Category Archives: Fiction

Sent Away/ Liah’s secret


Sometimes I wonder if he knows the truth about me. His snarky comebacks make me question my ability of keeping my secret hidden. Buried deep within my soul and thoughts. My brother can never find out that I am one of them. For his own sake. It would only be fuel to fire. Brian is already known for his short temper and rebellious attitude. I’m terrified to even imagine what he would do if he knew I am a Hybrid. A voluntary Hybrid actually.

I wanted to make a change, I felt an urge to save our dying, overpopulated planet. When I pressed the ‘send’ button of my application for becoming a Change Leader, I swallowed down my fears. I knew that I can never reveal my true identity. 6 years ago when I volunteered, the ‘1/24’ rule was already in place for a decade which meant all humans of Earth had to carry out at least 1 good deed every 24 hours. Either towards another human or to the environment.

Humanity has long been lost on our overcrowded planet. As a Change Leader my mission is to help bring humanity and humility back while getting rid of the ‘unwanted characters’. Those humans who don’t commit to daily good deeds are not wanted here anymore. There are too many of us and not enough resources and supplies. We simply make sure that people care a bit more. If not then they get sent away from Earth for good. They become the ‘Unwanted’. We do give them 3 chances though before they are removed from this planet but I will tell you about the whole process a little bit later. First let me introduce myself. (I probably should have done this already, excuse my manners).

My name is Liah, a voluntary Hybrid and Change Leader. And this is my story about how I made a big fuck up in the system that caused the first murder committed by a non-human. So much for making a change.


Sent Away / Brian’s race for life

Breathe. Just breathe. Slooooower. Wait. Exhale. OK. My fingers are not tingling anymore. Breathe. Focus. There’s a tree in front of that glass door. That will do. Branches, leaves, one, two, three…ahhh too many. Focus. Branches: one, two, three. It goes all the way to the top of the glass door. What are those stains on it? It could use a good cleaning. Cleaning! I left the dishes in the sink without rinsing them. It will be a nightmare scrubbing off the dried out tomato sauce. A nightmare? Come on, man…scrubbing dirty dishes is no nightmare. THIS is! Oh my God, how am I going to get there?

Breathe, breathe. Shit, my chest tightens up again. Tree, branches: one, two, three, four. This one has hardly any leaves. How many? Two, four, six, eight, nine, ten, eleven, thirteen, fifteen. Fifteen. OK. Now maybe I can stand up. Let’s give it another go. My wrist is sort of shaking as I push my hand to the ground trying to shift my body’s weight on one side and give it a little bounce up from this damp wooden crate. I force my thoughts not to question how much of the liquid seeped through my pores. It takes great effort not doing all the maths in my head: how many hours have I left to live? 12 tops, in best case. Ssshhhh. Do not calculate! Focus. Fifteen leaves, ignore the trembling muscles, get up now! Got it.

A rush of achievement runs through me. Who would have thought only one day ago that I’ll be doing a celebratory dance in my mind for being able to stand up. Fuck me. How did this happen? A guy like me celebrates when you trick the checkpoint scanner validating your tracker with yesterday’s date. Oh wait, I forgot to mention a couple of things.

Fact #1:
I’m a bit of a rebel. Can’t help it. I broke the rules of the system twice already. So now I have to validate my whereabouts daily at least once with these scanning gates. I just call them checkpoints. What can I do? It is what it is, so at least let’s make it fun like a car racing game or something.

Fact #2:
I’m very good at hacking their technology. Unbelievably good. Haha! Just by adding a little bit of extra lines of code to my tracker, I can backdate my scanning. If I missed one day, who cares? Tomorrow I’ll scan myself and their data will show that I did it the day before as well.

Now, the slightly problematic Fact #3:
When they figure out that you played the system, shit gets real. They track you down (see why they named it the tracker?), lock you inside a wooden box and pour this slimy blue liquid on you for a few hours. I haven’t figured out yet what the hell is in it but they refer to it as the Bluelightenment. Some call it Bluewash, like an ocean coloured brainwash. It’s supposed to slowly make its way into your body, to your bloodstream then to your nervous system. And then bamm, their magic happens and suddenly you never want to break any of their rules again. How? Goodbye to rebellious thoughts, goodbye to questioning anything and most disturbingly goodbye to your memories. You simply cease to exist as an individual with all the life experiences. So my heart may not physically stop within the next 12 hours but life as I know it will end.

Now, what should I do to make the most of these 12 hours? But first of all, where is the nearest checkpoint?


A sneaky peek of ‘Sent Away’

My brain is currently giving birth to a fantasy / sci-fi novel. Here’s a tiny glimpse of it, enjoy!


I was very surprised they hadn’t noticed that I was in the basement as well. I didn’t deliberately stay quiet or forced my muscles into a standstill when they ran through the fake-wood door. Lying down behind the sofa might makes you think that I was hiding but in fact that’s the only place where I can connect to the wireless charging unit. My phone ran out of battery three hours ago and I had to find a place to upload my daily activity report. I couldn’t risk missing the deadline, again. I already have two warnings and trust me, I have no plans bagging the third one. It was 19:48 when I heard Lorna telling off Brian as she slummed down on the leather sofa that my friends call so-vintage. Exactly three minutes earlier I pressed ‘Submit’ for my upload and I let out a sigh, feeling quite pleased that I had 15 minutes to spare before I would receive my confirmation back.

So there they were, not even half a meter away from me – how can they not notice me? Well, I didn’t exactly throw them a ‘Welcome to the basement’ cheer when they rushed in. But still… they were so ignorant sometimes. Especially Brian. The amount of fights I had with him as a child! He’s not the typical older brother who would look out for his little sister. From time to time I got so angry at him, I was wishing they would send him away. He came close to it on 3 occasions. But as soon as he opens his mouth and gives his ‘Final Speech’ the jury would change his mind and let him stay. I never understood how it was possible. Once, maybe. But 3 times?! I used to wonder if it had something to do with his looks. So many girls were after him when he was in his twenties, even my friend Jessie fell desperately for him. She would not shut up about how Brian’s greyish blue eyes made her hypnotised. How his deep brown hair looked so neat yet sensual when he slicked it back. Or how she would gladly die if his bizarrely thick lips could seal hers. Ew. I pulled a disgusted face every time she described his facial features in this manner. You don’t want to hear these things about your brother.

Then one day I realised it wasn’t his looks. When the ‘No gender no physical attributes’ law came into effect I was sure his lucky days were over. The law stated that anyone being prosecuted needs to remain anonymous and presented behind a sound altering wall in front of the jury. This way no one would know if the accused is male or female or what they looked like. As Brian stood behind this wall on his third occasion, I was positive this would be the last time I see him. And yet, he managed to convince the judges that his good, compassionate personality only took a little tumble and he was ready for his big good deed. They let him stay, again. That was the last time he was giving his Final Speech.

“See little sis? This is how you deliver the perfect FP. It’s not like you would really need to know, you never get into any trouble. You must be so bored every single day.” The arrogance of his voice was increasing my blood pressure at a dangerous speed. It hit me there and then: it was his way of manipulating people with his words and nothing to do with his looks. This was about 1 year ago just when he was turning 30 becoming High Risk. And based on what I’m hearing from behind the sofa, I think I need to get prepared for his 4th time. But what the hell did he do dragging Lorna into his mess?

“It’s not about fear Brian, why don’t you get it? We need to have some structure. We can’t just live how we used to. You need to finally accept the fact that things have changed.” Lorna’s cheeks were shining with redness as she placed her shaking hand on Brian’s shoulder.

“I can’t accept it, I won’t.  Don’t you see? They are forcing us to do things we don’t want to do.” The words echoed with an arrogant undertone.

“What? You don’t want to help people? You don’t want to do a good deed every day? They are not asking us to lie, to rob or kill. If you feel that this one rule is so terrible then maybe you should be sent away” her voice trembled as she got to the end of her sentence. Brian shrugged his shoulder so forcefully that Lorna’s hand fell off of it slamming down onto the leather sofa. The redness in her cheeks became brighter and her chocolate brown eyes instantly got filled with tears. I thought this might be a good time to show my presence, as strangely I felt a little sorry for my brother. Not for Lorna for some reason.

“I don’t mean to interrupt but…” I said quietly and peeled myself off the floor slowly remaining in a sitting position.

“What the hell Lia?”

“I had to find a charging unit to upload my report. I’m guessing you haven’t done yours?” I asked. Actually it sounded more like a statement than a question and I couldn’t help raising my eyebrows. They were still sitting down twisting their backs around to see me on the floor. Lorna propped her arm on the top bit of the sofa and rested her head down on them letting out an exhausted sigh. Her hazel skin gave a magical contrast to the saffron coloured furniture. I always wished I could somehow swap my pale skin with hers. And her hair. Her curvy, dark caramel locks with my not-quite-brown-not-quite-blond straight mess. I was a little envious of her looks but then so was every female who saw her. There was something about Lorna that made you feel intimidated until she started talking to you. So humble, so cheerful and always ready to help someone.

“Not only he didn’t submit his report but told the jury that mine was a fake and it was him who did the good deed not me.” She said so calmly that really confused me. If he did that to me I would want to punch his model perfect face.

“What?! How could you do this to her Brian? And why?”

“Chill out sis, it’s what Lorna wanted.”

“No, I did not want this. I told you to do this my way, not your stubborn, manipulative way.” Now her voice sounded a tiny bit angry at least.

Brian jumped to his feet and took a dramatic deep breath as if he was about to go under water for a while.

“Manipulative? It’s justice, not manipulation. I have to prove them that I’m right. That WE are right.” The way his words came out of his mouth reminded me of his last Final Speech.

“Explain to me what’s going on?” I asked and swallowed back the fear that was stuck in my throat.

“Listen Lia” He looked at me with such brotherly love that I’ve never seen in his eyes before.

“Do you remember my last Final Speech? The part I was talking about you?”

“What?” No, no, no….don’t let this one be true. He’s a manipulative liar. He will say anything to turn the situation in his favour.

“Do you remember?”


It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Almost perfect – she thought sitting outside of the coffee shop where people were queuing for home made carrot cakes, non-fat lattes, full fat cappuccinos and everything else we are told to buy but can’t really afford. She took a sip of her freshly ground Italian coffee as she observed the crowd through her overpriced sunglasses. Her chair was facing the main square providing an excellent view of the street musician who was surrounded by that crowd she now decided to be unexciting. The musician however caught her full attention.

Her mind immediately started playing a movie starring her and the gorgeous guitar player.

“Marco what is this?”
“This for you mio amore, you can wear it around your beautiful neck, so I will always be close to your heart. See this? It says Dolce Vita. Do you know what that means?”

A young waitress interrupted her daydreaming waving in front of her face, asking if she needed anything else. She looked at the inpatient girl and shook her head without saying a word, and showed her the well known sign for ‘Bill please’ which increased the waitress’ blood pressure drastically.

“I can’t believe this woman” – the offended waitress whispered to her colleagues ear, taking her anger out on the till.
“Look at her, I’m sure she’s not even 30 but she acts like if she had the same life as the Queen; just because she’s got it all she could have said a thank you or at least something. What a stuck up bitch, I wish I had spit in her coffee.”

“Come on Kate don’t be like that”

“What? Like her? Oh look, look ‘I’ve been shopping at Swarovski, I need more ear-rings, doesn’t matter I have only two ears I have to have a hundred of these.’”

“Just give her the bill and no spitting!”. Kate forced on a perfect fake smile they teach in customer service workshops and leaving her pride at the till she walked over to the Queen wannabe and placed the bill on the table.

“€28.99? Mm not too bad” – thinking as she opened her wallet to get some money out. Next to the stack of €20 and €50 notes a shiny business card caught her attention:  Lali Bronson – divorce lawyer. “I need to stop putting this off, I’ll contact her this evening. Oh… no email address, only phone numbers” – she tore up the card and left it next to her bill, placing more money on the table than the waitress deserved. She rummaged through her handbag, looking for a pencil to leave a note for the waitress.

Her friend arrived just when she finished writing. As they walked away she told her how amazing the coffee was – by using sign language.


Cajamarca, Peru

Peru will kill me – opening scene

Someone must be coming to help me. The locals, they live so close. They must have noticed the blood stains out there. Why is no one coming yet? If this happened in Bogotá I would already be discharged from hospital.  But this is Peru. Stay focused, don’t pass out, someone is coming. Peru but where exactly, what’s this tiny village called? Caja…Cajamerba… Cajamarca? Focus. What I can remember…what I can… is that it was a hot sunny day today. It’s still too hot. I remember… watching the sweat steaming off Diego’s back as he dragged me to this cave. Why was he dragging me? I need to sleep. No! Stay awake, they’re coming.

Jake tried to curl up to ease the pain in his stomach but his muscles declined the brain’s order. That burning pain wouldn’t back down; he assumed that a red hot iron had been sewn into his stomach. He could see a blacksmith smirking at him from the darker end of the cave. Jake was educated enough to know what these hallucinations meant. He was wishing not to be a smart teacher right now but one of the villagers. That case he could play along with his mind’s tricks and have a conversation with the smirking blacksmith. Deciding to ignore his unwanted cave guest his hand reached for his stomach for a reality check. Wrong decision. Panic starts creeping into his mind now as the half dried blood covers his fingers. It must have been a few hours since Diego left him here. The blood is cooling down but still streaming down his sides.

Why is no one coming yet? This is not Bogotá, this is Caja…Cajadra… Diego! I knew you would come back. I need to…

Jake couldn’t force his eyes to stay open anymore. He felt his wounded body lifting of the ground as his hero grabbed him but when the cool air filled his lungs he managed to sneak a quick look at the blacksmith they left in the cave.

Look who’s laughing now?

Eyes back to shut position. Though Jake’s mind hasn’t given up on its tricks just yet. As he was being carried to safety he could feel the heat spreading from his stomach to his head. The smell of his own blood mixed with sweat kept dragging him back to reality alarming his system that something was wrong. It was hard for him to decide if that stomach pain was from his wound or if it was a reaction to this worried state of mind. If he could only open his eyes to see his surroundings his mind would have made its peace and Jake could be focusing only on the wound.

He would see orange lights coming from the little village houses that had to have either red or grey roofs. It seemed like this was an unwritten rule in the community. None of them had gates but animals were sleeping at the back of the buildings. The graphite coloured sky proudly showcased all the stars that normally hide behind city clouds. As the half Moon lit up the valley the outline of the nearby hills created a perfect illusion of guarding gates. It would have reminded him of those pictures he used to cut out from magazines to daydream about visiting Peru. Instead he was unconscious by now and being carried into one of the little houses. It had a grey roof.


“You always have to be right, don’t you? I’m sick and tired of your stubbornness Jason! Every time I have a different opinion you act like a spoiled child.” Amie shouted, forgetting to breathe between her sentences.

“I act like a child… Are you serious? Who started arguing about which movie we should go and see? I simply explained why your choice would be a waste of time and money.” Jason’s eyes rolled so hard that Amie’s vein on her neck stiffened immediately.

“My god, you are so annoying sometimes! I don’t want to go anywhere anymore.”

“Come on sweetie, don’t be like this. OK, let’s go and watch that lovely, predictable movie then. I just thought you were a smart girl, you used to enjoy the more complicated, thought provoking movies.” His tone was so calming and soothing that you could almost believe he didn’t mean to insult.

“Get the hell out of the house! Right now! Just go, get out!” Tears have started to roll down Amie’s high cheekbones. With a swift movement she wiped them away and swept her fire-red curly hair out of her face.

“You call me childish… You won’t even discuss this. After all this time together you think I don’t know your tricks? You can stop with the act and the fake tears. I love you but this drama has to stop.”

“Drama? I give you drama!” The empty turquoise mug flew across the living room, smashing into pieces on the front wooden door. Luckily for Jason she wasn’t very good at aiming.

“All right, you’ve become a crazy bitch, I’m out of here.” He grabbed his car keys and shoved it into the left pocket of his jeans, regretting his decision immediately as he heard it scratch across his phone’s screen. Amie started running towards this man, whom 20 minutes ago she considered to be the love of her life.

Never before she felt so content and complete with anyone else, only Jason. Even after 3 years with him, she still caught herself daydreaming about his deep dark brown eyes and how he would playfully slap her hand when she touched his gel-sculpted black spikey hair. All of her friends were slightly jealous of the Amie-Jason dream couple: passionate love, beautifully complimenting looks and both aggressively progressing on the career ladder. As she was running towards him with her palm outstretched, ready for some anger ridden slapping, her bright green eyes became narrow and the small lines around her lips got deeper. Jason recognised this look. Get out man, quickly – he warmed himself and slammed the front door behind him before Amie could jump on her prey. He got into his silver BMW, rolled down the rooftop and checked his phone. A tiny scratch was running across the screen where his network was displayed. He let out a relieved sigh and carefully placed his mobile on the passenger seat. He started the engine and without a destination in his mind he pushed down the gas pedal.


Hey girl. Not going to cinema so I’m free to meet. I have wine, come to mine whenever. Drama with J I tell you later, so angry I want to kill him.

Oh shit. OK I’m on my way. Bringing another bottle, I think you need it.

After finishing the first bottle, Amie realised that she might have over-reacted and did in fact became a crazy bitch. Hearing her friend’s brutally honest opinion cleared her vision and that unwanted feeling kicked her in the stomach. Her guilt was creeping all the way into her heart. She decided to look at all the notifications on her phone. The 4 missed calls from Jason she rejected in between sipping on her wine, the 1 voicemail message and 1 missed call from a local landline number that was unknown to her. Who uses a landline phone anymore?

You have one new voicemail. Received at 21:04:

Amie, listen. Please call me back. I’m so sorry I said those things, I hope you know I didn’t mean them. I was just…what the..shit!

To listen to this message again press 1. To delete press 2.


Jason’s phone was lying face up on the side of the road, with a completely cracked screen broken into half. It strangely resembled his skull positioned right next to it.