Four years ago. Horst wore a tucked in button up with a bunny hair clip, by his side was Fester. Behind them came Jaromir spinning a basketball, his hair cut short by the sides and high on the top. Its curls less defined at such a length.

  “Yo, Horst, is that the shirt I just threw away?”

  “Ah, Jaromir, sorry I thought you didn’t need it…” Upon Horst’s desk was a simple white shirt, within Horst’s hand was chalk, by their side were a few pens and markers.

  “Keep it, I tore the sleeve anyway. But why did you draw on it? Is that chalk? Ah, got it! How bout you sign it for me, once you become famous I’ll have a real Horst original, I’ll even have the first.”

  “Oh…” Horst couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll fix your sleeve then.”

  “Eh! You can do that? You really should be a shirt designer…”

  Cherry with her bleached hair and tiny ponytails looked by the side of the classroom door. Just as Horst was signing… Just as Jaromir was complimenting… Jaromir could passively see the glaring character from not afar.

  “Actually, I think I’ll take it back…”

  “Huh, but I’ve already drawn on it…” Horst said, confused. Just then Cherry began to run off.

  “Huh?!” Jaromir said as began to chase her.

  “Cherry…?” Horst questioned.

  Multiple shirts dried on patio hangers. The smell of glue, ink, and paint on a rooftop hanging over multiple courts. Otie walked up to the working Horst with a popsicle in his mouth.

  “Them guys just didn’t want to talk,” Otie said.

  “…” Horst glanced over his shoulder wondering where the shade came from.

  “Want some?”

  “Ah, no, thanks. Why would they talk to you? You took them out. You really didn’t need to go that far.” Horst said as he took another shirt out of the press.

  “You made me do it.”

  “At least they know not to make fun of you.”

  “…” With fish-like eyes Otie let the sugary liquid of the popsicle drip down his hand. “Anyway, what are you gonna do, sell these?”

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  “Close… As for this week, fifty more, my creations I need to finish.”

  “Exactly! Perfect, ‘creations’ is better!”

  “Huh?”

  “Horst, look at this…” With his brightest smile Otie unzipped his jacket, there in front of Horst was the design he had made years ago. Horst drawn in expressive letters across two stars colliding. The wind picked up, the clouds began to move like a herd of horses galloping from the road of heaven. Shaking buzzed beneath Horst’s skin, he froze, unable to speak for the slightest second.

  “T-that’s the t-shirt I made for Jaromir… How did you…how did you get that? Seriously, damn… Who are you?” Horst asked frankly.

  “If you tell me about the night Jaromir died then I will tell you I really am.”

  “I’ma take your word on that.”

  Deep in the night where silence is the most common friend, riders, be they bikers, cyclists, skaters, and the like. A bridge opens up with foggy flame… Zodiac Palace begins to glow, breaking free from the coffin of the sea. Throughout the city, pamphlets and graffiti label walls and the like with the name Zodiac Palace.

  “What’s with all the ads, seriously, it's getting ridiculous…

  “Look here, this is one of their old ads I saved from the last ride to Zodiac Palace.”

  Otie looked befuddled. “Zodiac? What the hell is that?”

  “It doesn’t really matter, they believe in stuff like gods being born from stars and such. They’re more commonly referred to as Celestials.”

  “Hm, hm.” Otie leaned on top of Horst’s back.

  Ugh, get off… “Anyway, are you going to keep your promise? Make sure of it!”

  “Hmm, oh, there’s another thing I want to ask you.”

  “What is it?” Horst said with relief as Otie backed off.

  “What’s with your left eye?”

  “You really wanna know?” Horst said with grave darkness and terror, as if he harbored a deep secret that if any should know could rend the world apart. By covering half his face with his hair, he is both cool and blocking the powers contained.

  “Yep.”

  “Believe me, you don’t.”

  Otie gleamed another smile, he was more than giddy to pry. “Woo, now I really wanna know!”

  A long time ago, gangs ran rampant. The ones who stuck in these major activities were addressed as Black Hounds. When a typhoon came in, swiping away all infrastructure it heralded the end of the Black Hounds. After everything was rebuilt, everything changed. The Black Hounds territory was no more…at least on the surface.

  “The gangs obviously weren’t just dead and over with,” Horst continued. “They simply died fighting each other… In just a year, something would replace them. Now once a year, on a random day, there has been a midnight race across the city that encompasses all of Ontigenal.”

  We all wish to escape something, to achieve something, to be something… The bridge lies in wait, to either find peace in the garden, or sink in the sea. Not all make it to the gate, not many will ever see the other side, even when they touch the doors’ handles.