Every year, a few days before the Christmas holidays begin, I take my mobile phone and my laptop and I lock them in the cupboard underneath my kitchen sink. I am always fully aware that this proves I have no shred of self control, and that what I am about to do requires a whole heap of it. But this year is going to be different.

Dear Juan! This is your friend that boring old fart Stan, coming to you from my new location – Xining, the biggest city on the Tibetan plateau – metropolis of the wonderful province of Qinghai.

Angus thought of himself as a scientist, so he was determined to come up with an answer to this riddle. Sure, the fish had hatched from the fluid he’d extracted from the roe. He’d shot the fluid into his blood-brain barrier by means of a long syringe. It hadn’t hurt nearly as much as he’d expected. In any case, he figured it was worth it, for science’s sake, to see whether he could mutate his brain cells to be more, well, fish-like. 

This was the new thing – dares. Antony had started it on Monday by writing ‘sonofabitch’ on one of the dark walls; it could barely be seen, but it was enough to entrain something. Heron had followed that by making himself throw up and being sent home for the rest of the day. Then Morrow had brought along his bad-tempered dog, let it roam around inside until Principal Jones came out and told him to get rid of the damn thing. 

I didn’t want to hit the guy. Fuck, it was New Year’s Eve. I don’t have anything against Australians. I didn’t see him do anything wrong. But when you’re in Paris with a group of prima donna cabaret dancers, you better be doing something to earn your place. ‘Jaaaack. That guy just touched me…there’. Fucking hell. What the hell was I doing here, lost in some club in the depths of Paris?  A short and narrow club that could fit thirty people at most. Was this exclusive V.I.P? It felt like a freight container and we were all being smuggled into the New Year.

The boy didn’t respond.  His eyes were locked on the wound in Hugh’s gut, the bloody hands that clasped and clawed at it.  “Kent!”  Bert shouted.  The boy’s innocent, wild eyes turned on him.  “You have to get help now!”  He said, gesturing wildly with his hands.  Without another word, the boy turned and began sprinting through the tall grass, back to town.

I reached the research outpost today and it’s not nearly as exciting as I hoped it would be. I knew it wouldn’t be anything too special but it’s at the edge of the galaxy and that holds so much promise. Instead it’s not very different from the other ones I’ve been stationed at. The astronomical team is having a blast but my group will be examining rocks taken from asteroids which could yield some really interesting information but feels awfully anticlimactic when I’m at the edge of charted space.

Going into the tragic details of the death of her favorite horse, I could see her face and remember how she’d light up when Pancho in the pasture would see her and immediately trot over to the fence.  I liked that horse especially well.  He and Henry got along like brothers.  As I looked at Henry and thought of him dying, I began to register and feel the impact of her sad and sudden loneliness.

The blade of the shovel chipped shards from the black lumps and when the scuttle filled it felt as if it were filled with cement. “It’ll make you stronger,” he said before he left. When I complained of the knot in my shoulder he sneered at me and asked, “Are you a man or a mouse?” No point responding, so I accepted my lumps and felt his thick fingers poke bruises in my ribs so as to make me less of a complainer. 

I walk briskly to the altar to say my penance. On my knees, prayers cascade from my lips, salvation near at hand.