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THE MARATHON RUNNER AND THE DAYDREAMER

R everberating through the eerie silence that pertained to the stoic willowy figures
that filled the antechamber, the sporadic cries of a distraught landlord brought
ruckus upon the Queue of Final Melancholy. "Addington! Where, ah, the hell, ha, in
heavens are you?" exclaimed the exhausted middle aged man as he pushed aside
perplexed souls that blocked his way.

Meanwhile, feigning indifference, and sporting a faux mustache paired with a conspicuous
leather trench coat, Bin Addington, amid the never-ending column of souls, walks toward
the Entrance of Afterlife, and with every step, he mulled over what he should eat for his
first breakfast as an immortal. "Fillet mignon? Hmm, and angel food cake paired with
'aged' wine from the fountain of youth. Ha, now that's what I call a heavenly pairing!" he
continues to visualize the finest luxuries with such brazenness tantamount to the
landlord's weight.

Now, with the landlord's every step, comes forth swelling fatigue. Albeit the rush of
adrenaline caused by extreme vexation, neither the ground nor the heavens seem to
support his massiveness, for all he ever did was eat when he was alive. "Bin Addington!
Give, ha, me, ah! Back my- what are you looking at? Argh, give me back my moustache!"
he cries out, grabbing every soul he could reach, for he can no longer sustain his balance.

His vision begins to blackout, when suddenly, the very thought of the boy's face brought
a final surge of energy. He begins to rush forward, and with the clanging of the metal
ground that rang in the room as he strode, the preoccupied young lad, while indulging in
the thought of sitting beneath a marble pavilion meticulously decorated with the finest
frescoes and engulfed by angel's tears flowers, as he sips from carefully fermented wine,
is cut off from the fervor that was unreckoned with in his short life, and realizes that he
has stopped walking for well over ten minutes now.

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MY HUSBAND IS A SWINE

I t all began on a warm Sunday morning, the first day of summer solstice. Alane
Fitscher, a mother of three - including her husband, was walking around their
courtyard. Attired in an elaborate camel double-breasted trench dress, accompanied with
a turquoise cashmere shawl, finished off with red flats, she stepped on the cobblestone
walkway adorned with exotic flowers, and with the singing of the robins, she took a deep
breath, clenched her fists, and vented to herself "What should I make of a buffoon for a
spouse! Have the gods gone mad? "

Her husband, the landlord was well-known around town, not necessarily for his obese
appearance, but for his vast wealth. Unbeknownst to the townspeople, it was not his own
savviness that paved way to the procurement of their manor, or the proliferation of their
businesses, because in his essence, that quality was deemed nonexistent. Instead, it was
all inherited from the parents of both Mr. and Mrs. Fitscher.

They both grew up with a golden spoon, and with the seemingly perfect partnership, Alane
was married off to one of the richest heirs in the region. However, years have passed,
and due to an upbringing fixated towards perfection, she became indignant at being the
wife of a swine.

Now, gracefully walking her way up to the veranda, she begins to contemplate about the
best way to end her predicament, for she can no longer endure the constant tantrums,
the dreadful fatherhood, and essentially, the immense appetite of her husband.

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DYSFUNCTIONAL LEG

D ing dong. While carefully picking up the shattered pieces of an antique porcelain
figurine that the twins broke when they ran across the hallway and bumped into
Mrs. Fitscher's display cabinet, the senior maid was startled to hear the doorbell ring, for
it has been a few months since someone last visited. The only people who ever came
into the vicinity were the servants and the Fitschers, for the inhospitable landlord has
always despised the bickering of visitors; in addition to that, he has gained a few stones
since his last public appearance.

Dressed in a white button-up shirt, a tattered gray waistcoat, black trousers, and leather
boots, Bin Addington was standing outside the main gate, carrying a rusty toolbox with
one hand, and holding a crumpled piece of paper with the other. Although he has spent
the first fifteen years of his life as a peasant, he never was illiterate, however he also
never endeavored in excelling at any task.

"100 Charlton Road, Sturbridge MA 1566," he reiterates to himself while fidgeting his foot
as though his entire leg was about to fall off onto the pavement. Once more, he scans
through the vague instructions provided to him a week before by his agency.

ASSASSINATION CONTRACT

TARGET NAME: Riegend Fitscher

TARGET ALIAS: The Landlord
REASON FOR CONTRACT: Confidential
FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS: Do whatever you want.
ADDRESS: 100 Charlton Road, Sturbridge MA 1566

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Albeit the sudden ringing of the doorbell, the senior maid was unfazed, for being a servant
of the household within a span of five years, she has experienced all sorts of ordeal; the
thought of Mrs. Fitscher thwacking the butler with a bat while yelling out the landlord's
name will forever haunt the poor woman's memories. She finishes cleaning up, and walks
toward the main gate opposite of the veranda. Nonchalantly, she leans forward; squinting
as she looks through the peephole, and seeing a figure of what seems to be a commoner
with a toolbox that absolutely and unequivocally does not look suspicious at all, and
apparently, a dysfunctional leg, she opens the gate.

"Eh. Hmm, you must be the extra maintenance worker that Madame requested for. I'll
direct you to the foyer," she says with a husky and stern voice that carries the power to
avoid any sort of conflict with Mr. and even Mrs. Fitscher. She leads the lad into the estate,
and as he takes his first step into the magnificent property, he glances over every hint of
luxury that decorated the manor; a marble fountain situated at the center of the courtyard
which was surrounded by miniature statues of Eros sitting atop columns of varying
heights. Escorted onto the cobblestone walkway embellished with chrysanthemums,
orchids, and carnations, Bin Addington is greeted by an array of palm trees that lead into
the veranda, wherein the entrance of the mansion was located.

Furnished with velvet carpets, and gold plated furniture, the interior was an even greater
spectacle, for Addington has neither seen nor dreamt of such extravagance. "I will return
after thirty minutes. Meanwhile, please do inspect the chandelier. It looks like it's about to
fall any minute now," instructed the maidservant. "Yes ma'am!" enthusiastically
responded the lad while fidgeting his other foot. She hurriedly left the foyer in order to
assist the scullery maid in pacifying the twins that were causing havoc in the kitchen, for
they broke another set of crystal utensils. Meanwhile, Addington stood in awe as he paid
great attention to the splendid lights that casted a warm glow which filled the foyer to the
brim, and once there no longer was any person within the lad's estimated radius, he
began to execute his plan.

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THE WAYS OF AN IGNORAMUS

T rying to prioritize utmost discretion, Addington jolted up the stairway; completely

ignoring the loudness of his footsteps that resounded through the entire hall. "Good
heavens, what's with all that noise? I wonder if he's here yet," uttered Mrs. Fitscher in her
fitting room as she picks out a dress to wear for her husband's funeral.

Meanwhile, Bin Addington enters into another hallway decorated with a black velvet
carpet that leads all the way to a pair of wooden bi-fold doors ornamented with silver
accents. Like the ways of an ignoramus, he crouches in the middle of the hallway, and
opens his toolbox which contained only a single item; a silver dagger embossed with the
emblem of his agency.

With another act of buffoonery, he leaves the toolbox on the carpeted floor, walks toward
the door, and accompanied with an aggressive knock, he cries out "Hello, I am looking
for the landlord! Is anybody in there?" for his mother taught him that politeness is key to
success. However, albeit the rumpus that followed him wherever he went, the room
remained silent, and the door remained shut. Eventually, as if he was possessed by the
spirit of a wise man, he decided to place his ear against the door,

He began to hear a faint cacophony coming from the deep snores of Mr. Fitscher, and
while leaning onto the door, all of the sudden, Addington felt puzzled as his body started
leaning closer and closer toward the floor. He looks up, and to his surprise, he sees an
enormous blob of a man too big to fit on a king size bed literally breathing the life out of
himself. He pulls himself up, and approaches the slumbering giant, but before putting an
end to the landlord's life, Addington decided to walk around the large bedroom. He viewed
the man's closet, and as he gazed upon the various garments that had nonexistent sizes,
he became transfixed by a beautifully tailored leather trench coat that hang on the corner
of the room. He went in for a closer look, and coincidentally, it was the only one made in
his size.

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The entranced lad lost control, and without realizing, he put on the alluring coat. Staring
at his reflection on the mirror, he exclaimed to himself "How dashing! What a lovely piece
this is. However, I still do have a job to finish!"
So, with impenetrable optimism, he snapped himself out of his reverie, and returned to
the landlord's bedside. He positions himself atop his humongous target, and with great
precision, he holds the dagger in place.

However, once again, he becomes transfixed by another object. This time, it neither was
a piece of clothing, nor was it a piece of furniture, for Bin Addington fixated his eyes toward
the lip ferret that lied asleep above the landlord's fetid mouth.

"What a lovely moustache," he utters while cautiously putting the dagger into his front
pocket as to not cause the tiniest bit of damage to his newfound trench coat, and with his
right hand, he pokes the edge of Mr. Fitscher's handlebar, and was astonished to see that
such minute movement caused an obvious displacement. Realizing that it was fake,
Addington, without slightest care in the world, yanked off the false moustache, and
eagerly placed it on himself.

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THE MOBILE BED OF DEATH

I magining how debonair he would look as he ventures around town with an added
touch to his face, Bin Addington took delight in his new moustache, for even after
adolescence, his chin and upper lip remained as smooth as a baby’s bottom. While
indulging in his fancies, the lad is quickly cut off from his daydream as he glances over
the landlord's face, which now had eyes that were wide open.

Addington hurriedly tries to get the dagger from his pocket. However, upon his horror, the
landlord grabbed his neck, and struck him against the wall. Albeit, the landlord's condition,
he had great strength in his upper body, for he was accustomed to throwing tables
whenever he had his fits.

Almost seeing figures of angels, the lad snaps out of unconsciousness, and completely
forgets about the dagger in his jacket. He got up, and started thinking of a way to kill the
landlord. Meanwhile, Mr. Fitscher struggled to get off the bed, for he was usually assisted
by their butler who is currently recovering from serious head trauma.

While walking around in circles, Addington noticed something peculiar about the
landlord's bed, for it had big wheels underneath. And as though he was once again
possessed by the spirit of a wise man, he decided to push the bed toward the stairs at
the end of the hallway. The fatigue landlord tried to push himself up, but lost balance
when the lad started moving the bed toward the door. Addington took a quick pause, for
although it was not as heavy as he thought, it was still a substantial weight. He gasped
for air, folded the doors, and as soon as the landlord attempted to get up, he continued
to push the bed, which caused the landlord to lose balance once more.

With great effort and endurance, he brought the king size bed toward the other end of the
hallway. "Curse you! I shall follow you forever in the afterlife!" shouted Mr. Fitscher. "Oh,
how wonderful! I have always wanted a follower! I'm Bin Addington by the way!" exclaimed
the lad, as he pushes, and pushes, and pushes. Just then, from a room adjacent to the
landlord's, came out Mrs. Fitscher in a satin nightgown, and with avocado smeared all
over her face

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THE GREEN-FACED GHOST

D isturbed by the ruckus outside, Alane Fitscher discontinued her beauty routine,
went out of her room, and upon seeing a stranger pushing her husband toward
the stairs as he lies on his literal deathbed, she immediately understood what was
happening. Feeling thrilled to witness the termination of her husband, she ran toward him
at the end of the hall while shrieking in great delight, for she has dreamt of this moment
to happen ever since the second day of her marriage.

Not knowing who she was, Addington was appalled to see a screaming green-faced
woman run toward him. As soon as she was about an arm's reach away, Addington
immediately pushed the woman toward the stairs, or at least intended to, for he forgot
that he was facing the wrong direction. Due to Newton’s third law of motion, he fell
backwards down the stairway, and as he was tumbling, he thought about his life and the
life he never lived. He reminisced the sound of his mother's voice, the sound of his father's
voice, and the sound of their voices combined as they scolded him for his foolishness
which he never seemed to grow out of. Addington pondered on whether all his adversities
were caused by the world that hated him, or by the foolishness that dwelled within him.

Of course, this all happened within a span of a second, and Bin Addington broke his neck.
Hearing the sudden crack that ended Addington’s life as he plunged to his death, Alane
Fitscher and Riegend Fitscher were bewildered by the sequencing of events. Petrified by
what just happened, their mouths remained agape for about five seconds, then with the
slow tilting of their heads, they looked at each other. "Well that was quite anticlimactic.”
Mrs. Fitscher utters monotonously. “By the way, ugh. Alane, what in the world is that crap
on your face?" the landlord remarked in his usual tone of condescension. Mrs. Fitscher
lets out a smirk, and what happens next is apparent.

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WHERE IN HELL

T he Queue of Final Melancholy is composed of a disarranged column of souls that

extends all the way to the Entrance of Afterlife. It has no starting point, however
souls come in order according to the time of death.

Now, ten minutes have passed since Bin Addington stopped walking. As the landlord
gains momentum, Addington realizes his predicament, and begins to stride across the
queue, politely asking souls to move aside. In the distance, the landlord notices his abrupt
movement, and chases after Addington. However, the farther they ran, the further they
became lost in their own thoughts; indulging in the dreams and aspirations that they have
never accomplished in their own lives; fantasies that they've held on to; and the distorted
image of people who they've always longed for.

Embraced by the loving arms of his parents, young Riegend Fitscher delights in the
warmth of his mother and father. Free from the cruelty of the world, and free from the
cruelty of his psyche, he finally experiences the euphoria of being a child. His family might
not live in a mansion, and they might not even own any land, but the jovial harmony that’s
rooted deep within their hearts makes any piece of gold or silver as valuable as the
common grains of sand.

In contrast, standing atop a mezzanine, and finally wearing his very own trench coat, Bin
Addington gives a round of applause as the orchestra finishes the encore with a
crescendo that thundered through the entire hall. A tear trickles from his right eye as he
is poured a glass of champagne by a prim lady attired in a black sequin gown. Although
it seems as if his deepest desire was always extravagance, it was actually wisdom that
he has essentially longed for. Due to his foolishness, he never was able to understand
the music of his life, for although he heard, he never listened

Meanwhile, causing another commotion in the antechamber, the loud cries of a youthful
lady resounded the infinite room. Clanking her heels on the metal floor, she runs around
the queue without a clear direction, going in between puzzled souls as she shouts "Crap,
Rienden! Where in hell are you?”

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

JIREH LEE TORANEO is a Filipino who was born on the

21st of June, 2003. He grew up in General Santos but
spent the first three years of his life in Quezon. He has
two older sisters, three dogs, and a cat. He graduated
from kindergarten at General Santos Hope Christian
School, graduated from elementary at General Santos
Hope Christian School, will be finishing his junior year of
high school at General Santos Hope Christian School,
and will complete his senior year, still, at General Santos
Hope Christian School. Being the youngest in the family,
he became determined to achieve great things in his life,
and that included writing his first book.

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