What is the definition of meadow?

an open field of grass that is used for pasture of to grow hay

to move quickly or in a hurried way

a heavy farm tool that is pulled by a farm animal

What is the definition of plow?

a heavy farm tool that is pulled by a farm animal

to move quickly or in a hurried way

What is the definition of scurry?

to move quickly or in a hurried way

to look at with delight and wonder

What is the definition of perch?

to look at with delight and wonder

an open field of grass that is used for pasture or to grow hay

What is the definition of admire?

to look at with delight and wonder

a heavy farm tool that is pulled by a farm animal

an open field of grass that is used for pasture or to grow hay

Hundred Year Barn Vocab Quiz

HW/EC 9/22/25 SS Lesson Preview We Will Cover Tomorrow in Class The Hundred Year War and Joan of Arc

SS 9/23/25 Charlemagne, Medieval Europe, King John, The Magna Carrta, The Hundred Year War, The Black Plague

Jack-o-Lanterns What Is a Jack-o'-Lantern? Carved pumpkins are called jack-o'- lanterns. Jack-o'-lanterns are used to decorate for Halloween. People started carving jack-o'-lanterns more than a hundred years ago. At first, people didn't carve pumpkins. They used other vegetables instead. An old fable from Ireland may tell how people began carving jack-o'-lanterns. The fable is about a man named Stingy Jack, who liked to play tricks on everyone. When he died, he was cursed to walk in darkness forever. He carved a turnip and put a light inside. His ghost was known as "Jack of the Lantern," and then "Jack-o'-lantern." Modern Jack-o'-Lanterns The Stingy Jack fable later became part of a night called All Hallows' Eve. In Europe, people lit fires and dressed up to keep away ghosts. In Ireland and England, people carved scary faces on vegetables and placed a light inside. All Hallows' Eve later became known as Halloween. When jack-o'-lantern carving was brought to the United States, people started using pumpkins. About 1.5 billion pounds (more than 680 million kg) of pumpkins are grown in the United States each year. Carving Jack-o'-Lanterns Carving pumpkins is fun for people of all ages. Smooth pumpkins work well for jack-o'-lanterns. Some people buy carving kits, while others carve without any help. First, with help from a parent, cut a hole in the top of the pumpkin to make a lid. Next, scoop out the inside flesh and seeds. Draw a design on the pumpkin, and then carve it carefully. After the pumpkin is carved, place a candle or other light inside. Finally, put the pumpkin lid back on toр. Jack-o'-Lantern Events Many cities have events to show off their carved pumpkins. In Hudson Valley, New York, jack-o'-lanterns make up a big display with spooky sounds and music. Pumpkins are used to make snakes, dinosaurs, and a dome carved with twinkling stars. A huge display in Los Angeles, California, has pumpkin cars and dinosaurs, and pumpkin carvings of famous people. The artists carve their pumpkins at the event while people watch. A town in New Hampshire broke a world record for the most lit jacko'-lanterns. The town had thirty thousand jack-o'-lanterns lit at once! The Tradition Continues. Carving pumpkins into jack-o'- lanterns is a fun holiday activity. However they are carved, jack-о'- lanterns are a sure sign that Halloween is around the corner.

JAKARTA, Indonesia (AP) — Indonesia’s highest volcano on its most densely populated island released searing gas clouds and rivers of lava Sunday in its latest eruption. Monsoon rains eroded and finally collapsed the lava dome atop 3,676-meter (12,060-foot) Mount Semeru, causing the eruption, according to National Disaster Management Agency spokesperson Abdul Muhari. Several villages were blanketed with falling ash, blocking out the sun, but no casualties have been reported. Several hundred residents, their faces smeared with volcanic dust and rain, fled to temporary shelters or left for other safe areas. Thick columns of ash were blasted more than 1,500 meters (nearly 5,000 feet) into the sky while searing gas and lava flowed down Semeru’s slopes toward a nearby river. Increased activities of the volcano on Sunday afternoon prompted authorities to widen the danger zone to 8 kilometers (5 miles) from the crater, said Hendra Gunawan, who heads the Volcanology and Geological Hazard Mitigation Center. He said scientists raised the volcano’s alert level to the highest and people were advised to keep off the southeastern sector along the Besuk Kobokan River, which is in the path of the lava flow. Semeru’s last major eruption was in December last year, when it blew up with fury that left 51 people dead in villages that were buried in layers of mud. Several hundred others suffered serious burns and the eruption forced the evacuation of more than 10,000 people. The government moved about 2,970 houses out of the danger zone. Semeru, also known as Mahameru, has erupted numerous times in the past 200 years. Still, as is the case with many of the 129 active volcanoes in Indonesia, tens of thousands of people continue to live on its fertile slopes. Indonesia, an archipelago of more than 270 million people, sits along the Pacific “Ring of Fire,” a horseshoe-shaped series of fault lines, and is prone to earthquakes and volcanic activity.

Amazing Antarctica The Seventh Continent. Give a globe a spin. On it you can easily find six continents. Now look at the bottom of the globe. There you will find continent number seven: Antarctica. People did not find Antarctica until about two hundred years ago. Since then, we have learned a lot about this amazing place. Antarctica is the coldest continent. It is also the continent with the strongest winds. Less rain and snow fall in Antarctica than in any other continent. Freezing Antarctica Water covers most of Earth. Almost all of it is salt water. Most of the fresh water on Earth is frozen in the ice in Antarctica. Snow does not melt during the cold summers there. The ice builds up over many years. Life on and Around Antarctica The freezing weather in Antarctica makes it a dangerous place to live. Most plants and animals can be found near the coasts or in the sea. There are no trees, but there are other plants, such as moss. Penguins and seals are some of the larger animals in the icy waters of Antarctica. A Playground for Scientists People have taken steps to make sure that scientists can study in Antarctica. Many countries send scientists to study in Antarctica. Some work there all year, even during the cold winter. Others work only in summer. Many kinds of scientists come to Antarctica. They study animals, ice, and many other things. Many kinds of scientists come to Antarctica. They study animals, ice, and many other things. Thousands of visitors also come to learn about Antarctica each year. Conclusion. People do not know a lot about Antarctica. The cold, ice, wind, and rough seas make it a difficult place to visit. However, people around the world know how important it is to protect and study Antarctica.

Earth's History. All the processes that have been discussed require long periods of time to create a noticeable change on Earth's surface. You can just imagine how long it would take to create an oceanS as vast as the Pacific Ocean if the ocean floor moves only at about 10 cm/year. It is then important to know the history of Earth to learn the complexities of its past and be able to use it to understand the present. Just like learning the history of a country that requires one to read a lot of books, learning the history of Earth involves studying a lot of rocks. Rocks, especially sedimentary rocks, contain a lot of information about Earth's past. It holds the key to most of the geologic processes that happened on Earth and the key to uncovering how life on Earth evolved. But these discoveries are worthless if there is no time perspective. Thus, one of the most important contributions of geologists to mankind is the geologic time scale, which holds a history that is exceedingly long.The geologic time scale divides the history of Earth into different blocks of time by using relative dating. Since geologists use rocks to understand Earth's history, dating does not give accurate numerical dates, it only tells that an event preceded the relative dating places these rocks in their proper sequence of formation. But relative other. This method is still widely used today, alongside a more accurate method called absolute dating, which uses radioactive elements. With relative and absolute dating. geologists can trace the history of Earth. Relative Dating. Relative dating requires one to know the basic principles such as law of super-position, principle of original horizontality, principle of cross-cutting relationships, and unconformities.Law of Superposition The law of superposition is the most basic principle in relative dating. It states that in an undeformed sequence of sedimentary rock, the layers found at the top are the youngest rocks and the layers at the bottom are the oldest. It may seem too obvious, but this principle has only been clearly stated in 1669 by the Danish anatomist, geologist, and priest, Nicolaus Steno. Principle of Original Horizontality Along with the law of superposition, Steno stated that an undeformed sequence is the one where the layers are still in a horizontal position. This follows the principle of original horizontality, which states that sediments are deposited horizontally. Principle of Cross-Cutting Relationships The principle of cross-cutting relationships determines which events occurred first depending on which rocks are affected. The geologic layer that cuts another is younger than the layer it cuts across.Unconformities Rock layers that have not been interrupted are considered conformable. These sites represent spans of geologic time. But there is no place on Earth that has a complete conformable stratum since external and internal processes have always interrupted the deposition of the sediments. These breaks in the record of the rock strata are called unconformities. Using unconformities, geologic events are determined. There are three basic types of unconformities angular unconformity, disconformity, and nonconformity. Angular unconformity is characterized by having tilted or folded sedimentary rocks below younger, horizontal layers of rock. Disconformity is determined where there are missing parallel rock layers. Erosion takes place and removes the younger top layers and then deposition would once again happen. Nonconformity is characterized by an igneous or metamorphic rock found below a sedimentary rock. Figure 3-13. Three basic types of unconformities Using these principles for relative dating, one can determine the order of events However, relative dating does not give a time element as to when they happened. Absolute Dating For a much more accurate method of determining the history of Earth, geologists make use of absolute dating. This method uses unstable elements to determine the exact age of rocks. Isotopes are elements that have the same number of protons but different number of neutrons. Most isotopes are stable but some may be unstable. This is because the forces that bind the protons and neutrons in the nucleus of the isotope are not strong enough to hold them together, resulting in a radioactive decay, The unstable isotopes are called radioactive isotopes or parent isotopes. When these parent isotopes undergo radioactive decay, new isotopes, known as daughter products, are formed. The time it takes for one-half of the nuclei in the sample to decay is called half-life. This amount of time is fixed for each kind of radioactive isotope no matter what physical conditions it is subjected to. The ratio of parent daughter isotope determines how many half-lives have passed. If it is 1:1, then one half-life has passed; if it is 1:3, then two half-lives have passed; and if 1:7, then three half-lives have passed, and so on. Therefore, using the concept of half-life and parent-daughter ratio, geologists can determine the exact age of the sample. This method is called radiometric dating. It uses five radioactive isotopes to determine the age of rocks. For dating rocks that are about a million years old, rubidium-87, thorium-232, and the two isotopes of uranium (U-238 and U-235) are used. The fifth radioactive isotope is potassium-40, which has a half-life of 1.3 billion years. With these radioactive elements, determining the accurate age of rocks becomes easier. For dating events that are more recent, radiocarbon dating is used. This method uses carbon-14. Carbon-14 has a half-life of 5730 years and can be used to date back events up to 75000 years. All organisms contain a small amount of carbon-14, which is proportional with the amount of carbon-12. When an organism dies, the carbon-14 decays and is no longer replaced. The amount of carbon-14 left in the sample is then compared to the amounts of carbon-12 present, and radiocarbon dates can then be determined. This method has been particularly useful for anthropologists, archeologists, historians, and geologists for events that are much more recent.Fossils Aside from rocks, geologists also use the remains of living organisms in understanding Earth's history. Some fossils are formed from parts of an organism (body fossil), while some provide signs or clues as to which life-forms were present at that time (Frace fossils). Fossils contain a lot of information about the past the kind of organisms that have lived, the environment where organisms lived, and the evolution organisms underwent as their environment changed. However, not all organisms turned into fossils, therefore, scientists cannot learn everything about the past using fossils alone. There are also fossils that are used to determine the age of a rock. These are index fossils and these are only found in rocks of a particular age. The organisms that turned into index fossils have a relatively short life-spanning from a few million years to a few hundred million years. Index fossils are also found in most of the common rocks around the world, which makes them easier to identify.The methods used for dating the age of rocks are also used for fossils. Absolute dating is more commonly used since it can give exact numerical dates for the age, but relative dating can also be used to determine which fossils are older.

The film begins as a journey to film the largest animal on the planet, the blue whale. But during the journey the filmmakers (journalist Craig Leeson and environmental activist Tanya Streeter) make the shocking discovery of a huge, thick layer of plastic floating in the middle of the Indian Ocean. This prompts them to travel around the world to look at other areas that have been affected. In total, they visited 20 locations around the world during the four years it took them to make the film. The documentary premiered in 2016, and is now on streaming services such as Netflix.It’s very clear that a lot of research went into the film. There are beautiful shots of the seas and marine life. These are contrasted with scenes of polluted cities and dumps full of plastic rubbish. We see how marine species are being killed by all the plastic we are dumping in the ocean. The message about our use of plastic is painfully obvious. But the film doesn’t only present the negative side. In the second half, the filmmakers look at what we can do to reverse the tide of plastic flowing around the world. They present short-term and long-term solutions. These include avoiding plastic containers and ‘single-use’ plastic products as much as possible. Reuse your plastic bags and recycle as much as you can. The filmmakers also stress the need for governments to work more on recycling programmers, and look at how technology is developing that can convert plastic into fuel We make a staggering amount of plastic. In terms of plastic bags alone, we use five hundred billion worldwide annually. Over 300 million tons of plastic are produced every year, and at least 8 million of those are dumped into the oceans. The results are disastrous, but it isn’t too late to change. Once you’ve seen A Plastic Ocean, you’ll realize the time is now and we all have a role to play.

“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.”

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