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Loneliness has consumed the mind of Jia Wang every hour for far too long. Broken promises and useless treatments have destroyed her hope that things will ever improve for her, but as the hours of her sad life tick down a stranger appears promising her a healthy life and love. Will a trip to space cure her cancer and liberate her heart from it's prison of sadness?

For three years in college, I was basically the dorms’ unpaid tech support. I was always on call, never charging for dust cleaning, thermal paste replacement, and operating system installations. Then senior year started, and Mickey, a freshman, called me out in the dorm group chat. “You know thermal paste only costs a few bucks a tube, right? Yet, he’s seriously charging you guys two cans of energy drinks for the job.” Mickey added smugly. “My family runs a computer store. Come to me instead. I’ll charge you a can for the service, and I can guarantee authentic parts.” The group chat blew up. “The kid’s legit!” “Well, Axis isn't getting any more energy drinks from me.” I read the messages and quietly packed away my tools in the cabinet. They had no idea the thermal paste I used cost nearly forty bucks a tube. The dust cleaning was done with professional-grade equipment. Little did they know, the so-called genuine parts sold on the market were mostly refurbished parts with a fresh coat of paint. I got into bed and pulled a sleep mask over my eyes. Honestly, this couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. I’d been wondering when these days of doing free repairs at my expense would finally end. Well, there's my ticket out.

I've bought an old DVD online for 1.50 dollars. When I play it, I start trembling. The bride on the screen looks exactly like me. But I've never been married.

Can somebody help me? Can someone free me from the hellish marriage that I'm staying? Save Me... I'm tired of living. -AZAIA DE CASTRO

In an East London lock up, two film makers, Jimmy and Sam, are duct taped to chairs and forced to watch a snuff film by Ashkan, a loan shark to whom they owe a lot of money. If they don’t pay up, they’ll be starring in the next one. Before the film reaches its end, Ashkan and all his men are slaughtered by unknown assailants. Only Jimmy and Sam survive the massacre, leaving them with the sole copy of the snuff film. The film makers decide to build their next movie around the brutal film. While auditioning actors, they stumble upon Melissa, an enigmatic actress who seems perfect for the leading role, not least because she’s the spitting image of the snuff film’s main victim. Neither the film, nor Melissa, are entirely what they seem however. Jimmy and Sam find themselves pulled into a paranormal mystery that leads them through the shadowy streets of the city beneath the city and sees them re-enacting an ancient Mesopotamian myth cycle. As they play out the roles of long forgotten gods and goddesses, they’re drawn into the subtle web of a deadly heresy that stretches from the beginnings of civilization to the end of the world as we know it. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

My grandparents, Timothy Shaw and Dorothy Elmer, show up one day to ask for 30 thousand dollars. In response, my wife, Jade Quinn, shuts the door in my face. She refuses to discuss the topic of a loan or open the door for anyone. All she does is send me a text message that reads, "I earn a fixed salary. How could I possibly come up with 30 thousand dollars on the fly? Don't you have other colleagues and classmates? Just ask them for a loan." I mull over the message as my hand hovers over the study door's knob. Through a crack in the door, I can see her on a video call with a male student named Nicholas Dion. She says to him, "Nicky, I've transferred 200 thousand dollars to your bank account. It's not safe for a young man like you to live in a rented place off-campus. Consider the money a gift from me for you to use as a down payment." My hand freezes in midair, trembling slightly. Just then, the door is opened, and Jade sees me standing outside the door. She offers no explanation and shows no sign of guilt. She simply explains unhurriedly, "I married you and not your entire family, so I'm not letting just anyone mooch off of me. I worked hard to earn my money too." She closes the door in my face. She was a mere inch away from catching my hand in the doorframe, but she showed no hesitation. I clench my hands into fists, understanding abruptly dawning on me. It turns out that our marriage is worth less than 30 thousand dollars to her.