Part 5 by Felicia Aguirre
He snapped out of his memory just in time to answer the first question. A short, bald man with yellow teeth leaned forward in his seat, strumming his fingers against the podium in front of him.
"Do you know why you are here, Frederick M. Stevens?" he asked, and his hairy eyebrows bunched inquisitively on his forehead. Frederick took a deep breath and stared at the floor, deep in thought. Those days of working at the Toys-R-Us in Humptulips were long ago, and Frederick vaguely remembered how the events unfolded. He recalled Larry Seretty diving on the floor over the display of Easy-Bake ovens screaming, "Do a barrel roll!" Michael Piles slid down aisle eight on a Razor Scooter, and knocked Mark Evans to the floor.
The whole scenario ended in one giant fit of giggles, as the madman made his escape. Blinking back tears of laughter, Frederick saw the madman grab a grey stone out of the pet rock collection and run out of the store. The stone was not particularly unique. In fact, Frederick thought Larry had stolen it from the parking lot outside, and placed it in the bin as a joke.
They may know that he had committed the crime, but they had no way of anticipating that he had met a previous victim. If only he had taken the madman seriously.
Part 6 by Nicholas Brandt
A man in a beige-tinted jacket approached him from his council pedestal. He sloshed through the jagged debris and mumbled grumblings to himself. He was squinting his green-brown eyes.
"So why you done torn down this here wall?"
Frederick looked at the man. The following words were the only things that managed to escape his breath:
"I … I couldn't … get out." The overwhelming feeling of hollow success began to engulf him.
The man raised an eyelid. Putting his hands on his hips, he let out a feeble chuckle.
"Heh! Couldn't get out? Why, that's about the funniest thing I ever heard," he said.
He offered Frederick his hand. As he got to his feet he noticed that the man's other hand wasn't moving and hadn't been since he arrived. It just dangled by his side. Looked like more of a hindrance to him than an aesthetic advantage. They carried on, climbing through rubble. First his bricks, then more bricks, then shards of what looked like formerly wooden planks, then tall grass, then thick mud. The going was tough, but the tough got going, so they say. They finally came to a point of solid ground.
It was then that they saw the mountain.
