Assassin's Creed Christmas (Sorta) part 2

Image Credit: Luke S., Montclair, NJ The author's comments: Part two. Once again based off the Game. December 20, 1490: Venice The roads were freezing as I walked across them. Now I had to kill so close to Christmas. My target was in front of me, walking through the crowd hurriedly. I walked behind him when a shout attracted my attention. I turned and saw a girl of about 19 being harassed by hooligans. I looked at my target, then, cursing silently, I walked towards the girl. “No, Toby,” she said, “We’re through, don’t you get it?” “Sure I get it,” he said, his speech slurring, “I get you’re crazy for me.” She slapped him audibly, “Porco!” she yelled, and then Toby’s friends grabbed her arms. “Hold her steady.” Toby slurred. “Hey!” I said, walking up towards them “Is there a problem here?” Toby turned towards me. “Just getten the b**** ready,” he slurred, now I could smell the wine, “so butt out.” I stepped into his face, holding my breath of course,”Listen,” I said, “Why don’t you turn around, go home, and sleep it off?” Toby swaggered back, hand in a fist, and swung. I grabbed his arm and threw him to the snow covered ground. One of his friends let go of the girl and walked towards me menacingly. I have to admit, if it was anyone else they’d probably back away. He swung at me and I grabbed his arm and held it with mine. I didn’t smell any alcohol on this dude, so he needed to learn a lesson. I punched his gut three times, then in the jaw. He fell like a sack of fruit. The other friend ran like a rabbit. Toby got up, not bothering to wipe off the snow on him, and charged me. I grabbed his arm, spun him, and threw him into the same spot. He got up again and shouted “You’ll regret this!” I rolled my eyes as he ran, he’d forget about this by tomorrow. I turned towards the girl and smiled, “You ok?” “Yeah…thanks.” She said, “I’m Charlotte, Charlotte Francisco.”


18: The pelican on my shoulder reminds me to slow things down, live calmly. 25: The snake slithering up my arm symbolizes willful and unapologetic action. 33: The rose on my wrist shows me that beauty can stem from new beginnings. “Dad, what do your tattoos mean?” “Nothing,” I say. Jonah Ardiel lives and writes … Continue reading JONAH ARDIEL: Tattoo →


He loved her all his life. He waited, growing up knowing she was out there, even before he met and married her. The sun settled behind the hills every day, but today had special meaning. He would be facing tomorrow alone for the first time. Now, she waited for him. NT Franklin writes cozy mystery … Continue reading NT FRANKLIN: Waiting →


Fibonacci was fascinated by spirals. Mathematical patterns in flower petals, repetitive details in seashells – Nature’s inescapable, infinite cycles. As I hear you arguing with your father, drink-fuelled tempers curdling love to spite, I wonder: are we all like this? Caught in eternal circles, passing around the point where we began. Jo Withers writes micros, … Continue reading JO WITHERS: Spirals →

SARA JACOBELLI: Saturday Nights at the Tropicana

We’d ride uphill past the tavern in Poppy’s ancient Cadillac. I pictured a tuxedo-clad Ricky Ricardo crooning love songs to Lucy, twirling on the dance floor, backed up by a big band. I’d wave to the hollow-eyed scratching junkies slouched against the wall. They’d wave back, baffled by the attention. Sara Jacobelli lives in New … Continue reading SARA JACOBELLI: Saturday Nights at the Tropicana →


The architects studied the plans for the umpteenth time. There was something missing, but what was it? Gabriel turned the drawings upside down and then Michael turned them sideways. “This won’t work. It will fall apart,” they both agreed. “Just get on with it,” sighed God. “It’s not that important.” Patrick Mc Loughlin is an … Continue reading PATRICK MC LOUGHLIN: Cowboy Builders →