Korann could feel his heartbeat in his head, that’s how he knew he was close to his limit. He concentrated on his hair waving under the water and tried to forget that his lungs felt as if they would burst at any moment.  Just as he was about to push down on the soft sand below his feet and gasp for air, he felt the water around him move violently, and without having to look, he knew it meant Charlie had surfaced for air. He had won. Korann slowly let himself float to the surface and flippantly threw his hair back, making a water arc above his head, signaling his triumph. Charlie stood chest deep, wearing his characteristic half grin of defeat.

“WOO, BOOM!” exclaimed Korann with satisfaction, he wasn’t actually sure he would win this time. He and Charlie had played this game countless times over the past three years, and Korann had only won a handful of times.

“I let you win Kor” said Charlie, his half grin now a sheepish smile of conspiracy, “I figured if this is the last time we do this, you should remember it fondly”.

Korann shot him a look of knowing skepticism, which soon broke into a wide grin, and was soon mirrored by Charlie’s burst of laughter as he lunged at Korann and pushed him under playfully.

As they sloshed through the foamy water back to the sand, Korann’s happiness soured at the thought of leaving the next day, and soured further still as he watched the sand stick to his wet feet, as if the beach itself was begging him to stay. He watched the droplets of water fall from his hair onto his face, and tasted the salt when they rolled down to his lips. Korann had always loved the ocean. When they had moved to Santo Domingo, Korann had been excited to see the beaches, and they had not disappointed. He bitterly recalled his eagerness to build a life here. You always do this. He had known when he arrived that it would be a three year stay, they always were, but the final day of his Caribbean life had rolled around, just like all the others, and suddenly he felt as if he hadn’t taken full advantage of it. Too many hours binge watching Narcos when he could’ve been doing this, enjoying his friends, his beach, his life. It all too suddenly occurred to Korann that time was never on his side, and became painfully aware of the fact that he had a mere two hours left with Charlie. His parents were already in Finland, their “new home”, but he had stayed here with Charlie for an extra week and would fly today.

Korann opened his eyes to the blinking lights in the relative darkness of the plane. He shook the stiffness out of his legs and looked out the plane window, seeing nothing but the red light on the wing, and feeling the intense cold seeping through the window. He settled into his seat and draped the blanket over himself. Koran tried not to dwell on the goodbyes of the day before, he hated goodbyes, and he hated how good he was at them. Practice makes perfect! Korann couldn’t help but feel—

He suddenly became extremely aware of how quiet the plane was, not a sleepy murmur, not a child’s whimper or a mothers impatient shushing. He looked over at the strangers sitting next to him, sleeping peacefully. Korann got up and shuffled awkwardly across his row and down the aisle to the bathroom. Both taken, how come everyone needs to shit at the same time. Out of the corner of his eye, Korann saw something that sent a current of ice from his ankles all the way up his spine. He stared at the disfigured neck of the stewardess, the unnatural angle at which it now lay on the floor. Korann could hear his own breathing in his head, acutely aware of the smudged lipstick, the staring, terrified eyes and hair in disarray. Korann staggered and felt a scream forming in the bottom of his throat, but it never came, instead he felt his body moving back to his seat. Down the aisle. When he arrived at his row, 17, he looked at both sleeping strangers, not really seeing them, not being able to process anything. Sleeping? He felt panic crash against his thoughts in glacial waves. Reaching out with a shaking hand, he poked the balding man two seats down from his. No reaction. Korann grabbed the man’s shoulder and shook it gently. Once. Twice. No reaction. As his agonizing realization collided with his dread, he saw his hands clutch the man’s shoulders firmly and shake them violently, watched his shaking hands batter the man’s chest, feeling his hot tears stream down his cold face. His frenzy did nothing to wake the dead man, who simply slumped forward and fell limply out of his seat. Korann stared at the motionless body with wide eyes for what seemed like hours. Then it finally came, the scream, the shrill sound of his terror came rushing out of him, and dismantled the shred of composure he had been holding on to. Then came the silence, the deafening silence. The torturer, the symphony of hysteria, the deep, anguishing silence. He listened to the motionless, dead bodies around him, standing hunched in front of his row. He stood until the static of the plane’s megaphone system crackled to life. A smooth, greasy voice followed, a voice that made every hair on Korann´s body stand on end, and seemed to paralyze and freeze his blood.

“Hello passenger this is your captain speaking, would you be so kind a to proceed calmly to the captain´s cabin at the front of the plane please and thank you!”

The high pitched, velvet voice dripped with thick malice, numbing Korann to the core. Korann firmly closed his eyes and listened to his heartbeat in his throat. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a-

“Paaaaaassaaaangeeeeeeeeeeer” again the voice “I don´t like to be kept waiting” every word except for “don’t” was filled to the brim with a sour, rotting cheer, “don´t” on the other hand was all hatred and disgust. Korann again felt his body moving, moving towards the captain’s cabin, his mind racing, wanting to be far from that place, wanting to be lying down on the scalding sand of the beach back home. Home. He was jolted back to reality by the proximity of the cabin door, he was almost there, and inside was a voice, that voice. He thought of running back to the other end of the plane, of making himself into a small ball and just praying that it would all end… But he couldn’t, he knew the voice on the other side of this door would kill him, would rid him of this fear, this fear. Would make the images of the blank faces and unseeing eyes he had passed at every row disappear. That was the thought that impulsed Korann´s shaking fist to knock on the cockpit door. The excruciating seconds went by as Korann stared at the dimly lit door, and finally, finally it swung open violently.

Korann´s eyes widened inhumanly in revulsion as he saw the voice, and thought about closing his eyes peacefully, feeling his skull cave under the force of whatever the voice was using to kill him.

Staring down at the kid, I felt better. I was done! Only it wasn´t perfect, this one had not gone properly, but I could change that, not all of them go the way you want them to. So I reach down and open his eyes, look at the still dilated pupils, look how scared the little sheep looks! Now it’s time to sleep a little, I step over the body and the voice disappears into the darkness again.

She says I dont wanna know,

And i know she’s probably right.

She know I dont know what i want,

And i dont know what she means by that,

She thinks I dont know what she’s thinking,

And I’m thinking she’s probably right

I know she knows I love her,

I know she knows,

I know she knows,

At least I think I do.

Wrap him tightly, he is restless,

Groping wildly,

He finds my fingers,

Tightens,

Knuckles whiten,

I call him,

But he looks through me.

I hold him,

God let him feel me.

Tell me,

Tell me one more time,

About your summers in Toro,

And brighten our lives with your smile.

I should really be studying,

But instead im here, flying

Doodling my way down procrastination road

I need to switch mode

I´m spiralling here

Someone comes in, switch tabs

I´m back, they left, lets study now,

LookabuzzfeedquiztotellmewhatgameofthronesswordIam!

Amid bleak skies and glistening crystal drops,

I yearn for the warmth

I yearn for my hearth

You gave me warmth,

You left me frigid,

Our forked paths,

Our distant tradition,

We were imperfect.

It went by many names, and each people claimed they were the first to name the great City, and all believed their distant claim to its vast and sprawling territory. My people called it Ain, an ancient word of my language vaguely comparable to the common tongue´s word for plate. This was only my first visit but I could already sense this was a place of immense importance, something about the look of it, the noise, the smells appealed to a nostalgia that I did not know I could feel, especially for a place I had never seen before. I looked over at Cinta, and by his peculiar expression guessed he was experiencing the same disconcerting feeling. We were only on the outer ring of the City, as far as non combatants were allowed, miles from the heart of Ain. Most of the city was a uniform chalk white hue, although now that they were amongst the buildings, they seemed far filthier than they had from miles away. I thought back to how the City had seemed to glow in the rain, a circular beacon of beauty. Lost in awe, I was startled to feel long cold fingers softly laid on my shoulders. I looked up at a Garvan, thin, his green skin looked unwashed and a sickly smell clung to his tattered robes. Luckily we had a large Garvan population back home, and I knew how to deal with them somewhat effectively, I avoided eye contact and ignored his attempts to talk to me. Cinta quickly stepped in beside me as I outstretched my hand for him to hold on to. Garvans were relatively ugly creatures, or seemed so to me, their ancestors had been mineborne and lived in the darkness for centuries before a branch of them had dared the sunlight. This also meant that they were almost completely blind, but had a keen sense of smell and hearing. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Garvan´s saliva dripping from his green mouth with every word as he continued his desperate sputtering in Kindra, the native Garvan language, which was nothing but horrible gurgling noises to my ears. Eventually the Garvan gave up and stopped matching my now brisk walking up the crowded street.

”Coqondr!” he called after us, a word I did know, as I had naturally learnt only the worst of curses in most languages.

Cinta looked up at me and let out a giggle that only a child that is immensely relieved can produce. I tried to smile reassuringly and suppressed my own giggle of relief. Now I had to concentrate, the elders back home had given me directions on how to get to the square, and as I wove through the packed alleys and stoneways I heard an uproar which could only be coming from the square. I quickened my pace, and felt Cinta struggling to keep up the pace as his shoulders sagged and he let himself be impulsed partly by my own inertia. As we entered the square I immediately was blocked by a wall of turned backs, sweaty and putrid smelling bodies arching their necks to get a good look of the events in the small stage in the center of the square. It was a high emissary of the King of Muine, whose side of the city we were currently in. Trumpets boomed announcing the emissary´s imminent speech, and I quickly grabbed Cinta´s hand, and started to push and weave our way closer to the center. We received an abundant amount of kicks, shoves and curses, but by the time the high emissary´s (many) titles had been recited, we were only a few rows away from him.

“Your King Fiornal of the Kingdom of Muine with its capital in this great city of Esquelar (the name of Ain in Drion, the language common among the Muine noblemen) has finally sensed his rightful and long awaited successor has come about!”, this was met with excited chatter, which the emissary patiently waited out before continuing, “he is in this very square,“ again, excited chatter, the emissary was evidently beginning to enjoy the theatricality of his announcement. I quickly pushed forward with Cinta close behind me, still attached to my hand. I wanted to make sure I got a good look at this future king before he was scooped up and surely not to be seen for years. Maybe even get a good spit on him, that would be a good story for the grandkids. As I turned my gaze back to the emissary, a strange look came over him, as if he was listening, and as if what he heard surprised him, then his gaze darted down, directly at me, but without seeming to see me. He was searching, almost frantically, his eyes darting about on his pale and miserly face. Then just as abruptly as his search had begun, it ended, he turned his back to my side of the crowd, and whispered to the captain of the guard, then turned around and pointed at what I could only assume was somebody behind or in front of me.

He couldn’t have pointed at me, I was sure. I held on to this thought as it was slowly stripped away from me with every step the city guard took towards me, and until they were directly in front of me. I felt myself lose my footing and let go of Cinta´s hand to brace myself from the floor as I toppled backwards. The pristine steel helm of the captain of the guard caught the sun as he reached down with a gloved hand, and grabbed Cinta, as I looked on stupidly. Cinta looked at me desperately, for help, for a solution, but i sat there, dumbfounded, frozen in place. I watched the guard of Ain took my brother away, as realization kicked in and Cinta struggled against the visor grip of the guard. I was still sitting, my mind racing as the high emissary announced the long awaited finding of the eighty second Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Muine.

Tossing and turning,

The images move slowly,

The melody plays softly,

Can you feel your life distorting?

Are you fulfilled?

Ever was there a restlessness,

A sentiment,

Of a kiss not given,

Of a road not taken,

Of a life not lived.