate my ears with nonsense. The taxidermied heads of Infran creatures bared their teeth. I stopped to stare at my favorite, an adabactor with daunting spiked tusks poking out from its forehead. Its nose remained black and sharp, and its eyes wide with malice. “Where is my Spes, Adaba-boy? Is she sleepy?” There’s someone in the house. The sounds of the stirring rose along with my blood pressure. Footsteps orbited around me, drawing near and far and then near again, little dancers in the dark. The carpet immersed me in its mass of purples and blues, leaving my skin stained indigo and my vision abstracted. I toiled to reach the master bedroom across the aisle as it stretched out to me with bright lights and celestial howling, like a dove struggling in a pool of oil. Never again with Stulto’s bloom. Never again on what was already a bad night. My hand brushed the doorknob, and the high abruptly faded into only a persistent hum-buzz twirling around my brain. The portraits returned to their typical depression–Spes posing with her ax, Ari’s school photo, and myself in the cap I wore when addressing the military with the Verbis emblem embroidered in its center. All lifeless shots. Who were they for when they captured not the subject’s essence but only some fragment of their identity? They used to feel personal, not advertisements of some supposed characters. Servants, babysitters, and likewise civilian guests, I reminded myself, mustn’t forget whose home they’re in. Yet my body moved independently, taking Ari’s from its hook and laying it backward against the wall to hide her distant grin and tamed posture. It was time for new pictures. Sweet ones, real ones; time was ticking. I approached my own when the stirring began again. Groans and squeals erupted from the vents as if someone had set a pen of pigs loose in my crawlspace. No, not the crawlspace, my bedroom door. I turned the ruby knob. Underneath a blanket wrestled my two squealing piglets, their skins melting together beneath the layer of duvet. Fishnet leggings and manicured nails outstretched and scraped at the sheet beneath them. One raised its head, a salmon-colored man with sweat running down his forehead. Through the crack in the door, we met eyes, his Infran Dr. Sesuss nose flaring its narrow nostrils. No mark of the Spoiled Purity existed carved onto his naked body. My chest felt tight. I stepped back. I was suffocating. Spes emerged from the linens, her hair flowing down her back and her dark skin glistening in front of the bedroom window. She giggled and held the man, the blanket falling and revealing inches of her body I had not seen in months. “Darling,” whispered the rosy-faced man, “look.” He was unfathomably ugly and grotesquely young, with beady, lifeless pupils that dilated when he faced me. The excess flesh on his face sagged while he bit down on his thin lips. My wife faced me, gasped, and strained to cover herself. Suddenly, I was a stranger. A small child who had walked into his parents having sex. I unfurled the door completely. “Get out of my house,” I said. The man stayed in place. “Get out of my house,” I repeated. “Knox,” Spes began. Tears ran down her round cheeks. “Shut up!” I turned to the man, picking up a marble trophy from on top of my dresser. “Get out of my house! I’ll kill you!” “Knox!” Spes sobbed. “God damn it! I hate you! You barely look at me. Every day, there’s less passion. God, God, God, I don’t want to fuck a dead man!” she screamed, “You get out! Get! Get!” My hands wrapped tighter around the statue. That pig of a man was attached to her at the side, his face equipped with a scowl that challenged mine. He thought I was weak; frail like a decaying dementia-ridden senior. I imagined his skull bashed in, his scowl gone, and the feist and confidence in his face beaten into numbness. A new portrait was in order of such brutality, him as a splintered slab of wood, rashed and beaten, a carcass licking my boot. The churning in my brain had come back. Every wall shook. Clock faces came to life and rang in alarm. Indescribable noises caressed my eardrum before breaking into sorrowful weeps. Was it my own? I stared at Spes in motionless frenzy, clenched my teeth, and screamed like a siren. Passionless. What a lie! An excuse, more like. One that erased all my ventures, reducing me to a nobody. But I was not a nobody. I thought of my sect, my campaigns, my endurance through the political brutality of my empty hive-mind world–even my collection of literature, maps, and artifacts. I thought of daring nights alone with Spes when we were young, ravaging each other, two sardonic eggheads suddenly overcome with desire. The veins in my neck throbbed as I gasped for air. It was all I had. I threw the figurine at the man’s head. Eye shut, I heard the thud. A million singing voices of victory flooded out of the cracks in the floorboard. Proving myself a man to the woman I loved in a display of fervent violence was passion. I strained my ears for his cries, though I did not look yet. There had to be a pause, a moment of relief, where I stood tall as a skyscraper and seemingly fought to stay contained in front of my wife and her wounded, quivering paramour. Frantic footsteps rushed off the bed and past my side. I turned and grappled against myself to seize my wife’s shoulder. “Spes!” My eyelids lifted. Escaping was the man with that same numb expression in which I had imagined him. “You’re insane,” he said. I swiveled back towards the bed. With her curly locks flowing over her breasts and her limbs bent at her sides, Spes sat limp pressed against the headboard, her forehead bludgeoned and the statue resting on her stomach. Lips pursed and sweet, my Renaissance beauty reclined there in the guise of a squashed bug. But she was not dead. The desk ornament I flung was only the size of my shoe. Spes, that dramatist, may have been slightly hurt but was far from dead. She only wanted me to think she was to observe me at my most distraught, like a leech feeding on misery. “Get up.” Staggering toward the bed, I said. “You wanted passion? I showed you passion. ‘Shoved it right into your head. Of course, we both know who that gesture was meant for. . .” I fumbled to find my wit. Cold skin met my hands as I stroked her face, unable to resist checking her pulse, even though she was not dead. “I love you, Spes,” I said. Rain pelted against a nearby window. “Spes, please. Please.” No vibration answered my plea. I lifted my hand, sitting next to her now. Tears did not come. There was not any blood on the trophy, but when I picked it up, it felt to be now only a cruel instrument. It depicted a younger me in white marble, with my glasses and collared shirt being the only things painted. Both were in pink. It was a favorable color. I scrambled from the bed to vomit pure digestive bile on the rug. My stomach heaved. I ran my nails along every piece of myself I saw, a dog chasing my tail. As I slammed myself against walls and convulsed, my own heart grew ever louder in my chest. “Dad? I heard–” Ari’s slippered feet hammered across the floor. “Mom? Mom?” I kept my eyes on the storm. Silence fell. “She-She isn’t—your—.” Gasps interrupted every syllable she spoke. “You’re a murderer. Bad. Like they said,” she breathed, “ You beat her!” The words became mush, alphabet soup. Ari ran back down the hall. “My-My mom is dead. . . .Yes. . . Manor of the Trials Sovereignty. . .Ari Sorkin. . . I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me,” she said, presumably over the phone. It was all too fast. I crawled onto the windowsill, opened the glass, and let myself plummet into the alley below. Gusts of wind howled. The lack of motion or sensation informed me I had passed and again lived. Another Palatium Infra, another strange planet in which the celestial endowed rotting men with the opportunity to inhabit. Was this it? Was it all just an impossible limbo of galactic traveling? My surroundings were overwhelmingly gray, an abyss of clouds. Perhaps I had now met the real coming world, and my family and old friends lived here, ready to rush to my sides, lift me up, and jump for joy. Spes would be there. She would be enraged, but at least she’d be there. You are a bad man. You are a bad man. My eyelashes fluttered. There was a tugging sensation in my leg. The fog was wavering along with my ascendance. “No,” I yearned, trying to grip the clouds and stick them in place. “Stay with me.” But the peace was fleeting. I felt the cement under me and the moist garments clinging to my figure. My leg burned. Carefully, I craned my neck, only to observe the promenade as my surroundings. The most underwhelming of filth and danger, individually Infran. Forever my coming world. What a fool I was, having forgotten my blessing. Those idiot Gods could not tell the difference between assassination and self-infliction; a faulty insurance plan. The urge to cry at last set over me, and so I sat and wailed hot salvia into my palm, shielding my mouth to muffle the noise. Thunder echoed my hushed howling. Raindrops turned to pebbles. Under the ambiance of the stormy night, I could have sworn I heard troops stomping, guns cocking, and the chanting of my name. They had all been waiting for this. Billboards came to life, and I could only sit and spectate as the scenery flashed red. I inhaled fear and sobriety through runny nostrils. “Trials Sovereign Vsevolod “Knox” Sorkin is currently at large for the suspected homicide of Spes Sorkin, breaking the first term of the Sovereignty Charter. We now instruct you to report any sightings of the Earth-born, caucasian, roughly 195 centimeters tall, brown-haired, and brown-eyed man to your local Guard post. One can identify the suspected convict specifically by an occult tattoo of Purity’s Coronet on his lower back. No attempted execution or elongated punishment will take place until our Guards conduct an autopsy proving his guilt, per Life’s 1238 commandment. We cannot be sure when or if the Gods will revoke his blessing. Remember, when Gods frown upon strife, opt for a peaceful life. We permit all grieving festivities until Cagidus 4th. Good year!” towering buildings sang out in broadcast, repeating that same convoluted message quicker the instant it ended. Sometimes, the announcer spoke in Latin for the Infran children, other times in Chinese, Hindi, or Spanish to cater to those of irrelevant tongues. You aren’t a bad man. You are a stupid boy. Puddles sloshed. Somebody was approaching. I didn’t dare waste any remaining energy avoiding the Guards and their prodding blades. How did that phrase go? You dug your grave. Now lie in it. And so I embraced the cement. “Knox?” said the Guard. No, her tone was too sincere, and no authority would proceed in such a manner. There wasn’t confirmation on whether or not I was armed, and it wasn’t as if she could shoot me first. She was a partygoer, having just left from the cellar’s backdoor. I shooed her away with my hand. She hovered, and I discerned her shadow hesitating over my body. A man could not rot in peace. “Come on, get up! They’re after you!” Hands reached around my torso, struggling to handle my weight as they urged me onto my feet. That leg, the burning one, my right, trembled and bent unnaturally upon impact with the ground. The partygoer slung my arm over her shoulder, balancing me. My eyes caught a glimpse of a cyan mop. “Anwen?” I rasped, “hu-who let you out?” Keys jangled in her hands–my keys. “I escaped,” she said casually, coercing me to walk beside her. “Quicken your pace. I just heard somebody on your front porch. ‘You see that compost bin down the alley? We’re gonna burrow right down into the depth of that. If they open it and uncover us, I’ll be on top, and I can hide you and act like I’m just a homeless amica trying to take a nap.” With a tightening grip, she led me like livestock to the stinking crate. “I don’t understand, Anwen,” I said. “They’re going to torture and kill you, stupid. You know they’ve been wanting to, and you just handed the opportunity to them!” “I understand that.” It was becoming increasingly challenging to hide the fragility emerging in my voice. “You said you were escaping. Why stop and help your captor?” “What else could I do? Leave you there?” Attempts to shove my wounded body inside its mass of discarded fruits and vegetables began. She yanked down upon my head and submerged me in the fertilizer sea. The evidence grows indisputable, I thought as I stared at the abruptly humane Infran girl, diving in after me, that I belong here. “Damn me to hell! I’ve killed her! My love is dead!” an uncontrollable cry leaped from my mouth. “Shut up! Soon you’ll be, too, if you don’t quiet down.” The actual noise of the Guards darted past us: disorientated marching, guns clanking against each other, cluttered belts rattling, the Latin squawking. One paused to open the bin’s lid, though only rummaged through the surface layer of peat before carrying on. “What are they talking about? I struggle with my Latin,” I whispered. “The search, mainly.” Aggression remained firey in Anwen’s clenched jaw. Though she sat on top of me, there was a monumental distance between our rain-soaked forms. I curled up into a ball, ducked my head between my knees, and dreamt of Spes, ignoring the stench of spoiled food rising from every crevice of my dwelling. The next coming world was due to adopt me again as I forced sleep. I prayed for a canyon of fluffy haze, where I waltzed with pale memories but found nothing but the petrifying stillness of my mind. Killed and ran. Violent as a Guard just to prove a point and watch it backfire. Why would any heaven want to welcome me? I clung to the picture of Spes in my head like it was the last ember of an extinguished flame. “Did you mean to kill her?” Anwen interrogated. “Someone like you would immutably believe yes.” “And who is someone like me? You can’t even treat me like a person for a moment, can you?” grating drama decorated her words. “You know my opinions. I have not seen much of your or your breed’s faces besides that of cruelty and ignorance.” I retorted. “I just saved you! Does that make me cruel and ignorant?” “It makes you an idiot, which is another word for somebody ignorant.” “And why am I an idiot?” She asked. “Because you helping me does no good. Thank you anyhow. Now, do yourself a favor and scram.” As she bent her leg in anticipation, preparing to strike me on the forehead, I sensed an invisible withdrawal widening the gap between us. “You never answered my question,” Anwen took me by the end of my tattered tie suddenly and started her game of shepherd and sheep over again, pulling me back up to the crate’s exit. It appeared as a shining light at the end of a maze of rubbish and mold. “No. Of course not. Spes was my everything,” I sniffled. “I knew it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hit us, let alone murder your wife. The girls and I always figured you were sensitive.” My heart rate quickened. Today was one of humbling and misery–one to pray a hail spike would fall from the sky as sharp as a needle, pierce into my eyelid, and lobotomize me. I wished I could have merely died or hit my head hard enough not to have to deal with it all. No, I wished I was Anwen with her snarky, careless glow and lack of depth in her eyes. As we emerged from the compost bin together, I fantasized about strangling her until her face turned purple, her weakening spirit no longer categorizing me as “sensitive”, but the thought could only remind me of wielding that trophy and the microscopic traces of my wife’s tender skin tainting it, which turned my guts inside out. “That’s why I think you could use a little help,” Anwen said, “It seems like you can’t walk, either. Your leg is all twisted up.” She undid one of her trim pigtails and handed me the band. “Take off your tie and put up your hair. ‘Will make you less recognizable. Then swallow your pride and stick with me.”

Once upon a time, there were two close friends who were walking through the forest together. They knew that anything dangerous can happen any time in the forest. So they promised each other that they would always be together in any case of danger. Suddenly, they saw a large bear getting closer toward them. One of them climbed a nearby tree at once. But unfortunately the other one did not know how to climb up the tree. So being led by his common sense, he lay down on the ground breathless and pretended to be a dead man. The bear came near the one who was lying on the ground. It smelt in his ears, and slowly left the place because the bears do not want to touch the dead creatures. After that, the friend on the tree came down and asked his friend who was on the ground, "Friend, what did the bear whisper into your ears?" The other friend replied, "Just now the bear advised me not to believe a false friend"

THE FIDE LAWS OF CHESS. Introduction FIDE Laws of Chess cover over-the-board play. The Laws of Chess have two parts: 1. Basic Rules of Play and 2. Competitive Rules of Play. The English text is the authentic version of the Laws of Chess (which were adopted at the 93rd FIDE Congress at Chennai, India) coming into force on 1 January 2023. Preface. The Laws of Chess cannot cover all possible situations that may arise during a game, nor can they regulate all administrative questions. Where cases are not precisely regulated by an Article of the Laws, it should be possible to reach a correct decision by studying analogous situations which are regulated in the Laws. The Laws assume that arbiters have the necessary competence, sound judgement and absolute objectivity. Too detailed a rule might deprive the arbiter of his/her freedom of judgement and thus prevent him/her from finding a solution to a problem dictated by fairness, logic and special factors. FIDE appeals to all chess players and federations to accept this view. A necessary condition for a game to be rated by FIDE is that it shall be played according to the FIDE Laws of Chess. It is recommended that competitive games not rated by FIDE be played according to the FIDE Laws of Chess. Member federations may ask FIDE to give a ruling on matters relating to the Laws of Chess. BASIC RULES OF PLAY. Article 1: The Nature and Objectives of the Game of Chess 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 The game of chess is played between two opponents who move their pieces on a square board called a ‘chessboard’. The player with the light-coloured pieces (White) makes the first move, then the players move alternately, with the player with the dark-coloured pieces (Black) making the next move. A player is said to ‘have the move’ when his/her opponent’s move has been ‘made’. The objective of each player is to place the opponent’s king ‘under attack’ in such a way that the opponent has no legal move. 1.4.1 The player who achieves this goal is said to have ‘checkmated’ the opponent’s king and to have won the game. Leaving one’s own king under attack, exposing one’s own king to attack and also ’capturing’ the opponent’s king is not allowed. 1.4.2 The opponent whose king has been checkmated has lost the game. 1.5 If the position is such that neither player can possibly checkmate the opponent’s king, the game is drawn (see Article 5.2.2). Article 2: The Initial Position of the Pieces on the Chessboard 2.1 2.2 The chessboard is composed of an 8 x 8 grid of 64 equal squares alternately light (the ‘white’ squares) and dark (the ‘black’ squares). The chessboard is placed between the players in such a way that the near corner square to the right of the player is white. At the beginning of the game White has 16 light-coloured pieces (the ‘white’ pieces); Black has 16 dark-coloured pieces (the ‘black’ pieces). These pieces are as follows: A white king usually indicated by the symbol K A white queen Two white rooks Two white bishops Two white knights Eight white pawns A black king A black queen Two black rooks Two black bishops Two black knights Eight black pawns usually indicated by the symbol Q usually indicated by the symbol R usually indicated by the symbol B usually indicated by the symbol N usually indicated by the symbol usually indicated by the symbol K usually indicated by the symbol Q usually indicated by the symbol R usually indicated by the symbol B usually indicated by the symbol N usually indicated by the symbol Staunton Pieces p Q K B N R 9 2.3 The initial position of the pieces on the chessboard is as follows: 2.4 The eight vertical columns of squares are called ‘files’. The eight horizontal rows of squares are called ‘ranks’. A straight line of squares of the same colour, running from one edge of the board to an adjacent edge, is called a ‘diagonal’. Article 3: The Moves of the Pieces 3.1 It is not permitted to move a piece to a square occupied by a piece of the same colour. 3.1.1 If a piece moves to a square occupied by an opponent’s piece the latter is captured and removed from the chessboard as part of the same move. 3.1.2 A piece is said to attack an opponent’s piece if the piece could make a capture on that square according to Articles 3.2 to 3.8. 3.1.3 A piece is considered to attack a square even if this piece is constrained from moving to that square because it would then leave or place the king of its own colour under attack. 3.2 The bishop may move to any square along a diagonal on which it stands. 3.3 The rook may move to any square along the file or the rank on which it stands. 3.4 The queen may move to any square along the file, the rank or a diagonal on which it stands. 3.5 3.6 3.7 When making these moves, the bishop, rook or queen may not move over any intervening pieces. The knight may move to one of the squares nearest to that on which it stands but not on the same rank, file or diagonal. 3.7 When making these moves, the bishop, rook or queen may not move over any intervening pieces. The knight may move to one of the squares nearest to that on which it stands but not on the same rank, file or diagonal. The pawn: 3.7.1 The pawn may move forward to the square immediately in front of it on the same file, provided that this square is unoccupied, or 3.7.2 on its first move the pawn may move as in 3.7.1 or alternatively it may advance two squares along the same file, provided that both squares are unoccupied, or 3.7.3 the pawn may move to a square occupied by an opponent’s piece diagonally in front of it on an adjacent file, capturing that piece. 3.7.3.1 A pawn occupying a square on the same rank as and on an adjacent file to an opponent’s pawn which has just advanced two squares in one move from its original square may capture this opponent’s pawn as though the latter had been moved only one square. 3.7.3.2 This capture is only legal on the move following this advance and is called an ‘en passant’ capture. 3.7.3.3 When a player, having the move, plays a pawn to the rank furthest from its starting position, he/she must exchange that pawn as part of the same move for a new queen, rook, bishop or knight of the same colour on the intended square of arrival. This is called the square of ‘promotion’. 3.7.3.4 The player's choice is not restricted to pieces that have been captured previously. 3.7.3.5 This exchange of a pawn for another piece is called promotion, and the effect of the new piece is immediate. 3.8 There are two different ways of moving the king: 3.8.1 by moving to an adjoining square. 3.8.2 by ‘castling’. This is a move of the king and either rook of the same colour along the player’s first rank, counting as a single move of the king and executed as follows: the king is transferred from its original square two squares towards the rook on its original square, then that rook is transferred to the square the king has just crossed. 3.8.2.1 The right to castle has been lost: 3.8.2.1.1 If the king has already moved, or 3.8.2.1.2 With a rook that has already moved. 3.8.2.2 Castling is prevented temporarily: 3.8.2.2.1 if the square on which the king stands, or the square which it must cross, or the square which it is to occupy, is attacked by one or more of the opponent's pieces, or 3.8.2.2.2 if there is any piece between the king and the rook with which castling is to be effected. 3.9 The king in check: 3.9.1 The king is said to be 'in check' if it is attacked by one or more of the opponent's pieces, even if such pieces are constrained from moving to the square occupied by the king because they would then leave or place their own king in check. 3.9.2 No piece can be moved that will either expose the king of the same colour to check or leave that king in check. 3.10 Legal and illegal moves; illegal positions: 3.10.1 A move is legal when all the relevant requirements of Articles 3.1 – 3.9 have been fulfilled. 3.10.2 A move is illegal when it fails to meet the relevant requirements of Articles 3.1 –3.9. 3.10.3 A position is illegal when it cannot have been reached by any series of legal moves. Article 4: The Act of Moving the Pieces 4.1 4.2 Each move must be played with one hand only. Adjusting the pieces or other physical contact with a piece: 4.2.1 Only the player having the move may adjust one or more pieces on their squares, provided that he/she first expresses his/her intention (for example by saying “j’adoube” or “I adjust”). 4.2.2 Any other physical contact with a piece, except for clearly accidental contact, shall be considered to be intent. 4.3 Except as provided in Article 4.2.1, if the player having the move touches on the chessboard, with the intention of moving or capturing: 4.3.1 one or more of his/her own pieces, he/she must move the first piece touched that can be moved. 4.3.2 one or more of his/her opponent’s pieces, he/she must capture the first piece touched that can be captured. 4.3.3 one or more pieces of each colour, he/she must capture the first touched opponent’s piece with his/her first touched piece or, if this is illegal, move or capture the first piece touched that can be moved or captured. If it is unclear whether the player’s own piece or his/her opponent’s was touched first, the player’s own piece shall be considered to have been touched before his/her opponent’s. 4.4 If a player having the move: 4.4.1 touches his/her king and a rook he/she must castle on that side if it is legal to do so 4.4.2 deliberately touches a rook and then his/her king he/she is not allowed to castle on that side on that move and the situation shall be governed by Article 4.3.1. 4.4.3 intending to castle, touches the king and then a rook, but castling with this rook is illegal, the player must make another legal move with his/her king (which may include castling with the other rook). If the king has no legal move, the player is free to make any legal move. 4.4.4 promotes a pawn, the choice of the piece is finalised when the piece has touched the square of promotion. 4.5 4.6 If none of the pieces touched in accordance with Article 4.3 or Article 4.4 can be moved or captured, the player may make any legal move. The act of promotion may be performed in various ways: 4.6.1 the pawn does not have to be placed on the square of arrival. 4.6.2 removing the pawn and putting the new piece on the square of promotion may occur in any order. 4.6.3 If an opponent’s piece stands on the square of promotion, it must be captured. 4.7 When, as a legal move or part of a legal move, a piece has been released on a square, it cannot be moved to another square on this move. The move is considered to have been made in the case of: 4.7.1 A capture, when the captured piece has been removed from the chessboard and the player, having placed his/her own piece on its new square, has released this capturing piece from his/her hand. 4.7.2 Castling, when the player's hand has released the rook on the square previously crossed by the king. When the player has released the king from his/her hand, the move is not yet made, but the player no longer has the right to make any move other than castling on that side, if this is legal. If castling on this side is illegal, the player must make another legal move with his/her king (which may include castling with the other rook). If the king has no legal move, the player is free to make any legal move. 4.7.3 Promotion, when the player's hand has released the new piece on the square of promotion and the pawn has been removed from the board. 4.8 4.9 A player forfeits his/her right to claim against his/her opponent’s violation of Articles 4.1 – 4.7 once the player touches a piece with the intention of moving or capturing it. 4.8. A player forfeits his/her right to claim against his/her opponent’s violation of Articles 4.1 – 4.7 .4.9. If a player is unable to move the pieces, an assistant, who shall be acceptable to the arbiter, may be provided by the player to perform this operation. Article 5: The Completion of the Game 5.1.1 The game is won by the player who has checkmated his/her opponent’s king. This immediately ends the game, provided that the move producing the checkmate position was in accordance with Article 3 and Articles 4.2 – 4.7. 5.1.2 The game is lost by the player who declares he/she resigns (this immediately ends the game), unless the position is such that the opponent cannot checkmate the player’s king by any possible series of legal moves. In this case the result of the game is a draw. 5.2.1 The game is drawn when the player to move has no legal move and his/her king is not in check. The game is said to end in ‘stalemate’. This immediately ends the game, provided that the move producing the stalemate position was in accordance with Article 3 and Articles 4.2 – 4.7. 5.2.2 The game is drawn when a position has arisen in which neither player can checkmate the opponent’s king with any series of legal moves. The game is said to end in a ‘dead position’. This immediately ends the game, provided that the move producing the position was in accordance with Article 3 and Articles 4.2 – 4.7. 5.2.3 The game is drawn upon agreement between the two players during the game, provided both players have made at least one move. This immediately ends the game. COMPETITIVE RULES OF PLAY Article 6: The Chessclock 6.1 ‘Chessclock’ means a clock with two time displays, connected to each other in such a way that only one of them can run at a time. ‘Clock’ in the Laws of Chess means one of the two time displays. Each time display has a ‘flag’. ‘Flag-fall’ means the expiration of the allotted time for a player. 6.2 Handling the chessclock: 6.2.1 During the game each player, having made his/her move on the chessboard, shall pause his/her own clock and start his/her opponent’s clock (that is to say, he/she shall press his/her clock). This “completes” the move. A move is also completed if: 6.2.1.1 6.2.1.2 the move ends the game (see Articles 5.1.1, 5.2.1, 5.2.2, 9.2.1, 9.6.1 and 9.6.2), or the player has made his/her next move, when his/her previous move was not completed. 6.2.2 A player must be allowed to pause his/her clock after making his/her move, even after the opponent has made his/her next move. The time between making the move on the chessboard and pressing the clock is regarded as part of the time allotted to the player. 6.2.3 A player must press his/her clock with the same hand with which he/she made his/her move. It is forbidden for a player to keep his/her finger on the clock or to ‘hover’ over it. 6.2.4 The players must handle the chessclock properly. It is forbidden to press it forcibly, to pick it up, to press the clock before moving or to knock it over. Improper clock handling shall be penalised in accordance with Article 12.9. 6.2.5 6.2.6 Only the player whose clock is running is allowed to adjust the pieces. If a player is unable to use the clock, an assistant, who must be acceptable to the arbiter, may be provided by the player to perform this operation. His/Her clock shall be adjusted by the arbiter in an equitable way. This adjustment of the clock shall not apply to the clock of a player with a disability. 6.3 Allotted time: 6.3.1 When using a chessclock, each player must complete a minimum number of moves or all moves in an allotted period of time including any additional amount of time added with each move. All these must be specified in advance. 6.3.2 The time saved by a player during one period is added to his/her time available for the next period, where applicable. In the time-delay mode both players receive an allotted ‘main thinking time’. Each player also receives a ‘fixed extra time’ with every move. The countdown of the main thinking time only commences after the fixed extra time has expired. Provided the player presses his/her clock before the expiration of the fixed extra time, the main thinking time does not change, irrespective of the proportion of the fixed extra time used. 6.4 Immediately after a flag falls, the requirements of Article 6.3.1 must be checked. 6.5 Before the start of the game the arbiter shall decide where the chessclock is placed. 6.6 At the time determined for the start of the game White’s clock is started.6.7. Default time: 6.7.1 The regulations of an event shall specify a default time in advance. If the default time is not specified, then it is zero. Any player who arrives at the chessboard after the default time shall lose the game unless the arbiter decides otherwise. 6.7.2 If the regulations of an event specify that the default time is not zero and if neither player is present initially, White shall lose all the time that elapses until he/she arrives, unless the regulations of an event specify, or the arbiter decides otherwise. 6.8 A flag is considered to have fallen when the arbiter observes the fact or when either player has made a valid claim to that effect. 6.9 Except where one of Articles 5.1.1, 5.1.2, 5.2.1, 5.2.2, 5.2.3 applies, if a player does not complete the prescribed number of moves in the allotted time, the game is lost by that player. However, the game is drawn if the position is such that the opponent cannot checkmate the player’s king by any possible series of legal moves. 6.10 Chessclock setting: 6.10.1 Every indication given by the chessclock is considered to be conclusive in the absence of any evident defect. A chessclock with an evident defect shall be replaced by the arbiter, who shall use his/her best judgement when determining the times to be shown on the replacement chessclock. 6.10.2 If during a game it is found that the setting of either or both clocks is incorrect, either player or the arbiter shall pause the chessclock immediately. The arbiter shall install the correct setting and adjust the times and move-counter, if necessary he/she shall use his/her best judgement when determining the clock settings. 6.11.1 If the game needs to be interrupted, the arbiter shall pause the chessclock. 6.11.2 A player may pause the chessclock only in order to seek the arbiter’s assistance, for example when promotion has taken place and the piece required is not available. 6.11.3 The arbiter shall decide when the game restarts. 6.11.4 If a player pauses the chessclock in order to seek the arbiter’s assistance, the arbiter shall determine whether the player had any valid reason for doing so. If the player has no valid reason for pausing the chessclock, the player shall be penalised in accordance with Article 12.9. 6.12.1 Screens, monitors, or demonstration boards showing the current position on the chessboard, the moves and the number of moves made/completed, and clocks which also show the number of moves, are allowed in the playing hall. 6.12.2 The player may not make a claim relying only on information shown in this manner.

One of the phenomena which had peculiarly attracted my attention was the structure of the human frame1, and, indeed, any animal endued with2 life. Whence3, I often asked myself, did the principle of life proceed? It was a bold question, and one which has ever been considered as a mystery; yet with how 5 many things are we upon the brink of4 becoming acquainted, if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our inquiries. I revolved5 these circumstances in my mind, and determined thenceforth to apply myself more particularly to those branches of natural philosophy which relate to physiology. Unless I had been animated by an almost supernatural enthusiasm, my application to this study 10 would have been irksome, and almost intolerable. To examine the causes of life, we must first have recourse to death. I became acquainted with the science of anatomy: but this was not sufficient; I must also observe the natural decay and corruption of the human body. In my education my father had taken the greatest precautions that my mind should be impressed with no supernatural horrors. 15 I do not ever remember to have trembled at a tale of superstition, or to have feared the apparition of a spirit. Darkness had no effect upon my fancy; and a churchyard was to me merely the receptacle of bodies deprived of life, which, from being the seat of beauty and strength, had become food for the worm. Now I was led to examine the cause and progress of this decay, and forced to spend 20 days and nights in vaults and charnel-houses6. My attention was fixed upon every object the most insupportable to the delicacy of the human feelings. I saw how the fine form of man was degraded and wasted; I beheld the corruption of death succeed to the blooming cheek of life; I saw how the worm inherited the wonders of the eye and brain. I paused, examining and analysing all the minutiae 25 of causation, as exemplified in the change from life to death, and death to life, until from the midst of this darkness a sudden light broke in upon me – a light so brilliant and wondrous, yet so simple, that while I became dizzy with the immensity of the prospect which it illustrated, I was surprised that among so many men of genius who had directed their inquiries towards the same science, 30 that I alone should be reserved to discover so astonishing a secret. Remember, I am not recording the vision of a madman. The sun does not more certainly shine in the heavens, than that which I now affirm is true. Some miracle might have produced it, yet the stages of the discovery were distinct and probable. After days and nights of incredible labour and fatigue, I succeeded in 35 discovering the cause of generation and life; nay7, more I became myself capable of bestowing8 animation upon lifeless matter. The astonishment which I had at first experienced on this discovery soon gave place to delight and rapture. After so much time spent in painful labour, to arrive at once at the summit of my desires was the most gratifying 40 consummation of my toils9. But this discovery was so great and overwhelming10 that all the steps by which I had been progressively led to it were obliterated, and I beheld only the result. What had been the study and desire of the wisest men since the creation of the world was now within my grasp. Not that, like a magic scene, it all opened upon me at once: the information I had obtained was of a 45 nature rather to direct my endeavours11 so soon as I should point them towards the object of my search, than to exhibit that object already accomplished. I was like the Arabian who had been buried with the dead, and found a passage to life, aided only by one glimmering, and seemingly ineffectual12, light.

Dia for María Ratona was a cat named Mouse. She was small and gray, and had a tiny squeaky meow. She liked to sit in a hole in the shed wall. Ratona lived for a long time. Eight months ago, she died. I'm not sad anymore, but I think about her often. One day, Mamá was setting up Tía Teresa's ofrenda, a special altar, for Day of the Dead. Teresa passed away when I was a baby. "Mamá, can we celebrate pets?" I asked. "This is mostly for family, though I suppose Ratona was part of ours," Mamá said. "We can celebrate her the day before," I suggested. Later, Mamá and I went to the market in Puebla. We got paper banners, sugar skulls, and marigolds. On October 31, my friends came over. Adriana brought her dog, Sal. or Salt. She had a photo of Sal's sister, Pimienta, or Pepper, who died last summer. Gloria had a picture of Raúl the rooster, a pet she had lost. We set up the banners, marigolds. and photos where Ratona used to sit. "Once, Pimienta stole a pound of cheese from our cooler. She got into the trash and ate it later! I have cheese for Pimienta," Adriana said. "My mother makes pumpkin seeds for my great-grandfather's ofrenda. Raúl jumped up and ate them! My mother was so mad. I brought some for Raúl," Gloria said. "If someone had ice cream, Ratona went Squeak! Squeak! until you let her lick the bowl. I have ice cream for Ratona," I said. I gave Adriana and Gloria sugar skulls before they left. I thought about funny little Ratona. On the last day of celebrations, my family walked to the graveyard. Everyone from the area came. There were fireworks and even a band. Tía Teresa's gravestone was piled with flowers, sweet bread, and candles. Mamá smiled to herself. "One day, María, your Tía Teresa heard a tiny squeak coming from the grass. It was a little gray kitten. Teresa named her Ratona," Mamá said. She continued, "When Teresa died, I took Ratona. You loved her right away. You reminded me of Teresa." Everyone was laughing and dancing. I was too young to remember Tía Teresa, but we had both loved Ratona. That made me happy. Mamá took my hand. "I think it's time to dance!" she said.

By the late 1800s, the Spanish were losing control of Cuba. Concerned about insurrection in the countryside, they moved rural Cubans to “reconcentration” camps where the Spanish claimed they would be better able to protect them. U.S. Consul-General Fitzhugh Lee forwarded the following account of the conditions of the camps to the U.S. Assistant Secretary of State on November 27, 1897. Lee said the author of the note was “a man of integrity and character.” “[W]e will relate to you what we saw with our own eyes: “Four hundred and sixty women and children thrown on the ground, heaped pellet-mell as animals, some in a dying condition, others sick and others dead. . . . “There is still alive the only living witness, a young girl of 18 years, whom we found seemingly lifeless on the ground; on her right-hand side was the body of a young mother, cold and rigid, but with her young child still alive clinging to her dead body; on her left-hand side was also the corpse of a dead woman holding her son in a dead embrace. . . . “The circumstances are the following: complete accumulation of bodies dead and alive, so that it was impossible to take one step without walking over them; the greatest want of cleanliness, want of light, air, and water; the food lacking in quality and quantity what was necessary to sustain life. . . . From all this we deduct that the number of deaths among the reconcentrados has amounted to 77 per cent.” Source: Unsigned note that was included in a telegram sent by Fitzhugh Lee, U.S. Consul-General in Cuba, to the U.S. Assistant Secretary of State November 27, 1897. consul-general: a government official living in a foreign country charged with overseeing the protection of U.S. citizens and promoting trade pell-mell: state of disorder accumulation: pile want: lack reconcentrados: the reconcentration camp prisoners; The following is an excerpt from Albert J. Beveridge’s speech, delivered September 16, 1898. Beveridge gave this speech while he was campaigning to become a senator for Indiana. The speech helped him win the election and made him one of the leading advocates of American expansion. “Fellow citizens, it is a noble land that God has given us; a land that can feed and clothe the world;. . . . It is a mighty people that he has planted on this soil . . . It is a glorious history our God has bestowed upon his chosen people; . . .a history of soldiers who carried the flag across the blazing deserts and through the ranks of hostile mountains, even to the gates of sunset. . . . “The Opposition tells us that we ought not to govern a people without their consent. I answer: The rule of liberty that all just government derives its authority from the consent of the governed, applies only to those who are capable of self-government. I answer, We govern the Indians without their consent, we govern our territories without their consent, we govern our children without their consent. “They ask us how we will govern these new possessions. I answer: If England can govern foreign lands, so can America. If Germany can govern foreign lands, so can America. . . . “What does all this mean for every one of us? It means opportunity for all the glorious young manhood of the republic, the most virile, ambitious, impatient, militant manhood the world has ever seen. It means that the resources and the commerce of these immensely rich dominions will be increased. . . . “In Cuba, alone, there are 15,000,000 acres of forest unacquainted with the axe. There are exhaustless mines of iron. . . . There are millions of acres yet unexplored. . . . It means new employment and better wages for every laboring man in the Union. . . .

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