“Where Uncle Bub go?” the toddler asked Roses as he approached the toddler. This was Sunday October ninth, when the announcement should have been made, but your marvelous host was a no-show.

“I’m not sure, little buddy. That’s who we are looking for… I think.”

“Bub? I mean, I guess it could be him,” Rosemandle said. “Not too long ago, he got trapped in a closet for a week… or so word on the street is. Maybe we should check?”

“Well, there must be something more. Willow and Nick are almost always here if he is not… so where could they be? Certainly not all three of them are stuck in a closet,” Roses pointed out.

Rosemandle furrowed her eyebrows. “It isn’t completely illogical to think so, though,” she added. “I say that that should be our first step.”

“But you are overlooking a major detail. Caleb’s nephew—or we assume this is his nephew—is here. That can’t be a coincidence. Maybe he’s a clue.”

Rosemandle lowered herself to my nephew’s level. “Hey, do you know where Cal—Uncle Bub is?”

The toddler pointed to a set of tire marks on the stage. “Oh, well that was easy.”

“A car!” he said. “Red car! Vrrrrrrmmmm!” my nephew took off running in the direction the car went, Roses and Rosemandle following closely behind.

*****

It took a week of searching and several calls to the police, but the duo finally were onto something. My nephew had been dropped off at the police station where, later, his parents picked him up, worried sick about where he had been. The cops, however, were too busy to look for a host notorious for being stupid, so they gave the Rose Crew—name still being workshopped—a few resources and sent them out on their own.

The clues led to a trailer in the middle of nowhere. Literally one single trailer in the middle of Death Valley. They highly doubted that this was it, but they had come too far to question the data now!

Walking up to the screen door, its fabric falling off, Roses looked at Rosemandle and said, “Hey, I’ve always wanted to say ‘FBI! Open up!’ then kick the door down… do you think that maybe I could—”

Rosemandle giggled. “Be my guest,” she replied.

Roses eyes lit up. “ROSE CREW! OPEN UP!” he yelled. When no one answered, he slammed his shoulder into the door. At the same time, the door was pulled open, and he went stumbling across the floor. He made eye contact with Caleb and said, “ ’Sup.” Trying to play it cool, he propped his chin on his fist.

“Well, it appears you guys followed the clues and found me! Congratulations! I knew you could do it!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Rosemandle said. “This was all a game? Do you know how dangerous it is to leave a toddler in the middle of an arena for twelve hours alone? Not to mention, his parents were worried sick about him… and to put a cherry on top, we spent an entire week outside of work, buying tickets, and driving all over the place in search of you.”

I looked at her for a second. “So, maybe I didn’t think this through all the way—”

“And where are Nick and Willow?”

“On their honeymoon,” I said.

“Oh, snap. They’re getting married?” Roses311Sublime asked.

“Well, they are married, but yes.”

“Sorry. Bumped my head pretty good on my way in.”

I pulled him to his feet.

“So, I suppose you guys want to know who won.”

“Yep. After all that trouble, I think that's the least we deserve, but yes.”

“Alright, so, third place is your post, Rosemandle. I loved One Freezing March Day… It was cute.

“Second place is Moki_mori’s A connoisseur.”

“Cun oy seer?” Roses asked. “I may have bumped my head, but I don’t think that is a word.”

“It’s a spelling aid. Anyway, it was also cute. I enjoyed it.

“First place is RayBug63’s post My Fault. I thought that it was really good! A little sad, but also redemptive in a sense.

“And, Roses, your post Nice Apartment is an honourable mention. I am excited to see where you take the story next!

“Now, you guys really need to work on your team name.”

“And you need to stop putting yourself, others, and children in danger,” Rosemandle said

"I can't make any promises."

The stage was dark and misty. The stands were full of eager fans awaiting the coolest man alive to arrive… but he never did. He has done this once or twice, but it is always odd for him to not show. This absolute hunk of a man, Caleb, is typically fairly punctual. The crowds thought that, perhaps, it was a tease. But as the sun set on the day, their tickets having been purchased for a 9 A.M. show, they knew that something had to have happened. But, if something had happened, certainly Nick or Willow would have said something, and yet the couple were nowhere to be found.

It is absurd to think that Caleb is losing his touch, especially after the dance number that he pulled for the season premier. So where could he be? Where in the world is the GHOAST (Greatest Host of All Time)? Only time will tell when he will arrive… Or, perhaps that toddler to stage left has something to do with his disappearance…

I wondered if this was what a hangover feels like. Sore eyes, achy muscles, the feeling that every bone in my body is out of place, and a complete and total lack of mental sharpness. All I wanted to do was sleep. Lie in bed and just do nothing. But, alas, I pulled myself out of bed despite the fact that my cognitive ability was at a negative sixty-three.

I moped around the arena, poured myself a cup of coffee despite the fact that caffeine has no impact or the opposite effect on me, and sat down next to Nick in our office space. I sipped from my cup. Raising my eyebrows and blinking lazily, I looked at him.

“You good, dude?”

“Spectacular. I feel hungover. Minus the headache, ’cause, y’know, I’m immune.”

Nick shook his head and gave me a quizzical expression. I chuckled to myself as he said, “You’re what now?”

“Immune to headaches. It’s like a super power, man.”

“No, duh. Do you have any idea how lucky you are!? Headaches are the worst, and you have never experienced one?” Nick asked in disbelief.

“Nope, never.” I took another sip of my coffee.

“Unbelievable. You ought to be outcast from society. It isn’t fir that you don’t have to experience headaches.”

I rubbed my neck and replied, “If it makes you feel any better, the pinches I get in my neck are so bad, the only thing keeping me from cutting my head off is the fact that it would kill me.”

“Anyways,” Nick replied after a pause, “are you good?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I just woke up like this. I’ll probably take a nap before heading out there tonight.”

*****

When I woke up, there was a blinding light shining in my face. I stretched, pushing the blankets off of me and stretching. Did I mention that I stretched? So, I stretched, stretching my arms and legs, stretching my toes, locking my knees to bring life to my thighs. I moaned mid-stretch, then rubbed my eyes. Looking at my watch after I stretched, I noticed the time. Then, I looked up. I shot out of bed and grabbed the microphone in front of me. “Hey, hey, hey, and welcome to Pen to the Paper 24!!!”

The crowd began to cheer and throw roses at the stage. One member of the crowd threw a baby at me with a note that read, “Sign my baby!”

“I apologize for being shirtless. Especially with my newly acquired Dad bod. I honestly have no idea how in the world the bed was moved here without my noticing… I am quite the light sleeper.” I looked down at my chest and plucked my single chest hair so that I looked a little more professional. “So, I’m trying this new thing. My friend calls it ‘bulking,’ I just call it stuffing my face. But, yeah, don’t worry too much about the weight gain, however insignificant it is at the moment. Just a few pounds… Sorry, I know you guys are here for Pen to the Paper, but being shirtless has me all self-conscious and whatnot…

“Who’s ready for the announcements!?”

The crowd roared with excitement. Shirts were thrown off and down onto the stage, one of which landed on my face. “Ehm, guys, can we please stay fully clothed? Thanks.

“It was tough choosing this month! So many posts really stood out to me. I wanted to reward so many posts with first, second, or third place. But, alas, I must only choose one! Coming in third place, a close tie with second, we have Switched at Death by DeAnn. It was incredible! It pulls you in and is the perfect opening to what could potentially be a larger work of prose. It has so much potential and was a great read.

“In second place, we have a post by __abby__ : only her. It was a sad read, but it was a great read. I thoroughly enjoyed it and recommend it to everyone.

“In first, the winner of this very bed that I slept in tonight—okay, that’s not true, this thing is way too comfortable—is Rosebug63!!! False, the first entry to the challenge this month, was another emotional read. Very powerful. Thank you for entering it.

“Moving on to some honorable mentions, GLD, I think that this is the first time that you didn’t make it into the top three. I loved Broken… a lot. In fact, it was a top contender for third or second—as I said, it was tough to choose this month. Thank you for the audio version of this poem, it really added to the poem.

“Roses, I hope you’re doing well. Always a pleasure to see an entry from you. I have a soft-spot for musing-type works as your Post Work Day Musings was. I very much enjoyed it.

“Zeethefoodie! The Woods was super confusing. But that is why I liked it so much. I didn’t really know what exactly was going on, and, for some reason, that really drew me in.

“Another top contender, Identical by Elikimber was spectacular! Super gripping, and a great start to what, again, could later become a larger work. Thank you for sharing!

“And, finally, EllaSmellaa, Her Novel was beautiful! I absolutely loved it. You were another top contender this month.

“There are so many others that I want to cover, but I will bring it to an end here. Thank you for coming out tonight! I am looking forward to seeing you next month for the season two finale! Oh, shoot, that means I’ll be nineteen in two months… Well, that’s a good way to end. On a note of existential dread.”

I have been gone for a long time. Part of me is sorry for not updating anyone on anything; part of me understands that I have been quite busy lately and have not really had time; part of me knows that part of the reason for that is the fact that I have wasted too much time. But this is not an apology, though I am sorry. Writing is a passion of mine that I have missed greatly. In fact, as of late, my fingers have been itching to brush across my keyboard and actually type out something other than Pen to the Paper---not to say that I dislike it, it's just not the same as sitting down and writing a story, a mind-wandering, an essay, a song, et cetera.

This, however, is not the purpose of this post.

I have been looking into colleges lately. After graduating this year in Pensacola and taking a walk around the PCC campus, I felt a calling to go to school. Pursue a higher education while trying to obtain my pilot's license. The call was strong. A riptide pulling me out to sea. So, I have been searching. Thinking about the minors I will be taking, trying to figure out how in the world one studies for an SAT, and all of that fun stuff associated with trying to head off to college. I have a year, so though I don't worry too much about getting things done, affording college and flight training on top of it is a major concern of mine.

I feel like, lately, I have just been wasting too much time. I have once again been sucked into the endless pit of micro-satisfaction that YouTube provides. I have always struggled with it, but, lately, it has increased once again. Something is looming behind it all, but I did not realize that until this week.

I have once again been avoiding responsibility. My self-esteem and confidence, though far higher than they have been in years, are dropping again. I find myself struggling in social situations once more. Hiding. Keeping to myself. Oft, I stare off into space, at first in a pensive mood, then going blank and focusing on this feeling in my gut that won't waver.

The feeling of emptiness.

I don't know what the cause is, but here I am, trapped in this void. I think that I am subconsciously searching for something to fill that void. I think that's why I have been having such a hard time escaping the YouTube trap lately. I think that that is the reason temptation, after being clean for almost five months, has been knocking on my door again. Every coping mechanism I have had is throwing itself at me in desperation, but nothing is working. I mean, I just fricken ate ice cream, then sneaked the last piece of cake my grandmother bought from the store yesterday.

Empty.

I can't shake the feeling. I feel fake again. Telling people that I have been doing well. Bringing it up to my parents, whom I love and trust immensely, is just something that I can't fathom. I think about it and freeze. I could write them a letter, but I feel like I have given them two too many letters to even try that.

I can't open up to people. And yet, opening up is what I know I need to do.

I need a shoulder to lean on. A friend who knows that I'm going through something, but instead of pushing lets me put my head on his/her shoulder and just stay like that for a while. I need a hug, but I don't want to ask. My best friend lives a seventeen hour drive away, and the closest friend I have here has been AWOL lately, so I haven't been able to talk to him.

I then remind myself that, "Hey, Caleb, you're super religious, aren't you? Isn't that what God is for?" Wasteland by NEEDTOBREATHE then floats through my head:

"Oh if God is on my side

Then who can be against me

Yeah in this wasteland where I'm livin'

There is a crack in the door filled with light

And it's all that I need to get by"

I try singing these words with conviction: like I mean them. I pray and ask for help. I ask God to tell me what's wrong. To be my shoulder to lean on. But I leave feeling the same.

Yesterday, my parents took me and my little sisters to the lake nearest to us. We swam in it for a while and had a blast! But as soon as the festivities were over, if I stopped for just a second to think or stand still, if I stepped out of the lake for a moment, I felt it. That feeling of emptiness. My entire ride home, I spent in silence, staring out of my window blankly, reminding myself of Wasteland and praying to the Lord for help. At home, I walked into the house numb and expressionless, hoping that someone would notice and say something, but also wanting to hide away in my room.

I feel stupid admitting to it, though. My life isn't hard, I don't have it bad. My parents love me, I have a scholarship for the first step towards my dream career, I am one of the lucky few whose best friend has been his best friend since he was literally a newborn... and yet I feel empty and alone.

I feel immature admitting it, but sometimes I wonder if it stems from not finding someone to love. I want to have someone to love deeper than just as a friend. Looking around at the kids my age and younger who are dating doesn't help. I have never had that. But I don't think it's my time yet, and there is only one girl in my life I would ever consider dating, and I would never ask her out for fear of losing a nearly nineteen-year long friendship. I also must remember that I have a lot of maturing to do yet, and starting a relationship when I'm older and more mature is more likely to last. Along with that, as a Christian, I believe that finding someone is a gift from God, not something I accidentally stumble upon one day and then work to keep. Though that last part is definitely still true.

But I know that that isn't the case. Sure, I feel lonely every now and then, but I am ready and willing to wait as long as I need to find the right person. We get so eager and rush into relationship after relationship... I don't need to be that way.

I miss my cat immensely. Not a day goes by that I don't think about Bear.

I am struggling. And I am empty. And I don't know what to do. I mean no disrespect to God. It's only human to have a hard time seeing His hand in these low moments.

This low, however, has lasted a long time. I just want to escape. The crack in the door filled with light seems to be closing. I'm losing hope, but trying to keep my chin up. The water is rising above my head, and I am growing tired.

Privileged. I may not be rich, but I feel privileged because of the love and support around me, and therefore guilty about the emptiness within me.

But I wait. I wait for God to heal me miraculously. I wait for someone to say something. I wait for that hug and that shoulder to lean on.

SUNDAY, JULY 17, 2022.

"Have all the preparations been made, Nick?"

"Yep, we should be ready to get you up on stage in a couple hours here. Just waiting for your suot to arrive," Nick replied, checking his clipboard.

I looked over at Willow, our accountant, who was sitting oddly close to Nick. "And, Willow, what's the budget for the finale looking like? We have two months to prepare, so I'm not super concerned, just wondering."

"It's… you don't need to worry. You sold out to Buccee’s, remember? There are quite a few zeros here…"

"Good, good," I said. "That means we can be a bit extravagant next month if I choose as well… Also leaves a budget for the premiere in October."

"Holy cow, dude," Nick said with a bewildered look on his face. "Don't do that to me."

"What?"

"We're that close to October? Heck, this season is almost over? Jeez, I feel like I wasted my entire year. What have I done?"

"Nick," I said sternly. "This is supposed to be funny. Quit giving people a midlife crisis."

Willow checked her watch. "I gotta go," she said. "I'll be back for the show, though."

"Yep, same, actually," Nick said, setting his clipboard down. "I'll see you in a couple hours, Caleb," Nick said, placing his clipboard down.

The two left the room together, leaving me alone.

"They must think I'm stupid," I mumbled to myself before leaving my seat.

The office was very small and built solely for the purpose of these brief meetings prior to the show. Often, the three of us would gather in the room to discuss ideas for upcoming shows as well. Other times, we would discuss expanding the business and hiring others. But, more often than not, we gathered together in this room and argued like real friends. We all have a deep, platonic love for each other, but arguments were frequent, and always hilarious in hindsight.

In fact, yesterday we argued about who plucked their eyebrows the best. The answer is none of us, of course, because none of us learned how to do it professionally. We all just woke up one day and got fed up with the ever-diminishing gap between our eyebrows. I will say, though, as the eldest, I very obviously am the best at plucking my unibrow.

Where was I? Ah, yes, the office. It consisted of a round table the takes up 85% of the room, the chairs around it, and a window overlooking the small, wooded pond behind Pen to the Paper Arena. Having given very specific instructions for how I wanted the building designed, this was the only thing that I wanted. However, I know nothing about architectural design, and my blueprints would have led to a building ever on the verge of collapse. Who could have thought that there was such a thing as structural integrity, and that a building of this would need massive support beams and pillars?

Nevertheless, this led to our office having a closet. A very small closet. A closet so small, the only thing that is really worth storing within it is a broom and dust pan. A person could squeeze in, but if the door were to get closed, there would be no escape.

I heard a noise from the closet as I scooted my chair in. "Pizza time?" I asked, cautiously approaching the closet. I grabbed Nick's clipboard and held it tensely above my head. Slowly twisting the knob, I prayed to God that it would just be Tobey Maguire with a stack of pizzas.

I quickly yanked the door open, closed my eyes, and swung the clipboard. I smacked the side of my hand against the side of the door and screamed like a little girl. The clipboard flew out of my hand, bounced off the wall, hit me in the back of the head, and skittered to a step in the exact spot Nick had left it. I stumbled forward and fell into the closet. Somehow, in a feat of physics only possible in written word, the door slammed shut behind me, leaving me alone, cramped, and stuck.

I knew it was futile to call for help, so I opted to take a nap, assuring myself that I would be awake by the time Nick returned. But I had only gotten an hour of sleep the night before. When I awoke, from my standing slumber—which felt quite good—and managed to look at my watch, it was midnight. I had slept for twelve hours! There was nothing I could do. Nick likely wouldn't be back until next Sunday, and I had left my phone in my locker with do not disturb on.

TODAY

"God?" I asked when light seeped into the closet from behind me.

I twisted myself around as best I could to see a silhouette of a tall, strong man in the doorway.

"God! It is You! Well, I thought that I was going to live to be 103, but 18 works too, I suppose."

"I'm not God, Caleb, though you're lucky you survived, man," Nick said. "A week without food or water? Where'd you use the ba—nevermind. I can smell it."

"What else was I supposed to do? Hold it?"

"Well, the people are waiting. I was going to host it if you didn't show, but seeing as you're here…"

"Hey, man, I need you to get your priorities straight. First order of business: a shower. Second order of business: food. But I'll take the food first, please. I could kill for a taco right about now."

*****

"Goooooood evening, ladies and gents!" I called from the stage, lights dancing, smoke spewing, and ice cream getting shoveled into my mouth. Yes, that sentence is grammatically incorrect, deal with it.

"Sorry for being late! But I am here now, so let's begin, shall we?"

The crowd cheered.

"In third place, we have Remember by Raybug63! I thoroughly enjoyed it. It really got me thinking. I always love seeing your work, so thanks for sharing!

"In second place, we have AnnFan14's "Call me what you want, when you want, if you want"-lyrics by Dominic Fike. You put a great message within this work that more people need to be spreading and feeling! Everyone should just be themselves!

"And, in first… I had a tough time with this. We had many, many great posts this month. But I think that the author most deserving of first this month is Ayifushere with I wish I could fly away.!!! It was a beautiful but sad work. Many posts seemed to have a sad undertone to them this month, now that I think of it.

"Now for some honorable mentions. Roses311Sublime, I always love seeing you. A Story From My Mind While On Quarentine With Covid was amusing, as always.

"Ebube's untitled work was a short, cute read that I recommend to everyone.

"HMS… I wanna see more from this world you created in Dinner and a surprise. I was left curious to know more about where we were, who this things were, and just see whatever other wacky thing existed here!

"fudo, you were definitely a top three contender. Who couldn't love that story of yours?

"Hyperfluxe, that twist at the end was unexpected. Great job! I thoroughly enjoyed your work.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming out tonight! I will see you all soon."

Dry heaving, trembling fingers, the throb of my heartbeats, mini panic attacks from glances strangers give me on the street.

I wonder what they think, if they think my clothes look funny today, if the laughter of the couple in their 20's that passed me a few minutes ago is at how ugly I look.

"What did you say?" The fat shopkeeper asks again, her breath is as unpleasant as ever.

I must look foolish to the other two customers behind me.

"One crate of eggs, milk and bread please"

I heave a sigh of relief as I walk home quickly, keeping my eyes down, I hope I'm walking normally.

I dig out my keys quickly, ignoring the neighbor's two year old waving at me and unlock my door, then lock it again.

I won't be coming out for another week.

This is my routine for the past two months.

I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression at 21, my life had been entirely average till I met her.

Who could believe an Angel could befriend me?

With a life where "fun" "fashion" and "friends" were foreign to me, I had rather resigned myself to a life of mediocrity.

Thus when I gained employment at 24 after graduating with a degree in business, my life centered around work, always the first to come and last to leave.

My coworkers were polite enough, but they always talked of plans to hangout and stories later in whispers around me, at least they didn't avoid me.

I was sorting out mails late that night at work when she came in- like I said before, she was an Angel.

Sephiora. Her lips perked and her peach lip gloss shimmered as she pronounced her name slowly for me.

Her tart perfume, the way her leather gown clung to her skin, her faux fur sliding halfway down her shoulders, her careless way of leaning by my office door as she lit a cigarette burns an unforgettable image into my memory.

She was an escort hired by my boss and she had lost her way out.

"I saw the light on and went towards it" she added with a light lisp.

"Always go towards the light was what my grandma used to say" she added with a chuckle, her eyes clouding over for an instant.

I have nothing to live for, I have no motivation, I will exist and die an obscure death. Is always how I thought.

Meeting her changed me, it became our daily routine, she would finish up with my boss and come to meet me.

Karaokes, Japanese restaurants, late night movies became our routine.

We held hands, hugged and laughed, people looked at us wherever we went. I felt seen.

My anxiety faded and I began starting conversations with coworkers, I even got invited to a cookout.

But my joy was short lived.

She didn't show one day, and the next, then it became a week, a week turned to a month then I quit.

I didn't quit. I left and never came back.

Coworkers tried to reach me for a week, I couldn't bear the heartache of the sound of my phone buzzing and it's not Sephiora, I changed my number.

That was foolish, she never had my contact to begin with, I never asked her last name or knew her address.

I don't even think Sephiora is her real name.

I was just too swept up in the thrill of someone finally paying attention to me.

Was it because I confessed my feelings to her?

My anxiety slowly returned, since I had no human contact it grew worse, with my burnout.

My reason to get up in the morning exists no more.

Who was I kidding? What did I expect anyway? I ruined a good thing and will never see her beautiful brown eyes glow again as she laughed at my jokes.

They were delicious. Her eyes I mean.

That was the only part I didn't cook out of reverence to her.

"I'm sorry I can't date girls, much less YOU" she had said that night with a flip of her silky hair and disdain in her voice before I pushed her down, breaking her neck on the deserted street that night.

I couldn't bear for someone special to me, look or talk to me like the others.

I open the deep freezer and take out a frozen manicured hand. Bread and meat with some eggs sound really good right now.

"What is this?" He asked.

"Oh, that- um… you found that," I said.

"I did. Is it…"

"Oh, um… I don't know."

"You don't know."

"Nope!"

"This is mine."

"Well, you did give it to me."

"But this part, this is my hair, I never gave you that."

"Well… yes."

"I suppose it's needed to work?"

"Yeah."

"And do you… you know; or, well, what I mean is, what do you do with it?"

"Oh, um… it depends."

"It depends?" That was the first hint of emotion he'd shown, the rest of it was actually very calm, or, nonreactionary. Is that a word? I was actually kind of hopeful. You know, that maybe… well, I guess I figured he wouldn't be too okay with finding his voodoo doll, but I guess I didn't really prepare for this sort of scenario actually. By all means, it was never really supposed to be found by anyone.

"Um, what were you doing in here?" I tried to make it nonaccusitory. Is that a word? It didn't work.

"Here? Like in your house? Cos you invited me here, I didn't know I was supposed to shield my eyes from your room as I ya know, pass by on my way to the freakin restroom."

Maybe I'd left it out. To be fair, this was close to the time he was supposed to be here. But to be fair again, the other way, it was two days away. Or, no, one. It was like him to want to, I don't know, surprise me? Did he still do surprises? Not really surprises, actually. Or, he didn't think so anyways. I know him. He just does a thing and is all yeah I did this why not ya know? But to other people, it can surprise them, shock them a bit sometimes. That's okay. I know him. He'd come around to the doll. I just needed to handle it correctly.

"I didn't mean that, I'm sorry, I thought you would be here… later, I guess."

"So that's when you'd show me, or maybe you were planning on just keeping it a secret."

I looked away. I didn't want it to go like this, I didn't want him to be angry. All the times we talked he was never angry. I thought seeing each other would start with a hug. It's not like I could get rid of it.

"Well, I don't know how to, you know… undo it. Like, without hurting you."

That worked. His temples softened, he looked away. Then back at the doll in his hands.

"When you hold it-"

"Him." Why did I do that? I could have just let him go on, and he looked surprised, but not angry anymore. Which was good. "I mean, it is you, too."

"You hold him by his left arm don't you?"

I looked at the doll, he was right. So it did work. I mean… I figured it did, but I didn't really have confirmation, not all the time, anyways. Hard to tell if he's reacting to it or something else when we did video calls. I nodded. He fiddled with it a bit, probably trying to feel it.

"You can't use him on yourself, it won't work. Someone else has to do it. I don't know. Maybe it won't work now that you know about it? I didn't read much about it."

"Didn't read much about it. Playing with my safety and you didn't read up on it." He was back to the calm tone he usually had… practiced. He practiced that tone. I know him.

"Well it… it wasn't really meant for… to be actually real anyways. He was more for, um… you know… me."

He was silent for a bit. He had his calm facade, but I saw past Those details. I know him. He was processing, I could see his gears turning, then they clicked into place, and I saw him understand.

I needed him. And he hadn't been there, but I still needed him. Even when there were others.

He turned the doll over in his hands a few times, "This is really intricate. He has all the fingers."

"You have all your fingers."

"He has balls?"

I might've blushed, "So do you."

"No toes though."

"You know how I am about feet."

He nodded. Set it on my dresser. That's where it had been, I remember now. I set him up to watch, like I would do on our video calls, only we hadn't done a video call that morning. I was rushed a bit for work, probably forgot him sitting there. Or, well, I must have, since he found him there.

"So," he put his hands in his pockets, he wasn't ready to see me yet, "back to: what do you do with him? I know you said it depends, just a short list."

This made me uncomfortable. It shouldn't have, the doll was him, and he was standing right in front of me, so it should've been easy. At that moment though, I realized it wasn't really really him, and I felt voyer-ish, like everything I'd done to him, I mean, the doll, had been done to him while sleeping or something. "Um, I dunno. I sleep with it, mostly. I like to trace my fingers along its arm. Sometimes I pinch it a little, not hard or anything, just that thing you do with skin sometimes. Uh, I dunno, I've showered with it, um… I set him up like I do with my phone on our video calls. I dunno, sometimes he just stays in the drawer."

He nodded slowly, "So you've never, like, used needles on it or hurt it or anything like that?"

I shifted my weight, trying to think, did I ever do anything like that? Maybe in the beginning. "Uh, well… um…"

"Okay, so you have. I'm still here, so it's fine. I'm just curious, I wanna know if I've felt it."

Those words. Fine. Curious. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, still waiting. I could see it in his eyes, all he wanted was the truth, some honesty. I know him. "Okay, so, I've never wanted to kill you or, like, permanently harm you you know? I got it from my grandma right after we, um… you know. So I was a little upset. And I get upset sometimes, you know that. And sometimes I'd get upset with you. I don't know, I've thrown him before. I've sat on him. I used to squeeze his wrists really hard. I've never put pins in him, I was always too scared to do that. Most of the time it's just yelling at him or crying on him. I'll bite him sometimes. I-" I almost told him about the time I peed on it a little, but it was just one time, and as I'd been telling him the list, it was feeling weirder and weirder, so I decided to stop, and I could feel some mistiness behind my contacts, so I looked away. He took his hands out of his pockets finally, and wrapped me in a hug. I felt swallowed by his arms and chest, he was warm, and he wrapped his own universe around my body and shut out the entire world. Everything we'd just talked about, it didn't matter. All that time away, it didn't matter. Every time I'd done anything that made me feel guilty, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing existed. Nothing ever existed. Existence was this warm, cozy pressure with a rhythmic pulse, and there had never been anything else. I spent a lifetime there, suspended in a comfortable state of numb timelessness.

The warmth and pressure slowly subsided, and I was confused at first at the sight of a foreign alien world, then realized it was my room. He was standing in front of me, holding my shoulders gently. What had we just been talking about? I don't remember, we never talked about it again.

"Alright, true story. I was at a summer camp that I have been going to since I was seven. I am a counselor there now, actually. And this eight-year-old girl was sitting all by herself on tournament night. We'll call her Charlie.

"I sat down next to Charlie and struck up a conversation as best I could. Not great at doing it, but I figured I'd be able to find out something about her by asking about her week with which I could then continue a conversation with her.

"After I asked the first few questions, another girl walked up to the table. We'll call her Riley. Riley is ten, maybe. She has been going to the camp for a while now; I'm not quite sure how old she is, though, because, as a male counselor, I don't spend much time with the girls. Without any hesitation, Riley sat down and said, 'Charlie has a crush on Caleb!'

"Charlie furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head to demonstrate the absurdity of the statement. I chuckled to myself. 'What? No,' she said. 'First off, I am WAY too young for that. Second, there's a MASSIVE age gap here. How old are you?' she asked me.

" 'Eighteen,' I replied.

" 'That's a ten year age gap.

" 'Well, you have a crush on Caleb,' Riley said. She continued to tease Charlie a little more before saying, 'Well, I have nine boyfriends!'

"My face dropped and I gave her a quizzical look. 'What? Riley, that's wrong. You can't have nine boyfriends.'

" 'Yes I can! And I do! I have nine boyfriends, and I'm cheating on all of them. I plan on marrying one of them, though. He's cute. He already has a little bit of a mustache, too.'

"I stroked my baby smooth face, still incapable of growing anything, and opened my mouth to protest again. Realizing it was hopeless, I shut my mouth and let her keep talking. Charlie had my back anyways.

" 'Where's your phone?' Riley asked me.

" 'At the bottom of the pond,' I replied.

" 'Wait, seriously?'

" 'Yep.'

" 'No, it's not!'

" 'Yeah, it is. We're going to hold a competition tomorrow to see who can find it. The first person to fish it out is getting a trophy.'

" 'How did it end up in the pond?'

" 'I was swimming, and I left it in my pocket,' I said, getting cocky with how unbelievable I made it sound. No one swims in the ponds anymore.

" 'You went swimming in there!? That's disgusting!'

" 'Yep! I went swimming. An—'

" 'Caleb! Carpetball! Table two!'

" 'Ope, I gotta go.'

"After the carpetball match (in which I destroyed a little girl, made her cry, and felt like a horrible human being. Okay, I didn't 'destroy' her. It came down to the last ball. I said that I was sorry and git a hug, so we're good. It probably helps that I am really close friends with her older sister), I walked up to one of the girl counselors, we'll call her Leslie. I told her about Riley's story and finished with, '...so I just gave up because I figured it was pointless and I was getting nowhere.'

"A few times throughout the night, Riley asked me where my phone was. I just kept telling her that it was at the bottom of the pond. She believed it—or, at the very least, acted as if she did. So I walked up to Leslie later in the night and told her, 'If Riley asks, my phone is at the bottom of the pond, and we are holding a contest tomorrow to see who will find it. The winner gets a trophy.

" 'Okaayyy…'

"Around one in the morning, the counselors were cleaning up before 'counselor-chill time'---the time after the tournament where some counselors choose to stay up and talk until three in the morning. Anyway, it's one, and Leslie walks past me. She stops and says, 'You know why Riley was asking where your phone was, don't you?'

" 'No…' I replied.

"Leslie's face pulled into a cheesy grin. 'Number ten,' she said.

"We started laughing and went about our business. The next day, I was hanging around with my tent, and Leslie walks up and asks if Riley still think that my phone is at the bottom of the pond.

"Now, it's important to note that my phone was in my hand at this time. 'Yep,' I said.

"Troy, another fake name for a kid in my tent, asked, 'Wait, your phone is at the bottom of the pond?'

"I tossed my phone between my hands, then put it up against my ear. 'Yep,' I said.

" 'What!? How did it end up there!?'

" 'Oh, y’know, I went for a swim and I accidentally left it in my pocket.' I took my phone off my ear, examined it, and put it back.

" 'H-how!? That's like—'

"Leslie and I exchanged looks. 'Troy,' I said, pulling my phone off my ear and chuckling. 'My phone is right here.'

"Leslie and I started laughing, and that was the end of that.

"Anyways, thanks for coming out tonight! Pen to the Paper 23 is out now!"

Nick found me at the altar of a Catholic church. Not because I'm a Catholic, no. But because it was the closest church the Pen to the Paper Arena.

"What are you doing?" he asked, interrupting my prayers and giving me a playful kick in the side.

"After your stunt last week, I gotta get me some Jesus," I told him, lifting my head from my folded hands.

“Whatever, you homophobic weirdo. Let’s go. They’re waiting," Nick said. "Well, it's not that they're waiting, you just gotta get ready… I just like saying that the audience is waiting."

“How am I supposed to live this down, man?”

Nick chuckled. “You can’t, dude. It is now Pen to the Paper canon that you are an out of the closet gay man."

I gave him a devilish smile.

"Oh, no," Nick said. "I don't like that glimmer in your eyes."

"Oh, Nick, this is nowhere near as ambitious as some of my other ideas. But if it's going to work, we better get going."

*****

The audience was silent and confused. In the center of the stage was a closet. A door and four walls with a roof. More of a shack, really, but it was indoors, so it qualifies as a closet. There was no microphone on stage.

"Laaaaaaaaadies and gentleman!" I called over the sound system. "Welcome to Pen to the Paper Arena! Where am I, you may ask? Well," I stuck my arms out of the sides of the closet. I had made two holes so that I could do this. "I'm in the closet down here."

Lasers flashed across the stage. A light from above slowly centered on the door, casting a shadow that said "NOT GAY!"

"Now, who's ready for some announcements?"

After they finished their cheers, I cleared my throat. "Shrouded in mystery, and leaving you curious, Raybug63’s post comes in third place! It is unnamed, but such a wonderful work!

"In second, we have first step: die by JacquelineAllen. It was an amazing post going through the main character’s head and thoughts before she reaches her expiration date. I thoroughly enjoyed it!

"Finally, in first, we have a post I didn't think I would enjoy as much as I did. It talked of booze, weed, and partying a lot. But, sifting through that and giving it a chance (something that was easy to do, because the author has such a freat way with words), I found the story to be quite great. You watch through the main character’s eyes as someone slowly deteriorates. She doesn't think anything is wrong, really. He's such a fun guy, and she only sees him occasionally. The story ends on a sad note, but it was an amazing read. Jona, Not Okay was amazing, and deserves the first place spot!

"Now, for some honorable mentions. What I Hate About Writing by miscSomnus was really good. I loved hearing their perspective on writing.

"Happy by spicydakota was a reality check. They put into words hiding behind a mask perfectly.

"And, last, but not leastly, Leddog01's A Walk in the Ocean was a great read.

"Thanks for coming ou—for joining me tonight! I'll see you next month!"

I pulled my arms back into the closet and let the elevator take me down to the dressing room. Nick met me with a wicked grin.

"What?"

"You just made it worse, my man."

"What do you mean? My plan was perfect."

"If your message was that you're a deeply closeted gay guy," Nick said with a chuckle.