"Roses are red. Violets are blue. Sugar is sweet and so are you." Napoleon’s first wife Josephine was born Marie Josèphe Rose Tascher de la Pagerie in Martinique on June 23, 1763. Like Napoleon himself, Josephine was a study of contrasts. As a child, Josephine grew up on a sugar cane plantation and developed a sweet tooth. As a result, her teeth had turned black at an early age so she learned to talk and smile without showing them. Despite this drawback, she was renowned for her grace and style. Many people in the 1700's had bad teeth. It was not the horror that it would be today, but was still an embarrassment. If a woman wanted to find a rich husband, she had to smile with her mouth closed. Don't show your teeth and let your charm take over. Josephine is walking by a waterfall in Martinique when she slipped and fell into the water. She struggles to swim to the surface when a strange cosmic force pulls her down deeper to into the abyss. She faints .... When Josephine wakes up, she is no longer in Martinique. She is in Hollywood, California. The year is 1969. The year of Peace, Love, Rock and Roll, Twiggy, Woodstock, Mini Skirts, Go-Go Boots, the Twist and lots of Groovy Music and of course, Movie Stars... Josephine is confused. Everywhere she looks, the world seems so strange and also wonderful. The sights, the sounds, even the smells. She looks up and sees an airplane flying high up to the clouds. She never saw anything like that before. She hears strange music but there is no band, no instruments. Where does that sound coming from? A girl with a transistor radio passes Josephine. "Where is that strange music coming from?", she asks. The girl has long blond hair, straight as a pin, and is wearing dark sunglasses, a white shirt, bright mini skirt and go-go boots. "Here, listen for yourself". The girl put the radio to Josephine's ear and her eyes got as big as saucers. "What kind of music is this?" The girl in the mini skirt starts dancing the Twist. "I am in the groove....Come on, try it!" Josephine imitates the girl and she started to laugh. "What happened to the waltz?" "The what? Oh, that went out with the "Mashed Potato!" Josephine scratches her head. "Where am I? Am I still in France?" "Oh no, lady. You're in La La Land. Hollywood, California! You are in America!" "How did I get here?" The girl thinks for a moment. "You were not here a minute ago. I saw a bright light and then I saw you. Do you want to get something to eat? Do you need a job?", the girl asked. May I introduce myself. "I am Josephine Bonaparte, Empress of the French. And you are?" "Oh, I am Bambi.", She replies as she looks in her compact mirror and fixes her lipstick. "I have an audition today for a commercial. I am not an Empress, but I can dance better than you. Come on Jo, let's get some food." "Don't call me Jo! I am Empress Josephine Bonaparte!" "Wow, an Empress with an attitude. It's all I need. Do you want me to help you out or not?  I am losing my patience!", Bambi bluntly remarks. "Sorry, I am so used to being adored that I take it for granted everyone loves me." "Don't worry, honey. We will get you an agent and a commercial job. We'll figure it out. I hope!" Josephine follows the strange girl with the mini skirt and looks left and right and when she looked down she saw a whole sidewalk full of stars with names on them. "What is this?" "Oh, that. It's the Walk of Fame. You see, here in America, we have no Kings or Queens. We have "Movie Stars". Famous people that star in motion pictures. "What is a motion picture?" "It would take me a week to explain. You are from the 17th century, it would be better to show you. Let's go to the theater after we get some tacos." "What's a taco? "Are you kidding me? A taco is a tortilla with ground beef, lettuce, cheese, tomatoes and salsa? I am waiting for you to ask me what a burger is. Easy with the questions, just try it." "Okay." The taco stand is nearby and the girl in the miniskirt orders two tacos. Josephine bites into one and spits it out. "It's atrocious! I want Crepes Suzette! I am an Empress! I don't want this slop. You're American food is awful! Where's the wine? Where's the champagne?" "You can't afford champagne anymore. Napoleon is dead, remember?" This is not 1803, it's 1969! And we are in the Woodstock generation!" She faints for a few minutes. When she woke up a crowd had gathered. The girl in the mini skirt took advantage of the opportunity to exploit Josephine and had a big sign telling the crowd who she is. "Back away!", Josephine screams. "Who are these people and why are they dressed so strangely. "Remember, its 1969!" Josephine starts to cry." I need a job. I want to be famous in the movies." "You need to try out for a commercial. How about a toothpaste commercial? " "Smile!" Josephine give a big smile for the crowd. The crowd is absolutely horrified. Josephine's teeth were all black and rotten! "What happened to your teeth, Josephine?" Josephine starts to panic and immediately puts her hand over her mouth. "Maybe I can be a hand model? I would surely FAIL any audition if I smile! My teeth are black!" "You can do a toothpaste commercial if you get veneers. That might work. Or you could be the "before" model and have another model for the after." "What are veneers? It sounds French!", Josephine asked. "No, it's not french. It's a kind of bright white cover for your teeth. For cosmetic reasons. For TV, the movies!", the strange man replied. A strange man with a bling suit walks over to check out what was happening in the crowd. "What's going on here? I work for a talent agency. I need a walk on for a toothpaste commercial. The name of the toothpaste is "Pearl Drops". Any takers? " Josephine raises her hand up and gives the man a great big smile. His eyes went all buggy and he backs away two paces." You have black teeth and bad breath? What happened to you?", he declares, totally horrified. How can we spin this? Don't worry, Josephine. We can sell your black teeth and bad breath as an incentive to buy our toothpaste and get white teeth!" "I will probably be a flop if I smile. I can be a model that doesn't smile. Is that groovy enough to get a part in your commercial? ", Josephine laughs at that word. "My name is Josephine Bonaparte and I fell in the water by a waterfall in Martinique in the year 1794. I woke up in Los Angeles in the year 1969! My teeth are black because my family owns a sugar plantation in Martinique. All the people have teeth like me in 1794. " "I have an idea!", the strange man said. "We can do a historical commercial. That way you can keep your black teeth and horrid breath and people will think it's history. The public likes the past and they love Napoleon and Josephine. You even have a movie with that name starring Jacqueline Bisset?" "Truly? I am known and famous in 1969?" "Yes, people like you even more than Napoleon. Napoleon died at St. Helena and he was poisoned by the British?" "Really? I didn't know that?", Josephine cried. "I miss my Napoleon. He ditched me for the Habsburg chick. She was a ditz but Napoleon wanted a son, so he divorced me and married her. She ended up going back to Papa Habsburg and left Napoleon to be an English prisoner. All that glitters is not gold. I was a better wife to Napoleon than she was." "I am sure you were. If history were a star, Marie Louise would be an "asteroid"! She ran back to Papa and took his "King of Rome" with him. The poor "Eaglet" never knew his father and was never allowed to speak his name in Vienna. He died at age 21. " "How awful for Napoleon. To lose the son he divorced me for. I had one son, Eugene and a daughter Hortense. Why wasn't Napoleon satisfied with Eugene ? Why was he always looking for royal blood when mine was more aristocratic most Parisians. He had his heart set on a Habsburg bride. A bloodline that is thin and watery from generations of arranged marriages. And I was more of a wife than Marie Louise could dream of being!" "Okay, okay. Enough of the history lesson. This is 1969 not 1795. Forget Napoleon. He is yesterday's news. Your new job is a commercial concept called Pearl Drops toothpaste! You have black teeth and you brush your teeth and no matter how much your brush with pearl drops you fail to make your teeth white. How funny is that? The target audience will just love it!" "Are you making fun of me? Do you think I LIKE having black teeth and rotten breath? It's the time I lived in. I am CERTAIN that if YOU lived in 1795, your teeth would be ROTTEN TOO! You would be eating lots of sugar, pies, cakes, sugary puddings, beef pies, wine, champagne and anything our fine cook would bring to the table! Sugar was new to Europe around 1795 and the people ate a lot of it." The strange man screamed. "I am way too vain to have rotten teeth! I assure you my teeth would be pristine white. Weren't Napoleon's teeth white?" Josephine bent over laughing. "Well, he ate black licorice. He loved licorice. So he had "gray" teeth. He used salt and a twig to clean his teeth. And he rinsed with whiskey! Josephine became famous in 1969 as the Pearl Drop's Girl. She had black teeth and bad breath and a million dollar commercial deal. She will probably always prefer the waltz to the Twist, but Josephine gave us her best shot even though she thought she had a slim chance of landing a job in Hollywood. It's just a commercial but it's a start. "Now give us a great big smile, Josephine!"


(TW: Mentions of assault/violence and suicide) Stella sets up her booth like she does every Friday. Ballston Mall is always swarming with desperate characters: flirtatious teenagers, voracious salespeople, millennials trying to find acceptance with a side of discount pajamas. She gets her fair share of hate, sure. There's always a MAGA Hat Asshole that spits on the ground and calls her some terrible slur. She usually makes at least $500 though, and for a fortune teller that's basically the best one can do. "Hello? Do you take card?" It's a timid college student, obviously no cash. Probably still on her parent's credit card. Her shirt is on-trend and cheap. Her hair is straightened and prim, but her makeup is a mess. Lipstick on her teeth and smudged eyeliner. Hopefully the Macy's woman can help her out. Stella and her have lunch every Saturday; she's a sweetie, but intimidating. A genius with a brush though. "Yeah, we take card. CashApp is preferable though." "Oh, great! I have CashApp. Should I send you the money before or after?" Stella sighs. She hates when people ask that question. "Before, please." "Okay, I'll send it right now." There's an awkward pause as the woman sorts through her phone and *pings* the money over. Stella nods for her to sit down in the chair opposite hers. "Y'know, I don't normally do this type of thing. I was raised Catholic, so we were very skeptical. But my roommate is absolutely obsessed with tarot and crystals, so I thought she'd love it if I came here. She got it done once and it changed her life. Or so she said, at least. Actually, I don't know if it was here. Might've been a fair or something." She's rambling, which would normally annoy Stella, but there's something about it that's endearing. Like she genuinely believes Stella cares. A lot of people ramble to fortune tellers, but they just seem to talk because they can. This woman (who Stella is about 90% sure is named Grace) is talking because she wants to. And that makes Stella feel good. "Well, I'm glad. I'd ask for her name, but I probably wouldn't remember. Been working here a long time." "Oh, it's alright. So how does this work? Do I give you my hand or do you read cards? I have a rose quartz in my bag somewhere." 'That won't be necessary. Just tilt your head forward, Grace." Grace smiles with delight. "How'd you know that? My name, I mean?" Stella shrugs. "A hunch." Grace smiles smugly and leans forward a bit. "Well, you're right and wrong. My friends call me Grace, but my real name is Grayson." Stella decides she no longer likes Grace/Grayson. "Okay. Head tilt, please." Grace obeys, and Stella lays two cool fingers on her forehead. It's really oily; she'll send her to Macy's right after she's done. Immediately Stella sees a dirty wall. It's the kind of wall you couldn't usually tell was dirty unless you're standing an inch away, which Stella is. The wall gradually expands into four, and soon enough Stella and Grace are in a tiny apartment bedroom. Bare bones, but cute. Clean white bedsheets and some simple posters. A dresser full of discount clothes. "Why don't you tell me where we are?" Grace looks around bewildered. "We're, umm, we're in my room. This is my apartment." "I know that. I mean when was this?" "This? This was my dream last night." Stella tries not to look taken aback. It's rare a client selects a recent dream. Those are normally too personal, too raw. "You chose it, so we'll see what's in store." "Okay. It should start any minute now, I guess. I'm sorry, I didn't think this would work so...I don't know, viscerally. I thought you'd just..." "Make some generic shit up? Oh honey, read the sign." Right outside the booth, Stella has a sign up: PREPARE TO BE SHOCKED. It's half gimmick, but also half real. It's a truly shocking thing to relive a dream while awake. People never remember a dream start to finish, and seeing one play out in real time can be incredibly disturbing. She knows for a fact it's made at least seven people go insane. "Yeah, I, uh...I really wish I would've chosen a different one though. This one is pretty unusual for me, I think. I didn't think you'd be able to see details. Like watch it all play out." Stella knows Grace is lying. Obviously the dream is characteristic. Everybody has "special" dreams occasionally, but they don't reveal anything extraordinary. People always choose a typical one. They want to understand their pattern, what makes them tick. Or at least they think they do. "It's okay. I don't judge. I've seen it all." This is also true. Stella has seen it all. And once you've seen it all, judging doesn't just become pointless, it becomes boring. No one is truly special. That fact just becomes more apparent at night. Suddenly Dream Grace walks in wearing an evening gown. Actually, not just any evening gown: Kim Kardashian's Met Gala 2017 look. Strange, but probably not meaningful. Dream Grace is followed by a shorter, skinnier woman that Stella recognizes as her roommate. She is wearing an Adam-and-Eve look consisting of just leaves on the non-PG parts. That probably means something. Behind them both is a skinny, freakishly tall, faceless man wearing a clean-cut suit. He appears in a lot of people's dreams. Stella calls him Jack Frost. He's harmless, but certainly creepy, and the Real Grace's face goes white looking at him. Stella tries not to laugh. "Can they see us?" Real Grace looks so wan and sickly. Stella's seen worse reactions, but she still doesn't think Grace will last long here. It's not for the faint of heart. "No they can't. We're kind of like ghosts." Normally people ask questions after that, but Real Grace just leans against the wall and watches this distorted version of her life. Suddenly a booming noise echoes throughout the room, making Real Grace jump. "Let's play Twister." Jack Frost has a weird, modulated voice. Not typical, but not worth thinking about. He pulls a Twister board out of thin air and they begin to play on the bed. The dream is really boring for a while after that. They play about 9 rounds of Twister and Micheal Jackson starts playing in the background. Not a whole song, just that one clip from Smooth Criminal. Annie, are you okay? Won't you tell us? Are you okay? "This is so strange." Real Grace is watching the whole thing play out in rapture, even though all that's happened was Dream Grace dropping out of Twister when she fell trying to reach a blue circle. "All of this is perfectly normal." It's more than perfectly normal, actually. It's exceptionally boring. "Oh shit. This is the part I remember," Real Grace says as she buries her face in her hands and slumps against the wall. Suddenly a TV appears and they all start to watch a bunch of random clips from an assortment of shows. Jack Frost and Grace laugh every time without fail, but the best friend is creepily austere. She just stares lifelessly ahead. "Are you okay, Kate?" Dream Grace sounds fake concerned, almost like she's mocking the best friend. Wordlessly, Kate turns to Dream Grace and stares at her. Jack Frost hands her a knife he was apparently carrying. And Kate begins to stab Dream Grace violently, rapaciously, and soullessly. Stella looks down at Real Grace with mild concern. She has her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide. There are tears rolling down her cheeks noiselessly. Her brown hair is ruffled like she's been tousling it, and if her eyeliner was smeared before it's unfixable now. Stella was almost sure Real Grace would ask her to stop the dream now. She didn't seem like the type who could handle it. But there she stood, tears dripping down, watching herself die. She watches the blood splatter. She watches Kate laugh and wear the red like war paint. She watches Jack Frost play Twister with her lifeless body. She watches it all until she thinks she can't anymore. Then her eyes open again and she watches some more. Finally everything goes dark. Stella and Grace are back in the courtyard, though they never really left. Grace looks slightly better than she did in the dream, but her physical body cried as well so she still seems frazzled. Her trendy shirt is covered in eyeliner stains. There are a couple of people staring. Stella tries not to smile, but she knows that means new customers. Everybody loves a traumatic revelation. "So what do you think?" Grace sounds shockingly hopeful for someone who just watched her own murder. She wants a good interpretation. Her desperate energy radiates off of her and it makes Stella nauseous with disgust. "I think you are too hard on yourself. You compare yourself to people you see in the media, to your best friend. You're a jealous creature, and you need to let go of that. Reconnect with Kate. Stop making everything a competition. Also, whoever that dude you're dating is, dump him. He wants to come between you two." Grace nods like she knew it all along. She sniffles and wipes off her nose. After a quick glance around, she sees that some people are looking and begins to compose herself. "Wow. Thank you. Truly. That was amazing. I"ll tell everyone I know, I promise." Stella stands up out of her chair and motions that she can leave now, the session is over. And at the risk of laying it on, she shouts after Grace as she walks away: "And honey? You need to stop being so kind. Stand up for yourself. Stop being so giving. Take some time." The small crowd that gathered nods in approval, and Grace blushes and walks away standing taller. A nearby waitress claps and Stella resists the urge to punch her in the face. As a line forms in front of her booth, Stella puts up a 5 minute break sign. That familiar feeling of disgust and hatred is sinking in, and she needs to compose herself if she wants to make any money at all. Grace doesn't need to stop being so kind. It's dumb advice to anybody, even the most selfless person in the world. Everybody should be kinder, and everybody knows it. That's why they love to hear that no, they're too kind, that's their problem. They want to feel validated in their selfishness, and Stella gives them the stamp of approval. Stella finds comfort in the fact it wasn't all a lie, though. She definitely is jealous of her roommate and Kim Kardashian. However, her roommate is probably bad news, and the boyfriend trying to get between them was almost certainly a good thing. The advice to dump him was still relevant because Grace was obviously a repressed lesbian. She had her best friend wearing nothing but leaves, and she did grow up Catholic so it makes perfect sense. But Grace doesn't want to hear that she's a secret lesbian. She doesn't want to know she needs to be kinder. And she certainly does not want to know her jealousy is just thinly veiled attraction. So Stella doesn't tell her. Stella doesn't tell anybody the truth, even after doing this for 52 years because 53 years ago she did tell the truth and the man committed suicide not two minutes later. He jumped off one of the store balconies after Stella told him he was probably going to become a peeping-tom stalker later on in life, after he got bored of his wife like it was clear that he would. It was then that Stella realized people don't want to know what their id wants, no matter how much they claim to. And she wanted out of the job, wanted to become an accountant or something safe. But it was too late. Once you're sworn to the dreams, you can't leave. So Stella spends every day lying and letting the malicious people of the world continue to be cruel with a clean conscience. She composes herself and steps back to her desk, facing the line that has formed. She puts on a fake smile like she's learned to do so well. "Only card, please."


Today, I ate five times. The day was so boring, that eating five times is the only thing I could recollect doing. My days are never this boring usually; because I was always surrounded by my two idiotic friends, Dooby and Doo. Actually my mom nicknamed us this way; because together, we are known as Scooby, Dooby, Doo and we did the stupidest things with a lot of impenetrable unity. After being the victim of boredom for a long time, I Played Ludo online and that game planted a doubt in me. I didn't like that doubt. That doubt disappointed me of the fact that I thought in that way. So, I just quit both, the doubt and the game. The reason I was left alone today, is Jasmine. She is Dooby’s girlfriend. Despite having a girlfriend, Dooby was always with us. Not because he is one of those rare species who cared friends more than their girlfriends, but only because theirs was a long distance relationship. She lives in Vishakhapatnam, which is quite far from Hyderabad, but she somehow, due to some reason was going to be at Vijayawada, which is also quite far, but comparatively less. She was going to be there only for one day. Dooby, to meet his sweetheart, came up with a plan to rent a car, go to Vijayawada and be back at Hyderabad within a span of 15 hours. It takes 6 hours car drive to reach Vijayawada. The plan was too risky for our age, and our parents shouldn’t know about this at any cost. Initially, I was not at all interested in this plan. Not because it was risky, we’ve done twice as stupid as this (but never this risky for sure), I was not into it just because it was for Jasmine. She, to me always seemed like a threat to our friendship. Doo was stupid; he never actually analyzed or took the situations seriously until they burn our pants. He just lives in the moment, which is reasonable to some extent. They both convinced me and went to look out for rented cars that could fit in our budget. The day light almost faded away, and these guys were still in search. I was waiting for their call. I was not going to call anyway; I don’t want to catalyze the process; I still wanted some or the other thing to go wrong to ruin this plan. They finally came and showed their incapability in executing a plan. I was the one who used to set up things every time, as I had a very good contact list. Then they did the most obvious thing - pleading me. They really know how to convince me and they did it. I very reluctantly called Aamer, my super senior at college. We had some negotiations about the budget, I convinced him anyway. But the thing is, he is a very commercial guy. He helped someone, only if he finds the guy promisingly profitable. Next day, early morning 5 am. The three of us started on Doo's bike to Aamer's place. It was a particularly cold day. It was freezing and we hugged each other as if we were never going to meet again. I signed the document; I didn’t read it but I knew it was an assurance contract. We left Doo’s bike as an assurance. It was all properly documented, and we all felt like this guy was a bit overdoing things, after all it was just a 20-hour rent. I took the keys and was just going to start the car, suddenly Doo with his high pitched, over excited voice said "Guys!! We forgot something" Dooby and I looked at each other and began to extensively think for a few milliseconds, as Doo resumed, "Selfie guys!!" in a 'why are you not as excited as me' tone. I always get awkward while taking selfies. Like, how do you pose or smile! I never understood them. But Doo was an expert in selfies and also driving. We began this journey of love and for love, with a cup of tea and a cigarette. Those highways, at that time looked so heavenly. The sun just rose, and the light when hit the road was so pleasing to the eyes, everything it touched was gold. I was just slouching on the rear seat and was enjoying the scenery passing by. Those morning greens with dew on them, when hit by golden sunlight turned into pearls. As I was so busy analyzing and understanding the beauty, I realized Dooby and Doo in the front seats were crushing weed only after they threw the waste from the window. I was a bit worried and said to them "Guys, Do we need this now? Why should we take risk"; for which Doo replied, "Dude, chill. You know my skills and please enjoy the moment bro! Don't ruin this for god's sake with your daddy instincts." "Chill dude! Take this joint" said Dooby, passing the joint. I didn't refuse. I smoked half of it reluctantly and the other half shamelessly. That was such a beautiful vibe. I could hardly open my eyes. The forces of dark energy wanted to see me and they pulled my eyelids together. I was high. Really, really high; and also were Doody and Doo. The drive was so pleasant that, even the steady linear movements of the car began to reciprocate in my ears as an orchestra. I was lying in peace. All of a sudden there was a bang. I hit the front seat and fell down. I didn't know what happened. I was not able to process that whether something hit us or we hit something. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. I got up and looked back through the mirror, a car hit us. And when I looked in the front, we hit a car. The car in front of us hit a buffalo. He quickly drove away. We were still not able to process what was going on and whose fault it was. We were definitely not going to wait for the police. Doo just took off rapidly. All of this happened in the time gap of less than 5 seconds. We didn't stop, as we thought we were being chased by the car behind us. We were in that imaginary chase for at-least half an hour. We didn't know how bad the car was damaged, but everyone passing by glued their eyes to our car. "Guys, It must be really damaged. I think we've to stop and have a look at it" said Dooby. We didn't want to stop immediately beside the road so we took a detour to a village and stopped at a small shop. As soon as I looked at the car I knew that we screwed things a big time. I became insane. I was sweating with a terror in my eyes. Dooby and Doo were too tensed but they tried to calm me down first. They bought a cigarette and gave it to me. We three sat there on the rock beside the shop and were just staring at the car for an hour; and the curious villagers did not let our tension come down. "What do we do now?" I asked them; and with this one question, I lost the command over them. They both already decided to continue with the plan. Meet her, eat lunch and reach back to Hyderabad as soon as possible. We were only a few miles away from Vijayawada, so it not a bad plan; but the thing that's back on my mind, and making me restless was they both are not as serious as I was; and that's pissing me off. I was just hiding my panic behind that 'everything's okay' face, just because I didn't want to ruin their date. We met Jasmine, and she was not at all an evil girl, as I thought she would be. She was very nice to us. Most importantly, she understood the seriousness of the issue and started blaming herself. I said, "No Jasmine, it would have happened anyway, we always are into these kind of troubles, we manage it, don't worry", and thought that I took the situation under my control again. They had their goodbye kiss, which made our hero turn into pink. Then,we got into our severely dented, badly sandwiched car, and started to discuss about how to handle the situation. Dooby said that these rental cars definitely have insurance, so no worries. The way he said made my heart a little lite. We called Aamer and told him that it was hit. He calmly asked me to send the pictures. I sent them. He called and said to come as soon as possible and we'll talk the things out. The way he said, was so polite and calm, which made me even more relaxed. By the time we reached Hyderabad it was 11 pm. We went to him. He examined extensively and all the four of us drove to a mechanic he knows. The mechanic took a look and said, "70,000 rupees minimum, these dents, the bonnet, the air conditioning, lights and many things are damaged." Our hearts collapsed. 70 thousand rupees was a really big amount, we definitely couldn't arrange that amount. Aamer also knows this. He just said "Pay the amount and take the bike, until then don't come to me." He said it as calmly as he spoke us on the phone. That's when I understood that being soft can also be a powerful command. We didn't know how to manage money. Doo said, "Dude, I'll manage 10-15 thousand." , and for that he has to go to his Dad's place. He lives with mother and their parents are divorced. He has seen many tragic incidents, and maybe that’s the reason nothing hit him hard. On the other-side, Dooby was talking like he was just not part of this incident. He was saying that he can't arrange any money and was going to his village as his grandmother was ill. At that moment, I just wanted to slap him on the face. Never did ever we have an issue with or for money until then, and I think that's why we never really didn't know who our friends really are. I knew him from childhood, I knew him only the way he wanted to show himself. The doubt that Ludo planted in me showed itself comes into reality in less than a couple of days. 'If it’s for you to be safe, you never care about any others more than you’. Doo had no choice, he had his bike on stake and otherwise I don't think he also would have stayed. Most people always find detours to escape in hard times, leaving alone those who are with them. All these thoughts, which made me feel bad about myself a couple of days earlier, now made sense.  Man is that kind of animal which survives in clans, but hunts for itself. Maybe, I would also be really mean if I had not signed those documents; who knows? After a month, I and Doo cleared the amount. I took loans from student loan apps, and Doo stole it from his Dad's thick pocket day by day. I, also had to give away my savings, which I was saving to gift myself a guitar. Vinay disappeared for a couple of weeks. Even after he came back, he didn't meet us as he used to do. Don't know whether it was guilt or whatever, he was dodging us. We were not even caring about him; and honestly, even if I was with Tharun, I stopped caring about him too. The hug we shared on the bike that day was really the last hug of ours and I'm glad that, the last hug seemed really like a last one.


In the heart of Houston's Broadway Street lived Richmond, a peculiar 50-year-old man known for his love of spreading gossip. What made Richmond truly remarkable, however, was the uncanny nature of his rumors. Somehow, they always seemed to come true. Word traveled fast whenever Richmond began to whisper his tales, and the townsfolk would brace themselves for the inevitable realization of his words. There was an air of both curiosity and fear surrounding his gossip, for nobody quite understood how he possessed such foresight. Huddled in the heart of the Broadway Street community stood Richmond's small greenhouse, a symbol of both simplicity and resilience, surrounded by a quaint garden bursting with vibrant blooms and aromatic herbs, the house exuded a sense of tranquility and warmth that beckoned visitors. The structure itself was modest, with weathered wooden siding painted in a faded shade of green, reminiscent of the lush foliage that thrived within its walls. A white picket fence lined the perimeter, adding a touch of charm to the property while maintaining a sense of openness and accessibility. The front porch, adorned with a few well-worn rocking chairs, invited passersby to pause, relax, and engage in conversations that often transcended casual pleasantries. One sunny afternoon, Richmond emerged from his house, a mischievous glint in his eyes. The people of Broadway Street, aware of his unique ability, couldn't help but feel a sense of unease or foreboding as they awaited his latest revelation. They knew that whatever he uttered would undoubtedly come to pass. With a sly grin, Richmond weaved his tale throughout the town, declaring that flesh-eating flowers were being secretly sold in one of the giant superstores. His words sent shivers down the listeners' spines, their minds conjuring up images of horrifying plants lurking within the shelves of even their houses, churches, libraries, and grocery stores. The news spread like wildfire, and soon, a sense of panic gripped the community. People avoided the superstore, fearing the consequences of encountering these deadly blooms. It seemed as if the town was held captive by Richmond's words, caught in a web of fear spun by his gossipy superpower. Days turned into weeks, and the town remained in a state of heightened anxiety. Richmond, observing the consequences of his rumor, began to feel the weight of his power. He had never intended for his gossip to cause such distress, yet he couldn't deny the thrill that surged through him whenever his predictions came true. Haunted by guilt, Richmond resolved to set things right. He embarked on a personal mission to find the truth behind his latest rumor, determined to alleviate the fears that had gripped Broadway Street. He delved into the research, scouring the depths of the internet and visiting local botanical experts, hoping to uncover the reality behind the spin. Days turned into nights as Richmond followed every lead, uncovering a hidden world of rare and exotic plants. Eventually, his journey led him to a renowned botanist who confirmed the existence of a rare species of carnivorous flowers known as "Dionaea carniaris." Armed with this newfound knowledge, Richmond returned to Broadway Street. He stood before the Community, who had gathered to hear his next proclamation. He admitted his fault, expressing remorse for the fear he had inadvertently caused. With sincerity in his voice, he explained the truth behind the flesh-eating flowers, assuring them that the superstore was safe. Relief washed over the crowd as Richmond's words sank in. The town slowly began to regain its composure, realizing that their fears had been unfounded. Richmond's gossip had been both a curse and a blessing, an odd power that had inadvertently brought the truth to light. In the aftermath of the ordeal, the people of Broadway Street developed a newfound respect for Richmond. They recognized the weight he carried as the town's unlikely harbinger of truth. Richmond, humbled by their forgiveness, vowed to use his superpower for good, to bring awareness to hidden truths and dispel unfounded fears. As the years passed, Richmond became a trusted figure in the community. His gossip, tempered by caution and verified information, helped the townspeople navigate their lives with newfound knowledge. Richmond's peculiar ability transformed from a source of fear to one of enlightenment, bringing the community closer together. As Richmond continued his role as the town's harbinger of truth, a new presence emerged in the Community. Anabel, a copycat who had witnessed the power Richmond held over the community, sought to replicate his ability to spread rumors. However, unlike Richmond, Anabel had no regard for the consequences her words would bring. News of Anabel's deceptive nature reached Richmond's ears, and he knew that his work was far from over. He understood the danger of allowing someone with ill intentions to hold the community hostage with false information. Determined to protect the people he had come to care for, Richmond set out to confront Anabel. On Broadway Street, at the heart of the community, stood the majestic Broadway Street Town Hall, a grand architectural marvel that served as the gathering place for important discussions and momentous occasions. As the sun cast its golden rays upon the ornate facade, the entrance doors swung open, welcoming a stream of people from all walks of life. Inside the town hall, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, as hundreds of residents filled the spacious auditorium. They were drawn to the day’s proceedings based on Anable’s latest rumor. The high ceilings, adorned with intricate moldings and sparkling chandeliers, added a touch of grandeur to the atmosphere. Rows of plush seats stretched out before a raised platform, where a polished wooden podium awaited the speaker. The walls of the auditorium were adorned with photographs and portraits depicting the rich history and notable figures of Broadway Street. Each image told a story, evoking a deep sense of pride and community spirit among the attendees. The vibrant tapestries that adorned the walls reflected the diverse cultural tapestry that made up the fabric of the town. As the meeting commenced, a hushed silence settled over the room, punctuated only by the occasional whisper and the creaking of chairs. The air was charged with a mix of nervousness, determination, and hope, as the community gathered to discuss a matter of utmost importance. The stage was set, adorned with a large backdrop bearing the emblem of Broadway Street—a symbol of unity and progress. Behind the podium, a panel of community leaders and officials awaited their turn to address the audience, their faces reflecting a mixture of responsibility and dedication. The stage was bathed in a soft spotlight, casting a glow upon the speakers as they stepped forward to address the crowd. Microphones stood ready to amplify their voices, ensuring that their messages reached every corner of the hall. The buzz of anticipation grew with each passing moment, as the gravity of the situation weighed upon everyone present. As the speakers began, their voices filled the hall, resonating with passion and conviction. They spoke of the challenges facing the community, the opportunities for growth, and the collective responsibility to shape the future of Broadway Street. Ideas, concerns, and solutions were shared, echoing through the hall as a chorus of voices united in pursuit of a common goal. The energy in the room was palpable, as the attendees listened intently, nodding in agreement, raising hands to ask questions, or applauding in support. Emotions flowed freely, from moments of passionate disagreement to instances of shared understanding and unity. And then Anabel’s voice rang out “Impeach the Mayor!” Everyone was shocked. “I have evidence of impropriety on the part of the Mayor. He must be impeached!” As confusion and bewilderment lingered in the air, Richmond stepped forward and with his booming voice said: “Please Mr. Speak disregard the young lady, she is only here to spread wild rumors” “No, Mr. Richmond. Let the young lady step forward, ‘she who asserts must prove’, that is the law” The showdown between the two rumor-mongers has begun. Tension as thick as the bark of a tree built up instantly and crackled in the air. Richmond, weathered by the weight of his unique ability, stood with conviction, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and determination. Anabel, fueled by a thirst for power, held her ground with a smirk on her face, reveling in the chaos she had sown. Her rumor was that the Mayor was having an affair with the Education Board Secretary, a married mother of four. "I won't let you manipulate this community any longer, Anabel," Richmond declared, his voice filled with authority. "Your false rumors are causing unnecessary anger, passion and harm. It's time for the truth to prevail." Anabel laughed, dismissing Richmond's words with a wave of her hand. "Oh, Richmond, you've become quite the self-righteous hero, haven't you? But what makes your rumors any different from mine? We're both playing with people's lives, just in different ways." There was a loud scoff from the crowd. Richmond's gaze hardened as he replied, "There is a crucial distinction, Anabel. My rumors are rooted in truth and carefully verified to avoid causing undue harm. I aim to enlighten, not manipulate. You, on the other hand, thrive on chaos and deception." Anabel scoffed, the arrogance in her voice evident. "Truth, lies... What does it matter? People will believe what they want to believe. It's their own fault for being so gullible." The exchange of words intensified, each combatant fighting to defend their perspective. But Richmond knew that he had to do more than just argue. He had to prove to Anabel the importance of responsible information dissemination and protect the community from her deceitful influence. With a sudden surge of determination, Richmond revealed evidence he had meticulously gathered, exposing Anabel's fabrications and the harm they had caused. Witness accounts, documents, and undeniable facts painted a damning picture of Anabel's malicious intent and how she had photoshopped some naked photos to make them look like her victims were having an affair. As the truth unfolded, the people of Broadway Street began to see through Anabel's facade. Doubts arose within them, and they turned away from her, seeking the clarity and honesty that Richmond provided. The power Anabel had held over the community crumbled, leaving her exposed and isolated. In the aftermath of the showdown, Anabel was left with a choice: to continue down her path of deception or to change her ways. Witnessing the impact of her actions and the strength of Richmond's conviction, she chose the latter. Anabel acknowledged the harm she had caused and vowed to make amends. Richmond, ever the believer in redemption, extended a hand of guidance to Anabel. He shared his knowledge and experience, teaching her the importance of integrity and empathy. Slowly but surely, Anabel began to mend the broken trust she had shattered. Over time, the wounds inflicted by Anabel's false rumors healed, and the community found solace in Richmond's steadfast commitment to truth. Anabel became a testament to the power of personal growth and the potential for change. Together, Richmond and Anabel worked to rebuild trust within the community. They became unlikely allies, using their unique abilities to expose falsehoods and enlighten the people they had once endangered. Their collaboration served as a reminder that even in the face of deception, there is always the possibility for redemption and unity. And so, the Community witnessed a transformation. The clash between Richmond and Anabel not only resolved their personal conflict but also instilled a sense of resilience within the community. United by the shared pursuit of truth, the town emerged stronger, armed with the wisdom to discern fact from fiction and to stand against those who sought to exploit their trust. Richmond's work continued, now reinforced by Anabel's newfound commitment to responsible rumor-mongering. Together, they embarked on a journey to ensure that their town would never again fall victim to manipulation or falsehood. The power of their words became a force for good, enlightening the community and fostering a sense of unity and resilience that would endure for generations to come. As Richmond and Anabel joined forces to uphold the value of truth, their unique abilities continued to shape the destiny of their community on Broadway Street. Their focus shifted beyond addressing false rumors, as they recognized the potential of their powers to prevent grave mistakes and guide the town toward a brighter future. The Community faced an economic crossroads, with impending decisions that could impact the livelihoods of its residents. Sensing the urgency, Richmond dove into extensive research, gathering information about the potential consequences of the proposed economic ventures of cryptocurrency. With careful consideration, he began to spread rumors based on his findings, aiming to safeguard the community from making ill-informed choices. The people of Broadway Street, remembering Richmond's track record of accurate rumors, paid heed to his words. They engaged in open discussions, scrutinizing the proposed projects and weighing the pros and cons. As a result, they collectively decided to steer clear of ventures that held the potential to disrupt the local economy and harm their way of life. The town's avoidance of these economic pitfalls proved invaluable. While neighboring communities struggled with the fallout from their ill-fated ventures, Broadway Street flourished, its economy stable and resilient. Richmond's ability to foresee the consequences of certain actions saved them from financial turmoil. Emboldened by this success, Richmond turned his attention towards a new challenge that had recently emerged—the fear surrounding vaccines. Misinformation and unfounded rumors had gripped the community, leading to hesitancy and putting lives at risk. Recognizing the urgent need for accurate information, Richmond and Anabel collaborated to combat the spread of fear and mistrust. Drawing from their combined knowledge, they embarked on a campaign to dispel the myths and provide factual information about vaccines. They organized community forums, inviting medical experts to address concerns and clarify any misconceptions. Richmond shared stories of how his previous accurate rumors had saved lives and emphasized the importance of relying on credible sources of information. Over time, the walls of doubt began to crumble. The people, inspired by Richmond's reputation and the evidence he presented, regained trust in the power of vaccines. They sought vaccination, knowing that it was crucial not only for their own well-being but also for the collective health of their community. Broadway Street became a beacon of vaccine acceptance, with immunization rates soaring and the community experiencing the benefits of protection against infectious diseases. Richmond's old rumors, which had once caused fear, now played a pivotal role in dispelling misconceptions and guiding the town toward a safer and healthier future. As the years passed, Richmond and Anabel continued their tireless work, using their powers to combat misinformation and promote truth. They became revered figures on Broadway Street, celebrated for their unwavering dedication to the well-being of the community. Richmond's unique gift, once a source of mystery and skepticism, had transformed into a force for positive change. He and Anabel had harnessed their abilities to protect the town from economic pitfalls and combat vaccine hesitancy, forever leaving an indelible mark on the fabric of their community. Broadway Street thrived, guided by the principles of truth and critical thinking. Richmond and Anabel's legacy lived on, reminding the people to question, verify, and rely on credible information. In their footsteps, a new generation of truth-seekers emerged, carrying the torch of knowledge and empowering the community to overcome challenges with clarity and unity.


The wind-swept farmland outside of the village of Colkirk was uncharacteristically quiet as Ahlran walked down the worn dirt path leading into the forest. Basket in hand, Ahlran stooped and looked over his shoulder back towards the village. He pulled the thin cloth hood from his head in the hope that maybe doing so would allow him to hear the familiar sounds of life from Colkirk. Quiet wasn’t the right word. Besides the sound of the wind cutting through the long stalks of grain, the fruit of another successful agricultural season, there was nothing. Utter and total silence. Even the birds, usually plentiful and noisy with their enthusiastic melodies, were nowhere to be seen. Ahlran’s young apprentice would undoubtedly see this as an omen. In the past Ahlran would quickly dismiss such superstitions, but now he wasn’t quite so confident. He was glad he came out here alone. As Ahlran’s eyes passed over the fertile plains of golden-brown grain, the small stream passing through and irrigating the crops, and over the old, but sturdy stone wall encircling Colkirk and the thatched roofs of its homes, he was struck with an acute and sudden sense of dread. Throughout his time in the village, Ahlran had come to know and love it for its liveliness. The harsh contrast of its current silence sent an uncanny chill up his spine. Ahlran turned back towards the forest and noticed that the trees had just begun to bud, the assurance that Spring was indeed here. For the first time in his life, the sight of nature’s cyclical resurrection did not fill him with joy and excitement. Undeniably, time was now running out. He let out a deep sigh, steeled himself with what resolve he could muster, and proceeded down the path, into the dense and comparatively lively forest. There was much to be done.            The sun was just beginning to set as Ahlran passed through the wooden gate and entered the village. He had barely cleared the raised gate before it came crashing down behind him. He looked up behind him towards the rampart and the guard who had disengaged the locked crank and released the gate. Their eyes met just for a moment, but Ahlran saw the exhausted anger in the young man’s eyes. “Good haul?” Ahlran turned towards the voice. It was Gormal, captain of the guard here in Colkirk. Though Ahlran now regarded the enormous man as a friend, he had to admit he was still frightened of him. What Colkirk lacked in numbers it more than made up for in its quality of guards ready, even eager, to defend it. Ahlran swallowed, caught off guard by the six-and-a-half-foot giant in front of him with his piercing blue eyes and unflinchingly tight grip on his axe. “We’ll have to see if it was a good haul, but I’m optimistic.” Ahlran knew this was a lie and was convinced Gormal knew it. Gormal looked down at the basket in Ahlran’s hands, brimming with all kinds of herbs, roots, flowers, vials of numerous liquids, bones, and even a few small dead animals. Gormal looked back at Ahlran. “Let’s hope that it is.” Ahlran nodded quickly and began to walk past him. He felt Gormal’s massive hand come down on his shoulder. It was not enough to hurt him – Ahlran suspected Gormal could crush his shoulder with a mere squeeze, should Gormal feel he should –but it wasn’t a gentle touch either. Ahlran turned back towards his friend. Gormal took a deep breath. “Getting you and Erune your-,” He searched for a polite word, “-subjects is becoming difficult. I believe that you are doing the right thing, but there are many here who do not share my sentiment.” Ahlran could swear Gormal’s blue eyes were pleading to him. A few of the other guards near the gate had stopped what they were doing and were now looking at the two of them. Gormal’s grip on Ahlran’s shoulder tightened.  “Do you understand?” Gormal asked calmly but firmly. Ahlran placed his own hand on top of Gormal’s. “Better than anyone, my friend,” he said. Gormal, apparently satisfied with this, nodded, and let out an affirmative grunt. He released Ahlran who quickly headed towards his home on the other side of the village. The streets were aglow in the nearing twilight and nearly deserted. This had become the norm for the past few months. As Ahlran walked down the stone path he couldn’t help but notice the looks he was getting from the small number of people who hadn’t confined themselves to the perceived safety of their homes. The owner of the local tavern was chopping wood outside his property and smiled as Ahlran passed. Much like Ahlran’s smiles these days though, it was out on more as an act of hopeful defiance, rather than genuine contentment. Further down the path, a young man and his even younger brother were staring at Ahlran with neither friendliness nor malice. Knowing that they had recently been orphaned, Ahlran felt he owed them an apology, though it wasn’t his fault. None of this had been his fault, nor the fault of anyone here.  Ahlran hurried on. The path began to slope downwards now as he would have to pass by the village tomb. The ancient stone building was never very inviting, but these days it was simply dreadful to even look at. As Ahlran passed, he could see two men carrying a corpse adorned with all the ceremonial flowers and oils, pristinely wrapped in the funerary cloth in which it would remain bound and entombed amongst their ancestors for all time. A woman was holding her face in her hands and crying near the entrance to the tomb. She looked up at Ahlran as slowed down to look at her. She said nothing, but the fiery hatred that burned in her eyes left little for Ahlran to have to interpret. He hastened past the tomb. He could the voices of several people nearby, as well as one much louder voice nearly drowning out the others. As he finally made the turn on the path that would allow his home to be in view, his heart sank. A small crowd had gathered outside of his small and unassuming cottage. He recognized the source of the singular dominating voice immediately. It was Tearlach, one the village’s religious authorities and an outspoken critic of Ahlran and Erune’s profession. “This is what these heretics do to help?! As our flock lay dead and dying in the streets?!” They meddle in the forbidden arts with recklessness and utter disregard for our faith!” His voice thundered as his ornate robes, expertly tailored with intricate patterns, billowed in the wind behind him. Ahlran might have admired it if Tearlach hadn’t called for his death at every opportunity. Tearlach continued, his bald head visibly sweating.  “Let us not forget, we saw the first of us fall to this affliction not long before these sorcerers, these conjurers of evil, came to our village. Do not be fooled, brothers and sisters, they are not here to help you. They are here to satisfy their own sick and twisted curiosities!” Though the crowd was only made up of about ten people, they were hanging onto every venom-laced word. The occasional cheer of approval could be heard throughout his hatred-soaked sermon. At this point, Ahlran felt more exhausted and annoyed than angry. All he wanted was to get back to his work with Erune. No one, not even Tearlach, could question his loyalties if they were successful. He resolved to simply push through the crowd without a word and close the door behind him. He knew there was no getting through to a mob when it was riled like this. However, something made him stop as he got closer. Erune was so small he hadn’t noticed her before now. Tearlach had her by the arm, despite her violent thrashing as she tried desperately to break free from his grip. It was clear that Tearlach had no intention of letting go. Ahlran’s apprehension vanished as he pushed into the crowd and headed straight for Tearlach. An unsettling smile formed on his face as he saw Ahlran approaching him. “Speak of the devil,” he hissed. “Good people! It would seem the man in question has… –,“ Ahlran cut him off as he punched him squarely in the diaphragm. Tearlach was taken completely by surprise. Doubling over, he immediately released his grip on Erune, Ahlran considered himself to be a man of peace. Violence went directly against everything he stood for. But on his front steps, in full view of everyone, he couldn’t help but take a little satisfaction in shutting Tearlach up, if only for a few precious moments. Ahlran helped Erune to her feet as Tearlach coughed and gasped for breath. “Are you alright?” Ahlran asked her.  “I’m fine,” she said. Then after a short pause, “Thanks.” Apparently just as shocked as Tearlach, the crowd did nothing, as they had never seen Ahlran do anything like that before. Ahlran and Erune turned to go inside the cottage as Tearlach, still on the ground, grabbed Erune’s ankle. “You all saw!” he bellowed. “THIS is what we can expect from the likes of these two outsiders. THIS is the kind of animal we’re dealing–…” Tearlach was interrupted again, not by a strike from Ahlran, but from Erune spitting in his face. Tearlach let out a furious yell, as a commanding voice from behind the crowd roared, “That’s enough!” Everyone turned to see Gormal with a handful of armed guards at his side, his famous axe in hand. “Captain!” Tearlach yelled, hurrying away from Ahlran and Erune. “You saw what they did, did you not?!” he cried incredulously. “I did.” Gormal answered calmly. With all eyes on him, Tearlach stammered, “S-so what are you going to do about it?” Now only a few feet from him, Gormal turned his gaze toward Tearlach with a sigh. Tearlach was large, but still no comparison to Gormal’s hulking figure. “Absolutely nothing.” Gormal said emotionlessly. “I’m going to do nothing, and you and this crowd will disperse and leave those two alone. Simple as that.” Tearlach stared at him in disbelief. Staring directing into his eyes, Gormal continued, “But make no mistake, if I see this happening again, I will do something, and you’re really not going to like what that something is. Do we have an understanding, priest?” Tearlach’s jaw dropped in disbelief. He prepared to say something but thought better of it. He shot a hateful glance towards Ahlran and Erune, dusted off his robes, and headed back towards the church. “As for the rest of you,” Gormal said, redirecting his attention towards the crowd, “I understand the frustration we are all feeling during these times. But you all know Ahlran and Erune are doing their best to help us.” The crowd shuffled uncomfortably. Gormal went on, “I don’t need to remind all of you that these two are under the protection of the Chief. I will not hesitate to enforce his decree.” The crowd shifted uneasily, averting their gaze. “Go home, be with your families. Let Ahlran and Erune do what they’re here to do.” The crowd dispersed quickly, leaving just Ahlran, Erune, Gormal and his men in the silent moonlight. “Thank you” Ahlran said. Gormal looked at him gravely. “I won’t be able to protect you two forever. Those crowds will get larger, Tearlach will get bolder.” Ahlran didn’t want to admit it, but he knew Gormal was right. “Get it done,” Gormal said, the first time he had ever ordered Ahlran to do anything. With that, he walked off into the night with his guards. Ahlran looked down at Erune and saw that she was crying as she buried her head in his robes. “Let’s get inside.” Ahlran said. “We’re running out of time, light the candles, I’m going to get these ingredients downstairs to the workshop.” Ahlran said to Erune as they entered their home and shut the heavy wooden door behind them.  Ahlran noticed Erune was quick to latch and bolt the several locks secured to the door. “Did Gormal make another delivery while I was gone?” Ahlran asked Erune. “Not him, one of the guards,” she answered. “He didn’t look particularly happy about it.” She continued. “Who would be?” Ahlran said, not concealing the frustration in his voice very well. “I set them up on the examining table. Despite the direness of the situation, the comfort of the warmth and quiet of his home wasn’t lost on him. Well-lit with candlelight, the room was the perfect alchemical laboratory. Shadows on the walls danced as the candle flames flickered. Dried herbs hung to the walls, books, tomes, and scrolls laid haphazardly strewn about, as if someone was studying them not for leisure, but for efficiency. A very pungent, almost sweet aroma hung in the air. Ahlran and Erune had come to know this scent well, even got used to its astringent foulness. They were convinced this meant they were closer to a cure. Ahlran set his basket of alchemical ingredients down and quickly gathered up some books that had been left open to specific pages.  “I set the body up on the examining table. Postmortem conditions are still consistent.” She said, anticipating her teacher’s question. “Good.” Ahlran said. “At least it’s remaining consistent.” Ahlran placed all his materials on a small table near the body that had been laid out. His heart skipped a beat when he recognized the body. An old man who he had regularly met with out in the fields. He was one of the few people who had been pleasant to Ahlran and Erune when they first arrived in Colkirk. “You know him?” Erune asked, noticing Ahlran’s hesitation. He shook his head. “No time.”  Erune was right, the disease’s effects on the body remained consistent: large lesions spread across the body, the shriveling of the tissue around the bones, an almost total lack of pigmentation, and the falling out of all hair. What was left behind of the unfortunate victims resembled something closer to a large albino rat than what would resemble a person.  Ahlran let out a deep sigh, steadying himself. Now was the time to focus. Erune was already hard at work going over the books they have been reading repeatedly for weeks. Erune was convinced that the cure was within grasp. She and Ahlran believed there was only one thing missing from the final concoction that could cure this nameless affliction. “Here,” she said, pointing to a particular passage in an enormous and ancient alchemical book. “I think this is what we’re missing, I’m just not exactly sure about the translation.” Ahlran was setting up his alchemy station, lighting small fires beneath a collection of varied beakers and flasks. He was preparing what they believed was the correct formulation of curative herbs and other ingredients that would yield a successful brew. “What’s your best guess?” Ahlran asked. He was always genuinely impressed with Erune’s capacity for linguistics. She was the most talented alchemist, but her assistance with translating the texts of recipe books and other alchemical tomes was invaluable to Ahlran. He made a mental note to tell her if they ever found a cure. After a long pause, Erune answered. “The most accurate translation, I think, is “human touch.” Ahlran stared at her before returning to his bubbling beakers. “Great,” he said. “Nothing like a poetic touch to your ingredient list.” Erune hopped off her stool and brought the book over. “This whole text is shrouded in allegory and symbolism. It’s a cultural as well as language barrier we’re dealing with here.” Erune explained. Ahlran picked up a small vial that had finished brewing and held it up to the light to examine it. “It’s blue, isn’t it?” Erune asked impatiently. “Blue means we got it, right?” Ahlran turned to her. “No, it can’t be just blue, Erune, we’ve been over this.” He said, somewhat angrily. He caught himself and continued more gently. “This is an exact science. There is no ‘good enough’ in what we do. There’s correct, and there’s potentially killing someone.” This needs to be precisely Azure Blue. This –“he said, tapping the vial in his hand, “-is Lapis. No good.” Disappointed, Erune turned back to her tomes. The hours went on as Erune scoured her notes and Ahlran tried combination after combination with that day’s haul of ingredients, desperately hoping the vial would mercifully turn Azure. A human touch. Suddenly, an idea came to him. He almost fell from his seat as he wildly searched for something. “What is it?” Erune asked, startled by the sudden break in silence. “A pin! I need a pin!” he cried. Erune’s eyes lit up. “You think you got it?” she asked excitedly. Ahlran triumphantly raised a pin in the air that he had found underneath a taxidermy butterfly. “We’re about to find out!” he yelled.  Ever so carefully, Ahlran pricked his thumb with the pin and squeezed a drop of his blood into lapis colored vial. Erune unconsciously huddled close to her teacher in nervous anticipation. “What made you think of blood?” she asked. “My dear, what could ever be more human?” he answered looking down at her with a smile. Her eyes met his and she smiled too. It had been a long time since Ahlran had seen that smile. The contents of the vial churned as Ahlran’s blood mixed with the other ingredients. Scared to breathe, the two of them inched closer to inspect the contents. With a miraculous glow of color, the vial shone with a magnificent glow of calming, perfect, Azure blue.


It's time. That sound, it's loud its annoying and it won’t shut up. It’s telling me to wake up, that my dreams are coming to an end and my rest now will be dead. It's approximately 7:08 and I’m late. She’s waiting for me at the cafe, and I can’t miss the train. I’m up now fully dressed and eating bacon that I cooked in the microwave to save time, my shoes.. Where are my shoes? One is here, halfway sticking out from under the couch and the other one I really don’t know but I need to go now. 7:52 I’m really late. The train leaves in 34 minutes and it takes me 15 to get there. Found it by the bathroom door, I need to keep my shit together. 9:00, I’m waiting. For her. She’s late, I shouldn’t have rushed. I’m ready now, ready to tell her everything. Everything I have been holding up inside but I can't wait any longer or i'll bottle it all up inside again. It’s been 57 minutes and she’s still not here. What does this mean? Where could she be? Does she even care? Has she forgotten about me? I look ridiculous sitting here alone sweating from nervousness and shame. It has been exactly 3 days, 7 hours, 38 minutes, 28, 29, 30 seconds since that day. No call or text or email or anything and I’m still obsessing. I'll call, I might as well, not much to lose anymore. It rings and rings, and rings, and rings, and then voicemail; “This is Sarah, leave me a message!” the beep I never wanted to hear that stupid beep, the beep that means it's not going to happen, to give up now and never go back. I force through those emotions and leave a stupid voice mail it sounds like this, “Hey.. Yeah hey Sarah um.. It’s me Craig, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay; you did know we were supposed to meet the other day right? Are you o-” cut off, I sound stupid. I just want to impress her but I just look like a fool. I’ve been up for hours, it's 2:27 in the morning, and I’ve been looking through her Facebook to see if she’s been posting or liking anything, I don’t want her to just ignore me. That’s not okay, and I hate that. Where is she, there is no recent activity on her page, and she isn’t reading any of my texts and well I just can’t handle it anymore. I have to know what is going on. She likes me, right? She *has* to like me. I need her to. Any minute now she’ll call or text me apologizing, and saying that she was super busy or her phone was out of service some stupid made up excuse that I’ll believe. My life no longer means anything, it’s invalid. I was watching the news and.. and they found a body. It’s Sarah. What am I going to do.. She is my world, my everything. Now she’s gone and I can’t live with myself. I will find the guy who did this and I'll kill him, break every bone in his body. I can't stop thinking, thinking why anyone would do this to her. She’s so beautiful and funny and the best person ever. I loved her. I still love her. This isn’t real. There is no way for me to accept this; I’m going to wake up any minute to my phone ringing because she’s calling me asking to meet today for lunch or to go see a movie. It’s not real. It's real. I thought I could wake up, but I can’t. I’ve been taking the past few days to make a collection.. I filled my wall with all my favorite pictures of her. It’s completely covered and it makes me so happy and feel better. She isn’t gone, not really. She’ll come back for me… \-Craig never got to finish this story. He didn’t get to finish it because they came for him. Although he comes off as a very sweet person he is a very dangerous person. Sarah’s body was found sitting upright at a cafe in a seat that was placed opposite of the seat Craig sat in when he waited for her. They found his DNA on the body, she was brutally beaten, stabbed, sliced, and molested. She had missing teeth and bald spots where hair was forcefully ripped out of her head. You could barely recognize her. They police broke into his house to find bloody clothes and marks all over the walls and furniture. And the most disturbing part was his room; pictures and notes covering every wall and her hair and teeth pinned to his mirror. It looked like a whole other crime scene. There was understanding of why he killed her. After the arrest and court trial they went through both phones to see over 100 phone calls and texts sent to Sarah by Craig. It was soon turned to the court that he needed to be sent to a federal mental institute because of his mental state. He died 15 years after from head injury and multiple stab wounds to the abdominal area. He would repeatedly bang his head on walls until blood would come out, he stabbed himself in his stomach with a pencil 17 times. Sarah never was supposed to meet him at the cafe, she never even talked to him. They went to high school together and he had a crush but she never acknowledged him. He stalked her and lost his mind while he was doing it. And that is where this story finally comes to an end.


Today Jack Greene was turning 200 years young. He was the youngest of four siblings including Jamie Jennie and Jessie each of whom were about ten years older than him, although Jessie was no longer with them. He walked to the couch, his robotic joints creaking as he sat down. His two siblings were being fed lunch on the matching chairs across from him. He grabbed a prescription bottle off the small coffee table, inside was a hypodermic needle filled with a goopy substance that looked like cat barf which he injected into his arm. His frail arms got plumper and healthier looking, the wrinkles on his face went away, basicaly it made him less senile, The drug especially affected his mind improving his memory and such. He turned on the television and grabbed another pill bottle witch contained many different drugs that he had to consume today, the some people on the news where talking about an exess in the population witch everyone knew was just a myth. "Can you believe these people Jaimie? There's no Overpopulation as far as I'm concerned" "Well then they must be doing their job well." "I just can't understand why they try to make us think they're failing." "I donno" The door rang and Jack slowly went up to answer it. "Hello sir" "Hi" "I'm looking for a Jack Greene" "That's me" The federal officer cuffed him and walked him to a van, he stepped in alongside about five more people each of whom were either crying or screaming their lungs out, he refrained from this childish behavior. The cop drove the van away picking up people, as it reached the end of town it took a left driving into an empty parking lot and coming to a stop. "Alright people you know the drill, in order to keep the population down there are a few sacrifices that have to be made, each of you get one phone call if you wish to use it" all the people took their phone calls crying to their friends and family and telling them how much they loved them. When finished The man in the front of the van started panicking and saying things like stop! no! please! But the rest did not need to endure his annoyance much longer because soon a gunshot erupted and all was silent (except for boisterous screaming) The man was pushed into the back of the van away from the rest of them and the process was repeated until all the subjects were dead. The officer drove the van to a landfill and dumped all the bodies. He drove Home parking his car out front. When walking to the door he noticed a note on it that read. "Dear Mr Hoffman we regret to inform you that one Jane Hoffman was selected by the population moderators today as a fitting candidate to help with lowering the population seeing as even with the highest levels of medication she was not improving at the standard rate. Deepest condolences, Todd parson secretary to the emperor." The End PS. This is my first post please don't downyote too hard unless it's trash I ain't no karma simp.


There is a fish in my sink. I don’t think he wants to be there. I want to believe I saved him. It was quite a heroic act.  He swam in a drowned pothole. When I saw him, I immediately knew that I had to act fast. Fish don’t last very long in different water.  Still, I waited and admired this magnificently colored animal. Twenty minutes had already passed, before I grabbed a cup. I scooped the fish out of the hole, stuffed the drain and threw the fish in the sink. It’s not the best home for a fish, But I had to improvise.  There is a fish in my hand. He didn’t survive. I have no idea how long ago it happened. Even though this should be sad, I can’t ignore the beauty of the moment.  The fish’s yellow-orange-gold skin reflected magnificent in the divided light of the sun that came through my window, While I took him out of the sink. My whole hand was drenched.  This was the second time that this fish gave me this kind of inside. It’s impressive how much impact a recently bought object can have, In just a day.  A little girl walked across the street, Parents followed her. Suddenly it started to rain, and the walk turned into a jogging session. The little plastic bag in her hand started to shake.  It all happened so fast. Somehow, I ended up following the suddenly dropped bag with my eyes. The weird thing is this bag seemed to drop in slow motion compared to the rest of the situation.  By the way that the bag started to form waves, I was safe to assume there was some kind of liquid in it. I was proofed to be right when the bag hit the pavement, made a small jump and splattered open. The water wasn’t really noticeable in the pouring rain, but it did shed a light on a new object that my vision had ignored until now.  It was a gorgeous view. The small object flew out of the exploding bag by its shockwave. Midair I recognized the object to be a 4 cm long goldfish. While this was beautiful to see, I couldn’t help myself to worry about the inevitable drop. It wouldn’t survive the cold hard stones of the road. I was so relieved to hear the splash, that confirmed he landed in water.  There is a fish in my toilet. A creature that gave me this much enjoyment, deserves more, I think. But I simply can’t give him more of a burial than this, since I don’t own a garden.  This must be done.  When I flush, I can see the fish for the last time. This rotating little yellow-orange-gold skinned thing had made my day and live a little better. While the last glimpse of the fish drowned in the drain, I think to myself that now truly no one will have a clear memory of its owners.


The Daedelus didn’t have any way of keeping up with days or hours. That was up to Mina. And in space, time didn’t matter. It was always a different day in a different year on a different planet. And Mina measured *her* time using an old wind-up clock she had taken from her small colony back on Vexus. Each thirteen-hour rotation signaled another day past. Today, she determined she’d been stuck on the Daedelus for fifteen-hundred and twenty-one days. Roughly four years Vexus time. Mina yawned wide, stretching out her arms as she leaned backwards over the captain’s chair. Looking over the controls, she confirmed that nothing needed to be readjusted. The speed and flight path of the Daedelus was right on track to reach the planet of Palmyra in an estimated four-hundred and fifty-eight days. With ample time to waste, she looked around for something to do. She could pick up a book but she had already read everything this ship had to offer one-hundred times over. She could play solitaire or write in her journal but there was nothing to write of. So, instead, she waited anxiously by the comms station hoping for that familiar voice to come over the radio and wish her good morning. She debated reaching out to him first but– no. She was sure he had other things to do and he’d wait until he was alone. “Alone like me,” she thought. Her face fell. Right now, she wished she wasn’t alone. It devastated her to remember she was the sole survivor of her disease ridden colony. Not that she could forget. The fact that she was on this ship, fleeing that god forsaken planet reminded her every day. For what had seemed like hours, Mina stared at the ship's console, lost in her thoughts. When the lights on the comms station finally lit up, a rough, gravelly voice came over the speaker and Mina bolted up in her chair. “Morning, Beautiful.” Mina snatched up the transmitter and rolled her eyes. A grin spread across her face as she spoke into the receiver, “You’ve never actually seen me, John. I could look like Quasimodo for all you know.” “You’re wrong about that. I’ve seen you in my dreams every night and Quasimodo has nothing on you.” A bubble of laughter escaped her throat. She couldn’t help it. Every time he complimented her that way she felt giddy. Like a child who had just heard the funniest thing. “Plus, I should be the one worrying about appearances. Once we meet on Palmyra you’ll take one good look at me and turn your heels back around. Right now, I have the advantage of being on another ship. Sight unseen. Eventually, you’ll have plenty more options.” “I don’t want options. You're who I want.” It was true. She didn’t need to see him to know that she loved him. She just needed him. “And if you wanted,” she teased, “You could move to Palmyra with me. I’ve heard There’s lots of opportunities down there. You could train for some fancy job, be a veterinarian, or a banker, or a chef. Something like that.” she chuckled to herself knowing he would hate that idea. “I’m a pilot Mina, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself down there.” “Well, then maybe we can get our own ship. A cargo ship.” “And you’ll give up living on solid ground? You’ll miss the opportunity to watch sunsets on the grass? To breathe in fresh air everyday? To swim in an ocean again? You’d walk away from all that just to be stuck on another ship with no one but me and whatever crew we take on?” Mina didn’t hesitate to answer. “We can look out the windows and watch the sunrise over the planets we pass by. We can watch them rise again on the other side. And as long as there is you and me, I don’t care about anything else.” “Where would we get the money for this ship?” She could tell by the tone of his voice he was grinning. Even thought they’d had this conversation so many times before it never got old. “I’ll sell this one. Or maybe we could steal one and become intergalactic fugitives and travel across the galaxies? It’d be fun to be the next Bonnie and clyde.” A roar of laughter boomed out of the speaker. Though he would never admit it and they’d never do it, she could tell he secretly liked the idea. “I have to go Mina. I’ll radio back later.” He was still laughing when the transmission ended and Mina was left all alone again. She stood up and looked over the ship’s course again. “Right on track,” she whispered, “Only four-hundred and fifty-seven more days till Palmyra.” \ This is my Secret Santa Story for u/DannyMethane_ My constraints were: A veterinarian, in space, and it had to be a romance...


People have long been afraid to walk or fish in the park because of the exhumation of bodies. Even the park rangers try to get out of here before dark. But crossing the park is the quickest way to get from school to the most residential street so many students take this route to save time. Frank walked through the wood. He was now halfway through. Suddenly, a white mist filled the trees. But Frank felt it instinctively. He did not dislike the smell. Snap. Behind Frank came the crack of a branch. He whirled around. In front of him, there appeared a scantily clad, voluptuous middle-aged woman, who smiled at Frank's seductive smile and blew a kiss. This must be her. Frank took a gulp of water, his heart beating. "Handsome, what are you doing here alone?" "Back to... home..." "Oh, it's still early. Come and chat with auntie." She blinked, and Frank felt a strange attraction in the woman's body that made him move toward her uncontrollably. The woman grabbed Frank's head and pressed his face into her arms, her chest so large that Frank could hardly breathe. "Does Auntie's body smell good?" "Incense..." The woman took Frank's face in her hands. "Well, let Auntie teach you something happy..." She kissed Frank on the lips. A shot rang out, and a vermilion bullet flew by and grazed the woman's cheek. She hastily covered her face and let go of Frank. A taxi approached with its lights flashing, and Jane fired the shot through the passenger window. "Yeah,, yeah, so what did you put on my bullet?" "Cinnabar!" Will parked the car and pulled on a robe from his handbag. "Hold her back while I prepare to cast spells!" Jane nodded, got out of the car and pointed a pistol at the woman. "Don't move! You're under arrest for sexual assault of minor!" The woman looked up with anger, and Jane noticed that fur had grown on her cheeks and tails were beginning to appear behind her. The nine-tailed vixen bellowed, and her tail burst into flames, shooting at Jane. A gust of wind blew the flames away. "Shoot her leg." Will said, dropping his charm and rushing forward with a pickle jar in his arms. Jane nodded and shot the Vixen in the leg. The vixen lost its balance and leaned to the right. "The paper-amulet! Will let out a loud shout, and the charm attached to the pickle jar began to glow, creating a suction force that compressed the Vixen's body and sucked it into the pickle jar. "Hey, are you all right?" Jane went over to check Frank. "Auntie! Frank threw his arms around Jane. Slap! "Do you think I should arrest him for assaulting a police?" Jane looked at Frank, who had been knocked unconscious, with disdain. "Come on, it's understandable, but now that we've caught the culprit --" Will's eyes suddenly hardened as he reached into the jar and pulled out a vixen tail. It's just a tail. "I think it ran away when I blew the flames away." "It's back to square one, but she's going to get craftier." "That's all," said Will, pulling off his robes. "We'll get the boy to the hospital and go find Scott." Let's push back the clock. "So you've probably heard that many young boys go into unexplained comas?" Jane finds Will at the Chinese restaurant where he often eats lunch, because this is clearly not a human incident. "Yeah, no kidnapping, no selling them drugs, no sign of a struggle, weird, right?" said Will, who was enjoying a plate of fried rice after a morning in taxi. "So I began to suspect that the culprit might not be human," Jane said solemnly. "And this is your area of expertise. Any clues?" " Many possibilities," Will said, wiping his mouth. "Do these teenagers fall into a coma because of their vitality -- as you call it, their vitality? Life energy? Chakra? was taken away." 'What was the culprit's intention? "Depending on the type ," Will went on, "the ghosts may have been in that profession before they died, or simply because they liked it, or because they wanted to be reincarnated as soon as possible, and these thoughts directly influenced what they did after they died. If they were alive, vixens and witches, they would have used their spirit to cultivate and strengthen themselves. " "By sex?" Jane asked. "Yes, that's why it's usually the vixens who do it, they're the experts! A long, long time ago, China was in Shang Dynasty, and the king was called King Zhou, and his concubine Daji was..." "History class over." Jane interrupted him quickly. Whenever Will started talking about history, he would go endless, which had ruined several of their dates. "I've had some foresight about this case --" Will finished his lunch. "I've had Norm to search, and all the ghosts here are quiet --" "Come on, who needs a living person when I'm a super handsome guy?" Norm's translucent body was now floating behind Will's neck. "What about the other possibilities?" Jane asked, " vixen, witch..." "I can't help it with witches," Will shrugged. "They use magic to reverse track..." Jane's mobile phone suddenly rang. " Amy? Hello?" "Oh, Jane! Amy's trademark shrill voice came out. "Will told me you wanted to find out if any zoo had lost vixenes from China, and I did a little research --" Jane looked at Will, who stuck out his tongue and made a face. "About 2 years ago, a vixen was stolen from local zoo by staff. After the culprit was caught, the evidence was overwhelming, but he had no memory of the crime! He then sought treatment in a mental hospital. Hope this helps with your investigation. Bye!" 'One of the vixens' spells, they can create hallucinations and hypnosis and things like that --' explained Will, but he stopped because he saw Jane staring at him. "Would you please tell me before you make your own decisions next time? We are already suspected of occupying police force!" "It's to save time..." Jane rolled her eyes. "If the leader knew we were all going to die..." "It's about saving lives, and if Amy's Intel is right, I'm afraid we've got a target on it, so --" Will pulled a compass out of his bag. A golden, square compass. "Patrols begin tonight!" After a busy night. "Come on, we're wasting our time!" Jane complained that the coffee, which had dipped the doughnuts into the thermos in the dawn glow, "has been going round these streets near the park for so long tonight, with nothing to show for it!" Will yawned. "I'm so sleepy! Norm, I'm afraid I'll fall asleep while you're driving."" “Is your compass broken? They didn't give us any directions!" "This can only point to the devil within two kilometres," said Will, his sleepy eyes straining. "Looks like we'll have to expand our search tonight -- but give me a break..." Suddenly, the compass needle gave a violent shake. "Hey, get up! Jane gave Will a sharp shove. "Eh?, "Will raised his compass and saw that its needle pointed... A high school. "What's next?" "Pretending to be a teacher." Jane is very familiar with this. "Or we can go to the police now and get a warrant. Just to be clear, I don't know when that will be!" "Can't you help?" "Will asked. "Don't you even think about it! That's illegal!" Jane said firmly. Is it legal to break into a school and search it without a warrant? Will shrugged and pulled a suit shirt out of the trunk. In a few minutes. "All it takes is a change of clothes. Where is the vixen?" "It's supposed to be in the classroom," yawned Will, trying to buy a cup of coffee from the coffee machine next to the staff lounge. "Just so you know, it's class time." "I don't think an animal can get a school status so easily..." Jane looked at his phone thoughtfully. "Well, it's hard to say. In some Chinese folklore, vixens/even open schools to teach culture," said Will, brightening over a cup of coffee. "Long, long ago, a scholar named Hu came to town..." "I'm going to the bathroom..." Jane made her excuses and left. Will's stories did not appeal to her at all. From her point of view, catching the culprit was/the/most/important thing to her now. But now they don't even have a clue. In the women's room, Jane sighed. "Excuse me... anyone here? Can I borrow some tissues?" "Oh, yes." Jane didn't realize that there were students using the toilet at this time. She pulled a packet of tissues out of her pocket and passed it through a crack under the partition. "Thank you." The girl next door bent down to pick up the tissue, but Jane held her breath. For from the corner under the partition she saw some reddish-brown hair on the ground. This can't be hair. Jane immediately stood up and tried desperately to unlock the compartment, but the toilet door was very old and the lock was stuck. There was a splash next door, then the sound of a door lock. She's running away! The next two minutes were an eternity for Jane. After a hundred and twenty seconds of shaking and two fingers cut on the corner of the lock, Jane was free, but the girl was gone. "So you saw the vixen?" "Didn't see. But I heard her voice, I can find it by voice." While they were talking, the bell had rung and the students were going out. "There's probably hundreds of people here," Will said, picking up the compass. "We'll take our chances..." All of a sudden, the compass needle jerked and pointed straight in one direction. 'Lucky! Will and Jane followed the compass to a quiet corner. "I... I'm out of money..." "Then ask your parents for it! Oh, , I forgot you were an orphan, ha!" Two seniors were bullying a thin boy. The thin boy pressed his lips and his eyes filled with tears. "Brats are getting more and more ill-bred these days --" Jane's father died in the line of duty when she was a child, so she has always had zero tolerance for this kind of bullying. 'Wait, look! Will reached out his hand and stopped her. A reddish-brown vixen jumps out of nowhere and bites one of the bullies in the calf with a vicious bite. 'What is it? The boy pain one leg jumping around. 'Ah! "Run! The two bullies run away, and the vixen runs over to the thin boy who is being bullied. Next thing you know, the vixen's body begins to be enveloped in white smoke. The vixen figure stands up and gradually transforms into a young girl. "Are you all right, Scott? "That's the sound! 'whispered Jane. "......" Will thought thoughtfully. "Jialing, didn't I tell you not to change in public?" Scott stood up and patted the dirt. "What does it matter? Anyway, no one to see, "Jialing helpless smile " you don't let yourself hurt, can you?" "I'll try..." Scott smiled wryly. "But really, if anyone sees you..." "Ahem," Will said, failing to stop Jane, who had gone up and flashed her badge at Scott and Jialing. "I'm with the police," Jane said. "We're thinking this girl might be involved in the recent teenage coma. Could you please cooperate?" Scott stepped in front of Carin. "No! You can't take her! ' 'She's not human! She's a vixen! She's probably --" "We promise you." Will came out suddenly. 'What? Jane asked, looking surprised. "I don't think this girl is a bad person," Will said. "If she were a culprit, I'm afraid this Scott would be in the hospital already, wouldn't he?" That makes sense. "But can we talk after school?" "We still think you might have something -- no, don't be so nervous," Will said, reading Scott's defensive look. "We wouldn't have taken her if she wasn't a culprit." "Why should I believe you?" Scott remained alert. "Because, in a way, I'm from her country." Will gave a mischievous smile. "For Chinese people, fellow villagers should help each other!" "Trust them," she said. "After all, I'm in on it -- they're right." "Jialing!" "Let's come over to your house after school and talk," Will winked at Jane to stop her from reaching for her gun. "We're not doing anything until we know." "So, you say your parents died when you were young." At Scott's, he served coffee to Will and Jane, and Chinese tea to Jialing. "Yes, " Scott said miserably. "So, what's about Jialing?" Jane asked. "I was abandoned in the snow," Jialing replied. "Scott saved me..." "Abandon? By whom?" Jane asked. "My mother..." Jialing's voice trailed off. "I think I see what's going on," Will begins by concluding that "the vixen at the zoo -- that's Jialing's mother -- had the zoo staff break her out of prison, and at the time, she was pregnant, and a few months later, she gave birth to Jialing and ran away on a snowy day -- yes, that's another reason why I'm sure Jialing wasn't the vixen that got away." 'said Will.' It's not the right age! Vixenes have a much shorter life span than humans! If Jialing is the vixen that got away a year and a half ago, it's pretty hard to pass for a high school girl based on age ratios, right?" Jane nodded. "So, another question," Will asked, "do you know where I can find your mother?" "Well... It must be deep in the park, "said Jialing," because it's a big park with lots of trees..." "It's too big to use my compass outside," Will thought. "That explains why it's no use patrolling outside the park. I can't search for her until she shows up." "I heard today that some boys in our class bet to walk home from the park at night." Scott said suddenly. "Well, here's our chance! She must be caught to-night!" 'said Jane. "I have one last question, though," Will said suddenly. "Jialing, how do you feel about Scott?" "He... He is my benefactor, and I owe him... What do you mean?" Jialing suddenly angry "you are worried that I will hurt him?" "Well... Probably, "said Will," because I'm a Chinese Wizard, and we have a saying in our circle that in-human relationship never goes anywhere." "Me and Scott will." Jialing said through gritted teeth. "Well, I'll take your word for it, but..." Will pulled out a piece of runt paper and handed it to Scott. "This is for you. If Jialing ever gets out of control, you can use this --" Scott grabbed it, crumpled it up and threw it in the dumpster. 'I don't need this! He growled. "Well, good luck," Will shrugged, signaling to Jane that they were leaving. "Come on, sweetheart, we've got a vixen hunt tonight." That night, the street outside the park. "Wheezing... " The nine-tailed Vixen barely escaped Will's paper-amulet by sacrificing a tail, and now she is weak and in desperate need of strength. "Young men... Where is it..." She dragged her heavy body and hobbled along the street. Suddenly, she found a boy. Scott is taking out the garbage . She rode the shadows, creeping up on her. With no energy left to seduce Scott, she grabbed him with her hands and wrapped her other eight tails around his body. Scott struggled. She took Scott's face and began to kiss it. 'Stop! Jialing jumped out and grabbed her mother's face. The vixen was sore, and her face was on fire. "Jialing? Are you --" 'Alive! Jialing gritted her teeth and said, "Scott is my benefactor. I don't want you to hit him! And I won't forgive you for abandoning me! ' "I have no choice," panted the Vixen. In her hand, Jialing clutched the paper amulet Will had given Scott. It was eating away at the skin of her face like a strong acid. 'I couldn't have survived with you in that weather! "You --" Jialing threw the ball of paper directly at her mother, hitting her right in the eye. "Ah!!" The vixen rolled all over the floor in pain. "The paper-amulet! Will and Jane arrived just in time to paper-amulet the vixen into the jar. This time, it worked. "What a bad mother," Will said, smiling. "To abandon your daughter and go after your future son-in-law?" Son-in-law? Jialing and Scott's faces went red. "I can already see your awareness," Will said, looking at Jialing's hand, which was badly burned. "I bless you both!" "I... " Jialing was speechless . 'I do! "Scott shouted. Jialing has been crying, shed moved tears. "When you come of age in a few years, I'll marry you myself -- well, I'm so sleepy, I'm going home to bed. I haven't slept in two days." "Well, I'll drive!" Will yawned and said goodbye to Scott and Jialing. Although he hated having his car touched, he made an exception for Jane. "All right... It occurs to me that by the time Scott is old enough to marry, Jialing will be at least as old as her mother -- maybe a little older?" "Oh, don't worry about other people's family affairs, that old vixen you are going to do?" “keep her in my house for years. but I'll let her out for the wedding when her daughter gets married." "Are you really not surprised at all that a human marrying an animal?" 'What's so strange? "Long, long ago, there was Chinese man named Xu Xian, whose wife was a snake..." "Oh God..." Jane rolled her eyes. She knew that Will would not fall asleep again until she had finished telling the story. "A magical monk named Fahai thought the Snake was a danger to mankind, so he decided to separate the two of them..." As Will told the story, the moon rose and a comet with nine tails flashed across the night sky.