“Time to go,” said the impossibly tall man standing in the corner of Lawrence’s dressing room. Lawrence leaned back in his chair and stared down the unwelcome guest, twirling his mustache.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lawrence did his best to never take his eyes off the figure, even if he couldn’t see his opponent’s eyes for himself. They were shrouded in a shadow cast over his face from the old threadbare traveler’s hat resting on his head. The only identifying mark that Lawrence could make out was the long, grey beard poking out from the darkness. It looked like a tumbleweed covered in dust. …

Nobody was going to catch Abby this time.

She was almost back to the clearing where the Visitors always picked her up. Her lungs were on fire and her legs were like toothpicks, but she kept running, clutching Anthony closer to her chest as she did so. She wasn’t going back to the hospital. She was finally going back to Apolexa, the planet the Visitors took her to, and maybe this time, they’d let her stay, especially if she explained the gravity of the situation to them. There wasn’t any other option. She had promised Anthony.

Abby had been abducted by the Visitors at least three times now. Each abduction lasted about a year in her mind but when she got back home it always turned out she had only been gone for a week. Of course, that standard Earth week was enough time for her family to lose their minds wondering what could have possibly happened to her. They never understood when she tried explaining where she had been or that she was never in any danger. Her third visit to the hospital was when she met Anthony. …

When I used to look in my bedroom mirror, I always took it for granted. It was just my reflection. I was not particularly ugly or beautiful, at least not to me. I was just a normal person examining my appearance.

These days, when I look in the mirror, I feel a chill run down my spine. The whole thing started a few weeks ago. It was all in the little differences at first, easy details to overlook while turning my face back and forth and trying to spot new blemishes.

First, it was a delayed movement. My hand or my face in the mirror would move slightly later than my own would. When it first caught my attention, I assumed it was just a trick of the light or my sluggish brain in the morning. The day I caught my reflection with a lazy eye, I knew something was wrong. I checked the reflection on my phone’s camera and my eye was totally normal. But right there in front of me, staring me in the face was an undeniable lazy eye in the mirror. I even took a picture of it and showed it to my mother. She agreed, definitely a lazy eye. She told me to stop being silly and keep getting ready for school, otherwise, I would be late. …

“Werewolf? Are you serious, Claude?” asked Kristin with snide judgment all over her voice with just a touch of drunken slur.

“Why not? We played it all the time when we were kids!” shot back Claude, wobbling a little bit, standing in the center of the living room like a town crier who’d lost his marbles.

“Maybe because of what you just said. We played it all the time when we were kids. We’re all thirty now.” said John, slumped so far into the couch, he almost disappeared.

“Speak for yourself, I’m only twenty-eight, said Claire, leaning against the doorframe that led out of the living room into the kitchen. …

William loved the ocean. This love was always at odds with his mother’s feelings for it, who was deathly afraid of its deep, dark waters. Unfortunately for his mother, they lived right by the shores of the biggest ocean, that stretched out forever, into the horizon and beyond. His father was a lighthouse keeper. They lived in a little two-bedroom house, next door to the lighthouse tower, where William’s father spent most of his days. The two structures were perched at the top of a steep cliff, overlooking the expansive waters. …

When Trevor was a boy, the creature only came to him in dreams. His mother told him it was nothing to worry about, but the breath at the back of his neck told him differently. It told him that he knew this thing from before he could remember. It whispered in his ear every night. He never turned around, but he could always picture two glowing red eyes in the dark. He could smell death in the air.

“I am always and eternal. I was with you in the womb. I followed you out. I’m beside you now. …

Dell was tired, claustrophobic, and done with being sociable for the day. Part of her felt guilty for the sour attitude, but on the other hand, how long was one human being that was getting over smoking expected to go watching badly-played intramural soccer before having a breakdown. Kurt would be upset with her, she knew it, but she also knew he’d get over it eventually. She could see the whole situation play out in her mind now:

He’d lope off the field, sweaty and panting, that big goofy grin on his face. He’d put his slimy arm around her waist and kiss her mouth for a moment, pull back and give her a glance like a father scolding his child and say “Another cigarette?” She’d shrug her shoulders and walk to the car. Neither of them would say a word on the car ride home, but by the time they were in the bedroom, he would forget why he was angry with her. …

“The real question is this: ‘Was all this legal?’ Absolutely fucking not.”

The Wolf of Wall Street is a modern satirical masterpiece skewering the capitalist machine of America that has aided the rich in getting richer and duped the poor into staying poor. The title of the film could not be more accurate. It is an acerbic, razor-sharp, ugly portrait of despicable people who only slightly pay for their crimes. The story of Jordan Belfort is one of a simple man who became a monster that knew exactly what he was doing and absolutely reveled in it. …