Bridgette Bennet Wiggins

Brie sat on the lumpy bed smoking the last cigarette of the day, while her furball friend was curled up on her small pillow on the nightstand. The alarmclock flashed 12:00, giving the dim room a red glow.

The last drag reduced me into a coughing fit burning my nostrils. When I looked up, I saw her standing at my window, blowing smoke into the night. Her clothes were dark and torn and dark rings encircled her eyes.

I wanted to talk, but couldn't. She smiled and said she loved my accent, that if she could go half way 'round the world to escape she would. Then, she glided out onto the fire escape, and by the time I gathered my senses again she was no where to be seen.

After that, I decided I'd smoked too much and the nicotine was making me woosey, so I fell into a fitfull sleep filled with nightmares of back home.

In the morning, a little dove was sitting in a cage I kept for Moose. The door was bolted shut and the cage had been dragged across the room to the window.

Madame Mirela Foquois

Mirela lounged on the roof with her feet propped on the edge. Dusk was steadily setting in, but her glass of wine was still half full and what was the point of drinking if not to enjoy it and take it all in.

Her lips formed a half smile as she watched the street lamps flicker on and make the streets glow orange. Behind her the pigeons took flight leaving downy feathers floating in the crisp air.

As she finished her glass of wine, her hairs began to stand on end. She turned to leave , but the cage door clanged open and the doves flew in her face chasing away the rest of the sunset's peace.

She ran inside to escape her feeling of unrest when she ran head on into Pokey.

"Oh, sorry," Mirela gasped.

"Uh, um, it's fine. I, uh, I just wanted to return your bag, but you weren't home, so I came to feed Ms. Keller's birds." Pokey explained haultingly.

"Thank you, I almost forgot about that." Mirela said as she reached for the bag in Pokey's outstreched hand.

"Um, I'm not sure how to ask this." Mirela ventured causiously, but Pokey only looked confused.

"But do you know of anything. . .bad happening up here." Mirela finished.

"When I first moved here, my mom told me to stay away from the roof. Some girl tried to fly away with the birds." Pokey explained.

Alana Verdioso

Alana returned to her dingy apartment later than usual, after all it was her 23rd birthday and she wanted to celebrate. The moment the door swung in she could sense the breath of the departed and knew that though her bed was shouting for her, it would be a while before she could sink into its abyss.

She switched on a lamp, and sat down across from the frail frame.

"What do you need?" asked Alana.

"I need to know why I'm still here. What I have done to deserve this." the figure pleaded in hoarse whispers as her body faded into the pattern of her chair.

Alana was too tired to question it imediatly, all she could manage was a swerving line to her bed, and a nagging question of why the girl had to keep her up on her birthday of all days, she already knew the girl had been wandering the building for years.

Ms. Keller

The smell of burnt oatmeal and bacon woke me. I walk into my faded sunshine kitchen to find a girl sitting at the table with the other chair already pulled out for me.

Her thin frame and bright eyes remind me of a girl I must have known, sitting at my table dressed in rags. She gives me a small welcoming grin but all I can see is the door down the hall with the grimy numbers, 713.

Barnaby, Lily

Miss Lily M. Barnaby, age 23, passed October 13, 19**. The funeral will be held Monday October 16, 19** at 2pm in Mount Zion Chapel. May her tormented soul rest in peace.

Pablo Neruda

"How much does a man live, after all?
Does he live a thousand days, or one only?
For a week, or for several centuries?
How long does a man spend dying?
What does it mean to say 'for ever'?"