when i was in Lincoln High School in Brooklyn New York City. I was the Son of New York and led the Lincoln High School to win the New York State Championship 2 years in a row (2001 and 2002)
In those two years, I got Mr. Basketball of New York 2 times, and the best high school student in the United States and i also got other honors.
Even the Owner of the New York Knicks joke about that once i participated in the draft the knicks will pick me. 
*****
follow me on IG @dunknd0nut

Ric siting in his room finally relaxed, he still getting used to this new home. After leaving the very familiar house he lived for a life time, it made it a little strange for him.
But he will get use to it as he did with the fact he went trough a rebirth.
Ric and his family shifted to this new house in end of January. In-fact it is a penthouse in the upper east side of Manhattan.
From a friendly suburbs to a concrete jungle, this transformation might be weird to others but its kind of a thing for the Jackson's.
They are more inclined to live in a comfortable but luxurious place close to their work than large mansions far from workplace, in Ric's case Broadway.
In-fact in this new home Ric has two rooms made into one unit with a bad room and a reading room.
As the film <Lucas> finished at early week of march, enjoying a morning coffee sitting beside the poolside of the penthouse, while reading an article publish about himself in <New York Times> newspaper. {A/N: Narcissist much}

It says,

"Where is R.R Jackson?"
Richard Jackson a name quite familiar in every household across US. If not by this name than by Elliot, Cole or Kevin. That's right, I am talking about that Richard Jackson,
the most sensational Hollywood actor,
the youngest top grossing star of all time,
the super genius.

We got to meet this young man with the phenomenal <E.T> in 1982, then he brought us <A Christmas Story>in 1983, <The Sixth Sense> in 1984,<Home alone>and <The Gonnies> in 1985.
And he have a up coming film in may <Lucas>.
Even though he only made five movies but all of them was big hits, making him the youngest actor of all times to have five consecutive hits.
In this five years all his film grossed more than 1.7 billion in box office making him one of the top actor with highest box office gross while the  three movies that occupied top 3 positions of the top 10 movies with the highest grossing is his.
Best part he wrote screenplay most of the movie himself.
Not only that he was nominated for Oscars for two times with double nominations for Best supporting actor and best screenplay wards but also wining both times taking Best original screenplay and Best adapted screenplay home shattering many Oscar record but also made history.
We all know him as genius screenwriter or the most cutest actor right now,
But how many knows him as R.R Jackson.
It must be Shocking to know that the famous and the hottest Author right now is none other than our favorite Richard Jackson.
But its that not surprising to find another creative talent of a super genius like Richard.
 What surprising is that this talent actually brought the actor Richard to us.
Remember <E.T> the film was for which brought Richard, the Oscar of best adapted screenplay. The film was adapted from the bestseller book <E.T>at that time. Both which wrote by Richard himself.
This is where R.R Jackson became Richard Jackson.
Do you know where everything started from ?
From this very Newspaper.

Astonishing right, But its true.
In 1980, maximum Kids if not knew other papers but  definitely knew this newspaper's kids column, as short stories which publishing getting popular along with the name R.R Jackson.
That's right at the age of five he started his journey as a writer but became a author next year with his first book <My Ocean stories> released and also became the youngest bestseller author of all times by his book <Finding Nemo>.
1981 is well known for its  book frenzy event as best seller after best seller came like <My Ocean Stories 1&2>, <Finding Nemo>, <Finding Dory>, <Finding home> came one after another, what was known as the<the Ocean Series.> frenzy bringing the name R.R Jackson to house holds.
Not to Out done with 81, 
In 1982 we have seen a large number of short story collection entering market, but it was still domenated by R.R jackson with <My feather firends>, <the animal world>, <The small's world> <The Land before time> and also the famous <E.T>.
But also the end of Richards journey in the kids column.
In 1983 he brought his spy world with <spy kids> and <Spies in Digusie> and a short story collection <Car's world> also <Casper>.
And from 1984 to 1985 he brought  to us <Spy kids 2&3>,  <Jack frost>, <Rise of the Guardians>, <The Midnight Express>, <Inside Out> which showed a unique perspective how a mind can think by Richards wonderful intimation and creative skills.
This series books and best seller hits not fixed him as one of the best child book author all time but also one of the famous author of all times. 
But where did he have gone.
As of the last few months of 1985 to now, no new books were being released resulting many of us wonder, as the most active author right now, what happened.
With that in main many tired to contact with him but couldn't as he was busy with shooting of his new film.
As everyone kept wondering and urging to get the answer to the question.
A new information was given to us by Richards Agent Ari Emanuel.
The information is a note send by Richard himself and its quoted.
"Dear my Rears,
Thanks for all the love and support up until now, but with a heavy heart I have to announce that
Due to ever increasing work I have found my self in a precarious position as a author and finally what I feared happened.
I have strained my writing potential resulting in a burn out and to fix the problem waht is required time and rest.
And for the very time and rest, I am taking a break from my career as an author.
And once again I am truly sorry.
Please pray I recover soon
Yours Favorite Author,
R.R Jackson"

Its sad that one of the favorite author is stepping down  as an author but we are lucky that the same person is still giving us wonders thorough is acting.
But for how long?
Will the same reason occur with his acting career?
Is Richard Jackson going through burnout praise or 
due to harsh reality of many jobs the case?

When people about R.R Jackson the first thing comes to mind
The Living Legend....
He is a man who brought storm in the worlds entertainment...
Idol of all aspiring idols... 
Music , Film , Drama , Books not a place he left untouched
They say he is a man with Midas touch or is he ......


First time writing... Open to constructive criticism...
Hope everyone like my story....

Disclaimer : I don't own anything other than my main character. All things written is nothing more than a fiction.

E L James Grey After twenty-five years working in TV, E L James decided to pursue her childhood dream, and set out to write stories that readers would fall in love with. The result was the sensuous romance Fifty Shades of Grey and its two sequels, Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed, a trilogy that went on to sell more than 125 million copies worldwide in 52 languages. In 2012 E T James was named one of Barbara Walters's "Ten Most Fascinating People of the Year," one of Time magazine's "Most Influential People in the World," and Publishers Weekly's "Person of the Year." Fifty Shades of Grey stayed on the New York Times Best Seller List for 133 consecutive weeks, and in 2015 the film adaptation —on which James worked as producer —broke box-office records all over the world for Universal Pictures. E L James lives in West London with her husband, the novelist and screenwriter Niall Leonard, and their two sons. She continues to write novels while acting as producer on the upcoming movie versions of Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed.

Humans, the strangest and most selfish beings.  Not only does the man harm but they destroy everything they touch and create. Nuclear weapons, wars, starvation, and the plague they all contributed to our extinction, but this isn't the typical post apocalypse story and it definitely isn't a New York Times best seller. I could go on and on telling you how man kind destroyed our world, but that is for another book, in this story we are trying to save what is left of human kind. Long ago when life on Earth was coming to an end, humans created giant capsules for humans to scape earth, out of 7.5 billion people, 3 million made it into the capsules. Those 3 million people made it to a safe planet called Gada, it was quiet for a while and humans lived in peace for many years, developed many abilities due to radiation and they started writing about life on Earth, they called those books the sacred ones. But every good thing always comes to an end, people started being greedy due to the new abilities everyone would have, some were stronger than others, so a group of people started experimenting with children so they would be stronger, some type of meta humans.
Because of that, something was awoken in Gada, a dark being and it's army, humans fought bravely but it wasn't enough, so a man named Tobias Dankworth took the ancient books, his family, and a group of people with him into the forest so they could scape from the dark one, leaving all the others to die. The only survivors were the children that were meta humans, and a group of three scientists. The children who survived would soon become the guardians of Gada.

I am Aiden. I have a beautiful name. Unlike everything else, my family gave me a good look and nickname. The fact is that in the eyes of most people, I am an attractive man of almost 35 years.
I was born in a coastal city. Near Essex. With streets filled with cool ocean breezes. I can admit that now I miss all those cobblestones, beaches, cliffs, the streets, the old houses, and all those willow trees. I loved the breeze and the ocean's sound so much that I used it for one of my radio programs' background song.
I knew the wizards who all knew what abilities I had, but I wanted to get away from Essex and Salem at full speed.
A city whose people believed in witches, vampires, werewolves, the power of spirits, gods, demons, angels, heaven, and hell, and of course, when you see them with your own eyes, you will definitely believe them. I thought that by moving away from that city and its people, my abilities would also decrease. I wanted to be a normal person.
Now that I can no longer see anyone's face with the help of Agnosia, this feature of my mind reading has also diminished.
I didn't tell you about my gender before. I do not know precisely when I had no gender anymore. You reach a place where you have no age, no gender, not even a name.
I am in the same place and time right now. People around me no longer have a specific age, gender, or name. I'm just trying to guess that, for example, the one I saw in the alley pulling a shopping cart is a middle-aged retired woman. A retiree who was probably a teacher because of her flawed gait model. A teacher who has always stood in front of the blackboard. So she was a math teacher. I gradually became an argumentative person.
Today I went to buy a CD & DVD player. Science has advanced, and no one is looking for these types of devices anymore. Each DVD can hold four and a half gigs of data, while you can store thousands of times this volume in other smaller virtual and non-virtual repositories. But to for taking my night's sleep back from that my neighbor and her CD player and of course her daughter's wedding video, I had to buy her a new one of the devices.
I had seen my neighbor's daughter before I got Agnosia. She was a tall girl with a smiling face and black hair. My neighbor's daughter was a nurse at a New York hospital. She lived with her elderly mother until she was moving one day. I found out that she had rented a house around her hospital to be closer to her workplace.
Maybe you're wondering why her mother had a sleep disorder because of her wedding or relocation? That girl, Maggie, died some time ago. It may be hard to understand that a person had insomnia due to a loved one's death, but not to me! As I said before, mental disorders often exist due to help peoples.
I went early in the morning, and when I arrived at the first shop, I requested a device that would turn off everything by itself when the movie was over.
I was thrilled that such a device available.
The seller's voice was familiar. For a long time, the only difference between people for me is their voices. I do not take it seriously. I do not take familiar sounds seriously because I am not familiar with them.
Sounds are powerful like eyes. For example, I saw the eyes of that medical equipment seller, and now I hear the familiar voice of this audio and video equipment seller.
Of course, the sound may not have anything to do with appearance. Once upon, I used to love sounds, maybe in times that I can't even remember. Perhaps I was even working with sounds. From somewhere I still do not retain, I put the sound aside and went to the painting.
I painted to sell to galleries that generally have clients who do not care about the content of the work they buy. They want something that will come to decorate their luxurious and stylish house. They do not care about art.
Sounds are strange creatures. Ever since I got this dear disease, I have tried not to recognize people's voices, but it did not happen. The sounds, like a power drill, sink into my brain.
If the eyes disappear in my eyes one day, I do not think the sounds can do anything to disappear in my ears.
The seller showed me different models of CD&DVD players. Oh, how can a wise person go and buy a CD and DVD player; But I did not have the patience to explain the problem of my neighbor to the seller.
Instead of explaining my problem to this seller, I decided to tell a nice lie that would make things even more comfortable; a lie about my great love for nostalgic issues and the plethora of CDs and even VHS tapes that I have and want to go back to it.
But this was not a lie. I have many CDs, hard drives full of movies and documentaries, and even VHS videotape and even cassette, which shows that I was once really a movie buff and a music listener.
A few years ago, I returned to my hometown after graduating from university and becoming a well-known radio programmer.
I remember the only reason I came back was to pack up what my family had just dumped in a damp room and bring it to my New York apartment with me. My books, my movies, voices' first recording, and mixing equipment, and much more.
I stared at the salesman's blurred face, and I was sad because of my own failed lie. The vendor introduced me to a DVD&CD player with various ports for playing other types of hard drives and memory. It did not cost much; But not for me, who did not deliver any paintings this month.
I bought a CD player. I bought it to give to my old neighbor to get back my sleep.
When I wanted to come back home, the salesman said, "I know you!"
I could not tell him that I could not even see your face to remember you. But I was content with just saying that I had not seen you before. I say this to a large number of people who claim to know me. Explaining my disorder to people is hard and, of course, stupid.
But the salesman said in disbelief, "I know you by your voice."
Voice?! my voice? My past! My past that to overcome it, I took refuge in my dear and kind disorder. Maybe the salesman, like me, had this lovely disease.
I tried to stare at the salesman's face that it has nothing, not even his eyes, and try to guess where his eyes were. I wanted to stare into his eyes when I wanted to tell him: "I no longer work with sounds."
"I sent my voice to the radio station and even your studio several times. I liked your work a lot, but I did not receive a reply from you. I heard about your resignation from the network, and I tried very hard to find you, and I even went to your studio and saw that it was closed." he said these sentences in a sad voice.
I felt terrible sense about myself for a moment. Of course, most of the time, I have a neutral feeling about myself. Neither good nor bad; But sometimes I feel bad about myself, and this is that moment. I hated myself for not answering anyone.
I was humiliated and abandoned in my life. I was so heartbroken that if they opened it and read it and looked at it, it would look more like the grandpa's patched pajamas of one of my elementary school classmates. The older man who died a few years ago when I came to New York. He did not believe in changing his pajamas.
I am so heartbroken that I decided not to break anyone's heart for a long time and not inflict this deep pain on anyone.
I stared at the salesman again and said, "I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional," but the salesman said, "I'm not looking for this work anymore. I passed courses for this.
They Promised me that they give me a job, but they did not that. I wish you could work again. I'm still listening to your old radio program. Do you want me to play one for you?"
I'm not too fond of anything that connects me to the past. I have been so successful in forgetting my past that all my real memories have turned into dim halos. Sometimes in the face of my history, I think they are just a simple fantasy.
The dreams I have are sometimes more transparent than the real things that happen to me.
I thanked the seller. It occurred to me that I must have heard this man's voice even once, and he happens to have a good voice; So why didn't I asked him that he come to my studio for a test?
I changed the subject in a fraction of a second, and I ran away from myself, my voice, and the memory that was to play.

I gave the CD player to my neighbor. I well remember that night in the past, when her son-in-law with a large bouquet that looked more like a wreath mistakenly rang my apartment, and I told him he had to knock on the side door.
That night I sat on the terrace until morning and smoked a cigarette. I'm not a jealous person. I mean, I have not been jealous for years now; But I think every time my jealousy blooms, I stand on the terrace of my house and smoke a pack of cigarettes that I used to hide for the same time.
That night I was reviewing the faces of all the people in my mind that I escaped from them, and I took refuge in this disease.
I never saw my neighbor's daughter's husband again. That night he came to pay his respects to his mother-in-law, for example. It was Thanksgiving night, and people were gathering together. And I do not know why I had to smoke in that cold before Christmas.
Christmas reminds me of Jules. That night I wanted to search her name on Facebook and see anyone with her name or appearance. Is she alive? Did she keep his word?
But I remembered that I did not even recognize people's pictures in the mirror or even television and photos.
Maggie's husband was a doctor at the same hospital. A tall man with an angled face. It smelled thick and attractive. I remember his hairstyle. He was not bald for me. I remember many things from that man, even the black halo around him. I see halos around people.
After I could no longer recognize the people's faces, an aura appeared around them that they would not bother me if I ignored them.
I gave the CD & DVD player for the older woman. I taught her how to work with it and played the wedding video. The older woman insisted that I stay and have tea with her. I was ashamed of myself, and to make up for the wrong thing I had done to that audio and video store seller in the past, I stepped on my desires and accepted the older woman's invitation.
The film of the wedding was being played, But I did not recognize any of those faces. The sound of the wedding piano march in the church and the bride's scenes coming to the altar. I saw the groom's face at that moment. His face was blurred, but it was not such that I could not recognize it. He had an attractive look, But it was scary for me. Maybe it was because of the combination of his face with that black halo. Perhaps it was because I hadn't seen anyone's full face in a long time. I can not read anyone's mind from films or photos.
The older woman next door entered the room with two cups of green tea with a lemon scent. My neighbor's husband, or rather the deceased bride's father, was an Asian man who died of a stroke many years ago.
Imagine the combination of American and Asian races and see how beautiful Maggie was. I can not stop admiring the beauty of faces. The last thought I read from Maggie that stuck in my mind was her boundless love for her job and her mother. Those were the times when little by little, I could no longer recognize anyone's face.
Maggie's face and thoughts were one of the last things I remember.
All the while waiting for my old neighbor to bring me tea, I was pretending to listen to him talk about her son-in-law and dead daughter.
When I gave her the CD player, I asked her to go on a trip and have fun and pray for her daughter's soul's peace. I forgot to say, the older woman's daughter had committed suicide with a high dose of a hypnotic. Next to her body was a suicide note in which she had said goodbye to her mother and written that she could no longer bear this life.
It was hard for me to believe because I had read Maggie's mind many times; she was one of the few people whose brain was full of passion and hope for life.
Maybe if I were my old neighbor, I slapped myself and said to myself, "O bald creature, instead of advising me, go and tidy up your nonsensical life."
I returned home. The lights were off; I wouldn't say I like the light. I made myself a strong coffee and sat in front of my canvas. The only bright light in my apartment is above the canvas. I have to deliver three paintings by the end of the week, and I am just in the middle of the first painting.
I'm painting a faceless person. One of the people I came across these days is my old neighbor. The gallery owner asked me to deliver three impressive works with a combination of dark yellow, green, and red colors.
I was drawing the curves of my neighbor's face when I heard a sound like Essex's wind. I knew this voice well. I do not doubt my ears. I thought it was the sound of a neighbor's house again. But it was the voice of one of my old works. Suddenly my voice played with the backdrop of the sound of the ocean and the breeze. This sound was one of my old programs.
To make this program, I waited for days for the best recording of Essex's sound. I went to the room and saw that the laptop was on and that the sound was playing. I had not turned on my computer for days. I did not have that old radio program with my performance in my archive.
Even for me, who is born and lived with strange events, it is odd and scary to face such a scene.
I stepped back and turned on the hallway light leading to the living room, and the sound stopped. I saw a shadow next to my terrace window. I thought when I was not in my apartment; a person entered my home. My eyes were blurred. The shadow disappeared. The light above the canvas turned on and off. I turned to the part of the house where I had a tripod and a canvas, and my eyes met a familiar face. I had not seen a face for a long time. I was scared. Maggie was standing next to the painting of her mother.

If you do not want your secrets to be revealed to Aiden, do not let him look at you! Of course, if he can see your face!

The boundary between seeing everything and nothing!
When you caught up in all the supernatural events, you suddenly realize that love is perhaps the most important of them all.



I am Aiden. I have a beautiful name. Unlike everything else, my family gave me a good look and nickname. The fact is that in the eyes of most people, I am an attractive man of almost 35 years. 

I was born in a coastal city. Near Essex. With streets filled with cool ocean breezes. I can admit that now I miss all those cobblestones, beaches, cliffs, the streets, the old houses, and all those willow trees. I loved the breeze and the ocean's sound so much that I used it for one of my radio programs' background song. 

I knew the wizards who all knew what abilities I had, but I wanted to get away from Essex and Salem at full speed. 

A city whose people believed in witches, vampires, werewolves, the power of spirits, gods, demons, angels, heaven, and hell, and of course, when you see them with your own eyes, you will definitely believe them. I thought that by moving away from that city and its people, my abilities would also decrease. I wanted to be a normal person. 

Now that I can no longer see anyone's face with the help of Agnosia, this feature of my mind reading has also diminished. 

I didn't tell you about my gender before. I do not know precisely when I had no gender anymore. You reach a place where you have no age, no gender, not even a name. 

I am in the same place and time right now. People around me no longer have a specific age, gender, or name. I'm just trying to guess that, for example, the one I saw in the alley pulling a shopping cart is a middle-aged retired woman. A retiree who was probably a teacher because of her flawed gait model. A teacher who has always stood in front of the blackboard. So she was a math teacher. I gradually became an argumentative person. 

Today I went to buy a CD & DVD player. Science has advanced, and no one is looking for these types of devices anymore. Each DVD can hold four and a half gigs of data, while you can store thousands of times this volume in other smaller virtual and non-virtual repositories. But to for taking my night's sleep back from that my neighbor and her CD player and of course her daughter's wedding video, I had to buy her a new one of the devices. 

I had seen my neighbor's daughter before I got Agnosia. She was a tall girl with a smiling face and black hair. My neighbor's daughter was a nurse at a New York hospital. She lived with her elderly mother until she was moving one day. I found out that she had rented a house around her hospital to be closer to her workplace. 

Maybe you're wondering why her mother had a sleep disorder because of her wedding or relocation? That girl, Maggie, died some time ago. It may be hard to understand that a person had insomnia due to a loved one's death, but not to me! As I said before, mental disorders often exist due to help peoples. 

I went early in the morning, and when I arrived at the first shop, I requested a device that would turn off everything by itself when the movie was over. 

I was thrilled that such a device available. 

The seller's voice was familiar. For a long time, the only difference between people for me is their voices. I do not take it seriously. I do not take familiar sounds seriously because I am not familiar with them. 

Sounds are powerful like eyes. For example, I saw the eyes of that medical equipment seller, and now I hear the familiar voice of this audio and video equipment seller. 

Of course, the sound may not have anything to do with appearance. Once upon, I used to love sounds, maybe in times that I can't even remember. Perhaps I was even working with sounds. From somewhere I still do not retain, I put the sound aside and went to the painting. 

I painted to sell to galleries that generally have clients who do not care about the content of the work they buy. They want something that will come to decorate their luxurious and stylish house. They do not care about art. 

Sounds are strange creatures. Ever since I got this dear disease, I have tried not to recognize people's voices, but it did not happen. The sounds, like a power drill, sink into my brain. 

If the eyes disappear in my eyes one day, I do not think the sounds can do anything to disappear in my ears. 

The seller showed me different models of CD&DVD players. Oh, how can a wise person go and buy a CD and DVD player; But I did not have the patience to explain the problem of my neighbor to the seller. 

Instead of explaining my problem to this seller, I decided to tell a nice lie that would make things even more comfortable; a lie about my great love for nostalgic issues and the plethora of CDs and even VHS tapes that I have and want to go back to it. 

But this was not a lie. I have many CDs, hard drives full of movies and documentaries, and even VHS videotape and even cassette, which shows that I was once really a movie buff and a music listener. 

A few years ago, I returned to my hometown after graduating from university and becoming a well-known radio programmer. 

I remember the only reason I came back was to pack up what my family had just dumped in a damp room and bring it to my New York apartment with me. My books, my movies, voices' first recording, and mixing equipment, and much more. 

I stared at the salesman's blurred face, and I was sad because of my own failed lie. The vendor introduced me to a DVD&CD player with various ports for playing other types of hard drives and memory. It did not cost much; But not for me, who did not deliver any paintings this month. 

I bought a CD player. I bought it to give to my old neighbor to get back my sleep. 

When I wanted to come back home, the salesman said, "I know you!" 

I could not tell him that I could not even see your face to remember you. But I was content with just saying that I had not seen you before. I say this to a large number of people who claim to know me. Explaining my disorder to people is hard and, of course, stupid. 

But the salesman said in disbelief, "I know you by your voice." 

Voice?! my voice? My past! My past that to overcome it, I took refuge in my dear and kind disorder. Maybe the salesman, like me, had this lovely disease. 

I tried to stare at the salesman's face that it has nothing, not even his eyes, and try to guess where his eyes were. I wanted to stare into his eyes when I wanted to tell him: "I no longer work with sounds." 

"I sent my voice to the radio station and even your studio several times. I liked your work a lot, but I did not receive a reply from you. I heard about your resignation from the network, and I tried very hard to find you, and I even went to your studio and saw that it was closed." he said these sentences in a sad voice. 

I felt terrible sense about myself for a moment. Of course, most of the time, I have a neutral feeling about myself. Neither good nor bad; But sometimes I feel bad about myself, and this is that moment. I hated myself for not answering anyone. 

I was humiliated and abandoned in my life. I was so heartbroken that if they opened it and read it and looked at it, it would look more like the grandpa's patched pajamas of one of my elementary school classmates. The older man who died a few years ago when I came to New York. He did not believe in changing his pajamas. 

I am so heartbroken that I decided not to break anyone's heart for a long time and not inflict this deep pain on anyone. 

I stared at the salesman again and said, "I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional," but the salesman said, "I'm not looking for this work anymore. I passed courses for this. 

They Promised me that they give me a job, but they did not that. I wish you could work again. I'm still listening to your old radio program. Do you want me to play one for you?" 

I'm not too fond of anything that connects me to the past. I have been so successful in forgetting my past that all my real memories have turned into dim halos. Sometimes in the face of my history, I think they are just a simple fantasy. 

The dreams I have are sometimes more transparent than the real things that happen to me. 

I thanked the seller. It occurred to me that I must have heard this man's voice even once, and he happens to have a good voice; So why didn't I asked him that he come to my studio for a test? 

I changed the subject in a fraction of a second, and I ran away from myself, my voice, and the memory that was to play. 

I gave the CD player to my neighbor. I well remember that night in the past, when her son-in-law with a large bouquet that looked more like a wreath mistakenly rang my apartment, and I told him he had to knock on the side door. 

That night I sat on the terrace until morning and smoked a cigarette. I'm not a jealous person. I mean, I have not been jealous for years now; But I think every time my jealousy blooms, I stand on the terrace of my house and smoke a pack of cigarettes that I used to hide for the same time. 

That night I was reviewing the faces of all the people in my mind that I escaped from them, and I took refuge in this disease. 

I never saw my neighbor's daughter's husband again. That night he came to pay his respects to his mother-in-law, for example. It was Thanksgiving night, and people were gathering together. And I do not know why I had to smoke in that cold before Christmas. 

Christmas reminds me of Jules. That night I wanted to search her name on Facebook and see anyone with her name or appearance. Is she alive? Did she keep his word? 

But I remembered that I did not even recognize people's pictures in the mirror or even television and photos. 

Maggie's husband was a doctor at the same hospital. A tall man with an angled face. It smelled thick and attractive. I remember his hairstyle. He was not bald for me. I remember many things from that man, even the black halo around him. I see halos around people. 

After I could no longer recognize the people's faces, an aura appeared around them that they would not bother me if I ignored them. 

I gave the CD & DVD player for the older woman. I taught her how to work with it and played the wedding video. The older woman insisted that I stay and have tea with her. I was ashamed of myself, and to make up for the wrong thing I had done to that audio and video store seller in the past, I stepped on my desires and accepted the older woman's invitation. 

The film of the wedding was being played, But I did not recognize any of those faces. The sound of the wedding piano march in the church and the bride's scenes coming to the altar. I saw the groom's face at that moment. His face was blurred, but it was not such that I could not recognize it. He had an attractive look, But it was scary for me. Maybe it was because of the combination of his face with that black halo. Perhaps it was because I hadn't seen anyone's full face in a long time. I can not read anyone's mind from films or photos. 

The older woman next door entered the room with two cups of green tea with a lemon scent. My neighbor's husband, or rather the deceased bride's father, was an Asian man who died of a stroke many years ago. 

Imagine the combination of American and Asian races and see how beautiful Maggie was. I can not stop admiring the beauty of faces. The last thought I read from Maggie that stuck in my mind was her boundless love for her job and her mother. Those were the times when little by little, I could no longer recognize anyone's face. 

Maggie's face and thoughts were one of the last things I remember. 

All the while waiting for my old neighbor to bring me tea, I was pretending to listen to him talk about her son-in-law and dead daughter. 

When I gave her the CD player, I asked her to go on a trip and have fun and pray for her daughter's soul's peace. I forgot to say, the older woman's daughter had committed suicide with a high dose of a hypnotic. Next to her body was a suicide note in which she had said goodbye to her mother and written that she could no longer bear this life. 

It was hard for me to believe because I had read Maggie's mind many times; she was one of the few people whose brain was full of passion and hope for life. 

Maybe if I were my old neighbor, I slapped myself and said to myself, "O bald creature, instead of advising me, go and tidy up your nonsensical life." 

I returned home. The lights were off; I wouldn't say I like the light. I made myself a strong coffee and sat in front of my canvas. The only bright light in my apartment is above the canvas. I have to deliver three paintings by the end of the week, and I am just in the middle of the first painting. 

I'm painting a faceless person. One of the people I came across these days is my old neighbor. The gallery owner asked me to deliver three impressive works with a combination of dark yellow, green, and red colors. 

I was drawing the curves of my neighbor's face when I heard a sound like Essex's wind. I knew this voice well. I do not doubt my ears. I thought it was the sound of a neighbor's house again. But it was the voice of one of my old works. Suddenly my voice played with the backdrop of the sound of the ocean and the breeze. This sound was one of my old programs. 

To make this program, I waited for days for the best recording of Essex's sound. I went to the room and saw that the laptop was on and that the sound was playing. I had not turned on my computer for days. I did not have that old radio program with my performance in my archive. 

Even for me, who is born and lived with strange events, it is odd and scary to face such a scene. 

I stepped back and turned on the hallway light leading to the living room, and the sound stopped. I saw a shadow next to my terrace window. I thought when I was not in my apartment; a person entered my home. My eyes were blurred. The shadow disappeared. The light above the canvas turned on and off. I turned to the part of the house where I had a tripod and a canvas, and my eyes met a familiar face. I had not seen a face for a long time. I was scared. Maggie was standing next to the painting of her mother.

OMG didn’t refer to Omega, but a website subordinated to YAHOO. It engaged in star and celebrity gossip, and the posts there exceeded one’s imagination.
There was a group of amateur reporters who were good at uncovering the dirty laundry of the stars. They would combine clues they found in their junk and share the information with the public regularly.
The information was always about trifle things, such as the food and shopping habits of the stars, but the public was very interested in them. 
Vivian logged into OMG and posted a picture of an escaping Qin Guan and a copy of her movie ticket.
The title of the post was the meaningful, "The secret hero of an indie film."
She described the process of meeting Qin Guan at the cinema, as well as the handsomeness of the actor in real life. She added a picture of Qin Guan from VOGUE.
Everyone was really jealous of her experience. As a senior member of OMG, she got 1,000 kudos for her post in half a day.
"The film is not in theaters in my state. Is there a DVD out yet?"
"Same question. I’m interested in watching it."
The school newspaper was already being printed. Vivian was really glad to see the replies. Although she was extremely busy, she managed to post detailed information about the film.
"Right now, the film is only in theaters in New York and Los Angeles, but you should pay attention to Netflix. There will be a DVD for rent soon."
OMG was the largest gossip forum in America. The news spread in only one day. The power of underground movies was slowly growing. However, the official critics, which Qin Guan was focused on the most, were as silent as the suburbs in the morning.
The next day, he bought "The New York Times" on his way to college. Unfortunately, he saw nothing about "Elephant" in the movie review section.
Depressed, he was planning on asking his girlfriend to comfort him. However, he realized that everyone on campus was staring at them. Cong Nianwei smiled when she saw the school newspaper on a shelf. Qin Guan’s photo took up the whole page. He was in a military uniform, holding a gun. His beauty was unparalleled!
"Cheer for Our Handsome Qin Guan: An Indie Film."
Cong Nianwei waved the paper at Qin Guan. "At least you are popular on campus."
Qin Guan's supporters decided to contribute to his box office success after reading about the news.
After class, Liu came over with her girl force. "President, we just got some funding from the Chinatown small traders. It’s a special sponsorship for you."
"A film club? What's that?"
"Why didn't you tell me about the movie? You are not loyal!" Xu finally said after restraining himself during the whole class.
"I just invited our Chinese schoolmates to watch the film in the name of the trading union. Do you know what we called this before 1949? Flattery!"
Bang! Qin Guan patted him on the back. "That’s poor Chinese of you. I’m not a Peking Opera actor!"
Xu felt wronged. "I tried my best to promote you. Everyone in Chinatown heard about the news... Hey, come back! I’m your sponsor..."
Hundreds of students from Columbia poured into the Sunshine Cinema. The ticket seller, who was used to being lazy, was now in a hurry to deal with the long queue before him.
"Two tickets for ‘Elephant’."
"Ten tickets for ‘Elephant’."
Several couples were confused by the long queue.
"What's happening? Is there a famous indie film on?"
"‘Elephant’? No idea. It must be an independent film with a limited budget. It has to be good if there’s so many people here to see it though. Shall we take a look?"
All 400 tickets were sold out soon. The long queue was not shortened though.
"What? It’s sold out for today? Tomorrow? I will be busy tomorrow. Will you add another screening?"
The manager was shocked by the crowded hall. He checked the timetable and decided to add a temporary screening.
Luckily, the long queue went into another hall. The shrewd manager called the boss to report everything to him.
"Yes, I have taken care of everyone, but there are still people coming occasionally. Yes, I’ll add two more screenings tomorrow. We have one spare theater... No problem!"
The screenings were doubled after the call. The film would be played for two weeks.
New York Box Office on the first day: 720 dollars
Los Angeles Box Office on the first day: 600 dollars
New York Box Office on the second day: 7,000 dollars
Los Angeles Box Office on the second day: over 800 dollars
The box office the next day was multiplied by 10!


Qin Guan was reborn and sent back to his final semester in High School 18 years ago. Getting a second chance at life, he works hard to turn things around and eventually become a Prince Charming. What will his life be like the second time around? What will he have to go through? How will he succeed in turning from a loser into a Prince Charming? Read this story carefully and find out!

When I arrived at my apartment, I put the gift inside the wood drawer near the door. Since Lucas hardly goes to my apartment, he wouldn't even notice the gift I got for him.

I hopped in the shower for a quick rinse. I don't like doing things around with a sweaty body. 

After a shower, I make myself a nice hot chocolate drink. Since I work from home, I gotta have a small office-like room in the apartment for work-related stuff. I turned on my computer and checked my emails. A few emails are from the publishing company and the rest are just spammed emails.

I quickly tick all the spammed emails and marked them as read. I go through the emails from the publisher one at a time. All are just publishing notifications EXCEPT for one. 

My eyes widened. OH. MY. GOD!

"Is this for real?" I muttered. I was overjoyed when I read the email. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

To: Rylee Wallis

From: Oak Archive Press

Date: Monday, June 7, 2019, 09:15:33 EST

Subject: #1 Best Seller

Sincere congratulations on your nomination as New York Best Selling Author. You are proof that good things come to those who are willing to sacrifice to reach a worthwhile goal. You've earned every bit of the success you're enjoying. Call us when you read this email.

Thanks,

OakArchivePress

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It was beyond my imagination of being nominated as NY Best Selling Author. Like seriously? Am I dreaming right now?

I quickly dialed the publisher's number. It rang for a few seconds before the phone was picked up.

"Oak Archive Press, how may I help you?" the other person on the line said.

"Hi. It's Rylee. Is Mr. Mendoza in?" I asked.

"Oh hi, Ms. Wallis. Yes, he's here right now. Please hold on a second, I'll connect you to him," she said. 

"Thanks, Tiffany, " I said.

"You're welcome and congratulations, " she said and put me through the line to Mr. Mendoza.

Before I could even speak, Mr. Mendoza directly congratulates me. "Hope you're thrilled about the nomination! I sure am happy for you!"

"Thank you so much, Mr. Mendoza. I never thought my book could reach that level. I am beyond happy, " I said as I smiled.

"I knew it was only a matter of time. How about I treat you to dinner tonight to celebrate your success; and please just call me Flynn, " he said.

"Then dinner it is Mr. Mendo.....I mean, Flynn, " I said and chuckled.

"Okay then. It's settled. Meet you at 7 tonight at Little Italy, " he said.

"See you later, " I said as I ended the phone call.

After I hung up, I called my mom to tell her about the good news. It rang for a few seconds but it got disconnected right after. I became worried a bit. "That's weird. This is not like her," I muttered. I tried calling her phone again a few times but nobody picks up so I decided to call Aunt Lucy since she's living next door to mom. 

"Hello, dear. Is everything alright? Why are you calling me?" Aunt Lucy said.

"Hi, Aunt Lucy. Uhmmm..do you know where my mom is? She's not picking up her phone, " I said worriedly.

She let out a chuckled. "Oh dear, don't worry. Your mom is here with me right now. Her phone is charging right now. Do you want to speak to her?"

"Yes, please. Thank you, " I said and let out a sigh of relief.

As Aunt Lucy passed the phone to my mom, I could hear them laughing in the background.

"Hi, my princess. How are you?" my mom said.

"Hi, mom. I'm fine. I have news for you. Good news. Take a guess," I said emphasizing the word 'good'.

"Hmm..did Lucas got you pregnant?" she asked.

"Hahaha, no.....mom. He did not. Geez, it's still too early for me to carry a child in my belly, " I said while laughing my ass off and asked her to guess again. "Come on mommy, you can do better."

"Hmm are you?...hmm okay I give up. Tell me what is it?" she asked impatiently.

"Gosh, mom, you suck at guessing hahaha. Uhmmm, okay. I GOT NOMINATED AS NEW YORK BESTSELLING AUTHOR!" I said screaming.

I could hear my mom and Aunt Lucy also cheered in the background. I just smile in response. "Congratulations, " they said in unison.

"How about you come home for dinner tonight sweetie and we'll celebrate together, " my mom said happily.

"I can't. I have to meet up with the publisher tonight, " I said and frowned. I wanted to go home so badly because I miss my mom but I already promised Mr. Mendoza I'll join him for dinner. "Hmm..how about tomorrow night? I'll bring Lucas and we can have dinner together with the Wright household," I said, trying to persuade her.

"Okay then. Be here before six. I love you, sweetie, see you tomorrow," she said.

"Yes, mother. I love you too. Bye," and she hung up the phone.

I looked at the clock it's already half five in the evening and our dinner reservation is at seven. I don't have much time left to call Lucas and Daisy about this. Might as well tell them both tomorrow. 

"Things are going great. I can't ask for a better life," I muttered and smiled. I grabbed my towel and head to the shower.


Rylee Wallis, a 25-year-old, seems to have everything that she ever wanted. A hot boyfriend and an aspiring author as a career. Not to mention her model-like figure. All are going well, according to her plan. At least that's what she thought.

What she didn't know is her childhood best friend, Daisy Wright is secretly cheating with her boyfriend of 5 years, Lucas Bauer. When she finally caught them in her boyfriend's apartment, she decided that that's the end of both her friendship and relationship. All of her plans for the future are now ruined. Just as she thought that the breakups are bad enough, her world came crashing down when she discovered that her mother has been diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. 

She started drinking every day. Getting drunk is the only way for her to numb all the pain she has felt in her heart. Her relationship was over, almost lost her career and her mother is dying. 

When she got drunk on a bar's rooftop terrace, she stumbled upon a mysterious woman and fell unconscious.

What happened next was beyond her belief. She wakes up the next morning and she was back at her 20-year-old self from 5 years ago where she first met her asshole ex-boyfriend, Lucas Bauer. Is this a second chance for her? Will she accept Lucas and make the same mistake twice? Can she change her fate once more? Will she be able to forgive her childhood friend? Will she meet someone new?

WARNING!

THIS STORY MIGHT FEATURE STRONG LANGUAGES, AND MATURE CONTENTS LATER ON AS THE STORY GOES ON.
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. DON'T SAID I DIDN'T WARN YOU.

WARNING!

English is not my first language, so there will be a possibility that you will find grammatical errors in my writing. Please let me know so I can fix it. Any constructive criticism is welcome. Thanks

Jayne Rice opened her mail with glee. She knew the letter from her publisher would confirm the transfer of funds to her bank account in Escanaba, Michigan. It was the final payment for her latest novel, Midnight 'Til Dawn. The novel was another best seller. That made 10 in a row. The first of her Midnight novels was a good seller, but it didn't come close to being a best seller. It did, however, give her enough money to continue her writing career. She kissed the letter, smiled and went to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. She strolled out onto the deck of her home.

It was completely dark by 7 in the evening this time of year. The last days of October in Upper Michigan were nippy, with the temperature at night sometimes well below freezing. Snow is just around the corner, Jayne thought. Time to get the hell out of here. She gazed up at the northern sky. The northern lights were putting on another spectacular show, dancing with blue and white. The lights of Escanaba, across Bay de Noc, were sparkling along the far shore. Jayne shook her blond ponytail and retreated indoors. She glanced at a mirror on the door as she passed and smiled. Her smile was the best thing about her. Not that she wasn't pretty, but her smile was dazzling. It lit up the entire room when she turned it on, and she usually did.

Not bad for 35, she thought. Of course, the blond was not real. She had dyed it after her late husband had died 5 years ago. She needed the change and she liked what she did for her. It made her look 15 years younger. Everybody said so. She laughed. Of course, they are all my friends! What else can they say? Her figure was again trim. She stood five feet seven in her stocking feet. Not too tall, but not exactly a small girl either. Her twin 38's still had some substance, but gravity was doing its darndest to take over.

Jayne's true hair color was a mousy brown. In high school she wasn't the popular cheerleader type. She was more the biker girl type. She got pregnant when she was 15, quit school, and got married. She lost the baby and three more in the next three years. When she was 19 her husband was beating her up on the front lawn when the cop across the street intervened and kicked the shit out of her husband. After she divorced the jerk, she married the cop from across the street. John Rice was 30 years her senior. It was the best move she ever made. John treated her like a queen. They loved to come up to Upper Michigan and sail on their 26 foot Carver. Jayne gained over 100 pounds and topped off the scales at over 250 the first year they were married. John used to kid her about just having more for him to love. He wasn't kidding. He used to say she was "tons of fun!"

He meant it. It didn't dawn on her until after he died just how much he really cared for her. He used to say, "Honey, move over to the left a little, there's too much sun there where you are," or, "Honey, get into the center cabin to get out of the wind a bit." What he really meant was to move over, your weight is throwing the boat off center.
She completed high school with a GED and was happily married for ten years. They would spend most of the year in Rhode Island, where he was still a cop, a month or so in his family's summer home in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and a few times they would take a week or so to play poker in Vegas in the winter.

He loved it there in Michigan and she learned to love it too. Right after they were married, the last of his family died and the summer home became his. He couldn't wait to retire and spend the rest of his life in Michigan. He didn't make it. He died of a heart attack ten years after they were married.

Jayne went up to Michigan to sell the summer home and realized that she would rather sell the home in Rhode Island. She went back to Rhode Island; sold her home; packed up everything she had; dyed her hair a Marilyn Monroe blond and moved to the Stonington Peninsula in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. She spent every summer there, and every winter in Las Vegas, where she played a mean game of poker. In the meantime she lost over 100 pounds and got back into great shape.
Jayne had always wanted to write, but her lack of education didn't lend much confidence in her ability to do so. When her husband died and she moved to Michigan, she had the time to spend on her writing.

She never did learn to spell very well, and always thanked God for the spell checker on her computer. She had never been able to see the nuances in the "too, two and to" and the "there, they're and their".
Her latest best seller, Midnight 'Til Dawn, was a novel about Las Vegas. It dealt with a female pit boss in the poker room in the Fremont Casino who had been murdered back in the 70's. Popular belief at the time was that the husband had killed her, but try as they might, the cops couldn't bring him to justice.

The book also dealt with a poker player called Michigan Slim who played poker there about the same time. Michigan Slim was reported to be a great player who chose to play in the small games. He would begin play at midnight, and play until dawn. Thus the name of the book.
"Midnight is when the dealers change shifts," he explained. "And they all think they can play the game well." Michigan Slim would win at least $300 every night in those small games. In the 1970's that was pretty good money. He lived quite well. One day he just disappeared. The dealers would joke about Slim being planted in the desert just south of Vegas.

In Midnight 'Til Dawn Jayne brought back Michigan Slim who was to solve the crime against the beautiful pit boss, and marry her equally beautiful sister in the process. The public loved it.

Jayne opened the refrigerator, took out a wine cooler, settled in the overstuffed recliner across from the large screen TV and clicked the remote, turning on the TV. She surfed until she found one of her favorite programs, Cold Cases. Immediately after finishing a novel, Jayne couldn't slow down without having an idea for the next one. Her favorite spot for getting her ideas was through TV and these old cases from years past.

The story tonight was about a child molester who was found shot to death in his own bedroom way back in 1955 in Newberry, Michigan. Hell, Jane thought, that's only about 80 miles from here! They sure must be hard up for a case for that one to make the unsolved list. The story was about the fact that there were no clues in the case save a partial thumb print that may or may not belong to the perpetrator. It was thought the father of the boy he molested might have been guilty, but without proof, the police could do nothing. Jane moved on to FBI Files. Then moved on to Unsolved Mysteries.

Unsolved Mysteries was about unsolved massacres. The most recent one was in 1983 in New York City. It seems that an entire mafia family had been wiped out on January 26th, 27th and 28 of 1983 without a trace. Twenty six members of the Tessinari family had been murdered. Nineteen were blown up in a pool hall and seven others had been shot in their homes over the three day period. It was deemed a mob hit where rival gangs were warring for some reason. No one ever knew for sure. The only clue was a partial thumbprint on the bathroom door knob of Tony Tessinari, the boss of the family. His head had been blown off by a shotgun blast from a 12 gauge with buckshot.

Jayne shot to attention. A partial thumbprint! she thought. And there was a partial thumbprint in the Newberry murder back in '55! Wouldn't it be something if they were the same? Shees! I think I have a new book here! Jayne was very excited, scenarios blowing across her mind like storms. It could make a wonderful story! She thought once again.

Born an outcast, Drazon grew up shunned by every other dragon in his home, except for his mother and teacher. Yearning for strength enough to defend himself and find his own way in the world, Drazon is forced from his home and on the run.

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