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Farewell

Aydar looked around his apartment. The small, crowded room that had served as his home for the past year had returned to its original skeletal state. The bookshelves had been stripped and no longer seemed to cage the walls. Instead, they stood bare among the few boxes that Aydar had packed with his belongings. In the process of packing he’d managed to get rid of most of the items he had brought with him to the Foxberry. Aydar turned away from the boxes and smiled. In the doorway stood a short plump woman with greying curly hair. She frowned and motioned towards the boxes. “If you don’t hurry up, the moving truck will leave without your things and you’ll be walking back to New York with those boxes.” “At least it’ll build character. That’s what you always told me, mama, we do hard things and we try new things because it builds character.” Aydar smirked and picked up the boxes. In an effort to reduce the trips between the truck and his apartment, Aydar had overestimated his strengt...
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A Quick Phone Call

A paper ball whizzed through the air, landing on Aydar’s desk. Aydar looked up from his stupor to see Billy O’Riley sitting across the room, eyes glazed over. Aydar tossed the paper ball into the trashcan and resumed staring out the window of the near empty classroom as Billy began to crumple up another sheet of schoolwork. This exchange had been going on for the past hour. The whole school was absent due to the sudden outbreak of boils in town, yet somehow Aydar and Billy had managed to avoid the unusual outbreak. Aydar was beginning to wonder if maybe having boils was preferable to this hell. Nobody to teach, nothing to do. He looked back at Billy right as another paper ball came whizzing through the air, smacking him in the forehead. “30 minutes left,” Billy sighed, slumping down further in his chair. “Any exciting last minute lesson plans prof?” Aydar was about to respond with the same response he’d been feeding his few unlucky students all day -there was no lesson plan, psycholo...
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Eavesdropping

Following his failure to find anything of substance in Rose’s apartment, Aydar found himself disheartened. He was frustrated at himself for making so many mistakes. Even through his meeting with Stephanie Greene was comforting, it was nice to have someone else to share theories with, he still felt stupid. After all, the rose in question wasn’t Pittus, it was Dorothy. It made perfect sense. She was constantly sneaking around with her camera, taking photos, asking questions. But, despite their conviction that Dorothy had something to do with the murder, Stephanie and Aydar’s fixation on her whereabouts had lead to no new discoveries. Just last night, as Aydar had sat outside of Dorothy’s apartment, his ear pressed to the door frame, he was startled by the sounds of a conversation inside. So he sat there, eavesdropping. Aydar was pretty sure that Dorothy lived alone, so the conversation puzzled him. Nevertheless, the snippets he overheard were boring, mundane at best. “Coffee grinds....
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Thorny

When he first met her by the carousel, her mind seemed to be elsewhere. As she scanned the crowd, as if looking for someone, Aydar approached her nervously. Perhaps it was his desperate search for an answer that brought him to her or perhaps it was the loneliness that had moved into his apartment upon his arrival in this town. “Hello Rose,” he said quietly. She turned at the sound of her name and motioned him towards a less populated area of the carnival. After handing her a wad of bills, they turned and headed for the exit. They walked in silence for a few minutes, the carnival getting smaller and smaller in the distance. “Why Rose?” Aydar blurted out suddenly. Rose smirked, “My parents wanted me to be perfect and beautiful, just like the rose.” Aydar thought about her answer for a moment. “Do they know about…?” he began before trailing off. Rose shook her head and kept walking. “How long have you…?” he started again. Rose looked at him, her eyebrows knitted together. It was bec...
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Reaching Out

The question we should all be asking is, can you help this town? Can you help this town? Can you help this town? Can you help this town? Aydar mulled over the words, trying to decode some secret message that would explain what exactly he had to do with the strange events that had been occurring in the town ever since Mr. Evans died. He was beginning to suspect that the pocket watch he had received had more to do with the strange turn of events than he had previously thought, and above that Jack Stars knew something about it. Admittedly, Aydar was beginning to feel like the character of some fantasy book he had read as a child. Yet, how could he possibly be the hero of anything? As he set down his groceries to open the door of the Foxberry, Stephanie Greene and her husband Oliver turned the corner of Foxberry Ave. Although they were still a distance from the Foxberry, Aydar could make out a hammer in Stephanie’s hand. She seemed agitated and it made Aydar curious. Why take a walk...
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Looking Down

Aydar felt anxious. It had been almost a week since the frogs first arrived and the school had closed down. He couldn’t seem to occupy himself, not to mention the constant murmur was beginning to get on his nerves. The sounds enveloped his room like a musical straight jacket. He’d managed to keep the frogs out by staying in his apartment for several days, but the self-inflicted confinement wasn’t doing him any favors. The question of the pocket watch continued to irk him. When he’d gone the past weekend to investigate the spoon with rose etching, he was greeted by a crowd of visitors and barely managed to catch a glimpse of the silverware. He’d resolved to come back later once the holiday-happy tourists were back in their own homes. Unfortunately, the frogs had stopped that plan in its tracks. The museum closed shortly after their arrival.  --- “Knock, knock.” Aydar jumped up, opening the door hurriedly. He was greeted by a face that seemed familiar, though he had neve...
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Destiny vs Determination

Aydar stepped into the bookstore, careful to close the door quickly to avoid snow from following him in. After shaking the soft powder out his coat, he headed for the farthest corner of the small dusty bookstore. He slowly combed through the books on the shelves, but it seemed impossible to find any material on psychology. Although, that may be attributed to his state of mind rather than the bookstore’s catalog. He’d intended to buy a new psychology book, yet his mind kept drifting back to the package that had been placed in his arms just days before. The package, a small brown box devoid of a return address or distinct markings, contained a pocket watch who’s rusting exterior did little to hide the intricate pattern of roses etched on the back. Aydar, who could always find an answer, had no answer for this. “May I help you?” Aydar spun around, startled by the voice coming from the front of the bookstore. He turned around to see a women in her late 40’s standing behind the desk. ...
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