CROSS TTTTXTTTT ROADS


​Crossroads is defined in Merriam Websters Dictionary as:
-The place of intersection of two or more roads;
-A small community located at such a crossroads;
-A central meeting place;
-A crucial point especially where a decision must be made.

The prompt ‘crossroads’ can be comprehended in many ways.  A decision one has to make, or a point of intersection. 
Crossroads are also often found in folklore, to represent a place  between two worlds. Where the supernatural can be contacted, and the impossible can surpass.
 Literal or not we have all been at a crossroads some point in our lives. We want you to interpret crossroads the way you see fit, whether that be in a supernatural context, or something as mundane as a road intersection. Sit back, scroll down, and enjoy this ride.
​Choo Choo! ​
Crossroads by Wesley Massey
The roaring and chugging of the steam engine echoes through my head, never fleeting or failing to remind me of my mistakes along this road I’ve taken. The noise. The endless, overblown, piercing noise, is taunting me, laughing at me for how foolish I’ve been. I’m not going to say it any other way, I deserve it, I asked for this, I made my bed and now I get to lie in it, with discomfort and regret. Why is it only now, that I see every mistake I made to lead me to where I am? I suppose hindsight is 20/20. I understand why I thought I had to make those choices at the time, perhaps it is because I’ve had so much time to reflect or maybe it’s because I really was as obvious as the nose on my face. Whatever the reason, maybe looking back will help me put some demons to rest.  

​Read the rest of Crossroads on Crossroads Extra
The Devil's Flashlight by Heidi Elder
Oncehaven
​It was night and the entire world was resting. The moon shone down over the abandoned town of Oncehaven and not for the first time, was ignored by the rest of the world. Suddenly, a light was flicked on and the sound echoed between the ghostly buildings. One might expect a burglar or someone with nothing of their own to cherish, because it was dangerous coming to Oncehaven, for fear of bringing the ghosts with you. It was not, in fact, a burglar nor was it a vagabond. It was a child. He was a boy, no older than 10, looking out a window and onto the park, whose grass had long since been green. He liked the solitude of the town, and the quiet. Caught in a whirlwind of thoughts, he nearly fell out of the window when a bright beam of light appeared from across the park. Curious, the boy considered going after it, as any little boy would. He leaned toward the temptation but then recoiled as if he had been slapped. He was brave but he wasn’t stupid enough to go looking for trouble. It would be a shame to die so early, not when he had been training his entire life learning how to survive.

Read the rest of The Devil's Flashlight on Crossroads Extra.
Choo Choo ​- Photographed by Tyler Scharf
The Girl With The Red Boots by Braelyn Cheer
Slosh, splash, splish.
Marsh water dances around her knees
Squelch, squish, squash.
Her boots squeak as she weaves through the trees

Crunch, crack, creak.
She emerges from the forest
Thump, thud, thwack.
Her soggy feet pound the railroad track
​
Swish, swoop, swing.
The trees above her rustle
Click, clack, clink.
A train begins to grow near

Squish, squeak, squeal.
Her boot is caught in the tracks
choo, Choo, CHOO!
The railcar is nearly upon her

SCREAM, SCREECH...squash.
The train rolls on by
shrink, shush, shhh.
It leaves a red boot behind
Spotlight by Yasmin Nowlan
Kayden heard the train coming. A pale hand reached out for the lever beside him, resting on top of it. His black hair blocked the view of everything except the tracks right in front of him, but he heard it getting closer. The hand on the lever tightened. Wind blew back the trench coat hanging around the man’s shoulders, pushing the hair away to leave bronze eyes a clear view. On Kayden’s right, a train was quickly approaching, and his left, along with the lever, were tracks that split into two paths leading in opposite directions. He had maybe 5 seconds till the train passed him. Pushing one foot back to brace himself, Kayden let out a tsk of annoyance and pulled the lever. A gunshot echoed.  

Read the rest of Spotlight on Crossroads Extra
Crossroads by Brooke Sullivan
There are only so many ways I can feel this.
Sitting on the train was one.
If I were to describe this feeling to you, I would say it’s like feeling homesick, but for a place you’ve never been. Like a pit in my stomach, though it radiates through my chest. It’s odd that such an empty feeling could be so filling.
It reminds me of why I’m here, why I’m doing this.
I take school on Saturdays, spend my time researching a place I’ve never been.
When I close my eyes I see it. I’m on a giant train, shooting by so fast your eyes can barely catch it. Goosebumps rise on your skin at the thought. Suddenly nothing else in life matters anymore.
There are so many things in my way, I would have to leave my family and friends behind, more importantly I would have to leave myself behind. All things inherently me would have to fade.
That and the money, the change, so many sacrifices in hopes that this pit in  my stomach knows what it’s doing, where it’s leading me.
I see glimpses of this place, although I can’t place it. My biggest fear, what if I’m wrong? What if I’m wasting my life away, for a feeling that turns out to be nothing but anxiety?
I choose to rely on this feeling. I would rather waste my days away wishing, following a feeling that at the time I decided was right,  than sit at home with nothing to do but give in to the ache.
In reality, this train is pretty slow, and my life can’t compare to my dreams.
Decisions by Daisy Rubinstein  
Everyone always thinks that not having to make hard decisions is a good thing. Always knowing what to do and how to do it. Let me tell you something. It’s not. Imagine never having your own free will, feeling like your every action is controlled from some higher place. Most people admire how structured I seem to be, but they don't know the whole truth, how I am constantly struggling with myself. I am Maryna, the  goddess of fate, and my own creation controls my whole life.
Crossroads by Katelyn Topshee
“So...what are you gonna do?” Elaine asked. I could pretend I knew, but she’d probably see through it.
    “I have no clue.” I replied. It’s true though, I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. Even if I did, I’d probably be wrong.
    “I mean at least it’s ironic.”
    “How?” I looked at her, confused.
    “God you can be so dull sometimes. You’re at a crossroads. We’re standing in a train station.”
    “Oh. Yeah, I guess that is ironic.” I marvelled in my own stupidity for a few minutes before she spoke again.
    “Well, let’s analyse this a bit.” She moved her bag from her lap onto the chair next to her.
    “You do love to analyse.” I smiled.
    “Probably because it works.” She smiled back. “Option one, get on the train home now and ignore the situation.”
    “I like the sound of that.” I said sarcastically.
    “Option two,” She ignored me. “jump on the train to Boston and run away from home.”
    “Wow okay, yeah, don’t think that’s high on the list.” I turned towards her.
    “Or option three, get on the train to the police station, and don’t tell your parents that you told the police.”
    “Do you honestly think I could do any of those options?” I stared at her like she was insane.
    “Nat, we already know that your parents are the worst. You constantly say that you’re going to leave and never see them again once you’re 18.”
    “Let’s be honest that was never going to happen.” I rolled my eyes.
“Nat, I’m serious. I’m not gonna pressure you into doing anything, but I’m also not going to let you ignore the problem.” She grabbed my hand. “It’s your decision, and I’ll be with you no matter where you go. But you know what I think you should do.” I looked at her hoping she might say more. But she didn’t. She was right, but I hated that she was.
“This really is ironic.” I said. Just then, a train pulled up in front of us. People started to slowly make their way on.
    “So? This one? Or are we gonna wait some more?” she looked at me. I sighed. I had about half a minute to decide what I was doing with the rest of my life.
    “Let’s go on this one.” I said.
“Alrighty then.” She grabbed my hand and we walked onto the train together. I got the window seat.
Foot Rail - Photographed by Heather Creasey
Lady at The Crossroads  by  Laura Slabbert
Down the railroad track you’ll go, followed by snarling dogs and tumbleweed, a labyrinth of steel stretching out behind you for ages. The tracks split in three, one path curving to the east, the other to the west, followed by the setting sun, the third continues due north, and right in the middle, there she stands. Six eyes watch your slow approach, the journey has made you weary. You fall at her feet, not daring to meet her gaze.
Hecate laughs.
Decisions by Daisy Rubinstein
I can’t feel my body anymore. I can’t see anything, but I know that I am crushed beyond repair. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. I am a marionette without string; a butterfly without wings. I don’t know if I’ll make it out alive, or even if I want to.
Red is splattered everywhere, and I don’t even know if it’s mine anymore. I make one more attempt to speak out to my brothers and sisters, but all that comes out is a weak whimper.
I’ve always dreamed of moving away from that dreary building, but this wasn’t the way I wanted to leave. They tortured us. White hats were shoved on our heads, and if we didn’t wear them tightly enough, we were dealt blows until our faces turned red. Liquid was then injected into us, often making us sick. But no, that wasn’t enough. Labels were then branded onto our naked bodies, leaving permanent scars. We were then filed towards a cold, dark prison where there was at last, some peace.
I thought we were finally able to rest. Finally able to run away from the injustice my brothers, sisters and I have suffered. But alas, fate is not so kind. We were destined to rest on the tracks, and so be it.
Our prisons collided because of them, yet we were the ones left to suffer. We are cursed to never die and stay at this torn up crossroad forever. Is this the cruel fate of being a bottle of Ketchup?  
Cross Country by Emma Breton
Skye wasn't the best runner. She didn't have the longest legs and she just wasn't that fast. Being younger than all the other runners didn't help either and in the group there wasn’t really any friendly faces.

She went to practice before school, her feet pounding next to her teammates on the concrete path. It was the day before her big run at the Huckle Open where she had to run 4 kilometers, but she wasn't expecting much from herself. As Skye ran, her mind ran wild. She thought about the people in her school, her friends, her family, her dog; really just anything. She thought about how her feet sounded on the concrete  bike path. How when she crossed onto the grass it would be wet against her toes. She thought about how the sun was beating down on her, like it was trying to say a warm hello. She thought about the leaves crunching under her shoes. She kept running and eventually, as always, she found herself at the back of the pack.

Track - Photographed by Andrew Hollinger

At a Crossroads  By Eman Elawad
Split in two.
Half is seen. 
The other is free.​
A constant motion
Forward and back.
Forward and back.
Forward and back.
​At a crossroads between I and me.
Crossroad by Jason Domingo
​What is a crossroad
But a split between the heart
when facing two wants.
Like two within a conflict,
only one gets a response.
Poem in a Nutshell by Jenna Mihalchan
I have an imagination 
That I don’t want to do with 
I have too many thoughts
That I don’t know which ones matter
I have idea after idea
That can’t be deciphered
I have absences of mind
That leave me confused 
I have a range of personality 
That makes me not know who I am
I have so much potential 
That I don’t always see
I have a darkness in me
That can’t come out

I have a lot of good in me too
That counters the bad
I have a lot of happiness
That I never knew I had
I have a new light 
That can’t be turned off
I have a new purpose 
That will never be lost 
I have belief in myself
That even if I forget
I have memories to come back to
That will remind me of it

I have an imagination 
That I found what to do with
I have a lot of thoughts 
That makes them all matter 
I have ideas after ideas
That I know how to translate 
I have absences of mind
That give me relief 
I have a range of personality 
That makes me, me 
I have so much potential 
That I finally see
Hecate Poem by Laura Slabbert
Lady at the Crossroads
Down the railroad track you’ll go, followed by snarling dogs and tumbleweed, a labyrinth of steel stretching out behind you for ages. The tracks split in three, one path curving to the east, the other to the west, followed by the setting sun, the third continues due north, and right in the middle, there she stands. Six eyes watch your slow approach, the journey has made you weary. You fall at her feet, not daring to meet her gaze.
Hecate laughs.
It's Not by Sarah Ryan
Walking outside is peaceful today.
There are no screams anymore,
No gunshots or blasts from a cannon.
But I can still hear my ear ringing.
All the sounds…
I have to stop to catch my breath,
I hadn’t even realized the hot tears running down my cheeks were there.
I feel the tears moving faster,
I force my feet to move forwards,
Before I know it I’m running.
Running as fast as I can, trying to leave the thoughts behind,
The truth behind.
I’m spluttering and gasping for air.
It could have been seconds,
It could have been hours,
But the tears stop.
I’m not quite numb,
But I don't quite feel anything either.
All I do is look out,
Hoping for this to be over.
But it’s not.
It’s not.
How Many Roads? by Chloe Wilson
Standing silently at the crossroads
Split paths stretching to unseen destinations
Weathered wood
and faded signs
Tricking us into believing
there are only four paths we can take
Crossroads by Liam Jones
That May morning, I stood outside the mail box with the little blue envelope in my hand. “University of Los Angeles” is written in blue pen. How many months had it been? At least six, maybe more since I walked down the streetand crossed the cobblestone bridge.
​
Read the rest of Crossroads on Crossroads Extra.
Untitled by Ella Pegan
​He told me to meet him at the crossroads, where the train tracks intersected. He told me that he could explain, that he had the answers I needed.
I didn’t believe him. It had been a long time since I had believed anything he said. But I couldn’t deny the part of me that stirred at even the concept of the truth. Why had he gone? Why had he strung me along for so long, just to leave me behind? Where had he spent the last year?
My head was throbbing. It was eleven, later than I thought it proper to meet, and the wind was merciless. I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, looking back and forth down the tracks.

Read the rest of Untitled on Crossroads Extra.
Choices by Rebecca Kempe
I’ve got decisions I have to make, options I must choose from sooner or later, choices they say may affect the rest of my life. But I don’t have to make them just yet; I can wait a little longer, step back far enough to stare down each of the roads, imagine what’s past them, imagine where they’ll take me. I can use my extra time to worry about doing the right thing, about if I’ll do the right thing, wonder if there is a right thing, and if there is, how do I find my right thing?And then I wonder, do my decisions matter? Or do all the choices crisscross down the road? Do I really need to worry about choosing point A over point C if I know I can cross using bridge AC? But I don’t know if there’s a bridge, because I don’t know anything, because there’s no way to foresee what’s ahead of me. The sheer number of choices is scary because life is built on decision after decision after decision, and they’re never just simple forks in the road. I stand at an intersection between thousands of paths and roads and highways and train tracks and rivers. They all promise different futures; they all tug different strings in my heart. But I don’t know which to choose; I can only cut some away. I must cut some away so my brain doesn’t get overwhelmed by all the pain. But soon I’ll have to choose, and that’s a pain of its own. I just wish I had better eyesight, wish I could see further down all the roads. But I can’t; I can only trust those who have made choices before me. But what they know is only an approximation, subject to change. I’ve got decisions to make; I don’t want to begin.
Return by Damien Jordan
I'm tired
I'm tired
Darling, why don't you take my hand

I'm tired
I want to head home
Darling, come let's go

I'll watch as the world blurs and flares the lights
As the skyline glares with neon signs
In a fever dream of hopelessness that drips loss from my eyes
But I never thought that peace would be this empty
And I never thought that peace could be this empty

​Because I found the "key to the universe"
And I found it in his eyes
There's no way for me to hide all these times I have
Pushed away what I need by my side
And I miss the way that we used to laugh, not cry
It makes me wish that I could go back
And I wish that I could say
That there's nothing else, no, nothing else today
That I miss as much as the way you smiled
And now I've lost it all...
I've lost it all...

I watch all the stars glow and close my eyes
As my thoughts run back through all my lies
In an open plane of emptiness I wish I'd let pass by
'Cause I never thought that peace could be this empty
And I never thought that peace would be this empty

I know that while we've moved on...
I may never be the same as I was
We will never be the same as
We once were
We will never be the same as
We once were
Untitled by Ella MacDonald
I thought they were happy. Last summer on the beach, they seemed like they couldn’t have loved each other more. But that clearly changed, now that they are ​getting divorced.

I hated the way they told me, looking all innocent and loving, but I knew that was all an act. I had heard them fighting, late at night when they thought I was asleep. They sat down on my bed and looked at me sympathetically. Deep down inside me, I knew what was coming, I just didn’t want to hear them say it. “ Emelia,” they said. Mom took over, as she always did, and said “Emelia, your dad and I have something to tell you, it might upset you, but please be strong,” Dad looked like he would rather be anywhere else but in my bedroom, sharing the news. But mom spoke before he got the chance to leave, “Sweetheart, your dad and I are getting a divorce,”  I didn’t want to look at them, I didn’t want them to see me cry, I could already feel a fat, hot, tear sliding down the left side of my face. I didn’t even look up when they left, but I could hear my dad whisper to my mom, “We should probably just give her some space for now.”
​
Read the rest of Untitled on Crossroads Extra.
Eldritch by Tyler Champion
When an eldritch monster faces you at the crossroads,
​turn your face.
When it sees you, stay silent.
“One choice,” it will growl. “go back and choose again.”
Do not listen.
Keep your eyes on the ground, your face pointed down.
Try not to think about everything that could’ve gone right if you just chose something else-
Keep your eyes on the ground.
Shuffle quietly away from the crossroads,
make your way to the creek nearby
Skip some stones, and when the sky goes dark, and you hear the sirens begin to sing,
start your journey back home, passing through the crossroads on your way.
Stop, and wave to the eldritch monster as you pass it,
head still tilted down.
The Myth of the Fireflies by Hannah Blauer
     There were once two villages living side-by-side. There was a wicked village that liked to steal from their neighbour, and a good village that would always do the right thing and treat others as the would like to be treated. One night, the wicked village stole all of the good village’s food and carried it off to a tower far away.
     The good village burned with rage as they watched the wicked villagers run away with all their food in the darkness of the night. “It’s not fair!” yelled out one the villagers. “We have to do something!” yelled another. ”We can’t just always let them get away with this!”      
​     The more the good villagers whined, the more their chief became annoyed. How tiring it was to be robbed by their wicked neighbours time after time after time. The chief called out to his villagers. “Stop!” he cried. He looked down at his villagers, some full of tears and sorrow, and others full of rage and fury. He looked toward the darkness where the wicked villagers were running away with their food, and after a moment of reflection, he made a decision. “They will pay,”  said the chief. “They will suffer as we have.”
     With revenge in their hearts, later that night, when least expected, the good villagers attacked and captured all of the wicked villagers. Rounding them up one-by-one, the good villagers stuck everlasting candles into the wicked villagers’ stomachs. As the candles burned inside their stomachs, the wicked villagers started to weep and cry as they grovelled apologies to the good villagers.
     “We will only burn out the candles if you all go and retrieve the food that was once ours,” the good villagers told them.
     “We will! We will!” said the wicked villagers, and they ran away from the village to retrieve the food. When the wicked villagers came back with all the stolen food, they couldn't help but to weep and to cry for mercy. “We brought you back your food, now please… burn out the candles that you have lodged inside of us. It burns!!!”
     The good villagers looked at each other and exchanged sneaky smiles. “Did you pick up the crumbs?” said the good villagers.

​​Read the rest of ​The Myth of the Fireflies on Crossroads Extra.

How the Wolf got its Howl by Zevida Germain

 Long ago, before humans even laid foot upon the earth, only the animals roamed. Without humans there was plenty of land , mountains of food, and untouched sparkling lakes that stretched father than the eye could see. The animals were spread out far and few between and lived most of their lives in solitude. One animal however, hated this style of life. From the tip of his white tinted muzzle all the way to the end of his long bushy tail, every inch of him destested it.  Wolf didn't exactly know why, but he was always so lonely. So very lonely that he spent his entire life looking for any companionship he could find.

From the time the sun rose in the east til it set in the West, Wolf wandered Mother Earth searching for someone to give him the time of day. But since the other animals enjoyed their solitude and weren't interested in giving him any attention. So when the Wolf couldn't walk another step and the moon's presence brought silence over the vast land, Wolf would raise his weary head and let out a few mournful howls, waking up any neighboring creatures. Months passed and the animals grew tired of Wolf's nighttime cries so they devised a plan.

In the  middle of the world grew a massive oak tree, who they called Mother oak. She was the first being ever created, and she created everything else. She was known for being a loving deity, one who cared greatly for everything she had made but had a great temper when it came to anyone who came Asking for more than what she deemed necessary.

​​Read the rest of ​How the Wolf got its Howl on Crossroads Extra.
A Short Tragedy by Sharon Xu
I can’t feel my body anymore. I can’t see anything, but I know that I am crushed beyond repair. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. I am a marionette without string; a butterfly without wings. I don’t know if I’ll make it out alive, or even if I want to.
Red is splattered everywhere, and I don’t even know if it’s mine anymore. I make one more attempt to speak out to my brothers and sisters, but all that comes out is a weak whimper.
I’ve always dreamed of moving away from that dreary building, but this wasn’t the way I wanted to leave. They tortured us. White hats were shoved on our heads, and if we didn’t wear them tightly enough, we were dealt blows until our faces turned red. Liquid was then injected into us, often making us sick. But no, that wasn’t enough. Labels were then branded onto our naked bodies, leaving permanent scars. We were then filed towards a cold, dark prison where there was at last, some peace.
I thought we were finally able to rest. Finally able to run away from the injustice my brothers, sisters and I have suffered. But alas, fate is not so kind. We were destined to rest on the tracks, and so be it.
Our prisons collided because of them, yet we were the ones left to suffer. We are cursed to never die and stay at this torn up crossroad forever. Is this the cruel fate of being a bottle of Ketchup?  

​
How the Crow got its Feathers by Ada Huang

Before the crows were black, they were as white as the snow in the winter, but even before the crows there was a goddess. The goddesses name was Mercuria. The people of the land respected the goddess, as it was said that she could bestow luck. However, she was also notorious for bringing great misfortune. Humanity gave their best gifts as offerings to her, to thank her for favouring the humans and blessing them with much fortune. But as time went on, the people began to grow short on resources as the population grew. More specifically, food.

For many years, the people begged and begged for her blessing. They offered all they could for Mercuria, but the goddess did not answer their pleas, as she was hard to win over. But even after that, humanity persisted, and the goddess was impressed. So Mercuria created a simple and small creation, a white crow. The crow was intelligent and was adored by the goddess, she treated her creation as if it was her child. Humanity gladly accepted the gift, as Mercuria’s gifts were hard to come by.

The crow acted as a guide, and led the people to new lands that held much more food. The soil was rich and new plants and animals were found. Humanity learned how to adapt to this new environment. They learned how to plant new crops and learned the patterns of the animals that resided there. In return for finding the land, the crow requested that the humans shared some of their food with him. Humanity complied. When humanity again began to run short on resources, they sent the crow off to find more land. The crow complied.

As the crow continued to aid the humans, they slowly began to grow greedy. Many would try to bribe the crow to find more new land for them, however, the crow would refuse their offer. As those humans were not hungry. But humanity's greed only continued to grow, they began to yearn for more, and was very displeased that the crow refused to find more. One human was so furious, that they took the crow, and burnt it as a “sacrifice” for Mercuria.

Upon receiving the offering, the goddess was devastated at the death of the crow. Inn her anger, Mercuria recreated the crow but instead of the snow white feathers it once wore, it was now the colour of the abyss. Which it turned when it was burnt. Mercuria , however, created it with a new and different purpose and she released him back into the world. When the crow returned to the world, the people again began to follow the crow, with the hope of finding food. But the bird only led humanity to scraps of animal carcasses that could feed any crow but could never feed any human. The crows’ favoured spot is the graveyards, and they perch on the gravestones, constantly reminding humanity of why the crow was black in the first place.
The Deer and its Antlers by Nada EF

 In the forests that draped themselves over the lands, a graceful creature roamed around, keeping to itself and not disturbing anyone or anything.
 It had a dark brown coat, which glimmered golden in the sunlight despite its dark colour. It had deep, passionate brown eyes, ones that portrayed emotions far beyond words. It had a broad, beautifully and powerfully chiseled body, built for moving throughout the forest and its tightly packed trees.
 The way it lived its life also made it beautiful. With no effort, it moved through the forest, winding itself between trees, leaping over boulders, all while hardly disturbing any of its surroundings. It would graze at the grass so calmly, so quietly, displaying nothing but peace in its ways. There was nothing wrong with this creature.
 The fact that such perfect beauty existed in an animal angered Saevus.
 Saevus was the god of evil and cruelty.
 Saveus decided to give this creature a pair of unappealing, repugnant horns. That way, nobody would dare to call it beautiful again, and he would get what he wanted.
 However, just as Saveus was preparing a pair of horns to sprout from this creature’s skull, Decusia interfered.
 “Saevus, what in the name of the heavens are you doing?”
 Decusia, the goddess of flawlessness, had caught Saevus in the middle of his supposedly secret crime.
 “I am giving this creature its proper appearance,” Saveus stated. “No creature with such beauty should be allowed to exist in any place but the heavens.”
 “But Saveus!” Decusia objected. “This world has never seen any beauty. Please, leave this creature be. Let it dwell in its allure. It may seem otherwise, but this world does deserve it.”
 Saveus was not one to change his mind so easily. But Decusia begged and begged, until he decided to abandon his plan for the current moment.
 “Very well, Decusia,” Saveus said, “I will leave this creature as it is.”
 Decusia was about to thank him, until a honeyed female voice cut through.
 “Saveus, oh, why would you listen to Decusia’s words?”
 That, without a doubt, was Aphrodite.
 The goddess of love and desire. Neither Saveus nor Decusia knew why she may want to be a part of this situation.
 “Why have you come here, Aphrodite?” Decusia demanded.
 Aphrodite sneered. “I must say, Saveus, I do agree with your plan.”
 “What do you mean?” Saveus questioned.
 “I do support the idea of giving this creature horns,” she stated. “Not for the purpose of making it hideous, but giving it horns may prove effective when it comes to attracting females.”
 Saveus was filled with joy. With Aphrodite was on his side, he would be able to carry out his plan and alter these creatures.
 Decusia let out a wail of despair.

Read the rest of ​The Deer and its Antlers on Crossroads Extra.
The Devil's Flashlight by Heidi Elder
Oncehaven
​It was night and the entire world was resting. The moon shone down over the abandoned town of Oncehaven. It didn’t matter that it was a clear night, the city remained dark, its shadows acting as the protectors of the old city’s secrets. Disturbing the stillness, a light was flicked on and the sound echoed between the ghostly buildings. One might expect a burglar or someone without anywhere else to go, because no one in their right mind would come to Oncehaven, for fear of bringing the ghosts with you when you left. It was not, in fact, a burglar nor was it a vagabond. It was a child. He was a boy, no older than 10, looking out a window and onto the park, whose grass had long since been green. He liked the solitude of the town, and the quiet. Caught in a whirlwind of thoughts, he nearly fell out of the window when a bright beam of light appeared from across the chipped road. Curious, the boy considered going after it, as any little boy would. He leaned toward the temptation but then recoiled as if he had been slapped. He was brave, but he wasn’t stupid enough to go looking for trouble. It would be a shame to die so early, especially when he had been training his entire life learning how to survive.

Read the rest of ​The Devil's Flashlight on Crossroads Extra.