The dog stood up, his golden hair shimmering in the sun. "How dare you walked over me like I'm a street dog?"

The fox turned back and cocked her head to the right. "I had to get through. I didn't mean anything by it. And anyway, what gives you the right to talk to me like that?"

"I am a Golden Retriever. Everyone loves me. I do nothing and I'm adored by anything that lives."

"I don't adore you," the fox said. "You ought to move out of the street before someone actually steps on you. At least I jumped."

The dog yawned and lay back down. "No one will hurt me. I'm amazing."

The fox shook her head and ran off to the market.

After the fox got her groceries, she started walking back home, a paper bag filled with two birds and a rabbit in her mouth. She was taking it home for her family, and her family hadn't eaten in two days. They were all like the dog; too lazy to get up and do something productive.

As she walked, she spotted the golden dog again, just lying there in the street. "Dog! What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" the dog yelled back. "You worry too much."

"Worrying's all I can do," she muttered, continuing to walk to her house.

The next day, the fox headed out to play around. She didn't know how but she needed to loosen up.

The sun was so hot, it was practically slamming down on the world. But every animal was going about their day in the heat.

Wait, was that . . .

Oh my goodness.

The Golden Retriever was still laying in the road, sleeping. The fox went over to him. "What do you even do all day? Have you even eaten?"

"Some animals come and drop off snacks for me, so that's what I eat. Other than that, I just lay down somewhere."

"Find somewhere else then. You're going to die out here. You'll be cooked in this weather."

The dog acknowledged that and stood up. "Fine, I go somewhere," he smiled. He then proceeded to move a couple inches to the right and lay back down.

"You," the fox said, "are unbelievable."

Suddenly, she heard commotion. Animals were yelping and crying out for help. "What's going on?" the fox whispered.

"Human! Human with knife!"

"Help me!"

"Get out of here!"

The fox turned to run into the deeper forest and the dog did too, but he was slow. He hadn't done anything physical like that in over five years. "Hurry up!" the fox rushed.

"I . . . I can't," he gasped.

The fox groaned and searched around for a hiding spot. She spotted some old logs and took the dog to hide under them. They both stayed there for about an hour, listening to the animals die until the human walked away.

"Is it clear now?" the dog whispered.

"I think." The fox slowly peaked her head out the hiding place. No human. "We're good." As they left the logs, other animals came out of their own hiding places. The animals in the area were few, even though that morning the place was buzzing with them.

The fox turned to the dog. "See? If I hadn't helped you, you would have been killed. And it would have been because of your own laziness."

The golden dog hung his head, feeling ashamed. "You're right. I am sorry."

"Do you want to go play together?" the fox asked.

"Sure."

To this day, the fox and the dog have stayed loyal friends to each other. The dog helped encourage the fox's family to help out each other, and the fox gave the dog a room to stay in. Through hard times, friendship can always persevere, even if you're not friends yet.

Just a note, the pangram has a brown fox, otherwise you leave out B, W, and N.

"The mythological cult culted mythologically."

I looked at the screen and laughed. I specifically said I couldn't write something with things like that. I upvote the post and turn off my phone.

"No," I beg. "Please, Ethan. We can survive this together." The gun was at his temple, ready to shoot. Ready to kill my fiancé.

"I can't. I lost my family, Jo. I lost them, and my best friend, and even if we survive, the world won't be the same. I just can't do it anymore."

"But you can't just leave me here!" Now I'm crying, really bad. "Ethan, I love you. Don't do this."

He closes his eyes, biting his lip. "I'm really sorry about this," he said, tears welling up in his eyes, "but I love you."

"NO!" I screamed. He pulled the trigger. I start sobbing, rushing to him and the life drains from him. "Ethan! No . . ."

I close my eyes and fall down next to him, looking at the dimming lights on the ceiling. Outside the fog is still killing. It's what killed my little sister, Riley. And even if it's not direct, it's what killed Ethan too.

I don't have anyone. I lost them. They're all gone.

I sob again. They're all gone.

I glance at the gun, still in Ethan's hand. It wasn't such a bad idea, I think as I pick the heavy weapon up.

But I don't have anyone to say bye to, to tell that I love them. I just pull the trigger.

You know what, maybe you should write this lol

Once the doors opened, and there, in the middle of the room, was the leader of the Cult of Mythological Beasts.

I stared at them before saying, "Sorry, wrong room." I shut the door to leave them to it.

As the fragile ice broke from the lightest weight of Polaris, he plunged deeply into the frigid waters beneath him while frantically grasping for the firmer ground above!

He could hear his mother calling for him. "Polaris!" She cried. He too felt like crying; the ice was so freezing he felt like he was on fire.

His eyes were closed but he felt himself sinking further and further under the ice, slipping away from the world.

At some point, he felt numb. He opened his eyes and saw the light from the sun dimming. He felt his consciousness dimming too, and he let himself go.

When Polaris woke up again, he was unsure where he was. All he saw was the sun.

No, it wasn't the sun. It was artificial.

Hospital lights. They shone at him, practically screaming at him with their bright bulbs. "Honey. Oh, you're okay. You're okay!"

His mother's voice was the only one he recognized from the others that clouded her's. He felt a plastic mask on his face, warm air from it filling his body. He wasn't cold but he was exhausted. He almost fell asleep but didn't.

"Your son is okay, ma'am," a man assured, his voice soothing but firm. "We'll keep him for about twelve more hours until you can take him home."

His mother nodded, still looking at Polaris, grateful for his life. Polaris was still confused. He just knew he was tired. And after his mother left the room, he finally slept.

A week later, Polaris was sitting on the soft couch in his living room, watching the snow fall delicately outside the window. "Mom, the other kids are playing. I wanna make a snowman!"

"No," his mother said. "You can go outside in a month. It's still too cold."

"I want to go outside when it's cold. Mom, it's just snow. Please?"

His mother sighed. "Fine. But I'll be watching."

He leaped up and grabbed two coats and ran out the door. Outside there were other kids. Eight year olds, like Polaris, tens, even teenagers, making snowmen larger than any other he had seen before.

"Hey, Polaris!" a girl called. Her name was Diana, and she was seven, but she was in his grade. "Wanna have a snow fight?"

He smiled but feared that the balls would be too compact. Some kids got bruised from snowballs. "No, I'm okay." He turned around to do something else when he heard Diana's voice again.

"Watch out!" she shouted.

He whipped around and put his hands up to protect himself. His eyes were closed but then he slowly started to open them. And in front of him was a snowball, but it wasn't moving. It stayed suspended in midair until he dropped his hands. "Woah, how'd you do that?" Diana awed.

"I-I don't know," Polaris whispered. He looked at Diana one more time before he ran back into his house. His mother was still inside, warming some hot chocolate and baking cookies.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

He took deep breaths, the warm air softening his pink cheeks. "I think I have powers."

She laughed. "Powers? What do you mean?"

"I stopped a snowball. I-I froze it in the air."

His mother squinted her eyes at him. "Show me."

They went outside again, to somewhere the other children weren't playing. "Throw a snowball at me." His mother squatted down and scooped up some snow. She pressed it together and formed a perfect sphere. Swinging her arm back, the ball flung through the air.

Like before, Polaris put up his hands and also like before, it stopped mid-air. "See!"

His mother gasped. "How did this happen?"

He thought for a second. "Did you marry Jack Frost?"

"No, Polaris."

"Hmm. Well, maybe it's because I fell in that water."

"Maybe."

"Well, that's cool."

And the two continued on with their day, like nothing happened.

"It is the perfect job, man. 'Your voice is too high'? I can change the voice box. I can make myself fit for any role in the world. One day, I'll be crazy rich."

My friend, Shane, shrugs. "As long as we stay friends. With all that money and fame, I don't want you to become . . . two-faced."

I grin and form a face in the back of my head and turn to showcase it to Shane. "You mean, like this?"

He cracks up.

Luke tastes something salty.

And he couldn't breathe.

He spit out water as everything came back into focus. What was going on?

He was in the water. Then . . . then he started drowning. He breathed in water and . . .

A lifeguard hovered over him, looking relieved. He saw his mom near him too, and dozens of other faces he didn't recognize. His mom was thanking the lifeguard. "Just doing my job," the man said.

Luke stood up and was able to recover quickly. He didn't go back in the water, but watched the children playing in it. Their parents were always near, holding their kids hands as the shuffled into deeper sea.

Something suddenly came to mind. He remember when he was in the water, he almost made it to the surface, when something had tightened around his leg. Like a tentacle. But it was thick. It couldn't have been a jellyfish.

"Lucás. Do you want a soda or water?" his mom asked.

"Oh. Um, I guess a soda." She tossed him a can of Manzanita Sol and he opened it, the drink fizzing. As he gulped the drink, he thought about what happened in the water. What grabbed hold of him? Why? Thinking of the memory made him shiver but he thought about it anyway. Nothing else could be on his mind.

He looked to the water, and felt inclined to go back into it. He had to know what it was. He turned to his mom and said, "I'm going to find a restroom, Mamá. I'll be back."

An adventure like what? she thought now, sitting on a spinning chair in her house. The house was empty, except for Coraline's cat. It was her eighth one, Pumpkin. She had also had a few dogs, but they died too.

As of now, she was one-hundred-ninety-six years old. When she got her first job, she was twenty-two but after working there for ten more years, she wondered why she didn't look any different. All her hair was still dark and thick and her body never ached. At restaurants, she was always asked for her ID when she wanted to order alcohol.

It was a blessing and a curse.

But now she needed something. And she knew what it was. Love.

Wait, she realized. Any man that meets her will think she's at most thirty years old. And it felt weird to think she could date a young man when she was so old.

She didn't want to go on the kind of adventure where you explore places. She just wanted someone to love. But it seemed impossible in her situation.

I keep seeing it in my head over and over again. The sword entering Heath's body. It replays again but I stop, focusing on this moment right now, where Heath is on the floor. I need to say goodbye but I can't. I don't want to accept it.

He's crying. I've never seen him cry before. "Kid," he says, coughing. "Remember what I've taught you."

"No," I demand. He's my mentor but most importantly, my best friend. He just can't die.

"Seth! I'm the one dying, okay? I'm the one that should be upset. But you? You aren't dying. Because you are young, talented, brave-"

"I'm not brave," I shake my head.

"You can be. Right now, you can be the bravest warrior in this field. But you have to stand up. Stand up and fight!"

I look at him one more time, seeing him finally go, and stand. As I look on at the battlefield, I feel something awake inside. A fire, roaring to kill the people that killed Heath. To fight for him.

I pick up my sword and run into the crowd, sure that whatever happens, I did the right thing.

I lay on the floor, know I have only a few more minutes left. Hovering over me is my stepson, tears on his cheeks. "David, how do I . . . I don't know how to help."

I want to cry too. This is actually the end. There aren't any doctors coming to fix up my bleeding chest. But I have to be strong for him. I love this boy like he's my own son. "You-you can't. But it's okay. I'll be okay."

He just sobs louder. "You're bleeding, David! How will you be okay?!"

I cough, my body aching and head spinning. "Kid, sometimes there's people you can't save, and I'm one of them, unfortunately. But if you promise to always do your best, and live the happiest life you possibly can, I can assure you, I will be okay." I already feel like I'm going unconscious, but I hang on. "You hear, buddy? Don't cry. Even when I stop talking, don't cry. I still love you."

A couple seconds later, my vision goes black. The last thing I feel is his arms wrapping around me in a hug.

"So you decided to cook it?!" I ask incredulously.

"What else was I supposed?" Jake shrugs, stirring the turtle soup.

"Give it to the animal shelter? Release it to the wild? I don't know! But you didn't have to make it into a meal!"

He shrugs again. "Too late. Want me to serve you a bowl?"

"No!"

As soon as I talk, I feel a zap on my forehead. "Forget," an alien hisses as I go unconscious.

Later I wake up in the bathroom. When did I get here?